CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 23D, 1865.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 23d, 1865, and following days.
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. WARREN STORMES HALE, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir HENRY SINGER KEATING ., Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas Sir FRANCIS GILLERY PIGOTT ., Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer Sir JAMES DUKE ., Bart; Sir FRANCIS GRAHAM MOON ., Bart.; and JOHN CARTER., Esq., F. R. A. S., Aldermen of the said City; RUSSELL GURNEY ., Esq., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN ., Esq., BENJAMIN SAMUEL PHILLIPS ., Esq., ANDREW LUSK ., Esq., M.P. and DAVID STONE . Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS ., Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR ., Esq., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
HALE, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 23d., 1865.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY.
JONES.**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
HOLMES. received a good character. Confined Three Months.
[Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
920. WILLIAM CHALMERS. (19) , to stealing 800l. and other moneys of Thomas William Constantine, his master.— Confined Eighteen Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] There was also an indictment for arson, on which no evidence was offered.
922. JOHN FREDERICK BRAMPTON. (27) , to embezzling and stealing the sums of 2l., 4l. 4s. 4 1/2 d., 9l. and other moneys, also to stealing 193 yards flannel of John Warlow Brown, his master.— Confined Eighteen Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 23rd, 1865.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE. and WARTON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPE.
MARY FLEETWOOD . I keep the Halfway beer-house at Northithe, near Heston—on 12th September, about half-past eleven, the prisoner came in for a glass of ale he gave me a florin—I gave him 1s. 10 1/2 d. change and put the florin in the till, I had no other there about two hours afterwards I discovered it was bad, marked it, and gave it to the constable Elsley.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose you did not take much note of the money when you put it in first? A. No; I took no money during the next two hours, nor did anybody else.
a man came in for half a quartern of shrub, which is 2 1/2 d.—he gave me a crown and I gave him 4s. 9 1/2 d. change—I put the crown in the till, there was no other there—about half an hour afterwards I gave it to Sergeant Elsley—I cannot say whether the prisoner is the man that came or not.
ROBERT ELSLEY . (Police-sergeant F 22). I produce a crown which I received from the last witness and this florin from Mrs. Fleetwood—I saw the prisoner on 12th September, about half-past twelve, at the Jolly Brickmakers beer-shop, Northithe, which is about a quarter of a mile from the last witness's—he was talking to some men inside the beer-shop, he came out—I was outside, and he said, "I promised to be across at Tildersley's in a quarter of an hour, and back again"—he went off towards Tildersley's, and after that a communication was made to me by the woman at the beer-shop—I next saw the prisoner some two hours afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose there were other people at this Jolly Brickmakers? A. Yes, working men.
MARIA BIRCH . I am the wife of John Birch, a baker, of Norwood-green—on 12th September, about one, the prisoner came in for a pint of bird-seed and gave me a florin; it did not look good, and I called my brother in the prisoner's presence, and then called my husband—my brother gave the prisoner 1s. 9 1/2 d. change, and he took the bird-seed and went away my husband afterwards examined the florin, and found it was bad—I afterwards saw him give it to Elsley—this is it, I marked it—my brother thought it was good at first.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the prisoner walk quietly out of the shop? A. Yes—I had never taken bad money before.
THOMAS BIRCH . I am the brother of the last witness—on 12th September she asked me for change for a florin—I examined it, and thought it was a bad one, but I had given the prisoner the change before that—I kept the coin till it was given to the officer—the prisoner saw I did not put the florin in the till, and be kept me talking some time after I had given him the change—I kept the florin in my hand.
Cross-examined, Q. Had you known him before. A. No.
HENRY DOBLE . (Policeman,. 108). I was called to Mr. Birch's shop on 12th September, between one and two, and received this florin from him—Mrs. Birch and Thomas Birch were present—I then followed the prisoner, and overtook him in Hanwell-lane—I told him I wanted him, and he must come back with me to Mr. Birch's, where he had passed a bad florin—he said if he had it was quite a mistake, and he would go back and rectify it—he then pulled this purse out with a quantity of silver in it, good money—I took him towards the station—on the way we passed a hedge of Mr. Robinson's, there was a gap in it, and as we came up to the gap he said, "I'm off," and got through the hedge—I followed him and caught hold of him; he got me round the neck and tried to strangle me—I said he had better come quietly, if he attempted to strike me or get away I should knock him down—he said he would have a b——good try—he struggled again and then got away—I followed him and knocked him down with my staff—we then had another struggle and fell assistance came, and he was taken and handcuffed—I produce sixteen florins and three crowns, which I received from Mr. Robinson, which were found near the place where the scuffle took place.
HARVEY GOODYEAR . I am in the employ of Mr. Michael Robinson, a farmer—I know a place on his premises where there is a gap in the hedge—on 14th September, about fifty yards from the buildings, I picked up a lot of money, wrapped up in this paper, about 200 yards from the gap—the
grass was very much trodden about near the spot as though there had been some struggling—I took the money to my master.
Cross-examined. Q. Where there are gaps in the country do you generally find a good deal of scrambling? A. Yes—I found the money about the middle of the place—there is no footpath near where that gap is—I heard of bad money being passed in the parish before I found this—I heard that this man was taken.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. Did you show the constable where you found the money? A. Yes, Doble.
MICHAEL ROBINSON . I am a farmer at Heston—on the afternoon of 14th September Goodyear gave me a packet of money, I took it indoors, weighed it, and found the coins all light—there were sixteen florins and three crowns—I sent for Doble and gave them into his possession—I saw the prisoner in his custody two days before on my premises—I saw him handcuffed.
He was further charged with having been before convicted.
EDWARD MCGLOIN . (Policeman, F 40). I produce a certificate (read: "Central Criminal Court, April, 1860.—John Godfrey, otherwise John James, convicted of uttering counterfeit coin. Four Years' Penal Servitude")—that refers to the prisoner—I was present at his trial and conviction.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite sure you have not made a mistake? A. Quite sure—he had nine months before that conviction, which I proved at the time.
GUILTY.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY. to like offences:—
MESSERS. POLAN. and WARTO. conducted the Prosccution, and MR. R. N. PHILIPP. the Defence.
JOHN ROBERTS . I keep the Sir John Falstaff, Bridge-street, Covent-garden—on the night of 21st September, about eleven o'clock, the prisoner came for a glass of ale, which came to 1 1/2 d.—he gave me a halfcrown—I told him it was bad—he gave me a good one—I gave him the change, and he left—I followed him to the Eagle beer-shop, Endell-street—I said something to the landlord, and Hinds, a constable who was with me in plain clothes, went in and took the prisoner—I marked the coin at the station—this is it (produced.)
Cross-examined. Q. Have you had a good deal of bad money at different times? A. yes, attempted to be passed—I put the halfcrown on a shelf where there was no other money—I never keep money there—I have only one other person in the bar—there was nobody there then but me—I took it to the station in a pocket by itself—I marked it with three or four crosses—I had no other bad money in my house, I never take any—I detect it, and have had people at Bow-street before in the same way.
SARAH ANN PAYNE . My husband keeps the Eagle beer-house, Endell-street—on 21st September, about twenty minutes to twelve, the prisoner came for a glass of ale and gave me a halfcrown—I tried it with my teeth and broke it—my husband came in with a policeman—I told him, and the prisoner was given in custody—I gave the halfcrown back to the prisoner and saw it taken out of his hand by the constable.
PHILIP HINE . (Policeman, F 169). I was on duty in plain clothes in Drury—lane, and Roberts pointed the prisoner out to me—I followed the prisoner with him—he took something from his pocket in Castle—street, Long Acre, examined it under a lamp, and returned it to his pocket again, and went into the Eagle—I spoke to the landlord and found the prisoner standing at the bar—Mrs. Payne laid a halfcrown on the counter, and said that she broke it in testing it—I took the prisoner and found on him two florins, a halfcrown, and a half—sovereign, all good.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. LANGFORD. conducted the Prosecution.
HONORA SHEA . I live in the house of John Hickey, of Old Brentford, in the parish of Ealing—on the morning of 26th September, between two and three o'clock, I heard a noise in the house, went into the kitchen, and saw Polly that is the prisoner—she had broken the windows open—I followed her, brought her back, and kept her till we got a constable—I missed a child's frock, a pair of petticoats, a shawl, and other things which were safe at twenty minutes to ten the night before on a chair by the fire—these are them (produced)—my landlady, Mrs. Hickey, occupies the kitchen—I knew the prisoner when she lodged in the house, she had worked with me part of the summer.
MARGARET HICKEY . I am the wife of John Hickey, of Old Brentford—on 25th September I saw the kitchen window closed and fastened—on the morning of the 26th I was called up, went into the kitchen, and found two panes of glass broken and the window open—I saw the prisoner brought back by Shea—this petticoat is mine I left it in the kitchen when I went to bed.
GEORGE BROUGHTON .(Policeman, S 201) On 26th September, between three and four o'clock, I was sent for and the prisoner was given into my custody—I asked her what business she had there—she said that she went there for lodgings—I saw her an hour and a half before that, she was a little the worse for liquor.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. OPPENHEIM. conducted the Prosecution
STEPHEN STEWART . I am head waiter and manager at an hotel in Bremen—street—the prisoner came there on 5th July, and stayed till 13tb—he came in on the 13th with this portmanteau (produced)—he left that day, taking it with him—he had nothing but a box before that.
SARAH LOUISA PENTECOST . I am servant at the Temperance Hotel, Queen-square—on 27th August, the prisoner came there with this portmanteau—he remained nearly three weeks—I gave it to the police on a Wednesday in September.
HARRIET COLES . I am in the employ of Mr. Chandler, an hotel-keeper, of 34, Sackville-street—on 10th July, a cabman gave me this letter—Read "16 and 17, Pall Mall The colonel is taken seriously ill in the street, and has been brought in here by a gentleman the doctor says we are not to
remove him to Sackville-street, but to put him to bed at once; he wants his luggage brought down at once; you may give them to this cabman to bring down." Signed, "Mrs. Chandler."—I gave the cabman General Faris's portmanteau—this is it—it was full by the weight—it was looked—I also gave him a ring.
Prisoner. Q. Is the cabman here? A. I do not know—I have not seen him since—I should know him if I saw him—I did not see you near the premises that night, but I did on the Saturday three times, and spoke to you.
MR. OPPENHEIM. Q. What was the conversation? A. He came to know if Mr. Chandler, the proprietor of the hotel, had received his character—I said that he had not—the conversation was about his character, what character he had had from the cook at the Dover Hotel.
ANN CHANDLER . I am the wife of Robert Chandler, of 17, Pall Mall—I resided there in July last—Major-general Faris was not residing there then—he was living in Sackville-street—this letter is not my writing, nor did I give it to any one, or authorize any one to write it.
MAJOR-GEN. WILLIAM FARIS . I live at 17, Pall Mall—I lived at 34, Sackville-street, in June—this portmanteau is mine, also the jewel-case, handkerchiefs, and all these articles of clothing—the handkerchiefs and case were in the portmanteau, and the other articles were strapped together, lying near it I sent no one to the hotel for the things on 10th July, nor did I authorize Mrs. Chandler to send—I was not taken ill in the street, nor did the doctor say that I must not be removed—after the prisoner was remanded, I received a letter from him by post—I did not pledge the handkerchief or the coats.
THOMAS SHILLINGWORTH . (Policeman,. 4). On 21st September, I received this portmanteau from Louisa Penhurst, at 37, Queen-square—it contained this jewel-case—I took the prisoner on the 13th, and told him the charge—he said, "you have made a mistake this time"—I searched him before taking him to the station, and found on him this letter, several duplicates, two pocket-books, and some papers and memorandums—he acknowledged this letter to be his writing.
Prisoner. Q. Who is it directed to? A. To your sister—I searched you at the reading-rooms—they gave me some note-paper the second time I went there—this letter was not with it—it was in your trousers' pocket—I said, "Here is a letter here," and you said, "Yes; that is to my sister"—I did not say, "Do you wish it sent to your sister?" (This letter was not read, but was put in for the Jury to compare it with the one sent to 34, Sackvive-street.)
The Prisoner, in a long address, stated that he bought the portmanteau and tome other articles for 4l. of two men who he met at some reading-rooms, at 191, cheapside, one of whom was a fair young man, and the other looked like a cabman; that he received a stamped receipt for the 4l. signed Edward Hunter, Fore-street, City, which ought to be among his papers; that the letter was not found upon him, but was left among the note paper, and that the cabman who got the portmanteau ought to be produced.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted at Westminster police-courts; to which he
(There was another Indictment against the prisoner for obtaining another portmanteau, and the officer dated that there were twenty other cases against him.)— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY:—
930. JOHN BROWN. (22) to stealing a watch from the person, after a previous conviction—(He had been twenty-six times in custody)**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
932. HENRY HOWARD. (20) to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Job Guy Clarke, and stealing 9 gold chains and other articles, his property; having been before convicted.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 24th, 1865.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. METCALFE. the Defence.
JOHN PEARCE . I am in the employment of the Citizen Steam Boat Company, as assistant money-taker at the Old Shades Pier—I was there on Tuesday, 22d August—it was my duty to keep the gangway clear—about 1 o'clock on that day, the prisoner came there with a basket of walnuts—I did not know him before he—put his basket down underneath the window where the people pay—it was a basket with a pile of walnuts on the top of it—I asked him to move the basket, and he would not, and told me to mind my own business—I said if he did not move it I should have to move it myself, because it caused an obstruction—he did not move it, and I put my foot against the bottom of it, and pushed it on one side, and some of the nuts fell off—the prisoner directly flew at me and said, "Pay me for my nuts"—I said I had nothing to do with them, and told him to take them away, and not cause an obstruction—he then struck me in the mouth, caught me by the collar, threw me, and fell on me—I fell on the ground on my left side—we had a little bit of a struggle, and I got away from him and got up—he then attacked me again a second time, and threw me again, and when I was on the ground, he laid hold of me by the collar and knocked my head on the ground five times, I think—he dashed my head on the flag-stones—I got up, and went to try and find a policeman, but could not find one, and living close by in Miles-lane, I ran home—my mouth was bleeding from the effects of the blow—I went to bed, and the next morning Mr. Humphreys, the doctor, saw me—I have been confined to the house a very long time—two or three days afterwards, the Lord Mayor came and took my deposition—on the Thursday the prisoner came to see me—I was then very ill—a constable was sent for, and he was given into custody—he said he was very sorry about it, and he was going to give his name and address.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you spill the nuts when you kicked the basket? A. Yes; some of them rolled off on to the stones—I have epileptic fits occasionally—I have had them on and off for nine or ten years; several times in one year—I was eight months without one previous to this—after
the struggle was over, I went to the box and washed my mouth out with some water, and then went to the top of the street the best way I could—I had not a fit after that, to my knowledge—I went indoors, and called my wife, as well as I could—I hung on to the banisters, and she came and assisted me.
MR. POLAND. Q. Before this happened was your left side all right? A. Yes; I have not got the use of my left arm, or my leg—all my left side is useless.
TIMOTHY REGAN . I am a shoe-black, and live in New-street, Borough—I was at the Shades Pier on Tuesday, 22d August—I saw the prisoner there with a basket of nuts, very nigh opposite the money-box—Pearce told him. to take them away, and he would not—Mr. Pearce said, "If you don't take them away, I will move them for you," and he went up to the basket and pushed it with his foot, and some of the nuts fell off, and got trodden on by the people—the prisoner went up to Mr. Pearce, took hold of him, and said, "Pay for my nuts," and used very bad language—they then had a struggle, and the prisoner hit Mr. Pearce on the mouth and made it bleed—he then caught hold of Mr. Pearce by the neck and round the waist, and threw him down backwards—he fell on his side—they then got up, and the prisoner threw him again, harder than the first time, and then Mr. Pearce got up, and I saw his mouth bleeding, and he went into the box and wiped it, and came out, and I saw him going up towards his house, and he was staggering.
Cross-examined. Q. Did a woman who sells newspapers come up. A. Yes; I don't know whether she is here—her name is Mrs. Sherlock—Mr. Pearce was trying to get away from the prisoner—the prisoner took hold of him by the neck, and bent his back to throw him down.
MR. POLAND. Q. did the woman who sells papers do anything. A. Yes, she came and caught hold of the prisoner's hair to make him get off Mr. Pearce—he was on the ground on the top of Pearce then.
WILLIAM CLARK . I am assistant money-taker at the Swan Pier—on this Tuesday I saw Pearce and the prisoner struggling together—that was the first I saw of it—the prisoner had his hand round the prosecutor's waist and across his chest, and threw him down and fell on him—I only saw him throw him once—I saw no blow struck—I saw Pearce's mouth bleeding—he came into the box and washed his mouth out.
Cross-examined. Q. Were they wrestling together. A. Yes; I did not see the prisoner knock Pearce's head against the ground, or anything of that sort.
ALFRED DIGGINS . I am potman at the Shades tap—I was present when this took place on 22d August—I saw Pearce and the prisoner struggling on the ground—the prisoner was on the top—I saw Pearce's mouth bleeding, and saw him go into the box and wash his mouth out.
WILLIAM CUSHINE .(City Policeman, 574). On Thursday, 24th August, I was called to No. 11, Miles-lane, where Pearce lives—he was in bed—his wife and the prisoner were there—the prisoner was in the act of writing his address down, when I went into the room, to give to Mrs. Pearce—I asked Mrs. Pearce if she intended to charge him—she said, "Yes"—I then told the prisoner it was my duty to take him into custody for assaulting Mr. Pearce—he said he was very sorry for what had occurred, but Mr. Pearce had touched his basket of walnuts and spilt some of them on the ground, and that irritated his temper; that they then had a struggle together, and they both fell to the ground—I took him into custody—I know him as a costermonger.
Cross-examined. Q. Is he a person of good character? A. I have never knew him—I never knew him in trouble for an offence like this before.
THOMAS BENNETT HUMPHREYS . I am a surgeon at 9, Trinity-square, Tower-hill—on Wednesday, 23rd August, I went to see Pearce—I found him in bed—he was seriously ill with apoplexy, almost insensible, in fact it was with great difficulty I could make him comprehend anything at all—it was very difficult to rouse him—the left arm and side of the face and the left foot and leg were quite paralysed—this state of things went on for several days—there was no external injury of any importance on his mouth—the paralysis that I saw could have been produced by violence or struggling—the injury was to the brain—I thought he was in great danger at the time—I had no idea of his recovery—it was two or three weeks before he could go out—he is paralysed, and permanently, I am afraid—I don't suppose he will ever use that arm or leg again—he was so ill that I got the Lord Mayor to come down and take his deposition—that was some three or four days after this—I knew Pearce before—he has had epileptic fits for many years past—I have been in the habit of seeing him—he used to come up to my surgery frequently—this was not the result of any epileptic fit—he had not had one for eight months.
Cross-examined. Q. Would the epilepsy predispose him to anything of this sort? A. It marks a weak brain, of course—I think it would have more effect than on a perfectly sound constitution—it is a matter of conjecture—this was not from any injury to the spine—that would not affect the muscles of the face, and they were paralysed as well as the extremities—the brain is the part injured; the injury originated in the brain—if a man's spine is crushed it would not paralyse his face—I think it was from the knock on the head and not from the doubling of the spine.
MR. METCALFE. called the following witnesses for the Defence.
ELIZA SHERLOCK . I sell newspapers at this pier—I saw the prisoner on this day opposite me selling walnuts, and Mr. Pearce went up to him and said, "Come, I cannot have this," and the prisoner then stooped and collected his walnuts together, and Mr. Pearce said, "If you don't move I will very soon move, them for you," and he then kicked his walnuts over—Isaacs said, "What did you do that for?" and Pearce said, "I will serve you the same if you don't look out"—I then saw them both struggling together—Mr. Pearce then caught hold of Isaacs and put his legs round Isaacs' legs—they struggled some time, and then I saw them fall both together—I ran up to Isaacs and said, "Oh, pray, young man, let the poor man go, he suffers with fits"—Isaacs said, "I will let him go, I have not got hold of him"—I pushed Isaacs' head on one side, and then saw Pearce's hand plunged into Isaacs' neck—I said to Pearce, "Oh, you foolish man, get up, you are a great sufferer, get up"—they then both got up together—Pearce followed Isaacs up the Shades—I saw Isaacs' hand on Pearce's neck, and he knocked Isaacs' head on the ground—I think Pearce was uppermost—Isaacs' coat was torn—one appeared to me to be as bad as the other.
Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. Q. Did you see the prisoner strike Pearce? A. I saw no blows whatever—I saw that Pearce was bleeding from the mouth a little, but I did not see any blows—they only fell once—I did not lay hold of Isaacs' hair and try to pull him off—I thought he would do Pearce an injury, but when I looked I found they were struggling together—Pearce fell upon Isaacs.
this happened I was standing by the Shades tap, outside the door—I saw Pearce kick the basket over, and a great quantity of nuts were spilt all about the pavement—Isaacs said, "What do you want to kick my nuts over for?"—he then attacked Isaacs, caught hold of him by the collar, put his legs round his legs, and tried to throw him—Isaacs being the strongest threw Pearce, and they both fell together, Pearce underneath—they got up again and went away—I said to Isaacs, "Come away, the old gentleman is subject to fits"—Isaacs said he would go away, but he had got him so tight by the collar—that was while they were on the ground—I did not see Isaacs knock his head on the ground—if it had happened I should have seen it—I think it was more Pearce's fault.
Cross-examined Q. Did you see that Pearce's mouth was bleeding? A. It was—that might have occurred when they fell together to the ground—I can be on my oath it was not by a blow—I saw them get up, and Isaacs threw him a second time—I told Isaacs to come away—he said, "I cannot come away, Mr. Pearce has got me so tight by the throat, he is nearly strangling me"—he was then on the top of Pearce.
WILLIAM HARVEY . I am a commission-agent, at 190, Queen's-road, Dalston—I saw this matter—I saw Pearce kick the basket of walnuts all over the pavement—he then ran up to Isaacs and caught hold of him by the collar—they got hold of one another—Pearce put his legs in between Isaacs' to try to floor him—they had a little struggle and they both fell to the ground—they laid one on top of the other, and then Isaacs got on the top of Pearce—Mrs. Sherlock went up to Isaacs to tell him to leave go, but Pearce had hold of him, he had not hold of Pearce—the mob called out, "Leave go"—Isaacs said, "I have not got hold of him," and then Mrs. Sherlock pulled hold of Pearce and told him to leave go, and at last he gave way—they then got up, and Pearce rushed to Isaacs, caught bold of him again, they had a struggle, and they both fell—I did not see Isaacs knock Pearce's head against the stones—I was quite near—Pearce appeared to me to be the worst of the two—he stood up on the pavement, and the mob said, "Serve you right, you old vagabond, you deserve double what you have got"—I am not connected with either party in the slightest.
Cross-examined. Q. How came you to be down there? A. I was coming from the boat—when the nuts were spilt Isaacs went up to Pearce and asked him the reason he knocked his walnuts over—he was not very much irritated—he went up quietly, and Pearce caught hold of him by the collar—I did not notice that Pearce's mouth was bleeding—he never had a blow at all—I did not see him go to the box and wash his mouth out—they both fell together—I was at the Mansion House several times, but was not examined—I heard about it from one of the boatmen—I should think there were fifty or sixty gentlemen there.
GUILTY.—The JURY. were of opinion that the prisoner did not strike the prosecutor's head against the ground, and they considered that Pearce had given him great provocation. — Judgment Respited.
MR. RIBTON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. METCALFE. the Defence.
MARY GOODLAND . I live with my husband at Harlington, he is a farm bailiff—the prisoner lodges in the same house—on Saturday night, 8th October, I went to bed at half-past 12—there is only one floor to the house—after I had been in bed some time I heard some one in the room—I
called out, "Who's there, what do you want; is that you, Willie?"—we call the prisoner "Willie"—there was no answer, and I jumped out of bed directly and saw the prisoner go out of my room into the passage, and he ran from the passage to his own room—I followed him, aroused my father, who sleeps in his room, and told him that William had been in our room, and I asked William what he wanted in our room, and he gave me no answer—I then went down stairs for a light, came up again, and woke my husband, and told him the prisoner had been in our room—he looked in his trousers-pocket, where he had seventeen sovereigns when he went to bed, and when he looked there were only twelve—I had seen him count the sovereigns before he went to bed—a policeman was then sent for.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go into William's bedroom when you called your father? A. no; I went to the door—my father sleeps exactly opposite to William, in the same room—my father answered me when I spoke to him—he said he had no light—it was exactly half-past 1 by our clock when I went down for a light—I spoke to my husband directly I came up—he went for a policeman himself—I should think it was quite an hour from the time I woke to the time the policeman came—my father is sixty-five years of age—the prisoner has been lodging at our house about four or five months—I can't say exactly—I have been there over six months, and my husband too—before that a brother of mine lived in the same house with his father and mother, but he has been away for some time, a twelvemonth before I went there—he never lodged with me—after my mother died I went back to be my father's housekeeper—she died seven months ago—I have never heard my brother complain of losing money—I have missed money—the first money I missed was on Ascot race day—we went out and left money at home locked up, and we missed it the next day—my father came in on this night between 10 and half-past—he is very often late, his occupation causes him to be late, sometimes 11, sometimes later—sometimes I sit up for him, and sometimes I do not—he then lets himself in—he does not drink particularly—I never saw him tipsy since I have been back there—he is a hay and straw dealer, and sometimes they are very late before they unload.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Was the prisoner at your house at the time of Ascot races. A. He was—he is a gardener, in Mr. Carter's service, and sleeps at our house.
COURT. Q. Who were out at Ascot races that day! A. Me and my husband—my father was not home—we left an old man seventy-six in the house, and William, and my little girl—I can't say whether my father went out before us.
EDWIN GOODLAND. On this Saturday night, 8th October, I and my wife went to bed about half-past 12—I was disturbed by my wife saying, "William has been in our room"—I at once asked her to bring me a light, which she did—I examined my bag, which was in my trousers-pocket, and found twelve sovereigns instead of seventeen—I had counted them two or three times over before I went to bed—I am certain I had seventeen—I then went to the prisoner and said, "William, what business had you in our bedroom?"—he said, "What room? I don't know what room you mean"—I said, "You acknowledge to the truth, and that you have robbed me of five sovereigns"—he said he was not aware that he had been into ray room—I said, "You know you have been into my room, do you own it?"—he would not know anything—I fetched a policeman, and he told the prisoner what he was charged with, and asked him if the clothes
there were his—he said they were—the policeman took up his trousers and asked him if he had got any gold that did not belong to him—he said to the best of his knowledge he had got something like 9s. 6d. in silver, and if ho had got any gold it did not belong to him—the policeman then put his hand in the right hand pocket of the trousers and took out 10s. 6d. in silver and five sovereigns in gold—the policeman said, "Do you see these?"—he said, "I do, but I can't think how they came there"—the policeman said, "I am quite satisfied, put your things on"—the prisoner said, "I am only too sorry for my mother and father; where have I got to go?"—the policeman said, "To Hillington"—the prisoner put his clothes in his box and gave the constable the keys.
Cross-examined. Q. Where is your wife's brother living now? A. He is at lodgings at Harlington—he lodged at his father's house for many years—I have not heard him complain of losing money; I have complained, and with reason, two or three different times, but not to the prisoner—the day after Ascot Heath races was the first time, never before that—I have not heard other people who have lived in that house complain of losing money—my father comes in at all times; his business is very uncertain—he did not frequently come in the worse for drink—I am not going to say that he never came in the worse for drink, he does not come in frequently the worse for liquor; not once a week, nor once a month—he goes out with his hay and straw himself—of course, if he was dry he would go and have a pint of half-and-half at a public-house—I have said he does not get tight once a month—the prisoner was in bed when I went to his room, and my father too—the prisoner's trousers were between the two beds—there is a large space between the beds—I told my father to get out of bed and put his clothes on, and not to let the prisoner move his clothes—he sat on the foot of his bed, and I found him there when I came back.
BENJAMIN PHILP I live at Harlington—on this night of 8th October, I was indoors sitting by the fire, when my daughter and her husband went to bed—at half-past 12, my daughter asked me if I was going to bed, and I said, "No, Mary, I shan't go to bed till William conies in"—I sat up for him till 1 o'clock, and then went upstairs to bed—as I was undressing, I heard William come in, as I supposed, and shut the door—I considered it all right and I put the light out, got into bed, and went to sleep—about half an hour after I was aroused by my daughter saying, "William is in my room," and the child began screaming—my daughter drove him into my room like driving a rabbit into a burrow, and said, "Father, I know William is up to no good"—she went down stairs to get a light, and while she was gone, William undressed and slipped into bed as sharp as ever I saw a man undress in my life—my daughter then roused her husband, and he came into the room, and said, "William, you have robbed me of five sovereigns," and he told me to get up and sit on the bed to see that William did not move anything while he went for a policeman—I saw the policeman take five sovereigns, 10s. 6d. in silver, and threehalfpence, and a pipe and a knife, from the prisoner's trousers pocket.
MR. METCALFE. here stated that he could not contend against the evidence.— GUILTY .—The rector and overseer of the parish of Hayes gave the prisoner an excellent character.— Confined Eight Months.
MR. RIBTON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. METCALFE. the Defence.
JOHN MOORE . I carry on business as a salt and stone merchant, at No. 8 Wharf, Paddington—the prisoner has been in my service about four years as clerk and collector—my son manages my business—it was the prisoner's duty to collect moneys and account to me at once—I have a customer named Phillipson—this invoice (produced) is the prisoner's writing; it is for 5l. 8s. 9d.—the signature, "John Moore," is also his writing, and also the endorsement, "John Moore," on this cheque for 5l. 8s.—I never gave him authority to endorse cheques for me; he had never done so before that I know of.
Cross-examined. Q. Had the prisoner the general management of this part of the business? A. As far as collecting and giving orders under my direction—ho was never authorized to sign my name—I never authorized him to sign my name to a post-office order coming from Mr. Alworth of Wantage, nor to a county-court order—I am sure of that—he might sign per procuration, but not otherwise.
MICHAEL PHILLIPSON . I am a builder, of 4, Craven-terrace—I am a customer of Mr. Moore's—the prisoner came to me with this account, and I paid him by this crossed cheque for 5l. 8s. payable to the order of John Moore—I saw him settle the bill, and the cheque was returned through my bankers.
GEORGE JOHN HOWARD . I am a licensed victualler, at 94, Praed street—I have known the prisoner some years—I cashed this cheque for him—I believe the endorsement, "John Moore," was then on it—I put my name on the back and paid it into my bankers.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you have known the prisoner a long time? A. Some years—he has borne a good character as far as I know.
LORENZO MOORE . I am the prosecutor's son, and manage the salt business—it was the prisoner's duty to pay in money as he received it—I have his cash-book here—it is in his writing—on 3d September, 1864, I find an entry of 4l. 10s. received from Mr. Phillipson—that was paid in by the prisoner to my father—the "John Moore" on this cheque is not my father's writing, it is the prisoner's.
Cross-examined. Q. You did not manage the stone business? A. I had to look after it occasionally, but the prisoner principally attended to that—he had to account cither to myself or my father—my father has been rather infirm for the last two or three weeks—the prisoner has never, to my knowledge, been authorized to sign post-office orders or county-court orders—it would have been his duty to pay in this cheque instead of getting it cashed—he had no expenses to pay; if he incurred any he should charge it—my father paid the men.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months. The prosecutor stated that the prisoner's deficiency amounted to 150l.
936. ROBERT SPOONER. (22) and CHARLES UTTON. (27) Stealing on 16th January 1,600 postage labels, and 6l. 10s. in money; Second Count, Stealing on 26th January 2,000 postage labels and 7l. 19s. 1d.; Third Count, Stealing on 15th February 600 postage labels and 3l. in money, the property of Thomas Holloway, their master.
MESSERS. SLEIGH. and LEWIS conducted the Prosecution;MR. RIBTON. defended Spooner, and MR. KEMP defended Utton.
