CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
THIRD SESSION, HELD JANUARY 10TH, 1870.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
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, January 10th, 1870, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ROBERT BESLEY, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir JOHN BARNARD BYLES , Knt., one of Her Majesty's Justices of the Court of Common Pleas; Sir GILLERY PIGOTT , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir JAMES DUKE , Bart, Sir FRANCIS GRAHAM MOON , Bart., F.S.A., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., and JOHN CARTER , Esq., F.A.S. and F.R.A.S., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq., and WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
Sir JAMES VALLENTIN, Knt.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
BESLEY, MAYOR. THIRD 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, January 10th, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN ACKEW . I keep the Emperor of China beer-shop, in Skinner Street, Clerkenwell—on Thursday, 2nd December, the prisoners came in together—Saunders called for a half-quartern of gin or rum and warm water—I said I did not sell spirits—she then asked for a pint of six ale, warm—she gave me a half-crown, and I gave her 2s. 3d. change—I put the half-crown in the till—there was a row at the other end of the bar—I went to see about it, and when I turned round again the prisoners were gone—I then looked in the till and saw the bad half-crown there—I put it in my purse and kept it by itself, till I gave it to the constable—on the Monday following, the 6th, the prisoners came again together; one of them, I don't know which, asked for a pint of six ale, warm—I recognized them directly they came in—Clayton gave me a half-crown—I saw it was bad before she handed it to me—when I took it I found it was bad—I marked it, and said, "This is a bad half-crown"—she said, "No," and rushed out at the door, as she said, to call her husband—I stopped her—Clayton remained—I sent for a constable, and gave them in charge—I gave both half-crowns to the constable.
the money they gave was good—I took Clayton—3d., in halfpence, was found upon her.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate were read. Saunders said: "I was not there on the Thursday, I can prove I was never out of bed that day." Clayton said: "I can prove I was never out on Thursday, no further than my mother-in-law's; that is at the bottom of my own street."
Saunders' Defence. I have a witness, Annie Johnson, who was nursing me when I was ill.
Clayton's Defence. I don't know whether my witness is here, her name is Sarah Clayton.
The Prisoners further PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions.
SAUNDERS**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
CLAYTON*†— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM BELL RICHARDS . I keep the Coach and Horses, at Blue Anchor Alley, Bunhill Row—on Friday, 31st December, about 11.20, the prisoner came in for a half-pint of porter—he gave me a sixpence; I gave him change—he drank the porter and left—I put the sixpence in the till—there was other money there—I went to the till afterwards, and found a bad sixpence lying amongst the other money—the prisoner came in again shortly after, and asked for three-halfpennyworth of rum—he paid with a bad six-pence—I gave him his change, and put the sixpence on one side, on the lower counter—he went away and spoke to a woman outside—he came in again in about 10 minutes after, for another three-halfpennyworth of rum, and paid with a bad sixpence—I walked round the counter and shut the street door and said I should give him into custody for uttering two bad sixpences—he said he had not been in the house before—he asked for his change, and I said I should not give it to him—I sent for a constable and gave him into custody—at first he denied having been in before, but afterwards he admitted he had been—I gave the three sixpences to the constable—I don't swear that the sixpence he gave me first was bad—I strongly suspected he was the man—I only produced two in the evidence at the Police Court.
Prisoner's Defence. I was only in the house once in my life, and that was for the three-halfpenny worth of rum.
He further PLEADED GUILTY† to having been before convicted of a like offence in April 1867.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
THOMAS PLEADED GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DUNNE conducted the Prosecution.
out of a baker's shop first, Mr. Stewart's—I did not see the woman then—I went into the shop and had some conversation—I saw Thomas about half-an-hour afterwards and I followed him to Ladbroke Terrace, Netting Hill—the woman was with him then, walking by his side—they stopped and looked back several times—they then went into the Shakespeare public-house, in Westbourne Grove, remained there about half-an-hour, and then came out—I watched them, with another officer—the woman was carrying a basket—I dropped back a little and let the other detectives follow—I saw them in Westbourne Place, still together—I saw the female prisoner go into Mr. Armstrong's shop—the man walked forward, and stood some distance up—after the woman came out, I went in and spoke to Walker, the man who was serving in the shop—I followed the prisoners again, and they went to the Prince of Wales public-house—the woman came out, and went into a butcher's shop, next door; the woman went back to the public-house again, and joined the man—he came out then, and she followed about two minutes after—I saw the man go to a tobacconist's shop, in Sheldon Street—I afterwords went in and received a bad shilling—when he came out of the shop, he joined the woman again—I followed him and took him into custody, and took him to the station—I searched him and found a half-crown, two shillings, a sixpence, and fourpence, all good money—a piece of ginger bread, two keys, and some loose tobacco.
Brown. I know nothing of it.
ISABEL ANNIE BRIDGELAND . I am a tobacconist, at 20, Sheldon Street—on 22nd December last the male prisoner came to my shop—Mrs. Attwood served him—I saw him tender a bad shilling to her—she gave it to me, and I followed the man, and gave the shilling to the detective.
SAMUEL WALKER . I am shopman to Mr. Armstrong, grocer, 23, Westbourne Place—I was serving in the shop, on the evening of 22nd December, when the female prisoner came in, between 6 and 8 o'clock—she purchased some groceries, and gave in payment two florins—I put them in the till, and gave her the change—she left, and Couchman came in just after, and from what he said, I looked in the till—I found two florins and some small silver—they were the two florins the woman had given me—we thought they were good, and they were put back in the till—Smith came in afterwards—there was only one florin in the till then—I don't recollect receiving another florin before Smith came in—when Smith came in, I looked in the till again, and found a bad florin—I gave it to Smith—we had not put the florins in the trier the first time.
EDWARD HENRY BOND . I am cashier to Mr. Turner, provision merchant, 16, Westbourne Place—on 22nd December the female prisoner came there for a pound of sausages, and gave, in payment, a florin—I gave her the change, put the florin in the till, and she left—the witness Smith came in, and I examined the money in the till, and found a bad florin on the top of the other money—there had been other customers in the shop, but I don't think I had taken any other florin—I gave it to the constable—I afterwards saw the woman in custody at the police-station, and identified her—I also saw some sausages similar to those we had sold—there were other florins in the till, four or five, I should say—I had been to the till three or four times, and had moved the money about a little.
Grove, about a quarter of a mile—they stopped, and the woman gave the basket to the man, and went into the shop of Mr. Armstrong, in West-bourne Place—the man walked on past the shop, about 100 yards, and remained leaning against a lamp-post—the female came out of the shop with a parcel, joined the man, and they went into a public-house together—they were there two or three minutes—the woman came out, and went into Mr. Turner's shop, next door; she came out, and went into the public-house again and joined the man—the man then came out, and went back in the same direction they had come, and went into the tobacconist's shop in Sheldon Street—while he was there the female came out of the public-house, and met him when he came out of the shop—the man turned his bead to where we were standing, in a doorway—he walked towards us, and the woman walked quickly away into the public-house again—the man had a look at us, and walked away as fast as he could towards the railway—Couchman went to the shop, and I followed the man to the railway—I took him into custody for passing a bad shilling—I took him back to the public-house—as I opened the door the female prisoner was sitting on a form under the window—she jumped up, and turned her back to me—I went up to her, and told her I should charge her with being concerned with the man in uttering counterfeit coin—she ran across the bar towards the door—I caught her round the waist, and said I wanted to speak to her—she endeavoured to get away—I caught her hand, and found she had a purse in it, which I got away from her—she threw herself down on the floor, and got her hand to her mouth—I tried to get her mouth open, and called to the barman—I said, "She has got some money"—I could see two coins in her mouth—I forced my thumb in, and she bit it, and I was bound to let go—I said, "I will have it"—she said, "If you do I will bite your finger"—she swallowed the coins, and a piece of tissue paper came out of her mouth after—a bag dropped from her; it contained 3lbs. of plums, 2lbs. of currants, 2 lbs. of tea, and some candied peel—there was a basket on the form where she had been sitting; that contained 1 lb. of sausages, 1/2lb. of beefsteak, two separate ounces of tobacco, and a piece of ribbon—the purse contained four half-crowns, two shillings, and three farthings, all good—I found another purse on her, containing one florin, seven shillings, four sixpences, and 10d. in copper, all good—I took her to the station, and she was charged with uttering a bad florin, with the man—she said, "I know nothing about that man;" and the man said, "I know nothing about that woman"—on the way to the station she said, "I can't live with my husband again, I have disgraced him enough."
Brown's Defence. I am this man's wife; this is the certificate (produced). COURT to COUCHMAN. Q. Did you know the man by the name of Pake? A. No.
BROWN— GUILTY — Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
Cranford Park, Middlesex—on Sunday morning, 2nd January, about 6 o'clock or a little after, I heard some guns in the cover—I was in a coyer called Churchyard cover—the sound came from one of the coven on the other side of the house—I went alongside the cover—I met the witnesses, Hill and James—I did not hear any more guns—I think it was three reports altogether that I heard—that was in the direction of the Beech Walk cover, which adjoins the garden of the house—we went to a part where the avenue ceases—it is a plantation which joins the cover—we waited there about two or three minutes—the three prisoners then came along in a direction from the covers—I rushed at Thomas Baldwin and apprehended him—he struck me over the head with the butt end of the gun—I guarded it off as well as I could with my arm—it caught me on the arm and on the head as well—I then hit him with the staff, and secured him—Hill and James secured the others—they all three had guns—Thomas Baldwin had three pheasants in his possession, and a powder flask—Henry Baldwin had two pheasants, and Mason three—it was between 6 and 7 o'clock when they were secured; I should say about 6.30, or something like that—the sun rose about 8.10 that morning—Henry Baldwin said, "This won't be settled at Uxbridge; we shall get two years for this"—in going to the station, he said, "You don't feed them very well"—I said, "You feed them pretty well yourself'—I afterwards went to the cover, and found the footmarks of three persons—I could distinctly trace them in and out of the cover.
DANIEL HILL . I am a gardener in Lord Fitzhardinge's service—I sleep over the stable—on Sunday morning, 2nd January, I heard six reports of guns—I was in my bedroom when I heard the first, and after I got up I saw the flash of a gun in the cover, and joined Beechey and James, and went with them to near the occupation road on Lord Fitzhardinge's land; and about 6.15 or 6.20 I saw the three prisoners coming from the direction of the covers—I seized hold of Mason, knocked him down, and took a gun from him—it was loaded—I took three pheasants from him—I heard Henry Baldwin say, "I wish we had went out the other way; what a fool I was"—he also said, "Why did not you come into the covers and face us like men, and give us a chance"—he said there were ten pheasants, we only found eight—he said, "It was a good job we did not shoot at them"—there was only one gun loaded, that was Mason's.
HENRY JAMES . I live in a cottage on the grounds of Lord Fitzhardinge, at Cranford—on this Sunday morning I heard the report of six guns—I was out of bed, but not dressed—I went and stood in my doorway when I heard the first shot—I joined Hill and Beechey—when the prisoners came into the occupation road, I seized Henry Baldwin, and struck the gun out of his hand in the struggle—I afterwards searched him, and found two pheasants in his possession—when I caught hold of him, he said, "Don't knock me about"—I said, "I won't if you are quiet, but if not I shall"—he afterwards said, "Why did not you come into the cover to us like men, and give us a chance?"—I said, "It is your chance to catch the birds, and it is our chance to catch you; we have got you now, and we mean to keep you if we can."
HENRY BALDWIN— GUILTY *— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
THOMAS BALDWIN— GUILTY **— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MASON— GUILTY — Two Months' Imprisonment.
AKERMAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT appeared for Johnson.
JOHN SAMUEL AKERMAN (the prisoner). I have teen about three years in the employment of Messrs. Taylor & Son, plumbers and contractors, of 45, Fish Street Hill—I was employed as a labourer—Johnson was foreman—he was there when I went there—Messrs. Taylor are plumbers to the Corporation—a man named Blewitt was in the service—he was my mate—it was Johnson's duty, as foreman, to send me to the work in the morning—on Friday morning, the 17th December, Blewitt was with me—Johnson called out the men's names, and sent them to their different jobs—he said to Blewitt "You can go on to your work at Guildhall, I want your mate to go round to Rood Lane to a job, to get some things away"—the men had then gone to their different jobs—I went to Rood Lane, and took a set of window cloths to Nimmo, the painter, and brought back a pair of steps to the shop—that was about 7.20 in the morning—Johnson then asked me if I could get rid of a bit of white lead—I said, "I don't know, I will try"—he said, "Go up and put a bit in a pail"—the white lead and pails was kept in the first floor—I wont up stairs, put the white lead in a pail, put another pail on the top, and brought it down stairs, as I had been directed—when I came down Johnson said, "Put it down behind the truck"—I put it down and stood a little while—he said he would go round to Rood Lane with me—he then said, "You go round there, and then go where you like and get rid of the white lead"—I left the premises about 7.40 or 7.45—Johnson helped me with the pails on my shoulder—I went down Eastcheap and up Rood Lane—I then turned back again, down St. Mary-at-Hill, up Thames Street, up the steps of London Bridge, over the bridge, down Tooley Street, down several streets which I don't know the names of—I went down several streets round Bermondsey—I walked about and got tired of carrying the load about—I went into Mr. Jackson's house—I did not know anything of Mr. Jackson before—he is a plumber, in White Street, Southwark—he was not in the shop—directly I got in at the door Mr. Davis, the officer, rushed in, and I went a step into the parlour, and there was Mr. Jackson, I suppose, and some children—I had not seen anyone to speak to in Jackson's shop—I did not know the officer—I did not know who he was—I thought it was some lion coming, or something, into the place, he came in so fast—I had not sold, or attempted to sell, the white lead—the officer pulled the things off my shoulder and said, "I am a police officer, I shall take you into custody for robbing your masters."
Cross-examined. Q. You were charged, before the Magistrate, at the same time as Johnson? A. Yes—I was not examined as a witness there—I have never made any statement before to-day—I have not told it to anyone, only to Mr. Wontner, who appeared for me at the Police Court—he told me to tell the truth, and I made a correct statement to him as to how the thing happened—he did not say it would be better for me—I don't know whether my sentence will be lightened in consequence—it has not been conveyed to me that the prosecutors will recommend me to mercy if I made this statement—this was the first time Johnson spoke to me about taking white lead—my regular work was the Corporation work—I had been working, the day before, with Blewitt, at Guildhall and the Sheriffs' Court
—we were both to go to the Sheriffs' Court on the 17th—I and Coleman were in the habit of being kept back for the purpose of cleaning out the office at Mr. Taylor's, when we went at 6 o'clock in the morning; we were often kept till 9 o'clock—we should not go into the City to work till after we had done cleaning the office—florae of us used to go at 6 o'clock; the plumbers don't come till 7—we do not do the office in the winter, the boy Alfred Gunnell does—I had not been doing the office that morning—I used to stop and sweep up the place sometimes, when my mate did not come to his time; that was under Johnson's direction—he kept the time of the men, and distributed the work to which they went—there are a great many men employed sometimes, but only about six or eight at that time—Mr. Ascott, the junior clerk, was examined before the Lord Mayor, and also the boy Alfred—Mr. Ascotts' right time for coming was 7 o'clock, but sometimes he was not there to his time—I think it was a little after 8 o'clock when I got to Mr. Jackson's—Mr. Taylor, senior, does not come to business every day; either he or his son is there every day—nobody in particular, that I know of, has charge of the material up stairs—if we want material, we do not go and take it, we have to ask for it; we do not go up and help ourselves, unless we are told by Mr. Johnson or Mr. Taylor.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Is an account kept of what you take then? A. I believe so; I have seen them write in books when I have done so—I had been working at the Sheriffs' Court on the 16th—no white lead was required for that work.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective). I received instructions with reference to Messrs. Taylor's premises, three weeks before the 17th December—on that morning, about 7.20, I was near the premises, and saw Johnson in the shop—I placed myself in a position to observe his movements—about 7.40, I saw him come to shop door—he stood there for about three minutes, and looked each way, as if to see whether anyone was looking out—he then went back and spoke to Akerman—at that time I looked at the bottom of the shop, and observed two zinc pails—Johnson stood close with Akerman—I then saw one pail—I turned sharp round to look where Sergeant Funnell was, and I then saw one pail put into the other, and Johnson lifted them on to Akerman's shoulder—they appeared to be rather heavy—Akerman then came out; Johnson came with him, and stood at the door, with his hands on his knees, laughing, looking after him as he went up the hill—I then followed Akerman up Fish Street Hill, down Eastcheap, and up Rood Lane—when he got half way up Rood Lane, he rested the two pails on a low wall—he then came back again, went down St. Mary-at-Hill, into Lower Thames Street, and under the archway of London Bridge—I then turned back to receive further instructions from the sergeant, and then went over the bridge—I met Akerman on the other side—he went down Tooley Street, and all the back ways into White Street, when he went into Mr. Jackson's shop, and into the back parlour—I followed him—he went sharp round the corner into another door, and fastened the door after him—I opened the door directly, and he was in the act of dropping the pails from his head—I said, "I am a police officer, I shall take you into custody"—I produce the pails—I found 64 lbs. of white lead in them.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he walk into Mr. Jackson's shop as if he knew it? A. He did, straight through the shop into the bock parlour—Mr. Jackson was there, and nodded his head to him as he came in; a sort of sign passed between them.
EDWARD FUNNELL (City Detective Sergeant). I took Johnson into custody in the counting-house—I said, "Johnson, where have you sent Akerman to?"—he said, "To work along with the plumber, at Guildhall"—"When did you book him out?"—"At 7.10"—"How can you tell me that (I am an officer), when he was with you up to about 7.40; have you sent him out anywhere with any white lead, or booked any white lead out?"—he said, "No, I have not"—he then took up a pen, and was going to make an entry in the book, but I took it out of his hand, and would not allow him to do so—I told him Akerman was in custody on a charge of assisting him in stealing it—he made no answer.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you seen Akerman go to Mr. Jacobson's premises before? A. I had—I followed him there on 26th November, I think—it was 7.40 when he left the prosecutor's shop on this occasion, and he got over there about 7.57—he went into the shop, and into a little room beyond the shop, and closed the door after him.
RICHARD JACKSON . I am a plumber, painter, glazier, and glass cutter, at 22, White Street, Southwark—I do not know either of the prisoners—I never saw them before, till I saw them at the Mansion House—I never had any dealings with Mr. Taylor—I did not know of Akerman's having come to my place on 17th December—there was no one in my place that morning but my wife and children and myself—I was there—I did not see a man rush in—I had no dealings at all with either of the prisoners.
Cross-examined. Q. You were at home on the 17th? A. Yes, I was in the act of cleaning one of the children's boots at the time—I did not see the man come into my back parlour—I am not in the habit of serving my customers in my back parlour—I am quite sure I never saw Akerman till I saw him at the Mansion House.
COURT. Q. Did you see the policeman come in? A. I was taken quite unawares—I did not see him come in, not till he went through—I saw him afterwards, not at the time—of course I saw him after he had run through and brought the prisoner out—I did see the prisoner before I saw him at the Mansion House—I beg pardon, I did not understand the question—he must have run through, and then the policeman ran through after him—he went through the room in which I was, and the officer brought him back.
EDWARD FUNNELL (re-examined). I had seen Akerman on the morning of 26th November go into Mr. Jackson's premises—he then had a long can with him, which appeared to be about half full—Jackson was in the shop—I saw him when Akerman went in with the can, and he went up one or two steps into another room.
JOSEPH TAYLOR . I carry on business as a plumber and glazier in partnership with my son, at 45, Fish Street Hill—Johnson served his apprenticeship to me—he then left for a time to go into business—he did not succeed, and came back again, and was with me twelve years—he has been a foreman nearly four years—he had charge of everything—it was his duty to see everything that went out weighed and properly charged in the books—the books are here—there is no entry of this 64 lbs. of white lead—it so happens that no white lead went out that morning, and none was charged to anyone—the value of this was about a sovereign—the pails are my property—Johnson had no authority to direct any labourer to take out white lead to be disposed of.
Cross-examined. Q. Is it the ordinary course, if a labourer wants white lead, to ask you or the foreman for it, and then take it from the warehouse?
A. I have never acknowledged that system—the key of the white lead shop is kept in charge of Johnson, and he goes up and gives out what it required—Akerman is also charged with stealing some zinc.
JOSEPH TAYLOR, JUN . I am in partnership with my father—on 16th December, I saw the stock of white lead—next morning I missed about a 1/2 cwt., at a rough guess—it was Johnson's duty to enter any that left the premises—there is no entry of any on 17th December.
Cross-examined. Q. At this time were you doing some repairs At Fry, Caffin & Co.'s? A. Yes—I don't know that Johnson went down there that morning—I left orders that he was to go and see the men there—we were whitewashing the rooms and cleaning the office—but I understand he did not go, because the lad, Lambert, had not come.
JOHNSON received a good character.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
AKERMAN— Six Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, January 10th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DUNNE conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE ENDELL . I am barman at the Wellington public-house, 321, Strand—on 31st December, about 7.50, I served the prisoner with a half-pint of ale which came to 1d., he gave me a sixpence, I broke it with my teeth and put it on the counter, he pushed it back, and said it was no use to him; he put down 1d. and walked away—I went out and saw him walking along the Strand, counting something in his hand; I followed him to a passage, and gave him in custody with the pieces—he did not speak.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I say, "Are you certain I am the man?" A. No. HENRY BOURNE. I live at 35, Exeter Street—on 31st December, I was in the Wellington public-house, and saw the prisoner, he called for a half-pint of porter, and tendered a bad sixpence, which the barman broke with his teeth—the prisoner then paid for the ale, and swept the pieces over the counter, saying that they were of no use to anybody else—he drank the ale and left—the barman and I followed him as far as Burleigh Street—he appeared to be sorting some money—he crossed over to Carting Lane, and stooped as if to put something in his boot or on the ground.
THOMAS MCDONALD . I am an assistant jeweller, of Chelsea—on 31st December, I was in the Strand, and saw the prisoner followed by Endell, he appeared to be counting something in his hand—I saw him taken in custody at the corner of Carting Lane, and after he had left two or three minutes, I examined the ground and found a sixpence, which I took back and gave to Foulkes over the bar.
JOHN ROGERS (Police Servant 38). The prisoner was given into my custody by Endell, and I received these pieces of a sixpence—I afterwards received this sixpence (produced) from the barman—there were three pieces, but I have lost one—2s. 9 1/2 d. in copper, and a fourpenny piece were found on him.
COURT to T. McDONALD. Q. Did you look at the sixpence? A. Yes—
I identify this one as the same, by this dirt mark on the right aide of the crown, which was on it when I picked it up.
Prisoner's Defence. I was half drunk at the time. I do not recollect being at the Wellington. I changed four shillings in Holborn, and they must have given me the bad sixpence there. I should hare thrown it away if I had known it.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DUNNE conducted the Prosecution.
SOPHIA IVES DREW . I am the wife of William Drew, a grocer, of 2, Edgar Road, Bromley—on 23rd December I served the prisoner with some tea and sugar, which came to 2 1/2 d.—he gave me a sixpence which looked rather black—I asked him if he had got any coppers—he said only 2d.—I took the sixpence, and gave him 3 1/2 d. change—as soon as he left I bent the sixpence on the counter easily with my thumb—I followed the prisoner, who had got twenty yards away, told him the sixpence was bad, brought him back, and gave it to him—he said, "Then I will take half the quantity," and gave me 2d.—he then went away.
Prisoner. I was never in the shop in my life. Witness. I saw you again at the Thames Police Court the next Thursday.
MARY ANN NIX . I am the wife of Edwin Nix, a grocer, of Priory Terrace, Bromley—on 28th December I sold the prisoner a penny candle—he gave me a sixpence—I tried it with my teeth, told him it was bad, and gave him in charge with the coin, which I marked.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know it was bad.
GUILTY — Nine Months' imprisonment.
MR. CARTER conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM BARBER . I work for Mr. Webb, at 122, Thames Street—on 15th December I was in the shop and saw a gentleman pass, and the prisoner after him—I saw the prisoner take a handkerchief out of the gentleman's pocket—I ran after him, caught him, and gave him in custody—the gentleman went away—this (produced) is the handkerchief.
JOHN RADMORE (City Policeman). I took the prisoner, searched him, and found this handkerchief in his pocket, which he said belonged to him—I took him to the station, and found fourpence on him—he gave his address, Baker Street, Spitalfields—I made inquiries, and found he had not been there for eighteen months—I have known him about Billingsgate Market for two or three years.
Prisoner's Defence. I picked it up.
GUILTY , He was further charged with having been convicted at the Mansion House, in September, 1805, to which, he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
GEORGE PEARSON . I am a sailor, and live at Monkwearmouth, Sunderland—I was at a public-house with two men—the prisoner is one of them—he said that his father had left him 2000l., and showed me some notes—I had some talk with him, and then wanted to go away by the train—I offered to pay for some drink, and took out my purse, which contained 4l. in gold—the other man knocked the purse out of my hand, and the money fell out of the purse on the ground—the prisoner picked up two sovereigns, and the other man picked up two—I caught hold of the other man, but he got away, and they both ran away—I ran after them, but they escaped—I saw the prisoner the following Thursday night, and gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you been drinking? A. I had only had two glasses of ale—that was the first public-house I had been in—I had come up from Southampton—I arrived at 4.30, and was going away home by train at 9.15—I took a 'bus to King's Cross, and spent the time in walking up and down at the station, and I went and tot my tea—I met the other man on the platform, and he said that he had been lodging at the public-house three days—I went there with him—I did not leave town that night, because of the loss of my money—the Magistrate directed me to a boarding-house, but I paid nothing for my board or lodging—I am now lodging with a policeman—I took the elastic off my purse, and had it open in my hand—the prisoner and the other man had seen it in the coffee-shop, when I took it out—I paid there with silver, but I opened the inner part, and saw that the gold was there—the four sovereigns rolled about on the floor of the public-house, and I thought the landlord of the public-house must hive seen what happened, but he says "No"—I also bad 2 1/2 d. in my purse; I do not know what became of that—I had 4l. 10s. at Southampton—I paid 6s. 6d. for the train, 2s. for a cab to King's Cross, and 1s. 6d. for my tea—I picked up the 2 1/2 d. in my purse—I had not paid for any ale, but I was going to change a sovereign to do so—I had not got my railway ticket, or else I should have gone away that night—I followed, and lost the men at the top of the street, and then went back to the house, because the tall one had said that he lived there—the landlord was there when I went out—I next saw the prisoner at his brother's—he was not then dressed the same; he had a Turkish scarf, and a high-topped hat, but I knew him directly by his face.
MR. MOODY. Q. What public-house was it? A. The Duke of York—the landlord did not give evidence before the Magistrate.
WILLIAM WYCKHAM (Detective Officer Y). On 6th January, the prosecutor gave the prisoner into my custody—he had followed him into a house and taken him by the collar—I said, "You are charged with stealing four sovereigns from this man, at the Duke of York public-house, York Road"—he said, "You don't mean that, do you?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "If he gets his money back, can it be settled?"—I said, "No"—he asked to be allowed to speak to the prosecutor, but I refused to allow him—the prisoner has been staying with me, but I wan first instructed to take him to a coffee-shop.
Witness for the Defence.
prosecutor with somebody else, but I cannot say when they came in or when they went out—I cannot say that I saw the prisoner—I did not see a purse knocked out of the prosecutor's hand, or any sovereigns fall—if it had happened I must have seen it—I served the prosecutor with a glass of ale when he was alone—he stood there three or four minutes, and asked me if I saw those gentlemen—I said, "What gentlemen?"—he said, "Who sat along with me"—I said, "No"—he said, "They have robbed me of 4l.—that could not have happened without my seeing it.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. Q. The house does not bear a very good character, I think? A. I never heard anything against it since my brother has had it, which is eight months—the barman was also behind the bar—he is not here—there are four compartments to the bar, and people all round—some of the compartments have a half-screen—the prosecutor inquired whether I knew the persons who had been there, and told me he had been robbed—he only called for one glass of ale—he was alone then—the house is at the corner of Caledonian Street, New Road.
COURT. Q. The prisoner was with some others, you say? A. There were a lot of people, but I cannot say whether he was with them—I had not served them—I heard no money thrown about, or any fighting or scuffle—he paid me 1 1/2 d. for the ale.
GUILTY †**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
BAXTER HUNT (City Policeman 599). On the morning of December 8th, I followed the prisoners and another lad from Billingsgate, through Cannon Street, to Old 'Change, where a Great Northern Railway van was standing, with a coat on the fore part of it—the boy, Rubethorne, was standing on the van, and the lad not in custody went to the van—the prisoners stood close to him and hid his actions—he took the coat and ran away—the prisoners followed him, and I took them—Williams was carrying this bag under his arm.
WILLIAM RUBETHORNE . I am a van guard in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—I ride in front—the driver on this day was at the side of the van, and I was on top—my uniform coat was on my seat—I missed it, and Hunt spoke to me—it was worth about 30s.
Williams. Q. Did you see us? A. No, I was strapping a package on the top.
WILLIAMS— GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
WILSON— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted in August, 1865, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
WILLIAM KIDDLE . I am a gentleman, and live at Laurel Cottage, Whitton Road, Twickenham—on 30th December, about 4.45 in the afternoon, I was in Thames Street, at the east corner of Pudding Lane—the prisoner was in front of me—I touched him on the shoulder and requested him to move and allow me to cross—at that time a porter came up with a waggon of Christmas trees—the prisoner stood between a house and a corner post—
I tried to pass him—he turned round, and I felt my watch chain drop—I had a pencil in my hand—the prisoner was pressing against me, and the porter was about a yard from me—I walked after the prisoner, up Pudding Lane about 30 ft., arrested him, and accused him of stealing my watch—he said, "How could I steal your watch with my gloves on?"—he had brown cotton gloves on, and just as I touched him on the shoulder a young man with a white jacket crossed from me in rear of the prisoner—he crossed between the horses' heads and the tailboard of another waggon—I called the police, and the prisoner was taken.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever lost sight of him? A. No—I had looked at my watch about five minutes before—the prisoner would not let me pass—he turned round and passed me, and I caught hold of him—I did not take my eyes off him, but in the excitement of the moment I will not say that I saw everything that he did—he must have broken the bow of the watch, or else taken it off the swivel.
MR. COLE. Q. Did the young man pass behind? A. He walked by the side of the prisoner.
SIDNEY LONGHURST (City Policeman 801). On 20th December, I heard a cry of "Police!" and the prosecutor gave the prisoner into my custody—the prisoner said, "How could I take your watch, you see I have got my gloves on; what a wicked man you are"—he said, "I am sure you are the man, there was no one else near me"—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found 1s. 3d.—he gave an address, 8, George Street, Horseferry Road—I went there, but nobody knew him there—there is no George Street in Horseferry Road.
Cross-examined. Q. Is there a George Street in Westminster? A. Yes—I looked at the spot where the post is, but could not find the bow of the watch.
WILLIAM HILL . I am errand boy to Mr. Meredith—on 20th December, I was standing at the corner of Pudding Lane, and saw Mr. Kiddle crossing the road opposite Pudding Lane, going up Fish Street Hill way—I saw the prisoner cross the road before that, and saw him touch another person as he came across—they knocked up against each other, and one went towards Billingsgate and the prisoner came up Pudding Lane, and Mr. Kiddle came up and caught him—they touched their arms and wrists—the other man was not the prosecutor—I then heard the prisoner charged.
Cross-examined. Q. It is a narrow thoroughfare there? A. Rather.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted at Doncaster, in October, 1865, in the name of John Day, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY. It was sated that the prisoner was out on a ticket of leave, and having failed to report himself, an officer was present to apprehend him.—Two Years' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, January 11th 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence.
—I placed my watch and chain on the table—the street door was latched, but not bolted—the other parts of the house were fastened up—I was aroused in the night by hearing the chain of my watch rattle, as it was taken from the table—I halloaed out, "Who's that"—I heard somebody run to the door—I jumped out of bed and ran after him, and caught him at the street door—it was the prisoner—I held him—he had my watch and chain in his hand, and he gave it me directly—he said, "Here is your watch and chain, don't do me nothing, let me go, I won't do it any more."
Cross-examined. Q. Had you known the prisoner for any time? A. I had seen him many times, but was not acquainted with him—I knew him, by name, for about twelve months—he worked with Izant, who lodged in my house.
