Her great mania seemed to be to accumulate a vast amount of miscellaneous property, and hoard up what money she could steal or beg, to finally employ to hire her army of men to burn up or tear down all the insane asylums in the country. “She just lives around the hut you say you slept in out of the storm last night,” said the tavern keeper. “Where can we find her?” asked Tim. “Ha! ha! find Meg? That’s a hard task, boys. Whenever she steals anything, she’s shrewd enough to keep out of the way for a time, and sometimes disappears for whole weeks. When she is around, she’s like a sprite, so quick and fleet-footed, and knowing a score of caves where she can hide when pursued. I guess the breakfast is cooking,” and the landlord went back to the kitchen of the tavern to attend to the meal for his guests. The eyes of the two boys met in mutual excited questioning. “Rodney!” exclaimed Tim, “there’s some hope.” “About the money?” “Yes.” “You mean?” “Crazy Meg.” “She certainly took it.” “Of course.” “And we must find her.” “We must.” They dispatched the meal. Then Tim went off to Portsmouth, leaving Rodney at the tavern. He managed to sell what jewelry he had for forty dollars, and they decided to make their headquarters at the tavern. They now set their wits to work to find Crazy Meg, as the sole object of their lives. They even paid the tavern keeper’s boy ten dollars to assist them in the quest. It proved of no avail. Here and there they got a trace of the crazy woman, but they could not locate her. So the days drifted by, and then it occurred to Tim to call to his aid his two trusty friends of the past--Daley and Spofford. He wrote the letter that had been alluded to by Daley in his conversation with Spofford, and which now had fallen into the hands of Marcus Ellison. “It’s no use,” said Rodney one evening, after a day of fruitless tramping, “the woman has disappeared.” “She’ll come back.” “We’ll never get our money.” “I don’t give up so easily.” “I’ve a good mind to go back home.” “All right; then you give up all claim on the money if you do. Wait until my friends, Daley and Spofford, arrive.” “What will they do?” “Soon find crazy Meg, you can depend on that.” “Two gentlemen to see you, Downey,” said the tavern keeper, as the boys entered the place an hour later. The landlord indicated a table where two men sat. “Daley and Spofford,” murmured Tim joyfully. CHAPTER XXVIII. RELEASED ON BAIL. Encouraged by the kind words of Mr. Montague, Evaline Oglesby began at once to tell the story Jack Carboy had told her, piecing together the parts the old sailor had described in his broken, graphic manner. “Stop, Miss Eva,” broke in the lawyer, as he listened with rapt interest to her straightforward recital. “You say Jack detected the fumes of some drug?” “Didn’t you say so, Jack?” asked Eva. “Rock o’ Gibraltar! it struck my bowsprit and knocked me over seas!” “There were indications that some one had set the fire?”