CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIFTH SESSION, HELD FEBRUARY 28TH, 1870.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
BUTTERWORTHS, 7, FLEET STREET,
Law Publishers to the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, February 28th, 1870, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ROBERT BESLEY, LORD MAYOR of the city of London; Sir WILLIAM FRY CHANNELL, Knt,. one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., M.P. and WARREN STORMES HALE, ESQ., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN GURNEY, Q.C., Aldermen of the said City; WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart, M.P., ANDREW LUSK , Esq., SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq., and THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
BESSLEY, MAYOR. FIFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk† that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES
OLD COURT.—Monday, February 28th, 1870.
MR. WIGHTMAN, for the Prosecution, offered no Evidence
— NOT GUILTY .
MR. STRAIGHT, for the prosecution, offered no Evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. WOTHERSPOON conducted the Prosecution.
ANN HAWKINS . I am barmaid to my father, who keeps the Ticket Porter public-house, 5, Arthur Street West, City—about 7.30, on Saturday evening, 5th February, the prisoner came for a glass of six ale, and gave me a shilling—I put it in the till—there was only a two shilling piece and a half-crown there—I gave him change, a sixpence and 4 1/2 d. in copper—about ten minutes afterwards he asked for another glass of six ale, and put down another shilling—I saw it was bad, and told him so—he said it was not—I then went to the till and found the other one was bad also—I told him they were both bad—he said they were not; he had not given me any bad money—I told him if he would give me back the change I would not call a policeman; he would not, and he was given in charge—I marked the shillings, and gave them to the constable.
Prisoner. I know nothing about it; I was rather in liquor. Witness. He pretended to be tipsy when I gave him in charge, but before that he appeared sober enough.
THOMAS JUPP . I am a painter, of 3, Fann Court, Upper Thames Street—I was in the Ticket Porter public-house on this evening, and saw the prisoner there—I saw him ask for a glass of ale and receive the change, but I did not notice the coin he gave—he just sipped the ale, and gave the rest to a man who was begging; he seemed about half tight—I saw him have a second glass of ale, and Miss Hawkins found the shilling was bad.
THOMAS BOWERS (City Policeman 620). The prisoner was given into my charge, with the coin—I searched him, and in a bag found two half-crowns, a florin, five shillings, nine sixpences, and a threepenny-piece, and in his trowsers pocket 1s. 6d. in copper—he gave two false addresses—he appeared to be the worse for drink, but I did not think he was; he pretended to be so—he offered to pay the 1s. 8 1/2 d.
Prisoner's Defence. I was not aware I had any bad money about me; I was very drunk.
He further PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at this Court, in March, 1869, for a like offence.— Five Year's Penal Servitude.
JANE MCLAREN . I reside at Rokeby House, Marine Parade, Brighton—on the 22nd January I sent a post-office order for 3l. 12s., to London, payable to the order of Francis Goodlake, Esq., Times office, Printing-house Square, Blackfriars, London—I got the order at the chief office, at Brighton, and sent it in an envelope to the address I have mentioned—I posted the letter at 12.5; this is the order and the letter I wrote.
CHARLES COOK . I am a clerk in the Brighton post-office—I issued this order on 22nd January last, for 3l. 12s., payable to F. Goodlake—I sent a letter of advice to the office in London; a letter posted at Brighton about 12 o'clock should arrive in London the same night.
EDWIN HATCHINSON . I am assistant to the advertisement office of the Times, Printing-house Square—Mr. Francis Goodlake is the head of the office—I am authorized by Mr. Goodlake to sign his name to post-office orders that come to the office—our usual course is to pay them into the bank—this letter never came into our hands, nor did the order for 3l. 12s.—the signature on the order is not in my handwriting, nor is it Mr. Goodlake's—I don't know the prisoner Lowe at all—he is not employed in that department—on the following Monday morning I received a letter from Messrs. McLaren.
JAMES FORD WRIGHT . I am one of the paying clerks at the Aldersgate-street Money Order Office—this letter and order are directed to that office received a letter of advice in the ordinary course—on Monday, January—I 24th, this order was presented to me between 1 and 2 o'clock by Lowe—I was aware that the Times office paid their money order through the bank, and I asked the prisoner questions as to how he came by the orders—he said he had it from the Times office, from a gentleman—I asked him if he knew the gentleman's name, and he said he did not, that he was employed at the Times office—I asked him in what department, and he did not know—I then sent the constable of the office round to the front, and in his hearing I repeated the question I had previously asked him; he gave me
the same answers—he was then sent over to the solicitor's office in charge of the constable—the order was signed as it is now with the name of "F. Goodlake"—the prisoner showed me this letter as evidence that the order belonged to him—I did not see any envelope.
JOHN SHARPE . I am a messenger in the Money Order Office—on Monday, January 26, I saw Lowe at the office—I was told to go behind him—the last witness asked him where he brought the order from—he said from the Times office, it was given to him by a gentlemen, he did not know his name—I took him into custody and took him over to the solicitor's office; as we were going there I asked him where he got the order from—he said he received it from a man near a church in the Strand—I said "Which church," and he said "near Temple Bar"—I said "Well, supposing you got the money, were you to take it to him?—he said "Yes"—I said "Should you know the man again?"—he said "Yes"—before we left the Order Office I saw the prisoner Redford, looking from the door into the office—I saw him again about eight days after, when he was taken into custody—I am quite sure he is the man who was looking in—I can swear to him—I had not known him at all before—he was looking over the door when I was standing behind Lowe—I did not see anything of him when I went out.
JAMES BURNSIDE . I am landlord of the Duke of York public-house, Gloucester Street, Clerkenwell—on Monday, January 24th, between 12.30 and 1 o'clock Redford came to my house—I knew him previously—he asked to look in the Directory for a person of the name of Goodlake—I produced the Directory—I found the name of Edward Goodlake, barrister, in the Court Guide—he said that was not the one he wanted—I then looked in the Trades' Directory and saw Francis Goodlake, Printing-house Square—he said "That is the one"—he left soon after that—I had seen him at my house before on several occasions, in company with a letter carrier in uniform—I saw him again the following day—he dined at my house with his wife and two or three others; the same letter carrier was with him then.
HARRY LOWE . I live at 2, Plumber's Place, Clerkenwell—the prisoner Lowe is my brother—on 24th January, about 1.30, Redford came to our house—my brother went out to him, and they went away together—my brother did not come home again at all—I worked at the Gas Works with my brother—we went home for our dinner.
EDWARD THOMAS FREDERICK HANCOCK (Detective Sergeant). I was in search of Redford for about a week at the instance of the Post Office—on the morning of 10th February, I went with Legg to Whiskin Street, Clerkenwell, and found him there—I told him I was a detective officer, and I should take him into custody for being concerned with Thomas Lowe in forging and uttering a Post Office order for 3l. 12s., on 24th January—I asked him if he had anything to say—he said, "I picked it up outside of a public-house in St. John Street Road last Monday week"—I then took him to the Post Office, and he said, "I picked it up outside the Mail Coach public-house, it was in an envelope, with a letter enclosed. The envelope was addressed, but I did not read it. I took the letter to Thomas Lowe, Plumber's Place, Rosoman Street"—he was asked why he took it there, and he made no answer—he was then taken to Bow Lane station, and charged—I asked him whether he was in Aldersgate Street on the 24th, and he said he was not—he was placed with eight or nine others, and Sharpe picked him out—I knew where Redford lived; I had been watching his house—he was not there during the time I was watching it.
JOHN BOURNE I am foreman at the Gas Works, Blackfriars—the two prisoners worked there—Redford was a fireman—he left on 23rd January, and did not return—I don't know why he left—I called at his house to know why he had left, and he was not at home—he had worked there eight or ten years—he did not give any notice that he was going to leave—he was at work on the 23rd, but did not come after that.
Redford's Defence. I found the Post Office order on the 24th, between 12.30 and 1 o'clock, at the corner of St. John Street, with the envelope open, signed "Francis Goodlake" on the order, and I went to Lowe's house, and said. "Take this to the Money Order Office," and he went with me. That is all I have to say.
Lowe's Defence. This man came and asked me to take the order. I can't read or write, and I took it in. I did not know what it was, or what name was on the order.