BENJAMIN IZANT . I lodge at Isaacs' house—I had a key of the street door, which I lost—I saw the prisoner in the custody of Isaacs, about 2.30 on this morning—he was holding him in the passage—I and Isaacs had been in company the night before, and we met the prisoner going home—I went in doors first, and Isaacs after me—I told the prisoner I would not do anything to him if he gave up my latch key, and he did give it up—it was the one I had lost.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you known the prisoner? A. I have been working with him, in one workshop, about four or five months—I knew him by sight before that, by coming to the same dining rooms, that was all—I have heard him called Mad Harris—he used to call at my lodgings, sometimes, for me to go to work with him—he had not told me he was coming on this night—I knew nothing about his coming—I generally go to bed about 12—he has never been at my lodging, playing cards—I did not know that he had my key—I have seen him in company with a young lady named Morris—I did not know that the engagement was broken off on this very night.
HINRY BUMZARDEN . I am a tailor, and lodge at this house—I came home about 1.30 on the morning of 26th December—I latched the door after me—about an hour afterwards I saw the prisoner held by the prosecutor in the passage—he begged the prosecutor to let him go—the prosecutor asked which way he came in—he said he was asleep in the passage—Izant said, "I lost a key, did you find it?"—he said, "No"—Izant said, "If you give me back the key, I won't go against you," and he gave it him—he said he had opened the door with it—he had no shoes on.
GUILTY. The prisoner received an excellent character, and his uncle promised to send him to hit parents in Poland.—Judgment Respited.
MR. R. N. PHILIPPS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BRINDLEY the Defence.
DESIRE PURELLE (Interpreted). I live at 9, Little Newport Street, and am a sausage maker—I do not know the prisoner; I know that he lodged in the house—I have the shop there, and a room on the first floor, which I rent of Mary Ann Edwards—on the night of 17th December I fastened up
my shop safely, and locked the door—next morning I went down at 5.30—I found a key in the keyhole, and the door only shut—I went in, and found the prisoner stooping or lying down underneath the counter—he bad no shoes on, only his socks—I spoke to him, and he said, "Me, up stairs"—I saw a bag behind him, and it contained some Strasbourg liver, a patty, some truffles, a box of sardines, and some pickles—they were my property—the bag was not mine—the key in the door was not mine; I had mine in my hand—I had locked up the shop at 11.30 the night before, with my key—I have only one key.
Cross-examined. Q. Has your wife a key? A. No, we hare only one—I had missed articles before, for a fortnight or three weeks—I did not know that the prisoner's mother lodged in the house; I am told so, bat I never spoke to her; I have seen her there—it was 5.30 when I went down to the shop—I held the prisoner with one hand, and was about to open the door with the other, to call "Police!" when he snatched himself Away iron me, and ran up stairs—I gave him into custody about 8.0 or 8.30—I was at work in the meantime—I had to send for a policeman—I believe there is a boy about 12 living in the house—there are no foreign boys lodging there—this is one of my bill-heads—the writing on it is my wife's it was written by my direction—I have been offered 2l. to reimburse me for the articles that were taken, if I would withdraw the charge—I valued the things I lost at 2l.—I had been robbed of 10s. the week before, and twenty-two boxes of sardines, and I supposed the person who took these had taken the others—I valued the whole at 2l., and the prisoner's mother offered to pay that if I would not prosecute—I don't think the prisoner had ever bought anything in my shop—I had a lighted candle in my hand—the door leads from the passage into the shop.
DONALD SUCH (Policeman G 175). I was called to the prosecutor's shop about 8.20 or 8.30 on the morning of 18th December, and the prisoner was given into my custody—I told him he was charged with stealing the articles in the bag—he said the bag was his property—at the station, I found on him four pocket-handkerchiefs, four shirt-fronts, a pair of stockings, and a cap; they were under his waistcoat.
Cross-examined. Q. He claimed the bag at once? A. Yes; I had not asked him if it was his—he said he was going into the country that morning, he did not say who he was going to see.
MR. BRINDLEY called
TRIPHOSA SPENCE . The prisoner is my son, by my first husband—he is 16 years of age—he has always been a very good boy; I have not had any trouble with him, in fact he has not long left school, and has been with me ever since—he was living with me at this time, I had been lodging in the house about five or six weeks—he was to have gone to his uncle's in the country on this morning, and ultimately to go to sea—he had been in employment at Mr. Sugden's, six or seven months ago—he had had no employment since—it is his wish to go to sea.
GUILTY of larceny . Recommended to mercy by the Jury on amount of his youth— Judgment Respited.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution.
Street—I know the prisoner, he came to me on 27th November last, and gave me an envelope, sealed—he did not say anything—I opened it—it contained this cheque for 5l. 19s. 6d., and a note, which I believe to be from the Rev. Mr. Gleadall—I don't know what has become of the note, I have looked for it and could not find it; it was to the effect that Mr. Gleadall was out of cheques, and being Saturday night and past banking hours, would I be kind enough to cash this, as he had not enough to meet demands—I cashed it; I sent it to the bank in the ordinary course, and it was returned marked as a forgery.
Prisoner. Q. Are you acquainted with Mr. Gleadall's handwriting? A. Only by seeing it upon cheques, I thought this was like his, or I should not have cashed it—I knew you perfectly well—I asked you if Mr. Gleadall was at home, and you said yes he was at home in his own house—I did not ask you if you had seen him—the cheque bears the heading of the bank, and I particularly drew your attention to that.
ALFRED MARTIN FITCH . I am a cashier at the Bloomsbury branch of the London and Westminster Bank—Mr. Gleadall has an account there, we have only one customer of that name—this cheque was presented at the bank, by the National Bank, Charing Cross, in the changes; I refused payment, and marked it, "Forgery."
Prisoner. Q. Are you acquainted with Mr. Gleadall's writing? A. On his cheques, certainly—I should pay more attention to the signature—I have a note here, an application for a cheque-book, which was produced at the Police Court—I said it was like Mr. Gleadall's writing—I believed it to be his—it is like the writing on the cheque—the signature is very like his—so like that I might have been deceived—but his cheques are not signed in that manner.
MR. MOODY. Q. What is the note? A. "11, Regent Square. Sir. Be kind enough to send by bearer a cheque-book and my bank-book. Yours, John Gleadall"—that was presented at our bank by the prisoner, who asked for a cheque-book and pass-book—I believe that was on 27th November—it was refused.
REV. JOHN GLEADALL . I am a clergyman of the Church of England, and live at 11, Regent Square—the prisoner was formerly employed as gardener in the enclosure of the square—he left about eighteen mouths ago—I used to pay him his wages by cheque generally on the London and Westminster Bank, Bloomsbury branch—the signature to this cheque is not mine—I did not send the note for a cheque-book and pass-book—it is not my writing.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I have nothing further to say, than that I did not know what was in the envelope till I got the money. I did not forge the cheque. A man, I don't know his name, who said he had seen me at Mr. Gleadall's, gave it to me. I have seen him walk out with Mrs. Wilde, who lived at Mr. Gleadall's."
The prisoner, in his defence, repeated the statement, that the cheque was given to him, as well as the note, by a gentleman whom he had teen at Mr. Gleadall's, and who gave him 10s. and a half-crown for his trouble, and who he believed was the son of Mrs. Wilde.
REV. JOHN GLEADALL (re-examined). Mrs. Wilde, while she was my housekeeper, had a son who occasionally called to see her and walk out with her, but she left me last February—I know the prisoner's writing—I don't think this it his—I have some of his writing here (produced).
JOHN ROBERTSON (Detective Officer S). I apprehended the prisoner on another charge on 25th December, at 35, Millman Street, Bedford Row—I did not know that he was living there—I had received information that he resided in that neighbourhood, but I was a night and a day before I could find him—I had a deal of trouble to find him—I had been down there several days before—he kept very close at home—another detective was also engaged.
GUILTY of uttering. —Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for a like offence.
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution.
EVAN REES . I am a carpenter, and live at 4, Brill Row, Somers Town—on Saturday afternoon, 27th November, about 5.30 or 5.45, I was in Middlesex Street, Somers Town, coming home from my work—I had received my wages—I had changed a sovereign, and had 18s. 6d. in my right hand trowsers pocket—when I came to a court I was knocked down by a man, with a blow on the chest, and sent on my back—I fell with my head on the pavement—directly I was down, there was one man on my feet, another on my arms, and a third ransacking my pockets—for a second or two I could not call for assistance—directly I could breathe, I called out "Police!"—there was nobody near—it was a very wet day—I did not see the faces of the men that held my feet and arms, but I saw the face of the man who stole the 18s. 6d. from my pocket, distinctly—he was not half a minute taking it—the men ran away down the court—I went direct to the police-station and gave information—on 8th December, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the morning, I was called to the station, where I saw five persons—the policeman asked me if there was ere a one there that committed the robbery, and I pointed direct to the prisoner—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man.
Prisoner. There were only three there besides myself, and they were dressed a deal better than I was, they looked more like policemen. Witness. There were four or five—I did not count them—they were differently dressed—I did not notice them particularly—I knew you, and did not want to look at anybody else.
JOHN BOXALL (Policeman Y 60). I went to 17, Wellesley Street, Somers Town, on 8th December, about 1.30 in the morning—I saw the prisoner there with five or six others—I told him he answered the description of a man who was wanted for being concerned with two others not in custody for robbing a man about a fortnight ago in Middlesex Street, Somers Town, and I should take him into custody—he said, "I know nothing about it; someone has been getting this up for me this time"—I took him to the station. and placed him among five or six others, and the prosecutor immediately identified him as one of the three men, without any hesitation—the others were policemen in plain clothes.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction, in April, 1868.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
SARAH GATTON . I am an unfortunate woman, and live at 9, Emma Street, Haggerston—on Thursday morning, 23rd December, about 2 o'clock, I was going home, and saw the prisoner at the corner of Ann's Place, Hackney Road, about five minutes' walk from my house—he was in uniform—he wanted to have connexion with me in the street—I would not let him—he then said, "What have you got in your pocket?"—I said, "I have only got my own money, sir"—he said, "Let me look"—he took hold of my arms, and threw me down on the ground, put his legs on me, and took my money out of my pocket, 2s. 7 1/2 d.—he then asked to look at my purse, and he took it out of my pocket and looked at it—there was nothing in it, and he gave it me back—the 2s. 2 1/2 d. was loose in my pocket—he then said he would have me for highway robbery—I ran away, and ran indoors, crying—my landlady was in bed—she spoke to me, and I told her about it—I afterwards told the sergeant, in the Hackney Road—I saw the prisoner next day, At the Kingsland Road station—he was with eighteen policemen; I picked him out directly—the inspector asked him about it, and he said he had never seen me before.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever seen him before the night you say he took your money? A. No—I am positive of that—I know the Pritchard Arms—I know a girl called Flash Kate—I have never been driven away from the Pritchard Arms, in her company, for loitering—I have been told by policemen to move on, not very often—the prisoner has never driven me away from the Pritchard Arms; I am quite sure of that—I came out at 10 o'clock on this night—I had not been in the Pritchard Arms; I had been in the neighbourhood—I had seen the witness Fisher before, talking to the policeman—I don't know what time I first saw Fisher, that night; I had seen him two or three times—I did not see him about 11.30 at the Pritchard Arms—this took place in Marion Square, about twenty doors from my house, it might be more—he threw me down on the ground violently; he hurt my arm—I did not call out at all, I was frightened—Emma Street goes into Marion Square—I can't tell you how many doors out of the square my house is—it is more than five or six doors—I have lived there eight weeks—I did not tell the sergeant the same night, it was the night after, some twenty hours after—I told my landlady; she was in bed—I just put my head inside her door; I did not go quite inside, her husband was with her—I did not hold any long conversation with her; I merely made a communication to her, and went up stairs—I slept alone that night—I did not make any communication to any young woman, only to the landlady, and to my mother—I am not aware that I said, at the Police Court, that I told a young woman who lived in the same house; I don't think I did—I can't read—my deposition was read over to me, and I signed it—I don't recollect saying that I told a young woman; I don't know whether I did or not—I don't know Scott, the policeman, only by seeing him—I had never spoken to him before this night—I don't know whether Flash Kate knows him; I never heard her speak of him—I went out the next day, about 1.45, when I went to the Kingsland Road station—a sergeant came for me—I had been to my mother before that, about 12 o'clock—I don't know what time it was when I spoke to the sergeant in
the Hackney Road; it was the next night, about 10.30 or 10.45—it was after that that I went to the Kingsland station, about 11 or 12 o'clock—I have only known Fisher by seeing him talk to the policeman at the corner—I do not know him well—I don't know that he has been convicted; I don't know anything about him—I had spoken to him before, not above once or twice—I never drank with him—I have never been in any public-house with him—it was my intention that this matter should go before the Commissioners of Police, and not that I should go to the Police Court—I told several persons that I did not want to go to the Police Court and be a witness—a summons was issued for me to attend at Worship Street—I did not say to Inspector Ramsay, "Oh dear! I never meant to come to the Police Court, but I meant to take it before the Commissioners of Police"—I have never been in trouble, only one night—I have never been convicted—I am leading an honest life—I was in trouble for answering a policeman—I was discharged for that—that was the only time I have ever been in trouble—Inspector Ramsay said he would have out the policemen and put them so that I might identify the man—I did not tell him that I knew the man by sight—I said I knew him that night, knocking me down—I had never seen him before, that I know of.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Why was it that you wished not to go into Court? A. I did not like to come up here—I did not call out, because I was frightened, he said he would have me for highway robbery, and he ran after me—it was on Wednesday night.
JOHN FISHER . I am a baker by trade, and live at 4, Ann's Place, Hackney Road—about 1.30 or from that to 2 o'clock on Thursday morning, 23rd December, I was outside a public-house in the Hackney Road—I saw the prisoner, and asked him where the music was—he said "It is up here"—I said, "I have got sixpence to take from you"—he said, "Oh yes, that is right," and he gave me the sixpence—he said, "Have you seen Flask Kate to-night"—I said, "No"—he said, "I should like to have a girl to-night"—I saw a woman coming down, and I said, "Here comes a girl," and just as the girl came down he walked round into Ann's Place with her—it was the prosecutrix—I walked down as far as Emma Street with them—I live just three doors past Emma Street—I bade them good night, and he went down there with the girl—I was afterwards spoken to about this on the Sunday, by Inspector Ramsay.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know the prosecutrix? A. I knew her by sight, the same as I knew the prisoner—I have spoken to her—I have known her as long as I have lived in the neighbourhood—that is, I dare say, about seven or eight months—I could have spoken to her frequently if I had wished it; I did not wish it—I can't say how often I have spoken to Her—I dare say I have a few times—I don't know about a good many times—I suppose you think I am always speaking to her, every day—I dare say, if she has come in my place, I have spoken to her—I am a baker by trade, but I sell clothes and things—I dare say she has been into my place about twice or three times—she is a customer of mine sometimes—I dare say I have had a glass of ale with her once or twice at the Pritchard Arms—I know Flash Kate by sight—I don't know the number of the house where the prosecutrix live—I know she lives at the back of my place, but I have never been down the street above once in my life—I have never been into the house—Flash Kate lives next door to her—I have never seen these two women driven away from the front of the
Pritchard Arms, for loitering—the first time I saw the prisoner that night was about 1.30 or 2.0; that was on the Thursday morning—I saw him on the Tuesday night, about 11 o'clock—I do not know Scott, the policeman—I have spoken to him to-day and yesterday; not about this case, just quietly to ourselves, about what we would have to drink, or anything—all the conversation I have had with him has been since this case; before that he was a stranger to me—I saw the prosecutrix after this transaction—she came down to my place, when I was in bed, and said, "Do you know that policeman?"—I said, "Yes, I know him by sight"—that was on the Thursday morning, I think—I don't know whether it was Thursday or Friday—I think it was Friday—it was somewhere about 10 or 11 o'clock in the morning—she asked me if I knew the policeman, and I said, "Yes," because I lent him 6d.—I was in bed in the back place, and she was in the shop—that was the very next morning after I had left her and the policeman together; it was the Thursday morning—she was not in my shop more than ten minutes, I expect—I have never had a glass of ale, or anything, with Flash Kate; that I am sure of—I keep a second-hand clothes shop, and sell unredeemed pledges—I did keep a baker's shop, but I don't now—I have been in difficulty, when I was in business—that was the reason I lost my shop; it was about the gas—I was convicted, and I got off—I was not punished; I was found not guilty—I have never been in any other trouble.
COURT. Q. Let us distinctly understand, as to the time the prosecutrix came to your place; do you mean it was only ten hours after you had seen her and the prisoner together? A. It was on Thursday morning when I left them, between 1.30 and 2.0, and I went home; I only live about 30 yards away from the corner of Emma Street, and about 11 o'clock, or between 10 and 11, she came down to my place, just nine or ten hours after I had left them.
SARAH LAMUDE . I live at 9, Emma Street—Sarah Gayton lodges with me—I remember her coming in about 2 o'clock one morning—I don't know the time exactly; I was in bed—I sleep down stairs—it was two or three days before Christmas Day—I heard her come in crying—I did not see her; I spoke to her—she made a complaint to me.
Cross-examined. Q. How long had she been in your house? A. Seven weeks, I think—I did not know Fisher before this; I know him now—I am a married woman—my husband is living with me, and was with me on the night in question—Gayton sleeps up stairs—I did not go to the door to ask her what was the matter—we had not a long conversation.
HENRY SCOTT (Policeman N 273). I was on duty one morning, I don't remember the date; it was before Christmas Day, I believe, I can't remember how many days before; two or three, I think—I was on the adjoining beat to the prisoner—he came up to me—I can't remember the time; it was after 1, and before 5—I know it was before the public-houses opened, they open at 5, and close at 1—he spoke to me; he said, "I have been and had a jolly lark with a girl, and I have got 1s. 1 1/2 d. "or" 2s. 1 1/2 d. out of her"—I remarked, "You will get yourself in trouble if you don't mind"—some two or three days after, the night duty men were paraded in the station; the prisoner was there—his number is 210—I did not see the prosecutrix on the night in question.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you on duty on that beat that night, in conjunction with the prisoner? A. The adjoining beat—it was not my duty to
be about Emma Street, or Marion Square—I did not see the men parade I, not till they had paraded, I was in bed at the time; there were men paraded who were out with me that night—I don't know why I was not paraded—the prisoner was on the parade ground—I made a remark to three or four men who were looking out of window at the same time; 'the prisoner could not hear me—I did not know at first that the parade had taken place for the purpose of identifying somebody charged with robbery; I did afterwards—I did not go to the inspector and tell him—I did not think it was a robbery committed, I thought it did not concern me at all, and I did not like to say anything about it, unless I was forced to, it might have been my duty to do so, but I did not like to till I was compelled; I spoke to the men in the kitchen—the prisoner and I have always been on good terms I believe, for what I know, I have always been on good terms with him, and he with me, I believe—I never had any words with him of any kind—he never threatened to report me, that I remember—I know No. 10, Emma Street, it is a brothel—he never spoke to me about my acquaintance with that house, or threatened to report me—I have been in No. 10, Emma Street, once or twice, once with the sergeant, and I believe the prisoner was with me once before, and once after, two or three nights after—he has never threatened to report me for frequenting these brothels—my beat is opposite the Pritchard Arms—four policemen come to the corner of Pritchard Road, there may be two or three meet there, not all four every time, but they come to that corner—each beat lasts from twenty minutes to half an hour.
SAMUEL RAMSAY (Police Inspector.) The prosecutrix came to the station and made a complaint to me on 28th December, between 11 and 12 o'clock at night—next afternoon I had eighteen men paraded in uniform—the prisoner was one of them—the prosecutrix was there, and she identified the prisoner—she had no difficulty in doing so—I told him to come into my office—I said to the prosecutrix, "Now state what he did to you this morning"—she stated that she met the prisoner in the Pritchard Rood, and walked with him to the corner of Marion Square, and that he threw her down, and took from her pocket two shillings, a sixpence, and three halfpence; that she asked him to give it to her, and he said he should not, he should charge her with highway robbery, and she ran away—he said, "It is false, I never saw her before to-day"—she said that Fisher saw them go off together—he said he never saw Fisher after 11.30 that night or the night previous, the 22nd—this was alleged to have taken place in the morning—the prisoner was on duty in Marion Square that night.
Cross-examined. Q. I presume it was her wish to be able to identify this man? A. I proposed having the policemen there when she made the complaint to me—she said she knew the man—he had been with me about six weeks, he came on 25th November—he joined the force in June, 1868—his conduct has not been entirely satisfactory—there has been nothing serious against him—he was asleep on his beat one night since he was with me—that was the only complaint.
GUILTY Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth and the discrepancies in the evidence of some of the witness. . —Seven Year's Penal Servitude.
157. WILLIAM JESSOP (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing out of? post office letter? 10l. note and an order for 200l., the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
158. JOHN SMITH (40) , to? burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Mee Daldy, and stealing two loaves and other articles, his property— Nine Months' Imprisonment. And [Pleaded gulty: See orginal trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, January 11th 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LEIGH conducted the Prosecution; MR. M. WILLIAMS appeared for Robinson, and MR. METCALFE for Port.
THOMAS LEAVER . On Saturday night, 11th December,? was going from Edgware across the fields to? place called The Hall, in the parish of Hendon—I had to pass? reservoir of the Great Northern Railway Company—two men overtook me—I cannot swear to the tall one, but the short one was the prisoner Port, who caught hold of my arm, hit me on the mouth, and knocked me down—I got up again, and he knocked me down again, and fell on me—the tall one kicked me on the ribs—I halloaed, and they said if? halloaed they would serve me worse—they took my basket, which contained bacon, sugar, and tea, and threw the basket down—they stopped behind, and? got up and went away—I afterwards picked out the prisoners at the station, as having been in the White Lion public-house with me, and I am able to swear to Port—we were together about an hour and? half—when I left the White Lion they had left about five minutes—I was sober.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Can you swear that the taller man was Robinson? A. No—I know Frederick Wilds—I did not charge him—I said nothing about him and the robbery to anybody.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. You picked out Robinson as well as Port? A. Yes—I was two hours at the public-house, drinking—a number of other people were there—I was playing? concertina there—the people were not dancing—they did not give me beer for playing—I played for amusement—I left my concertina behind me, because? had to carry my basket, not because? could not pay for my beer—I did pay for it, but I did not have much—the reservoir is not half? mile from the public-house—it is across two little meadows.
DAVID ABRAHAMS . I am landlord of the White Lion—on Saturday, 11th December, Leaver was there, from? or? o'clock to 11.30—the prisoners were there also, and left about? quarter of an hour after him, as near as I can say—Leaver had been playing his concertina, and left it with me—I cannot say he was exactly sober when he left, but he was not very drunk.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. How far is the reservoir from your place? A. A quarter of a mile, or rather more—there were sixteen or a score of persons at the house—the prisoners and the others all went out together, when I told them my time was up—the house was clear three minutes after I told them—Thomas Smith was one of them—he left, I believe, with the prisoners, and Balam left at the same time—I did not notice whether some
of the men left before Leaver, but I remember him going very well, because he gave me his concertina.
JAMES STANFORD (Policeman S 34). I took the prisoners on December 15th, placed them with twelve other men at the station, and the prosecutor pointed to Port, and said, "That is one"—he went along again and said, "That is the other, I believe"—the twelve men were placed fairly—I got some in the back way, and some the front—shoemakers and other labouring men; and I put two men between the prisoners.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Did Port say, "You have got the wrong two this time? A. Yes.
Witness for Port's Defence.
THOMAS SMITH . I am a carpenter, of Edgware—I was at the White Lion, and saw the prisoners there, and Leaver playing the concertina—I did not notice when he left—the prisoners left about 11.30, when the house was cleared, and I left with them—Port left us at his own house, about 300 yards from the Crane, and I and Robinson went home to my house—he lodges with me—I know Joseph Cox, the lamplighter, he lodges down lower, by the White Lion—he was putting out the lamps—they are put out there at 12 o'clock—Balam left the public-house with us, and we left him at his house—I was not going in the direction of the reservoir—the Crane is not in that direction.
Cross-examined by MR. LEIGH. Q. At what time did Robinson come to your house? A. About 11.50—we went together to the White Lion, at 7 o'clock in the evening, and left about 11.30—he was never out of my sight during that time—Robinson has lodged with me about six weeks—I did not go to the Crane, nor did Robinson; it was shut up.
MR. METCALF Q. Did Port go out of the White Lion till you all left finally? A. No.
JOSEPH COX . I am a lamplighter—I know Port—he was with me when I was putting out the lamps on 11th December—I saw him first about the middle of the town, below the Crane, nearer the White Lion—I dare say he was 200 yards from the White Lion when I first saw him—I walked with him up the village, towards his own house—he continued walking with me till I had finished putting out the lamps, and then he walked back with me—I first saw him about 11.45—I did not see Robinson or Smith.
Cross-examined. Q. How long would it take you to walk from where you first saw Port, at 11.45, to where the prosecutor was robbed? A. Ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEIGH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
WILLIAM ABREY . I am a hay salesman, of Hendon—on 15th December, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, I was in the White Lion, at Edgware, and saw the prisoner there—I left between 4 and 5 o'clock, and crossed the road to the footpath, and saw two men standing there, and a third not far off—I was struck on the back of the head, and a man on each side of me caught hold of my arms; a tall man was on my right—I was pulled to the ground, and kicked, and my clothes torn—the prisoner took my money and knife from my pocket, and said, "I have got it"—Port held me while I was robbed (The Grand Jury had ignored the bill against Port)
—my fingers were cut, and my wrist was hurt—they then left me, and I got up, went to the White Lion, and told them I was robbed—a little before this I had lent 1s. to a man named Yeals, and I had then 6l. or 7l., in my breeches pocket—my knife was produced at the station—it was in the same pocket with my money—I was smothered in blood, from my hat to my shoes, and could hardly get away from the station, for weakness—I had been drinking a little, but can swear to the prisoner putting his hand in my pocket—I had seen him and Port together before, but I did not know their names.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you say before the Magistrate that Port laid on you while you were on the ground? A. Yes, he knelt right on me—I swore that before the Grand Jury—I had had a goodish bit of money left me—I told the policeman that I had been robbed of 700l. by the prisoners—I thought I had lost a cheque for 700l., but afterwards I found it in my pocket, smothered in blood—I had deposited the cheque with the London and County Bank some time, and this was not a cheque, but a deposit receipt—I was not wholly drunk, or I could not have sworn to them—a man named Yeals had given me a ride in a cart, and I lent him 1s.—I was about half an hour drinking in the White Lion—I cannot say whether I had anything there, because I was knocked about so—I may have been into three or four houses before the White Lion, but not ten—I came out at 10 o'clock in the morning—Yeals' cart was outside the public-house—I did not tumble out of it, nor was I thrown out—the prisoner and Port struck me with the whip while I was in the cart, before the robbery—they wanted me to give them 6d., and I would not; that was the first of it—I had not been in Edgware for ten years—I got out of the cart, and was knocked down and robbed about fifteen yards from the public-house, on the other side—I had been in the public-house about half an hour—I thought Yeals was coming, and got into the cart, but he was in the house—when they asked me for 6d. I refused, and got out of the cart, and they hit me with the whip and knocked me down, and robbed me—cannot tell you what I spent, but I had 7l. within 1s. when I started from home—the prisoners did not pick me up off the gravel—I have not seen Yeals since—he is a hay salesman—I do not want to see him—he has been to several places to find me, and I would not see him—I do not charge him—he was indoors at the time of the robbery—it was a very violent blow with the whip on the back of my head, and it cut right through my hat—I cannot tell how many blows I had with the whip, for I was knocked insensible.
HARRIETT JONES . On 15th December, about 4.30, I was going to my sisters', and saw Abrey in a cart opposite the White Lion—I heard the prisoner ask him for a shilling, which he would not give him—the prisoner asked him a second time, and Abrey said, "Let me get out of the cart!"—he got out, and the prisoner hit him across the back with the whip, bat not very violently—Abrey crossed the road to the bridge, and a man named Port said, "Let him alone, we will have him to-night"—Abrey went into the public-house, Robinson followed him in, and I heard him ask for 6d.—Port followed him as well—Abrey did not stay in the house above three minutes—I saw him come out again, and the prisoner then asked him for 6d.—he crossed over the road, and the prisoner followed him, and wanted to get him back into the White Lion—he refused to go back, and the prisoner caught hold of his shoulder and put him down on the ground—nobody helped the prisoner—he then put his hand into Abrey's right
hand trowsers pocket, pulled it out, looked at something in his hand, and put it into his own pocket—I could see that there was something in his hand—he then hit Abrey across the head with the handle of this whip (produced) while he was on the ground, and then went across the road into the White Lion—I did not hear Port say anything, but he picked up Abrey's hat, which was knocked off—the prisoner went in at the front door of the White Lion, and out at the side door—he did not stay in the house two minutes—he looked about, up and down the street, and then went into the village—Port stayed in the White Lion all that time—when Abrey was on the ground he cried out, "I am robbed I" and when he got back to the White Lion he told Yeals he had been robbed—he was not sober.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see the prisoner strike Abrey with the whip on the back, before he went into the public-house? A. Yes—they seemed all to go in together—after that there was the conversation about the 6d.—Abrey was shockingly drunk—I remained outside till they came out again—it is not true that Port laid on Abrey while he was on the ground—he did not touch Abrey—he only put his hat on afterwards—he did not go near him at all—I am quite sure of that—Abrey's dress was rather torn before he went into the public-house, so much so that I noticed it—from the time Abrey went into the public, until he was robbed, was about twenty minutes; and from the time Abrey, Robinson, and the others came out of the public-house, to the time Abrey complained of being robbed, was about twenty minutes, not any longer.
COURT. Q. Do you mean to say that you stood at the door of the public-house twenty minutes while this went on, without calling anybody? A. Yes I did—I have been in this witness box, I should say, about five minutes.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Are you quite sure of that? A. Yes, I am—I did not go into the public-house, or call anybody out of it—John Allum, a little boy, was standing outside the public-house also—he kept running in and out of the White Lion, and I remained there twenty minutes while this was going on.
COURT. Q. What have you got to say to standing there seeing the man robbed and illtreated, and not calling for assistance? A. I called Mr. Yeals—I stood by the window, not by the door.
JOHN STANFORD (Policeman S 34). I saw Abrey at a little after 5 o'clock, going down Edgware Road; he told me he had been robbed of 700l., and in consequence of what he said, I took the prisoner at the Chandos Arms—I searched his pockets, and found two sovereigns, a half-sovereign, three sixpences, some halfpence, and a knife, which Abrey swore to—he also had a bottle of gin, and some things which he bad just purchased.
Cross-examined. Q. How long after you had seen Abrey did you take the prisoner? A. About ten minutes—he was standing in the tap-room, with his hands in his pockets—that is about 400 yards from where the robbery was committed—Abrey was drunk—he said that he had been robbed of 700l.—he did not say anything of 6l. or 7l.—his hands and knuckles were bleeding, his trowsers and leggings were torn, and his dress was much torn and dirty.
JOHN ALLUM . I was coming home from school on 15th December, about 4 o'clock, and stopped against the White Lion—I found Harriett Jones there—I did not see the prisoner come out of the; but I saw his leg on the step of the cart, asking Abrey for a shilling—he said, "What have
I to pay you a shilling for?"—the prisoner said, "To pay the ostler"—Abrey said, "I am not going to pay anyone," and got out of the cart, and went to the other side of the road—I forgot to say yesterday (before the Grand Jury) that Port said to Robinson, "Let him go, we will have him to-night,"and then Robinson stepped on the path—Abrey went down as far as the dealer's house; Yeals did not come out, and Robinson could not get him along, and Robinson and Port knocked him down on the road, and got hold of his shoulders, and knocked him up against the palings, and then Port went away, and Robinson followed him to the bridge, and knocked him down, and he fell, and got up again, and he knocked him down again—he was lying on his belly, and Robinson put his hand in his right hand pocked looked at it, and put it in his own pocket, and went away into the White Lion again, and came out and looked both ways, and ran up the town—I never saw him any more.
