It was not long after the discovery of Mr. Skinner's extraordinary talent at the pianoforte that Mina decided to take matters between he and Emily into her own hands. She wrote a letter to Emily telling her where to write to Skinner, signing it "John Smith". Two weeks passed and no letter came. Mina had wisely kept her plan to herself, preventing Skinner from becoming even more dejected by Emily's lack of correspondence. However, Mina herself was greatly discouraged. Had Emily given up on Skinner?

Then, in the middle of the third week, a letter came addressed to Mr. John Smith. Mina eagerly tore open the envelope, only to find that it wasn't from Emily at all, but from her friend, Marie St. Aubin. The dancer wrote practically pleading with Skinner to visit Emily. She expressed concern for her friend, who had taken to "going off and spending long hours by herself Dieu knows where". She also told of her suspicions that the intentions of Miss Leigh's suitor, Sir Warren, weren't entirely correct and her anxiety over the fact that Emily paid him too little heed to notice. She politely informed monsieur that Emily was excessively worried about him and that if he wished to end the relationship, he should please visit Emily and tell her so, thus sparing her the anxiety from which she was now suffering.

Mina showed the letter to Jekyll, who advised her to show it to Skinner straight away. This she did, and Skinner read in stunned silence.

" 'Ow did she ever foind out where to write?" he wondered out loud to himself. "Oi left no address."

"I wrote to her under your name," Mina told him unabashedly. "Some men…"

She went on, but Skinner wasn't hearing her. He was far away.

It was the same old story again. He had done something selfish and now he regretted it. Would he never learn?

He walked out on Mina without even realizing she was still there. He fetched his hat, coat, and gloves from his room and set off at once to do what he ought to have done some time ago. He walked as quickly as he could to the theater dormitories, painting his face as he went. Marie answered his knock and invited him in eagerly.

"Monsieur will forgive my forwardness, but I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about poor Emily," she said.

"Far from it," said Skinner. "Where is she?"

"She's with that horrible suitor of hers, Monsieur Warren," she said wrathfully. "Le monstre!"

"Where have they gone?" Skinner asked.

"I do not know," said Marie, suddenly looking anxious. "Usually, I would insist upon accompanying them, but today he insisted that they go alone. It has me nearly ill!"

" 'Ow long ago did they leave?" Skinner continued with his questioning.

"It's certainly an hour by now," said Marie.

Skinner began to walk about anxiously, trying to come up with a plan of action. Marie obviously had no idea where the couple had gone, and in an hour they could've gotten quite a distance. In short, they could be almost anywhere.

"Did they take a vehicle?" he asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Marie. Skinner fell silent again.

"Do you know where Sir Warren lives?" he asked after some minutes.

"Oui, I do," said Marie excitedly. She gave him the address and he started for the door, but she stopped him before he could leave.

"Let me come with you," she said. "I can show you the way."

"Thank you, but I'll manage," said Skinner, not wanting to endanger the girl. He'd already put one too many persons in danger.

"You'll get there quicker," said Marie.

"Oi wouldn't want you to get 'urt," said Skinner.

"I'll stay out of the way," said Marie, placing a hand over her heart. "Je promets."

Skinner, anxious to be on his way, reluctantly agreed to allow her to accompany him. She hastily put on her cloak, for it was raining outside, and led him out the door. He followed her to a wealthy section at the heart of the city.

"The fourth house down, on the left," said Marie. "That is his."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle St. Aubin," said Skinner. "I promise to return Emily safe and sound."

"Wait!" said Marie. "Am I not to come with you?"

"No," said Skinner. "Most definitely not. It's for your own safety, mademoiselle. Wot would Emily think if she came 'ome to foind you 'urt?"

"What will she think if you get hurt?" Marie countered.

"This isn't a job for a young lady loike you," said Skinner. "Please, toime is of the essence at the moment. Please, go back."

