Tom Swift Among the Diamond Makers Part 2

"How do you know, Tom?"

"Because that person came back while you were out. I saw him."

"You saw him? Did he try to steal any of my diamonds, Tom?"

"No, I guess he doesn't need any."

"Why not?" There was wonder in the jeweler's tone.

"Why, he claims he can make all he wants."

"Make diamonds?"

"So he says."

"Why, he must be crazy!" and Mr. Track laughed.

"Perhaps he is," admitted Tom, "I'm only telling you what he says. He's the person who acted so suspiciously. He came back here, I'm telling you, while you were running down the street, and spoke to me."

"Oh, then you know him?" The jeweler's voice was suspicious.

"I didn't at first," admitted Tom. "But when he said he was Mr.

Barcoe Jenks, I remembered that I had met him when I was cast away on Earthquake Island."

"And he says he can make diamonds?" asked Mr. Track.

"What did he want of you?" and the jeweler looked at Tom, quizzically.

"He wanted to have a talk with me," replied the lad, "and when he saw me in your store, he tried to attract my attention by knocking on the gla.s.s."

"That's a queer way to do," declared Mr. Track. "What did he want?"

"I don't know exactly," answered Tom, not caring to go into details just then. "But I'm sure, Mr. Track, that you've got the wrong person there.

That lad never looked in the window, nor knocked on the gla.s.s."

"That's right--I didn't," a.s.serted the captive.

The jeweler looked doubtful.

"Why did you run?" he asked.

"I told you, I thought there was a fire."

"That's right, I don't believe he's the fellow you want," put in another man. "I was standing on the corner, near White's grocery store, and I noticed this lad. That was before I heard you yelling, and saw you coming, and then I joined in the chase. I guess the man you were after got away, Track."

"He did," a.s.serted Tom. "He came back here, a little while ago, and he ran away just now, as he heard you coming."

"Where did he go?" asked the jeweler, eagerly.

"I don't know," answered Tom. "Only you've got the wrong lad here."

"Well, perhaps I have," admitted the diamond merchant. "You can go, youngster, but next time, don't run if you're not guilty."

"I thought there was a fire," repeated the lad, as he hurriedly slipped through the crowd in the store, and disappeared down the dark street.

"Well, I guess the excitement's all over, and, anyhow, you weren't robbed, Track," said a stout man, as he left the store. The others soon followed, and Tom and the jeweler were once more alone in the shop.

"Can you tell me something about this man, Tom?" asked Mr. Track, eagerly. "So he really makes diamonds. Who is he?"

"I'd rather not tell--just now," replied the young inventor. "I don't take much stock in him, myself. I think he's visionary. He may think he has made diamonds, and he may have made some stones that look like them.

I'm very skeptical."

"If you could bring me some, Tom, I could soon tell whether they were real or not. Can you?"

The lad shook his head.

"I don't expect to see Mr. Jenks again," he said. "He talked rather wildly about waiting to meet me, but that man is odd--crazy, perhaps--and I don't imagine I'll see him. He's harmless, but he's eccentric. Well, there was quite some excitement for a time."

"I should say there was. I thought it was a plan to rob me," and the jeweler began putting away the diamond pins. In fact, the excitement so filled the minds of himself and Tom that neither of them thought any more of the object of the lad's visit, and the young inventor departed without purchasing the pin he had come after.

It was not until he was out on the street, walking toward his home, that the matter came back to his mind.

"I declare!" he exclaimed. "I didn't get that pin for Mary, after all!

Well, never mind, I have a week until her birthday, and I can get it to-morrow."

He walked rapidly toward home, for the weather looked threatening, and Tom had no umbrella. He was musing on the happenings of the evening when he reached his house. His father was out, as was Garret Jackson, the engineer; and Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, was entertaining a lady in the sitting-room, so, as Tom was rather tired, he went directly to his own room, and, a little later got into bed.

It was shortly after midnight when he was awakened by hearing a rattling on the window of his room. The reason he was able to fix the time so accurately was because as soon as he awakened he pressed a little electric b.u.t.ton, and it illuminated the face of a small clock on his bureau. The hands pointed to five minutes past twelve.

"Humph! That sounds like hail!" exclaimed Tom, as he arose, and looked out of the cas.e.m.e.nt. "I wonder if any of the skylights of the airs.h.i.+p shed are open? There might be some damage. Guess I'd better go out and take a look."

He had mentally reasoned this far before he had looked out, and when he saw that the moon was brightly s.h.i.+ning in a clear sky, he was a bit surprised.

"Why--that wasn't hail," he murmured. "It isn't even raining. I wonder what it was?"

He was answered a moment later, for a shower of fine gravel from the walk flew up and clattered against the gla.s.s. With a start, Tom looked down, and saw a dark figure standing under an apple tree.

"h.e.l.lo! Who's there?" called the lad, after he had raised the sash.

"It's I--Mr. Jenks," was the surprising answer.

"Mr. Jenks?" repeated Tom.

"Yes--Barcoe Jenks, of Earthquake Island."

"You here? What do you want?"

"Can you come down?"