Cross-examined. Q. Was Harriett Jones there when you went up? A. Yes—I am sure I saw Abrey get out of the cart—he did not go into the public-house before he crossed the road—from the time he got out of the cart till I saw him on his belly, he did not go into the public-house—I was standing close to Harriett Jones; she could see what I saw—she was standing with me all the while—I am sure Port helped to drag Abrey, but he was not with Robinson all the time; he was helping Robinson five or ten minutes, and then went away—Abrey was very drunk—he had a pair of gaiters on, and one of them was pulled very nearly off his leg—he looked as if he had been tumbling about—I knew the prisoner in the village—I was about three-quarters of an hour looking at this—it was then 4.45—I a clock when it was just over—I know the prisoner, but not so well as I know Port—they could see Jones and me standing there.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I picked the knife up outside the White Lion, where he fell down. I asked him if it was his, and he would not have it. The money was my own."
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment, and Twenty-five Strokes with the Cat.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM HAINES I am in the employ of Messrs. Chaplin & Hone, carriers—on the afternoon of 13th December, I was collecting goods with a van—I collected a chest of tea at Chamberlain's Wharf, and placed it in a van in Tooley Street, about 1 o'clock—I then went over London Bridge—I saw the chest safe at St. Mary-at-Hill, and missed it when I got to Queen Street—I identified it next day, in the custody of the police, by my book; the weight was 80 lbs., and the value 12l.
RICHARD MOREBY . I am a porter, of 25, Cutler Street, Houndsditch—on 13th December, shortly before 5 o'clock, I saw the prisoners and another man in Bishopsgate Street—Scott was wheeling a barrow, and the other were walking on either side—I followed them through Bishopsgate Street, and Camomile Street, and St. Mary Axe, into Houndsditch—Scott went four doors past Cutler Street with the barrow, and did not see Stewart and the other man, who turned up Cutler Street—Stewart then came out of Cutler Street, and called Scott, who turned the barrow round, and went
into Cutler Street—I told Sergeant Brooks, who was in uniform—he went with me, and when we walked towards them, they all three ran away, and left the barrow and the chest in it—I ran after Scott, through White Street, and caught him in Harrow Alley, without losing sight of him—I held him till the sergeant came, and he was taken to the station—I went back into Cutler Street, and took the barrow to the station—I described Stewart to Burroughs—I have known him eight or nine years—I knew his name, and hie parents.
HUGH BROOKS (City Police Sergeant.) Moreby spoke to me—I went into Cutler Street with him and saw three men with a barrow and a chest of tea—immediately they saw me they left the barrow and ran down White Street—I ran after them—Moreby stopped Scott, and I took him to the station—I am sure of him, because I kept him in sight all the while—Stewart is one of them, to the best of my belief.
JOHN BURROUGHS (Policeman H 240). Moreby gave a description to me, and I took Stewart on 16th December in Commercial Street, Spitalfields—I told him the charge—he said, "I was not in Bishopsgate Street that night at all; I know nothing about the tea"—Moreby identified him at the station, and said he had known him from a boy—he gave his address 16, Flower and Dean Street, which is a very low lodging house.
Scott's Defence. I went down Thames Street to get a job; but was unsuccessful. As I came home a man asked me to wheel the barrow which the tea was on, and he walked by my side. I did not know it was stolen. When the constable came he ran away, and I was given in custody.
Stewart's Defence. I am innocent. I used to go to Moreby's mother to fetch goods.
SCOTT— GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
STEWART— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted, at Clerketenwell, in February, 1868, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HARNSWORTH conducted the Prosecution.
ESTHER COOPER . I am a widow—on 1st June, 1854, I was pew opener at the church of St. Gilea's-in-the-Fields, and was present at a marriage—it is so long ago that I cannot recollect the names, or whether the prisoner is the man; but I swear to my signature in this book—when parties come without witnesses I am one.
HENRY TIMBERLAKE (Policeman Y 205). I produce a marriage certificate, which I got from Ellen Henderson—I have compared it with the entry in the register of St. Giles's-in-the-Fields—it is a true copy. (This certified a marriage on 1st June, 1854, between John Henderson, 19, bachelor, and Ellen Murphy, 19, spinster.) I took the prisoner—he was charged by the inspector with intermarrying with Ellen Yeo while his wife was still alive—he said, "I believe my wife is still living."
MARY BROOKS . I live at 19, New Street, Dorset Square—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—he married my sister nine years ago; but I was not present—he left her for nine years, and then came home and lived with her—he is a soldier—they both came and lived at my house six months as man and wife—he allowed her 3d. a day pension for a year and a half while he was away from her—when I last saw him he was in the other Court—her name was Ellen Murphy—I have seen her marriage lines, because she
sent them to the War Office—they were in my house when she lived with me—she is alive and is outside the Court—he called me his sister-in-law.
Prisoner. Q. Do you recollect handing your ring to your sister to get married to John White, a shoemaker, in 18571? A. Yes; but I do not know whether she got married or not—she brought it back—I did not see any other husband come home afterwards—I did not know John White—I do not remember an elderly man named Stafford coming to my house often—I do not know an old man who kept my sister—I do not remember sending my two sons to live with my sister at the time she was kept by Stafford.
COURT. Q. During the nine years he was away, were you acquainted with your sister all the time? A. Yes, but I saw her very seldom—I was a long way from her, and might not see her for twelve months before she went into a situation—my husband got her into two or three situation—two months pension is due to her now—she received it every two months but she cannot get it now without her husband being there.
JOHN YEO . I live at 10, Cloudesley Road, Islington—on 1st June, 1868, my daughter was married to the prisoner—I was present and gave her away—he married her as a single man—I have compared the certificate (produced) with the original, it is a true copy—he describes himself as a bachelor—they lived together as man and wife until 17th November following when he deserted her and her baby, and I never saw him again till 12th December, when, knowing he had a pension from the War Office, I went and made inquiries about him.
Prisoner. Q. Did you ever ask me before the marriage if I was single? A. I asked you if you were a bachelor, and you said, "Yes," and that you had no friends or relations—you courted my daughter seven or eight months.
ELIZA AMELIA YEO . I am the daughter of the last witness—I was married to the prisoner on 1st June, 1868—he represented himself as single—my child was born a fortnight after we were married—I wished him to marry me.
Prisoners Defence. In 1854 I was married to Ellen Henderson, and was forced to leave her through her drunkenness. I was despatched to the Cape in 1855, and the night I passed through London, she was in prison for drunkenness, and I could not see her. I did not see her till 1863, when she was living with Mr. Stafford. I have seen him in her room at Horselydown. I went away to Manchester, and came back in 1864, and then she was living in New Compton Street, still kept by this man. I took her away from him, took her to Manchester, and lived with her there; but she was locked up there two or three times for drunkenness. I took her to London, and in one of her drunken fits she told me that since she was married to me she had got married to John White. I then left her, went to Somerset House, found that she was married to John White, and have never lived with her since. I have no children by her, but I have one by my second wife.
The Jury stated that they believed prisoner's wife was unfaithful to him and that he married Eliza Yeo, being pressed by her to do so in consequence of the condition she was in.—One month's Imprisonment.
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.
printer, of 60, St. Martin's Lane—the prisoner was a foreman in the service—on 14th August, I gave him 1l. 15s. 6d. to pay Tyler & Co.'s account, and he brought me this receipt as it is now—application was afterwards made for the money again, and I found that the receipt was a forgery—the prisoner was then in custody on another charge—I afterwards paid the amount.
Prisoner. Q. Did not Mr. Johnson say that it must be somebody else's forgery, because I was at Bath at the time? A. No.
FRANK BINGHAM . I am collector to Tyler & Co., of Abingdon Street, sine merchants—this is not my signature to this receipt, it is the wrong initials—I am the only person who receives money there—this has no resemblance to my writing—I did not authorize anybody to sign my initials—the firm has claimed the amount, and it has been paid since—I never received the money before—I have received it since.
JOSIAH HANCHETT (Policeman) I took the prisoner—the constable on the beat told me he had been walking about for some time in Tavistock Street—I questioned him, and he told me he could not rest, having had some money from his master to pay some bills, which he had appropriated to his own use—I took him to the station—he was perfectly sober.
Prisoner's Defence. I was at Penzance on 14th August The money never came into my hands at all.
GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment. There was another indictment against the prisoner.
NEW COURT. Wednesday, January 12th, 1870.
Before Mr. Baron Pigott.
LIONEL JACOBS PLEADED GUILTY — To enter into his own recognisance in 1000l., to appear and receive judgment if called upon.
MR. GIFFARD, Q.C for the Prosecution, offered no evidence against
MONTAGUE JACOBS— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS the Defence.
DANIEL PIPER . On Sunday evening, 26th December, the prisoner was at my father's house—he left about 2.15 in the morning with his son, Daniel, and me—when we got into the street (Lever Street) the prisoner said, "You will hear a report," and after we had gone about twenty yards I heard a report of a pistol, and saw a flash, and two or three minutes afterwards I saw the boy Daniel on the ground—he had been standing in the middle of the road, about a yard from the prisoner—I had been with the prisoner the whole evening; but had not seen a pistol in his possession, nor did I hear him say anything about one.
Cross-examined. Q. Did be want you and your brother to go home and
have a game at dominoes? A. Yes—it would take five minutes to walk to his house—he is very good tempered—he had a great coat on all the time he was in the house—I believe he wore another coat under it—he was in the house some hours—he came later than tea time, and stopped till 2.30—we had a friendly party, and were larking and joking all the evening, and when he came out he said, "You will hear a report."
COURT. Q. Is he any relation to you? A. My cousin—Mrs. Bright was just coming out at the door as it happened—it was close to our house.
GEORGE JAMES LARGE . On 27th December, a little after 2 in the morning, I was going up Lever Street, and saw the prisoner walking backwards, near the kerb, with both his hands in his coat pocket—I heard the report of a pistol, and saw the flash—the prisoner was then six yards from the boy—I called "Police!"—two constables came, and the boy was lying down in the road—I did not see the pistol.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the prisoner put his hands to his coat pocket? A. They were in his coat pocket when I first saw him.
WINFORD WRAIGHT (Policeman G 177). On the morning of 27th December I was on duty in Lever Street, saw a flash, heard a report, ran to the spot, and saw a boy on the ground, and the prisoner standing over him—the boy said, "I am shot"—I said to the prisoner, "Who did it?"—he said, "I don't know"—I picked the boy up, took him into a house close by, and the prisoner followed—I stripped the boy in his presence, and found a wound in his chest—I took the boy to the station, went back to the house, and the prisoner was not there—he afterwards went to the station with me.
Cross-examined. Q. While you were stripping the boy did the prisoner stand by? A. Yes—I know that he went to the hospital.
BENJAMIN BRYANT (Police Inspector.) The boy Bright was brought to the station, and the doctor came—I sent for the prisoner, and he was brought by Wraight—I asked him what he knew of the matter, as his son had been shot—he seemed confused, and Large said, "You had better search him sir"—the prisoner said, "Yes, I have done it, I have been with my wife and two children to 19, George's Rood, Mr. Piper's; me and the child came out first, my wife stayed behind; I was standing on the pavement, a short distance from him, and I shot him, but he did not know I was going to do it"—I found a door key and some duplicates on him—he said, "I have not got the pistol, I threw it away, close by where I was standing; it was an old one, I had had it by me some years, I loaded it this afternoon, and took it with me; I told Charles and Daniel Piper I should give a report before I got home"—he appeared to be suffering from nervousness from drink, taken some days previous, not that day—I received from Dr. Yarrow a bullet, and two pieces of cloth from the boy's jacket—I went to the prisoner's house, and found this bullet mould (produced) in a dish—it correspond with the bullet.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see the prisoner's hand? A. Yes the palm of his right hand was very black with powder. I have seen it since, and it is spotted and the skin is abrased, rolled up with the jerk of the pistol—his left hand was black and smelt of powder.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you remember going to your aunt's with your father on this night? A. Yes; my father and mother and my two little cousins, the Pipers, were there—just before this happened my father asked the two young Pipers to come home and have a game at dominoes—my
father has always been very kind and good to me, and all this evening he was very good friends with me—he is an undertaker—we had been enjoying ourselves at our aunt's.
GEO. EUGENE YARROW . I am a surgeon—I took this bullet from the boy—it was in the chest wall, between the skin and the ribs—there was powder in the boy's face—a small quantity of powder would leave marks on his face if it was fired close to him.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "The only thing I have to say is, that when I went to let the pistol off it stuck in my hand, and I put up my left hand to stop it and burnt my hand, and that caused it to come so low as to shoot the boy, because I was going to fire it up the street, and I had no thought of touching the child."
Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, January 12th 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
FARMER— GUILTY .— Eight Months' Imprisonment.
BIGGS— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. RIBTON defended Morris.
JANE JONES . I live at 5, Maritime Cottages, Bromley-by-Bow, and am a widow—about 1.30 on the afternoon of 21st December I heard a knock at the door—I was in the house' alone and went to open it—I saw two men, one with a large beard and large whiskers, and the other was a young man not disguised at all—I said, "What do you want?"—they made no answer—I said, "You have made a mistake—they still never spoke—they then tried to rush past me, but I put my hand across the passage to prevent them going in, and I screamed out, and with that Pickford took me round the throat and held me tight over my mouth, and said, "If you scream again I will shoot you"—he had a pistol in his hand—I was still being held—I knocked his hand away from my mouth and screamed again—he then put his hand right down my throat—I am suffering now from something he has done in my throat—he said to the other man, "Pull down the pictures—he was in my bedroom, pulling down one—he said, "I can't get it down, and Pickford said, "Give it a pull, give it a pull "I tried to get his hand out of my mouth, and I bit his finger; but I was afraid of the blood coming into my mouth, and I preferred not biting them sufficiently to hurt him—I knocked the pistol up, and the cap fell off—I said, "The pistol is not loaded—he said, "Oh yes it is—I said, "If you want my pictures, take them and let me go"—I struggled a good deal and slipped under his arm—I rushed to the back door and made an alarm—I had seen Pickford
before on one occasion—he had been working at my house—I never saw the other man before—I knew Pickford's voice—Morris is the man who was with him—I never saw him before, and I never saw him again till I saw him at the Police Court on the Friday after—this (produced) is the pistol that was presented at me by Pickford.
Cross-examined. Q. You had never seen Morris before? A. No—his face was turned towards me when he was pulling the pictures down—I was very frightened—they were about ten minutes in the house—I don't know how Morris was dressed—I said I believed Morris was the man, and I do firmly believe it—I am quite sure about Pickford—I am more certain about one than the other—the constable took me to the station, and said he had got the other man—I picked him out from five or six others—there were no policemen amongst them—they were men about his own age.
Pickford. Q. How do you know one of the men was disguised? A. Of course I am very well convinced, because here are the things he was disguised in—I knew your voice, and I said at the time, "I know that voice well"—the moment you spoke at the Police Court, I knew you—I don't know what coat you had; I fancied it was a darker one than you have got now, but I don't judge by your clothes.
SAMUEL RUSSELL . I am potman at the Britannia public-house, Bow—about 1.30, on 21st December, I was in the neighbourhood of Maritime Cottages—I heard screams of "Murder!" and "Thieves!"—I saw the prisoner Pickford, with another man, come out of the iron gate leading to the cottages where Mrs. Jones lives—there is only one gate—they came running out—Pickford was nearest to me, and I followed him through the cemetery gates—I saw him pulling off this Dundreary, so termed—he ran into the cemetery; the other man went towards the railway arches—I followed Pickford into the cemetery, and he stopped, and said, "What are you following me for?"—I said, "I don't know—he said, "I have done nothing"—I said, "We are both on the same; I shan't leave you till you come back—he said, "Won't you?"—I said, "No, I shall never leave you—with that another party joined him, and wanted to know what was the matter—he said, alluding to me, "That man is following me"—the other party said, "Come away;" and he put up his umbrella, and they walked away together—I followed them out of the cemetery gates, down the Bow Road, to the Burdett Road—Pickford went into his address in the Burdett Road, a cigar shop, with the other party—I waited till they came out, and they went to the Castle tavern, four doors off—they went in at the side entrance, passed through one compartment to another, and were coming out of the front entrance—I was at the corner, and had a full view of both doors—Pickford looked out, and I said, "I am waiting for you"—he then went to the back of the house, and got over a wall—he came back again, bleeding from the eye—I caught him, and said, "You have done a fine thing for yourself—he said, "Yes, you b——, I have got you to thank for this—I said, "I am getting tired of running after you, and if I don't start with you, I shall make it warmer for you than what it is"—he said, "What have I done?"—I said, "I know you have done something"—I took him into the Grove Road, leading out of the Bow Road, till I saw a constable in the distance, K 366—I gave him notice to come to my assistance, and I gave Pickford into his charge—I never lost sight of Pickford at all, from the time I saw the men run out of the gate till he stopped in the cemetery—I went to the station on the 24th, when Morris was in custody, but I could not recognize him.
Cross-examined. Q. You did not see the face of the other man? A. No—I did not recognize Morris as the man who joined Pickford in the cemetery—I have not the slightest idea whether the man who joined him in the cemetery was the man who came out of the gate with him.
Pickford. Q. Did you notice anything on the face of the man you say was me? A. Yes, you had a large moustache and whiskers on—you were pulling them off with your left hand when I gave chase to you—you were about thirty yards from me—I did not lose sight of you, only for a blink, when you turned into the cemetery—I did not see you get over the wall at the back of the public-house—I was waiting in front—there was no other way to get out.
MICHAEL MURRAY . I am a labourer, living at 10, Royal Street, Mile End—on 21st December I was in Bow Cemetery, about 1.30—I saw Pickford run by the engine-house, where I was standing, and in a moment or two I saw Russell in pursuit of him—I ran after them—I saw Pickford put his hand in his coat pocket and place something down at the side of a grave—I still pursued him, and I saw the beard in his hand—he threw it in between the graves—I caught him, and asked him what he was doing—he said, "Nothing"—I asked Russell what he was doing, and he said he did not exactly know what he was doing; but he had heard screaming at the Maritime Cottages—I said, "I will give him into your hands now," and they went across on to the road, and presently there was a young man came in the back gates and joined him—he said, "Halloa, Harry, what is the matter?"—he said, "Nothing, of course—the man then put the umbrella up, and they went through the cemetery, and Russell followed them—I went back to where I saw the things thrown, and found these whiskers—a fellow workman found the pistol.
Cross-examined. Q. A man came up and joined him, you say? A. Yes—to the best of my belief it was Morris—I don't believe it was that man (Fleming)—he was taller than that man by an inch or two.
WILLIAM WILSON (Policeman K 366). I was in the Globe Road, about 2 o'clock on the afternoon of 21st December—Pickford was given into my custody by Russell—Pickford was running—I asked him why he was running—he said he was running away from Russell, as he had been assaulting him, and had struck him in the eye—I took him to the station—I received some caps from Mrs. Jones—I found a cap in his pocket at the station—they corresponded—I went to 4, Burdett Road, where the prisoner's father lives—I found a powder flask and some caps there, which corresponded with those Mrs. Jones had given me.
THOMAS ABBOTT . I live at 16, John Street, Mile End—I was in the cemetery on this afternoon—I saw Pickford come in to the cemetery, and Russell after him—Murray ran one way, and I ran the other—Murray stopped him, and brought him into the road—another party joined him, put the umbrella over his head, and said, "What's amiss?"—after they had gone away I made a search, and found this pistol, standing up at the side of one of the graves—I gave it to the police.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the other man like Morris? A. Yes, very much like him.
Pickford. Q. What part of the cemetery were you? A. Right against the gateway where you came in—you ran past me, quite close—I did not see you throw, any thing away, because I went the other way—you were going towards the fence, to get over—you wore running—I did not lose sight of you.
WILLIAM STENNKTT . I was in the cemetery on the afternoon of 21st December—I saw Pickford in the cemetery, a surrounded by a number of persons—a person came up with an umbrella in his hand, and asked what was up, and took him by the arm and said, "Come on, this is our way"—I believe that man to be Morris.
Cross-examined. Q. You said before the Magistrate he was like Morris? A. I said I believed him to be Morris—the man standing up there (Fleming) I believe was not the man—I don't swear that Morris was the man—I can swear positively to Pickford—the man came from the Bow Common, passed the engine house, where we were all talking to Pickford.
GEORGE WATSON . I live at Washington Street, Limehouse—on 21st December, I was in the Burdett Road, about 10.30—I saw the prisoners in company—I spoke to Pickford—I did not speak to Morris—I did not know him by name—I had seen him before, several times.
Cross-examined. Q. You are not very positive about the time? A. am; because I started away from the East India Docks at 10 o'clock, and I met them at 10.30—I did not stop on the way—it was rainimr—I am a labourer—a policeman came to me and took me to identify them—I saw Morris at Arbour Square—he took me to the cell, and I said he was the same party.
THURSE (Detective Officer K) I took Morris into custody at his own house, 61, Merchant Street, Bow Road—I told him I should take him for a robbery and assaulting an old lady, with Pickford, at Maritime Cottages, Bromley—he said, "I know all about it, this is what Pickford's company has brought upon me; I hope you will give me a fair chance; I suppose you know I was at work at the time?"—I took him to the station, and placed him with six or seven other men, and he was seen by the witnesses.
Cross-examined. Q. He said he was at work with his father at Spitalfields? A. Yes—that is two and a half to three miles from Mrs. Jones' house—he was put in the reserve room with five or six others—two or three of them were policemen—they were not in uniform—the others were out of the streets.
WALTER KERREST (Police Inspector K.) On 21st December, I went to 4, Burdett Road, with Wilson—that was the address Pickford gave—I went upstairs, and in a carpenter's tool box I found this powder flask containing a small portion of powder, a bullet mould, and some caps—I have seen the caps that were given up by Mrs. Jones—they are similar to those I found—I received this pistol and beard produced—I examined the pistol at the police-station, and found it was not loaded—I also found a life preserver at Pickford house.
MR. RIBTON called following Witnesses for Morris.
THOMAS FLEMING . I live at Colley Street, Stepney Green, and am a carpenter—on Tuesday, 21st December, I met Pickford at Limehouse, behind the church, about 11.30—I had known him before; not as a friend, only by seeing him of an evening at the place I used to frequent—he had an umbrella with him—he said he was looking after a job—there was another man with him—it was not Morris—his name was William Sizely—I knew him, and had seen him frequently before—we went to an eating-house, and I lent him a shilling—we left there, and went to the arches in Bow Common Lane—we got there about 12.45—Pickford then said he was going to a woman for some money, and they went away—I waited four or
five minutes—they did not come back to me, but I saw Sizely running first, and then I saw Pickford running after, and the witnesses after him—I went up and asked Pickford what was the matter—they had not told me what they were going to do before that—he had left his umbrella with me before he went away—he said, "You know where to take it to if we don't return in a quarter of an hour"—they never said anything to me about going to the house—Sizely ran outside the cemetery, under the arches, and got clear away altogether—Pickford had no beard on when he was with me, or when I joined him again—I asked him what had happened—he said, "Nothing, I will tell you another time/' and took hold of ray arm, and said, "Come on, come"—I said, "This is the way"—he said, "No, this is the way;" and we went to his father's house—the witness still followed us—I asked him whether he was following me or Pickford, and he said, "Neither"—I was with Pickford when he had the ale.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you known Pickford much before? A. Perhaps three months, only seeing him of an evening frequenting the place where I used to go—I have not given evidence before—I knew all the time that it was Sizely who was with Pickford—I did not hear that Morris was taken up until last Friday, when I was served with a subpœna—when we were in the public-house Pickford went out at the back—he went down the passage—I have stated before to-day who the other man was—I don't know Maritime Cottages, or the street where they went.
Pickford. You were with me the best part of the morning. Witness. Yes; I did not see you with any pistol or moustache.
THOMAS MORRIS . I carry on business at Spitalfields and am a master builder—the prisoner Morris is my son—I have ten children—I have been in business twenty years—I live at 61, Merchant Street, Bow Road—there was never anything against my son till this—I remember Tuesday, 21st December, very well—we left home at 7 o'clock and went to the workshop—we arrived there about 8—Maritime Cottages is about two miles and a half from there—my son was at work all day with the exception of a quarter of an hour, about 1 o'clock, when I sent him to fetch some tools from Crispin Street, Spitalfields—that about five minutes' walk—it was a public-house, the Horn of Plenty—I had been working there the day before, and sent him for the tools left there—he came back in about a quarter of an hour and was with me till 5 o'clock, when he went home with me and had his tea—after my son was committed I received a letter from him, in consequence of which I found out about Fleming—I communicated with the police—I told them I had the man who was; with Pickford, and they refused to go with me—they said they could not take him or do anything with him—I saw Fleming the Friday after the committal, and I sub him.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you tell the police who the young man was? A. I told them about Fleming, but I did not know the other young man's name; but I found it out when I went to Fleming—my son works regularly with me, and has done for five years—we were doing a job at the Horn of Plenty—we were at work there the whole of the week up to Christmas Eve—two men were working for me as well—my son did not go away to get his dinner—he was only away a quarter of an hour when he went to get the tools.
at the house—they went to their shop to make a partition for the house on Monday, and left the tools behind, and on Tuesday he came to fetch them—that was on the 21st December—he came about four or five minutes past I—he got the tools—he had a pint of half-and-half, and gave the biggest part to me—he was there some minutes talking about the partition they were going to fix, and I told him it would hide the clock—it was very little past I then—I remember it was the 21st, because it was St. Thomas day—my attention was called to this on the Christmas Eve when Morris was taken up.
Cross-examined. Q. Who called your attention? A. His father told me he was taken on Christmas Eve, and asked me if I remembered his being there, or words to that effect—I said I remembered it perfectly well.
GEORGE HAMMELL . I am manager of the Horn of Plenty, Crispin Street, Spitalfields—I know Morris and his father—they were at work for me for some considerable time—I remember young Morris coming to the house on Tuesday, 21st, to fetch some tools away that had been left the day before—he stayed about a quarter of an hour—he came about I, or a little after—I quite positive he was there—I was sitting at dinner at the time.
MORRIS— NOT GUILTY .
PICKFORD— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
171. THOMAS WILLIAMS (40), ELIZABETH WILLIAMS (29), ROBERT HART (50), and HENRY LEWIS (30) , Feloniously breaking and entering the shop of Henry Chenu, and stealing nine gold watches, twenty-five silver watches, and other articles, his goods. Second Count—Receiving the same.
MESSRS. COOPER and BIRON conducted the Prosecution; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Elizabeth Williams and Hart; and MR. COLLINS defended Lewis.
Under the provisions of the Habitual Criminals Act (32 & 33 Viet. c. 99, part 4, sec. 2,) John Dowdell, a police sergeant, was called to prove the service of notice on the prisoners Thomas and Elizabeth Williams and Henry Lewis, of the intention to prove previous convictions against them. It appeared that he took a written notice with him and that he read parts of it to the prisoners, and told them the nature of the convictions that would be proved; but that the notice did not contain the words "and that he will be deemed to have known such goods to have been stolen until he has proved the contrary" THE RECORDER held, that, under the circumstances, the notice was insufficient, and that proof of the previous convictions could not be given.
HENRY CHENU . I am a jeweller, and live at 9, Leighton Road, Kentish Town—I carry on business at 96, Camden Road—about 9.30 on 24th November I left my shop, having previously gone over the house and seen all safe and the door and windows shut and secured—about 8.30 next morning I was fetched to my shop—I found the door of the back parlour leading into the shop open—it had been shut the night before with two locks—the locks were sound, but the jamb of the door was splintered from top to bottom—the drawers in the parlour had been opened—I touched nothing, but sent for the police—upon examination I missed nine gold watches, twenty-five silver watches, sixty rings, and a great many articles, of the value of about 150l.—I have seen twenty-five silver watches and five gold and a great number of rings, lockets, earrings, &c—I identify all that have seen as my property, about 80l. worth—they were safe that night,
and were missed in the morning—the house must have been entered by skeleton keys.
ROBERT CARTER (Police Detective.) On Thursday evening, 25th November, I went with Sergeant Dowdell and Police Constable Chamberlain, to 25, Brunswick Place, about 9.30—we went to the first floor room and found Thomas and Elizabeth Williams—I said to Thomas, "I want you, for committing a burglary last night, at a jeweller's shop in the Caraden Road"—he said, "Don't get excited; who gave you that tip?—I then told him he would be further charged with committing two burglaries, in the Old Bailey, about seven weeks ago, and another one in Chandon Street, about five months ago—he made no reply, and I took him in custody—on the way to the station he said, "I owe you no animosity, nor no man else; I like a man that does his duty straight; you have pinched me right, and I know I shall have to suffer for it."
JOHN DOWDELL (Detective Sergeant E.) On Thursday evening, 25th November, I went with Carter and Chamberlain to 25, Brunswick Place, where we found the two Williams's in the first floor room—I told the woman I should take her into custody for being concerned with Bentley, that is, Williams (Bentley was the name I knew him by), for committing a burglary in the Catnden Road, the night previous, and for several other burglaries—she said, "Let me go down stairs to my husband," and made a rush towards the door—I said, "No, this is the man you are living with—she dropped a purse on the floor—I picked it up, and found it contained a number of duplicates—she said, "You won't find nothing here but what belongs to us"—the man was present, and heard that—I took her to the station—I found this jemmy in the room—I went to Mr. Chenu's shop, and found several marks on the inside of the door, and they corresponded in every way—I examined a door, leading from the passage into a back parlour—the door-post had been broken clean away, and the marks corresponded exactly with the jemmy—about 2 o'clock, on 27th November, I went to Great Earl Street, Seven Dials, with Carter and Chamberlain—in the first floor back room we found the prisoner Lewis, with a woman—I told him I was a police officer, and should take him into custody for being concerned with Beutley (meaning Williams), and others, in committing a burglary, on Thursday night, in Camden Road—I told him he would also be charged with several other burglaries in the Old Bailey, and one in Chandos Street—he said, "One is enough, I know nothing about the others—I found seven duplicates, which I took possession of.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Does the woman live with him as his wife? A. I could not answer for that—I have seen them together frequently, and found them together.
WILLIAM CHAMBERLAIN (Police Detective E.) I went with Dowdell and Carter to 25, Brunswick Place, on 25th November—I searched the room, partly while they were present, and we went back a second time—I found in different parts of the room a number of fancy gold rings, some plated forks and spoons, five gold watches, twenty-five silver watches, seventeen gold lockets, six silver albert chains, and a quantity of other jewellery—I also found two dark lanterns, about 300 skeleton keys, twenty-two picklock keys, three jemmies, eight wedges, seventeen files, a hammer, two chisels, two gimlets, a stock and a couple of bits—I produce them all—the jewellery was inside the bed, between the sheets—I produce portions of it—I afterwords went to 52, College Street, with Carter and Dowdell—after we had
been there some little time, Hart came in to the front parlour—I told him we wert police officers, and we should take him for committing a burglary in Camden Town, last night, with a man named Bentley and a woman—he said, "I know nothing of the burglary last night; but I know who did do it, it was Bentley and Lewis," and he mentioned another name—on the Saturday I was at the police-station when Lewis was brought there—Hart was brought into the room—I said to him, "Is that the man who you said committed the burglary the other night?" and he said, "Yes"—Lewis made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Do you know that the woman has lived with Williams, as his wife, for some years? A. They have lived together for some months, I won't say years—for some considerable period.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. When did you take Hart into the presence of Lewis? A. On the morning of the 27th November, when he was apprehended—I was examined before the Magistrate—I stated that then—I am sure I said it, but I believe it is not on the depositions.
THOMAS WILLIAMS— GUILTY. THE COURT considered there was no case against
ELIZABETH WILLIAMS, HART and LEWIS— NOT GUILTY.
THOMAS WILLIAMS further PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted, in April, 1862, in the name of Thomas Fowler.
172. THOMAS WILLIAMS, ROBERT HART , and HENRY LEWIS , were again indicted, with MOSS BENJAMIN (55) , for burglariously breaking and entering the warehouse of Robert Knowles, and stealing 1000 bobbins of silk, three dozen tassels, and other goods. Second count—Receiving the same.
MESSRS. COOPER and BIRON conducted the Prosecution; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Williams, Hart and Benjamin, and MR. COLLINS
ROBERT KNOWLES . I am a trimming manufacturer—I live at 8, Haverstock Terrace, Westbourne Park, and carry on business at 49, Old Bailey—I left my warehouse safe on Friday evening, 15th October, at about 6.45—on the following morning, about 10.15, when I came to the warehouse, I found it had been entered, and I missed somewhere about 1000 bobbins of silk—the drawers had been emptied, and a variety of other goods taken away, tassels and other things, of the value of 100l. or 130l.—there were no marks on the door—a desk was broken open, which had been locked the night before—I have seen a great portion of the property since—I have also seen some tassels, which I identified immediately as my property—I especially identify this tassel—it was made for George IV.—it has been in the place ever since—I also identify this crape cord.
