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
glass."

"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 glass."

"That's right--I didn't," asserted 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," asserted 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 stoc