CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION, HELD MAY 4TH, 1868.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
BUTTERWORTHS, 7, FLEET STREET.
Law Publishers to the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
the city of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, May 4th, 1868, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir JAMES SHAW WILLES, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; Sir WILLIAM FRY CHANNELL, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; THOMAS CHALLIS, Esq., THOMAS SIDNEY, Esq., Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN, Knt, and WARREN STORMES HALE, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY, Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Esq.; SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq.; WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON, Esq., and JOSEPH CAUSTION, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS, Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq., L.L.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.
WILLIAM MC ARTHUR, Esq.
SEPTIMUS DAVIDSON, Esq.
CHARLES MILLS ROCHE, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
ALLEN, MAYOR. SEVENTH 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, May 4th, 1868.
Before Mr. Recorder.
414. ROBERT LESLIE and JACOB HOWE, Stealing one mare, one cab, and one set of harness of Thomas Radford Smith, the master of Leslie, to which LESLIE PLEADED GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment , MR. RIBTON offered no evidence against HOWE—. NOT GUILTY
416. JAMES THOMAS VAUGHAN to four indictments for forging and uttering warrants for 10l. each, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment , [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] and
417. WILLIAM ROBERT STEPHENSON to Forging and uttering a receipt for the payment of 7l. 7s., with intent to defraud— One Month's Imprisonment and Three Years in a Reformatory . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 4th, 1868.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COOPER the Defence.
WILLIAM CLARK . I am in the service of Mr. Fawkes, who keeps the Life Guardsman, in Keswick—on 30th March, between 7 and 8, the prisoner came into the taproom, and called for a pot of beer—he gave me a florin, and I gave him a shilling, sixpence, and 2d. in copper, change—I put the florin in my pocket—I only had a shilling there, which I bad taken from a
customer before Mr. Fawkes cames clown, and I gave him the florin and the 1s., and he put them in his pocket—the prisoner remained in the taproom, and in about half an hour he came to the bar, and asked for a pot of beer—he paid my master for that—he went back into the taproom, and in about an hour came back to the bar and asked for a pot of beer, and gave me a florin—I took it to my master to get change—my master came down, and I heard him say, "Have you got any more of these?"—the prisoner said, "What do you mean?"—my master said, "This is a duffer"—I saw him bend it with his teeth, and he then sent me for a policeman—after he was taken to the station we found the florin which he gave me first and the one he had given to my master were bad as well—I gave them to Sergeant Rodgers.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there any persons in the taproom? A. A good many—he was in the house more than an hour—he came in with one or two others—they seemed like travellers.
THOMAS FAWKES . On 30th March, a florin and a 1s. were banded to me by Clark—I put them in my pocket—there was no other florin there—the prisoner asked for another pot of beer, and paid me with a florin—I put it in my purse, and gave him 1s., 6d., and 2d. in coppers—after that the barman brought me another florin, and I came down stairs—I asked the prisoner how many more he had got of them, because it was a duffer—I then said I should lock him up—he said, if I did not give him the change he would box me—I called for assistance—he was searched when the police-man came, and he found a purse and another bad florin—he was taken to the station.
DANIEL HILL (Policeman T 64). I was called in and took the prisoner into custody, and received these two florins (produced) from Mr. Fawkes—the prisoner said he had come from Limehouse, and bad been into a public-house at Notting Hill and received change for half a sovereign—in his pocket I found another bad florin in paper, 2s. in good money, and 11d. in copper—I took him to the station—he gave a correct address.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he say he was going to America? A. Yes; and was then going to bid his friends good-bye—he said he put the florin by to take him home again to Limehouse, so as he should not spend all the money.
WILLIAM HENRY RODGERS (Police Sergeant T 13). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there—he was sober—I heard him make the statement which the last witness has stated—I received the bad florins from Mr. Fawkes.
ALBERT JOHN SEYMOUR . I am the gaoler of the Hammersmith Police Court—the prisoner was brought up on the 31st, and remanded—he was then placed in a cell—I examined it before he went into it—he was there about two hours—when he left I turned on the water; that is the constant practice—I then went in—I found some paper at the bottom of the pan and two half-crowns—he had left the cell about five minutes before I went in—no one else had been in the cell before me—I know there was nothing in the pan before the prisoner went in—I took the half-crowns into the Court immediately I found them.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you the head gaolor? A. There is no other but me—no one had occupied that cell that day before the prisoner went in, it had been used the day before—I always go into the cells before a prisoner is put in—I produced the half crowns on the next remand—I
think it was on the 3rd—I showed them to the clerk of the Court directly I found them, and told him the circumstances.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was that he went to a public-house with a man who gave him four florins and two shillings in change for half a sovereign, and that he did not know they were bad.
He received a good character. GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES BRANNAN . I am employed by the Mint—on Monday afternoon of 27th April, I went to Dudley Street, with Police Constable Brannan, two Inspectors and two Sergeants—my attention was called to the prisoner by Sergeant Ackrill—I followed him and he was seized by Brannan And Ackrill—he resisted very much indeed—Ackrill took from his right hand these counterfeit crown pieces—I then said to him, "My name is Brannan, you are suspected of having counterfeit coin"—he said "I believe these are bad, but you will have to prove that I intented to utter it"—at the station Ackrill took from his waistcoat pocket five other crown pieces wrapped in paper as they are now, and also this florin and sovereign wrapped in paper (produced)—I asked him where he lived, he said, "That you will have to find out"—I said "You need not trouble yourself, I know where you live"—I had had him under observation for some time—he gave the name of William Thompson, finsbury Square—I said "Where you don't live"—I afterwards went to 160, Albany Street, Regent's Park; a room was pointed out to me—Sergeant Matthews found a counterfeit shilling and a number of fancy costumes, which is the subject of another indictment—the crowns all bear the date of 1818—I was present when he was told about the shilling being found at his house, and he said "I know it was."
WILLIAM ACKRILL (Police Sergeant F 15). On 27th April I went to Dudley Street, Seven Dials, with Brannan and other constables—I saw the prisoner coming up the street, pointed him out to Brannan, and went and seized him—he resisted very violently—I took these crowns from his right hand—Mr. Brannan told him that he was suspected of having counterfeit coin, he said "I know that, but you will have to prove I meant to utter it"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found a bad sovereign, five other crowns, and a florin, all bad—I gave them to Mr. Brannan.
JOHN MATTHEWS (Police Sergeant F 6). I was with Brannan and the other officers, the evidence which they have given is correct—I went to 160, Albany Street, to a room at the top of the house, which the prisoner occupied—I searched it, and between two books I found a counterfeit shilling—I heard Brannan tell him at the station that the shilling was bad he had found, and he said "I know it was"—he admitted that the room was his—this is the shilling (produced).
Prisoner's Defence. I was talking to some men; one had a small packet
in his hand, which he put into my pocket. I went back and examined it, and found that it was bad money. Several of them I threw in the fire. At my dinner hour, when the policeman found me, my intention was to go and find the person who put them in my pocket; I could not find him, and was going back to put them behind the fire, when I was taken. As for the shilling, that was at home, it had been there for three months, as the landlady knows.
GUILTY .† Five Years' Penal Servitude .
JOHN MATTHEWS (Police Sergeant F 6). I went to 160, Albany Street, and searched the prisoner's room—I found there some drawers, two pairs of cotton pantaloons, three frilled shirt fronts, and twenty one photographs—I took possession of those goods and then returned to the station—I told the prisoner that I had found articles in the room which he occupied which I suspected were stolen—he said "Whatever you find in my room belongs to me"—these are the things (produced).
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, concurrent with the previous sentence .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD TROUGHTON . I keep the Queen's Head public-house, Queen's Square, Bloomsbury—on 4th April, the prisoner came in for a glass of ale—he gave me a bad florin—I asked him if he had any more of that description—he then placed another florin on the bar, which I found was also bad—I took them both off—I told him if he would fetch a constable I would return the money, but not unless—he immediately left the house—I was not able to follow him, being alone in the bar—about a half an hour afterwards he came back intoxicated—I asked him if he had brought a constable with him, he immediately left the house without an answer—I followed him with a policeman—I saw him go into a butcher's shop in Southampton Row—when he left, Mr. Shurley showed me a bad florin—I then gave the prisoner into custody—I marked the two florins and gave them to the constable—the prisoner was sober when he came in the first time.
THOMAS COOPER . I am foreman to John Shurley, butcher, Southampton Row—the prisoner came to the shop and asked for some pieces of meat, which came to eight-pence—he gave me a florin—a gentleman came into the shop and asked me if it was a good one—the prisoner had just left—I then found it was bad—I gave the prisoner 1s., and 4d. in copper change—I afterwards gave the florin to the constable.
JOHN SIMS (Policeman E 60). The prisoner was given into my custody—he was drunk—I took a bad florin from his hand—he asked me to give it him—I said I should not—he said he would break my legs—I searched him at the station and found on him 2s. 6d. and 13d. in coppers—I received two florins from Mr. Troughton, and one from Cooper (produced).
Prisoner's Defence. I had been to the boat race, and must have got them there. I am quite innocent of knowing they were bad.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted on 8th April, 1867, in the name of George Saunders, to which he pleaded NOT GUILTY.
ROBERT WINSLEY (Policeman F 36). I produce a certificate of the conviction of George Saunders at this Court, on 8th April, 1867, for uttering counterfeit coin—he was then ordered to be imprisoned in the House of Correction six months—I was present at the trial—the prisoner is the man.
GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY FORDHAM . I keep the Rose and Crown beer-shop, Bridge Street, Mile End—shortly before 11 o'clock on 25th March, the prisoner came in for half a pint of half-and-half—she gave me 1s.—I gave her sixpence and fourpence in coppers—I put the 1s. in the till—there was no other there—I afterwards examined it, and found it was bad, and gave it to a police constable—I followed the prisoner—I saw her go into Mr. Harding's shop—I went in, and said she had given me a bad shilling—she said she was not aware of it, and gave me a good one—I gave her back the bad one—she was then taken to the station—I got the bad 1s. back from her afterwards, and marked it—I asked her where she lived—she said, "A few doors off"—I said, "Where?"—she said, "I shall not tell you"—I gave the constable the 1s.
CECILIA HARDING . I am the wife of George Harding, and keep a general shop in Bridge Street, opposite the Rose and Crown—on 25th March, near 11, the prisoner came in for half a quartern loaf and a quarter of a pound of cheese, which was sixpence-halfpenny—she gave me 1s.—I put it in the detector, and bent it twice—she gave me another directly—she said she was not aware it was bad; she had just taken it in change for a pint of beer—I called my husband and gave it to him—I went for a constable—Mr. Fordham then came in, and we gave her into custody.
JOHN WELSH (Policeman K 245). I took the prisoner into custody in Mr. Harding's shop—she said she passed the shilling, but did not know it was bad—I received this shilling from Mr. Harding, and took her to the station with another constable—some bread and cheese, and tea, and other articles were found on her, and some money, which she gave as she went to the station.
RICHARD TALBOT (Policeman K 102). I was with the last witness—I asked the prisoner if she had got any more bad money, and she said, "No"—I asked what she had got in her hand, and she said, "Some change"—I took it out of her hand, and found 2s. 6d. in silver and nine pence in copper, and a bad shilling—I showed the shilling to Mr. Fordham, and he said it was the one the prisoner passed on him.
GUILTY — Nine Months .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
April he came to my shop, about 6 in the evening, and asked for half an ounce of tobacco, which was threehalfpence, and gave me 1s.—I gave him the change—I told him it looked like a bad one—he said, "If you don't like that I will give you another one," and I then put it in the till—there was no other shilling there—he came back again in half an hour, and asked for another half ounce of tobacco, and gave me another shilling, which I put in the till—I afterwards found the two shillings were bad—two days after he came in again, and asked for half an Ounce of tobacco, and gave me another shilling, which I found was bad—he said, "I will give you another one," but I would not take it, and he ran away. I gave the shillings to a constable.
GEORGE LEWIS (Policeman B 1). I received three counterfeit shillings from the last witness—the prisoner was in custody and I went to Brentford and I identified him—I have known where he was living for some time.
MARY ANN HARRIS . I keep a greengrocer's shop in High Street, New Brentford—on the 15th April, between 9 and 10, the prisoner came to my shop, and asked for two onions, which was threehalfpence—he gave me a bad shilling—I told him I could not take it, and be directly put down a good one—he went away, and was brought back by police constable Irvine and the bad shilling was found on him—I had bent it with my teeth.
GEORGE IRVINE (Policeman T 150). From information I received on the 15th of April, I followed the prisoner 200 yards from Mrs. Harry's—I took him there and found on him a had shilling, and sixpence and fourpence-halfpenny in good money, and some tobacco—I produce a bag, which I got from a man at the station next morning.
WILLIAM BRUNSDEN . I am a mason's labourer—I was going to work on the 16th April, about 6 o'clock, and picked up this bag and bad 7s. in it—I took it to the station—it was 200 or 300 yards from Mrs. Harris's—lying partly on a heap of stuff by the road side.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS SCOTT . I keep the Lord Nelson, on 25th April the prisoner came for a glass of ale, and gave me a bad florin—I was going to bend it and he told me not to destroy it, and he laid down another bad florin—I asked him if he had got any more of that sort, and he then gave me a good half-crown—while he was drinking the ale I bolted the doors and sent for a constable—I gave him into custody and gave the two bad coins to the constable.
CORNELIUS EGAN (Policeman X 358). I took the prisoner into custody and received these two bad florins from the last witness (produced)—on the way to the station he said "I am cogged at last"—I found 2s. in silver and sixpence in copper on him, good money—he was sober.
Prisoner's Defence. I got a great deal the worse for liquor, and I gave a female half-a-sovereign to get some drink with; she gave me the change. I went into a public-house after, but I did not know the coin was bad.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment .
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH HOBBS . I am the wife of John Hobbs, and keep the Weavers' Arms, Stamford Hill—on 23rd April the prisoner came in and asked for three-halfpenny worth of gin and raspberry; he gave me a shilling—I gave him the change—he came in again and asked for half a quartern of gin and raspberry, and gave me a shilling which I found was bad—I told him so and gave it him back, and he paid me with copper—the policeman afterwards brought that same shilling back and showed it to me—I then looked in the till and found a bad shilling there.
EMILY JANNETT . I am barmaid at the Bird Cage, Stamford Hill, on 23rd April the prisoner came and asked for three-halfpenny worth of gin and cloves, and gave me a bad shilling—I bent it and gave it back to him—he said he knew it was bad and must pass it somewhere—he was given into custody with the shilling.
HENRY PROUT . I am a potman—I was at the bar when the prisoner came in—I afterwards went into the urinal and saw the prisoner come out—I found a bad 1s. bent in a hole—I put my arm down and got it up, and gave it to my mistress.
SAMUEL COOPER . I was in the bar, and followed the prisoner out—he joined a woman, and I followed them—they got into an omnibus, and went to Hackney—I stopped the omnibus and gave them into custody—the prisoner said, "This is where I am wrong, in trying to pass bad money in two places so near to one another"—I gave the shilling to the constable.
Prisoner. I never said such a thing.
EDWARD PARISH (Policeman N 437). I took the prisoner and a female into custody, and searched the prisoner—I found on him nine sixpences, three fourpenny-pieces, and two threepenny-pieces, in good money—he said, "I know I am wrong in trying to pass the bad money in two places so close together"—I produce two bad shillings I received from Mr. Cooper, and one I received from Mrs. Hobbs.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1868.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. METCALFE conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM GUINN . I am manager of the ships' stores, at Greenwich—on the evening of 9th March I saw the prisoner there—I had never seen him before—he showed me these two bills for 175l. (produced), and asked me to change them—I told him I could not, I did not keep such an amount. in my house—he then asked if I would advance him 20l.—I said I could not—he said he wanted to go on board the ship—I told him I would advance him 1l. to pay the waterman to row him down there, and I did so—the waterman had brought him in—the waterman asked where he was going to—he said he was going on board the Somersetshire, that arrived on
5th March—I lent him 1l. on the bills, which I kept in my possession—I asked him his name, he said Barnard Tyman—I saw the name of Henry Coleman on the bills, and I asked him how it was that the name of Henry Coleman was on the bills and his name was Barnard Tyman—he said he took his mother's maiden name—there was no endorsement on the bills at that time—he called daily at my house after that—he said he wanted to go to the War Office, in Pall Mall, to see about some property he had, and he thought about going back to Australia again, and would I advance him more money—I said I was not in the habit of doing such a thing, but as the bills were his I did advance him 1l., 15s., or 10s., just as he wanted it, to go to London, and I paid a man to go up and down with him, until he got about 16l. in my debt—when he had been there about a week I asked whether he would go to the bank and get the bills changed; but previous to that I showed them to Mr. Bernard, a gentleman who came from the London and County Bank at Greenwich, in the prisoner's presence—he said if I liked he would send one through to Threadneedle Street, to see if they were good—I asked the prisoner if he would endorse them; he said he could not write—he got the waterman to write "Henry Coleman," and he put his hand to the pen and made a cross—I gave that bill to Mr. Bernard to send it through the bank, and they sent it back, saying the third one was accepted—I told the prisoner of it, and he said he would go to the Bank of Victoria with me—I said I could not go then, but I would send the waterman with him—I gave the waterman the bills, and told him not to give them up unless he got a satisfactory answer about them—I did not see the bills again, nor the prisoner—I have not got back my 16l., I only got 3l.
Prisoner. Q. What time did I enter your house. A. On the 9th; I don't know the time—you were sober, sober enough to get over me—I don't know that you came from the police station—I went with you to Albany Street ten days afterwards to receive your pension—the gentleman there told me he was afraid I should lose my money—you did not have it in grog, you had it in hard cash—3l. was paid you at Albany Street—I did not take it from the counter, I took it from your hand—I have not got any jewellery of yours; there are two letters now at my house, and a little box with an ivory brooch and studs in it.
WILLIAM WESTLEY GARDEM . I am accountant and chief clerk at the Bank of Victoria, in Threadneedle Street—on 5th March, the prisoner came there with the first and second of these bills, there is a third of the same date; they are drawn by our head office at Melbourn, and made payable at our bank here—I asked the prisoner if his name was Henry Coleman—he said it was—I told him that the third had come forward and had been accepted, and it was down at Norwich—I gave him the address of the bankers in whose hands it was, the Provincial Banking Company; and also the Rev. Mr. Cooper, who had interested himself in the case, and told him he had better make his way down there and establish his claim to the accepted bill—I asked him if he knew William Coleman—he said he had a brother of that name—I also asked him whether William Coleman had a son in the colony—he said he did not know, that he had been twenty years in Australia and had very much lost sight of his relations in this country—I gave him back the two bills—on 26th March he came again, accompanied by another man—in the meantime I had received information—the man gave the bills up to me—the prisoner said he had not been to Norwich as I had advised him, and he would be glad if he could have 2l. on the bills—I again asked
if his name was Henry Coleman—he said it was—he was then shown in to the Manager; he was then shown out of the bank and the drafts were retained.
Prisoner. I did not say that I was Henry Coleman, you looked at the notes and said "Henry Coleman," and I said "Yes." Witness. That is not so, I asked distinctly if your name was Henry Coleman, and you said "Yes;" I had a particular reason for wishing to know—you did not say you would go to Norwich as soon as you saw the party the note belonged to; you made out that it belonged to you.
HENRY COLEMAN (This witness was blind and quite helpless, and was carried into Court). I came from Australia on board the Somersetshire—before I left I got some drafts from the bank—I sent one of them by poet to my father, at Fauncett St Mary's, Norfolk, the other two bills of the set I had in my own posession—I saw the prisoner not many days before I left, Barnard Tyman was the name he gave me—he went on board the Somersetshire with me—I paid his passage for him, 18l., for which he gave me an I.O.U.; it was drawn up by the ship's agent—I put the I.O.U. and my two drafts into my purse, with six sovereigns, put it in my right hand trousers pocket, and tied it in so that I might not lose it, as I was very unwell—I went into the hospital on board—the prisoner attended to me—he took off my clothes and attended to me until we arrived at Blackwall—he then left the ship without telling me; he had washed and dressed me that morning, and said he was going to take me ashore—I heard no more of him—a day or so before he left I heard the rattling of what I fancied was those two drafts—he requested me not to say anything to anyone about my money—he said he would take me home to my father—a day or two before I heard the rustling I had taken out my purse, and I can positively swear the bills were then safe—the prisoner has taken my purse out when I have changed my things and tied it in for me—I gave him no authority to take the bills, or to get money on them—the afternoon that he left the ship, the ship's doctor and another gentleman came to me, and I found that the drafts and the I.O.U. were gone.
Prisoner. Q. Did you not tell me one day after you had committed yourself, to throw your trousers overboard A. Yes, that was before I went into the hospital, the drafts were safe long after that—you took them from me once, and I told you if you did not deliver them up to me I would report you to the captain.
JOSEPH KIRKPATRICK . I am a constable of the Norfolk Constabulary, stationed at Long Stratton, Norfolk—the prisoner was given into my custody on 28th March, by a warder from Norwich Castle—while he was in my custody I repeatedly heard him say that he had come from Australia in the steam ship Somersetshire, and that he looked after Henry Coleman during the voyage, also that he had these drafts in his possession when he went ashore, and got drunk and was laid up at Greenwich.
WILLIAM COLEMAN . I live at Fauncett St Mary's, Norfolk—I am the prosecutor's father—I had possession of the first draft—it first got into the hands of one Henry Coleman; I got it afterwards—the prisoner came down to my place—I can't say what day it was—he was with me part of three days before he was taken—he said he had come home with my son, and he wanted me to give him a little sort of a present for taking particular care of him—I told him I had not got anything to give him, only what I had to work for—he took out a little paper, and said I could take it to the
bank at Norwich, and draw some money for him, if I had not got any—I told him I could not do anything with it—I took it to the clergyman of our pariah, and he spoke to me and the prisoner about it.
Prisoner's Defence. I asked him for nothing, and he pave me nothing. He only told me to stop as long as I liked, and he would make me comfortable. I am an old soldier, and have borne arms for the crown of England forty-two years. I served twenty years in New Zealand. I have a pension of ninepence a day. I am us innocent of this as the babe unborn. If I had wanted to act the rogue on a creature like that, I could have put it in my pocket at any time; no one knew anything about it on board but him and me. When I came ashore I got drunk, and got locked up. When I was liberated, I went to this landlord's house; I was under the influence of drink. I gave him the papers, and some jewellery belonging to a lady, to take core of. I remained there I don't know how many days in a stupid state. I went and received my pension, and gave it to him to pay for the grog I had had. When I went to Fauncett St. Mary's he wrote to the authorities there, and had me taken into custody.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; MR. LEWIS defended Crosby, and MR. RIBTON Krickeldorf.
WILLIAM JOSEPH DOWNES . I am manager of the business of Thomas John and Joseph Smith, wholesale stationers, 83, Queen Street, City—Crosby has been in their service about two years as light porter and warehouseman—his duties were up stairs on the second floor, in the stock room, where the leather is kept—Krickeldorf has worked for the firm about twelve months out of doors—among other things he made purses and pocket-books—previous to 22nd April the practice was when he received an order he told me what quantity of leather he would require, and if I thought he might have it, I should instruct Crosby to give it him; Crosby would write out an order to the clerk in a book—in consequence of something after 21st April I made more stringent rules—I know those rules were acted upon by Crosby on the morning of 22nd, because he signed tickets for leather he had given out on two different occasions—tins (produced) is one of the tickets—it has my signature and Mr. Astins' to it; both those signatures would be required before the leather was delivered—it would be brought from the second floor, where Crosby was, to the receiving room on the ground-floor, where Astins would deliver it to the workmen—Astins would sign the ticket, bring it to me for signature, and then file it; the file was kept in the receiving room—on 23rd April, about 11 o'clock, I saw Krickeldorf on the ground floor; he brought me a sample purse—I told him I would take three dozen of them, but it would be necessary for him to get better ivory tablets—one skin would have been plenty for those if of one colour; if of two colours, two skins; two half-skins would do, but we do not generally give out half-skins—I did not see Crosby at that time—about 215 that day, I went into the passage that leads to the lobby, and there observed Crosby and Krickeldorf in conversation—the moment Crosby saw me, he went up stairs into his room, and Krickeldorf descended with a brown paper parcel in his hand—I asked him to go up stairs to the first floor, where
I was in the habit of receiving him—I noticed that he laid the parcel down in the lobby by the side of the door—while he went up stain I called to Astins, made a communication to him, and followed Krickeldorf up stairs—I kept him in conversation till Astins came up—I then went down and made a communication to Mr. Smith, who I found with the parcel I had seen Krickeldorf with—it was then open, and contained seven skins of leather—I returned to Krickeldorf, and made an excuse to detain him, and then went down again, and found Mr. Smith there with Crosby—Mr. Smith said to Crosby, "Have you given that leather out to anyone?"—he said he had given it to Krickeldorf—Mr. Smith asked him where was his authority for doing so; he said he had written a ticket out, and it was up stairs on the file—I then left Crosby and went up to Krickeldorf—I said to him, "I have given you an order for three dozen purses, you will require some more leather, I suppose?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "How much do you want?"—he said, "Two skins"—I said, "Wait a minute then," and I returned down stairs and spoke to Mr. Smith—I then went to Crosby, and the ticket was then lying down stairs—Mr. Smith said, "This is not signed"—I said, "No"—Crosby was there—I did not stop to hear what he said, but went up stairs to Krickeldorf—I said to him, "What are you doing with those skins you had in the parcel down stairs that I saw in your hand?"—he said, "I had not it"—I said, "I saw you with a brown paper parcel in your hand, carrying it down stairs"—his answer was, "No, never"—I repeated it again more emphatically, but he still denied it—he was brought down stairs, in the presence of Mr. Smith and Crosby, and Mr. Smith said to crosby, "Did you give Krickeldorf that parcel of leather?"—he said, "Yes"—I then said to Krickeldorf, "Did Crosby give you that leather?"—he said, "No; he did not"—a policeman was then sent for, and they were given into custody—Crosby had no authority to get leather except through Astins—the piece of paper afterwards found on the file up stairs was not written by my authority, nor was I aware of it; the file up stairs had become useless—Krickeldorf had no order from us at that time, that I am aware of (leather produced)—Russia leather would be required for the purses, but not calf—here are five skins of Russia and two of calf—they are worth about 8l.—the parcel Krickeldorf had was not rolled as it should be, but packed square, which made me notice it—it would deteriorate the value of the leathers—no one who understood leather would do it so.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. I think the system you speak of had only been altered one day? A. Only a day or two—the document found on the file contains the whole details of this leather in Crosby's writing.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Did you keep any entry in any book of the various skins of leather that Krickeldorf had from time to time? A. Yes, and when he brought goods in the amount was deducted—this is the book (produced)—this is Krickeldorf's book, but I kept it, or my clerk did, and I went through it every Saturday when I paid him—before 22nd April Crosby entered on a piece of paper the leather he delivered, and put it on the file, and that would be the authority to copy it into this book, unless he gave it verbally to the clerk—the new regulation had got into good working order—Crosby had acted upon it—I ordered three dozen purses of Krickeldorf, but told him the quality of the tablets was inferior, and directed him to go to another party to get them—that would be in the City Road, it would take him a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes to go—he said he would go, and come back and let me know—it was by accident
that I saw him at 2.15—I am not in the habit of going down into the lobby at that time—he knew that my dinner hour was between 2 and 3—he was in the habit of making all sorts of purses for us—calf is used in some purses—all this leather would be used for some sort of purse or other—if he had two or three skins of leather out I used to allow it to go on till he executed the order—the leather was never more than the price of the purses—he would sometimes bring them in a dozen or two at a time, and we should settle when the order was completed.
MR. BESLEY. Q. On the 9th April, did you come to a settlement with him? A. Yes—nothing was left on that day—no more leather was delivered out to him then—he had none, of my sanction—there was a payment to him on account at that time for goods he had brought in on the 9th April—he had about 13s. 2d. worth of leather—1l. 11s. 8d. was owing to him—on the 22nd April he brought some purses, and he was then paid 2l. 4s. 10d., which cleared up his book.
GEORGE ASTINS . I am in the service of Messrs. Smith—on 22nd April a new regulation was made as to delivering out materials, and I told Crosby that when he had any leather out he would have to give it to me first, and not to deliver it to the person himself—the following morning two skins of leather were delivered out and he gave me the leather in—that produced is one of the memorandums referring to it—I took it first to Mr. Downs, and he signed it, and then I put my initials to it and put it on the file in the receiving room, where the materials were delivered out—Crosby did not come to me on the 23rd April, with reference to any leather for Krickeldorf—I did not know of his taking these seven skins—I saw Krickeldorf at 11 o'clock that morning, in the lobby on the ground floor—I did not see Crosby there—about 2.15 or 2.20 I saw Krickeldorf in the lobby—I did not see anything with him—I afterwards received a communication from Downs, and found a brown paper parcel in the corner behind the door in the lobby—I brought it inside and tore off a corner to see whether it was leather—I saw that it was, and I went up stairs and communicated to Mr. Downs—the parcel was afterwards opened in Mr. Smith's presence—this is it—I know nothing of the file up stairs, or of the ticket on it—Crosby did not show me this ticket—I did not see it before it was brought down.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. Where did you find this parcel? A. In the corner behind the door, not on a bench—there is a bench there, where the workpeople receive their goods out—the materials are not generally packed when they are given out, merely a string put round them—I never did put leather in a square parcel myself.