Reluctantly, Marie went. As soon as she was out of sight, Skinner used the cleanest puddle he could find to wash the paint off his face. He entered the house through a first-floor window, carelessly left open, probably by a servant. He stole down one hallway after another, listening for any sound of a struggle of some kind. There seemed to be no one in the house at present.

Wot if they aren't 'ere? he thought worriedly. Just then, he heard a shrill cry from somewhere above him. He quickly located the staircase and dashed madly upward, stripping off his hat and coat as he ran. He threw open the first door he came to, finding it empty. He went down the hallway opening doors but found nothing to interest him until he got to the very last door, which was locked. He picked the lock quite easily, and inside he found some chemists' equipment and a beaker of white liquid. He smelled it and nearly choked, the scent was so acidic. He grew even more anxious and wondered what it could possibly be meant for. Perhaps Sir Warren was in a line of work involving such chemicals.

But then again, perhaps he wasn't.

Skinner made a mental note of where the room was located in case he wanted to come back and investigate further, then started up the steps to the third floor. Just as he reached the top, there came another scream.

Which room? He had no time to search them all. He was perhaps too late even now. Then the cry came again and he was able to trace it to the room at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door with a bang, startling Emily and Sir Warren, who were inside. There was a glass bowl of the same chemical Skinner had found among the chemists' equipment spilled on the floor beside Emily, who was kneeling and weeping with her face buried in her hands. She was clothed only in her undergarments.

Furious, Skinner rushed forward and grabbed Sir Warren by the collar.

"Wot 'ave you done?" he demanded, his voice quiet and dangerous. Sir Warren made no reply, but drew his sword and swung at Skinner. The sword sliced into Skinner's arm and then grazed his cheek. Skinner hadn't been expecting that and it made him even angrier. He shoved Sir Warren away, seized the bowl on the floor, and flung it with all his might at the fleeing nobleman. The bowl hit the man's head and shattered, rendering him thoroughly unconscious.

"That takes care of you, you blackguard," Skinner growled.

"John?" Emily asked in shock, lifting her face from her hands but not looking up at him. Skinner looked at her for a moment and felt absolutely sick. Because of his selfishness, something terrible had happened. He was responsible.

It was an intimidating thought.

Of all the people in the world, the one he'd least wanted to hurt was Emily Leigh. And he'd gone and done just that. When would he learn?

"Emily?" he said uncertainly, nearly choking on the word. It seemed an age since he'd last spoken her name.

"John?" Emily asked again, still not looking up. Skinner felt even worse as he realized what this could mean. She might be angry with him, as she had every right to be. She might not want to see him or speak to him ever again. What would he do then?

"Yes, Emily, it's me," said Skinner, realizing with shame that she didn't even know who he really was. Well, he wouldn't try to hide it from her now. She would know from the fact that he was a disembodied voice.

"I…I don't know what to say," Emily told him.

"Don't say anything then," said Skinner, kneeling in front of her. "Pardon moy boldness, but…Oi just…"

His voice trailed off as he gently touched his mouth to hers. Then, to his immense shock, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

"How dare you!" she cried in a trembling, tearful voice. "How dare you come here and rescue me, after disappearing without so much as a word just when I needed you most, and then do such a presumptuous thing!"

So saying, she began to cry harder and buried her face in her hands once more. It took Skinner a few moments to react. Slowly, he put his hand up to his cheek, which burned from the impact.

"It's…it's all so…complicated…" he stammered.

"Too complicated for what?" Emily demanded. "Did you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Oi didn't think…Oi…" Skinner searched for the right words. But deep down, he knew she was right. He hadn't trusted her enough to allow her to understand. And what was love without trust?

"Didn't you know that I loved you?" said Emily.

"Oi knew it…but Oi wos afraid…afraid you wouldn't love me anymore if you knew," said Skinner.

"Knew?" Emily asked. "John, what's going on?"

"Oi s'pose Oi should start with moy name," said Skinner. "It isn't John Smith."

