We were detailed in pairs to sweep the sidewalks clean all around the block the prison stood on. My space was from the prison door down to Montgomery Street. An old man had the sidewalk across the street from me. Two or three assistant trusties nosed around like bird dogs to see that we swept clean and didn’t run away with the brooms. When my task was done I helped the old man finish his, and he carried my broom back to the prison. The trusty dismissed me with a wave of his arm and I went up Montgomery Street in search of a restaurant where I could get some coffee with a dime I had saved from the rapacious and cunning hypos in the prison. I decided to keep away from the wine dumps in future, and out of the hands of the police vag detail that rounded up the riffraff when they got too numerous and pesty. In a few days Sanc was back, quite satisfied with his trip to Salt Chunk Mary’s. The money was split and put in our box in separate parcels. We had more than $1,000 each now, but he had no notion of taking a rest or vacation. He wanted to know right away what I had done in his absence. I reported everything, including my night in jail. He asked me what I told the police at the station. I told him. “Not bad,” he said, “but be careful.” I gave him the hotel room keys I had made, and he complimented me on my work and put them away for future use. CHAPTER XIII Having plenty of time and spending money I visited San Jose, towns down the peninsula, and across the bay—always with an eye to business. Jewelry-store windows are fascinating to the thief. He must stop and look over the sparkling plunder. Even in these days of my regeneration I stop occasionally from habit at a jewelry-store window. Usually there are others looking, too! I paused before a jewelry-store window in Oakland one evening, just at closing time. The clerks were clearing it out for the night. In the center of the display stood a slim, polished wood pedestal, on top of which, in a velvet cup, reposed an enormous ruby, the size of my thumb nail, set in a ring. A placard announced that this pigeon-blood ruby, valued at three thousand dollars, was to be awarded by some organization, the name of which I don’t recall, to the winner of a contest they were holding. The window was cleaned up, the display put away for the night, but the ruby was left on its pedestal when the store was closed. I got the next boat across and found Sanc. We went back to Oakland and got to the store about eleven o’clock. “I don’t know anything about rubies, kid, but if it’s left there all night it’s phony.” Just then two men came along, entered the store, and, locking the door behind them, went to the window and got the stone. They disappeared toward the back of the store. “It must be genuine, kid. They are putting it away in the ‘box.’”