CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIFTH SESSION, HELD FEBRUARY 25th, 1867.
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
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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, February 25th, 1867, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS GABRIEL, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir WILLIAM FRY CHANNELL, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir JOHN MUSGROVE , Bart., THOMAS SIDNEY , Esq., DAVID SALOMONS , Esq., M.P., WILLIAM ANDERSON ROSE , Esq., and BENJAMIN SAMUEL PHILLIPS , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C, M.P., Recorder of the said City; JAMES ABBISS , Esq., ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq., and WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's 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.
GABRIEL, MAYOR. FIFTH 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, February 25th, 1867.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
264. HENRY BROWN (36), WILLIAM NEWMAN (26), and THOMAS CHARLES CUTHBERT (33) were indicted for feloniously receiving 132 yards of silk and twelve yards of satin of Sherbrook Taylor and another, knowing them to be stolen. (See Fourth Session, page 313.).
MESSRS. BESLEY and COLLINS conducted the Prosecution; MR. DIGBY SEYMOUR, Q.C., with MR. MOIR, appeared for Brown, MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT for Newman, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH for Cuthbert.
GEORGE ALFRED MORELI . In May last I was in the employment of Messrs. Taylor and Stokes, of 45, Friday Street, Cheapside, silk manufacturers—I hare been in their employment a little over three years—I am just gone eighteen years of age—I know Brown, he is a marine store dealer in George Street, Langham Street, near Portland Place—Newman is a publicau, and keeps the Swan public-house, in George Street—I don't know what Cuthbert is or where he lives—I have known Brown some months, I first saw him at the Swan—about October or November last I sold him six or eight moire" antique dresses—on Thursday, 22nd November, I sold him two dresses, there were eleven yards in each dress; they were worth 16l. or 17l.—he had bought some of me before, and he asked me to get these for him—I got them from a cupboard of Messrs. Taylor and Stokes, I stole them—at the time I sold them to Brown I was in front of his shop—there were a lot of old things in the shop, bills about rags for 2 1/2 d. a pound, and that sort of thing—I was just inside the shop—I believe Brown gave me 4l. for the two dresses—I had first seen him in the morning—he had asked me before to get him the two dresses and when I saw him I said, "I have got those two dresses of moire for you"—after he
had paid me the money we went round to the Globe public-house: that was in the morning, when we had something to drink; and as we were coming home he asked me if I could get him eleven dresses, I told him I would let him know—I saw a bar-woman at the Globe; it was not there that he asked me, it was as we were coming along home back again he said ten or eleven dresses—I said eleven, because I got him eleven—I said I would let him know, and I did let him know next day, Friday; I said I could get them—I saw him on Friday morning at his own house, and in the evening at the Swan—I then told him I would get them, and he told me to bring them at half-past two next day, Saturday—I don't think any price was mentioned by Brown to me at that time—on the Saturday I took the eleven dresses from Messrs. Taylor and Stokes—I went there at half-past eight in the morning; my proper time was nine o'clock—Mrs. Woolner, the housekeeper, opened the door to me—I had to get the keys from her—I took the eleven dresses a little after half-past eight, I took them to the Golden Last public-house, in Cannon Street—I left no one in the warehouse when I came out—I locked the door and took the keys up again to the housekeeper—the parcel I left at the Golden Last was packed in brown paper—the colours were packed in sheets of brown paper, and then wrapped up in another parcel of brown paper—there were three dresses of black, three of brown, three of bine, and two of violet—I took them from a large quantity in the warehouse—I left them with the bar-woman at the Golden Last, and went back to the warehouse—I went again to the Golden Last about one or a little after, and took away the parcel and took it to the Portland Stores, at the corner of Marylebone Street and George Street—I left it there about half-past one or twenty minutes to two till I called for it—I then went to see if Brown was in—I went to his house, he was not in; I heard that I should see him in the evening at the Swan, about six or seven—I went there about five—after a time Brown came in, and went down to the skittle ground—I went there and saw him; there were other persons there, but neither of the other prisoners—I said to Brown, "I have got these moires for you"—he said, "Well, I have not got the money now; I shall see you bye and bye"—he was to give me about 30s. a dress, I put it down on a piece of paper for him; that was arranged on the Friday evenig, I believe—I left the paper with brown—I did not stop long in the skittle ground—I went up stairs, and had a game of bagatelle—I saw Brown occasionally during the evening—before seven was the time I saw him and spoke to him—he said, "I have been disappointed, I cannot get any money to buy these moires, but I have a man here that will buy them, and that will do as well, I suppose"—he pointed to Cuthbert—at that time the dresses were at the Portland Stores—Brown and Cuthbert had been speaking together before; and when Brown said, "Here is a man, that will do as well," pointing to Cuthbert, Brown asked me to get the goods, and took them into the back kitchen of the Swan—I did so, and Brown brought Cuthbert out there; Brown did not remain, he went away, leaving Cuthbert with me—he first said, "Is that the parcel?"—I said, "Yes"—I was going to undo it—he said, "You need not undo it, I will take your word for what is in it"—I did not undo it, he did not see the inside—I told him what there was, eleven dresses—I told him there were three dresses of black, three dresses of brown, three of blue, and two of violet moire antique, making eleven in all—he then said, "How much do you want for them?"—I said, "16l. 10s. for the lot;" that would be 30s. a dress—
he then said, "I suppose you will take 15l. for them"—he made me that offer without seeing them, he took my word; at least, I suppose somebody had told him before—when he offered me 15l. I said I would take it—he then said he had not got the money with him, but he daresay he could borrow it of Mr. Newman; "at all events," he said, "I can borrow 10l. of him; if you will write me out a receipt for the money, I will get it from Mr. Newman, and I will give you an I O U for the remainder"—he went to Newman at the bar, and said, "Lend me a tenner, will you, Bill?"—he said, "I have not got it, but I can spare you 5l., if that will do"—he asked me if I would take the 5l. and have the other 10l. on Monday between six and eight—I said yes, after a little while—Newman gave Cathbert 5l. and Cuthbert wrote out a receipt for a stamp, and signed for 5l.—this (produced) is the receipt—it is Cuthbert's writing, and this is my signature—(read; "London, November 25th, 1866. Received of Mr. Cuthbert the sum of 5l., on account of silk received. G. MORELL.") I saw Cuthbert write that, and I stamped and signed it; I then handed it to Cuthbert, and he gave me the 5l.—he brought the parcel from the back kitchen and handed it over to Mr. Newman, and he put it behind the bar—I then went away—I saw Cuthbert again on the Monday between six and ten at the Swan—on the Sunday I saw my master, Mr. Taylor—I was taken by him to the house of his brother—on the Monday evening following, close upon eight, I went to the Swan, and he was gone—I saw Newman, he asked a barman or potman called Tom to fetch up a note that Cuthbert had left for me; he brought it to me—I handed it to one of the detectives almost directly, when I left the Swan—I read it and gave it to the detective—I went to Wormwood Street at eleven next morning, at the corner of Bishopsgate Street, and there met Cuthbtrt—I first spoke to him, and he said, "I have not got the money for you, but I shall see you this evening at the Swan—I said, "Can't I meet you at your house or somewhere else? I don't like always going to the Swan"—he said no—he asked me if I would have a glass of something to drink, and we went into a public-house at the corner of Wormwood Street and Bishopsgate Street, and the police came and took him into custody—when Cuthbert and I were in the back kitchen with the dresses on the Saturday he did not ask where I got them from, he only said, "I do not wish everybody to know my business outside, I want it kept dark"—Cuthbert was alone with me at that time—I said, "Nobody knows anything about it but Brown and you"'—he said, "All right"—I once sold Newman two dresses, that was some time before the eleven dresses.
MR. METCALFE submitted that, upon this indictment, evidence of separate receivings could not be given. MR. BESLEY proffered the evidence to show guilty knowledge, and on that ground the COURT was of opinion that it was admissible. I think it was in October or the beginning of November that I sold two dresses to Newman—they were moire antique—I got them from Messrs. Taylor and Stokes's cupboard; it was twenty-three yards all in one piece, and the value was about 16l. or 17l.—Newman had asked me previously if I could let him have one dress, as he wanted it very cheap to give away—that was a night or two before, in front of his bar—I said I would let him have the cheapest price I could do it at—he did not say what price he would give me, I said I could let him have one for 1l.—he asked if I could bring it the next night, to see if it would do—I said I would; but after that he asked me to bring him two dresses instead of one—he said, "I suppose you will let me have another one for the same?
make the two dresses 2l."—the trade price of the two dresses would be 17l.—I brought the dresses to him next evening at the Swan—I handed them over to him—he gave me 1l. and said, "I will pay you the other pound in a few days," and he paid me on the Friday night after—there was no invoice or receipt given or asked for—I never sold Newman any more besides these two—I am not certain of the number I sold to Brown—I believe it was six or eight dresses—they were all moire antique—I got them from Taylor and Stokes's cupboard, I stole them—I did not give Brown any invoice or receipt, he did not ask me for any—my father lives in Great Portland Street, about 100 yards from the Swan—he is a jeweler—he was in the habit of going to the Swan on a Friday night to an exhibitions meeting, and one Friday night when I was there Newman said, "Your old man will be here to-night; you had better be up stairs"—that was before I took the eleven dresses—I went up to the bagatelle-room.
Cross-examined by MR. SEYMOUR. Q. How long have you been in Messrs. Taylor and Stokes's employment? A. A little over three years—I had not been in any situation before that; I had been doing two or three things previously—my father has lived about two years where he is now—he had been secretary to a club some time before this happened, bat not at that time—Brown did not know him that I know of—no reference was made to my father when he first spoke to me—I first saw Brown at the Swan, I don't know the date—I had seen him there several times before I sold him any dresses—I don't know that he knew I was the son of Mr. Morell, the jeweller; he never asked me where I lived, and I never told him who or what I was—I did not say on the former trial that Brown knew who my father was, and referred to him—I first sold him the dresses at the Swan—I did not call at his shop the first time—I had been to the Swan several times before I sold any dresses there—I had sold to one person, James Sylvester; he was tried last session and acquitted—I gave evidence against him—I had sold him some moire antiques of the same value—I got a higher price from him; I got 3l. 10s. per dress, instead of 2l., 10s.—I had sold to somebody else besides, not to sixteen or seventeen others, not dresses, silk or ribbon—I never sold any ribbon—I once sold two or three shawls—I have not sold handkerchiefs, I sold pieces of moire' antique to make scarves of—I sold two woollen shirts to Brown—I sometimes sold things in the Swan, and sometimes to different persons when I have met them at different places—I once opened two shirts that I had at the Swan, and Brown bought them of me, but I forgot the price he paid me—I have not sold to strangers—I have sold things to persons connected with my father's club, only patterns or anything like that—I did not tell Brown or any of these persons that the goods were stolen—I asked Brown a higher price than I got, he offered me something less, he always offered me less—I did not say if I let him have it at that price it would leave me no profit; I might have said something of the kind—I have not got a very bad memory—I have not been known as a half-wit in the family—I may have said to Brown, if I took the price he offered it would not pay me; we bargained—he always got me lower—I took the price he first offered—I did not take out a book, not on any occasion; I might have taken out a book, but not to see what the price was—I often hare books in my pocket—I don't recollect ever taking out a book as if to see whether I could part with the dresses at the price offered I am not certain I did not—it is a thing I might have done—I always had a pocket-book in my pocket—it is very likely I might have taken it
out—I did not refer to it to see the price which the articles came to—I did not have the prices marked down—I don't recollect referring to the book—I won't swear I did not—I did not, when Brown was doubtful, try to persuade him—he never was doubtful—I have not said that I did try to persuade him—I meant to say, if he appeared doubtful I should have tried to convince him it was all right, but he did not appear doubtful in anything—I meant that he should not suspect I had got the things wrongly—if it had been necessary to produce the book I should have done so—I might have offered to write Brown out an invoice if he wished it—I don't believe he ever asked me for one—I did not say, "You may have an invoice if you like, I have only got to go to my principal for it—I might have offered an invoice—if I had I should have written it out for him—nothing was said about It—I never said anything to Brown about an invoice—I don't recollect ever offering to write him out an invoice—I won't swear I did not—I did not sell any articles with the authority and on the behalf of Mr. Cushway, the foreman of Messrs. Taylor—I have bought things of Cushway and sold them again on my own behalf—I did not sell any silk that I bought of Cushway—I did not sell anything for him on commission—he asked me a price—I paid him the price and then put something on and sold them for myself—that was the way we did business—the things I sold were at the Swan, and sold about the neighbourhood, and sold at their proper value—I never said I was selling those goods on commission—I did not describe myself as a commissiou agent—you have asked me that several times before, and I have always said I never recollected saying to anybody that I was a commission agent—I might have said I got something on the goods I sold—that is much the same thing—I don't believe I ever said I was a commission agent—I don't know anybody of the name of Reeves—I know the Portland Stores—a Miss Botwood, the daughter or sister of the former proprietor, was going to buy a shawl—I offered it to her—she declined to have it—I did not tell her I was selling on commission—I told her I had got out several on sale or return—I told her I should get a trifle on them, that she could buy cheaper than at a shop, because I had not to pay taxes—I don't recollect saying anything to her about silk—I might have offered her a pattern—I did not tell her the goods I had to dispose of were part of an old stock—I never said so to any one about the shawls—I might have said so about the satins—I sold some satins to Sylvester—I have not said so on other occasions—I might have said they could get them cheaper than going to a house—I know Shakespeare—he is a fret cutter in Nassau Street—he was before the Magistrate as a witness for the prosecution—I would not swear that I did not state in his presence that I sold silk on commission, but I believe I did not, but if anybody said I did I would not wear I did not—it is possible, but not probable—I know Thomas Sanderson—he has charge of the Portland Stores, a beer shop—I never offered him any silks for sale—I asked him at one time if he would buy any, and he said no—I did not tell him I was a commission agent, or anything to that effect—I said I could get them for him—I said nothing to him about having to make up an account monthly, or anything about my accounts—I remember Sylvester's arrest—I did not at that time go to Sanderson's in false whiskers and moustache—I went to the Swan so—I don't know why—I had had too much to drink that day—I did not sit down—I stood there, and went out almost directly—I did not go into the back kitchen then—I could not be in the house without looking at the bar—I had no motive for going there—did not know what I was doing
—I did not put on the whiskers and moustache myself—the man I bought them of did—I went with somebody who bought them for me—I don't know who he was—I met him at Sanderson's—he was not in the police—I had seen him once or twice before—at that time the charge had been made against Brown—I sold six or eight dresses to Brown—I sold him more than five—Six at the least—it may have been eight or it may have been six—no one was present at the time—I believe he gave me 6l. for the first two dresses, and 4l. for the last—I believe I said at the last trial he gave me 30s. a dress—when I saw Brown in the skittle ground he did not say he did not want to buy—he said he had not the money, but he would see me again—he expected to get it—he afterwards said he could not get it, but he had got somebody there that would buy; would that do as well?—I don't recollect the exact words—he then introduced me to Cuthbert, and left me with him—I saw him again in the evening afterwards—I went into the back kitchen with Cuthbert—I had no further bargaining with Brown that night.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. How long have you been at this; how long have you been stealing? A. Some few months before—four months before—quite that—I took a large quantity—Sylvester had a large sum—I don't know whether it was 300l. or 400l. worth—there was about from twelve to twenty dozen satins, and twenty-eight or thirty moire antique dresses; no other things—I had not been selling for Cushway before I began to steal—I never sold for him at all—I had bought of him some months before—they were shawls, shirts, and various things—I sold those things in the same neighbourhood; at the Swan—that was the only public-house I sold anything at—the Portland Stores is a beer shop—I had been in the habit of selling things I had bought of Cushway at other houses in the neighbourhood for three or four months before I began to steal—I got the goods by going to the warehouse early in the morning—I made them up in a parcel and left it at the Golden Last—I got the keys of the warehouse from the housekeeper and took them up to her again—I made an excuse to her about going there early in the morning—when Newman asked me to get these things he was behind his bar—it was about six or seven in the evening—I dare say there was somebody there—I don't know whether anybody heard him—it was about the same time when I took the things, and he put it behind the bar—there were persons there then—I dare say I have sold things to sixteen or seventeen other persons—not silks, but different things—they were not sold to tradesmen, private persons, working men that I sold sheets and that like to—some might be shop keepers and some private persons—I did not sell them all below their value—I always put the price a little over the wholesale price—I sold most of the satins to Sylveter—I only sold satins and silks to one other person besides Sylvester and the prisoners—I sold patterns to other persons, but I did not steal those—I came by them honestly—they were patterns of silk that had been in stock, and I asked Mr. Taylor at one time if I could have any, but I was always to ask Mr. Cushway if they were of use or not before I took them—I asked Cushway the first time, but not afterwards, because I thought I was competent to judge whether they were of use—I never paid for any of them—I asked for them as a gift, and had them as a gift—besides those things, I don't know to how many persons I have sold goods that I stole—there was one that I sold some satins to that I stole, and only one—I have not sold stolen things to ten or twelve different persons—I am sure of that—I sold the stolen goods below their value—I
said some of them were old stock—I did not say anything about the Duke of Wellington's funeral—I only sold to one man besides Sylvester and the prisoners—it was to a man named Edwards—he is a tailor, I believe—he sold them for me, and gave me the price he got—he did not supply me with clothes—I bought a coat of him once—I did not sell anything to a man named Dodd.
Cross-examined by MR. WARNER SLEIGH. Q. How long is it since you first stole anything from your employers? A. About four months or so before the first examination—I believe I said so at the police-court—I had not stolen patterns ten months before—I took them because they were of no use—I don't believe I said at the police-court that I stole them—if I did it was a mistake—I don't recollect having said so—I will not swear I did not—I had goods on sale or return—I said so to Miss Botwood; that is all, I think—I have told persons that I had woollen goods on sale or return—I think I have sold about thirty dresses of moire altogether; twenty-one to the prisoners and the remainder to Sylvester—I don't know that Mr. Gushway says there are about forty dresses missing—I saw it stated in the paper, but they often lose dresses—I always had receipt stamps in my pocket-book—Cuthbertbrought me the receipt to sign, and then I took out the pocket-book and the receipt stamp—he said, "Give me a receipt, and I will give you an I O U for the remainder of the money"—it was before Cuthbert went into the back kitchen that I saw Brown speaking to him, and after Brown said he could not buy the things, both before and after—I believe I hare said before to-day that Cuthbert said he would take my word for what the parcel contained, and also that I told him the number and colours of the dresses—I believe I did not tell Shakespeare that I sold goods on commission—I am not certain; I would not swear I have not—I was not in the police-court when he was examined—I used to spend a good deal of money about.
MR. BELEY. Q. Look at those pieces of silk (producing some); are those the kind of things you call "patterns?" A. Yes; they are the weaver's patterns, with the stripes on each side; they had not been cut off a dress—they are useless in the warehouse, they would make up into a tie—those are the things I had my master's permission to take some of—I don't know how many of them I sold—I gave away a great many more than I sold—I got 1l., or 2d. for them—I include in the sixteen or seventeen persons to whom I sold things those to whom I sold these patterns; they were mostly young men about my own age—these (produced) are moire antique dresses of the same kind that I took and sold, the same sort as the eleven dresses—I stole some thirty dresses altogether—the satins were folded in handkerchiefs—they were not severed; they could be made into dresses—I should say I took from fifteen to twenty dozen of those—Edwards had two or three of those to sell; with that exception no one but Sylvester and the prisoners had any satins or silks—the highest price I got for the silk was from Sylvester, 3l. 10s. for one dress—the first transaction with Brown was 6l. and then 5l.—Newman gave me 2l. for two dresses; they were not quite so rich as those I sold to Brown—I had about half a dozen shirts from Cushway to sell, and two or three shawls at from 5s. 3d. to 16s. 6d.—that was what I gave for them—I sold two or three; I don't remember how many—I always paid Cushway for them before I took them away—the shirts were 5s. or 6s. a piece; and there was a knitted Cardigan jacket at 6s. 6d.—I did not sell any sheets; I had some—I made about 3s. 6d. or 4s. profit on the sixteen or seventeen transactions
with those goods that I had on sale or return, I mean on the lot—I never sold as much as 1l. worth to any one person—I have mentioned all the transactions I had in reference to the sale of goods—the excuse I made to the housekeeper for being at the warehouse so early in the morning was, that I had to go and see somebody off by the railway by an early train, and then I went there afterwards—whoever was there first, Cushway or me, or any other, had the keys—I represented that the satins Sylvester bought were part of an old stock, not the moire antiques; any one could see they were new.
JURY. Q. Is it not usual in selling old stock to sell at a large discount from the wholesale price? A. I don't know; not when goods are of any value—in this case the old stock was worth a good deal more than new, because silk had risen a good deal—I did not represent to the prisonen that I was a commission agent, or that I had these or any other goods on sale or return—I did not represent that these were job lots.
COURT. Q. You say you used to spend a good deal of money; when did that begin? A. When I began to sell these goods I spent a good deal of the money in Newman's house in tossing for wine, champagne and sherry—I tossed with Newman on some occasions—I paid 10s. a bottle for the champagne and 4s. 6d. for the sherry—that was not the only way in which I spent the money; I lost a good deal in betting on horse-racing—I betted in George Yard, Snow Hill, where people congregate to mib bets—I don't know how often I left goods at the Golden Last—I left them there a good many times, large and small parcels—they knew who I was—the barmaid who took them in did not know where I worked, I believe—I never heard that she did—I had ordered soda-water and things to go from there to 45, Friday Street—they very likely knew I was there from that; and I have taken goods in from the man who was sent with them from the Golden Last—I took the satins there at first—afterwards I used to put them in my coat pocket—I began to leave goods there about a month before I was discovered—the shirts and other things I always took in a parcel in my hand, sometimes I took the moire antiques in my pocket—I dare say I have paid for seven or eight bottles of sherry and five, or six of champagne—that was from losing—I won one bottle of champagne from Newman once—Brown, Newman, and several others took part in it—I never saw Cuthbert before the Saturday when I sold lim the dresses.
EMMA WOOLNER . I am housekeeper to Messrs. Taylor and Stokes, of Friday Street, Cheapside—upon the warehouse being locked up at night the keys are left in my charge up in my room—we sleep in the warehouse—we always open the warehouse at nine o'clock in the morning—my duties are not generally done till half-past eight, and then I take up the keys—I know the witness Morell—I remember his coming on Saturday, the 24th November—the doors were open then—we were doing our duties there—he came about a quarter past eight—I was then in the ware-house, and I remained there till twenty or twenty-five minutes part eight—I then went up stairs and left him there, and about twenty minutes to nine he brought the keys up to me, after locking the warehouse door—he then went down stairs again and shut the street door after him—my husband took the keys down again at nine.
finding a brown paper parcel at the inner bar of my house—I had a conversation with the barmaid, and after that I opened the parcel—it contained five pieces of moire antique silk of various colours, black, mauve, and blue, similar to these produced—I did up the parcel again in the same state and went to the police-station—Morell afterwards took away the parcel, about one o'clock—up to that day I did not know where he was employed—I found out the firm he belonged to after going to the station, and went immediately and saw the principals.
FREDERICK SANDERSON . I was in charge of the Portland Stores for Mr. Jarrett, the proprietor, on the Saturday before the prisoners were taken into custody—on that Saturday I saw the witness Morell—he brought a brown paper parcel—it remained there four or five hours, and he then took it away.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. You know Morell pretty well? A. I know him by seeing him come there as a customer—he has offered to sell me goods—he said he had goods to sell on commission, and that he paid for them monthly—he did not mention any particular things, anything I might want in the shape of wearing apparel I presume he meant—he mentioned socks, and I bought a Cardigan jacket of him, and he was dressed about the same as he is to-day, only he looked a little more smart—I had not the slightest suspicion of the goods having been stolen—I have not seen him sell goods to other persons—I knew that his father lived in the neighbourhood; I have only been there about six months.
MR. BESLEY. Q. What did you give for the jacket? A. 6s. 6d.—that was the only thing I bought of him—he never showed me anything else.
JURY. Q. What could you have got the jacket for at a shop? A. For about the same price—he said he could sell me goods at ten or fifteen per cent less than I could buy them at a shop; he, being in a wholesale ware-house, could afford to sell them at a less profit than a shopkeeper who was paying rent and taxes—he did not offer to sell me 5l. worth of goods for 1l.
ROBERT CARTER (Policeman 217 E). On Tuesday, 27th November, I received directions to follow Morell, in company with Biddlestone, another officer—I saw him stop in Wormwood Street, and have a conversation with Cuthbert—they went into a public-house at the corner of Wormwood Street and Bishopsgate Street—I went in and heard Cuthbert say, "I will see you at the Swan this evening"—I was in plain clothes—I then told Cuthbert that I was a police constable, and I should charge him with receiving a parcel of silk last Saturday night from that young man, pointing to Morell—he said, "I have not received any silk"—I said, "Do you know the Swan public-house?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Do you know George Street, Portland Road?"—he said, "No; if you charge me you will have to prove it"—I then took him to the station—on searching him I found this receipt, signed J. Morell—I had a note which Morell gave me—I believe I gave it back to him, but I would not be positive—I have not searched for it—after taking Cuthbert into custody I went to Newman's house on that same day—I told him I was a police constable, and that I came to charge him with receiving a parcel of silk last Saturday night from a young man named Morell—he said, "What do you mean? I hare not received any silk: I know nothing about it"—I said, "I have been informed that you lent 5l. on a parcel of silk last Saturday night"—he then said, "There was a parcel left here, and it was taken away again
by a man, I don't know who"—I then told him I should further charge him with receiving silk upon a previous occasion—he said, "Yes, I have bought two dresses, and I gave 4l. for them"—I asked if he had a receipt for it—he said, "No"—I took him into custody, and handed him to 123 E to take to the station—I then went to Brown's house—I saw him and told him I was going to charge him with receiving silk last Thursday night from a young man named Morell—he said, "Silk, sir? I have not received any silk"—he became very much excited, and said, "Good God! I will tell the truth; the Swan public-house has been my ruin at last"—I took him to the station—he keeps a small marine store shop in the same street as the Swan—I have made every effort to find the dresses, but have not done so.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. You have known Brown for some time? A. I have—I should say over six years—he is a dealer in metal—he has been in a factory, and his wife keeps the shop—I can't prove anything against him—I have heard that other persons have suspected him—I never did—he has never been in any trouble that I know of.
FRANCIS BIDDLESTONE (Policeman 80 E). On 27th November I received directions to watch young Morell—I was in plain clothes—I first saw him in the Portland Road about 120 yards from the Swan—he went there—he had a piece of paper in his hand, which he showed me—he then went towards the City—I saw him meet Cuthbert at the corner of Wormwood Street—they were in conversation some five minutes—they then went into the public-house at the corner—Carter went in before me—he said to Cuthbert, "I shall charge you with receiving a quantity of silk on Saturday night from a young man named Morell, at the Swan public-house, George Street, Portland Road"—Morell was there at the time—Cuthbert said that he did not know the Swan public-house, that he did not know George Street, and that he had not bought any silk—I was present when he was searched at the station, and saw this receipt found on him—I afterwards went with Carter to Newman's and to Brown's—I know the back kitchen at the Swan—it is now made into a skittle ground, and has been so for nine or ten weeks—in November last I believe it was a back kitchen.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. The back kitchen was a public place, where all the customers were allowed to go? A. Yes; I believe so—it was open to anybody.
JOHN SEARLE . I am superintendent of the E division of police—I was at the station in George Street when the prisoners were brought there in custody—when Brown was brought in the first thing he asked me was what they could do to him provided he was found guilty—I said it depended entirely upon the evidence; I could say nothing upon that—he said, "I know I have done wrong"—Cuthbert was detained in the office before Brown and Newman were brought in—he asked me how long he was to bo detained—I said it all depended upon how long it was before the other prisoners were brought in—I had sent out to bring in two others, and I could not say—he said, "I gave the value for it; it was damaged, from being exposed in the window"—I said, "I have heard a very different version to that, as to the value of it"—he then said that nobody but himself and the boy could tell what the value of it was, for it was passed to him over the counter.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. Was anybody present when Brown said what you have stated? A. No, it was in my private office—I was not subpoenaed at the police-court—I have been subpoenaed here—I was here
last Session—the prosecutors were aware of what I could say, but they did not want to bring me away from my duties, if they could avoid it—I took no note of the conversation.
JOHN BARRY . I am a picture-frame maker in George Street, Hampstead Road—I have known Morell's father for some time, and have known the lad by sight—on the night of 6th November I went into the Swan, and saw young Morell there, drinking wine very extravagantly, with Newman and two or three others—I should not like to say who they were—Newman was in deedy conversation with them—I called for some beer, and Newman gave me a glass of wine instead, and said, "Drink this"—I said to young Morell, "I don't know how you can drink wine like this; I know very well my business won't allow me to do it like you are doing"—he said, "We have managed to do it between us; we have been tossing"—there were three bottles of wine—they were spinning money up—I had two glasses of the wine.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. It was Newman who asked you to drink? A. Yes; he said, "Drink: I have a beautiful stock in the cellar"—he said it was 4s. or 5s. a bottle.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Are you quite sure young Morell was there? A. Yes—I said to him, "George, you had better go home."
ALFRED SHAKESPEARE . I know the Swan public-house—I have known young Morell ten months—I have seen him at the Swan two or three times—I have met him there—I have seen Newman there—he is the landlord—I have seen Brown there once or twice—when Morell has been there—I have not seen any wine drunk there—the last time I was at the Swan with Morell was four months before I went before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. Have you heard Morell offer goods for sale? A. Yes, on commission—he said that in the Swan—there were two or three persons there at the time, strangers—he stated this openly at the bar of the Swan—that applied to twelve yards of silk—he said he sold the silk on commission—I am quite sure it was silk he said—I have known him as a seller of goods on commission in that neighbourhood since he left the Working Men's Club—he has offered goods for sale to the members of the club—it was held at 73, Great Titchfield Street—the goods were offered openly to anybody in the club—there was no secrecy about it—I know his father—he lives in the neighbourhood, he was secretary to the club, and was very well known in the neighbourhood.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. You have been a friend of Morell's, I suppose? A. Yes—I thought he was going on a little too fast, but I had no idea he was stealing—I thought he was selling on commission.
Cross-examined by MR. WARNER SLEIGH. Q. Did he cut rather a dash, and spend a good deal of money? A. Yes—I have been to the theatre with him—he did not pay for me—I have not been to the Haymarket or other places with him—I have seen him spending a good deal of money.
MR. BESLEY. Q. What have you seen him offering for sale at the Swan? A. Only the twelve yards, and that he sold over the bar to Miss Newman—when I saw that I had an idea that it was not right, and soon after that I left the place—that was three or four months before I was examined at the police-court—he said he was selling that on commission.
JURY. Q. Did he represent himself as a general commission agent? A. Yea—I never saw him offer anything else but the twelve yards—he
sold small remnants of silk at the Working Mens' Club for 1d. or 2d.—I did not hear anything pass when he sold the twelve yards—I only saw it passed over the bar, and the money given—he told me it was sold on commission, and he told me several times before that he sold on commission.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did you hear him say to Miss Newman, "I have brought you twelve yards of silk; would you like to buy it?" A. Yes, I heard those words pass—it was not at that same time that he said he was selling on commission—he had told me so previously—I have heard him say so publicly in front of the bar.
JOSEPH BLACKETT . I am a porter, I have known young Morell about eighteen months—I have been at the Swan two or three nights a week, and have seen Morell there with Brown and Newman—I have seen them tossing for wine, I saw some sherry brought, which was drunk by Newman, Brown, Morell, and several others—I have seen tossing there on other, occasions, when Morell has been there, but I have not known what they have had—I have not seen Cuthbert there.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. When this tossing and drinking was going on was Mr. Barry there? A. I don't know him (Barry wot called forward)—I know him by seeing him here, but I never saw him in the house—I was not a companion of Morell's, I used to go with him occasionally; I did not know that he was selling on commission, he told me one thing he was selling on commission, that was flannel shirts.
ROBERT FRASER . I live in George Street, two doors from Brown's shop—I was an acquaintance of Morell's at the club, I continued on terms with him up to the beginning of this case—I went to the Swan with him, I can't say how often, I have met him there, perhaps, thirty or forty times within about two months of the prisoners being taken into custody—I believe I have seen the prisoners there on one or two of those occasions, but never to notice them particularly—I have known Brown, through living in the same street, all my lifetime—I have seen him at the Swan when Morell has been there, they have been playing bagatelle and different things, I have played with them; Newman has been there as the landlord—I never saw any tossing for wine—I saw some wine consumed on one occasion when Morell was there, I believe Brown was there then; I cant say about Newman, but I believe he was there.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Was Barry there on that occasion? A. I don't remember him—that was the only time I saw wine, they generally had fourpenny half-and-half, what I took—I knew nothing about Morell's dealings—I saw him sell small strips of silk at the club, enough to make a necktie.
JOHN EDWARDS . I am a tailor of Carburton Street, Portland Road—I have known young Morell about two years—on Saturday, 24th November, I was at the Portland Stores, and saw him there—I had seen him two or three times there, and once saw him take out a purse, in which I saw some threepenny pieces—he had some beer, he paid for a pot, I believe, and some he did not pay for—I afterwards saw him take out a parcel in brown paper—he took it away and came back to the stores, I then saw him with several sovereigns in his purse—I did not see the prisoners there—I have seen Morell and Newman at the Swan, and have Feen Brown there drinking at the same time as young Morell, but cannot say whether they were together—I know the kitchen of the Swan, the general public do not go there that I am aware of—I have known the house some time, but have not been there frequently—I have seen Morell at the Swan
tossing for cigars with Newman, Brown, and another one; there were four of them—I once received a piece of satin, from young Morell, and I sold one dress for him to a man whose residence I do not know, who took me from a pie-house in Euston Road to a public-house in Albany Street, where he brought a lady to look at it, and then he bought it—I had two dresses in my possession, but after I found how he came by them I returned them.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Two besides these? A. Yes—he did not call on me: I sold one for him—I cannot tell you the name of the man in Albany Street—it was a satin dress, he gave 35s. for it—I had no idea it was stolen, I thought he was selling on commission—I expected to get something, he did not tell me what—I heard him offer the dresses on commission at the public bar of the Swan—that might bo two or it might be three months before these men were taken—I heard, him say he got them from his master to sell on commission.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. On one occasion did you see Brown there? A. Yes—there were a good many others there at the same time; there was nothing going on on that occasion about the purchase of silks.