JOHN HENRY NICHOLIS . I am assistant to Mr. Knowles—on Friday, 15th October, I closed the premises about 6.50—all the doors and windows were shut and secured—the desk in the counting house was at that time entire—I opened the place the next morning about 8.45—the front door was on the single lock instead of double—I had left it double locked the night before—I found that all the drawers containing silk had been ransacked.
WILLIAM CHAMBERLAIN (Detective Officer E.) On the evening of Thursday, 25th November, I went to 52, College Street, with Sergeants Dowdell and Carter—after we had been there some little time Hart came in to the front parlour, where we were—I told him I should take him into custody for a
burglary at Air. Knowles', in the Old Bailey—Sergeant Dowdell searched the back parlour, and found some silk cord—he showed it to Hart, and Hart said it was brought there by three men, Bentley, Lewis, and another—I had some further conversation with him—on 26th November I took Benjamin into custody—I told him he would be charged with receiving some silk from a burglary committed a few weeks ago at Mr. Knowles'—he said, "Who told you that, it must have been that b——Tom Bentley told you that?"—I said "I believe you have got some of the samples in your house now"—he considered a moment, and said, "I don't think you will find any"—I went to Thomas Williams' place the previous evening—I found some pieces of silk, in his presence—he said, "I know all about that, they were taken from the Old Bailey"—I found this jemmy (produced) in Williams' room.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Is not this what you said to Benjamin, "I believe you have got some of the samples you had to look at in your house now?" A. Yes, that is right.
JOHN DOWDELL (Detective Sergeant E.) On 25th November I went to 52, College Street, in company with Carter and Chamberlain—Hart came into the room—I told him I should search the room, and I did so—I found a quantity of different kinds of cords in the back room, about two sacksfull—it was under the bed, in two sacks—one of the sacks contained some tassels—I also found a number of duplicates—I asked Hart how he accounted for the things, and he said they were brought there by Bentley, Lewis, and another man, some time ago—I took possession of the things—on the following night I went to 37, Eagle Street, where Benjamin lives—I searched his house, and found a piece of silk trimming belonging to another case, and a small piece of cord—I took his pocket-book from him at the station, and in it I found this piece of paper, with a rough description of the property stolen at Mr. Knowles' upon it—on the following day I went to Great Earl Street, Seven Dials, where I found the prisoner Lewis—I told him I should take him for being concerned, with Bentley, in the burglary at Camden Town, and mentioned this case as well—he said he knew nothing about it—I found seven duplicates relating to property which has been identified by Mr. Knowles—I went to the pawnbroker's and got the property; it is now in our possession—I have seen Williams, Lewis, and Benjamin together frequently in the Raglan music hall—that is close to where Benjamin lives—he has spoken to me on several occasions, offering to give me information about Bentley and Lewis.
Cross-examined. Q. You have seen Benjamin at the Raglan? A. I have—I believe he is related to the landlord.
ROBERT CARTER (Detective Officer E.) On 27th November I took Hart to the Clerkenwell Police Court—on the way he said, "Have you got any person to identify those tassels and silk that were found at my house?"—I said, "Yes, a gentleman named Knowles, who keeps a warehouse in the City"—he said, "I shall tell all the truth about it; you won't injure my wife, will you?" and I said we did not intend to do so—he said, "I know nothing about it; on Friday evening two men brought two sacks to my house"—I said, "What men?"—he said, "Tom Bentley and Fred. Colo, and one afternoon Tom Bentley brought a Jew man there"—I said, "What Jew man?" and he said, "A Jew man they call Benjamin, who lives in Holborn; old Benjamin; he took away some samples of silk that day."
went to Mr. Knowles' warehouse, 49, Old Bailey, between 10 and 11 o'clock in the day—the place was in great confusion—I found a desk in the counting-house, which had been forced open—this chisel had been handed to me previously—I found marks on the desk, and compared them, they corresponded with the chisel.
THOMAS CAVANNAH . I am assistant to Mr. Tomlinson, pawnbroker, Great College Street, Camden Town—I produce ten pieces of silk cord, pledged on 9th November for 5s., by a person who gave the name of Am Miles—I produce the ticket and the goods.
JOHN BAKER . I am assistant to Mr. Crosbie, pawnbroker, 66, Pirk Street, Camden Town—I produce six pieces of silk, pledged on 24th November, by a person who gave the name of John Alexander—I produce the corresponding ticket—I believe the man to be the prisoner Hart.
WILLIAM YOUNGMAN . I am assistant to Mr. Setter, 115, High Street, Camden Town—I produce six pieces of silk, pledged on 19th November by John Smith—this is the ticket I gave—I believe it was the prisoner Hart who sold them.
ROBERT KNOWLES (re-examined.) The packet last opened is my property—I know it by the peculiar arrangement of the colours, and also by the make—these sacks all contain property belonging to me—this piece of silk cord was in one of the drawers of my warehouse—that is the piece which was found at Benjamin's—I know this large tassel—it was made for George IV., and I have always kept it as a pattern tassel—the articles named in this list, which was found in Benjamin's pocket-book, are part of the property that was stolen—I lost all those things.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Will you look at that small parcel? A. Yes, we call that gimp—there is nothing peculiar about it—it was made by my workmen—I make a very large quantity—I don't sell the raw material, I manufacture.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Do you sell silk crape cord, such as this.
MR. COOPER. Q. You missed those two colours from your drawers? A. Yes, the red and the yellow—they were mixed together in the drawer—I saw it in the drawer the night before the robbery, and missed it the out morning—that same quantity.
THOMAS BARKER (City Policeman 419). I was on my beat in the Old Bailey, in the early part of October and the latter end of September—I know the prisoner Hart—I saw him frequently in the Old Bailey, previous to the robbery—in the street—I did not see him at all afterwards.
THOMAS MEW (City Policeman 466). I was on duty in the Old Bailey, about a month previous to the 16th October—I saw Lewis about the Old Bailey during that month—I saw him four or five times, standing by the carrier's carts there, as if he belonged to the cart—I did not see him driving them, or anything of that kind—I have not seen him since the robbery at all—I went on duty at 6 o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Were you examined before the Magistrate? A. No—the first evidence I gave was to Mr. Ellis, on Friday or Saturday last—the prisoner were a month under remand—I saw the case in the paper—I went to Clerkenwell to see if I could identify them—I was at the Police Court; but I was not called.
WILLIAMS and HART— GUILTY .
LEWIS and BENJAMIN—
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. COOPER and BIROX conducted the Prosecution; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Moss Benjamin, and MESSRS. STRAIGHT and MOODY defended Nathan.
SOPHIA GEOHOINA CHAPMAN . I am a widow, and live at the Woodlands, Sussex—this carriage clock (produced) is my property—it was stolen from my bedroom on 7th September last—I bought it from Messrs. Payne & Co., 163, New Bond Street.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. In what way do you identify it? A. I am sure it is mine, as sure as I can be of anything; but I can't say the reason.
WILLIAM CHAMBERLAIN (Police Detective E.) About noon, on Friday, the 26th November, I went to 37, Eagle Street, Holborn, with Sergeant Dowdell and Carter—they stood at the corner of the street, and I went to the house—it is a coffee shop, kept by Moss Benjamin, the elder prisoner—he came to the door and said, "Good morning, Chamberlain, I hear you have got some of our people in—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Who have you got?"—I said, "Tom Bentley"—he said, "A b——good job too; I hope he will get fifteen years, he ought to—I said, "Well, I want to speak to you as well; do you remember your speaking to me some months ago, and telling me who broke into Mr. Stanley's place in the Turnstile, and stole a lot of opera glasses?"—he said, "Yes, I remember that very well"—I said, "Well, I want you for buying them"—he said, "Good God? Chamberlain, you don't mean to say you suspect me?"—I said, "I do, and I know you did buy them"—he said, "Come this way, don't go in"—we walked a little way, and I said, "I must search your house"—he said, "You won't find them there; come in here, and I will tell you all about it—that was a public-house he wanted me to go to—I told him again we must search his house—he said, "Don't do that, my old woman is about to be confined, it might be the death of her—I said, "We want the opera glasses—he said, "My son Nat. has got some, I sent some a few dap ago"—we were in the public-house then—the other officers were there—he said, "I would rather give you 1000l., between you than you should take me and my son"—I said, "We don't want the 1000l., we want the opera glasses—he said if we would go with him he would get them; but he said, "You must write a receipt before you get them that you won't touch me and my son, and I will take you to where you can get some of them"—we went down Lamb's Conduit Street, where we got a cab, and went to the Old Kent Road—we stopped about 200 yards from Nathan's house—Moss said, "Promise me you won't touch me and my son"—I said, "I shall not promise anything until we see him"—we then went to Nathan's shop, 231, Old Kent Road—his wife was standing at the door—Moss said, "Don't tell her what we have come for"—I said, "Well, you come along with us," and we took him to Stone's End police-station—Carter and I then went back to 231, Old Kent Road—I stayed in the shop about an hour, and Carter stayed up stairs till Nathan came in—I took him up to the room where Carter was, on the second floor, and gave him into Carter's charge—I looked under the bed,
and found thirty-five opera glasses, altogether—I had known Moss Benjamin for some years—I had had a conversation with him about the Turnstile robbery—he said he had seen the three men, Lewis, Bentley, and another—he mentioned the other.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Were you in the habit of drinking with him? A. I have done so—I have been to his house and to public-houses—I did not search his house.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. You found those things in the bed room? A. Yes—they were in a bag—there were some things over them.
ROBERT CARTER (Detective Officer E) About noon on Friday, 26th November, I went to Red Lion Street, with Dowdell and Chamberlain—Chamberlain went on alone to 37, Eagle Street—I afterwards saw him talking to Moss Benjamin—we took him to Guildford Street, and there put him into a cab, and went to the Old Kent Road, where Chamberlain left for a short time—while he was away, Moss said to me, "I have been talking to Chamberlain; I will give you 1000l. if you won't charge me and my son Nat., and I will get 500l. in half an hour if you will go with me. I don't see how we can get off, if you go to Nat's house and find the opera glasses"—then he said, "I have thought of a plan: go to Nat's house, and take the opera glasses, and place them in Tom Bentley's room. No, that won't do, you have searched his room; put them in Fred. Cole's room, and then we can get off"—Bentley was in custody at that time—I said, "Benjamin, you are an old rogue"—he made no reply—we took him to Stones' End police-station, and then went back to his son's house—I went up to the second floor front room, and remained there till Nathan Benjamin was brought in by Chamberlain—I said to him, "Do you remember a burglary committed at the optician's shop in New Turnstile, some time ago"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "We are come to search your room, as we believe you have some of the stolen property here"—he said, "As true as God is my maker, I know nothing about it"—I then saw Chamberlain take this carpet bag full of opera glasses from under the bed—under the dressing table I found this hamper with twenty-five opera glasses and five telescopes—the hamper was covered with a cloth—I also found these spectacles and eye-glasses (produced)—I said, "How do you account for all these things?"—he said, "A man brought them here"—I said, "What man?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "Are you in the habit of taking goods of this description from men you don't know?"—he said, "Carter, it is very hard for a son to round on his father; and rather than do so I would be hanged by the neck."
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Was Moss Benjamin's house searched? A. Yes—I believe this telescope was found there—I did not find it myself.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. You knew Nathan Benjamin? A. I did, a great many years—I never knew him in prison before.
JOHN DOWDELL (Detective Sergeant E.) On Friday, 26th November, about 7 o'clock in the evening, I went to 37, Eagle Street, where Moss Benjamin lives—I searched the house—I found the carriage, clock and this telescope—I saw him in custody the same evening, at Stones' End station.
WILLIAM FORD STANLEY . I am an optician, at 3 and 5, Great Turnstile—on 24th September, my shop was broken into, and a quantity of opers glasses and spectacles, and other goods, to the value of about 200l., stolen—I identified all the opera glasses in this bag as my property—they have
my private mark upon them—these spectacles are similar to those I lost—the field glasses are my property.
HENRY WEST . I am an optician, at 98, Strand—I have a shop in Rupert Street—on 28th October, that shop was broken into, and I missed among other things, this telescope—I had had it about twenty years in stock—I made half a dozen of them—I had three in stock at my own shop, and there were three at my brother's in Fleet Street—the name is on them.
NATHAN BENJAMIN received a good character— GUILTY Recommended to mercy by the Jury and Prosecutors, believing him to have acted under the influence of his father. — —Six Months' Imprisonment.
MOSS BENJAMIN— GUILTY .** He also
PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted, in March, 1862.— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude. (See Fourth Court, Thursday.)
HART received a good character.—Nine Months' Imprisonment.
THOMAS WILLIAMS**— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT, Wednesday and Thursday, January 12th and 13th, 1870.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY JAMBS SHETHER . I am twelve years old, and am nephew to the prosecutor, and live at 40, Park Crescent Mews West, next door to the stable that was on fire—on 10th December, 1869, I was in the mews between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and saw the prisoner enter my uncle's stable, and shortly afterwards come out again—I then saw some smoke coming out of the stable—there were two horses in the stable, and a loose box next to it, with one horse in it—there was hay and straw kept in the loft over the stable—the smoke was coming from the loft—I afterwards saw some tire, and I called Coxhill, the horsekeeper.
JOSEPH COXHILL . I am ostler to the prosecutor—on 10th December, about 4.30, I saw the prisoner come out of the stable—I saw smoke coming out, and I ran and caught the prisoner, and said, "You old vagabond, you have set this place on fire!"—I brought him back to the door—he said, "If you don't loose me I will knock your brains out"—he had been in the prosecutor's employment four or five years—he had been discharged and taken on again for a week and then discharged again about a fortnight before the fire—I heard the foreman caution him not to come on the premises on the Tuesday previous to the fire.
ALBERT PRINCE . I am a cab-driver in the prosecutor's employ—on 10th December I assisted in stopping the prisoner from running away—he said it was not half a fire, it would be a b——good job if all the whole lot was on fire, and old Scuttlemouth in the midst of it, meaning the foreman, who goes by that name.
ROBERT CORDERY . I am a coach-painter, and reside at 14, Park Crescent Mews, nearly opposite where the fire was—on 10th December, I saw the prisoner near the prosecutor's premises when they were on fire—I heard Coxhill say to him, "You old vagabond, you have set this place on fire"—I did not hear the prisoner reply, but he threw up his arms, as if to strike him—I knocked his arms down, and said to Coxhill, "You hold him," and I ran into the stable to try to pull out a truss of straw that was on fire—I found that I could nut do so, and I ran round to the prosecutor.
WILLIAM GOODRICH . I am foreman to the prosecutor—in the cab department I believe they call me Scuttlfmouth—the prisoner was in the employment for some time—I discharged him, and he was cautioned not to come on the premises—I had him locked up one night for lying in the straw—he was then discharged with a caution, and promised not to come on the premises any more—that was a few days before the fire—he threatened my life that morning, after he was discharged—I sleep at No. 49, over the stable next but one to the stable that was burnt.
WILLIAM SHKATIIER . I rent the mews, 47, Park Crescent—I am in a large way of business, and keep a good many horses in the mews—on 11th December, I found that the stable had been on fire, and nearly 20l. worth of hay burnt—the stable was nearly gutted—the roof wan completely burnt, and the partitions were burnt—I don't know the extent of damage done to the premises, but the Insurance Company have paid me eighteen guiness for the forage.
HENRT EGGLETON (Policeman D 106). On 10th December the prisoner was given into my custody—he was searched at the station and a fusee-box found on him, two snuff-boxes, a quantity of lucifer matches, and a horse leather.
HERBERT CROXON (Policeman D 170). I was on duty on the evening of 10th December at the Marylebone police-station—it was my duty to visit the prisoners in their cells during the night—I visited the prisoner about 5 in the morning—he asked me whether it was Saturday or Sunday—I said Saturday—he said, "I am glad of it; I shall not have to lie till Monday before I take my trial. Bill, the foreman, hue locked me up for setting fire to the stables. I got the lucifer matches from the public-house and set it on fire in spite of him."
GUILTY — Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN CHARLES HARVEY . I keep the Totness Castle beer-house, Highgate New Town—on Saturday night, 11th December, about 11.51 the prisoner was in my house—he was very noisy and quarrelsome in front of the bar—I went round to him and told him to be quiet—I gave him a little push and sent him on to a form in front of the bar—he still kept on making a noise and disturbance—I told him if he was not quiet I should put him out, and I oponed the front door—he said, "I don't want any putting out; I will walk out"—ho walked out at that door and went round to a second door—I put the second compartment door to, and he forced it open three or four times and nearly knocked me backwards in so doing—I told him if he was not quiet I should have him locked up—by that time it was very nearly 12 o'clock, and I was trying to get my customers out—I was leaning on the edge of the door, with my left side outside, and I felt as if blood was running from my clothes—the prisoner had made use of the expression, "Take that, you b——"—I did not feel anything at the moment; but afterwards felt the blood running between my legs—after I had got the customers all out of the house I began to feel very faint and weak, I unbuttoned my waistcoat and found that I was stabbed on the left side—I sent for the police, and Dr. Lucy came to me—the cut had gone through my jacket, waistcoat, my outer shirt, and my flannel shirt, and just
through the pocket of the trowsers—at the time the prisoner said he would go out quietly he said it was the first time and the last time we had ever quarrelled—he had been drinking during the evening—he was slightly the worse for drink.
JAKE HARVEY . I am the prosecutor's wife—on the night of 11th December the prisoner was in our house—there was some disturbance, and my husband went round to quiet it—the prisoner was quarrelling with a woman—my husband said to him, "Sheen, you must be quiet, for you hinder me in my business the whole evening"—he made use of abusive language, and Harvey gave him a push and pushed him on to a seat in front of the bar—he got up and still continued his abuse, and Harvey gave him another push and told him he had had enough of his nonsense and he must go out—he then stood up and said, "My boy, this is the first time you and I ever had a quarrel, and it shall be your last"—Harvey then said, "Now, out you go—he said, "I don't want you to put me out, I can walk out," and he did so—upon that Harvey closed the door and put the table against it, and the prisoner came round to the second door and forced it open—Harvey was standing behind it, and it pushed him with great violence against the steps—he went to the door and said, "Sheen, if you don't be quiet and go home I shall have you locked up"—he forced the door open once or twice after that, and the last time I saw his hand strike at Harvey with great violence; but I did not see any weapon—I went to the door, and he had gone round the corner—I saw that my husband was wounded—the prisoner had been drinking; but he had recovered from the little beer that he had had.
WILLIAM CUBITT LUCY, M. D . I am a surgeon, of No. 1, Junction Road, Upper Holloway—about 12.30, on 11th December, I was called to the prosecutor—he was slightly faint—his under linen was saturated with blood—he had a wound in the left side, about 2 in. in extent, 1 in. in depth, and between 5 and 6 in. below the left nipple, and 2 in. from the medial line of the body, exposing the deep muscles—there was not much hemorrhage, no large vessels being divided—the wound was brought together by a suture—it healed very rapidly—I attended him for about a fortnight—he is now out of danger—it was a wound that might have been produced by the large blade of an ordinary pocket-knife—it was below the region of the heart.
MARGARET BURKE . I live at 8, Winscote Street, Highgate New Town—know the prisoner—one Saturday evening, a fortnight before Christianceday day, about 12.30, the prisoner came into our room—I saw him take a knife out of his pocket, draw it across his knee, shut it, and put it in his pocket again.
THOMAS JOINER (Policeman Y 7261). I took the prisoner into custody in the garden of No. 8, Winscote Street, on the night of 11th December—I said, "Sheen, I shall take you into custody for stabbing Mr. Harvey"—he said, "All right, constable, I will go quietly"—on the way to the station he said, "What did Mr. Harvey interfere with me for?"
GEORGE PARRY (Police Sergeant Y 14). I took the charge when the prisoner was brought to the station—I read it over to him—he said "I told Mr. Harvey that if he came from behind the bar I should stab him."
GUILTY on Second Count —Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PLATT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
177. SAMUEL COHEN (49), was indicted for unlawfully concealing and embezzling 50l., within sixty days of his being adjudicated a bankrupt, with intent to defraud his creditors. Other Counts —For concealing other sums, and for conspiracy with one Harris Samuel Cohen, with a like intent.
MESSRS. BESLEY and WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. METCALFE the Defence.
BERTRAND ROBERT JOHNSON . I am a clerk in the Record Keeper's Department of the Court of Bankruptcy, Basinghall Street—I produce four proceedings in bankruptcy, two relating to Samuel Cohen, and two Harris Samuel Cohen—the last is against Samuel Cohen—he filed his petition on 3rd August, 1869, and was adjudicated bankrupt on the 4th—it contains the examination of the prisoner taken before Mr. Register Hazlitt.
JOHN DAVIDSON . I am one of the appointed shorthand writers to the Court of Bankruptcy in London—I was present on 31st August last and took notes of the prisoner's examination before Mr. Hazlitt—I made a transcript, which is on the file of proceedings—I have my original notes here, with which I compared the transcript—(The examination was read at length; it referred principally to a turn of 270l., received by the prisoner from the Liverpool, London, and Globe Insurance Company, in settlement of a claim for a loss by fire on his premises; the disposition of which sum he accounted; for by payments of various sums to persons named Rolfe, Fleck, Monachinda, Harman, and Goldstein, from whom he alleged he had previously borrowed sums of money.)
MR. METCALFE to MR. JOHNSON. Q. I believe there were called as witnesses on the part of the assignees several of those persons who have been mentioned, Goldstein, for instance? A. Yes; and Rolfe, Fleck, and Monschinden—they were ordered to be examined by the Commissioner.
WILLIAM HAIGH . I am agent for a number of woollen merchants in the northern counties—the prisoner was indebted to them—on 12th June last I had an interview with him, in presence of his son, Harris Samuel Cohen—they came to me—the prisoner wished me to write to those firms that I represented, stating what he would or could do—they were pressing him for what he owed them, and be wished me to intercede in his behalf, to strive to make an arrangement—he said he owed 80l. at that time, besides 45l. that was standing against him—he said that was all he owed, and he had sufficient to pay all if they would be lenient to him—he wished me to write a letter to two firms—I did so, and read it to him—this is it (This contained a statement that if the prisoner was pressed he must either become bankrupt, or offer 3s. in the pound; bat that he was willing to pay 5l. Per month, until his debt was discharged, which offer the witness advised his principals to accept)—I saw the prisoner in the course of the following week, after receiving answers from those firms, and told him what they said, that they had no confidence in any agreement he might enter into, or any
proposition he might make—no money was paid by him to my principals after that—the two firms were Winterbotham & Lay, of Huddersfield, and Scott & Beverley, of Leeds—their debts amounted to about 33l. each.
Cross-examined. Q. You say that whatever was due then is due now? A. Yes, nothing has been paid to me on their account—my son is the attorney conducting the prosecution—I am not out of the assignees, I was assignee under the son's estate—I believe Winterbotham & Lay commenced an action—I don't know how the prisoner came to be arrested, or by whom.
EDWIN BOWLEY . I am a cashier in the Liverpool London and Globe Insurance Company, Cornhill—I have a policy dated 9th April, 1868, for 500l., effected in the name of Samuel Cohen & Son—I also produce a claim for 595l. 10s. 6, made by Samuel Cohen alone—I do not observe any date on it; but it must have been about 27th June, 1869—there was some correspondence on the subject, and ultimately, on 10th June, the claim was settled by this cheque for 270l., payable to Messrs. Samuel Cohen & Sons, or order, with the salvage—the cheque is endorsed "Samuel Cohen & Son" and "George Davis"—the son endorsed it, "Samuel Cohen & Son," in my presence—I produce a receipt for the cheque signed "Samuel Cohen & Son," dated 16th July, 1869—that was signed by the father first—the son wrote the lower one.
FREDBBICK BAKER KIRBY . I am assistant manager of the City Bank, Tottenham Court Road branch—on 16th July, 1869, a person called at the bank, representing himself to be George Davit—I produce the signature book of the bank—he wrote this "George Davis," spelling the name Davis without an "e"—he opened an account with this cheque for 370l.—the name "George Davis" was endorsed on it at the time it was placed in our hands—I afterwards saw that person in the Lord Mayor's Court, in London, and heard him sworn.
EDWARD WILLIAM PASS . I am a cashier at the Tottenham Court Road branch of the City Bank—I produce a cheque for 50l., signed, "George Davies—that was presented on 17th July by the prisoner—I refused to pay it, the name of Davis being spelt wrong—I asked the prisoner where he got the cheque from—he said he got it from Mr. Davis—I told him I should very much like to see Mr. Davis—he went away, and returned in about a quarter of an hour with the person who called himself Mr. Davis—it was the prisoner's son—I was asked why I refused to pay the cheque—I said, "Because he did not appear to know his own name—he then said he would draw his, account out of the bank altogether—I supplied him with a form, and he drew it out—I have an entry in my cash-book of what I paid him—I made the entry—I gave him two 100l. notes, Nos;. 40,430 and 28,929, a 50l. note, No. 57,608, and a 20l. note, No. 16,264, all Bank of England notes of various dates.
THOMAS DRY . I am assistant to Mr. Harrison, a pawnbroker, of Wardour Street, Soho—I know the prisoner and his son, Harris Samuel Cohen—on 17th July last the son came and took a watch out which was in pawn for 15l.—I can't swear to this 50l. note being the note he gave me; I can only swear to its being paid away by myself—I believe he did give me a 50l. note—I am not sure of that even—I can't remember what change I gave him—I can't say whether I received this 50l. note on that day or not—it bears my indorsement—I put that on it afterwards—I circulated it on Tuesday, 20th July—I do not remember taking a 50l. note from anybody else—I have tried to remember.
ARCHIBALD GRIFFITHS . I am a cashier in the Bank of England—I produce a 100l. bank note, No. 40,435, dated 10th April, 1869, which was paid into the bank on 3rd August, 1869—the name of Harris Cohen, 39 Dean Street, Soho, is written on the front of the note.
SHOL HERST LOIRE . I live at 16, Scarborough Street, Goodman's Fields—I know the prisoner—he owed me something like 25s. in the year 1869—he paid me with a 10l. note on 12th September last—I gave him the change.
Cross-examined. Q. How long had he owed you the money? A. Some few months.
HENRY LARGE . I am a tailor, of 68, Berners Street, Oxford Street—at the end of July, 1869, Cohen, the son, borrowed 10l. of me—he repaid me with a 10l. note on 7th August, 1869—this is the note, No. 35,044, dated 6th May, 1869.
EMA UEL GROUSE . I am a woollen draper, of 3, South Row, Golden Square—I know the Cohens, father and son—in September I wanted some money to pay a debt to Messrs. Holden & Hardwick—I applied to a person named Rolfe for 20l., and got it on the first application—I believe it was on 20th September I paid it to Messrs. Holden & Hardwick—the prisoner came to my shop on 19th July and asked me to change a 100l. note for him—I put my name on it and gave it back to him—this is the note.
Cross-examined. Q. You did that that he might get it cashed at your banker's? A. Yes—I got a 10l. note from Rolfe as part of the 20l.—I believe I did not endorse that—I paid it to Holden & Hardwick.
Cross-examined. Q. Did Mr. Grouse pay into your bank a 5l. note, No. 15,085? A. Yes, on 28th July—that was a note I had given in exchange for this 100l. note.
EMANUEL GROUSE (re-examined). That was not a note I had obtained from Mr. Rolfe—I had a 5l. note from Mr. Cohen, which I changed for him—I don't recollect when it was, whether it was in July or August.
HENRY WEBSTER . I am a solicitor, of 10, Basinghall Street—on 3rd August I received 5l. from Cohen, the son; on 8th September another 5l., and on 31st August three sovereigns—that was on account of the father—the 5l. on 3rd August was to take him through the Bankruptcy Court—he was then in Whitecross Street prison—the endorsement on these notes (looking at several) are in the son's writing—the father cannot write, I believe.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you acting as the prisoner's attorney in the Bankruptcy Court? A. Yes; I produced the various receipts and handed them to the counsel as he was examining—was present at the examination of all the persons who have been mentioned—they were called on the application of Mr. Haigh, who represented one of the detaining creditors, and now represents the assignees—there was no assignee appointed at that time—their statements were taken down in writing and are annexed to the proceedings—he examined as many as he thought fit—one or two who were summoned he did not examine.
BERTRAND R BERT JOHNSON (re-examined). The first bankruptcy was filed against Harris Cohen, on 27th June, 1867—that is the date of the petition—the adjudication is dated 1st July—the second bankruptcy is against the prisoner, dated 1st July, 1867—there are two separate adjudications
on 1st July; one against the father and one against the son—the next bankruptcy is dated 23rd January, 1869, against Cohen, the son, and his partner, Benjamin—the adjudication is dated 26th January; and the fourth is against the prisoner, dated 4th August, 1869—there is an order on those proceedings, by the Commissioner, to prosecute the prisoner.
WILLIAM JAMES SHEPHERD . I am clerk to Messrs. Sutcliffe and Sumner, solicitors, of Bridge Street, Blackfriars—I produce the judgment under which the prisoner was arrested on 1st August—the amount is 78l. 16s. 6d., at the suit of Marling & Co., against the prisoner and his son—the judgment is dated 8th July, 1868—the ca. ca. was issued upon that on 19th August last.
Cross-examined. Q. Did that proceed to judgment? A. I let judgment go by default, by arrangement with the prisoner.
BENJAMIN CONSTABLE . I am keeper of the Debtor's Prison, Whitecross Street—on 2nd August last the prisoner was lodged in my custody on a ca, ca., at the suit of Winterbotham and another, for 33l. odd—a detainer was also lodged against him on 4th August, at the suit of Marling & Co., for 44l. 19s. 6d.—the judgment of Winterbotham & Lay appears by the warrant to have been obtained on 19th July, and the other on 8th July—the prisoner was released on 10th September, by order of the Court of Bankruptcy—I don't know on what bail.
Cross-examined. Q. He was in custody from 2nd August to 10th September? A. Yes—prisoners' friends have access to them daily from 10 to 1 o'clock, and from 2 to 4 o'clock.
GUILTY of concealing his property. —Six Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, January 13th 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
178. THOMAS WILLIAMS (40), ELIZABETH WILLIAMS (29), and ROBERT HART (50), were again indicted (see pages 206 and 208) for burglariously breaking and entering the shop of John Buest Evans, and stealing therein 100 yards of lama, a quantity of silk, and other articles, his property. Second Count—Receiving.
MESSRS. COOPER and BIRON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JAMES BUBST EVANS . I am a draper, of 61, Chandos Street, Covent Garden—on Tuesday, 1st June, I left the house safe—I do not live there—I went there at 8.30 next morning, and found it had been broken into, and a quantity of my stock was stolen, to the value of 250l. to 300l.—the locks of a drawer in the counting-house had been broken, and the doors of a case—I had left a black leather bag there the night before, belonging to Mr. Ryder, a friend of mine, that was gone also—this silk and other articles produced are mine.
JOHN DOWDELL (Police Sergeant E). I took Elizabeth Williams on 25th November—I afterwards searched the room in which they lived, and found this silk, this calico, and this black bag—I told her I should charge her with being concerned with Bentley and others—she said, "Let me fetch my husband," and made a rush down stairs—I said, "No, this is the man
you live with," and then she dropped a purse containing a great number of duplicates, six of which relate to this case—I examined Mr. Evans' premises on the morning after the robbery, and found them in confusion—doors had been opened with skeleton keys, and drawers and a small cup board had marks of being opened with a jemmy—I found a jemmy in Williams' room—I did not compare it with the marks, but they were such marks as it would produce—I found about 300 skeleton keys at Williams' placer—Hart was taken the same evening, in my presence—I searched his room, and his wife, in my presence, handed a great number of duplicates to Chamberlain, some of which I have here—I believe she took them from he pocket.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you take her in custody? A. No, no steps were taken against her—Williams occupies one room—there is a bed in it.
EDWARD JONES . I am a trimming manufacturer, of 36 and 37, Cow Cross Street—I left my place safe on the night of November 15th, and next morning, about 9 o'clock, I went there and found it had been entered—I missed satin, silk, and trimmings, value about 400l.—this is my silk (produced), and I had calico of a similar description to this—I have no mark on this silk; but it is very much like some I have in stock—I have not the shadow of a doubt about it.
Cross-examined. Q. Did not another person claim it at the Police Court? A. Not that I know of.