SAMUEL GODDARD . I am accountant in Mr. Holloway'a establishment in the Strand—Spooner was a cashier on probation—his duties were to keep the cash-book, make all the entries in the cash-book, and balance his cash-book
every night—amongst other duties he had to take cash from the cash box for the purpose of purchasing stamps, and to enter the amount so taken in the cash-book—there is a book called the cashier's postage-book—this is it—it is kept by the cashier—he should debit himself in this book with the amount expended on postage stamps, and credit himself with the amount of stamps given out to the different clerks—each person receiving stamps would initial the entry representing the value of the stamps given out to him—this book is in Utton's writing—he was a clerk in my department—he has written this to assist the cashier—it was Utton's duty to keep the private ledger, which is made up principally from the cash-book—the entries there representing cash entries should generally represent the cash-book—on 16th January, there is an entry in the cash-book of "Foreign postage stamps, 7l"—that is Spooner's writing—in the cashier's postage book of the same date the entry is, "Stamps, 10s." in Utton's writing—from the fact of only 10s. being found in that book Spooner would not be called upon to account for the difference between the 10s. and the 7l., he would only have to account for 10s.—in the private ledger of the same date the entry is, "Postage stamps, 10s."—the private ledger contains an account of the expenditure of the establishment—it represents the whole trade dealings, and amongst other things the postage account—there has been an erasure in the pounds' column in that entry—the private ledger ought to correspond with the cash-book; there should have been an entry there of 7l.—that book is called over about once a week against the cash-book—I call over the cash-book, and Utton would take the private ledger—I do not look to see that the entries correspond, I only call out the amount—there is a tick at the side of the entry—I have no doubt—that is Utton's tick—my tick is in the cash-book—on 26th January I find an entry made by Spooner of 10l. for stamps—there is no item entered in the cashier's postage-book—in the absence of any entry Spooner would not be called upon to account for that 10l.—it is not entered in his book; it is not entered at all in the private ledger—I called over that entry from the cash-book to Utton; there is my tick against it—in the cash-book, folio 486, I find a reference in the hand-writing of Utton to folio 490—that would indicate that this item of 10l. had been posted and ticked—I am referring to the cash-book now; it stands 10l. in the cash-book—Utton does not write in the cash-book—the entry is posted by Utton, but the cash is credited by the cashier—the folio 490 is in Utton's handwriting—that would indicate that the item had been posted into the private ledger; that is where it ought to have been—on February 15th, folio 591, the entry is, "Postage stamps, 3l. 10s."—there is no entry whatever in the cashier's postage-book—in the private ledger there, is, "Stamps, 10s."—there is no erasure—that must have been an absolutely incorrect entry from the commencement.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Do I understand you to say the cash-book was the only book that was kept by Spooner? A. That is not so; the postage-book was kept by Spooner—the debit side of the cashier's postage-book is in Utton's handwriting, and the private ledger is in his handwriting—that was his department—I don't think there is any of Spooner's handwriting in the account—the entry of 7l. on the 16th of January imports that Spooner took 7l. from the till in cash—the entry in the cash-book is an acknowledgment to the firm that he had done so and appropriated it for stamps—the only book we have to tell the amount expended in stamps, is the cashier's postage-book, which contains the initials of the parties who require stamps from him—there are initials every day—the stamps are not
always necessarily consumed—the cashier's postage-book is kept in Spooner's own possession—he was supposed to have kept it, though he did not—on the 16th January the stamps given out were only 8s. 4d.—8s. 4d. is the only entry we have that day—that entry is made by a person named Besley—there are, I should think, four persons to whom stamps would be distributed in the course of business—some days as much as 4l. worth of stamps are issued—I should not think so much as 10l. is expended in stamps in one day, nor as much as 7l.—the cash account is examined every night—Spooner would take the money from the cash-box—he receives all the money that comes in during the day—when I am there I collect the money at night—the cash is balanced every night—all the receipts for the day are entered and all the payments out—we add up those at night, and are able to say whether the money in the cash-book corresponds—the postage stamps are entered in the cash-book—all the cheques that come in during the day are entered to the debit of the cash—we have no means of knowing the gross sum in the cash-book, except by adding the cash-book up and showing what the balance ought to be—the cash-book shows each separate sum received on each day—when the cashier calls me to take his cash the balance is already prepared, I look over and see the receipts and payments, a balance is struck, and I count the money up—I can see the exact sum which he states to have given for stamps, every night if I look every item down—sometimes there are three or four pages, and I am not supposed to look at every item—he credits himself with what he has received, and debits himself with what he has paid, and the difference between these two ought to be in the cashbox—there are numerous entries with which he credits himself besides stamps—I have not the opportunity of seeing whether the credits which he places to his account every night are correct or not, not that same night—I had an opportunity of doing so by going over the entries in the different books—I do not know that I have done so.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. Q.. Was Utton in your department? A. He was—he was in the service eighteen months or two years—my duty was to superintend the business of the house generally, and to see that the books were properly kept—Utton kept the private ledger; several other persons wrote in it, not so many as five or six; a clerk named Hawkins wrote in it—I think Sell in wrote in it sometimes—I do not think Rowton did—Hodges and Hyde wrote in it—I have not said it was Utton'8 duty to keep the cashier's postage-book—the cashier was supposed to have kept that himself—Utton alone assisted him—no other person assisted him—there is no writing of any other person besides Utton on the debit side of the book—every person that takes stamps has to give his initials—Spooner kept the book locked up in his own desk—I could not tell how many books Utton kept; he had a great many to keep—he had other duties to perform besides—he used sometimes to act as secretary to Mr. Holloway, to go up to write letters for him—the column in which the erasure occurs is added up—the addition has been subsequent to the erasure—we make out a half-yearly balance sheet—the half-yearly balance sheet for June is not completed; it is in course of preparation—I believe the firm has employed a professional accountant for the purpose of going through the books—I generally manage to get the checking of the cash-book done, so that it was all completed once a week—it did not frequently happen that the cashbook was not checked for five or six weeks—there might be an odd entry or two unchecked, but I made it a rule to get it all checked up—one of the Mr. Holloways is generally superintending the business—he used to have the cash-book up every day to look at.
MR. LEWIS. Q. you say a professional accountant has gone through the books; did you go through the books with him? A. No—I have not gone through them alone—I have been getting up some of the back work that was left undone during my absence.
HENRY HOLLOWAY . I assist my brother in managing the establishment in the Strand—from some information that was given to me, I sent for the prisoners Spooner and Utton into my private room; at that time another of my clerks, Sellin, was in the room—he had been there previously, and made some communication to me—I requested Spooner to come up stairs with the cash-book and other books—he came into the room, and I said, "Spooner, you have been robbing the house to some very great extent"—after some hesitation he said, "I have been robbing the house, but I am not the only one"—before he said that I had said nothing more than I have stated—he then turned on his heel and said, "Sellin, you have been robbing the house as well as I have"—I then said to Sellin, "To what amount have you been robbing the house"—he said, "Oh; about 12l. or 13l."—Spooner further said, "But there are more below in it yet"—I said, "Who else?"—he said, "Utton"—Utton was not present at that time—I went below and called Utton up stairs, and said to him, "The cashier accuses you of having robbed the house"—he said, "I have done so, but not to a greater extent than from 5l. to 6l."—I then locked the door, went for an officer, and gave them in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. Q. When did this conversation take place? A. On Monday, 11th September—I made no memorandum of the conversation—I swear to the exact words which I have repeated—I did not say to Utton, "Have you had any money from "Spooner?" in the sense of borrowing, and he did not then say," Yes; I owe him 5l. or 6l."—I will swear that was not the meaning of the words—I will swear distinctly that was not said—I will pledge myself to the very words I have repeated to day—I have not sent any person to Utton—I do not know of any clerks going to him; certainly not with my authority—I have had an interview with his wife—I did not go to her; I don't know her residence—I swear that I have sent no person to him in gaol—I superintend my brother's business—I cannot have a general superintendence over the accounts—we have about thirty clerks, and I can't do everything—I am not an accountant—I am on tolerably familiar terms with all the clerks, I hope—I know what you are coming to, whether I went next door and played at billards with Utton?—I have; my brother has a billiard table at his residence in the country, and he and I hardly know one ball from another, and Utton on one occasion very kindly said if I would go with him to a billiard-room next door he would show me how to handle a cue—I went, I think, twice, and I don't think I was there three-quarters of an hour—none of our clerks have been to Utton with my consent—I think two of them said they had been written to by the prisoners to go and see them—I said, "Your time is your own, do as you like"—they took no message whatever from me.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. how long has Spooner been in your service? A. I should say about two years—he has not been cashier all the time; he came as shipping clerk, at a guinea a week; when the cashier died, Spooner took his place—I think he has been cashier since about September twelvemonth—he did not assist in making the pills—when he first came he had a guinea a week, and then 5s. a day.
two prisoners and Sellin on the day they were given in custody; they were all together at the time—I think it was about 11 o'clock in the day—I said to Utton, "Utton, how is it that you have been robbing the house? I am very much surprised to hear this; how is it possible that you could have got hold of cash?"—he said, "Yes, I have robbed the firm"—I said, "How could you get hold of the cash?"—he said, "Well, it was not in cash"—I said, "How was it then?"—he said, "Well, it was by cheque"—I said to Spooner, "I am surprised to hear that you have been committing robberies"—he said unfortunately that was the case, but he was not the only one.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. are you quite sure he made that observation? A. Quite sure—I am on my oath—it was Spooner who said that.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. Q. What are you? A. I am in the employment of Messrs. Holloway, as land steward, and assist in the drug department—I have not been examined before—I am in the place in the Strand part of the time, and part of my time in the country—I have the management of the manufacturing department—Utton said he had done it by cheque, meaning a banker's cheque—there was no one else present but Spooner and Sellin when that conversation took place—I did not know at that time that they were to be given into custody, because I had been out in the City—I told them I heard they had been robbing their employers and I was surprised to hear such was the case, and I asked them separately as to what they had done—there is a person named Marshall in the service—he was not present I think; he had gone down stairs—I would not positively swear that, but I think so—I can't say whether the prisoners were locked up at that time—I did not go into the room out of curiosity; I went in to see them, as I had heard such was the case—I felt sorry for them, and I merely addressed them as I might anyone else—I don't think I told the Messrs. Holloway of this conversation, or else I should have been called, I presume—I don't know why I did not tell them;—I did not wish to mix myself up with it at all—I believe Marshall is not here.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Were you examined against Utton and Locke at the Police-court? A. Yes—I have mentioned this conversation to the solicitors for the prosecution, since.
SPOONER. received a good character.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude ,
UTTON.— GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
The deficiencies attributable to the prisoners amounted to 500l. There were other indictments against them—(See Fourth Court, Wednesday.)
The deficiency attributed to the prisoner was 90l.MR. LEWIS, for the prosecution, stated that the prisoner had communicated facts to Mr. Holloway which had led to the charges against the other prisoners.
MR. HORB. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNET SLEIE. the Defence.
JAMES BLOOMFIELD . I am a bootmaker, at 85, Rupert-street, Pimlico—Saturday afternoon, 2d October, about half-past 3, I was in Barbican, at the Aldersgate-street end—I saw two men fighting, and stopped to look at them
while doing so the prisoner came and pressed against me as close as he could, on the right hand side, and I felt a jerk against my waistcoat pocket—I had my watch suspended by a chain—I looked down the moment I felt the jerk, and found my watch gone, and looked across the road and saw the prisoner running as hard as he could—I followed him, and called "Stop thief!" several times—I followed him out of Aldersgate-street into Carthusian-street, as fast as I could; I am not a very great runner—an officer saw him running and pursued—he was stopped in Charterhouse-lane—a boy picked up my watch and gave it to the officer.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there other people looking on at this fight besides you? A. Yes—no one came near me but the prisoner—there was no pushing at all; some of the people might have passed me, but the watch was gone then—the moment I felt it gone I looked across the road, and saw the prisoner running.
SAMUEL TARRANT . I am a stationer, at Britannia-place, Islington—on Saturday afternoon, about twenty minutes to 4 o'clock I was in Long-lane, and saw the prisoner come round the corner of Charterhouse-square, coming up Charterhouse-street, as I was going down from the corner—as he was running I saw something go out of his hand—it was a watch—I stopped the prisoner—a lad picked up the watch, and put it into my hands—an officer came up in a moment or so, and the prosecutor afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see the watch fall? A. Yes; it was thrown not three-quarters of a yard or a yard from the prisoner's hand—he had just stepped on the kerb as he threw it against the wall—there were no other people running at the same time; not for half a dozen yards behind him; he had got ahead of them all; they had not turned the corner—when I stopped the prisoner he said, "It is all right; let me go, it is nothing."
JOHN EAGLETON . (City-policeman, 257). On the afternoon of 7th October, I saw the prisoner running at the corner of Carthusian-street—I followed him—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" as soon as I started after him—he got into Charterhouse-square, and ran through into Charterhouse-street, leading into Long-lane—I got up to him after he was stopped by the last witness—this watch (produced) was handed to me—I found nothing on the prisoner.
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
940. JAMES BOUNSALL. (34) to stealing a post letter, containing a Maltese cross and other articles, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General — Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 24th, 1865.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. STARLING. conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES GRANT . I live at Elgin, and am a solicitor—I was stopping at Morley's hotel, and on 7th September, I was near the National Gallery, at about half-past 10—I was walking leisurely, and was suddenly struck a severe blow on the back of the head, and again on the back—I turned round and saw the prisoner come round and take my watch from my button-hole while two others held me—I saw the watch in his hand—he immediately bolted—I freed myself from the others, and ran after him, calling out "Police!"—I gained on him considerably, and he turned round and asked what I wanted of him—I seized him by the breast, and said that I wanted the watch of which he had just robbed me—he swore that he had not seen me before—I detained him, and gave him in custody—I have not seen my watch and chain since—they were worth about 25l.
DAVID BALDRY . (Police-inspector.) I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I read the charge to him of stealing a watch—he replied, "I did not take the watch, and the others ought to have been locked up as well."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not take the watch.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FARRIN. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WOOD. the Defence.
ANN WAITE . I am the wife of William Waite, a baker of Spitalfields—I was present at St. Philip's church, Bethnal-green, on 8th July, 1853, when the prisoner was married to my daughter Harriette Eliza Waite.
Cross-examined. Q. How long afterwards did your daughter separate from him? A. They were not together two months—she has since had two children by another man, but the prisoner knew that when he was married to his second wife—I saw my daughter yesterday.
JANE LINCOLN . I live at 61, Christian-street, Commercial-road—I was married to the prisoner on 7th December, 1863—I did not know that he had a wife alive—after Harriette Waite, he had a second wife who died—I knew him two months after her death, and he represented himself to me as a widower—he got nothing by marrying me—I only had a little green-grocer's shop.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he want some one to take care of his children? A. Yes; his children by his second wife—I heard of his having another wife on a Saturday; I accused him of it on the Sunday, and he left me on the Monday.
COURT. Q. did you insist on his going? A. Yes—I said, "You must leave me or I must leave you; I cannot live with you if you have got a wife living"—he seemed to know all about it, and went away on the Monday evening.
WILLIAM CHANDLER . (Policeman, 117 H.) I took the prisoner on 2d October, and told him the charge—he said, "This is what I expected"—I obtained this certificate of the first marriage, at St. Philip's church, Bethnal-green.
COURT. to JANE LINCOLN. Q. how long did he live with you? A. He had been away from me four weeks on the day he was taken—he ill-used me a great deal by coming home from the public-house and knocking me about—he behaved very well to the children—I clothed them, and sent
them to school—he went out to work regularly—I should not have separated from him if I had not found he had another wife, I should have known he was my husband, and should have been compelled to put up with it.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. He was further charged with having been before convicted of bigamy, in June, 1855, to which he Pleaded
GUILTY. Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. THOMPSON. conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD LATTER . (City-policeman, 528) On 27th September, I was on duty on London bridge—I saw the prisoner there, standing close to Samuel Nichols—about two minutes after I saw him take a pocket handkerchief out of his left-hand pocket—I went and touched the prosecutor—I then stopped the prisoner, and asked him to give the gentleman his handkerchief—he said, "I have not got it"—I said, "You have"—he said, "Well, I did pick one up," and he took this handkerchief (produced) from his breast pocket—we took the prisoner to the station—he gave an address in Bunhill-row—I went there but could ascertain nothing about him.
Prisoner. Q. Where were you standing? A. Behind you—I did not allow you to walk upwards of a hundred yards without taking you; it was about thirty yards—I did not take you on the spot, because I had to touch the prosecutor on the shoulder first.
JURY. Q. Was it a wet day? A. Yes; the handkerchief was not soiled.
SAMUEL NICHOLS . I am an oilman, of 314, Old Kent-road—on Wednesday, 27th September, I was on London-bridge, looking over the parapet at a boat—I had a handkerchief in the left pocket of the coat—the constable came to me—the prisoner was about thirty yards off—the constable took me to him—I accused him of taking my handkerchief—he said he had not got one—the constable said, "I know you have one; pull it out; I saw you take it"—he then pulled it out of his breast pocket, and gave it to the constable—this is it (produced.)
Prisoner's Defence. I picked up the handkerchief, put it into my pocket, and walked on. If I had stolen it I could have escaped, and even when the policeman spoke to me I could have run away if I had been guilty.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted in September, 1864; to which he
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. TAYLOR. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. PATER. the Defence.
VICTOR RONDON . I live at 35, Golden-square, and have charge of No. 34, which is a warehouse belonging to Auguste Garnier—on Tuesday night, 3d October, I saw the premises safe, about 11 o'clock; next morning, about 8 o'clock, I found a window and a fan-light broken, and under the fan-light I found this broken glass with a treacle plaster on it.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the fan-light very narrow? A. No; a man could almost go through the hole that was made, and if it was all broken there would be space enough for any man to go through—there were no bars then, but some have been put since.
with two other men not in custody—I followed them to the corner of James—street—one went up James-street, the other up John-street; they both joined in Golden-square, on the east side, stood two minutes in conversation and then separated again—one of them went over to the corner of Upper James-street, and the prisoner went to the corner of Upper John-street—the prisoner got on some area railings on the right-hand side of the door of 34, Gulden-square, placed a piece of paper against the window, and I heard a smash of glass—a signal was then given by the one at the corner of James—street, and a constable in uniform came round—the prisoner jumped down from the railings, went away round the square, and three of them met in Silver-street—they walked round the square and separated again—two of them went one way, and one the other—they met again on the east side, and stood conversing a few minutes—they separated again, and went to the two corners again—the prisoner then got on the railings on the left side of the door, with a largo piece of paper in his hand, which I saw him place on the fan-light, and heard the glass smash; that made a great noise—some persons were coming up the square, and he jumped down—they all went a way into Silver-street again—they went round the square, and stopped again on the east side—one of the men went over against the railings of the square, and looked for something—they then separated; the other men went down the square, and the prisoner went into Silver-street—I followed close behind him—I was in plain clothes—I saw him go to the doorway with something in his hand, which he placed in the doorway—I stopped him, and asked him what he had put in the doorway—he said, "Nothing"—I took him there, and picked up this jemmy (produced)—I took him to the station, searched him, and found a wax taper, and a large knife, used for pushing window springs back, also a brass chain and two pins—I went back to 34, Golden-square, and picked up this glass outside the window.
Cross-examined. Q. Were the men strangers to you? A. Yes—there was good gas-light—I was in the enclosure, seven or eight yards from the prisoner when he jumped from the railings, there were only some boughs between me and him—I could not be easily seen because I was lying underneath them—there was a gas lamp just opposite No. 35—lam not mistaken in the prisoner being the man who jumped from the railings, I had seen him before, and he was the taller of the two—I left the enclosure and followed them—I was only two or three yards from the prisoner when he passed the doorway where the jimmy was found—he must have known I was near him, but he did not know who I was—he most likely heard me—I saw something in his hand which I believe was the jemmy.
MR. PATER. contended that as it had been decided that a prisoner could not be charged with attempting to pick an empty pocket, it was necessary to prove that there were goods in the warehouse in question before the prisoner could be convicted of attempting to steal goods out of it. MR. TAYLOR. wished to recall the witness Rondon, to prove that there were goods in the warehouse. THE COURT. refused to allow this, the case being closed, and left it to the Jury to say whether they believed that Rondon was left in charge of any goods in the ware—house, and if so, whether the prisoner attempted to break in and steal those goods.
GUILTY.**—The Jury being of opinion that there were goods in the warehouse.
The prisoner was subsequently tried and convicted on an indictment for unlawfully being in possession of housebreaking implements.
Five Years Penal Servitude.
946. JOHN ROACH. (35) and MARY ROACH. (33) Unlawfully neglecting to provide for John Riley, an infant of whom they had charge, and imprisoning him in an unhealthy room, whereby his life was endangered.
MR. POLAND. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. BESLEY. the Defence.
FRANCIS RILEY . I live at Ebury-street, Pimlico, and am the uncle of the little child, John Riley, who way born on 20th September, 1860—the mother died in November, 1862, and the father in January, 1863—there were four other elder children—I placed this child in the workhouse of St. George, Hanover-square, in February, 1863, and it remained there till August, when I gave him to the Rev. Charles Batt to take charge of, and gave Mr. Batt 25l. 13s. for its maintenance—my brother had bequeathed that sum to me by will for the maintenance of his children—the child's parents were Roman Catholics—I saw the child twice after it had been sent to the prisoners in Lower George-street, Chelsea—it was then just the same as when I fetched it from the workhouse—I saw it once in Hanover-street, it was then in just the same condition—I remember the prisoners removing into Sutherland-street—I saw the child twice there, the last time was nearly two months ago—I did not notice anything extraordinary about it then; nothing to complain of—it was never subject to fits to my knowledge—it was not an idiot, it had the usual intelligence, I should think, for a child of its age.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the mother die of consumption? A. Yes—the child was sickly in August, 1863, when I fetched it from the workhouse; it had some sores on it—when I saw it in George-street, Chelsea, the defendants children were there; this child was with them on both occasions—the defendants did not know of the hour I was going to visit them—when I saw the child in Hanover-street it was in the kitchen, having its tea with the defendants' children—the defendants did not know that I was coming—the child did not improve in health at Hanover-street, that I could see—I went twice to Sutherland-street—the last time was about a month before this prosecution, about August, this year—the child was in the front kitchen, it was in the evening—there was no meal going on—it could speak—the defendant's children were there—my brother's eldest daughter is married and lives at Brixton—there is another girl in the Brompton Oratory, and the two other children were sent down to Hastings; I saw them once, and they were doing very well—I have known the male defendant since I was a child—he has earned his living at a wheelwright's in Pimlico, thirteen or fourteen years; the same employment as myself—I do not know his wages because he worked at piece-work—he used to leave home at six in the morning and knock off work at six in the evening, or later if occasion required—Mrs. Roach was ill about August, I cannot say the exact date—I did not find her in ill-health the last time I went, but she has erysipelas—she kept no nurse or servant—they occupied the front kitchen in Sutherland-street as far as I could see—I only went into the back kitchen once, I passed through it to go to the washhouse—I think there is a door from it into the yard—I do not know of the drainage being complained of—the prisoners have three children, the youngest is about two years old—I have seen John Riley today, he looks worse than he did at the Police-court, and as bad but not worse than when I saw him at Sutherland-street, but considerably worse than when I fetched him from the workhouse, in 1863.
THE REV. CHARLES BATT . I live at Cadogan-terrace, Chelsea, and am one of the priests at St. Mary's Roman Catholic chapel—Mr. Riley spoke to me about this child, and gave me 25l. 13s. for the maintenance of the children generally—I made a memorandum at the time and have kept the
account strictly—the earliest recollection I have is November, 1863—I knew the prisoners at that time, living in Lower George-street, Chelsea, and in the beginning of November I spoke to Mrs. Roach with regard to taking care of this child, and arranged to pay her 16s. a month for doing so—my first payment to her was 16s. on 3d November, 1863, and I have paid her 16s. at the beginning of every mouth up to the time she was taken in custody—I once or twice paid her two months at a time in advance, as she gave me some reason which I now forget—I saw the child at George-street from time to time—it seemed to be properly treated as far as I could judge—I do not remember their removing to Hanover-street—I understood from her that she removed from George-street, to Battersea—my visits then ceased, as it was very inconvenient, and I felt confident she would take care of the child—I did not see it in Sutherland-street, but from time to time it was brought to see me—it was brought to me in the spring of this year—I never saw Mr. Roach about the matter, but I met him once or twice at the house in Lower George-street; he has been in the room when I have conversed with his wife about the child, and may have heard the conversation—I believe the prisoners to be man and wife—in December, 1863, I gave Mrs. Roach 5s. extra for flannel for the child—I suppose she represented it to be in delicate health—on 28th September, after it was taken to the work-house, I saw her and told her I was grieved to hear that the child had been neglected—she denied it, and showed me some ointment which she said she used for its sores—it was very delicate when it was placed with her; it seemed to be quite an ungrown child when it came out of the workhouse, and there were sores on its head—it appeared to get better under her care at first.
Cross-examined. Q. Do I understand that you frequently went to the place in George-street, Chelsea? A. Yes—I kept this book (produced), but made the entries in it at home—I entered in it a receipt for the 25l. 13s. from Mr. Riley, in case anything should happen to me, and signed my name to it that the children might not suffer—the last payment was made on September 1st, 1865, it is signed, "Mary Roach"—every payment has "Mary Roach" against it—the entries were made at the time of payment, they were all made at my house—Mrs. Roach came there for the money—I do not remember the uncle speaking to me about the child's health, he merely handed over the money to me and left the child with me; he trusted entirely to my discretion and honour—Mrs. Roach is the mother's sister, she is the child's aunt—Francis Riley is the child's nearest male adult relative as far as I know—I had a conversation with Mrs. Roach in Mr. Roach's presence, which he might have heard, but I do not know whether I spoke about the child in his presence,—I have not the slightest recollection of it—I might go to their residence on a Sunday as well as on any other day, if duty required it, but I have more to do on Sundays than on other days—I have my sick rounds in the week about the middle of the day—the Pimlico Wheel Works are about ten minutes walk from the house in Lower George—street—I did not know the place in Sutherland-street, till after the last payment—the child was always properly clothed when it was brought to me, and if it had not the appearance of being properly attended to I should have spoken on the subject.
GWORGE BADDELEY . I am assistant-overseer to the parish of St. George, Hanover-square—on 27th September, from information I received from Smith, a constable, I went to 15, Sutherland-street—Sergeant Brooker went with me—it was about three o'clock in the afternoon—a girl with a child in
her arms opened the door to me—we went downstairs to the back kitchen, the door of which was closed, but not locked; one of the female lodgers opened it, and I went into the room, which was so dark that at first I could not see anything—when my eyes became accustomed to the obscurity, I saw a little child sitting—I brought it out and then looked round the room—there was an old French bedstead, without the battens to it, on the floor, and the two halves of a straw palliasse, almost black with dirt—the remains of an old flock bed were also on the floor—it was a wooden floor—I looked at the bed and found it was saturated with urine, which I could tell by the smell under it—the floor was also saturated with wet—there was no outward door to the room, but a good sized window looking into the yard—the window was very dirty, I should say it had not been cleaned for twelve months at least, and across the lower sash was hung something which I took to be a petticoat or the skirt of a gown, it was that which made the room so dark—there was not a single article of bed clothing in the room—I took the child into the front kitchen—it was dressed in this frock and this pinafore only, those were its only articles of clothing, and it had no shoes or stockings—I put it down on the floor of the front kitchen; it immediately ran to the table, scraped some bread crumbs up, and ate them with great avidity—a woman, one of the lodgers, gave it a piece of bread which it ate very greedily—I found that it had what is commonly called scald head—there were lice in the gathers of its frock, and its loins were very much bitten by lice—I took it to Rochester-row Police-court, and applied for a summons against John Roach—I then took it to the workhouse, where a doctor saw it—on the 29th, before I went to the Police-court for the summons, I caused the child before I left the workhouse to be put in the scales in which we weigh provisions, it weighed 24lbs.—I weighed it again on 3d October, and it weighed 251bs. and on 10th October it weighed 26 1/2 Lbs—I weighed it this morning but it had not gained since 10th October—there was the same amount of clothing on it every time—its head is now quite well—I saw three of the prisoners' children at Sutherland-street; they are well-grown and fat.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you examine them. A. No, but I speak from their general appearance—I have children of my own—I knew this child's father before his death—I saw the child when it was admitted, and did not see it again till last month—I did not examine it when it was admitted—it only passed before me, and went to the workhouse—the nurse would have charge of it—I know nothing of the state of its health there—the window of the back kitchen was larger than either of the windows of this Court, not so high, but broader—what was put over it only covered the lower sash—this was at 3 o'clock on a beautiful sun-shiny day—neither of the defendants were there—the child was only clothed in a little shirt each time I weighed it—it was undressed on purpose this morning—I saw no shoes or stockings on the back kitchen floor—I did not look for them—the front kitchen was very nicely furnished—I saw no shoes or stockings there.
MARATHA EMMA ROWSON . I am the mother of Walter Rowson—we live at 15, Sutherland-street—the prisoners lived there as man and wife—they rented the house, and let it out in lodgings—I had two rooms, for which I paid 2s. 9d. a week to Mrs. Roach—I know the child, John Riley—he was usually kept in the back kitchen night and day—the front kitchen was their living room where they had their meals—I lived in the house five weeks before the child was taken away—I never saw the child taken out into the street—the prisoner's children went out—the back yard was very
small—I only saw this child in it once when I threw some stale bread from the parlour-window, and the child ran and picked it up, and ran in again—he was not out in the yard a minute; I think he must have seen the bread fall—on the first Sunday I was there, I had to go down to speak to Mrs. Roach, and saw the child in the wash-house—I told him to tell his mother I wished to speak to her—he said, "I must not"—I said, "Why?"—he said, "Because my father is there"—I told Mrs. Roach of the dirty, neglected state the child was in—I was in the kitchen one day, and its head was covered with vermin—I had persuaded the little girl to bring it to me from the back kitchen as Mrs. Roach was out, and I had a great wish to see what condition it was in—the other lodger sent for some liquid to put on its head—I told Mrs. Roach, I think, the same evening the state it was in, and asked her whether it would not be better to dress it, and let it take its chance with her children, and do as they did—she said that if she did, if it went to the door it would most likely get lost, as it was an idiot, and that it would kick the couch to pieces; that its face was like a monkey's, and it was not fit to mix with her children—it had nothing on but an old black frock, and that was not fastened:—no shoes, stockings, shirt, petticoat, or other clothing—information was given to the police through me.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you occupy two rooms on the first floor, and one on the third? A. Yes; I was about every day for some hours—I frequently spoke to Mrs. Roach about the child—it was about a fortnight before the police went that I said that it had better take its chance with the rest of the family—she said that it would go to the water-side, and get lost, it was such an idiot—she told me that she took it from the workhouse—I did not speak to Mr. Roach on the subject till the child was taken away—Mrs. Roach said that her husband was very kind to the child, and always placed it at the table, and gave it its meals before the others—I do not know how long that was before the police came, I so frequently spoke to her about the child—the back kitchen door was not kept locked—Mrs. Roach said the child was always ailing from its birth, and had been a groat deal of trouble to her.
MR. POLAND. Q. Was the back kitchen door latched? A. Yes; the child could turn the handle and get out, but I do not think he came out, through fear—I do not believe he is an idiot.
WALTER ROWSON . I am a son of the last witness—we lodged in Sutherland-street about five weeks—this child was kept in the back yard—I was at the back parlour-window when I first saw him—he came out to pick up some pieces of stale bread which were thrown out at the window—I saw him again on two or three occasions in the back yard, but never in the street—the other children went out daily, but this little Riley did not go with them—I have looked in at the back kitchen window, and seen him sitting down alone on the floor in a very dirty state—I have seen the prisoners at tea in the front kitchen with their children, but this child was not with them—I have seen them at their meals twice, but did not see this child there—I saw no signs of his being an idiot.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. An apprentice to a carpenter and joiner—I go out at 6, but come home to dinner and tea—the child has opened the back kitchen door to me, and asked me for bread and butter, and I have given it some—nobody was present—it was away for a week, and Mrs. Roach said that it went to some school—I saw Mrs. Roach's sister there—I did not see the child go out or come back—I was
only told that it was away—I was in the habit of seeing it every day in the back kitchen, and I looked and did not see it for a week.
MARY MARLAND . I am the wife of Thomas Marland, of 15, Sutherland—street—we have lived there seven weeks, in the second floor back room, for which we paid half a crown a-week—I always paid it to Mrs. Roach—the first time I saw the child Riley, I went down to use the wash-house—the back kitchen window was broken, and I saw the child in a very neglected state—I did not see it out of doors, only in the back yard, which is very small—there was nothing to attract it there—the prisoners' children used to go out and play in the street and in the front area, but I did not see this child do that, it was generally in the back kitchen—I have seen the prisoner's children at meals two or three times, but never saw this child having meals with them—I saw no appearance of it being an idiot—once, when it was in the wash-house, I gave it a drink of water, and spoke to it through the window, and said, "Come out and play," and I said to Mrs. Roach, "He wants to come out; let him out"—she said, "No; he is so excitable; he has fits, and will pull the other children to pieces"—the prisoners lived together as man and wife.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you leave 15, Sutherland-street? A. On a Wednesday, before my week was up; about a fortnight after I went to the Police-court—I had been there seven or eight weeks—I heard that the rent of the house was 65l. but I do not know—I rent one unfurnished room, the second floor back—my husband comes home to dinner and I have a little child, so that I am not often absent from home.
