I stood by the door till a trusty prisoner opened it and let me out. My partner from the wine dump was also taken out and we joined four or five others in the corridor. A trusty came with an armful of brooms and gave each of us one. A husky young fellow, half awake, reached for one of the newest brooms. “No, you don’t,” said the trusty, “the last time you were here I gave you a good new broom and you beat it up to Chinktown and peddled it for a dime. An old broom for you.”