So the quest began. It was, however, by no means confined to Carrie Jones and the child. The New York newspaper reporters were early convinced that some one else stood behind the transaction, and they sought night and day for a man or woman connected either directly or distantly with their own profession. It was the day when the reporter prided himself especially on his superior acumen as a sleuth, with the result that every effort was made to give a fresh demonstration of journalistic enterprise and shrewdness. Several days of the most feverish hunting, accompanied by a sharp rise in public emotionalism and the incipience of panic among parents, failed, however, to produce even the most shadowy results. Rumors and suspicions were, as usual, numerous and fatuous, but there came forth nothing that had the earmarks of the genuine clew. The arrests of innocent young women were many, and numerous little girls were dragged to police stations by the usual crop of fanatics. Similarly, little Marion Clarke was reported from all parts of the surrounding country and even from the most distant places. One report had her on her way to England, another showed her as having sailed for Sweden, a third report was that she had been taken to Australia by a childless couple. All the other common hypotheses were, of course, entertained. A bereaved mother had taken little Marion to fill the void of her own loss. A childless woman had stolen the little girl and was using her to present as her own offspring, probably to comply with the provisions of some freak will. But the hard fact remained that a letter had come within four hours after the abduction of the child, and before there had been the first note of alarm or publicity. Such an epistle could only have been written by the actual kidnapper, since no one else was privy to the fact that the girl was gone. In that communication the writer had stated his or her case very definitely and, while not actually demanding ransom or naming a sum, had clearly indicated the intention of making such a subsequent demand. Theorizing was thus a bit sterile. The police, be it said to their credit, bothered themselves with no fine-spun hypotheses, but clung to the main track and sought the kidnappers. The _New York World_ offered a reward of a thousand dollars and put its most efficient reportorial workers into the search. The other newspapers also kept their men going in shifts. Every possible trail was followed to its end, every promising part of the city searched. Even the most inane reports were investigated with diligence. Hundreds of persons had gone to the police with bits of information which they, no doubt, considered suggestive or important. The well-known Captain McClusky, then chief of detectives, received these often wearisome callers, read their mail, directed the investigation of their reports, and often remained at his desk late into the night.