MR. POLAND. Q. I suppose you come down sometimes? A. Yes.
ANN BROWN . I have lodged at 15, Sutherland-street, seven weeks tomorrow—I occupy the third floor front, and pay 4s. 6d. a week to Mrs. Roach—I saw the child in the back yard on the first Monday I was there; one of the lodgers gave me some bread and butter, and I threw it over the wall to him, and asked him if he was hungry—he said, "Yes"—I saw him three or four times, but when I inquired after him he was put away—I never saw him go out to play with the other children in the street—I never spoke to Mrs. Roach about him; she is so violent a woman that I did not like—I never saw the prisoners at meals—I never their children.
SAMUAL KEMP . I have been to 15, Sutheralnd-street, several times within the last seven weeks—I used to call previous to that, and have seen the child at the house in George-street—I also saw him in the workhouse, and on the day he was brought out of the workhouse—he then had a few little sores on his arms and head—after he had been at Mrs. Roach's a month he became much worse—I only saw him once in Sutherland-street—he was in the back room—I did not go on purpose to see him—I went to see a friend, Mrs. Brown—I. did not speak to Mrs. Roach about him—she was out.
JOHN BROOKER . (Police-sergeant, B 26). On 27th September I went with Mr. Baddely to 15, Sutherland-street, and found the back kitchen where the child was, in a most filthy state—there was urine on the mattrass, which had gone right through it, and I saw human excrement under the mattrass—the window was darkened by a large fur cloak hung before it—all the food that I could see in the room was a little mouldy pie on a plate turned bottom upwards—the stink was so great that we had to retreat as we opened the door to go in—I took the child into the front kitchen, it had lice on it—Mr. Baddely took it with me to the Police-court, and I applied for a summons—I took the male prisoner on a warrant on the following
Monday night, and told him I apprehended him for cruelty to a child—on the way to the station he said, "It is very lucky you apprehended me now, as it was my intention to go to America; but being the head of the family I suppose I must suffer. I had rather suffer than my wife should, but it is my wife's fault; I know nothing about it. I am very sorry it ever came to what it is."
Cross-examined. Q. Have you been examined before? A. Yes—I told the Magistrate on the first occasion that we had to beat a retreat, the stink was so great—I gave evidence after I got the warrant, and before also—I mean to say that the visit to the house was made before the summons was applied for—it was when the defendants were under charge that I told the Magistrate that the stench was so great I had to retreat—I adhere to that statement—my deposition was read over to me, but I did not notice that they had not put down that the stench was so great I had to retreat.
MATHEW BLEXHAM . I am a surgeon, and my father is surgeon to the parish of St. George, Hanover-square; he is seriously ill, and I am doing his work for him—on 27th September I saw this child at the workhouse—its head was lousy, and covered with sores, and its body marked by the bites of lice—there were no external marks of violence, but it was very much emaciated—I have attended it up to this time—I have not prescribed medicine, but it has had proper food, and has been put in a properly lighted and ventilated place—I think it was emaciated because it was not supplied with sufficient and proper food—when I saw it it was in bed in a night-gown—its health was injured for the time being—the sores on its head resulted from it being allowed to get into a lousy state—they are healed now—if the neglect had been continued it would unquestionably have died—it was running about the yard playing yesterday, and has been gradually improving, but it is not very well today—besides want of food, want of light and air and exercise tends to emaciate—at five years old it might have been twice the weight, and not have been a very large child.
Cross-examined. Q. Would the weight depend very much on the conformation of the child? A. Yes—I made no examination of its chest, as I only heard before the Magistrate of its parents dying of consumption—the sores on its head were recent—there were no marks of old sores—it is not permanently injured in health, but I would not say it is not seriously injured—it is considerably enfeebled by all the neglect it has undergone—it gradually mended, but it is not perfectly well—I saw it every day, and it has improved up to the present time.
MR. POLAND. Q. are the sores on its head healed? A. Yes, without medical appliances beyond poulticing—it is not an idiot, it has all the intelligence of its age.
MR. BESLEY. submitted that there was no evidence of imprisonment, as the child was able to open the door; that Mary Roach being a married woman, contract with her was not binding; and that there was no proof that her husband knew of the contract; and also that it was necessary to prove that the child was actually injured. (See Cox's Criminal Cases, p. 140.) MR. POLAND. contended that as the child could not get beyond the yard, the prison was only made larger; and that as long as there was enough to make the offence a common law misdemeanour that was sufficient.THE COURT. considered that as the male prisoner took his meals with his children, this child being absent, the question for the Jury would be whether he was not cognisant of his wife's acts, and so tacitly ratified the contract which she had made.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARGARET ROACH . I am the male prisoner's sister—this little child, Riley, is his wife's nephew—I have frequently been to Sutherland-street—I also saw the child when it was at Chelsea—it was then very delicate, and it was about the same at Sutherland-street—I do not think its health altered at all afterwards—my brother used to come home to dinner at Sutherland-street, but only for twenty minutes or half-an-hour—the children were generally in bed when he came home in the evening, and when he went out in the morning—little Riley had his meals with the other children when I was there, and had the same food as they did—his health was always very delicate—I resided there two months previous to this charge, being out of a situation—I went out to work in the day for about three weeks before the child was taken away; before that, I was always in the house—the kitchen was cleaned once or twice a week, in which I assisted—I gave the child a bath on the Saturday week before the charge was made against my brother—I came home one evening, Mrs. Roach was very ill, and the child had had his hair cut—she told me that she had cut its hair and put ointment on it, and I saw the ointment on the table—the family had bread and butter for breakfast, and meat and vegetables for dinner—the child had shoes and stockings, I put them on myself—my sister was ill with erysipelas in her face about the latter end of August, and again at the beginning of September—she went to the hospital about it—she is humane—I never saw her ill-use the child, and my brother has always been very kind to it—he bean a good character for humanity.
Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. Q. Were you living there at the time the child was taken away? A. Yes, but I was not there that day—I was there the day before—I had gone out in the morning—the prisoners slept in the back kitchen where the child was, till within a fortnight of its being taken away; they then slept in the front kitchen—they have three children, one is three years old, one two, and one twelve—they have a room on the second floor, but I occupied that—this child slept with me when I first went to the house—that continued for about a fortnight—I did not refuse to have him any longer, but there was me and a servant and Mrs. Roach's two children sleeping there—I do not know that this child was allowed to remain in the back kitchen for a fortnight—I always saw it in and out of the front kitchen—the prisoners slept in the front kitchen because Mrs. Roach had erysipelas in her head, and she wished to be in the front kitchen—her children are very well—I never saw any lice on them—I never saw little Riley playing with the others in the street, but I have in the yard—my brother always came home to his dinner till within three weeks of the child being taken away—he came home about three or four o'clock on Sundays, and we generally had dinner before he came home.
MR. BESLEY. Q. did this child on Sundays take its meals with you and Mrs. Roach and her children? A. Yes.
MARGARET SULLEY . I live at 11, George-street—I have known the defendants about twelve years—they bear a very good character for humanity and kind-heartedness—Mrs. Roach was ill in May; I visited her then, and this child was treated as one of her own—I saw it previous to its mother's death, and it was in a very sickly condition; it was much the same in May—Mrs. Roach had erysipelas again in August—I visited her, and the child was in bed—she had a third relapse in September, but I did not visit her, as I resided come distance from them.
JOHN ROACH. GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
MARY ROACH. GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
The following Prisoners PLEADED GUILTY.
948. FRANCIS NORRIS. (27) to three indictments, each for stealing 50l., the moneys of Theodore Thompsett and another, his masters.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 25th, 1865.
Before Mr. Justice Keating.
MR. COOPER. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. RIBTON. the Defence.
GUILTY. of endeavouring to conceal the birth. — Confined Eighteen Month :
The prosecutor not appearing, the prisoners were acquitted, but were subsequently tried for an assault.(See New Court, Thursday.)
MR. SHARP. conducted the Prosecution.
FREDRICK MOORE . I live at 18, Charles-street, Marylebone, and am a compositor—on 23d September, about half-past 12 at night, I was coming down Pentonville-hill, and saw a woman and three men coming along the pavement towards me—I went into the middle of the road to avoid them and quickened my steps—they followed me—the other three stood behind me, while the prisoner stood in front of me—my arms were held behind me while the prisoner took my watch—he cut it oft from the swivel with an instrument—I struggled and was thrown down in the road, and they all made off—the prisoner was standing in front of me about a minute and a half or two minutes—I had a good opportunity of seeing his face, from the reflection of the gas-lamp that shone full on his face—I called out for the police, but there were none there—I went and gave information—on the Saturday following I was in company with Dudley, a policeman, on Pentonville-hill, and he pointed out four persons sitting near a public-house—I went over, and instantly recognised the prisoner as the man that had robbed me—I gave him in charge—I have not the slightest doubt that he is the person—I was perfectly sober at the time.
Prisoner. The gentleman stated at the Police-court that he had been drinking. Witness. I had taken about the-quantity I generally take, two threepenny worths of whisky and water and a glass of bitter ale, extending over a period of three hours and a half—I was as sober as I am now—I gave a description to the police, and can positively swear to him.
GEORGE DUDLEY . (Policeman N, 488). In consequence of information I received, I went with the prosecutor on Monday, 25th September, to Pentonville-hill—I saw four persons outside a public-house there, and told the prosecutor to go across and see whether the person was there who stole his watch—he did so, and came back and gave the prisoner into custody, saying,
"That is the man who stole my watch"—the prisoner said, "Oh, you have got the wrong man."
Prisoner's Defence. At the time the gentleman, says this happened I was at home and in bed, but I cannot bring witnesses to prove it, as I live by myself. It is a very serious thing to be brought here innocently; I know no more about it that the Judge himself.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 25th, 1865.
Before Mr. Baron Pigott.
MR. PLATT. conducted the Prosecution.
MARY BRODRIC . I am servant at 5, Newcastle-court—the prisoner is a servant in that house—on 11th October, between 12 and 1 o'clock, she was beating another woman in the kitchen—I was cleaning the rooms, and my mistress asked mo to come and help to turn the prisoner out of the kitchen—I asked her very civilly to go out, but she would not—as I went up the kitchen stairs she came after me, took me by my hair at the foot of the stairs, and we both fell together—I was uppermost—I felt something very sharp go through my eyebrow, the wound is still here—I bled very much—she said that she would go out and give me in custody because I had stabbed her—I told my mistress that it was I who was stabbed—I did not stab the prisoner—I fainted, and was very bad for a week; I was taken to the hospital—just before this, I heard the prisoner ask an old lady for a knife to stab Tom, who she lives with, but I saw nothing in her hand.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I ask you to give me my bonnet? A. Yes—it was up in the bedroom—I did not push you down stairs—I knew by your manner that you had had a little drink.
JOHANNAH MACK . I and my husband keep this lodging-house—I saw the prisoner beating another woman in the kitchen, and asked the last witness to assist in getting her away—Broderick left the kitchen, and the prisoner took her by the head at the bottom of the stairs, dragged her down, and gave her a blow on the head—I saw no knife, but blood flowed directly, and she called out that she was stabbed—the prisoner said, "The young woman has stabbed me"—I would not let her go—I saw a white-handled knife in the prisoner's hand five or ten minutes before, but I did not see her use it—it was something like this (produced.)
Prisoner. Q. Did you not take hold of me and drag me by the frock and tell me to go out of the house? A. Yes, I certainly took hold of you and tried to get you out—I told you to go and get your bonnet and shawl, and you asked Mary to fetch it—I did not see her bite your finger.
DAVID HEARN . I am a lodger in the same house—on this afternoon the prisoner had lent an old woman a knife—she asked her for it back, and got it two or three minutes before this happened—she put her hand in her pocket, pulled out the knife, and opened it—at that time the servant came into the kitchen, and said, "Go up stairs"—she said,' I will go up stairs if you will give me my bonnet and shawl"—the servant was just going up stairs and the prisoner got hold of her, using bad language, and they fell down—I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand at that time, but did not see her use it—I have not said before that I saw her strike her—immediately after they got up I
saw blood coming from the prosecutrix's temple, and she ran up stairs—the prisoner said that she would give the prosecutrix in charge for stabbing her—the prisoner was neither sober nor drunk—the prosecutrix was sober—this is the knife—I saw a young man pick it up in the kitchen at the foot of the stairs—he is not here.
JANE WALFORD . I am the wife of James Walford, and live in this house—the prisoner came into the kitchen and hit me twice as I was sitting on a seat, and then dragged me off the seat by my hair, and jumped on me—I am twenty-four years old—the servant and the landlady came in, and I heard the prisoner ask some one for a knife—the prisoner and the servant went up stairs.
Prisoner. I have been keeping you and your mother ever since I gave you that black eye, and I paid your lodging for you. Witness. No, you did not.
JOHN MATTHEWS (Policeman, F 13). I was on duty, and Mrs. Mack pointed the prisoner out to me, and charged her with having stabbed the servant—she was about thirty yards in advance—I went after her and brought her back—she said on the way to the station, "I had a knife in my hand, but I did not use it"—her face, hands, neck, and hair were entirely covered with blood, but she had no mark of any violence which could have caused the blood—she was drunk, but could walk very well—this knife was brought to the station—there was blood on the blade.
THOMAS BOND . I am house-surgeon at King's College Hospital—the prosecutrix was brought there on 11th October, with a slight stab over the left eye, bleeding rather severely, but there was no danger—it was down to the bone, which is very near the skin there—it was strapped up and she went away—it was probably inflicted by this knife.
GUILTY. of unlawfully wounding.— Confined Six Months.
MR. KEMP. conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS LADD . I am an engineer, living at Hounslow—on 3d October, about twenty minutes past eight, I was in a public-house with the prisoner and another man—I had not known them before—I left at a quarter past eight, and shortly afterwards they ran and overtook me, and told me they would show me a footpath across into South all—they then took me up by the side of a clamp of bricks, and the other man said, "You deliver your money"—I had a purse and 17s. 6d. in my left hand—the prisoner put his hand in my left pocket, but there was nothing there—I missed 4 1/2. from my right pocket—they also took my hat—I halloed—they lugged the skin off the back of my left hand, where the 17s. 6d. was—they had my fingers nearly open, but another man came up and they ran away—i gave information to the police next morning, they took me to the prisoner's house, and I identitled him—I have not the slightest doubt he is one of the men.
Prisoner. Q. Where did you first see me? A. In a public-house where I had to wait for a Mrs. Reid—I left you there and went to another public-house, and you came there to me—that is more than three miles from where I live—I tossed you for one or two pots—there was nobody there in knee-breeches besides you—I also tossed you for a sixpence—you followed me into a third public-house, and followed me out and came with me—I lost some pots of beer there—I did not refuse to pay, nor did anyone say, "I will have it"—you had on knee-breeches and white stockings, but I could
swear to you if you had different clothes on—you had black trousers on next morning when I went to your house—you put your right hand in my pocket, your left was in a sling—there were two females with me at the first public-house—I have not seen the other man since—he was rather thin, and a trifle taller than you, or he may be the same height—I could swear to him if I saw him—I was drinking with no one in particular—I never sat down in the house—it was a quarter to eight at night when we left the third house—I did not get intoxicated—the other man had my 4 1/2 d. or it might be 6d., perhaps you got two or three coppers—I do not know which of you took the cap, but I rather think the other one had it—I stood up by the clamp, and after you had rifled all my pockets the other man said, "The b——has got it in his fist," and I held it tight, which I could not have done if I had been tipsy—you did not assault me, but you tried to get my money.
COURT. Q. had you your purse out in the public-house. A. Yes; I saw the prisoner in three public-houses—I was not drinking all the time; only sitting there—I was not the worse for drink—I noticed at the lamp that one of the men had his arm in a sling.
HENRY DOBLE . (Policeman, S 108). On 4th October I received information from the prosecutor, and took him to the prisoner's house, at nine o'clock in the morning—when the prisoner came out of his bedroom he put on a pair of black cloth trousers—Ladd identified him—I asked Ladd if he was dressed the same yesterday—he said, "No; he had got a pair of black cord knee-breeches"—I told the prisoner to take his trousers off and put on his breeches which he had on yesterday—he did so, and Ladd identified him more clearly—the prisoner said, "Well, if I had known it would have come to this, you old b——I would have had all the lot you had got"—he said that he came from Mr. West's beer-shop, and went to a beer-shop kept by Mr. Kitson, and stopped there all the evening, which I found was false—he had his arm in a sling, his left arm, I believe—I searched the house, but found nothing.
WILLIAM REVENING . (Police-sergeant, J 7). I was on duty in Southall on 3d October, near the King of Prussia public-house, and met the prisoner and another man, running—one of them said, "Is he following of us, can you see him?"—I watched them into the King of Prussia—this was about ten minutes' walk from the lamp of bricks, they Were coming from it—I could see the prisoner plainly, and I knew him before.
Prisoner. Q. does my house lay in the same route that I was going? A. No; You were coming from your house—it was twenty minutes to nine when I saw you—a chap named Hope was with you, no one else—I said at the Police-court that your wife or some woman was following you, but she was twenty yards from you—there was a gas lamp and a light at a window—I was not in a shed, I was on the footpath—the field was less than a quarter of a mile from where I was standing.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you known Hope? A. Yes; he is not a pot-boy.
Prisoner's Defence. A fortnight before this I had fallen out of a cart and sprained my shoulder, which I can prove by the doctor. I had my arm in a sling, and if the man was sober it would be impossible for me to do it. I did not force my company upon him, he forced drink on me; if I had wanted to rob him I could have done it in the day time in one of the public—houses.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been convicted of burglary, in February, 1862, Sentence, Eighteen Months' imprisonment, to which he
>PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Yean' Penal Servitude.
955. SAMUEL WIGGINS (30), CHARLES LOCKYER (21), and GEORGE CHAPMAN (24) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Samuel Quatermaine, and stealing therein 1 opera glass, 1 time-piece, and other articles, his property.
MR. HOUSTON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. MONTAGUE WILLIAMS defended Chapman
THOMAS RANCE (Policeman, C 222). On the morning of 30th September, about a quarter past four, I was on duty in Piccadilly, and saw Wiggins and Lockyer and two other men leave Mr. Quartermaine's premises, three of them carrying bundles—three of them crossed the road—I called 106 C, and ran after them—I captured Wiggins and Lockyer, the third man, Clements, ran away—I have not seen him since—I asked them what they had there—they both said nothing but what they had given to them—they threw the bundles away—I took them to the station—Wiggins said that he had been over to the Borough the evening before and got a situation, after that he went back to Westminster, where he lived, and there met three men who he went with to the Sun music-hall, at Knightsbridge, and had several pots of beer with them, and then walked up Piccadilly with them; that one of them let them in at Mr. Quartermaine's back gate with a key, and told him and Lockyer to go round to the front and wait for them, which they did, and the foreman and little George camp out at the front gate, and gave him and Lockyer a bundle—I found these pieces of merino (produced), in Wiggins's trousers, next his shirt, and in his left breast pocket this time-piece—the bundle he had contained this dressing-case, a card-box with 390 counters, a packet of cards, two pieces of needlework, several bodies of dresses, and some fancy articles—in Lockyer's bundle was a table cover, a towel, four muslin dresses, several pieces of muslin, and an anti-macassar—at six on the same morning I went to Mr. Quartermaine's, and took Clements and the prisoner Chapman—I told them I took them for being concerned in a robbery at Mr. Quartermaine's that morning—they said that they knew nothing of it, they were at home and in bed at the time—I searched Clements, and found nine orders for the Sun music-hall, and 10d. in money—I inspected the premises; the doors were all unfastened, and the three boxes in the coach house were broken, and the property strewed over the place—in the back yard I found this property (produced), done up in this piece of canvas, ready to be removed.
Cross-examined. Q. Are those orders for the Trevor music-hall? A. Yes, or the Sun—I waited till Chapman came to his work—I am sure of the others, but am not quite sure of Chapman.
Wiggins. Q. Do you say you saw us running? A. You did not run—I saw you cross the road, and got in front of you before you saw me—I was standing within fifty yards of the door, and could see the gates.
Lockyer. Q. Did I run away? A. No.
JOHN ALLEN (Policeman, 106 C.) On the morning of 30th September, about half-past 4, Rance called "Look out," and I saw four men—one was standing on the pavement, near Mr. Quartermaine's gate, and three were crossing the road; two of them were carrying bundles—the prisoners are three of the men—Lockyer and Wiggins curried the bundles—they were together when I first saw them—when I got close to Chapman they ran, but Chapman remained behind—I ran down the pavement and looked at Chapman—seeing he had nothing about him I ran across the road after the others—Chapman then ran away towards Knightsbridge—the fourth man ran away also—he was on the opposite side—I took Wiggins and Lockyer
—I asked Lockyer what he had there—he said that it was only what the foreman had given him—I took them to the station—these are the articles—here are some muslin dresses, and eight pieces of muslin—I went to Mr. Quartermaine's at 6 o'clock—Chapman came to his work and I took him into custody—I made the charge against him, and he said that he had been in bed all night.
SAMUEL QUARTERMAINE . I live in Piccadilly, and am a horse dealer-Chapman was in my employment at this time, and Wiggins had been the week before for a few days—Henry Clements kept the door—he had the key of the entrance into the yard, which would let him into the premises—it was not possible to get in in any other way, because the doors were locked with padlocks as well, but I have a small door cut for the man to go in at—this is my property, and was safe the evening before—it is worth about 10l—it was in a coach-house adjoining my dwelling-house—nobody could possibly get in without having the key of the little door—I locked the fastenings myself the night before, at 6 o'clock, and saw them padlocked.
COURT. Q. Was the little door locked? A. Yes—neither of the prisoner had any business in my place after 6 o'clock in the evening—there is a covered way from the coach-house to my dwelling-house, and the door by which they entered is under cover.
Wiggins Q. How far does the next building stand out from your gate way? A. About three feet—the property was kept in the nearest coach house to my house—there is only a passage between them.
Wiggins. Then it is very much altered since I worked for you. Witness It is all under one roof.
PATRICK LEONARD . (Policeman, 57 B.) I saw the three prisoners together on 29th December, between half-past 11 and 12 at night, in Brompton-road, Knightsbridge, at the top of the court where Clements lived—I am sure it was after half-past 11.
Wigging's Defence. I had been over in the Borough, and coming back to Westminster met Mr. Quartermaine's foreman, and two other men. I went to Knightsbridge with them to the Sun, and had several pots of beer. I left them at 11 o'clock, and went to the railway-station to meet some horses, which were to arrive at 2 o'clock; they did not come, and I went to Piccadilly, and met these two men and another. They went into Mr. Quartermaine's premises with a key, locked the door, and one said, "Go round to the front gate and wait till I came round." They came out with a bundle each; one said, "Catch hold of this." I did so, and a time-piece dropped out, which I put in my pocket. He said, "Go on to Hooper's—court, I have got a bundle to fetch myself; I must go in this way and lock he doors, and come out the other way. "I told the policeman that what I had was given me by Mr. Quartermaine's foreman. I left Mr. Quartermaine's of my own accord, three years ago, and as soon as I asked him for a job he gave me one directly.
lockyer's Defence. I was going to market at about half-past 3 in the morning, and saw two men who said that they worked for Mr. Quartermaine. went with them; they told me to go to the front gate. I did so, and waited. They came out with a bundle and gave me one The policeman stopped me with it; I told him I had it given me by Mr. Quartermaine's remain.
MR. WILLIAMS. called.
or a little after—he pulled off his boots and went to bed directly, as he always does—he sleeps in the same room as I do—I went to bed shortly afterwards—about half-past 5 o'clock, one of the men who lives in the house knocked on the ceiling and awoke him—he got up at a quarter to 6—he had not left the room from the time he came home till he was called in the morning—if he had gone out and come in again I must have heard him—he never left the room.
Cross-examined by MR. HOUSTON. Q. Who was the man who awoke him? A. The man who lives underneath us in the same house—there are two rooms on each floor, and three floors—there is a family in each room—in the next room to us are two young men, and an old lady in the second-floor back, and the man who called him up in the next room, second-floor—his name is Taylor—he is not here, but his wife is—I know it was Friday, 29th September, because it was the day before Saturday—he was taken on Saturday niorning-1 did not know he was taken till Saturday night—he never came home, and they told me at 11 o'clock that he was taken—he could not get out of the house without my knowledge, because I sleep so very little—there is no key.
ISABELLA TAYLOR I live at 38, Acre-street—Chapman lives in the same house—on the Friday night, before he was taken, I heard him come in between 11 and half-past, as far as I know—I did not see him—I heard him go up stairs to his mother's door, and go in and shut the door, and put off his shoes—I then heard him walking about without his shoes—I heard if he made the least move—we sleep in the room under him—my husband called him at about half-past 5 in the morning—my husband went down stairs; I heard him speak to Chapman, and they went away together.
COURT. Q. How was he awakened? A. My husband took the broom and knocked at the ceiling—he was accustomed to do that, and if Chapman was up first he tapped to my husband.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know Hooper's-court? A. Yes: it is scarcely five minutes' walk from us—he could not have gone out without my knowing it, because I have a little dog which makes a noise if even the cat goes down stairs in the night—I recollect that it was Friday, 29th September—nobody spoke about it next day till my husband came home and told me.
LOCKYER. received a good character.
WIGGINS. and LOCKYER.— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months each.
CHAPMAN.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. LILLEY. conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. SLEIGH and GOUGH the Defence.
MARGARET MATILDA SIMMS . I am servant to Mr. Morris, of 9, Victoria—road, Holloway—he and my mistress occupy the top-floor, which consists of, four rooms; a sitting-room, a bed-room for my master and mistress, another for me, and a kitchen—my master and mistress were absent from home on 10th October, and I went out that evening at 6 o'clock—I locked the door leading from our rooms on the landing—I returned about 10 o'clock, and the prisoner, who is the landlord of the house, was not at home—I went to bed immediately, and ten minutes afterwards I heard him unlock the door —he called out Margaret," to let me know that it was he, and I answered him—I undressed and went to bed immediately, and went to sleep—I awoke at about half-past 1, and saw a reflection of fire in the looking-glass—I had
left my bed-room door wide open—it entered into the sitting-room—there is a separate door from the sitting-room on to the landing—I did not look to see whether the door of my master's bed-room was open when I went to bed, but I left it locked at 6 o'clock, and the key was in the door at the time—I had the key of the sitting-room in my pocket—when I saw the glare I immediately got up, went across the sitting-room, and there is a door which opens from the bed-room into the sitting-room, which was on fire—I went to the open door, leading into the bed-room, and there I saw on the floor something flaring very much, and all falling about in little black flakes—it was just inside my master's bed-room door—it might have been burnt paper or muslin; it was all as black as ashes—I directly turned back into the sitting-room, unlocked the sitting-room door, and went down the stairs screaming "Fire!"—I saw no fire on the landing—when I first saw it it had just scorched and discoloured the paint of the bed-room door inside—I did not stop a minute to examine it—it was the fire on the floor which reflected in the looking-glass—the thing which was lying on the floor, just inside the edge of my master's bed-room door, was flaring—I unfastened the front-door and ran out as far as the gate—there is just a little space there, and I screamed "Fire!" and "Police!" till Policeman 362 N came—I did not return with him to fetch my clothes; the gentleman next door, at No. 8, took me in there—there were no fires or candles for me to put out—I did not go into the kitchen after 6 o'clock—there had been no fire or candle in my master's bed-room; it was right out, and I had cleaned the kitchen and finished before 6 o'clock—there is a cupboard in the kitchen—I had cleaned it out and underneath it—it is not a fixture; it is a bought cupboard, and is a little distance from the floor, about space enough to get a scrubbing-brush under—there were no pieces of paper, printed or otherwise, under it then—my master and mistress do not take in the journal called All the Year round—I have not seen any numbers of it in my master's room, nor the Illustrated Times or News—I had cleaned the landing that morning, and had put the carpet down—I left no pieces of paper there, printed or plain—I had no light when I returned at 10 o'clock—I did not light my candle till I went into my own bed-room, after I had closed the sitting-room door—I did not feel on crossing the landing that I was treading on paper.
COURT. Q. Was there a carpet in your master's bed-room? A. No, I had cleaned the room, and taken it up.
Cross-examined. Q. How long has your master been living there. A. He is here—I have only lived with him since 10th April—there are only two floors to the house—when my master and mistress are in the house we burn paraffin and colza oil and candles—I usually sleep with my bed-room door wide open—my bed is in a corner of the room against the wall—one side of my bed comes opposite the door—I can see from my bed right through the door, it is a direct view through the door from one side of the bed—if I had been lying on the other side of the bed against the wall I could not have seen it—the glass in the sitting-room is over the chimneypiece—this plan (produced) describes correctly the position of my bed and of the glass in the sitting-room—there was no fire in the sitting-room—I was outside the street door, between it and the gate, screaming "Fire" when the policeman came—I screamed, "Fire" all the way down stairs and at the gate till a policeman came—the prisoner did not put his head out at the window—he came down through the passage in his shirt—nobody lives in the house but me, my master and mistress, and the prisoner—before the policeman came up, a man from next door called to know what was the
matter, and came in to put the fire out—when I locked the door that evening I took the key with me.
MR. LILLEY. Q. since your master and mistress's absence had you burnt any paraffin oil? A. No—when I saw the prisoner outside the door he said, "What have you done, what have you done?"—his wife has been away some time in the country for the benefit of her health.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was not the prisoner preparing for his wife's return next day? A. He was in the house, and I spoke to him on Friday morning—he said "I have come to clean up, for I expect my wife will be home on Monday."
MR. LILLEY. Q. What day of the week was that? A. Friday, and early on Saturday morning the fire broke out.
GEORGE COLE . (Policeman, N 362.) On Saturday morning, 7th October, about 1 o'clock, my attention was called to 9, Victoria-road, by a cry of "Fire"—I went there, and saw the last witness standing at the door in her night-dress—I sprang my rattle, and another policeman came—I sent for the fire engines, then knocked at the house door, which was closed, and the prisoner opened it—I went up-stairs to the second floor, and saw fire on the landing ascending to the ceiling—it was close to Mr. Morris's bed-room door—I looked into the kitchen, and could see fire ascending from the floor to the cupboard—I should say that one fire was ten feet from the other-a man was there calling for water—he was there before I came—by means of water the fire in the kitchen cupboard was put out—it required about 100 pails to do it—I did not see the fire on the landing put out—I saw the door of the master's bed-room tried, it would not open till we kicked it open—the fire against the door was put out at that time.
COURT. Q. How many different doors lead from Mr. Morris's room on to the landing? A. Three, one is the bedroom of the master and another the bedroom and the sitting-room—the girl would pass by the front of the door—the landing is about six feet square—I did not see the prisoner for a quarter of an hour after he let me in—I did not examine the door of Mr. Morris's bedroom—I examined the kitchen cupboard, and saw the going up inside the cupboard—the door was not quite closed, and the flame came out.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you find the fire proceeding from pieces of paper? A., Yes, the one in the kitchen cupboard—I cannot say what was on fire at the door of the master's bedroom—the door was burnt—next day I found that the outside of the bedroom-door was scorched, it was all burnt—there was no fire on any other part of the landing—I found burning papers on the landing—I found papers of the same kind nowhere but in the cupboard—I did not go there next morning, my inspector went—I did not find the prisoner throwing water to quench the fire—I saw him on the landing where the fire was, but it was all extinguished then—it was after it was extinguished that I saw him come down stairs—I do not know when he went up—I do not know the next door neighbour, or what his name is—it was Mr. Arnold who was putting the fire out.
JAMES ARNOLD I live at 10, Victoria-road—about half-past I on the morning of October 7th, I heard an alarm of fire—I shoved the window up, looked out, and saw Mr. Steam and the female servant standing at the gate—I awoke my family, and sent my apprentice to Upper Hollo-way for a fire-engine—I was the first in the house—I went up stairs, and said, "For God's sake, let me have some water"—I had asked where the fire was, and
the prisoner said, "On the landing"—I found it was on the landing, from I the bottom of the door to the ceiling—I ran down for some water, and the prisoner drew me part of a pail of water from the tap, and somebody else handed me another—after I had put one fire out, I found the cupboard in the kitchen in full flame, and the flames issuing out so sharp that they broke three or four squares, and rushed out at the window—I tried the door of Mr. Morris's bedroom, it was locked, and I burst it open—that is the door that leads on to the landing—I cannot say whether it was burnt on both sides—I had a very bad light when the fire went out, and I was very fatigued, and obliged to lie down—I saw the police pick up a match and some papers.