JOHN DOWDELL (re-examined). I found this silk in a box in Williams' room, between some of her dresses—she said that the whole belonged to her, and the calico and silk were in the midst of her dresses.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the box open? A. No—I do not think there was a lock on it—Mrs. Murray, the landlady of the house, is not here, she is very ill.
EDWARD MORGAN . I am assistant to Mr. Bullworthy, a pawnbroker, of Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell—I produce a piece of stuff pledged on 13th July by the female prisoner—I produce the ticket—"St John's Square," which is on the ticket, is the address she gave—I also produce a scarf, pledged on 6th August for 14s.—I cannot say who by—the name on the ticket is "Mary Williams, St. James's Street"—(The corresponding ticket produced from the purse)—I also produce a petticoat and a piece of staff pledged in July, in the name of "Ann Williams, St. John Street"—I cannot speak to the person who pledged them, and do not know whether I took them in or not.
THOMAS HENRY DOUNTON . I am assistant to Mr. Griffiths, of 81, Ossulston Street, Euston Road, pawnbroker—I produce two pieces of stuff, pledged on 30th June, by a person giving the name of "Ann Haloes"—I did not take them in—I produce the ticket—(This corresponded with one found in the purse).
THOMAS CAVANNAGH . I am assistant to Mr. Tomlinson, a pawnbroker, of 170, Great College Street, Camden Town—I produce a piece of stuff, pledged on 8th June, a shirt and some stuff on 9th July, and some stuff
on 24th July—I do not know who by—(The duplicates for these articles' were among those found at Hart's)—I know Hart as a customer—he came to the shop about once a week, pawning goods.
ROBERT MARTIN . I am manager to Mr. Abethell, a pawnbroker—I produce a piece of stuff, which the prosecutor identified at our shop—it was pawned by a female last June, in the name of "Ann White, Cromer Street"—this is the ticket—(The corresponding ticket was among those found in the purse).
HENRY ROWLEY . I am a pawnbroker—I did not attend at the Police Court; but my young man is ill—I produce a ticket, dated 2nd August—I knew Hart, pawning there—(The corresponding ticket was among those found at Hart's).
EMMA EVANS . I am the prosecutor's wife—in May and June, before the robbery, I was in the habit of going down Chandos Street of an evening, and saw the female prisoner constantly, and on the night of the robbery I saw her looking in at the shop window—I have not seen her since the robbery, except at the station.
THOMAS WILLIAMS and HART— NOT GUILTY .
ELIZABETH WILLIAMS— GUILTY on Second Count. She was further charged with having been before convicted.
CHARLOTTE HOWE . I am female warder at the House of Correction, Westminster—I produce a certificate (Read: "Elizabeth James, convicted at Worship Street, February, 1865, of stealing money from the person. Confined Six Months")—the prisoner is the person.
Prisoner. I never had six months' in my life. Witness. I was present when you were tried, and you were in our prison for six months, and I saw you constantly—you have also been in the prison since, as a disorderly character, in the name of Elizabeth King.
GUILTY**— The police stated that she had been at least fifty times in custody—Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
THE COURT awarded 5l. each to Dowdell, Chamberlain, and Carter the Grand Jury having called attention to their good conduct.
THIRD COURT—Tuesday, January 11th, & Thursday, January 13th, 1870.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. POLAND and RAVENHILL conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. BESLEY and MOODY the Defence.
RICHARD JAMES PAWLEY . I am deputy registrar of the Mayor's Court—I produce the record of the action of "Fayle against Salthouse"—the action appears to have been entered on 9th August, 1869, and an attachment made on the same day—the claim nominally was for 180l.—the amount sworn to appears to be 90l. 3s. 8d.—the attachment was dissolved on 14th August by order of the Court—on the 11th October the action was tried
before the Common Serjeant—the Jury were unable to agree, and were discharged—on 23rd November it was tried again, before Mr. Forsythe, and a verdict was given for the defendant—the book that was produced in evidence by the plaintif was impounded, and I produce it here to-day—I sealed it up myself, and it was opened when the inquiry took place before the Magistrate—the plaintiff was examined as a witness, on his own behalf.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know how long the Jury were locked up? A. I have no memorandum, probably two hours.
JOHN GEOROE COOK . I am a shorthand writer, and live at Clapham—I was present at the trial of "Fayle and Salthouse," in the Mayor's Court, on 11th October last—I took a note of the evidence of the prisoner Fayle—he was sworn—this is a correct transcript of the notes that I took—(The evidence of the prisoner in the Mayor's Court was read at length, the substance of it, upon which the perjury was assigned, was that George Salthouse had lodged at his house, on and off, from and between the 20th March, 1868, and 16th July, 1868, until the case was settled in the Admiralty Court.
Cross-examined. Q. How long was he under examination? A. About an hour—I was only there to take his examination—I did not wait any longer.
GEORGE SALTHOUSE . I am a seaman, and am now living at 28, Usher Road, Old Ford—in 1867 I belonged to a ship called the Fusiyama—I joined that ship at Sidney—while I was in her I came across the Maggis Leslie in Caspar Straits—we found her in distress and got her into Batavin—I came home overland, leaving other persons to bring the Maggie Leslie home—I arrived at Southampton on 1st January, 1868, and I went to my parents' residence, No. 4, Mitford Cottages, Library Road, Old Ford, London—I lived with them up to the present year, except the time I was away with the ship a few days—my mother and father and two brothers and sisters and some lodgers lived there—we removed from Mitford Cottages in August, 1868—previous to that I had been at work at the chemical works of Messrs. Lewis, at Hackney, for about four weeks, from April to May—I went at 6 o'clock and left at 6 at night; but sometimes I worked overtime—on one occasion I was there all night, and on another occasion the best part of the night—I went there in my own name—I went in the place of a man named Richardson, who was discharged—on the 18th June the Maggie Leslie left London—I joined her—we arrived in Newcastle on the 24th June—I stayed at Newcastle about six days, and arrived home on 2nd July—I lodged at James Conway's at Newcastle—during the whole of the time I was in London I never lodged at Henry Fayle's, at 8, Commercial Place, Commercial Road, Limehouse—it is not true that I lodged with him and slept there, and was there daily from 25th March until 16th July—it is quite false; I slept nowhere but at my parent's residence—I did not agree to pay him a guinea a week for board and lodging—I had seen Fayle before he brought the action—I saw him at his own residence about the end of February or the beginning of March, 1868—I met a shipmate named O'Brien in the East India Road—he was one of the shipmates of the Fusiyama—we walked along the street until we came to the defendant's house—he said, "I am going in here a few minutes," and I went in as far as the shop—he came outside, and the defendant with him—as soon as I came outside a man named Buzzard was going up to have his affidavit read, and we went to Mr. Oldershaw's office, in Doctor's Commons, to hear it read—I saw the defendant again, a few days after—I was passing by there, and
I saw him with the steward, and I went up to the City with them to say I would not sign any papers—they wanted me to sign some documents, and I went up to say I would not sign them—the other men were claiming salvage from the Maggie Leslie—Buzzard came home in her, I believe—he was entitled to salvage—we went to Mr. Oldershaw's about his claim, and I afterwards employed Messrs. Pritchard as my proctors—I only saw the defendant three times until he brought this claim against me in the Lord Mayor's Court—after I refused to sign the papers I did not see him until the action—in the meantime Messrs. Pritchard acted for me, and in July I received nearly 700l. as salvage—that was my share—when the action was brought Messrs. Pritchard acted for me, and I gave evidence—the defendant never lent me any money; not a shilling—all these claims against me for money lent are wholly false.
Cross-examined. Q. You have mentioned the name of O'Brien and Buzzard, and you also refer to the steward, what was hit name? A. We used to call him George, but his other name, I think of it sometimes—Wallis, that was the name—they were men interested in the price money—there were also Charles Hagmand, and Peter Smith—they were shipmates of mine, and were also salvors—four of us came home overland after we had saved the Maggie Leslie—I had some money when I came home—I got it from my own hard earnings in Australia—we took the Maggie Leslic into Batavia seven weeks before we arrived in Southampton—we were seven weeks travelling—I came home second class—it was fifty odd pounds—I met one of my shipmates when I arrived at Southampton—his name was James Lewin—he was a salvor—I lent him about 3l.—he was in a state of destitution—I did not lend money to anyone else—when I arrived in Southampton I was worth 30l.—I had about 5l. in my pocket—I had 30l. I had saved in Australia—it was coming home in the Fusiyama—I did not borrow money of Captain Thompson in Singapore—I had no advances, except once, when he might ask if I wanted any money I could have a few shillings—I had 5l. when I got to Southampton—I had to pay my railway fare to London—I went direct to Mitford Cottages—the cottage had six rooms and a kitchen—I had two sisters living at home, and two brothers, and my father and mother—there were two lodgers there, and myself made nine—my father was not in very poor circumstances when I arrived—he was not out of work—one of my brothers was—he is blind, and could not work—one of my sisters goes to school, and the other helps mother about the house—my father was a journeyman painter when he was at work—I know a person called George Dunkley—he was also on board the Fusiyama—I did not know that Peter Smith, Charles Hagmand, George Wallis, Buzzard, and Dunkley, had gone to sleep at Fayle's—on the three days I went there I did not see all those men there—I did not see Charles Hagmand or Peter Smith there—I went there with the cook of the Fusiyama—I have seen Dunkley there, and O'Brien and Buzzard and Wall is—I knew nothing of any proceedings against the owners of the Maggie Leslie for a month after the 1st January, 1868—I did not take any steps myself until I bad been home two months, and then was recommended to Messrs. Pritchard by Lloyd's Salvage Office—I had made no claim at all before I employed Pritchard & Sons—I was waiting to see what I should receive for taking the vessel in—the brokers told me they thought the matter would be settled by arbitration—I went to the brokers to report myself, and get paid off, and they told me they were going to settle the
salvage by arbitration—an offer of 5l. was never made to me as my share—no offer was made to me by anybody before I went to Pritchard & Sons—I knew from the other men that they had gone to Oldershaw's—I did not know that as early as February, 1868—I did not know that the affidavit I was to make was an affidavit in the interests of the other men claiming salvage—I was only asked a few questions—I did not know what the documents were I was to sign—I never told Mr. Oldershaw, to my recollection, that I lived at Homerton—I never gave a false address to anybody—I never did live at Homerton—Henry Salthouse was the name I was salvor in—the captain put me down in the books as Henry instead of George—I signed my articles as Henry because that was the name they put on my discharge—the captain made a mistake in the name—I signed my name Henry instead of George; but I reported it—I have my discharge here—it was left ashore for me in the name of Henry when I was in the hospital—I was put on the books of the Fusiyama as Henry, and the claim was made in the name of Henry—I went as Henry until the business was settled—my shipmates knew me as Henry—I never signed any cheques in the name of Henry—I went in that name because that was my name being on board this vessel and being on board the Maggie Leslie, and it would not do for me to say it was George, for they would say I was not the man—I told the shipping master in London of the mistake they had made in my discharge—I have had no money from the prisoner—I don't know Nathaniel Fayle or Henry Fayle, jun.—I never received any money from them—I don't know Timothy Donohue—I never received money from either of those persons in his presence, nor in the pretence of George Dunkley—I never had any money from the prisoner in the presence of those persons—I was never at Fayle's place when Peter Smith has been there—I did not go from there with Peter Smith to the theatre—I don't know Rebecca Smith—I never saw her to my knowledge—I never saw Peter Smith, and never took supper with him and his wife at the prisoner's house—I did not know a person named Smith, the chief officer of the Indian Chief—I never went to the theatre with him from Fayle's house—I never saw Mrs. Smith before—she is a perfect stranger to me—I have not taken meals at Fayle's house with George Dunkley between March and my going to Newcastle, nor after my return from Newcastle—I never on any occasion slept in the next bedroom to George Dunkley at Fayle's house—I never slept in his house at all—I did not, on one occasion, present myself partly dressed before George Dunkley and ask him if he was going to get up; never—I never said in his presence that I was short of money—I was not short of money—I have always had a shilling in my pocket—I did not borrow money of my parents—I used to say, "Give me a shilling until I come in again—I don't call that borrowing—I had 18s. a week at the chemical works; but I used to work overtime and never took less than 1l. a week, sometimes 1l. 5s.—it was continuous employment for four weeks, from day to day—I slept on the premises one night—I never went to Fayle's house in the eveuing time after being at the chemical works—I am not aware that you can get to Fayle's place from the chemical works in half-an-hour by the railway—I will swcar that I never did that—I did not ask the defendant to advance me money the same as he was advancing to the other men—no account was handed to me by Mr. Fayle on 16th July—no account was handed to me at all—I never said I was satisfied with the charges he had made—I have not been tipsy since I have been home—I did not say in the Mayor's Court I
had never been tipsy—I should be one out of a thousand if I had not, particularly for a seafaring man—I have had a glass, perhaps, more than I ought to have had—I only went to Oldershaw's on three occasions.
MR. POLAND. Q. I understand you never had any account at all until the action was brought with reference to this charge? A. None at all—the defendant never sent any account, or made any claim, until he sued me in the Mayor's Court—I was never aware he had any claim at all.
MARY ANN SALTHOUSE I am the mother of the last witness—in the months of March, April, May, June, and July, 1868, we were living at Mitford Cottages, Bow—we were living there when my son came home—we went from there to 12, Cardigan Road, and then to Hackney—we removed from Mitford Cottages about August—my son was living at home the whole of the time—he always slept in the house—he slept with his brothers Henry and Joseph—there were two beds in the room—I recollect his working at the chemical works—he was away there two nights, and when he went with the ship to Newcastle—I don't know how long he was away then—I know he came back the night before Fairlop Friday.
Cross-examined. Q. That was in 1868? A. Yes—I was not examined as a witness for my son till 1869—I went to Messrs. Pritchard & Sons—I can't tell you when that was—my son has been assisting me—he has been a good son to me—he never refused me assistance—I have a sen who is blind—I have two daughters at home—they help me with dressmaking and millinery—one of them went to school in 1868, and she will go again next Monday—I have two other daughters—one is married, and the other is away—I go to bed late of a night—the family go to bed about 11 o'clock—my son has been living at home since he got the money from Messrs. Pritchar's—he has not done any work since August, 1868, since he went to the chemical works, because he has employed his time at home so much—he has always been at home—I don't think he has been out only with his blind brother—he went to bed before I did—he never went out after I was in bed—I swear that upon my oath.
MR. POLAND. Q. What did he do at home? A. He made models, and setup the house in various ways—I have got some very handsome models.
HENRY GEORGE SALTHOUSE . I am now living at Usher Road, Old Ford—in the beginning of 1868 we lived at Mitford Cottages, Library Road, Old Ford—we continued to live there till August, 1868, and then went to 12, Cardigan Road, Bow—this is the agreement for that house—it is dated 31st August, 1868—I remember my son coming home, and coming to live with us, in January, 1868—he has continued to live with us up to the present time, except for a fortnight, when he went in the ship to Newcastle, at the end of June—I remember his working at the chemical works—I had two sons living at home, two daughters, and two lodgers—they are here to-day—I never heard of my two lodging at Mr. Fayle's.
Cross-examined. Q. What room in the house did you and your wife sleep in? A. The down stairs back parlour, on the ground floor—I almost forget what rooms the others occupied—my son George slept with his two brothers—there was only the sofa bedstead in the parlour—I am a baker by trade—I was never a painter—I used to go to work at 11 o'clock, and came in at 10 o'clock—I generally saw them in before I went to work—sometimes I did not—I have been in business since Pritchard's money came in—my son assisted me, and I went into business—I was a journeyman before that—I was in work—I was not out of work twenty weeks in
1868—I will swear that—I have been chiefly in work—I won't pledge my oath that I was not out of work twelve weeks—I can't say how many persons I worked for, it is so long ago.
HENRY SALTHOUSE . I am the brother of George Salthouse, and live with my father and mother—I was living with them during the year 1868, and from January to August, at Mitford Cottages, Bow—my brother George was living there, too—he slept in the same bed with me—my brother Joseph also slept in the same room—I recollect George working at the chemical works in April and May, 1868—from the 27th April to 23rd May, not quite a month—I remember him working two nights very nearly all night—he never slept out, away from his parent's home, at all, until he started for Newcastle on 18th June—he was then away from 18th June to 2nd July—he came back to my father's about 10.30 or 11 o'clock on the night of 2nd July.
Cross-examined. Q. You were examined before? A. At the last trial—swore the same then as I do now, and the same before the Magistrate—I was not asked to say anything about this until I was examined at the Mayor's Court.
COURT. Q. In what room did you sleep? A. In the front parlour—the house consisted of six rooms and a washhouse—the front parlour was the bedroom for me and my two brothers—there were two beds in it—one was a French bedstead, and the other a sofa bedstead—the three of us sometimes slept together in the French bedstead.
JOSEPH SALTHOUSE I am the brother of George—in January, 1868, up to August, I was living at Mitford Cottages—I slept with my two brothers, in the parlour, on the ground floor—no one else slept on that floor—my father and mother slept up stairs—I can't remember where my sisters slept—there were two beds in the room I slept in—one was a sofa bed—George slept at home ever since the 1st January—I remember his going to Newcastle—I went from the London Docks to the Nore Light, in the Maggic Leslie, and came back with the pilot—I don't remember when my brother returned—he slept out once when he was at the chemical works—he was out one night and part of a night—he was living at home the whole of the time, with those exceptions—we went to Cardigan Road after that—I continued to live with my father—I don't remember whether it was the front or back parlour we slept in—I was examined at the Lord Mayor's Court as both occasions.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. A baker—I don't work for my father now—I am living at home—in 1868 I was a baker, and worked at the same place as my father—when my brother came home, I went to work at the chemical works—I went before he did—I can't say how many weeks I was there, or how long my brother was there—I can't say how many weeks I was in employment in 1868—I won't swear that I was in employment five weeks—I don't think I was—sometimes I had a job—my father maintained me—my brother assisted us when he came home—he did not promise me a new suit of clothes when he got his money from Pritchard's—the lodgers slept on the top floor of all—there were two rooms above the lodgers occupied both those rooms—I had two sisters at home in 1868—I don't remember where they slept—we were always in before father and mother went to bed—I think I was out of work six or seven months in 1868.
to August, 1868, I was living with my parents—I have never been away from home—my brother George was living at Mitford Cottages, from January to August, all the time since he came home—I recollect his going to Newcastle—he came back the day before Fairlop Friday—that was about the beginning of July.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you ever examined before to-day? A. Yes, at Guildhall, at the Police Court, and the other Court as well—there was a younger sister than myself examined there—there was one there who was not heard—I was examined at the Mayor's Court on both occasions—I have been sworn four times in this matter, without to-day—I never said that I was in service—my sister said she was—that was all she did say, and they dismissed her—my bedroom was next to my brother's—I slept with my sister at Mitford Cottages—the house consisted of six rooms and a kitchen—I had the front room, down stairs—the top rooms were occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Jones—my brothers slept in the front room, on the middle floor, two in one bed, and one in a small bedstead—father and mother slept down stairs, in the front room—we lived in the back—my brothers never slept down stairs—they were on the middle floor—they had a bed and a sofa.
CAROLINE SALTHOUSE . In 1868 I was living with my parents, at Mitford Cottages, Old Ford, Bow—I have always been at home—I was there until we removed to Cardigan Road—I was with them when George came home—I slept up stairs, on the middle floor—we had two lodgers, Mr. and Mrs. Jones—they occupied the front and back rooms, up stairs—my father and mother slept in the front room, down stairs—my three brothers slept in the front parlour—we had our meals in the back parlour—I slept in the same room with mother and father, in another bed—I remember my brother going to Newcastle, at the end of June—my sister Clara slept with me—as far as I can think, that was so.
JOSEPH JONES . I am a custom's search keeper—from February, 1867, to July, 1868, I lodged at the Salthouse's, at Mitford Cottages, Library Road, Bow—I occupied the up-stairs floor; the top floor—George Salthouse came home on New Year's Day, 1868—we left on the 15th or 16th July, 1868—he was there during the whole of the time, except when be went to Newcastle, about 18th June—he slept at home—my wife lived there, too, the whole of the time.
Cross-examined. Q. What time did you go out to work in the morning? A. 8 o'clock—I left at 4, except when I worked overtime—I left the house about 7.15—the father and the youngest son used to go out at 3 or 4 in the morning—we used to hear them go out—I have heard George Salthouse talking in bed—I knew his voice—I could tell him between the three of them—he has often called up to me, "It is half-past 6, Mr. Jones—he had said that several times if he has not heard me stirring about—I don't know whether I have ever said that before to day—I won't swear I have not—I saw George nearly every day, except from 18th June till the day before Fairlop Friday, when he was away at Newcastle—I used to see him of an evening, and heard him say, "Good night, mother," when he was going to bed, between 10 and 11—he very seldom went out—he used to make little models of ships, and he was in the garden—I was subpœnaed to be a witness some time in the autumn of 1869—a gentleman came to my house and told me to attend at the Mayor's Court, Guildhall, and state what I knew about George Salthouse living at his father's house, and what time
we lived there, and I went—that was all that was said to me—I did not tell him what I could prove—that was the first time I had been asked to give any evidence, and the first I knew about it.
MR. POLAND. Q. Did you see George Salthouse on Sundays as well? A. I did.
PHEBE JONES . I lived with my husband at Mitford Cottages, Bow from January, 1868, when George Salthouse come home from sea—we lived there a year and five months—we began to move on 15th July—George was living at his father's house and continued to live there until we left the lodgings—he went to Newcastle in June, and came back the day before Fairlop Friday, the first Friday in July—I was at home during the day—I had business at home—George was at home—he used to be in the garden—I knew him to be at the chemical works—I recommended him to my father, who works there—Mr. Peck is my father—he was foreman at the works—I used to go and see my father, and I saw Salthouse there.
Cross-examined. What was your business at home? A. Fancy trimming—I occupied the rooms, up stairs—I have seen George in the garden—my attention was first directed to this by my husband coming and asking me for the rent-book, and I asked him what he wanted it for—that was in the autumn of 1869.
COURT. Q. You referred to see the dates you left Mitford Cottages? A. Yes—there were two kitchens down stairs—Clara and Caroline slept in the front kitchen, on a sofa—Henry and George and Joseph slept in the front parlour up stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Salthouse in the back parlour, and we occupied the two rooms at the top of the house—they had their meals in the back kitchen—that was the living room—there was a sofa and a bedstead in the front room.
JOHN PECK . I am foreman at the chemical works of Mr. Lewis, at Hackney—in 1868 George Salthouse was recommended to me by Mrs. Jones, and I took him on to work at the factory—he worked there from April to May—I have got my book here—his hours were from 6 in the morning till 6 in the evening, and sometimes he worked overtime—on one occasion he was there all night, and once nearly all night—he asked me if he could sleep there once, and I allowed him to sleep—he asked me to call him by the name of Richardson—I had no person of that name in my employ—his wages were 18s. a week—he used to earn as much as 20s. or 25s. sometimes.
Cross-examined. Q. He worked for three weeks? A. Four weeks—from 27th April to 23rd May—I go by my book—my book says, "April 27th, took on Jackson and Salthouse the first thing"—we also employed the younger Salthouse and the father—here is an entry, "May 23rd, paid off Salthouse, Jackson, and Richardson"—that Richardson means George Salthouse—wherever Richardson is recorded it means George Salthouse—he took the name of Richardson to distinguish him from the other Salthouse—where Salthouse appears in the book it means Joseph—he was taken on the same day—I paid the father and son off on the Saturday, and on the Monday I wanted him, and I sent for him, and he came back and worked four hours—the father and Joseph worked at one time, and Joseph and George—they did not all three work together—they were paid by the week—if he had been absent at any time I should have put it on my book—I kept a register of the day's work—that is the only one—I did not know anything about this till I was subpœnaed last September or October—that was about the time.
COURT. Q. Is that man, George Salthouse, the man who worked for four weeks, and to whom you paid wages for four weeks? A. Yes, and his name was changed to Richardson.
EDWARD FRANCIS BINGHAM . I was mate on board the Fusiyama—we fell in with the Maggie Leslie, and she was taken into Batavia—she arrived in London in June, 1868—George Salthouse joined her on the 18th June, when she left the London Docks for Newcastle—Joseph was with him at the time.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go in the ship? A. No—I saw him on board—I was on the pier-heads, and saw the ship safe away, and he was on board.
JAMES CONWAY . I keep a public-house at South Shields—I have known George Salthouse some years—I remember him coming to lodge with me on 24th June—he stayed six days, and then left, to return to London—he had his photograph taken at Newcastle—I have known him about ten years.
ALBERT JAMES KELLY . I am clerk to Mr. Oldershaw, solicitor, of Doctor's Commons—he acted for some of the seamen of the Maggie Leslie—I know George Salthouse—I have my call-book here—I remember him calling at Mr. Oldershaw's office—he called four times, on 21st, 22nd, and 23rd of April, and the 12th June—those are the only times his name appears in the call-book.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you prepared to say that be might not have called at other times? A. His name would be put down if he called—Mr. Oldershaw acted for Peter Smith, Charles Allen, O'Brien, Hagmand, Buzzard, Dunkley, and Wallis—if two persons called I should put them both down if they came into the office—the seamen came frequently to Mr. Oldershaw's place—the suit was pending about eighteen months—there was an appeal—the owners of the Maggie Leslie offered a small sum, as a settlement of the claims for salvage—this is a draft affidavit, which was prepared for Salthouse—I took it down from Salthouse himself—I took down the address that he gave, 14, Ford Street, Homerton—I never knew him by any other name than Henry, until just lately—I saw Mr. Fayle with Salthouse, at our place.
MR. POLAND. Q. Did Salthouse refuse to let you act for him? A. Yes—we wanted him to sign a power of attorney, and he would not do it—it was to give to Fayle—I have the draft affidavit here—I took it down from dictation—this is the draft—I took it down from his mouth—there was no address at that time—I got it afterwards—I will undertake to swear that Fayle did not give me that address—I have not any clear recollection upon the subject of the address—I could not say distinctly who gave me that address.
The following witness were examined for the Defence:
NATHANIEL FAYLE . The prisoner is my father—I lived with him—I remember men coming to lodge at my father's house, from the Fusiyama—there were nine or ten came there—Peter Smith, Charles Allen, Dunkley, O'Brien, Wallis, Charles Hagmand, Buzzard, and James Lewin—Dunkley came to lodge about the middle of February, 1868—some of them came then, and some at other times—I first saw George Salthouse at the latter end of March—he said he was recommended to come by the other men—I
have seen him in company with them—he came alone, the first time—the next day, or within a week, I saw him talking to the men of the Fusiyana—he spoke to father when he came first, and the next day they went up to Mr. Oldershaw's, because I told them when the 'bus came to the door—father, Mr. Salt house, and another sailor got into the 'bus—he come back again, and he had some money—he slept at ray father's house that night, in the back room—I gave him his candle to go to bed, and I went up afterwards to blow his candle out, and I saw him in bed—ho agreed to pay a guinea a week for board and lodging—I was in the parlour with my father at the time—my brother's name is Henry Fayle—Salthouse was there, on and off, for three or four months—father gave me orders to give him money—I kept the account of moneys advanced, on the slate sometimes, and sometimes in the book—this is the book—sometimes it would be a couple of days on the slate before I put it down in the book—I gave him money frequently I gave him some money at the latter end of March (referring to the book)—the date is not down here; but between the 23rd a 27th I gave him money—I generally put it on the slate—that is an entry copied from the slate—it is in my writing, and covers three days between the 23rd and 27th—he had 3l. 17s.—he did not say what he wanted the money for—his brother came with him on two or three occasions, when he first came to the house, and I have had my meals at the same table with them—he has been present when he has had money—that was at the latter end of March—I heard him say that his father was poor, and out of work, and had a large family, and he could not keep them—there are a couple of entries at the latter end of May—about the 23rd, 2l. 4s.—they are in different sums, and at different times—that is a copy from the slate—the entry is, "5s., 2s., 3s., 7s., 6s., 10s., and 10s."—that was the way it was advanced—there is no other entry of mine in the book until 2nd July, a few days before the case was heard in the Admiralty Court—that is an entry, copied from the slate, 5l. 7s—it is very nearly the last entry that is down in his name—those are the only entries I speak to myself—my brother has put some down—the entry on 26th June is in my father's writing—I know nothing about that entry—I saw George Salthouse a good many times between the time he first came and the 18th June—I knew of his working at the chemical works; he told me so—he came in at 6 or! o'clock in the evening, when he was at the chemical works—it takes twenty-seven minutes to come from there to our place—I saw him there after 2nd July—I saw him about the 2nd or 3rd July—it might have been a day or two later—it was the first week in July—I made out an account on 16th July, when they came home from the Admiralty Court—my father told me to make out the account, and I did so—I did not add it up in the book, I copied it on to a piece of paper—there is an entry on 16th July, in my father's writing, "2s. 6d., 3s. 6d., 6s., and 4s."—after I made the bill out, my father went into the parlour, and made an agreement with Salthouse for the money, at Oldershaw's, and the interest—I was present—he agreed to give ten guineas as interest on the money he had borrowed—he had ordered three suits of clothes while he was there, one for himself, one for his father, and one for his blind brother; but father never had then executed, because he came the next day, and father heard there was an appeal to be made; and father said, if he did not sign the power of attorney, he would not let him have any more—my father gave the account to Salthouse, in my presence, and he said he was perfectly satisfied with
it—he kept the account—I had sold him a navy cap—my father has lived in that neighbourhood twenty years.
Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. Q. Just pass that book for a moment; when did George Salthouse leave your father's house? A. The last time I saw him was a day or two after the case was settled in the Admiralty Court—the case was settled on 16th July—it was a day or so after that—there is this entry on 16th July, "Engaged in attending in City on your business, 5s. each time, 4l.; Sunday attendances in the above business, two business"—that was at Westminster; "thirteen weeks board and lodging, at 21s. a week, 13l. 13s.; and interest on the above, as agreed, ten guineas"—that is in my father's handwriting, and it is the last entry relating to Salt-house—he left a day or two after that—he was quite satisfied with the account—I believe it was in May he was at the chemical works—he was at work there about three weeks, I think—I don't know whether he was away all day or not—he had a great deal of his money at night time—here is an entry of 11th May, in my father's writing, of 10s., 1s., 5s., 2s., 2s. 6d.; carried out to 1l. 10s. 6d.—that was money received within two or three days of the 11th—the next date is the 16th, 2s. 6d., 2s. 6d. 5s., 7s. 6d.—then there is a third line with no date, 10s., 1s., 7s. 6d. 15s.—the next line is 20s., 5s., 8s., 6s.—the neit line has no date 7s., 20s., 10s., 15s., 12s.; carried out, 3l. 4s.—the next line is dated 23rd—from the 11th May to the 23rd May he received about 14l.—I think that was when he was at the chemical works—on the 20th March the entry is 5s., 20s., 20s., and a navy cap—on the neit line there is 4l.; no date—the next entry is 10s., 2s., 1s., 8d. 1s., 1s., 20s., and cash for rail, 18d.; no date—10s., 5s., 2s. 6d., 5s., 10s., 20s., and 10s.; no date—the next line is dated 27th March, 5s. 10s., 20s.—April 1st, navy cap, 6s., cash 10s.—April 20th, 10s., 4s., 20s.—23rd April, 5s., 2s., 10s., 3s., 20s.; carried out, 2l.—the next is in my writing, with no date, 17s., 20s., 2s., 8s., 20s., 20s., 10s., 2s.; 4l. 19s.—that was after the 23rd April—the next is 20s., 20s., 5s., 5s., 1s., 1s., 2s.; carried out, 2l. 14s.—1s., 2s., 20s., 10s. 6d.; carried out, 1l. 14s. 6d.—at the top of this page is an entry of 26th June—there is no entry on 1st July—on two occasions, when Salthouse was at the house, my father was away at Sunderland and Newcastle, and other places—Salthouse generally occupied the back room on the second floor, and on two occasions he went up to the top back room—there are nine rooms and the shop—there are three stories, and two rooms built out in I the yard—he had the second floor room to himself—he was not very much of a sleeper in the house—he never slept there a great deal—two or three times a week; never more—when he was at the chemical works he slept two or three times a week in the house—I have seen him at meals very frequently, and have had them at the same table—he had them with me and the other men—George Dunkley was lodging in the house at the same time as Salthouse—I knew of his going to Newcastle—he told me he was going at the latter end of June—he came back on the 2nd or 3rd July—he was away about a fort night—I was examined at the Mayor's Court on both occasions—I have a mother alive—she is outside—I have a sister in America—she was not at home at that time—there were two servants in the house, Meyers and Sullivan—they are here—there was a shop-boy named Timothy Donohue—he was with my father about three years—I have been in custody once, about a month ago—a man came with two 10l. notes—he gave me one to change—I went over to the Eastern Hall to
change it, and could not get it changed—I gave it back to the sailor—he came back again and gave me the note to change a second time—I went over with the note to the Eastern Hall, and they gave me 10l. for it—I gave it to the sailor—the barman came over and said I had only given him a 5l. note—I did not know what the note was—I gave the money to the sailor, and they took me for obtaining the 5l. by fraud—a gentleman named Rice, acquainted with my father, paid the 5l., and the prosecutor did not go on with the case—Mr. Rice is an agent, I think—I don't know whether he acts as agent for my father—he paid the money to get me out of custody.