THOMAS JOHN SMITH . I am one of the partners in this house—in consequence of a communication made to me by Mr. Downs, I sent for Crosby into the warehouse—this parcel was produced and opened in his presence—the new regulation that was made on 22nd April was made by Mr. Downs—I had nothing to do with it—I gave no authority for the taking away of this leather—I afterwards saw this paper on the file brought down from the stock room—it was the last paper on the file—the packing of this parcel was unusual; leather should always be rolled.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. The file was the proper place for the papers, was it not? A. No, it should not have been put there at all.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Were there other papers on the file? A. Yes—it was brought down to me by Humpleman—this is the file—I do not think there were any more papers on it then than there are now.
AUGUSTE HUMPLEMAN . I have been requested to attend here by Crosby—previous to the new regulation I was entering clerk up stairs—I was then moved down stairs—the entering would then be in the receiving room down stairs—the file was kept on my desk there—no materials were delivered out by me without a ticket after the new regulation—the file up stairs was out of use then—on 23rd April I went up stain and got the file—this paper was the top paper on it
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Were there not a great many more papers on it? A. I cannot say—I did not take particular notice—I brought it down direct.
DANIEL HALE (City Policeman 607). I received the prisoners in charge—Crosby said "I gave the skins to Krickeldorf and there is the receipt" Krickeldorf said "I never had the parcel, and do not know anything about it."
KRICKELDORF received a good character. GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Eight Months' Imprisonment each .
BENNETT PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. RIBTON and CUNNINGHAM, defended Searle.
GEORGE WHITNEY (City Policeman 98). On the evening of the 9th March, about a 5.45, I was on duty in Aldgate High Street, with Green, and saw the three prisoners together walk through Fenchurch Street—when they came to Mr. Ivimey's shop Gardiner and Bennett stopped at the door, each of them handling a coat that was hanging within the doorway—Searle walked about two houses away to the west end of the shop—Gardiner and Bennett passed the shop once or twice—Searle then shifted his position to the east side of the shop—Gardiner then took the coat down—I could not say whether he cut it down or whether he broke it, but he took it off a brass rod, being covered by Bennett—Gardiner went away with the coat—I took Bennett on the spot—I saw no more of Searle till he was brought back by another officer, the coat being brought back with him.
Cross-examined by MR. CUNNINGHAM. Q. Had the constable who brought Searle back got the coat? A. No, a person from the shop, who had followed—the constable who brought Searle back is not here.
WILLIAM GREEN (City Policeman 280). I saw Gardiner cut the coat down from the shop and run away—I followed him and Searle; Searle was standing on the cast end of the shop, and when Gardiner cut down the coat Searle joined him, and they both ran away together—I saw Gardiner throw the coat to Searle—I followed and took Gardiner into custody in Billiter Street—Searle was running at the time up Billiter Street as fast as he could—he ha I the coat with him—I believe he was stopped by another officer, I did not see it—I took Gardiner back to the shop, and kept him there till Searle was brought back.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you say before the Magistrate that Searle ran away? Yes, I did not notice that it was omitted in the deposition—I saw them both running—I overtook Gardiner, and Searle was going ahead with the coat—when Gardiner took the coat Searle was at the side of the shop, round the corner—he could see what Gardiner was doing, he could look through the
glass front—I was in a position to see nearly everything, I was right facing Item—Searle gave his correct address—he was living with his father and mother.
MR. CUNNINGHAM called
WILLIAM BENNETT (the prisoner). It was I who cut the coat down, not Gardiner—I threw my knife away and gave the coat to Gardiner; he ran away with it—I kept him in view for a short time, till he turned the corner of the first street—I don't know what he did with the coat—I met Searle twice that day, once about 5.30 and again about 6.15—I asked where he was going—he said "Home," and he bade me and Gardiner good night—it was me and Gardiner who did this affair, and nobody else—Searle had nothing to do with it.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you tell this story before the Magistrate? A. No, I was not asked—I said nothing, I reserved my defence—I don't know much of Searle—I have seen him round the neighbourhood where I live—I was not with him ten minutes altogether this evening—he is nearly a stranger to me—he spoke partly to Gardiner—I had passed Mr. Ivimey's shop about twice—Searle was not with us at all then—I did not see him when I took the coat; I had not seen him after he bid us good night—I did not see where he went when he left us, that was about ten minutes before I took the coat—I did not know him before—I was never with him before that day—we did not walk together along Fenchurch Street
GARDINER having stated that he wished to plead Guilty, MR. CUNNINGHAM proposed to call him also as a witness, but the COURT was of opinion he could not do so, he being still upon his trial, for although he had stated that he was guilty, the Jury, being charged with his case, must find a verdict with respect to him, and therefore he was not a competent witness.
GARDINER— GUILTY . SEARLE— GUILTY .
BENNETT and GARDINER were further charged with having been before convicted, to which they pleaded GUILTY. SEARLE was also charged with a previous conviction, but pleaded NOT GUILTY.
JOSEPH SMITH . I produce a certificate of Searle's conviction—(This certified the conviction on 25th May, 1867, at Clerkenwell Police Court, of larceny.—Sentence One Month)—I was not present at his conviction, but I received him into custody at Cold Bath Fields—I have no doubt he is the person.—GUILTY.
BENNETT**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
GARDINER*†— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .
SEARLE*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1868.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM PARKHURST . I am barman at the Angel, Back Road, Shadwell—on 25th April, about 11.20 p.m., the prisoner came in with a man named Joe Smith—Roberts called for a pint of half-and-half, and gave me a bad shilling, which I put on a shelf away from other money, and gave him the change—shortly afterwards Smith called for a pint of half-and-half—she gave me a bad shilling—I put it on the shelf away from the first, and gave him 4d. in coppers and a sixpence—they drank it together—about twenty minutes afterwards Roberts called for a pot of half-and-half, and gave me a shilling—I put it to my teeth and it bent—I sent for a constable—Roberts then said that he wanted change for his sixpence; but it was a shilling he gave me, for I had kept it in my hand—I gave the three shillings to the constable—going to the station Smith said, "Why don't you take Joe Smith, he was in our company"—I knew that the shillings were bad in the first instance, but I changed them because I wanted to catch Joe Smith.
Roberts. Q. Can you swear that nobody touched them after I gave them to you? A. I cannot, because they were behind me.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. Were the shillings behind you in the bar? A. Yes, my master was the only other person in the bar—I cannot tell whether he touched them, but I found them in the same place.
HERBERT BURWOOD (Police Constable). I was called and took the prisoners—Roberts said, "I gave him a silver sixpence, and was waiting for 2d. out"—on the way to the station Smith said, "Why did you not bring Joe Smith?"—Joe Smith has never been taken—I found 2s. 11d. on Roberts, three sixpences and the rest in coppers; on Smith 6d. and some coppers.
Roberts' Defence. I was not aware whether I gave him a sixpence or a shilling. I got the shillings in change for a half-crown.
Smith's Defence. He gave me the money to treat myself.
ROBERTS— twelve Months' Imprisonment .
SMITH— Nine Months' Imprisonment .
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
RACHAEL COPPIN . I am barmaid at the Gray's Inn Restaurant, Holborn—on 28th March, in the afternoon, I served the prisoner with fourpennyworth of sherry—he gave me a bad half-crown—I showed it to my master, and asked the prisoner what he meant by passing bad money, and told him it was not the first time he had done it—he said that he was not aware it was bad—I gave him in charge with the half-crown, which I had not parted with.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I give you a good one for it? A. A good half-crown was found on you, but you did not attempt to pay.
Square—on the evening of 9th April the prisoner gave me a bad shilling for a glass of bitter ale—it was not very bright—I asked him if he had any more like it—he said, "Is not that sufficient to pay for a glass of ale?"—I sent for a constable, and he then offered me another shilling, a new one—I would not accept it, but gave him in charge.
GEORGE BIRD (Policeman D 226). On 9th April the landlord of the Sir John Barleycorn gave the prisoner into my charge, with this shilling (produced)—I searched him at the station, and found on him a new shilling and a penny—he was very violent, and said that he did not care; he should not have another chance for the next fifteen years.
Prisoner's Q. Did you on the first occasion, inform the Magistrate that I said I did not care, for I would not utter another shilling for the next fifteen years to come? A. No, I omitted it; but I stated it the second time—you gave a correct name and address.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. I believe, at the police-court, the first time, there was no solicitor for the Treasury present? A. No—I was not asked questions, the same as I was the second time.
Prisoner's Defence. I received the half-crown in change for a sovereign, and the shilling from my mother, who is here.
BRIDGET PRENDERGAST . I am the prisoner's mother, and live in Berwick Street, Oxford Street—on the day he was given in custody the second time, the Thursday before Good Friday, he asked me to lend him 6s. to buy a coat—I noticed one of the shillings to be a new one, but did not notice any of the others.
Cross-examined by MR. COLERIDGE. Q. How old is he? A. Twenty-eight—he works sometimes, and sometimes he does not—he lives with me—he had work a fortnight or three weeks before he was taken—he works as porter or errand boy, or anything he can get to do—he has lived with me five or six months—I believe he had some time in prison before that, but whether he had or not I cannot say—I had not seen him for a couple of years, I dare say, before he came to live with me—I never knew him go by any other name—I do not know his transactions out of doors.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted at this Court of a like offence, when he was sentenced to Two Years' Imprisonment; to this he PLEADED GUILTY.** Fourteen other convictions were proved against him— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution; MR. COLLINS defended Atkins, and MR. HARRIS Dorney.
ABEL BARRY . I am a plasterer, of 4, Reynold Street, King's Road, Chelsea—on 21st April I was in Thames Street about 3 p.m., and at the South-Eastern Railway Arch I saw a parcel of boys, who threw stones at me—I turned round with ray stick, and touched one of them in the eye—a boy in the mob laid hold of me, and said he would give me in charge, and while the policeman was hearing the story, Dorney put his hand in my pocket, and took my watch—I told the policeman, and he began to search him, but he passed it to Atkins—I did not see him pass it, but a witness did—this is it (produced)—I saw Atkins drop it; a witness picked it up, and gave it to me, and I gave it to the policeman—my name is in it.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. How many boys were there? A. Over twenty—I was not angry when they threw stones—I did not strike the boy wilfully—blood came from his eye—it was not one of the prisoners—I saw Dorney take my watch—I did not strike him, or try to—the police-man was in uniform, and was close to me when my watch was taken—Dorney held me by the arm till he took my watch, and then he tried to get away—I saw the watch drop from Atkins, close by my feet—the policeman had hold of Dorney then, who was trying to get away—we were all close together when the watch fell.
MEL NICHOLSON . Q. Were you standing where you were robbed when the watch fell? A. It did not fall till they were being searched—after the scuffle they threw me down—I found it not more than a couple of steps from where I missed it, and I saw it about two minutes after I lost it.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. Was there a crowd round you when you missed it? A. Yes—I saw my guard drop, and said to the policeman, "My watch is gone."
JOHN BAIRD . I am a warehouseman to Messrs. Lemons, Old Swan Lane—on the afternoon of 21st April I was employed at the bottom of Old Swan Lane, near the railway arch, and saw a number of boys surround the prosecutor—one of them threw a stone, and he put up his stick over his shoulder, and hit the boy in the eye, and then I saw the prosecutor's chain hanging down, and he said, "I have lost my watch"—I said, loud enough for the prisoner to hear, "Either the big one or the little one has got it," and seized Dorney—Atkins was held by somebody else, who took him into a warehouse opposite, and when he came out I saw the watch drop from his trousers between two casks, about four yards from the prosecutor—Mr. Reid picked it up—he is not here—I saw him give it to the constable.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. You swore before the Magistrate that you saw it given to the prosecutor, and now you say you saw it given to the constable; which was it? A. It was picked up and given to the prosecutor, but the constable had it after that—I did not take Atkins into the warehouse; a bricklayer did, who is not here—he was not there two minutes—I do not think I swore that I took him in—my memory is rather bad, but I can always depend upon what I think I said—it was not Reid but Cookson's manager who brought Atkins out—he is not here—he was close to Atkins when the watch dropped, and about as far as that lamp from Dorney—they were not all of a lump together when the watch dropped; it came down the leg of his trousers—I had hold of Dorney at the time—there were people all round as—I saw the watch at Atkins feet; I saw it drop from his trousers—a stranger picked it up—Dorney was struggling, and I had at much as I could do to hold him—other people assisted me.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. I suppose the whole affair did not occupy above a second or two? A. Not more than two or three minutes altogether—there were about forty or fifty people in the crowd, shouting and laughing—I saw Barry hit the boy—it was after that that he said he had lost his watch.
MR. NICHOLSON. Q. Do you mean that you held Dorney with one hand and took Atkins into the warehouse with the other? A. I said he was taken into the warehouse—Dorney was taken in the street, and Atkins was taken into the warehouse—I saw the watch drop from the bottom of his trousers, between his coat and his trousers.
custody—Dorney was very rough, and tried to get away—I asked Baird to assist me—I took hold of Atkins—I did not take him into the warehouse, and did not see him go in or come out.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. Did Davis give his correct address? A. Yes, and denied all knowledge of the watch.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1868.
435. JOHN KING (18), and RICHARD STONES (17), PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling house of William Kitching, with intent to steal.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each .
436. CHARLES CARTWRIGHT (20) and WILLIAM THOMAS (18), to stealing 57lbs. of pewter, the property of Robert Halfhead, fixed to his dwelling.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment each . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
437. DENNIS BRYAN (16) , to stealing a watch the property of William Baier, from his person, and also to having been before convicted at Clerkenwell, on 7th June, 1867.— ** Seven Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
438. WILLIAM BEAVIS (25) , to burglary, breaking and entering the dwelling houses of Joseph Sharpe, and stealing one pair of boots and other articles, also to a burglary in the dwelling house of John Elsworthe and stealing nine spoons and other articles, also to a burglary in the dwelling house of Paul Lessley, and stealing one cigar case, one pencil case, and other articles, and also to a burglary in the dwelling-house of John Henry Barnes, and stealing three coats, and 12l. 5s., in money.**— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS WEDLOCK . I am a labourer, and live at 59, Gillingham Street, Pimlico—I occupy the house and sleep in the back parlour down stairs—about 5.30 on Sunday morning, 12th April, I heard a noise at my bed room door—I called out "Who's there"—I received no answer—I saw the door open, and jumped out of bed and caught sight of two men, they ran away, the prisoner was one of them—I followed and met a policeman, and the prisoner turned back and I followed—the policeman missed the other man and followed the prisoner—I went home and put on my clothes—I lost nothing—my house was safe when I went to bed—I was last up at night, and I am quite sure I shut the door, and none of my lodgers went out afterwards—the door must have been opened by a false key.
FRANCIS MCMANUS (Policeman B 83). At 5.30 on the morning of the 12th April, I saw the prosecutor in pursuit of the prisoner—I was about ten or twelve yards from him—it was light then—I followed the prisoner—when he saw me he ran up a bye street—another policeman took up the pursuit—I saw him distinctly and am positive he is the man—I did not know him before.
GEORGE BROWN (Policeman B 214). About 5.30, on the 12th April, I saw the last witness in pursuit of the prisoner—I was about one hundred yards off—I saw the man distinctly—I followed for about a half a mile and
found the prisoner, concealed in a coal cellar, at 15. Clarendon Street, an occupied house—I took him into custody—I asked him what he had been doing; he made no answer—Wedlock came up and charged him with being in his house—the prisoner said the door was open when he passed by, and he went in.
Prisoner's Defence. I never went into the house with intent to steal; the door was wide open. GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.
ELIZABETH HARRIS . I live at Church Street, Twickenham, and am housekeeper to Mr. Stedwell—on Sunday evening, 26th January, I was with another servant, named Matilda Hurrell, in a back room on the ground floor, between 9 and 10 o'clock; I am sure it was after 9—we were sitting together, and the door was pushed open—I jumped up, and went to the doorway, and saw two men in the passage: one went towards the stairs—one said to the other, "Is your pistol ready?" and the other answered, "Right"—the male prisoner then came into the room, and said, "Not a word, or I will blow your brains out"—he then showed me an iron bar, and said he would dash my brains out if I halloaed, or made any noise—he then said, "You have the keys?"—I said I had not; it was not very often that servants were trusted with the keys—he said that would do—he then asked me what money I had about me—I said I had none at all—he asked how many stories high the house was—I said, "Two"—he then said if I moved or called out, that he would dash my brains out with the iron bar, and he put the iron bar towards my face—he asked if I valued my life—I said, "Of course I do"—he said, "Then hold your noise"—I heard the other man up stairs all this time—I heard some breaking of things—after some time I heard a box fall—the other servant said to me, "That is the cash box"—I said, "No, it is the plate box," and the prisoner said, "Not a word"—the other man then came down stairs, and came into the room with a gun, and said to the prisoner, "Take this, shoot them: spare no lives"—the prisoner took the gun, and laid it on the parlour table—he said, "If you attempt to go to the window I will shoot your brains out through the window"—he then went out of the room, and looked the door—I gave evidence against the other man last sessions, or the sessions before; he was convicted, and got eighteen months—some time after they had gone I went up stairs—my room was all upset, and the clothes about the room—a small box had been broken open, and was empty: it had contained three brooches, two pins, and other articles—I have no doubt about the prisoner being the man—he was in the room about three-quarters of an hour—there were three gas burners in the room, full on.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite sure of the time, between 9 and 10 on 26th January? A. Yes—I was the principal witness in the case against the man who was convicted—I was very much frightened when the man came into the room—I did not flinch when he shook the bar in front of me—I stood up in front of him—my fellow servant screamed out, and put her hands up before her face—the prisoner was in the room about three-quarters of an hour—I did not scream out—I was excited when he first came into the room, but I got cool after; I answered him when he spoke to me—I had
never seen him before—I saw him afterwards at the Twickenham police-station; I do not know on what day: it was about three weeks ago, about the end of March—I never saw him before the 26th January, and I did not see him till the end of March—a police sergeant then came down, and told me he wanted me, and asked me if I would go to the station—he said, "I have a man here, will you come and look at him?"—I said, "Certainly"—I saw seven or eight men, and picked out the prisoner as the man—they were all dressed in different clothes—I think the prisoner was at the side of the row—he was not at the extreme end—I cannot say where he stood—I know he stood amongst the men.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You had no difficulty in knowing the man when you saw him at the police-station? A. No; I picked him out directly, and repeated the words he said to me—he was in a row of seven or eight.
COURT. Q. You said there were seven or eight men at the station; you adhere to that statement, there were not two? A. No—the sergeant did not say to me, "Is that the man?" I picked him out myself—none of the other witnesses were there—I went alone.
METILDA HURRELL . I am a servant in the employ of Mr. Stedwell—on the night of 26th January, I was sitting with the last witness in the back room—the door came open—Elizabeth Harris went round the table, towards the door, and the prisoner came into the room, and another man went up stairs—the prisoner came into the room and stopped there the whole time—when he came in he said, "If you say a word, I will dash your brains out"—before they came into the room, I heard one say, "Is your pistol ready?"—the other said "Right"—the prisoner kept walking up and down the room, and said if we said a word, or whispered to each other, he would dash our brains out—he had an iron crowbar and a pistol in his hand—I heard a noise up stairs, and heard something fall—I said, "There is the cash box"—Elizabeth Harris said, "No, it is the plate box"—the prisoner then said, "Not a word; I will dash your brains out"—he had the crowbar in his hand then—there was full light in the room—I should think the prisoner was in the room three quarters of an hour—the other man came down stairs a little while after they had been in the house, and brought a gun into the room and gave it to the prisoner, and said, "Spare no lives; shoot their brains out"—shortly after that they both left—they said if we made any noise they would shoot us through the window—they then went out, locked the door, and took the key away—the other man was tried and convicted last Session—I have not the least doubt about the prisoner—I am sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. When you first saw him, you were not quite so sure, were you? A. I am almost sure he is the man—he was in the room about three quarters of an hour—I screamed very much—we were both very much frightened—Harris stood up the whole of the time the man was in the room—he asked what money she had about her, and she said "None"—I think it was last month I was taken to see this man—I did not pick him out—I was not taken to the station—I saw him in the cart, when he was a prisoner, going to Brentford—there was a policeman with him—I have not the least doubt he is the man.
JAMES PAYNE (Police Sergeant T 19). On the 2nd of April, I was standing at the door of the House of Detention, at Clerkenwell—I apprehended the female prisoner, Mary Ann May, as she was leaving the House of Detention—I told her she was charged with being concerned in breaking into the
house of Mr. Stedwell—she said she had nothing to do with it—I told her there were several articles of jewellery stolen, and amongst them a pin, which had been pawned at Mr. Bowman's, Camberwell, and I believed it was her who pledged it—she said, "I did pledge it, but it was my uncle Charles's pin"—I said I knew she was in Teddington on that day; and she was also charged with stealing a counterpane from Teddington—she said, "I was not there; I was in London"—I said, "You were staying at Teddington for nearly a fortnight, with your husband, along with your uncle, Charles Pilkington"—she said, "I was not in the country; it is very hard that I cannot go out with my husband without getting into trouble"—on the 30th March, I went to the house where the prisoner lived—I searched, and found a tin box, with eleven duplicates in it, and an affidavit for a gold pin—I went to the pawnbroker's shop on the same day, and got the pin, and took it to Mr. Ratcliffe, and he identified it as his—on the 26th January, I went to Mr. Stedwell's premises, and examined the house—in Ratcliffe's bed room I found a chest of drawers, a writing desk, and other boxes broken open, and everything strewed about the room—in Elizabeth Harris's room, I found a chest of drawers broken open, and the things lying about the room; and in Mr. Stedwell's bed room I found the plate box in the middle of the room—that was not opened—I then went into the garden, and saw two footprints leading to the parlour window from over the wall.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you see her again? A. On the 19th March.
HENRY CROOKENDEN (Policeman T 182). On the 30th March, about 8.30, I met Charles May, in Waterloo Street, Camberwell—I took him by the collar and asked him if his name was May—he said, "No"—I said, "I am sure your name is May"—he said, "No it is not"—I then told him that he was charged with being concerned in a burglary at Twickenham—he said "I do not know a single house in Twickenham, and have not been there at all"—as I was taking him to the station, he said he had been there twice but he did not know it—he gave a false address—I afterwards took him to Twickenham.
CHARLOTTE HARE . I live at Twickenham Common, and am a dressmaker—on 26th January last I saw a man named Pilkington standing near the Old Church, between 7 and 8 in the evening, in company with a female, who I believe to be the prisoner—I then went as far as Richmond Bridge, and came back between 8 and 9—I saw Pilkington with another man and a woman nearly opposite Mr. Stedwell's—I believe the man and woman to be the prisoners.
Cross-examined. Q. This was in January? A. Yes; it was dark; I had seen the male prisoner the night before—I next saw them on the 4th April, at Brentford.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Was it too dark for you to see the persons there? A. There was a gas light—they were about a yard and a half from it—I had a good opportunity of seeing their faces—I saw the male prisoner the night before, and spoke to him.
am the wife of Henry Wagstaff—I know the two prisoners, they were staying at my house on the 26th January, with Pilkington, the man who was tried last Sessions—the male prisoner and Pilkington went out between 5 and 6, and the female prisoner about half or three-quarters of an hour afterwards—Pilkington came home about 10.30 or 11.0, and the two prisoners from 11.30 to 12.0—they left the next morning, and I never saw them again till I saw them in Brentford—Pilkington went away on the Monday, and came back on the Sunday following.
Cross-examined. Q. What time did the prisoners come home that night? A. Between 11 and 12—they were living at my house as man and wife.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
ANN BROWN . I live at 9, Allen Street, Southampton Street, Camberwell—on the night of 26th January, on that night, Mrs. May sent round her little girl to say she was very ill—I know it was the 26th, because it was my husband's birthday—I went to church in the evening, and called at Mrs. May's as I went home—I saw the prisoner Charles May and his brother, sitting in the parlour, as I passed through to go to his mother—I did not see the other prisoner—I think it was nearly nine—I might have stopped there twenty minutes—when I came down stairs he was still there, and I wished him "Good night," and he said the same—that was all that passed between us.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Had you known him before? A. Yes, for many yean—he was a tailor, and did many jobs for my husband—I was not before the Magistrate—I was told he was taken up about a week or so ago—his mother asked me if I recollected calling on her when she was ill—I said "Yes," and I had seen Charles May and his brother sitting in the parlour as I passed through—that was at 8, Waterloo Street—I had not been there for some time before that night; but her little girl used to go backwards and forwards, and she told me her mother was ill—the mother is not here to day—the little girl is six or seven years old—I have known his mother about twenty years—she has got four sons—I know them all, but not so intimately as I know the prisoner—he does not live with his mother—I think I saw the prisoner last year—I will not swear I saw him at all—I will not swear that I saw him in 1866, or 1867, or 1865—I will not swear at all—I do not know whether he is married, it is no business of mine.
MR. HARRIS. Q. Are you quite sure you saw him on 26th January? A. Yes, with his brother.
COURT. Q. Have you been to see his mother on other occasions? A. Yes, I often drop in as I leave church in the evening. I did not go the Sunday following—I was at church, and after that I went home—I do not know where I was the Sunday after that—I might have called on my son—it is impossible to account for every Sunday—I have called on Mrs. May in the week days—I saw the prisoner a week before the 26th, in Camberwell, standing outside the Waterloo Arms—I had a basket of clothes, and I asked him to help me, and he did—it was the beginning of the week, because I fetch my work home at the beginning of the week—I do not know when I saw him before that—he might have passed me, and I might have passed him.
GEORGE MAY . I am the prisoner's brother, and live at 2, Herbert Lane, Camberwell—on Sunday, 26th January, I was at my mother's house, and saw the prisoner there—my mother was ill at the time—I was there with him about an hour and a half altogether—I was there before he came in—I left about 9 or a little after—I left him outside the gate going away—he told me he was going back to Teddington.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was that? A. About 9 o'clock—I should not like to swear to the time exactly—I will swear it was not before 9—I am a ladies' and gentlemen's wardrobe dealer—I do not keep a shop—I go about from one place to another, and call at people's houses—I do not know where my brother was the day before Saturday, or Friday—I was on my own business—I did not know where he was living—Pilkington is my brother-in-law—he was convicted here last Sessions—I was not here—I do not know whether my brother is married—I believe he is—I was not at the wedding—I should think it was about four years ago—I did not come to give evidence for my brother-in-law.
COURT. Q. How is it that you fix Sunday as the 26th? A. I go to help a Jew to sort rage on a Sunday—I went up there, and was obliged to leave off work at 12, and I went down to see my mother as she was ill—I belong to a club, and it was a friendly night, and I went down to a meeting—I have seen my brother at my mother's house on several occasions—I bed the face-ache bad, and that Sunday I was obliged to leave off work at 12—I had been working about two hours and a half—I have breakfast there.
EDWARD JONES . I live at 91, Waterloo Street, Camberwell—on 26th January I had been out on a little business, and as I was coming home I met Charles May at the Waterloo Arms—that was near 10 o'clock, I think—he said he was going to the railway station, and asked me to go with him—I said I could not, as I was waiting to see somebody with some money.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. A shoemaker—I know it was on the 26th, because I had to meet a man for some money—I do not know what his name was or where he lives—he owed me 3s. 6d. for half-soling and heeling a pair of boots—I do not know where he works—I have done several jobs for him.
COURT to EMILY WAGSTAFF. Q. You told us that the two prisoners were staying with Pilkington at your house on 26th January last, when did they come to stay with you? A. They had been there about a fortnight—I do not know where they had been that day—they were in and out all day.
CHARLES MAY— GUILTY . MARY ANN MAY— GUILTYof Receiving.
They were further charged with having been before convicted, Charles May on 21st December, 1864, at Southwark, and Mary Ann May on 31st January, 1866, at Lambeth, to which they PLEADED GUILTY.
CHARLES MAY— ten Years' Penal Servitude .
MARY ANN MAY— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
441. WILLIAM ATTWOOD (29), and ROBERT HOOPER (38), Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of George John Cavefy, and stealing forty-eight spoons, twenty-four forks, and other articles, his property, to which WILLIAM ATTWOOD PLEADED GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. LEIGH conducted the Prosecution.
locked up the silver safe in a cupboard in the pantry; and I saw all the house safe at 11 o'clock—the next day I went downstairs about 6 o'clock—I found the pantry window wide open, and the pantry in great confusion—there was a panel of the cupboard door taken out—there was a silver cruet-stand on the table—the plated fish-knives and forks were left in the cupboard—I know the articles (produced) as being the property of my master—they were all safe when I went to bed—there are forty-nine spoons and twenty-four forks, and other articles here, which were stolen.
WILLIAM ASPINSHAW (Police Inspector X). On Saturday morning, 4th April, I had information of this robbery, and went to 26, Pembridge Gardens, and examined the premises—I found the iron bar of the pantry window had been bent with a piece of rope, large enough for a person to get in—the panel of a cupboard inside was taken out—this chisel was brought to the station; it corresponded with marks on the cupboard—I did not find the chisel myself—this piece of wax taper was also given to me—it corresponds with some which was found on the prisoner—I also found this button on the window-sill, and that corresponds with other buttons on the prisoner Attwood—I examined his waistcoat and found two buttons mining.
MICHAEL PALMER (Policeman D 6). About 2.15 on Saturday afternoon, I saw the prisoner Hooper go to a broker's shop, and I watched him—he remained there some time, and when he got a little way from the house I stopped him, and said I should take him into custody—I found on him six teaspoons, with initials on them corresponding with the initials on the ether property—he made no remark at the time—I took him to the station—he afterwards sent for me to the cell, and made a statement to me which I took down in writing, and he signed as a voluntary statement—I read it over to him and he said it was correct (Statement read: "Robert Hooper, 7, Adams' Mews, Grosvenor Square. Molyneux Street Police-station, April 5th, 1868. A young man called Bill came in on Saturday morning, about 9.30, and sent up for me. I was in bed at the time. I sent for him to come to me. He asked me if I had got a bag to lend him; I gave him one. I dressed myself, and we went out together. He went away, and I waited till he returned, and we went home together. He asked me to take charge of the bag, and I put it under the bed. He then took six spoons from his pocket, and gave them to me to sell. I was then taken into custody. The bag and contents is now locked in my room, but I do not know what it contains. The man is suspected to live in North Row, on the left side. This statement is made by me, Robert Hooper.")—I then went to the room of the prisoner, and found all the property now produced in a bag under the bed, with the exception of the six spoons—they were identified by the prosecutor—I went to Pembridge Gardens, and examined some footmarks with the prisoners' boots—I found four different footprints, and I made an impression on each side with the boots of both the prisoners, and they corresponded exactly—they were the footprints of two persons.