ROBERT MATTHEW MORELL . I am a jeweller, of 108, Great Portland Street, and am the father of the lad who has been examined—I have seen Newman at his house, but cannot say that I ever spoke to him as the landlord; I had to go through his house to a committee-room, and saw him, and on one occasion the room we used for a committee-room was occupied, and Newman gave us the use of his bar parlour; I think words of civility passed then, not with me particularly, but between some of the committee and myself—irrespective of that, I have had no conversation with him—I was not aware that my son had any silk dresses—I never saw Brown till he was in the box at Marlborough Street—I know where the shop is—it is in a back street, about three minutes' walk from my house—I had no communication with Brown in any shop, and George Street is such a back street, and so dark, that I never go into it—I do not know Cuthbert.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. About the back parlour, is that what they call the kitchen? A. No—you cannot get there without going through the bar.
ISAAC CUSHWAY . I have been for six years warehouseman to Taylor and Stokes, broad silk manufacturers, of 45, Friday Street, Cheapside—about three years ago young Morell came into the service—we take stock once in three months—we did so on the last Saturday in the year—I made an examination of the stock on 30th November, after the prisoners were in custody, and missed forty-one moire antique dresses, and forty dozen and a half of silk handkerchiefs—the dresses were from ten to eleven and a half yards each, making 532 yards—the dresses missed varied in quality, and were similar in character to those brought here; some are off the same pieces—the lowest value was 13s. 6d. and the highest 21s. 9d. per yard—they varied from 7l. 10s. to twelve guineas, wholesale price to our customers to sell again—we never expose dresses in our window—the handkerchiefs were in dozen squares, thirty-four, thirty-six, thirty-eight, and forty inches each—these patterns are made by our weavers as samples before they commence a dress, to see whether they are the right quality—I have sold them at 2s. 6d. and 3s. a dozen—I twice gave Morell some of them—Mr. Taylor said that he might have some if he asked me, and I gave him about half a dozen—I have never let him have any goods of
Taylor and Stokes to sell, but he has had goods to sell which were my property, not goods of this description, but shawls, woollen shirts, and a Cardigan jacket—I received the money for them, a little over or under 2l.—it was decidedly under 5l.—there was no transaction between us except that of which I have given you an account.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. When did you first know that Morell was robbing you? A. I did not know it till the Monday—the police knew it before I did—he was trusted in the warehouse, but not by himself—he did not get the keys from the housekeeper with Messrs. Taylor's or my knowledge—I never saw his father's shop, but he is very well known as a respectable man—none of the silks that I have seen were damaged, or they would have been put on one side—if only half a yard was damaged it would not make much difference unless damaged in the middle, when it would be sold as a job lot; and a dress would then be worth perhaps 5l. or 5l.10s.—I never knew one sold for 3l.—if the colour of this blue was gone it would be worth 6l.—I never heard of a silk manufacturer selling his goods by auction—I have a linendraper's shop of my own, and let Morell have goods on sale or return—I did not tell Taylor and Stokes of that—I employed him in that way about twelve months—I did not know that he was taking patterns besides those I gave him—that would not have been allowed—I should call that stealing.
Cross-examined by MR. MOIR. Q. How long have you occupied this shop? A. I opened it last June or July—I have sold damaged silks on commission with Mr. Taylor's sanction—if I did not sell them in the shop I disposed of them to private individuals, who came to me—I did not hawk them about.
Cross-examined by MR. WARNER SLEIGH. Q. These moire antiques are of a superior kind: you do not say that articles are not made of much less value? A. Yes; French dresses are much cheaper—I never heard of moire antiques as low as three guineas and a half and four guineas unless they were French.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Did Mr. Taylor know that you had a shop for the sale of these articles? A. Yes; I spoke to him before I opened it, and had his sanction—the lowest I sold were 19s. a yard, about 9l. the dress—no damaged dresses were missed from the stock that I know of—the damaged stock was kept on a shelf by itself and marked, but there was not a large quantity of them.
COURT to FRANCIS BIDDLESTONE. Q. Did you accompany Carter to Brown's house? A. Yes—I went into the shop with him—he called Brown, who came out of the parlour—I heard Carter charge him with receiving silk from the boy Morell—he said that he had not received any—he appeared to be taken very ill, and I believe he was taken very queer—he went out with Carter into the yard, and what he said there I do not know—I was in the shop.
MR. MOIR. Q. Did he say, "Good God! I will tell the truth; I bought some and sold it again?" A. He did—I did not hear anything about the public-house being his ruin at last.
COURT. Q. You say in your depositions he said he had not received any? A. He did—before he went out he said, "Good God! I bought some and sold them again in the public-house."
BROWN and NEWMAN received good characters.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude. CUTHBERT— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 25th, 1867.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.
ALICE MATILDA HARRIS . My husband keeps the Duke of Wellington, North Street, Bethnal Green—on 30th January, between ten arid eleven in the evening, I served the prisoners with a pint of fourpenny ale, and one of them paid me with a good shilling, and I gave him 10d. change—they took the ale into the tap-room, and afterwards Norton came for some more ale, aud put down a half-crown; I bent it in the detector, and showed it to him—he said, "My friend gave it to me"—I gave the prisoner in custody, and heard Rawlings say that he got it from Pleasant Place.
GEORGE MEXHAM (Policeman 143 K). I was called, and received these two pieces of coin from Mrs. Harris—I took Rawlings, but found nothing on him—he said that he received the half-crown from Norton, and afterwards that he received it at 17, Pleasant Place, for work done—next morning he said that he had sold a coat ticket for 6s., and that was how he got the money.
GEORGE DOVE (370 K). I was with Mexham—I found Norton in the coal-shed just rising from the coals, and took hold of him and gave him into Mexham's charge; I then searched the cellar, and found this half-crown (produced) lying where he had been—he said, "Of course I know nothing about it"—I found 2s., 11d., on him.
Norton's Defence. I paid with a good shilling; I went outside for a certain purpose, and was taken in charge.
NORTON— GUILTY . He was recommended to mercy by the Jury, and his former master gave him a good character, and undertook to employ him.— To enter into recognisances to appear and receive judgment if called upon. RAWLINGS— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM HAGGARD . I keep the Brunswick Arms, Hackney Road—on 31st January, about half-past seven in the evening, my wife called me and said something, upon which the prisoners, who were there, drank up their beer and left—I followed them, and, in consequence of something a neighbour told me, I overtook them, and said to Potts, "I accuse you of attempting to pass bad money on my wife, knowing it to be bad"—he said, "You must be quite mistaken, Mr. Haggard, for I am a respectable working man"—I said, "Perhaps you will come back and satisfy my wife of that"—he said that he had no money about him—they went back with me, and said that Mrs. Haggard was quite mistaken, and I had better draw them a pint of half-and-half and say no more about it—I gave them in charge, and told them that my wife recognised them directly they came in as having passed a bad shilling there before.
tried to pass a bad shilling for a pint of ale several months before—Potts asked for a pint of ale, and paid me with a shilling; I tried it, gave it back to him, and told him it was bad—he paid me with a good shilling—while they were drinking the beer a customer came in and told my husband something—they went out a minute or two afterwards—as they went out Mr. Gibbs came in—my husband went after them and brought them back—they said that I must be quite mistaken, they had never been in the house before—Mr. Gibbs came back before them, and brought a bag containing four shillings separately wrapped in brown paper.
HENRY GIBBS . I keep a rag-shop next door to Mr. Haggard—about seven o'clock on 31st January I was at my door, and saw the prisoners look in at Mr. Haggard's door without going in—they then walked past my premises—I looked round afterwards, and saw Potts reaching up to the top of a wall about seven feet high, about twenty yards from my place—I afterwards went to Mr. Haggard's for a cigar, and Mr. Haggard told me something; I then got the steps and found a bag on the top of the wall—I took it to Mr. Haggard's before I opened it—it contained these four bad shillings, separately wrapped in brown paper—I gave it to the policeman.
MARK—(Policeman 124 H). I was called and took the prisoners—Potts said, "I am innocent, so help me God"—Batchelor said at the station, "I never was in the house before, neither had I the four bad shillings in my possession"—10 1/2 d. was found on Potts, and on Batchelor's good shilling and these two small bags, similar to the one in which the four shillings were found—he said that they were made a present to his children as a Christmas-box—I afterwards asked his wife, and she said that the children had no such things given to them.
Potts's Defence. I had nothing in my possession but 10 1/2 d.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months each.
Confined Six Months.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
MARTHA WYBROW . My husband keeps the George public-house, Goodman's Yard—on 7th January Bailey came in for a pint of half-and-half, and gave me a bad shilling—I asked him where he took it—he said, "Over in the Borough, in change for a florin for a pennyworth of apples"—I took the beer away, and gave the shilling to the constable.
GEORGE FOSTER (Policeman 207 H). On 27th January, in consequence of information, I went to the George and saw Bailey there—he said that he received the shilling in change for a florin for a pennyworth of apples—I asked him where the rest of the money was—he said, "I must live"—he was searched, but nothing was found on him—I saw Bryant leaning on a post outside the house, some distance off—I stood up in a doorway, and when the constables brought Bailey out Bryant followed behind, and as soon as he saw me he turned back; another constable took him, and Chester searched him and took a brown paper packet out of his left waistcoat pocket—I saw it opened at the station and ten bad shillings taken from it, each wrapped up separately—the prisoners said that they
were very hungry, and asked me to give them something to eat, as they had had nothing since the day before.
JOHN CHESTER (23 H). I was with Foster, and have heard what he said; it is correct—I took Bryant, and produce ten shillings which were found on him—I asked Bailey at the station for his name and address—he said to Bryant, "Where did we sleep last night?"—Bryant said, "In Queen Street, in the Mint"—I asked whether it was Queen Street, Tower Hill, or Queen Street, Borough—Bailey said, "Queen Street, Borough, No. 29"—Bryant gave his address, Smith's Chambers, Fleur-de-Lis Street.
Bailey's Defence. I received the shilling in change for a florin.
BAILEY— GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN ROTH . I keep the King's Arms, Poland Street, Oxford Street—on 30th January the prisoner came in for half a pint of porter, and gave me a sixpence; his manner induced me to look at it, and I asked where he got it—he said that he did not know, he might have taken it at a good many places, and tendered me another, which was good—I took him to the station, and gave him in custody with the bad sixpence.
JAMES YOUNG . I am barman to Mr. Speed, of the Wellington public-house, Strand—on 6th February the prisoner came in for one one pennyworth of gin—he gave me a bad sixpence—I bent it, punched it, nipped it, and gave it to him back—I asked where he got it—he made some statement which I could not understand, and put down a good one—I gave him change—on the Monday he came again—I recognised him directly he asked for one pennyworth of beer, and gave me a sixpence—I bent it, found it was bad, and gave him in charge, with the sixpence.
Prisoner. I was not there on Saturday night. Witness. I am sore you are the man.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was not in the place on Saturday night. On the Monday, when I gave the witness the sixpence, he went away with it, and I do not believe it is the one I gave him."
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS JAMES BAKER . I am landlord of the Rose and Crown, Dartmouth Street, Westminster—on 6th February, a little before three o'clock, I served the prisoner with threehalfpennyworth of gin—she gave me a half-crown—I bent it and told her it was bad—she said that she got it from a lady in Ebury Street—I gave her in charge with the half-crown.
JAMES JOYCE (261 B). I took the prisoner, and received this halfcrown from Mr. Baker—she said that she lived at 19, Lewisham Street—I went there, and then returned to Mr. Baker's, and told her that she did not live there—she afterwards gave two different addresses—she was taken to the police-court, remanded to the 11th, and then discharged at about a quarter to three in the afternoon—she was locked up again at about half-past three.
EMILY WATERFIELD . My father keeps the Old Rose, Medway Street, Westminster—on 5th February I served the prisoner with a half-quartern of rum—she gave me a half-crown, and before I took it up I saw that it was bad—I bent it in a detector, gave it back to her, and said that I thought she knew it was bad, but I would let her go if she would not visit the house again—on Monday the 11th she came again, about half-past three o'clock, for threehalfpennyworth of rum—I knew her again—she offered me a half-crown—I bent it, and told her it was bad, called my father, and told him that she had been there on Tuesday with a bad half-crown—she said that she had not been in the house—she was given in charge with the half-crown—I had not lost sight of it.
Prisoner. I never was in the house before. Witness. I am sure you are the person.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution, and MR. CLARK the Defence.
SAMUEL WILLIAM LAKE . I am an oilman, of 53, Hornsey Road—on the afternoon of 25th January the female prisoner came in, and my man, who served her, called me and gave me a bad shilling—she saw me try it on the side of the till, but said nothing—I said, "Do you know where you got this shilling?"—she said, "No"—I bent it and gave it back to her—she paid me with halfpence.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever seen her before? A. Yes, I knew her well.
MARGARET FINLAY . I am assistant to Mr. Tate, a baker, of Hornsey Road—on Friday morning, 8th February, about eleven o'clock, a female, whom I cannot recognise, came for some article, which came to 2d. or 3d., and gave me a bad shilling—I bent it with my teeth, gave it her back, and she gave me a good one—I gave her change, 9d. in halfpence.
MICHAEL YOUNG . I am shopman to Mr. Clements, a grocer, of 269, Holloway Road—on 8th February, about eleven o'clock, I served the female prisoner with some tea and sugar, which came to 6 1/2 d.—she gave me a shilling and a halfpenny—I gave her 6d. change, and put the shilling to the till—it is a patent till, and there was no other shilling there—she left, and Sergeant Gould came in—I then looked at the shilling, found it was bad, and gave it to him—in about half an hour I saw the two prisoners on the opposite side, and pointed them out to Gould, who went after them.
Cross-examined. Q. Will this patent till only hold one shilling? A. Only one in one compartment—I had seen both the prisoners before.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. Has the till a glass top? A. Yes—it takes four
shillings to force it down—when I went to the till that was the only shilling there.
ABRAHAM COURSE . I live at 3, Wyckham Terrace, Hornsey Road, and am a greengrocer—on 8th February I served the female prisoner with three pounds of potatoes—she gave me a shilling—I gave her 6d. and 3 1/2 d. change, and put the shilling in my pocket—Sergeant Gould came in—I found it was bad, and gave it to him.
ROBERT GOULD (35Y). On 8th February I was with Norman, watching No. 53, Harper Road, Hornsey Road, and saw tne prisoners come out together about eleven o'clock—they walked after each other on the same side of the way to Hornsey Road—John stood in the road while Louisa went into Mr. Tate's shop, 40, Hornsey Road—when she left he was standing about three shops off—they then went into the Monarch public-house together—Louisa then went to Mr. Allen's, a butcher, while John remained outside—she then went to Mr. Clements, 269, Holloway Road—the man stood on the opposite side of the way till she came out and joined him—I then saw Michael Young, who gave me this bad shilling (produced)—the prisoners then went to several other public-houses, and then returned home—Louisa came out again a little before one o'clock and went to Mr. Cross, a greengrocer—when she left I went in, and Mr. Cross gave me this bad shilling (produced)—Louisa then went towards Harper Road, and I took her and told her she was charged with passing a bad shilling to Mr. Cross—she said she did not know it was bad—she had a basket containing three pounds of potatoes—she had 9d. on her, and 3 1/2 d. in her hand—she was taken to the station, where she said that she had not been out before that morning—I then went to their house and took John in custody.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you search the house? A. Yes—I found no bad money there nor on the prisoners.
JOHN NORMAN (151 Y). I was with Gould, and saw the prisoners go to the places he has described—I went with him to Harper Street, and told John he was charged with being concerned with Louisa Dobbs in uttering counterfeit coin—he said, "That cannot be, for I have only just got out of bed"—it was then two o'clock—I searched him and found a halfcrown and three farthings—I do not know whether they are father and daughter—there were two old females in the house, who were taken, but afterwards discharged.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the half-crown you found a good one? A. Yes.
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
MARY ANN MELHAM . I am the wife of John Melham, who keeps the Coach and Horses, Wandsworth—on 2nd January the prisoner came in with another man and a woman—the other man called for a pint of halfand-half, and gave me a bad florin—the prisoner drank some of the beer, and they all went out together—I showed the florin to my husband, who pursued them, but could not catch them—I marked the florin, and gave it to the constable—this is it (produced).
Prisoner. There was no woman in your house. A. The woman stood at the door.
CLARA SMITH . I am barmaid at the King's Arms, High Street, Wandsworth—on 2nd January, just before ten o'clock, the prisoner came in, and afterwards went to the door and called in another man and a woman—the prisoner then called for a quartern of rum; they drank it, and the other man then called for some half-and-half and put down a half-crown—I gave it to Miss Adams, who put it on the counter and said that it was bad—the man took it up directly and went away with it—the other man gave me a good shilling—I heard the landlord ask the prisoner to let him look at the halfcrown, and the prisoner refused and went away with it—Mr. Adams went to look for a policeman.
CHARLES ANTONY (Policeman 188 V). Mr. Adams pointed the prisoner out to me—I charged him with tendering a bad half-crown at the King's Arms—he said that I was mistaken, he was not the man—I took him to the station, and saw that something was in his mouth—I seized his throat and endeavoured to take it away, but felt it go down his throat—his mouth was cut and bleeding—the others were taken before the Magistrate, remanded, and discharged—the prisoner was discharged on the 11th.
MARY JANE HURST . I live with my father, who keeps the Rose and Crown, Lower Thames Street—on 21st January the prisoner came for threehalfpennyworth of rum, and gave me a bad shilling—he tried to take it from my hand—I gave it to my father, and the prisoner was given in custody.
Prisoner's Defence. I do not know anything about the florin. I was only drinking with the men.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
274. FREDERICK JAMES KERBY (21) , to stealing a post-letter containing a half-sovereign and thirty-one postage stamps, the property of her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
275. WILLIAM JAMES FOUNES EDWARDS (34), to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a post-letter containing a promissory note for 107l., the property of her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
276. RICHARD FRANCIS FAMER (20) , to embezzling the sums of 26l. and 26l. 12s.; also to another indictment for embezzling other moneys of Simeon Charles Hadley and others, his masters— Confined Six Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, February 26th, 1867.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY:—
277. NATHANIEL HOLMES (31) , to two indictments for embezzling 4l. 1s. 9d. and 1l. 1s. 6d. of Henry Robert Yeomans Barnett and another, his masters; also to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 4l. 10s. Recomended to mercy by the prosecutors.— Confined Eighteen Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
278. CHARLES MILLINGTON(38), to feloniously forging and uttering two acceptances to two bills of exchange for 75l. and 42l. 10s., with intent to defraud.— Six Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
279. THOMAS WARREN (23) , to a burglary in the dwellinghouse of Sophia Emily Lloyd, with intent to steal, having been before convicted of felony.**— Eight Years'. Penal Servituds. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
280. RICHARD GORHAM (36) , to embezzling 8l. 13s. 1d., 5l. 9s. 1d., and 7l. 5s. 3d., of Edward Saunders and others. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.— Confined Nine Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
281. FRANCIS BISHOP (25) , to feloniously uttering a forged order for 10l. 5s.; also to unlawfully obtaining 8l. by false pretences.— Confined Twelve Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
283. ARTHUR ROBERT CHAPMAN (23) , to stealing 52l. 7s. 3d. of Francis Miller and another, his masters. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor.— Confined Eighteen Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
284. GEORGE BURGESS (28) , to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 156l. 18s.; also to three other indictments for embezzling and stealing 146l. and other moneys of Edward Jacobs, his master.— Confined Eighteen Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution.
GILBERT CRISWICK . I live at 65, Fulham Road and am a bootmaker—last Saturday fortnight I saw my shop fastened up about eleven clock—I went to bed about a quarter to twelve—about one o'clock I heard a tremendous rapping at the street door—I jumped out of bed directly, and went down half dressed, and when I opened the street door I saw the witness Mrs. Richardson—from what she said, I looked and saw one of the centre shutters down, the large plate glass broken, large enough for me to get through, and one of my boots hanging out—these (produced) are my boots, and were safe in the shop window when I went to bed.
ELIZABETH RICHARDSON . I am the wife of Joseph Richardson, of 63, Sidney Street, about 100 yards from the prosecutor's—on the Sunday morning, about a quarter to one, I was going home; I heard a crash, looked across, and saw a man let the prosecutor's shutter fall, and saw the two prisoners run across—I am sure they are the men, I was within about fifty yards of them—I saw a police constable run after them; he caught them—I went across the road and knocked Mr. Criswick up—I saw the prisoners brought back, they are the men.
Noonan. Q. If the police had not brought any one back would you have been able to give a description of the two persons? A. Yes—you ran across the road, I can't say you ran past me exactly—I got out of a cab at the corner of Bury Street—I was not talking to a policeman—I saw you run up Sidney Street—I had never seen you before—I did not lose sight of you before the policeman caught you—I was at Mr. Criswick's shop when the policeman caught you.
THOMAS PECK (Policeman B 150). About a quarter to one on Sunday morning I was on duty in the Fulham Road—I heard a smashing of glass; I looked in the direction of the sound, and saw one of the prisoners drop a shutter, and the two then ran across the road up Sidney Street—the constable Pike ran after Noonan, I pursued Bryant till he ran into the
arms of a constable—we took him back to the shop and then to the station—I afterwards picked up these two pairs of boots in an area on the way the prisoners ran.
Bryant. Q. Where was it you caught me? A. I did not catch you, the other constable caught you at the corner of Steward's Grove, I was within ten yards of you—Mrs. Richardson did not see you caught; she must have lost sight of you, but I did not.
RICHARD PIKE (332 B). On this Sunday morning I was on duty at the corner of Bury Street—I heard the cracking of glass, looked in the direction of Mr. Criswick's shop, and saw one prisoner, I can't say which, on the pavement, with a shutter in his hand—they then both ran down Sidney Street—I saw Peck follow them—I ran down Bury Street, to meet them at the other end, and Noonan came running from Sidney Street—I captured him and took him into custody.
Noonan. Q. Were you talking to Mrs. Richardson when you heard the smash? A. Yes, at the corner of Bury Street.
Noonan's Defence. I was going home when the constable took me. I went quietly with him; it was not above a stone's throw from where I live.
Bryant's Defence. I heard the cry of "Stop thief!" and ran. The policeman came up and I said, "Are you wanting somebody about here?" He said, "Yes, and I will nab you for it."
NOONAN— GUILTY .†— Confined Twelve Months.
BRYANT— GUILTY .**— Confined Fifteen Months.
MR. COLLINS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. METCALFE the Defence.
JOHN COX . I am principal clerk and cashier to Mr. George Evans, a needle and hatband manufacturer in Cannon Street—the prisoner has been in his service about six years, first as a cutter—he was afterwards appointed town traveller, his duties were to solicit orders and collect moneys—he was paid wholly by a commission after 6th September; before that he had a salary—the commission varied according to the articles he sold, 10, 12 1/2, and 15 per cent.—he was paid his commission at the end of each week, if he wished it; I have the books here—he did not pay me these three sums or account for them—the last day I saw him was 5th January, and the last payment I made to him on commission was on 1st December.
Cross-examined. Q. You did not make the arrangement with him? A. No; it was repeated to me by Mr. Evans—he is in Ireland—the prisoner was permitted to take orders on commission for other persons as well as Mr. Evans after 6th September—I have recently become acquainted with the fact that he had an office of his own—I was never there till aftef he was in custody—he had three rooms on the first floor.
MR. METCALFE submitted that, in the absence of Mr. Evans, there was no case to go to the Jury; that the prisoner was a clerk or servant. The Court considered the evidence insufficient, and directed a verdict of NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner, which, on the application of MR. COLLINS, was postponed till next Sesssion.
WILLIAM LUCY . I am a shipowner at Bermondsey, and own the British ship Ann Lucy—the prisoner was a seaman on board her, to come from New York to London—the ship arrived at Gravesend on the 6th February—I went on board and missed a mahogany jolly-boat—I gave information to the police.
WILLIAM WADE . I was master of the Ann Lucy—I shipped the prisoner as boatswain at New York—he came as far as Sandy Hook—I gave him in charge of the gig and four men to go on board a ship lying close to, for a nautical almanack—he went and procured it, and, instead of returning, he pulled away on shore—I was not able to pursue him, and that was the last I saw of him.
Prisoner. There were four men against one—how could I pull back and they pulling against me?—they would not go back; they said the ship was not seaworthy, and they would go ashore. Witness. I could not see that he was resisting the other men in any way, but I could not positively say—he was steering the boat.
WILLIAM ALSTON (Thames Policeman). I took the prisoner in custody on 9th February in the London Docks—I told him the charge—he said, "I did not steal the boat; there were four others in the boat, and what could I do against them?"
288. WILLIAM COLEMAN (24) was indicted for unlawfully conspiring with Sophia Knott and others to obtain goods from John Nash, with intent to defraud. Second Count, obtaining the said goods by false pretences.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution, and MR. BRINDLEY the Defence.
JOHN NASH . I am a furniture dealer in High Street, Staines—on Monday, 17th December, the prisoner came to my shop with a person represented to me as Major Lawrence—the prisoner ordered some furniture of me—he said he had taken a house for three years that was occupied by Mr. Kelshara, in Gresham Road, Staines, and wanted me to furnish three rooms—he chose certain articles, and told me the terms would be cash on delivery—Lawrence stood in the background, he looked at the furniture and remarked about the prices, and said some things were cheap—he represented himself as the prisoner's uncle—he asked me which was the best hotel to go to, as he wanted some refreshment—I suppose they were there about an hour or an hour and a half, but they were in such a hurry to get away that I omitted to ask for a reference—the first part of the furniture was to be furnished by Monday, 24th December—Coleman did not give me an address that day—on the 19th he came again—I asked if he had received my two letters and trade almanack (I had written to him on the evening of the 17th, to 14, De Beauvoir Road, Dalston, and I went there on the 18th, but did not see Coleman)—he said, no, he had been to Brighton, as his wife was very ill there—I told him the letters were about some furniture that I could not get, and also asking for a reference—he said he thought I should not require a reference,
as the terms would be cash—I said, as the order would be about 150l., I should require a reference, and ho then gave me as a reference the Reverend Alfred Stokes, the Rectory, Hatfield—I made a memorandum of it at the time—I showed him some designs of couches and chairs, and he chose them, and he also made some alterations in the cartains—he was alone on that occasion—he then left—I went to the station, for the purpose of going to town to go to Hatfield, I overtook the prisoner on the way and got into the same carriage with him—on the way I took out a time-table and opened it for the Great Northern, and I asked him if he knew Welling, near Hatfield—he said, "No;" and he said the Hatfield he had given me was not that Hatfield; it was Hatfield, near Doncaster, and I made a note of that in my pocket-book—when I came to town I wrote a letter, directed to the Reverend Alfred Stokes, the Rectory, Hatfield, near Doncaster, and posted it at the General Post Office—on the 23rd I received an answer—I believed it to be true, and that it came from the Rev. Alfred Stokes—after receiving that letter I proceeded to execute the order at once—I had seen Lawrence on 21st or 22nd at the house in Gresham Road with the prisoner—Lawrence spoke about my letters, and said he thought I was rather sharp in writing respecting the reference, as I might have offended many gentlemen, the terms being cash, and they would come down and settle as soon as the order was completed, which would be on the 24th—he spoke then of being a large landowner in the north of England, also that he was trustee of Mrs. Coleman, and that she would come into a large fortune; he spoke to Coleman about altering the stone staircase at the side of the house, and also about having a coach-house and stable built—I saw Sophia Knott; she came to Staines about the 20th or 21st, and I saw her most days after that until the 28th, she was acting as servant; she came down to look after the house, light fires, and sweep the house and look after the furniture—on Monday, the 24th, Lawrence came to look over the furniture; Coleman was not with him then—on Wednesday, 26th December, Coleman introduced me to a lady as Mrs. Coleman—she came down to look at the furniture, and she seemed satisfied with it—part of it had then been moved into the house in Gresham Road; some was moved in on 24th, some on 26th, and we finished moving in on 28th—a workman, named Alexander, was attending to my business—by the 28th about 120l. worth of furniture was delivered—on the 29th, in consequence of information, I went there and found all my furniture gone, and the people as well—I at once communicated with the police—on 31st January I received a telegram, and went with the police to 2, Blantyre Street, Chelsea—I went in and there saw Sophia Knott; she was then acting, not as servant, but more as the lady of the house, she had all the keys of the house, and was dressed as the mistress, in a silk dress, a gold chain, and jewellery; she acted the part of mistress, she showed us over the house, and showed us the furniture—Mrs. Coleman had just been confined—I identified part of the furniture as mine, I should think 60l. or 70l. worth—Knott pointed out the different articles, and said, "This is your furniture," and "That is your bed," and so on—while I was there the prisoner came in, about eleven at night, or half-past, I was in the parlour—the sergeant asked me if that was William Coleman—I said, "Yes"—he said his name was Wood—I am quite sure he is the man that ordered the furniture of me—I gave hin into custody—I did not give his wife into custody—I don't know what became of Sophia Knott, she was in the house all the while we were there;
I don't know what became of her afterwards—on that same day, 31st January, I went to the house of a furniture dealer at Chelsea, named West, and saw about 25l. worth of my furniture that I had supplied to the house at Staines; that remains there now—the police took possession of that in Blantyre Street—that does not make up all the furniture I supplied, the damask curtains were gone and two or three small things.
Cross-examined. Q. On what day did the prisoner first call on you? A. On the 13th, but the 17th was the first time I saw him—Mr. Webb was described to me as the landlord of the house—the prisoner gave me the order for the goods on the 17th for three rooms, not for the whole house—he said he had taken the house—I did not ask him for a reference till the 19th—I showed him designs on the 17th and 19th, and he chose some from both—Mr. Kelsham gave me Coleman's address as 14, De Beauvoir Road—Coleman also gave me that address afterwards, on the 19th, I think in my shop—two of my men went to the house on the 17th to take measurements, and we commenced putting in the furniture on the 24th; we were pressed for time, in consequence of Mrs. Coleman being likely to be put to bed—I recognised the furniture again when I saw it in Blantyre Street, some of it had been altered, some was my own make, and some I had ordered from the manufacturer—I should not have supplied the goods ordered on the 17th without a reference, because I wrote on the 17th for a reference—the prisoner told me had not received the letters, but I saw my trade almanack that I had sent to him there, in the kitchen at Blantyre Street—I send those to my customers; I may have given him one at my shop.
GEORGE ALEXANDER . I am in the service of Mr. Nash—on 17th December I went to the house in Gresham Road to measure for blinds—no one was in the house then, it was open—I went again on Wednesday, the 19th, no one was there then—I made some other measurements—I went again on the 20th to measure and cut out carpets, and took them away to be made—I went again on the 21st to take some rollers, and again on 22nd to put up some roller blinds—I can't exactly say the day I first saw the servant, Sophia Knott—she occupied a room at the top of the house—she went up there and locked herself in at different times while I was at work there—I saw the prisoner there on the 17th with Mr. Nash, he was there nearly every day after the servant came, looking at the work, the servant generally let him in, and they went up stairs together to the top attic and talked together; they did that most every time he came, and they remained there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I was at work there nearly every day up to the 28th—the prisoner came down that evening by the five o'clock train—the furniture was delivered first on the 24th, and was finished on the 28th—I left between four and five on the 28th, and I met the prisoner outside the house—I saw Lawrence there three or four times; he did most of the active part in looking over the work I was doing, he did not say much to me—I saw part of the furniture before the Magistrate last Monday, it was the same that had been delivered at the houge at Staines—some of it is now outside the Court.
Cross-examined. Q. How can you speak to its being the same? A. I think I could swear to it; it is not my work, but it has been through my hands; there is a towel horse that I can speak to, it is a new pattern—I made these memorands of the work I did at the time; I was not there every day, but I was doing work at home for the house from the 17th to the 28th—I did no work for anything else.
ROBERT ALLISON (Police Sergeant 16 T). On 29th December I received information of the removal of this furniture, and tried to find the prisoner Lawrence, and Knott—I got warrants—I could not learn anything of them until 31st January—on that day I went with Mr. Nash to Blantyre Street—I was in plain clothes—I directed the door to be knocked at—it was answered from the area door—after being answered a second time in the same way I caused a constable to get over the railings, and when the door was opened again he got an entrance—I went in and saw Sophia Knott—I went over the house with Mr. Nash, and he identified his furniture—Mrs. Coleman was in a room there—she had been recently confined—while I was there two men and a woman came to the house—the woman went up stairs and spoke to Mrs. Coleman, and remained there some time—about half-past eleven the prisoner came home—he let himself in by a latch-key—I was standing in the passage—he was followed in by police constable Randall—I told him to step into the parlour, and I then asked Mr. Nash if he identified him—he said, "Yes, that is the man representing himself to be William Coleman, at Staines"—I asked him if that was his name—he said no, his name was Wood—I told him I had a warrant for him in the name of Coleman, and I read the principal part of it to him, relating to obtaining the goods, and conspiring with others to obtain them—I then took him to the station—he said he was made a dupe of by the other man—Sophia Knott was left in the house—I did not take her—I had no warrant against her then—I saw her there next day also—on 4th February, after the remand, as I was taking the prisoner to the House of Detention, he said, "What do you think they will do with me?"—I said I thought they would commit him for trial—he said, "What a fool I must be to be made a dupe of by that man!"—I said, "Do you mean the man that represented himself to be Lawrence, at Staines?"—he said, "Yes"—I told him he ought to tell me where I could find him, so that the innocent might not suffer for the guilty—he said, "I should like to, if I knew where he was"—he said he was merely acting as his agent—I found this letter (produced) in the parlour at Blantyre Street—on 31st December I went with Mr. Nash to De Beauvoir Road, Dalaton—the house was then empty—I went to Hatfield, near Doncaster—I found no such person as the Rev. Mr. Stokes there.