GUILTY of uttering.— REDFORD— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. —LOWE received a good character—Strongly recommended to mercy— Three Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DUNNE conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS MORLEY WOOD . I am a stationer, of 24, Milk Street—about 1st January, the prisoner called at my warehouse and requested me to give him a commission in connexion with others that he had in the trade, upon orders for account books and printing, to which, after making inquires, I acceded upon certain terms; he was to have 5 per cent upon one particular class of goods, and 10 per cent, upon another—he asked bow I paid my commission travelers—I said once a month—he said he was rather in low water, and if I could make it once a weak he should like it much better—I said it made no difference to me, I would break my rule for once—on 8th January, he brought me five or six orders, amongst them from Mr. Pearce, of Camden Town, for a ledger at 11s. 6d.; the prisoner's commission upon that would be about 18d. he took his commission for the whole week, 10s. the 18d. would be included in that—on 15th January he brought me eight order, one was from Mr. Parsons, of Brentford, amounting to 19s., for a ledger and two dozen pass books with his name printed on them—he was paid 15s. commission on the whole of the orders that week, including that—the goods were sent in pursuance of these orders and were returned to me as never having been ordered; they were all spurious orders—the other orders were from Robert Gough, of Windsor, 1l. 18s.; Mr. Gurney, of Matthews, 1l. 5s.; Mr. Richardson, of Turnham Green, 6s. 6d.; and Mr. Coles, of Brentford, 1l. 5s.—I paid him his commission upon all those orders, supposing them to be genuine—he said he had received the orders from all those persons, and he entered them in this order book—some time afterwards, in consequence of what I heard, I gave him in charge—he said, "It serves me right all I get, you have been a good friend to me, and if you come to my brother-in-law in Holborn, he will pay you the amount, whatever it is"—I had lent him money to go on his journeys—he asked me the amount I should lose by him—I said I had not had time to go into it, but I should think it would be very little short of 20l.
Prisoner. Q. On what day did I commence to travel for you? A. I
believe on Monday the 3rd—I very likely advanced you 4s., when I gave you the samples; you said you were very hard up—I was not to pay any part of your expenses; I did not engage you especially for town or country traveling, you went where you liked, I made no written agreement, it is not usual—I believe you brought me some orders on the 6th; they were like the rest, all false—I took no receipt for the money I paid you—I advanced you 30s. on 10th January, for which I have your I O U—I lent you a black leather bag to put your samples in, which I afterwards received back—I do not usually pay the commission when the orders are brought, and I never will again, but I thought you were an honest man; these goods were all to be paid for on delivery—I lent you 15s. on the 24th, to buy a pair of boots—I paid you 3l. 10s. altogether—you wanted to go with the goods on the 24th, but I would not let you; you received some money and did not account for it—this prosecution is not at the instigation of a Mr. Muschany and your sister-in-law, Lucy Bannister; I don't know her; Mr. Muschany was your reference, and it is a question whether he won't have to stand the racket of it, for giving it—you did not say, when I gave you into custody, that you would pay for the orders that were done, nor that you were then going to your brother-in-law for the money; you were trying to run away from me—nothing was mentioned about bad debts when I engaged you—it is not usual for commission travellers to pay half the bad debts.
WILLIAM PEARGE . I am a corn-dealer, at Great College Street, Camden Town—I know the prisoner by sight—he has called two or three times, for orders, at my shop—he called about the beginning of January—I did not give him any order—he said he was travelling for Mr. Wood—soon after he had called, a ledger came, directed to me from Mr. Wood—it was left at my place a few days, and then Mr. Wood's porter took it away again—I had not ordered it from Mr. Wood—I did not order any goods from him in January.
Prisoner. Q. When I called on you, did you ask the price of a ledger? A. Yes—I did not ask you to send one for approval.
Prisoner. Q. How long have you known me? A. Six or seven yean—I don't know anything about Mr. Wood paying you commission.
CHARLES RICHARDSON . I carry on business at Camden Terrace, Turnham Green—the prisoner has called upon me two or three times for orders—I knew him as travelling for Mr. Fisher—I never ordered anything from him on account of a Mr. Wood, in January last—some stationery was sent to me, and I returned it—I bad not ordered it.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I show you some patterns of pass-books? A. Yes—I said they were far superior to those I had got—I did not order a dozen, or expect them to come—I don't know that Mr. Wood paid you commission upon the goods.
WILLIAM HENRY MATTHEWS . I am a licensed victualler, at London Street, Uxbridge—I don't know the prisoner—I never gave him any order for Mr. Wood, or anyone else—he might have been to my place, but I can't say.
—I had not seen him for six or eight months previous to my seeing him at the Mansion House.
The prisoner, in his defence, alleged that the money he received was on commission, and although he might have been wrong in giving the order, they were only to be regarded at bad debts, for which he was partly liable.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
252. ELIJAH WAYMAN (34), and JAMES REED (19) , to stealing a quantity of dead fish, the property of Arthur Macnamara, the master of Wayman— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] WAYMAN— Nine Months' Imprisonment; REED— Six Months' Imprisonment.
254. JOHN MICHAEL McCARTHY (33) , to three indictments for embezzling and stealing 10l. 1s. 6d., and other sums, the moneys of Horace Lloyd, his master, and also to feloniously forging receipts for the payment of money, with intent to defraud— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Seven Years' Paul Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 28th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and WOTHERSPOON conducted the Prosecution.
SUSAN BURGESS . I am barmaid at the King John's Head, Albemarle Street—on 25th January at 10 p.m. I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, which came to 1 1/2 d.—he gave me a shilling—I tested it; handed it to Mr. Shelly, who was in the bar—it was bad—he gave it back to me—I sent for a policeman, and handed it to him.
Prisoner. Q. Are you sure it was me? A. Confident—you were taken on the spot.
FREDERICK SHELLY . I keep the King John's Head—I received a bad shilling from the last witness—I gave it back to her, and sent for a policeman—I afterwards marked it, and gave it to the policeman—the prisoner said that it was given to him by a gentleman for unloading a cab—I gave him in custody.
Prisoner. I am mistaken for another man altogether. Witness. You are the man; I have known you some time.
GEORGE BERRY . I am a butcher, of Red Lion Street, Holborn—on Saturday night, 29th June, the prisoner purchased a piece of meat of me, which come to 10 1/2 d.—he gave my wife a half-crown—I put it in the tester and it was bad—I gave him in charge—he offered to pay with a good half-crown, but I declined.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I give you my right address, in Hanover Court A. No, I took a good deal of trouble to find out your fellow-workmen, but could not.
CHARLES KING (Policeman E 97). I took the prisoner—he said that he received the half-crown as wages from his master, who lived five turnings over Westminster Bridge, and that he lived at a fourpenny lodging-house in Hanover Court, Long Acre—I found that he had lodged in Hanover Court, at a fourpenny lodging-house, for two or three nights—I could not find his master—I found on the prisoner three good half-crowns and a florin.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I give my address, 11, George Street; I stopped there four years and a half? A. Yes; and they said that no such man lived there; you also said Hanover Court.
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing of the three first witnesses—I am taken for another man—I did not know the half-crown was bad.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and WOTHERSPOON conducted the Prosecution.
LAURENCE BURKE (Police Sergeant E R). On 30th January, about 1 a.m., I was on duty in Tottenham Court Road, and saw the prisoner, who had left a four-wheel cab standing alone—I asked him for his badge—he said that it was at Scotland Yard, and made several excuses—I found he was drunk, and took him to the station, and also the cab—I found this purse (produced) on the box of the cab, under the driver's cushion—I searched the prisoner, and found on him a bad half-crown and shilling, and some good money—he said that he knew nothing about the purse—I asked him about the bad money in his purse—he said that he had been to Victoria Station, and must have got it there.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that a gentleman, two ladies, and a little girl, hired his cab; that the gentleman rode outside, and must have left his purse there, and that the bad money found on him was what the gentleman paid him with.
He was further charged with having been before convicted.
SIDNEY ROBERT SMITH . I am Clerk of Newgate Prison—I produce a certificate (Read: "Central Criminal Court. John Emery Emmerson, convicted of uttering, April, 1864, confined one year")—I was present—the prisoner is the person.
Prisoner. I was at Manchester at the time. Witness. I saw you tried by the Recorder.
Prisoner. I am not the man, I was at work at Manchester at the time.
there daily—he would be under my special charge, and I had known him previously—he is the man.
Prisoner. I have known you thirty years; but I was at won at Greenwood's, at Manchester, at the time.
GUILTY**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and WOTHERSPOON conducted the Prosecution
REBECCA JANE COUDRAT . I am barmaid to Mr. Ross, of Throgmorton Street—on 14th February I served the prisoner with a glass of sherry, which came to 6d., and recognized him as having given me two bad florins on the Saturday—he gave me a half-crown—I looked at it, and found it was bed—I called Mr. Ross, showed it to him, and said, "This is the man who give me two bad florins on Saturday"—the prisoner said, "No, I have not been in the place—Mr. Ross gave him in charge—on the Saturday, about 5 o'clock, he came in for a glass of port, and gave me a florin—I put it in the till—there were no other florins there—I gave him 1s. 6d. change, god he went away, leaving half of the wine—he came again ten minutes afterwards for another glass of port, and gave me another florin, which I put into the till, where there was only the florin I had already put in, some gold, and a few sixpences—I gave him the change; he drank the wine, and left—shortly afterwards a gentleman came in for a half-pint of wine, and gave me a sovereign—I gave him a half-sovereign, three florins, and three shillings—these two florins were among it—I took the change from the same drawer—I had taken some silver in the interim, and another florin—he brought these two florins back to me on Monday.