Hooper. I was never near the place in my life.
WILLIAM BOND (Policeman D 148). About half-past eleven on Monday morning, I went to 7, Adams' Mews, South Audley Street, and saw the prisoner Attwood—I told him I was a police constable, and should take him into custody for burglary—I asked him if he knew a person of the name of Bob; he said "Yes I have seen him once"—he said "I know nothing about the burglary"—on the way to the station he said "Is Bob locked up"—I said
"Yes, he was locked up on Saturday"—he said "He must have been a goose not to have managed it better than that"—on searching him at the station I found two pieces of wax taper on him, which I produce—I also found a shorter taper of the same kind, in the kitchen at Pembridge Gardens.
WILLIAM HALEY . I live at 7, Adams' Mews, Grosvenor Square—Hooper lodged at my house five months—on Saturday, 4th April, he came with Attwood—Hooper was carrying a bag—he told me before he went out that he was going to look for a situation—I had not seen Attwood before—I said to Hooper, "You have soon returned from your place," and he said "Yes"—they remained together for a good while—next day Attwood came again and asked for Bob—I said he had not been home all night, and he went away.
MARY CAVEFY . I am the wife of George John Cavefy, of 26, Pembridge Gardens—these things produced are my property, they are worth between 70l. and 80l.—Attwood was in my service about five yean ago for nine months—at that time I knew nothing against him.
JAMES GOULDEN . I live in Cranford Street, Marylebone—Hooper came to my house on Saturday, the 4th April, and told me he had got some plate to sell—I had nobody at home at the time; I asked him to call again at 2 o'clock—I went down to the police station and the Inspector sent two detectives up—he came in again a little after 2; and showed me half a dozen silver spoons, and he said he had got about twenty pounds weight of plate from a robbery which had been committed three months ago in the north of Ireland, the men had given it to him, and he had had it ever since—I said "How can you expect me to buy the plate if it was stolen; I shall have nothing at all to do with it"—he said "I hope you will act on the square"—I understood that to mean that I was to say nothing—he went away, and was taken by the detectives.
JAMES WARREN . I live at 46, Portland Place—Hooper lodged with me—on Saturday, the 4th April, I was in bed with him between 8 and 9 in the morning, and Attwood came in with a pot of beer—he said he had been helping a man to finish a garden in Kensington, and had got 3s. 6d.—he asked Hooper if he could lend him a carpet bag, and Hooper said "Yes"—he asked him to go out with him and they went out together, with the bag, which was empty—I saw them come back again, and there was then something heavy in the bag, it appeared to be full—Hooper was carrying it.
Hooper's Defence. I was in bed on the Saturday evening, as the landlord said. I was not out of the house.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. LANDGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM BARTON . I am clerk to Thomas Bates, 51, Grace church Street—about 2 o'clock on the afternoon of the 30th April the prisoner came there, and brought this order (Read: "April 30, 1868. Please send by bearer 41bs. of tea and ditto of coffee. I am, yours respectfully, Mr. Valentine, Salisbury Court, Fleet Street")—we had a customer of that name, who had dealt with us eight or ten years—I asked the man if he had come from
Mr. Valentine's, and he said he had—he said he was Mr. Valentine's servant, the only one he kept—I did not give him the coffee or the tea.
WILLIAM VALENTINE . I keep a coffee-house in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street—this order is not in my handwriting—I authorized no one to write it, and I did not give the prisoner permission to use it—he lived with me about three years ago for ten months, when I dealt with the same grocers.
EDWIN CARVELL (City Policeman 739). On 30th April, from information, I took the prisoner into custody in the shop of Mr. Bates, in Grace church Street—he was charged with uttering a forged note, for the purpose of obtaining goods—on the way to the station he said a man gave him the order, but he did not know who he was—at the station I found on him a half-sheet of paper which corresponded with the other half-sheet of the order.
Prisoner's Defence. It was given to me by a man at the top of King William Street. He said I was to wait for an answer, and get a small parcel. I know no more of the order than that I did not know that I had the half-sheet of paper in my pocket.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
There was another indictment against the prisoner.
MR. STARLING conducted the Prosecution.
EDWIN HUNT . I live at 1, Suffolk Street, Clerkenwell—on Thursday morning, 16th April, between 12 and 1, I was close to my own door, and heard footsteps behind me—just as I was looking round I was thrown down on the ground—I believe it was by the prisoner or his companions—I just caught sight of him—I have a doubt about him—I did not swear to him before the Magistrate; but I have a doubt now.
The COURT, upon this evidence, considered there was no case against the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
CAROLINE MAYNARD . I am the wife of James Maynard, Chalmer's Terrace, Stoke Newington—We had a lodger named Alfred Goldstone—on Saturday, 18th April, I went out with my husband, about 4 o'clock—I had locked the house up; as I went out at the front door I tried it—we returned about 11, and found the door was bolted on the inside—while we were there Mr. and Mrs. Goldstone came up, and they could not open it—my husband and Goldstone went round to the back of the house, and let us in—I helped to search the down stairs part of the house, as much as I was able—I was very much frightened, and I went out into the street to the front of the house—I saw the first floor window raised, and a man's head came out—the man was the prisoner; I am sure of that—he got across the window and dropped—as he fell I caught hold of his coat, but he got away—Mr. Goldstone came down at my screaming, and we ran after him—I saw him caught—I never lost sight of him—I lost half a sovereign and two rings.
Prisoner. Q. How do you know me? A. By your face—I saw you under three lamps—I never lost sight of you—you were at the station ten minutes before I got there.
Saturday night I went out with my wife, a little before Mr. and Mrs. Maynard went out—I returned a little after 11, and found them at the door—Mr. Maynard and I went round to the back, and got in at a back window—we opened the door, and let the others in—I searched the ground floor, but found nothing there—I then went up stairs to the back room, and found a bag on the bed, full of clothes—in consequence of hearing cries of "Murder" and "Police," I ran down stairs, and saw the prisoner running away; I pursued him, and caught him—I never lost sight of him—he did not try to get away, but tried to make himself very strange—I took him to the station—I afterwards went back to the house, and missed my watch; it was on the mantelshelf when I went out—I found it at the police-station on the Sunday morning.
Prisoner's Defence. I was a quarter of a mile away from the house when they caught me.
GUILTY **— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1868.
Before Mr. Justice Willes.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. McDONALD the Defence.
JOHN MAHONY . I am now a private soldier in the 13th Hussars, stationed at the depot, Canterbury—in the year 1865, I was a private in the Military Train stationed at Woolwich—in October that year I went with some of my comrades to the Spread Eagle public-house, Woolwich Common—I met the prisoner there, I had not known him before, he was introduced to me by Berry, a Marine—there were a great many soldiers there at the time, some of the Artillery, some of the Military Train, and some Marines; they were drinking porter, a man named St Clare or Thompson was paying for it—a man called Sprigging was also there, paying—they were civilians—the prisoner was drinking with us, he went by the name of Mohan—the soldiers were in uniform—St. Clair asked me to take the Fenian oath—I refused at first—the prisoner asked me why would I not take it—I did not know what it was—some men went out of the house after I refused—I had heard him ask them if they would take the Fenian oath—he took them out into the yard separately, one by one, and they came in again—the prisoner asked me why I would not take the Fenian oath, the same as my comrades had done, and act as a man should do towards the cause of my country—I am an Irishman—he said it was for the purpose of regaining Ireland—after some time I went out with St. Clair and took the oath—it was for the purpose of establishing a republic in Ireland and keeping the country for the Irish—that is the most I can think of it—nothing more was said at that time—we met several times after that—I only met the prisoner once after that, that was in November, 1865, at the Duchess of Wellington public-house—I went there by appointment with other soldiers, McCarthy and Bryant of the Military Train, McGough and others—McCarthy made the appointment with the prisoner—when I got there the prisoner was in the house—I asked him how he was getting on—he said "Very well—I said 1 had brought a man down to swear in—I introduced him
to a man named Bryant—he said it was all right, he was very glad to see I was getting on as I ought to do—he took Bryant out into the yard by himself—when he came in again, I asked the prisoner was he all right and he said "Yes"—the prisoner said he had come from Aldershot that day and had had a very narrow escape of being arrested there—he was seducing soldiers to desert at that time—we had some beer and went away—I did not see the prisoner again till December, 1865, in London; I had then deserted—I went to London—through Farrell, a Fenian agent, a civilian; he told me to go to London, but previous to that McCarthy had received a letter from the prisoner, he handed it to me, it was signed "Peter Mohan" I took it to other soldiers, I afterwards burnt it—McCarthy told me to take it to other soldiers—I took it to Cunningham, of the 5th Brigade Royal Artillery, and also to Thomas Farrell; those men afterwards went to London—it was partly in consequence of that letter that I went to London, not altogether—Thomas Farrell, the civilian, came down for the purpose of taking us to London; I had never seen him before, he came to my room in the camp on the night of the 27th December, 1865—I went to London with him, he paid my fare—ten men went with me, McGough and Leonard of the Military Train, Michael Farrell and Thomas Connolly of the 5th Brigade Royal Artillery, Niel Cunningham, of the 5th Brigade, and Sullivan, of the Royal Horse Artillery—we all started from Charlton station, that is away from Woolwich—we were all in uniform—Thomas Farrell, the civilian, paid our fare, and gave us tickets—we went by train to London Bridge, and Farrell took us to a public-house there, where we met the prisoner—Michael Farrell, the soldier, was with us—we all went in together—the prisoner welcomed us, and paid for some drink—after that we went to Vine Court, Whitechapel—Thomas Farrell, the civilian, paid for the cabs, and we went there; he went with us—we went to a public-house in Vine Court; I don't know who it was kept by—the prisoner went with us—I got half-a-crown from him to pay for some drink—we remained there a short time, and then went to Michael Butler's, in Vine Court, a private house—I had not seen him before—the prisoner and all the soldiers went there, and Farrell, the civilian; they took us there—I asked the prisoner and Farrell what time we should get our things, that is, the civilians' things, and leave our uniforms—the prisoner had spoken about changing our things, but he said there was a great job to get them; they had to go to several places for them, as there might be remarks passed—he said we should have them by 10 or 11 o'clock—we did not get them that night—we all slept at Butler's that night—we got our change of clothes on the morning of the 29th—I could not say who brought them; I did not see them brought—we all changed—they were suits; we could fit ourselves—I left my uniform there—all the soldiers stripped and left their uniforms there, and put on civilians' clothes—I did not see the prisoner or Farrell while doing this—we afterwards went in cabs to the Euston Square Station—Thomas Farrell went with us, and I saw the prisoner there—we were to go by the Irish mail train, at 7.30—we were not in time for that, and we went by the 9 train—Farrell got the tickets for us; he gave me mine—I did not see any money—I saw him have some tickets; I did not see him get them—my hat did not fit me, and I changed hats with the prisoner—six or seven of us went off by that train; some had gone the day before—we were all provided with tickets—neither the prisoner or Farrell went with us—the prisoner said we should
hardly be time enough, because the rising was expected on 3rd January, 1866—he said he would soon see me in Dublin—I went by train, and reached Dublin in due course—I next saw the prisoner, in January, 1866, at my lodging in High Street, Dublin—I received daily pay there, and paid for my own lodging—Devoy was the paymaster; St. Clair brought us the money; it was 18d. a day—seven or eight of us soldiers lodged together; we were wearing the civilians' clothes that we had got at Butler's house—the prisoner asked me bow I was getting on—I said, "Very badly"—he said, "You are as well off as anybody else"—I asked him was there any chance of a rising to take place in Ireland—he said there was an expedition expected from New York, and they were waiting for their arrival to have a rising—that was all that passed—I never saw him after that till he was in custody—that was the day I was examined at the police-court, on 16th March, this year.
Q. How did you get back again? A. I was six months in Mount joy Prison, Ireland—I was arrested under the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act—I was liberated on 15 th September, on condition that I left the country, which I did, and went to Liverpool—I was arrested in Liverpool on 21st September, and tried at the Winter Assizes, for the possession of forty-seven stand of arms, but was acquitted—I was then identified as a deserter, and was sent back to my regiment—I was then in the Military Train—I was transferred to the 13th Hussars in June, and am in that regiment now—I saw Corydon on one of my examinations at Bow Street—I had seen him in Ireland three or four times, to the beet of my knowledge—I never saw him in company with the prisoner; I saw him in company with soldiers.
Cross-examined. Q. At the time you met the prisoner at the Spread Eagle, were other soldiers along with you, drinking? A. Yes—they were not paying for it—I did not pay—I was then getting ninepence a day pay—it is not unusual for civilians to treat soldiers—St. Clair paid for the drink at the Spread Eagle; he bad a reason for it—I knew what his intentions were then; I was told that night—I did not approve of his intentions—I was about twenty-one years of age at that time—I had been in the service since September, 1864—nothing was said about money on that occasion—I said I would not go to London except I got money to go there—I believe it was in January, 1866, that I saw the prisoner in Ireland—it was either January or February—I only saw him once there—I was having my breakfast at the time he came in; he remained about half an hour—there were other soldiers present, Michael Farrel, Niel Cunningham, Connolly, and Thomas Farrell—I did not ask him for any money—the others spoke to him, I don't know what they said—I changed hats with the prisoner at Euston Square station, because mine was too large for me, his was smaller—I left the lodging in High Street, Dublin, in February, and went to Vickers' Street—I remained there nearly a fortnight—I then went back to High Street, and stayed there till I was arrested on 10th March—I was doing nothing during that time—I was still receiving money from St Clair—when I went from Ireland to Liverpool I went to a house I knew there, the Fail me never—I had 10s. then—I remained in Liverpool only five days—I was told by a man named Anderson, a Fenian agent, to take the arms in a cart to the railway station, and I was arrested—four of us were tried—I was acquitted, and then taken as a deserter, and sent to prison—I returned to the service on the 7th January—I
first informed the authorities that I was a Fenian on 11th February, 1867—I did that through information I saw given against me by McGough—Thomas Farrell, the civilian, was a small man with a black or brown beard, and a moustache, I think—I was with him for six or eight hours—I saw him three or four times; he had a beard much like the prisoner—I knew Sprigging, he was a young man about 5 feet 10 inches; he was younger than the prisoner—we came up from Woolwich on the night of 27th December—I only had one glass of ale at the public-house near London Bridge—I might have had a share of two pots between seven or eight of us before we left Woolwich—at the public-house in Vine Court, I had about a glass and a half—we had whiskey at Butler's, I had about a glass and a half—I was not perfectly sober at the end—we went to bed about 12.30 or 1.0—we got there about 11—when I went to identify the prisoner there were twenty or thirty others with him, differently dressed—Inspector Thompson was there, he stood either behind or at the side of me—I identified the prisoner at once—the moment I caught sight of him, I went and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "That's the man"—I have been in town ever since that—that was on 15th March—I have not been on duty, I have been receiving my pay, 1s. 6d. per day—I have had 15s. from Inspector Thompson, that is all—my lodging and refreshment are paid for me—I have not seen Thomas Farrell, the civilian, since the day I left London for Ireland—I only knew him two or three days—Niel Cunningham brought him to my hut, he came down for the purpose of taking me to London—I had never seen him before—I did not know before October that any of my comrades were tainted with Fenianism—I never hoard McCarthy speak about it till the night I went to the Spread Eagle—I had heard them talk about it, but not about deserting—I don't think McCarthy spoke to me about Fenianism previous to October—the letter from the prisoner was telling us to go to London, and meet a man in Shoreditch, I forget the number, and the materials would be received—McCarthy handed the letter to me—I showed it to Cunningham and Thomas Farrell, in the Canteen at Woolwich, and explained the nature of it.
MR. POLAND. Q. Were you punished for deserting? A. No, I was allowed to exchange into the Hussars—when I spoke to the prisoner about money to come up to London, he said he would see the committee about it.
RICHARD MCCARTHY . I am now a sapper in the Royal Engineers, stationed at Chatham—in October, 1865, I was in the Military Train, at Woolwich—I knew a person who went by the names of St Clair, Thompson, and Pilsworth—I first made his acquaintance about November, 1865, in a public-house in George Street, Woolwich—I was introduced to him by a Marine named Berry, as a friend of his—I knew the prisoner at Woolwich—I was introduced to him as being an influential man in the Fenian Brotherhood—that was late in November or early in December, 1865—I took the Fenian oath—St. Clair administered it in the public-house in George Street—no one else was present—the oath was to assist in establishing a republic in Ireland and destroying the supremacy of the British Crown, and to take up arms at any time we were called upon to do so—I had taken the oath before St. Clair introduced me to the prisoner—the prisoner and I talked generally on Fenian topics—I was to see and get as many men as I could to join the organization, and bring them down at stated times to the different houses that they were in the habit of frequenting—both St. Clair and the prisoner asked me to do that—I consented—I remember being with the witness
Mahony one night at the Duchess of Wellington, when the prisoner came there late, and he said he had been delayed at Aldershot—St. Clair and Spriggins were there, and a lot of military—the prisoner said that some men had sailed from America, and they were expected in the first of the new year for the breaking out in Ireland; first it was Christmas, and afterwards it was New Year's Day—he said I wan to get as many soldiers as possible to go to Ireland, because civilians would be more nuisance or hindrance; they would be wanted in England, and let the soldiers do the work in Ireland—St Clair said we were to go to London, and get our military clothes changed for civilians', and then proceed to Dublin—I know Thomas Farrell, a civilian—I have met him in Woolwich camp and in some of the public-houses—I have seen him with St Clair—this paper (produced) is my writing; it is "3, 914, Rd. McCarthy, No. 9 Troop, Military Train Camp"—I gave my address to the prisoner, and to St. Clair, and Farrell got it also; I think I gave this to Farrell—I gave one to the prisoner that he might write to me to know what conclusion they came to, what orders he had to give when we got to Dublin—I was to get so much money to treat a lot of soldiers to induce them to enlist, and also money if I went to Dublin—I was told so repeatedly by St. Clair—I don't remember that the prisoners said anything about money—I afterwards got a letter from either the prisoner, St Clair, or Farrell, I cant say which; I think it was Farrell—I could not get out that night, and I gave it to Mahony, and I think he destroyed it—the purport of it was to know whether the things he had contracted for were ready, meaning the men who were to go at such a time—I did not leave Woolwich—I never deserted—I remember the other men leaving, about 27th December, at 7 or 8 in the evening—I saw Farrell at Woolwich that day—I saw Mahony speaking to him and McGough and Farrell of the Artillery—Leonard was not with him when I saw him first, but he came there afterwards—I was on guard at the Royal Horse Infirmary when they left; I last saw them at the door of No, 5 hut—I did not see Mahony for better than twelve months afterwards—a few days after they had deserted I made a communication to one of the officers—after that time I took no part in the Fenian organization—I afterwards saw Thomas Tamil at the Thames Police Court, in January, 1866, with a man named Butler—they were both convicted there of obtaining soldiers to desert—I gave evidence—that was the same Thomas Farrell I have spoken of.
Cross-examined. Q. What rank have you now? A. I am a sapper—I have the mark on my arm because the month before last I was up to past an examination for lance corporal; I don't know yet whether I am read out or not—the mark is not authorized yet; I know I did all that was required of me—I have not worn it before my officers; I put it on myself—I had been a Fenian something better than a month before I met the prisoner—when I enlisted I took an oath before a Justice of the Peace—I also took the Fenian oath—one is rather opposed to the other—I had not a strong desire to do good to Ireland when I took the Fenian oath; I did not like soldiering, and I wanted to get some money to go away—I like it better now—I told my comrades there was such a thing as Fenianism, and that I was down at Woolwich with some of the men connected with it; Mahony was one I told, McGough was another—I did not desert—I burnt some letters of Mahony's, at his request, after he left—one of the men told the officer—I was asked if I knew whether the men had deserted, and then I told, perhaps to avoid punishment—I knew Spriggins; he was a young looking man, about 5 feet 7 inches—he did not wear a beard when I knew him—Fairell
bad a sort of brown beard—the letter I got from Farrell came by post—I read it, and gave it to Mahony—I believe this address is the one I gave to Farrell—I may have said at Bow Street it was the one I gave to the prisoner—I have a doubt about it—I know I gave three—I can't say whether the prisoner was a military man or not—I heard him speak about arms, and people coming from America.
MR. POLAND. Q. When was it you burnt the letter? A. On 28th December, I think, the day after Mahony left—I put this stripe on because I had passed my examination correctly—I had it in my possession—I have worn this coat for the last month with the stripe on it—my superiors have not seen me—I have worn it in London—I bought the lace ready to put on—if I was entitled to wear it, it would be served out to me—I have been rather hasty in assuming it—I think this is the paper I gave Farrell, because it was found upon him—I never intended to go to Ireland—I was urged to go on 27th December.
MICHAEL FARREL . I am a gunner in the 7th battery Royal Artillery—in the end of 1866 I was in the 5th Brigade, stationed at Woolwich—Niel Cunningham was in the same brigade—I know the prisoner—I first saw him in a public-house, I think the Nile, across Market Hill, Woolwich, between October and the end of December: I can't say the exact time—I was introduced to him by Cunningham—there were four or five civilians present, and the house was full of soldiers—I know Thomas Farrell, the civilian; he was not present—the prisoner shook hands with me, and asked Cunningham was I right—he said, "Yes"—we went inside, and all got drinking with these civilians, Muggins, Scrubbing, and Sprigging; but those were only nicknames which they used to go by: one of them was called Thompson—I saw them in several public-houses afterwards—there was supposed to be a raffle at these houses, but there was none: it was to account for the number of men congregating there—Thompson was there the night I was introduced to the prisoner—he was paying for drink, and talking to the soldiers all through the room, and going out and coming in—I did not see the fprisoner after that till I came away from Woolwich—that was the first time I saw him—on the night of 27th December I saw Thomas Farrell, the civilian, in company with Cunningham outside the canteen, door in the barracks; that was the first time I had seen him—Cunningham introduced me to him—he said, "Here is Farrell, he will pay for plenty of drink"—he had often told me about Farrell before—we went into the canteen, and had some drink—I then went down the buttery range to my quarters—Cunningham and Farrell went with me—my wife was at my quarters—she saw Farrell—I told her to go out for fear she should want to know where 1 was going—they sent me for two men belonging to the depot brigade, Macnamara and Foley—I was told they were on picket—I found them, and they came with me—they were in uniform—we joined Farrell and Cunningham—going through the parade they told me to run and fetch Connolly, an Irishman belonging to my brigade—I went and got him—he joined us in the barracktavern—there were a great many other soldiers there—I went up to London by train from Charlton that night along with Farrell—there were about seven of us, all in uniform: there might be more—there were Conolly, Cunningham, and me, Foley, Macnamara, Sullivan, McGough, Leonard, and Edward Farrell of the Horse Artillery—I can't say whether Mahony was with us—Farrell, the civilian, paid fur our tickets at Charlton—we came to London Bridge—I can't say whether anyone met us at the station—we
went to Vine Court, Whitechapel: I walked there; Farrell went with me and the other soldiers—we Went to Michael Butler's house—I did not go into a public-house on the road—there was plenty of drink on the table at Butler's, and we got drinking away at it—I saw some of the soldiers who went there with me in uniform, come down in Civilians' clothes—Farrell told me to go and get a suit, and I went up stairs with Butler—there was a lot of clothes on the floor, and I put on a suit—I was wearing regimental boots at that time: they were numbered 772—I left them there, and put on another pair—after changing my clothes I came down stairs, and got drinking again—I slept on the floor there that night, or on a chair—next morning, at 5 o'clock, we all went away to Boston Square—I did not see the prisoner before we started—I, McGough, and Foley got lost, and went back to the house, intending to get our own clothes, and go back to Woolwich; but when we got there bottled were put on the table, and we got drinking again all day—we drank all day and some nights, and then some more soldiers came and joined us—next morning we started in cabs'to the station: Mahony, McGouglr, Sullrvan, and Farrell—I don't know what became of Foley: he slipped away somehow; and did not join us for about a week after in Dublin—when we got to the station at Euston Square, the prisoner was there, and Farrell, the civilian, getting tickets—I said to the prisoner, "Look sharp, Peter, and get us my ticket"—he had a lot of bank-notes in his hand, and he said there was a difficulty in getting change—Farrell gave me my ticket—we then went by tram to Horyhead, and then by boat to Dublin—we went to a public-house at Dublin with Thompson, or St. Clair and Devoy, who belonged to a military circle or something" in Dublin—he never been over here that I know of—I saw in Dublin the soldiers who had gone by the train the previous day—I saw the prisoner in Dublin in January, after breakfast one morning; seven the eight of us were then lodging at Mrs. Flynn's, in High Street—I saw the prisoner go by the door, and said, "Halloa, Peter, come in; how does things look?"—he said "First rate; there is an expedition about leaving America"—I said "It was pretty mess you made with my boots, to let them be found"—he said they did not know they were there under the heap of things in the corner—I had heard about the boots being found, from Muggins, one of the men, who showed it to me one morning, in the paper—I only saw the prisoner once more in Dublin—I went along with Dr. Regan, belonging to the Fenians, to get his pay, at a public-house, and I saw the prisoner there—I remarked in Dublin until 5th February, 1866—we got pay while we were there; Johnny Devoy paid us—I went for the once or twice at the first going off, to give to the other men; they did not know where to go—I did not see the civilian, Thomas Farrell, there before I left—I told the men that deserted along with me that I was coming back, and I got sixpence each from them, to bring me back to England—I went to Liverpool, and walked from there to Woolwich—I hid a few coppers at starting, and I sold a pair of stockings, and a policeman gave me sixpence—I tramped up—I ate very little—I got to Woolwich on 15th February—I went to see ray wife that night, but she did not hear me knocking—I went and took a lodging in Woolwich, and next morning I went to my wife—I stopped with her till night, and then gave myself up on the night of the 16th—I was put in the guard room—I was afterwards tried for desertion, and sentenced to fifty-six days—I came out of prison in June, and went the next day to the Woolwich Police Court—I there saw Thomas Farrell, the
civilian, and Michael Butler, and gave evidence—I saw my boots there, that I had left behind at Butler's; they were delivered up to me, and I wore them out—I know Corydon, by just seeing his face somewhere, I don't know where—I have been in the Army ever since I gave myself up.
Cross-examined. Q. What time of night was it when you left Woolwich? A. About 8—I had been drinking brandy, and porter, and ale, before I left—I think I saw Mahony that night, but I can't say—I might have had a glass of brandy, three glasses of ale, and about half a dozen glasses of porter before I left Woolwich—I had nothing at London Bridge—I went straight from there to Butler's house, in Vine Court, with Farrell and the others—Butler's is a private house—there were a few young women there, friends of Butler's—we had plenty to drink there; there were decanters full of whiskey on the table—I drank till I lay down, or fell down—we were all enjoying ourselves—I was married in February 1862—my wife is not an Irishwoman—I had three brothers; two are dead since I went away—I passed Thomas Farrell off as my brother before my wife—I did not take the Fenian oath—I should not have deserted, but for the drink, and getting along with them, and hearing their talk, and doing as the others did—when I got to Ireland, and saw what I had done, I made my way back, and suffered for my desertion—I was in Dublin a month and five or six days; I was drinking all I could get hold of all that time—I used to get money from Col Kelly's gang; he was the military organizer in Dublin—Dr. Regan told me he was the doctor to the Fenian organization, and I reported myself sick to him—Mahony was at Mrs. Flynn's the morning the prisoner came in,—I only saw the prisoner four times altogether—Spriggins is a good-looking young man, about 5ft. 9in. or 5ft. 10in.—Farrell was much the same stamp as the prisoner, a little taller; he had a full beard, something like the prisoner.
JOHANNA MARGARET FARRELL . I am the wife of the last witness—on the evening of 27th December, 1865, he was with me in his quarters at Woolwich—I last saw him about 8 o'clock—a man named Cunningham was with him and a civilian named Thomas Farrell—I had not seen him before, my husband passed him off to me as his brother—they left together, I did not know he was going away—he did not come back till February—I thought it was the 14th, but my husband says it was the 16th; he came early in the morning to my quarters in civilian's clothes—I afterwards saw Thomas Farrell at the Thames Police Station, in January, before my husband had come home—I gave evidence there and afterwards at the Woolwich Police Court in June, 1866—I saw a pair of boots there with my husband's No. on them, 772, I knew them to be his.
Cross-examined. Q. Is there anything peculiar in the shape of your husband's foot? A. No, but I know it; and I knew his boots—we have not spoken together on the subject of these trials.
