had startled the world, and made of him the richest man in the United Kingdom. And now, she had lost by death the kind and learned guardian to whom her late father had entrusted her future and the management of her enormous fortune. Nobody would be surprised to learn that this great accumulation of calamities had reduced the fate-stricken young lady to a state of utter physical prostration. She had been taken yesterday evening, after her rescue from the burning mansion, to the Albert Hospital, but she had subsequently been removed to the Walsingham Hotel, where the management had placed a suite of rooms at her disposal. She was there being treated under the care of Drs. Fiaschi and Mason, the well-known heart and nerve specialists. These gentlemen express themselves hopeful of her ultimate recovery, but they do not conceal the fact that she is at present in a very low condition, and it is significant that the road in front of the hotel was, in the small hours of the morning, thickly overspread with tan. This last paragraph, as may easily be conceived, filled me with anxiety. I resolved to go at once to the Walsingham Hotel and find out exactly how she was for myself. But, fortunately, in moving towards the door to put my purpose into execution, I had to pass the mirror-backed door of a clothes press. I did not pass it then. I stopped, spellbound. I was no longer invisible. That is to say, my face and hands were not--although my body was. The mirror showed me a head floating apparently in mid-air and a pair of hands hanging mysteriously from nothing. My eyes were curiously goggled with a thin, gelatinous-like film, with a glassy surface that was bound about my head. This I tore off forthwith and curiously examined. It was actually composed of gelatine. Tossing it aside, I ran my fingers over my clothing and discovered, from the sense of touch, that I was clad to the neck in one unbroken combination suit of rubber overalls, which included footgear. I soon made out the secret of its fastening, and tearing it open, I stepped forth into the light of day and perfect visibility, to find that I still had on all the clothes I had worn when Dr. Belleville trapped me, except my boots. The overalls, however, remained visible, or rather partially so, for their inner surface viewed from the opening was discernible. I put them carefully aside for future investigation and proceeded to make a toilet. My first care was a hot bath. The hall porter, whom I had frightened so desperately a little while before, answered my ring. He was astounded to see me, but I did not choose to make him any explanations, and he was too overcome to ask me for any. A little later I was luxuriating in a steaming bath, which removed the last vestige of my Parisian disguise. Most of the paint, however, had worn off before, so it was the easier to become myself again. But not quite my old, familiar self. My experiences had permanently aged me.