MR. BESLFY. Q. The first time you went for change the sailor gave you a 10l. note? A. Yes—I thought the second note was the same as the first—I did not know it was for 5l.—I gave the 10l. I got to the sailor—my father found the sailor afterwards, and made him return the clothes he had—that was the only charge that was ever made against me—I can't give you the dates when Salthouse slept in the house—Dunkley was there—he occupied the front room on the same floor as Salthouse—Salthouse slept in the next room to Dunkley part of the time—he first engaged his bed on the 20th March—he said his father was poor and could not afford to keep him, he was out of work.
GEORG DUNKELEY . I was boy on board the Fusiyama—I returned to London last on New Year's Eve—I had been to Kurrachee, in India—I was away from England twelve months and twenty days—before that I had been a voyage in the Fusiyama—I was on board with George Salthouses, and was concerned in the saving of the Maggie Leslie—she was taken into Batavia—I got to London about the 18th January, as near as I believe, and some time in February I went to lodge at Fayle's house with some of my ship-mates—I remained in London waiting for the Admiralty suit—I was at Fayle's eight or nine months—I was there during the month of March—I saw George Salthouse there—I knew him as Henry—he went there mostly to borrow money—I saw him receive it from Mr. Fayle—on one occasion I saw Nathaniel Fayle give him 5s.—there was a slate on which the moneys lent were put down—I slept in the second floor front room generally, some times the first floor back room—George Salthouse slept in the house—I can't say exactly how many times—he has come into my room partly dressed, and asked if I was going to get up—I did not see him come out of his room or go into it—I have seen him going up stairs as if he were go in to bed, and I have heard somebody moving about in that room—I have seen him taking his meals there several times—I can't say how often I have seen him there from 1st April to 16th July, he was there so often—he told me his father was out of work—I have been up to the house, and have seen his blind brother—I can't swear that I have seen his brother at Fayle's—I have seen his other brother there, a baker I believe he is—I remember going to Mr. Oldershaw's on one occasion with Salthouse—he followed Mr. Fayle and Mr. Rice all round Newgate Market to get money from him, and they ran into a butcher's shop to get away from him—I went to Mr. Oldershaw's throe or four times with Salthouse—there ware about nine other men had their cases in the hands of Mr. Oldershaw—they were shipmates of mine—I went once to the broker's with Salthouses—I remember his buying a cap at Mr. Fayle's shop; his own was nearly worn out—I don't know whether he had a second cap while he was there—I have seen him the worse for liquor two or three times—I am quite sure I have
been sitting down at the same table eating while Salthouse has been there—I have seen, him in company with other persons, the servants and other men who were hoarding in the house at the same time.
Cross-examined. Q. Where are you living now? A. I am at Mr. Fayle's still—I came home on board the Fusiyama—I remained on board when the Maggie Leslie was saved—the Fusiyama arrived in London about the 12th January, 1868—I went to my mother's house first, and then I went to live at Fayle's—I was there from February 8th, or nine months—I went to sea again, then, and came back on New Year's Day, this year—I believe I was entitled to salvage—I don't know what I got—I have not been to Mr. Oldershaw's since I have been home—I have not received a farthing yet—I signed a power of attorney, for Fayle to receive it for me—I have heard since it was 25l.—I have not received a farthing yet—I expect some from Mr. Fayle—I was on good terms with Salthouse—he was an able seaman on the Fusiyama—he never accused me of stealing any pillows on board the Fusiyama—he did at Fayle's shop, about November, 1868—I fell out with him—there were three pillows missing; but they did not belong to him—we had a quarrel in the shop the last time I saw him—he said he had had a letter, to say I had one of his pillows—that was the last time I saw him, until I saw him here in Court—I was in England in October last—I sailed in December, 1868, in the Delhi—she was bound for Kurrachee—I don't remember a dispute between Salthouse and myself, on board the Fusiyama, about a telescope—he gave me one, and I gave it away—he accused me of stealing it—I don't remember who I gave it to—I gave it to a seaman on board the Fusiyama—I can't remember at all who it was—I did not sell it—the vessed touched at St. Helena—I did not sell it there—I went ashore—I will swear that I have not said that I sold it at St. Helena—Salthouse spoke to me privately about it, on board the vessel—he gave it me when he was going away—I think it was when he was going on board the Maggie Leslie—he spoke to me again, in London, not till then—I owe Fayle about 50l., for clothes, and boarding there—I will swear that George Salthouse slept at Fayle's while I was there—I can't say how many times—I have seen him in the bedroom—I will swear he slept there twice—I was there every night—he had no chest, and no luggage there, that I know of—no trunk or box, or anything.
MR. MOODY. Q. Where did he sleep on those two nights? A. One night he slept in the top back room, and the other night he slept on the landing, when he was drunk—he came home drunk—the telescope I have been asked about was a child's telescope, with one slide, worth about 3d. or 4d—it was for children to play with, and no use to a sailor—I have not paid Fayle any money for lodging.
HENRY FAYLE, JUN . I am a son of the defendant—I was living at home with him in 1868—I know the prosecutor, Salthouse—I have seen him several times at my father's house—the first time I saw him was in March, 1868—he came one morning and agreed to pay a guinea a week for board and lodging for himself—Dunkley was there before he came—the agreement was made with my father—he did not come with any of his shipmates—he came alone—Buzzard was in the house at the time—Salthouse had the second floor room, and sometimes the top back room—I saw him taking meals there, and had my meals with him—he was there about thirteen weeks, on and off—he was not there constantly—he slept several times at my father's house—I have woke him up in the morning to
come down to his breakfast—he has had breakfast, dinner, and tea at the house—I have had those meals with him myself—I recollect his going to the proctor's several times with my father—he agreed to pay father 10l. for his trouble—that was the day the case was settled in the Admiralty Court.
Cross-examined. Q. What was the 10l. for? A. He would make him a present of the 10l. for his trouble in the matter—Salthouse slept at the house several times—I will undertake to swear he slept there seven or eight times—he was to pay the guinea a week for board and lodging—he could have slept there any time he wished—he did not sleep with Dunkley—the servants were Margaret Sullivan and Bridget Meyers—they art here to day.
TIMOTHY DONOHUR . I am now in the service of Mr. Nolan, a house builder—I lived with the defendant before that—I was with him for three years, and left in October, 1868—I know the prosecutor, Salthouse—I have seen him at my master's place—I can't say how many times, but often and often—I lived in the house—he came there in March, 1868—he was there on and off—I can't say for how long—he slept there often and often—I don't know what room he had—I never went up to see him in bed—I know he did sleep there; but I never went to see—he used to come in of a night—I did not see him go up stain—I have seen him come down in the morning—I have seen him come in at 12 o'clock—I used to see him take his meals there—I was shop-boy—I never saw him take his breakfast there, or any of his meals—I was in the shop during the day-time—I have seen him receive money from Mr. Fayle many a time—I have seen him receive a sovereign, half-a-sovereign, 2s. 6d., and 5s. many a time—he never appeared to do any work during the time he was there.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first see him? A. In March—I can't say when I last saw him—I did not hear about the Admiralty case being settled—I was at Fayle's about three years—I don't know the date I left—I was two or three weeks before I went to work at Mr. Nolan's—Mr. Fayle gave me the sack, because I went out one day without leave—I can't tell you the month I left—I am at Mr. Nolan's now—I have been there about ten months—I slept in the long room behind the shop, at Fayle's—I can't tell how often I saw Salthouse there—he was there on and off, not every day—I have seen him in the day-time—I never heard of his being at work anywhere—I will swear that he slept at my master's more than a single night—I can't say how many—I never saw him in bed—I know he went up to go to bed.
COURT. Q. Were you there in March, 1868, at all? A. Yes—I don't know how long I remained after Salthouse came there—I think I left about Christmas—I was examined in the action at Guildhall, twice.
JOHN MEYERS . I am an engineer, and work at Mr. Duggen's, in the Isle of Dogs—I was a member of the City Police Force for some years, and I was also in the K Division—my wife is Bridget Meyers, and in 1868 she was living as cook to Mr. Fayle—I visited her there—I have been once a week for the last two years—I remember seeing Salthouse there—on one occasion I was with Mr. Buzzard and him, and we went out to the Eastern Hall, and had a glass of ale together—that was one Saturday—I have seen Salthouse there on Sundays, twice to the best of my knowledge—I saw him get money from Mr. Fayle when he was going to the Eastern Hall—I don't know how much—I paid for four glasses of ale, and he paid for some as well—that is the only occasion I saw him receive money.
Cross-examined. Q. When was that? A. In April, 1868, between 6 and 7 o'clock in the evening—I used to go to Fayle's on a Saturday, to see my wife—I was working down at Erith—I was in Salthouse's company twice, and I saw him twice besides.
BRIDGET METERS . I am cook to Mr. Fayle—I was living with him in 1868—I remember Salthouse coming to his house to board, the same as the rest of the sailors—he was backwards and forwards for two or three months—he has been there several times, and his brother—I first saw him at the latter end of March—I have seen him take his meals in the house—I can't tell you how often; I have no idea—I know several times he has brought his brother with him, and had meals in the kitchen—I have heard him ask master for money—I have not seen him receive any—he has asked me where the master was—I remember him standing treat, on one occasion, in the kitchen—I don't know where he got the money from—I know of his sleeping in the house—he came in about 2 o'clock one morning, and asked me where the servants' room was—I sent him to the master's bedroom—and master got up and sent him to his own room—I told him to go there for a lark—I had nothing to do with making the beds.
Cross-examined. Q. Who was the other servant? A. Margaret Sullivan—that is the only night I could really swear that Salthouse slept there—I am still in Mr. Fayle's employ—I was there the whole of 1868—I have seen Salthouse at meals more than once—I know he has been a good many times, but I can't say how many—I should think it was more than twice; but I can't say, because I did not keep it in my mind—I know he has been there more than twice—he might have been six or seven times—he brought his brother, and I gave him tea—I have given him tea and dinner on other occasions—I can't say how many—I know he asked me if dinner was ready, and I told him "Yes"—I don't know whether he had it that day—I have given him his dinner—I can't say that I did on that day.
REBECCA SMITH . I am the wife of the chief officer of the Indian Chief—I was housekeeper to Mr. Fayle for nineteen years—I was married twelve months last July—I was in his service in 1868—I remember Salthouse being a lodger there—he came about March—he was irregular in his habits—he was backwards and forwards—that went on up to the end of June—I carved the dinner for the lodgers sometimes—I have carved for Salthouse—he has dined with the others—he has told me to ask Mr. Fayle for money on several occasions, and Mr. Fayle has given him money in my presence—different sums at different times—sometimes half-a-sovereign, sometimes more, and sometimes less—Salthouse told me he could get what money he liked from Mr. Fayle; he had none himself at present—my husband came to see me at Fayle's—Salthouse met him there several times—they went out in the evening, when they came from the ship—Salthouse has come back to Mr. Fayle's afterwards—he would not come home at regular hours—my husband went to the play with him once—I did not go—my husband told me so—Salthouse returned that night, and had supper with me and my husband—Mr. Fayle had supper with us in the back parlour—my husband said then, they had been to the theatre—I was not examined in the Mayor's Court—I was unwell in the course of last year.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you living at Fayle's now? A. Yes—I was there in August, September and October last, doing my work—I was able do to, it, Part of the time—I was up a portion of every day—I have been nineteen years at Fayle's—I was there when the officer came to arrest him on this charge
—I told him I had a bill of sale on the furniture—it is true I have the bill of sale—it is Mr. Fayle's house, not mine—I can't say how many times Salt-house has slept there; more than twice—I will swear he was there more than twice, between March and July—I can't say how many—more then three times—I know he has slept quite four times—I can swear he has slept five—I can't say how many—I won't say more than five—I know he has been in the house, and slept in the house, and I have carved for him at dinner—I have the control of the house, and have to provide rooms and beds for the lodgers—the housemaid looks after the rooms—Salthouse was very irregular in his habits—he slept alone and had a room to himself—I slept on a sofa bed in the back parlour—Salthouse slept on the first floor, and sometimes in the top back room—I can't say how many times he slept there—I can't tell you whether he slept there more than five times—I have seen him at meals several times—more than seven times—I can't say how many altogether, he was so irregular in his habits—I don't know whether he was doing any work—he was missing for a time about the end of June—I can't say for how many days—I have seen him going up to bed on several occasions—I really can't tell you how often—I have seen him coming down stairs on two or three occasions—Sullivan makes the beds—I really don't know whether he had a sea chest, or any luggage—sometimes the sailors have their washing done for them—Mr. Meyers does the washing—I am not aware of any washing being done for Salthoues.
MARGARET SULLIVAN . I was housemaid to Mr. Fayle in 1868, and up to May, 1869—I remember Salthouse coming there while I was there—it was about the latter end of March—he remained until May, when I left—I went back again afterwards—he came backwards and forwards; he was not there continually—I remember his sleeping there, and eating, and bringing his brother to the house—they bad tea there frequently, the two of them—he was to pay a guinea a week, and he came down in the kitchen and told us he had engaged a room to himself—he had the first floor back room—sometimes he slept in the top room—I can't tell how many times he slept there; but I remember one night in particular, for he was very tipsy, and got up, and slept on the stairs all night—he got up, and came out of his room partly dressed—I have frequently seen him take meals in the house—I did not reckon how many times—I have seen him at dinner, and tea, and supper—I can't say where he went after supper—I dare say he left the house—I was not watching him, because I had business to look to—he has received money from Mr. Fayle—I saw him receive a sovereign in the long room, where the men used to dine—I heard him say that he could get plenty of money from Mr. Fayle, if he wanted it—he used to come in the kitchen and treat us—he has treated us five or six times—the cook was there, and another of the men, or two—he sent for a pint of ale when his brother came—we all sat down, and had part of it—to the best of my knowledge he slept four times there—I made the beds—Salthouse told me he liked to sleep at Mr. Fayle's; he was uncomfortable at home; his family was rather poor, and there was a great many; and he was going to wait until this business was settled, and then he would take a public-house—I saw him go into a cub with Mr. Fayle and a man named Buzzard—I don't know where they went to—he said it was going to be all right, and he would pay Mr. Fayle well for his trouble with him—he mentioned a sum; but I forget what it was—he said that when he came home, after being in the cab with Blizzard—he was tipsy that day.
Cross-examined. Q. Where do you live now? A. Old Boar Lane, Bromley—I have 2l. a month from my husband—he is on board the ship Antonic—I have been convicted, and had nine months—it was not for robbing a sailor—I did not do it—there was a woman who took the watch, and she gave it to me and went away—the man was lying down tipsy, and she picked him up—I had nine months for it, in November, 1866; three years ago—Salt-house had a room to himself—he slept in the first floor room about three times, altogether—I was there in March and April, and I left on let May, to go to Cardiff to my husband—I was five weeks in Cardiff, and then came back in June—he was there then, backwards and forwards—I don't remember him sleeping there after I went back—when I went back I slept at my own place—I used to go in the daytime, and come home in the afternoon—I saw him there very seldom after I left, in April—he had no lugguage, or anything at all else.
HENRY RICE . I am an agent, at Manor Place, Poplar—I have lived in Poplar seventy-four years, and have been twenty-five years in this house—I have advanced money to Mr. Fayle, hundreds of times—I advanced him money repeatedly in 1868, sometimes 10l., and sometimes 50l.—I can't say how much I have advanced him altogether—he has had as much as 300l. and 400l. at different times—I have lent him 50l. several times—I can't say how much he owed me at one time—knowing him for some time, I advanced him money for the sailon, when he was short of money—I knew of his having persons connected with the Maggie Leslie in his house, and I advanced them money on Mr. Fayle's account—I knew Salthouse very well as Henry Salthouse—I have seen him at Fayle's house repeatedly—I took Salthouse and Fayle to Mr. Oldershaw's—they did not know Mr. Oldershaw before I took them there—I went with them five or six times, it might be—I also went with them to the broker's, because Salthouse told me Fayle was entitled to some money for the picking up of the Maggie Leslie—the sailors were in very distressed circumstances, and had no one to assist them, except Mr. Fayle, for eighteen months—there was Buzzard, and Lewin, and Allen, and the steward, and the boat-swain, and there was the cook, and the sailmaker—they were all perished for want of money—I went into a public-house with six or eight of the men, in Doctor's Commons—they went into the back room, and drank brandy there, at Fayle's expense—Salthouse was with them, drinking, and, on one occasion, I said he was a drunken fellow, and he wanted to fight.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you any bill against the sailors? A. No—I advanced 12l. to James Lewin, but that was on Fayle's account—I don't deal with the sailors myself—I am a retired butcher, and am agent for my sons in Sidney, who are very large butchers—I never saw Salthouse have a farthing of money—he was distressed, for he came after us in Newgate Market, after I had given Mr. Fayle 10l. to distribute amongst the sailors—I will swear I went with him to Mr. Oldershaw's more than four times—I can't say whether it was five or six—I saw Mr. Oldershaw and his clerk, Mr. Kelly—I saw Mr. Kelly five or six times—I saw the power of attorney drawn up—I don't think the man was sober, for he swore, at the Mayor's Court, that it was blank paper, and he said he lived at Homerton.
HENRY FAYLE, JUN . (re-examined). I have lent money to Salthouse; Between 4l. and 5l. altogether—about May, he had 5s., 2s. 6d. and 10s.—I sold him a navy cap for 6s., and another cap for 3s. 6d.—I remember him calling at the house, and seeing the account that had been made out—he
came alone—he was in the parlour—he said he was quite satisfied with it—he did not object to anything—I put down the money I advanced on the slate, and then copied it off in the book.
Cross-examined. Q. You gave him 4l. or 5l., in May? A. Yes—on the 18th May, there is 10s., 20s., 10s., 12s., 2s. 6d., 7s., 4s., 1s., 6d., 1s. 8d.—those are entered in two lines, they were advanced after the 11th, and before the 23rd—the first line is carried out, 3l. 4s., and the next 17s. 6d.—those two entries are in my handwriting—they come in at different times, and ask for money—those sums were advanced about the 18th—he generally came in in the evening—I gave it to him in separate sums—I might have given him some in the daytime, I don't think I did—but it is a long time ago—the entries on the 11th and 23rd are in my father's handwriting.
GUILTY .— One Month's Imprisonment, and Five, Years' Penal Servitude.
For proceedings in Fourth Court, Wednesday and Thursday, see the case of William Dickeson, Surrey Cases.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
DANIEL RAYLEY . I am a private in the 94th Foot, stationed at Woolwich, and am an officer's servant—on 29th December, the prisoner was employed there as a sweep, with another man—private Taylor was in charge of them—I went from the kitchen up to my master's room, and when I came down again, I missed a piece of soap, and a pair of boots—I reported my lose to private Taylor, and he went across with me to the soot bag, and in it found my boots, and another pair with them—I gave the other sweep, Sciven, in charge first, and afterwards the prisoner—he said he knew nothing about the boots.
Cross-examined. Q. Did private Taylor leave the sweeps, and go with you? A. No; he took Sciven about with him, to sweep the chimneys, and left the prisoner to collect the soot afterwards—there was no one but them in the room—I missed the boots about 3.30—the sweeps were then outside the door, with the soot bags, and when I reported it to Taylor, the prisoner bolted—these are my boots (produced).
ROBERT ROY . I am a sergeant in the 94th Regiment, stationed at Woolwich—these boots are Her Majesty's property, worn by private Rayley—the prisoner and Sciven were the only sweeps employed in the barracks that afternoon; they were employed by the contractor.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was it that the complaint was made about the boots being missed? A. About 3.45—the prisoner had then left the barracks, under the pretence of going to his master for orders—Sciren was in the barracks, and was taken to the station.
JOSEPH TAYLOR . I am a pioneer, in the 94th Regiment—I was in charge of the prisoner and Sciven on this afternoon—I had to take Sciven to the different chimneys that he was to sweep, and the prisoner had to gather up the soot afterwards—I recollect Sciven having to sweep the chimney of Rayley's master, that was from about 3.0 to 3.30—he then went up stairs with me, and swept another chimney, leaving the prisoner in the kitchen to gather up the soot—Sciven was in my company all the time.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY Recommended to mercy — —Three Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. KELLY conducted the Prosecution.
SUSANNAH COLLINS . I am the prisoner's wife—I now live with my mother, at 5, Thomas Street, Doctor's Commons—I lived with the prisoner up to three weeks before this assault—I do not know where he lived at the time of the assault—I had ceased to live with him because he had been constantly ill treating me; and the night before, he took away the furniture, and broke up our home—I remained in the house till the next night, and then went to my mother—on 20th December I left my mother's house, unknown to her, and went to Forest Hill after my husband, as I heard that the Slate Club was held there—I found him there, beckoned to him, and told him I wished to speak to him—he beckoned to me to come outside—I asked him if he had not forgotten he had a wife, as he had not given me a farthing, but had promised me 10s. a week—he said, "Go in, and have your drop of gin-and-water"—I did not go in directly; but said, "Let me understand you; do you intend to let me have any money to-night? if not, I will go home to my mother, as I did not come out for gin-and-water"—he said, "Yes, I will let you have what I can," and we went into the house together, and he took the gin-and-water, and behaved very kindly to me, and introduced me to several of his friends as the Old Queen—after his friends had left we went outside, and he began to insult me, and call me bad names—he walked away, and I followed him at some distance—he turned round several times, as if he was going to spring at me, and said, "What are you following me for?"—I said, "You know what I am following you for"—he turned round and attempted to strike me—I escaped the blow and ran away, and, when I saw he was pursuing me, I took up a handful of gravel, and, as I found he was gaining ground on me, I threw the gravel over my shoulder to confuse him, and he stumbled and fell, and I ran on as hard as I could—I saw a man, and said, "For God's sake! do protect me from his violence"—he came up very near to the man, who moved backwards and forwards before him—he tried to strike the man, who moved on one side; the blow came on my left breast, and I fell in the gutter—I sprung into a sitting position, and he seized me and beat me on the head—I pressed my face into my lap that he should not strike it, and he beat me ever the head with his fist as hard as he could—I felt my senses leaving me, and fell back—he jumped on me, and I found myself at Guy's Hospital next morning, where I remained a fortnight.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you come from Thames Street for the express purpose of getting me into trouble? A. No; you paid for three small glasses of gin-and-water for me, two-pennyworths; but one of them was left—you did not offer me any money—I did not go to your house, at Peckham, on 27th November, strike you with an umbrella, or seize you by the hair—I did not go into your bedroom in the middle of the night with my boots off
—I did take some money when you were tipsy to prevent you getting rid of it; but I deny coming in the middle of the night—I kept you for thirteen weeks, and afterwards seven weeks, when you were out of work, and when you got work you would not give me money to pay people—I have been your wife seventeen years.
THOMAS MASON . I live at Westbourne Villas, Forest Hill—on the night of 20th December I was in Lewie ham Road, and saw the prisoner struggling with the prosecutrix—she fell, and he struck her three or four times, when down—he then ran away—he afterwards came and owned her as his local wife—I helped to take her to the doctor's; she was insensible—the prisoner was taken to the station.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see me on the ground? A. Yes; and your wife undermost—I do not recollect your saying, when you returned, that you wished to take her home.
JOSEPH GIGGINS . I live at South Road, Forest Hill—on the night or 20th December I was on the Lewisham Road, and saw the prosecutrix on the ground, and the prisoner kneeling on her, beating her with his fist—as I got to her, he got up and ran away—Mason took her over to the other side of the road, because she was in the cart-road—she was insensible.
WILLIAM BELL CHAMBERS (Police Sergeant 5 P R). I was on duty in Lewisham Road, and saw the prosecutrix insensible on the pathway, and the prisoner standing by her side—I took her to a doctor's, and from there to Guy's Hospital, and took the prisoner into custody for assaulting her—he said, when I went up, "It is my wife"—I told him the charge—he said, "You don't know all."
JOHN DELEAF . I am house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—on December 21st, about 1 a.m., the prosecutrix was brought there unconscious—I examined her, and found an abrasion of the skin of the left side, in the neighbourhood of the ribs, and one of her ribs was fractured—she remained insensible till 4 o'clock, and was in the hospital till January 3rd—a person kneeling on her, when she was on the ground, would be likely to cause a fracture of the ribs—the abrasion of the skin would be likely to be caused by blows—it is possible, but very improbable, that her ribs could be broken by a simple fall on the ground.
Prisoner's Defence. The keys of my street-door, and of my bed room were taken away one night, and when I awoke, next morning, I found my bedroom door half open, and missed 28s. or 29s. from my trowsers pocket I found my wife up stairs, in her petticoat and stockings. I asked her for my money, and she said she had not taken it. That was on 27th November. I had to borrow money to replace my tools, so I left her the bed and bedding, and sold the rest, and did not see her till 20th December, when she came to the bar. We were very comfortable at first, but afterwards she called me names, and struck me with her fist; but I never struck her a blow, that I am aware of, that night. I told the officer I was the party assaulted. She has been imprisoned, at Maidstone, for assaulting a lady, whose son is here.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Baron Pigott.
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGINA MACKENZIE ALEXANDER . I am the prisoner's wife, and am a professional singer—I hare not lived with the prisoner for some time—I have two children of the marriage—they were under my husband's care, and I sent him money for their support, when I could—on New Years' Eve I was at the house where they were, 26, Oakley Street—I had been there for a week—about 6 o'clock that evening I was preparing to go to my engagement, and the prisoner asked me what I was going to do—I told him I did not know, I would not live with him, I could not—he got in a rage, and got the hammer, which was on the table—this was in hie bedroom—he has only got one room—he told me to die, and every time he gave me a knock with the hammer, he said, "Die"—he struck me with it three or four times—he had me down on the floor, but I managed to get up—I bled very much from my head—he took up the poker, and gave me a knock on the side of the head—that was the worst blow—I do not remember much after that—I felt rather dizzy, and sat down on the sofa—he had something sharp glittering in his hand, and then I held my head down, so that he could not get at my throat, and I felt a cut on my chin and on my arm, and do not remember anything more till I got out into the street—this is my dress (produced)—it is cut through in two place—I had been using the knife, cutting up the children's dinner before I went out—I do not remember whether I got out at the door or not—I was getting insensible, and do not remember whether he opened it or whether I did—it had been fastened—my husband was perfectly sober—I was seen by Dr. Donoghue about twenty minutes afterwards, and am still attended by him—I cannot attend to any of my engagements.
Prisoner. Q. If I attempted to cut your throat, why did not I complete it? A. You could not, because I held down my head—I had tried on a new petticoat, and you went down stairs to my sister to get a larger one—I was going out to sing in it—I was not living with you, but I was living in the same house, with my sister and my little girl, down stairs—I took my meals every day with you and the two children, in your room—I told you, to keep you quiet, that I wished to get rid of William Spong, who I have been living with for some time, but I never intended it—I have been obliged to deceive you for the last eleven years—I came back to your house voluntarily, for the sake of the children, because you told me you would get me out of every engagement, but I would not live with you.
Q. Did not you instigate me to write to the police at Sherborne, to apprehend that man? A. You said you would do your worst, and you did it—he is a married man with children—I never said that he had letters of mine by which he was intimidating me—he has some of yours—he has no letters written to me by John Tuke, of Oxford, compromising me—I did not tell you, in the presence of your son, that Tuke had threatened me about putting a child over Blackfriars Bridge—that is a chimera of your brain—when I was living at Glasgow with him, I gave him in custody for assault—you knew I was living with him for the last two years, and you have received the money—you have always tried to get me on the streets, that
I might keep you—I did not summons him as my husband—I said that I passed as his wife—the case was dismissed—after this assault, I slept when I had been before—I am not at liberty to answer that question—I was with rerpectable people in Gloucester Street—I shall not say whether I slept with that man that night—I went to his lodging afterwards in a cab, that he might go to the music hall, and say that I could not come to my engagement—I took your little boy with me—I had one teaspoonful of brandy in cold water there, because I was faint—I then went back to Oakley Street in a cab, and then to the doctor again, who lives in West minster Bridge Road—as the bandage was coming off my chin, I could not walk—this happened on Friday night, and I had to appear in Court on Saturday and Tuesday, but went in a cab—I was confined to my bed till the Thursday—I was not in St. Paul's Churchyard last Friday, larking, and talking to a gentleman—I can prove that I hare hardly been out of bed, only to the Court and to the doctor's—when your boy came on Saturday night I was taking a chop and some stout for my supper, but I had to send for the money to a friend because I was starving—I could not get enough to keep myself, or to send money to you, by singing at the Oxford Music Hall—I was only singing to get a name, but under a different name—I have not been maintaining that man; he sings himself—I had to pay my lodgings—that is where the man lived—you took money from him on the Monday previous, and sent him and me away in a cab to my engagement.
COURT. Q. How do you know that he took money from this man? A. He saw the man give me 2s. at the door—it was for the prisoner's use, and he knew it—the man gave it to me, and I gave it to the prisoner—I am certain he must have seen him give it to me, and there was no money in the house.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Is the child he talks of as him your child also? A. Yes.
THOMAS MALKINSON DONOGHUE . I am a surgeon, of 19, Westminister Bridge Road—on New Year's Eve, between 6 and 7 o'clock, the prosscutrix was brought to me by the police, covered with blood, and bleeding profusely from her head, and from a wound on her chin—she had three severe scalp wounds, two on the back of her head, and one on the upper part, produced by some bluut instrument—this hammer would produce them, and it has blood on it—there was an incised wound on the right side of her lower jaw, and another on her right forearm—I apprehended erysipelas; but she went on very favourably.
FREDERICK SMITH . I took the prisoner—I did not tell him the charges but, on the way to the station, he said, "She aggravated me to do it—he was perfectly sober, and so was she—I afterwards went to the room, and found a great deal of blood on the floor—I found this hammer on the table, the knife beside it, and the poker in the fender before the fire-place.
The prisoner called his children as witnesses in hit defence, but they did not appear.
Prisoner's Defence. My children are kept away by the man who is living with my wife. My son was outside the door when this occurred, and on prove that I opened the door voluntarily. I deny living on my wife's earnings. My son was got into Exeter College choir, Oxford, where my wife formed an improper connection with John Tuke, and we were obliged to leave. After that, she lived with him in Paddington, but used to come to see me daily. After that she got an engagement at Southampton, from where she wrote me these letters. (These contained the following expression:—"I
have found from bitter experience that you are my belt friend; could I recall twelve months I should be a happy woman." "Pray for me; for the prayer of a just man availeth much.") She wrote to me daily. Her letters were all in that tone till she picked up with this monster, Harry Spong, who she lived with in Glasgow, from whence she wrote me, promising to be a faithful wife, if I would send her money to come home. I did so, and she came home about 26th May, and she was at home, happy for a time, till William Spong traced her to London, and she used to see him daily without I my knowledge. On this Friday night she tried on a new petticoat We live over a draper's shop. I went down for another, and her sister brought up another. While she was trying them on, she said, "I shall not be home to-night; but don't tell the children." I said, "Do not stay out to-night." She said, "Yes." I said, "Do not; surely you are not going to sleep with that man." She said, "Yes; and I am three months gone with child by him." I then hit her with the handle of the hammer; but never intended to do her the injury I did do, and the poker I never used. She said, "See, I am bleeding, Charley;" and I opened the door and said, "For God's sake! ran for Dr. Willy." As she ran down stairs she said, in the hearing of my child, "Damn you, I will serve you out for this." (The prisoner produced a letter from a Mrs. Clara Phelps, to his wife, dated May 25th 1869, remonstratiny with her upon her conduct, stating that the was living with an infamous person, and begging her to reform,)
COURT to GEORGINA MACKENZIE ALEXANDER. Q. Was this letter, written to you? A. Yes; by Mrs. Phelps; but I have found her to be a storyteller since—I gave it to my husband to write to her; but I intended to have it back—he took possession of it.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, under great provocation—Recommended to mercy by the Jury— To enter into his own recognisasances in50l. to keep the peace towards his wife for Twelve Months, and to appear to receive Judgment if called upon.