JOHN JOSEPH CORYDON . I was a member of the Fenian Brotherhood—I joined it in 1862, its object was to overthrow the Queen's government in Ireland and to establish an Irish republic in its stead—I was acquainted with all the chief members of that organization—I was in Dublin in January, 1866—I saw the prisoner there, I had not seen him before, I saw him in company of several American Fenian officers, Captain Deasy, Captain Burke, Captain Dohany and other deserters from the Army—I have been present when he was with those persons; the conversation was about Fenian matters, about the rising that was expected to take place in the early part of the year—it was intended to take place in March, we had
been disappointed in not having it take place in 1865—I saw the prisoner in Dublin up to the latter part of February, 1866—the earliest time I saw him was about 10th or 11th January—I saw him there several times—I have seen the two witnesses, Mahony and Michael Farrell, in his company in Dublin, Mahony several times, the other not so often, only twice—Mahony I saw once a week and perhaps, oftener, but I don't recollect seeing Farrell with him more than twice, and on one of those occasions I saw the prisoner pay money to these deserters; there were upwards of thirty—the money was given to him by the paymaster of the Fenians for the purpose of keeping these men there until the rising should take place.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you join the Fenian organization? A. In 1862—I was twenty-six years of age—I was in the Federal Army before that, since 1861—before that I was a clerk at New York for two years, in the Street Commissioners' Department—I left because I took a notion to go into the Army, I wanted to see life—before that I was a clerk in the City of Washington to a Mr. Tyson, who kept a hardware and grocer's store, I was very young then—I went to school at Washington—I was with him four years—I left because I thought it would suit me better to go to New York—I went to America when I was twelve years of age—I went out with an uncle, but I paid my own way there—I was a member of the Fenian organization from 1862 till I gave information to the Government—I came over here in August, 1865—I went first to Liverpool—I carried dispatches from the heads of the Fenian movement in America—I was a prominent man, I was held very high in the estimation of John Mahony, a very honest man who was them the head in America, and afterwards Stephens—I went from Liverpool to Dublin—I think tie first trial at which I gave evidence for the Crown was that of Colonel Tom Burke and Doran, about a year ago—I gave information to the Crown and became a public witness in April or May, 1867—I suppose that is a position I still occupy—I did not receive any reward from the Government after giving evidence on that trial—I received nothing—I received money from the Government previous to the trial, for my expenses incurred in hunting up Fenians—I could not say how much, perhaps 200l., not 300l.—I did not live at the rate of 400l. a year, or 1l. a day—I suppose I have given evidence on about sixty or seventy trials—I shall not tell you where I am living now; I don't wish to tell every Fenian in Ireland and England where I live, I should not live very long if I did—I received protection in Ireland where I was known; I don't require it here, I can protect myself—I have not been in Paris—I joined the Fenian organization because I thought then that I was doing what was right to Ireland—I left it because I found they were a pack of swindlers—they swindled me of my money and time since 1865—I left them in 1866, and wrote a letter to an official of the Government—I don't know how much I am to get from the Government for my service—I have saved Ireland and this country a good deal—I will take all I can get—I have not been offered 20,000l.—I have been offered no money—I never heard that I was to get 20,000l. for giving evidence during the whole of the Fenian trials—I was never offered a penny—my ambition is to break up the Fenian organization—I have not been offered an annuity of 500l., or a lump sum of 20,000l.—I first saw the prisoner in Dublin, about 10th or 12th January, 1866—I had then been about two or throe days there from America—I saw him with Timothy Deasy and Tom Burke, and these deserters—Mahony was one—I saw him with John Deasy, who has been convicted,
and others who have gone away, but they may be caught yet—I was not acquainted with Farrell, not to speak to him—I saw the prisoner pay money to the deserters—I don't know their names, there were so many of them—I should know them if I were to see them—some American officers were present on one occasion when he paid them, Deasy, Burke, and others—I will he a witness against us many more Fenians as I can get hold of—I think I am doing more for my country now than if I had remained a Fenian.
MR. POLAND. Q. Since you have given information to the Government, have you been examined upon nearly all the principal Fenian trials? A. Every one, I think—I have had my maintenance and my expenses for attending at different places—it makes not the least difference to me whether the persons are acquitted or convicted.
WILLIAM HOLLOWAY (Police Inspector H). In December, 1865, I was at the station-house when Thomas Farrell and Michael Butler were brought there—I saw Farrell searched, and this paper found on him—I have had it ever since—those two pen-sons were afterwards taken to the Thames Police Court on a charge made against them, and there convicted—the charge was inducing soldiers to desert—they were sentenced to six months' imprisonment—I produce various military accoutrements, amongst others a pair of military boots, which were given to me by Sergeant Dunaway, in December, 1865—some of them belong to the Army and some to the Volunteers.
PORTER WILLIAM DUNAWAY (Police Sergeant H). On 30th December, 1865, I took Michael Butler in custody at a house in Vine Court, White chapel—he was charged, with a man named Farrell, with inciting soldiers to desert—I searched the house, and among other things found a pair of military boots, with a number on them—they were produced at the Thames Police Court, in 1866, and at the Woolwich Police Court, in June and July, 1866—they were shown to Michael Farrell and his wife—they were given up to Sergeant-Major Thompson.
LEONARD THOMPSON . In December, 1865, I was a Sergeant-Major in the Royal Artillery—I knew Farrell, Niel Cunningham, and Connolly, in the 5th brigade—those three men deserted on the evening of 29th December at roll call—Cunningham has never come back—Connolly gave himself up in Wales, some time in 1866; he has gone to India—Farrell gave himself up in February—a pair of boots was given up to me at the Woolwich Police Court—they belonged to Michael Farrell, and were marked with his number, 762.
Cross-examined. Q. How long was Farrell in the guard-room before his trial? A. Five or six weeks; he was tried about the middle of April.
WILLIAM LAMBERT . I am a sergeant in the Military Train—at the end of 1865 I was stationed at Woolwich—a man named William Leonard was in the same corps; he deserted on 27th December, 1865—1 next saw him when he was on trial by Court Martial for desertion—I was a witness against him—he was convicted and sentenced.
JOHN CUTLER . I am troop sergeant-major in the Military Train at Aldershot—in 1865 I was stationed at Woolwich—I knew a private McGough; he deserted on 27th December—I had seen him that day in Woolwich, in uniform—he has never joined the regiment since—I saw him in custody in Woolwich, in 1866, in plain clothes—he is now in India.
WILLIAM HENRY CAMPBELL (Police Sergeant A). I know Thomas Farrell and Michael Butler, and the prisoner—I have seen them together several times, in August, September, and October, in 1865, in White chapel and
Mile End—I have seen them conversing together, and they appeared to be companions.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been in the police force? A. 23 years—I know that inquiries were made for Mahony—I am hot aware that many persons have seen him and failed to identify him; some have—they were Massey and other informers, and Stocks, a publican.
JAMES JACOB THOMPSON . I am an inspector of the detective police—I took the prisoner on the morning of 14th March, at a carpenter's shop in Lawrence Poultney Lane, City—he was at work there; he is a carpenter—when I entered the shop, his master came forward; I asked him if he had a man named McGann in his employ—he said he had not—I pointed to the prisoner, and asked the name of that man—he said, "Morgan"—I said to the prisoner, "What is your name?"—he said, "Morgan"—I asked him his Christian name—ha said, "Peter"—I told him I was an inspector of police, and had received orders to take him into custody, as I had reason to believe his name was Peter Mohan—he wanted to know whether I had a warrant—I told him I had no warrant, but I had received, an order to take him, from the Commissioner of Police, on a charge of treason-felony—I directed the sergeant who accompanied me to take hold of him—he said, "You need not hold me; I am perfectly innocent."
Cross-examined. Q. When you took him to the station, was he searched? A. Yes a pocket book, a purse, a knife, and a bullet were found on him—I asked him for his address, he did not give it me—I said "It will look odd if you refuse to give any address; it may look as if you had something to conceal"—he did not give as a reason, that his wife was unwell—I told him that if he wished to communicate with any of his friends I would send anywhere to them; that was two or three hours after he had refused his address—I thought that he might unguardedly make his address known—he wrote a letter in the evening—I received certain directions about it—it had not his address on it, but the address of a friend in the Borough Road—the letter was not sent—I saw him again at Bow Street, on Monday, and he then gave me his address—I went there, there was nothing in the house.
GUILTY .— ten years' penal servitude .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1866.
Before Mr. Baron Channel.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Protection; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
EDWARD WHITE . I live at 2, Hair brain Court, Blue Anchor Yard, White chapel—on 13th February, about 11 or 11.30 I was in the court and saw the prisoner standing by his own door—he asked me to go up-stairs for a minute—I went up with him and he said "Stand still a minute"—he went towards a box and lifted up the cover—I did not see him, take anything out; but he went from the box to the bed—he stood by the bed about five minutes, his back towards me, and lifted up the clothes with his hand behind his back—he then turned towards me, put her hand behind him, and came towards me quickly and shot me in the breast—I could not see what with—he then ran up and caught hold of me, stopped the blood, and, seemed very sorry—I asked him to let me go to my mother's, and he let me
go down stairs—my mother took me to the hospital—I had been good friends with him, playing together.
Cross-examined. Q. How long had you known him? A. A good bit—I had been in the habit of playing with him on other days, but had never seen the pistol before—after he h id done it he flung it on to the bed, and would not let me go down stairs till he found me screaming—we used to have angry words together—I used to see him every day before that—I lived right opposite him.
THOMAS BURGETT . I am house surgeon, at the London Hospital—the boy was brought there on 13th February, with a wound in the upper part of his chest to the left of the sternum, and the cartilage of the first rib was fractured—I could pass my finger in sufficiently to feel the fracture, but was not justified in probing to search for the ball—it was such a wound as would be caused by a pistol—I am not certain whether the ball penetrated the lungs, but there is reason to believe it has—he is an unhealthy boy—he was ill for some time from the effects of the wound, and is so still—the bullet if still in him.
JOHN NEWMAN (Policeman H R 20). On 20th February, I went to the prisoner's house—he was not there, but he was brought to the station by hit father on 20th April—I took him to the hospital next morning and the boy identified him.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate.—I was chopping wood, and I went up stairs to get some half-pence out of my brother's box to buy some cat's meat. I saw no half-pence, but 1 saw a pistol. I called him up, showed it to him, and said, "Aint this a fine one." I said it was a fine one. Wethrowed were playing with it together, and somehow or other it went off. I put it back in the box, and went to him. He would not let me look at him, and went down stairs. I did not know the pistol was loaded. It belonged to my brother.
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM HUNT . I lived at 7, Star Place, North End, Fulham, but removed last week—I am a labouer—on Saturday evening, 28th March, between 10 and 11, I was in the Chipperton beer-shop, North Road—I saw the prisoner come in, followed by a gentleman—the gentleman turned round and said, "What do you follow me for, my good man; why don't you go about your own business?"—I could not hear the reply—the prisoner struck the gentleman on the top of the head with his closed hand, and he fell on his back—the prisoner then picked him up and sat him against the door—he did not remain in that position long—he rolled round and went into the yard through the doorway, but he fell down the steps on to the bricks which the yard is paved with—I cannot say whether he was stunned, but it was a heavy blow that knocked him down—after he fell down the steps the prisoner caught hold of him by the legs, and dragged him out of the yard into the road—the prisoner had a horse and cart at the door—I caught hold of the horse's head and pulled it round—my wife and sister screamed, and I ran out and left the man on the path—I pulled him out of the road
on to the path, seeing he was in danger—he was very drunk, and never uttered a word—I do not think he could speak—I afterwards saw him at the West London Hospital, dead.
The Prisoner. Q. Did not he push me when he came in? A. I did not see him—I did not hear you say anything about not giving him a ride—you dragged him by the legs and left his legs lying across the road—he fell down two or three steps—you did not carry him by the legs and arms; you dragged him out—I do not know what you took him out for—your wife was in the cart.
COURT. Q. When he turned the cart round, did he turn it towards the gentleman, or away from him? A. Towards the gentleman, or I should not have lifted him out of the way—it may have been that he turned the cart round to go back.
MR. PATER. Q. Is there a wall immediately before the house? A. Yes, with railings on the top of it—he dragged the gentleman from inside that wall—I believe the prisoner was drunk—he got halfway into the room—there can be no mistake about it, because I saw him reel and make a little bit of a stumble.
ELIZA HUNT . I am the wife of the last witness—on 28th March last, I was at the Chipperton beer-house, and saw the prisoner there, and a gentleman, who turns out to be Mr. Bullock—they were standing against the door, and I saw the prisoner chuck the gentleman out of Mr. Chipperton's, and saw him fall out of the doorway with his head against the shutters, which were up—I did not see him rise again, and he never spoke—my husband was in the house—the prisoner got some beer and threw some of it into the gentleman's face, and said, "Take that, you sod! "—he gave the remainder of the beer to his wife in the cart outside, and said to her, "I will run over him and kill him"—he then took hold of the gentleman's legs, and dragged him out into the road—I ran in to tell Mr. Chipperton he was going to kill him, and I saw no more—I afterwards saw the some gentleman dead at the hospital—after he was drugged out from the path to the road he was taken back again—Mr. Chipperton then put up his shutters.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I drag him out by the arms? A. By his legs—did not see the gentleman follow you.
JANE MCBROWN . I am the wife of McBrown, North End, labourer—on Saturday, 28th March, I went into Mr. Chipperton's for some beer for my supper, and met the prisoner and a strange man behind him—the prisoner said, "What are you following me for?"—I did not hear the gentleman make any reply, but the prisoner struck him in the face or cheast—he fell inside the door, and the prisoner then throued him out into the yard—I did not see the gentleman move again—the prisoner brought a pint of beer into the road and threw part of it into the man's face, saying, "Take that, you sod I"—he took the remainder of the beer to his wife in the road, and said that he would run over the gentleman—he then dragged the gentleman out of the yard, on to the curb stone, with his legs in the road; and then went to the horse's head and led it and the cart towards the man, who was still lying down—Hunt lifted the gentleman's legs and put them on the path—I afterwards saw the gentleman dead at the hospital.
EMMA BROOKS . I am single, and live at Bushy Cottage, Teddington—I was housekeeper to Mr. Augustus Thomas John Bullock, who was a lieutenant in the Navy—he left home in good health on the 28th March, 10.40—I saw him on the following Thursday, at the West London Hospital,
dead—I never saw him drunk—I have been his housekeeper since last August—he never drunk much at home.
EDWARD REEVE . I live at Caldwell Villas, North Road, Fulham, and am a porter—I was opposite Mr. Chipperton's beer-house, and saw a horse and cart outside—a woman was driving—she stopped the cart a short distance from the house, and the prisoner went and got up in the cart, spoke to the woman and said, "Give me hold of those reins"—she said, "Oh, don't; you will kill the man"—he said that he would run over him—I saw nobody in the road then—he turned the horse's head round—I saw somebody lying in the road, and when the prisoner got out of the cart, he stooped down and picked the man up—I cannot say whether the man was on the road or on the path at that time—Hunt stood at the corner—the prisoner picked the gentleman up, and Hunt asked the prisoner if he should help him carry the gentleman—he said no, he could carry him in by himself—he carried him into the little yard at the front of the house which is paved with bricks, and dropped him down with his head towards the form on the brick floor—he fell on his back heavily—his legs were on the ground, and the prisoner said, "Lie there, if you pull a knife out to me, I will kill you"—the gentleman did not speak—the prisoner went a few steps on and kicked the gentleman's legs under the form—he appeared lifeless.
Prisoner. This man was not there at all till I got up in the cart. Witness. I am sure I was.
MARY ANN ELLIOTT . I lire at 12, Star Lane, North End, Fulham—on 20th March, between 10.30 and 11, I was outside Chipperton's beer-shop, and saw the prisoner—I did not see the commencement, but I saw the gentleman lying in the yard, with his head towards the window and his legs towards the road—the prisoner came out with a pint of beer, threw it in the man's face, and took the rest to his wife, who was in the cart—he said, "Take that, you sod! "—he went back to the road, where the gentleman was, and said, "You sod, I'll run over you"—he took him by the legs and dragged him out on to the path, with his legs in the road—after he had put him in that position, he went towards the cart—Mrs. Hunt screamed out, and I went away.
JOHN WYMAN . I am a house surgeon at the East London Hospital—on 29th March I examined the deceased—he was alive, but perfectly insensible, and gradually sinking—he died two hours afterwards—I saw two bruises on his forehead, a bruise on one arm, and on one leg—I made a post-mortem examination two days afterwards—I found a fracture of the upper and back part of the skull, upon which a large quantity of blood had effused on the brain—the fracture might be caused by a fall or a blow—I was before the Magistrate, and heard Hunt give his testimony—I think a blow, causing him to fall on his back and head, would be calculated to produce that fracture—the fracture, if caused by the blow, must have been given where the fracture was—the two bruises on the forehead were only external—effusion would take place very rapidly after a blow or a fall, as a large vessel was wounded in the region of the back part of the skull—insensibility would take place in a few minutes—with such an injury as that, intoxication will not make any difference.
Battersea Arms, Fulham Road—I was in plain clothes—I told him I was a policeman, and should take him for causing the death of a gentleman, name unknown, by violently assaulting him—a person in the road said, "Don't say nothing"—he made no answer—I took him to the station.
Prisoner's Defence. The gentleman asked me to give him a lift. I saw he was intoxicated, and told him to go about his business. He followed me with half a pot of beer. He pushed against me and I resisted. He was going to strike me because I would not give him a ride; that was all.
The prisoner received a good character. GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. BRADLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' panal Servitude .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1868.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD Defended
GRACE HAWKEY . I am the wife of Thomas Hawkey, and live at 23, Brockman Street—I left home about 12.30 on Good Friday afternoon and locked my house securely up—I returned about 9 and found the street door broken open—upon going into the back bed room I found two desks broken open—I had left them looked up in the front room when I went out—I also found that two drawers and three boxes had been broken open—I missed three spoons, two brooches, and other articles, to the value about 30l., the property of my husband—I also missed 11l. and some silver from a desk—I immediately gave information to the police—I have seen some of the property and identified it.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you know them? A. By having them in my possession—there is no mark on them, that I am aware of, but I am certain of them.
ANN MARIA HIGMANN . I was on a visit to the prosecutrix at that time—I went out with her and saw her lock the door—on my return I found two boxes broken open and I missed several articles—this shawl (produced) is mine, I missed it when I got back.
RICHARD PARKER (Policeman N 817). On the Saturday following Good Friday I went to the prosecutrix' house and found it had been broken into—about 1 o'clock on 17th April I saw the prisoners leave 80, Shaftesbury Street, together—I followed them and took the male prisoner in custody—I said I should take him for breaking into a house in Brockman Street—he said he knew nothing about it—he said "I have no doubt you have seen me in bad company, but a friend has done this for me."
CHRISTOPHER GOULD (Policeman N 12). About 1.30 on 17th April; I took the female prisoner at 80, Shaftesbury Street—I told her I should apprehend her for being concerned in breaking into a house in Brockman
Street—she said "Very well"—I then searched the room and found the property produced—I asked her how she got possession of them, she said "They belong to me and my husband"—there was no one else with her—the two prisoners had been living there about three weeks.
Cross-examined. Q. How did you know they lived there? A. I had seen them through the kitchen window—other persons lived in the house—the kitchen was only occupied by the two prisoners—the female opened the door for me—I had been watching the house, and had seen them go out before—she said she occupied the kitchen—the things were all in a box.
Henrietta Smith's Defence. I did not know they were stolen or dishonestly got by.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
THOMAS SADGROVE . I am a shirt dresser, at 66, Shaftesbury Street—on the 17th March I left my place at 11 o'clock at night; and left between eighty and ninety dozen shirts all safe—my father and mother and one of the hands I left in the house—in the morning I found about six dozen of the shirts, value 15l., gone—these two (produced) I identify as part of the goods—I know them by a private mark on the band.
Cross-examined. Q. Who put those marks on? A. The firm where I have them from to dress, so that we may pack them up in dozens—we put different marks on according to the quality—I had not began to dress, because they were in an unfinished state—one of these shirts has been worn and the other has not—they had been wetted—preparing for bleaching—they were taken away wet.
CAROLINE SADGROVE . I am sister of the last witness—about 12.30, on 17th March, I fastened the house up safe—in the morning I came down, about 7 o'clock, and found six dozen shirts had been taken—these two shirts are part of those that were taken—one has been worn.
RICHARD WADE . I am porter to the prosecutor—on 18th March, at 5.40, I went to work at his house—I was the first there—I found' the street door bolted, and it was opened by the prosecutor's father—I went into the back workshop, and then into the kitchen—I saw a lot of shirts lying about, and I made a communication to my master—I saw the back door open when I got there—it is fastened with a lock and chain—the window in the back kitchen was open.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you examine the remainder of the house? A. No—I did not find any marks at all—I should think the door was opened from the outside—there was no one inside who would open it.
RICHARD PARKER (Policeman N 317). I went to the prosecutor's workshop—I found that an entrance had been effected from the front garden, and I think through the window—the prisoner lives in the same street as the prosecutor—the window could be pushed open—there was no catch—there is a low wall at the bottom of the garden—it is easy to go from the prisoner's place to the back door—the prisoner was wearing this shirt when I apprehended him—the other one was found in the house.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you find the window open? A. No, it was down; but I saw that it could be opened from the outside.
and found this shirt in the kitchen, in the draw—I knew the prisoner resided there—I had seen him with the woman there.
Cross-examined. Q. These two shirts were all you found there? A. Yes, the wall at the bottom of the garden was easy to get over—it is about three and a half feet high, and leads into the back of the prosecutors premises.
GUILTY of Receiving .
He was further charged with having been before convicted, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Panale Servitude .
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN HOSKINS . I am a labourer, and live at Poplar—about 8.30, on 27th April, I was in High Street, and saw the prisoner and some other persons there—when I came up to them one of them gave me a above against Donovan, and he caught me, by the collar—I was thrown on my back and my handkerchief was taken by one of them—I cannot say who—a constable came up and I gave him into custody for knocking me down—he said he would break my jaw, or something like that—I was not drunk—I had had a pint or two of beer—I always have three or four pints a day, and am not the least effected by it.
ROBERT PAXTON (Policeman K 223). I saw a crowd and went up and saw the prisoner standing in front of the prosecutor, who charged him with knocking him down and stealing his handkerchief—there were a few children there, and a lot of roughs.
COURT. Q. Were there many persons there? A. About forty, and the prisoner amongst them—no one attempted to get away—the prosecutor had had a little drop too much to drink, but he gave a straightforward account of himself at the station—he was not exactly sober.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—I did not touch the man; I saw him sitting on the ground with some children round him; I said so to the policeman.
MESSRS. POLAND and WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE the Defence.
HENRY POWELL JONES . I am cashier at Messrs. Martin and Co., Bankers, Lombard Street—we have a customer of the name of Ali Suave—I produce a book with his signature, written on the 31st March, 1868, when the account was opened—these six cheques are cheques which have been paid on his account—on the 7th of April, this cheque for 200l. was presented for payment, about 3.45—I compared it with the signature in the book and did not pay it, because I considered the signature was not regular—I then returned the cheque—I first wrote on it—I asked the gentleman who presented it his name, and he gave me a card with the name of "Thomas and Wood, Solicitors, "upon it—shortly afterwards I received this telegram (Read—"From Ali Suave to Martin's Bank, Lombard Street I have lost one leaf of my cheque book. See my signature, Ali Suave")—on the following day I went to 178, New Kent Road—I found it was an office, with "Mr.
Wood, Solicitor" on the door—I there saw the prisoner, who presented the cheque.
NICHOLAS WHITE . I live at 178, New Kent Road, and am manager to Mr. Wood, a money lender—I took this cheque to the bank—a person gave it me who I had seen at the office previously, who I know by sight but not by name—it was not Mr. Wood—the police officer made a communication to me two or three days afterwards, and I gave him the cheque.
ALI SUAVE (Interpreted). I live at 20, Langham Street, Regent Street, and am a newspaper editor and proprietor—on the 7th April, about 7.30, I started from Charing Cross Railway Station—I was put into the same carriage with the prisoner—he entered into conversation with me, and asked my name and country—I told him my name, and said I came from Constantinople—the prisoner said he was from America—he then told me he was going to Belgium, and then to Constantinople, and he would like to know the name of an hotel, or a place where strangers generally stopped—he then took a pencil and piece of paper out of his pocket, and I wrote my name, my address in London and Paris, and the place I recommended at Constantinople—there was no one else in the carriage then—at the first stopping place after the train left Charing Cross, three men got into the same carriage—when it had started again, one of the persons pulled out some playing cards from his pocket, and commenced to play—the prisoner said to me, "See what I have done; I have turned the end of the card that will be the winning card; if you place money on it, we shall gain"—he then put a bank note of France on it—the prisoner seemed to gain a good deal of money—he then said, "See how much money I am gaining, why do not you join?" and he turned the end of the card down—I said repeatedly I did not know how to play at cards, and that I had no money, such as they had, and it was not lawful in my religion to play any gambling or game—before we got to Dover, he put a large quantity of money on a card, and then turned round to me and said, "See how much I have lost"—he then said, "You told me to play, and you are my partner; you must pay part of the money, and he seized me by the chest—the other persons took no notice of what he was doing—seeing that I was in such company, I leaned back in the carriage—he then took from my side pocket a purse containing six Napoleons and a few francs—in the side pocket of my coat there was a small portfolio, with a 5l. note in it; he took that also; and he took all my papers from a courier bag I had—he did not examine them then—the cheque was amongst them—the train stopped near Dover, and the four men got out—I do not know the name of the place—I had this cheque with me, loose, and that was taken—I had left my cheque book at home—before I left my house, I had written the 7th April on it, and the word "two"—I wanted to write hundred, but I did not know how to spell it, and I left it in that state—as soon as I left the train, I went into the telegraph office, thinking I might send a telegram, but I could not write it in the English language—I then went out of the telegraph office, and walked to the pier, and caught the boat to go to France—on my way to Amiens, I was in the carriage with a gentleman, and with his assistance I wrote this telegram—I received a communication from my clerk on the 10th April. telling me of the occurrence, and I returned to London the next day, and made a communication to the police—on the 14th I went to Cannon Street Station, with two police officers, and I pointed out the prisoner to them—the
moment he saw me he moved on, and went into the hotel, and I knew him—the signature on this cheque is not my writing—the six other cheques are in my writing.
Cross-examined. Q. When you wrote your name and address, did you write it correctly? A. All my cheques and any communication with my bankers I write with a large "A" at the beginning of my name—all other communications I write with a small "a"—I spell it the same always—my clerk was to meet me at Charing Cross and get the cheque cashed and send me the money to Paris, but when I got to Charing Cross there was no time—one of these lines was on the cheque when it was stolen, but not the other one—when the four persons got out of the railway carriage I lost sight of them directly, and never saw any of them again till I saw the prisoner in custody—if he went over in the same boat I did not see him—I went alone to the telegraph office at Dover—when I went in I saw a small desk, and pen and ink—I began to write "I have lost," and I could not proceed—I do not know whether there was anybody behind the desk—I was not in company with the prisoner in the office—I did not have my cheque-book with me—I left it at my house in London—I did not tear a cheque out of the book in the office—I had no book, and did not tear a leaf out when the prisoner seised me by the chest he took out a revolver, but I do not bring that charge against him—he said "I have lost my money through your advice, and therefore pay me back what I have lost" and he raised the revolver—I did not pay attention to what he did with it—I only saw it, and leaned back when I saw the other persons did not interfere—I told Mr. Mullens that a pistol was produced, but I told him not to bring it as a charge—as soon as I left the carriage I saw a telegraph office before me—I had to cross the rails.
MR. W. SLEIGH. Q. Had you a conversation with Sir Richard Mayne about this matter? A. I went to him—I think I mentioned about the revolver to him—I did not see Mr. Mullens till after the examination at the police court—I left the cheque book at my house where I live, not at my office—I wore a fez on the journey, and a large Turkish cloak—I saw a gentleman on board the boat with, a fez on, he shook hands with me, and spoke very often with the captain.
JOHN SHORE (Detective Sergeant). On 14th April, about 6 o'clock, I was at the Cannon Street Railway Station, in company with the prosecutor and a police constable—I saw the train come in from Dover, and the prisoner got out from a first class carriage—he came towards me and passed me, and was pointed out to me by the prosecutor—I went up to him and said "Hamilton, I want to speak to you; of course you know I am a police officer"—he said "Yes"—I was in plain clothes at the time—I told him I should apprehend him on a charge of having robbed the person he saw on the platform, of a 5l. note and other moneys, and also a blank cheque, during their journey from Cannon Street to Dover—he said "I did go to Dover with the gentleman I saw on the platform, about a week ago, but he must be a wicked man to say that I robbed him; he played at cards with me and my friends, and I lent him 100l., which he lost; I lent him another 100l., and he lost that. He promised when he arrived at Dover he would give me a cheque for that amount. When we got to Dover he went to the telegraph office with me, and there wrote a cheque for the 200l., it was very badly written. I gave it to Mr. Wood, New Kent Road, to get it cashed. It can be proved by the telegraph clerk, and all the porters at the
railway station. What is more, I went on board the boat, and went to Calais with him; we went to a cafe in Calais, and took breakfast; he had some coffee"—I knew the prisoner—I then took him into custody.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose you made a report of his statement? A. I made a report to the Commissioner—I did not make any inquiries at Dover.