Prisoner. Q. Who gave you the third florin? A. I have no idea—the other barmaid may have taken it, and put it in the till—I am positive of you—I recognized you at once when I heard you speak.
JOSEPH ROBERT ROSS . I keep a Restaurant, in Throgmorton Street—on 16th February the last witness handed me a half-crown, and said that the prisoner was the man who had passed two bad florins on the Saturday—he denied it—I tried the half-crown, found it was bad, and gave him in charge, with the two florins and the half crown.
JOHN JAMES GINHAM . I am managing clerk to Tupper & Co., iron merchants—one Saturday, about 5.30, I got a half-pint of wine, and Miss Coudray gave me change for a sovereign: a half-sovereign, and to the best of my recollection, three shillings and three florins—that was the only silver I had—I paid one of the florins back to her, and took the other tow away—I gave one of them to a cabman at Highbury station, for a shilling fare—he returned it as bad—I then handed him the other, which he likewise returned as bad—I took them back to Miss Coudray on Monday morning—I am sure they were the same—I had not received any money in the interval.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was not in the house
on Saturday; and when I went on Monday morning, if I had known I had a bad coin I should not have given it when I saw the lady call the master."
Prisoner's Defence. I was not in the place. I was with a gentleman who has gone to Paris, or I could prove it.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and WOTHERSPOON conducted the Prosecution; and the evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.
ADFRED WILSON . I am barman at the Globe Stores, Wych Street, Strand—on 6th January, after 5 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a glass of cooper, which came to 1 1/2 d.—he gave me 1s., and as he had given me a bed one on the 4th, I tried it; he said "No good?"—I said "No; and you are the gentleman who gave me one on the 4th"—he said "Me?"—I got over the counter and seized him, sent for a constable and gave him in charge with the 2s—I had no other silver in the till on the 4tb, and I sent my potman out to change the shilling—he brought it back and I found it was bad—he spoke English.
JOSEPH GILNTY (Policeman E 293) I took the prisoner and received the shilling—he gave his name George Mere—he was remanded from the 10th to the 17th, and then discharged, as the solicitor did not consider the case strong enough.
ELIZA WOOLMORE . My husband keeps a confectioner's shop at Hammersmith—on 4th February, about 8 o'clock, I served a person named Pitts (See next case) with two Banbury cakes, which came to 2d.—he put down a florin very quietly, and held two fingers up, saying "Two"—I tried it with my teeth and found it soft and gritty—I laid it down and said "This is a bad one"—he took it up and gave me a half-crown, saying "It is good"—I do not know which he meant—I gave him the change, four coppers and 2s., and he left with the cakes—just before he left, my husband came in—he followed Pitts.
ALFRED DARLING (T 261). Mr. Woolmore called me and I followed Pitts, who he pointed out, and saw the prisoner join him about a quarter of a mile from the shop—they walked in company about 80 yards, saw me behind them, and went down a turning together and took different directions—I got assistance and took the prisoner—I told him I should charge him with being concerned in passing counterfeit coin—he said "No me"—I took him to the station and found on him a bad florin and 14s. 6d. in good silver, 13 1/4 d. in copper, and eighteen postage stamps.
JAMES DAUNCEY (T R 33). Darling called to me to take Pitts, which I did—when we got to the station, before they were placed in the dock, Theodore pretended to take his hand out of his pocket, and I saw something pass from his hand into the fire—I poked the fire and saw this metal (produced) run through the grate—I found on Pitt a bad florin, 2s., and 4d. in copper, good money, a memorandum book and some pawn-tickets relating to women's wearing apparel.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "It is a misfortune that happened to me that I passed that shilling in the Strand; it was proved that
I was innocent. Last Wednesday I changed a sovereign and must have got this florin in the change, I did not know I had it in my purse."
The prisoner, in his defence, repeated the above statement and denied being connected with Pitts.
He was further charged with having been before convicted of a like offence at this Court, in March 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The evidence given in the last place was repeated.
Pitts' Defence. I did not know I had a bad florin in my pocket; I changed a piece of money at Carrera's the tobacconist's, and had no other money; I met this man coming from Richmond and I was going there, I spoke a few words to him and left him, and when about fifty steps from him the policeman stopped me.
THEODORE— GUILTY (see last case).
PITTS— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
260. MARY ANN REED (20), and ELLEN VINCENT (16), PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering endorsements to two Bank Post Bills with intent to defraud. The Prosecutor recommended Vincent to mercy.
REED— Twelve Months' Imprisonment —
VINCENT— Four Months' Imprisonment.
261. EMMA LETTS (34), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury, committed on a bastardy summons at the Marylebone Police Court. MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution: and MR. GRIFFITH the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT. Tuesday, March 1st, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor.—Six Months' Imprisonment.
CHARLES EDWARD HUTT . I am clerk to Messrs. Bernard, brewers, Upper Thames Street—on the afternoon of 1st February the prisoner brought this note and said he would wait for an answer—he then said he would go and fetch a cart to take them away, and return in ten minutes—he did so—in the meantime I had received information, and gave him into custody—we have a customer of the name of Mulcock, who keeps the George public-house—(Note read: "Feb. 1, '70. Messrs. Bernard—Please deliver to bearer 2-18 of pale, as I want them for an order immediate. S. Mulcock.")
Prisoner. Q. Did I say I came from Mr. Mulcock? A. No, you merely presented the order.
—this order was not written by me or by my authority—I know nothing of the prisoner.
EDWARD BATEMAN . I am a carman, in Bell Yard, Addle Hill—on 1st February the prisoner came to me, and said be wanted to hire a cart to take a kilderkin of ale to the Tiger's Head, in the Clapham Road.
JAMES WHITE (City Policeman 453). The prisoner was given into my custody—he said, "The order was given to me by a Mr. Roberts at the Cross Keys public-house in Blackfriars Road"—I made searching enquiry at the Cross Keys, but was not able to find any such person.
Prisoner's Defence. I was sent with the orders by a party named Roberts; he said they were going to the Tiger's Head.
GUILTY of uttering— Six Months' Imprisonment.
265. JAMES OSBORN (21) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of James Carruthers Brown, and stealing therein a window-blind, a pair of window-curtains, and a tame bird, his property.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES CARRUTHERS BROWN . I live at 15, Mortimer Road, De Beauvoir Town—on Saturday night, 5th February, I went to bed about 10.30 or 11 o'clock—the breakfast-room window was fastened in the usual way with a snap, and the shutters were put to with a bar and bolt and a long brass screw—about 7.30 in the morning the policeman on the beat knocked me up, and I found my Venetian blind lying in the garden, and missed a pair of damask curtains, and a canary bird had been taken out of a cage—they had been safe overnight—the cage hung about 18 in. from the window—the curtains were worth 3l. or 4l.—this (produced) is one of them.
JOHN YOUNG (Policeman H 105). About 6.30 on the morning of 6th February I met the prisoner in Nicholl's Row, Shoreditch; that is about two and a half or three miles from the prosecutor's house—he looked very bulky round the body, and when he passed me I went after him; the fatter I walked the faster he walked, and when he got round the corner of Cross Street I ran after him, and saw him drop this window-curtain from under his coat—he was passing a gateway, and he tried to drop it in there, but it fell on the footway—I picked it up and took hold of him, and asked how he came by it—he said he knew nothing at all about it—I took him to the station, and on searching him found this knife; it has been ground down, and would be used for getting between the sashes of a window and undoing the hasp—I afterwards examined the window of the prosecutor's house and found marks of nails on the sill, and likewise in the garden, as if caused by nailed boots—the prisoner had nailed boots on.
Prisoner. He could not catch the man he was after, and so he caught me. Witness. I saw no other person but the prisoner in the street—I was following him for about a minute and a half.
Prisoner's Defence. I was standing at the corner of the street. I had just done eating a bit of bread and cheese, and put the knife in my pocket, when he tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Old fellow, do you know anything about this?" and I said, "I knew nothing at all about it."
GUILTY of receiving.— Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HUNT conducted the Protection; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Willett.