184. TIMOTHY SULLIVAN (28), JOHN WEBSTER (21), PETER SCANNELL (19), FREDERICK COOKE (19), and ROBERT SCOTT, (17) , Robbery on Elizabeth Wright, and stealing from her person a pint and a half of rum, the property of George Wright.
MR. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; MR. STRAIGHT appeared for Sullivan, MR. CARTER for Cooke and Scott, and MR. LUCAS for Webster and Scannell.
ELIZABETH WRIGHT . I am the wife of George Wright, of 118, Waterloo Road—on the evening of Christmas Day, about 9 o'clock, I was walking with my husband in Herbert's Buildings—I had a bottle of rum with me—I received a blow on my mouth, and the bottle was taken from me—two men came up, the prisoner Cooke is one of them—he took my husband round the neck, and the other put his hands in his pocket—I had seen them before, walking in the road, but knew nothing of them—Cooke had a light coat on—I knew his appearance before Scott had his hands in my husband's pocket—I said to Cooke, "What are you going to do with him?" he said, "To take him home"—I said, "He can take himself home, and so can I"—they then disappeared, and left us by ourselves—I did not count how many there were—we then went to the station, and preferred a charge, and described the men—I saw the five prisoners on Monday, and identified Cooke and Scott.
Cross-examined by MR. CARTER. Q. Have you not said that the person feeling your husband's pocket was Scannell? A. Yes; but I was rather agitated through being knocked down—I recalled that before the Magistrate—I have seen Scannell and Scott, passing by; nothing more—this was Christmas evening—I was before the Justices on the Monday, and said that it was Scannell who was feeling my husband's pocket, and I said so at the station twenty minutes afterwards, but I was agitated and upset—I had not talked the matter over with my husband on the Sunday.
MR. KELLY. Q. Who was it that was feeling your husband's trowsers pocket? A. Scott.
GEORGE WRIGHT . I am the husband of the last witness—I was with her about 9 o'clock on Christmas night, in Webber Street—she was carrying a bottle of rum, and was knocked down—I went to pick her up, and Scott and Scannell knocked me down—Scannell got me round the neck, and robbed me of three sovereigns and about 1l. worth of silver—I know all the prisoners by sight in the neighbourhood—they live close to me, and I saw them in the public-house where I purchased the rum—I made a charge at the station, and they were taken.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. Do you mean to say that you saw anybody but Cooke and Scott? A. No, I had not the opportunity—this was about 200 yards from the public-house—I did not go to the station to complain, because the police were at the place where I was robbed—I went to the station after the prisoners were taken.
Cross-examined by MR. CARTER. Q. Are you sure the rum was not in your head, instead of in the bottle? A. I had had one glass—they were in custody before I had time to make a complaint—they were found by the police in a house in Herbert's Buildings, by which the robbery was committed—they knocked me down opposite No. 5, but they were found in No. 7—this was Christmas Eve—I understand the difference between that and Christmas Day—I saw no one else in the streets—I cannot call any of the prisoners by name, but I knew them by sight—my powers of observation were as good as they are now.
MORRIS HAYES (Policeman S 169). On Christmas night, Mr. and Mrs. Wright came to the station, and complained of being robbed—Mrs. Wright was very excited, and bleeding from her mouth—I proceeded to the neighbourhood of Herbert's Buildings, and on my way saw a young woman with half a tumbler of rum, or more, coming from the direction of Herbert's Buildings to 17, Ann's Place—I pursued her—she went up stairs and knocked at a door—she was there a few minutes before she got an answer—somebody then called out inside, "Who is there?" she said, "There is some one here;" and the door was opened, but I saw no one—I then went to 7, Herbert's Buildings, Waterloo Road, about 200 yards from Ann's Place, and saw the bottle standing on the table, and two glasses of beer—I took the bottle in my hand and looked at it, and Scannell, who was in the room, said, "Where are you going with that?"—Webster and Sullivan were in the back parlour—I said, "Don't be in a hurry for a minute"—he got very excited, and Webster poured out some beer, and asked me to drink, but I said, "No"—Scannell asked me again to put down the bottle—I said, "I am not going to run away with it"—I went towards the door, to the other constable, and gave it to him—ho took it to the station—Cooke, Scott, and a young woman were in the front parlour—I kept them there till I got assistance, and then took them to the station—Webster said, "It was Army put you
on to us"—I did not answer him—he made the remark again, and I said, "Jack, you seem to know all I want."
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. Were Mr. and Mrs. Wright both the worse for liquor? A. Yes—I went into the back parlour first, and saw the beer and this bottle of rum on the table—the three men were round the table—it was Christmas Day (The bottle was labelled John Boncey, Importer of French, Rhenish, and Spanish Wines)—I found on Sullivan eight pence, a halfpenny, and a fourpeuny-piece—I had seen him before.
Cross-examined by MR. CARTER. Q. Was not Mrs. Wright something more than excited; was not she drunk? A. No, not quite drunk, she was more excited than drunk—they had been drinking, but they were not drunk—it was the evening of the 25th, not Christmas Eve—I met a young woman walking in the open air with a glass of rum—I followed the scent of the rum, which led me to 7, Herbert's Buildings—17, Ann's Place, and 7, Herbert's Buildings belong to one landlady—she is a brothel-keeper—Scott was searched at the station, but nothing was found on him.
ABRAHAM BUNTIN . I went with Hayes to Herbert's Buildings on Christmas night—on our way we met a woman carrying a tumbler containing rum—we went to the back parlour of 7, Herbert's Buildings, and saw Sullivan, Webster, and Scannell there—there were eight cans on the table containing porter, and this bottle of rum—I asked where they got the rum—Webster said, "What is that to you?"—Scannell then said, "I will break your head with a poker"—I said, "How do you account for the neck being off the bottle?"—there was no reply to that—shortly after that, the woman whom I had met with the rum came deliberately up the steps into the back parlour—all the prisoners were then there with us—we made a search.
Cross-examined by MR. CARTER. Q. Were the questions put to the three men who were in the room with the rum and the beer? A. When I spoke I was alluding to Cooke and Scott, who were in the adjoining room, and the door was open—Mr. and Mrs. Wright were greatly excited, and I think they were the worse for liquor.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. Are you prepared to pledge your oath that that is the bottle you bought? A. Yes—I have bought rum there before—it has not always been in a bottle like this—there was a pint and a half in it—the neck was not broken when it was taken from me.
Cross-examined by MR. LUCAS. Q. Is it a common sort of bottle? A. Yes—I have seen others like it.
SULLIVAN— NOT GUILTY .
WEBSTER** and SCANNELL**— GUILTY of receiving. They were further charged with having been before convicted; Webster, at Kensington, in September, 1868, and Scannell, at Southward, in March, 1868, to which they
PLEADED GUILTY— Seven Years' each in Penal Servitude.
COOKE and SCOTT— GUILTY of the robbery—
COOKE— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
SCOTT was further charged with having been before convicted, at Hammersmith, in May, 1868, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
WILLIAM MATTHEWS . I keep a general shop, at 18, Belmore Street, Wandsworth Road—one night, 16th December, I went out a little after 9 o'clock—the shop-door was a little way open—there was nothing the matter with the window when I left—it was broken when I came back, and I missed a square red box, containing about 5s. in copper, from a shelf by the side of the window—the glass was broken enough for anyone to put their hand in, and take the box—next morning I received some information, and found the box over a wooden fence belonging the London and South-western Railway—it was empty, and it has no fastening.
HENRY YOUNG . I live at 12, Brooklands Street, Wandsworth Road—on Thursday, 16th December, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was near the prosecutor's house—my mother had sent me on an errand, and, as I was coming home, I saw four chaps standing together—the prisoners were two of them—I knew them by sight before—they lived in Spring Place—they were opposite Mr. Matthew's shop—I heard the window break, and. the four young chaps came running round the corner—William Wright had a red box under his arm—they ran towards Battersea Old Fields way, and passed by the South-Western Railway premises—I gave information to Mr. Matthews next morning.
WILLIAM KEMPSTER 9Detective W). On the morning of 6th January, I apprehended John Wright—I told him he was charged with being concerned, with another one in custody, in stealing a box and money from a shop in Belmore Street, on the night of 16th December—he made no reply, but when the charge was read over at the station he said, "I dare say I shall pull through it"—the witness Young was taken there, and he identified him amongst five or six others—the prisoner said nothing when he was taken, that he was at the Albert public-house at the time—I apprehended William on 17th December, in the Wandsworth Road—he was pointed out by Young as the man who ran with the box under his arm—I asked him where he was between 7 and 10 o'clock on the 16th, and he told me he was at the Albert public-house with the other prisoner, and he could prove it.
William Wright's Defence. I was in the Albert public-house with the other prisoner on the night it happened, and I have got witnesses who can prove it.
John Wright's Defence. I was in company with the other prisoner the same night, from 7.15 till 11 o'clock; my witnesses are Talbot and Atkinson.
CHARLES PITMAN . On Thursday morning the two constables came down to our house, and took me and John Wright out of bed, and took us down to Larkhall Lane, and fetched the lad to swear to us—he took no notice of me—he picked out a detective first, and then he picked out John Wright—he slept in the same room with me, at 11, Portland Cottages, and on the 16th last December, the two prisoners were in my company from about 11.5 to 11.7, at the Royal Albert, playing at dominces—there were two more young chape there, named Henry Lubbert and Tom Dickson, but he has gone for a soldier, I believe—I believe there is a young man named Atkinson, down the road, I don't know whether he was there—there were several other persons in the house, but that was all that was with us—there were five of us playing together—I did not hear of William Wright being taken into custody ou 17th December—I had not seen him for a long while—I know John Wright was taken before the Magistrate—I went
to give evidence, but I was too late—I am a horsekeeper by trade, but I am learning to make velocipedes now—I have been at work two or three months in Portland Street, before that I worked three years at Stookwell.
HENRY LUBBERT . I am a malt-roaster, and live at 4, College Place—I was in Mr. Randall's employ, with my father, and I have been at sea six months—I came back about three weeks before Christmas—on 16th December I was at Pitman's mother's, and we walked over Vauxhall Bridge—we met the two prisoners at Vauxhall Cross, about 7 o'clock, and went to the Albert public-house, and played dominces very near all night, and left the two prisoners at Vauxhall Cross again—that was en 16th December—I recollect the time—I was only asked about this about a week ago—I had never seen the prisoners before that night—I was doing nothing on the 17th—there is nothing particular to enable me to fix the date—I thought it over, and thought it was on that day—we had a four-handed game, and one was looking on—I did not see Talbot or Atkinson there—I don't know Pitman by any other name—I heard, about a week ago, that the prisoners, were in custody—Pitman told me that the two chaps I had been speaking to that night had been taken up for robbery—he said it was the night we were playing, and I thought it was the 16th—it was ft. Thursday, I think.
WILLIAM KEMPSTER (re-examined). Pitman was present when I apprehended John Wright—I took him at the same time; but the boy failed to identify him, and he was set at liberty—the boy picked a policeman out first, and said he thought he was the one, and then he picked out Wright—they were all constables except Pitmans.
COURT to H. YOUNG. Q. How far were the four chaps from you, when you saw them opposite the shop? A. About five yards—I was not on the same side with them—they did not pass by me—I did not follow them at all—I did not know their names—I saw the policeman, and gave information on the Friday morning—this was on a Thursday—I was taken to the station when John Wright was taken—I first of all picked a policeman out—I thought he was one of the Wrights—I mistook him for John—I had been to a shop three doors from Mr. Matthews'—they were just beyond me when I came out.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution.
FANNY BOWERS . I am the wife of William Bowers, and live at 70, King Street, Lambeth—on the night of 11th December, about 10 o'clock, I was in the side bar of the White Horse public-house, in Cornwall Road, Lambeth—the prisoner's wife is my daughter—they were there on that night—I heard my daughter ask the prisoner for some money—he said he had none for her, he wanted it all himself—I said to him, "Jack, it is very wrong of you that you should allow me to keep your wife and child, a poor woman like me;" I said, "I don't think so much of that as I do of what you have done, to spit in her face, and say she is only fit for a spittoon; had you done such a thing to me, I should have put it straight for you"—I then said to my daughter, "Come home, for he is a starving vagabond"—as I was turning out of the door, he caught me by the neck, and cut my
forehead—I felt the blood come, and I remember no more till I got to the doctor's—I saw the knife produced before the Magistrate.
Prisoner. Q. Do you think it was more of an accident than wilful? A. I can't say—I hope it was an accident.
WILLIAM CROFT . I am a labourer, and live at 31, John Street, Cornwall Road—I was in the public-house at the time Mrs. Bowers was cut—the prisoner waft in conversation with her, and his wife was there—he made a jump from the corner where he was standing, and made a out at the same time—I got my left hand round his neck, and collared him, and I saw the knife in his hand—I said, "What are you going to do with that?"—he said, "I was going to cut her throat, but I did not do it"—I did not see exactly what he had done to her, because she went out.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you see this woman's son take off his coat to fight me? A. You had two or three words—I did not help him on with his coat, because I had you in my arms—I did not tell her son to give you a good hiding—I never spoke to you or your mother, and never saw you before in my life, to my knowledge—you jumped at her with the knife in your hand.
EDWARD JOHN GANN . I live at 15, Eton Street, and am a lighterman—I was in the White Horse on 11th December—I took the knife from the prisoner—I saw a bit of an argument between the prisoner and his mother-in-law—I saw him lift his hand, but I did not see him out her—I saw the blood coming from her, afterwards.
Prisoner. Q. Which hand did you take the knife from? A. The left—there was great provocation on her side—she talked about spitting in your face and pulling your nose—I did not see the son with his coat off—the son took her outside before she was wounded, and she came in again.
RICHARD BROWN (Policeman L 168). I took the prisoner into custody at the White Horse—I asked him what he had done it for—he said he was drove to do it—he said the knife was his own, he used it in his trade as a cooper—he was not sober—he had been drinking.
MR. JOHN HADLAND . I am a surgeon, at 195, Waterloo Road—I saw Mrs. Bowers after she was stabbed—there was a wound about 3 in. in length, down to the bone—it was not a dangerous wound, it all healed up within three weeks—this knife would be calculated to produce such an injury.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had his tools in his hands, as he came from work, that his mother-in-law seized him by the comforter, he put up his hand to protect himself, and accidentally caught her on the forehead with the knife.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. —Nine Months' Imprisonment.
188. JOHN MURRAY (38) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of William Dickenson, and stealing a jacket, and other goods, his property— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded gulty: See orginal trial image.]
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY, and MR. BESLEY, conducted the Prosecution; and MR. THORNE COLE the Defence.
CHARLES JAMES ABBOTT . I am a solicitor, of 8, New Street, Strand—I produce my appointment as Under-Sheriff of the county of Surrey—I am authorized to hear write of inquiry, to assess damages, and perform the office of a sheriff—I was so acting on the 27th October, at the City Terminus Hotel, and I produce the notes taken by me at the inquiry—I have not the writ—it belongs to the plaintiff, and has been returned to his solicitor—the prisoner was the plaintiff in an action against the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company, and was sworn by me—he had a "good" jury on the occasion—(The plantiff's evidence was read; he swore that he had been to the Crystal Palace on the day of the Licensed Victuallers' Fete, in June last, and was injured in an accident which happened to the train coming home; that a collision occured near New Cross, in which he was thrown from one seat of the carriage to the other; that his head came into collision with something; that he then found himself on the rails, and felt very net, and had a pain in his inside; a servant of the company asked him if he was hurt; he stayed at New Cross for about half an hour; that he lost a light over-coat worth 25s.; that he rode home from London Bridge in a cab; that the next day he went in a cab, and saw Dr. Simpson, who examined him, and told him to get a truss, as he was ruptured; that he was afterwards examined by Dr. Heath, on the part of the Company; that he had paint in his head, and that his knee and ankle were painful for upwards of eleven weeks; that he hurt his ankle in getting out of the train; that at the time of the accident he was earning from 2l. 10s. to 3l. a week, as a travelling draper; that for eighteen weeks he had not earned more than 2l. altogether; that he lodged in Winchester Street, Pentonville, and that his wife was in business in Trinity Street as a mantua-maker; that he never used a truss before the accident, and could not stand upright afterwards).
Cross-examined. Q. Were the notes taken in shorthand? A. No—I took notes of the evidence of Dr. Simpson, as also of Mr. John Gay, surgeon to the Great Northern Hospital—I had not the slightest doubt at the time as regarded the plaintiff being injured—he gave his evidence in a straightforward manner.
FREDERICK JULIAN PAGE . I am a solicitor, and act as clerk to Messrs. Baxter, Rose, & Norton, who are solicitors to the Company—I produce some of the papers in reference to the action of Dickeson and the Railway Company—we first of all received a letter from the secretary of the Company, enclosing one from the prisoner, which he had forwarded after the accident—then we had a copy writ, and the usual course was taken with regard to the particulars of claim, including the medical expenses, and such like—the plaintiff was stated to have received injury to his system, with bruised ankle, inflammatory symptoms, and hernia—notice of trial was given for the assizes at Croydon, on the 2nd August—but the Company withdrew their plea of not guilty, and afterwards a writ of inquiry was issued at the instance of prisoner's solicitor—I was present at the inquiry, and heard the prisoner say that he had been confined to his bed for eleven weeks through the accident—he said that he was invited to the Crystal Palace on the day in question.
Cross-examined. Q. Are Messrs. Baxter, Rose, & Norton solicitors for any other railway? A. I think they are; the Great Eastern, I believe—I
can't say whether they act for any other—this matter was put into our hands just before 30th November, and then we employed detectives—Inspector Turpin and Sergeant Peek were engaged, but I cannot say how many times they have visited our offices—the former was employed by the Company, and the latter was from Scotland Yard.
MARY ANN DANIELS . I live with my mother, at 25, Winchester Street, Pentonville—my mother is the landlady of the house—the prisoner, with his wife and child, came to lodge with us about a fortnight before Wednesday, the 22nd June last—they occupied the front kitchen, and paid & half-crown a week rent—his wife was confined on 19th August—they were in poor circumstances at the time—I remember the prisoner going out about 10 o'clock on the morning of 23rd June, and he returned between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon—he went out again a little before 6 o'clock, and wore a little black frock-coat—he had no light overcoat at the time—I heard him return between 12 and 1 o'clock the next morning, and let himself in with a latchkey—I heard no noise of the wheels of a vehicle at the door—the next day ho left home about the same time as before, and there appeared to be no difference in his walk—he returned again at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, stayed till 6 o'clock, and went out again, and returned between 12 and 1 o'clock as before—on the Friday night he came home about 1 o'clock, in a very drunken state—on the Saturday I did not see him go out, but on Sunday he left home with his little girl, for a walk, between 10 and 11 o'clock—on that afternoon Dr. Heath came in a cab to see him, and on Monday he was visited by Dr. Simpson—the prisoner was in the garden generally when Dr. Simpson came, but when he heard the carriage drive up he walked into his kitchen—he used to walk about the garden, whistling, singing, or reading a newspaper—when the doctor was gone he would go into the garden again—I have seen him lying in his bed after the doctor had been—he said nothing to me about the accident till his wife was confined—he said, in answer to my inquiry, that he was getting on as well as could be expected after the injury he had received on the railway; and then he told me that he had been thrown about in a carriage, that the railway people gave him a good deal of brandy, made him drunk, and sent him home; that the Company, had offered him 50l., but it was not likely that he was going to take that—the Company, he said, had put his name down—he never told me how he got his living—I never saw him in the possession of any drapery goods—he left our house about six week ago—a woman who was called Francis used to visit him almost every day after the 23rd June—his wife did not work at a mantua-maker's, but she used to mend dresses and make skirts—I have heard that her mother lives in Trinity Street.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see the prisoner come home at a little before 6 in the afternoon of the 23rd June? A. No, I did not—I am sure he did not go out on the Saturday—I used to see him walk up and down the garden; but I never noticed that he had a light overcoat—I have seen him with a very old coat, a light one—I did not say, at the Police Court, that I had seen him with a light overcoat before the accident—I can't remember when the police first communicated with us—Sergeant Peek first came—it might have been November or December—it was some time before Christmas—he come also on the Sunday after Christmas Day—the prisoner did not have a chest of drawers in his kitchen—I will swear that he did not walk differently, as far as I could see, after the 23rd June—I never saw any difference in his walk—the policeman took
down the evidence which I had to give—I saw an account in the newspaper of the railway accident—he went out about the same time on the Monday before the accident—I keep no diary—I do not remember what we had for dinner on the 23rd—on the Saturday we had cold mutton—the prisoner always paid his rent.
MARY DANIELS . I am the landlady of 23, Winchester Street—the prisoner came to lodge with me about a fortnight before the collision, at New Cross, and continued till about the 28th November—I remember seeing him on the morning of the 23rd June—he went out at his usual hour, and returned between 3 and 4 in the afternoon—I saw him at the street-door, about 6 o'clock the same evening, wearing a black frock coat—I have seen him with a light, shabby coat, in the garden; but not an over-coat—on 24th June he went out as usual—he wore the light coat after the accident—I did not notice any difference in his walk—on the Sunday his wife said that her husband had met with an accident on the railway—Dr. Simpson was in the habit of seeing him after the Sunday—for a fortnight, he came almost every day—the prisoner, when at home, spent a great part of his time in the garden—he never exhibited any signs of lameness or anything of the kind—he told me he was going to enter an action against the Company for the injuries he had received—he said he would make them pay for it, and his wife said the same—I never saw the prisoner with any drapery goods, neither did his wife carry on the business of a mantua-maker—I have frequently seen a person of the name of Fowler, or Francis, at my house—she used to visit the prisoner after Dr. Simpson came—I know Mr. Fowler by sight, and I have seen him and a man named Selwyn come to my house after the prisoner—a person named Hatswell, also, to visit him frequently.
Cross-examined. Q. What time did the prisoner usually go out in the morning? A. About 10 or 10.30—I never saw him take out any package of drapery—the prisoner's room was in a miserable condition—they were very poorly off—the detectives came to my house three or four times, altogether—I do not recollect what we had for dinner on the day of the accident.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Do you remember the prisoner coming home tipsy, on the Friday night after the accident? A. Yes, the door was shut too heavily, and I listened to what it was.
MARY ANN DANIELS (re-called). I know a young man of the name of Selwyn—I used to open the street-door to him—he came to see the prisoner a few weeks after the accident—Mr. Fowler was with him at times.
FANNY FRANCIS . I am a single woman, and live with a person named Fowler, a cabman—I am twenty-one years old, and have lived with him as his wife for about four years—we now live at 52, Britannia Street, City Road—I have known the prisoner for eighteen months or two years—I believe he has been selling shirts for a livelihood, and that he was a betting man—we pass as Mr. and Mrs. Hammond—Fowler is the right name—I remember seeing the prisoner on the 23rd June last—he came to my place about 7.30 at night, and remained till 8.30—Fowler was there all the time—they had been intimate friends for many years—I did not see that he wore a light overcoat that evening—the next day I saw him again, about 6 or 6.30 in the evening—he asked me if I had heard of the accident at New Cross to the licensed victuallers' train, and I said I had not—he said, "I am going to say I was there myself; I have been to Mr. Richardson,
and asked him how the accident occurred, and he has told me, and I am going to say that I was there"—I asked him what proof he had, and no replied, "I am going to say I am ruptured"—I said, "How long have you been ruptured?"—and he answered, "Ever since I was a little boy, through a kick"—he then wrote this letter (produced) to the company, in my presence—after that, I and Fowler and the prisoner went to a beer-shop, in the New Inn Yard, where we frequently spent an evening—he did not appear to walk lame, as if he had been injured—the next day he brought a letter, and said he had received it, from the Company, and that they had seen to his case—he did not appear to be hurt in the least—on Sunday morning he came to our lodgings, and showed me a truss, and said, "This is one thing towards it"—he told me that Dr. Simpson had sent him for it, to a shop in the City Road, opposite the barracks—in the evening we went to his lodgings—I saw him again, when he said that two doctors had been to see him that afternoon, that he should not go out any more, but lay in—I saw nothing the matter with him then—I have frequently seen him since then, at his lodgings—I was not examined before the Under Sheriff—he never complained of his ankle, or of anything but the rupture—I was not aware that he was going to say anything about the knee at all—I have seen Selwyn, one of Fowler's acquaintances—he was at the prisoner's once—I gave information to the Railway Company, and went, myself, to London Bridge, about six weeks ago—it was about the 30th November—the prisoner promised, whilst the action was going on, to give me a watch or a 5l. note, for services rendered, for going backwards and forwards to see how he got on, and for supplying him with a little money, from time to time—he never gave me either the watch or the money, and so I went and told.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you sometimes visited the Haymarket? A. Once—when I and Fowler went to the Alhambra, about four years ago—we went to see a Mr. Selwyn, Mr. James I think—I went into a public-house, whilst I saw him, I believe, at a cigar shop—I have never said I thought it was Kate Hamilton's—I do not know her, but have heard her name, and what she is; I have never seen her—Fowler has brought Selwyn to break-fast at our house—I did not see him at Worship Street Police Court—a man named Entwistle was there, when Dickeson was up about the soap case—I never saw any difference in the prisoner's walking, after the 23rd June—I fell out with him after the action was settled; and we had a few words—we used to have "tiffs" after the accident—I was present at the inquiry at the London Bridge Terminus, but did not think of telling the people there that it was a fraud—I did not go there to give evidence, and should not have said anything if I had been asked—I have been a respectable girl for four years—I am not married to Fowler—I was an unfortunate girl before then, and I walked the streets for twelve months—I have seen the prisoner about half a dozen times, with drapery goods—the detectives may have visited me a dozen, twenty, or forty times—I have not received any reward as yet, and do not expect any—there has been no inducement held out to me whatever—I believe that Mrs. James keeps a tobacconist's shop—we went to live next door to Entwistle, and I told him that Dickeson would not give me any money—I never said that I had seen Selwyn acting as a door-keeper at Kate Hamilton's—I do not know where he was employed, but I believe it was at Mrs. James's—I believe that Entwistle has been in trouble—the prisoner told me after the accident, that he was going to make a claim upon
the Company, and that he was ruptured—I saw him continually up to the 27th October, but made no communication to the police—I did not say a word at the Police Court.
MR. SERJBANT PARRY . Q. When you went to the London Bridge Terminus, was Mrs. Dickeson there with her baby? A. Yes; and I nursed it while she gave her evidence—after the inquiry was over we all went home in a 'bus—I did not see that the prisoner appeared to be more ill than usual—I came from Bristol when I was thirteen years old—my father was a boot and shoemaker—when I came to London I went into service, in the Hampstead Road, and there I was seduced by my young master—I had to leave there, as my character was gone—next, I went into a Magdalen home, and stayed there for about twelve months—I left there, and went to my married sister's, and then I got employment as a button-holer of gentlemen's shirts and collars—I had to get a living for about twelve months, and during that time my conduct was correct and proper—work, however, began to get slack, and I went on the streets, and I followed that course of life for about twelve months—once I was imprisoned for fourteen days for kicking up a row, and I was fined three times for the same kind of offence—then I became acquainted with Fowler, and went to live with him, and I have had nothing to do with the streets since then—Fowler is a married man; but does not live with his wife—Mrs. Cole was the first who mentioned the name of Kate Hamilton to me—I never saw the person in my life, neither do I know where her house is—Sergeant Peek came to see Fowler many times, and tried to find him—he asked me what I knew, and all the particulars—I made a statement to him, and signed it—Mr. Heplett is my landlord.
THOMAS HEPLETT . I am a professor of music, and live in Britannia Street, City Road—the last witness and Fowler have lodged with me under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Hammond—I am connected with Sadler's Wells Theatre, and I got an engagement there for Mrs. Hammond (or Francis) as a ballet dancer—I saw the prisoner at my house on the Sunday morning after the accident—he came there alone, as a visitor, to Mr. and Mrs. Hammond—he showed no appearance of lameness, or inability to walk—he merely said, "Good morning" to me, and nothing more—he has been there many times in a week.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know Entwistle before you heard of the proceedings against the prisoner? A. Only by sight—I saw him at the Southward Police Court—I have not been promised anything for my services in this matter, and I expect nothing more than my expenses—I have seen Sergeant Peek about a dozen times—I know the Clown public-house, opposite to Sadler's Welle Theatre—I first saw Peek there about a month ago—he had applied at my house, and I think my housekeeper told him that I was at the theatre—he told me what Fanny Francis had said, and I said, "I was sorry that such a thing had taken place at my house, and that I should give them notice to leave"—they are still living with me—Peek said that the girl had been to London Bridge, and given evidence against a man who had been at my house, and he asked me if I remembered seeing the man there—Peek came to me about a dozen times altogether, and he merely told me that the case was pending—he asked me to compose some music for him, he being musical, I believe.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Was it your occupation? A. I am the leader of the band—I told Peek what I knew about the matter, and that I should tell the truth.
CHARLOTTE JOHNSON . I am a widow, and lodged for seven or eight months at Mrs. Daniels—I went to live there six or seven weeks before Midsummer, and I was there before the prisoner and his wife came—I remember Dr. Heath coming to see the prisoner one Sunday afternoon—after that I saw the prisoner walking about the garden, and I saw no difference whatever in his gait—there was no difference in his walk before the 23rd June and after.
CHARLES SELWYN . I live in Sackville Place, Lambeth—I work at tobacconist's, and have known Fowler, a cabman, since 1860—I know the prisoner by seeing him at Fowler's house—I remember the accident at New Cross—I went with Fowler to the prisoner's house in a cab, about three months ago—he was lying on a bed, with his trowsers on, and he had a handkerchief round his head—he said, "Good morning, sir"—Fowler had told me that he had met with an accident, and I said it was a bad job for him—he asked me if I would do him a favour, and I inquired what it was—he replied, "Oh, merely to say that you saw me when the accident occurred"—I said, "Yes, if it will do you a favour"—he said, "It is merely on account of the lawyers having got the money in hand; and, if you say that, I shall get it all the sooner out of their hands," or something to that effect, "or else they will eat it half up"—I said I would say so, and then I and Fowler left, and we went to his house—I saw the prisoner again in about three weeks—I think it was after I had received a note from Mr. Scott, his solicitor—the note is destroyed, I think, as I cannot find it—I think it was burnt—the prisoner told me I was to say that I had been with him to the Crystal Palace, and was in the train when the accident occurred—he told me what to say, and I told Mr. Scott, and something else about the time the train started, which was 11 o'clock, I believe—I have forgotten what else he said—I did not sign the statement which I made to Mr. Scott—I went back to Mr. Scott, at prisoner's request—I told him that I rode with the prisoner in the train, the time, and such like, but I forget what else, as it is so long ago—I was to say that I saw Dickeson at London Bridge, and that he came out in a cab; that I put him into a cab, and sent him home—I heard nothing said about brandy—it was not true that I was at the London Bridge Terminus—I did not give evidence at the writ of inquiry—I was tipsy at the time—I did not know there was any action being tried, or anything of the kind—I thought it was merely to enable him to get the money out of the lawyer's hands, and I did not know that the Crystal Palace Company had anything to do with the case—Mr. and Mrs. Fowler went with me to Scott's, and stayed outside—I gave my name and address to the prisoner when I first saw him, and I believe that he took it down on a bit of paper, an envelope, or something of the kind.
COURT. Q. Then you were to say that you were at this particular place when the accident happened, though you knew you were never there; did you think that wad a right and proper thing to do; did you think there was anything wrong in saying so? A. No, I did not think there was anything wrong, particularly.