JOHN RICHARDSON . I am station-master at Charing Cross Railway Station—in the month of April, the morning express left London for Dover at 7.25 a.m.—it was due at Dover at 9.30—the boat leaves about fifteen minutes after the arrival of the train—there is a train which leaves Dover at 12 at noon, and arrives in London at 2.40.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE called the following Witnesses for the Defence:—
THOMAS PRESCOTT . I am a porter at the Dover Town Railway Station—the train comes in there first and then goes on to the Dover Pier—there is a train which gets in at 9.25; that is the morning mail—it does not stop till it gets to Dover Town—on 7th April I saw that train arrive—I saw the Turk in a first-class carriage, with the prisoner and three other persons—they got out—the Turk turned, and shook hands with the three gentlemen—he asked me for the telegraph office—I showed him where it was, and I saw him and the prisoner go in—I took charge of their things down to the pier, at the prisoner's suggestion—they came down the pier together, and they said they were going by the Calais boat; and I took the things out of the carriage and went down to the boat—I afterwards saw the boat start—I saw them together when it started—before they started, the Turk produced some cigarettes and gave one to the prisoner, and they smoked together—they appeared to be very friendly indeed—there is a policeman stationed at the pier—they passed close to him as they went to the boat—I am still a porter at the station, and have been so for ten yean—I was spoken to by Mr. Wontner, on behalf of the prosecution, in the presence of the station-master—I was examined at the police-court.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you seen the prisoner before? A. Yes, several times during the last sixteen or seventeen months, as travelling up and down the line in company with the other three gentlemen—I have not known them as card-players—I am not aware that card-playing goes on—no complaints have ever been, made to me about it—it is my duty to call the train through, and to let persons out of the carriages—I never saw card-tables in the carriages; that I mean to swear—the prisoner and the Turk were the last to go on board the boat—there were persons on board walking about the deck—I did not see anyone else with a red fez on—I saw them go into the telegraph office—they met me afterwards, and walked down the pier—I had no communication with the guard or the telegraph clerk whatever.
SAMUEL CARTER . I am clerk in the telegraph office at Dover Station—on 7th April, the prisoner and the Turk came into the office at 9.30—the prisoner asked me for a pen and a piece of paper—I handed him a pen, and he gave it to the Turk—the Turk then opened a small courier bag that was hanging by his side, and took out a cheque book, and commenced writing on one of the cheques—the prosecutor asked me how to spell "two"—I wrote on a piece of paper, "T-w-o," and saw the Turk write it—he wrote something else on the cheque, which I could not see, as I went round the other side—he then tore the cheque out and handed it to the prisoner—no
application was made to me to write a telegram—he put the cheque-book back in his bag again—I then opened the door, and watched them down to the bottom of the station, where they hurried off to the boats—there is an interpreter at the station.
Cross-examined. Q. When were you first spoken to about this matter? A. A day or two after, by Mr. Mullens, about the 10th April—I was next spoken to by Mr. Wontner at the police court—my evidence was taken down in writing, and I signed it—the cheque book was a pink colour—I can't say what the colour of the cheque was—I did not say at the police court that the cheque book was light red, I said that the cheque was—I gave the prisoner a piece of paper, and he gave it to the Turk—it was not a telegram form, it was a memorandum—the prisoner wrote "too" on the paper, and I went and wrote "two"—I said before the Magistrate, "Prosecutor asked me how to spell the word 'two,' I told him; he wrote it on the paper I had given him, and handed it to the gentleman, who wrote it in the cheque book"—the cheque was pink, with lines across it—I saw it at the police court.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE Q. How old are you? A. Nineteen on 19th of last April—I have been in the service of the company six years—I was a messenger first, and now I am clerk—I have seen the prisoner before, once or twice—I told Mr. Mullens what I have told you to-day—the prosecutor asked me how to spell "two"—I said, "t-w-o" first, and then I went round and saw he had written "too," and then I wrote it—that is what I said at the police court.
CHARLES HEMING . I am a police constable at Dover—on the 7th of April I was standing at the gangway when the Vivid went across to Calais—I saw the passengers go on board—I saw the Turk go on board with the prisoner—they were together, and seemed to be very friendly—I saw the railway porter come up with the luggage—they were still together when the boat started—as they went to the boat they passed quite close to me—I was in uniform.
Cross-examined. Q. Immediately after they got on board, the boat started, did it not? A. No; not for three or four minutes—they came nearly the last on board—I did not see anyone else with a red cap on board—the luggage is registered through—the passengers do not have to look after it.
GEORGE MORRIS CONRADI . I am steward of the Vivid—I have been in the service fourteen years—I shift about from boat to boat—I know the prisoner—I have seen him at Dover, and he has gone across with me several times—I saw him on 7th April—he crossed over on that day with the Turkish gentleman who was examined—they were in company during the crossing, standing together, and they appeared to be on very friendly terms.
Cross-examined. Q. How was the Turk dressed? A. He had a greyish coat, and a hood to it—I have been in Court during the time he was examined.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN FRANCIS MITCHELL (City Policeman 858). A little after 6.0, on the evening of 15th April, I was on duty in Cheapside, and saw the prisoner following a gentleman who was smoking a pipe—I followed the prisoner and his companion to Mansion House Place—there the gentleman took the pipe from his mouth, put it in the case, and put it in his pocket—I followed them to Cornhill, where the prisoner put his hand into the gentleman's pocket, and took out the pipe and case—I caught hold of him with it in his hand—I took him to the station, and the prosecutor followed.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not take it.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted on the 14th June, 1867, to which he PLEADED GUILTY— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
WILLIAM HODSON FALL . On the afternoon of 7th April I was in King Street, Tower Hill, With my brother, looking at some tumbling, and I felt a tug at my guard—I put my hand in my waistcoat pocket, and found my watch was gone—I told my brother—someone was pointed out to me, and my brother laid hold of the prisoner, and dragged him into a shop—I found my watch in his left-hand waistcoat pocket—he said, "Somebody must have put it there"—I gave him in charge—I had never seen him before—this is my watch.
GEORGE HAWKES . I was in King Street on this evening, about to enter a shop—I saw the prisoner there, and some other persons: they were close to he prosecutor, and I saw the watch pass into the prisoner's hand—I let him go a few yards, and then I said to the prosecutor, "That is the man who has got your watch"—I caught hold of him—he was dragged into a shop, and I found the watch in his pocket.
Prisoner's Defence. Someone put it in my pocket: I did not know it was there.
GUILTY of Receiving. He was further charged with having been before convicted at Westminster on 9th June, I860, to which he PLEADED GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY:—
456. SAMUEL DROVER (22) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling house of Louisa Rogers, and stealing five spoons, and other articles, and also to having been before convicted.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
457. JOHN ANDERSON (16), and JAMES WHITE (16) , to stealing a purse and 8s. 6d., the property of Maria Young, from her person, having been before convicted.— ANDERSON**— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment .—WHITE**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
459. WILLIAM BRADSHAW (23) , to stealing a watch, the property of Ayrton Chaplin, from his person, having been before convicted.**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, April 7th, 1868.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY STOCK . I live at Mill Hill, Acton, in the county of Middlesex, and am a builder—I know the prisoner, and a person of the name of Hart—in December, 1867, I had a house and shop to let in Mill Hill—a Mr. Hart called—I ultimately let him the house for a term of three years, at 30l. a year—he referred me for reference to a certain firm from whom I received the letter produced—I could not swear it is in Meyer's handwriting—the house was fitted up by Hart, and goods were brought there by a carman named Bailey—the house was not finished at the time, and I took care of the goods—about a fortnight or three weeks after the delivery of the goods, Meyer came with a horse and cart and took the goods away—he said that Fenianism being in action, he was afraid of the goods being there—they were the same goods brought by Bailey—on the day they were taken away another lot of goods were delivered, by a carrier I don't know—there was a label on, which Meyer took off.
Prisoner. Q. You say I came with a horse and cart; was Hart with me? A. Yes, he came afterwards—I did not see Hart put the bales in the cart—I did not say I did before the Magistrate—I said he was outside—I do not recollect a, man named Leopard, telling me he had opened different shops for Mr. Hart—he did tell me he had come from Sheffield, from, a place he had opened—I met Leopard once, a few days after the shop at Acton was shut up—I was in company with Mr. Ladell of High Holborn—I introduced Leopard to Mr. Ladell as a late clerk of Hart's—Leopard afterwards told me he had only been employed about three weeks, and had not opened many shops—I never said I thought Leopard was as bad as Hart—Hart never told me you were his partner—when I saw you at Acton so often, I don't know what I thought you were, but I think you have acted wrong towards me.
MR. METCALFE. Q. What name did Hart give Meyer to you? A. He said once he was a relation of Baron Rothschild—I never knew his right name, nor that the firm of Ladell and Co., was connected with him—the shop remained open about half a quarter—I understood Ladell and Co. were electro-platers—a man representing them came to Acton for money for goods they had supplied—that is the agreement (produced).
SAMUEL HART . I was a clerk for five or six years in a firm of which the prisoner was manager—the thing terminated and we both left—I was afterwards employed in Wood Street, Cheapside—in November last I met the prisoner at 86, Hatton Garden, where he was carrying on business as Ladell and Co.—he told me if I was doing nothing he should be pleased to do anything for me—he told me of the house at Acton, and said I ought to write for particulars, which I did—I told him I had no means, and he said, "Never mind that, you find the gentlemen I will find that"—he told me to refer Mr. Stock to him as a reference—he gave me this card (produced)—I saw no merchandize of any kind at Hatton Garden—there were two rooms on the ground floor—I wrote to Mr. Stock and ultimately took the house—the letter (produced) is Meyer's—he sent it himself—he
went to see if the house was a suitable one—the business he intended to carry on was that of a pawnbroker—when the house was taken he gave me a list of firms in the City from whom I was to purchase goods—I told him it was usual to pay cash in the first transaction, and he said I was to tell them I wanted to open a monthly account, and if they wanted a reference I was to give them the name of Haines and Co., Carpet Works, Thames Ditton—there are no carpet works at Thames Ditton—I went to Parnall's and gave them the card and reference, and an order for goods amounting to 70l.—I also gave them my own card—(Read—"S. Hart, Dealer, Jeweller, and General Salesman, Mill Hill Road, Acton, W.——Money advanced to any amount. Fire-proof Safes for the security of valuable property"). The goods were delivered at Mr. Stock's house because the shop was not finished—the prisoner afterwards removed them, as he said, because of a Fenian affray which had occurred at Acton—they were then taken to 18, Shadwell Road, Holloway, and the next morning removed to Hatton Garden—I went away to Manchester, and he wrote to me to say that he would send the goods again to Acton—I saw some of them there—I have not kept any of the letters which I received from the prisoner—I also went to Messrs. Dawes', upholsterers, at Upper Street, Islington, by the prisoner's directions, and ordered a set of drawing-room furniture, asking for credit, which the prisoner said I should be able to get, owing to his knowing Mr. Dawe junior—he said, "Tell them you are going to get married, and give them one of my cards"—I had been married two and a half years previous—I went and acted as he told me—I had no intention of committing bigamy—the bill for the furniture came to about 66l.—it was taken to his house at Shadwell Road—I told Messrs. Dawe that was my house—these goods were removed to Clapham a few days before Christmas—that was another of Meyer's houses—I took it for him, under very similar circumstances to the one at Acton—the letters produced are in the prisoner's handwriting—(Two letters were read, one from the prisoner to the landlord of the house at Clapham, dated 5th December, 1867; the other dated 18th December, 1867, was addressed to the landlord at the house at Acton. Both these letters recommended Mr. Hart as a tenant, and were signed "Ladell & Co."— the house at Holloway was given up when the goods were removed to Clapham—I went to Birmingham and was given into custody there on account of Meyer, who was then assuming the name of Martin Dale Morris—he represented himself as a solicitor—there was a little business done at Acton, but not much—Meyer took what money was taken—I went to Battersea, and saw some of the goods there—Mr. Brown, the detective, told me where to go.
Meyer. Q. You were with me when I went to fetch the goods away? A. Yes; I walked up and down—I went with the goods to your house—I have lived with a grandfather of mine about six years—his name was Eastman—that is my real name—I do not remember swearing my real name was Hart before the Magistrate—I must have misunderstood if I did—I did not say before the Magistrate I had not been charged with robbery at Luton by Mr. Butcher—(the depositions were referred to, in which the witness stated that his real name was Hart, and that he denied being charged with robbery at Luton)—I never went by the name of Pill, nor obtained goods under that name—I did not represent to you that my father was in a large way of business at Stafford—I have been employed by Mr. Kent, of Shrewsbury; but it is not true I was about to marry his sister, and was caught
robbing him at midnight before the wedding—I have been convicted in the name of Pill—I have been sentenced to hard labour twice—I went to Barnsley, but it was under your direction, to purchase a business for 4, 5000l.—I never told you I was going to join my father in business at Stafford—I was in the employment of Silver and Fleming before I came to you—I gave them the reference of Mr. Gibson, where I had been before—I served Mr. Gibton under the name of Eastman, and served Mr. Fleming under the name of Hart; but Mr. Fleming did not think it necessary to apply to Mr. Gibson in reference to me—I did take my goods away from a house in Dorset Street at midnight to avoid paying the rent—Mr. Fleming did not turn me out of his premises on that account—he said those private matters were not his business—I never offered to purchase works at Thames Ditton—I said to you at Birmingham, "I feel rather dissatisfied; tell me really whether you have capital at the bank"—I never stole your cheque—I fully intended to have no more to do with you when I found you had no account at the bank at Birmingham—I did open an account at the Consolidated Bank for you in the name of Mortimer—I never went in the name of Wren—I have gone in the name of Pullar.
Re-examined. Q. Can you say how the documents the prisoner has produced, or how his information about you, came into his possession? A. We were friends while at Mr. Gibson's, and I reposed confidence in him—I told him I had, been to Luton, and was dismissed from there—he offered to put me into business—I went to Barnsley to purchase a business, for which he promised to find capital—he sent me about the country, and to Manchester, purchasing goods for him on credit—it was to buy jewellery that I went to Birmingham—we raised about 85l. on the jewellery, and paid 80l. into the Charing Cross branch of the Consolidated Bank in London.
JOHN HAINES . I live at Thames Ditton, Surrey, and am a menufacturing chemist—I knew the prisoner first in November last—I wished to borrow 100l., and was introduced to him—while we were talking, he said he wished to start a Mr. Hart in business—I said I knew a Mr. Hart—he said it was his son, and asked me if I could give a reference, if needed—I said I did not think I could serve him, as the reference of a chemist would not suit a pawnbroker—he said it was only a matter of form and no doubt they would think his own reference sufficient, and not inquire of me—on the understanding that part cash was to be paid, I agreed to be a reference—he asked me to say I had had transactions with Mr. Hurt, which I declined to do—I wrote a similar letter to that produced—I wrote three altogether—I have nothing to do with carpets.
Prisoner. Q. When did you give the first reference? A. A day or two after I saw you—I never saw Hart—I do not remember which was the first of the three I gave—you gave me a cheque, but I could not get it cashed—a Mr. Baker introduced me to you.
JOSEPH THOMAS BARLOW . I am cashier to Messrs. Parnall, of 187, Bishopsgate Street—in the beginning of December, Hart came to our house and selected goods to the value of 76l.—he gave me his card; also Ladell & Co.'s card—we wrote to Messrs. Ladell, and received that letter (Read—"Messrs. R. & H. Parnall, 187, Bishopsgate Street Private. 88, Hatton Garden, E.C. 12th December, 1867. Gentlemen—In reply to your
memorandum of the 12th instant, we beg to say we can bear testimony to Mr. Hart. We have trusted him to the extent of 200l., and should not object to give him credit for 300l.")—we also wrote to Haines & Co., and received a letter, which we lost: it stated Hart was a trustworthy person—believing the reference, we sent the goods to Acton—they were to be paid for at the end of the month, and we were to receive two and a half per cent. for credit.
Prisoner. Q. You say the goods were sold on credit? A. Yes—they were sent in the ordinary way—the "Terms cash" is on the invoice—Mr. Hart was unknown to me—I did not ask Hart if he had been in business.
HENRY VALE . I am employed by Messrs. Parnall & Co.—I produce my delivery book—it contains an entry of the 13th December, 1867, of three trusses of goods, delivered to Mr. Hart at Acton—that is Harrington's signature.
THOMAS BELL . I am a carrier, living at Ealing—I delivered some goods at Mr. Stock's, at Acton, on 13th December—I met Hart and Meyer together after I had delivered them, and one of them asked me if I had anything for Acton—subsequently I delivered two other trusses.
Prisoner. Q. Had you ever seen me before that night? A. No—it was dark—I did not know Mr. Hart.
WALTER WILLIAM WRIGLEY . I am clerk to Messrs. Bousfield, clothiers—a man called on the 11th December, saying he was a pawnbroker—he gave up the reference of Ladell & Co., of Hatton Garden, and also Haines & Co., of Thames Ditton; I wrote to Thames Ditton, and received a favourable answer—I went to Ladell & Co., and saw the prisoner, who represented himself as Mr. Ladell—he said Hart was the son of a large pawnbroker in Millsom Street, Stafford; that he had known the father many years, and done business with him—he said Hart had 1500l. to start a business, and if he required it his father would advance another 1000l.—he also said we might safely trust him to the amount of 400l. or 500l.—in consequence of these representations the goods were supplied.
Prisoner. Q. Did you make a memorandum of the questions you asked Hart? A. No—you confirmed what he said in reference to his position—a letter was written to Hart asking him for payment on account—that was because I was hardly satisfied with the references, and thought it better to get something on account.
MARY ANN HART . I am the wife of Samuel Hart—I have known the prisoner since the 23rd December last—he called at our house, at Camberwell, on 30th December, at 7.30 in the morning—my husband told me I was to go to Acton to act as housekeeper there for Meyer, and the things were taken in the van—we went to Hatton Garden at 8.0 the same day, and had a conversation with the prisoner—the shop at Acton was opened on the 8th January—on the 11th Meyer brought some loose goods in a cart—he took the money out of the till—I took about 30s. out of the till for housekeeping expenses, by his instructions—I remember my husband going to Manchester—no goods came when he was away—I remember him going to Birmingham—Meyer said he was going on the continent—I gave Meyer the writ of Mr. Parnall on the 8th of February—he said it did not concern me—he told me then my husband was on the Continent—he told me to burn
some papers—he said he could not keep the shop open much longer, but nothing would be done that week—he said he was going to meet my husband, who was coming home on the Saturday—he left, and I did not see him again till the 13th—one evening, between the 7th and 13th, the shopman, Leopard, came in and told me not to worry about my husband, as he was out on bail—I thought he was on the Continent—the following day Leopard brought a message, in consequence of which I went to Shepherd's Bush—Meyer was there with a van—he said he wanted the goods to get money to get poor Sam out of trouble—the goods were taken away, and he promised to meet me that night—I waited at the place appointed but did not see him—I saw him on the 14th, at a coffee-house in Chancery Lone—he told me he had more important business to see after than my husband, and the goods were his, he should do as he liked with them.
Prisoner. Q. Did you swear before the Lord Mayor that your real name was Hart? A. No; I answered to that name—I went to see Mr. Butcher at Luton on the 23rd of last month—I told him you had dragged my husband into trouble—I don't know Mr. Pill—I received letters for, but never saw a Mr. Pill—I gave Leopard money to take care of while I went in search of you and my husband—I never charged him with stealing it—I have gone by the name of Eastman.
Re-examined. Q. When did you receive letters for Mr. Pill? A. In July of last year—it was for about three weeks.
FREDERICK TOWERS . In January last, I was engaged, in the presence of Meyer, at 86, Hatton Garden, as a salesman to Mr. Hart—a shop was opened at Mill Hill Road, Acton, on the 8th—I remained there about a fortnight—Meyer came every day and took an interest in the concern, looking into the books, &c.
Prisoner. Q. Mr. Hart was away When I came? A. Yes; I thought you were his friend—I did not think you were his partner.
WILLIAM LEOLPARD . I live at 44, Amberley Road, Harrow—I was engaged by Meyer, at 86, Hatton Garden, in January last, and was to go to his shop at Acton, and take the management—I remained there a fortnight—Meyer came there frequently—once he said he was going to Birmingham—he used to take the money into the other room—he said he wanted to dispose of the goods to enable him to bail Hart, and he took them away on the Saturday—they were worth about 400l.—the housekeeper paid my wages.
Prisoner. Q. Was I there at the time? A. No—I knew Mr. Hart six months before I went there—I may have said I opened a good many shops in the country for Mr. Hart.
RICHARD SMITH . I am an upholsterer; and live at Dudley Place, Clapham—in December of last year, I let the house, No. 2, Morley Terrace, Clapham, to Mr. Hart—he referred me to Messrs. Ladell and Co.—I wrote lo them, and received that letter—(Read—"Dear Sir, Mr. Hart holds the position of traveller in our establishment, and is therefore placed in circumstances enabling him to take a house at a rental such as you mention in your memorandum. In fact, we should like to let, him a similar dwelling had we one to offer him. Yours truly, Ladell and Co.")—Hart had told me ho was a traveller at Ladell's—we sent a carpet to the house—the house was taken on an agreement for three years—they left it in two months, without notice.
Prisoner. Q. Are you the owner of the house? A. No, only the agent; Mr. Hammond is the owner.
WILLIAM JOHN SLOPER DAWE . I am an upholsterer, carrying on business at Upper Street, Islington—on 28th November, Hart called at my place, and ordered some furniture—he said he was about to get married, and would pay in a month—he referred me to Ladell and Co., of 86, Hatton Garden—he said he was in their employ as traveller, and was receiving 150l. a year—we sent the goods to 18, Shadwell Road—the bill amounted to 66l. 4s.
JOSEPH ODLING DAWS . I am partner in the firm in Upper Street, Islington—I went to 86, Hatton Garden, in consequence of a communication I received from them—I saw a boy, who introduced me to Meyer—I told him a man named Hart had applied for furniture and for credit, and asked Meyer if he knew Hart—he said Hart was their traveller, and also would have money left him, about 500l., I think—he expressed surprise at Hart having such good furniture—I believed him, and the goods were supplied—I have seen the goods at a pawnbroker's in Fore Street.
Prisoner. Q. When did you supply these goods? A. In December—the first application was in November.
THOMAS BUNCE CLERK . I am a fishmonger, carrying on business at 16, Brown Street, Bryanstone Square—about two months ago, Meyer asked me to sell some furniture at a pawnbroker's, named Russell—I fetched it from Battersea, and sold it for 25l.—I pawned them in the first name I thought of—Meyer received the money.
Prisoner. Q. How long had you known Mrs. Hart? A. Three or four years—the proceeds were to go to pay a Mr. Kirby, of Birmingham, and other creditors of Hart.
ANTHONY WILSON MONGER (City Policeman). I know the constable Brown, City 910—he is in the hospital, and unable to attend this Court—the prisoner had an opportunity to cross-examine him on his trial—I was present.
The deposition of Charles Brown was read, which detailed his taking Meyer into custody concealed in bed with two children.
The Prisoner, in his Defence, alluded to the contradictory evidence of Mr. and Mrs. Hart, and desired to call several witnesses to prove that Hart had been previously convicted, had led altogether a very dishonest life, and assumed various names. THE COURT ruled this evidence did not bear on the present charge, and could not be admitted to contradict Hart, as he had acknowledged having been previously convicted.
Five Years' Penal Servitude .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1868.
Before Mr. Justice Willes.
MESSRS. COOPER and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. COLLINS, defended Brown.
at the back of our house, feeding my rabbits, I heard screams, in consequence of which I ran out, and when I got about six yards from our door, I saw three men on the top of the prosecutor—the prisoner Brown was one of the men, he had his hand on the prosecutor's mouth—the other two were hitting him shamefully about the body and legs with their fists—I did not see their faces—Brown had one hand over the man's mouth, and the other in his left side pocket—he took it out and said "I got it," and walked away—I followed him as far as the corner of the Broadway—the other two men came up to Brown and said "There is a b——sod for you, to halloa like that"—meaning Taylor—I saw two policemen and said, "Take these three men in charge"—Brown crossed the road and said "Good night," and walked up Carteret Street—I followed him to about the middle of Carteret Street, and told the policeman to take him for a robbery—the policeman told the other constable to go round the other way, and just as he got to the top of Park Street, he was caught—I went with him to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Was it dark or light on that night? A. Rather dark, there were not many people about—nobody was in the street at the time I first saw this—I had not seen the prosecutor before that night—I did not see him take off one of the men's caps—I was close to Brown when this happened—the men never spoke to me nor I to them—I pretended to look another way when I came up—the other men beat the prosecutor about his legs and belly—when they got up Brown went first and the other two came running after him; I kept about a yard and a half from them—I was not above a yard from Brown when I told the constable to take him into custody, he must have heard what I said—it was after what I said, that he said "Good night" and crossed the road—the constables were not in uniform.
RICHARD ROWLAND (Policeman A 188). On the night of 11th March, I was in the Broadway, with Rollins (311A), the last witness came up to us and said "Take these three men up"—I took no notice of him at the moment—I saw three men—as soon as he said that, Brown crossed from the other two and went up Carteret Street—the last witness said, "That is the man that has got it"—I then sent the other constable up Carteret Street, to follow Brown with the witness, and I went round Dartmouth Street, and took Brown at the top—I took him back to the prosecutor and he said "That is the man"—he then fell back insensible and was taken to Westminster Hospital—he was very much injured.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know Owen? A. I did not know him before this occasion—I might have seen him—I was not on duty on this occasion.
CHARLES WINKWORTH , M.D. I am house physician at the Westminster Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there about 11.0. on the night of 11th March—he could not speak, but appeared to be slightly insensible—the only perceptible injury was a red mark across the front of the throat—he was very seriously hurt—that red mark was caused by pressure—his breathing was very difficult—he could scarcely swallow—he appeared as if suffering from congestion of the brain—he had frequently convulsions of the limbs, and his state appeared so dangerous at one time that a Magistrate came and took his depositions—he was not out of danger for more than a week—he is still suffering slightly from the effects of the injury, but is convalescent.
Cross-examined. Q. Had he been drinking? A. There was no smell of spirit about him, there was a slight smell of beer.
JOHN TAYLOR . I live at 22, Great Peter Street, Westminster—on Wednesday, the 11th March, I met Brown, in the middle of the day, at the Black Horse public house, York Street—I did not know him—I might hare seen him before, but not to recognize him—he wanted to pick up a quarrel with me in the house—I did not want to have any quarrel with him, and I stood a pot of beer—I took the 6d. and paid for it—I then left the house, and went up Tothill Street to the Cock—Brown followed me, and two others who are not in custody, and a man named Pugh, who was let off yesterday—Brown wanted to pick up a quarrel with me in the Cock, and I stood some more beer on purpose to get rid of them—I might have been there half an hour—I left the house to get rid of them, and went to the White Horse—they followed me there, and there I saw Forrest—they wanted to hare a quarrel there, at least Brown did—Forrest did not enter into it—I stood some more beer there—it was about 10.30 when I left the White Horse—I was sober—I had about 8s. or 9s. in my left trousers pocket at that time—I went down New Tothill Street, and when I got by the iron posts at the end a person came up behind and caught hold of my right arm—I turned round, and saw it was Brown—the other two, who have not been caught, were with him—Forrest was not with them—he was about six or seven yards behind—Brown immediately caught hold of my throat with both hands, I believe—the other two helped him—they caught hold of me, and knocked me down on the curb—I fell with violence—I then felt a pressure on me—I became insensible, and knew no more till a few days after, when I was in the hospital—Forrest was not one of the persons who at ticked me—when I came to myself at the hospital my things were in a box underneath the bed, but there was no money in the trousers pocket—my cap was gone, but this cap (produced) was in the box instead—it belonged to Forrest, I had seen him wearing it.
Cross-examined. Q. What time did you go out on this drinking on that days? A. I cannot tell exactly—it was before dinner; before 12 I went for a bit of a walk in the park at first—it might have been before 12 that I was in the Black Horse—I had a sovereign in my pocket when I went out—I spent the whole of it with the exception of the 8s. or 9s.—I don't remember fighting Brown that day, or offering a man 5s. to fight him—I was quite quiet—there were five men altogether with me—I know Pugh; indeed I know them all except Brown—Pugh was no friend of mine—from the middle of the day till 10.30 at night I was in different public-houses drinking—I did not dream that the men were going to hurt me—they kept following me, and that was the reason I went into the different houses—I did not, at the last public-house, take up a man's cap and run off with it, nor did Brown come up and ask me to give it up—I did not strike Brown—I was not above ten minutes' walk from my own house all day—I did not think of going home.
Forrest. Q. You say I did not touch you? A. No; you were six or seven yards from me when I was attacked, standing by yourself—I halloaed out with all my might for assistance—I saw that cap on your head on the Thursday privious to this, at Hunt's lodging-house—I took particular notice of the cap; I had it in my hand—the first time I saw you that day was at Milson's public-house—I told the police about the cap as soon as I was well enough, when I found it in the box—there was a quarrel outside Milson's—I do not
know whether I was "knocked down or not there—I was not drunk—I told one of the policemen that I had got Chelsea's cap; that is your nickname—I do not remember saying to you that it was b——hard—I had been treating the men all day and now they wanted to rob me—I remember speaking to you, but I cannot remember the words I said.
EDWARD WOOLLEY . I am potboy at the Cook public-house, To thill Street—on the night of the 11th March, about 10 o'clock I was in the tap room—the prosecutor was there by himself—four men came in after; Brown was one—the prosecutor went out—the others got before him—I heard Brown talking about hitting him in the ear-hole—they went out talking—I did not see Forrest that evening.
Cross-examined. Q. How long were they in your house? A. About three quarters of an hour—they did not seem to be drunk.
GEOGRE UPSON (Policeman B 119). I took Forrest into custody on the night of the 26th March—I told him it was for being concerned with others in robbing a man named Taylor, in Tothill Streets—he said, "I had nothing at all to do with it; I was in Milson's (that is the White Hart public-house) when Taylor was there; four men came in there: Taylor complained to me that after treating the men they wanted to strike him; they left the house, and as soon as they got outside I saw one of the men strike Taylor in the ear, and then they all went away together"—I took Forrest to the hospital, where Taylor was in bed—he looked at him and said,` "You are one of the men who were there when I was assaulted and robbed"—Forrest said "No, I was not, Taylor; you know I was not"—Taylor answered, "Yes you were, and I have got your cap here"—he then showed him this cap—Forrest said, "That is not my cap"—Taylor said, "I know it is"—I have not tried it on Forrest.