ROSE SPENCER . I live at 66, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square—I am a single woman—on the evening of 10th February, about 8 o'clock, I was in Judd Street, Euston Road—I went to a coffee-house to leave some percels, and then met the prisoners Willett and Harper, at the corner of the Eustonton Road—it was a very cold night; they were standing disconsolate, and I said to them, "Will you come and have something to drink to warm you?"—we went into a public-house—they had a quartern of gin, and I had 3d. worth of brandy and water, warm—we were there about three-quarters of an hour—a guard, belonging to the Midland Railway, was in one of the compartments, and I asked him what time the train left for Victoria—I did not distinctly understand what he said, and I went from my compartment to his, and he told me if I would come across the road he would tell me the correct time—I was followed into the other compartment first by Willett and Harper, and Lountain came in afterwards—the barman told the guard to be careful, for he saw the prisoners watching me, and he had better get me away; he said that in the prisoners' hearing—the guard said to me, "You had better come away from here, I don't think it is quite right," and as I was making my way to go with him, Harper said, "Don't let her go with those rings on her finger; give her a blow"—I turned round and said, "I think it is very unkind of you, I have treated you in a lady-like manner, and I think you might have returned it in the same way"—Harper then struck me on the forehead and chest, and knocked me down before the bar, and then they were all three down on the top of me at once, and Lountain put her hand into my bosom and took my purse and my pocket-handkerchief, which was with it—I had no pocket in my dress—I knew I had lost it in the house, but I said nothing till I got outside; I then directly said I lost my purse—there were two plain-clothes men standing there—I did not know they were policemen—a constable in uniform came up, and I told him I had lost my purse—Harper and Lountain went away, and changed their hats for bonnets—Willett stayed there a little time till she saw the constable come, then she ran away; the constable brought her back, and I said, "That is one"—he said, "Do you charge her with being connected in the robbery of your purse?" and I said, "Yes"—she had my pocket-handkerchief in her pocket; this is it (produced)—I was quite sober, and so were the prisoners—I had taken out my purse to pay for the drink—I was about to change a sovereign, but the barman told me not to do that, and I put it back again, and paid with a shilling—my purse contained three sovereigns, a half-sovereign, a half-crown, a two shilling piece, and a sixpence.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. The prisoners were strangers to you? A. Yes—I spoke to them first—I did not say I was going to Ports-mouth—I was talking about Portsmouth while I was in the public-house, but I said I was going to Southampton—I did not offer to treat anybody else to drink, only the guard—there were other persons at the bar, not a great many; I did not offer to treat them—the guard was a stranger to me; I offered him something to drink, for his kindness—he went out just me; he was outside the door when he saw them strike me—the tore off my chignon in the struggle—my pocket handkerchief was in the pockot of Willett's waterproof; anyone could see it; it was not hanging out.
Harper. Q. When you gave us the quartern of gin did not you say,
"Drink it up," and give us another? A. No; when you followed me into the other compartment you said, "Won't you give us some more," and I said, "Don't bother me any more; if you want it take it"—I did not say to three gentlemen who were drinking a pot of beer, "Now then, men, drink it up, and I will pay for another."
Lountain. Q. Were you not laughing and going on with the guard, and asking him to go home with you? A. No—I did not say I was rather spooney on him.
ALBERT SUTTON . I am a watchman in the employ of the Midland Railway Company, at St. Pancras—I was at the Euston Tavern, in Judd Street, on this night, about 11 o'clock—I saw the prosecutrix there with the three prisoners—I did not see them come in; they were standing at the bar when I went in—I was in uniform—the prosecutrix made some inquiry about what time the train left King's Cross for Victoria—I told her I did not know, but if she would come over to the station I would tell her, as I had the time tables there—she came round to my compartment—Willett and Harper came round almost at the same time, and Lountain very shortly after—the prosecutrix said she had left her luggage at a coffee-house opposite; she wanted to go to Southampton by the first train, would I be so kind as to tell her—I said if she came over to the station I would—I was leaving the bar to go over to the station, and turned round to see if she was following me, with the door in my hand, and I saw Harper strike her, and the other two pushed on the top of her, hustled her—directly the prosecutrix got outside the door, she said, "I have lost my purse, it is stolen," or words to that effect—they all came out of the door together—Harper and Lountain immediately ran away, Willett remained—I had seen the prosecutrix with a purse in her hand when she paid for the liquor—she was perfectly sober, and the prisoners also, to the best of my opinion.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Were there many persons at the bar? A. A few—the prosecutrix did not treat anybody in my presence except the prisoners—she offered me something, and I had it, and she paid for it—I don't recollect a man being there with artificial flowers; I don't recollect the prosecutrix saying anything to me about giving me one for my wife—I did not say "I have not got a wife"—I don't recollect her saying anything of the kind, she might, and I forget it—she did not say, "I am spooney upon you;" I am certain of that, and the barman did not give a piece of paper to wrap the flower in—I think I have told you all that took place.
Lountain. We left her and walked home and changed our hats and put on our bonnets.
WILLIAM MILES (Policeman E 422). On 10th February, about 11 o'clock at night, I was on duty in Judd Street, against the Euston tavern public-house, I saw a crowd of persons there and the prosecutrix was outside the door, excited and crying—I asked what was the matter—Willett was there—while I was speaking to the prosecutrix, Willett went away, the prosecutrix said she was one of them, I went after her and brought her back, and she gave her in charge; as I was taking her to the station, she said she would not be charged with what other persons had done, it was not her, it was Emma Harper; she would round on them that had done it—the prosecutrix gave a description of the other two, to two plain clothesmen who were there, and they went and apprehended them a little while after—the
prosecutrix was sober—Willett was sober; I found this handkerchief in her possession.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Is there any one here from the public-house? A. Not that I know of—the handkerchief was in the pocket of Willett's waterproof—the corner of it was hanging out.
JOHN CARTER (Policeman E 64). On the evening of 10th February I was in plain clothes in the Euston Road, at the corner of Judd Street—from information I went into the Euston Road and apprehended Harper—I told her she was charged, on suspicion, of taking away 3l. 15s., a purse, and a handkerchief, with Willett—she said she knew all about it; she would not split—I took her to the station, and the prosecutrix identified her.
JOSEPH ASHLEY (Policeman E 148). I was on duty in the Euston Road, in plain clothes, with last witness, on the evening of 10th February—in consequence of information we went to look for Harper and Lountain—we found them in the Euston Road—I took Lountain—I told her what she was charged with—she said, "All right, I will go with you"—the prosecutrix afterwards identified them at the station, as soon as they entered the door.
COURT. Q. How far had they got along the Euston Road from the public-house? A. I should think they were 200 yards from the public-house, but I believe they had been away some half-hour—we did not exactly identify them at first from the description we had—we passed them—they had hats and feathers, and we found them with bonnets on.
HARPER— GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
LOUNTAIN— GUILTY **— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
The Jury, after tome hours' deliberation, were unable to agree at to Willett, and were discharged without giving any verdict at to her; subsequently no evidence being of end against her before another Jury, a verdict of acquittal was taken.
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
MART ANN WHITE . I am the wife of James White, of 43, Baker Street, Stepney—on 19th January, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the morning, I was in the Mile End Road—the prisoner came up to me and said something about telling my fortune—I said "I wish to have nothing to say to you, you had better walk away"—she said "Well, you are a very flash lady; if you are not careful, I will have all you have got"—I said to a gentleman passing "Will you please to tell a constable?"—there was one on the other side of the way—she then struck me several times in the face and tore my chain off my neck—I resisted her getting my watch—she then stole my purse out of my hand—she twisted my hand round and I let go of it, it contained 5s.—when the prisoner came up she had got my watch in her hands and I struggled with her and got my chain back—this (produced) is my watch, it is worth 14l."
Cross-examined. Q. What were you doing out at this time? A. I was coming home from my aunt's, it was about 1 o'clock; I was a great distance from my own house—I am not often out so late—I don't live at 43, Baker Street now—I did then—it is a respectable house, I lived there with a sister, my husband is at sea—I think the prisoner had been drinking—it was about five minutes from the time she first came up till the constable took her.
FREDERICK MARSLAND . I am a medical student—I live in Nicholls Street, Mile End Road—on the 19th January I was passing along, my attention was attracted by hearing the prisoner say "I will hare everything you have got, if you don't mind"—I turned round and saw her hit the prosecutor in the eye, and at the same time seize at her watch—I shouted for the police—I never laid hands on the prisoner—the police came up and I advised the prosecutrix to give her in charge.
Cross-examined. Q. Then you did not interfere at all? A. I stood by to see that she did not get away, but did not lay my hands upon her—when she saw the police come up she ran out into the road, but she came back again; I could not swear she was drunk, I thought afterwards that she pretended to be so—I was there all the time—I was walking by the prosecutrix's side, not with her, I did not know her; I don't think I spoke to her; I can't remember—I had not been walking by her side five yards; I don't remember speaking to her—I won't swear I had not—I did not hear the first part of it about the fortune telling—I was Walking by the side of the prosecutrix when the police came up, within a yard or a yard and a half of her side.