Cross-examined, Q. Did not the prisoner go up stairs with yon, and endeavour to extinguish the fire? A. No—I told him to go and get some water—I cannot tell you whether he was up-stairs while I was pouring water on the fire, as I was in the dark—I do not know who brought the water—I knew the prisoner very well, but the smoke was such that I could not see—nobody threw water on it but me, but plenty came on to the landing with water.
MR. LILLEY. Q. A number of persons came on to the landing, and some I of them handed you the water? A. Yes, but I did not recognise the prisoner among them—I had no light.
GEORGE LOCK (Policeman, N 21). On 7th October, about 2 o'clock in the morning, I went to 9, Victoria-road, to the top floor, and on the lauding, in a corner, between the bedroom-door and the front sitting-room I found a quantity of paper-ashes—the landing was wet, and a corner of it was charred from burning—Mr. Morris's door was very much burnt—I had a lantern with me, and saw on the landing a heap of light paper-ashes, which! I brushed away with my hand, and underneath I found a quantity of burnt paper journals, All the Year Round, and other journals, partly burnt; part of a Domestic Magazine, and part of the Illustrated London News—I was in company with a fireman, and there were several people in the house—I handed the pieces of paper to Inspector Barber—one panel of Mr. Morris's door was burnt through, and the door was very much burnt, principally on the outside—I went from there into the kitchen, and there I found a cup board which had been very much burned, more inside than out—I also found a few pieces of paper there, of the same description—they smelt very strong of paraffin oil in both places—I went into the servant's bedroom, put my hand under the clothes, and found that the bed was warm—her petticoats were on a chair at the foot of the bed—I saw the prisoner in the passage, and said, "Are you the landlord of the house?"—he said, "No, I rent the house"—I said, "Where do you sleep?"—he said, "I sleep here," showing me into a front room, down-stairs—I found an impression on the bed, and turned the things back, but it felt quite cold—the. prisoner was present, and I said, "The servant's bed is quite warm, and yours is quite cold; how do you account for that?"—he said, "I suppose it is because the fire was nearer to it"—I did not feel quite satisfied, left the house, and went to the station—at 9 o'clock I went back, and made a thorough examination with Inspector Barber—I again examined the cupboard in the kitchen, and under it I found a quantity more of the same journal, All the Year Round, the thickness of five or six numbers, saturated with what I believe was paraffin—the cupboard was about an inch from the boards—these burnt papers (produced) were found on the landing and under the cupboard in the kitchen—I also found some pieces of what looked like a
curtain, and also some of the same on the landing—they all smelt alike—we fully searched the upper part of the house, but found nothing—we went down stairs, and the inspector called my attention to some paper which he found—I found a can in the back-kitchen, down-stairs, which smelt a little of paraffin, but not very strongly—the inspector called my attention to two bottles, which he found in the coal-cellar—I put my nose to them, and they smelt of paraffin—there was a tablespoon full in each bottle—the prisoner was not taken in custody—he said, "Well, you do me a great wrong, I have not been up-stairs for these six weeks."
Cross-examined. Q. Was that the only coal-cellar common to the two families? A. I believe there are two, but I only saw that one—I saw a paraffin-can, found in Mr. Morris's kitchen; it contained a small quantity of paraffin—whatever questions I put to the prisoner he answered with perfect readiness.
EDWARD BARBER (Police-inspector, N). On 7th October, at 9 o'clock in the morning, I went with Lock to 9, Victoria-road, Holloway, and saw him pick up some portions of partly-consumed paper—he took some also from beneath a cupboard in the kitchen—he handed them to me, and I found they had been saturated with paraffin oil—there were some ordinary newspapers and some Illustrated London News and All the Year Mound—some portions of muslin were lying in the master's bedroom—of the Illustrated News I found pages 461, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6—I cannot tell where it was found as they were all mixed together—in the prisoner's sitting-room I found several numbers of All the Year Round, and in a front room, used apparently as a lumber-room, I found a sheet of the Illustrated News, four pages numbered 467, 468, 469, and 470—that number of the Illustrated London News was issued on 24th May, 1851—this is part of that number, or the supplement, and there is another portion of the same number—I asked the prisoner if he used paraffin—he said that he had used it, but not recently, except a small portion which had been left on the landing—I asked him in what he kept it—he said, "In a can"—Lock produced a can, and he said that that was the can in which he kept it—I asked him if he had any other utensil in which it had been kept—he said, "No"—I found two bottles in the coal-cellar, each of which contained a small quantity of paraffin oil—they were lying on a shelf, without corks, laid down, as if they were not in use—they were quite clean—there was no dust upon them—they had evidently been there a very short time—I found three keys in his kitchen, one of which easily opens Mr. Morris's kitchen-door, and the other opens it with difficulty—there were two coal-cellars—I asked the prisoner if one was his, he said, "Yes"—the other was in the passage, down stairs, close to the back-door—Mr. Morris's door up stairs was burst through, evidently from the outside—my attention was directed to a looking-glass in the sitting-room, by the servant saying that she saw the reflection in it—from inside the tad-room door flames could easily be seen in that glass by a person lying on one side of the bed.
Cross-examined. Q. Anything you asked Mr. Stearn, I believe he answered you without the slightest hesitation? A. yes—I did not ask him for the keys, they were hanging up in his kitchen—his rooms in which I found the unburnt papers were not open, he unlocked them for me the moment I asked him to do so—his kitchen was open and the keys hanging up—I asked him for his policy; he handed it to me directly—this is it (produced).
the upper landing near the bedroom door, the bottom part of which was burnt through, also the bottom part of the cupboard in the kitchen—there I had been two distinct fires, and a portion of the debris in both cases was strongly impregnated with paraffin oil—the prisoner was insured for 100l. in the County Fire Office, of which 70l. was for household furniture, and 30l. for working tools—on the 8th I inspected the lower part of the premises occupied by the prisoner—I made a cursory survey only, as I saw there would be no claim against the company, as the fire had been confined to the upper part of the house—I should estimate the value of the furniture at 35l. or 40l., but I did not examine the contents of the drawers or cupboards—the linen was included in the 70l.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was the floor on which the Morrises live covered by any policy? A. Not so far as we ore concerned—I did not look at the tools—they might be worth 60l. for aught I know, but they were insured separately—I saw a glass over the sitting-room mantelpiece—I know the room in which the girl Simms sleeps, but cannot remember how her bed was placed so as to say whether it was possible for her to see the reflection of fire in it; it depends entirely on the position of the bedstead—I understand there is some little recess in the room—the Insurance office is not conducting this prosecution.
COURT. Q. suppose there was a fire in the master's bedroom, would it reflect in the glass? A. I have no doubt it would; and if so, that might create a light in the bedroom, which the girl would see even without seeing the reflection in the glass.
MR. SLEIG. called
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. Q. Have you lodged in his house? A. Yes—I was absent at this time with Mrs. Morris for about five weeks—we were about to return in a fortnight—I may have had an odd number of the Illustrated London News while there, but I did not take it in regularly—I left the premises in the care of the girl Simms—she had then been with me six or seven months, but she lived with us previously—I have known her-five or six years.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. are you on perfectly good terms with the prisoner? A. Yes.
Other witnesses gave the prisoner a good character.
JURY. to MARGARET MATILDA SIMMS. Q. do you know where the lumber—room is? A. Yes, under my bedroom, in the part of the premises belonging to the prisoner—it is inside the house very near the street-door—the door of it was shut—I cannot say whether it was looked—the street-door is locked when we go to bed—if I come in last I fasten it, and if Mr. Stearn comes in late he fastens it—when he comes in he always calls out, and if I am in he fastens the door.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 25th, 1865.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. METCALFE. and COLLINS. conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE RUSSELL (City-detective.). On 22d September, about half-past 10 in the morning, in consequence of information, I went to the secretary's office at the Bank of England—the prisoner was there—I asked him his name and address—he said, "No. 3, Trafalgar-street, Woolwich"—I then had this 10/. note in my hand, and said, "Then this is correct", showing him the address on the note—he said, "Yes"—it is, "Mr. John Watson, 3, Trafalgar-street, Woolwich"—I then said that it was a stolen note, and asked him what business he was, and where he got it from—he said he was a furniture broker, and he got it from a Mr. Watson, of 3, George-street, Woolwich, in payment for two beds and two chests of drawers—I then went with the prisoner and Sergeant Brett in a cab—he then said, "I do not live at 3, Trafalgar-street"—I said, "Where do you live?" and he said I had no business to ask, and declined to tell me—afterwards he said he had not sold anything to Mr. Watson for that note, but that Mr. Watson had given him the note to take to the bank to change—I said, "When?"—he said, "Last Monday"—I then said, "Does Mr. Watson live at 3, George-street?—he said, "I don't know that he does, that was the address he gave me; I have known him some time; I don't know where he lives"—I went with the prisoner to Trafalgar-street; there are three houses there No. 3—he was not known at either—we then went to George-street—I could find no Mr. John Watson there—I then brought the prisoner back to the bank, and Mr. Bester, in his presence, said the note had been stolen from a house in the Priory-road, Kilburn, from a cupboard in a bedroom on the day of sale, and that it belonged to a servant there—the prisoner said nothing to that.
JOHN HAMMOND SHELTON . I am a cashier at the Bank of England—on 22d September, the prisoner brought this 10l. note to the bank, and asked for cash for it—it is dated 7th July, 1865, and the number is 63,451—I requested him to put his name and address on it—I saw it was stopped, and took him to the secretary's office.
WILLIAM LOVELL . I am a solicitor, of 26, Charles-street, St. James's—I received this note from Messrs. Herries's bank on the 11th—I paid it next day to Mary Harris, who was a servant at 3, Priory-road—I paid her wages a her master's solicitor—he had died shortly before—I gave her five sovereigns as well.
MARY HARRIS . I was servant at 3, Priory-place, Kilburn—on 12th September, I received a 10/. note and five sovereigns from Mr. Lovell—I changed one sovereign, spent part of it, and gave the note, four sovereigns, and some silver to my sister—I saw her put it in her purse, and put that in a cupboard in the back bed-room, and lock the door—on 13th September, there was a sale at the house—I went to the cupboard with my sister at half-past 10, to take my bonnet out, and I saw the purse and money quite safe then—between 11 and half-past, we went to the cupboard again and found it locked, and the key taken out—we called assistance, and broke it open, and the purse was gone—I saw it at half-past 10, and between 11 and half-past it was gone.
Prisoner. Q. do you remember seeing me at the sale? A. No; I heard of you from my sister.
MR. METCALFE. Q. I suppose the sale did not commence as early as that? A. No; not till after 12—the people began to come a little after 10.
JANE HARRIS . On 12th and 13th September, I was staying with my sister at 3, Priory-place—she gave me a note, which I put in my parse, and put the purse in the cupboard—that was on the night of the 12th—I went to that cupboard again on the morning of 13th, about 10 or half-past—the parse and money were safe then—I locked the door then, but left the key in—from half-past 10 to 11 I went to the cupboard again, and found the door locked and the key gone—on breaking the door open, we found the purse was gone and all the contents—I am quite sure the 10/. note was in it when I saw it in the morning—I saw the prisoner there that morning, from half-past 10 to 11, between the time I saw the money and when I missed it—he was in the room where the cupboard was—there was no one else there at the time—I am quite sure of that.
Prisoner. Q. is that purse your property (one produced by the officer) No, A. No, mine was a dark green purse—there was other property in the cupboard—there was a watch lying in a stand close by, and, a lot of other things—only the purse was taken.
MR. COLLINS. Q. have you seen your purse since? A. No; after I had missed the money, I did not see the prisoner attending the sale.
GEORGE CROSS . I am porter to the auctioneer who attended this sale—I was there on 13th September—I saw the prisoner at tea minutes before 10, outside the premises—I opened the doors at a quarter past 10—the prisoner came into the house about half-part 11, and met me in the passage and asked me for a catalogue—I gave him one, and watched him down stairs—he never attended the sale afterwards.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see me go up stairs at all? No; I did not.
Prisoner's Defence. I have been in the furniture line for thirty-four or thirty-live years; I know nothing at all about this note being taken; I went to this sale to look at a sideboard, and then went to another in Bayswater-road—I afterwards went to a sale at Tattersall's, and a tallish party asked me to buy some things for him, which I did, and he gave me this 10l. note, and asked me to get it cashed for him; he said he lived at 3, Trafalgarequure, Woolwich; I went to the bank to get it cashed; it is not likely I should have taken it there if I had known it was stolen; I have been dragged into it by some dark-minded villain; I did not give my address, because I did not wish my wife to know my position.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. KEMP. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. CUNNINGHA. the Defence.
ROBERT BARLOW . I am a builder, and reside at Kingsland—on 30th September, I was possessed of a grey gelding, which was turned out on Hackney Common—a week afterwards I fetched it from Croydon—I did not see it on the common again after the 30th—the prisoner was formerly in my service, up to Monday, 12th October—I had the gelding at that time—I believe he knew of me turning it out on the common—I never authorized him to sell it for me—the value of it is 18l.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner in your service after the horse was missed? A. yes; I did not express any unwillingness to prosecute when I heard by what means the prisoner became possessed of the horse—I did not say that the story might be true—I am not aware that he was out on bail—he was allowed out if bail could be procured—I was not willing to allow him out on bail.
EDWARD CHICK . I am licensed hawker, and live in Kent—I was at last Croydon fair on the 2d October—I saw the prisoner there on the 4th, the third day of the fair, with a grey gelding—ho was offering to sell it to some persons there—he asked 8l. for it, and came down to 7l.—I called him on one side and said, "What are you going to take for that horse?"—he said, "I have 6l. to take home to Mr. Barlow, and except I get something for myself I shall not sell the horse; I shall ride it back to Mr. Barlow"—I then said, "I will give you 6l. 10s. for it, that will be 10A for yourself, but I should like to go before some witness to pay my money"—he said ho did not mind about that, and we went down the street to the police-station—a policeman asked me what was the matter—I told him I had bought a horse for 6l. 10s. and I wanted to pay the money before some witness—the officer said he would send some one to Mr. Barlow's, and we all went to Mr. Barlow's house—the next day Mr. Barlow came to Croydon and saw the gelding.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY., recommended to Mercy by the Jury. — Confined Eight Months.
MR. CUNNINGHAM. conducted the Prosecution.,
THOMAS WILKINS . I am a hawker, and live in Gun-street, Spitalfields—about 12 o'clock, on the night of the 11th of this month, I was going home to my lodgings, and I met the prisoner in Gun-street—he deliberately struck me, and knocked me down—I became insensible—when I came to myself, I felt in my pockets and found 15s. and two duplicates gone—they had been in my left hand waistcoat pocket—I had them safe five minutes before—these are mine (produced).
Prisoner. Q. Were you not in company with five or six others? A. Yes; I was walking when you knocked me down—I never saw you before—I did not know you when you hit me, I was senseless—I was with my employer, Mr. Johnson.
FRANCIS ROBBINS . (Policeman, H 119). On the 11th of this month, about 12 o'clock, I saw the prosecutor about fifteen yards in front of the prisoner—the prisoner went deliberately up to him on to the pavement, and struck him a violent blow in the mouth and knocked him down quite senseless—he then knelt on his chest, and when I went up to him I saw his hand in the prosecutor's pocket—I took him into custody—he said, "It is all right, he is a friend of mine"—on the way to the station I saw the prisoner drop something, and after I got him to the station, I went back and found these we duplicates, about ten minutes after—the prosecutor had been drinking—he was not drunk—I found eighteen-pence on the prisoner.
Prisoner. Q. Were you not standing at the corner of Stuart-street? A. No; the lower comer of Gun-street, and you were about fifteen yards up—here are three or four lamps there close—I did not tell the policeman behind to pick up what you had dropped, because you were so violent—he was assisting me to get you to the station.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"I know nothing at all about it."
Prisoner's Defence. I am as innocent as a child. I was coming down
Gun-street very drunk; this man was lying on the pavement, and as I was coming by he knocked me down with his legs; I did not see him; I shoved his legs inside the pavement in case any body else might fall down, and the policeman came up and said, "I want you; I saw you knock that man down"—I said I would go to the station-house, and I did; the prosecutor then said he had lost fifteen shillings; they found nothing on me, but eighteen-pence of my own money.
GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DALY. conducted the Prosecution.
ANN DOUGLAS . I am the wife of Thomas Douglas, a hair-dresser of South Audley-street—on 13th September, about nine in the morning, the prisoner came in and asked for a sponge for a gentleman—he said, "You have been very kind to my father and mother, and I will do you a good turn I had known him before—about three hours afterwards he came again, and produced an order for two brushes—he said he had got a situation as Colonel Guisett's valet, at 3B, Albany, and he wanted these things—he chose articles which came to 1l. 16s.—I let him have them on the faith of that order (read: "3B, Albany. The sponge will suit; let the bearer have two hair brushes, one left hand, enclose bill; I will send you the money in the morning. J. C. Guisett, Lieutenant-Colonel. Mr. Douglas, South Audley-street.")—the prisoner came again on 15th, and ordered some more things, and brought this cheque (produced)—it is for 3l., 4s., and I gave him 1l. 16s. in change—(read: "Messrs. Glyn, Mills & C. Please pay the bearer on demand 3l. 4s. J. C. Guisett")—that cheque was returned, marked "no account"—when he came with the cheque he asked me to send the things down the next morning, but he called again in the evening, about six o'clock, and said that the gentleman wanted to see them that very night, and I gave them to him, and he took them away with him.
Prisoner. Q. the 1l. 16s. included the sponge, which was half a guinea? A. Yes.
HENRY DAWSOM . (Policeman, A 301). On 28th September I went to John's-court, Farm-street Mews, and saw the prisoner—I walked into the room, and said, "Are you John Watson 1"—he said, "No, John Watson is upstairs, I will call him"—I said, "You are the man I want, I am a police-officer, and I apprehend you for uttering a forged order, and obtaining brushes and different other articles from Mrs. Douglas, of South Audley-street"—I was not in uniform—he said, "Douglas, South Audley-street?"—I said, "Yes," and he made no answer—I have not been able to find such a person as Colonel Guisett—I presented the cheque at the bank, and the name was not known.
Prisoner's Defence. I don't think it stands very feasible that I could go and present a forged order or cheque to persons I have known for years—I lave not had an opportunity of finding the person I was employed by.
GUILTY . He PLEADED GUILTY. to a former conviction of felony at this Court, in April, 1864.— Seven Years* Penal Servitude.
MR. F. H. LEWIS. conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN HANSON . I lire on board the "Sarah Newman," in the West India Dock Basin—on the night of this occurrence, I came on shore with Agni, who is a seaman on board the same ship—I was standing At a door in Mercer-street—some men came along and asked us if we knew an Irish boarding-house, Cooper was one of the men, there were five men, Hughes was there, they were altogether, he felt my coat pocket—I told Cooper that I did not know anything about it—I gave my hand a push, and then I saw that Cooper had my watch in his hand—I had a chain on it, and he cut a link out—I asked him for my watch back, and he said, "You had better let me go," and he then hit me in the eye and knocked me down, and I left go of him and he ran away, and I ran after him—I chased him a mile and a half—I did not lose sight of him—I kept about fifty feet from him all the way—a constable stopped him—my watch was gold—it came from California, and cost about 15l.
Cooper. Q. do you say that I took your watch? A. Yes; I saw you with it; you were alongside of me—I did not pull out a knife.
JOHN AGNI . I was standing with the last witness at 12, Mercer-street, Baok-road—we had knocked at the door, and a gentleman opened it, and at that time Cooper, and four or five man with him, came along and asked if we knew an Irish boarding-house—I know Cooper was there, ho pulled my mate's watch out, and my mate caught hold of his collar—Cooper said, "Let me go"—he said, 'I will not let go, till you give me my watch back"—Cooper then gave him a blow and knocked him down and ran away—I ran after him—I don't know Hughes—I can't say that Hughes was there.
Prisoner. Q. Were there not four or five men round you? A. Yes; they all ran away.
THOMAS STOKES . I live at 12, Mercer-terrace—Agni has lodged at my father's house since the night of this robbery—I answered the door, and saw Hanson and Agni, and four or five men round them—it was done as quick as possible, but I saw Cooper take the watch, and saw it in his hand afterwards—the other men then ran away—I could not recognise them—Hanson got hold of Cooper by the coat-collar, and he said, "Will you let me go?"—he said, "No; if you will give me my watch I will let you go," with that Cooper struck Hanson on the eye and knocked him down, and he got away—I ran after him, and lost sight of him for about two minutes and then I saw him again standing in a doorway, throwing his clothes off to disguise himself—he then ran away again and I after him, to the top of the street, where he ran into a constable's arms—I went to the station with him.
Cooper. Q. did not one of them pull out a knife to mo? A. No; they did not assault you first.
WILLIAM FREESTONE . (Policeman, K 58). I heard cries of "Stop thief," in Sutton-street on this night, and saw Cooper running without his coat, waistcoat, or cap—I stopped him, and said, "What are you running for?" he said, "It is all right, sir, I am running away from a Chinaman"—I said, "What have you done with your coat, waistcoat, and cap?"—he said, "They have torn them off me"—I took him back and mot the prosecutor, who said, "That man has robbed me of a gold watch"—I said to the prisoner, "You hear what he lays"—he made no reply—I took him to the station.
I heard cries of "Police" in Back-road—I went up Charles-Street and Saw Cooper running, at that time he had his coat, waistcoat and cap on—he turned down Philip-street into Sutton-street—I followed and mined him, and about a minute afterwards I saw him running up Sutton-street, without his coat, waistcoat, or cap—I followed him till he was taken into custody—I afterwards apprehended Hughes—I told him I thought be knew something about the robbery; he made no reply—at the station be said he knew nothing about it—I placed him with six or seven other men, brought the prosecutor in, and he instantly identified him as the man who first accosted him—Hughes said he never saw the man before in his life.
The. prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—Cooper says, "I was returning from Lime-house to ratcliffe-cross—I came up a turning in the Back-road, and saw the two men standing there and a mob round; directly I came up they made off', the prosecutor and Agni laid hold of me, and the prosecutor said, "Some of you have got my watch." I said, "I know nothing about your watch, what do you Jay hold of me for?" and of course I tussled to get away; they were (making for their pockets, as I supposed to get a knife, and of course I got away. I had my things torn off as I went along." Hughes says, "I was coming home from a hard day's work. I know no. thing of the robbery."
Cooper's Defence. I am innocent of taking the watch.
The Court considered there was not sufficient evidence against Hughes.
NOT GUILTY .
COOPER. GUILTY .*— Five Year's Penal Servitude.
MR. PATER. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. RIBTON. the Defence.
GEORGE SIMS . I am a tailor, and live at 196, Mile-end-road—on 20th september I saw the prisoner in the Dolphin public-house—I was having a glass of ale at the bar, and he came to me and said, "It is a fine day"—I said, "It is"—he said, "What are you doing to-day, do not you do anything a betting?"—I said, "I do, unfortunately"—he said, "I have got a good thing on to-day" and he pulled out a ticket with Valentine and Wright's name on it—he said, "I backed a horse 4l. to 2l. at Valentine and Wright's, and I would not mind hedging"—I said, "You have got a good bet, what ill you hedge?"—he said "I would not mind 30s. to a 1l.,"—I said, "That a very good bet, I would not mind taking it"—he said, "Very well, you shall I have it"—I said, "How are we to stake our money?"—he said, "0h, am a perfect gentleman, I come up by the rail every morning and go back; night, I am well known at this house, I have dined here for the last six months"—he called the waiter, and said, "You know me, don't you, waiter?"—the waiter said, "Well, I have seen you here, I believe I know you"—he then referred to the barmaid, and said, "You know the name of Brooks, miss?" she said, "I believe you go by that name"—I had 1l. in my hand, and just as the landlord was coming into the bar, the prisoner took it out of my hand and went out at the door directly—I went out but could not see him—about three hours afterwards I saw him again, in front of the bar the Albion Tavern, Bridge-street—I caught hold of him by the collar, and said, "I want my 1l. back that you have robbed me of"—he said, "I all not give it to you, the horse has not won yet"—I said, "It was no bet all, you robbed me of my money, and I shall never leave you go till you it to me, or else I shall lock you up"—we had a struggle together, and got outside, and he said, "If you don't leave me go, I will put my b——
walking stick in your eye"—I left go of him, and a policeman came up and chased him and took him.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you the money in your hand? A. Yes—I held my hand out with the money in it and he took it out, it was four halfcrowns and ten shillings—I was sitting down at the time—he was standing up at a the side of the door—I am not a betting man—I have done a little in it—this was for the Wright stakes—I think it was at Newmarket I did not back any horse for the Cambridgeshire or for the Caesarewitch—the supposed bet I had with the prisoner was the last—I did not tell him my name—he did not tell me of a horse called "Summerside"—I agreed to take 30s. to 20s. because I thought the horse would win—I have taken the odds with other people—a man named Lee was the last person I betted with—I gave him a sovereign—I did not charge him with robbing me—the prisoner did not take his betting-book out in my presence—he did not come back to the Dolphin immediately afterwards and go up to dinner—I afterwards saw him in Bridge-street, Blackfriars, amongst the betting men, and they pulled out some notes and said, "How much does he owe you?"—I said "1l."—one of them pulled out a 5l.-note and asked me to give him 4l., and one of them offered me a 20l. note, they were flash notes—the prisoner declined to give me back my money—he said his name was Brooks—I intended to stake my money in the landlord's hands—the prisoner was a stranger to me—I never deposited my money before with a stranger—he did not ask me my name or enter it in his book—I can explain to you how he got hold of my name—on the day previous I was looking at the Times office, and a gentlemanly-looking man came up to me and spoke to me about betting—he said he was a trainer, and he asked me if be could write to me; so I foolishly gave him my name, and he was one of the men that was in the prisoner's company in front of the bar—nobody else was present that saw him take this money that I know of—I will swear that I did not tell him my name was Sims.
MR. PATER. Q. Was anything said about anybody being the stakeholder? A. No—the stakes were to have been put into the landlord's hands if he had been agreeable—nothing was said about that—the money was taken out of my hand against my will.
JOHN PEG . (City-policeman, 346). On the afternoon of 20th September, about half-past three, I saw the prisoner and the last witness struggling together, opposite the Albion tavern, New Bridge-street—I went up to them—I saw one of the prisoner's mates with his fists up, pretending to knock the last witness over—I went to lay hold of him, and the prosecutor said, "This man has stolen a sovereign from me"—the prisoner ran up Bride-passage, through the Bell public-house, across Fleet-street into Poppin's-court, and down into Farriugdon-street, and ran into the second public-house on the left—I followed him and lost sight of him—I went into a room, and the waiter said, "He is behind the door"—I looked, and he was crouched up behind the door—I told him he was charged with stealing a sovereign, and he would have to go with me—he said, "Oh, go on, it is only a bet, let me go"—I searched him at the station, and found nineteen pawn tickets, two coins imitating sovereigns, three books for betting, 1l. in gold, and 1l. 7s. in silver—there were four halfcrowns—he gave me the name of Charles Brooks, 25 Queen-street, Peckham—I went there and found it to be false—I found an envelope with an address on it upon him.
NOT GUILTY .
963. CHARLES UTTON. (27) [See page 520], Stealing divers valuable securities the property of his master, Thomas Holloway; and HENRY LOCKE (29) , Feloniously receiving the same, well knowing them to have been stolen.
UTTON. PLEADED GUILTY . [For sentence, see page 524.]
MR. GIFFARD., Q. C. and MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution,MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. and MR. METCALFE. the Defence.
HENRY HOLLOWAY . I manage the business of my brother, Thomas Holloway, a medicine vendor, in the Strand—I used to give Utton cheques to send to the parties whose names were on them—it was his duty to send them off—these three cheques (produced) were signed by me, and handed to Utton—two are made payable to the Messrs. Brooks, and one to John Swainson—two are crossed "London and Westminster," and one "and co"—In consequence of information given to me, I called on the prisoner Locke—he is a licensed victualler, and keeps the Holyrood Palace, within ten or a dozen doors of our place—I told him I had been given to under stand he had been receiving from Utton a quantity of our cheques, which he had stolen—he said that he had received from Utton a quantity of cheques, that he did not know whether they were stolen or not, and that that was no business of his—I asked him if he had made any inquiry as to where Utton had got them from—he said no, that did not concern him, and he produced a memorandum-book, from which he tore this leaf (produced)—he gave me this, and I put it in my pocket—it is a list of goods he had supplied to Utton the same afternoon Locke came into my place and asked to see the cheques, and a quantity were produced—I asked him who his banker was—he said, "The London and West-minster Bank, Temple Bar branch"—I requested him to go to that bank with me, which he did—I saw the manager, and asked him if these cheques had been handed to him by Locke—foe said that was a question be could not answer then, but he would refer to his books and see—I left the cheques with him—when Locke came to me in the afternoon I handed fourteen cheques to him, and after examining them, he said he had received twelve of them from Utton, but the other two he had doubts about—before handing him the cheques, he said he could not tell exactly how many he had taken, but he presumed from twelve to twenty, and that they amounted to from 150l. to 200l.—the cheques were all made payable to persons to whom the firm was indebted—each cheque was brought to me in the ordinary course of business by Utton to be signed, and they were then handed back to him—Mr. Hutchings was present during the conversation with Locke, and he accompanied us to the bank—I told Locke, Utton was a clerk, receiving five shillings a day, and was paid daily, and I said, "I presume you know that"—he said it was no business of his, he did not know how the cheques came into Utton's possession, as they were presented, so he took them.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You asked him, did you not, as a neighbour to give you all the information. A. I did—he recognised all the cheques with the exception of two, which he had a doubt about—all are paid through his own banker—I do not know whether they were crossed by him—when I said he, as a neighbour, ought to give me all the information, it was a mere passing remark, as I had never seen him before in my life—I summoned him as a witness first, and then gave him
into custody—I was not threatened with an action by him—Stainforth is one of our clerks—he was examined before the Magistrate, but I do not know whether he is here to-day—I did not employ Stainforth to induce Utton to give evidence against Locke—he told me on one or two occasions that he had seen Utton—I think he told me that he had been endeavouring to induce Utton to make a "clean breast" of it, but he did not do that with ray sanction—I think he did tell me that he had promised to show mercy to Utton if he would give information against Locke: I am not certain about that—Stainforth has been living with Utton's brother—I did not tell him not to interfere—I remember his reading a letter to me, that he said he was going to send to Utton—it was in my room—I believe no one was present—I do not remember his reading, "Say all you know about a certain party, who has had many a bright sovereign out of your pocket"—the letter did not concern me, but I knew it was about this case—I did not, in Mr. Hutching's presence, tell Locke that unless he gave me the money back, I would prosecute him—we have a clerk in our employ of the name of Mitchell—I never authorized him to write to Utton—he was a bosom friend of the prisoner's, and was always with him—I did not authorize him to write to Utton—he is in our employ now—if he wrote, he wrote of his own act and deed, not mine.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. When you went first of all to Mr. Locke, and asked him to give information as a neighbour, did you know then what you have learned since? A. Certainly not—I first learnt the nature of the transactions the day after Utton was given into custody.
THOMAS HUTCHINGS . I am in the employ of Mr. Holloway, and have the management of the drug and manufacturing department—I am a nephew of Mr. Holloway, and have been in his employ eleven years—I was present at the conversation between Mr. Henry Holloway and the prisoner Locke—he asked Locke how many cheques he had received from Utton—Locke said from twelve to twenty—he asked the amount—Locke said he should think it was from 150l. to 200l.—after that I spoke to Locke myself, and asked him how he came to take crossed cheques from Utton—after some hesitation he said he took them in the way of business—I asked him if be knew Utton and the three clerks—he said he did—I asked him if he knew they were paid daily—he said he did—I asked him the names of the three clerks, and he gave them to me, Sellin, Spooner, and Utton—I asked him if he had received the cheques from Utton, and he said, "Yes," and that some of them were made out in favour of Robinson, Brunskill, and Swainson—I said, "Well, Mr. Locke, how was it you came to change those cheques, they being crossed?" and after some hesitation, he said he done it in the way of business.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. did he tell you he should take any cheques that had Mr. Holloway's signature? A. To the best of my recollection he told me that he would take any number of them, if they had Holloway's name at foot it was enough for him.