Forrest. Q. Did I not come Voluntarily to you, and ask how the man was getting on? A. No—I saw you at your lodging-house door, and crossed over—B 117 was with me—you did not ask me to take you to the hospital—you might have said, "You will hear what Taylor says"—you said "Taylor can say I was not there"—that was on the way to the hospital—you also said, "The potman at Millson's knows that I never left the house"—I know you are in the habit of lodging at different common lodging houses about that neighbourhood—I did not know where to find you—I looked for you.
DAVID BROOKS (Policeman B 129). On Wednesday night, the 11th March, I was on duty in Orchard Street, and saw five men come out of New Square, close to the White Horse—Forrest was one of those men—I had not seen him before that night, but I had seen him on previens occasions at the White Horse—Taylor was standing at the corner of New Square at the time I saw these five men—I saw Charlotte Moore afterwards, and had some conversation with her.
Cross-examined. Q. How far is New Square from Tothill Street? A. About two or three hundred yards.
Forrest. Q. Can you swear positively I was one of the men? A. Yes; I believe you were dressed as you are now—there was a lamp close by—I was not before the Magistrate at the first examination.
CHARLOTTE MOORE . I am the wife of John Moore, 63, Orchard Street, Westminster—I keep a lodging-house—on Wednesday night, 11th March, about 10.30, I heard a noise outside my street door, some loud talking—I went and stood on the step, and saw Taylor and three others, and two men
standing in New Square—my house is next door to the White Horse—I heard Taylor say, "There is too many of you following me about; you are up to no good"—I did not hear any answer made—he and the three men then went into the White Horse—the other two men did not—I believe Forrest was one of those two—saw him again, about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after, standing outside the White Horse, and I saw him run in the, direction of the New Road—I made some communication to the Police.
Cross-examined. Q. They all appeared as if they had been drinking, did not they? A. Yes; I think they had all had a drop together—Taylor is the only one I speak to—I do not know the others—Forrest was not one of the five with Taylor.
EDWARD WOOLLEY (re-examined), I served the prosecutor with a pot of beer before the other four came in—did not take in any afterwards—I do not know whether he gave them any—he gave beer to two of them—there were others serving at the bar besides me.
BROWN— GUILTY of an attempt to rob.— Ten Year's Penal Servitude .
FORREST— NOT GUILTY .—A reward of 3l. was ordered to be-paid to the witness Owen.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1868.
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
462. CARL KRANTHAUSEN (28) was indicted for unlawfully threatening to publish certain letters of and concerning Louis Elzinger, with intent to extort money from him. Other Counts, varying the manner of stating the charge.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
EUGENE RIMMEL . I am a perfumer in the Strand—I first saw the prisoner about the latter end of 1867—he applied to me for a situation, being in distress—he said he had been in business, and would be very happy to nil any sort of post—engaged him as clerk, although I did net want anybody, at a guinea a week—I had been carrying on a correspondence with Mr. Elzinger, of Regent Street, for months before, in reference to a proposed French hospital: it ranged over 1866 and 1867—many of the letters were addressed to my son and myself in Paris—the letters were in a bureau containing various letters relating to the hospital, and I wished the prisoner to classify the papers and sort them out, and show them to me when he had done it—I did not give him any permission to take them—I was honorary secretary to the hospital at the time, and I recommended the prisoner to the committee as paid secretary, and he entered on that office about the middle of February, and left my service—some time in March I received a communication from two members of the committee, and my attention was called by them to a paragraph in the Standard newspaper, reproduced from the Figaro—I saw the prisoner, and asked him if he had any namesake, or relation of the same name as himself, who had committed a robbery in Paris—he said, "No" and seemed surprised—I then gave him the Figaro to read—he road the article through, but did not
seem at all moved—I then said; "You must give me some proof that you are not the man; you can tell me what you were doing at the time"—he said he was travelling backwards and forwards for business—I said, "That is not a sufficient alibi, it is too vague"—I then suggested that he should give me his carte de visite to send to Baron Espeleta, the gentleman who was named in the paper, and asked him to send me a letter declaring that he was not the man; that would satisfy the committee, and we would keep him—he said he would do so, but he had no photograph left; he would get some made—he put me off from day to day for the photograph, saying he could not get it yet, he would let me have it the following day, and so on—he said this perhaps three or four times—I communicated this to the committee—a week after the first interview he called at my house, and tendered his resignation, saying that it was beneath his dignity to justify himself from such an imputation—I tried to persuade him to justify himself, but could not succeed—I saw him next May at the hospital, and told him he ought, at all events, to justify himself if he was not the man, even if he left—he said he would give me his carte personally, but not to the committee—he then sent for the cartes, but when they were brought he put them in his pocket—I did not see them—I left England three days afterwards, and did not see him again until I saw him at Bow Street—I know his writing—both these letters (produced) are his writing: also this bundle of letters—they are all addressed to me—these are some of the letters, addressed by Mr. Elzinger, that I gave him to classify? I threw them hastily in the bureau—I did not know they were there when I gave the letters to him to classify: they Were among a heap of papers in the bureau—they were mostly from Mr. Elzinger—they were merely from members of the committee.
Cross-examined. Q. In point of fact you gave him no directions about those particular letters? A. I gave him directions about the whole contents of the bureau—I think it was about 24th or 28th March he left the hospital—he remained one day after I left London; it was agreed that he should leave the following day—while he was in the employment of the hospital? I had no fault, personally, to find with him.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Whether you knew these letters were there or not; did you ever give him authority to take any away from your place? A. No—I gave him no papers to deal with except those in the bureau—he gave me back all the letters in about a week, except these; he said nothing about these.
LOUIS ELZINGER . I am a watch and chronometer manufacturer, of 211, Regent Street—I wrote a great number of letters to Mr. Rimmed during 1866 and 1867—most of these-produced are mine, they nearly all relate to the management of the hospital—I saw the prisoner while be was in Mr. Rimmel's service, when I called there—I never had any conversation of any importance with him—I received these two letters (Translated and read: "Monday. Sir, since the article in the Figaro; I do not know whether it is Elzinger or L——, if he will find himself on Tuesday morning at the Nelson Column, Waterloo Place, to make some communication to him, which may largely interest him. Signed C H. Kranthansen"—I did not keep the envelope in which that letter came—I found it when I came that afternoon, it came by post addressed to me—I received it too late-to keep the appointment—I received the other letter next day or the day after—I am quite sure it was addressed to me—(Read: "Tuesday, 72, Davies Street, Berkeley Square.
Sir—Not having found you at the place I indicated, I beg to ask you to be kind enough to indicate to me a place of meeting where I will go; the matter which I am to communicate to you if worth the trouble you will take. Signed, C. H. C. Von Kranthausen")—after that I made a communication to one of my clerks, Mr. Hubel—after that the prisoner called on me on Thursday, 16th or 17th April, about 5 o'clock—he said he had seen the article in the Figaro paper, and that he was much annoyed by it; and that these matters being published would prevent him getting his living in England, and he would be obliged to leave and go to America—then he said he had some letters of mine written to Mr. Rimmel, that he wanted money for them, he wanted a sum of money to go to America—I told him I should not give him a penny for my letters, as they were Mr. Rimmel's letters, not mine, perhaps he would give him something for them—I asked what he wanted to go to America—he said he left that to me (this was in French)—I said I did not know what the expense might be—he said be had his wife to take with him—I said "Do you want 10l. or 20l."—he made a motion as if that was not enough, and I said "20l. then"—he said "I will give it you for 40l."—he said he did not like to ask for money—he was excited in hit manner—he said he knew it was not well what he was doing, but he had no means—I refused, and said I have merely to report what you say to Mr. Rimmel, as these letters are his and not mine—I shall write to Mr. Rimmel, you may ask 100l. if you like, but I don't think he will give you anything—he said if I did not give him the money he would publish the letters, and would send them to some persons who would annoy me—he handed me two of the letters to show that he had them—I think these are the two (marked C. D.) one is written on my business paper—I carry on business in London, under the name of Leroy—I think I wrote these while I was in Paris—he put these into my hand and said "There is two of the letters"—he had only these two that I saw—he said if I or Rimmel did not give him the money he would publish the letters—that terminated the interview—I did not see him again till he was in custody—my clerk was within hearing of this interview.
Cross-examined. Q. You told him that you did not care about the letters at all. A. Yes; I kept these two letters, and have had them ever since—(That letters were put in and read).
FREDERICK HUBRL . I am in the service of Mr. Elzinger—I went to the prisoner's lodging in Davies Street—I can't recollect the date, it was the day after the letter came—he was not at home that day—I went a second day, at 10 o'olock in the morning, and saw him; that was the sane day that he called on Mr. Elzinger—I said to him "You have sent some letters to Mr. Elzinger, asking him to give you an appointment; Mr. Elzinger has no wish to see you, tell me what you want"—he said "I want to see Mr. Eisinger himself"—I told him it was no use saying that, Mr. Elzinger did not wish to see him, unless he gave me a reason which would induce Mr. Elzinger to see him—he then said that he had some letters written by Mr. Elzinger to Mr. Rimmel, in his possession, which contained things which, if they were published would be very annoying to Mr. Elzinger—they contained allusions to mutual friends, and to the French Ambassador in London, and if Mr. Elzinger asked him what he meant to do with those letters, he should send them to the people who were spoken of in them—I said that he was not acting the part of a gentleman, and I did not believe he had any letters—I asked how he got them—he said when he was at
Mr. Rimmel's, Mr. Rimmel had given him some papers to sort, to put aside the papers belonging to the hospital, and to return the private letters to Mr. Rimmel; that he read those letters, and thought they might be useful to him—he did not produce any letters—he said they were not then in his possession; he had left them with a friend, ready addressed to the different persons who were spoken of in the letters, and that his friend had instructions, if he did not see him in three days, to send the letters to the different persons—he said his reason was that, if he was imprisoned, or taken up by the police, the letters should reach their destination all the same—I said I did not think there was anything that could do him any injury, but as I was not the judge of that he had better come and see Mr. Elzinger—I asked what he wanted of Mr. Elzinger for the letters—he said, as his prospects were ruined in England, that Mr. Elzinger was to give him 40l. to go to America; but first he asked for a certificate that he was an honest man—he said, if Mr. Elzinger gave him the 40l. he would give up the letters, if not, he would send them to the different persons—he also said he was writing a pamphlet in which these letters would appear, and in which he would speak about the hospital—I returned to Mr. Elzinger, and told him what had passed—it was arranged that the prisoner should come at 5 o'clock—I was there when he came, and heard what passed.
Cross-examined. Q. You have given your evidence a great deal more fully to-day, than you did before the Magistrate? A. Yes—I don't know that I mentioned before, the allusions to mutual friends and the French Ambassador (The Witness' deposition was road). MR. RIBTON. Q. You say you did not see any letters at this interview? A. No; but he came to our shop on the Saturday afterwards—Mr. Elzinger was cut—he asked if Mr. Rimmel had returned from Paris, and if he was likely to get any money—I said, "I do not think it likely, and I do not think you have got these letters you speak of"—he said, "I will show them to you"—I said, "I will go with you"—he said, "That won't do, because my friend, who has got the letters in his possession, works till 7 o'clock"—he then said he would meet me in the street—I met him in the park, and he pulled the letters out of his pocket and read them to me—he said he would pick out that which would be most annoying to Mr. Elzinger—he said he had marked those places which would be most annoying to him (Looking at the letters)—I would not like to say, but I believe this is one letter; and this is another, I am certain—he read a good many—they were all in a bundle, which he took out of his pocket, sealed up—he counted the letters before me; there were nineteen, and twenty-three pages, I think—he then asked if I would put any mark on them, or, if I had a seal I could put on them, so that, in case he should get his 40l., I should be sure to get all the letters—I said I had not—he then rolled them up and put them in his pocket—that was all that passed—the policeman then came and took, him into custody, the moment he had put the letters in his pocket, while we were sitting on a seat in the park—I had arranged to have a policeman there.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Have you given your evidence to any solicitor or clerk? A. No, I believe Mr. Abrahams took down my proof, he is the solicitor for the prosecution—I told him about this meeting in the park—I don't think he took it down—when the prisoner was before the Magistrate the second time, the Magistrate said he did not want any evidence from me.
in the Regent's Park, on Sunday morning—I searched him and found on him a number of private letters in the French language—these produced are them, there are nineteen—I went up to the prisoner as he was sitting in the park with Hubel and said "Is your name Kranthausen!"—he jumped up and said "Yes it is, sir, what do you want of me?" I was in plain clothes—I spoke German, I said lama police officer, and I shall take you in custody for stealing a number of letters, the property of Mr. Rimmel"—he was very excited and said "You cannot take me in custody without a warrant, and on a Sunday"—I said, I apprehend you for stealing, and for that charge I want no warrant, and as for Sunday it makes no difference; I caution you, you need not say anything, but what you do say I shall use in evidence against you"—he then sat down and began to cry—he said "If you let me go, you have the letters now, I'll do anything for you, I will chop wood, or do anything else to recompense you"—I told him I could not let him go, I only had a duty to perform, and that was to secure him—I took him to Mr. Elzinger, and they had some conversation in French which I understand imperfectly, but he implored for mercy.
GUILTY — Six Months' Imprisonment .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1868.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The Defendant pleaded to the whole indictment, that he had been summoned before a Justice for assaulting the Prosecutor; and the Justice, after hearing, had dismissed the complaint, and given his certificate of such dismissal; and the plea further averred, that the assault charged in the indictment was the same assault.
MR. METCALFE (who conducted the Prosecution). "In the indictment the first Count charges that the Defendant maliciously assaulted the Prosecutor with intent to do him grievous bodily harm; the Second Count charges that he did unlawfully assault and occasion to him actual bodily harm. In the plea, the certificate is pleaded only to the said offence, reference is made but to one offence, and there is not a plea to each Count in the indictment, therefore the plea if good and proved, can only be an answer to one Count, and not to the whole indictment.
MR. COOPER (for the Prisoner). "The whole indictment is one, and contains but one offence; therefore the plea, though perhaps informal, is good if proved." He referred to "Reg v. Elrington," 9, Cox's Criminal Cases, p. 86.
THE RECORDER (after consulting MR. JUSTICE WILLES). "Though the pleadings are in a very entangled state, MR. JUSTICE WILLES thinks there are materials on which it is possible to try whether the assault charged in the indictment, and that referred to in the plea, are one and the same. The Prisoner having appeared before the Magistrate, the recital in the certificate of the fact of a complaint having been made, and of a summons having issued, is sufficient evidence of those facts.
THE RECORDER thereupon directed the Jury that the assault charged in the indictment, and that referred to in the plea, appearing to have taken place on the same day, and the Prosecutor not having shewn that any other assault had been committed on that day they must find a verdict for the Defendant.—The Jury found accordingly .
MR. METCALFE. "There being too Counts in the indictment and only one plea, I now propose to try the Defendant on the first Count."
THE RECORDER. "No."
The Defendant was then discharged.
MR. STARLING conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH LEMON . On 27th April I was a seaman on board the American Congress, lying in Shadwell Basin—the prisoner was also a seaman on board—we were friends—on 27th April all the hands were drinking together on board—I was the worse for liquor, and so was the prisoner, and we began to wrestle—after we had been wrestling some time the prisoner tried to bite my nose—we were standing—he left go of my nose—I then felt a knife go into me—I do not know who did it—I cried out, "I am, stabbed," and fainted away—I remember nothing more—we had been very good friends before.
HENRY EVERETT . I am second mate on board the American Congress—about 6 o'clock on 27th April I went on deck, and found the men drunk—I twice ordered Lemon into his bunk—a few minutes after that I heard a groan from the forecastle, and someone called out that he was stabbed—I went forward, and saw a man named Brown carrying the prosecutor, and the prisoner close behind—I asked what was the matter—Lemon said he was stabbed in three places—I asked him who did it, and he said, "Jerry" (meaning the prisoner)—I asked the prisoner if he had stabbed Lemon—he said, "Yes, and I will stab you at the same time"—I told him to put the knife back, and he put it in the sheath—he was then drunk, and so was the prosecutor.
CHARLES GALE BROWN . I am boatswain of the American Congress—about 6 o'clock on this night the men were drunk—I saw the prisoner and Lemon locked in one another's arms—they were fighting on the forecastle—Lemon was on the top of the prisoner—I took him off—he said, "Jerry has stabbed me in three places"—they were both drunk—I had not seen them wrestling.
GEORGE RAINS (Thames Policeman 53). On 27th April I went on board the American Congress, and saw Lemon bleeding from the side—the second mate said, in the prisoner's presence, that the prisoner was the man who stabbed Lemon—the prisoner was rather violent, and said he would stab everybody in the ship—I followed into the forecastle—I asked him who he had stabbed—he said, "Lemon; and I wish I had finished him," or something of that kind—I asked him for the knife, and took it out of the sheath—this is it (produced)—it is in the same state now.
ALEXANDER RUSSELL . I am an assistant to Mr. Rose, divisional surgeon to the Thames Police—on 27th April I went on board this ship, and saw the prosecutor; he was lying on the hatch, with a punctured wound about an inch in length on his right side—it was a punctured wound—the knife had struck the rib, and proceeded on about an inch—he was taken to the London Hospital on the Thursday—there was only one wound—it was a dangerous wound, and one which could have been inflicted by this knife—it is a common knife with sailors—his nose was bitten, and bleeding.
JEREMIAH MCCARTHY . I am house—surgeon at the London Hospital—on 30th April, Lemon was brought there—he had a wound on the right side, which he said was caused by a stab—he had marks of teeth on his nose—the wound on the side was deep just below the last rib; it had been inflicted three days, and I did not like to probe it—I think the liver has been touched—he is in the hospital now—it was a dangerous wound—he is out of danger now, but he is very weak.
Prisoner's Defence. I never had any quarrel with the man. It is very curious that my knife should not be stained with blood, or anything.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Nine Months' Imprisonment .
MESSRS. POLAND and MCDONALD conducted the Prosecution.
MR. POLAND, in opening the case, called the attention of the COURT to a question which might arise in the case as to whether the prisoner, being a partner in the society, could be convicted of larceny. MR. RECORDER, after consulting MR. JUSTICE WILLES, directed the case to proceed, and stated that the question might be reserved, if necessary.
JAMES WILKES . I am a stonemason, and live at 105, Lambourne Buildings, Finsbury, and am a member of the Shoreditch Lodge of the Friendly Society of Operative Stonemasons'—it is not an enrolled society—I was a member in June, 1867, when the prisoner held the office of secretary—he was appointed in September, 1866—his duty was to transmit the money to the Central Committee that was over what was used for sick members—the Central Committee was at Bolton—there is an entry in this book, "June 18th, 1867. Sent to C. C., 10l."—that is in the prisoner's handwriting—the money was kept in a cash-box—the secretary had one key, and the treasurer another—it was kept at the Griffin Inn—they kept a certain amount in the box, and transmitted anything beyond to the Central Committee—it was his duty to send a copy of the entry in the book and the 10l. to the Central Committee—William Hickie was the treasurer at that time—here is an entry, for the 5th November, in the handwriting of the prisoner, "Sent to C. C., 10l."—William Archer was treasurer to the Lodge at that time—it was the prisoner's duty to transmit a copy of the balance with the money, as before—on 19th November there is an entry, "Sent to C. C., 5l.," also in the prisoner's writing—the salary of the prisoner was 30s. a quarter—there were something like 130 members to the lodge—the prisoner was one of the members—a person only has to pay his entrance fee, and pay something yearly, to become a member; and he remains a member as long as he continues to pay—sometimes the prisoner received the money, and sometimes the treasurer; but he had to hand it to the treasurer.
Prisoner. Q. How long have you been a member of the society? A. Nearly five years—I entered under a particular condition—I had to pay a fine of 2l. before I could enter the society—it was afterwards agreed that I should come in without the payment of a fine.
WILLIAM ARCHER . I am a stone mason, and a member of the Shoreditch Lodge of the society—in November last, I was treasurer—from time to time, at there was money to spare, I handed it over to the prisoner, who was secretary—there is an entry in this book of 5th November, "Sent to C.C. 4l."
—I handed that 4l., to the prisoner, in order that he might send it to the Central Committee—he was to send it by post office order—on 19th November, there is an entry for 5l.—I gave that to the prisoner to send to the "C. C.," with a copy of the account, in the same way as the others.
Prisoner. Q. During the time you were treasurer, were you supplied with any money from the funds? A. Yes; sometimes I used to take the money home, for personal convenience—I used some of it myself—I paid it all back afterwards—one lodge night you gave me 2l. to put in the box—it was not 2l. 10s.—you said it was all right—you declined to take your salary, and that made 3l. 10s.—that was the first night, at the beginning of the December quarter.
RICHARD HARNOTT . I am general secretary of the Friendly Society of Operative Stone Masons, and have been for upwards of twenty-one years—the Central Committee, in June, 1867, was at Bolton, in Lancashire—the society supplies these printed forms (produced) to the different lodges—it is the duty of the secretary of the lodge to send these printed forms to me every fortnight, filled with the receipts and expenditures of the lodges, with the money for the Central Committee—I have been in the habit of receiving printed forms from the prisoner from time to time—I received this account of the 18th of June by post from the prisoner—there is an entry in the book, "18th June, 1867, sent to C. C., 5l."—I received that account on 27th June—there is also an entry for 5l.—I did not receive a post office order for that account from the prisoner—I made entries in the cash book as I received the money—it was the prisoner's duty to send every fortnight these accounts—I received the last on the 22nd October, 1867—I did not receive any post office orders from the prisoner after that—I did not receive 4l. on the 5th November, or 5l. on the 19th November—I saw the prisoner when he was taken into custody—he asked me whether this business could not be made up without taking it into Court—I said, "No; it is out of my hands," and I could not do anything in it—he proposed to take out a life insurance for 100l., and he would leave the policy in the hands of the society till it was paid off.
ROGER WILLIAM GERY . I am one of the members of another lodge of this friendly society—from instructions I received, I saw the prisoner on 19th February, at Snaresbrook—he was working there—I went down on purpose to see him—I asked him if he had any instructions from the Central Committee to meet me in London for a special purpose—he said he had—I asked him why he had not come—he said he could not leave his work, and that as the treasurer was out of employment he might have come down instead of taking him away from his work—he then said he would come up that night, and put the books in the lodge, and leave the key of the cash box at the bar, so that we could take possession of the books next morning—he came up the same night and put the books in the box at the Griffin Inn, as he promised, and left the key at the bar—amongst the books was the book produced, in which there are entries of what he sent to the Central Committee—we then examined the books—I saw him again at Snaresbrook, and asked him if he could give any account of 5l. which was supposed to have been sent on 18th June—he said he had lost the receipt—I asked him if he knew the post office where he drew the order—he said he forgot where the post office was, and he did not know the number of the order—on 28th February, I asked him if he could give me any account of 5l. on 9th April—10l. on 19th June—5l. 16th July—10l. 27th August—4l. 5th November—5l.
19th November—I asked him if he could account for these sums—he said he would come to the lodge and explain it—he did not come—I was at the lodge the next day, and he did not come then—I waited till 11 o'clock, and he never came—James Rich was with me when we had the conversation about the receipt.
Prisoner. Q. Did I not say I thought I had had a receipt but was not sure? A. You said you had had it and lost it—you said "I shall look and see if I can find it."
JAMES RICH . I am a stone mason, and a member of the same society—in consequence of something I heard, I saw the prisoner with the last witness, and spoke to him about the sum of 5l.—he said he had had a receipt for the 6l., but had lost it, and he explained the way he had lost it, that the treasurer had taken up a heap of papers, and must have taken the receipt with them—what the last witness has stated is correct.
HENRY SHORT (Policeman G 77). I took the prisoner into custody on 22nd April, at Snaresbrook, on a warrant—I went to where the prisoner was working, and told him I belonged to the police and held a warrant for his apprehension—he said "Do not take it out here, I do not want my mates to see it," and he went very quietly—I showed it to him at the railway station, and he said he was very sorry for what he had done, and that it was the first time he had committed himself.
COURT to RICHARD HARNOTT. Q. When you received the account for 5l. and no post office order, did you take any notice of it? A. I wrote to the prisoner some time after—I did not receipt it in the book—I could not put it in the general cash account, and I wrote to the prisoner—that was about a month afterwards—I received no reply from him.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MCDONALD, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1868.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN THACKER . I live in Goldsmith Road, and am a carver and gilder—on the 30th April I was outside the Brunswick Arms, in Brunswick Street—I had been doing a sign—I had 2s. 10d., in my left hand trousers pocket—I saw the prisoner and two others coming towards me—they all seized me—they searched my pockets and took my money—the prisoner was one of the three—I caught hold of him and held him on the ground—we struggled—he struck me and made my nose bleed very much, and I fell senseless—when I came to my senses, I said I had been robbed—I saw the prisoner in custody and charged him with robbing me—he said "It is not me, sir, you've made a mistake"—I was present when Jane Thacker brought a hat which the prisoner owned.
Prisoner. Q. Did you strike me? A. No.
JANE THACKER . I am the wife of Thomas Thacker—I was with my brother-in-law on the 13th April, about 11.45—I saw the prisoner struggling with him outside the Brunswick Arms—as the prisoner ran away I picked up his hat—I saw my brother-in-law fall from the effects of a blow—there were two others who ran away—it was not a row.
THOMAS THACKER . I am the husband of the last witness—I saw the prisoner struggling with my brother, who fell from the effects of a blow—the prisoner ran away—I ran after him—he was stopped by a rifleman and given into custody.
WILLIAM EPPS (Policeman N 309). The prisoner was given into my custody on the night of the 13th, by a volunteers—John Thacker then came up and charged him with robbery and assault—the prisoner said it was a mistake—he had not been near the place; he had been larking, and his hat had been knocked off—Jane Thacker brought the hat to the station, which the prisoner owned—I found 5¼d. on him—the prosecutor appeared to have been, drinking.
Prisoner's Defence. I am guilty of striking the man, but not of robbing him.
GUILTY .**—The prisoner pleaded Guilty to a previous conviction.— twelve Months' Imprisonment, and Twenty Strokes with the Cat .
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. CUNNINGHAM defended Alfred and Elisabeth Cruise.
JOHN WHITE . I am a convict in the Pentonville Prison, undergoing sentence of penal servitude—I know the prisoners—I have known the Cruises about two years, and Palmer, who was a cabman, about five years—I know the house, 29, Golbyn Road, Westbourne Park, near Kensal Green—Mr. and Mrs. Cruise and a Mrs. Naylor resided there in December last—I went there on December 11th—I met Alfred Cruise, or Frederick I think his name is, on that day—he was going to Camden Town, and on the way he said, "I have got a mark where some carpets can be had, will you make one?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "It is an easy job"—he said he had seen them on several occasions, and made inquiries respecting the house, as it was to let—in the evening I was at the house mentioned—on our way from Camden Town he said it was impossible for me to carry them by myself, they were too weighty—he asked me if I knew one—I said "There is Palmer, he has nothing to do, perhaps he'll make one"—he said, "Let's go and see him"—so he accompanied me over the water to Kennington, where Palmer lived—we met Palmer in the Waterloo Road—we told him we had got a job for the next day, but did not tell him the particulars then—we appointed to meet at the Gower Arms, in Gower Street, at 11 next warning, it is a kind of private front—I accompanied Cruise to his house in the evening, in the Golbyn Road—Elizabeth Cruise was there—on the morning of the 12th Cruise told the old lady we were going to work the old lady for the carpets—she said, "I hope it will come off"—we went to Gower Street, and then Cruise said, "This is the house, I will go and see that it is all right"—he pointed it out, it was No. 70—he went there—I waited outside—he was there about twenty minutes—when he came out he said, "I have got the old lady's name," Roberts or Robertson, I can't say which—we went
to the Gower Arms, and had something to drink—Palmer was waiting at the corner, and he went in with us—Cruise said, "We must write a note"—I said it would not do, the old lady is sure to know the governor's handwriting—"Oh yes," he says, "that will do; she don't know no better"—Cruise told me what to write—he told me what part of the house the carpet was in—the other writing is not mine—I went with the note—Palmer and Cruise went after a truck—there was a name on the truck, something beginning with "C"—Palmer pulled the truck up to the door—upon presenting the note we got some stair carpet, turkey carpet, and some drawing-room carpet, and put it on the truck—I gave a man 2d. to help us—Cruise stood on the opposite side and had a laugh at us while we were trying to get it on—he followed till we got to a public-house, and then he helped to shove up behind—we pulled up at a public-house in George Street—we went into a beer-house in Camden Town—I forget the name of the street—there we squared up a little—about 7 in the evening a cart was going by, and we all asked the man if he would like to earn a few shillings by moving some carpets—they were then moved to Cruise's house in the Golbyn Road—they were left that night—afterwards the big carpet was cut, I think on the 14th—thirty odd yards of stair carpet was pawned by Cruise and Palmer—I waited at a beer-house—the Turkey carpet was pawned on the Monday before Christmas, by Cruise—the goods brought in altogether 13l. or 14l.—the money was divided—Mrs. Naylor had 2s. for opening the door.
Cross-examined. Q. How much did you get out of the 14l.? A. About 4l.—we got it in instalments—Palmer got 2l. 0s. 6d, and a little more was due to him—I did not say anything before the Magistrate about the conversation with Cruise—I only told what I was asked—I began my evidence about the letter—the address of the gentleman was taken from the paper—I mentioned Palmer's name to Cruise—Cruise suggested about the carpets—I knew nothing of them before—I never slept at Cruise's house before the night of the 11th; I slept with him and his old woman that night—Ambrose did not assist in cutting the carpet—Ambrose is my brother—that is my real name—there was a robbery in Royal Street, Westminster, but I know nothing of it—I do not expect my term of imprisonment shortened by giving evidence here—I should expect to have something put on if anything—I have been convicted before.