ROBERT RANDALL (Police Sergeant 67 T). On 31st January I watched the house in Blantyre Street—I saw the prisoner come to the door—he passed me, and then turned and looked very hard at me—I followed him, and saw him open the door with a latch-key—previous to that he attempted to come off the steps—I told him to walk into the parlour, as a gentleman there wished to see him, and he went in.
THOWAS WEST . I am a furniture dealer in King's Road, Chelsea—one day in January a man named Webster called at my house, and asked if I would buy a carpet—I went to No. 5, Blantyre Street, and saw the prisoner—I offered him 8l. for the carpet—he would not take it then, but he and Webster afterwards came and said they would take it, and I gave the 8l. to the prisoner—after that I went to Blantyre Street again to look at a bedstead, three palliasses, a towel horse, four chairs, a feather bed, a dining-table, and a couch—I saw the prisoner and Webster—I put down on one of my cards the price the prisoner asked, and said I could not give it—next day he came and took the price I offered, 8l. 4s.—I also gave him 1l. 16s. for a feather bed—Mr. Nash afterwards saw the goods, but he could not identify them till I pointed them out to him.
—I nave been there nineteen years—I know of no Reverend Alfred Stokes there—I live at the parsonage—I do not know the handwriting on this letter or envelope.
COURT. Q. Did you see any letter come to the parsonage directed to the Reverend Alfred Stokes? A. I did not see it; my daughter did—it was not token in.
WILLIAM GEORGE SEWELL (Policeman 117 T). On the 1st February the prisoner was in my custody at Staines—he asked for pen and ink, and wrote a letter in my presence—I had not an envelope at the time—my attention was called elsewhere, and I had received instructions not to send anything till I had shown it to my superior officer—I told him next day that I had not sent it—he said it was of no consequence—I then handed it over to the sergeant.
HENRY HALFORE . I live in Oakley Road, Islington, and am landlord of 14, De Beauvoir Road—I let that house to a person who went by the name of Ross on 17th September last—I do not know the prisoner—I got possession of the house about a fortnight after Christmas—I found one or two papers there, amongst others an envelope—I noticed that the postmark was "Staines"—I don't know what has become of it. (The letter written by the prisoner at the police-station was read as follows:—"Dear Ross,—I am in sad trouble about some furniture. Please see Henry directly, and ask him to engage Mr. Williams. Please see my sister; do not tell her where I am. Come to-morrow evening. Yours truly, W. Coleman. Do not mention Bill to any one.")
The letter purporting to be written by the Rev. Alfred Stokes to Mr. Nash was also read. It spoke of the respectability of Coleman and the Lawrences, and had no hesitation in saying that he might supply any order they gave.
GUILTY. on Second Count .— Confined Eighteen Months .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, February 26th, 1867.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. METCALFE and PATTISON conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE CONNELL (Policeman N 391). On 16th February my attention was directed to some sticky substance on the letter-box at the chief office, Northern District, Islington, and on Monday, the 18th, I watched the box, and saw the prisoner standing near it at about twenty minutes to seven in the evening—I walked past and crossed the road to the opposite side and watched him for about twenty minutes, during which time I saw him seven or eight times go to the letter-box with his back towards it—when a person came to post a letter the prisoner drew himself from the box towards the corner, and when they had done so he went towards the box again—after that he left the box, and came across to where I was standing—I stopped him and told him I wanted him to go back with me to the post-office—he said, "What for?"—I said my suspicions were that he had been abstracting letters from the letter-box—he said, "Do not lock me up"—I took him back to the post-office and told the inspector what I had seen—he told the inspector not to lock him up—the inspector said, "I can see a letter in his pocket"—on that I
searched the prisoner and found eight letters on him, seven with heads on them, in his coat-tail pocket, and one without a stamp in his breast pocket—he begged the inspector not to lock him up, as it would ruin him—I took him to the station, charged him, and asked him his name and address—he at first refused, but afterwards said, "Charles Lord, 1, Union Street, Little Moorfields—that was correct—I examined the letter-box, and found some sticky substance in the slit, about as far down as I could reach with my hand, and one or two of the letters had something on them.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see me place any matter there? A. No, nor was anything of the kind found on you—I had hold of you by the collar on one side going to the station, and a postman on the other; there was no possibility of your getting rid of anything—I went to your father's and searched your box, but found nothing relating to the charge—I took four certificates to character from you, and have them here—I did not see you take any of the letters.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did you see what he was doing? A. By his movements I could see that he was doing something behind him—his hands were behind him.
CHARLES HUTCHINGS . I am inspector of letter carriers at the Northern District Office, Islington—on 16th February my attention was called to the letter-box—I did not examine it, but communicated with Connell—I was present on Monday the 18th, when Connell brought the prisoner into the office, and I observed that he kept his hands in his tail pockets—I said, "There are letters in his pockets," and Connell took seven letters out which bore, with the exception of one, unobligated postage stamps—he begged that I would not give him in custody, as it would ruin him.
Prisoner. Q. Did I attempt to move my hand from my pocket? A. No—when you were brought in I understood you to say, "I do not say I am not guilty"—I have known instances of letters sticking in the letterbox, but not the number that are here—the box is from four to five feet deep from the top to the bottom.
ELIZA PYE . I am servant to Mr. Hodge—on 17th February, about seven o'clock, I posted a letter at the Northern District Office, addressed to Mr. James Hoare—I cannot read, but should know the letter if I saw it—I think this is it.
him this letter, addressed to Mr. Cooper, on the 18th, and posted it at the Northern District Office about five minutes past seven o'clock.
The prisoner produced a written defence, staling that he saw the letters pretrading from the box, as if stopped by some impediment, and took them out, intending to take them into the office, and contended that even if he had kept them he should not be guilty, as, if they were not properly posted, they could not be the property of the Postmaster-General.
JURY to GEORGE CONNELL. Q. How high from the pavement is the slit into which the letters are put? A. About three feet from the step—he got up on the step—it is not a shop; it is the head post-office.
GUILTY .*— Five Years Penal Servitude.
NOT GUILTY .
292. JOHN MAYNARD (29) and JOHN FULLETT (28) , to feloniously attempting to commit burglary; also to having housebreaking tools in their possession.— Confined Fifteen Months each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, February 21th, 1867.
Before Mr. Recorder.
295. RAPHAEL CIOCCI (50), ANTONIO GALIONI (36), and MATTHEW DECOLA (36) , Feloniously breaking and entering the dwellinghouse of John Votieri, and stealing therein 130 onyx stones, value 45l., his property. GALIONI and DECOLA PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
ERNESTO D'ANGELIO (through an interpreter). I have been in England ten months the last time—I was an officer of the gens d'armes du Papa at Rome—I have known Ciocci four months, but I used to know him previously—I never knew him abroad—I never had any relations with him till four months before this affair—I met him in Tottenham Court Road—I was then in queer circumstances—I told him I had no occupation, and he said it would be a very difficult thing for me to find a situation in England, not knowing the English language—he gave me his address, 7, Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road—we did not go anywhere then, but the day afterwards we went to a public-house, and he said that there would be a thing to do in the house of an Italian gentleman, and there would be found several precious stones and cameos—he gave me the address on a piece of paper, which I cannot find—it was "M. Votieri, 24, Upper Park Street," and also the address of M. Soldi, somewhere in the Blackfriars Road, which I have forgotten—he told me that I might do the thing, and that I should take myself out of the position in which I was then—he said I was to enter the house, knock at the door, and ask for M. Votieri; and if the answer was that he was not at home we were to ask to be permitted
o write a message, and after we were in we were to tie the servant, and on; of the others was to open the door, for the third person, who was outside, in go up stairs, and that up stairs, in the back room, was the studio of M. Votieri, where we should find the cameos, and all the utensils and tools after that we were to go into the front room, M. Votieri's bedroom, and under the bed was a trunk, inside of which we should find some jewellery, and that if we searched the books we should find some bank notes of 100l. each, and then we were to go into the room on the third floor, occupied by the daughter of M. Votieri, and take all the small jewellery belonging to her—I told him it was a thing I could not undertake to do by myself, and he said that I was to try to find some audacious or courageous person; he pointed out a person named Leoni, but said that I was not to employ him, as he was known to the police—I said that I did not know where to find, one, and during a month we used to meet very often, and he used to ask me whether I had found anybody who would undertake it—some time afterwards I was going up Charles Street, and saw a small shop, at the door of which were Galioni and Rossi talking together in Italian, I believe—Rossi is a barber, and Galioni a shoemaker—I went in when Rossi left, had my shoes cleaned, and told Galioni I was an Italian from Rome—he knew nothing then—I afterwards saw Ciocci, and mentioned that I had had a conversation with Galioni—he told me that Galioni would be a good man for undertaking the business—I told Galioni that I remembered his name when I was in the gens d'armes—I ascertained that he had been in prison, and mentioned that to Ciocci, who said that he was the man who should do for him—Ciocci went to Galioni's and spoke to him; I saw him there the day after—he told me that he took Galioni a pair of boots, but I saw nothing—I cannot say how long he remained at Galioni's, as I went out—I went to Galioni's the same evening, and saw Ciocci there, and after that he used to go there now and then, and then he used to meet at Barriloni's, in Brook's Market, Leather Lane, a very short distance off—I first saw Decola at Galioni's house; that might be two or three days after I saw Galioni—he was there when Ciocci went, and Galioni spoke to him—they continued meeting in that way till the last day of the business—the first time I met Galioni was three months before the robbery—his wife, I believe, lived with him; I only know her Christian name, Martha—she has been present when we were all four there—I have seen Rossi, the barber, at Galioni's door—on the day of the robbery Decola, Galioni, Ciocci, the wife, and myself were there, and I believe the wife went and borrowed a saucepan to cook some maccaroni—after eating it we talked about the robbery; it was first said that we were to ascertain whether M. Votieri was out, and if he was out Ciocci said we were to ask to be allowed to write a message to him—I was to be the person to knock at the door—Decola was to go in with me, and Galioni was to remain outside—we agreed not to see each other for four days after the robbery—we hod agreed the day before, at the public-house, that the time to commit the robbery was about half-past five or six in the evening—I had been to Barriloni's that day, before I went to the public-house—on the same day Decola went to fetch a bag to put the things in; Galioni was to take it to Park Street—this (produced) is the sort of bag—when we had made these arrangements I started by myself and Decola to Islington, to Upper Park Street, and we watched till M. Votieri and the family came out of the house, at about half-past six, and after they came out Galioni arrived, and after that we knocked at the door—a boy answered it and
was asked him whether M. Votieri was in; the answer was, "No;" Decola said that he was desirous of writing a message, and the boy admitted us into the saloon; he was then gagged, I opened the door, and Galioni came In and went up stairs—I threw a stone down and made a signal to the police, who came and took Decola and Galioni on the premises—when Galioni came in I went outside the house and held the door—this was on Wednesday—I had communicated with M. Votieri the Saturday before; that was the first time I had given any information to him or to the police—I again communicated to M. Votieri the day for which the robbery was agreed upon, and was aware when I went there that I should find the police on the premises—I knew that M. Votieri was going out that night, and Ciocci knew it also—I have seen Rossi at Barriloni's when I have been there, he was there the night before the robbery—I do not remember whether Martha came to Barriloni's that evening, but she has eome to fetch Galioni at times when we have all been together.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Do you mean to represent that you have only been ten months in England? A. I said I had been ten months this last time, but I have been several times in London—I have only been in England fifteen or twenty months altogether—I teach fencing, but have no place here, because I cannot find any scholars—I have no foils, but could very easily get some if I had pupils—I do nothing—I live on the help of some friends, and also on something which they send from abroad for me—I do not live by begging—I only ask some of my countrymen, and tell them that I have no occupation—when I first met Ciocci I was living in a small street leading out of Endell Street, Long Acre, in a small room at the top of the house—I used to pay 6s. a week for it—I am not living there now—after this property was stolen it was to be reunited, and I believe Ciocci was to sell it—we had made some arrangements about the division, but I cannot say how much I was to have—we did not agree at all upon the shares—I was to run the danger of breaking into the house, and asked what part of the plunder I was to have, he told me that he would recompense me, but I never asked anything about it—Ciocci told us that if there was money we should divide it together—he was to sell the jewels and divide the money also—Galioni was to take it away on the night of the robbery—I told M. Votieri on the Saturday before that there was a conspiracy concocted to rob the house—I told him that he had a great enemy—he told me that it could only be Bendi or Ciocci, and then I said that it was Ciocci—he said that it was not marvellous for him to do this, as he had committed other misdeeds—he did not say that he should be very glad to punish Ciocci—he told me be should be very glad if he could have him taken by the police—he made no arrangements for that purpose—it was not by nis desire that I went on with the robbery, but he knew it because we used to watch nearly every night—he told me to acquaint him in case the robbery should be committed—I had known Rossi some time, and also Galioni—I deny that it was stolen from Victoria Station; I had it from a man named Brentini, who is in London—the first time I heard of it being stolen was at Clerkenwell Police-court—I did not take it to Rossi's—I did not sell some shirts or any of the things to Rossi, or to Decola—I do not Know the contents of it, because when I had it it was empty—I am acquainted with these little documents (four bills)—they went through my hands—I cannot say that they are forged—I have been examined before—I stated that Rotini gave them to me—I found out fifteen days afterwards that
they were forgeries—I did not after that obtain money on them; it was a loan—I did not leave them as security—Jacomeli gave me some money, and I left the bills with him one evening because I was a little inebriated—he gave me the money before I left the bills—I cannot say the date that I left them—I did not know they were false, but I had some suspicion that there was something, otherwise he would not haye left them with me—I had the money before that—I left them after this little suspicion entered my mind—there is none of my writing on the back of these bills—I do not know, this "Saffi"—it is an imitation of my writing—this is one of the papers that I left at Jacomeli's—this writing was on it at the time—I did not represent to Jacomeli that I was Count de Saffi's nephew—I do not know a Count de Saffi, and have not been to his house—I have been to Signor Saffi's—I did not represent myself to be Signor Saffi's nephew, or that that was the endorsement of Signor Saffi—I never said anything—I did not represent that Signor Saffi had given me documents payable to his order—to tell you the truth, I cannot say exactly that there was all this writing on it at the time I left it it Jacomeli's—this country credit was also among the documents I handed over to the gentleman from whom I had the money—I obtained it from Rotini, for 20l., payable by the Union Bank of London—these are papers that are worth nothing—I found that it was valueless when I went to the Union Bank, and saw plenty of similar papers on the ground—I never got any money on this.
Q. Will you swear you did not get 30s. on it from a man named Riva? A. Before this loan I had a loan of 3s. or 4s., and I returned it, and after a few days he lent me 10s. more, and then 27s. or 28s., and I left this note with him—that was before I saw numbers of them scattered about the bank—I never got it back—I went to the bank with some gentleman who came from Paris who had some money to withdraw, and it was then that I saw notes of a similar description scattered about the bank—I have not paid M. Riva back his money, because I was unable to do so—I never saw this letter (produced) before—I will swear it is not my writing—I know the writing—it was written by a young Englishwoman by my dictation—she is ill, otherwise she would be here—she is Mademoiselle Carolina, some extravagant name which I cannot remember—she lives with her sister Isabella, who is married—I do not know the husband's name—they live in a street in Fleet Street which I cannot recollect—I told Mademoiselle Carolina to write this:—"Mrs. Ciocci,—If you please will you come to-morrow morning, ten o'clock, Covent Garden Theatre, outside the stage door? You must come yourself. This person writing to you would like to help your husband."—I did not tell her to write the last words, "to help your husband"—I cannot read English—the girl might have misunderstood me, and might have written them—I told her to add, "My respects send by bearer"—she is an Englishwoman—I did my best to make myself understood—we were together some time, and we spoke to each other every day in my house—she visits me, but not now, because she is ill—she has been living with me two or three weeks in her own place—after this letter was written I sent it by a man to Covent Garden—I gave him 2d. to carry it—I do not know his name—I found him near Newport Market, at the corner—he was one of those shoeblacks who speak Italian—I sent it the day after or a day or two after Ciocci was examined at the police-court—he came out on bail—I do not know of any person going on the part of Votieri to visit Galioni in Newgate.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did you tell Ciocci about those bills which have been put into your hands? A. Yes—they were deposited somewhere about May—I was without means, but was not troubled about these bills—Ciocci knew Carolina well—Madame Ciocci met me on the day after the letter was written, and after I had seen her I saw the person in Covent Garden Market who is acting for the prisoner's attorney.
JOHN VOTIERI . I live at 24, Upper Park Street, Barnsbury Road—I have known Ciocci about four years—he is married to a daughter of a Mr. Berni, whose executor I am—I have had occasion to see Ciocci several times on business matters—Mr. Soldi is also an executor—he lives in Stamford Street, Blackfriars—Ciocci has been at my house several, times, and in all the rooms—I keep my cameos and stones in my bedroom, and he saw them there once—there was a dispute about some property between Ciocci and me, in consequence of which Chancery proceedings have been taken—my daughter lives in my house, and has certain jewellery, and I have jewellery also—on 19th January I received information from D'Angelio—I had never seen him before—he called on me again after that, and in consequence of his information I gave notice to the police, both on 19th and 23rd January—on 23rd January, about six o'clock, I left the house with my wife and daughter, leaving Stammers and two police officers in the kitchen—the boy Morgan was also left there, but nobody else—I afterwards found Galioni and Decola in custody—I had never seen them before—Ciocci has used threats to me; he said that he wanted to kill me—he said something to Soldi, but not in my presence.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. What part of the world do you come from? A. From Rome—I left Rome for Paris when I was twelve years old, where I learned the business of stones and cameos—I was never in any other business—I came to this country as a merchant of cameos, not as a singer—I was never engaged as a singer, only for amusement—I became acquainted with Berni by his bringing me a letter from my brother, when he went to Rome, eighteen years ago—it is about two years since Ciocci was at my house—my wife and I did not libel him—I received a letter, which I gave to my lawyer, and it was my lawyer who wrote—he did not tell me what he wrote—I am sure it was my lawyer who wrote—this letter (produced) bears my signature—it is in my daughter's writing—I do not know what you mean by my apologising—I received a letter and my lawyer wrote—I never heard what he wrote—my daughter did not write this letter by my dictation—it was about one o'clock on a Saturday that D'Angelio first called on me at my house—I was with my family, which consists of my lady, my daughter, and a servant—D'Angelio, who was in the passage, said that he wanted to speak to me very particularly, and I took him into my own parlour—there was nobody there—he said that there was a conspiracy about me, and told me all about Ciooci and the other two prisoners—he said that my house was watched for three weeks by these prisoners—he mentioned Ciocci first—I did not think of him till he mentioned him—he told me that Ciocci was the person conspiring, and had told him all about my house, and where all my property was, and had arranged with Galioni and another to break in and rob me of everything except my furniture—I was surprised, and had a pain in my back which told me so—he told me to go to the police and tell them everything, and I did so—I did not say that I should like to catch Ciocci, or like the police to catch him—I said that the police should watch my house—I saw D'Angelio again on 22nd January—when Ciocci was taken in
custody he was taken before a police inspector, who refused to take the charge—he was taken again some days afterwards and taken before a Magistrate—D'Angelio was not called then, and Ciocci was discharged—a warrant was afterwards applied for—he was again taken in custody, and D'Angelio turned up and was examined—I did not employ a lawyer till the third time—I employed Mr. Wakeling the second time, but I did not tell him about D'Angelio, because I thought he was gone; but he afterwards wrote me two letters, which I have not got—I gave them to my friend Soldi—I employed Mr. Wontner on the third occasion.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did you employ Mr. Wakeling before you went to the police-court, or did you find him there? A. The policeman took me to his office, which is close to the police-court, just before the case came on—I thought, from what I had heard, that D'Angelio had gone away, but when he appeared a warrant was obtained, and he gave evidence—when D'Angelio first came he described to me where my stones and property were—up to that moment he had never been in the house, and had had no opportunity of seeing where my property was—he said that the cameos were in the back room where I was, and the diamonds and tools were in the back room, and in the front room and the bedroom he would find all the jewellery and my goods, and in the top room, in a box, the jewellery of my daughter; that was all perfectly correct—this letter is written to my attorney—my wife used some hasty expressions to Ciocci's wife, and there was some quarrel, and the solicitors were called in.
JOSEPH MORGAN . I am apprenticed to M. Votieri, and live at 2, Pleasant Place, Essex Road, Islington—on 23rd January my master went out at a quarter-past six with my mistress and the little boy—I was left in charge of the house, and the police were down stairs—there was a knock at the door at about half-past six, I opened it, and saw the prisoner Decola and D'Angelio—they asked whether M. Votieri was in, and I said, "No"—I let them into the parlour, and got a pen and ink, as Decola said he wanted to write a message—Decola then took me and sat me down in a chair, and then I saw Galioni pass the parlour door with a bag in his hand—D'Angelio had then gone out—Galioni went up stairs—I saw the police strike Decola because he tried to get away—they took them in custody—my arms had been tied, but Dutton loosed me—after the other prisonen were taken to the station I opened the door and saw a horse and cart there, and Ciocci walking along past the door about two yards from me, he asked me what was the matter—it was then about five minutes past seven—I described him to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Did they lay hold of you and hurt you? A. Yes, they tied a handkerchief over my mouth—I was examined twice before the Magistrate—I did not say on the first occasion that I saw Ciocci at half-past six—some witnesses were called for him, and then the Magistrate dismissed the case—I did not alter the hour on the next occasion—I had never seen him before; he was not on the opposite side of the way; he was on this side of the horse and cart, between them and the door.
MR. METCLAFE. Q. Was there one witness called, or more than one, when the Magistrate dismissed the case? A. I think it was one—or four were called the second time, and then the Magistrate committed.
COURT. Q. When did you see Ciocci again after you saw him at five minutes after seven? A. About two o'clock next morning I went with the police to his house, and they asked me whether he was the man.
HERBERT STAMMERS (Policeman N 4). In consequence of information I went to M. Votieri's house on 23rd January with Newbold and Barret; we went to the back of the house and got over the wall; after waiting some time we received a signal, on which I went up from the kitchen and took Galioni in custody—I saw Morgan tied in a chair with his mouth and hands tied—on the same evening I received a description from Morgan, in consequence of which I took him to Beak Street, Regent Street, and apprehended Ciocci—I told him it was for being concerned with two others in breaking and entering M. Votieri's dwellinghouse, and asked him if he knew two men, one named Decola and the other Galioni—he said, "No, I don't know them"—I said, "Were not you in Hatton Garden yesterday?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Not at 3, Charles Street, Hatton Garden?"—he said, "Oh! yes, I do remember; I only know him by the name of Antonio; I went there to have my boots cleaned."
Cross-examined by SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Did he not say, "Yes, I was at a shoemaker's; I only know him by the name of Antonio?" A. Yes; I had asked him if he knew Antonio Galioni, not if he knew two men, one named Decola and the other Galioni—I mentioned Antonio before the Magistrate; what I said was taken down and read over to me—I mean to say that I said "Antonio Galioni" before the Magistrate on the last examination, but I do not remember that being read over—I had seen D'Angelio when I first went to Ciocci's, but not to speak to him—I had had no communication with him—I had learned from Votieri that Ciocci was engaged in it, and where he was living—I took the boy to Ciocci's house between one and two in the morning; he was in bed, and was taken in custody then and there—the inspector would have taken the charge, but M. Votieri would not charge him on the evidence that was before him—I knew of D'Angelio's evidence, but it was not proposed to make use of it at that time—I had not made up my mind not to make use of it or arranged not to do so, but we thought there was sufficient evidence without—we might have kept him in the background if there had been sufficient evidence without, but it did not rest with us—I knew he was the informer, I did not know where to find him if I had felt inclined to bring him forward, and did not know that any one else did—I was quite willing, but it did not rest with me—I did not mention him to my superior officer—the reason I did not do so was because I thought there was sufficient in the evidence of the girl and the boy—I did not know anything about the girl when I first took Ciocci, but he was taken again after that.
Q. You had sufficient evidence to take him out of bed at that time of night, and your inspector did not consider it sufficient to lock him up: why did not you say that D'Angelio knew all about it? A. I did not wow what D'Angelio did know; Votieri had told me of a man, I do not think he mentioned the name, I cannot say for certain, and I do not think I asked him—I did not know his name at that time—I will not swear that at the time I took him in custody I had not heard the name of D'Angelio—I do not think I knew of D'Angelio the second time Ciocci was taken to the police-court, but it is some time ago, and I quite forget—I remember perfectly that I used the name of Antonio—D'Angelio was mentioned on tie second examination, but he was not brought forward as a witness, I think—I cannot say why not—I do not think I had told my inspector, bu believe he knew it from the prosecutor—I did not report it—I am the officer who took Votieri to Mr. Wakeling—I did so because he wanted
a solicitor—I do not remember whether I told Mr. Wakeling about D'Angelio, I do not think I did.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Where did you find D'Angelio? A. I never found him at all, he was brought by some friend of M. Votieri's between the second and third apprehension—I had not seen him from the time I got sight of him at the house till then—I did not know where to find him, but his name had been communicated to me.
MARTHA HEWITT . I live at 36, Charles Street, Hatton Garden—I lived with Galioni, and passed as his wife—I was there eleven months, but I have been with him fifteen months—he speaks Italian; he cannot speak much English—I can understand Italian a little, but not much—he is a shoemaker—I know Ciocci, Decola, and D'Angelio—I first saw D'Angelio about three months ago—he brought his boots to be mended, nobody came with him—not many days afterwards I saw Ciocci come with two pair of boots to be mended—about a week or a fortnight after I first saw D'Angelio I saw Decola, it was about a week or two before Christmas—Ciocci came sometimes more than once a week, and sometimes he left two weeks, and Decola used to come also, but D'Angelio used to come most often—I did not see them all together till 23rd January, the day of the robbery, when Decola came about eleven o'clock, and D'Angelio about twelve, who brought a lot of maccaroni—Galioni was there, and cooked the beef for the maccaroni—he went over to Rossi, the barber, and borrowed a pan to make the maccaroni—Ciocci came about two o'clock and said, in Italian, "Lock the door"—I said, "What do you want the door locked for?"—he said, "I do not want to see Mr. Rossi"—Ciocci was sitting on a box, and D'Angelio and Decola were looking in his face—as as he was cutting up the beef I heard him say, "Go to 24, Upper Park Street, Islington"—Ciocci also said something in Italian which I understood, which means, "Knock at the door and write a note"—I cannot speak it, but it meant, "Knock at the door and scribble"—I also heard him say," Go straight up the garden, knock at the door, see the domestic, and scribble to him a message"—I left the room at four o'clock; Decola told me he had left one of his gloves in the shop, and I fetched it—they talked together from two to four o'clock—I went on an errand for my landlord next door, and when I came back at six o'clock Antonio had left the key for me—I have often fetched Antonio of a night from Barriloni's, in Brook's Market, and have often seen Decola and D'Angelio there—they used to play games for wine there—I never saw Ciocci anywhere except at Galioni's—I saw Deeola bring this bag (produced), and put it on the bed and go out; Ciocci was there then, sitting on the box; that was about half-past three o'clock—no one took the bag when they went away—D'Angelio and Decola went away while I was there, and when I came back from my landlord's I found Galioni and Ciocci there—Ciocci has often come of an evening when Galioni has been out, and asked me where he was, and I have said, "Perhaps at Barriloni's"—he has then left, saying that he would go there.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. When they were together did they usually talk in Italian? A. They sometimes would talk a little English, but generally they talked in their own language—when the direction "24, Park Street, Islington," was given he was talking half English and half Italian, because D'Angelio understood a little English—the direction was all English—I was visible, I had my dinner with them, and was sitting on the bed—"Lock the door, I do not want Rossi to see," was said in Italian—I cannot repeat it, but I could understand
it—the Italian for door is polta, or something like that—Antonio cannot speak much English, but I can understand him speaking Italian to me; he has been very ill ever since I have known him—Ciocci has not paid the doctor for him, because I paid him with my own hands; he told him where there was an Italian physician, a Rome man, in Regent Street—I did not ask Ciocci to pay the doctor on any occasion—he did not inquire on that day whether he had seen the doctor—he came on the Saturday week before, and said, "Has Antonio seen the doctor?" I said, "Yee"—there was never a trunk there, only this bag—D'Angelio never brought a trunk there; I am out sometimes, but I never saw one there—I did not see a trunk go from our house to Rossi's—I did not see Galioni take a trunk away.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did Ciocci always call Galioni, Antonio? A. He always said Antoni.
CASSIMERO ROSSI (through an interpreter). I am a hairdresser, of 8, Charles Street, Hatton Garden, directly opposite Galioni's—I know him, and have seen Decola, D'Angelio, and Ciocci go into his house two or three times—I have seen them in the shop altogether, but am not aware whether they went together or not—on 23rd January, about twelve o'clock, I saw Decola there along with D'Angelio, and Galioni came to me and borrowed a pan—about two o'clock I saw Ciocci pass by Galioni's, he nodded to me—I was in my shop, and saw him go inside Galioni's house—I know Barriloni's restaurant—I have seen the three prisoners there together with D'Angelio—I was there on 22nd January in the evening, and played at cards with Ciocci and D'Angelio.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Do you remember either of the prisoners bringing a trunk to your place? A. No; Galioni never brought one—I do not know of D'Angelio taking a trunk to Galioni's—I have known D'Angelio about two months; he used to come to get shaved—I have known Galioni more than a year, he is a shoemaker, and Decola from about a month before the robbery.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Did you know either of the prisoners except Galioni until two or three months before the robbery? A. I have known Ciocci about two years—I first saw him go to Galioni's about a month before the robbery, when he brought some shoes.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Have you applied to Ciocci to lend you money? A. I told him once I should require a loan, but I asked him for nothing; that was about four months ago—I said that I required the money, but not from him.
PIEDRO STIGANI . I am waiter at Barriloni's—I have seen Galioni, Decola, and D'Angelio there—there is only one room, and when persons are inside they are all together—they used to come very often—the first time I saw them was twenty or twenty-five days before the robbery, and the last time was the evening before the robbery, at ten o'clock or half-past.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. How long have you been at the restaurant? A. It is not yet two months—it is frequented by both masters and men, and there is only one room for their entertainment—I have noticed great familiarity in this country between masters and men who are Italians.
COURT. Q. Who was it that Ciocci was playing at cards with the right before? A. D'Angelio and Rossi—I saw plenty of others there—Decola was not there that day or night, and I cannot remember that Galioni was there.
VINCENZO MILANDO . I keep Barriloni's restaurant, and have seen the three prisoners there frequently within the last two or three months—D'Angelio has been there at the same time—I saw Galioni the first time I opened the restaurant, and Ciocci used to come and visit me several times—I cannot say when I first saw Ciocci there with Galioni, because my business was down in the kitchen—I used to know Ciocci when I had the other hotel in Church Street—Ciocci has been down in the kitchen an hour at a time talking to me, and only once by chance Galioni came down at the same time—I heard of the robbery, and had seen Galioni there the evening before—he was in the habit of often coming to me—there were nine or ten days that Decola did not come; I had not turned him out, he went out of his own accord—I did not see Ciocci there that evening, or for four or five days—I went into the room that evening, and saw some others playing at cards, but did not pay attention to who it was—I did not see D'Angelio playing at cards that evening, it was days before.
Cross-examined by MR. SEJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. How long did you keep the restaurant? A. About seven or eight months—I have kept restaurants before, and Ciocci has been a customer of mine at all my restaurants ever since I have been in England—he came to my present restaurant directly I took it—he was not a regular customer, because lie took his dinner at home.
COURT. Q. Had some of the cameos been removed? A. Yes, 130.
CIOCCI— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude. GALIONI.— Confined Eighteen Months. DECOLA.— Confined Two Years.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, February 27th, 1867.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence
JOHN PEED . I reside at Whittlesea, in Cambridggeshire, and am a solictor—my London agents are Messrs. Nethersole and Speechly—for the last two years I have been working a brickyard, which has been managed by my foreman—about the 13th November I received a letter, in consequence of which I came to the Charing Cross Hotel—on the 26tb November this card (produced) was given to me there by the porter—I had previously received one like it in the letter—when the porter gave me the card I saw the defendant—he said, "Mr. Bradshaw"—I asked him if he had seen the bricks—I bad sent him some samples—he said he had only seen two of each sort, but they were both alike, and there was no pretence for making a difference in the price—we afterwards fixed upon a price, which was 19s. 6d. per thousand, and he was to paythe carriage—he said he was a man of business, and it was his practice to pay on the first of each month for goods delivered, and he asked me whether he should send me a cheque on the 1st of December for the few bricks I was going to let him have—I said, "As the amount would be so small, it had better stand over till the next month"—I then told
him I should require references—he said, "Of course; I shall be able to give you very satisfactory ones, one of them a gentleman with whom I have done a large amount of business, and who was carrying on a brickyard under circumstances similar to your own, and whom I have paid many hundreds of pounds"—I told him I was a solicitor—after that interview bricks were sent to the defendant almost daily, amounting in all to 110,000—that was from the 28th November till the 12th December—after I received the letter dated 10th December I wrote to Mr. Charles Boss, of 119, Englefield Road, and also to Mr. John Layland, of 14, De Beauvoir Road, Kingsland—in the course of post I received this letter (produced) from Mr. Ross in reply—I did not get a reply from Mr. Layland—I received a contract note from the prisoner in a letter dated the 26th November—it was in duplicate—I signed them both, and sent one back to the prisoner, at 1, Regent's Canal Basin, Limehouse—I had sent the prisoner 104,000 bricks before he sent me the references, and afterwards I sent him 6000 more—what induced me to part with the bricks was, that I believed the prisoner to be a respectable man, carrying on a legitimate business as described, and in the manner named in his cards, and at the addresses in the lithographed circulars—after I received the answer from Ross I caused further inquiries to be made, and in consequence of those inquiries I did not supply the prisoner with any more goods—an appointment was made to meet the prisoner at the office of my London agents on the Saturday before Christmas Day—he attended, and another appointment was made for the following Monday, which he did not attend—between the Saturday and Monday I had caused farther inquiries to be made—I did not see anything more of the prisoner until he was in custody—I have received no money from him in respect of the bricks—I have never seen Charles Ross.