HUGH THOMAS STAFFORD . I am in the employment of Mr. Holloway—in consequence of the directions he gave me, I went on the 13th or 14th of September to Mr. Locke's public-house—I asked him to step round to Mr. Holloway—he asked me into his bar-parlour, and said he wanted to dress himself first—he had not got any cravat or collar on—he sent one of his barmen for his cravat—while waiting for that he said to me "This is a bad business"—I said, "Yes, how did you come to take the cheques from those fellows, knowing their position?"—he replied," What the b——h——did
I care? Holloway's name was at the foot, that was quite enough for, me, I did it in the way of business, I will take as many of the b——y b——s as you like to bring me"—he then accompanied me to Mr. Holloway.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. don't you know a I great deal more about this? A. No—I am not in the habit of using Mr. Locke's house—I have only been in his house once in my life—I went to see Utton in the House of Detention—he wrote to me asking me to come—no one sent me—young Mr. Bowen May asked me to accompany him the first time I went—I cannot tell what for—I told Mr. Holloway I was going—I did not go there to persuade Utton to give evidence against Locke—I had a private interview with him.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Was the private interview in consequence of the letter you had received from him? A. Yes—I did not communicate to Mr. Holloway the result of that private interview.
EDWARD SMILES . I am a clerk employed in Messrs. Coutts's bank—these cheques have been paid, and debited to Mr. Holloway, by Messrs. Coutts—the first cheque is dated the 18th March, and the last is the 2d of September—Messrs. Coutts's bank is about eight minutes' walk from Locke's place.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. do you know whether there were a great many small drafts made by Mr. Holloway? A. He draw a great many drafts; perhaps they will average eight or ten a day; I cannot my for certain—the amounts of these cheques are smaller than usual.
HORACE SHEARING . I am a clerk in the London and Westminster Bank, Temple Bar branch—Locke kept an account at our bank—all these cheques, with the exception of this one (produced), have passed to Locke's account—this cheque went through a baker named-Harwood.
WILLIAM JAMES HARWOOD . I carry on business at 256, Strand, three or four doors from Mr. Locke's—this cheque has been in my possession—I took it from one of Mr. Locke's men, who was sent to me to get it changed—I sent it back to have Mr. Locke's name put on it, and then I paid it to my miller.
ROBERT CATCHPOLE ., I live at 31, Ashburton-villas, Holloway—I have known Locke about four or five years, and have been to his house several times—I know Utton, Spooner, and Sellin by sight—I have seen all of them at Locke's house—on one occasion there had been some card-playing up stairs, and I complained to Locke for keeping me waiting so long at his house—he said, "Hold your noise, you be fool, I have been collaring the coin"—I said, "Who are those fellows who can stand all this?"—he said, "Holloway's clerks"—on another occasion I complained to him for keeping me waiting—he said he had been to the Whittington playing cards with Holloway's clerks—I have, been up stairs, and heard him say laughingly, when he has taken up some money, "This is some more of b——old Holloway's money"—I have also heard him say," Mind, I shall not take any more of your cheques"—I was told of this case being in the newspapers by a publican, and I went to Bow-street and saw Mr. Lewis.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. What did you think was meant by "The money of b——old Holloway?" A. I do not know what I did at the time—it was a sense of public justice that induced me to go to Bow-street—possibly I might have had some other motive—I do not mow what it was—it was to show to the world the character of Mr. Locke—I bought it quite time his character was known—I bad no private motive—did not communicate his character while these clerks were going to his house, because I did not know them—he said it was Holloway's money, but
I did not know to whom he was alluding, because there were several persons playing—Locke never charged me with cheating him, and ordered me out of his house and not to come in it again—I sold him some champagne, and I bad to apply to Bow-street to get it back again—I think I got the wine back two or three months after the transaction took place—this document (produced) is in my handwriting—it is dated the 29th of March—I was in his house four of five days after that—I have been there three or four times since—as far as I recollect the wine came back two or three months after that date—I will not swear it did not come back within a month, but I will within a fortnight—I was kicked at, and turned out of his house—it was after I had been to Bow-street Police-court about this wine—I applied to Mr. Flowers, who sent an officer with me, and Locke then said that he had paid me for the wine, and produced a man that said he saw the money paid—that was one of the reasons no doubt that I went and gave evidence against him—I am a dealer in wine and brandy warrants—I was bankrupt, I think, in May, 1864—I have been a traveller, and have kept livery stables at Kingston.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. how long have you been a traveller? A. I was traveller about eleven years—I travelled for Messrs. Gibbons Brothers, of London-wall, for seven years—I will explain this transaction in reference to the wine; I took a sample of champagne to Mr. Locke, and he gave me a order for six dozen—I took it to him; he was playing at cards, and said, "Do not go away, I will be down directly and settle with you"—when he came down he said, "Well, I cannot settle with you to-day"—I said, "I shall be in an awful fix, because I borrowed the money to pay for them from M. Lay, and I want the money to pay him"—he said, "Well, my boy, I have not got it; I will show you my bank-book; I have not got a pound in the bank"—I told him I had not got sufficient to pay the cabman—he said, "Well, I will let you have a sovereign if that is any good to you," which I took—I left a receipt with him—that is it (produced)—it is for 14l. but I only had 1l.—I applied at Bow-street Police-court a day or two after the date of this receipt—I had in the meantime applied to him for the money—ultimately I got the wine back, less a dozen bottles—Locke, never preferred any criminal charge against me.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Do you know that Mr. Locke had attended on three occasions as a witness? A. Yes, I subpœnaed him as a witness on the first occasion; that was in the prosecution of the other prisoners—he was not examined.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. is this your hand writing (handing a paper)? A. Yes it is—I gave this to Mr. Locke to let him know whom I represented—he asked me for my card—I had an interview with him in reference to this matter, and told him it looked very black against him; that he ought to be by the side of the prisoners, and that any observation he might make would be used against him—I told him he ought to get professional advice—nothing was said about his giving the money back.
CHARLES UTTON . (the prisoner.) I was in the employment of Messrs. Holloway—I remember receiving some cheques to send to customers in the month of March last—I received these three, but I did not send them—two of them I can swear to, having paid them to Locke—they are dated the 17th and 25th of March—he may have given mo some money and some goods—I can
not say exactly what I received for those two individual cheques—I remember purchasing a chain of Locke—I might have paid for that by a cheque there was nothing charged directly for changing the cheque—this is an account (produced) of some of the transactions I had with him—there is a box of cigars entered here which I had—I have borrowed money of him, and I have paid him again by the proceeds of the cheques—he used to deduct what money I owed him—I have played cards with him and lost money—I have lost as much as 35s. to 2l. in one day—I do not know that I lost it all with him, but at the table—I remember Locke speaking to me about Spooner—he asked me how he managed to do as he did—I said, "I do not know"—he said, "I suppose in the same way as yourself"—he said it in a facetious sort of way—on one occasion I and Spooner were short of money, and we borrowed 30s. of Locke; I had 10s. and Spooner had 1l.—Locke deducted all of that from me when I settled with him—I made some remark about it, but I do not know what it was.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Just tell me whether this is your handwriting (letter handed)? A. yes—I am a married man, and have three children—I have beard that a promise has been made to my wife and family—I never heard that they were to be provided for if I succeeded in convicting Locke.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. From whom did you hear that? A. From my wife herself—I never heard it from Mr. Lewis or Mr. Holloway—they always told me they would not hold out any hopes for me.
LOCKE. received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MARY DOWNHAM . I am servant to Mr. Cocke, of Tredegar-square—on the evening of the 14th of September, about half-past 9 o'clock, I heard our little dog bark, and I went out in to the area to see who was there—I saw Cooper standing on the steps—I asked him what be wanted—he called out, "Jack, Phil, Jack, they are coming"—a bundle was dropped from one of the windows, and Cooper picked it up and ran away—I went into the kitchen and got a light, and when I came back I saw Grant coming down the pillar of the portico—my master and mistress were in the dining-room, and I called out to them that thieves were in the house—I opened the door and ran after Grant—my mistress followed—I called out, "Thieves!" and "Police!" as loud as I could—my mistress never lost sight of him—he was stopped by a policeman—I saw Cooper again at my master's door the same evening, when Grant was brought back, and I said, "That is the man".
Cross-examined. Q. Has the area got railings over the top? A. Yes—I aw Cooper standing on the steps, and I thought he was looking for the lumber of the house, and I asked what he wanted—it was dark, but I saw him pick up a parcel and run away—I had a paraffin lamp.
GEORGBEJOHN COCKE . I live at Tredegar-square, and am a brass founder—on the evening of the 14th of September, my house was broken into at 9 o'clock, and I lost a considerable amount of property—my servant told me tore were thieves in the house—my wife and servant ran out—I went to the door, and saw a man running round the square—I could not leave the house then as it was empty—a neighbour came and watched my door—the
man by this time had got nearly round the square, and I stopped him—that was the prisoner Grant—he said, "What are you going to do with me?"—I said, "I am going to take you in charge for breaking into my house"—when we got into Cottage-grove he offered great resistance, but I overpowered him, and took him into the Mile End-road, and gave him in charge of the patrol.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there not other persons running round the square besides your wife and servant? A. I did not take particular notice of that—I will not swear there were not—I had no assistance in taking the man into the Mile End-road; I asked a man to assist me, but he refused—I should think the height of my portico is ten or twelve feet—the depth of the area is not so much—Grant told me that he had been playing at skittles, and that hearing the cry of "Stop thief!" he ran after the thief, but there was no one in front of him—the window was left open.
MARATHA COCKE . I am the prosecutor's wife—about twenty minutes past 9 on the evening of the 14th of September, my servant told me that thieves were in the house—I ran out with her—we saw a man running—I did not see the man's face, and therefore could not swear to him—I chased him round the square—I lost sight of him as he was turning, and then my husband caught him—the articles contained in this bundle are my husband's property—the last time I saw them some were lying on the bed, and some hanging behind the door—they were safe there at 12 o'clock in the day—I picked this cape up in the square, and these I saw in the policeman's hands.
Cross-examined. Q. Are there not several turnings out of the square? A. Yes, there are four—I lost sight of the man because I could not ran any further—I was exhausted—I did not see my husband stop him—I only saw that one man running.
HENRY WILKINSON . I am a potman at the Morgan Arms, Tredegar-square—I saw Grant on the evening of the 14th September in our skittle-ground with another person—that was between 8 and 9 o'clock—I heard the cry of "Stop thief!"—I picked up some clothes a little after 9 in the enclosure in Tredegar-square—this blue flannel petticoat, the blue dressing gown, and the white petticoat are what I picked up—I gave them to a policeman—I have seen Cooper lurking about the square—I saw him last a few nights previous to the robbery.
Cross-examined. Q. From the time that you saw Grant playing at skittles until the time that you heard the cry of "Stop thief!" how long was it! A. He left our place about three quarters of an hour previous to the robbery—I do not think he was ever in our skittle-alley before—the man he was playing with was not Cooper—I did not see Cooper at the Morgan Arms that night—the Morgan Arms is situated in a turning leading out of the square.
JAMES HOWLE . (Policeman, K 461). I took Cooper into custody on Saturday, the 16th of September—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with another already in custody in a robbery in Tredegar-square on the night of the 14th—he said, "Did you see me there?"—I said, "No, I did not; but I shall be able to bring witnesses to prove that you were there"—I took him to Mr. Cocke's, and saw the servant—I asked her if she knew anything of him—she said, "That is the man"—I asked her if she was sure—she said, "I am"
Grant—he gave him into my custody—I took him back to the prosecutor's house, and there the servant identified him as the man that had left the window—I received some clothes from the witness Wilkinson.
Cross-examined. Q. When you say the servant identified him, did she identify him at once. A. At offence—she touched another man first who was standing on the steps, and who I believe to be the prisoner Cooper, but I could not swear to him—she seemed confused and frightened—she said, "That is the man," and put her hand on the man's shoulder, and then she turned to Grant, and said, "That is the man that left the window."
GRANT.— GUILTY of stealing — Seven Years Penal Servitude.
COOPER.— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 25th, 1865.
Before Mr. Baron Pigott.
MESSRS. RIBTON. and TAYLOR. conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS.
METCALFE. and F. H. LEWIS. the Defence.
PETER GOWLAND . I am a surgeon practising in London—I knew the deceased Mrs. Price—she came to the hospital on 16th November last year—I examined her on the 25th, and found she was suffering from cancer and fistula—she remained in the hospital for about a week, and eventually became an out patient for about three months—I described her disease to her as a disease of the rectum—on 22d March I visited her at the prisoner's request—he called on me—I prescribed for her then—about 16th July he called on me and I saw her again—she was then suffering very severely from seven different sinuses—she had become very much worse—through those sinuses feculent matter escaped; the cancer entirely prevented any escape through the natural passage, so that everything came through the sinuses, and also through the front part—she was very weak and suffering intensely—a nurse was attending her at the time—I prescribed for her tonics and sedatives, and from what passed between as (not in the prisoner's presence) I gave her money to buy medicine and wine—I said that she required rest and proper nourishing food—I did not give those directions to the prisoner—I never saw him after he called at my house till I saw him at his own house in the afternoon, and then he went down stairs directly, and I never saw him afterwards—he seemed to be half tipsy then—I continued to attend her till 5th August, when I went to the North—that was my last visit—she was then sinking, suffering intense pain—I suggested a surgical operation to her, and she said she did not wish to live another day—she gave no reason for that—she did not connect that wish with any cause that I remember—she was suffering intensely—I never saw a worse case of fistula and cancer combined—rest was most essential in her case—it could not have restored her; it was very necessary for her; it would be one of the means of prolonging life—nourishing food was highly necessary, and stimulants—the fact of her rest being frequently interrupted would have a tendency to cause her to die sooner than she otherwise might have done—I speak positively to that, in her condition—I say the same with regard to her being deprived of nourishing food and stimulants.
Cross-examined by MR. METOALFI. Q. Were you present at the post mortem examination? A. I was not—when I saw her on 12th July, I did
not expect she would live—she was very low—she was not dying then, she was sinking—I could not, on 5th August, form a notion as to the length of time she would live—she had no symptoms of immediate dissolution; she was sinking; I mean getting weaker and weaker—there were no symptom of sinking rapidly—as far as I can remember, I should have expected she would live about a fortnight or three weeks from 5th August—she died on the 22d—that would be between a fortnight and three weeks—I think she would have died in a fortnight or three weeks if she bad been treated as well as she could have been—if I had heard nothing of any treatment I should not have been surprised to hear of her death on 20th August—the disease was quite sufficient to account for death at that time—if she had had proper treatment, rest, and nourishment after 5th August, she would have lived longer; I have no doubt about that; I mean a proper amount of nourishment—she ought to have had, possibly, six or eight glasses of wine a day—if she had been in the hospital I should have ordered that—she ought to have had nourishing food of every kind, anything she could have taken—I should have given her brandy also—I think then she would certainly have lived longer; I am not repaired to say how much longer; longer than a couple of days, I should think—I believe her life might have been prolonged for a week if she had bad nourishing food after 5th August, but if she had had it for some time before, it might have been prolonged for some months—she complained of very great pain—she described it as if a burning coal was under her flesh, that she could get no rest, she was in perfect agony—it must have been so, and there was no escape from it, except by a very severe operation, which I suggested—the cancer alone would not have caused that amount of pain; it was its combination with the other—the prisoner came to my house once in March and once in July—he appeared anxious about his wife, and requested me to come and see her—the second time he said she was much worse—he seemed to be very anxious about her—she might have remained in the hospital when I examined her in November, but she wished to go back to her children—if the prisoner had brought her back in July, she might have been taken in, and provided for there.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Did she make any reference to the cause of her sinking state? A. She told me how she was treated by her husband, but not that she was sinking in consequence of that—I formed my own conclusions—she told me a good deal about the way she was treated, principally on 24th July—that was the first time I beard of her husband's treatment—she did not make any statement about it on 5th August—I considered that the disease was doing its worst.
Q. If she had been treated in the way you directed in July, would you have expected to find her in so sinking a condition on 5th August? A. I can hardly answer that question—from the disease itself, I should not have expected her to be in that sinking state—nothing could have been worse than her state was—the disease was as bad as it could be—if my directions had been complied with, I should not have expected to find her in so sinking and exhausted a condition—if she had had nourishing food and stimulants from March, I should have expected her to live two or three months longer—if my directions had been fully carried out from March, I should have expected that, but not from July—wine would have been necessary—that had been necessary for some months.
COURT. Q. are you able to say that her death was not due to natural causes? A. Her death was due to natural causes, but I believe it was accelerated by the treatment that she was subjected to; of course she was
dying, and would have died under any circumstances, but her death was accelerated by the treatment—she would not have died so soon if she had been properly treated; that is my judgment.
THOMAS BLOOMFIELD . I am a clerk to the London Printing and Publishing Company in the Holloway-road—the prisoner has been employed there between three and four years—he had work given out to him; he did not work on the premises—he was so employed up to August last—from January to August, his earnings averaged thirty-six shillings a, week—I do not think he had any opportunity of earning more—he was a good workman—I never heard any fault against him.
ANN JACQUES . I attended the prisoner's wife as nurse for six weeks, up to three weeks before her death—she was in a very sickly state during that time—she had not enough to eat at all times—Dr. Gowland called there once, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner—wine was left with her—she did not always get it; the prisoner would take it from her—I have seen him come in and drink it out of the bottle—I have spoken to him about it, and told him he ought not to drink it, as it was brought for his wife—I do not know that he made me any answer—I think he did that more than once—he was generally sober when he did so—there had been mutton chops left for Mrs. Price, and a little ham had been brought occasionally by Mrs. Turner, her brother's wife, and I think a little salmon was brought once—she ate the chops and ham—she always got the food that was left—there was not very much for her, but what was left for her she generally had—I have often asked the prisoner for money to get oysters, as Mrs. Price was obliged to take them, and very often when he has had it he has refused it to her—he used to say 'he wanted it for something else—he sometimes gave it me—she was ordered bitter ale, and I have repeatedly asked him for money for that, and he has not given it to me—he has often had beer and ale himself in her room—he has sent to the public-house for it, and drank it all himself—i have asked him for something for dinner, and he has said he had not got it—she had her dinner, if I provided it for her—it was provided by somebody, and he would pay me again—she has repeatedly been obliged to go without dinner;—there was none in the house, and no money to get it—I have asked him for money at these times—sometimes he might be in drink—she was very often obliged to go to bed without supper, and had nothing to eat—I have spoken to him about that, and I have many times told him she was sinking for want of something, and he has said she was always in want; it was more than he thought was necessary for her to take—one week he gave his wife 1s. 1d. to support us both for a week—I cannot say when that was—it was during the six weeks I was there—she was very often without dinner—that made her still more exhausted and sinking—in her weak state she wanted something every half-hour, and could not get it—on one occasion he took out a five shilling-piece, and asked her if she would like to have it—she said she would, and he said he would see her—first—that was during the six weeks, I could not say to the day—I believe she wanted the money to get some dinner—she was in bed at the time—she went without dinner that time—she did not sleep well at nights—sometimes she would go to sleep a little in the day—she was very much disturbed in her sleep—the prisoner would often come in and wake her up when she was taking a little rest, and I used to beg him to let her be quiet, and he would not—he would come in and talk to her and make a noise in the room that would disturb any one that was ill—he would talk about some
foolish thing; nothing of any importance—that was done intentionally to wake her—he would wake her and talk to her, and say she was always asleep—I never saw him do anything to her eyes—I have heard him use very bad language to her—he often called her a b——and wished she was in hell, and all those nasty words—probably he might be a little the worse for drink at that time, but not so bad but that he knew what he was doing—she has complained to him every day of his disturbing her, and begged him to go away from her, that she did not want to see him, she would much rather that he would stop away from her, she was not in a fit state to be disturbed by him—I cannot say what reply he made; not a very good one, I dare say, for it was very seldom that he did—she has many times asked him to give her money for food, or even to send out for two pennyworth of oysters for her when she was very faint, and he would not—on one occasion he took up the Bible that she was in the habit of reading, and held it over her by the corner, between his finger and thumb, and said, ".—you; this is the book you like, is it not?"—she screamed out, and I ran and caught it out of his hands—he was holding it by the corner over her wounds that she was suffering from—he would take it up at the corner, and hold it over as though he was going to drop it on her sores—that disturbed her very much indeed—two or three days after that he threw the prayer book at her—I was down stairs at the time, I heard her scream, and ran up—she said, "Oh nurse, he has thrown the prayer book at me"—I picked up the leaves from the bed—he had the cover in his hand—he has often wished her dead—he has come to the door at night when she has been in bed, and said he hoped she would be in hell flames before long—I have beard him say that more than once—on one occasion he took the pillow away from her when I was not there—she told me of it, and I made him bring it back again—he said he wanted it, and he did not see that she did—when I left, Elizabeth Fosdyke succeeded me—the deceased was in a very weak state when I left.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Did the Turners bring things for her? A. Mr. Charles Turner and his wife often used to bring things—I do not recollect Mr. Joseph Turner doing so only once; he brought her some brandy—Mr. Lynch used to send a dinner for her every Sunday, and the lady next door sent her in some oysters and some pudding on one occasion—there was no one else that I am aware of that sent her things—while I was there I gave her wine and ale—I never knew of her having gin—I never gave her any—I believe the prisoner gave her a little once—she bad brandy, and eggs beaten up in brandy; not three or four times a day; I do not recollect more than once—she used to have that the first thing in the morning—sometimes she would have a mutton chop, but very seldom—she would have meat occasionally, but not often—the prisoner was not always sober when he used that language—he did not at all times behave kind to her when he was sober—sometimes he would be very kind, but more not—he was not what I call kind to her—I do not think he would say he wished her in hell and so on, when he was sober—he had five children; they were in the house—I was hired as a first-class nurse at 8s. a week—he did not pay me; Mr. Charles Turner did—I do not know where the money came from—I was paid regularly every week by Mr. Charles Turner or his wife—it was not the prisoner's money—I have every reason to swear that—I never said that I was paid by the prisoner—I was not before the coroner—I never saw Mr. Joseph Turner at Mrs. Price's—I believe Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Turner were called as witnesses for the prisoner before the Magistrate—I do
not think he said that the 5s. which he held up he had to pay a debt incurred for his wife—I believe that she never had a bill any where—I used to sleep with Mrs. Price—the prisoner slept some part of the time in the front parlour adjoining, and the greater part of the time in a bed-room at the top of the house—the children were at top of the house.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Had the deceased the gin, brandy, and eggs, that you speak of every day? A. She had brandy every day—I never knew her to have gin except once, when Mr. Price gave it her—sometimes her brother used to bring her brandy—she had eggs when she could take them—she was very often without chops—I have heard the prisoner torment and tease her when sober, but not particularly using those bad words—I did not see him throw himself on the bed—Mrs. Price engaged me, before she was confined to her bed—I was on all occasions paid either by Mr. Charles Turner or his wife.
ELIZABETH FOSDYKE . I live at 12, Blundell-street, Islington—I went to nurse Mrs. Price when Mrs. Jacques left, about three weeks before her death—during that time she was in a very weak state; very low—the prisoner's conduct to her was very bad—he used to ask her how long she was going to live; that he should like to see her soul in hell flames—he was not always sober at those times, bat he was not always intoxicated—he was not the worse for drink when he used that language; not always—he used to pull her eyes open several times, when she was going off to sleep, and he used to take away the food provided for her—I have seen him take away fish, broth, and nourishment, and wine and brandy, that used to be sent, and that I used to get for her—he used to pour the brandy out into a tumbler and drink it, and tell me to go to hell and get more where I could—About a week before her death the doctor ordered her some boiled milk—I told him of it, and he told me to go to hell and get the money there—I believe he had got money at that time—the doctor ordered milk and wine and hot baths—I asked for the money for the milk and wine, and then he told me that—I know he had got money, for he sent for beer at the time, which he drank to excess—I have heard Mrs. Price complain to him several times about the food—she used to ask him for money to get food for the children and me—he said he should not give it to her; she might get up and dress herself, and go out and get it where she could—on those occasions I have heard the sound of money, so to be able to tell that he had it—when he has come to her bed and opened her eyes, she has told him to go away out of her sight, that she did not want to see him any more—they did not quarrel, she was not able; she was too weak to quarrel, but he used to call her some filthy names—about three days before her death he turned the clothes off her feet, and said, "Your feet are dead, and you are dying upwards, that is the reason you are so long dying"—that was said unkindly—he was sober then; he might have had a little to drink, but he knew what he was saying—he once stood by her bedside and said he had measured her grave, and asked her how many minutes she was going to live—I think that was three or four days before her death—he used to stand at the foot of the bedstead, and knock it as hard as he could, to shake her—that happened more than once—he used to do it when she was awake, and when she was asleep he used to do it to wake her up.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. did you receive 8s. a week as nurse? A. Yes, I had to support myself out of that—I bought my own food, and food for the children as well—Mrs. Price's friends used to come in, and give me money to get things—there was no one there to superintend the children—he prisoner used sometimes to bring home things from the grocer's on
Saturday nights—I think he brought tea and sugar once or twice, but he did not get it generally—we used to get it ourselves—Mr. and Mrs. Charles Turner brought her things, not Mrs. Joseph Turner—Mrs. Lynch gave me money to buy food, and used to send a dinner on Sunday for us—she did not want for anything while I was there; if the prisoner did not supply it some one else did.
MR. RIBTON. Q. did Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Turner come to see her? A. Yes—I heard her make complaints to them—that was after they sent her the food, and before—she used to tell them, in his presence, how bad he ill-used her, and that he would not let her have any rest—she did not have all the food that was sent her; he used to take it away—I used to get her food myself, and give it her when he was out of the way—I did not see him take it away when she had nothing left for herself.
CHARLES TURNER . I am a brother of the deceased—she died at the latter end of August—I was in the habit of seeing her several weeks before her decease; sometimes two or three times a week, up to within a few days of her death—the prisoner was generally in the room at the time—I generally went of an evening—she said he was killing her by inches; that he would not let her have sufficient food, nor would he allow her to have rest by night or by day—I told him he knew she was dying, and he ought to let her have a little rest, but he refused to leave the room—I can't recollect the answer that he did make, but it was a direct refusal to go away—he used to say it was his own house, and he might do as he liked in it—he used to go from one side of the bed to the other more like an insane man than a reasonable one—he was not sober then—he was not always drunk when I saw him in the room—he was violent, in this respect, that he refused to go away, although the inducement I held out to him was that it would give her a little rest—his wages were about 2l. a week—I believe he had no other resource than the wages he earned at the printing establishment—he did not pay the rent of the house; his mother generally paid it for him—she was exceedingly kind to him, and he never applied to her without receiving a mother's response—she sent him money—I paid the nurses; that is, they were generally paid by me—his mother wished to contribute towards the expense of the nurses; most likely it was sent up—I did not pay it in fall—I frequently paid them with my own hand; when I did not, I think they were paid by cheque from his mother—my wife frequently sent her articles of food and wine during her last illness—I spoke to the prisoner about it when I was told that he would not allow her to have them—I told him he was an inhuman monster for ill-using his wife in the way he did—that was when I have been told by her that he would not allow her to have it—she told me that in his presence—her principal complaint was begging me for God's sake to take him away; that he would not allow her to have rest night or day, and that he abused her in the most shocking manner—she said he was starving her to death—I can't say whether that was said in his presence; he was generally present, I could not get him out of the room, but I did not make any note, because it was not my intention to bring these things before the public—I said, "It is most inhuman of you to use your wife in the way you have"—I can't say that I said anything to him about her not having sufficient food, because I had myself supplied her with food sufficient—I don't think I said anything in his presence about her not having it—I complained to him generally of his treatment—he would turn aside and take no notice.
COURT. Q. Let me call your attention to what you said just now, "in
his presence she said he was killing her by inches, that be would not let her have sufficient food or rest day or night;" did she say that in his presence? A. I believe she did, as to both points—I think the expression she made use of was "he is starving me," and that he was not letting her have rest day or night—I believe at the time he did all these things he was not in his right mind—on one occasion I was obliged to fetch Mr. Lynch—he had known both of them for many years.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. I do not now understood whether. you say she used the expression that he was starving her in his presence? A. I believe he was in the room—I can't say whether he heard the accusation, but he was present in the room—she spoke of his not allowing her rest in his presence—he never denied it—he was certainly not sober—when sober he has always denied his acts; his cruelty—he always denied treating her improperly—when sober ho treated her very well—I am not prosecuting this case; for private reasons I have had nothing to do with it—I believe the case is prosecuted by the Society for the Protection of Women and Children; the Marquis of Townshend's society—I have been told so—I gave evidence before the coroner—I was not called before the Magistrate—I believe, my brother was; I believe he was a witness for the prisoner, and his wife also; from what I have been told—I was a witness against him; at least I was called as a witness for him, but my evidence went against him—I was told I was called for him, which very much surprised me; he could not have been in his right mind when ho did so—my wife was not called; she has not been called at all—she was very rarely present—she merely went there with little niceties and things that she thought would do my sister good—I was usually with her—she did not see as much as I did—she is not here, nor is Mrs. Lynch—I paid the nurses sometimes, and sometimes the prisoner's mother did—I believe the prisoner did not—I generally paid Mrs. Jacques myself; I can't say always—to the best of my recollection I paid I the last nurse—I can't say, for I was in such a state of mind, in consequence of his ill-treatment of my sister, that I was almost ready to take the law into my own hands.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Was your brother Joseph Turner there as much as you? A. I have seen him there twice—I live five miles from the prisoner, and my brother perhaps four.
ELLEN SELLERS . I am the wife of John Sellers, of 5, Offord-road—I knew the prisoner and his wife living at No. 7—I was frequently in there—I have heard her say in his presence, u He has pawned nearly all my things, Even my blankets; I have but one little one upon me"—the prisoner said, "Mind what you say"—about a fortnight before her death he came into the room when she was complaining to me about her dinner—she asked me what I thought he had gone and got for her and the children's dinner—I said I could not think, and she said "A few rashers of salt bacon"—he abused the nurse for asking him for money to get food for her and the children, and he went and got that himself—he was roiling about the room very much intoxicated—he made a noise—he stamped with his feet, and threw open the doors—his wife said to him repeatedly, "What a cruel man you are"—I called in about 7 o'clock one evening, about a week before her death, and found her very ill—she said he had been abusing her nearly the whole day; that was in his presence—he was then making a great noise, and she put her hands out of bed and said, "Oh George, do have mercy on me, have a little mercy on me"—he came to the side of the bed, and she said, "Oh, cruel man, it is my day now, you have yours to come"—I saw her
again during the week—she sent for me—I was with her two hours—he was there, making a great noise I spoke to him, and he left the room, and then he came and put his head in at the door, and said, "Is she still alive?"—on another occasion, about ten days before her death, when I went in I found her very ill, crying—she said, "What do you think? he has been wishing he could see me burning in hell flames"—he was there then—I saw him the day after her death in the garden, and he said he was glad she was gone, but it was out of kindness to her—I was there one morning when she was asleep, he was there—she awoke while he was there, and he began directly she opened her eyes—I asked him to be quiet, and he began to sing and make more noise—that was about ten days or a fortnight before her death—I have repeatedly heard her ask him to leave the room that she might have a little rest.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWI., Q. I think you only visited her within about two months of her death? A. Yes—I then went at the prisoner's request—when I was in the room, there were generally some other persons present, not on all occasions, the nurse generally—I was there more in the last week—I never knew the prisoner to be working at the bottom of the house—he was more in the bed-room than downstairs—I was in the habit of sending her oysters and pudding during six or seven weeks, and her friends and relations sent her food.
MARY MURPHY . I knew Mrs. Price—I was in the habit of going there a few weeks before her death—I was servant at a neighbour's—I saw the prisoner in the room—Mrs. Price told me several times in his presence that he had not given her the food I took in to her—I took her some food that my mistress, Mrs. Inderman, sent her—it was some potatoes, and some mutton, and some tea—she complained to me five times in the prisoner's presence—she said, "I have not received the food that you brought in for me this morning"—she was only telling it to me, she made no complaint to him in my presence—he did not make any answer—some time before her death, I went in to prepare her for the doctor, and the prisoner came into the room drunk—he said to me, "What brought you into my place? this is my house"—I told him that I had come to prepare Mrs. Price for the doctor—he threw himself right across her in the bed—she said, "For God's sake lift him off"—I lifted him up and asked if he was inclined to smother the lady in her dying bed—he said, "Yes, I am"—he did not go away—I had to leave, I left him there—I think that was about three days before her death.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALF. Q. Where was the nurse; why could not she get her ready for the doctor? A. I cannot say—Mrs. Price sent in for me; the nurse was not there—the prisoner was tipsy at the time he tumbled on the bed—I often went in—I cannot exactly say how often, sometimes three times a week, to assist her—I found the nurse there several times, but not at the time I took in the food—sometimes the nurse was away if she wanted to go for something for Mrs. Price out of her own expenses.
