"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 wa% 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. Where can I have a talk with you? I" Mr. Jenks suddenly looked down the dimly-lighted street. "They're coming back!" he cried. "I don't
