The Proceedings of the Old Bailey

 

446.   GEORGE HERBERT VINCENT (46) , Feloniously setting fire to a shop in his occupation, with intent to injure and defraud. MESSRS. POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.

  GEORGE WARD . I am a publican at 12, Station Street—on Tuesday evening, 21st February, about 10 o'clock, I was walking along High Street, Stratford, and as I came near the prisoner's shop I received some information from a lad—I saw a crowd there—I and a friend pushed open the side door, and out came a volume of thick smoke and flame—I tried to make an entrance—I saw in the farther corner of the room a

glimmer of some sort, and when I got farther into the room I saw a flame in a cupboard or coal cellar under the staircase; the cupboard door was open—the flame came from some materials stacked up about a foot high, just inside the cupboard door—some water was brought; I threw a couple of pails of water on the fire and quenched it—the officers of the Fire Brigade then arrived and I left.

Cross-examined. I don't know whether I was the first to enter the house, as far as I know I was—if any one entered before me they shut the door after them—I don't know whether the door was latched or locked; we put our main strength to it and forced it—I had no chance of examining the cupboard, I was ordered out by the captain of the Fire Brigade.

  EDWARD SMITH . I am Superintendent of the West Ham Fire Brigade, and live at 8, West Ham Lane, Stratford—on the night of 21st February I was called to this fire at 304, High Street—I got there at 10.6—I found the side door open—I saw the place where the fire had been in the cupboard; it had been extinguished—the house was full of smoke—I went upstairs and opened the windows to let the smoke out—I had to crawl on my hands and knees on the first floor, and as I did so I found a sheet of writing paper sticking up in the floor—smoke was coming through the floor just inside the door of the back room first floor, one of the bedrooms—finding one of the boards loose I took it up, and underneath found a small fire; a quantity of paper had been burnt—none of the boarding was burnt—the board was down in its place and was covered over with the oilcloth which ran along the stairs and up the passage—the board ran from the bathroom across the landing to another room on the right hand side—the piece of paper that was sticking up was in the bathroom, away from the oilcloth—I took that sheet of paper out—the police took the rest of the paper—this is it (produced)—I then went downstairs and examined—I found a fire in the shop on the right hand side as I entered from the side door (referring to a plan)—there was a quantity of rubbish there, straw, refuse, waste paper, and a pair of old boots, they would not burn very quickly—it looked like the sweepings of the shop—that fire was burning about 18 feet from the counter; it had damaged part of the flooring—I tried to get in farther, but the smoke was so dense it took us half an hour to do so—I then found another fire on the top of the counter and under the counter in the shop window on the right as you enter from the street—that fire was composed of waste paper, clothing, trousers, and coats hanging up on the rails in the shop window; it had burnt a hole through the counter—the four fires were quite separate and distinct—after the smoke had cleared away I saw that the partition under the coal cellar was burnt; I should think about three or four feet of the partition was burnt away—I saw the prisoner on the premises before we got the whole of the fires out—I asked him if the shop was connected with the private house—he said "Yes," and he showed me the way into the shop; he opened the door and I went into the shop and discovered the fires—I asked him afterwards if he could account for the fires—he said no he could not, it was all safe when he locked the place up and went out at 9.25—I estimated the damage at between 30l. and 40l.—I saw what furniture and stock the house contained—I am not a valuer, but I should think the outside value of the whole was 200l.; that is a rough estimate; I mean everything in the place.

Cross-examined. I looked round the place, in all the drawers, and everything I could—I did not take stock, I only took a casual look—I say 200l. as it was before the fire—I have seen a great many fires in clothing shops—I have been stationed at West Ham fourteen months—I do not know that the prisoner has been a resident in the neighbourhood seventeen years—the woodwork of the coal cellar was burnt—it was about 10.6 when I got to it—there was a quantity of paper there—the board upstairs was not burnt—I knocked out that fire with my hand; it was paper, no straw—I could not say how long that had been burning; there was no vent to assist it—the fire at the counter was straw and waste paper and the boots—there was not sufficient straw to cause much fire—it was burning when I got there—I extinguished it with a handpump—the fire on the top of the counter was a quantity of clothing—in that same week there was  a mysterious fire in the church at Stratford; that was discovered to be on fire in three different places.

