d one of
the gang is hanging around, hoping the store will be deserted, so he can
enter and take what he likes."

Tom had read of such cases, and he at once resolved that he would not
only remain in the jewelry shop, but that he would lock the door, which
he at once proceeded to do. Then he breathed easier.

The town of Shopton, in the outskirts of which Tom lived with his
father, and where the scene above narrated took place, was none too well
lighted at night, and the lad had his doubts about the jeweler catching
the oddly-acting man, especially as the latter had a good start.

"But some one may head him off," reasoned Tom. "Though if they do catch
him, I don't see what they can prove against him. Hello, here I am
carrying this diamond pin around. I might lose it. Guess I'll put it
back on the tray."

He replaced in the proper receptacle one of the pins he had been
examining when the excitement occurred.

"I wonder if Mary will like that?" he said, softly. "I hope she does.
Perhaps it would be better if she could come here herself and pick out
one--"

Tom's musing was suddenly interrupted by a sharp tattoo on the glass
door of the jewelry shop. With a start, he looked up, to see staring in
on him the face of the man who had been there before--the man of whom
the jeweler was even then in chase.

"Why--why----" stammered Tom.

The man knocked again.

"Tom--Tom Swift!" he called. "Don't you know me?"

"Know you--you?" repeated the lad.

"Yes--don't you remember Earthquake Island--how we were nearly killed
there--don't you remember Mr. Jenks?"

"Mr. Jenks?"

Tom was so startled that he could only repeat words after the strange
man, who was talking to him from outside the glass door.

"Yes, Mr. Jenks," was the reply. "Mr. Barcoe Jenks, who makes diamonds.
I saw you in the store about to buy a diamond--I wanted to tell you not
to--I'll give you a better diamond than you can buy--I just arrived in
this place--I must have a private talk with you--Come out--I'll share a
wonderful secret with you."

A flood of memory came to Tom. He did recall the very strange man who
walked around Earthquake Island--where Tom and some friends had been
marooned recently--walked about with a pocketful of what he said were
diamonds. Now Barcoe Jenks was here.

"I must see you privately, Tom Swift," went on Mr. Jenks, as he once
more tapped on the glass. "Don't waste money buying diamonds, when you
and I can make better ones.