Palmer. Q. Did you say you knew nothing of the contents of that letter? A. No.
THOMAS KEILEY . I live at Mortimer Market, Tottenham Court Road, and am a carpenter and upholsterer—on the 12th I saw Cruise and Palmer for the first time—about 2.15 they came to my house to borrow a truck—I refused at first, but ultimately lent it—I saw a third man, but did not take particular notice of him—I sent my son afterwards for it, and he came back and male a communication to me—I did not see the truck again till 3rd March—I identified Palmer and Cruise amongst others.
THOMAS KEILEY, JUN . I am the son of the last witness—I remember, some time in December, some men coming to borrow a truck—I followed to 70, Gower Street—I told my father, and went with him to the police-station, and also to Mrs. Robinaon's—I pointed Palmer out among others, and afterwards saw him at Bow Street.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite sure you saw Palmer at Bow Street? A. Yes.
Park, Hornsey Road, and have resided there thirty-seven years—70, Gower Street is my property, and was partly furnished—on 12th December, Mary Ann Robinson was my servant—I told her not to let anything go out of the house without my authority—I never gave authority for that note to be written—I saw Mr. Keiley that day—subsequently I saw some of the carpet at Mr. Kendrew's, Ledbury Road, Bayswater—the Brussels carpet was cut; the Turkey carpet was in the same state.
Cross-examined. Q. You cannot be positive to the man? A. No—White is about the size—he was marked with small-pox—I cannot swear Palmer is not the man.
Re-examined. Q. Which man was it? A. I did not take notice—a stout man asked me my name, and a man marked with the small-pox fetched the carpet.
THOMAS GARFORTH (Police Inspector E). I took Alfred Oruise into custody on 27th March, in St. Catherine's Road, Notting Hill—I told him he must consider himself in my custody for obtaining from 70, Gower Street, carpet by means of a forged order—he said he knew nothing about it—he refused to give his name, but afterwards said it was Alfred Cruise—at the police-station I found two envelopes in his pocket—I went to the address, and saw the female—I searched the house, and took her into custody—at the station, she stated that she took a message from a Mrs. Naylor, her lodger, to her daughter, and returned at 12.0, drunk, and saw the carpet—one man told her the carpet had been "maced"—that means obtaining goods by false statement—she said she had been living under Cruise's protection nine years.
Cross-examined. Q. When you asked about the carpets, you are quite sure she did not say, "I know nothing about obtaining carpets by forged orders?" A. Her words Were, "I don't know about carpets or anything"—"maced" does not mean on credit.
ROBERT KENDREW . I am an assistant pawnbroker, at 44, Ledbury Road, Bayswater—on 14th December, a carpet was pledged at our shop for 4l., by the female prisoner, in the name of Palmer—they are the same carpets Mr. Garnett identified.
Cross-examined. Q. Is there any other ticket made out in the name of Palmer? A. Both.
Palmer's Defence. I was at Horsemonger Lane Prison from 13th December to 2nd January—I was taken in a mistake.
CRUISE PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.
CRUISE**— Ten Years' Penal servitude .
PALMER*— Five Years' Penal servitude .
ELIZABETH CRUISE— Eighteen Months imprisonment .
OLD COURT.—Friday, May 8th, 1868.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON defended Curtis.
HELENA MARY HANCOCK . I live at Mount Place, Upper Clapton, and am a widow—on Thursday, 23rd April, I left my dining-room about midnight shut up safely, when I went to bed—I was awoke in the night by a noise, but not sufficiently alarmed to get up—I think it must have been just on the head of daylight—I was called at 7 o'clock by my servant—I went into the dining-room—the sideboard was broke open, the drawers emptied, and a number of articles taken, to the value of 50l. or 60l.—I have since identified some of them—this clock (produced) was taken from the mantelpiece, and this microscope.
MARTHA TAYLOR . I am servant to Mrs. Hancock—about 4 in the morning, I was awoke by hearing the dining-room door open—I did not go down stairs then—I went down a little before 7, and found the door wide open, and a hole in the shutter belonging to the window leading into the garden—I went and awoke my mistress.
JOHN CARNEY (Policeman K 386). On the night of the 23rd, about 10 o'clock I saw Curtis, Stevens, and another man in the Cambridge Road—I was with 167 K, going towards Lea Bridge—we followed them as far as Lea Bridge Road, which is about three and a half miles, and there lost sight of them—that would lead towards Mrs. Hancock's—they were about ten minutes walk from her house at the time, I believe—the following morning, about 6 o'clock, I again saw the prisoners and another man in a brickfield in the Lea Bridge Road—they were rolling up a quantity of red table cloths—I left Chapman and went to a heap of trees, about 100 yards off—as soon as they saw me, Curtis threw one bundle away and the man not in custody another—Stevens carried two umbrellas—they went along the Lea Bridge Road—Curtis said to me, "You must have got the tip to this"—I said "No, I have not"—he said "I did not go in, the other two did, and I remained outside"—I ran after Curtis and Stevens across the fields—Chapman followed—this clock was found close by where they threw the bundles—I afterwards went to the prosecutrix' house and found about twenty holes bored in the shutters with a centre bit, and a piece taken out.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you ever said before that Curtis said he remained outside? A. Yes, on the second occasion that I was examined.
WILLIAM CHAPMAN (Policeman K 176). I was in company with the last witness in the Cambridge Road, when the two prisoners, and another man passed—we followed them to Lea Bridge Road—afterwards about 5 o'clock we saw the same men in a brickfield—I captured Stevens—Curtis was taken to the Police Court on the following day—he said nothing in my presence—Stevens said he did not go into the house—the other two went in and he intended to stay at the top of the lane; but the other two got the lush and got boozey.
Stevens. Q. Where did you first catch sight of me? A. In the brickfield, with the other two—you carried two silk umbrellas—I was about
seven yards off when you threw them down, but the hedge parted us—that was about 5 o'clock.
THOMAS LAYDAL . I live at Hammond Cottages, Lea Bridge—I met the constable Carney on 24th April, about 5-30—I went to the back of my stable, and met Curtis there—I caught hold of his collar, and told him he must go along with me—he said, "How many is there of you?"—another man collared him, and we took him across the fields, and gave him into the custody of Bray—he said, "I wish you were in town; your daylight would very soon be put out."
MRS. HANCOCK (re-examined). I missed two umbrellas—I have seen all the articles here: they are my property.
Stevens' Defence. There is nothing to prove that I entered the house, and stole the goods.
Stevens was also charged with having been previously convicted.
STEVENS— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
CURTIS— Nine Months' Imprisonment .
MR. R. N. PHILIPPS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON defended Tadman.
WILLIAM BEER (Policeman K 106). On the morning of the 19th April, I was in Star Street, Shadwell—about 2.45, I saw Tadman and Algers at the Lord Exmouth public-house, in Back Street—I stood back in a doorway of the Whitworth public-house—I heard a whistle—Tadman and Algers came within two yards of me, and I then turned my lamp full in their faces—I have known them both for years—I then went to the corner of Star Street, where I heard another footstep—I remained there thirty-five minutes watching—while there I saw Alger coming towards me—he stopped right under a lamp about eight yards from me—that is about thirty yards from the prosecutor's—I then saw and heard him give three loud stamps on the flags with his right foot—Cummings then came out of the Fox and Goose yard, and came up to Alger—they remained together three or four minutes—Cummings then returned where he came from, and Algers came towards me—I went up to him and asked what he was doing there at that time in the morning—he said, "Nothing"—I told him I had great suspicion there was something wrong, I should take him to the station and charge him with loitering—while I was speaking to him I saw Tadman at the other end of the street—after locking Algers up, I went back—I saw the window of the Exmouth public-house open—that was about eight or ten yards from where I had seen the two prisoners—there is a low wall there—I saw some recent marks—any person getting along there might force the window—I gave the alarm and woke the landlord up—I afterwards went to 118, High Street, Shadwell, where Tadman and Algens lived—I found Tadman there in
bed—I told him I should take him for being concerned with two others in breaking and entering the Lord Exmouth public-house that morning—he said he had been in bed since 12.0—I searched the room, and found a saltcellar in the drawer, and thirteen farthings—these two skeleton keys I found on a chest of drawers, and this key on the mantelshelf—it is marked for a skeleton key, but not cut out—I took Tadman to the station, and found on him two penny pieces, three halfpence, and a French coin, in his trousers pocket—on 30th April Cummings was brought to the station on another charge—I identified him at once—I have known him several years.
DANIEL BLAKE (policeman K 66). I was with Beer on the morning of the 19th, when we went to Tadman's house—I searched under the stairs, and found this coat, waistcoat, and scarf, shirt, two towels, two napkins, pair of stockings, and a pillow case—I asked Tadman if he knew how they came there—he said he did not, other people had access to the place at well as him—it was about 5.30 in the morning.
REBECCA OTHEN . I am the wife of Jacob Othen, who keeps the Lord Exmouth public-house, Star Street, Shadwell—he is at present in Whitecross Street Prison—on the night in question I was awoke by the policeman Beer—I found the doors broken open, and a quantity of things missing—these (produced) are my husband's things, which he had placed on a chair in the bed-room at night—I found the window of the club-room open, and a few halfpence and a French coin taken—this coin is like it—there were thirteen farthings missing—my little girl counted them.
TADMAN received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, May 8th, 1868.
Before Robert malcomb Kerr, Esq.
MR. WARTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
JEMIMA JUST . I am the wife of Leonard Just, and live at Haliford Road, Essex Road—on 17th April, about 3.15 I was returning home for a walk—I saw four men standing at the corner of the Morton Road—the prisoner was one of them—as I was going round the corner one man caught me round the neck and held me very tightly—it hurt me very much—the prisoner came in front of me and took away a gold watch and chain, and ran away—when the prisoner had got a little way the man let go of me, and they all four ran away—I called out—I went home and sent for a policeman, and made a statement to him—I next saw the prisoner on the Monday or Tuesday following, standing at the Half Moon public-house—I could not then find a, constable—on the 25th April I saw him again, but could not find a constable—on 1st May I was sent for to the station-house, and was taken into a room where there was a lot of men—I picked out the prisoner—my watch was worth 17l.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose from the Friday to the Tuesday you saw him again, you had been looking out for the man? A. Yes; I have seen no one else who resembles the prisoner; he is the one who did it—I saw
four men together—I do not know which I noticed first—I did not become insensible, but there was a dreadful pressure on my throat—a great many persons came up when I called out.
MR. WARTON. Q. Did the prisoner come in front of you when he took the watch and chain? A. Yes; I was wearing the chain round my neck, and the watch in my pocket.
WILLIAM NEWBOLD (Policeman N 151). From information I received on 1st May, I went to Essex Road, and took the prisoner into custody—I told him I should take him for being concerned with others in stealing a watch and chain from a lady, that day fortnight—that was the 17th April—he said, "Not me; I was at work for Mr. Miles that day"—he is a sweep—I took him to the station—I placed him with six or seven other men, and then went and fetched Mrs. Just—she went at once, and said, "This is the man who stole my watch and chain," and pointed to the prisoner.
The Prisoner's Statement before the magistrate—I was at work on the same day, and I never done it.
The Prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS the defence.
GEORGE WASHINGTON LASLETT . I am a hosier and general outfitter, at 32 and 33, Aldgate—on Wednesday, 22nd April, in the afternoon the prisoner came to my shop—I was sent for from upstairs, and came down, and found him there—he said he had just come from New Zealand, and he required an outfit—he said he had been out there four years, sheep-breeding—he required to go off to the country that night by the mail train, to see his parents—I said I should require a good reference before I could part with any of my goods—he said, "I can give you a good reference; I can refer you to my father's banker's agent in London; I have transmitted home large sums of money to my father from New Zealand"—I said, "That will do, no doubt"—I looked at the clock, and found it was past 4—he then stated that he had some friends in Croydon, and said, "If you like to go down there with me, if you do not feel satisfied with my reference,—I can give you another"—before this, he had written down his father's name and address; it was, "R. H. Davie, Solicitor, Wellington, Somerset"—I went down to Croydon with him—we took a cab, and we were going to a friend's house—he did not tell me the name at first—he pointed out a house after leaving the Croydon station—we were going in the direction of the house when we met a Mr. Hooper—the prisoner said, "Here is one of my friends; he will be able to satisfy you what I am, and that I am the person that I represented myself to be," and he called the young man by his Christian name—Mr. Hooper got into the cab with us, and we went back again—the prisoner said he would rather not go into the house, he was not dressed sufficiently well—I understood that he was paying his addresses to the sister—Hooper seemed to know him well, and was quite surprised to see him back from New Zealand—I was satisfied with what he said—we then went back to the shop, and he had the outfit he required, which came to 25l. 1s. altogether—he asked me whether I could take him to a-place where he could get a good dinner, and I took him to the Bell, in Aldgate—it was
then late, and I stopped with him—after dinner he complained of being dizzy in the head, and he said he would not go down that night, but would go early in the morning, and he asked the waiter if he could be allowed to stop all night—he came to me early the next morning, and said he had altered his mind, and he should not go down to Wellington that morning—he then had a suit of the clothes on, and he said he should go down and make a proposal of marriage to Miss Hooper—I did not feel altogether satisfied, and I said, "I am going down to Croydon, and I will drive you down"—we went down to Croydon, and he asked me to meet him at the hotel at 4 o'clock—he had a riding horse on our arrival, and rode over to see Miss Hooper—I did not get back till 5 o'clock, and I found him sitting at the bottom of the gig, intoxicated and almost insensible—I drove him home—he said he should go down that night, that he felt very much better, and should go down by the mail train; and he left to go to Wellington, as he said—he wanted to buy more things of me before he went, and I said, "You have quite enough; if you require more when you get there, on receipt of your cheque I shall send them down to you," and I took his measure for that purpose—he wished me good bye, and instead of going Leadenhall Street way, he went down Fenchurch Street, and that excited my suspicion, and I sent a man to follow him—in consequence of what he told me I went at 6 o'clock to his lodging in Poplar—I said to him, "I thought you were at Wellington by this time"—he said he had altered his mind, or something to that effect, I forget the words he used—I then said, "You are deceiving me, I shall have my goods back again"—I said, "You have got into another suit of clothes, perhaps you will be kind enough to take them off, for you spoilt one suit in Croydon"—while he was taking them off he said, "I assure you it is all right, my father will pay the account, and if you like I will go down with you, and if you like to stop a few days I shall be very glad of your company"—I agreed to go with him—he said, "Will you be kind enough to take an umbrella I bought of you out of pawn," which I did for 5s., purchased of me the day before for 9s. 6d.—I paid his fare down to Taunton—we telegraphed at Paddington for his father to meet us—I paid for it—when we got there his father was not there—he said, "I will go to meet my father, will you go over to the Royal Hotel and wait there till I have had the first meeting with my father, and then I will introduce your account"—he came back about a quarter of an hour afterwards, and stated that he had not seen his father—he went out again, and came back in a few minutes, crying, and he said that he had heard that his father was seized with a paralytic stroke yesterday afternoon; that he would never forgive himself, and went on more like a madman than anything else—he said, "It won't matter, the clerk will give me a cheque, and I shall come in for all the property"—we did not go to Wellington that night, because he said that his father seeing him might give him such a shock that it might be fatal to him—during the evening he said he had seen a gentleman who had seen his father, and contradicted the statement that his father was ill—the prisoner said that to-morrow was Saturday, and would be market-day, and his father would be driving that way—I did not see him, and I said I could not wait any longer, "I shall go over and see him"—he said, "If my father breaks his promise and does not pay you, I will pay you myself; as my father promised to give me this outfit, I would rather he would pay"—he went out and brought back a cheque for 40l., which I took to the bank, but got no cash for it—he had all the goods at this time—I had not received any back—he
made an appointment with me to go and see his father on the Sunday, and we hired a cart and went to Wellington—it was Monday I presented the cheque, he gave it me on Saturday—when we got to Wellington on, the Sunday we put the horse up, and he said he would go and get over the first meeting with his father, and would give him the account, and settle it—he returned in a few minutes, and said he had just met his father walking with a gentleman, and his father could not go into the account that day; and he made an appointment to meet me at the Castle Hotel, at 11 o'clock next morning—I went back to Wellington the same evening, and saw his father about 7 or 8 o'clock—I told him who I was, and what I wanted—the prisoner was not there—I did not receive any money from the father—I went a second time to his father with the same success, and on the Monday evening I gave the prisoner into custody—before I gave him into custody he gave me a note, which I took to his father on the Monday—this is it—I took it once and gave it him, but with the same success—he said he would have nothing to do with it—I then gave the prisoner into custody—I told him that everything he had stated from beginning to end was false.
RICHARD HENRY DAVIE . I am a solicitor, residing at Wellington, in Somerset, and father of the prisoner—I did not give him leave to pledge my credit on the 22nd or 23rd April, nor did I authorize him to obtain goods from Mr. Laslett—I saw Mr. Laslett on the Sunday evening, just at it was growing dusk.
The Court considered there was no case upon the evidence of Mr. Laslett alone.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, May 8th, 1868.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS defended Maude.
THOMAS FREDERICK HALFORD . I live at Anerley—on the 11th of October, I bought five pipes of wine of a Mr. Cohen, at that time lying in the Metropolitan Docks—on the afternoon of the 16th, I saw Maude in Cannon Street—he was carrying on business in Water Lane, as Garnant, Nunn and Co.—he said he was a partner—he wanted the wine, but could not pay cash, and would give me a bill for 195l.—I told him the bill would be useless, as I had no means to discount it—he said he knew some persons and would write to them—on the following day he showed me a letter, and tore off the top, which he gave to me, on which it said "Ladell and Co., Merchants and Commission Agents, 86, Hatton Garden, Holborn, London, 12th October"—the purport of the letter was, that they would discount his acceptance at five per cent per annumn—it was signed "Ladell and Co."—an arrangement was made to meet at Hatton Garden, at 11 o'clock on the 17th—I went and he said Ladell was out, but would be in in half an hour—we went into the Bell—he there asked for a receipt stamp, which I said I had not got—he went out to see if Ladell was in, and remained about twenty minutes and said he had got a receipt stamp—he asked for a receipt—I said "Wait till I have been to Ladell's"—I had drawn the bill
the day before—it was produced at the Bell—I had the warrants, and accidently left them on the table at the Bell—I left Maude there, too, while I went to Ladell's—he was not in—I was coming out and met Meyer in the passage—I said "Mr. Ladell"—he said "Yes, walk in"—I said "I am come for the money for this bill"—he said "Come again in an hour"—I said "Mr. Maude told me you would give me the cash for it at once—he said "Where is Mr. Maude"—I said "Just round the corner"—he said "I will go and see him"—we walked round into the coffee room at the Bell, but Maude was gone and the warrants too—Meyer said "I thought you said Mr. Maude was here," and laughed—I said "I left him here"—he said "Where is he?"—I said "That I cannot say, he has got my warrants"—he then said "Well, I would not discount his bill for 5l.; he has no account at the bank, besides, the drawer of the bill was represented to be a person I knew; but you are a stranger to me, wait and I will make some inquiries"—he went away for ten minutes—I said "They were my warrants," and I would go and stop them—and I at once took a cab, intending to do so—I did do so, as far as I could—I searched for Maude, and met his son, who went with me; but we did not succeed in finding old Mr. Maude—I can't account for leaving the warrants—I did not intend to part with them—I had no suspicion—I called in at Ladell's on the following morning, at 10 o'clock, and he said "Well Mr. Halford, things are not so bad as we thought yesterday, and I do not say that I will not discount the bill, but understand that I am not going to discount it at the bank rate; if you will look in at 3 o'clock, I will tell you—I went, and he sent the boy somewhere, who was gone about a quarter of an hour, and returned and said "Yes"—I don't know what that meant—Meyer said "You see, Mr. Halford, it is all right; and I will do the bill—I will give you 150l. for it"—I said "Certainly not, I can't take that, but I don't mind giving you 10l. for the discount"—after a little haggling I made it 12l. 10s.—he agreed, and said "To show you I am in earnest, I will give you a cheque for 10l.—he said "If you will come at 11 o'clock to-morrow, I will give you the balance"—I went on the 19th—he said "What do you want with me?"—I said "It will be 152l. 10s."—he drew a cheque, handed it to his clerk, and said something in German which I could not understand—he said "You have not cashed the other cheque"—I said "No"—he said if I would put my name on the back he would give me the money—he laid down the money—he then sent the clerk out with another cheque—he returned in five minutes, and said something again in German—he then said "Well, Mr. Halford, this is a bond-fide transaction"—I said "Clearly sir, because Mr. Maude has got my warrants, "Well, give me a memorandum to that effect"—and he wrote out that memorandum, and gave me a copy—(Read:—"London, 15th October, 1867, five pipes of wine sold to Messrs. Garnant, Nunn and Co., Water Lane; against their acceptance for 175l. at two months, dated from 15th October. Acknowledged by myself, Metropolitan Vaults, Nos. 3, 610, 3, 611, 3, 614, 7,000 and 7,004; Signed, T. P. Halford)—I signed that while the clerk was gone for the money—Meyer said "While he is gone you can stand a glass"—I said "I have no objection—we went out and he said he had an appointment, and would be back in five minutes, and asked me to go back to the office—I did so and waited about half an hour, till one o'clock, when the clerk that was in the office said he was going to shut up the office, as he left at 1 o'clock on Saturdays, and I was obliged to go—on the Monday
I went again and asked for my receipt—Meyer said "I have nothing belonging to you, I saw the rightful owner and gave it to him"—I said "I shall advertise that these warrants have been stolen"—he turned to the clerk and said, "You hear what he says; I will have you looked up"—I said "If you don't choose to give them to me, I shall take measures to get them"—he said "Oh you go to the Devil and hang yourself"—instead of doing that, I gave him into custody—I never intended to part with the warrants without receiving the cash.
Cross-examined. Q. Was Maude a stranger to you? A. Yes; I dealt with him as with a stranger—the first time I saw the bill, after I drew it, was at the Bell—I did not part with the warrants till then—I did not leave the warrants in exchange for the bill; if I had, I know there would be an end of any charge of felony—I cast my eye over the bill, and read "Against their acceptance"—I understand what that means.
Meyer. Q. How many times had you been at my office? A. five—I had never seen you before—I gave you my address at Anerley—you told me you had a writ against me for the 10l., but could not give my address—I told you I used to be in the fishery trade—I said I had known Maude's connections, not Maude, twenty years—I issued a summons against you to appear at the Guildhall on a charge of conspiracy—the case was adjourned till Maude was found.
Re-examined. Q. How came you to know anything of Maude's connections? A. I met Maude in Water Lane, and he said he married one of the Maude in Regent's Park—I know them to be respectable—I knew nothing of the prisoner Maude.
LYON ABRAHAM HART . I carry on business in Fenchurch Street—I have seen Meyer three or four times—he exchanged some dock warrants with me for some cigars; that was on 25th or 27th October—I sent the warrant down to the docks and got the wine.
Meyer. Q. Did I leave you the warrant, for you to go and sample the wine? A. You did—you told me your name—I did not see anything wrong in the transaction.
JAMES HARVEY . I carry on business at 78, Tower Street, and am a dealer in wine—in October last I bought a pipe of wine, I forget the No., from a Mr. Jennings, and sold it back to him a few days after.
WILLAIM ROBERT POPE . I carry on business at 86, Leadenhall Street—my duty is to clear wine from the docks, and to bottle it—I received that warrant about ten days ago, for bottling, and found it was stopped—I forget the number of the warrant; I think it was No. 10 pipe—I received it from a Mr. Lovering.
THOMAS WELLS . I carry on business at 17, Hanover Street, Long Acre—in the month of October, Maude came to my shop, and I accompanied him to Water Lane, to Garnant, Nunn & Co's. premises—I don't know what their business is—I was to make his son some clothes—Mr. Ladell recommended me to him—Ladell came a few days afterwards, and said, "Stop; you must not go on with the clothes"—he did not give a reason—I cannot recollect what else he said—I went to Maude, and told him Ladell could not recommend—he said it was a d——lie—he said he was going to have an interview with him at Gatti's—this was about the 17th or 18th, I can't say exactly—I saw Meyer again on the 19th, and he said, "It is all right, you can finish the clothes; Mr. Maude is a d——clever fellow; he has
bought a lot of wine; you will get your money"—I got 2l. 10s. by suing in the Court, and accepted a bill for 3l. 19s.—that bill is endorsed "Ladell &Co."
Meyer. Q. What makes you call me Ladell? A. You endorsed the bill Ladell—I found out afterwards your name was Meyer.
CHARLES HENRY GARNANT . I am manager of the Holborn Branch of the London and County Bank—Meyer opened an account on the 3rd of August, 1867, in the name of "Ladell & Co."—it was closed on the 14th December, at my request—there was merely a nominal sum of about 16l. 10s. in October—there was no guarantee to induce me to pay away more.
Meyer. Q. Did I not tell you I had opened an account elsewhere? A. You said in the course of a few days you would pay in a large sum.
JURY. Q. Were you in the habit of discounting bills for Ladell & Co. A. No.
RICHARD FREDERICK RICHARDSON . I am the housekeeper for Mr. Lewis Glendon, at 16, Water Lane—in October some offices were let to a firm, calling themselves "Garnant, Nunn, & Co.," who remained there nearly two years—I have seen Mr. G. Nunn twice, about a year ago—Maude was the only person I saw lately—I could not tell what business they carried on—there was a lad as clerk—the rent was 35l. per annum—they left about Michaelmas last, in debt about 40l.—I asked them to give up the premises—there was not above 12l. worth of goods to distrain upon.
(The deposition of Charles Brown, Police Constable 904, was read. It referred to taking Maude into custody in Charlotte Street, Pimlico).
Meyer's Defence. I discounted the bill in the ordinary way of business; I was not connected with Maude at all.
MAUDE— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .
MEYER— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
Before Robert Malcom Kerr Esq.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JOHN THOMPSON WILSON . I am an outfitter, at 9, Nelson Street, Greenwich—on Wednesday, 8th April, I returned home about 6 o'clock, and missed a waistcoat; I had seen it safe at 30—this is it (produced): it is worth about 10s. 9d.—I know it by a mark inside—I went into the street, and saw the witness Mears—in consequence of what he said, I went up to the prisoner—I spoke to him—he said, "I have nothing about me; you
may search me if you like"—I gave him into custody—my wife at that time had charge of the shop—she is not able to attend.
WILLIAM MEARS . I am a potman at an hotel in London Street, Greenwich—on 8th April I went into the prosecutor's shop to make a purchase—the prisoner was there: he asked for a pair of stockings, and bought them—he did not buy the waistcoat while I was in the shop—I saw him about eight minutes after, and he pulled the waistcoat out from under his coat, and said he had a cheap pair of stockings—I went back to the shop, and told them—I saw the prosecutor.
HENRY NASH . I am a pawnbroker, in London Street, Greenwich—on 8th April, between 5 and 6, the prisoner came to my shop to sell me this waistcoat: he asked 3s. 6d. for it, and I gave it him—it is worth about 10s. 9d.—he said a sailor gave it him.
WILLIAM FROST (Policeman R 80). I apprehended the prisoner on 12th April—I told him I wanted him for stealing a waistcoat of Mr. Wilson—he said he knew nothing about it—I said, "I know better than that, for I found where it was."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not steal the waistcoat I never had it in my hand.
GUILTY — Two Months Imprisonment .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
WILIAM YARDLEY (Police Constable R 228). On 8th April I went to the Hayles Arms public-house, Deptford, at about 1.30 in the afternoon, and found the prisoner there—I charged him with stealing a watch and locket, the property of Mr. Johnston—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, and found 7s. in silver and 1s. in brass—the watch was in pawn—I don't know whether the prisoner had a hole in his pocket.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you happen to know who pawned that watch? A. Mr. Garrod, a cab proprietor—it was handed over to the prosecutor at the police-station—the prisoner had nothing to do with the pawning.
WILLIAM BEACH . I keep the Hayles Arms, in Hayles Street, Deptford—on 8th April Mr. Johnston and the prisoner were in my house—there was a female there—she came in alter—they went into the parlour—I followed, and told Mr. Johnston his locket was gone—he had been drinking—the prisoner heard me, and ran away—I followed the prisoner, and caught him in Stanhope Street, and brought him back—I said, "I want that locket"—he said he knew nothing about it—I saw the watch in the prisoner's boot, and took it out, and said, "Where is the locket?"—he said "I hare not got it"—I gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see him searched at the station? A. Yes—I did not notice whether the prisoner's pockets had holes in them—the prosecutor and the woman were drinking lemonade and brandy.
prosecutor came in with his guard in his pocket—I saw the locket when he went in the parlour—it was not on when he came out—I searched in Mr. Johnston's trousers pocket and found the locket—I heard Mr. Johnston say, in the presence of the prisoner, when we were in the parlour, in answer to my question, Where was his locket? he did not know.
JOHN JOHNSTON . I live at 10, York Terrace, Queen's Road, Peckham, and am a gentleman of no occupation—on 8th April last I had that watch (produced) and a locket—I remember Mr. Beach calling my attention to my chain—the locket was not there—the chain was broken.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you account for the chain being broken? A. I cannot account for it—the locket was sent me the next morning—I was intoxicated, and have no distinct recollection of what occurred.
Witnesses for the Defence.