EDWIN PASTON (Policeman K 171). I was on duty in the Mile End Road and heard the cry of "Police!"—when I came up the prisoner was about fire yards from the prosecutrix—the prosecutrix said she had struck her in the eye, and bad lost her purse and 5s., and had tried to take her watch and chain—I took her into custody—she said "I only pushed her, I did not mean to take her watch and chain"—the prosecutrix was sober.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner sober, too? A. She had been drinking, but she was not so drunk but what she knew what she was about.
Witness for the Defence.
JOHN DINMORE . I live at Walworth Common—on the night of 18th January, I was with the prisoner and her husband in the Swan public-house, Mile End Road, until the house was closed and they would serve no more, the prisoner was tipsy and quarrelsome—I saw the prosecutrix in the Mile End Road, arm in arm with a young man, I could not say positively it was the witness, it was very much like him; the prisoner was tipsy and abused her; the said "Go home, young man, be advised by me; go home, you are in bad company"—the prosecutrix said "I will give you in charge"—I have known the prisoner ten years as a respectable woman—I was close to her when this occurred, her husband had gone on ahead—I did not see her attempt to take the prosecutrix's watch, or yet touch her.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. A rope maker—I daresay we had been at the Swan three hours—we had had a good drop before we got there, and had several pots of ale there—I did not tell all this before the Magistrate; I was not allowed, I was a little agitated like, and when I began to speak they said it was enough—I can't say who said that, it was some of them.
COURT. Q. Were you drunk on this night? A. No—I am no relation of the prisoner.
The Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
—on the morning of February 5th, the prisoner brought me this note—(Read: "Saturday 7. Dear Mother—I hare got in a little trouble, I have been betting in a public-house, and am fined this morning, at Hammersmith Police Court 40s. I don't want any one to know about it, particularly Lavinia, or would send home, so be kind enough to send me 2l. to pay the fine, by bearer, and I will come in the evening and pay you.—Frederick Desson. Do not tell any one about this, I will call as soon as I get out")—After reading the letter I went to the prisoner and said, "What do you know about this?"—he said, "Mr. Desson and me were in company with each other, and he was in the act of making a bet with a gentleman in the parlour at a public-house at Hammersmith, when a detective came out, either of the bar or the bar-parlour, and stepped in and took him off to the police station"—I gave him the 2l.—if I had not believed the note to be genuine I should not have done so.
Prisoner. Q. Have you a son-in-law named George Desson? A. No, I do not know such a person.
FREDERICK DESSON . I keep a coffee-house, at 27, Tenison Street, Waterloo Road—I was not taken before the Magistrate at Hammersmith Police Court on February 5th, nor fined 40s. for betting—this letter is not my writing; I never gave the prisoner or any one authority to write it—I have a brother named John Desson; I don't think it is his writing; I don't know.
Prisoner. Q. Have you see him lately? A. About a month or five weeks ago, not since.
Prisoner. The note was given me by George Desson, he told me to take it to his mother in Catherine Street, Strand, and I was to wait for an answer; I can prove I did not write the letter; I gave a description of the man to the inspector, and his address.
GUILTY of uttering.
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN HALLIMAN . I live at 2, York Street, Covent Garden—on February 23rd, about 2.30 in the afternoon, the prisoner brought me this letter. (Read: "Mr. Halliman, I have got locked up for betting in a public-house, and am fined 40s. by Mr. Dayman, at the Police Court, and as I don't want to send home will you send me 40s. till the morning. I have got some one to write out an I O U for me.—Yours, Frederick Desson")—an I O U was enclosed—I had heard all about this from Mrs. Andrews, and I took the prisoner round to her, and gave him in charge—the prisoner said he was to receive an answer, and if I did not give him the 2l. he was to take the note back—as I was taking him to Mrs. Andrews he wanted to go away from me, but I would not let him.
Prisoner. Q. Did I tell you George Desson sent it? A. Mr. Desson, and you said he was locked up, the same as in the note—I know Mr. Desson.
Prisoner. Q. You say you have a brother of the name of George Desson. A. John; he lives in Princes Street, Drury Lane—I have not been to see him since you have been in custody—I can't tell whether this is his writing or not.
Prisoner's Defence. I was sent with these letters by George Desson.
GUILTY of uttering— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT. Tuesday, March 1st, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BROMBY conducted the Protection; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
Cross-examined. Q. There was no summons, was there? A. No, it was a complaint by George Pennington, for assaulting whom I took James Reading in custody on Saturday, 22nd January—the charge was entered on the charge-sheet, and he was looked up till Monday morning.
MR. BROMBY. Q. Was he remanded for a week? A. Yes, and that came off on the 31st—I was then in Court, and heard Patrick Reading, the prisoner, examined.
MR. STRAIGHT. Q. Did the man sign the charge-sheet? A. Yes; it is then taken to the Police Court, and the clerk takes down in his note-book what the charge is, and then the investigation goes on.
MR. STRAIGHT contended that the Magistrate's Clerk ought to be present with his note-book, which would be the beet evidence of what the charge was. MR. BROMBY proposed to examine the other witnesses while the Magistrate's Clerk was sent for. The COURT considered that the materiality of what was sworn depended upon the shape of the charge; that some documents ought to be produced showing that the Magistrate was engaged in a judicial enquiry; and that the prisoner had a right to claim that the trial should proceed at once, and therefore was entitled to his acquittal.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
THOMAS CARLISLE . I am a butler, at 18, Palace Gardens, Kensington—on Monday night, 7th February, about 11.50. I went out and saw the prisoner—she asked me if I had heard some singing; I said "No"—she said she believed there was a party, and if I waited I should hear it—there was a soldier there, and I said, "That is a friend of yours?"—she said, "No; he is nothing to me"—we then walked a little way, and stood talking about five minutes—she then left me very quickly, saying, "Oh, that is a friend of mine, that soldier, and I want to go to him"—when I got back to No. 18 I missed my watch and chain from my waistcoat pocket, and my pin from my scarf—no one else had come up to me before that—I gave information to the police next morning—this is my watch (produced)—I had no connexion with the prisoner, but I might have taken some improper liberties.
Cross-examined. Q. Where are you in service? A. At Mr. Wrighter's, 18, Palace Gardens—the family were in town; they had not gone to bed—I went out to take a letter to the post, and fell in with the prisoner as I went back—I had never seen her before—I did not go into any public-house with her and treat her, but I have heard her say that I did—the Cumberland Arms is about 400 yards from my master's house—I did not go out to
meet the prisoner—I did not retire with her; I only stood there and put my hands up her petticoats, and gave her a shilling—I did not say that as I owed her some money, and had got none, she should have my watch to pawn—I may hare done such things before, but not in Palace Gardens—I did not tell her that if she would meet me on Tuesday I would give her money to redeem my watch and pin.
COURT. Q. Was there a chain to your watch? A. Yes, through my button-hole, and my pin was in my scarf—I mean to say that they were both taken without my knowing it—I was hugging up against her—the chain has not been found.
JAMES DALY (Detective Officer). On the morning of 9th February, from information I received, I took the prisoner, and she was placed with others, and the prosecutor identified her, and charged her—she said, "Why, man, I never saw you before."
Cross-examined. Q. At what time? A. About 4.30—this is the ticket, it is in the name of Ellen Buckland—our shop is three or four minutes' walk from 18, Palace Gardens.
GUILTY .—She was further charged with having been convicted at Clerkenwell, in September, 1864, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, March 1st, 1870.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. LANGFORD the Defence.
JOHN PRIOR WARD . I am an accountant, and live at 4, Albert Street, Hackney—about 6.40, on Saturday night the 29th January, I was in the Hackney Road—I had a watch and chain—as I was crossing the road leading down to the new market, a man came sideways and passed in front of me, and made a snatch at my chain—he did not get hold of it—I railed my umbrella, and said, "Stop, you thief!"—upon that another man came up and said, "What is the matter?"—I said, "That man is robbing me"—on the instant I felt the second man's hand passed round my loins, and a third man pushed me over the legs of the second man—I put out my hand to save myself, and fell on my shoulder, jerking it out of the socket—I was picked up in about a minute by some man—in picking me up he pulled my arm into the socket again—when I got up I saw all the three men running away—the one behind me jumped over my body as I fell, and ran after the others down the street—I went to Spital Square Station the following Wednesday, and saw seven or eight persons together—amongst hem I saw the prisoner—I said something to the sergeant, and the prisoners were arranged differently—I went up to the prisoner and said, "You are the man that
robbed me in the Hackney Road on Saturday night," upon which he shuddered—he was the man that made the snatch at my watch—when I got up my chain was hanging down, and the watch was gone.
