The pursuit began at once. It failed. The report went out that the hunted nomads had crossed to Cuba. In Jersey City, Captain Rooney made ready to sail. Further reports came from Porto Rico which caused him to delay a little. Then came fresh news that set him to packing his bags. He was almost ready to embark when the thing dropped with sudden and sad deflation. The Costello-Cruzes had been found. The boy was not Jimmie Glass. This pricking of a hope bubble strikes the keynote of the eight years of quest. Ever and again, not ten times but ten hundred, came reports that Jimmy Glass had been found. Many of them came from irresponsible enthusiasts and emotional sufferers. Others were honest but mistaken. A few were cruel hoaxes, like that of the marked egg. One morning an egg was found in a Jersey City grocery store with the following scrawled on the shell: “Help. James Glass held captive in Richmond, Va.” The police chased themselves in excited circles. One of them was off to Richmond at once. The eggs were carefully traced back to the nests of their origin. It was found that they came from a place much nearer than Richmond, and that the inscription was the work of a fifteen-year-old boy. Long before the Gypsy excitement had been abated by the final running down of the much-sought band, another form of thrill had played its fullest ravages with the unhappy parents and given the public its crooked satisfactions. The constant advertising for the boy, the showing of his picture on the screens and the repeated newspaper summations of the strange case, all had the effect of putting idle brains and fevered imaginations to work. From almost every part of the country came reports of missing children who looked as though they might be Jimmie Glass. The distracted mother, suffering like any other woman in a similar predicament from the idea that her child could not fail to be restored, traveled from one part of the country to the other under the lash of these reports and the spur of undying hope. I believe the newspapers have estimated that she traveled more than forty thousand miles in all, seeking what she never found. As happens in many excitements of this kind, the hunt for James Glass resulted in the finding of many other strayed or stolen children, from San Diego to Eastport. In one case a pretty child was found in the possession of a yeggman and his moll. They were able to show that the child had been left with them, and they readily gave it up to the authorities for lodgment in an institution. But, alas, none of these was Jimmie Glass.