Cross-examined. Q. At the interview at the Charing Cross Hotel, where do you say the prisoner said he was carrying on his business? A. During the conversation he said he had just driven up from his place of business at Stepney, and he wished he could let me see it—his card says that his place of business is "1, Regent's Canal Basin, near Stepney Railway"—there was not much dispute about the price—he first offered me one price and then another—I asked him what quantity he wanted, and he said he could get rid of any amount as commission agent—I won't swear that he did not offer to pay me for any bricks that had been sent up—I won't swear either way—I spoke first about references—he did not say anything about Five Bells Wharf then, but he did at the interview at Messrs. Nethersole and Speechly's office—I have no doubt that Five Bells Wharf being on his card had something to do with my sending him goods—I have not made inquiries about Ross and Layland personally—I have been to, 1, Regent's Canal Basin, but not to Five Bells Wharf—I am not aware that it is the custom of people who have goods landed at a certain wharf to put the name of that wharf on their card—I should not do such a thing myself—I think I wrote to Mr. Ross on the 11th December, and I received this letter in reply:—"Sir,—Your letter is to hand, and I do not hesitate to say that I should not be afraid to trust the firm you mention for the amount you name. I have done a considerable trade with them, and have always found them prompt." I believed the prisoner was a commission agent for every description of goods.
MR. BESLEY. Q. What was the value of the truck of bricks that he offered to pay for? A. 2l. 2s.
HENRY CHARLES HUGHES . I have been in the prisoner's service—before that I was in the service of Messrs. Williams, in the Kent Road, for some time—after I left Williams I was out of employment about a fortnight, and then I went into the prisoner's service as clerk—I believe that was about three months before Christmas, and I continued in his service until the first week in the new year—I attended at the office, 1, Regent's Canal Basin—I was there almost every day—the prisoner came there, sometimes every other day, and sometimes every day—Mr. Puttock entered his service after I did—I introduced him to the prisoner—his duties were out-door—I know nothing of Mr. Charles Ross, and have never seen him—the prisoner told me he did business with Ross, and he gave me his name to give as reference, and his address was 119, Englefield Road, Essex Road—he told me he had bought bricks and timber of him—I understood him to say he was a commission agent—I have seen nothing of a man named Layland, but the prisoner also described him to me as a commission agent, and that I was to give him as a reference—I know a person of the name of Lowe, as the prisoner's father-in-law—I have never seen him at the office, but I have very often at the prisoner's house—during the time I was at Regent's Canal Basin no goods came there, but some bricks went through the docks—a few samples of bricks, iron, and different things used to come;—also samples of glue, sandpaper, and geese—five geese came at Christmas—there were some chains from Mr. Edges, but no tiles, slates, sash-weights, grease, stair-rods, or jewellery—I kept a petty cash-book—this is it (produced)—it dates from the 26th of November, 1866, down to 9th January, 1867—there were other payments made besides those put down here—this book is only for small office expenses—I made no entries at all of other payments—I took the receipts to the prisoner—I cannot say how much I paid—I remember paying one account, 2l. 16s.—I think that was for barge dues—I did not pay anything for goods, as I had nothing to do with that—these letters (produced) are all in my handwriting—I wrote them by the prisoner's directions—the majority of the letters in this letter-book (produced) are also in my handwriting—they are press copies of original letters written by me—this contract was written by me—I sent the original to Mr. Peed, by direction of the prisoner—this list of "matters in hand" is not in my handwriting, but Mr. Puttock's—I supplied the materials from which it was written on the 17th December—these letters (produced) are in my handwriting—I could not swear to the prisoner's writing—this letter (produced) is written on the same paper as the others, and it has the lithographed heading—I cannot say whether it is in the prisoner's writing. (A letter, dated the 15th November, from the prisoner to the prosecutor, was read; also one dated the 19th; also one of the 29th, a portion of which was as follows:—"On Mr. Bradshaw's return from Manchester he will take the first opportunity of replying to the other portion of your letter.)" The other portion of your letter" alluded to there, was as to references—I did not know that the prisoner was in Manchester—I had not seen him for two days. (A letter of the 10th December from the prisoner to the prosecutor, was read, in which the names of Charles Ross, of 119, Englefield Road, and John Layland, of 14, De Beauvoir Road were given as references, with whom the prisoner stated he did a large amount of business. Several other letters were read, among them a letter to Messrs. Edge and Co., in which the names of Charles Ross and John Layland were given as references.) Messrs. Edge and Co. are the people from whom we had the chain—I do not know whether that was ever paid for. (Two other
letters, both dated 17th November, one addressed to Messrs. Andrews and Taylor, and the other to George Penn, in which the names of Ross and Layland were given as references, were read.) This is, I believe, the original list of "matters in hand"—it is a list of correspondence standing over—we went through the letter-book, and all correspondence that was open we put down—where contracts were open or negotiations were going on they were not in reference to any sale of goods by the prisoner to any one—I do not think there is any reference in the letter-book to any sale of goods by the prisoner—there were no ledgers or day-books kept at Regent's Canal Basin—no books at all, excepting the letter-book and a small book I entered invoices in—I have not got that—I have not seen it since I left.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the prisoner carry on at this place the business of a trader and wharfinger? A. He did—he bought other things besides bricks—it is the custom for persons to have more than one wharf, and to land their goods at different wharves—I know nothing about Five Bells Wharf, but I heard from the prisoner that he had bricks landed there—I have seen the address "Five Bells Wharf" on the prisoner's invoices—I and Mr. Puttock did not transact the whole of the business, the prisoner did a great deal of it himself—he kept his own books at his private house—I have seen him writing there—I have seen him making entries in books—several samples came to the office—it is not customary for the goods to come there—they generally pass through the wharf—we only received the samples and invoices—they were the invoices that I used to enter in the book—I remember a letter coming from Mr. Peed, insisting upon the prisoner taking the whole of the bricks, according to contract—I do not know what date it was—I had nothing to do with payments for goods—I do not know whether the prisoner paid away hundreds or millions—the prisoner lived in Pigott Street, Limehouse—I was not his confidential clerk.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Whilst you were with Williams and Co. did you refer to the prisoner as a reference as to the responsibility of Williams and Co.? A. I have given his name as a reference—I have been on friendly terms with the prisoner up to the present time—I knew of his removal from Pigott Street to Pelling Street, and from there he went to Randolph Street, Camden Town—he occupied apartments at those three places—I cannot say what number of books he kept, but I have seen him writing in books that looked like ordinary commercial books—I have never seen the inside of them, and never knew what he was writing—there were more than one—the invoices that I entered in the book I used to hand to the prisoner—they were invoices of goods received—I have not seen any account of goods sold—I had nothing to do with selling anything—I never saw any invoices of goods sold—I have seen invoices come of cast iron and metal bought, but not any that have been sold—I do not know any instance of any payment being made for any such articles—there was no business of a wharfinger carried on at Regent's Canal Basin—he never landed anything there.
MR. W. SLEIGH. Q. Has any communication been made to you directly or indirectly by the prisoner since he has been in custody upon this charge? A. No.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Have you been with the prisoner's wife constantly from day to day? A. I have spoken to her—I have spoken to her perhaps ten or a dozen times since he has been in custody.
MR. W. SLEIGH. Q. Has any offer been made to you with regard to this trial? A. No.
JOHN PUTTOCK . I entered the prisoner's service about three weeks before last Christmas—I had not known the witness Hughes before then, not personally—I had met him once or twice at a friend's of mine in the New Kent Road—when I entered prisoner's service I understood I was to go and superintend some timber in the country—he was negotiating then for it, but I believe that negotiation fell through—this letter (produced) I wrote by the prisoner's directions, at his lodgings in Pigott Street, the same evening that I was engaged by him—a person was present whom I believed to be Mr. Ross, but I afterwards ascertained it was Mr. Lowe—the prisoner had a letter in his hand at the time—I have been traveling about to get orders, but did not get any—I never saw any books of account, and I am not cognisant of any sale of goods, nor do I know of any money being paid to people from whom goods have been obtained—I know nothing of "Five Bells Wharf"—I was at the office but very little—I do not know Mr. Ross or Mr. Layland. (The letter which the witness wrote was read as follows:—"119, Englefield Road. Sir,—Your letter is to hand, and I do not hesitate to say that I should not be afraid to trust the firm you mention for the amount you name. I have done a considerable trade with them, and have always found them prompt. Your's obediently, Pro CHARLES ROSS. J. P.")
Cross-examined. Q. How many weeks were you with the prisoner? A. Three—I had nothing to do with the payment of goods—the prisoner might have paid hundreds or millions, and I should not have known anything about it—I do not know where he kept his accounts—the timber that I was engaged to superintend, I think, was about 1000l. worth—I went to look at several lots of timber—I never heard the prisoner say anything about these bricks.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Whose timber did you go down to see? A. Mr. White, of Maidstone, and Mr. Biding, of Reading—I am not aware that any was bought—this paper (produced) is in my handwriting—I do not know what was done with it after I had written it—I saw it in the prisoner's possession.
WILLIAM CHILDS . I am square-keeper of Golden Square; before that I was square-keeper on Tower Hill for twenty years—I was also connected with a trade protection society for seven or eight years—I have known the prisoner nine or ten years by the names of Browning and Carter, but never by the name of Bradshaw—he has been a publican and corn chandler, he was also waiter at Bristowe's Coffee-house, Duke Street, London Bridge—he went there by the name of Carter—I know a man of the name of Ross—I saw the prisoner with him on London Bridge about five or six months ago—I believe Ross had something to do in Somerset House—the prisoner absconded from his bail.
Cross-examined. Q. How came you to have anything to do with this case? A. I was sent for to see if I knew Bradshaw—a policeman spoke to me first about it—I do not know what Ross was in Somerset House—I have never been in the police force—the prisoner has had a few judgments against him, and there was a warrant out against him three years ago.
WILLIAM RICKETT . I am a member of the firm of Rickett and Co, coal merchants—we have a wharf at Regent's Canal Basin, and several offices—I let one of them to the prisoner on the 5th October, as from the 29th September—he was then described as Benjamin Bradshaw—it was let on a quarterly agreement—I have seen him there—after he was taken into custody I got the agreement cancelled by his own sanction—I never
saw any goods brought there, nor any business carried on—he never paid me anything for rent, which was 40l. per annum.
Cross-examined. Q. There was nothing due, was there? A. Yes, a quarter's rent—one of my clerks had applied to him for it.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Did you know of his being at Camden Town at all? A. No.
HENRY HALFORD . I am an oculist, and reside at Oakley Road, Islington—I have a house at No. 14, De Beauvoir Road, which in September last I let to a man of the name of Ross, but I believe that is not his proper name—he said that he was a shawl designer, that he had got enough to live upon, and he simply did a little to amuse himself—the house was let to him for three years at £48 per annum, payable quarterly—this is the agreement (produced)—he never paid me any rent, nor gave me notice to leave—I found he had left the house on the 23rd December—the place was locked up except the back door, and was empty.
HENRY BUDD . I reside at 42, Queen Margaret's Grove, Mildmay Park, and am clerk to an estate agent, who had the letting of 119, Englefield Road—it was let on the 14th September to a Mr. Charles Ross, for three years, at£46 per annum, payable quarterly—this is the agreement (produced)—we have received no rent, and no notice to quit—I found the house deserted on the 24th December—the keys were returned, with the agreement, in a brown paper parcel—I have not seen anything of Mr. Ross since, and I do not know where he is.
BENIAH BOTTINGS . I live opposite to 119, Englefield Road—about half-past five on the morning before Christmas Day I saw a horse and van standing at the door of No. 119—I do not know what was in it—I did not see anything put in it.
GEORGINA SPEECHLY . I live at 117, Englefield Road, which is next door to 119—in November I saw people go in and out of that house, but I never saw any business carried on there—they left the house on the 24th December—I saw people there on the Sunday, and on the Monday they were gone—I saw several men there.
SUSAN RICHARDS . I live in De Beauvoir Road, next door to No. 14—I saw furniture moved in there three days before Michaelmas Day, and it was occupied till the Saturday before Christmas Day—on that day I saw some articles of furniture taken away in a cart between seven and eight in the evening—I never saw any business carried on there—I have seen some one like the prisoner there, also a tall man with a bald head.
HENRY BROWN . I am the owner of Five Bells Wharf, Bow—I have never seen the prisoner to my knowledge—Five Bells Wharf is about a mile and a half from Regent's Canal Basin—I had transactions with a man of the name of Lowe three or four months ago—he applied to me about a wharf, and said it was for Mr. Bradshaw; I asked him about references, he said the references would be cash, but I did not hear any more about it—some time ago he had two barges of bricks landed there—he did not carry on the business of a wharfinger there during the months of November and December, and I never gave him any authority to use the name of "Five Bells Wharf."
Cross-examined. Q. Are you in the habit of letting your wharf to different
people? A. Any one who wanted to land goods, I should let them have the use of it by paying for it—my clerks conduct some of my business—I sent to Woolwich for some bricks for Mr. Lowe about June or July last—my business is not very extensive—it is not the custom for people who use my wharf to put the name of the wharf on their cards.
JOHN WALKER . I am a friend of Mr. Jones, one of the managing clerks to Messrs. Nethersole and Speechly, and we are fellow-students at King's College—at his request I went to make inquiries about Charles Ross, of 119, Englefield Road, on the Friday before Christmas Day—I knocked at the door, and a woman answered it—I did not see any man—afterwards I went to 14, De Beauvoir Road—I knocked at the door, and a woman appeared from the area—I did not see a man there—on Saturday I was present at the interview at Messrs. Nethersole and Speechly's office, and saw the prisoner there—I have made a mistake; it was not on the Friday that I went to Englefield Road, but on the Saturday morning, and the interview took place after that—on the Sunday morning, between nine and ten o'clock, I went again to 119, Englefield Road, and Mr. Jones went to 14, De Beauvoir Road—I saw two men come out from the area; one of them, I believe, was the prisoner; they ran along the Englefield Road about 250 yards, and jumped into a cart which was standing there, and drove off—that is the last I saw of the prisoner until he was in custody—afterwards I went with Mr. Jones to both these houses, and found them deserted.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you a private detective? A. No; I volunteered my services in this case—I know a policeman was present at the interview on Saturday with a list of questions to catch the prisoner.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Who put the question to the prisoner? A. I do not know, I was not present.
JOHN TREEBELL . I live at No.7, Pigott Street, and am a shipwright—the prisoner lodged at my house for about six weeks, up to a fortnight before Christmas—they occupied the drawing-room, furnished—I once saw a sort of ledger in his room, but I did not open it.
ELIZABETH CANARD . I live in Pelling Street, East India Road—the prisoner lodged with me about three weeks—he left about the 3rd January, but he kept the apartments on a fortnight after that—his wife came there after the 3rd January—they occupied the parlours, and paid 12s. a week—I had no idea of his leaving on the 3rd January—I never saw any account books about.
----WAGSTAFF. I live at 15, Randolph Street, Camden Road—the prisoner lodged with me about three weeks under the name of Sibley—he was taken into custody there by Sergeant Freestone.
HENRY ESTER . I am employed in the goods department at the Devonshire Street Station of the Great Eastern Railway—a quantity of bricks arrived from Mr. Peed, Whittlesea—I saw the prisoner there—some of those bricks were carted away by a man of the name of Jacob Base, some by Mr. Smith, and some by the prisoner himself—the carriage was 13s. per 1000.
JACOB BASE . I was employed by Mr. Smith to cart some bricks from the Devonshire Street Station—I carted nearly 100,000—I saw the prisoner once at my house—he came there in reference to a little mistake Smith had made, and wanted to know how many I had carted; I looked over my books and told him—I took some of the bricks to Mr. Cooper, but none to Mr. Kirk.
JOHN TEMPLEMAN . I am foreman to Mr. Peed, brickmaker, at Whittlesea—I superintended the loading and despatching of these bricks to the Devonshire Street Station—since the prisoner has been in custody some bricks have been pointed out to me, and they are the same bricks that I sent.
NOAH SMITH . I live at No. 10, Brassey Terrace, Victoria Park, and am a builder—I know nothing of the prisoner, and have never seen him before—I purchased 100,000 bricks through Mr. Lowe about a month before Christmas—I was to pay 38s. for them, including carriage, but I paid the carriage, which was 13s., and gave Lowe the difference—the carting cost me 4s. per 1000.
GEORGE KIRK . I live at No. 5, Tredegar Terrace, Bow, and am a builder—I never saw the prisoner until I saw him at the Thames Police-court—I bought about 8000 bricks of a man named Lowe—the 26th November was the first delivery.
JOHN BRODERICK (Policeman 210 M). I have known the prisoner since December, 1863—he was then a waiter at Bristowe's Coffee-house, Duke Street, London Bridge—he went under the name of Browning—he remained there up to March, 1864, when he absconded on hie bail—I did not see him from that time until he was taken on this charge.
WILLIAM FREESTONE (Policeman 58 K). I was employed in this case previously to the Saturday before Christmas Day—on the Saturday I went to Messrs. Nethersole and Speechly's office, for the purpose of seeing a person that was coming there—the prisoner came—he was told that I was an officer—Mr. Peed was present—he was asked whether he had any objection to answer some questions—he said, "No"—on the Monday a warrant was granted, and I went to the office at Regent's Canal Basin about twenty times; I also went to the house at Pigott Street, but I was unable to ascertain where he was until the 30th January, when I found him in Randolph Street, Camden Town, under the name of Sibley—I found a letter-book there—everything I found I have given up.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you got a list of the questions which were put, and the answers? A. Yes—Mr. Speechly put the questions in my presence, and I took a note of them—before the questions were put Mr. Jones said something—the questions and answers were as follows:—"Q. Where are you carrying on business? A. 1, Regent's Canal Basin. Q. Who are your partners? A. None. Q. How long have you been in business? A. Three or four months? Q. Where have you been sleeping this last three months? A. 7, Pigott Street, East India Road; I rent the house. Q. Where is Five Bells Wharf? A. At Bow—I land things there—Brown keeps it. Q. Have you sold our bricks, and to whom, and at what price? A. I have sold all the bricks, excepting the two trucks, at 38s.—some to Mr. Smith, at Bow, and some to Mr. Kirk; Jacob Base carted the bricks. Q. Have you ever gone by any other name, or traded in any other name? A. No. Q. How long have you known Mr. Ross, of 119, Englefield Road? A. Three years. Q. What business transactions have you had with him? A. Bricks. Q. Have you ever lived in the same house with him? A. Never, nor Layland. Q. How long have you known Mr. Layland? A. Five years." That is all—when I took him into custody, he said he had an agreement with Mr. Peed for Mr. Peed to sell him one million and a half of bricks at 19s. 6d. per 1000, exclusive of the carriage.
----JONES. I was present at this interview in Messrs. Nethersole
and Speechly's office—after a deal of conversation the prisoner said, "Oh! I will pay you; I will pay you on Monday; I have got a bond of Mr. Lowe's, and I will bring it on Monday; I will be here by two o'clock"—he did not come—he had not a moustache then.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am hall porter at the Charing Cross Hotel—I know Mr. Peed—about the latter end of November the prisoner came and asked for him; Mr. Peed was out, and, after remaining about a couple of hours, the prisoner said it was more to Mr. Peed's interest than his; that he had come a considerable distance, and could wait no longer; and he left a card simliar to this (the one produced)—I gave it to Mr. Peed, and shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner talking with him.
GUILTY .*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, February 27th, 1867.
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
The Grand Jury having in this case ignored the bill, MR. STRAIGHT, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the inquisition.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. J.B. MAULE, Q.C., with MR. POLAND, conducted the Prosecution, and MR. SLEIGH the Defence.
ARTHUR HYDE DENDY . I live at Torquay, and am the brother of Miss Albinia Martina Dendy—my father died in April, 1846—after that time my sister Albinia continued to live with my mother till about the year 1850—about that time she went to live at the defendant's, at Rose Cottage, Feltham—my mother died in September, 1858; she had been living at a house called the Hollys, at Feltham—I had a sister named Ann Alicia Julia—shortly after my mother's death, in September, 1858, she went to live at Rose Cottage, and she moved the furniture that had belonged to my mother, or the greater portion of it, to Rose Cottage, and that was her permanent residence up to the time of her death, on 19th February, 1866—up to that time, and up to January in the present year, my sister Albinia had continued to live at Rose Cottage—when she first went to live at the defendant's his wife was alive; she died in March, 1865—the defendant had been a footman in my father's service, and some time after my father's death he acted as coachman to my mother—his wife was also a servant in my father's family; she was housekeeper and nurse—up to February, 1866, when my sister Ann Alicia died, I did not interfere in any way with the arrangements under which the defendant had charge of my sister; after her death I saw him with regard to my sister Albinia the alleged lunatic—I first saw him on the same night that I received the intelligence of the death of my other sister, but I had no conversation with him on the subject of any pecuniary arrangement; it was on 5th April, 1866, that I first spoke to him about the arrangement with regard to my sister; I saw him at his cottage, I paid him the arrears that were then due to
him for the maintenance of my sister Albinia, which sums had been paid at the rate of 78l. per annum (namely, 50l. per annum under my mother's will, and 28l. per annum), and, in consequence of his representing to me that since the death of his wife he could not afford to keep her with so small a payment, and that he wished to have 100l. a year paid to him, I undertook to pay him that 100l. a year, and it was paid up to the removal of my sister on 7th January last—nothing was said specially about its including medical attendance, although I believe the 78l. had included it—since my sister's removal I have had a charge of 8l. 18s. 6d. sent in for medical attendance—I always considered my sister Albinia to be imbecile as far back as I can remember; she never could converse or utter a sentence, and she has since been certified to be of unsound mind—she was decidedly not able to manage her own affairs.
Cross-examined. Q. I understand you are a member of the legal profession? A. I have practised as a conveyancer—I am a barrister—my sister Albinia is one year younger than myself—the defendant and his wife were not in my father's service as far back as I can remember—his wife came at a period within my recollection; I can't exactly say when—she was nurse to my sister Ann Alicia from her infancy—Alicia was three years younger than Albinia, she was forty-two when she died—the defendant was for a short time in business for himself, and at a later period he came back to the family, and remained till my father's death—after his death my mother went to live first at Southend and then at Feltham—I believe my mother and my two sisters lived for two or three months at Rose Cottage before they could find a place suitable for them—I never saw them there, but I have no doubt about it; that was in 1855—the Hollys was about 300 yards from Rose Cottage—after my mother's death my sister Alicia went to reside at Rose Cottage with her sister, and remained there till she died, by reason of an accident last year—my mother's will contained this request:—"I declare it to be my wish that Albinia should remain with the said Mary Ann Harris as long as the said Mary Ann Harris shall live"—a niece of the defendant, named Emma Harris, lived with him, and acted as assistant or servant, and attended on my sister until her removal—I have not given any information at all to the Lunacy Commissioners about my sister being under the care of the defendant—I engaged Dr. Tuke to go and visit my sister, with a view to her removal—that was on the 23rd December, 1866—I did not take any other medical man to see her previous to that—I saw Mr. Kingsford, who was in attendance upon her—my mother's will had been proved at the time I went to see my sister Alicia, on receiving the telegram about the accident—after Alicia's death a will of hers was handed to me by Mr. Harris, of 1857—by that will I inherited the freehold property—in April, 1866, another will, dated 1859, was alleged to have been discovered, and it was handed not to me, but to another person—it was before the discovery of that will that I agreed to allow the defendant the additional sum to make up 100l. a year—if the will of 1859 is established I shall be in a very different position, but it is in dispute—that will has been propounded, the cause tried in the Probate Court, and a verdict given against me—I have applied for a new trial, and the motion is now pending—it was the day after the verdict was pronounced against me in the Probate Court that I took Dr. Tuke down to visit my sister Albinia at Feltham—the verdict was on Saturday, and on Sunday I took Dr. Tuke down—the defendant was examined as a witness on the trial—I have
not noticed any violence of any kind in my sister Albinia—she would get into little passions occasionally; that is all—she is perfectly quiet.
MR. MAULE. Q. Has your sister Albinia ever been made a ward in Chancery? A. I believe she has, as regards some small sum that was left her—she has no committee—the 50l. a year that the defendant had, was a charge on the real estate by my mother's will for Albinia's benefit, an annuity—I believe the 28l. was so much in addition, which my sister Alicia used to pay during her lifetime towards her sister's maintenance—that was no doubt under some agreement—it came out of Alicia's pocket.
COURT. Q. Where did your father live? A. In Montague Street, Russell Square—he died there—I married very shortly after my father's death and went to reside in the neighbourhood of Highgate—I went to Torquay about the year 1861 or 1862—as long as I can recollect my sister Albinia was imbecile—after my father's death I saw very little of her—during my father's life she was never allowed to go out without attendance, I mean without somebody accompanying her—she was incapable of taking care of herself when out in the street—one of the servants used generally to go with her—she very seldom went out at all when she was in London—there are two wills of my sister Alicia in existence—I had one handed to me, and that I proved, that was the will of 1857, at least I took out administration—the other will which is now questioned, is dated 19th November, 1859—my sister Albinia was not allowed to do as she pleased; she always remained in the nursery—she did not live down stairs—she was always treated as a child, even after she became of age—she could not cut her own meat, for instance—she had not the slightest idea of the value of money; she did not know a shilling from a halfpenny—those circumstances must have been known to the defendant—I am speaking now of circumstances when my sister was living in London—I may mention that when she was living with Mr. and Mrs. Harris she lived in the kitchen with them, and my other sister had her own room—I know that of my own knowledge—she did not live in the same room with Alicia and associate with her; she only occasionally came in, to wish her good night and that sort of thing—she could neither read nor write—the defendant was aware of that, it was a matter so obvious from her general habits and manner.
DR. THOMAS HARRINGTON TUKE , M.D. I am a member of the Royal College of Physicians, and reside at the Manor House, Chiswick; I have also a house at 37, Albemarle Street, Piccadilly—I practise at both places—my practice is almost entirely confined to nervous affections—I saw Miss Albinia Dendy on 23rd December last year, on 30th December, and on 7th January this year, and I have attended her regularly since—the 23rd December was my first visit—I wish to state that my present attendance is under the Act of Lunacy, which compels a medical visit once a fortnight—upon my first visit I was not perfectly satisfied as to the state of the lady's mind, inasmuch as I was prevented from making an examination, by Mr. Harris; he desired her not to answer any questions, and I could not tell until I had seen her again whether that was effectual with her or not—I went alone, I was a stranger to her up to that time; it was at Rose Cottage, Feltham; I stayed about ten minutes only—the defendant's niece, Emma Harris, was present besides the defendant and myself—on the 30th I went with Mr. Dendy, the last witness—I was also accompanied by Mr. Kingsford, the medical attendant—I and Mr. Kingsford saw
her then alone, in the absence of Harris; I had very little doubt before as to the state of her mind and intellect, bat there could not be the slightest on the second interview, because she could not understand who I was or why I came, or her own position, or what she was doing at Rose Cottage, or the bearing which the death of her sister had upon her own fortunes, or in fact comprehend apparently any but the most simple possible propositions, and that very imperfectly—I tried her upon the usual subjects, as to the value of money, as to the day of the year, the time of the month, as to her own name; she could not answer her own name, unless it was put interrogatively, "Is your name Albinia?"—on that occasion I should think we were there nearly forty minutes or an hour, a long time—her state was imbecility in the first degree; she was imbecile; that certainly must have lasted many years, from childhood certainly—I saw that she was amused with a bundle of rags, and I have since seen her pleased with a doll and a toy, and that kind of thing—her age is about forty-two or forty-three, or a little older—she looks at pictures with amusement, and seems to know the subjects of some of them—I have since seen her once a fortnight—I do not hold any appointment under the Commissioners of Lunacy, I have seen her simply as visitor of a single patient; a medical mail must be appointed as a visitor, he is appointed by the committee of the person or the signer of the certificate or order of seclusion—I took upon myself to visit her, being the medical attendant; the Statute requires whoever is the medical attendant to go once a fortnight and to make, an entry ia a book—having chosen the place of Miss Dendy's residence, and being her medical attendant, I simply did my duty in going, and I have gone since with Mr. Dendy's knowledge—I told him it was necessary, and I had his tacit permission to do so—that is since the patient's removal from Rose Cottage to another establishment, the house of a clergyman near London.
Cross-examined. Q. When were you first requested by Mr. Dendy to go to Rose Cottago to see this lady? A. On the day that the trial terminated, after the verdict upon the trial as to the sanity of Alicia when making the will of 1859—I was a witness on that trial on behalf of Mr. Dendy—I don't think I ever spoke to Mr. Dendy in my life before that occasion, I mean till the occasion of speaking to him about his sister, the alleged lunatic; that was on the 22nd or 23rd, on the last day of the trial; it lasted many days—I was a witness, but I was not in communication with Mr. Dendy; I was instructed by the solicitors—Mr. Dendy made no application to me to visit his sister until the jury pronounced a verdiet against him on the will—I was a witness on the trial in the Probate Court, at the request of Mr. Dandy's solicitors, for the purpose of giving evidence as to the soundness of mind of Alicia—I had been consulted on that subject; I had not seen Alicia—I had been consulted on the subject of documentary evidence—the communication on the subject of Albinia came from me—I went to Mr. Dendy, he did not come to me; we had never spoken till then, except to say "Good morning" in Court—on the first occasion I went alone to see her on the Sunday morning—on the second occasion I asked him to accompany me, because I could not get an entrance, I was not allowed to speak to Miss Dendy—I was present when Mr. Harris was examined as a witness in the Probate Court—he saw me examined, and knew me perfectly well, and when I went down to his place I sent in iny card; he said, "This is not a proper day to come down and interfere with my family on a Sunday"—I was present when Miss Dendy was removed—she was not in the lightest degree affected, not the least, she
could not be made to understand what her brother wanted to do, but when she was in the carriage she was perfectly pleased, happy, and delighted—her brother took her up in his arms and carried her out of the house like a child; I have described it that force was used to get her out; her brother took her up in his arms and carried her out by force.
MR. MAULE. Q. Let us understand thoroughly what occurred, which you have described as the use of force? A. The brother begged the sister to come with him—he described that he had got a nice house for her, and she should have a drive with him—nothing had been said or done by her to provoke him to make that remark—he asked her to come out with him—she did not say she would not, but she evidently did not want to go—she made a noise, a sort of grunting noise, and Miss Harris said she was very angry—it indicated dissent—no one was with Mr. Dendy and myself when the was removed—Miss Harris was there—Mr. Dendy had the order for her removal in his pocket—I may explain that, not knowing how a lady in her state of mind and health might bear a removal of that sort, even with her own brother, I volunteered to Mr. Dendy to go down with him, in order to see that no harm happened to her—the order for removal is in effect a request to the party who is to receive a patient, to do so, under the hand of a person described as having authority to make the request—I suppose as much feeling was expressed at going as a woman in her state of mind could indicate—it was alarm—she was frightened—she could not make out whit her brother wanted—it was evidently a new thing to her, because the instant she found she Was sitting in the carriage she smiled and laughed—we stopped and spoke to a friend of hers within fifty yards, who shook hands with her in the carriage, and who noticed how smiling she looked—it was a pleasure trip for her—I was a witness on the issue of the sanity or insanity of Alicia, with regard to some will that was said to be her will—I had never seen her—it was the documents in question then that led to my going to Mr. Dendy and saying to him that some medical man must at once be sent down to see Albinia—I had read the documents—it was entirely upon the basis of those documents that I gave my evidence, professionally and scientifically, and of course upon the evidence I heard in Court—after I had given that evidence I went to Mr. Dendy upon my own mere motion—it was in consequence of my seeing him and suggesting something that I visited Rose Cottage on the Sunday—I sent in my card and explained who I was—I saw Miss Harris first—Mr. Harris at first said he was ill, but he afterwards came into the room, and when I had been there about five minutes he desired Miss Dendy not to answer any questions, and said I was a witness who had been talking of what I knew nothing about in the witness-box, and he frightened her—he said that Miss Dendy was quite rational, that I was coming down to injure her in some way or other, and she was not to answer any questions, and I left.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Have you made an affidavit in the case in the Probate Court in support of the motion for a new trial? A. Yes.
EDWARD KINGSFORD . I reside at Sunbury—I am a fellow of the College of Surgeons—I went to visit Miss Albinia Martina Dendy, at Rose Cottage, Feltham—I first saw her professionally in July, 1865—I bad seen her previously at various times, I should say from the year 1856, from the time I first attended her mother's family—my first attendance upon her personally was in July, 1865—she was then imbecile—I considered her almost an idiot—she was unable to comprehend very simple questions—she was not able to feed herself, not able to read or write, in fact she had much the
appearance of an idiot—I believe she did feed herself, but she was unable to cut up her food—she did not know the value of money, and was not in the least capable of managing her own affairs—the defendant was often in the room when I saw her—I saw her constantly since July, 1865—she remained in the same state the whole of that time—in January this year I saw her under a certificate for her removal to another place—from the first time I saw her I concluded that she was of unsouud mind—I believe the first time I saw her was accidentally as I was passing, I saw her in the garden—when I had the opportunity of seeing her professionally I formed the opinion that she was imbecile.