Cross-examined. Q. Twenty persons came up? A. About a minute afterwards—the prisoner was the first man who came up—he came side-ways, and in front of me—I had a full look into his face—there was a gas lamp about ten yards from me—I said at Spital Square Station I thought he was the man—I saw him hanging down hit head and said, "That is the man in the corner"—I told the Magistrate that when I first saw him I thought he was the man, and I went to the officer, and he had them differently arranged, and I picked him out at once—Dunnaway was the constable who was with me—I was coming home from business at 7 o'clock, from my office in the City—I was perfectly sober—I can't say which one took my watch—the first man was not a big man—he had to rise up to get at the chain.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Have you any doubt at all about the man? A. I feel confident.
PORTER WILLIAM DUNNAWAY (Detective Sergeant H). On the Wednesday the last witness came to Spital Square Station, and I accompanied him to Worship Street Police Court—the prisoner was there—the prosecutor went into the passage of the Court where the prisoners were—he came out and spoke to me, and I went into the passage and made all the men stand up—he then came in and pointed out the prisoner as the man who had robbed him—I afterwards took the prosecutor in the Usher's Room and got the prisoner into the yard of the Court and brought in seven or eight men from the street and put him among them—he had no cap on the first time—I borrowed a cap from another person and put it on him—I then sent for the prosecutor to come into the yard, and said "There are some more; have a look at them"—he went again, and picked out the prisoner—the prisoner said he knew nothing about it, and could prove where he was—I told him if he would give me the names of anybody I would go and make the inquiry—he did not give me any names—he did not call any witnesses before the Magistrate—the prosecutor had no difficulty whatever in picking him out on both occasions.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner the only one in the passage without a cap? A. Yes, and I got the other men out of the street, and put a cap on him.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY , He was further charged with having been before convicted.
GEORGE LOCKYER . I produce a certificate—(Read: 6th January, 1868, George Roberts, convicted, upon his own confession, of dealing 170 yards of cloth having been previously convicted; imprisoned two years")—the prisoner is the person mentioned in that certificate.
GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
wife of James Keyes—on the night in question, shortly before midnight, I was in the Mile End Road—I had been to a music hall previous to that—as I was going along I came to the corner of a little turning—I got down about a yard, and my friend was at the top—I was going to follow a person down—I had taken my brooch out of my shawl, and given it to my old gentleman friend to put in his pocket—I had got down the turning about a yard when I was dragged back—I screamed, and a blow came on the side of my head—my shawl was pulled off, and I fell at the side of the wall—I jumped up, ran several yards, and then fainted away—the shawl was shown to me afterwards—I had seen the prisoner shortly before in a public-house—I took my shawl off there—I was on the last seat on the left hand side of the room—when I went to get up I said "Where is my shawl?"—the prisoner said "What are you looking after I" and he offered me a piece of paper—the shawl was then produced from under the seat.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was it you were at the music hall? A. It was about 10.30—the gentleman who was with me was an old friend of mine; an old acquaintance—I was listening to the songs—I slipped off my shawl on account of its being hot—the prisoner asked me what I was looking for—it was under their seat, between their legs—I had a glass of ale to drink at the music hall, at the bar—I said before that I was in a street near the Mile End Road, when a man came behind me and knocked me down—my friend was about a yard from me.
GEORGE BEEDY . I am' a bootmaker, at Waterloo Place, Woolwich—on this Saturday night I was with the prosecutrix, in the music hall—the prisoner sat behind us—after we left we went up a turning from the road—I was a little way from the prosecutrix—I heard her scream, and she cried out, "Oh, Mr. Beedy, I have lost my shawl!"—I looked round and, saw a man running as hard as he could—I ran after him, and after a short time I came up to the prisoner—he was stopped by a crowd—I saw a man there with the shawl, and I said, "Give me that shawl," thinking he was the man who had taken it—he said, "All right; I am a police-officer"—he was holding the prisoner at that time.
Cross-examined. Q. Was this a penny gaff you were at? A. I don't know what they call it; we paid 3d., I think—it was not particularly crowded—it was full—I had been to a public-house or two with the prosecutrix—I am an old friend of her husband's.
JOHN GARNEY (Police Detective K). I was in the Mile End Road, and heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw the prisoner running away with this shawl under his arm—he ran down Cecil Street, where there is no thoroughfare—I caught him as he was getting over the railings—he threw the shawl over into the next street—someone threw it back to me, and said, "Here it is"—I am sure the prisoner is the man—there was no one else in the street but myself and him.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there not several people running, crying "Stop thief?" A. There were one or two running; he was in advance of them—the prisoner was not calling "Stop thief!"—that I swear—it was about 12.30—I was about twenty or thirty yards from him when I first saw him.
GEORGE CHAPMAN . I was with the last witness, and saw the prisoner running with a shawl under his arm—he turned down Cecil Street, where there is no thoroughfare—he ran to the bottom, threw the shawl over the railings, and seated himself on the last doorstep down the turning.
Cross-examined. Q. The last witness said he was getting over the railings, is that true or not? A. I did not see him—ho sat himself down.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was with two friends, at the music hall, where I saw the prosecutrix; she lost her shawl, but found it again. We went out, and I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and ran to the bottom of a street, where there was no thoroughfare, and as I returned the officer caught hold of me."
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
MART BUCKLEY . I live at 21, Gower's Walk, Whitechapel, and am a single woman—on 20th July, about 12 o'clock in the day, I was in Cutler Street—I had a purse containing 4s. 6d. in my pocket—Williams came up to me, cut my pocket, and took my purse—I did not see what he cut it with—he passed it to Johnson—I caught Williams by the arm, and gave him into custody—I saw the purse in his hand after he had taken it from my pocket—a man caught Johnson, and he said, "If you will let me go I will bring the purse back"—he was let go, bat never came back—I saw him outside the Court the next day, and said, "You had my purse, and promised to bring it back"—ha said, "I went to look for it, but I could not find the man"—I gave him into custody.
JOB BODMAN (City Policeman 703). On 20th February, about 12 o'clock in the day, I was in Cutler Street—some one came to me, and I went and took Williams into custody, in the Clothes Exchange, Petticoat Lane—Mr. Maloney and Mrs. Buckley were there—she said she would give him into custody for stealing her purse out of her pocket—he said he had not got the purse, some one else had it, who had run away—at the station he said, "If she would allow me to go I would find the man; I would rather do anything than be prosecuted"—he gave me a false address—on 21st February I was outside the Police Court, at Guildhall—I saw the proeecutrix following Johnson—when she got close to me he was making off, and she said she would give him into custody, he was the party Williams passed the purse to—Johnson said he was there at the time, and he saw who had the purse, and he went to run after him.
DANIEL MAHONEY . I live at 85, Middle Cornwall Street, St. George's, and am a cooper—on 20th February, about 12 o'clock, I was in Cutler Street, near the Clothes Exchange—I saw the prosecutrix run after Williams—he was running away and she had hold of his arm; she asked him for her purse and her money—I said "Give the woman her purse and money, you vagabond"—he said "I have not got it"—a crowd came up and I saw Williams past the purse to Johnson—I caught hold of Johnson, and said "Give the woman her money"—he said "If you will let me go I will find them for you"—there were some meu there, and they said "Let go, and he will give the purse up"—I let go and saw no more of him.
WILLIAMS was further charged with having been before convicted in August, 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Two Years' Imprisonment.
JOHNSON*— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. GRIFFITH and HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM GEORGE BLUNDELL . I am a fruiterer, living at Sydenham—I have known the prisoner about two years—he was a neighbour of mine—he came to me three or four times about October last, and asked me to purchase a pony and cart and some old harness he had got—I ultimately bought them for 16l.—there were three old carts, three old sets of harness, and a little Shetland pony—I paid him the 16l. at three different times—these are the cheques—the first was on the 23rd October, 4l.—the 28th October, 8l.; and 3rd November, 4l.—he represented that they were his own property, and I bought them on the faith of that representation—he did not tell me anything about the state of his cash accounts—he asked me to allow him to have the pony and carts back, if he could raise money, and pay me interest—the things were afterwards claimed by Messrs. Harrison, of Bayswater, under a bill of sale—they brought an action against me for having the property—I met the prisoner, after I was threatened with proceedings, in St. Paul's Churchyard—I said "You are the man I have been looking for for some time, it appears that the property you sold me belonged to some one else"—he said "Oh no, they did belong to me, you are quite right in keeping them—he said he had a bill of sale on them, but the party's agent allowed him to sell them to me.
RICHARD WAKEFIBLD HARRISON . I live at 13, Chepstow Street, Bayswater, and am an auctioneer and estate agent—I produce a bill of sale dated and filed on the 31st July, 1869—it was given to myself and brother by the prisoner—he assigns his property, furniture, and effects, pony and carts, &c., according to this inventory—there was a spring cart, a butcher's cart, a small cart, three sets of harness and a Shetland pony—I advanced the prisoner 50l. on that bill of sale, and 15l. was deducted for interest, making 65l.—the articles were left in the care of the prisoner—he had no authority to dispose of them—I brought an action against the prosecutor in this case for the goods, and I recovered damages against him.