MR. RIBTON. Q. are you still in the same service? A. Yes; I have been there a year and eight months.
HENRY LYNCH . I live at Arundel-place, Barnsbury—I have known the prisoner and his wife some years—about three weeks before her death, I was in the house several times—she complained to me in the prisoner's presence of the brutality he used towards her in not allowing her to sleep when she wanted rest—she has complained with respect to food in his presence, but I cannot remember dates—on one occasion she asked him for
2d. to get some ale that the doctor ordered he refused to give it her, and said he would see her d—first—at that time he was continually sending out for beer for himself—he did that during the three or four weeks previous to her death, and drank it in the room—I cannot say that I have heard her ask for money for food; not within the last three weeks—previous to that I have—it might be within two months of her death; she has asked him to send out for food and he has refused, in the same way as usual, that he would see herd—first—sometimes she was sent some little niceties, such as oysters or a chop, or anything of that sort—about a week previous to her death, she sent one of the children round to me for some money for some medicine—I went round to see what medicine she wanted, and I asked the prisoner if he would give me the prescription to get it—he said no, he would go himself—I said, No, I shall not allow you to have the money, I shall either go myself, or the nurse shall go"—he said the nurse should not go, he would go himself—at last he allowed the nurse to go for it—she has several times complained of want of rest in his presence—she would say, "For God's sake, George, leave me and let me have a little rest"—he would swear at her and say that he would not allow her to have rest—he would dance and sing about the room—on one occasion, when she said to me that her sufferings were dreadful, he would set and make up songs about it—he has often wished her in hell flames in my presence—I have observed him stand and shake the bed, and she would say, "For God's sake, George, don't touch the bed."
Cross-examined by MR. METCALF. Q. On one occasion did he wish to kiss her? A. Yes, he frequently wished to kiss her, bat she would put her hand out so, to keep him away from her, and say, "Go away, George, do not touch the bed"—he used to say, "Will you kiss me, Fancy"—that is what he used to call her, and she would motion him away—that has occurred several times—Mr. Charles Turner frequently came to see her, and Mr. Joseph Turner on one or two occasions—I think I have seen Mrs. Charles Turner there—I have never seen Mr. Joseph Turner there.
JOHN THOMAS SLATE ., M. D. I was called in on the 21st August—the deceased died about 24 hours afterwards—I found her in a dying state—I was made acquainted with the disease from what she was suffering—I prescribed some remedies for her—I made a post mortem examination on the morning of the 22d—in my judgment the cause of death was exhaustion caused by disease—I have heard the evidence that has been given—in my opinion she died from exhaustion arising from natural causes; but I believe from the evidence that her death was accelerated by the inhuman treatment she was subject to, the disturbing of her rest, and keeping away food and stimulants—I think if she had had rest and sufficient food, she would not have died so soon—I think the disturbance of her rest that she was subject to, would alone accelerate her death; even supposing she had sufficient food, the disturbance of her peace of mind from want of rest was calculated to accelerate death—whether it did so is a matter of theory.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALF. Q. You will not take upon yourself to say that she did not die from disease of the heart, will you? A. I do not believe she did—she had a debilitated heart—disease of the heart might have been the cause of death—it was diseased—she might not have lived a day longer with any amount of food or rest—I will not take upon myself to say that she would—what I have stated is theory—there was an absence of fat on the postmortem—I found sufficient disease to account for death—I have been in practice four years in London, three years in the Caledonian.
road—I had a medical friend to assist me in the post mortem, Dr. Brunton—he is not here—he practices in the Caledonian-road—he has been in practice five or six years—he is a physician and surgeon—he has not been examined at all in this matter.
MR. RIBTON. Q. From the appearances presented by the body, are you able to form an opinion as to whether she was stinted in her food at all? A. No, I am not—I speak without any doubt that the treatment spoken to by the witnesses did accelerate her death.
MR. GOWLAND. (re-examined). I have heard what the witnesses have stated—supposing it to be true, I believe her death was accelerated by the treatment I have heard described—I speak as positively as I can to a matter of opinion.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Is it mere guess work? A. It is not guess work, it is merely matter of experience—she would certainly have lived longer but for the treatment—she died of cancer—I know that from examination—I saw quite sufficient when I examined her to account for her symptoms throughout—the cause of death was exhaustion—I say that, from my conclusions on the last visit I paid to her—I should say she did not die from disease of the heart—I never detected any symptoms of disease of the heart—I would not say I was more competent to judge than the gentlemen who made the post mortem examination—the post mortem examination might have assisted me in pronouncing a judgment, but I should not have suspected any affection of the heart; the symptoms so clearly pointed to an affection elsewhere—excluding what I have heard, there was certainly enough to account for death; I could not say to account for it on the very day it took place; I should have expected she would have lived longer—I believe she would have lived longer; of course I cannot speak positively, but if she had been in the hospital and had had the nourishment she required, she would have lived longer—it is not guess work, it is matter of experience—I feel certain about it.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Supposing she had disease of the heart, would a disturbance of her rest and the other treatment to which she was subjected be likely to aggravate it and make it fatal sooner than otherwise? A. Yes; but she had no symptoms of it.
GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 26th, 1865.
Before Mr. Recorder.
LOUIS JORDAN. PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Sixteen Months MR. METCALFE. for the Prosecution, offered no evidence against
ANGELINA JORDAN. NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALFE. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. M. WILLIAME. the Defence.
ANTOINE BARREL . I am an importer of French produce, at 28, Greek-street, Soho—I have known the prisoner not quite a year in the name of Santaloux and Co. at 71, Charlotte-street, Fitzroy-square, he is a draper and
pieces of cloth there—I sent several sorts of goods to him for three months—the first time he gave me a piece of cloth instead of 2l.—I continued to sell and he gave me cloth to settle it—at other times he paid roe with a bill—this bill (produced) is for 276 francs, that is near 12l.—I saw him write on the back of it, bat am not sure which line he wrote; I was not very near—this writing was all there, except that on the piece of white paper (pasted on to the back of the bill)—my name is not on it—I sent the bill to Paris, and it was returned to me—I sold him more goods before it came back, for which he gave me this bill (produced), it is for about 24l.—I sent that to Paris also, and it was sent back to me—I got no money from the prisoner—I sent the second bill before the first came back—directly they were returned to me I went to the prisoner's lodging, and could not find him, but his wife re mained there for three weeks—I never saw him afterwards, though I sought for him—when he gave me the bill he mud it was on a highly respectable and rich firm in France.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the face of the bill in precisely the same state as it is now when you first saw it. A. Yes—I believe he gave it to me like this, except this small piece of white paper behind—to the beat of my belief the endorsement, the top line at the back, was written by the prisoner in my presence, but I am not sure.
COURT. Q. How soon did you send it to France after receiving it? A. Perhaps one month—it was returned, perhaps, in eight days.
ALPHONSE RIGONDE . (through an interpreter). I live at 71, Charlotte street, Fitzroy-square—the prisoner came to lodge with me last autumn in the name of Barthe, but the name of Santaloux and Co. was placed on the door—he dealt in sedan cloth—I know this bill, I wrote it at the prisoner's request, because my writing was better than his—I wrote all of it but the signature and the acceptance—I have seen the prisoner write; this "Santaloux and Co." resembles his writing—he remained at my place about six. months—the prosecutor came there after the bills were returned, but the prisoner never came back.
Cross-examined. Q. At the time you wrote It was there anything on the face of it except your writing? A. No—I drew the bill about November last.
GEORGE ADOLPH BAZAIN . I carry on business in the name of J. Bruzio and Co. at Aubervilliers, near Paris—there is no other firm of that name there nor in Paris—we are manufacturers—I know nothing of this bill or the acceptance, or of the prisoner—I gave no authority to anybody to accept such a bill—it was sent to me to pay and I sent it back—it is not well spelt, the word "Accepted" is spelt with only one "c"—here is a stamp on it which I do not use, it is not mine—I am the only member of the firm who signs bills—the acceptance on this other bill is not mine, it is "Bruzio" and Co. there is a letter more and the address is different, 8, Rue de Paris—there is no such firm there, it is a grocer's shop—here is the same mistake in the word "Accepted," and, in my belief, the two bills are written by the same person.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you any house in London, or carrying on business in your name? A. No—the Paris houses are not generally inhabited in flats, some of them are four stories high—I am sure there is no Bruzio and Co. dating his bills from 8, Rue de Paris—I made inquiries at Auber. villiers, and can say that Bruzio and Co.'s letters are not directed there—here are two or three hundred houses in Aubervilliers, and about a dozen in
the Rue de Paris—it is seven miles from Paris—I do not employ all the work people; there are different manufacturers there.
NICOLAS GRANDPIERRE . I am a cabinet maker, at 316, Euston-road—I know the prisoner by the name of De Santaloux—I supplied him with goods, both in November and December last—on 21st November I received from him the letter affixed to this bill—it contained a bill for 298f. 30c, payable at sight—this is a translation of it—(This was dated 21st November, Mr. Grandpierre, enclosing the bill, and stating that 392f. 30c. would be placed to his credit after deducting 35s. for a letter box affixed to his door, a desk and a table. Signed, Santaloux and Co.)—I gave the bill some time after to Mr. Marlin, whose name is endorsed upon it—he called on me and I went with him to Santaloux'a but could not find the prisoner—on the same day I was shown a telegraphic despatch, which had been sent from Spain—I have received no money on that bill.
ALPHONSE RIGONDE . (re-examined). I also wrote the body of this bill at Barthe's request—this "Santaloux and Co." resembles the prisoner's writing, but I cannot say—this letter is in the prisoner's writing.
THEODORE HALSTEAD FOULGER . I am a detective-officer of the City—I had instructions to inquire into this matter, and found the prisoner on 29th or 30th August in Martha-terrace, Kensington, and took him in custody—he gave his name Alexandre Barthe—I found four letters and a Post-office Directory for the whole of France on a sideboard in his bedroom—one letter was addressed, "A. Mallett and Co. London" another to His Excellency the Archbishop of Rhone, and another to Mr. A. Mallett, 21, Martha-terrace, Kensington—one of them had been through the post and had been returned—I arrested him in the street and took him to the house—I could not ascertain that anybody lived in the house but himself—I found a passport in the name of Barthe, in his bedroom—I found these pink papers in his room, they are printed bills—"Santaloux and Co" is on one of them—they are blank forms.
GEORGE THOMAS ROWE . I am a letter-carrier, and know the prisoner—I have seen him at 21, Martha-terrace—I have delivered letters to him there, addressed to Mallett and Co. and he has signed for them in the book—(read: "Registered letter for E. C., 482, addressed, Mallett and Co. Martha-terrace, Beresford-street." Signature of recipient, "S. Mallett and Co.")—I saw the prisoner write that and also this other one, on August 9th, and the other on August 21st—one was written in his room, in my presence and brought down by him, and the other he wrote in the passage—I was asked to go up into his room—I did so, and saw him write it—I only knew his writing by his signing these receipts.
MR. METCALFE. Q. suppose a man wrote one in the passage without any I rest, and the other at a table, might that account for it? A. Yes; it is very likely the same person wrote both.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. What is the signature on this one? A. "A mallet and Co."—this other looks like "S. R. Mallett and Co."—it may be "Per," and not S. R.," but it is more like an S. than a P.
WILLIAM THOMAS AYLES . I am a letter-carrier, and deliver letters in Sutherland-square, Walworth; the prisoner lived at No. 4 there, in August this year—the letters came addressed to "Mallett and Co."—I have delivered them to him at that house.
GUILTY. of uttering. — Six Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. conducted the Prosecution,
WILLIAM JONES . I am a licensed victualler, of 30, Bouverie-street, City—on 12th September, about two o'clock in the morning, I was coming from Charles-street, Grosvenor-square—the two female prisoners struck me and knocked me down—I struggled with one on my left and held her fast—the other ran away—I caught the left hand one's hand in my pocket, the other then returned and a struggle ensued—Sullivan was standing by the whole I time—the females ran away, leaving me on the ground I attempted to run after them, and Sullivan caught hold of me—I called, "Police" as loud as I could—I had a half franc piece in my pocket and some other money—my right hand was very much injured in the fall, it swelled very much.
Sullivan. You told the Magistrate that you never saw me till you were running after the females; you ran against me in crossing the road, as I ran to save myself from being run over. Witness. That was not so—I was not exactly sober.
Davis. Q. did not you come up and speak to me first? A. No, I did not give you 6d. to get something to drink.
THOMAS RANC . (Policeman, C 222). I was on duty in Piccadilly, and heard cries of "Police"—I ran, and when I got within 100 yards I saw the two female prisoners knock the prosecutor down—he got up and struggled with them again—they appeared to see me and ran away; he ran after them and Sullivan closed with him in the middle of the road—the females ran down Stratton-street—I took Sullivan and then ran after the women and took them both—I gave Davis to 106 C.
Sullivan. Q. did you not say before the Magistrate that you did not see me assault him? A. I saw you close with him and hold him to prevent his running after the women—the Magistrate asked me if I took the cabman's number, and I said that I did not see a cab there—I did not say to a cabman, "You had better go on, or else I will take you."
COURT. Q. Was Sullivan running across the road? A. He crossed towards the prosecutor, there was a cab coming along, it was going faster than me and passed me—Sullivan was not apparently getting out of the way of the cab—it was six or seven yards from him—he and the prosecutor met.
Davis. Q. did you see this man with us, because we do not know him? A. No; I did not say that I did.
JOHN ALLE . (Policeman, C 106). I was on duty in Piccadilly, and Rance gave Davis into my charge—I took from her right hand a halfcrown and 1 1/2 d., and from her left 5s. and a half-franc—I searched Sullivan and took 5d. from him.
Sullivan's Defence. There was a cab passing and I ran across the road, and the prosecutor met me full butt; I fell down with the force of it, and he gave me in charge. I never saw the females.
GUILTY .—SULLIVAN.— Confined Eighteen Months.
DAVIS. and FARRELL.— Confined Twelve Months each.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. MOIR. the Defence.
JOHN LYDALL . I am clerk to George Maddock, of 162, Fleet-street, the proprietor of the Illustrated Builders' Journal—the prisoner had been in his employ about six months, as canvasser for advertisements for that journal and for the English Mechanic—since 8th July I have paid him 20l. per cent on the amount of orders he brought in—he was supplied with printed forms to solicit orders—the form, No. 1, is part of one of our forms—I had paid him every Saturday, but previous to 8th July he received 10l. per cent commission, and 25s. a week salary—he received his 10l. per cent, on this order—on 21st June, he brought me this order for 13 insertions in the Journal—it is signed, "George Mitchell, 166, Brompton-road"—at the end of the week I paid him his per centage upon that, 2l. 2s. 10d. and his salary, amounting altogether to 3l. 5s.—I believed that it was a true bond fide order from Mr. Mitchell, and inserted the advertisements in the paper—the prisoner brought me on 14th September another request for 13 advertisements, at 6s. a head, signed, "James Maybank"—I paid the prisoner 20 per cent. on that on the new arrangement of 8th July—I parted with the money on the belief that the order was genuine, and inserted part of the advertisements.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know anything of the custom of the canvassing trade? A. Yes; I have received a quantity of similar orders from the prisoner since these, but do not know about any before—there was nothing that struck me as peculiar about this order—I have never known canvassers" fill up the orders themselves—I have canvassed for advertisements occasionally—if I find the master of the shop engaged I call again—I should take a form—if I found him busily engaged with a customer, and he raid, "You may insert my advertisement 13 times," I might fill in the number, but I should not sign the name and address—this purports to be the autograph of the man ordering the advertisement—it is not allowable for that to be filled up by the canvasser himself—I should never have called this in question if the advertisements had been paid for—advertisements have been paid for when a man has given a verbal order, but it is not usual—canvassers are very assiduous, but I do not think they would take half an answer for a whole one—I believe this "George Mitchell" to be in the prisoner's writing—I have seen him write.
COUR. Q. is it his ordinary writing? A. I think so, I do not know that there is any disguise in it—it is more like his than Mr. Mitchell 's—it is very similar to the prisoner's ordinary writing, but not exactly like it.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. What was your belief about that order when you paid it? A. that it was a genuine order from Mr. Mitchell.
GEORGE MITCHELL . I am a mason, of 166, Brompton-road—I know the prisoner—I never gave him orders to insert any advertisement in the Builders' Journal—this order is not written by me or by my authority—the prisoner called and asked me to advertise, and I said, "Not till I see the journal, to use my own discretion"—I gave him no order, nor did I authorize anybody to give him one.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know him? A. Well; as a canvasser—I gave him orders perhaps once in three weeks or six weeks—I know that he was connected with another paper as well as the Builders' Journal—he was very anxious to obtain orders, and sometimes I yielded to his entreaties, and said, "Well, you may try for three months or six mouths"—he always filled them up himself and signed them in my name—I am not positive whether
I signed my name to the first order or not, but it is not usual with me when I give an order to sign my name—I have simply told him to continue the advertisement.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. had he any general order to sign your name? A. No; he took my word of honour—I received one copy of the Builder's Journal with my advertisement in it about six months ago.
MR. MOIR. Q. Were you in the habit of receiving copies of the paper after the order was given? A. With the Builder's Weekly Reporter I did, and it Was the case with this paper—Mr. Lydall applied to me for the money—I said, "I do not know anything about it"—he said, "You have received a copy of the Builders' Journal every week"—I had not received it.
JAMES MAYBANK . I am an ornamental plasterer and carver, of 1A, Princess-street, Storey's-gate—I have authorized the prisoner twice to insert advertisements for me in the Builders' Journal, but not thirteen times—this request is not in my writing nor has it my signature—I was exceedingly pressed by business when the prisoner came—he brought a slip out of the Builder—this (produced) is a copy of it—I told him that I bad an advertisement in the Builders' Reporter, and I had quite enough irons in the fire, and I did not wish to have any more—the second time he came he solicited again, and I made the same remarks—my son was present on both occasions.
Cross-examined. Q. Were those the only two times he solicited orders? A. I have no recollection of any other—he was very anxious to obtain orders, but I was not disposed to yield—the second time he applied I told him we might give him a turn some time after those had gone by, but that six or eight advertisements a week were rather expensive—a gentleman came in on business, and he took his leave.
MR. MOIR Q. When this was presented to you were your suspicions aroused by it? A. No; advertisements from an agent come in different writings—this would not surprise me—I should look for different writing—one canvasser may employ five or six others to get advertisements for him.
NOT GUILTY .
970. WILLIAM CONNELL. (17), ELIZABETH MARSHALL. (18), and MARY ANN WEBB. (23) Robbery on Edward Weston, and stealing from his person a coat, waistcoat, pair of trousers, and 3 handkerchiefs, his property.
MR. DALE. conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD WESTON . I live at Peterborough—on 12th October I was in Shoreditch at a little before 12 o'clock—I saw the female prisoners and another woman—they followed me out of a public-house, and then fell back and talked to Connell—Marshall then followed me, and when I got into Commercial-street Connell and another man came behind me, knocked me down, and threw me into the middle of the road—I had a coat, waist-oat, and pair of trousers tied up in two silk handkerchief—Connell and he three females forced it from me—Marshall and Webb are two of the three females—they all ran away together. I saw the same five together be next night, and pointed them out to the police—the things were worth bout 3l.—this is one of the handkerchief (produced)—there are some little holes in it.
Connell. What this man says is false.
FRANCES LINCOLN . I am the wife of Richard Lincoln, a basket-maker, of Spitalfields—I was in bed on this night, and heard a dreadful noise under the window—I awoke my husband, looked cut, and saw two females and a youngman—I can swear to Marshall—I called my husband to my assistance and closed the door, lest they should strike me—I saw the man putting a coat on over his own—next morning I found this handkerchief tied in a knot on my door—I took it to the station—I did not know Marshall before, but I saw her that night and picked her out immediately.
Marshall. Q. have you not said that I had no bonnet or shawl? A. No; the apron you have on is exactly like the gown you had on on that night.
ADAM LANGLE . (Policeman, 93 H), On 13th October I was in Shore-ditch, and saw the prisoners and two others standing under a lamp—the prosecutor was looking in at a shop window close by, and Webb nudged Marshall and said, "That is the old bloke"—the prosecutor turned round, saw them, and pointed to them—I took Connell and Webb—Marshall and the others ran away—a constable who was with me took Marshall.
Connell. Q. If I bad done the robbery could I not easily have got away from you? A. No; I took hold of you—a man who lives with Webb got away.
Webb. It is false, I live with no man.
Connell's Defence. I was at home in bed at the time. I had witnesses to prove it at Worship-street.
CONNELL.— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
MARSHALL. and WEBB.— GUILTY . They were both further charged with having been before convicted to which
MARSHALL.PLEADED GUILTY.*†— Confined Twelve Months.
WEBB.PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DALE. conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD WESTON . After I was robbed, as I stated in the last case, I sat down on the coping of Spitalfields Church, as I was nearly exhausted from running, and was lamenting over what I had lost—the prisoner came up and asked me if they had hurt me—I said, "Not very much"—she said that she was an honest woman, and that her husband was a tailor, and if I liked to come and stop at their house for the night I might—I went home with her and went to sleep in my clothes, on a Bed in her house, and she took from me 1/. 1ls., some halfpence, and three duplicates—I missed other property, but I found my knife on the window ledge—I gave a description of her and she was taken in custody. Prisoner. I asked you if you had any money to pay for a bed, you said no, you had been robbed; I took compassion on you, and said that it was quite enough to be ill-used and not robbed, and I would give you my bed till I came in the morning. You undressed yourself and went into my bed. When I came in the morning you were gone, and next morning a policeman came and took me. Witness. It was about 1 o'clock when I went to the house with you, it was about 5 o'clock when I awoke, and twenty-five minutes to 6 when I got to Whitechapel Church—I then went back to the house to see if you had come in, but you had not, and I did not see you again till you were at the station—I counted my money before you, to see what I had lost, and you saw it—you only left me an odd farthing.
and took her—I told her the charge—she said, "I saw the man sitting on the steps of Spitalfields Church, and took him home—I asked him to sit down and he fell off to sleep on the bed, but I did not rob him."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not rob him; I never robbed anybody in my life he told me he bad no money, and that wag why I gave him my bed, out of compassion.
GUILTY .— Confined Four Months.
MR. THOMPSON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. M. WILLIAMS. the Defence
ANN CHAPMAN . I am housemaid to Marmaduke Matthews, of Cambridge Lodge, Cambridge-heath—on the evening of 20th September I was alarmed by a noise up-stairs—I went up and found one of the bedroom doors open—I looked in, and saw the dressing-table upset, and lying under the window, also a large looking-glass and several other things, which were all broken but the looking-glass—I then heard a second crash, went down stairs and called the young ladies—I heard a man groaning, looked through the glass of the door, and saw a man lying on the stones—the iron pipe belonging to the verandah over the hall door was also lying there—the first bedroom window is only a short distance above—the man was given in custody—it was the prisoner—this screen driver (produced) does not belong to the house.
Cross-examined. Q. How many people live in the house? A. Seven or eight—the front door opens with a latch.
JOHN BLACKWELL . (Policeman, 173 N). I was called, and found the prisoner lying under the verandah, insensible, and bleeding from the face, and the iron piping torn down from the house—I took him to Hackney police-station—the window is only one story high—he could get into the verandah, and in at the window—I found the screw-driver in the bedroom, just facing the window.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the room in great confusion? A. Yes; the dressing-table and glass were thrown down—the prisoner had not been drinking that I am aware of.
JOHN BYWATER . (Police-inspector, N). The prisoner was brought to the station bleeding very much from the head and face—he appeared insensible—I had his face sponged with cold water and sent for a doctor—I said, "Have you been drinking?"—he said, "No; I do not know what you mean"—after the sponge had been repeatedly applied to his face, he appeared quite recovered.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he lose a great deal of blood? A. Yes.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been convicted at Glasgow, in the name of Dennis O'Neale.
ANDREW HOLT . I am an officer of the General Prison of Scotland at Perth—I know the prisoner—I had him in custody for housebreaking, and produce a certificate of his conviction from the General Prison—this is the signature of the clerk of the Court to it. (This certified the prisoner's conviction "of theft, aggravated by a previous conviction" but as there was no proof that the offence of which he was convicted was a felony under the Scotch law, the Court considered that this part of the charge was not proved)—NOT GUILTY. of the previous conviction.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WOOD. conducted the Prosecution.
MARY SHAUGHNESSEY . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 142, Lillington street—I had separated from him about six weeks before this, and he lived in Bridge-road, Pimlico, about ten minutes' walk from me—it was his wish that I should leave him—I had always maintained myself—when I had left him a fortnight he found out where I lived—he had threatened me before I left him, and I went to a Magistrate, who advised me to go to him again if the prisoner annoyed me—I summoned him after that before the Magistrate, who bound him over to keep away from me, and he did not follow me about again for a month—he then returned, and said that he would live with me—I said that he should not, left the room, went down stairs, fetched a pail of water, and threw it over him—that was on 29th August, about half-past 8 in the morning—I then went out, and he followed me—I went round the houses so that he should not follow me, and then brought some boys to take my things away, and I left the house altogether—I then went to Rochester-row Police-court, and when I left the prisoner followed me round the corner of Vincent-square—he came close to me, and I pushed him away—he asked me to have sense, and to forgive what had passed, and he would do better—I said, No; I never would live with him again—he still followed me, and I slapped his face—he said, "you shall pay for that presently"—he followed me to Regent-street, Westminster—I leant with my back against the railings—he put his hand in my pocket, pulled out something, and pulled it across my throat—I felt blood running, and sat down on a door-step—I slapped his face two or three times, and this was ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards—I cannot remember all that took place—I became insensible—a woman put my gown round my throat, and I was taken to the hospital, where I was six weeks—I could speak plainly before that, but cannot now.
Prisoner. I am nearly blind—she could have got away from me if she liked. Witness. His eyes have been bad for some years—he had been drinking the night before, but was sober at this time.
JEMIMA CALBOURN . I am the wife of Henry Colbourn, of 141, Regent-street, Westminster—on 29th August, about five minutes to 12, I was standing against my door, and saw the prisoner and prosecutrix talking against the railings—I heard her call him a nasty looking wretch—I passed on, and came back in two or three minutes, and saw him as I thought take hold of her throat to give her a good shaking—blood spirted from her throat—he immediately cut himself in front of my face and said, "See, here is another"—the prosecutrix walked some yards, bleeding and holding by the rails—she sat down on a step, and I went into my house—I saw a boy pick up a razor covered with blood—I believe this (produced) is it.
CHARLES ANTOLINI . I am house-surgeon at Westminster College Hospital—I examined the prosecutrix, and found a large wound on her throat five inches long, commencing at the left ear—the muscles were severed—she bled a great deal—we thought it very dangerous for some days, and gave her up once—she would have died unless great care had been taken—the prisoner was afterwards brought in with a similar wound, but larger and deeper—I had no reason to believe he was not sober.
ARTHUR MASON . (Policeman, B 50). I found the prisoner, with his throat cut, lying on the ground in a large quantity of blood—his wife had then been removed to the hospital, and I took him there in a cab—this razor
(another) was found in his trousers pocket—I received another, razor from Sergeant Pritchard's wife, with blood and hair on it—I said to the prisoner on the 29th at the hospital, "Do you know the charge against you?"—he said, "Yes, sir, I do."
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did it in a moment of madness and excitement; I did not intend to injure my wife or children."
Prisoner's Defence. I was drunk; I do not know anything about it.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 26th, 1865.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
JAMES BATCHELOR . (City-policeman, 447). On 15th September, the prisoner was given into my custody at the corner of Miles-lane, Upper Thames-street—I saw a van there laden with butter and bacon—the prisoner said he was only passing between the van and the building, and moving a guide-chain so that he could pass by—he was accused of taking a firkin of butter from the front of the wagon.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was this? A. about 7 in the evening—it was in a narrow street—they were drawing up bacon with a crane, out of the ground floor.
COURT. Q. Was there any guide-chain there? A. No; there was no chain whatever near the place.
MR. GIFFARD. put in the prisoner's statement, made before the Magistrate, (read:) "I plead guilty of attempting to steal."
HENRY GILES . I am a carman in the employ of the Sooth Eastern Railway, at the Bricklayers' Arms Station—on 15th September, about 7 in the evening, I was loading a van in Miles-lane with butter and bacon, and I saw one of the firkins of butter roll into the place of another which was being pulled off—it was just inside the van—I looked over the rail of the van, and saw the prisoner with a firkin on his head, holding it with both hands—I asked him what he wanted, and jumped out at the tail of the van, and caught hold of him, and then he put the firkin back again, and said, "All right, mate; I was only moving a guide-chain"—there was no guide-chain there—when he put the firkin back, the one I saw move went back into its place again—I told the prisoner I should lock him up, and he slipped his coat off, and got into Thames-street—I ran and got hold of him again, and whilst we were struggling, two men came up and struck me on the side of the head—I held the prisoner till a policeman came, and then gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. Q. How was the butter and bacon first put into the van? A. Rolled up—the butter came from below, and the bacon from above, in slings—it is lowered down from the door—it was dark at this time—the butter was arranged along the rail in front of the van—I can't exactly say the weight of a firkin—I should think not far off half a hundred-weight—the men at the warehouse put them in the van, and I loaded them—I stood in the van, and they were handed to me—the inspector asked me at the station whether I could swear he had it clear off the van,
and I said not, it was dark—I said the same when questioned before the Lord Mayor—the prisoner had got about twenty yards when I took hold of him the second time—a man from the warehouse came across the road to assist me when the other two men were on to me—Mr. Ruck's foreman came down—I did not hear him threaten the prisoner—no one struck him that I saw—I did not hear any one say, "Give him a good hiding" before he slipped his coat and ran away.
COURT. Q. to-day you tell us that he had the firkin on his head? A. He had it on his head alongside the van—I could not swear whether it was clear off the rails—his head was under it, and his arms up; whether it rested a little on the rail or not I cannot say—it was dark—there was no lamp alight that night—some of the firkins were on the floor of the van, and some on the rail.
THE COURT. considered there was not sufficient evidence of stealing, but that the Jury could find the prisoner guilty of the attempt to steal.
GUILTY. of attempting to steal. *— Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. HOUSTON. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. CUNNINGHAM the Defence.
CHARLES BRITTEN . I live at Holywell-lane, City-road, with my father-in-law, who is a licensed victualler, and keeps the Prince of Wales public-house—on Monday morning, 11th September, about 5 o'clock, I was roused by a police-constable—I got up, made a search, and found the kitchen window had been forced open by some instrument—the catch had been force aside—I missed three night-gowns, and several other articles of wearing apparel, and a metal teapot, which were afterwards found in the adjoining yard—I received them from the private watchman—these are the articles (produced) which were safe in my house on the preceding night—I went to bed about half-past 11—I saw the house all secure then—I saw the prisoner on the Sunday evening in our house—he left about a quarter to 11—he had been having some refreshment—he was not intoxicated.
Cross-examined. Q. Will you undertake positively to swear that you saw the prisoner in the house the night before this burglary? A. Yes, on Sunday night—there are persons of indifferent character about our premises on Sunday nights—I had never seen the prisoner before that.
CHARLES SHEERPENS . I am a private watchman, and live at 28, Baldwin-street, City-road—on the morning of 11th September, I was on duty near the prosecutor's residence—I found a window open, next door to the public-house—about 5 o'clock I heard two persons coming in a passage next door to the Prince of Wales—the prisoner was one of them—I called the constable's attention to it, and we both together went and called up the prosecutor—against the wall separating the Prince of Wales from the adjoining house, I found a ladder, and found this property lying in the yard of the adjoining house—the policeman took possession of it—I gave information, and the prisoner was apprehended.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it dark at the time? A. No it was not—I could swear to anybody sixty or seventy yards off.
MR. HOUSTON. Q. Have you any doubt at all that it was the prisoner that you saw? A. Not the slightest.
information respecting the robbery and a description—told him the charge—he said he was at home sleeping with his mother and father on the Sunday night, about 10 o'clock, and did not get up till 8 in the morning—at the station he gave me an address, 4, Edward-street, Caledonian-road—there are four numbers 4 there—the prisoner was not known at either of them—about two hours after I took him Sheerpens picked him out from eight others at the station—I examined the premises, and found from twelve to thirteen footmarks on the wall.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the first witness at the station at the time the prisoner was identified? A. No, he was not—the prisoner stood second from the right in the row of persons—I did not give Sheerpens any sort of due to point him out—I did not tell him be stood number 2 in the rank—he did not say he was not sure he was the man—I am quite sure of that—he said nothing about a coat or a moustache in my presence.
MR. HOUSTON. Q. Did he show any hesitation whatever in pointing out the prisoner? A. No—he said, "That is the man"—I said, "Are you sure?" and he said, "I am positive."