Cross-examined. Q. I think you have said that she was undoubtedly of weak mind, but perfectly harmless? A. Perfectly harmless, as far as I observed—I saw her constantly—she used to amuse herself with sewing, and little diversions of that kind—she was docile—I should say decidedly that the Harris's behaved with the utmost kindness to her during the whole time I observed her with them—they treated her as if she was their own child.
THOMAS MARTIN . I am chief clerk of the Commissioners in Lunacy; Feltham is within the jurisdiction of the Commissioners—they grant licences for the reception of lunatics in houses within their jurisdiction—as chief clerk, all the documents requisite to authorise the reception of a single lunatic must pass through my hands—I have never received from Mr. Harris, of Rose Cottage, any copies or originals of orders or medical certificates with regard to Albinia Dendy.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Is there not a book or register kept in which there are entries made of all houses and persons which are licensed? A. Yes, I have it here.
MR. MAULE. Q. But a house for the reception of a single patient would not require a licence? A. No.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the book you speak of kept by you? A. It is not kept by me, it is kept under my direction—all the entries are made, under my cognisance and surveillance, by another clerk—in my absence it would be his duty to make the entry—Mr. Mitchell is the clerk—he is not here—it would go to another clerk before it went to Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Rawlins—he is not here—if they forgot to make the entry the fact would be unknown.
MR. MAULE. Q. The Statute requires the recipient of a single lunatic patient to send true copies of the order and two certificates? A. Yes, to the Commissioners in Lunacy—they are generally addressed to the Commissioners, and sometimes to the secretary, but I open every document that comes into the office—it is all filtered through my hands first—this book would contain the notice of the arrival of the documents referred to—I have searched the book—the copies sent are placed in a bundle of papers according to their order—they are classed in circuits or districts for the Commissioners—we keep the copies as well as enter them—after they go into the hands of Mr. Rawlins, or Mr. Mitchell, they are kept by them until they are handed out to the Commissioner, to take with him when he goes to visit a patient, so that he may know her history from the document—this (produced) is the original document sent to us with regard to Miss Dendy's removal to her present abode.
COURT. Q. Is there any other book kept as to the register of houses for the reception of single lunatics than this? A. They are all in this book—it is kept in the office by Mr. Mitchell—it is open to my inspection at any
moment—Mitchell and Rawlins are clerks acting under me—if any order or certificate was received it would be entered in this book.
CHANNELL LAW . I am a clerk in the office of Messrs. Vandercomb, Law, and Co., solicitors for this prosecution—I served a notice to produce upon the prisoner, a copy of which I produce; I served it on Saturday last at Feltham. (This was a notice to produce any order or certificate authorising him to receive or retain the said Albinia Dendy, as required by the Statute.)
MR. SLEIGH submitted that the evidence was insufficient to support the charge; that there was no evidence that the defendant had not such order as was required by the Statute, the book in which the entry of such order should appear not being kept by the witness who was called, but by others who were not present, and, although it might be suggested that it was a book kept under his inspection, even then it could only be referred to for the purpose of showing what it did contain, and not to prove what it did not; that there wat therefore no evidence to support the charge that the house was not licensed, or that the defendant received a person without the requisite certificate or order.
MR. MAULE (with MR. POLAND) contended that, from the very nature of the charge, a negative and not an affirmative proof was all the prosecution could offer. That proof had been given, they had shown, as fully as they could, that no such documents existed, and it was for the defendant (who was bound under a penalty to send copies to the Commissioners) to show if he ever had them.
MR. BARON CHANNELL was of opinion that there was evidence for the Jury that the lady in question was a lunatic or an alleged lunatic, and that the defendant received and retained her without having the order and certificate required by the Statute. It was truly stated that the proof in this case was in the nature of negative proof, and that negative was, in his opinion, established by the evidence, applying the ordinary rules of law and common sense a public duty was thrown upon the Commissioners, under the superintendence of their chief clerk, and though, as a general rule, a defendant must have his guilt proved, and was not to be called upon to establish his innocence, and where the proof was in the nature of negative proof, and where, if he had received the documents and had not transmitted them, they would be in his possession, and notice to produce was given, there was a sufficient case for the Jury to decide upon.
NOT GUILTY .
There was an indictment against the prisoner for feloniously attempting to discharge a loaded pistol at the same person with intent to murder, upon which MR. NICHOLSON, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
MR. DALY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidences.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, February 28th, 1867.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and the evidence was interpreted to the prisoners.
THOMAS ROOF . I am a merchant, of 68, Devonshire Terrace, East India Road—on 13th February, about seven in the evening, I was in Lombard Street, about to enter Nicholas Lane, when my attention was drawn to a bill at Grove and Gurney's office—I then felt a blow on my side, and saw a man running away from me—I missed my watch, and heard something fall on the ground which broke like glass—I ran after the man down Nicholas Lane, across King William Street, and into Cannon Street, where I became exhausted and stopped—I saw the man cross Cannon Street, and run into a street on the opposite side, which I believe is Martin's Lane—the officer then brought the prisoner Daniel to me—this is my watch (produced)—it is worth 20l.—part of the chain was left hanging to my waistcoat, and the other part is attached to the watch.
THOMAS GIBSON . I am a packer in the service of James Blackburn, of Sadler's Court, Paternoster Row—I was in Lombard Street, and saw the prosecutor and a man similar to Daniel, and another man who was bustling about, the prosecutor ran past Bertram after Daniel, and I saw Bertram run and pick up a watch—I followed him and said, "You have got that gentleman's watch;" he spoke like a foreigner, and said, "Me no thief"—I kept near him, and when I spoke to a policeman he ran away—I ran after him and caught him in a gateway—I found the watch up the gateway, and gave it to the officer.
Bertram's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I wish to say I picked up the watch."
GUILTY . Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Confined Two Months.
MR. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WILLIAMS . I am a farrier, of 8, Crispin Street, and attend the prosecutor's horses—I saw his bay mare in a cart in Spitalfields Market on 29th January—I made a communication to the person who had it, and he took it to the station.
WILLIAM NAUGHTYMAN . I keep a sailors' lodging-house at 29, Albert Street, Shadwell—on Tuesday morning, 29th January, I was driving a mare and cart in Spitalfields Market—Williams spoke to me, and I took it to the station—I bought the horse of the prisoner the day before; he was riding it up and down Albert Street—I asked him whether it was for sale—he said, "Yes"—I said I could not buy it unless I sold my two horses—he offered me the horse for my two horses and 8l.—I walked away, but ultimately bought the horse for my two horses and 3l. 10s.—when he made that agreement a person was with him whom he addressed as his father, and whom I have not seen since—the father said that the horse came from Yorkshire—I paid the money to the father.
MR. WILLIAMS here withdrew from the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM THOMAS DONALD (Policeman 230 B). About a quarter to three on 28th January I was on duty in York Street, Westminster, and as I passed Mr. Miller's house I heard a noise in the passage—I said, "Who is there?" but received no answer—I sprang my rattle and kicked at the door—Mr. Miller admitted me, and I found the shop had been broken into and an entrance effected—I then went into Ship Court, which is about two doors off, and found that a number of tiles had been broken in two houses in York Street, adjoining—I followed that track into Mr. Miller's yard, and continued it over three different houses in the same direction, when, having crossed a yard, I got to the Wellington Barracks—when I got to the farther end of the barracks I found the prisoner and two others crouched down close to the tiles—the other two escaped over the wall, and went into the Wellington Barracks—I jumped down and stood over the prisoner—he was lying along the tiles along the wall—I cannot say whether his eyes were closed—he was not asleep, because as soon as I stood over him he began to move—when I touched him he said, "I have only been asleep"—that would be a way of escape from Mr. Miller's back door, which was open.
COURT. Q. How did you trace them to the tiles where the prisoner was found? A. By a number of tiles which had fallen—the other men were taken, but there was not sufficient evidence, and they were discharged.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Did you find on the prisoner a bottle of lotion and some duplicates? A. Yes—his eye was bandaged up so as to make the lotion necessary.
Prisoner. Q. I was attending Westminster Hospital from an accident; I had been on the roof of the bakehouse an hour and a half; do you know the other two men, Patterson and Kelly? A. Yes—they were apprehended at twelve and two the same day—it was sworn to by several
witnesses that they were in bed at the time—they were remanded for a week.
JOHN MILLER . I am a tobacconist—on the night of 28th January I locked and bolted my shop inside—I was knocked up by people breaking ill in the middle of the night—I let the policeman in, and found the back door open, which I had locked two hours previously—an entrance had been effected by the back kitchen, by lifting up the window-sash, which was loose—I held up a light to see who went over the wall, and a brick was thrown at my head, which knocked the candle out of my hand.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, alleged that a soldier of the Grenadiers took him on to the roof of the bakehouse, telling him to wait there for a parcel to take to a friend near Temple Bar; and, finding he did not comeback, the prisoner went to sleep on the roof, having been drinking; and that, having met with an accident, he had a handkerchief and some lint and lotion over one of his eyes, and a bottle of lotion in his pocket. The Jury considered that there was not enough evidence to call upon the prisoner for his defence.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and GRAIN conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.
CHARLES SAMUEL WEBB . I am cashier to Burgoyne, Burbage, and Squire, wholesale druggists, of 16, Coleman Street—the prisoner was their clerk, and used to be supplied with money in advance for the purpose of buying stamps, which he kept in his desk under lock and key—it was his duty to give them out to the different persons in the establishment as they required them, and to cause them to be entered in this book, which I added up every week, aud struck a balance, giving him credit for the stamps which he represented by the book that he had given out—he would have money to go on with from week to week—I find here an entry on 8th January, "329 at 1d., 1l. 17s. 5d. A. P."—those are the initials of Alexander Pride, one of the prosecutors' clerks—the whole of that is written by Pride—at the end of that week I added up the money, and it amounted to 11l. 11s. 11d—that includes 1l. 17s. 5d. instead of 1l. 7s. 5d—I did not notice that 329 at 1d. was wrongly carried out, and when I settled with the prisoner at the end of the week I gave him credit for the 11l. 11s. 11d—on the 18th January here is "613 at 1d., 3l. 17s. 9d. A. P.," and on 21st January it is added up, and comes to 15l. 14s. 5d.—that includes the 3l. 17s. 9d. instead of 3l. 7s. 9d.—I did not notice the miscalculation—the figure 1 in the 3l. 17s. 9d. is partly out of the column—on 6th February here is "341 at d., 1l. 18s. 5d. A. P."—that week adds up to 8l. 1s. 11d., which includes 1l. 18s. 5d. instead of 1l. 8s. 5d.—it is apparently in Mr. Pride's writing, bat when it was brought to me I saw that the "1" in the shillings had recently been made aud blotted, and it is even now slightly different to the other figures, as if made more recently—I showed the entry to Mr. Burgoyne, who examined it, and the prisoner was given in charge—the officer searched his desk in my presence—it was unlocked with a key, which Mr. Burgoyne produced, and this is a list of the stamps found (produced)—the aggregate is 13l. 18s. 10d. in different denominations—this is the book I kept, crediting him with money
which he has expended in stamps—I struck a balance in it every week—we both settled the account in this book—crediting the prisoner with the stamps found in the drawer and the 8l. 11s. 11d. for the last week, the account stands 30l. 2s. 7d. on the debit side, and 30l. 14s. 4d. on the credit side, which is a balance in the prisoner's favour of 11s. 9d.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner what is called invoice clerk? A. Yes—it was his duty to make invoices and check them—those duties would take him to different parts of the warehouse—this book is kept in a desk, and Pride could get it from there—it was not kept in the prisoner's desk where the stamps were kept—the clerk receiving stamps made an entry in this book; here are two entries in it, signed A. P.—Pride wrote that at the time he received the stamps—I am accustomed to mental calculation, but I do not know that I should notice what 350 pence amounted to; the object in showing it to me is to see that A. P. is against the entry—if I had calculated each entry I must have seen it, but I did not do so, and I never was instructed to do so—I only saw the book at the end of the week to see that A. P. was there—I do not remember how long it has been the custom to put A. P., but perhaps seven months, the book begins in June, 1866—here are no initials at the beginning—it is my duty to check the amounts every week, I do that before A. P. is put there—I have done so for twelve months perhaps, and, though it was no part of my duty, I cast out the amounts occasionally.
ALEXANDER PRIDE . I am a clerk to the prosecutors—it is my duty to send out the foreign price lists, for which I require stamps—I made a I memorandum on a slip of paper of the number I wanted, which I took to the prisoner, and he gave me the stamps out of his desk—I then made an entry in the stamp book and put my initials against it—this is the stamp book; this entry of 8th January is my writing, 329 at 1d., 1l. 7s. 5d., as I wrote it, but it now stands 1l. 17s. 5d.—I did not always keep the memorandums I made when they had answered their purpose, I put them down anywhere and treated them as waste paper, but I have found two of them—the entry of 19th January, 813 at 1d. 3l. 17s. 9d., is my writing, but I made it 3l. 7s. 9d., the I has been added since—this (produced) is the memorandum I made at the time, 813 divided by 12, 67s. 9d.—I found that among several other papers on my desk after Mr. Burgoyne spoke to me for an explanation—this entry of 6th February is my writing, 341 at 1d., 1l. 18s. 5d., but I entered it 1l. 8s. 5d.; this (produced) is the memorandum I made on that occasion, 341 divided by 12, 28s. 5d.; on the same day here is 100 at 4d., 1l. 13s. 4d., that is correct.
Cross-examined. Q. You have only found two of those memorandum? A. Only two—I do not know that the prosecutors knew that I destroyed or made any—I showed my memorandum to the prisoner to show him the number of stamps I wanted, and he always checked it at once—I had to come down from my room a long way to get the stamps—this is the very last memorandum I made before the discovery—I showed it to tho prisoner—I did not show it to Mr. Webb—I wrote A. P. to show that I had received that number of stamps, and I counted them before going up stairs.
FREDERICK BURBAGE . I am one of this firm—Webb called my attention to this book, and I examined an entry of 1l. 18s. 5d. on 6th February and noticed that the "1" before the shillings in the second column was very much fainter than the other figures—there was a great difference—I gave the prisoner in custody.
Cross-examined. Q. How was the key of the prisoner's desk obtained?
A. It was taken from him at the station at four o'clock in the afternoon—the alteration of the figures was discovered at eleven o'clock—nothing was said to the other clerks, and no inquiry was set on foot—he had been with us two years, we had a good character with him.
MR. POLAND. Q. Did the officer Brett bring you the key? A. No—I was at the station when the prisoner was searched, and got it there.
FREDERICK CHARLES BRETT (Policeman). The prisoner was given into my custody, the charge was read over to him of stealing about 4l. worth of stamps, he said, "I did not make the alterations"—I found on him ten penny postage stamps, nine other postage stamps, some paper, and 10 1/2 d.—I got several keys from him, one of which Mr. Burbage took and gave to me, it opened a drawer in the desk.
GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury, on account of his character.— Confined Eight Months.
MR. R. N. PHILLIPS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. PATER the Defence.
PHILIP ELLIS . I live at 9 1/2, Crown Street, Soho, and sell ginger beer—on Saturday, in the first week in January, between one and two o'clock in the morning, the prisoner and Burke came in for same ginger beer—three other men shortly afterwards came in for ginger beer; they all left without paying me, and I followed them to Chapel Court, which is from 200 to 300 yards, but had not the chance of asking them for my money, for they began snowballing me—Burke knocked me down and kicked me on the left eye, he filled my mouth with snow, and I could not cry out—Powell and Burke turned my pockets out and took about 1s. worth of halfpence; the other three were standing a little lower down—I got up and the prisoner knocked me down again with his fist, saying, "You b—, that is what I owe you"—it caught me on the right eye—Burke said, "We will fill the b—'s mouth with snow, so that he shall not halloa"—when I got up I could scarcely see at all out of either eye—they then left, and Burke said that they would fetch my wife—my wife came, and she and Burke helped me home—I have been since under the care of a medical man, and am still suffering, but am getting better.
Cross-examined. Q. Did Burke take the prisoner into your shop to treat him? A. I do not know, but the prisoner asked for ginger beer first—they had five bottles between the five of them—I was not the worse for liquor—I had had a glass of ale over the way about ten o'clock that night—I know Mary Donnegan—I have no till; I always carry my money—I had not been away from my shop after I had the ale at ten o'clock—I did not go to the chandler's shop opposite, nor did I ask them to let me have some cheese on credit, as I had not a d—farthing—I have no recollection of it—I have been in trouble for assaulting a person four or five years ago, and was bound over—I was bound over a short time ago to keep the peace; a man insulted my wife and threatened her, we got to blows, and were both bound over; I was convicted of assault—I told the Magistrate that my pockets were turned inside out—my deposition was read over to me before I signed it—I cannot say whether it was Burke or Powell who turned my pockets out, they were both together then.
charge; he said that he was there, but did not have anything to do with it—I have not been able to apprehend Burke.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know that the prisoner has been working at Crosse and Blackwell's up to the time he was apprehended? A. Yes, for three or four years—his last employer said that he bears the character of an industrious honest lad.
Witness for the Defence.
MARY DONNEGAN . I live with my mother at 6, Chapel Place, Crown Street, Soho, and am single—I saw Mr. Ellis on the Saturday evening between six and seven o'clock, he was then under the influence of liquor, and again at half-past ten in the same state—between twelve and one o'clock I was awoke by a noise—I got out of bed, opened the street door, and saw Ellis and his wife, and a policeman, and Burke—Ellis was leaning against the wall and staggering—his wife said, "Come along; I thought this would happen some time or other"—both Mrs. Ellis and the policeman went away—I closed my door, knowing that when he is in liquor his temper is rather hasty—I saw nothing of the altercation, and saw no blows on either side.
Cross-examined by MR. R. N. PHILLIPS. Q. How far from the prosecutor's do you live? A. He lives at No. 1, and I at No. 6—if he wishes me good morning when I pass I wish him good morning, but I do not speak unless he does—I did not speak to him between six and seven—I was outside his shop, the front of which was open, and at ten o'clock he was standing in his shop by the fireplace, and his wife said, "Sit down and do not make yourself a fool"—if you see a person stagger you infer that he is drunk—my street door shuts in two halves—I opened the top part when I saw him in the street with his wife—it was a cold night—I did not dress myself, I was just as I got out of bed—the cold and snow did not affect me—I remained there seven minutes at the outside—I did not speak to these people, nor they to me—they staggered against the wall, and the policeman brought them along—I do not know his name or number, and could not swear to him if I saw him—as they came near my door I shut it—I went twice to Marlborough Street, and on each occasion the prisoner was remanded—on the third occasion he was sent here—I was subpceonned to Marlborough Street.
NOT GUILTY .
PHILIP ELLIS . The evidence given by this witness in the last case was read over to him, to which he assented, and added:—I am certain the prisoner is one of those who knocked me down and struck me—I have still a bad eye, where it was kicked by Burke—it will be injured for life—the prisoner struck me on the other eye.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES HANN (City oliceman 549). On the evening of 7th February I was with Farley, in Wood Street, at Mr. Watts's shop, and saw a bundle of cartoons on the counter—the prisoner was there, and I asked him if they were his property—he said, "Yes"—I asked where he got them—he said, "I had rather not say"—I told him we were officers, and unless he told us
where he got them we must take him in custody—he said that he bought them from a man named Oliphant—I asked him where Oliphant lived—he refused to say—I told him he was in possession of property which was stolen from Messrs. Powell's glass works, Whitefriars, and unless he took us to the person he bought the property of we must take him to Fleet Street Station—he said he could not take us to the person, for he was dead—I asked him where Oliphant did live—he said, "Great Coram Street, Brunswick Square"—I asked what number—he refused to say—I took him to the station.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I say I know the house, but not the number? A. You refused to give me the number or to take me to the house—I offered to take you there in a cab, and you refused to go—I said the next day that I had got the number from Mr. Powell, and that it was 43, Great Coram Street.
WILLIAM GOLDING . I am foreman to Messrs. Powell and Sons—on 7th December, about ten a.m., I missed about eighty cartoons, which cost over 300l.—these cartoons (produced) had a small ticket on them, with Messrs. Powell's name in print, which has been taken off—they are patterns for stained glass windows—the name has been taken off all those which were tendered for sale—these others (produced) have the name remaining on them—they are also Messrs. Powell's property, and were kept In a portfolio in the gallery, accessible to everybody when the warehouse was open—we have found them nearly all—I know the prisoner, from his applying for work a little more than a year ago—I saw him there once—I knew Mr. Oliphant—I believe he was a respectable man—he never worked at Whitefriars—he was an artist, and we have bought drawings of him—I believe he is dead.
Prisoner. Q. When I called, a year or fourteen months ago was it not in answer to an advertisement? A. Yes, for a glass painter, "but we did not employ you—we have bought cartoons of Mr. Oliphant, but not for over two years, I think—you at first said at the station that you had no more—afterwards you said you would take the constable and show him where they were.
FRANCES STANLEY . I am proprietress of 43, Great Coram Street—a person named Oliphant lived there, and on 17th January he died there—I did not see the prisoner there during Mr. Oliphant's life, but he came there on 29th January—I did not say anything to him about these cartoons.
Prisoner. Q. Did Mr. Oliphant leave your lodging at one time? A. He did—I do not know why he left—he was very, much indebted to me—I did not keep any of his things when he left—he had a great many drawings belonging to him and his brother—I do not know whether he sold them—I heard something about some of them being kept for his back rent when he lodged in Wood Street—he did not name you when he was dying—he died suddenly, but he was conscious—you told me that you had called at the house eight years before—it is possible that persons may have been in the studio on the right hand without my seeing them.
COURT. Q. When was it that the prisoner told you he had been there eight years before? A. On 29th June—he did not mention it at any other time.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Was that the way he introduced himself to you? A. He came to know whether Mr. Oliphant was dead; he said that he had heard he was, but was not sure.
Court Road—about 10th December the prisoner came at five o'clock in the evening and asked if I would buy some drawings—I declined, but he pressed me so that I bought two for, I think, 1s. 6d., out of three which he brought—they were drawn in sepia, not coloured—he called again a few days afterwards, and brought three more, which I bought—he afterwards brought five—I offered him half a crown for the five, and he took it—they were put in the window, and the police came and told me they were stolen—some time afterwards the prisoner came again, and I communicated with the police—the prisoner said that they were his own designs, and that he had already been paid for them, and had had two guinens for one of them—I had no idea of their value, for as drawings they are not good, they are simply designs—I gave them to the police.
ISAAC FARLEY (City Policeman 442). On 8th February I took the prisoner from the station to Guildhall Police-court—he said, "I knew the cartoons were stolen. I have seen the bill of 50l. for them. I know they were no good to anybody but those in the trade. They were all stopped in the trade. I wanted Mr. Oliphant to get some respectable person to take them back to Messrs. Powell's, but since his death I should be glad to get rid of them for what I could get." I afterwards, on the same day, went with the prisoner to a coffee-shop in Old Street, by his desire, where he asked for a parcel he left the night before, and the landlady brought this roll of cartoons and gave him, saying that there would be 1s. to pay for his bed—I took the cartoons—there is an adhesive label on each with Messrs. Powell's name.
Prisoner. Q. When all the witnesses were examined at the police-court, except Miss Stacey, how was it you never alluded to this conversation: you were both asked if you had any more evidence? A. Because it was understood that you were going to take me to where the other cartoons were, and the evidence on both would do at the same time—you were remanded till the 20th—nothing was said about it then, because there was a person who was going to prefer a charge of robbery against you, and the Magistrate said he would remand you and hear the rest next week—I was only examined once.
Prisoner's Defence. Five witnesses have been called, and none of them proves that I received the drawings knowing them to be stolen. They were left in my keeping by Mr. Oliphant. I told the officer where I got them, but I did not know the number of the house. When I heard that they wore Mr. Powell's I said I would give them all up. They are of very little value now, as they have been used, and new cartoons are always made for a fresh order. I called at Mr. Oliphant's before his death, but, as the servant opened the door, Miss Stanley did not see me. I have been frequently in the house; his study was on tho right-hand side. I had no occasion to call except to know whether, during his illness, he had left any notice what I was to do with the drawings, which are so similar to his own style that I would defy anybody to tell which was which, and I fancied that they were his. He had twice asked me to sell tho drawings which were sold to Watts; that was about December 10th, and he died on 17th January. His death was sudden, and, as he owed me money, which I lent him when he was not fully employed, I sold the, smaller ones. I believe mental excitement from fear of discovery was the cause of his death. We had known each other from youth, and he left them with me for fear of his effects being kept back for his rent. I heard the Clerk of the Court tell the solicitor on the third occasion that the evidence was insufficient, upon
which the policeman requested to be sworn, and he was delivered of this conversation. The reward runs in their heads, but to get it there must be a conviction, which they would not get without inventing that conversation. When I went to Messrs. Powell's, in answer to the advertisement, I gave my name and address. I am well known as an artist throughout the trade.
GUILTY on the Second Count .— Confined Nine Months .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, February 28th, 1867.
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
MR. HOUSTON conducted the Prosecution, and MR. MOODY the Defence.
EDWARD COTTER . I live at 28, Old Gravel Lane, St. George's—I am quarter-master of the Hector—the prisoner was boatswain of that ship last voyage with me—on the morning of 14th February, between twelve and one I was having a pot or two of beer with him at a public-house—there were two or three females and the man who attends at the bar—we were in good friendship—we left the house together, I was going home—he began talking about the chief officer bringing charges against him—I told him I never heard the chief officer say anything against him—I said I did not want him to go any further with me, and wished him good night—with that he cut me in the face with a knife or some sharp instrument—I could not see where he took it from—he struck me in the forehead, in the eye, and partly on the cheek; there were two or three cuts—I had been drinking, but was thoroughly sober to know what I was about—the prisoner appeared to be sober—I never had any animosity a gainst him—we were always on good terms.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe two or three months ago there was a disturbance between you? A. That was coming out of Victoria Docks, but we had no quarrel during the voyage—I had not challenged him to fight on this occasion—I made no effort to bite him.
DANIEL ROSS. I am a surgeon in Commercial Road—I examined the prosecutor at the station-house—he was bleeding from an incised wound about the centre of the forehead, which took a downward course between the eye and the nose; he had also a punctured wound over the left cheekbone; both wounds were deep, to the bone—they had been inflicted with some sharp instrument, a knife might have done it—the wounds were serious, but not dangerous.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you examined the prisoner at the police-court? A. I did, by the direction of the Magistrate; there was rather an extensive bruise on his left arm, and in the centre of the bruise there was an abrasion of the skin, and the marks of teeth, well defined—that was caused by a bite—there were also some slight scratches on his left cheek—the wounds on the prosecutor were clean-cut wounds—I should say they could not be caused by the knuckles, or by a fall on any sharp substance; there was a deep, clean, incised wound, and a clean punctured wound; the same instrument would produce both.
COURT. Q. How was the prisoner dressed wheu you examined him? A. He had an overcoat on, and I think an undercoat, and shirt sleeves—I examined them carefully, but saw no marks on them—I should say the bruise and bite had been done within twenty-four hours.
JAMES TOPLIN (Policeman K 164). I took the prisoner into custody—I told him I wanted him—he said, "What, for giving a cove a doing?"—I found nothing on him—he appeared perfectly sober—he said he intended to give himself up in the morning, but he did not want to be locked up all night.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I am fully innocent of using any sharp instrument; I confess I struck him."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding .— Confined Six Months .
310. ELIZABETH GIBBONS (17) and ELIZA ARNOLD (19) , Burglary in the dwellinghouse of Charles Peter McCarthy, and stealing twelve silver spoons, forks, and a variety of articles, his property. Second Count, feloniously receiving the same.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and STARLING conducted the Prosecution. REV. CHARLES PETER McCARTHY. I am a clerk in holy orders, and live at 14, Colebrook Row, St. Mary's, Islington—on Tuesday, 8th January, about half-past six o'clock in the morning, I was called up—I went down stairs and found the whole of the lower part of the house ransacked, and the window in the back door broken, so that a person from the outside could undo the bolts; there is a second door leading from the back kitchen into the front of the house, an inner door; that was fastened with sheet iron and on the opposite side to the place where the entrance was effected, it was protected by an iron bar three feet long, two inches wide, and a quarter of an inch thick—I found that bar, which was let into iron grooves from the sills of the door, bent nearly double, at an angle of about forty-five degrees; then the door was easily opened, and an entrance effected into the front kitchen, and the property, plate, linen, boots and shoes, and fifteen or sixteen coats were all taken away—the linen for a fortnight's wash was placed at the foot of the stairs in the hall ready for the laundress, and that was all taken—I have since seen all the lines in that bundle just as it was tied up at the time it was taken, amounting to fifty-two pieces, besides boots and shoes—it was produced to me by the constable Gully—I had heard considerable noise during the night, but there was a hurricane blowing that evening, quite a gale, and my house is large and old—there was a good deal of rattling of windows and doors, and I conceived that all the noise was caused by the wind—I heard those noises at a quarter to five—I first heard them at hast-past four, but distinctly at ten minutes or a quarter to five—I know the time, because I had to get out of bed—after getting up in the morning I went into the garden, and found traces of persons having been there during the night—they had got through an iron railing that I had put up to prevent my poultry going into my neighbour's garden—I went into the next garden and there found traces of how the robbery had been committed, and found my plate basket in the middle of the garden; the plate was gone—the wall into Alfred Street, over which the burglary was effected, is over sixteen feet high on that side—I have had the place pointed out to me where the cabman took up his fare, I have measured the distance from there to the place where the burglary was effected, and it is under thirty yards—to my door it is further.
HENRY MCCARTHY . I am the prosecutor's son, and live with him—on the night of 7th January, about half-past ten, I looked at the doors to see that they were all safe—I passed out into the garden first of all, to see to the fowls, and then I passed in again, and bolted the outside door—I went into the back kitchen and barred the door leading into the front kitchen—that was done by swinging an iron bar.
HANS SARSEN . I was sleeping in the prosecutor's house on the night of 7th January—these boots (produced by the constable Gully) are mine—they were safe when I went to bed on the night of the 7th—I saw them the day before.
GEORGE BAMFIELD . I am a cabdriver in Leather Lane—on the morning of 8th January, about five o'clock or five minutes past, I was on the cab-stand near the Eagle Tavern, City Road—the two prisoners came up to me, Arnold first; she asked if I would go up to River Terrace, and take up—at that time Gibbons was standing a little distance off, on the pavement—they both got into the cab—they pulled me up at the corner of Alfred Street—I have since seen the prosecutor's house; it was a few yards from there—Gibbons got out of the cab first, and was then followed by Arnold, when Gibbons met Arnold on the pavement with a bundle; they put it into the cab and got in, and I drove off—Arnold told me to drive to Church Street, Shoreditch—when I got to Church Street Arnold looked out of the cab window, and told me to pull up at Turville Street; she then got out of the cab, and went into a house—at that time the police constable came up, and took them into custody—I did not see any men with the prisoners.
Gibbons. It was me that told him to drive to Shoreditch Church.
Witness. No, it was Church Street.
Arnold. After Gibbons got out of the cab I stood talking to the cabman for a few minutes, and then I said I would go and see where she was, and while I was gone she came back with the bundle—he says he saw no chaps; there was a chap came up when the cab stopped.
Witness. She did not stand talking to me some time; she only said two or three words to me—I did not see any men about—I did not see where Gibbons got the bundle from.
ARABELLA WILLIAMS . I was servant to Mr. McCarthy—I have seen a petticoat and jacket and some underclothing, produced by Gully; they are my property; the linen was in the bundle, and my clothes were hanging on some pegs outside the kitchen door—I saw them on the night of the 7th, about half-past ten, before I went to bed—I came down about half-past six next morning, or it might have been a little before, and found the doors open—I heard a noise in the night, but thought it was the wind; the wind was very high.
JAMES GULLY (Policeman 468). On the morning of 8th January, about half-past five o'clock, I was in Turville Street, and saw a cab drive up—I followed it till it stopped at 16, Turville Street—I saw Arnold get out of the cab, and Gibbons was in the act of getting out; I told her to stop there, and asked what she had got there; she said they were Arnold's things, that she had left her place that morning—Arnold had then gone into the house—this is the bundle (producing it)—several of the things have since been returned to Mr. McCarthy—it was tied up in this cloth, and contained five sheets, five pairs of boots, two dresses, two night dresses, two sheets, and several other articles—when Gibbons said the things were Arnold's I directed the cabman to fetch Arnold; he did so,
and I asked her where she got these things—she made no answer—I then told them both to get into the cab, and directed the cabman to drive to the station—I was present when the articles were delivered up to Mr. McCarthy; they were articles that had been in the bundle.
REV. MR. MCCARTHY (re-examined). The articles that were given up to me belonged to me and to others in my house.
Gibbons's Defence. All I have got to say is, the men came and asked me to carry the things, and I did. They said they would make me a handsome present, and, being an unfortunate girl, not knowing where to get a breakfast, I went for the sake of the money to get myself a breakfast in the morning. They gave me half a crown to get a cab. Arnold called for the cab, and we went to River Terrace. I do not know the name of the Street; we stopped the cab at the corner of the street. There were three men, two stood outside, and one went in, and the little one gave me the bundle; but where he brought it from I can't say, because he came up the street with it.
Arnold's Defence. On 7th January I left my home to go to work in the afternoon; instead of going to work, I went to Gibbons's house to have some tea. We went out and went to the play. It was too late for me to return home, and she said I could come home with her. I stayed with her all night. At four in the morning she woke me up; there were three men in the room; they asked her would she go and carry a bundle. She went, and I did the same as any other girl would do, because I would not stay there by myself. She did not ask me to go.
GIBBONS— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
ARNOLD— GUILTY . Arnold also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH defended Nagle.