THOMAS GARROD . I live at 1, Wilson Street, New Cross Road, Deptford, and am a cab driver—I was on the cab rank in the New Cross Road, near the Amersham Arms—I don't recollect the day—I went to the Amersham Arms to fetch water—the prisoner, a lady, and another gentleman, were drinking sherry—I paid 6d. towards paying for it and drank some—the prosecutor hired my cab, and I drove him, the prisoner, and the woman about—we called at the Hayles Arms—they had some lemonade and brandy—he did not pay—he had got no money—he felt ill—I took him to my sister's, who made him some tea—we went to pawn the watch—I was about seven hours driving him about—I gave him 1l. and the ticket.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the young lady you name known as Croydon Poll? A. There was one called that—I don't know her—I know Jack Fielder—he was at the Hayles Arms—I don't know that he robbed anyone.
MRS. GATTANS. I live at 101/2, Manor Street, Old Kent Road—the prosecutor came to my house and had some tea on this evening—after Johnston had gone, I saw my niece, Miss Garrod, had a locket, which she said Mr. Johnston made her a present of—as I saw the man was drunk, I told her to send it to him again, which she did the next evening.
MARY ANN GARROD . I was introduced to the prosecutor at a public-house called the Drovers, in the Old Kent Road—my uncle asked me to make the prosecutor some tea—during tea he gave me the locket, which I returned the next evening, because I did not think it right to retain it.
The Prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at Greenwich Police Court, on 20th September, 1862.— Six Months' Imprisonment .
MESSRS. DALY and WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. PATER
EDWARD HAYWARD . I live at 1, Norfolk Place, Greenwich—I am a private constable, in the employment of the prosecutor—he is a contractor for the sewers at Deptford and Greenwich—in consequence of information I received from the foreman Phillips, I went to some houses here being built in Queen Street, Deptford—they were in carcase—I saw three planks there belonging to the prosecutor, I believe—I asked the prisoner who brought them there—he said a bricklayer, who had been at work for him in the sewers—he did not say where—I sent the foreman to know if he could bring the bricklayer at once, to bring them face to face—after he had gone, the
prisoner, Henry Fagan, wanted me to go to the public-house, to have something to drink—he came to me afterwards, and wanted me to go to a coffee shop, and have something to eat, which I declined—he than opened the door of the second house, and said, "If there is any timber there belonging to you, let me take it"—I saw a short bit of wood nailed to the floor, and said, "I believe that belongs to my master, but let it alone till the bricklayer comes"—he came out and locked the door—previous to that I had asked him whether he had used any part of my master's wood about the building—he said he had not—the bricklayer came with the foreman—I asked Goodman, the bricklayer, if he could give me any information about how the timber came there—he said he did not know anything about it—his son Isaac was with him—he said they stopped the work because Mr. Fagan had not materials to go on with, and went the back way and saw some timber standing there—I called my father's attention to it, and he told me to let it alone, and he would speak to Mr. Fagan—he spoke to Mr. Fagan the next morning, and he said, "Let it alone"—he said when he came the next morning he found the planks in the first house belonging to Fagan—he did not say who put it there—Fagan said nothing to this—he made no remarks—I sent for a policeman, and charged him with the unlawful possession of the timber—three planks were identified—I saw a plank between the joists, which the prosecutor recognized, and was fixed into the building in the next house—I found nine planks with Mr. Pearson's initials "T. P." upon them—they were on the ground floor—they were identified by the foreman—they were let into the floor—I found two short pieces of wood in that house, but we could not identify those—I produce the pieces with the prosecutor's brand upon them—I have the brand here—the marks correspond.
Cross-examined. Q. When you were before the Magistrate, I think you said you could not identify the boards? A. Yes; I am a little more positive now, on account of the brands—I do not know how many men they could have at work there—he said he had only got the bricklayer and carpenter—I believe there had been more—I don't know how many.
RICHARD PHILLIPS . I am a foreman to Mr. Pearson—on 25th March, when something was said to me, I went and spoke to the prisoner—I told him I thought there was some timber in his house, belonging to me, and I wished to hare it out—he said he had not the key—I asked him to go round to the back, and see if there was anything there—he want round to the back, and saw three planks belonging to Mr. Pearson—he said he did not know how they came there—there were four paling boards—three of them were in the back wash-house belonging to Fagan and one plank was under the floor—the joist plank was nailed against the fireplace—I believe what is called a trimmer was on the hearth—that was worth about 30s.—it belonged to the prosecutor, I had bored some holes into them, and drove some iron into them, to keep the people out of the sewers—I showed Fagan those holes and said they belonged to me—I had them removed—I said to him—"Mr. Fagan, I dare you to touch any more timber belonging to me"—that was six months before.
Cross-examined. Q. Can you say when the joists that you found had been taken from the premises? A. They had been taken from the sewer work—I could not say the date they were taken—it must have been within six weeks.
Deptford—I worked for the prisoner in January last, in Queen Street, Deptford, until the latter end of February, when I left in consequence of there being no materials—I saw no planks whatever there—I saw no planks which had been used as joists between the chimnies on the first floor—when I went back three days after I had left with my boy Isaac, there were four planks standing between two of the houses—I had a conversation with my boy, in the prisoner's presence about them—next day I found they were taken inside the house—I had some dispute with the prisoner and left—I made a communication to Phillips—I never took any pieces of timber from the sewer works, I don't know where that bit of wood came from.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you sent away? A. No, I was examined before the Magistrate, and my deposition was read over to me—I left because he would not pay me, and he sent two officers to look me up.
ISSAC GOODMAN . I am a son of last witness—I was at work with my father at this house—I left off work because we could not get any materials—that was in February—there were no planks there when I left—I afterwards came back to the houses, and saw the prisoner there—I saw some sewer planks there—he said, "I put them there"—we went away, and came back in the morning—I found them in the look-up—Mr. Fagan had let me put these boards up to keep the people out.
Cross-examined. Q. Is your father in the habit of borrowing planks for his scaffolding? A. Yes—no one was present when I had this conversation with Fagan—it was in the street, just opposite the building.
JOHN JAMES FRIEND . I live in Queen Street, Deptford—I was employed by the prisoner to do the joiner's work of two houses—I have seen the plank produced from the joists of the building—it belongs to Mr. Pearson, Mr. Dodd put it in.
WILLIAM DODD . I live at Cross Queen's Buildings, Deptford, and am a carpenter—I was employed by Friend on these two houses—I did the joists in No. 1—I used three planks there—the prisoner instructed me to put them in—this is a plank—I objected to use it—he said, "Never mind; use it."
Cross-examined. Q. Was there any scaffolding? A. There was some at the back—I worked for Fagan in February—I am certain these are the planks I used.
WALTER HURRY (Policeman R 174). On Wednesday, 22nd March, the witness Phillips took me to two unfinished buildings in Queen Street, pointed to the prisoner, and said that he had got a lot of timber in the house, and he wanted to know how it came there; and he should give the prisoner into custody—the prisoner said he knew nothing about it—I took him to the station, went back with Phillips and Hayward, and saw the joists, which he identified.
THOMAS EMPTYCUT . I live in Wellington Street, Deptford, and keep a timber-yard and beer-shop—about twelve months ago I bought some planks at a sale, marked "T. P."—I have sold it since—this is not it—I did not sell any planks to the prisoner.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment .
Before Mr. Justice Willes.
MR. CUNNINGHAM conducted the Prosecution.
LOUISA COOK . I am a nurse in the infirmary attached to Lambeth Workhouse—on the 3rd of April I received the deceased George Bagley as a patient in the infirmary—I knew him previously; he was in a paralysed state, not insensible—the prisoner was in the infirmary as an assistant—it was his duty to wash and prepare the patients, and put them into bed, when we received them—he attended on the patients—he had nothing to do with administering the medicine, that was my duty—there was another nurse who assisted in the act—I was present at the death of the deceased, on the 6th of April—I was present when the medical officer attended upon him when he was brought in—I received medicine from the doctor for him, and administered portions of it on Saturday—the deceased was rather troublesome and annoying on Saturday, such as getting out of bed and putting down the bed-clothes—I think it was from uneasiness, not being conscious of what he was doing, his mind was slightly affected—I saw him on Sunday—he was in much the same state—the doctor saw him—he did not order him any further medicine—I did not see him again till 8 o'clock on Monday morning; he was then asleep and insensible, very poorly—I tried to rouse him but could not—he died in that state—Dr. Bullen, the medical officer, saw him before he died—I heard the witness Smith say to the doctor, in the prisoner's presence, that he had a heavy charge to make against the warder (the prisoner)—that he had given Bagley an over-dose of morphia the previous night—the man was then dying—Dr. Buller told the prisoner he could make what statement he thought proper—he asked him if he had given the man an over-dose of morphia, or now much he had given—he said he had given him more than a tablespoonful, because he was restless—the morphia was in a bottle on a shelf—it is not a thing that is administered without the doctor's order—I did not hear the doctor give any direction to the prisoner to administer it—it is usual to keep morphia on the shelf—the prisoner had nothing to do with providing it or placing it there—we never Administer it without the doctor's orders—it is given for a composing draught—the doctor had ordered n special mixture for the deceased that day—I do not know what it was—I have never given morphia to patients without an order from the doctor—we have no medicine chest or cupboard in which to keep medicines—they are all placed upon the shelf—I should think there are as many as twenty-five bottles there; some are six ounce bottles, some eight ounce—this bottle was labelled "Morphia," not "Poison"—the prisoner has seen morphia given for a composing draught—the doctor is not always by when it is given—it is given out of an apothecary's glass—we have one glass which holds four ounces, and we can measure a very small quantity in it—it is then poured into small medicine cups, and given to the patients—I never knew the prisoner to give morphia before, nor anyone else—no medicine is given of any kind without the doctor's orders, not even castor oil—the order is given by word of mouth—we have twenty-seven patients
in that ward I have the superintendence of; eighty or ninety altogether, convalescent and sick—the prisoner, I believe, can read a little; he could read the label on a bottle—I think the morphia was a 12 ounce or 14 ounce bottle—it was in a clean glass bottle.
ROBERT SMITH . I was an inmate of the infirmary—I am an engine-fitter—I saw the deceased in bed in the ward on Friday—the prisoner was a warder there—he had to assist in giving out meals and medicines—on the Sunday afternoon, at 2 o'clock, the deceased was a little troublesome getting in and out of bed—the prisoner came and forced him down in bed with both hands—he put one hand on his neck and raised the other, clenched, in the air—the deceased said, "Oh, don't strike me"—he said, "I will give you something to-night that will make you quiet, you won't be so troublesome getting up to-morrow—he said that very angrily—it caused both me and the rest of the patients to watch his movements all that day—when he gave out the medicine he reached the morphia bottle from the shelf—I knew it was the morphia bottle, because it was labelled so, and one tablespoonful one dose—I had been convalescent about the ward, and knew almost every bottle about the place—I am underrating it when I say the prisoner poured out half a cupful—it would be four tablespoonfulls—I was within a few inches of the man's mouth when he had it, for I reached my head over to look into the cup to see the quantity, because I was suspicious on account of his threat that afternoon—when the prisoner offered it to him, he said, "Here is a nice drop of port wine for you"—morphia is very unpalatable—the man seemed to be almost stifled as he took it, it almost choked him—he seemed to be suffocated in his throat in swallowing—as the prisoner walked away from his bedside he said, "You have got it in your guts now"—after the deceased had taken it he became very jocular, and then fell asleep—he never woke again—I was conversing with him up to about 10.30 he had had the medicine about 7—between 3 and 4 in the morning the night nurse was at his bedside—she was trying to rouse him—she said, "I cannot make this out, this patient snores so loudly"—the prisoner was then in bed in the ward—the deceased appeared to be sleeping like a man who was heavy in drink—his breathing was laborious and painful—my bed was about eighteen inches from his—when the prisoner gave the medicine his face was towards me—I looked over to look into the cup at the time I saw the prisoner pour it out from the bottle first—I did not interfere—I left it to the other patients—I could not tell it would poison him—I thought it would merely make him sleep—on this occasion he gave it in the nurse's absence—I believe it was her Sunday out—I cannot say how long she would be away—I do not recollect having seen the prisoner give anyone else medicine—the bottle was a pint bottle, and I should think there was a good half-pint in it at the time—there is a certain place for the morphia bottle on the shelf—I had had a dose of it myself on the Friday by the nurse's directions—there are six or eight medicine cups in the ward like this produced—I had only been three days in the ward on that occasion, but before that I had been there three weeks—the prisoner had only been left on one Sunday before this to give medicine, to my knowledge: he did not give it in the nurse's absence—I believe Mr. Burton should be present to give out the medicines in the nurse's absence—I had taken the morphia on the Friday out of a cup similar to this—I was very ill, and I asked the nurse to give me a composing draught; and she gave me a dose of morphia, I think somewhere about a tablespoonfull and a half—I did not at that
time know what a dose was—we are under some restraint about the warder—if a patient makes a report he feels a little afterwards, on account of the officers over him; I mean generally; I do not mean particularly with regard to this man—when the nurse gave me the morphia she put it in the cup and left it on my chair, and told me not to take it unless I was very ill in the night—she had given me a Dovey's powder.
JOHN WILLIAM BURB . I have been dispenser at the Lambeth Work-house: I have been there about ten months—I made up the mixture of which the deceased had a dose—it is a pint bottle, and contained ten grains of acetate of morphia, two and a half drachms of Batley's sedative solution of opium, and water to fill up—it is a dangerous agent, and requires care in administering—in most cases it is given by order of the medical man, but if a patient is restless I believe the nurse has power to administer the dose—the usual dose is a tablespoonfull—it is kept in the ward, so that the nurse can make use of it at any time—the prisoner had no authority whatever to administer it that I am aware of, only the nurse—it is sometimes given in larger doses—two tablespoonfulls may be given with safety—in severe cases, if she is out of the way, I do it—I am always there, and if not the house-surgeon is—the warder gives the medicine in the afternoon, I believe—it is given to the warder by the nurse, to give to the patients—I do not know why this medicine was not marked poison—we mark laudanum poison—this is a poison if given in large doses, not in small doses—I should think it would take three or four ounces to kill.
DR. HENRY ST. JOHN BULLEN . I am a surgeon, of Upper Kennington Lane, Lambeth, and am senior medical officer at the Poor House—I was in the ward when the deceased was brought there on the Friday—he was labouring under paralysis; it was an aggravated attack—I prescribed for him—I saw him again on the Sunday, between 11 and 12—he was much in the same condition: he had not improved, and he was certainly not worse—I had not the slightest notion that he was even in danger—he was able to walk about and to converse—I saw him on Monday, between 10 and 11 a.m., on going my usual rounds—he was then insensible, with sterterous respiration, the pupils extremely contracted, the pulse feeble, the whole body relaxed, and the skin cold and covered with perspiration—I believed him to be in a fit; that a new accession of his disease had taken place—the prisoner was in the ward at the time—just as I was leaving the ward Smith called me to him, and stated that on the previous afternoon the deceased Bagley had become restless, and that the prisoner had used threatening language to him—I think it was, "I will give you something to quiet you," and that the prisoner then gave him a large dose of morphia mixture, as near as possible half a cupful—I asked the prisoner if that was true, and if he had any authority to give it him—he said, no; he gave it of his own will, but he did not give so much as Smith stated: he only gave about a tablespoonfull—he said the patient was restless and rather delirious, and he gave it him to quiet him—the man died almost in my presence, about half-an-hour afterwards—I made a post mortem examination—the dura mater was congested with blood—there was slight congestion on the surface of the brain, and when it was cut in two, its substance was rather soft, especially in the anterior lobe of the left hemisphere, where there was a small abscess, containing about half an ounce of softened brain, of a purulent character there was about an ounce of bloody-coloured serum in the ventricles of the brain—the right lung healthy, free, and crepitant—the left was consolidated, tubercular,
and adherent to the left side in its whole extent—the heart was tolerably healthy; rather flabby—the aorta was sacculated, the valves empty, the chambers entirely empty—in the cavity of the pericardium there was about an ounce of discoloured serum—the intestines were healthy—they contained about half an ounce of liquid, and partly digested food, in which there was no odour of opium or any drug—there was just a small patch of congestion on the inner surface—the post-mortem examination was made on the 10th—the man had died on the 6th—there being no trace of opium in the stomach, I concluded it had been absorbed into the blood—my conclusion certainly was, that death was caused, if not accelerated, by an overdose of opium—I formed that opinion upon the state in which I saw him—no communication was made to me, or to the house surgeon, about his state—I first learnt his condition in going my rounds—had I not heard Smith's evidence, I should certainly have concluded that the man died from a new access of paralysis—the abscess I found had evidently existed for some time—there was an unusually serious condition of brain—there was a softening of the brain, not of long standing—the man was in that condition that he might have died at any moment—what I say about the morphia having accelerated his death, is entirely from the account given by Smith—morphia acts differently upon different persons—there is a case on record of a young man, a medical student, in a fit of despair, taking sixteen grains; but upon the application of the stomach-pump, and other remedies, he was recovered—the ordinary dose is a quarter of a grain.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcom kerr, Esq.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. STARLING conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
JOSEPH MARTIN . I carry on business at 33 and 34, Lawrence Lane, Cheapside—about the middle of January, I advertised a worm-still for sale, in the Telegraph and Advertiser—this is the advertisement—the prisoner Smith called on me with reference to my advertisement, and I eventually agreed to sell him a still for 145l., cash—a day or two after he called on me again—he had not quite settled with me to buy it—after that he called again, and said he was working for a Limited Liability Company, and was fitting up some works for them, and he required the still to complete the engagement, and as they would not pay him till the work was finished, he should not be able to pay me for thirty days, and he said he would give me a bill of thirty days date—he said he could get good mimes to the bill—he mentioned the name of his brother-in-law, Mr. Alfred Charles Street, of 23, Lorrimore Square, that Mr. Street was an independent gentleman, living on his own property, and that he banked at the Bank of England—I made inquiries before I accepted the bill—after Smith had mentioned Mr. Street's name, he gave me this note (Read—
"28th January, 1868, Mr. Martin, Dear sir, you can have as backer to the acceptance of thirty days, my brother-in-law, and the Bank of England, their bankers are Messrs. Jacobe and Co., Berlin. I am dear sir, your's respectfully, George H. Smith")—alter I had made inquiries about Mr. Street, who lived at 23, Lorrimore Square, I got the bill and wrote it myself—this is it, it is accepted by Smith—I saw him accept it at my office—I afterwards went to Lorrimore Square—I saw the prisoner Street, I told him that I had called with reference to a bill given me by a Mr. Smith—he then asked me for the bill, and signed it in my presence in the name of Alfred Charles Street—he showed me two or three patent ventilators, and other things, and I said I was rather fond of inventions—he said he was of independent property—I sent the bill to Mr. Richardson, and it was returned unpaid—I have never been paid since—Smith had the still, and took it away—after the bill was returned, I went to Lorrimore Square, and found the house uninhabited—about a week after, I went with Sergeant Pope to 70, Newington Causeway—while we were waiting before the door, Street came in, entered the house—that was before I had seen Smith—I asked hint if his name was Street—he said, "No; it is Brown"—I said, "Well, either Street or Brown, we require you," and he was taken into custody—we then went to the second floor back, and found Smith in bed—I said to him, "I want Smith"—he said, "My name is not Smith"—he then called me by my name, and said he should like to speak to me—he said, "I hope you will not have me removed, Mr. Martin"—I said, "I have consulted your doctor, and he says you are in a fit state to be removed"—he was then taken into custody—there was a female in the house waiting on him.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it not his wife? A. I believe it was—I saw a child in her arms—I had heard that he had met with an accident, and he man suffering from the effects of it when I saw him in bed—I did not see Smith before he came to transact this business with me—I never saw him at a wedding—I know a young lady named Alioe Wordsworth—she was married about three years ago—I was not present at the wedding—I did not know that Smith was the best man on that occasion—I believed him to be a respectable man at the time he got the still—I did not call on Messrs. Jacobe and Co.—I did not know that the prisoner was related to one of those gentlemen—I have not inquired—I gave him a delivery order for the still—it might have been before Street signed the bill—I should be sorry to say it was after—he had some lead from me at the same time as the still—the bill is dated 29th January, and I believe it was the following day that Street signed the bill—he paid me 19l. for the lead in cash—I do not know Mrs. Street is Smith's mother-in-law—I doubt it—I know nothing at all about it—he did not say that the bill would have been met if he had not met with this accident—he did not ask me for time, and he would pay me, or anything like it.
JOHN POPE (Police Sergeant M 6). I apprehended the two prisoners in company with the last witness—we got to Smith's door at the same time as Street was knocking—I did not say anything to him then—the door was opened by someone, and Street went into the passage—we followed him in—I told Mr. Martin to close the door, and went up stairs to the top of the house, and saw the prisoner Smith in bed—Mr. Martin called to me—I went down stairs, and he said, "This is Mr. Street"—the prisoner said, "My name is not Street, my name is Brown, you have made a mistake"—I said, "You will consider yourself in custody; Mr. Martin, you keep the door"—I
then went up stain with Mr. Martin and Street—I asked Mr. Martin if that was Smith—he said, "Yes"—Smith said, "My name is not Smith, you have made a mistake"—I took him into custody—he said, "You won't have me taken away, Mr. Martin, will you"—I then told Smith in the presence of Street that they would be charged with conspiring together to cheat and defraud Mr. Martin of 150l.—Smith told his wife not to come near him till he sent for her—I searched Street and found this note on him—(Read: "70, Newington Causeway, Mr. Brown, Dear sir, I received your kind note, come and see me one evening if you can find time, Harris is very ill, and baby nearly dying. I cannot say more at present Hoping you are quite well I am, yours, &c., L. Smith.")
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know Smith before? A. Yes—I never heard the prisoners were brothers-in-law—I have made inquiries.
WILLIAM HART . I live at 167, New Kent Road, and am an ornamenter on glass—I have known the prisoner Street about ten or twelve months—he took some premises of mine—I gave him a receipt—I afterwards knew him by the name of Brown—I always addressed him by the name of Brown, and he answered to it—he paid his rent—there was a plate on the door with Brown & Co. on it—I have seen him in company with Smith on more than one occasion. Cross-examined. Q. Was the house taken in the name of Brown & Co. A. He was introduced to me as a man likely to take the warehouse—I did not know his name at the time—I saw the name of Brown & Co. on the premises, and picked him out as Mr. Brown.
ALFRED CHARLES STREET . I live at Health Villa, Lordship Lane, Dulwich, and am the householder of 23, Lorrimore Square—I resided there up to the beginning of last December, for some years—I was well known in the neighbourhood—I have not resided there since December—I do not know either of the prisoners—the endorsement on this bill is not in my writing—it is not written by my authority—I did not let the house to either of the prisoners.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you let the house yourself? A. No, I let it through an agent—he is here.
GEORGE BRINSLEY . I am a house agent, at 63, St. Paul's Church Yard—I let the house 23, Lorrimore Square, to a person named Medway, in December last—this is the agreement, it is dated 17th December, 1867—I do not know either of the prisoners.
Cross-examined. Q. You let the house to a person named Medway? A. Yes—I have not seen him since—he was in possession of the house up to 10th February.
SMITH received a good character— GUILTY — Twelve Month' Imprisonment .
STREET— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
PATRICK MARKHAM (Policeman P 78). About 10.30 on 15th April, I was in the Camberwell Road, and saw the prisoner Harris, with two other men—Harris had a bundle under his arm, and appeared to be rather stout about the body—I stopped him and said "What is this bundle"—he said "What has that to do with you"—I said "I am a police constable, I want to know
what is in this bundle"—he said "I shan't tell you"—I said "It you don't satisfy me, I shall take you to the station"—with that the other two men walked away—he had a wine bottle in his hand, drinking out of it—I took him to the station and he said "They have gone and left me in the hole"—I opened the bundle and found in it a black gown, a surplice and two hoods underneath his great coat—he said they were given to him by the two persons who went away—I would not positively swear that the other two prisoners were the men that were with him, but they are just the same description of men—I saw them at the workhouse, and failed to identify them, then in workhouse clothes; but feeing them in their usual clothes, I have a very strong opinion of them.
WILLIAM POOLE (Policeman P 152). I was on duty in the Woolwich Road, on the night in question, and was called by Markham, who was holding the prisoner Harris—I saw two other men a short distance away when I came up—I believe those two men to be the prisoners—I have no doubt that they are the two men who went away.
Platt. Q. How was I dressed? A. I did not notice your dress much—it was dark, but there was a lamp—I said I had no doubt you were one of the men.
Dieter. Q. How was I dressed? A. If I have any doubt, it is about you—I am not so sure about you as I am about Platt, because I did not see so much of you—I said that before the Magistrate.
WILLIAM SEARLE . I am the parish clerk of St. Giles', Camberwell—I went to the church the morning after the robbery, and found that the church had been entered through a window at the south side of the church—there was a hole big enough to admit a man—these surplices (produced) belong to the churchwardens—this gown was a lent one, in consequence of a previous robbery—there is also a gown of my own, and some scarfs—I saw them safe on the Wednesday morning, the 15th—the door was locked up by the verger—the door leading to the vestry was broken—half-a-dozen bottles of wine were taken from one cupboard and these robes from another.
WILLIAM ROBERTS .—I am verger at St. Giles', Camberwell—I attended the service on Wednesday, the 15th—I left at 12 o'clock—I fastened the door of the south porch—on the following day I examined the church, and depose to the same things as the last witness.
ARCHIBALD WHITE MACCONOCHIE . I am superintendent of labour at St. Mary, Newington—I know the three prisoners—I know Harris by the name of Henry Nicholson—they were in the workhouse, and left on 15th April, about 9.10 in the morning, at there own request—they left together—after they had gone I missed a bricklayer's chisel—I was there before they left—Platt and Dieter came back on the 18th, and were admitted again.
PAUL DAY . I am an inmate of St. Mary's Workhouse—I recollect the prisoner being there—I remember them going away and Platt and Dieter coming back—after they had come back Platt told me that him and Nicholson had broken into a church, and that Nicholson was no good at the game they went at—Nicholson turned it up for a bad job, and then Platt took it in hand, and opened the door directly—Nicholson is the same as Harris—he said he had left Nicholson in the Woolwich Road, he had been taken by the police, Dieter was not present.
Platt. Q. What part of the house did I tell you this? A. In the young men's hall, no one else was there—there are plenty of men in the house I do not know the names of.
COURT. Q. Have you had any quarrel with him? A. Not lately—I had about six weeks ago.
Platt. This is enmity on his part.
WILLIAM POUND (Police Sergeant P 10). On the night of the robbery, as Harris was going down to the cells, he said, "Can you bring us a print of beer?"—I said, "No, it is against the rules, you can have tea or coffee, but no beer"—he said, "Well, look here, I will tell: me and two chaps have been heaving all day, and we have been and done the church."
HARRIS— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .
PLATT and DIETER— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and CLARK conducted the Prosecution.
FRANCIS HENRY HAYES . I keep the Nightingale beer-shop, Walworth Road—on 25th March, I served the prisoner with a glass of cooper—he gave me a bad florin—I bent it, and told him it was bad—he took it out of my hand, and said he would throw it away—he was going out, but was stopped; he then bent it smaller and swallowed it, and said, "Now you can do as you like"—I had sent for a policeman, who came, and I gave the prisoner into custody.
DAVID BATTERBY (Policeman P 292). I took the prisoner in charge—Hayes said he believed he had swallowed the florin—we pinched his throat to make him spit it out, but found nothing—the prisoner said he had thrown it away—he was taken before a Magistrate and discharged, on 1st April, between 1 and 2 o'clock.
JANE BAKER . I keep the Three Horse Shoes, Princes Street, Lambeth—on 1st April, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a glass of cooper—he gave me a bad shilling—I told him he had been there about three weeks before with a bad two-shilling-piece, and I threatened him them that if I had any one here, I should give him in charge—I broke the twoshilling-piece into three pieces, and threw it in the fire, and it melted instantly—he made no reply—I sent for a constable, and gave him in charge—while the constable was sent for he paid me in coppers—I gave the shilling to the constable.
THOMAS LEE (Policeman L 238). The prisoner was given into my charge—he said he got the shilling at a house near the Victoria Theatre, in change for a two-shilling-piece—I found on him 91/2d. in coppers.
GUILTY **— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment .
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. LILLEY the Defence.
TIMOTHY EDGLEY . I am a publican in Drury Lane—on 14th April, I was coming along Bankside, and met the prisoner coming towards me with a little girl following him, a few yards behind—she was crying, and said, "Don't, father"—he said, "Come on," and took her in his arms, and passed on down the steps of Southwark Bridge—he took off his coat and hat, and walked into the water, nearly up to his knees—he seemed to throw the
child from his arms—I thought he was trying to frighten it, I did not think he was going to drown it—another person took the child from him, and took him by one hand, and I by the other—the was about a yard and a-half from the water's edge; it might have been about eighteen inches deep—the prisoner was the worse for liquor and I don't think he knew what he was saying—he could walk straight—when I got to the bottom of the steps he was on his hands and knees—the child was wet from head to foot.
Cross-examined. Q. Where were you when the child touched the water? A. At the top of the stage—I could reach him without getting wet—the prisoner was soddened with drink—he made no attempt to get the child out.
SAMUEL GEORGE . I am a labourer, of 38, Gray Street, Blackfriars—I was standing on the steps of Southwark Bridge—I saw the prisoner take the child down the steps—I followed him—he carried the child into the water nearly up to his knees, and dropped her from under his arms—two or three of us who were there picked her up—he was considerably under the influence of liquor.
SUSAN HOLLAND . I am 8 year old—the prisoner is my father—I went out for a walk with him on this afternoon—he took me down Bankside, and dropped me from under his arms unto the water—I did not cry or say anything—he is kind to me—I have a mother.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you brothers and sisters? A. Yes—my father supped and dropped me—I cried and said, "Oh! don't," because I did not like the water—I slipped out of his arms when he slipped.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JUNE 8TH, 1868.