WALTER BAKER . (Policeman, G 74). I was on duty in Holywell-lane on Sunday, 10th September—I saw the prisoner on that night, a few minutes before 1l, coming out of the Prince of Wales public house—I saw no more of him—about 5 o'clock the next morning, the private watchman spoke to me, and I found this bag in the yard adjoining—I saw the window open.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first mention this? A. At Worship-street Police-court on the 19th—I was not present at the first hearing—on the first remand I was at the Court, and seeing the prisoner I identified him as having noticed him coming out of the public-house on the Sunday evening—the other constable apprehended him—I had not seen him at all on the first examination—I was ordered to the Police-court for the purpose of giving evidence that I found the bundle, and then I recognised the prisoner.
Witnesses for the Defence:—
MARY ANN SWAINSON . I live at 4, Crooked-billet-court, Kingsland-road, and am a married woman—I know the prisoner—on Sunday afternoon, 10th September, between 4 and 5 o'clock, the prisoner came to our house—he went out again and purchased a quart of winkles for tea—he then came in and had his tea, and went out again about 7 o'clock—he returned between 8 and 9—after that I never lost bight of him till half-past 7 or 8 on Monday morning, 11th September—he was very ill, and my husband asked him to go to bed with my little boy, about eight years old—he went to bed, and I was awake all night with ray little baby in the same room—the baby was not well, and that is the reason I remained up—I poured his breakfast out for him next morning, whether he took it or not I cannot say.
Cross-examined. Q. How many persons were there in the room? A. Me, my husband, my daughter, and two other children—one eight and one two years of age—there are three beds in the room—my daughter sleeps with the little boy eight years old, but she never went to bed that night—she sat up with me—the prisoner never slept there before—he never left the room the whole night.
MR. CUNNINGHAM. Q. Will you tell us how it was that ho came to remain there that night? A. Because he was very bad, and had a long way to go, all the way to Church-lane, Limehouse.
COURT. Q. are you his mother? A. No; my husband is not his father—if he says he slept with his mother and father it is not true.
MR. CUNNINGHAM. Q. I believe the prisoner had been paying attention
to your daughter some time previous? A. Yes—he was to marry her as Boon as he got a situation—he has sometimes called me mother and some times Mrs. Swainson—I remember that this night was the 10th, because I had occasion to go to St. Bartholomew's Hospital on the 11th, which was on the Monday—I heard of the prisoner having got into trouble the same evening—I heard that he was taken for burglary—I was before the Magistrates, but was not called.
CHARLES SWAINSON . I am the husband of the last witness—I remember the prisoner coming to our house on Sunday, 10th September—I remember that it was Sunday, the 10th, because I heard he was taken up on the 11th—I should think he came from about half-past 4 to 5—he was at my place about half-past 8 or 9—he went out and came in again—he slept with my boy all night, and I awoke him in the morning myself at 7 or half-past.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. boot and shoe manufacturer—he went out about half-post 5 to buy a quart of winkles—he went out after tea, and stopped out till nearly 9—he then came back, and never went from my place afterwards—my daughter was in the room; my wife, the boy, and the child that was bad, and myself—I persuaded him to stop—I believe he has a father and mother at Limehouse—he did not breakfast with me; I went out about 7 or a quarter-past in the morning, and did not return till night—he went out before me—I went out as near as I can recollect at 8 o'clock—he went out somewhere about a quarter of an hour before I did.
GUILTY .**—He PLEADED GUILTY. to a former conviction of felony at this Court in August, 1859, sentence Six Years.
Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
There was an indictment for an assault against the prisoner.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY.—
976. JOHN SMEETON. (47) to two indictments for stealing 2 waistcoats, 3 jackets, and other articles, the property of Thomas Bluefield, his master.— Confined Twelve Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
977. JOSEPH BUSHEL. (43) , to embezzling 27l. 9s., 13l. 19s. 6d. and 16l. 12s. 6d. of Charles Jones.— To enter into his own recognizances to appear and receive judgement when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Baron Pigott.
MESSRS. POLAND. and ORRIDGE. conducted the Prosecution, and
MR. PATER. the Defence.
LEONARD KUCHEN . (through an interpreter.) On 27th August, I lived in Edith-road, Chandos-road, Stratford—the deceased, Joseph Kuchen, was my father—on Sunday night, 26th August, my younger brother, a man of the name of Hans, the prisoner, and my father and mother had been to the railway-station to see a friend off—when they came back I was in bed and asleep—my father awoke me about 11 o'clock, and I went down stairs—he knocked for me—when I got down stairs I saw my father and the prisoner in the workshop, close together, fighting—I took hold of my father's arm and it was full of blood—I told the prisoner to go out—he went through
the window of the workshop, where he entered, and then through the garden into the street—there were three benches in the workshop, and one was just across the window—there were no tools lying about there, because on the Saturday night generally the workshop is cleaned and put in order, as no work is carried on there on a Sunday—there were no tools lying about—my father was a cabinet-maker—the prisoner was no relation of his—he worked in our workshop, in the service of my father, and lodged in our house—he slept in the same room as I did—he had been working there seven weeks—the smaller tools are kept lying on the bench, in a sort of little place, and the planes and larger tools are inside; underneath the bench there is a sort of cupboard, in which the larger tools were—my father could not follow the prisoner into the street, because my mother took hold of him, and washed his wound first—I went to the door, and told the prisoner it would be much better to go away—then he asked for his hat—my father did not follow him at first—after I gave him his hat, he said to me, "If you come outside I will stab you dead"—I did not see that he had anything with him then—I went inside and fetched a piece of wood, and then I went out—after a time my father came out—I began to fight with the prisoner, and I then, by the gas-light, saw a knife in his hand—it was a table knife—he always used that knife on the bench—while I was fighting my father came out behind me—I did not see him, and Jacob (the prisoner) went aside and stabbed him in the abdomen—I saw the stab, but I thought that it did not catch my father at first, because he did not fall at once, but he stepped back and said, "Leonard, I am stabbed"—I went up to him immediately, and we went to the door of the workshop, and there my father fell; half his body fell in the workshop, and half into the kitchen—Hans was in the street at that time—he was about twenty yards from my father when the stab was made—when I saw my father come out into the street he was not bleeding from any other place than his arm—I looked in the workshop the next morning for the knife that was usually used, but could not find it—I have never seen it since—it had a pointed blade, and a black ebony handle—the prisoner did not come home that eight—he was taken into custody the next morning.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you not tell him to go away that night yourself? A. I told him so two or three times—I told him it would be better that he should not return the whole night, better to stay with his friends that night—the workshop was not lighted when I came down—the prisoner left the workshop with great trouble and difficulty—he went through the window—I threw his hat to him across the wall—about five minutes elapsed from that time to when my father left the house after the prisoner, not more—I went out first with this piece of wood (produced)—my father had nothing—to-day is the first time I have said that the prisoner said if I came out he would stab me, and I can tell you the reason why—as far as I know, my father and the prisoner never had any dispute or quarrel together before—I saw several glasses of beer drank among four of them, one of whom was the prisoner, on that Sunday afternoon in the garden or yard—I can't exactly say the time of the day that was, because I was not there all the time, I was just passing in and out; about 2 or 3 o'clock—at the time the prisoner said to me, "If you come out, I will stab you," Hans was standing not far from him, at the other door of the house, two or three yards from him—I did not see the prisoner covered with blood when I came into the workshop—I did not strike him at all in the shop, I only told him to go out—he was not knocked down—my father did not say, "I think now we have done for him,"
alluding to the prisoner, nor did I—I heard the prisoner call Hans—he said, "Come and assist me to kill him, so that I may get him, in order to kill him"—I was then fighting with him, and he called the other to assist him.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. You say this is the first time you have said, "If you come out, I will stab you;" what is the reason you did not state that before? A. Because I had an interpreter at Stratford, who only allowed me to say "Yes" or "No," and I was not allowed to say everything I knew—it was after the prisoner said that that I took the piece of wood and went out—my father had always treated the prisoner very kindly.
CHARLES HANS . (through an interpreter). I am a sugar-baker—on Sunday, 27th August, I was living with Küchen—the deceased and I went with him and the prisoner and Mrs. Küchen to the train to see some one off—I returned with the prisoner and the deceased at 9 o'clock, and at 11 we left the public-house—I was sober—I was in the whole day, and was sleeping the whole day—neither the prisoner nor the deceased were sober—they commenced fighting on the way home—the deceased pushed the prisoner, and said, "You have already once taken me by the hair and pulled me by the hair; and whoever takes me by the hair again, I will pull his nose," "or break his nose," or "strike him on the nose—then they got friendly again—we went through the yard of the house, and the deceased said, "Charles, come in—the prisoner waited to come in as well, and the deceased then pushed him and turned him out—he pushed him in such a manner that he fell down on the ground—the prisoner then jumped in through the window of the workshop, and the deceased went up and fetched his son—when the prisoner got through the window the deceased was not in the workshop; he was alone there then—the son came down first, saying, "Where is he? where is he?"—the prisoner said, "Here I am," and then they began fighting in the workshop—after the fighting, the deceased came up to me, and said, "I respect you, Charles, but not this one," and he was then bleeding at the arm—that was after the fight was over—the fight was between the three, the deceased and his son, and the prisoner, in the workshop—after that the mistress came with a light, and the son said, "Get you off; make haste and go"—the prisoner had no hat, and the son threw it over to him; and then, two or three minutes after, first the son followed the prisoner, and then the father went after him, and the prisoner ran away—they ran after him about twenty yards—I stood at the side of the house, and then they struck the prisoner—I saw them striking him, and then it was over—I was speaking to the mistress, and she told me her husband was stabbed—I did not see the stab; I was too far off to see it—the deceased had some thing similar to this in his hand, perhaps a longer piece—in the workshop the prisoner called out, "Charles, come in; they are killing me"—he also called out for assistance in the street—blood was running from his face then—I did not see the deceased bleeding from the stomach, only in the arm—I went away that night with the prisoner—I was taken into custody the next day and discharged—I have known the prisoner about a year—I did not see anything in his hand that night—I saw no knife in his hand.
Cross-examined. Q. When the hat was thrown from the window, how near were you to the prisoner? A. About two yards—it is not true that the prisoner said to the son, "If you Come out, I will stab you"—I did not hear it—he did not say so—when he called out for help in the workshop I did not go to his assistance; it did not matter to me; it was not concerning me—I was afraid I might get something, as they were striking with pieces of wood—I did not think it safe to go in—I heard the deceased say to his son, "Is he
not dead yet?" meaning the prisoner—I don't know what reply was made to that—there were three or four Englishmen standing there—they spoke, but 1 did not understand them—I did not see the prisoner take the deceased by the hair, but before that he had pulled the son's hair—I was quite sober—we had three pots among three of us; the others had drank before—there had been a quarrel with some Englishmen in the public-house, and the prisoner took the deceased away to prevent a fight—up to that time they were on very good terms—I went to the public-house about 9 or half past, and remained there till half-past 10—I had not been there in the afternoon.
JURY. Q. at the time the three were struggling together after the hat was thrown out, was there any light? A. One branch of the gas-light was burning—the fight took place about three yards from the light, but I was standing twenty yards off.
MARIA KUCHEN . (interpreted). The deceased was my husband—on Sunday, 27th August, we went to the railway station, and coming back, my husband said, "We are going to drink a drop of beer"—as I am not in the habit of going to public-houses, I asked him for the key, and went home with my younger son—my eldest son came home to sleep at 10 o'clock—my husband had not returned, and I went to bed, but did not go to sleep—when 11 o'clock struck my husband came past the house, and I heard him say, "Thou sha'n't come in today"—I then heard him come up stairs—he said, "Jacob has pushed me"—I went down with a light, and my husband was bleeding at the arm—I opened the door, and said to the prisoner, "Jacob, go away;" and by the reflection of the gas-light I saw a knife in his hand, which I recognised as mine, and I had given it to the prisoner to cut the veneers with—I then bandaged my husband's arm—he had six wounds on the arm, but no wound anywhere else—my son then went out—I ran after him, fearing he might be stabbed—my husband came after me—I called to my son, "He has a knife"—he said, "Yes, I see it"—he could see it shine by the gas-light—my husband came up sideways to save my son from being stabbed, and the prisoner stabbed him sideways in the abdomen—I saw the knife by the reflection of the light—I said, "You are stabbed"—my husband said nothing, and the prisoner ran away as if he had fire behind him—I did not see my husband have any wood or anything in his hand when he came out of the house—he could not have taken up anything, he had not time to do so—a doctor was sent for, and he was afterwards taken to the hospital.
JOHN PARTRIDGE . I am a watch-case finisher, and live at Chandos-street, Stratford—on Sunday night, 27th August, about 11 o'clock, I was standing at my front gate, which is across the road from where these people live—I beard the prisoner, the deceased, and Hans coming round the corner quarrelling—they all three went in at the side gate together—the gate was shut, and I heard quarrelling inside—it appeared as if they were all quarrelling together—there was a great noise in the workshop—they were inside for some little time, and Hans and the prisoner came out and were outside the gate some little time—the prisoner went up to the gate and called out, "Leonard, Leonard"—however, Leonard did not come out—afterwards he and the deceased came out together, and commenced fighting with the prisoner and Hans—they were fighting together I suppose for three or four minutes, the deceased and his son following up the prisoner and Hans for a distance of something like twenty yards—the fight did not last long before the deceased leant on his son's shoulder, and they both returned to the house, and the prisoner ran one way and Hans another—I did not see whether the deceased was stabbed, but I saw
the wound afterwards—I think the deceased had something in his hand when the fighting was going on, but I can't be quite sure about it—the son had a piece of wood.
Cross-examined. Q. How far was the prisoner from the house when the deceased and his son came out? A. Close up to the gate—they commenced fighting directly at the corner—the prisoner was defending himself in the best way he could, and the others were following him up—I did not see anything in his hand—they were all talking together in German—I did not understand a word they said.
GEORGE THOMAS WILLIAM MUGLESTON . I am a surgeon, at Stratford—about half-past 11 on Sunday night, 27th August, I was called to the deceased's house—I examined his arm, and found six incised wounds about the elbow; also a wound in the abdomen, about an inch and a half long—a portion of gut, about eight or ten inches, was protruding—I returned the gut and did what was necessary, and recommended him to be sent to the hospital—the wound was caused by some cutting instrument—as far as I could judge, he was not under the influence of liquor.
Cross-examined. Q. The dangerous wound was that in the abdomen? A. Yes—the wounds on the elbow were superficial—I did not see the prisoner.
STEPHEN STANDAGE . (Police-inspector, K). I directed the deceased to be taken to the hospital early on the Monday morning—on the Tuesday after, about half-past 2 or 3, I went to the hospital after consulting the Magistrate, and took with me John Klaibler, a police-constable, who understands German, also a constable named Waldon—I saw the deceased in the presence of Mr. McEenzie, the house-surgeon—I put questions to him, which were interpreted by Klaibler in German, and his answers were translated into English, and were written down by Waldon—the writing was then read over in Grennan by Klaibler, and the deceased signed it—this is the paper (producing it).
Cross-examined. Q. At this time the prisoner was not present? A. No; there was some trouble in getting the deceased to sign the paper, he was in such pain.
JOHN KLAIBLER . (Policeman, K 312). I went with Mr. Standage to the hospital—what he told me to ask the deceased, I put into German, and interpreted his answers into English—I faithfully interpreted the questions and answers—the deceased told me be thought he was dying.
Cross-examined. Q. Was that all he stated as to the condition he was in? A. Yes.
GEORGE MCKENZIE . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—I saw the deceased when he was brought there on Monday morning, about 4 o'clock—he had six incised wounds on the left arm, they were about a quarter of an inch in breadth, and nearly an inch in length—I should say they were done with a knife—there was an incised wound on the left side of the abdomen, about an inch and a half in length—that was a large wound—he died between 8 and 9 o'clock on Tuesday evening—I made a post-mortem examination—in my judgment, death was caused by the wound in the abdomen—a knife or a sharp-pointed instrument would have made that wound—the gut was cut in four places—I was present in the afternoon when he made a statement—he was then dying—he did not state anything to me as to what he believed his condition to be.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose he was in a very low condition at that time? A. He necessarily would be—perhaps his memory might be slightly indistinct.
DAVID FOOT . (Policeman, K 483). I took the prisoner into custody, on Monday morning, 28th August, about 9 o'clock, at a cottage in Edmund's-row, Stratford, near the deceased's house—I spoke to him in English, but he could not understand me—I took him to the station—I found marks of blood on his shirt wrist, and his bosom—I did not observe any wounds upon him—he had a black eye—I think it was from a blow.
Cross-examined. Q. Was not there a wound on his forehead? A. I did not notice one—there was blood on the front of his shirt collar—he looked as though he had been in a struggle.
The statement made by the deceased was read as follows: "I, Joseph Kuchen, reside at Edith Cottage, Chandos-street, Stratford—I believe I am dying—I wish to make the following declaration: Yes, I know Brenner, and Hans—Brenner was going home with me on Sunday last, about 11 o'clock at night—Brenner had a quarrel with my son about three weeks ago while in the workshop—without saying anything to me, he took a knife off the carpenter's bench and stabbed me in the abdomen and on the arm—I never gave him any provocation to strike me—I always thought him a quiet man—he worked for me—I never had any quarrel with him before—I had been drinking with Brenner, and believe he was drunk—I was sober—I do not know the reason he stabbed me, unless it was on account of the quarrel he had with my son about three weeks ago—I always behaved very kind to him, and paid him for what he did for me—I know nothing of Hans, nor did he strike me."
STEPHEN STANDAG . (re-examined). I was at the station on the Monday morning when the prisoner was brought there—I booked the charge against him—there was no wound on his forehead—he had got a black eye.
GUILTY., strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Confined Six Months.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HOLDSWORTH. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WILL the Defence.
THOMAS STEPHEN WESTON . I am a master builder, in Shoe-lane, Fleet-street—in the latter end of August and the beginning of September, I was preparing to build some houses in a field at Forest-hill—a Mr. Brassington was also carrying on some work there—the prisoner was in his employ—he was burning ballast—on my premises I had two carts, a tumbril and a spring cart—the tumbril was a old cart, and I empowered Mr. Brassington to sell it for 1l. the other was a good spring cart, worth about 8l.—I had a conversation with Mr. Brassington about the sale of the tumbril cart, early in August—the prisoner and another man were present—not a word was said about the sale of the spring cart—I passed there shortly afterwards, and the prisoner accosted me, and said, "Is it true the old cart is for sale?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I will soon find you a customer for it"—I said, "Oh, very well, but the matter is in Mr. Brassington's hands, and I will have nothing to do with you"—I had never seen him before—that was all that took place—I went there on 5th September, the tumbril was then gone, and the spring cart had been drawn out from its place—the prisoner was not
there then—on 8th September, I heard something, and on the 11th I went to the premises, and found that ray spring cart was gone—I had authorised no one to dispose of it—on 19th September, the prisoner came to my place in Shoe-lane, and said, "I have come to see if I can make up the matter about the cart"—I said I could not say anything about the cart, but I had never given him or any other man authority to sell the cart, and I must have it back, and if not, I should give him into custody—he said he supposed be had made a mistake; if I would overlook the affair, he would endeavour to pay so much a week to get it back—I declined, and sent for a policeman—he never told me he had received a cheque—I saw my cart on the 11th, the day I missed it, at Mr. Clayton's at Forest-hill, near the station.
Cross-examined. Q. What did you pay for that spring cart? A. Over 20l.—that was about fifteen years ago; it may be twelve—we used it for work we did at odd times—some two years ago I offered to sell it—I have never been anxious to sell it since—the wheels have been repaired—it was offered for sale when I was ill—I sold the tumbril cart for the iron that was about it—it was no longer any use to me—I swear positively I did not say to Mr. Braasington that I should be glad if I could get a customer for both carts—the prisoner did not take part in the conversation between me and Mr. Brassington—he was within hearing—I did not ask the prisoner to find a customer for me—the cart had been drawn from under a shed when I saw it, and we had a discussion about it—the prisoner was not there then—he did not ask me if the two carts were for sale, and I did not say, "Yes, for 5l."—I swear that—I might have told him he would find my address on my cart—no one came to me wishing to buy the cart, and saying the prisoner had sent him—I am quite sure of that—Mr. Pearce was examined as a witness at the Police-court—he said he had written a letter to me, offering me money for the tumbril cart—I can't speak positively as to whether he said for both carts—it might possibly be the two—I don't re collect his saving that it was in consequence of what the prisoner told him that he wrote that letter—I heard from my son that the spring cart had been sold—he did not tell me that the prisoner had sold it to Mr. Clayton—he told me a man that worked there told him that he had sold my spring cart, and that he would get a cheque or money for it that day, and bring it up at night—he did not know the man, he was only there one day—I sent one of my men down the next day to see who had sold my spring cart, and on the 11th, I went myself—I did not know then who had sold it—a bricklayer, employed by Mr. Brassington, said to me, "All right; you may depend upon it the man has got the money, but he has not come to work to-day"—I took a policeman with me and made inquiries, and afterwards went to Mr. Clayton's premises and saw the cart—I could get no information from him—ho would not tell me who he bought it from—I asked him civilly about it—I had the policeman with me—the prisoner came voluntarily to my place on the 19th—he said, "I have come to make an arrangement with you about the cart; "or" settle about the cart"—I can't swear to the precise words—ho did not offer to pay me the money—he said he would pay me ten shillings a-week if I would compromise the matter—I was not asked about that before—I have been examined three times—I did not say to him, "You have sold my cart in a mistake; you must get it back"—I do not recollect using the word "mistake"—I was perfectly calm—George Brown, a witness, was present—the prisoner was brought up at Greenwich on this same charge, and discharged—subsequently he was brought up again and committed—the charge was dismissed at first for want of
evidence—I swear positively that I did not say at Greenwich that I authorised some one to sell my spring cart, but I did not know who—the prisoner said something about going to Mr. Clayton's to get the cart back when he was at my place—I sent a man to follow him, and give him into custody.
MR. HOLDSWORTH. Q. How was it that the charge was dismissed at Greenwich? A. The Magistrate thought there was not quite evidence enough to carry on the case, but before he had left the bar a cheque was produced with my name forged on it, and Mr. Traill then said the case ought to be re-opened—we had not all the witnesses then—I never saw the prisoner on Mr. Brassington's premises after the cart was gone—we could not find him—he was not thereon the llth.
COURT. Q. have you got your cart back? A. No; Mr. Clayton has it now.
JOHN CLAYTON . I am the proprietor of a saw-mill at Perry-vale, Forest-hill—ON 5th September, in consequence of something I had heard, I went to Mr. Weston's premises at Forest-hill—I saw a spring cart there—on the evening of the 6th, the prisoner came to my place and said that he understood that I had been down the evening before to see about the spring cart, and that he had come up about it—my clerk asked him what was the price of it—he said, 4l. 5s.—my clerk said, "Oh, nonsense, about 3l. 10s."—the prisoner said, "No, I can't take a farthing less than 4l. 6a. as the two were to be sold for 5l."—there was a little discussion about it, and at last I said, "Well, I suppose you must give him the 4l. 5s."—my clerk gave him a deposit of 5s. in my presence, and I told the prisoner that my clerk should call down on the following day with a cheque drawn in favour of Mr. Weston for the difference, 4l—he then went away—on the following morning I drew a cheque on the London and County Bank for 4l. and sent it down for the cart—I have since received that cheque through my bankers—this is it (produced)—it was cashed—there was no endorsement on it when I sent it—I received the cart on the 7th, about 12 o'clock, and it is on my premises now.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see Mr. Brassington on the 5th? A. I did—I told him I wanted to buy the cart, and he referred me to the prisoner as the man having authority to sell it—he said he had had a little disturbance with Mr. Weston, or he would have sold me the cart himself—the prisoner was not there then—on the following morning my clerk left a message for the prisoner, and he called as I have described—he said then, "The cart belongs to Mr. Weston of Shoe-lane, and I will take the money up to him"—the price I gave for the cart was more than it was worth—it had been offered for sale before, and people would not give that for it.
MR. HOLDSWORTH. Q. did Mr. Brassington say to you that be believed the prisoner bad authority to sell the cart? A. No, I think not—he seemed quite certain that he had—there was one cart at that time there, the spring cart.
THOMAS BRASSINGTON . I am a builder—in August and September I was building a house at Forest-hill—I had some conversation with Mr. Weston about a tumbril cart—I don't think he said anything to me about the other cart then—we have talked about the spring cart, with reference to sale—that might have been some time afterwards—before I saw Mr. Clayton, he came down to my house one evening, and said, "I believe you have got a cart for sale"—I said, "I have nothing to do with it; I believe one of my men has; me and Mr. Weston have had some words, and I don't want to have anything to do with him"—I asked Lacey if he had any authority to sell
the cart, and he said, "Yes"—I believed he had because he told me so—I had reprimanded him because he left his work to try and sell the cart, and he had had several people there to look at it.
Cross-examined. Q. Was there any concealment about it? A. No; I dare say he was a month bothering about it—I knew that he was endeavouring to sell it—I can't say that Mr. Weston did—I believe my men knew it—the prisoner behaved very well while he was with me—I had been put on my guard against him, and I gave him an opportunity of retrieving his character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DALE. conducted the Prosecution.
AMOS SQUIRES . I am a butcher at Charlton—on Sunday night, 17th September, about half-past 9, I was going through Charlton, and met the prisoners—I spoke to Day—I mistook him for a friend—I asked them if they would have some drink, and we all went to the Bugle Horn public-house, and I treated them to some beer—we left before 11, and Day asked me to go and sleep at the camp, which is on Woolwich Common, and we went through Hanger Wood, towards Woolwich—I was walking with Day, the other two were behind—Day and I sat down on a bank, and while there Day cut my chain and took my watch—I said, "What are your doing, you have got my watch," and laid hold of him by the collar—he did not say anything, but one of the other prisoner's came up and took hold of him, saying, "I have go him, he is all right," and took him away—the third one came up immediately afterwards and picked up a piece of my chain, and said, "We will go after the other two" and he went over an opening in the hedge and went away—when I got over I could not see him—I am sure about the prisoners being the men—I was in their company an hour and a half—I was sober—I saw them afterwards at the barracks—I knew Day more particularly than the other two—I pointed out the others as the men—I believe now they are the men—this is my watch (produced)—it is worth about 5l.
Culshaw. Q. did you say it was a tall dark thin man who took your watch, who had been a corporal? A. No—Colonel Bird discharged you and Nestor—I did not accuse another man—I saw you in the guard room together, in custody.
JOHN FAITH . I live at Charlton village, and am gardener to Sir Thomas Wilson—on Sunday night, 17th September, I and my wife were in the Bugle Horn—I saw the prosecutor and the prisoners there all drinking together—I left at half-past 10, and left them there—there was a young man with them who had lately been a soldier, named Kemp—he had been discharged—the prosecutor appeared sober.
MARY ANN SHEEDY . I am a single woman, and live at Woolwich—I have known the prisoners about eighteen months—on Monday morning, 18th September, between 8 and 9 o'clock, I saw Nestor and Culshaw together in the passage where I live, and Culshaw asked me, in Nestor's presence, if I would go and pawn a watch—I said I would, as I knew them—he gave me the watch, and said, "Get as much as you can"—I asked 30s. at the pawn shop, and they gave me 15s.—I gave the money to Culshaw, and he gave me the ticket in the middle of the day—I got drinking with the prisoners, and either lost the ticket or gave it to the landlord—Day was not there—
this is the watch—I had not seen Day for a month previous to that—I am sure Nestor was present when Culshaw gave me the watch.
JAMES MARGETSON . (Policeman, R 122). I made some inquiries at Mr. Thorp's, pawnbroker's, and then went to the Earl of Warwick public-house in Woolwich—I there saw a man named William Allen, and in consequence of something I said to him, he gave me this watch—the prosecutor was then with me—I went to the barracks the following morning, and the prisoners were given into my custody—I told them the charge—they made no answer.
RICHARD CLARK . I am assistant to Mr. Thorp, pawnbroker, of Church-hill, Woolwich—this watch was pawned by Mary Ann Sheedy at our place for 15s.—it was redeemed on the Wednesday afterwards—I could not swear to the man who redeemed it.
COURT. (to Amos Squires). Q. Where did you pick out Day? A. In the camp.
The prisoners' statement before the Magistrate. Day says: "I was not there at all—I was in barracks in the camp at half-past 11."Nestor says; "After we left the Bugle Horn, I left him." Culshaw says: "I deny the charge."
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months each.
MR. PLATT. conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM HENRY ISTED . I live at 20, Sun-street, Woolwich—a few minutes after 12 on the night of Saturday, 16th September, I saw the prosecutor in Church-street, sitting with his back to the wall, tipsy, and I saw the prisoner with his left arm across him, pretending to get him up, and his right hand went under the old man's coat on the left side, and he pulled something from under his coat—I then heard some halfpence drop—I told him he was picking the old man's pocket—he did not say anything, but walked down the street—I met a policeman, and the prisoner was taken into custody—the policeman turned his bull's-eye on, and I saw him pick up a purse and twopence from the ground, about two yards from where the old man had been sitting—he was still there—the policeman brought the prisoner back to the spot.
GEORGE BEAR . (Policeman, R 231). On this Sunday morning, about twenty minutes past 12, the last witness pointed out the prisoner to me in Church-street, Woolwich—I went after him and told him he was wanted for robbing the old man who was lying in the street—he said, "Pooh, nonsense"—I took him back to the place and picked up 2d. and a purse containing 3s. 9d. near the spot where the old man had been.
JANE KING . I am the wife of the late Edwin King, of 3, Chapel-street, Woolwich—on this morning, about 12, I saw the old man in a sitting position on the ground, and the prisoner leaning over him with one of his hands near one side pocket and one the other, apparently at the coat pocket—the old man said, "What do you want with me, you have nothing to do with me, let me alone, I know what you want"—at that time Mr. Isted was close behind me—I went into a shop, and while there I heard money drop—I afterwards went to the station, and then straight home—as I was going along, passing the spot where I had seen the old man, I kicked against something—it was very dirty, and I did not notice it—a lodger of mine after wards brought this pocket (produced) indoors, and I said, "Take it to the Police."
Prisoner. Q. Where did the money fall from? A. I can't say—I was inside a shop—I heard it fall by the side of the old man.
JOHN MCCARTHY . I am 65 years of age—I remember being tipsy on this Saturday night—I do not remember what happened—this is my purse, and this is my comb—I had them on the night of the 16th—I had money in the purse, I can't say how much—this is my pocket, it contains my tobacco-box, and knife and comb—this is the coat it was torn from.
Prisoner. Q. did you tell me after I came out of the Court that you wished it was settled? A. Not to my recollection.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Confined Four Months.
The following Prisoners PLEADED GUILTY.—
984. JOSEPH BRANCH (29) . to stealing 18 trusses of hay, the property of Zephaniah Martin Seal, his master. Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor.— Confined Twelve Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COOK. conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. COLLINS. and TURNER.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. What sum did you pay altogether? A. To the best of my recollection something about 121l.—I paid it on 26th June—I paid two 50l. notes, one 10l., and one 5l., and some gold and silver.