JOHN HUMPHREYS . I am a boot upper manufacturer, and live it 1, Angela Gardens, Columbia Square, Hackney Road—on 2nd February, about five minutes to nine at night, I was going along Chiswell Street, from Finsbury Square; I had to pass Milton Street—soon after pawing Milton Street I saw a crowd, but I saw the prisoners first, standing with two other men at the corner of a public-house—I observed them—there was light from the large gin palace where they were standing with their backs to it—I could see the faces of each of them as I passed—I observed these two men, and am positive they are the two men I then saw with two others—I passed them; directly I passed them they turned towards me; they were not standing more than eight or ten yards from the crowd; they came after me, and the moment they got close to me they made a rush; I turned round and faced them, so that they might pass me if they wanted—there was a fire nearly opposite; there was plenty of room for them to pass me and to go outside the crowd—when they pushed me one of them went past me, the other three kept behind me, between me and the shops; the one that passed me kept close to my side to the front of me, and the others from behind made another rush forward; one of them appeared as if he slipped; I directly felt myself clutched by my left pocket, and found my elbows fixed so that I could not
move; the one that picked my pocket was behind me, on my left side—it was the one that had first passed me, a short man—he held my pocket I should think several seconds—I tried to move my legs, so as to release myself from him, but could not; I could not move either my arms or legs, I was regularly pinioned—I should think it occupied about fifteen seconds, sufficient time for me to think about what they were doing; the man who clutched my pocket held on for about fifteen seconds, then he made a dreadful jerk, and pulled out my purse; directly he got it out, he moved and forced himself back from me to get away, which gave me an opportunity of putting my left hand down—the jerk he gave me was so great that it was almost like pulling the leg of my trousers off—he tried to get away, and worked himself a little distance from the crowd—I know who that man was; he is not in custody—I did not remain pinioned an instant after I got my hind at liberty; I did not feel in my pocket, I felt the purse go; it was a large lump, and I felt that my pocket was empty—I tried to get hold of the one not in custody, but the others prevented me by closing and getting between me and the man; each effort I made they foiled in that way to keep me back—eventually I got loose, and got right out into the road—I am quite sure the prisoners are the two men that were pushing me behind—after getting away from the crowd I pursued the one that picked my pocket—he went in the direction of Milton Street—when he found I was pursuing him he returned back to the crowd and whispered; the moment he said something to his companions they looked at each other; something was said, and away they passed from the crowd, and he went into the crowd—I then turned as if I was going to pursue him, but immediately afterwards I followed them, I followed them for about seventy yards, I should think, from where the crowd was; they turned into Milton Street, and then into an entry in Milton Street—I followed them, and saw the two prisoners there—the nearest I was to them was within a yard; they were dividing the money, Nagle had got my purse in his hand, counting the money into Whelan's hand—I approached them, and said, "That is my money"—they seemed quite astonished for the moment; they never spoke a word for a second or two, they looked at me, and then Whelan recovered himself and made a dash at me, and said he would knock my b—skull in, or my bones, or some thing like that—my seeing them in this entry or court was within two minutes of finding the man's hand in my pocket; it was done almost instantly; one thing followed the other as quick as could be—the alley was lighted from the shops opposite—there was sufficient light to see on the ground—I looked to see if I could find the purse afterwards—they were only about a yard up the entry, one step—there was light in the street and in the shops—they gave a light as far up the entry as I bad occasion to go—I could see their faces distinctly—I told them so—when Nagle aimed the blow at me I threw up my left arm and stepped back and said, "Mind, I know you both; I shall remember you again"—they then ran away into Chiswell Street—they ran past me, as I stepped out of the entry they rushed out—I followed them—they went into a public-house in Smith Street—I went to find an officer, and when I came back they were gone—a little delay ensued—I had about 7l. in the purse, there might be a shilling or two over or under, it was in gold and silver, fourteen or sixteen postage stamps, and a gold chain with the swivel broken off, and a few memorandums—on 9th February, seven days afterwards, I went with Elliott the constable to a beer shop in Whitecross Street, about ten o'clock at night—there were people sitting there—it looked like a
concert room—there was no singing—I saw Nagle there and five others, I think—I recognised him at once—I had seen him an hour previously—I am quite sure he is the man I saw on 2nd February who was behind me in the crowd, and who I saw counting the money—I charged him with robbing me—he said nothing; he got up at once—before he got to the station-house he said to Elliott, "Tell me what time, and I will tell you where I was."
Cross-examined. Q. Where had you been in the course of the afternoon? A. Sitting at home reading till half-past eight—I went from home straight to the spot where this happened—I first saw the men standing by the gin palace—there was a good light—their backs were to the gin palace, and they were looking at the people passing into the crowd—the light was good in any part of the road, you could have seen to pick up a pin—I always take notice of persons when there is a crowd and there are suspicious-looking characters standing at corners—I am rather a suspicious man—I was dressed precisely as I am now—my purse was in my left trousers pocket—I have been out of London many years, and just coming back makes me rather suspicious, reading so many queer cases—I took particular notice of these men, because I thought I had reason to be suspicious—at a rough guess, the crowd might consist of from 100 to 300 persons—I was a little excited—there was a fire in Lamb's Passage—there was nothing like so much confusion as I have seen at fires some years back—I was looking at the fire, and listening to the conversation of the prisoners as they were surrounding me—it was a very few yards from the crowd to the gin palace, probably from six to twelve—the moment I passed them they followed me; that excited my suspicions, and just as I approached the edge of the crowd they pushed me, and I turned round and looked at them—they what is termed hustled me—I tried to get away—I stood to let them pass, and then they rushed at me again, and one man put his hand in my pocket—my coat was not unbuttoned, but it opened behind easy enough for any one to put their hand in (describing it)—I had no under-coat on—the man who put his hand in my pocket was at the side of me—he had been in front of me—he held his hand there several seconds, perhaps fifteen, before he pulled it out—I did not call out—I never spoke—I did not see the man's hand when it came out of my pocket—I did not cry, "Stop thief!" or ask any of the crowd to assist me—I think it was the wrong neighbourhood to ask for help in—the entrance to the court where I saw the two men in is a wide entrance; I don't think it is a thoroughfare—I don't know whether there are any houses in it—there was quite sufficient light for me to see all that I have stated—the light proceeded from the shops opposite—there are several shops—I think I saw one lamp at the entrance of the court, but I would not swear to it—I gave information to the police within half an hour of the robbery—I went several times to look after the men, with a plain-clothes officer—I have not to my knowledge been into any place where they were, and come out without identifying them; if they were there they concealed themselves.
ARTHUR ELLIOTT (Police Sergeant 13 G). On Saturday, 9th March, about a quarter to ten, I was called by the prosecutor, and went with him to a beer shop in Whitecross Street—that is a short distance from Milton Street—we went into a concert-room there—there were six persons there—the prosecutor pointed to the prisoner Nagle and said, "That is the man"—he did that directly, as soon as he entered the room—I took him into custody—the prosecutor charged him with robbing him—he
said, "If you can tell me what time the fire was, I will tell you where I was at the time."
Cross-examined. Q. Did not you tell him he was charged with stealing a purse? A. No—he was told that at the station—he gave his correct address; it was close to where he was apprehended—I have made inquiries, and cannot find that he has ever been convicted—I have seen him in company with thieves.
ROBERT BOULBY (Policeman 145 G). I received a description of three persons from the prosecutor at the police-station on the night of the robbery, in consequence of which I searched after some particular persons—I found Whelan on the 13th, about half-past eight, in Blue Anchor Alley—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with a man that was then in custody for picking a man's pocket at the fire in Lamb's Passage on the 2nd—he said, "I was not at the fire at all; I can bring witnesses to prove where I was at the time"—I said, "It is useless for you to say so, for I saw you there?—he said, "Oh! yes, I remember, I did pass by."
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see him there? A. I did.
Whelan to MR. HUMPHREYS. Q. Can you call forward the constable who you called to take us into custody at the time we went into the public-house? A. Yes; he is in attendance.
Whelan. The prosecutor said it was a stout policeman with a red face. I only put the question to the prosecutor to see where the policeman was. I have got nothing to say to the constable.
ARTHUR ELLIOTT (re-examined). I know the court the prosecutor has spoken of—I do not believe there is any lamp in it, but a great light is thrown across from the public-house opposite—I can't say whether the house exactly opposite the court is a printer's—that would give a light quite four yards up the court—I should think there was light enough ten yards up the court for one person to see another's face.
Nagle received a good character.
NAGLE— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
WHELAN— GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction, in. July, 1865.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, February 28th, 1867.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. W SLEIGH conducted the. Prosecution, and MR. R. HARRIS defended Bowen.
GEORGE BUNYAN . I am a day watchman in the employ of the East and West India Dock Company, Fenchurch Street—about twelve o'clock on 15th February I saw Hadwin pass through our gates alone—previously to that I had seen him with Bowen—on 20th February I saw Hadwin pass through the same gate, about the same time—on the 21st I saw him pass in at another gate about the same time—in consequence of what I saw I made a communicatian to constable West.
Cross-examined. Q. Is there not a thoroughfare through your grounds? A. Not a public one—people pass there, and the company take no notice of them—Bowen has been a great many years in the company's employ—I have been in the company six and a half years.
WILLIAM WEST (Dock Constable). In consequence of information I received, on 22nd February I watched a urinal under an archway—about ten minutes past twelve I saw Hadwin walk down to the arch—he looked cautiously round, entered the urinal, and closed the door—about a minute afterwards Bowen came, he looked round, entered the urinal, and closed the door—I ran in and saw them close together and face to face—I caught hold of Bowen with my right hand—he slued himself round and pulled his dress down—I said, "What have you here?"—he said, "Nothing, sir"—Hadwin shook himself and stroked his coat down—I caught hold of him with my left hand and said, "What have you here?"—he said, "Nothing, sir"—at the same time I felt a hard substance on his stomach—I called for assistance, and they were removed to the police-office on the premises—I searched Hadwin, and took from under his trousers this bag, containing this tea (produced)—I said, "How do you account for the possession of this?"—he said, "That man gave it to me," pointing to Bowen—Bowen said, "What! me? I know nothing about it"—the foreman of the warehouse showed me some packages of tea with the wooden lids off—Hadwin had no business on the premises.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know how long Bowen has worked for the company? A. I think on and off upwards of twenty years—I have been there seventeen years, and he has been there the whole of that time—he wore an apron that fitted tightly round him—it was buttoned at the bottom—only respectable people are allowed to pass through this thoroughfare.
MR. W. SLEIGH. Q. Is the apron generally worn twisted round the waist? A. Yes—it has also a kind of bib, which is fastened ronnd the neck—this quantity of tea could be put in that bib—the warehouse door is about thirty yards from the urinal.
JOHN ELKINGTON . I am a gate-keeper in the company's employ—I heard what the prisoner said to West in the police-office—he asked Hadwin where he got the tea from; Hadwin paused for a moment and said, "That man gave it me," and he looked at Bowen—Bowen said, "Me?" find turned to the window.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you before the Magistrate? A. No.
JAMES CHARLES SCOTCHFORD . I am a foreman in this department—I believe Bowen has been in the service about twenty-eight years, on and off—on 22nd February he was engaged in the "house-room," and after that he was in a room where some tea was laid out for inspection—that tea was inside leaden cases in chests—he had to nail them up—those chests that we afterwards found open he had no business to touch—there were eleven of them—before he was put to do that work they had not been broken open—about twelve o'clock on 22nd February, from information I received, I examined the chests and found the leaden cases inside—some of them had been broken open, and a handful or two of tea had been removed from each—I compared the tea produced here with that, and found it to correspond—there is no such mixture of tea as this lying about the store-rooms.
Cross-examined. Q. How many chests of tea are there about the premises? A. Very likely there may be 25,000 or 26,000—they contain dif
ferent qualities of tea—no doubt there is plenty of tea in London like this produced—it is called Imperial—it is not very common—I can tell if a teaspoonful is taken ont of a case when the caps are broken.
Hadwin's Defence. We are both innocent. I took the parcel in with me.
GUILTY . BOWEN recommended to mercy on account of his long service .— Confined Nine Months.
HADWIN.*— Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. MARRIOTT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the Defence.
JOHN STEER HINCKS . I am a solicitor, practising at 14, King Street, Finsbury Square—the prisoner has been in my employ since 1861 as copying clerk—it was part of his duty to serve subpoenas—I was solicitor for the plaintiff in the case of Hastelow v. Stobie, in which a very large amount was at stake—Mrs. Ablett, Mr. Edwards, and Dr. Chandler were three of my witnesses—I received this letter (produced) from Mrs. Ablett on 4th December—I read it to the prisoner and asked him for an explanation—he referred to a list and said, "Why, sir, it is paid; I paid it myself"—I wrote an answer to that, which was thrown on the floor for one of the clerks to take out and deliver—this is a copy of the answer (produced)—there is a mark on this that it was delivered in the usual way.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner clerk to your predecessor? A. Yes—he was the person who generally served subpoenas—I came off triumphant in that cause.
THOMAS GARSIDE SHEPHERD . I am managing clerk to Mr. Hincks—I instructed the prisoner to serve subpoenas in the case of Hastelow v. Stobie—I recollect giving him subpoenas to serve upon Mrs. Ablett, Mr. Edwards, and Dr. Chandler, with the amount that was to be paid—this list (produced) he prepared under my direction—on 27th November he returned it to me with the names of Ablett and Edwards filled in as paid, and on the 30th with the name of Dr. Chandler as paid—it says, "Copy served oil Hannah Ablett, and paid her 21s. on 26th November, 1866. J. Huds-peth;" "Copy served on William Edwards, and paid him 5s., 26th November, 1866. J. Hudspeth;" "Copy served on Dr. Chandler, and paid him 21s., 30th November, 1866. J. Hudspeth;" that is all in the prisoner's writing—I was present when Mr. Hincks read a letter to the prisoner from Mrs. Ablett, complaining that she had not received her money—he expressed surprise that the letter had been written, and referred to her receipt upon this paper—on the first day of the trial Edwards came to me and told me he had not been paid—I paid him.
Cross-examined. Q. Did not the prisoner represent to you at the time that he had not money enough to pay Mrs. Ablett? A. I do not remember it, but my impression is he did not—on 24th he came to me and said he could not pay any more in this list, as he had no money, and then I gave him 5l.—I have no doubt he told me the names of the persons he had paid, but I cannot recollect exactly what took place—on the 27th he paid me over 1l. 3s. 3d., the balance that was left—he made up his account and returned me the difference—the trial commenced on 5th December—I know Mrs. Ablett and Dr. Chandler were paid before then—I paid Edwards myself—no loss has been sustained by Mr. Hincks, with the exception of the 5s. I paid Edwards.
MR. MARRIOTT. Q. When did you give him the money to pay Dr. Chandler? A. On 30th November.
HENRY WINDET . I am the prosecutor's clerk—on 4th December I copied a letter addressed to Mrs. Ablett—I took it out to deliver, and the prisoner accompanied me; when we got to the top of Mrs. Ablett's street he said he would deliver it, and I gave him the letter—on the Monday he borrowed 5s. of me, and on the 4th 1l. 10s.—he has not paid me.
Cross-examined. Q. Has he borrowed money of you before? A. Yes, and has paid me—I think he left on 5th December.
HANNAH ABLETT . I am the wife of William Haywood Ablett, of 41, New Gloucester Street, New North Road—the prisoner served me with a subpoena on 26th November—I signed this list—he did not pay me the 21s.—he took his purse out and said he had not sufficient money then, but he would call that night or the next morning—he did not call, and I wrote this letter, but did not receive an answer—I received the money on 4th December.
Cross-examined. Q. How did you receive the money? A. A man brought it the day before the trial—I attended the trial.
WILLIAM EDWARDS . I live at No. 9, Leonard Square, Finsbury—the prisoner served me with a subpoena on Monday, 3rd December—he did not pay me any money—the matter was mentioned to Mr. Shepherd at the trial, and I was then paid 5s.—on the evening of the same day the prisoner came to me and said, "I understand you have been paid your conduct money"—I said, "Yes, I have"—he said, "Well, will you be good enough to receive this 5s. from me?"—I said, "I do not know whether I am doing right, I have already received it from Mr. Shepherd"—he said, "You take this from me and say it was left during the day"—I took it.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he not say, "I have paid a man more than I should have done by mistake, and I hope you will take the 5s.?" A. He did—some one called at my house on the Wednesday, but my wife did not know who it was—when he served me with the subpoena he asked me to take a glass of ale, and we went next door and had one—he said he had not enough money with him to pay me, and that it would make no difference to me if he left it till the next day—I attended the trial.
THOMAS CHANDLER , M.R.C.S. I live at 77, Sun Street, Bishopsgate Street—I am the attesting witness to the will of Mr. Vincent Phillips, which was in dispute in the case of Hastelow v. Stobie—the prisoner served me with a subpoena four or five days before the trial—he did not pay me the 21s.—he looked into his purse and said, "Oh! I have not quite enough, but I will give it you to-morrow"—the day after I went to Mr. Hincks's office, I saw the prisoner and asked him if Mr. Hincks was at home, he said no, he was not; Mr. Shepherd came up and said, "Mr. Hincks is at home," and showed me into his room, and I saw him—on the evening before the trial the prisoner saw me coming out of my door; he said, "Take this as with the subpoena, and do not say anything to Mr. Hincks about it," and gave me 21s.
JOHN HAYNES (166 G). I apprehended the prisoner on a warrant on the 26th January; he asked what it was for, I told him for stealing 5s—he said he knew nothing about it—I found, him at Messrs. Waterlow's, in Birchin Lane.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner, upon which no evidence was offered.
MR. STARLING conducted the Prosecution.
PETER NOLAN . I am a labourer, and live at 4, Albert Street, Shadwell—on 14th January I was with the prisoner and a man named McDonnell, in the Standard public-house, Wells Street, Whitechapel—I was asking McDonnell for some money that he owed me, when the prisoner interfered—he pushed against me—I undid my trousers and found I was stabbed in the belly, by the side of the navel—I have been in the hospital five weeks—he said he wanted to get his shipmate away—I had not known the prisoner before—no blows were struck—I did not see a knife in his hand—he tried to get away—Mr. Hurley, his boarding-master, put his arms round him and took him outside—he was brought baok by Mr. Clark.
COURT. Q. Was there any quarrel between you and McDonnell? A. We had two or three words—I said to him, "You had better pay me the money I lent you;" he said, "I have not got sufficient, wait until I see my boarding-master; how much do you want?"—I said, "I want 4s."—he give me 3s. out of the 4s.—I said, "You can give me the other shilling now"—he called for a glass of gin and water, and we were drinking it when the prisoner interfered—he appeared to be sober—before he stabbed me he said to McDonnell, "Come away out of this."
JOHN BARRETT . I live at 22, London Terrace, St. George's—on the evening of 14th January I was in the Standard public-house—I saw the prosecutor, the prisoner, and McDonnell there—I saw the prisoner make a pludge at the prosecutor, but did not see a knife—he then went towards the door—the prosecutor said, "I am stabbed"—I saw no blows struck, nor did I hear any quarrel.
WILLIAM CLARK . I am a boarding-house keeper—on the evening of 14th January I was outside the Standard public-house, and saw the prisoner ejected, with Hurley—he had an open knife in his hand, similar to this (produced)—I went in and saw the prosecutor—I then went out, and I found the prisoner about thirty yards from the house—I said, "You are the fellow that has stabbed that man; give me the knife"—he made no remark, and I took the knife from him—he appeared sober.
THOMAS HOGG . I am parish beadle, and live at 54, Richard Street, St. George's-in-the-East—I saw Clark take this knife from the prisoner's pocket—it was closed then—I asked him whether he had stabbed the man; he made no reply—he was quite sober—I took him to the station, where, in answer to the charge of stabbing, he said, "I was obliged to do it."
RICHARD LEA . On 14th January I was house surgeon at the London Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there suffering from an incised wound in the abdomen, an inch and a half long—he had slight peritonitis, which is an inflammation of the internal parts of the abdomen—the wound might have been produced by such a knife as this—he was under my care for five weeks, and is still very weak.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I saw the prosecutor on Tower Hill, and we took two girls into a public-house. We jumped into a cab, and when we got to Wellclose Square I gave the cabman 2s.; he wanted more, and told me to ask Nolan for it. I said he had nothing to do with it, and Nolan struck me twice in the face. Afterwards I was in a public-house with Nolan and a shipmate; I asked my shipmate to come
away; Nolan asked what I had to do with it, and struck me in the face One of the men asked him for a shilling, and he would not give it. I asked the shipmate to come away, and Nolan struck me again."
COURT to PETER NOLAN. Q. Had you seen the prisoner on Tower Hill? A. Yes—I did not see two girls—I know nothing about the cab—I did not go to Wellclose Square—I was speaking to McDonnell on Tower Hill—Wells Street is about 200 yards from there—the prisoner's statement about the cab is not true—I never struck him.
Prisoner's Defence. I was cutting some tobacco with my knife, and when McDonnell had done his drink I asked him to come away, and then I struck Nolan, forgetting I had the knife in my hand.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding .— Confined Twelve Months .
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES GULLEY (Policeman 68 H). About 3.30 a.m. on 9th February I was on duty in Turvile Street—the prisoner and another man passed me—I stopped them, and asked the prisoner what he had got about him—he said, "Nothing"—I put my hand in his outside coat pocket and found a memorandum book and nineteen pocket-handkerchiefs—I asked him whether he usually carried so many handkerchiefs about with him—he said, "Yes"—he had on three coats, and I asked him whether he usually wore so many—he said, "Yes, when it is cold weather"—I told him he would have to go to the station with me; then the other man ran away—I found this knife in his pocket (produced)—I afterwards showed the two coats, hat, three pairs of gloves, and nineteen handkerchiefs to Mrs. Ward, who indentified them.
FRANCES BROWN . I am in the service of Mr. Ernest Ward, of 48, Canonbury Road—about eleven o'clock on the night of 8th February, I closed the windows and doors of the house—the next morning, about seven o'clock, I found the back door and the scullery window open—there were bright marks on the bolt of the window, as if it had been opened with a knife—I left some pocket-handkerchiefs on the table the night before—I had been ironing them.
COURT to JAMES GULLEY. Q. How far was the prisoner from the prosecutor's house when you saw him? A. About two and a half miles.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, March 1st, 1867.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY defended Folkard.
THOMAS HALPIN GREVILLE . I am a meat salesman in Newgate Market, in partnership with Mr. Chapman—on 9th November the prisoners came to our shop together—Folkard asked my partner the price of the meat—I had seen him several times before—Heathcote said nothing—they purchased some meat—it came to 5l. 0s. 4d.—Heathcote paid for it with this crossed cheque for 7l. 18s. 9d., payable to Mr. Green, and signed J. Jones—I had never seen Heathcote before—I looked at the cheque, and asked his name—he said, "It is ail right; my name is on the cheque, the name of Green"—Folkard saw me hesitate, and he said, "It is all right" I then took the cheque, and gave the change to Heathcote, 2l. 18s. 5d.—one of my men took the meat to their cart for them—I presented the cheque through a banker and received it back again.
Cross-examined by MR. DALY. Q. You believed what Folkard said, and gave the money when he said it was all right? A. Quite so—I had known him many years.
EDWIN SMART . I am scaleman to Messrs, Greville—I was in the shop on 9th November when Folkard came in with another man—Folkard said to me, "I have let my shop, and I am learning him his way about"—he had a shop in Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell—a day or two after Mr. Greville gave me the cheque, and I went to Exmouth Street, and found the shop closed, and no one living there.
EDWARD BREWER . I am a clerk in the General London Bank, 27, James Street, Covent Garden—no person named J. Jones ever had an account at our bank—this cheque was presented for payment—here is my writing on it, "No Account"—it is No. 728—that cheque was issued among others to a person named Hill, of Devonshire Wharf, Camden Town—the account was opened on 7th August and closed on 30th June following.
ROBERT CHILDS (City Policeman 282). I met Folkard on Saturday, 2nd February, in Newgate Street—I said, "I believe your name is Folkard?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer; I shall take you into custody; you will be charged with being concerned with another man with obtaining a quantity of meat from Mr. Warren, and also Mr. Chapman, meat salesmen, of Newgate Market, by means of forged cheques"—he said, "I never bought any meat at Warren's in my life"—I said, "Have you at Mr. Chapman's?"—he said, "Yes, on many different occasions"—I took him to Mr. Chapman's shop, and the witness Smart said in his presence, "You told me you had let your shop to the other man"—the prisoner said, "I deny it; I never said any such thing"—on 4th February, about half-past nine in the morning, I went to No. 7, Field Row, Forest Grate, and there saw Heathcote—I said, "I believe your name is Heathcote?"—he said, "Yes"—I was accompanied by another man—I said, "This man knows you by the name of Green; I am a police officer, I shall take you into custody; you will be charged with being concerned with another man, of the name of Folkard, who is in custody, with obtaining a quantity of meat and a sum of money from Messrs. Chapman and Greville, of Newgate Market, by means of a fictitious cheque"—he said, "Yes; I am not a butcher, I did not buy the meat"—I said. "Who did?"—he said, "Folkard; is Folkard in custody?
when was he taken, yesterday?"—I said, "No, on Saturday"—we then went up stairs—he said, "This is a very nice job; I suppose it will be rather hot for us"—on the way to London he said, "If I am to be taken I might as well be taken first as last; I have been the tool of Folkard, and I shall have to suffer through him; I will tell the truth, if I get twenty years."
Cross-examined. Q. Do you act upon instructions when you ask prisoners questions? A. No, I put them at my own discretion—I believe I asked him only one question—I took no note of what was said—I repeated it at the police-court two or three hours afterwards—Heathcote denied having made use of the words "it is a very nice job"—I am positive he did say it—I did not caution him at all.
HELEN PACKER . I am clerk to my husband, who is a meat salesman—I received this cheque on 9th November—I do not know who paid it to me—I gave in change 3l. 3s. 7d.—I afterwards paid it in to our bankers, Messrs. Biggerstaff, it came back, the bank was closed.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am in Mr. Packer's employment—I do not know this cheque, I only recollect selling a pig to Folkard on the 9th—he paid for it with a cheque, I saw him give it to Mrs. Packer—I don't recollect how much the pig came to—I am sure Folkard is the man—I identified him in Newgate.
Heathcote's Defence. I admit passing the cheque, but not po defrand Mr. Chapman of the meat. The money I received out of the cheque, 2l. 18s., I gave to a party. The meat was taken away by the same party that took the money. I had nothing out of the concern at all, not a penny. I did not know it to be a forgery.
FOLKARD— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude. HEATHCOTE— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
318. FRANCIS JUDGE (16), WILLIAM GEORGE SMITH (40), and JANE SMITH (40) , Stealing seventeen watches and other articles, value 300l., of John Judge. Other Counts, charging the Smiths with receiving, and as accessories after the fact.
JUDGE PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined One Month, and Four Years is a Reformatory.
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. NICHOLSON defended William George Smith.
JOHN JUDGE . I am a dealer in jewellery and watches, and live at 9, Granby Place, Drury Lane—the boy at the bar is my son—he lived with me—I travel about London with my jewellery, calling at different shop, and he used to carry the bag for me with the jewellery in it—on 31st January I put my stock in the bag to try and do some business, calling at different shops—my son told me to put the things in the bag, but I did not think anything of that—I went to Skinner Street, Snowhill, and went into the shop of Mr. Lindsay, leaving my boy outside with the bag, containing twenty silver watches, four gold watches, one metal watch, eight or more gold Alberts, a quantity of gold lockets, rings, studs, brooches, and other articles, of the value of 370l.—I was in the shop about ten minutes—when I came out my son was gone—I found out that he had been
in the habit of playing with the prisoner Smith's boys nearly a month before, but he was acquainted with them fifteen or eighteen months before, when they lived in our street—I went and called at Smith's house, I think on Sunday evening, 10th February—I saw Mrs. Smith, and asked if she had seen my son anywhere about there—she said she had not seen him for six weeks, and the last time she saw him he had a black bag with him, that he shook hands with them, and said he was going off to America—I told her I thought she was mistaken, for he never carried a black bag, except when he was along with me, till he had robbed me the Thursday before—I said, "If you can possibly find where he is, and send him home to me, I will reward you"—she said she would if she could—I did not say any more to her, as she was not well—I came away, and as I was coming from the house I saw Mr. Smith—I asked him if he had seen anything of my son—he said he was there on the Thursday evening, I think, before he came home from work, and that he went away on the Sunday following, and he carried his bag down to the railway station, and the boy went off to Ayrshire, in Scotland—I took him into a public-house, and called for some ale, and told him I was very sorry for what had occurred, and I wondered he did not send word to me, seeing he was but a young boy—he said he did not know my address—he said if I would come in with him he would give me some things, that he saw a great deal of jewellery knocking about, and he was very sorry to see it—I went with him, and he gave me a gold watch and a letter from Ayrshire to Mr. Smith, written by the boy's uncle, as he cannot write himself—the watch had been in my bag—I told him, if he had any pawn tickets or other goods, to give them to me—he said if there was anything they would give it up, and he asked Mrs. Smith to bring them—she said the boy had taken the tickets and all the things with him to Scotland, and she had nothing but the watch—I told her that her two boys knew my address, and it was a pity they did not send to me—next morning the officer and I went to Mrs. Smith's again—she said her husband was not in, and she thought perhaps he might have some pawn tickets—we then went down to Mr. Smith, and he delivered up to us four or five; I also received four or five from a young man, who is a witness—I don't remember receiving any from Mrs. Smith—we said to her, "If you have not got the tickets tell us where you pledged the articles, that we may recover them"—I think she said she pawned a string of beads at Mr. Folkard's, a brooch, a coral snap, and earrings—I have recovered about 200l. worth of my property—my son is just turned fifteen.
Cross-examined. Q. Did Smith mislead you in any way? A. No—he appeared to tell me everything straightforward—every information I received I received from him—I found all he said correct—I should not have found my boy but for him—he might have known the boy was there and how the goods came there, but I don't think he had anything else to do with it.
Jane Smith. Q. Did I not tell you that the boy had worn his shirt for six weeks, and that he had no stockings to his feet? A. No, you never did—I said I did not want to put you about, as you were not well, and anything you delivered up I would not hold, but would take it down to the police-office—you denied having anything in the house, but your boy told me there were two pairs of earrings, and when I questioned you about them you gave them up—I did not say I would not hurt you if you came up as a witness.
ENOCH EMERY (City Policeman 653). On Monday, 11th February, I went with Mr. Judge to Smith's house—I saw the female prisoner first—I asked her if she had any watches or jewellery which was brought by Francis Judge on Thursday, 31st January—she said she had not—I asked if she had pawned any—she said, "No"—I asked if she could give me any information respecting the property—she said she could not, but if I would go to her husband, who worked at Mr. Merreweather's, in York Street, York Road, Lambeth, he would give me some duplicates—I went there and saw the male prisoner—I told him I was a police constable, and asked if he had any duplicates relating to the property brought to his house by Francis Judge—he said he had, and he sent his son George to fetch them—when he returned he handed to me five duplicates—I asked him if he knew where there was any more—he said a cousin of his, Thomas Hitches, who worked in the same firm, had more—Hitches was sent for, and I went with him and Smith to 42, Great Windmill Street, where Hitches handed to me five other duplicates—I asked Smith if he could give me any further information respecting the property—he said, "No"—that same evening Smith, his two sons, and Hitches brought three Albert chains to the Smithfield Police-station, one gold seal, key, and ring, a set of gold charms, and a quantity of other property, which I now produce—it was handed to me by Hitches—I asked him where he got it from, and the prisoner's son George said it was found in the pocket of an old coat; that it was given to his sister by Francis Judge to sell for a penny—on Saturday, 16th, I saw the female prisoner, and she gave me two pairs of gold eardrops (I had then been down to Scotland, and had the boy)—I asked her where she got them from—she said they were found in the house, the boys had brought them in—on that same Saturday evening Smith, his cousin, and the son George brought other property to Smithfield Police-station, and gave it to me—they said it had been found, they could not account where; that the boys had found it—I have nine other watches and a quantity of gold rings that have been given up by different pawnbrokers, and some has been given up by jewellers in Scotland and London.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you made some inquiries relative to Smith's character and position, and you know that he has been in his employment for the last fifteen years? A. I have not seen his master—I have heard it said in his own family—he has been very straightforward.
ROBERT BIGGS . I am assistant to Mr. Barnett, a pawnbroker, of 10, St. George's Circus, Southwark—I produce two pairs of eardrops pawned on 31st January in the name of Ann Smith, and a silver watch pawned the same day, in the same name, for 25s.—I don't know who pledged them—I also produce a brooch, necklace, and earrings pawned by the female prisoner on 2nd February for 16s.—I asked her whose they were—she said they belonged to her sister, who had come from Australia—a watch was pawned for 1l. on 2nd February in the name of Thomas Smith, I don't recollect by whom—the male prisoner did not pawn anything—I have also a brooch pawned for 1l. in the name of Jane Smith.
Jane Smith's Defence. I am very sorry for what I have done. I did not think there was any harm, or I would not have done it. I did what I did out of kindness to the boy: he told me he was in business for himself and was going to America.
WILLIAM SMITH— NOT GUILTY . JANE SMITH— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
NEW COURT.—Friday, March 1st, 1867
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WILLMOTT . I am a paper ruler and numerical printer, of 55, Bartholomew Close—I have two partners—the prisoner was our porter up to 24th November, and we occasionally sent him to receive small amounts, which it was his duty to hand over to me immediately, as soon as he saw me—Mr. Miller was a customer of ours, and also Mr. Shunn—I have not received from the prisoner 4l. 17s. 6d. from Mr. Miller, or 2l. 12s. from Mr. Shunn—he was always to pay it to me.
