“Why?”
“Because there are enemies on my track. If they thought I was seeking aid to discover the secret of Phantom Mountain, my life might pay the forfeit.”
“Are you in earnest, Mr. Jenks?”
“I certainly am, and, while I must apologize for awakening you at this unseemly hour, and for the mysterious nature of my visit, if you will let me tell my story, you will see the need of secrecy.”
“Oh, I don't mind being awakened,” answered Tom, good-naturedly, “but I will be frank with you, Mr. Jenks. I hardly can believe what you have stated to me several times—that you know how diamonds can be made.”
“I can prove it to you,” was the quiet answer.
“Yes, I know. For centuries men have tried to discover the secret of transmuting base metals into gold, and how to make diamonds by chemical means. But they have all been failures.”
“All except this process—the process used at Phantom Mountain,” insisted the queer man. “Do you want to hear my story?”
“I have no objections.”
“Then let me warn you,” went on Mr. Jenks, “that if you do hear it, you will be so fascinated by it that I am sure you will want to cast your lot in with mine, and aid me to get my rights, and solve the mystery. And I also want to warn you that if you do, there is a certain amount of danger connected with it.”