I was on the dark side of the road, in the thick shadow of some garden trees, when I stopped to look round.  On the opposite and lighter side of the way, a short distance below me, a policeman was strolling along in the direction of the Regent’s Park.

The carriage passed me—­an open chaise driven by two men.

“Stop!” cried one.  “There’s a policeman.  Let’s ask him.”

The horse was instantly pulled up, a few yards beyond the dark place where I stood.

“Policeman!” cried the first speaker.  “Have you seen a woman pass this way?”

“What sort of woman, sir?”

“A woman in a lavender-coloured gown——­”

“No, no,” interposed the second man.  “The clothes we gave her were found on her bed.  She must have gone away in the clothes she wore when she came to us.  In white, policeman.  A woman in white.”

“I haven’t seen her, sir.”

“If you or any of your men meet with the woman, stop her, and send her in careful keeping to that address.  I’ll pay all expenses, and a fair reward into the bargain.”

The policeman looked at the card that was handed down to him.

“Why are we to stop her, sir?  What has she done?”

“Done!  She has escaped from my Asylum.  Don’t forget; a woman in white.  Drive on.”

V

“She has escaped from my Asylum!”

I cannot say with truth that the terrible inference which those words suggested flashed upon me like a new revelation.  Some of the strange questions put to me by the woman in white, after my ill-considered promise to leave her free to act as she pleased, had suggested the conclusion either that she was naturally flighty and unsettled, or that some recent shock of terror had disturbed the balance of her faculties.  But the idea of absolute insanity which we all associate with the very name of an Asylum, had, I can honestly declare, never occurred to me, in connection with her.  I had seen nothing, in her language or her actions, to justify it at the time; and even with the new light thrown on her by the words which the stranger had addressed to the policeman, I could see nothing to justify it now.

What had I done?  Assisted the victim of the most horrible of all false imprisonments to escape; or cast loose on the wide world of London an unfortunate creature, whose actions it was my duty, and every man’s duty, mercifully to control?  I turned sick at heart when the question occurred to me, and when I felt self-reproachfully that it was asked too late.