WILLIAM ROWLAND (City Policeman 297). I took the prisoner last Sunday morning, at 5, Upper Queen Street, Islington—I told him the charge was embezzling 4l. 17s. 6d. and other sums, which he had received on account of his masters—he said, "I know all about it, and I know you will make use of what I am about to say: about eighteen months ago I was riding in a carriage on the underground railway, and some money I had I lost, and since that time the latter amounts that I have received I have paid to Mr. Willmott to make good the former ones."
Prisoner's Defence. What I told the policeman is true. I was afraid to tell my master at the time. It was my intention to pay my master again as soon as I got out of trouble.
COURT to JOHN WILLMOTT. Q. Are these sums entered in his book? A. Not these particular amounts, because he has altered the books, and has taken statements out of my desk and altered them before they were delivered—this statement which bears the receipt was not made by the firm.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted at Clerkenwell in September, 1862, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Confined Eighteen Months.
MR. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN LATTY . I am a tailor, of 8, Ramsay Place, Westminster—on Sunday, 17th February, between eleven and twelve at night, I was in the road in Great Chapel Street, Westminster, and was assailed by two men; the prisoner is one of them—the other one held my feet while the prisoner took my watch and chain—I was thrown down, but they did not strike me with violence—the other man ran away—I kept my eye on the prisoner till he went into a watering place—I saw him come out; he ran across Chapel Street into Victoria Road, till he got to Union Street, when he went into a house, and a policeman went in and brought him out—I identified him and gave him in charge.
EDWARD CALDON . I am a plasterer's boy, and live at 20, Broadway, Westminster—I heard a cry of "Police!" and saw the prisoner strike Latty and knock him down; he then ran into an urinal, and Latty came up—I went into the urinal and said, "If you give the gentleman his watch he will not lock you up"—he said, "I have not got it: Albert Downey has it"—I know Albert Douney, and have seen him since in the Broadway—I knew the prisoner before—I saw him come out of the watering-place, run across Victoria Road, and go into Union Court—Latty was halloaing "Stop thief!" all the time.
KENNETT M'CLELAN (Policeman 130 B). I heard cries of "Police!" and saw persons run across Victoria Road into Union Court—I went through No. 8, and in a yard at the back found the prisoner concealed behind a soldier in a corner of the yard—I pulled him out and kept him till Latty came and said, "That is the man"—I took Downey, who I knew by sight, but Latty would not swear to him.
Prisoner's Defence. I never struck the man or laid a hand on him.
GUILTY .†— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. HOUSTON conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the Defence.
ELIZABETH QUICK . I am a widow, of 2, East Church Road, Lime-house—on 1st January I visited some friends, and left at about half-past two on the morning of the new year—as I was going home I spoke to a constable, and then the prisoner spoke to me—I knew him, and he said, "I will go home with you"—it was not ten minutes' walk from my house, and I allowed him to accompany me—I was glad of his company—he walked about a dozen yards beyond where I spoke to the policeman, and then I received a blow on the right side of my head, which stunned me, and another on my wrist—I became insensible, and know nothing more—it must have been the prisoner who gave me the blow; I could see nobody else—there was nobody with me but the prisoner—I had two rings on my fingers, a wedding ring and a keeper, and a handkerchief round my neck, and they were all gone—the prisoner remarked in the policeman's presence that I had the rings, and told me to take care of them—my son came up and took me home—the value of the rings was 12s. or 12s. 6d.—I gave the prisoner in charge a month afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go to terminate the old year? A. Yea, at my daughter's—I had no spirits to drink; only ale—my daughter lives three-quarters of a mile off—I do not know whether I walked straight—the policeman did not tell me that I was handled by two—I did not see two; if there was a second party he kept at my back—my son told the prisoner to come and settle with me, and if he had paid for the rings he would not have been before the Magistrate.
JOB POP (K 107). On the morning of 1st January I saw Mrs. Quick lying on the pavement drunk—I picked her up, and stood with her about two minutes, when the prisoner and another man came down Moran Street and said, "Hold hard, old lady, you have got a drop too much"—I said, "Yes, she has"—he said, "I will see her home, if you have no objection"—I said, "I shall be very much obliged to you if you will, if you know her"—he said, "Yes, I do know her"—I looked at her hand to see whether she was married, and saw two wedding rings—I told the prisoner to be
careful of the rings, not to lose them—he said that it was all right—the prisoner caught hold of one side of her, and the other man of the other; they went up Church Bow, and I saw no more of them—about ten minutes afterwards I saw the prosecutrix in the rope ground, and no one near her; I looked at her hand and saw that her rings were gone—I stood by her till her son came for her (I had seen him previously and told him his mother had gone towards the rope walk; he ran before me)—he ran on and brought the prisoner back—I asked the prisoner what he had done with the rings which were on the woman's finger—he said, "I do not know"—I said, "You are aware that they were on when I left her with you"—he said, "Yes"—I asked the son if he was going to give him in charge for stealing the rings—he said, no, his mother was not in a fit state to go to the station, and he should not take the responsibility upon his own hands—the prisoner was given in custody on, I think, the last day in January.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose the old lady was drunk? A. She was—it was hard work to pull her up; it wanted two to lug her along—I do not know the other fellow—what the prisoner said was, "I do not know anything about them"—I did not search him—he did say, "Feel my pockets," and he seemed quite ready to open, his pockets and show everything.
WILLIAM QUICK . I am the prosecutrix's son—I was with her on the night of the old year—she left before me—I afterwards went home, found the was not there, and went down to the bottom of Moran Street—I had a dog with me, and the policeman asked me where I was going—I said, "To look for my mother"—he said, "There is an old lady tipsy, going to he taken home by two gentlemen"—I ran up the rope walk, saw two men running, and saw my mother fall back; whether they struck her I cannot say—the prisoner is one of them—I pursued them—my dog followed the prisoner under some dark arches and under some trucks—I said, "Come out; I shall not leave you till you do"—he came out, and I said, "Halloa? Bill, is it you? I should not have thought it was you; come and see what you have done"—he said, "I should not have run, only I thought it was the policeman"—I took him back to my mother, and the constable, who was standing by her, said, "When I left the old lady in charge of you she had the rings on her finger, and you said you would take charge of them: what hare you done with them?"—he said, "I do not know"—the constable said, "Will you give him in charge?"—I said, "No; I will leave it till morning, to see what mother has lost"—I saw the prisoner frequently afterwards, and said, "Mother has been to the station and told the policeman to lock you up when he sees you, and if you go and make her some recompense perhaps she will not lock you up"—he said, "I have not seen the other man since."
Cross-examined. Q. Did not he say, "If any one took the rings, that nan must?" A. No—he would not make any recompense—he did not say that he had not got the rings—he does not live near me, but I have known him long—I believe he is a saw sharpener—I had never seen the other man with the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Q. Did not he say before the Magistrate, "I have got nothing to say, only that I had not the rings?" A. He made no remark at all. (MR. COOPER wished the witness to refresh his memory by the depositions, but the COURT refused to allow this, as it was for the prosecution only
to put in the prisoner's statement, which became evidence under the Statute, and the witness could not give orally what the Statute said should be given in writing.) He did not say to me at any time, "I have nothing to say, only I have not the ring."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the Defence.
EDWARD CHESHIRE (City Policeman 602). On 13th February, about twenty minutes past four o'clock, I saw the prisoner in Cannon Street, carrying a basket—I stopped him, and asked what he had there—he said, "Some mussels"—I looked and found it was so—I said, "What have you got about you?"—he said, "Nothing"—I felt his pockets and said, "There is something very heavy here"—he said, "It is only my coffee can"—I drew it out (produced)—it fits round the leg or round the chest—I said, "What have you got in it?"—he said, "Nothing"—I said, "It is very heavy"—I drew the cork, smelt it, and said, "It is wine"—I took him to the station, and found a smaller tin in his breast pocket, made to fit, and also containing port wine—the inspector asked him if the tins belonged to him—he burst into tears, and said, "No, they were given me by somebody else, at the place; I wish I had never brought them away"—he gave his address—I went there and found in a cupboard two bottles of port wine, and four sample bottles, similar to those which are used in Messrs. Field's warehouse.
Cross-examined. Q. Are they very common bottles? A. Yes—a great deal of wine of the same kind comes over, and is sold by the different wine merchants—I believe it is very difficult to judge of wine—I know that his wife is in delicate health—he has three children.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. You do not know whether his wife is ordered port wine? A. I do not.
HAMILTON FIELD . I am a partner in the firm of Kearns, Major, and Field, wharfingers, of Thames Street—the prisoner has been in their employ as wine cooper about three months—we had some port wine in a cellar on our premises where the prisoner was working—he left about a quarter-past four o'clock—I have tasted the wine in these tins; it corresponds with the bulk in our cellar, and I believe it to be ours—the prisoner had no authority to take it.
Cross-examined. Q. Is there plenty of port wine in London? A. Yes—I missed no wine, because half a gallon would make no difference in a large cask.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, March 1st, 1867.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution.
ENOCH EMERY (City Policeman 653). About half-past one in the afternoon of 7th February I saw the prisoner in St. Paul's Church Yard—he was very busy among the people—he went up to a lady, put his hand in her pocket, and took out this purse (produced)—I saw it in his hand—he put it into the side pocket of his coat—I took hold of him and called after
the lady—there was a hole in his pocket, and the purse fell to the ground—the lady said it was hers—I took him to the station and charged him with stealing the purse—he made no answer—a gentleman picked the purse up.
JANE NOAD . I am the wife of the Reverend George Frederick Noad, of 29, Richmond Road, Bayswater—about half-past one on 7th February I was in St. Paul's Church Yard—this is my purse—the constable showed it to me.
GUILTY .**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES PART . I am a medical student, and reside in Camden Road—about half-past six on the evening of 29th January I went into a public-house in Mercer Street, Long Acre—just before I got to the door the prisoner, with three others, asked me something about the way to the Strand—I did not give them any direct answer, but passed on—a few minutes afterwards I returned, and was crossing over Mercer Street to Long Acre when the prisoner and three others hustled me, and the prisoner put his hands over my mouth—I tried to get away, and struck him—he threw me on my side, and cut my knee in two places—he ran down Mercer Street, and I pursued him for about forty yards, when he was stopped by a policeman—I do not know where the other three ran to—I gave him in charge—I was about seven or ten minutes in the public-house.
BARTHOLOMEW SULLIVAN (3 F). About half-past six on the evening of 29th January I was on duty in Mercer Streetz—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" coming from the direction of Long Acre, and presently I saw the prisoner running very fast in the centre of the road—I stopped him—the prosecutor was a few yards behind—he said, "I give this man in custody for assaulting me, and stealing my umbrella, with three others"—the prisoner said, "That is a mistake, sergeant; it is not me, it is the others"—I took him to the station—the prosecutor was perfectly sober.
GUILTY .**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude , and Thirty-nine Stripes with the "Cat ."
MR. STARLING conducted the Prosecution, and MR. HOUSTON defended Horn.
GEORGE NELLER . I am foreman to Charles Gay and Co., of 62, Totty Street—I was the last person in the factory on the evening of 14th February—I left at half-past seven—the place was then safely locked up—I returned the next morning at half-past seven, and found my desk broken open, and about 4l. in money taken out—I went up stairs, and found the window turned upside down—it is six feet long and three feet six wide—nearly four stacks of hare and rabbit skins had been taken—I examined the garden adjoining, belonging to a man named Mobbs, and found footmarks in the direction of the window from the back of Mobbs's house.
HENRY DANIEL MOBBS . I reside at 60, Totty Street—my garden goes down to the prosecutor's factory—the prisoners lodge with me, and occupy the first floor—about half-past six on the morning of 15th my wife called
me—I went to the street door, and saw a cart on the pavement under the first-floor window—some one was lowering a bundle into the cart from Horn's window—I saw Horn, and said, "Mr. Horn, are you going to move?"—he said, "No, no"—I understood him to say they were goods from the docks, or for the docks—the cart was full—they were large sacks, but I could not see what was in them—I went in, and when I returned, the cart was gone.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it not dark? A. Not so dark but what I could see him—I never knew Horn to remove any goods before.
HARRIETT MOBBS . I am the daughter of the last witness—about half-past six on the morning of 15th February I heard a cart drawn up to our house—I went down into the kitchen, and shortly afterwards Thomas Jacobs came down—he said, "Good morning," and that he was going to look at the weather—he went into the garden, but was not absent more than two or three minutes—he went up stairs, and returned in about ten minutes with a sack under his arm—the sack was full, but I could not see what was in it—I did not see Horn that morning.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see Walter Jacobs then? A. No—when Thomas Jacobs came down stairs with the sack he went out into the street.
MR. STARLING to HENRY DANIEL MOBBS. Q. Was it the 15th that you saw the cart at your door? A. No, the morning of the 1st.
RICHARD BROOKFIELD (continued). From the warehouse I went to 60, Totty Street, Mr. Mobbs's house, and waited there until nine at night, when Walter Jacobs came in—he went up stairs, and I followed him—I told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of breaking into Mr. Gay's warehouse during the night—he said he knew nothing of it—Mr. Gay was present—I remained there until eleven o'clock, when I heard a whistle under the front window—Mrs. Horn was there, and she threw up the window, looked out, and said, "John, here's the police after him"—I left Walter Jacobs in custody of 184 K, ran down stairs, and saw Horn a few yards off—I said, "Is your name Horn?"—he said, "Yes"—I told him I should take him in custody for breaking into Mr. Gay's warehouse—he said nothing—they were taken to the police-station about half-past ten on the 2nd—I found this book (produced) on Horn.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. STARLING the Defence.
EDWARD BLYTH . I live in Fenton Street, Old Kent Road—about one o'clock on the morning of 27th January I was going on the temporary bridge at Blackfriars—when I reached the first recess the prisoner and three others rushed against me and knocked me down—there were no other persons about—I cannot say which of them ran against me—while on the ground I felt a tug at my watch, and on looking down found it was gone—the other three ran towards the Surrey side, and the prisoner towards the City; I followed him, and at the foot of the bridge a policeman stopped him—I was sober.
Cross-examined. Q. Where were you coming from? A. Weeton's Music Hall—I went there to meet a gentleman on important business—I was only there an hour and a half—I had two or three glasses of beer there—previously to that I had been to Holland's distillery, in Deptford—I might have had two or three more glasses during the evening—I was on the ground scarcely a second—the whole affair only occupied a few seconds.
ALFRED COLLINS (402 City). On the morning of 27th January I was on duty at Blackfriars Bridge—I saw the prisoner running, and Blyth after him—he was stopped by another constable, I searched him and found 7s. 1d. upon him—Blyth was quite sober.
Cross-examined. Q. How far was the prisoner ahead of the prosecutor? A. Only three or four yards—the prisoner gave me his address—I went there, and they told me he lodged there—it was Bedcross Place, Bedcross Street, Borough.
EDWARD BERRY (478 City). On the morning of 27th January I was on duty at Blackfriars Bridge—I saw the prisoner running and the prosecutor after him—there was no one in front of the prisoner—I stopped him.
COURT to EDWARD BLYTH. Q. When had you last seen your watch safe? A. About twenty minutes past twelve—I took it out as I was passing Chancery Lane.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE DOUGHTY . I am a builder, of Ashley Place, Stepney—about twelve o'clock on 12th January I was passing the railway arches, Bromley—I saw some women there, one of them asked me for a few pence, as she was starving—I told her I had not got any money then, but I should be returning that way about three o'clock—I did return about three—I saw the two females and four men sitting round a small fire in the middle of the arch—I had then 5l. 16s. 6d. in my pocket—one of the women came to me and asked me for some money, so I gave her a shilling—I turned round and was walking away, when I received a blow on the left side of my head—there were several persons round me—the prisoner was one of them—I leant against the wall, and the prisoner put his hand in my pocket and tore it out—the money was in that pocket—they all ran away, and I pursued them—a constable apprehended the others, and they were tried and convicted last Session. (See p. 347.)
Prisoner. Q. Can you say what I was dressed in? A. You had a light coat on, under a dark one, and a flat cap.
THOMAS VENABLES (141 K). I apprehended the prisoner about twelve o'clock on the night of 31st January, in High Street, Stepney—I told him what he was charged with; he said, "Very well, I will go to the station."
Prisoner. Q. Have you not known me ever since I was a boy to work hard for my living, round about Stepney? A. Yes.
COURT. Q. How was he dressed when you took him? A. The same as now—I did not see him on the day of the robbery.
Prisoner to GEORGE DOUGHTY. Q. Did not you offer to draw the sheet if my mother would pay half the expenses? A. No—certainly not—I have rejected all offers in this prosecutionz—I did not go home that night and beat my wife black and blue.
Prisoner. I have a letter in my pocket to prove it (produced).
MRS. STUNT. I am the prisoner's wife—my husband was at the prosecutor's house on the Monday evening, and he told my husband if he would bear half the solicitor's expenses he would not go on with the case.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN COWCUTT (Doch Constable). On 5th February a vessel called the Thomas Snowdon, was in the docks, discharging a cargo of brandy—I went into the hold at about half-past seven, and found the prisoner White helplessly drunk, he had to be hoisted out of the ship—the other two prisoners were drunk in the hold, but were not so drunk as White—I had White carried to the station, and the others walked there with assistance—I found on Fitch one of the capsules of a brandy bottle.
White. Q. Were there not more men in the same ship? A. Thirty or forty—I saw you at work on the quay at four o'clock that day, near the vessel—you were then as sober as I am.
Biley. Q. Had not I to cross the ship's side to the quay? A. Yes, but I guided you, to see that you did not fall into the dock.
MR. POLAND. Q. Were the other men who were at work in the hold, sober? A. Yes.
HENRY JOHN MCDONALD . I am foreman of the C jetty, Victoria Docks—the Thomas Snowdon was discharging her cargo there on 5th February—I engaged Biley and Fitch about 9 a.m., and White about 12.30—I saw them up to 5.30, they were then sober—I went into the hold soon after seven, and found White lying quite insensible on some loose grain—I turned him over, but could make nothing of him, I sent for a constable, and on further search found Biley forward, standing on some cases of brandy, and near him were two cases which had been broken open—he was drunk, but not insensible, we had to lead him up the ladder—Fitch was also drunk, but not so bad as Biley—three cases were broken, but the third not enough to extract the bottles—I missed ten bottles of brandy from one of the cases—I saw a broken bottle of brandy near where White was lying, the neck was off and could not be found—we were at work till eight, the regular hours are nine to four—the men leave for dinner at twelve o'clock, and return at twenty minutes past—no beer or spirits is allowed in the docks after two in the day—I produce another broken bottle.
White. Q. Did you find it? A. No, the boatswain gave it to me.
Fitch. Q. Where did you see me? A. On the beam, where you had no business to be—you were drunk, and close to you were some broken bottles—I assisted you out of the hold, aud saw you come ashore.
THOMAS GRIGG . I am head constable of Victoria Docks—on 5th February, about 7.30 p.m., I was in the station when the prisoners were brought there—White was so senselessly drunk that we were obliged to send for a
doctor—the others were not so bad—when I went to the vessel it was closed, but next morning I went into the hold as soon as the hatches were off, and found two cases broken open, and nine bottles missing from one, and one from the other—I found several bottles broken to pieces, and three others with the necks off, and a portion of brandy in each of them; also the neck of a bottle with the capsule on and the cork in it near the broken bite.
White. Q. Did not I walk very well to the station? A. We kept you about two hours, because you could not walk at all, and then you were assisted.
Biley. Q. Did not you say, "I do not know what to do about locking Biley up, he is not drunk," and did not Cowcutt say, "Lock him up, we shall get some information out of him?" A. I do not recollect speaking to him.
White's Defence. I went outside the dock with a mate, and had a glass of rum and a drop of ale, and I had nothing to eat, as I had pawned my bedding during the hard weather. I went to the ship, felt giddy, and sat down. I never had a drop of drink in the ship. If there were ten bottles of brandy missing, there were forty or fifty men there, and some of them were drunk. I have worked in the docks since 1854, and should not be likely to take brandy and get my living taken away.
Fitch's Defence. I was no more drunk than I am now. I got up the stancheons of the boat, because there was no ladder, and when I got ashore they took me in custody. This capsule may have been thrown on my coat; ray pockets are very large.
Biley's Defence. My jacket was thrown up to me, and I caught it, put it on, got over the ship's side, and, stepped ashore, the ship being two or three feet from the side. I said to one of the officers, "Can you call me drunk? I can walk as well as ever I could, being lame." At the station I heard Mr. Grigg say, "I do not know what to do about locking Biley up." Cowcutt said, "Lock him up, now we have got him here; we may learn some information from him."
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. METCALFE and MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD SCANLON (Police Constable, Great Eastern Railway). About 2.45 on the morning of 10th February I was near Angel Lane Bridge—I heard footsteps coming very close to the bordered fences on the road outside—I got on the fence and saw two men with some bundles on their arms—the prisoner was one of them—I spoke to the yard foreman, Cracknell, and then went and stopped the prisoner—they pitched the bundles at my feet, and ran in different directions—I pursued the other man, but he escaped—Cracknell stopped the prisoner.
GEORGE CRACKNELL . I am foreman of Stratford yard—I saw the prisoner running up Angel Lane, towards Stratford New Town—I stopped about 200 yards from a truck of drapery in the yard—I afterwards found some bundles about 150 yards from where I stopped him—he dropped the inside of this lantern (produced)—it was warm.
JOSEPH RUSSELL (Police Inspector, Great Eastern Railway). On the morning of the 10th I went to the signal-box in Angel Lane Yard, and there saw the prisoner—afterwards I went to the goods shed, and saw
truck No. 43, loaded with drapery—I returned to where the prisoner was and told him he must go to the station with me, for being concerned with another in stealing some drapery from a truck—he made no reply—I then went back to the yard, and examined truck 3640—it was a Brentwood truck—I found the string of the tarpaulin covering had been cut near the wall—I also found a large bale of goods had been cut open, and to all appearance robbed—the trunk contained goods of the same description as this (produced)—some jeannette and some alpaca—when I first saw the prisoner he was without a hat—I asked him where it was, he said he had lost it in the road—afterwards Constable Eastliffe brought me a hat, and the prisoner said it was his.
GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZA HERYET . My mother keeps a tobacconist's shop in Greenwich Road—on 20th January I served Williams with half an ounce of tobacco—he paid me with a florin—I gave him 1s., and 10 1/2 d. in copper, and took the florin up stairs and laid it on a table—I went back to the shop and found Beard there in plain clothes, and went back and brought down the money, which I found in the same place as I had left it—I gave it to Beard, who bit it and took it away—when I first took it I remarked that it was very bright on the head—I saw one at the police-court with the same brightness on the head—an officer produced at the police-court the same packet of tobacco which I had sold the prisoner.
WILLIAM BEARD (289 R). On 30th January I was in plain clothes near Mrs. Heryet's shop, and saw the prisoner Williams go in and pay a florin for some tobacco—Miss Heryet afterwards gave me the florin and I bit it, and went out in search of Williams—I found him in the Greenwich Road, 100 yards off, with Thomas—they went to Royal Hill Corner, about fifty yards off—Williams then went towards the Greenwich Lecture Hall, looked at some of the shops, came back again, and went into a pieshop—I went to get assistance, and when I came back they were about ten yards from the pie-shop—Williams then left Thomas—I touched Williams, and charged him with passing bad money, searched him, and found another bad florin in his left waistcoat pocket, but no good money or tobacco—I did not see them smoking—I saw Hodd search Thomas—he took a handkerchief from his pocket, and I saw a florin fall from his hand.
EBENEZER HODD (Policeman 123 R). Beard pointed out Thomas to me—I took him into a butcher's shop, and said that I must charge him with passing bad money—he said that he knew nothing about it—I told him to show what money he had, and he threw two shillings, two sixpences, a
threepenny piece, and fourpence-halfpenny, on the butcher's block, saying, "That is all the money I have about me"—I said, "I must seach and see if you have any more"—I commenced searching, and found half an ounce of tobacco in his breast-pocket—he put his hand in his coat pocket, pulled oat a handkerchief or rag, and dropped this florin (produced), wrapped in paper the same as the tobacco is in—I said, "What is this you have dropped?"—he said, "That is not mine."
THOMAS— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LONGFORD the Defence,
HERBERT LAWRENCE . I live with my father, George Lawrence, at 12, Marlborough Road, Lee—on 11th February, about eight in the evening, my sister went out of the dining-room, and said, "Herbert, there is a man in the house"—I ran through the hall and out at the front door—I found it shut, and on opening it saw two men in the garden running from the back of the house—the side entrance is protected by a green gate to the back garden, and there are steps up to a door leading to the hall—by that door you have access to the hall as well as by the front door—I ran after the men, calling, "Stop thief!"—they ran along the road some distance, and one of them turned back—that was the prisoner—he ran 200 or 300 yards, and a policeman caught him—I believe he is one of the two men I saw running away—I lost sight of him for one moment at a corner, and when I got round I saw him running across the road—I went with him to the station, where I noticed that he had no boots or shoes on—when the men were running out of the garden I did not notice any difference in their running, or in the sound they made—after the prisoner was taken to the station I found two sets of footmarks on the grass in front of the house, one appearing to be made with a boot and the other without—nothing was disturbed—no boots were found.
HENRY LAWRENCE . I was in the dining-room with my brother when my sister made an alarm—I went out at the front door after my brother, and saw two men in the road running; I ran after them, and saw one of them run into a knot of men who were standing at a corner, and then saw a man run out of the knot, but cannot say whether he was the same man—I saw him stopped by the policeman—he complained of the policeman handling him roughly, and afterwards escaped—the policeman caught him again, and he struggled and tried to bite the policeman—I examined the garden with a lamp, and feund two sets of footmarks leading from the side gate to the front gate, one as if made by a man with, and the other without boots—I did not notice when he was taken that he had no boots, but I noticed it at the station.
MATILDA LAWRENCE . I am the sister of the former witnesses—I went into the passage about eight o'clock on the evening of 11th February, and saw a man walking on tip-toe in the hall—he made no noise, but I could not see whether he had boots or shoes on—I called my brothers, and the man ran out at the side door—I should not know him again—I am nearsighted.
Cross-examined. Q. Does the side gate open with a latch or a knob? A. With a knob—the side door opens with an ordinary handler—it was not
the shadow of a man that I saw—the gas was not lighted—the man was of a middling height.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Was the side door open or shut? A. I believe it was ajar.
MR. LILLEY. to HENRY LAWRENCE. Q. How recently before your sister gave an alarm did you return to the house? A. Within ten minutes—I went in by the side door, and shut it, and the side gate also—the side door opens with a handle—I left it closed by the handle, but not locked.
WILLIAM WOOTTON (316 R). On 11th February I was on duty, and heard a cry which attracted my attention—I ran, and saw the prisoner and a man not in custody running towards me—one ran down a turning and the prisoner ran back—I took him—the prosecutor came up, and one of the witnesses said, "That is one of the men"—I told him he would have to go to the station, and when we got to Lee Park he attempted to slip out of his coat, and as I let go to get a fresh hold of him he escaped, and ran 300 yards before I took him again—he made several attempts to escape—he had no boots or shoes on when I took him—I saw footmarks across the lawn leading from the side gate to the front gate, and out into the street, one set with boots and one without.
NOT GUILTY .
332. GEORGE ELLINGTHORPE (37) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing one flute and case of Thomas Smythe; also to feloniously uttering a forged request for the delivery of Church Services, with intent to defraud.— Confined Twelve Months.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution.
HARVEY PRIOR . I live at Rutland Terrace, Forest Hill—on Tuesday morning, 5th February, about half-past seven, in consequence of what my servant said, I went down to my fowl-house at the end of my garden, and missed all my fowls but one, that was setting in a kennel; and the head of a pigeon that I had was cut off, and the body taken—eleven fowls were taken—the necks of two had been wrung off and thrown in a field—they had been safe at nine o'clock the night before—I traced the feathers across a meadow to the back of my house, and found two of my fowls lying dead there, with their feathers on—my wife went and fetched them—I gave information to the police, and that same evening I went to the station and identified some of the feathers of my fowls, also the cock's tail, which I could swear to, and the feet—I also recognised the heads of two other fowls.
JOHN CRITCHELL (Policeman 62 P). On Tuesday morning, 5th February, I went to the prosecutor's house—I found the fowl-house had been broken open—I traced feathers over the railway, within thirty yards of the prisoner's house—I went to the prisoner's house, and knocked at the door—his wife, who was inside, said, "Who's there?"—I said, "Is Mr. Church at home?"—she said, "No, he is out"—I looked in, and the house was completely strewed with feathers and blood—there were seven fowls on the table already picked, and there were some heads and legs—she had the cock's legs in her hand when she opened the door to me—I afterwards found a fowl's head and some legs in
the ash-heap—I left a constable in charge, and went in search of the prisoner—I afterwards returned to the house and found him in custody—I asked him what account he had to give me about the fowls—he said he knew nothing about the fowls or the basket; that a man had asked him to leave them there for a little while—I asked who the man was—he did not know, but they called him Jumper—that is the basket he said the fowls were brought in.
JOHN PIZZEY (Policeman P 103). I took the prisoner into custody—I told him he was wauted for stealing these fowls—he said he had not stolen them, but a friend of his had left them with him that morning, about seven o'clock—he declined to say who the friend was.
Prisoner's Defence. A man left the fowls at my place. He had previously borrowed the basket of me to sell some nuts and orgngea in. He said he would call for them in an hour or two, and we might have the little one for our trouble.
GUILTY .— Confined Four Months.
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. MOODY the Defence.
JANE COCKLE . I am a widow, carrying on an oil and Italian business at 9, Wellington Street, Deptford—the prisoner has been in my employ as shopman nine weeks—he left on Sunday morning, 10th February, between nine and ten o'clock—he had a week's notice from my son through me—he used to live in the house, and slept in the top room, third floor in front; my bedroom was at the back—he sent his box away on Saturday afternoon between three and four o'clock—on the Sunday evening I went to chapel in High Street, not a great distance from my house—I left my daughter, aged about nine, and my niece, aged sixteen, in the house—on returning from chapel I met my daughter, and returned with her in haste in consequence of what she said—I met my niece at the top of the street, she gave me the key—I unlocked the door, went through the shop, and the first thing I saw was the two panels of the passage door, leading from the kitchen to the parlour, broken short off in the middle—that door had been bolted at the bottom, but not at the top—I immediately lighted a candle and went up to my bedroom, and the first thing I saw was my cashbox lying on the chair empty, and the bills lying on the floor—it had contained 63l. in gold, nearly all in half-sovereigns; 5s., in silver, a brown holland bag, nearly 3l. in small silver, and in a paper at the end of the box 26l. in gold, a gold watch, 7l. 11s. in silver, and two half-sovereigns—that was all gone—the box had been standing on my drawers, covered over—I had seen it just before half-past six, for I went to the box and took out sixpence for the collection at chapel, and it was safe then—I also missed six silver teaspoons, a silver watch, a pair of sugar tongs, and my brooch—this is the box (produced)—it is a wooden one—it had been apparently broken open with a screwdriver—I have a screwdriver used in the shop this is it—it had been used by tho prisoner on the Friday or Saturday, we could not find it on the Sunday—it was found on the Sunday night close by the parlour door, on the oil counter.
Cross-examined. Q. What time does service commence at your chapel? A. Half-past six, and it struck eight just as the service finished—it is generally over about eight—the prisoner's time was up on the Saturday night, but he slept at my house that night, and left on the Sunday morning—he was paid by the week.
EMILY BECK . I am sixteen years of age, and am niece to Mrs. Cockle—on Sunday evening, 10th February, my aunt went to chapel between six and half-past, leaving me and my cousin Emily in the house—I bolted the door after my aunt as she went out, also bolted the back door—we were sitting in the room over the kitchen, beside the table—we heard a noise like the fire-irons;—I listened, and we heard two men coming up stairs—it was between eight and half-past—I ran into the shop and screamed, "Father!" half a dozen times, and "Murder!" twice, and the other man came and dragged me into the parlour—before he had got me into the parlour he put a handkerchief over my nose and mouth, and then put me on the sofa and told me to look up—he said, "You know Richard, don't you? there's Richard," and when I looked up I saw Richard—the prisoner is Richard—he is the one I saw—the other man told me that my aunt was dying, and whilst he was telling us that Richard lit the candle by the gas and went up stairs—he was there about a few minutes, and then we heard him come down again—I heard him go into aunt's bedroom—the other man said, "Go and put on your things and come with us, because your aunt wants you directly;" so we put on our things, and then we all went out together, I and my cousin and the two men—I shut the door and told my cousin to fasten it, because she knew how to do it; but she could not—I said, "We cannot fasten it;" and not Richard, but the other one fastened it—he locked it—I had the key—I gave it to him to lock the door—when we got to the top of the street they both told us to wait there till they went and fetched a cab—we waited there about a quarter of an hour; then I and my cousin went up to the chapel to see if we could fetch my aunt home, and when we got there there was no one there, so we came back again and tried to unlock the door—Richard did not come back at all—my aunt then came home.
Cross-examined. Q. When you got to the chapel did not you find the people coming out? A. No; we saw them coming out while we were waiting—my cousin and I were sitting in the parlour above the kitchen—there is a door from that into the shop—it was the shop door I ran to—there were two gaslights alight in the shop, not full on—we always have them alight till we go to bed—I ran to the shop door and called out—I did not open the door; I could not get it open—I had never seen the other man before—my cousin was sitting on the sofa while I ran to the door—we had been reading.
EMILY COCKLE . I am nine years old—I live with my mother at Weilington Street, Deptford—on Sunday night, 10th February, I was with my cousin in the parlour over the kitchen—we heard a noise down in the kitchen like the falling of fire-irons, and then we heard some one coming up the stairs—then my cousin ran into the shop and screamed "Father?" and "Murder!"—then they burst the door open—I saw the prisoner just over the door—he lighted a candle by the gas and went up stairs into my mother's bedroom—Richard put his arm round my neck and cuddled me, and said, "Don't cry, you know me; I am Richard"—my cousin was then on the sofa, with a handkerchief over her mouth and nose—then
Richard came down and told us that my mother was dying, and we were to go and see her directly, and we went—when we got outside the door I locked the door and gave my cousin the key—when we got to the top of the street they told us to stop there while they went and got a cab—they did not come back.