"It isn't?" Emily asked, dumbfounded. "Well…what is it then?"

"Rodney Skinna."

Emily gasped. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him, however. She kept her eyes on the floor.

"The man by my bed…it was you all the time?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Skinner admitted.

"You're the Invisible Man?"

Skinner's heart was rent to pieces when he heard that.

"The Invisible Man," he said bitterly. "Yes, the Invisible Man. It's all Oi'll ever be, it seems."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked. She wasn't crying anymore, but her face was tear-stained and she still wouldn't look up at him.

"Oi'm the Invisible Man," said Skinner. "That's it. No one can get past the Invisible Man to Rodney Skinna…no one but you, Emily. Oi wos 'ardly more than a shadow 'till you came along. You saw me, as no one else could. An' when you got your soight back, Oi wos afraid you'd become just loike everyone else."

"So you disappeared?" said Emily.

"It wos wrong of me," said Skinner. "Oi know that now. Oi've learned moy lesson, Oi swear."

"But even before that, you lied to me," said Emily. "Why didn't you tell me who you were? Didn't you trust me?"

"Oi've lived in complete mistrust of the world for so long, Oi couldn't 'elp it," said Skinner. "Oi thought that if you knew who Oi wos, you'd think Oi wos a freak."

"I'm not so superficial as that, Mr. Skinner," said Emily.

"Oi know," said Skinner. "Oi ought to 'ave known better…Oi shouldn't 'ave acted so selfishly."

Emily was silent as she continued to stare at the floor, so Skinner spoke again.

"Are you 'urt?" he asked gently.

She lowered her eyes even further.

"Emily…Oi'm so sorry," said Skinner earnestly. "This is all moy fault, an' Oi can neva make it up to you. Oi've made such a mess of everythin'."

He paused. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to.

"Wot did he do to you?"

Emily began to weep again.

"Don't croy, please, Emily," said Skinner, putting his arms around her. Then he realized he'd left his hat and coat on the stairs and went to fetch them. When he returned, she had stopped crying.

"It'll be all roight," Skinner assured her. "No one ever 'as to know. An' if it's ever found out, well…'e's the criminal, not you."

"Mr. Skinner…it's not what you think," said Emily. "He only managed to get my dress off before you came in. But he…he had a bowl of something. He held me down and smeared it into my eyes. It burned quite terribly."

Skinner immediately remembered the chemists' equipment and the acidic-smelling chemical.

"Oh, dear God, no…"

He knelt and took hold of her shoulders, and she finally looked up at him. Her gaze fixed at once on his face, which wasn't painted, and he knew it was true.

Sir Warren had used the chemical to blind her.

"Oh, Emily…" was all he could say.

"I'll never see again," said Emily, fresh tears glistening in her eyes. "No operation can fix this."

Skinner held her tightly. Through no fault of her own, Emily would suffer for the rest of her life, and it was all his doing. He felt tears in his own eyes as he thought of how he had accidentally been responsible for her loss of sight the first time.

"This is all moy fault," he said hoarsely. "Oi can't ask you to forgive me after this."

"You don't have to ask," said Emily, smiling through her tears. "After all, we're back where we began – I the blind girl, you the Invisible Man. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. Why don't we just begin again?"

Skinner was silent for a very long moment as he looked down at her. Then he said, " 'Ow about pickin' up where we left off?"

"I'd like that very much, Mr. Skinner," said Emily.

"Rodney," Skinner corrected her gently. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes…"

So saying, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Of course, the other League members had the chance to find them right at that moment. Mina had told the others what had happened upon Skinner's reading Marie's letter, and they had gone straightaway to see Marie, who directed them to the mansion. Now, they couldn't help but stare through the open door with a strange mix of wonder and embarrassment. The sight of a seemingly headless man kissing a girl – and quite passionately, at that – was a sight one didn't often encounter. And the sight was a strange one, to be sure.

Finally, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder, Captain Nemo said, "Come, let us return. We are not needed here."