My new garments were such as I had never seen before, and upon my breast was a brass plate bearing a number.
“Now, take these,” commanded the turnkey, throwing his light upon some things in a corner.
I turned and picked them up.
There was a rug, a mess tin, and a wooden spoon.
“What am I to do with these?” I asked.
“You will want them upon your journey.”
“My journey! Where, then, am I going?”
“To the mines.”
“To Siberia?” I gasped.
“Yes,” he answered, adding, “Come, follow me.”