ELIZABETH GOODENOUGH MANDY . I am a widow, and reside at 8, Horatio-terrace, near the Old Kent-road—In June last I resided at 129, Old Kent-road, and kept a tobacconist's shop—the prisoner was in the habit of coming to that shop—we became rather friendly, and he made me overtures of marriage—I told him he was not a suitable man for me, I did not like him, he was a foreigner, and I was an Englishwoman—I declined to have anything to do with him—after that he was very rude to me on several occasions—in June last I sold my business to Mr. Goodman—I then went to reside at 8, Horatio-terrace—on the evening of 21st July I went out about half-past 6, or between that and 7—I was accompanied by Mrs. White, a lady who resides in my house, and two gentlemen—Mrs. White and I dressed in the same room, before we went out, that was in my bedroom, the top front-room—the house consists of a breakfast-parlour, a kitchen on the basement, two parlours on the next floor, two bedrooms above that, and two more bedrooms above that—my bedroom was on the second-floor—when I went out I left my purse on the table—there was in it two 50l. notes, a 5l. note, and 2 3/4 d. in copper—I should know the notes again—the two 50l. notes were those I received from Mr. Goodman, and the 5l. note I had in change for the 10l. that I received from Mr. Goodman—I don't know the number of it—we came home about ten minutes past 11—on our
way home we met two gentlemen, Mr. Fisk and Mr. Flower—one of them wanted to speak to me on business, they bad called on me before—I said it was rather late, and asked them to walk home to my house—when we got home I found the prisoner there; he was in the breakfast-parlour downstairs, the front kitchen—he had caused a great disturbance in the house before I came home—I said to him, "What business have you here!"—he said, "I have all the business here, and I intend coming when I like"—I said, "You have annoyed me sufficiently, and I hope you will not do so now, I have removed into a new house, and I do not wish to disturb my neighbours by such a roan as you; pray go, don't disgrace me"—he said he would not go, he should remain as long as he thought proper—I said I would send for a policeman—he threatened me with an oath, and said if I dared send for a policeman he would set the dog on me—he had a large Newfoundland dog with him, and he frightened me very much, and I allowed him to remain, thinking he would go when he thought proper, without any disturbance—I asked Mr. Fisk and Mr. Flower to remain in the house, as I was afraid of the prisoner, and they remained in the breakfast parlour—Mrs. White, Mary, my sister, and myself were there also—the prisoner remained there till daylight—he never left the house during that time—I left the room with Mr. Fisk, and went with him into the parlour above, leaving the prisoner below—I did not see him leave the room—when I came back again I found the prisoner there—that must have been between 1 and 2 o'clock—afterwards, about 4 o'clock, he went out of the room—I don't know where he went to, he followed Mrs. White—I remained down stain—Mr. Fisk and Mr. Flower were still there—it was quite daylight—the prisoner left his dog there—it was let out, and soon afterwards Mr. Fisk and Mr. Flower went away—after they were gone, the prisoner came down stairs—he said, "Where is my dog?"—I said, "I don't know"—he said, "They have liken my dog with them"—I said, "No, they would not do anything of the kind, if you think I have your dog, you can come and see, look over the house with he followed me upstairs to look over the house—the dog was not there me—I said, "You go home, and you will find your dog is at home, if not I know where my friends live, and I will go to them directly"—he went away, and never returned again—I never saw him afterwards till he was in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. When was this money paid you? A. On 16th June—the exact sum paid was 130l.—it was paid in two 50l. notes, One 10l., and two 5l. notes, and 5l. in gold—I might make a mistake in the amount I received—I know I sold the business for 130l.—I can't tell whether it was 125l. or 130l.—125l. was the amount, I remember now—when I received the money, I put it into my purse—this is the purse (produced)—I carried it about with me—I did not generally have it in my pocket—I had it in my pocket that day to pay my landlord 10l.—I usually kept it in the drawer in my bedroom, or otherwise between my bed and mattress—I went out between half-past 6 and 7 on this evening with Mrs. White—we went for a drive with two gentlemen, not Mr. Fisk and Mr. Flower—we left them in the City at ten minutes past 11, and took the bus home—we met Mr. Fisk at the corner of my road—the Nelson public-house is at one corner—Mr. Fisk was not in that public-house; he was outside, he and Mr. Flower were bidding each other good night, and they saw me passing, and said, I was the very lady they wished to see—I asked them to walk home with me, as I understood they had called two or three times while I was out of town—I had never seen Mr. Flower till that night—he is a public-house
broker, I believe,—I don't know what Mr. Fisk is, I believe he is a clerk—wo all three went into the house—no one lives in the house besides myself and sister—I had only just taken the house to let it furnished—when I went in the prisoner was in the breakfast-parlour, and my sister was crying—he had been threatening her—there was not a good deal of drinking going on in the house that night—we had some stout, and there was a bottle of wine, which the prisoner sent for—he said if I would take a glass of wine with him he would go—I said I would rather not—he said, "Do, and if you will, I will go," and with that he sent for a bottle of wine—Mr. Flower went for it—the stout was two pint bottles of my own, not more than that—they left between 4 and 5—I slept in my own room that night—I did not observe the loss of my purse till about 9 o'clock in the morning, when I got out of bed to send my sister for change for a 51. note, and then I found it gone—I was absent from the kitchen about half-an-hour with Mr. Fisk in the parlour, immediately above the breakfast-room.
MR. COOKE. Q. have you any doubt that the two 50l. notes were in the purse when you left it on the table? A. No, I am sure they were, I saw them there when I left in the evening.
MARY GOODENOUGH . I am sister to Mrs. Mandy—I live with her and act as her servant, at 8, Horatio-terrace, Old Kent-road—on the night of 21st July, the prisoner came there about eleven o'clock or a little after—he asked for Mrs. Mandy—I told him she was out—he said he was certain she was in—I Raid she was not, and he called me a liar—he had a dog with him—he said he would come in, and he called the (tog up to him, and forced his way in—he followed me into the front kitchen—he said ho would rise the "whole house up, and he was standing over me with his large dog—Mrs. Mandy came in in a few minutes, and ordered him out of the house—I was not present the whole of the time the prisoner was there—I saw him leave the room at one time—he was gone a good bit—he went into the kitchen for a light—I refused to give it him, and he then went upstairs on his hands and knees—I pulled him down—I did not go upstairs after he left—I had seen Mrs. Mandy's purse that day—I brought it downstairs about three o'clock in the afternoon—I saw three notes in it, two for 50l. and one for 5l.—it was brought down to pay the landlord, and he had not got change—I went up into Mrs. Mandy's room when she was dressing to go out, and I then saw the purse lying on the table—I did not go to bed that morning till about half-past three—I did not Bee the prisoner leave.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. did your sister go out of the breakfast-room? A. Yes—she went up into the front parlour with a gentleman named Fisk—she was away about a quarter of an hour, it might be half an hour, it was not an hour—there is a sofa in the front parlour—it was a 50l.-note that my sister took out of the purse to pay the landlord with—she put it back into her purse again as he could not give her change, and put the purse into her pocket—it was about eight o'clock in the evening that I saw the purse on the drawing-room table, when she was going out—the prisoner had been in the habit of coming to our place—I do not know whether he saw Mr. Fisk go upstairs with my sister—he was in the breakfast parlour at the time—he went up immediately afterwards—he did not say anything about Mr. Fisk in my presence—I did not hear him say anything about being jealous of him—he did not ask me for a light to go and see what they were doing—he said he would take a light and go upstairs to bed—my sister is a widow—I was not with her when she was married—I have boon her husband—he died two years ago, on the 21st July—we have
a good deal of company at our house—not gentlemen—we have relations come to see us—we have some gentlemen who are relations and some who are not—Mr. Fisk used to come to our shop before this, and I have seen Mr. Flower once or twice before—he came about a business—we do not keep stout in the house for gentlemen—we had some in the house because Mrs. Mandy had been ordered it by the doctors—I do not know how much stout was drunk that night—not half a dozen bottles—I think about three, and a bottle of port wine—I am servant to my sister—I do not have any wages—I do nothing else for my living.
MR. COOK. Q. Is there any pretence for saying that any gentlemen visit your house except friends? A. No.
ELIZABETH WHITE . I live with Mrs. Mandy—I knew her at the time she kept the tobacconist shop—I am a widow—my husband was in the merchant service—I remember the night of 21st July last—I dressed in Mrs. Mandy's room about quarter to eight that evening, and we went out for a drive—I saw Mrs. Mandy take her purse out of her pocket and put it on the dressing-room table—I saw her open it and take out come silver and place in her other purse—and I saw some notes in the other end of the purse—there were two 50l. and a 5l.—we returned about eleven o'clock-Boon afterwards I went upstairs into the drawing-room to get a handkerchief—I had to go into Mrs. Mandy's room—her purse was then on the table as where she left it—I then returned downstairs to the breakfast-room—the prisoner was there, Mr. Fisk, Mr. Flower, Mrs. Mandy, and Mary—I heard Mrs. Mandy tell the prisoner to go away immediately she came in—he said he would see her d—before he would go—I left the room for a few minutes, and when I returned the prisoner had left the room—I went to look after him and found him on the drawing-room floor, the first-floor landing—he was coming downstairs—he put his arms round my neck and kissed me—I tried to push him downstairs, and he took hold of the banisters and the wall—he then went down into the breakfast-room—I followed him—Mrs. Mandy and Mr. Fisk went out of the room—this was about twelve or one o'clock—it was just getting daylight when they returned—the prisoner went out of the room in the meanwhile; it was then that I missed him and went upstairs—I afterwards went up to bed and laid down with one of the children—I was called up by Mrs. Mandy between three and four o'clock—I saw the prisoner standing outside the door with her—I came downstairs and he went out immediately—he did not go into my room at all—Mrs. Mandy's bedroom is the front room on that floor—I was called up in the morning, between eight and nine o'clock, by Mrs. Mandy—in consequence of what I heard I made a search for the purse, and found it between the bed and the mattress—the clasp or fastening was broken, as if it had been wrenched off with the teeth, and the contents were gone—there were only a few halfpence in—this is the purse—it was rather difficult to open—in formation was given to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. Does the landing where you found the prisoner lead into the yard? A. No—it leads upstairs to the upper bedrooms—the floor below leads into the yard—but it was on the drawing-room floor where I saw the prisoner—he said he would not go downstairs, he would stop upstairs with me—he went down first and I followed him—I had seen Mr. Flower twice previously, and Mr. Fisk several times as a customer at the shop—I think we had two bottles of stout to drink that night, some draught beer, and one bottle of wine, which the prisoner sent for—when the prosecutrix first saw the prisoner there she asked him what right he had
there—he said he thought he had as much right there as anybody else—she said he had not, and wondered he dare come—I have heard that he had been engaged—I never saw the wedding-dress—when I went out of the room Mr. Flower did not go with me—I left the prisoner, Mr. Flower, and Mary in the room—Mrs. Mandy and I took this house together and furnished it, intending to let it—we do not have a good deal of company—no gentlemen except acquaintances or relations that we have known previously—it is not our custom to sit up as late as four o'clock in the morning—such a thing never happened before.
MR. COOK. Q. I believe your brother allows you a certain income? A. Yes—half a sovereign a week.
GEORGE HENRY FISK . I reside at 222, Pentonville-road—on the evening of 21st July I met Mrs. Mandy in the street, about eleven o'clock—in consequence of what I said she asked me to accompany her home—Mr. Flower was within, he is a public-house broker—when we got to Mrs. Mandy's house the prisoner was there, in the downstairs room—Mrs. Mandy expressed her surprise at seeing him there, and told him repeatedly to go away; he refused to go, and said he had a right there—I was in the room about an hour—I went out of the room with Mrs. Mandy and went into the parlour on the ground floor—we were there about half an hour—my object in going to the house was to introduce Mr. Flower to Mrs. Mandy, because she wanted to take a public-house, and I went into the parlour with her to speak about that—when we came down again I found Mr. Flower and the servant there, the prisoner was not there, his dog was there, Mr. Flower turned it out, and after that Mr. Flower and I went away—it was then near four o'clock—we should have gone before, but Mrs. Mandy asked us to stop, as she was afraid of being in the house with the prisoner—that was the only reason we had for stopping—we had a bottle of wine, which the prisoner I think paid for, and some bottled stout which I think I paid for; whether I did or not I forget—I did not go upstairs beyond the ground floor.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. Was the prisoner in the room when you left it with Mrs. Mandy. A., Yes; when we went up to the room on the ground floor—there may have been a sofa in that room—that was not the first time I had seen Mrs. Mandy by a great many times—I left Mr. Flower down stairs because I wanted to have a little talk with Mrs. Mandy on the subject, previous to introducing Mr. Flower, to tell her who he was and what his business was—we did not go into any bedroom—we had no improper connexion—nothing of the kind—when Mrs. Mandy asked us to stop it did not occur to me to call in a policeman—she was in no fear as long as we stayed—when I went up stairs with Mrs. Mandy I left the prisoner, Mrs. White, the servant, and Mr. Flower there—when I came back I found the servant and Mr. Flower alone—there was a light—the gas was burning.
HENRY FLOWER . I am a public-house broker, and live at 614, Old Kent-road—on the night of 21st July, I was with Mr. Fisk, and met Mrs. Mandy and Mrs. White—we went to Mrs. Mandy's house—I followed Mr. Fisk in—I did not go in with him at first—I went down stairs, and found there Mrs. Mandy, Mrs. White, the servant, and the prisoner—I heard Mrs. Mandy tell the prisoner to leave the house—I understood him that he had come right there, but I did not rightly understand him—ho spoke with a foreign accent—Mrs. Mandy asked me to stay there—the prisoner sent out for some wine—I fetched it—he paid for it—that was just upon twelve
o'clock—I remember Mrs. Mandy and Mr. Fisk going out of the room leaving Mrs. White, the servant, the prisoner, and myself there—the prisoner went out some little time afterwards and lighted a candle—I can't in say how long he was gone—I think Mrs. White came down in the meantime, but I am not certain—I don't think she was with him when he came back—I remember his coming back—I think it was between 3 and 4 when I left, I know it was just daybreak—the prisoner was there when I left, in the room—I asked Mrs. Mandy if it was safe for me to leave then, and she said "Yes"—I had let his dog out before, not when he was there—I let it out purposely, because a row had taken place, and I was afraid of the dog—it was a large Newfoundland—I don't know where he was then—he was in the house, but he had left the room—the dog was with him the whole of the time he was in the room—Mr. Fisk and I went away together—I did not go up stairs at all.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. Whose proposal was it to send for the wine? A. The prisoner's—it came to 5s.—he gave me half-a-sovereign to get it, and I brought in a pot of 6d. ale, and we had two or three bottles of stout—when the prisoner left the room he lighted a candle—I thought he was retiring for a natural purpose—I don't remember any one blowing out his candle—I don't remember saying before the magistrate that either Mrs. White or the servant blew it out—I should say the prisoner was absent about half-an-hour—I don't think I have said it was ten or fifteen minutes—I did not leave the room at all—I remained at the house at Mrs. Mandy's request—I had never seen her previous to that night—Mr. Fisk introduced me to her about the purchase of a house in the Kent-road—I asked him to go up stairs with her, and tell her the. particulars of the place I had to let THOMAS JENKINS. (Policeman, P 204). On the afternoon of 28th July, in consequence of information I received, I followed a cab to the Leipsic-road, Camberwell—I waited there some time till the prisoner came in—I then walked out of the parlour with another constable, and said to him, "Your name is Adam Rose, I have been looking for you"—he said, "That is not my name"—I said, "It is; consider yourself in my custody for robbing a lady named Mandy of two 50l.-notes, a 5l.-note, and a gold chain"—he then made use of very bad language respecting Mrs. Mandy—I took him into custody—he gave his address as 4, Margaret-place, Dover-road—that was where his wife and he lived previously—I had been there previously—I told the prisoner that whatever he said I should give in evidence—on the way to the station I said, "You have been to Paris"—he said, "Yes, I have"—I asked who with—he made no answer—I then returned to 6, Leipsic-road, where I took him from, and found a box, a new dress, two pairs of new boots, a new umbrella, and a hat-box—I searched the prisoner, and found on him 19l. in gold, is. 3d. in silver, 1/2 d. in copper in a portmonnaie, a gold chain, a trinket, two gold rings, three French coins, a box of cigarattes, and a piece of ribbon—one of the orders worn at the button-hole—there was no one with him when I took him into custody—I took him in the passage—I saw his wife up-stairs, and a girl named Andrews—I afterwards saw a certificate of marriage—his wife handed to me this marriage licence—the prisoner told her to give it up (This was a licence dated 2nd July, 1864, for the marriage of Adam Rose and Elizabeth Mandy).
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. When you took the prisoner into custody did he not ask you some questions? A. Yes; he asked me if the other man was taken in custody—I think he said Mr. Fisk—he said Mrs. Mandy was a w, and had jilted him—he did not say anything about
he house being a house of ill-fame—the woman I found at the lodging told me she was his wife—I was going to take her into custody—she showed me her marriage certificate to save her child being taken to the workhouse—that was the reason I did not take her.
MR. COOKE. Q. is that woman here to day? A. I have seen her—she I was here lust session—I stated at the Police-court, in the prisoner's presence that she was his wife.
ROBERT COPELAND . I live at 180, Tooley-street, Borough—I remember a person resembling the prisoner coming there in July last—two females brought some luggage to my place on the evening of 27th July—they called again on the morning of the 28th—in consequence of what they said to me I refused to give up the property—I saw one of those women at the Police-court; she was pointed out as the prisoner's wife.
ALFRED MANSFIELD . (Policeman, P 312). In consequence of information I went to Mr. Copeland's on 28th July last, and received from him two bags and a hat box—one bag contained two pair of shoes, one pair of side-spring boots, two shirts, two collars, and one pocket handkerchief—the other contained one large knife, one opera-glass, two bottles of scent, and a box of gold ear rings; the hat box contained two pair of kid gloves, two collars, one pair of stockings, three silk ties, one tie-ring, one Turkish cap, one Scotch cap, two newspapers, and a book in French.
MARY ANDREWS . I live at 180, East-street, Walworth—I have known the prisoner between two and three years—I know that he went to Paris somewhere in July last, I can't tell the date exactly, it was a few days before he was taken into custody—I remember his return from Paris—he said he had been to Paris—he did not say anything about any gold watches—I remember pledging a brooch for him, he did not tell me anything about that brooch—I saw Mrs. Mauley after the prisoner was taken into custody, on the subject of this robbery—I don't know whether the prisoner had any money when he came from Paris—I was with him at the time he was taken into custody—I went with him to the Leipsic-road—I was not constantly with him at the other apartment, I had been visiting there—I did not identify the brooch at the pawnbroker's—the prisoner did not tell me that it was the prosecutrix's brooch—I will swear that—he did not give me a chain to pledge—I did not receive a letter from him while he was in Paris—some time back he asked me to buy the ticket of a gold chain, that was last winter—he never told me anything about any notes, not a word, I am certain of that.
COURT. Q. Were you one of those that went with the bags to Mr. Copeland's? A. Yes—I had nothing to do with the bags, I merely went with Mrs. Rose—I had seen them before at Mrs. Rose's house—the prisoner lived there.
ARTHUR CHARLES DILLON . I am an officer at Beat's wharf, Tooley-street, it is a bonded tea warehouse—I know the prisoner, he was in the habit of working there—he was there in July last—he left on Friday, 21st July—I did not see him again after that until he was in custody—he did not say that he was going away—he never gave any notice to any one—I am not the person that would have the notice, but I have made inquiries—I paid his wages to his wife when she came for them on the following Monday, the 24th—he used to have half-a-crown a day, and three weeks before he left his wages were raised is. 6d. a week, which would make 16s. 6d. a week—when I paid wages on the Monday, 7d. was deducted for beer money—I paid 14s. 5d., that was up to the Friday night.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. Q. I suppose you did not know anything about the prisoner's circumstances beyond this? A. Nothing more than he was at work at the wharf as a labourer—he was first taken on, on 12th May.
RICHARD ADYE BAILEY . I am in the bank-note department of the Bank of England—I produce two Bank of England notes for 50l., Nos. 90,113 and 91. 844, both dated 9th February, 1865—90,113 was paid in on 28th July by the Bank of London, and the other on 12th September, by the Inland Revenue—there is an endorsement on the back of the last note.
SIDNEY MONTAGUE SAMUEL . I am nephew to Mr. Montague, of 60, Old Broad-street—I have a letter in which I received two 50l. Bank of England notes from Paris on 27th July—I copied the contents of the letter in this book—I have not the Nos. of the notes; this note, No. 90,113 is one that I received, it was afterwards paid into the Bank of London—there were only two 50l.-notes received that day.
JAMES ELLETT . I live in Portland-street, Wandsworth-road—the prisoner rented a house of me, 18, Albany-road, Old Kent-road—I think I should know his handwriting—I have seen him write—to the best of my belief the endorsement on this 50l. note 91,844 is his writing.
Cross-examined. Q. How often have you seen him write? A. I should say seven or eight times—this is not his name, it is somewhat of a German character—I am not familiar with German writing—I say it is the prisoner's writing from the shape and the way he makes his letters—the last time I saw him write was about 10th May last, at my house—he was a monthly tenant, the rent was 1l. 13s. 8d. a month—he ran away—my knowledge of his writing is not derived from a letter that I received, but from his writing in my house, and also in two different houses of mine in my presence—I have not got a letter of his here, I do not go from that—the prisoner brought an action against me; he never recovered any money from me—there was a verdict against me—I was not in court at the time, I was given to understand that the trial was not to be till the Wednesday, and I did not go till the Wednesday, and the trial was on the Tuesday—there is no motion about it now, it is all settled—there were two sums, I never knew the amount of them—I have never been through the court—I was in Horsemonger. lane gaol, not for twenty-one days, for sixteen days, at the prisoner's suit—Mr. Cooper, of Basinghall street, was my attorney to get me out of Horsemonger-lane—he did not pay the prisoner 30l. to my knowledge, not a farthing—the amount is not still due, he put me in Horsemonger-lane for it—I never ought to have paid it, he owes me money now.
COURT. Q. When was the verdict against you? A. Last March—I came out of Horsemonger-lane on 7th July—I have never paid any money to the prisoner or any one on behalf of that, not a farthing—I have not been through the court—an application was made for a new trial, and refused.
GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. F. H. LEWIS. conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH. the
GEORGE SHEPHERD . I am cashier at the Nine Elms station of the South Western railway—the prisoner was a carman in that employment—his duty was to deliver goods and to receive moneys if there were any stated on his sheet, and on his return to pay the moneys into my hands, making certain demands for expenses—his sheet was called a dock voucher—this is one of them—he had to pay tolls in passing through the different gates, and also to pay for refreshment for his horses—on the 6th September he gave me these two tickets (produced)—his demand was for 2s. 3d. for tolls in the Commercial-road—1s. appears to be demanded on the Mackworth Arms gate—I remember his saying he was sorry that one of the tickets was torn, and I told him to be more careful about them or I could not pass them—it was in such a torn state that I could hardly endorse his name on it—he said he had put his hand in his pocket and it had come to pieces—I believe it was a wet day—I endorse the carman's name on the tickets when I receive them—I enter them in my toll book and pay him the money—I paid him 2s. 3d. on that occasion—I know his handwriting—I could not swear to this being his writing—it is very like it—it did not attract my attention at the time—it is not my duty to investigate these matters, as the tickets are always examined afterwards—the date on one of the tickets has evidently been altered—his destination on that day was the West India Docks.
CHARLES SMITH . I am clerk in the goods department at the Nine Elms station—it is a portion of my duty to examine the toll tickets brought in by the carmen after they had been handed to Mr. Shepherd—I examined this ticket—I saw it had been tampered with—I communicated that fact to Mr. Gilson, my superior officer.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you ever had toll tickets given to you before with marks or date on them written with other ink than blue? A. None from that particular gate—the other toll tickets are in black ink—I never had any other colour than blue on the Commercial-road tickets.
WILLIAM COOK . I am a collector of tolls at the Mackworth Arms gate, Commercial-road; it is a private gate—this ticket was dated by me 20th April—from the appearance of it, it must have been issued to a chaise or private carriage—it contains my handwriting on it—we invariably use blue ink at our gate—the alteration is made in black ink, which we never use.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you on duty there on 6th September last? A. Yes; from seven in the morning till eight at night—I never marked a ticket in any other ink than blue—we have no black ink in our office—Thomas Smith was on duty at the same gate, from four o'clock on the 5th till four o'clock on the 6th—the prisoner did not pass through the gate on that day to my recollection—I have never seen him to my recollection—I cannot say whether he did or did not pass through the gate on that day—Matthew Gilson relieved me at four o'clock on the 6th—I will swear I did not issue this ticket on that day—I have never re-issued an old ticket—I am employed by the Commercial-road Trust—all tick ets not issued on the day of dating are burnt at twelve o'clock at night.
MR. LEWIS., Q. Would you issue any ticket with an alteration in it? A. No, had there even been a blot on it we should have torn it up.
THOMAS SMITH . I am toll collector at the Commercial-road Trust—on 6th September I was at the Mackworth Arms gate, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when I was relieved by Gilson—I did not issue this ticket—we
always use blue ink at that gate—we never alter a ticket, or issue one that is altered—if we do make a mistake or the ticket is dirty we destroy it at once.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you regularly employed there? A. yes; I have been thirty-two years on the same Trust—I never knew such a thing happen as sending out an altered ticket—there is no occasion for it, we are not limited to number—the 6th of September was a wet day—I cannot swear that the prisoner did not go through the gate that day, but I can swear that I never marked that ticket.
MR. LEWIS. Q. If the prisoner had gone through with a van would this have been the kind of ticket issued to him? A. No; no man on the road would issue such a ticket.
MATTHEW GILSON . I am a toll collector at the Mackworth Arms gate—I did not issue this ticket—I should never issue such a ticket—it is a spoilt one, which we should immediately destroy—I never issue an altered ticket—we invariably use blue ink—we are instructed by our superiors not to use black ink.
GEORGE BRISCOE . I know the Nine Elms station and the West India Docks—in the ordinary course of things the prisoner would go through the Mackworth gate to get there—if he were to avoid that gate he would have to go from Tower-hill along Upper East Smithfield, St. George-street, High-street Shadwell, Broad-street, Queen-street, Narrow-street, Hemmit-street and Bridge-street—that would be about two miles extra—one mile each way.
GUILTY .— Confined Three Month.
MR. HOUSTON. conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS BROWN . I am a bell-hanger, and live at Breadth-court, Borough—between seven and eight o'clock last Saturday evening I was in Lant-street—the prisoner French spoke to me, and said, "Well, old boy"—I said, "I don't know that I have any knowledge of you"—he afterwards seized hold of my hand—I had 7s. in my hand, and he tried to get the money out of my hand—while he was doing so the prisoner Hill came and put his hand round my neck—he was at the back of me—I called out "Thieves 1" as loud as I could, and two officers, who were just on the spot, seized them as I was sinking—I dropped 28., whether it was taken out of my hand or whether it dropped in the scuffle I cannot say—I lost a hat, a cap, and a. handkerchief and a piece of paper, a specification of a job that I was working for—this is it (produced)—I think it was in my waistcoat pocket.
GEORGE HOLME . (Policeman). Last Saturday night, about a quarter to eight, I saw the two prisoners and two others follow the prosecutor from Blackman-street up Lant-street, which is a dark street—from what I saw I followed them—they went about forty yards up a street where there is a dark corner—I saw two of them press upon the prosecutor and be cried out—I saw French lay hold of his arm as if he was trying to wrench something from it—and another person, I am not sure whether it was Hill, put his arm round his neck—I at once took hold of French—he threw something away—to the best of my belief it was the piece of paper (produced), but I am not sure—the witness Brischlayer took hold of Hill at the same time—the other two ran in the direction of Mint-street—we took the prisoners to the station—I told the prosecutor to follow us—I asked him what he had lost, and told him to search carefully to see whether he
had lost anything—he counted his money, and said, "I have lost 4s."—I said, "Anything else?"—lie said, "Yes, a handkerchief, and my cap and hat is gone"—I then searched the prisoners and told Brischlayer to go back to the place where this occurred with a lamp, and see what he could find—he returned with 2s., a cap, a handkerchief, and this paper, which the prosecutor identified.
ROBERT BRISCHLAYER . (Policeman, M 167). I was with the last witness, and saw the prosecutor turn into Lant-street, followed by the two prisoners and two others—they were running after him—I saw the struggle between the four men and the prosecutor—I ran up and caught hold of Hill by the collar, and just at that time I saw French throw away a cap and handker-chief—I picked them up and put them in my pocket—I took Hill on one side with my left hand and placed him within three or four yards from where the struggle took place, and said to him, "You ought to know better, a lot of you to assault an old man like that"—he said, "What have you got hold? of me for?"—I said, "I shall take you to the station for assaulting him"—I saw his left hand move, and I heard a jingling on the pavement—I afterwards went back to that place with a lantern, and found these 2s. very close together, and this piece of paper by the side of them—at the time I first came up Hill had his right arm round the prosecutor's neck, and French was standing in front of him—they were very violent indeed—the prosecutor could hardly speak when he first got up.
Hill. I was not near the man. Witness. I pulled you off from him, and I had to pull very hard—you did not know that we were so near you.
HILL. GUILTY .
FRENCH. GUILTY .**— Seven Years Penal Servitude, and
HILL Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. SLEIGH. conducted the Prosecution.— GUILTY .— Twelve Years Penal Servitude.
In this case, upon evidence of Mr. John Rowland Gibson, surgeon, of Newgate, the Jury found the prisoner to be insane, and unfit to plead. Ordered to be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. POLAND. and O'CONNELL. conducted the Prosecution.
EUGENE ALFRED MEROY . I live with my mother, at Leyton-grove—I am eight years old at Christmas—about eight weeks ago the prisoner spoke to me, near our gate—she asked me to go and fetch her half a quartern of rum, and she gave me a bottle—she told me to go to a house kept by a Mr. Burrows for it, and she would give me a penny—she then gave me a half-crown—I took the bottle and asked for the rum—Mrs. Burrows served me—I gave her the half-crown, and she gave me the change—I went out, and gave the bottle of rum and the change to the prisoner—she then went away for about five minutes, and she then came back and asked me
to go for half a quartern of gin, and gave me a bottle and another half-crown—I went to the same place and got the gin, gave the half-crown, and got the change, which I gave to the prisoner—she then told me to go back, and get the gin changed for brandy, and gave me another half-crown—I went back and asked for the brandy—a gentleman served me—I gave him the half-crown, and he went outside to get change, and fetched a policeman—I did not see the prisoner any more that day—I next saw her in the police-station, with five or six other women, and I pointed her out—I am quite sure she is the same woman who gave me those three half-crowns.
COURT. Q. Have you any doubt about it? A. No; I had never seen her before—she sent me with the same bottle each time—it was a white bottle.
ELIZABETH BURROWS . I am the wife of Richard Burrows, who keeps the White Horse and Half Moon, in High-street, Southwark—I remember the last witness coming to our house on 14th August for half a quartern of rum—he had a bottle with him—I served him with the rum—it came to two-pence halfpenny—he gave me half a crown—I gave him the change, and put the half-crown in the till—there were several others there—in about two or three minutes he came again, brought a bottle, and asked me for half a quartern of gin, and gave me in payment a half-crown—I gave him the change, and put it in the till—he went away, and a few minutes afterwards he came again, and I saw him give a half-crown to my husband—I spoke to my husband, and he looked in the till—I saw him take two half-crowns out.
COURT. Q. What sort of a bottle was it? A. A small white bottle, about a pint—it was a similar bottle on each occasion.
RICHARD BURROWS . I am the husband of the last witness—on Monday, 14th August, that little boy came to my house, and brought a bottle with some gin in it—he asked for port wine in change—I gave him the port wine—there was eightpence difference to pay, and he gave me a half-crown—I saw it was bad, and bent it—my wife spoke to me, and I went to the till and found two more bad half-crowns in it—I afterwards gave them to Policeman 17M.
BRIDGET CONNER . I am getting on for twelve, and live with my mother—about eight weeks ago I was in the London-road, and the prisoner said to me, "Little girl, will you go an errand for me?"—I said, "Yes"—there was a man there, and he said, "Never mind sending her," and they went along the road some distance, and then the woman came back, and said, "Come on, little girl"—we went up the London-road, and she said, "Go over to the Rockingham, and get half a quartern of the best gin"—she gave me half a crown and a bottle, and said she would give me a halfpenny—it was a doctor's bottle—I got the gin and gave the halfcrown to the barman—he gave me the bottle back empty—I went out and gave the bottle to the prisoner—the barman was behind me—the prisoner ran away, and the barman went after her.
WILLIAM GIRLING . I am barman at the Rockingham Arms—on 23d August, about 11 at night, the last witness came in, and asked for half a quartern of gin, and gave me a bad half-crown—she had a bottle, which she gave me—I put some questions to her, and gave her some directions—I saw her take the bottle back and give it to the prisoner—I went after her—directly she saw me she ran away—I followed, and caught her, and took the bottle away from her—she ran down a narrow turning, and before I got to her I heard a noise like several coins dropping—I took her over to the Rockingham Arms and gave her into custody, with the half-crown, to 17M.
WILLIAM KEELE . (Police-sergeant, M 17). On Wednesday, 23d August, about 11 o'clock, I took the prisoner into custody, and received a half-crown from the last witness outside the public-house—the prisoner said, "I sent the little girl, not knowing the half-crown was bad"—this is the half-crown (produced)—I also produce three other half-crowns, which I got afterwards from Mr. Burrows—one is bent, and two not bent—I examined the place where the last witness heard the coins drop, but I could not find any.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It is all false. The witnesses have been told by the constable what to say."
GUILTY .**— Confined Two Years
LOUIS PIERRETTE VALENTIN. who was convicted of perjury on September 21st (See page. 456), subsequently received Her Majesty's free pardon, and was discharged.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20TH, 1865.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the Judgment of the Court was respited at the time of the Trial, have since been sentenced as under:
Vol. Ixi. Page. Sentence.