  THOMAS TERTULLY (Police Inspector). I am stationed at West Hamon Tuesday, 21st February, I went to the prisoner's premises, 304, High Street. Stratford, accompanied by Sergeant Lennox—after the fire I went over the house with Mr. Smith—I afterwards made this plan of the premises; it is correct—I found traces of a fire in the coal cupboard; that had been extinguished before I arrived—a portion of the partition separating it from the kitchen had been burnt away about 3 feet by 1 foot in depth, near the flooring—it was made of match lining—there were traces of another fire on the right as you enter the shop from the parlour—that had been extinguished—it was in the vicinity of an unused fireplace—I saw a quantity of burnt material; I could hardly tell what it was, I should think paper and all kinds of rubbish—a chalk back, covered with papiermache, one of the dummies, was broken and had been burnt; it was all charred and blackened—two of the boards had been torn up in order to extinguish the fire; this was behind the counter—near the entrance there was another counter, and on the top of that there was a pile of woollen goods near the window; that had been burnt; the counter was burnt through from the top, and the pile of goods had been burnt through from the bottom—it had been extinguished, but was smouldering—that pile of goods was about a foot and a half high; it extended nearly the whole width of the counter—those three fires were actually distinct—I then went upstairs to the firstfloor, and in the back room there were traces of a fourth fire underneath a plank which ran athwart the top of the landing—I lifted it up and found traces of fire underneath; there were burnt embers of paper, and on the night of the fire I saw burnt paper taken out—they were mostly mourning letters, I should think a dozen or more—some were between the joists under the flooring, which was not loose—the prisoner was sitting in the kitchen—after I had made my examination I told him that we found fires in various parts of the house, and it seemed to me to be a serious matter, and I said, "If you like to accompany me I will show you"—he went willingly with me over the house, and I pointed out the various fires—I asked if he could account, for them—he said no, he could not—I asked who lived in the house besides him—he said his two daughters and himself—I asked where his daughters were—he said, "At a friend's house close by"—I asked who shut the shop up—he said his boy, but he was the last to leave—I asked him respecting his insurance—he said he was insured for

400l.—I said I was very sorry for him, he would have to go to the policestation with the sergeant—I did not trace any smell of benzoline; I examined very carefully as to that, and failed to find any trace.

Cross-examined. I have been stationed at West Ham nearly four years—I have known the prisoner there that time as a tradesman—I regarded him as a highly respectable man, and I believe he bears that reputation in the neighbourhood—I forget precisely the time he said he left that night, but I believe he said about half past 9—that is about the time shops of that description close there—he answered all my questions without any hesitation.

  GEORGE LENNOX (Police Sergeant K 10). On 21st February about a quarter past 10 I went through the whole of the premises—I found four separate fires—I asked the prisoner how he thought the fires occurred—he said "I can't account for it"—he said he shut up the shop about twenty minutes past 9, and then went up to the Town Hall, and afterwards went to Mr. Saunders, and he did not know anything about the fire until some one came there and told him of it—I searched him, and found on him a Third Stratford Rock Building Society book in the name of G.H. Vincent, containing entries of subscriptions—the last entry was 14th June, 1881,2l. 10s.

  JOHN EDWARD PLATT . I am a member of the Salvage Corps stationed at the firestation, 40, Commercial Road—on Tuesday night, 21st Feb., I was put in charge of the premises at a quarter to 12—at that time all the fires were out—on the following day I saw these two lamps on the mantelshelf over the kitchen fireplace—one was full, and the other partly full; the two together when quite full would hold about half a pint—I saw this bottle standing on the table in the back kitchen, empty; it smelt of benzoline—while I was left in charge Mr. Garrett came and removed about 60l. worth of property under a bill of sale—before that was removed I had gone over the stock and furniture, and I estimated the value of it between 200l. and 300l.—a demand was made for the gas; that was cut away.

Cross-examined. It was on 22nd that I found the bottle on the table—I had not noticed it before; if it had been there I should have noticed it—it was standing up—the cork was in it—I had been in the back kitchen before.