R. W. HARRISON (re-examined). The prisoner signed the bill of sale—this is his signature to it—I saw him sign it and seal it, and he said "I deliver this as my act and deed."
The prisoner in his defence stated, that he had given the bill of tale for 65l., but that he only received 40l., having to pay 10l. for costs and 15l. interest; that he paid back 22l. of the 40l. in four instalments, and that he had had permission from Mr. Harrison's agent, Mr. Vane, to raise money on the pony and carts, and that he never intended to commit any fraud.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, and Thursday, 3rd, 1870.
Before Mr. Baron Channell.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH, with MR. GRAIN, the Defence.
on the ground floor of No. 5—I proceeded there, and saw the prisoner and seven or eight prostitutes—it is a brothel—I saw the prisoner come down stairs—I asked him what was amiss—he said he had given one of them 2s. to go with her—he pointed to the woman—it was a prostitute, but not the deceased—he spoke English pretty well—I could understand him perfectly well—he was very much excited—I persuaded him to go away, and told him he would be roughly used if he did not—he refused to go away—I went away, and he followed me into Old Street Road—I took him to the Kingsland Road station for his protection—he went with me quietly—I took him before Inspector Waterfield, who asked his name and address, and he wrote it on a piece of paper and gave it to him—he was allowed to go away—I went with him as far as the City Road, about five minutes' walk from Buecker's hotel—I left him there about?.20 in the morning—he was not drunk.
Cross-examined. Q. But he had evidently been drinking? A. Yes.
COURT. Q. When you saw him coming down-stairs was he alone or with anybody else? A. There were two or three prostitutes before him—he was very much excited when I first saw him—he had calmed down before we got to the station, and when I left him he did not seem anything like so bad as when I first saw him.
JOHN WATERFIELD (Police Inspector N.) On Saturday morning, 15th January, I was at the police-station when the prisoner was brought there by Sage—I had some conversation with him—he made a statement to me as to what had happened to him at the brothel—he did not say what money he had—he said he had given a girl 2s., and he then gave her 6d. to fetch some drink, and another 6d. to a second girl, altogether 3s.—he said, "I have lost but 3s. altogether"—he complained of the constable's bringing him to the station—I asked him to write down his name and address, and he wrote "Jacob Spinasa, Buecker's Hotel, Finsbury"—I copied it into my book and destroyed the paper—the prisoner appeared perfectly sober to me—I advised him to go straight home, and to avoid such places for the future—it had turned 1.20 when he left the station—it is about ten minutes' walk from the station to the hotel.
FREDERICK HENRY CAIGER . I am surveyor to the metropolitan police—I made this plan (produced) of the basement and ground-floor of Buecker's hotel—it is correct—it is on a scale of 6 ft to the inch—the room marked there as the prisoner's bed-room is 5 ft wide by 11 ft long—the piece coloured yellow represents the bed, a chest of drawers, and a small table—the window looks into the yard—it is about 4 ft in size—I did not observe how many panes of glass there were in it—when I was there it had been bricked up, and a doorway made in its place—these copies of the plan were made by me—they are correct.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the passage to the prisoner's bed-room level with the street or down in an area? A. Down in an area—the distance from the street door to his bed-room would be about 40 ft.—I presume there is a gate in the railings leading from the street to the area, but I did not notice—I went in at the street door, and down the stairs.
COURT. Q. Was there any fire-place to the prisoner's room? A. No; nor any fire-irons—there was no window looking towards the street—there He two rooms between his rooms and the street—no light in his room would be seen from the street.
night porter there—he came the week after Easter—I slept in No. 2 house, on the fourth floor—the prisoner slept in No. 1, down stairs, on the bassment floor, near the kitchen—on Friday afternoon, the 14th January, about 2 o'clock, I was at work with the prisoner, cleaning windows, at the hotel—I saw him again about 7 o'clock—he was going out—he said he was going to a bookseller's, to get a dictionary—I next saw him about 11 o'clock, outside the door, on the steps, in the street—I spoke to him, and said, "Jacob, come in, it is now 11 o'clock; Mr. Buecker asks many times for you"—he said, "No, I have seen your brother, and I promised to come back to him"—he asked me to lend him some money—I lent him 10s., and he went away with it—he would not come in—he was a little tipsy at that time—he came back about 1.30 in the morning—he rang the street door bell—I was in the kitchen—I went up and opened the door, and let him in at the street door—the bell rings into his bed-room, and nowhere else; that is a little room at the back of the kitchen—I shut the street door after he came in—I don't know if I drew the chain; I am not quite sure, but I shut the door, and we went down into the kitchen together—I told him that Mr. Buecker asked many times for him, and I had better sit up for him, as he was a little tipsy—he said, "No, I am no tipsy; you go to bed"—I then left him and went to bed—the gas was lighted below, where I left him—he was dressed in a little porter's jacket—he took that off, and was in his trowsers and waistcoat—it was his duty to remain up to let persons in during the night—nobody else was up, to my knowledge—it was about 1.40 or 1.45 when I went to bed—I heard nothing in the house until about 5 or 6 o'clock in the morning; I am not-quite sure of the time; I heard some crying out—I could not understand what it was—it was too far from me—it was loud crying—I think it was the prisoner's voice—I went down stairs and found Madame Buecker on the first floor, and in consequence of what she said to me I went down and saw the prisoner in the passage, on the ground floor—he came from the street door, and he had an iron umbrella-stand in his hand—he was knocking it on the floor, and saying, "The devil is down stairs"—there are two doors there, first the street door and then a glass door—the umbrella-stand used to be by the glass door—that was the door he was coming from—when he saw me he knocked the umbrella-stand, and said, "The devil is down stairs; madame come down"—I spoke to him before he said anything—I said, "Jacob, don't make a noise so early in the morning," and he said, "The devil is down stairs; madame come down; come down"—he spoke it in German—he called it out many times—madame was on the first floor—I went down with the prisoner into the kitchen—the gas was a little on—I turned it up more—the prisoner had got on his trowsers and flannel shirt, and slippers—I saw blood on the table in the kitchen—I then ran back up stairs and put on my trowsers, and came down again—that only took me about one or two minutes—when I came down again the prisoner was in the kitchen—he called out, "The devil is down stairs here"—I then observed blood in the kitchen, and his trowsers were all bloody—I went into his room to get some matches and a candle—his room was dark, and on going in I caught my foot against something on the floor, near the bed—I put my hand down and felt something—I can't say how far it was from the bed—it was about three footsteps from the door of the room—a door opens into his room from the kitchen—that door was open—there are two doors in the kitchen, one opening into the passage and one into his room—I came out of the room again without a
light, and the prisoner said, "Look here, Joseph, what I have done; go and fetch a policeman!"—I did not see what was done; what I felt was a broken face and long hair—the light in the kitchen was not enough to let me see into the prisoner's room, but I felt it was the head and hair of a woman—the prisoner was in the kitchen at that time—I did not say anything to him—I gave an alarm in the house, and afterwards went for a policeman—I fetched Thomas Crabb, G 228—I came back to the house with him—I went into the kitchen—the prisoner was in the kitchen, and he called out," Police! police!"—that was when the policeman came down with me—I then saw what I had felt, the head of a woman—the policeman had his lamp—the body was moved into the kitchen when I came back with the policeman—I was away about two minutes for the policemen—the head was in the kitchen and the legs were in the bed-room—I did not know the woman—I was sent for another policeman.
Cross-examined. Q. When you saw the prisoner, about 1 o'clock, you had no doubt from his appearance that he was tipsy? A. I saw that he was a little tipsy; he said he was not—during the time he was at Mr. Buecker's he was very quiet and well-behaved, only three times he was just like mad; the first time was eight days after he came there; he went to knock me down—we had had no quarrel, I thought he was a little cross, he was not drunk; I was taking some silver up stairs that I had cleaned, and the bell rang, the girls told him I had gone up stairs and called to him in No. 4 kitchen to fetch some chairs up stairs, and when I come down he went to knock me down—he was away for three months in the hospital last summer—I acted as night porter while he was away—the second time I observed something strange about him, was about a fortnight after he came back from the hospital; he made some toast and put about an inch of butter on it, and he made the table cloth foul with it, and his own clothes; he was sober then; the other time was about six or eight weeks ago; he did just the same then with the toast; I could explain it better in German—with those exceptions he was a very quiet, inoffensive, peaceable man; he was not quarrelsome—I shut the street door when I let him in on this night—there is an area gate, but there is no key, it is always kept locked—any one going down to the prisoner's bed room must come in at the street door—when that is shut the bolt catches; you can pull the handle back and open it without unlocking it—I shut the door—the door between the kitchen and the prisoner's bed room has no lock, it is always open; the door between the kitchen and the passage has no lock, only a handle—a person once inside the street door could go down to the prisoner's room without having any looks to turn, nothing but doors which could be pushed open—there is only one gas burner in the kitchen; when I first went down there was just a glimmer, enough to see that it was a light—when I first heard the calling out, and came down stairs, found the prisoner in the passage up stairs, on the ground floor, near the door where the umbrella stand was; he had the umbrella stand in his hand, knocking it about, and roaring out and raving like a madman, Mrs. Buecker was then on the first floor above, and he called out to her "Madame, madame, come down, the devil is down stairs!"—he repeated that many times—Mr. Apt, a Swiss gentleman, then came down stairs, and the prisoner then said, "Gentlemen, Gentlemen, come down, the devil is down stairs"—I asked him to be quiet; I followed him down stairs to the basement, then it was that I went through the kitchen into his room and felt what I have told.
