I was half-carried, half-shoved and dragged back to the dark.

There, when I became conscious, I found a stool in my dungeon.

He was a pallid-faced, little dope-fiend of a short-timer who would do anything to obtain the drug.

As soon as I recognized him I crawled to the grating and shouted out along the corridor: "There is a stool in with me, fellows! He's Ignatius Irvine! Watch out what you say!" The outburst of imprecations that went up would have shaken the fortitude of a braver man than Ignatius Irvine.

He was pitiful in his terror, while all about him, roaring like beasts, the pain-racked lifers told him what awful things they would do to him in the years that were to come.
Had there been secrets, the presence of a stool in the dungeons would have kept the men quiet, As it was, having all sworn to tell the truth, they talked openly before Ignatius Irvine.