“Good riddance,” murmured Tom.  He looked about, and saw that he was near a house, in the rear of which was a good-sized barn.  “Guess I’ll ask if I can leave the Butterfly there,” he murmured, and, ringing the doorbell, he was greeted by a man.

“I’ll pay you if you’ll let me store my machine in the barn a little while, until I go into the city, and return,” spoke the lad.

“Indeed, you’re welcome to leave it there without pay,” was the answer.  “I’m interested in airships, and, I’ll consider it a favor if you’ll let me look yours over while it’s here.”

Tom readily agreed, and a few minutes later he had caught a trolley going into the city.  He was soon in one of the largest jewelry stores of Chester.

“I’d like to get an expert opinion as to whether or not those stones are diamonds,” spoke Tom, to the polite clerk who came up to wait on him, and our hero handed over the two gems which Mr. Jenks had given him.  “I’m willing to pay for the appraisement, of course,” the young inventor added, as he saw the clerk looking rather doubtfully at him, for Tom had on a rough suit, which he always donned when he flew in his monoplane.

“I’ll turn them over to our Mr. Porter, a gem expert,” said the clerk.  “Please be seated.”

The young man disappeared into a private office with the stones, and Tom waited.  He wondered if he was going to have his trouble for his pains.  Presently two elderly gentlemen came from the little room, on the glass door of which appeared the word “Diamonds.”

“Who brought these stones in?” asked one of the men, evidently the proprietor, from the deference paid him by the clerk.  The latter motioned to Tom.

“Will you kindly step inside here?” requested the elderly man.  When the door was closed, Tom found himself in a room which was mostly taken up with a bench for the display of precious stones, a few chairs, and some lights arranged peculiarly; while various scales and instruments stood on a table.

“You wished an opinion on—­on these?” queried the proprietor of the place.  Tom noticed at once that the word “diamonds” was not used.

“I wanted to find out if they were of any value,” he said.  “Are they diamonds?”

“Would you mind stating where you got them?” asked the other of the two men.

“Is that necessary?” inquired the lad.  “I came by them in a legitimate manner, if that’s what you mean, and I can satisfy you on that point.  I am willing to pay for any information you may give me as to their value.”

“Oh, it isn’t that,” the proprietor hastened to assure him.  “But these are diamonds of such a peculiar kind, so perfect and without a flaw, that I wondered from what part of the world they came.”

“Then they are diamonds?” asked Tom, eagerly.

“The finest I have ever tested!” declared the other man, evidently Mr. Porter, the gem expert.  “They are a joy to look at, Mr. Roberts,” he went on, turning to the proprietor.  “If it is possible to get a supply of them you would be justified in asking half as much again as we charge for African or Indian diamonds.  The Kimberly products are not to be compared to these,” and he looked at the two stones in his hand—­the one cut, and sparkling brilliantly, the other in a rough state.