  GEORGE DELL . I live at 7, Leban Street, Plaistow Road—I am 14 years old—I was employed by the prisoner for about ten months at his premises, 304, High Street, Stratford—he is a clothier—on Monday, 20th February, when I went home to my dinner I took with me two banners and two vases, and left them at Mr. Hockley's, No. 1, Paul Street, Bridge Row, Stratford—the prisoner told me to take them there—on Tuesday, the 21st, when I went to my dinner, at the prisoner's request I took two banner poles and two flags to Mr. Allman's—they had been used at a school feast the previous year—I got back about 1 o'clock, and then dusted the counter—I saw some newspapers piled up in the righthand corner of the counter; it was about two feet high—there was gas in the shop, these two small benzoline lamps were used—I used to fetch the benzoline when it was required—I think I had fetched a pint about the Thursday before, and on the Tuesday after tea, about 6, the prisoner told me to fetch another pint—I did so, and gave it to him in this bottle—about 7 he told me to go to Leytonstone with a small brown paper parcel

addressed to Mrs. Clare—I took it, with a message that it was not to be parted with without a note from Mr. Vincent—I don't know what was in it—I got back about 8—I saw Mr. Vincent filling one of the lamps with the benzoline—the shop was closed about twenty minutes past 9—between 8 and 9 Mr. Vincent was upstairs for some time—about 9 a man, a customer of Mr. Woods the publican, came, and took a parcel and a box out of the shop, and Mr. Vincent told him to take it over to the Market Station, and I went over with him and paid the carriage, a shilling—it was a heavy wooden box about two feet long; it would have been too heavy for me to carry—this is the card with the address on it, "Mr. Watts, 3, New London Street"—I don't know what was in the box—I came back between ten and fifteen minutes past 9—Mr. Vincent was then in the shop—in about two minutes he went upstairs for two or three minutes—I put up the shutters, and prepared to close the shop—when he was upstairs I called him three times, and he came down—that was about twenty minutes past 8; before I went out with the man and the box he had been upstairs about half an hour—I called him down because a customer came into the shop—I had to call him three times, and then he came down—it was 25 minutes past 9 when I left—the prisoner was then in the kitchen dressed ready to go out; he had on a high silk hat, and overcoat—I left by the side door—I saw the prisoner again that evening at the Town Hall, Stratford; he wished me goodnight, and went into the Town Hall, and I went home—the Town Hall ia about five minutes walk from 304—I do not know that I had ever seen a pile of newspapers on the counter before—the prisoner lived on the premises with his two daughters, one between 20 and 21, and the other about 11—he had also a married daughter, Mrs. Tomkinson, living at 6, Archibald Terrace, Leytonstone—the two unmarried daughters were in the house that day; the eldest left about half past 4 to go to a friend's, the youngest was at school—she was in the house at dinner time, between 12 and 1—she came home between 4 and 5, and then went to her married sister's.

Cross-examined. Mr. Vincent's bedroom was upstairs—I never knew him go upstairs before, not in all the 10 months I lived there—I was never upstairs except to clean the parlour windows—the prisoner sells new clothes—newspapers are used to wrap up parcels—I don't know whether these papers were put over things, I did not notice—I saw that when I came back from dinner—I had never seen paper wrapped round anything before—I did not look to see what was in it, it was not my place—I did not speak about it to anybody—the police sergeant asked me what the paper was put there for, I said I did not know—he had a plan of the shop, and he showed me the corner—the prisoner read the papers every morning; he put them on a shelf, and sometimes used them to wrap up parcels—I could not see what was inside the paper—there were four or five sheets by the look of them; there was such a lot, I could see the ends—the bannerpoles and flags had been used at a Sundayschool treat—the prisoner was one of the churchwardens—Mr. Hockley was connected witn the church—the brownpaper parcel weighed something under a pound—I was in the habit of taking out brownpaper parcels—the side door closes with a latch—a pint of benzoline was the quantity I was in the habit of fetching for the lamps—it lasted about three or four days—the bottle was kept on a shelf in the kitchen—the prisoner was in the habit of trimming and filling the lamps.

Re-examined. There was no shopman—there was nobody but himself to attend to the customers, that was why I called him down.

  ELIZA CLARE . I am the wife of Samuel John Clare, a greengrocer, of 4, Ashbourne Terrace, Leytonstone—I have known the prisoner for some time by dealing with him—his place is about 20 minutes from ours by tram—I remember a little boy bringing a small parcel weighing about a pound, to be left till called for; the name of Mumford was written on it—I don't know any person of that name—on the following Thursday, the 23rd, Mrs. Tomkinson called for it; I did not know her before—I gave her the parcel—I do not know what was in it or why it was left with me.

Cross-examined. I don't know that the parcel contained a coat—it did not strike me as anything extrordinary, in the way of business—I have dealt with the prisoner, and was always treated with respect.

