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.