Cross-examined. Q. Where do you work? A. At a tobacconist's, occasionally, at Mrs. James's, 14, Panton Street, Haymarket—it is not a large house—I am not in the habit of standing at the door to let men and women in and out—it is a shop, and they come in themselves—I know Kate Hamilton's—I went there about two years ago, and remained there some months—I used to work there—it is a refreshment
place, a free vintner's house—I am not a teetotaller—Mr. Scott said that I was drunk when I went to him, and I had had a drop on the morning that I was going to the London Bridge terminus—I was subpœnaed to attend there, and started about 11 o'clock—I took a boat, but they landed me at Battersea, by mistake—I was ready to give an account of the accident as Fowler asked me to do it, and the prisoner told me what to say—I do not remember telling the Magistrate that I did it because I had been drinking—I cannot say whether I was drunk between the 23rd June and the 25th October—I forget all about it—I might have been drunk the whole time for what I know—I first heard of the New Cross accident three weeks after it happened—my wife read an account of it in the newspaper—I have known Fowler and Fanny Francis for some time—I breakfasted with them on two occasions—I have been in the habit of seeing Fowler nightly—when I saw the prisoner at his own home, he was lying on the bed, and seemed to be suffering great pain—he looked as pale as a ghost—I took pity on him—he was a stranger to me—he told me that he thought I should not be troubled about it any more, that what he had told me was all I had to say.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Who told you to go to the Terminus Hotel; were you subpœnaed? A. Yes, or I should never have gone at all—I was under a penalty of 100l. to go—the subpœnaed was served upon me by Mr. Scott, the attorney—I was not examined as a witness—I used to live in St. Katherine's Place, Walnut Tree Walk.
FANNY FRANCIS (re-called). The writing in the pocket-book produced is like that of the prisoner—the memorandum "Charles Selwyn, 5, St. Katherine's Place, Walnut Tree Walk," is like the handwriting of the prisoner—I have never seen him write.
MARTHA SNOXELL . I live at 28, Half Moon Crescent, Barnsbury Road, Islington—the prisoner and his wife came to lodge with me in February, 1869, and remained until the beginning of May—when they left he owed me 19s. 6d. for rent, and he paid me a fortnight before Christmas—his wife never carried on the business of a mantua-maker—I never knew them to be in possession of any drapery goods, but they always appeared to be in a state of great poverty and distress.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you recollect seeing the prisoner wear a light overcoat, at any time? A. I do not remember—they lived with me about three months—he was in the habit of going out about 11 or 12 o'clock each morning, and returned very late at night, generally.
JOSEPH ENTWISTLE . I am a pipe-case maker—in May last I was in the House of Detention, Clerkenwell, and the prisoner was there, too—I was afterwards acquitted—he told me he was there for 20l. worth of scented soap—he got it by false pretences, I believe—we had a good deal of conversation at the Worship Street Police Court as to what punishment we were likely to receive, and it was renewed at the House of Detention—the prisoner said that he was ruptured, and could not be sentenced to hard labour—I remember seeing Mrs. Fowler, or Fanny Francis, at the Police Court on the same occasion in May—she and Fowler afterwards came to live next door to me.
Cross-examined. Q. Where did this conversation take place, in what part of the House of Detention? A. Outside the bath room, when we were by ourselves—I did not see that he was ruptured—I had no particular conversation with Francis at the Police Court—she was simply one of a crowd of
women there—I was confined in the House of Detention for illegally pledging a watch, and was discharged—I had four months' imprisonment about four years ago, and I then lived with a woman who had five years' penal servitude—the witness Heplett lives next door to me, at 52, Britannia Street, and on one occasion he and I saw the detectives at the Southwark Police Court—I saw Francis two or three times before she made a communication to me.
WILLIAM TURPIN . I am an inspector of police, attached to the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company, and a member of the Metropolitan Police Force—it was part of my duty to go to persons who make applications after railway accidents—about the end of June, or the beginning of July, I went to 25, Winchester Street, Pentonville, and there I found the prisoner living in a place down stairs—there was no signs of any stock-in-trade—the prisoner was lying on a bed—I said that I had come to know who his witnesses were—he replied that he had been directed not to tell anyone, or answer any questions; and he directed me to Mr. Scott, of 26, Basinghall Street—I went there, and afterwards saw the prisoner, when he said he had sent a list, but that it had been mislaid, or something of the kind, and that his wife had to go to Mr. Scott's again—I think Mr. Scott had told me that he had no list, and I mentioned this to the prisoner—he said something about a young woman with whom he went to the Palace, but would not tell me who she was—he said that her father was a chronometer maker, living in Clerkenwell, but that he should never hear anything of her—he would not tell her name for 20l.—he did not give the names of any persons who were with him that night—I made a report at the time—attempts were made by the servants of the Company to find the prisoner's overcoat, such as he had described in his letter, but no trace could be found of any such garment.
Cross-examined. Q. You are an officer of the Company? A. I am an officer of the Metropolitan Police Force attached to the Company—the accident at New Cross, I believe, took place shortly after 11 o'clock—I did not see the train reach the terminus, as I had left that night—I visited the prisoner on the 30th June, or the beginning of July—I was present at the Southwark Police Court when the prisoner was examined—I have only been in Entwistle's company at the Police Court—I have seen Heplett twice, but not at the Sadler's Wells Theatre—I have visited Fanny Francis—the man Selwyn I only saw at the Police Court—when I saw the prisoner, he did not appear to be suffering from pain; he talked naturally enough—no further inquiries were made into his circumstances, or anything of the kind—I have made inquiries with regard to other persons injured by the accident, I have gone round from one address to another to inquire about the wounded persons—I do not remember any compromises being effected—I have never said to the injured, "Take so much and have nothing more to do with it"—I never offered anything by way of compromise.
WILLIAM PEEK (Police Sergeant). On December last I was employed to make inquiries about the prisoner, pending the charge against him—I visited all the persons whom I thought could give me any information—I saw Francis, Entwistle, Selwyn, and several others, and obtained a warrant for the apprehension of the prisoner—I had attempted to find him, but could not learn his address—I discovered the pocket-book produced in his possession—it contains the name of Selwyn.
Cross-examined. Q. How many times have you seen Francis? A. About
twenty-five, and Selwyn about six; I have seen Heplett, and have been to the Sadler's Wells Theatre many times—I am very fond of music and singing but do not require instructions—I went to Heplett for the purpose of getting information—on one occassion I saw him at the Clown public-house, opposite—I may have asked him to compose a piece of music for me—the Company does not pay me, but I certainly expect a present for my trouble.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. This was a special service that you were employed upon? A. Yes, but I can receive nothing except it is sanctioned by my superiors, the Police Commissioners—I told Mr. Heplett on one occasion that I might want him to write a piece of music for me, a comic song, possibly, as that is my line.
GEORGE AMSDEN . I am the station-master at London Bridge—I remember the accident to the train at New Cross—after the train arrived the names of every one who complained of injury were taken down (list produced)—the prisoner's name is not amongst them—I did not offer him 50l., or give him a glass of brandy—no one was offered money that night.
Cross-examined. Q. How many names were taken, as the names of those who were injured? A. About sixty or seventy—I cannot say whether there were any other persons who had not their names taken that night—I do not remember a man named Fuller, whose name was not put down, receiving 50l.—I had nothing to do with the settlement of claims—there was a good deal of excitement at London Bridge—it is the practice to keep the wounded people whilst their names are taken—a gentleman named Kelly Kings, and a telegraph clerk, were engaged till night in doing so.
CHRISTOPHER HEATH . I am one of the surgeons of the University College Hospital—I remember seeing the prisoner on the 27th June, the Sunday after the accident, at the request of Dr. Maclure, the surgeon of the college—he told me that he was ruptured, and he was wearing a truss—it was a remarkably strong truss, and it caused a good deal of pressure on the groin—it caused irritation, and would have been injurious in a recent rupture—there was swelling, which might have been caused by the truss—I found it was all gone in three days afterwards—he said that Dr. Simpson had ordered him to wear the truss—he called my attention to his knee, but I saw no bruises—I reported my impression of the matter to the Company—I did not believe his statement that he had been recently injured—I thought not, and I reported so.
Cross-examined. Q. You have, of course, A practical knowledge of the difference between rupture produced by physical force, and rupture produced by constitutional causes—is there any difference between the two? A. I do not think there is; but a good deal must depend upon what has caused the rupture—there are two kinds of hernia—his was supposed to be a virginal rupture—I cannot swear that I examined him well, but I remember seeing his knee—he did not ask me to examine his ankle—it would have been my duty to have seen it if he had asked me—on the following Wednesday I found there was a slight rupture—I made a report on the Sunday—I was sent there, because the Company had received a letter, stating that Dickeson had received an injury, and they wished me to report upon it—they expect me to state what kind of a person the applicant is, and if there is any means of giving others the information, we avail ourselves of it—Dr. Simpson was with me on the Wednesday—we did not discuss whether it was a case of recent rupture or hernia, we simply agreed that there was a rupture—not a word was said about money then, or anything
as to a compromise—I did not suggest to the Company any sum in liquidation of damages—I sent my report in to Dr. Maclure—I do not think that persons who have been seriously ruptured would be able to walk a considerable distance immediately afterwards—a great deal, as I have said, would depend on the circumstances of the case—muscular and physical exertion could not be taken immediately after a rupture has been caused, without great pain and suffering—there would be signs of inability to walk, and so on—if a man was bandaged up, and kept quiet for a fortnight, he might be able to get about with a truss—the prisoner's truss was not altered according to my suggestion.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe that trusses are stiff when they are first obtained? A. Yes; undoubtedly.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. This was too strong a truss? A. Yes; I never saw a case of rupture, the result of a railway accident—a rupture might arise from such a cause—in this instance there was a great deal of tenderness, and a quantity of fluid; which I attribute to the undue pressure of the truss, and this disappeared when I relieved the cause on the Wednesday.
The following witnesses were called for the Defence:—
HENRY ERNEST SIMPSON . I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and Licentiate of the College of Physicians—I reside at 169, City Road, and have another establishment in Compton Street, Clerkenwell—I see about 200 patients every day—I remember seeing the prisoner on 24th June last, at my surgery—he was led in by a man named Hatswell—he stooped forward, complained of great pain, and said he had injured his ankle—I found it swollen, and slightly discoloured in two places on the right side—he also complained of pain in his knee; but there was no swelling there—he complained also of pain in the right groin, and I found the part swollen, and excessively tender—Mr. was a fluctuating tumour—I saw him again on the day following—there was nothing on the knee, and he only complained of pain there—I imagined, on the first occasion, that it was hernia; but the swelling in the groin masked it, to some extent, when I examined him on the first occasion—I told him to go home and remain quiet—I prescribed a lotion for him, and gave him a mixture, and saw him again the next day, Friday, the 25th—the swelling had then a little subsided; the fluctuation was distinct, but not the hernia—he was ruptured—I told him to get a truss, and directed him to go to Mr. Johnson, in the City Road, and I advised him to wear it as soon as the pain had subsided—I heard Mr. Heath say that the truss was too strong, and, by his advice, I told the patient to discontinue it—Mr. Heath told the prisoner that he ought to be perfectly still, and I advised him to keep his bed for eight or nine weeks—I saw him almost daily, and in bed—if hernia is caused by violence there would be considerable pain and some slight effusion; when hernia arises from constitutional causes there is hardly any pain at all, but some amount of inconvenience—this was a direct hernia, and I believed, from what he told me. that it was a recent one—on the first examination he told me that he had been shaken in a railway accident on the London and Brighton line, and was suffering considerable pain—he was in a very nervous state at the time—hernia that has broken through by force, requiring very considerable attention, in case it should come down and become strangulated—the life of the patient is in great danger then—it would be carelessness on the part of a surgeon if he allowed such a thing to take place—I attended the prisoner for eight weeks at his house, and saw
him nearly every day afterwards At my surgery, making the period of my attendance upwards of four months—I attended his wife in her confinement—they were in poor circumstances at the time, owing, as he said, to his being deprived of his living—I believed all along that he was suffering from the results of the railway accident, and, as acts of charity, I advanced him email sums of money from time to time—this is the first case that I have attended in connection with a railway accident—I have attended oases of accident in which large firms were concerned, and I sent them my bill—Dr. Maclure, I believe, examined the prisoner on 3rd May last, and he told me to strengthen him as much as I possibly could, and to keep him quiet until the pain subsided.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know this man before? A. No, I never saw him, to my knowledge—I have attended to Miss Nunn, who suffered in this accident—she lived about half a mile from my house—I had every reason to believe what the prisoner told me, that he had not been ruptured before, but not that he was by that means about to make a false claim against the Company—I believed what he told me to be true—I think that Dr. Maclure formed his own opinion from what the patient told him—I had no idea of what passed before the accident—there is of course, a posibillity of medical men being deceived by what a patient tells them—there were circumstances connected with the case that made me think it was a recent hernia, and now I have no reason to think otherwise—I still believe it was a recent rupture—I knew the man Hatswell, who brought the prisoner to my surgery—he is the son of a publican, living in St. John's Street, Clerkenwell—he led Dickeson in on the evening of the 24th—he had his arm under Dickeson, and the man was stooping forward—I did not see him on the day before the accident—my bill of attendance amounted to 40l—that was for my four months' attendance; but it did not include money I had lent him—I think I was paid a guinea for a subpœnaed, on the court of inquiry, at the London Terminus Hotel—I lent him, altogether, about 14l., as I found that he was in distressed circumstances at the time—he asked me to take a guinea for my kindness in lending him the money, and I accepted it; but it was not for interest—that was in addition to the 14l.—I do not keep books—I dispense medicine myself—I made about fifty visits, altogether, for the 40l., and I saw him very nearly every day—I sometimes charge very low for my visit, and often give medicine away for nothing—I sometimes charge as was 1s. each visit, and that is the lowest—in this instance I made charges, because I knew that the Railway Company would have to pay them—I only know Hatswell professionally—I attended him seven years ago—I know Mr. Scott, an attorney; he is my solicitor—I sent the prisoner to him, when he asked me if I could tell him the name of any solicitor who would conduct his case—I have recommended a great many customers to Mr. Scott, and amongst them Miss Nunn—the prisoner had a severe sprain; but I did not think much of that at the time—the sprain to the ankle was very slight—I should not have attended the prisoner if he had had personally to pay—I attended him, and lent him money, because he had received, according to his own account, an accident in a railway train—I expected to get paid out of the money he would get from the Company—my charge was about 10l. a month—he did not wear the truss for any length of time after Mr. Heath had requested him not to do so—I sent him to get the truss, on my credit, at a surgical instrument maker's—Mr. Scott paid me the 40l., as well as the money I had lent to the
prisoner—I told him that Dickeson had promised to give me a gurnes, for my kindness in lending him the money—I received, about 29th November, four cheques, for 57l., altogether—the guinea was not taken as interest; but it was given to me voluntarily by the prisoner—on the Sunday before Christmas, the man came to me again, and said that some wicked woman had been saying that he was not in the railway accident at all—he said there were twelve or fourteen people who had seen him at the Palace, and I said he had nothing to fear, if such was the case—he said that he was going to meet a gentleman on the following evening, for the purpose of telling him who his witnesses were—I told him that I could not interfere.
MR. COLE. Q. I suppose you would not have visited him for eight weeks, if you had thought you would not be paid? A. I would not—I visit persons from whom I take large fees.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. What amount of fees did you get in Miss Nunn's case? A. I have not been paid yet—my charge is 15l.
COURT. Q. You say that Hatswell led the prisoner into your surgery, and that he seemed to be poorly, and stooped; did he give any account of the accident? A. He told me that the accident had occurred at the railway station—he said, "I have been injured in the accident at New Cross, on the London and Brighton Railway;" that he was getting out of a carriage, and hurt his ankle; but he had got out some distance from the platform, and had fallen, and that he was injured—he complained of being much shaken—I asked him to take his trowsers off, and I examined his ankle and knee, and the injury in his groin—it was on the Saturday when he said that he had never been ruptured before—I said, "Have you ever had any swelling in your groin before? and he said, "Never"—I formed the opinion as to the rupture from what the prisoner told me, and from my own observations as well.
JOHN GAT, ESQ ., F.R.C.S. I am a Member of the Council, and have an appointment in connection with the public hospitals—I examined the defendant at his own house the day before the inquiry at the London Bridge Terminus Hotel—no one else was present—I had had a note from Mr. Simpson, requesting me to see the patient, without any statement beyond that it was a case of hernia—I did not know that it was from a railway accident—I found him on his bed—he was weak—he is a feeble man—he mentioned the accident in the railway train, by which he had received a rupture in the left groin—I found there was a rupture, but all the symptoms appeared to have passed away, except the mere descent of the bowel—he said that he had had considerable pain at the time—I have heard the evidence of Dr. Simpson, and agree with him in the main—I think it was a very consistent statement, that he had received an injury, and that the rupture resulted from it—if the hernia falls out, the person is liable to strangulation—he had no truss on when I examined him—I think he bad a bandage—I thought he was ruptured for life, and would require a truss for support—a man who is ruptured would be able to walk a considerable distance, and to do muscular exercise—he could go out hunting and shooting with a rupture well supported, and he might do twelve miles a day, but I should not recommend.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. I think you know nothing but what you were informed, about any symptoms of the patient? A. Nothing whatever—it is perfectly consistent with the appearances that the rupture may have existed for years—I was compelled to rely upon the statements
of the first medical attendant, and of the patient—I had not the slightest reason to doubt the one or the other—Mr. Simpson said that it was hernia, and sent me a note—I think that a man who received a blow on the groin from a collision on a railway, so as to cause a rupture, on 23rd June, would be able to walk about with perfect freedom on the 24th—I think it quite possible that he could have walked the next day—I have seen cases where, in extreme strangulation, a person has walked to the hospital, and died in a few hours—he would exhibit symptoms of pain to a person conversing with him, but he would be able to walk—a person who had received an injury on 23rd June, could not walk with the same freedom as he did on the 22nd—whether he would be able to walk in a fortnight, would depend upon the injury received—I gave my testimony to the write of inquiry—I was called.
COURT. Q. What would be the effect of wearing too strong a truss on a rupture? A. It would irritate the skin—if a truss was worn while the hernia was down it would cause effusion, and would produce a painful state of the skin—a medical man, in such a case, forms his opinion jointly from the inspection he makes, from the length of time since the injury, and by the statement made by the patient—the patient's statement is the main element in forming an opinion.
MR. COLE Q. Is it possible for a scientific gentleman to form an opinion without the statement; for instance, you are called in to see a man suffering from a certain injury, you can form an idea, without any statement from the man, of the injury he has received; you can tell what the injury is? A. I can tell what it is, but I cannot tell the cause; there may be several causes—if I had been called in, as Dr. Simpson was, two days after the accident, I could have told that the patient was ruptured without his statement at all—I know Mr. Jackson, a surgical-instrument maker, in the City Road—he is a very respectable man.
THOMAS JACKSON . I am a surgical-instrument maker, of 25, City Road—I have had twenty-five years' experience in the business—I supply surgical instruments to hospitals—I have had a good deal of experience in reducing and returning hernia—I recollect a patient of the defendant's name coming to me in the latter part of June, but I am not quite sure of the identity of the party—I recollect a person being sent by Dr. Simpson on 27th June.
Q. That was Sunday; he did not come on Sunday? A. No; I do not keep my place open on Sunday—it was at the end of the week—I cannot say whether it was Friday or Saturday—he left his name (Producing a card, on which was "William Dickeson, 25, Winchester Street, Clerkenwell,) and said that he had been in the railway accident, at New Cross, and had been to Dr. Simpson, who desired him to have a truss, which I was to apply—he had difficulty in standing upright, and was in a good deal of pain—he laid on a couch, and I applied a truss—the part was swollen and tender—I reduced the hernia, and he said, when he stood up, that he could walk better—it wag decidedly my opinion that it was a recent hernia—there was a good deal of swelling and tenderness over the hernia—I recollect his case perfectly well, through his alluding to the accident, as there were several other cases from the same cause—8 o'clock is my hour for closing on Saturday, the same as on other days—he came in the evening.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. I suppose what you did in putting on the truss you would have had to do to any one who called; have you to return the hernia always? A. Not always, sometimes the
truss will do it—he told me he was in the accident at New Cross, and I had no reason to disbelieve him.
WILLIAM HATSWELL . I am a chronometer-wheel maker, of 2, Trinity Street—I know the defendant—on 22nd June, the day before the accident at New Truss, I promised him to go with him to the Crystal Palace, on the 23rd, but I could not do so—I was too busy, and I went down to his place about 5.30 and inquired for him, but did not see him—I saw his wife, who made a communication to me, and I left the house, not in his company—I went to Batavia Street, about 6 o'clock, to see Fowler, but did not find him—on 24th June, about 2 o'clock, I was going home, and met the defendant by the Salmon and Compasses, Islington—he said he had had a very bad accident and hurt himself—he seemed rather lame to me—he said he was going to the Railway Company—he came down to my place about 6 o'clock, and I took him to Dr. Simpson, in a cab—I remember his coming to my place the same evening, the 24th, about 6 o'clock—he had a letter in his hand, and we went down to the Angel, to put it in the pillar there, and then we had a cab to Mr. Simpson's—I do not remember his saying what the letter was.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. What time do you say you saw him on the 24th? A. About 2 o'clock—he said he was going to the Company—the Compasses is 600 or 700 yards from where he lives—he was not drinking there; he was not in the public-house—he was coming across the road, and seemed lame—he was by himself—I only stayed with him a few minutes—I saw him at 6 o'clock at my place, Trinity Street, Liverpool Road, about three-quarters of a mile off—a person, who was represented to me as his wife's mother, lives in Trinity Street—the prisoner has called her mother-in-law—she lodges in the same street as I do, but not the same house—I only know her by seeing her two or three times—I took the defendant to Dr. Simpson, in a cab; not from my house, we went to the pillar-post at Islington, which may be 300 yards from my house, and posted the letter, and then we took the cab, and paid 1s. fare—I never saw the contents of the letter, but he said that it was going to the Company—I did not see a cab at my door when he came—I was not holding him up, with my arm round his body, when we went into Dr. Simpson's; he laid hold of my arm, and we went in together—he leant on my arm for support, as if he was in pain—we discharged the cab there, and rode home in another from Dr. Simpson's, which we discharged at Swinton Street—we got in just outside Dr. Simpson's, just by the Eagle—it was another 1s. fare, which I paid—I have been paid again—I have been paid 3l. 10s. by the prisoner, altogether, for what I lent him now and then—I have known him sixteen years—I am a journeyman in the chronometer line—I work on my own account—I never bet—I have never been to races with the prisoner, but I have seen him down there—I may go to the Derby or Ascot—I confine myself to that—Dr. Simpson used to pay him so much money while he was ill, after the accident, and I used to fetch it—I used not to take his I O U's for it—I had a small note in an envelope, and he used to give me the money, and I took it to the prisoner six or seven times—I got no interest for my 3l. 10s.—I had no agreement to charge interest—I was not at this accident—I never said to any one that I was at the Crystal Palace, at 8 o'clock, with the prisoner, and should come and prove it—I have said that I was there the year before, and I was there four or five years before—I said that I
saw him there last year, at 8 o'clock—I told Sergeant Peek so—I am telling no falsehood—I did not go to the writ of inquiry at the London Bridge Terminus—I was summoned, on the Company's part, before the Magistrate, but was not called as a witness—I was not put forward to be identified, that I know of—I sat there—I do not know that I was pointed out—I made a mistake, and got up from my seat, when they called Atwell—I told the prisoner that Peek, the detective, had been making inquiries the very evening he saw me—I cannot tell the day—I have known Fowler eight or nine years—I do not know whether he is here—I knew the prisoner when he was in the House of Detention, in May last—I visited him there once, as a friend—I have never been in trouble, or charged with anything, or examined as a witness before—I do not know Entwistle or Selwyn—I have not seen the advertisements headed, "Railway Accident," but I beard from a party I am acquainted with, that there was an advertisement—the party was a female—I know a person named Osborne, by sight—he says that he is the prisoner's attorney—he. subpœnaed me, or I should not have come here—I did not hear of the advertisement from him, only from the young woman—her name is Miss Goldsmith—she lives in Trinity Street—that is the same street as I live in—she resides with me.
MR. COLL Q. How many times has Peek been to you? A. Four or five times—he asked me if I had been down to the Crystal Palace, and said, "You know Dickeson? I said, "Yes;" he said, "You know he was not at the accident at all;" I said, "I know nothing about it"—he came again and again, and put questions to me every time, and I was summoned to the Southwark Police Court—I think it was on the second examination, but I do not recollect the date—I attended twice, but they did not call me—Peek stayed an hour and a half one evening—he treated me—we had two pots of pale ale and a cigar each—he did not treat me on any other occasion—he took down, the second time, that I said I was not at the Crystal Palace—there is no pretence for the insinuation that I have been in trouble, I swear that—no one else was present when I said that I had been to the Crystal Palace the year before—Miss Goldsmith was present when I signed a paper to say that I was not there—that was the second time—the third time Peek came to the door, and then went over to the prisoner's mother-in-law's, which you can see out of our window—the house is opposite—I do not know how long he staved there—the last time he came was last Saturday—the prisoner seemed rather lame when he went into Dr. Simpson's, and he said he was in great pain—he was in very poor circumstances when I lent him the 3l. 10s.—it was out of charity, and it might have been a fortnight after the accident—he has returned me the money, without interest—I do not make a profession of betting, nor does he, to my knowledge—I bet occasionally, like other people—I nave seen him a great many times, with bundles of under shirts and drawers, for three or four years past—I have been at the Licensed Victuallers' Fete, at the Crystal Palace, four or five years, but did not go on this occasion, and it is very lucky that I did not—when I got up from my seat at the Police Court, somebody's name was called out, and I understood that it was mine, and went forward to show myself—I told the prisoner that Peek had been making inquiries, and had been several times with me.
COURT. Q. You have been several years at the Licensed Victuallers' Fete; did you go by yourself? A. No, I went with Miss Goldsmith, never with the prisoner—we left after the ball-soom was closed, and got house
about 12.0 or 12.30—Fowler's house is little over a mile from the prisoner's—I did not go in, not seeing a light—I turned and went away—they occupy the top room.
MR. SERJEANT PARRY to C. HEATH. Q. In trying on a truss, have you to return the hernia, whether it is a recent one or an old one? A. Certainly; you cannot put the truss on without—sometimes the pressure of the truss will do it, and sometimes you hare to do it with your hand.
JAMES FLOKE . I am in the service of the Fore Street Warehouses Company, 104, Fore Street—they sell general drapery goods—I have been there about eighteen months—the defendant has had transactions with the firm for some time—I have repeatedly served him with goods during the time I have been there, in quantities, showing that they were for sale—he never told me what he was; but I concluded that he sold the goods again, and was a hawker of drapery goods—all these are invoices of our firm—the earliest date is December, 1868—I should say that I have not sold him other goods than these invoices indicate—they are not in my writing.
GEORGE WILLIAM RICHARDS . I am a trimming manufacturer, of Globe Lane, Bethnal Green—I have known the defendant three years as a travelling draper with hosiery—I first became acquainted with him about three years ago, travelling with different goods—I do not travel—I have never known him as a professional betting man—I only recollect the accident at New Cross, by reading of it since—I recollect that it was on 23rd June—I went to the Crystal Palace that day—I got to London Bridge about 4.30 or 4.45, and it was past 5 o'clock when I got to the Palace—I went to meet a friend at London Bridge, who was not there, and went on to the Crystal Palace, and they were not there, and I strolled about the Palace by myself—I have a brother, a publican—I have seen the prisoner a great many times; but never knew up to 23rd June that he was' ruptured.
COURT. Q. Did you ever have a customer who told you he was ruptured? A. No.
MR. COLE. Q. Did you meet the prisoner in the Crystal Palace on the 23rd? A. Yes, against a refreshment bar, close to the side of the dancing room, about 9.30 or 9.45—there were a large number of people there—I was not there when the dancing commenced, and do not know when it finished—I saw the prisoner as an old acquaintance—it might have been two or three days, or a week, since I had seen him—I was so in the habit of meeting him in business, that I cannot say—I spoke to him; but we did not remain in each other's company many minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Where did you reside at the time? A. At 1, Margaret Place, Old Castle Street, Shoreditch—that is my factory, where I keep a great many hands, and machinery—I had from twenty to sixty hands—I now employ only three, because business is slack—one's name is Sarah, another Ann, and the third Eliza—they are young women—one has been in my employ seven or eight months, another about twenty months, and another about nineteen months—their names are on my books—the surname of one of them is Clark; but I cannot tell you the others—I am not in partnership—my wife also attends to the business—one of the young women lives at Charlotte Street, Bethnal Green—I have known the prisoner three years—he has not dealt with me, but I have bought goods of him—I know Fowler—I saw the advertisement in the Clerkenwell Gazette—it was not in consequence of that that I came forward, as I never saw it till afterwards—I received a communication last Saturday
—I had not been applied to for my evidence before that—the prisoner knew me well—I shook hands with him, and talked to him just a minute or two—I asked him about how business was, and so forth—I was not with him above two or three minutes.
Q. And he never applied to you till last Saturday? A. He did not apply to me, the attorney applied to me—I know Osborn; he practices for Mr. Hicks—it was 9.40 or 9.45 when I spoke to the prisoner—no one was with him—I saw no young woman—we went and had something to drink at the bar—I had something to drink with him, but was not more than two or three minutes, because I was looking about for a party—that was all I saw of him that evening—I did not hear of the charge brought against him at the Police Court—I do not know his wife—I never heard about this till the attorney's clerk came to me last Saturday—I have not seen the prisoner in prison, or written to him—I gave Mr. Osborn my evidence, and I believe he wrote it down—I saw a waiter at the Crystal Palace who knew me very well—I do not know his name, but I know he was there, being with a young brother of mine—he is not here; if I could have found him I should have brought him here—I dare say I was there five hours—I got to London Bridge soon after 11 o'clock—I was not in the train that met with the accident—I spoke to nobody else than the waiter, who I cannot find—I was wandering about all the time—I was not dancing—I have not been in the habit of going there before—I went because I had to meet a friend, a young lady—I had made an appointment to meet her—I do not know her name or address—I promised her, on the day previous, that I would meet her at 4 o'clock—I had seen her once or twice before to drink with her, at the corner of Fore Street, leading. into Oresham Street—I do not know the name of it, but it is the corner house—I have met her three times, but have never been to any place where she resides—she is not a street-walker, that I am aware of—I treat her in a public-house when I meet her—I am married, and have had six children, one, a girl, is living—I started from my factory this day, I think, about 3.30—I was detained, as I had to give work to about fourteen or fifteen women—I had no object in going to the Crystal Palace except to meet this young woman—I had no other friend to meet—my brother is a publican—I believe he was going there, but I did not see him there—I shook hands with the prisoner, and asked him how trade was—he said, "Rather quiet," and so forth—he asked me if he could sell me some underneath shirts—I said, "No, I did not want any at present"—that was the whole of the conversation—it was simply about business—I dare say I might have seen him a week before that—I was in the habit of meeting him two or three times a week—I have met him at a public-house, not on business, but when I have been on business I have met him—I do not know where I met him five or six times a week—I bought four underneath shirts of him about eight or nine months since—that is the only transaction I have had with him—that is what I call doing business with him, that is all I meant to convey to the Jury—that is not doing business with him as a trimming manufacturer—that is the only business I did with him—I did not see him in May, that I am aware of—I did not know that he was at the House of Detention—I never heard that he was charged with other people, with attempting to defraud—I never knew where he lived—I met him perhaps ten or twenty times in 1869—W. Winter has seen me and the prisoner together—he lives in Old Ford Road—I do not know the name of the street—we met him in the City, late in 1868, or
early in 1869, when I was with the prisoner—Winter is a friend of mine, and I believe he knows the prisoner very well—I have not seen him with other persons whose names and addressee I know—I did not meet this girl at the Crystal Palace—I had not given her the money to pay her fare, she promised to meet me at 4 o'clock at London Bridge station—I saw no one who I spoke to, except the waiter—I wandered about, looking for this young woman, but did not meet her.
MR. COLE. Q. You have been asked with regard to your business; is this (produced) your card? A. Yes—I have been in business thirteen years, and hate sometimes employed fifty hands—sewing machines were not in me, then—I only employ three hands now—twenty girls have been at work for me, and I have not known surnames of more than two or three, but my wife, or the forewoman, would be likely to know—I have met with a good many travelling hawkers of drapery goods, and have known their nickname without knowing their addressee—I heard of the New Cross accident, but it did not concern my business—I do not know where the prisoner lived—MR. Osborn is clerk to Mr. Hicks, that is all I know—I have seen the prisoner with other gentlemen, but I never asked where they lived—when I left to go to the Palace, I left the workwomen at home—I bought the shirts at my own house.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 31ST JANUARY,