Cross-examined. Q. The other man was very like Richard, too, was he not? A. Yes—when I first saw Richard he was just over the door—I was then by the table, and my cousin was out in the shop screaming.
JOHN JARRETT (Policeman R 88). On 11th February, in consequence of information, I went in search of the prisoner—I found him in an oilshop in the Blackfriars Road—I said, "Your name is Copland?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am police constable; I want you for breaking into a shop in Wellington Street, Deptford"—Mr. Cockle, the prosecutrix's son, was with me—the prisoner turned to him and said, "What! your house, Mr. Cockle? you don't think I would haye done such a thing?"—I said, "It was on Sunday night"—he said, "I was not at Deptford on that night"—I found on him 3l. 10s. in half-sovereigns, 3s. 6d. in silver, 6d., in coppers, two knives, a pawn ticket, and some keys.
JOHN COCKLE . I reside with my mother, the prosecutrix, and manage her business—I left home on Sunday, 10th February, about half-past two in the afternoon, and returned home about nine—I examined the door at the top of the kitchen stairs, leading to the parlour; it had been broken open: two panels had been forced out—next morning I examined the kitchen window: I found it had been forced open with a screwdriver; I compared the marks with this screwdriver, and they exactly corresponded.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you gave the prisoner notice to leave? A. Yes—I had not heard that he meant to go—I did not know where he was going.
SARAH COCOKLE . I am the prosecutrix's daughter—on Saturday, the 9th, the prisoner asked me what chapel I went to; I told him in the Greenwich Road—he said, "That is a long way, is it not?"—I said, "Yes; I don't mind it; it is a walk"—later in the evening he went into the yard, and was gone about twenty minutes—on Sunday morning I wanted this screwdriver, but could not find it; I looked in the shop: it was usually kept in a drawer in the counter; I looked there, and it was not there—if it had been on the counter I must have seen it—I do not go to the same chapel as my mother—I did not know where the prisoner was going when he left us, but I had seen him direct letters to Miss Wood, at an oilshop in the Blackfriars Road, and I told the policeman I thought that was the most likely place to find him.
ALFRED PERRY . I am shopboy to Mrs. Cockle—on Saturday, 9th February, between one and two in the afternooon, I was in the warehouse—the prisoner came to me there and asked what I was doing—I said I was clearing up the place; he told me not to be fiddling about there, but to go into the shop—I did not go: I stopped and finished what I was doing—he had his hand on his pocket when he came out, and he took this screwdriver from his pocket; the blade was divided from the handle; he put the blade in the handle and knocked it on a soda cask to fix it; he then lifted up the lid of the soda cask, and then put it under the roof of the warehouse at the back, and he picked up a mallet and put it near the screwdriver on a roll of felt.
Cross-examined. Q. It is a lean-to place, is it not, a shed with a slanting
roof? A. Yes—I never saw the screwdriver put there before; they only put the iron things there that are used to open the bungs of the casks.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was not in Deptfort at all on Sunday night."
MRS. COCKLE (re-examined). The chapel I went to on this night was the one I had been accustomed to go to when the prisoner was with me—I usually left my daughter and niece at home: one went out in the morning and both in the afternoon, and both stopped at home in the evening—I expect they thought no one would be in the house—the prisoner was never there on the Sunday: he left on Sunday morning after breakfast, and did not return till eleven at night—the warehouse is not locked up—there is a low roof and a wall and a low gate—whoever they were that got in on the Sunday night, they would have access to the warehouse—a few weeks before, about eleven o'clock, the dog barked furiously, and ran up stairs; the prisoner was the first one that ran after the dog, and my son and I followed him, but there was nobody.
Witnesses for the Defence.
CHARLES WOOD . I am in business at 170, Blackfriars Road—I have known the prisoner nearly five years—he bears a very good character—the policeman arrested him at my house on Monday, the 11th—he had been at my house on the Sunday from about three o'clock in the afternoon till just upon seven in the evening, after tea; when he left, and was absent some considerable time—he returned from half-past eight to twenty minutes to nine—for the last six months he has spent his Sunday afternoons at my house.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you fix twenty minutes to nine? A. I have a timepiece in my parlour, and I think it would be twenty-five, or twenty-six minutes to nine, but I cannot speak to a minute.
COURT. Q. Did you go before the Magistrate? A. Yes, but I was not called—the solicitor knew I was there—you can go from Blackfriars Road Station to Deptford—that is the South Eastern Line, and is about 150 or 200 yards from my house—on the day I went down to Deptford to the prisoner's examination it took three-quarters of an hour, but then they took us into Cannon Street Station.
CAROLINE WOOD . I am the wife of the last witness—the prisoner was arrested at our house—he came there on the previous Sunday about three o'clock in the afternoon, and left about seven, I cannot say to a few minutes—he returned about half-past eight, or it might be a few minutes later.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe the prisoner was paying attention to your daughter? A. He had been for some time—a man called on the Sunday night of the robbery—I do not know his name, or whether he was a policeman, or whether it was half-past ten when he called: I did not answer the door, my daughter did—she is not here—that man (Jarrett) called on Wednesday—I did not tell him what time the prisoner left on Sunday, or what time he had gone to the Canterbury—I am sure I did not see the man who called on Sunday—he asked if Mr. Copland was there, and my daughter came in and said, "The gentleman at the door wants to know how long Mr. Copland has left," and I said, "About an hour"—that must have been after ten o'clock, I think—he had gone about an hour, but I did not look at the clock—he left between nine and ten—I do not know where he went
to—he left the house first about seven, and came back about half-past eight, or a little later—I do not know that he went to the Canterbury—he remained some little time before he left again—I cannot tell you whether it was an hour—he went out between nine and ten.
JURY. Q. You say that you do not know what time the person called: if you are so particular to a few minutes when the prisoner left, why cannot you tell within five minutes when he came? A. I have taxed my memory with all concerned on this unfortunate evening, and I have told you all I can remember—I should say it was half-past ten when the prisoner left, as near as I can guess—half-past eight or twenty minutes to nine is fixed upon my memory as the time he returned, because he made some observation about the young ladies being out, and he was coming back to take them for a walk—he said that it was early for them to go out; is was only so-and-so o'clock.
MR. MOODY. Q. Was there a clock in the room? A. Yes, in the room I was sitting in—I did not look at it to notice it, but it was between eight and nine, I am positive—I was very poorly, lying down—my daughter came in and said that a gentleman had called, not that a policeman had called.
LOUISA BRAND . I live in Walworth Road—my papa is manager of the Canterbury Hall, and I was serving there—I know the prisoner by sight only; I have seen him there nearly every Sunday—I saw him there on Sunday, 10th February, from eight to a quarter past—I cannot say for certain—he was standing at the side of the engine and the bar—I remember the day, because it was the last Sunday that I was at the bar.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there a great number of people you know by sight there? A. Yes—it was Saturday week when I was first asked about his being there—I do not know who spoke to me about it: it was the man who subpoenaed me—he came and asked me if I knew Mr. Copland—I said, "I do not know the name"—he showed me a portrait, and I said directly that I knew him, and then I remembered that he was there at a quarter past eight.
COURT. Q. When is the Canterbury Hall opened? A. At seven o'clock on Sunday evenings, it remains open till eleven—I cannot say whether I saw him that afternoon, because we were very busy—I should not have noticed his face if it had not been early in the evening—I cannot say whether anybody was with him: he was standing with a group of young fellows round the bar.
COURT to JOHN JARRETT. Q. What time does it take to travel from Greenwich to London? A. It takes a quarter of an hour from Deptford to Blackfriars—the evening trains on Sunday from Deptford start at five minutes to the hour, and a quarter past—the 8.15 train arrives at Blackfriars at 8.32.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.
of the cart were scattered about—I put my knee on the horse's head to keep him down, and then saw Terry pick up a parcel, put it under his arm, and walk about with it for some time—when we had got the horse all right I heard Mr. Potter inquiring for a parcel—I described it as about the size of a cigar-box, and pointed out the prisoners to him, who were at some distance—I went part of the way after them with Mr. Potter, and asked Francis about tho parcel—he denied having it—I said, "He knows something about it, for he had it under his arm"—with that he said something to Terry, and it was handed out of the cart.
Cross-examined. Q. You saw Terry when you were sitting on the horse? A. Yes—I did not see him take the parcel away, but I saw him thirty yards off in the cart by Francis's side—the cart was moving—Francis was then in the cart, driving it, and Terry was walking by the side.
WILLIAM EARLY . I am a letter carrier, of Russell Street, Sydenham—I was present when the prosecutor's cart was upset—the contents went on the ground, and I saw Terry pick up a parcel and put it under his arm—he stood by my side about a minute or a minute and a half, turned quickly round, went across to Francis, who was in a cart, and gave it to him; he put it in the back of the cart and covered it over—I made a communication to Potter, went with him, and called Terry twice—he turned round and said, "What parcel? I have no parcel"—I said, "That will not do for me: you have a parcel in that cart"—he called to Francis, "Heigh! give me that parcel"—Francis then handed the parcel out of the cart to Potter, and said to Terry, "You knew the parcel did not belong to you"—Terry said, "I was going to take it to the owner"—when Terry found that Potter had got hold of his arm he owned to it at once—a constable came, and he was given in charge.
Cross-examined. Q. How far was the cart Francis was driving from the place where the parcels were upset? A. Not more than fifteen or twenty yards straight across, it is a very wide road—Francis was forty or fifty yards off when Terry called, driving slowly away; if a person was sitting in the cart with his face to the horse, his side would be towards where the parcels were lying in the road.
MR. DOUGLAS. Q. Was the cart Francis was driving, going in an opposite direction to the other? A. Yes, and it went away in an opposite direction to what it would have gone if Francis had intended to hand the parcel to the owner.
ROBERT POTTER . I am a carrier, of Well's Road, Sydenham—on 5th February my horse ran away, and the cart upset near Mr. Dodds's shop, the things were scattered in the road—I was busy picking them up, and missed a parcel, I did not know the contents of it, but it turns out to be a box of cigars, value 38s.—in consequence of what Dodds and Early said, I went to Terry and asked him what he had done with the parcel he had, he said, "What parcel?"—I said, "The parcel you picked up just now"—Dodds said, "You picked up a parcel and put it in the cart"—I took him by the arm and he called out, "Heigh! here, give me that parcel"—Francis handed it out of the cart, and I gave them in charge.
The prisoners received good characters. TERRY— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury .— Confined One Month . FRANCIS— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution, and MR. BESLEY the Defence.
ELIZA ROST . I am the wife of Edward Host, a butcher, of High Street, Wandsworth—on 31st January, before dinner time, I served the prisoner with 1lb. 20z. of pork, which came to 10d., she gave me a halfcrown, I gave her 1s. 8d. change, and put the half-crown in my pocket, where there was only small coin—afterwards, about two o'clock the same day, she came in for half a pound of steak, which came to 5d., and gave me a half-crown—I gave her a florin and a penny, and then told her it was a bad half-crown, she said, "Do not deface it, I know where I took it from"—I gave it back to her, and she gave me a good one—after she left I examined the first half-crown, showed it to a constable, and gave him instructions—he came back with the prisoner, and I told her that she bought 11b. of pork before dinner, and gave me a bad half-crown—she said, "Before dinner?"—I gave the first half-crown to the constable.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the constable present when she said, "Before dinner?" A. Yes—she was in custody then—we generally sell small quantities of meat in the middle of the day—Wandsworth is made up of a large number of small tenements, and there is a very large working population—I cannot tell you how many customers came last Thursday or Thursday month.
MR. POLAND. Q. Have you any doubt she is the woman who gave you the half-crown before dinner? A. I am sure she is.
STEPHEN PORTAL (Policeman 129 V). On 31st January, a little after two o'clock, I received information, and found the prisoner at the King's Head, Wandsworth, sitting in a corner of the parlour with an open purse and a half-crown in her hand—I took hold of the half-crown, and said, "Have you got any more of this kind about you?"—she said, "Do you know, I was just looking at it"—I told her she was charged with passing a bad half-crown before dinner, at the butcher's—she said that she had not been to any butcher's shop before dinner—I look her to the shop, and Mrs. Rost said, "You gave me a bad half-crown before dmaer, for that bit of pork you bought of me"—she said that she did not—I showed the half-crown I took to Mr. Rost; she said, "Here is'the mark of my teeth on it," and gave me another—I asked the prisoner where she lived, she said that she should not tell me—I took her to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose the female searcher showed you what she found on her? A. Yes—a good florin and one penny—the prisoner did not say that she did not know the half-crown was bad; she said, "I was just looking at it"—I believe I have said before to-day that she said she had not been to the shop. (The witness's deposition, being ready stated: "She said, 'I did not know it was bad.'") She did not say that to my knowledge—it was in reference to the half-crown in her hand that she said, "I was just looking at it."
MESSRS. POLAND and O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM MAJOR OSBORNE MINARD . I am a greengrocer, of 8, Eaton Place, Dover Road—on 2nd February the prisoner came with another woman, who asked for 31b. of potatoes (the prisoner only came about a foot into the shop)—she gave me a shilling—I had no halfpence, and went to Mr. Carter, at the Sir John Falstaff, who gave me 1s. worth of coppers—I went back to the shop, and gave the woman her change—the prisoner was still at the door—they went away together, and had only got next door when Mr. Carter's servant, Ellen Lee, came across and gave me the shilling, which I found was bad—I went out and said to the woman with the prisoner, "Give me another shilling, for this is bad"—she used fearful language, and the prisoner snatched the shilling away—the prisoner used the worst language—she snatched the tenpence and shilling out of the other woman's hand, and said, "It is my money"—they ran away, and I followed the prisoner into the Dover Road, met a constable, and gave her in custody, with the shilling I received from Lee—I have not seen the other woman since.
Prisoner. I was never in her shop in my life; the woman gave me the money, which she owed me; I did not snatch it. Witness. You did.
WILIAM CARTER . I keep the Sir John Falstaff—on 2nd February I gave Mr. Minard change for a shilling, and after he had left I observed that it was bad, and sent it over immediately by my servant, Ellen Lee.
HERBERT ROUND (227 M). Mr. Minard gave the prisoner into my custody, with this bad shilling—she was searched at the station, and I saw the inspector take this bad shilling (produced) from the female searcher's hand.
MARY LENSOM . I searched the prisoner at the station, and found five shillings, three sixpences, and 4 1/2 d. in copper tied in her handkerchief—I gave it to the inspector, who examined it and found one bad shilling among it.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I did not pass the shilling. I was not in the man's shop. I lent the woman some money. I took the money out of her hand, and must have taken the bad shilling then."
GUILTY **— Confined Nine Months.
MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution.
ANNIE MEAD . I am single, and live at 8, Stamford Street—on the morning of 30th January I passed through the toll-gate at Waterloo Bridge, and the prisoner looked at me very hard, and followed me down the Waterloo Road, when he passed me and crossed over, and I lost sight of him till I got into Stamford Street, when I heard somebody running behind me—I turned my head, and the prisoner seized me by the throat, caught hold of my chain, broke it, and ran away with part of it—I was with Isabella Russell, who I understand is dead—she was quite well that night—I got a letter from her in the hospital—I lost sight of the prisoner,
but a constable brought him back—he held my throat to prevent my screaming, and I felt the effects of it next morning.
Prisoner. I had not been in Waterloo Road—I came from Blackfriars Bridge up Stamford Street, and ran past her, and when I had run a dozen yards she called, "Stop thief!"—I was running because I was cold. Witness. I am sure I saw you on Waterloo Bridge; you followed me some little distance.
JAMES LAWRENCE (92 L). On the morning of the 29th January I was on duty in Stamford Street, and heard a cry of "Police! I stop thief!"—I saw the prisoner running away from the prosecutrix and another female—he was about fifty yards from them when I first saw him—there was no one between them and him—I stopped him and said, "What have you done?"—he said, "Nothing"—I said, "You must go back with me and see what it is"—I took him back and met the prosecutriz, who said, "That is the man"—he said that he had not touched her, but she said that he laid hold of her throat and almost strangled her, and snatched her chain with his other hand—I found no chain on him—but I saw that the prosecutrix's chain was broken—part is here—where I stopped him the prosecutrix could have seen him, but she seemed very much frightened—I went to Guy's Hospital on Saturday, and was told that Isabella Russell was dead, from jaundice.
Prisoner. Q. Were you on one side and I on the other? A. Yes—you began walking before you got across.
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent. I was going up Waterloo Road, away from Blackfriars, and she was going towards Blackfriars, and yet she says I came behind her and snatched her chain. I never touched her or interfered with her at all. Both the women were laughing all the way to the station, and therefore it is not likely that any violence was used.
GUILTY of the attempt .— Confined Four Months .
MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the Defence.
FREDERICK WILLIAM CASH . I am an ironmonger, of the Royal Parade, Blackheath—the prisoner is my apprentice—I received 60l. premium with him—on 24th December I gave him leave to go home to visit his friends, and he left my place and did not return for four weeks, when his father brought him back—in the meantime I looked through my stock and missed a small cash-box, a pistol, and a penknife—I asked him what he had done with the cash-box, he said that he gave it to Marsden's young man—Marsden is a bootmaker, twelve or fourteen doors away—on the evening of 30th January I gave him in custody—I missed a great deal of property—he said that he had given the pistol to the same person—this cash-box (produced) is worth 3s. 6d.; this pistol, 5s. 6d.; and the penknife, 1s. 6d.
Cross-examined. Q. What is the actual value of the cash-box? A. It cost me 3d. or 4d. less than that—I sell pistols—the prisoner had a room to himself—I did not afterwards let it and put him into a back kitchen to sleep, or into a little back room—I put him into a large place—it was a counting-house, and before that it was a sitting-room—it is parted off from the shop—my wife and I used to dine, breakfast, and sup in it, but when the prisoner was put in we went out of it—he did not complain of it
particularly—I do not know that he complained—since Christmas for two or three nights he lodged out—if he had come to me he would have had something to eat and drink, or money to buy it—I have a neighbour named Payne, who sells the same things as me—I did not ask the prisoner to break his windows, and chalk his shutters, "Gone back to Woolwich"—I did not tie something to my chaise and carry it across the heath—it is quite untrue.
Q. Do you remember the prisoner bringing home a little dog and saying that he found it, and a reward of 5l. being offered for it? A. Yes, the dog was given to my daughter by Miss Stephens, next door—the prisoner afterwards brought me 5l., and I said that, as the dog was given to my daughter, I would divide the 5l. between the prisoner and my daughter, and I did so—I did not give him an old watch instead—he bothered very hard for a watch, which I valued at 5l., and teased my wife to let him have it; I let him have it instead of the 2l. 10s., and two or three days afterwards he parted with it—it was gold—I do not know that all he could get for it was 15s.—I do not know that if he is found guilty I shall get rid of him and keep the 63l.—I did not make him clean my pony and cart, and drag a truck—there were a great many complaints between his father and me—the father did not say that he thought it was a bed of roses, and it turned out to be a bed of thornt—nothing of the kind—the father is an oil and colour merchant—I believe he is very respectable—his eldest son, Alfred, carries on business with him—Alfred had reports from the prisoner, and came down and found them to be false—he dined with me each time he came, pretty well—the prisoner has asked me to forgive him, and I have forgiven him four-fifths—he has been twice before a Magistrate, and I have his father's letters directing me to take these steps, pressing me to do so—before going before the Magistrate I intimated my intention to his father, who came to me—his father knew that I had charged him before a Magistrate before—I have his letters telling me to do so—I forgave him four-fifths, and the fifth time I took him before a Magistrate, and then begged him off, or he would have been sent for trial—he did not come back too late when he went for the holiday at Christmas—I found him living with two women in the Lee Road, Lydia Thayes and another girl—I told him to go to his father, who wished to see him, and to bring me a letter from his father, but instead of that he brought one from his brother, and then went back and brought one from his mother—I do not know that his father had gone a long journey, but he ultimately brought the prisoner to me.
MR. DALY. Q. What was the reason you removed him from his bed-room? A. Because he used to boast to the female servants that he was going up stairs to lie down with his mistress, and one Sunday afternoon I was out on the heath, and saw a light at my bedroom window, I was afraid he was with my little girl, and hastened home and removed him—one Sunday I dined in London, and he had to feed my horses in my absence—I afterwards found that he took them out and drove them seventy miles in nine hours, they having done a week's work, and another Sunday he drove them to Foots Cray and Croydon, when I thought they were having a rest—on three other occasions he nearly smashed the van, and on 19th February nearly killed the horse—he was drunk—he is seventeen or eighteen years old.
a few doors fromthe prosecutor's—I know the prisoner—he made me a present of this cash-box—he said that he had made presents of several, and had got one which he was going to give to a friend, but had fallen out with him, and gave it to me—he said that he bought two pistols, made a present of one to a young chap named Morson, and would I accept the other, because I was sleeping in the house alone—he made me a present of this penknife six months before.
Cross-examined. Q. How near to the prosecutor were you living? A. Seven doors off—I knew he dealt in such things—the prisoner did not tell me to hide them—I gave them up the moment I was asked—I knew him as the prosecutor's apprentice, and thought he was a respectable young man.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he say that he gave them to the young man? A. No, but Mr. Cash told me.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PLATT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. I. WILLIAM the Defence.
MATTHEW DOYLE . I am barman at the Old Antigallioan public-house, in Tooley Street—on Thursday evening, 10th January, I was in Duke Street, Tooley Street, going home, something after eight o'clock—I was in the act of putting my top-coat on—the male prisoner came up and asked me to let him help me on with it—I offered him a glass of ale for doing it—we went into the Green Man and had some drink—while there another man came in—I called for some brandy for them and treated them—I was not drunk—I had been out on a day's leave, and had had a couple of glasses along with a friend—as I came out of the house I did not mind which turning I took, I got under the railway arch, after which I could not tell where I went—I remember at last being at a public-house where I had a glass of wine—I don't know the name of that house—when I came out of there I did not know where I was—I looked to see if I could get a cab, and saw the prisoners coming after me—the male prisoner put his foot before me, gave me a push, put his knee in my back, and threw me down in the gutter—he held me down, and the female prisoner came up—I had my topcoat on my left arm, and she knelt on my left arm on the ground while I was down—my watch was in my breast pocket; she made several attempts to take it while I was on the ground, and in rising up she snatched her hand at the ribbon guard, and I had my watch no more—it went—when I was knocked down there were four persons round me—the female prisoner was there at the time I was knocked down—she was coming up behind
me—she came up at the time the man knocked me down—I saw the prisoners both together on my left side when I was on the ground—the female was within a yard or so of me when I was knocked down—I could not say exactly who took my watch, but the female made a grab at the ribbon that was attached to it, and broke it—that was while she was kneeling on my arm, and as soon as I got on ray feet I missed it.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was this? A. About nine—when I first met the male prisoner it was between eight and nine—that was not far from my home, but I took a wrong turning—the place was strange to me, and I did not know where I was—I meant to go home—I am quite certain the male prisoner knocked me down—I fell on my face—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner pushed me down, and I thought another man took my watch—I said nothing about the woman, because she was not taken then—the male prisoner helped me on with my coat when I first saw him, but I took it off again in walking along and had it on my arm—I only went into two public-houses with the prisoner—I could not say how long I was walking with him; it was a good while—there were two or three women in the second public-house—there was no singing there—I have not said before to-day that both prisoners came out after me—I said the male prisoner came after me—the female came up a few minutes afterwards—she was there at the time I was knocked down, but she did not leave the public-house till a few minutes after I had left it—I have not said I had three or four glasses of wine at that public-house—I meant three or four through the day—I had no gin—I was not drunk—I knew very well I was in a strange place, and I wanted to get out of it as well as I could—I was out on a day's leave, and my time was not up till ten o'clock—the female prisoner kicked me at the back of my head before she knelt on my arm, and the man not in custody held me down and kicked me, and both their hands were on my breast together—I got home before ten, and did business after I got home.
MR. PLATT. Q. How long have you lived in this place? A. Not quite nine months.
ROBERT BELL . (Police Sergeant 13 M). I received information of this robbery, and on the Saturday after, the 17th, I met McCarthy in Newington Causeway—I told him I wanted him for being concerned with three others in violently assaulting and robbing a young man of a silver watch, in Kent Street—he said, "I was with the young man, and I had something to drink with him; we were in company together. We took a walk from London Bridge, and I took him into Kent Street. He wanted to hear a song. We had something to drink at a beer shop, a public-house just as you enter Kent Street. There was Curly Poll (that is the name Sidebotham is known by); Carry Kenrick and George Basty were there, and I will not be put away for them. We all went out together. The prosecutor went on ahead, going towards the Kent Road. I turned aside to ease myself and within a minute or two after that I saw him all covered with mud, and blood trickling down his face"—I took him to Stones'End Police Station, and placed him with five others, and fetched the prosecutor, who deliberately picked him out, put his hand on him, and said, "That is the man."
Cross-examined. Q. What sort of men did you put this boy amongst? A. Two or three constables, short men, dressed in plain clothes; they were grown men; one was as short as himself; they were all young, not much older than him.
the female prisoner into custody on 30th January at the Royal Oak, in Kent Street—I said, "Annie, I want you"—she said, "What for?"—I said, "For being concerned with others in robbing a man in Kent Street"—she said, "Mr. Marsh, this is got up for me"—on the way to the station she said that she was in the house with them, but she took no part in the robbery—the prosecutor saw her at the station, pointed her out, and said, "That was the woman that robbed me"—he told the inspector in my presence that the woman knelt on his arm, and also attempted to drag his coat from him as he was down.
JOHN MURPHY . I keep the Coopers' Arms public-house, in Kent Street—I remember the prosecutor coming there one night, I can't say what night it was; it was last month—he was very drunk—the male prisoner came in with him, I believe; the female prisoner was at the front of the bar drinking before they came in—I can't safely say that I saw the prosecutor go out, because I was attending backwards and forwards—I thought they all went out together, I missed him—I can't say whether the male prisoner and another young man went out at the same time; I did not see them after the prosecutor had gone out; I did not miss the female—I can't recollect when the male prisoner went—female did not go out with him—I sat down in the parlour and had a cup of tea; it was about half-past seven—the female might have left ten or twenty minutes after I missed the two men; people were coming in and out, and I can't say for five minutes, and my wife was very ill at the time, and is now lying dead—the female had a pint of ale, not with them, she had it before they came in—I have seen the male prisoner before—I heard nothing about the robbery that night; I heard of it four or five days after.
Cross-examined. Q. You say you missed the male prisoner, and the female was there some time afterwards? A. Yes, it might have been tea minutes or a quarter of an hour—there might have been twelve or fourteen persons in the house at the time, in front of the bar; they were not about the prosecutor—he treated two men, and the female to a glass of wine—he had one glass of wine and a pot of ale.
MATTHEW DOYLE (re-examitied). I might have been between 400 and 500 yards from the Coopers' Arms at the time McCarthy knocked me down; I can't say exactly, because when I was knocked down I did not recollect myself for some five minutes after; it might have taken me ten or fifteen minutes to go that distance; I delayed a little to see if I could get a cab.
The Prisoners' Statement before the Magistrate:—McCarthy saya, "I wish to say nothing at all. I am not guilty. All the constables know me, and they know nothing against my character." Sidebotham says, "I am not guilty of the robbery; I never heard of it till Mr. Marsh took me."
MCCARTHY— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months. SIDEBOTHAM— GUILTY . She also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.— Seven years' Penal Servitude.
345. JOHN MURRAY (23) , to a burglary in the dwellinghouse of John Chaplin, and stealing two sheets and other articles, having been before convicted.— Confined Twelve Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
MR. HOUSTON conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LILLEY the Defence.
HENRY WHEELWRIGHT . I am a haddock smoker, and live at 7, Walker Street, Long Lane—about half-past twelve in the night or morning of 14th February I was drinking with John Kendall—when we left the public-house we stood talking at the top of Sweeps' Alley; we were sober—as we were returning home we saw the prisoner sharpening a knife on a door-step, and as we passed by he made use of some bad language, and said he would cut the first man's throat that he came anigk—I said nothing to him, but as I took two steps past him he ran at me and plunged the knife into my throat; he then turned round and ran away—I saw that he had a knife in his hand—I had never seen him before.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you been drinking with your friend at a house in Kent Street? A. Yes—I did not see the prisoner there or outside; no one was with me but Kendall—I did not say or do anything to the prisoner; I did not lay hold of his dress or his person, nor did Kendall; he only made one cut—I have given my right address—I have lived there above five years; I don't know where Kendall lives; we are not very often together, perhaps two or three times a week—I do anything I can get—I never threw a brick at a policeman's head—I had five days for an assault on a policeman, but I was innocent—they said I threw a brick at him—the prisoner struck me without any provocation on my part; I feel the effects of the cut now.
JOHN KENDALL . I live at 9, Wickham Street, Kent Street, and work at Nicholls's, the horse slaughterers—I help to take the horses down—on 14th February, about half-past twelve, I was with Wheelwright—we had been in Bass's beer shop—as we came up against Sweeps' Alley, in Kent Street, we saw the prisoner coming up—we walked by him, and he was kneeling down and sharpening his knife on the kerb—there was no one with me but Wheelwright—we did not say a word to the prisoner, or do anything—as we passed him he ran after Wheelwright, and swore he would cut somebody's throat—Wheelwright went to look round as he was coming by, and he jobbed it into his neck—I saw that he had a knife in his hand—he then ran away, and another young chap ran after him—I had never seen the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you not see him at Bass's? A. No—I Was going to see Wheelwright home—he was sober—I did not say a word to the prisoner or lay hold of him—we did not touch him—I have never said that he was very ill-used—Wheelwright did not lay hold of his trousers or jump on his back—nothing of the kind—I have been in trouble twice—once because Mr. Rogers said I had broken into his stable and knocked the horse about—I did not—I was remanded for a week and discharged—the other time a lot of boys thieved some packets of peppermint, and they took me for it—I was convicted—that was a year ago—I have not been charged with anything else.
HENRY ARCHER . I am a costermonger, and live at 29, Lincoln's Place, St. George's New Town—on the night of 14th February, about half-past twelve, I saw the prosecutor running towards the doctor's—in consequence of what he said, I ran after the prisoner—I overtook him—
he stopped, and I gave him into custody—he had a knife in his hand—I gave it to the policeman.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he say anything to you when yoa took hold of him? A. No; he laid down—I think he had been drinking.
DAVID JOHN DEWAR (Policeman M 239). I took the prisoner into custody—Archer was standing over him when I came up, and about fifty people were standing round—Archer said, "This man has stabbed another one"—I told him I should take him into custody on that charge—he made no reply—I believe he had been drinking, but he knew perfectly well what he was doing—I received this knife from Archer.
JOHN AUGUSTUS BALL . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital when the prosecutor came there, about half-past twelve on the morning of the 14th—I examined him—he had a long incised wound commencing a little below the ear, and extending nearly down to his chin—it was quite superficial—it went through the skin and the fat below—any sharp instrument would produce it; such a knife as this (produced) would do it—it was over the carotid artery—if it had gone deeper the consequences would have been serious.
MR. LILLEY to DAVID JOHN DEWAR. Q. Do you know Wheel wright? A. I have known him a short time—I know he is frequently with Kendall, who is a convicted thief—I am not aware that I have seen him with other convicted thieves—I have frequently seen Kendall in company with convicted thieves.
MR. LILLEY to JOHN KENDALL. Q. Do you know George Whitworth? A. No—I never said to anybody, "I hope the old man will get off—we did not have 18d. from him, we only had 5d. and some tobacco"—a good many people say that we robbed him, but we did not touch him (Whitworth called in)—I knew him by working at Eogers's—I did not say to him what you have asked me, or anything like it—I never spoke to him about it—we did not get any tobacco from the prisoner, or anything.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was badly used. I was knocked down, and 1s. 6d. taken from me. Kendall himself said it was a shame I was here. I had come from Woolwich, and had some drink."
Witnesses for the Defence.
JULIA SMITH . I am the wife of John Smith, a deal porter, of 3, Clarendon Street, St. George's New Town—on the night of 14th February I was passing through Kent Street, and saw some old gentleman on the opposite side of the way, and two chaps—I could not swear to them—one chap was on the side that I was, and one was on the other side—I saw him lay hold of the old man by the scruff of the neck, and by the trousers, and run him a along, and jump on his back—I saw that done twice—they had a bit of a struggle, and I saw the chap hold down his head and say he was cut, and walk away—I told him to go to the hospital—I did not know him then, but I saw him next morning with his face cut.
Cross-examined. Q. Where did you see him next morning? A. By Henry Street and Kent Street—I did not speak to him—the chap who was on my side of the way stood a little way from me, and was laughing—I did not see him do anything—I was going home—I did not hear the old man make any complaint, further than saying, "Let me alone"—I did not notice anything in his hand—I was not here yesterday—I was speak-ing about it last night to Mr. Scott, at my mother's house—I told him what I had seen, and he asked me to come here—I know nothing of the
prisoner—I mentioned this to my mother the same night, when I went home, but not to anybody else.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Is Mr. Scott a baker, in Eltham Place? A. Yes; he happened to be at my mother's house when I called there last night—I told my husband of it—he is not here—my mother is—I only saw the back of the old man that was being pushed along.
MARY GALLOWAY . I am a widow, of 74, Smith Street—I live with my daughter—she came to my house last night—Mr. Scott was there—she made a statement to him in my hearing—she had mentioned it to me before—I have no acquaintance with the prisoner—I never saw him.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding ,— Confined Six Months .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, APRIL 8TH, 1867.