The head of Manfred was the head of Abel Newt.

Hope Wayne looked from the sketch to the artist, searching him with her eye to discover if he knew what he was doing.

Arthur was sincerely unconscious.
Hope Wayne dropped the paper almost involuntarily.

It floated into the road.
"I beg your pardon, Mr.Merlin," said she, making a step to recover it.
He was before her, and handed it to her again.
"Thank you," said she, quietly, and went in.
It was still twilight, and Arthur lighted a cigar and sat down to a meditation.

The result of it was clear enough.
"That head looks like somebody, and that somebody is Hope Wayne's secret." Puff--puff--puff.
"Where did I get that head ?" He could not remember.