  ELIZABETH WATTS . I am the wife of Thomas George Watts, of 3, New London Street, City—I am housekeeper taking charge of offices there—I have known the prisoner three or four years—on Monday, 20th Feb., about halfpast 6 or 7 o'clock, he came and asked if I would mind a box for him—I said "Yes"—I understoood it was coming from the country—he said it would be addressed to me, to keep till some one came to readdress it—on the 22nd a box came with this label on it—it was delivered through the Great Eastern Railway—the same evening it was called for in my absence, but was not sent away till the next morning; my husband then readdressed it and sent it away by the Parcels Delivery Company—we took off the old address and retained it—this is the receipt that was left with me for the box on the Thursday.

  THOMAS GEORGE WATTS . I saw the box at my house, a man called for it on the Wednesday evening—I did not give it to him—Miss Emily Vincent called about half an hour after, and from what she said I took off the card and put on it" A. Tomkinson, 9, Archibald Terrace, Crownfield Road, Stratford"—I believe a carrier called for it.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner four or five years—his daughters are in the habit of coming to my house from time to time—I knew him as a highly respectable tradesman.

  GEORGE TAVERNER . I am booking clerk in the coaching department at the Stratford Market Station—on 21st February a box addressed to Watts, 3, New London Street, E.C., was brought there, and 1s. paid for the carriage; it weighed 72lb—it was forwarded in due course.

  WILLIAM WOODS . I live at the Builders' Arms, next door to the prisoner—about 9 o'clock in the evening of 21st February the prisoner brought two small brownpaper parcels and asked me to take them over till called for, 1s. to pay for one, and 2s. for the other—a day or two after, in consequence of what my wife told me, I sent them to Mrs. Tomkinson, the prisoner's eldest daughter.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner six years; he was one of the churchwardens of a neighbouring church, and has borne a very good character—I had previously taken charge of parcels for him several times.

Re-examined. I had never before taken charge of parcels to be sent to his daughter's, I only received parcels for his customers to call for after his shop has been shut.

  CAROLINE WOODS . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember two small parcels being left with my husband to be called for—my boy took them to Ashby's boot shop for the daughter.

  WILLIAM ADAMS . I am employed by Mr. Woods—a day or two after the fire I took some parcels to Mr. Ashby's and gave them to him—I did not see Mrs. Tomkinson; I knew her—I did not notice the address on the parcels.

  ALBERT BATES JENKINS . I am clerk to Mr. Diprose, of 72, Buckingham Palace Road, Pimlico, a moneylender—on 30th September the prisoner gave Mr. Diprose this bill of sale—I saw him sign it—it is for a loan of 55l. on the furniture and effects of 304, High Street, Stratford, to be repaid by seven monthly instalments of 7l. each; 40l. advanced, 15l. for the accommodation—as security we had this fire policy in the London and Lancashire for 600l.—this is his receipt for the premium on 12th January—in addition to that we had the security of a life policy for 100l. in the Prudential—shortly after hearing of the fire we thought it desirable to realise under the bill of sale—I don't know what the amount was—we took barely enough to cover, within 2l. and the expenses.

Cross-examined. I am not Mr. Diprose; I am known as "our Mr. Jenkins"—this is the inventory in the prisoner's own writing—there was a balance of 27l. due on the bill of sale.

Re-examined. I believe the instalments were paid in one sum, except on one occasion when 4l. was paid first and 3l. in the course of a day or so.

  ROBERT FREWER . I live in Avenue Road, Forest Gate, and am secretary to the Third Stratford Bock Building Society—the prisoner had four shares in it, upon which he made payments—the last payment was made on 14th June, 1881—on 20th June notice of withdrawal was given—a second notice was given in July, but I believe that was a mistake—in consequence of having a great many notices of withdrawal his application stood over till February—on 10th February I received this letter from him. (Read: "Dear Sir,—Kindly oblige me by doing what you can that I may get my money from the Rock; I still require it; it would greatly help me.") He had given notice to withdraw about 25l.—that was all he could get out—I replied by postcard that we should be compelled to tax his patience a little longer—it is not paid yet.

  JAMES SAUNDERS . I am a cabinet maker, of Market Street, Stratford, and live on my property—I am not a friend of the prisoner; I did not know him till just before Christmas—on 21st February his daughter Emily came to my house to take tea about 4 o'clock in the afternoon—she stayed there till the alarm of fire about 10 o'clock—we expected the prisoner to supper; he came about halfpast 9 and stayed till 10 o'clock, when the alarm was given, and he went away.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Recorder.