COURT. Q. When you followed him down, madame was on the first floor above you? A. Yes, standing at her door—I passed her in going down—I had no light—I don't know whether she had a light; I think there was a light; I don't know who had it—madame did not go down with me.
MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH. Q. Did you hear Madame Buecker calling out for assistance before you came down stairs, or as you were coming down? A. Yes, I passed her and went down stairs, and found the prisoner in the passage with the umbrella stand—the cook came down stairs with me and the prisoner when I felt the body on the floor—I don't know whether he was after me.
COURT. Q. You led us to understand before, that when you saw the prisoner on the ground-floor, thumping the umbrella-stand about, you went down stairs into the kitchen and bed-room and ran against something? A. No, not the first time; that was the second time I came down, after I had got my trowsers on; then I ran into the bedroom—I don't know whether Mr. Apt was after me then or no; I can't remember.
MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH. Q. The prisoner was down there? A. Yes, he said to me, "Joseph, the devil is here; look what I have done; go and fetch some policemen"—I don't know whereabouts I was at that time; I am not quite sure—at that time he was still in a raving frantic state, just like mad.
Q. Will you now tell the interpreter, in your own language, what it is you wish to say in reference to the strange conduct of the prisoner? A. (Through the interpreter) Before he was a week in the place, we had done the work together, when we were cleaning one night the silver, and I was carrying it up stairs, he went to bed; it was past 9 o'clock, and he had to be up at night—when I was up stairs with the plate, the bell rang and he went up stairs—he was to go and fetch some chairs from No. 4, from the back kitchen; I came down stairs at that time, and he stood there and intended or wanted to strike me with a chair on my head—I did not pay any attention to that; the other waiters, who were standing by, took hold of him and quieted him, and then put him to bed again—he had already been in bed, and when this happened he had only his trowsers and shirt on—he did not appear to have been drinking; as far as I saw he was not drunk—I remained in the same service with him till he went to the hospital—the next morning I reproached him with this, with having intended to strike me, and he said he was very sorry for it, but he did not know what he had done, or whether he had done it—I said, "Jacob, last night you wanted to strike me with a chair, how was it? why did you do it?"—he said, "I am very sorry; I don't know it"—he did not seem to recollect at all having said anything to me—after he came out of the hospital (I don't know the time, it was near a month), he was making toast and he put on the toast half-an-inch thick of butter and smeared the whole table-cloth and his own clothes—he did that twice, and I think the last time was a week before this affair happened—that is all.
MR. POLAND. Q. What time at night was it when he had the chair? A. Past 9 o'clock—I can't say he had not been drinking; I did not see it I did not see anything in his appearance to show that he was drunk—it was in the back kitchen of No. 4 that he tried to strike me with the chair—the quantity of butter he put was on the toast—he cut very thick bread, too; he ate it; whether he ate it all I can't say; he ate the greater portion
of it, I think—he was fond of butter—this was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, tea time, we were just having tea—it was about the same time on each occasion—those are the only three occasions upon which I noticed anything strange about his manner; all the other days he attended to his business in the regular way—he always acted as night porter—I thought he was a little angry, perhaps, from having been called up stairs when the bell rang, because I was not there—he was called up instead of me—that was the occasion when he used the chair—he had been to lie down to take some rest before night.
COURT. Q. How long have you and the prisoner lived together in the same service? A. About nine months—I have seen him tipsy on Sundays, when he had a holiday—I did not see him so at other times—he was just as well behaved and quiet when drunk as when not drunk—his manner was always peaceable.
SARAH BUECKER . My husband keeps Buecker's Hotel, Christopher Street, Finsbury, and has done so for eighteen years—the prisoner was in our service as porter—he was there, first for three months, and then left for eight months, and came back again—at the time this transaction occurred he had been with us about nine or ten months the last time—he was night porter—we have a good many foreigners come to our hotel by the night trains, and so on—there is a bell which rings into the prisoner's room—he always attended to his duty in the ordinary way up to the time of this occurrence—the area gate is always kept locked, and the key is kept in the bar—there is a wooden ladder to the area, which is put up when the dustmen come to take the dust away, and is then removed—it is used very rarely for anything else—there is a latch to the front door which catches when it is closed at night, and fastens it securely inside—on Friday evening, 14th January, I was at the hotel, up stairs—I must have seen the prisoner during the day—I was not out of my sitting-room, next my bedroom, on the first floor, after 8 o'clock—I retired to rest at 1 o'clock—I was reading in my bed till about 3 o'clock—up to that time I heard no noise, or anything which attracted my attention—my attention was first attracted by the crashing from below, about 5.30 in the morning—I had then been awake about half an hour—all was quite silent during that half hour—the crashing was a crashing of glass—I immediately got up and rang the bell—there are two doors to my room, one into the sitting-room and the outer door—I found it was no use ringing the bell, and I ran to the door and on to the lading, and called out, "What is it, what is it it?"—I did not see anybody at that time—the prisoner replied in German, "The devil is below"—it was the prisoner's voice—upon that I called to the gentlemen, aad begged some one to come down—Weber came down first, and he went down to the prisoner, then the cook and Mr. Apt, but I forget which was first—they also went down—I did not go down then—after I called to the gentlemen I ran down and saw the prisoner standing under the archway in the passage, waving something; he was on the ground floor at the foot of the stairs, about the centre of the hall—he was waving something in his hand, and raving—there was a light in the hall—there is always a jet of gas burning—I could see him by means of the gas—I did not notice whether the cook or Mr. Apt had a candlestick when they came down—I don't know what it was the prisoner was waving—I only saw him waving something in that manner, to protect himself—it seemed like that; in fact, it was to protect himself—he was raving in a terrible manner that the devil
Was down stairs; a most fearful manner—Weber then came and took him down stairs—he was still raving, crying, in a crying sort of raving, most terrible—then I heard him again calling out to Mr. Apt, "You swim donkey, you Swiss donkey," repeatedly raving—then they ran up stairs again—I begged them not to leave him, as they passed me—he was raving continually after they left him—I went into my room after I had pacified him—before that he told me to come down—he said, "Come down, madame, come down, madame," in German—he was in the kitchen then, and he began beating about and smashing things again—I did not go down into the kitchen—I went back to the landing and stood there—later in the morning, when I was dressed, I went down stairs—I then saw broken things on the ground, but did not take particular notice of them—the only person who sleeps in the basement except the prisoner is Mary Stacey—Mr. Apt has gone abroad—the usual time for the servants to come down in the winter is about 6.30.
Cross-examined. Q. The first noise which attracted your attention was the sound of a crashing noise? A. A crashing of glass—I heard that repeated many times—when I went out on the landing and heard the prisoner calling out, "Madame, madame," and raving, he also shouted out, "The devil is below"—that was when I opened my bedroom door—after I had spoken to him, and after they had left him, he shouted out, "Madame, come down," many times, till I pacified him—from the moment I came out until the gentlemen came down stairs he continued incessantly raving, most fearfully—he had always been a very quiet, peaceful, inoffensive young man, well conducted in every way—he speaks two or three languages besides his own.
CHARLES HART (interpreted.) I am a German, and am cook at Buecker's hotel—I sleep on the fourth floor of No. 2 house—on the morning of 15th January, about 6 o'clock, I was disturbed by some one crying out, and the crashing of crockery and glass—upon that I went down into the kitchen—the prisoner was there, and Weber—the prisoner was in a very excited state, and his hand was bleeding—Weber said, "Be quiet, don't make such a noise"—the prisoner said, "Chef," meaning me, "come and see what I have done"—I then went away—when I came out of the kitchen Weber came after me and said something to me—I afterwards went down with Mr. Apt—that was about five or six minutes afterwards—Mr. Apt had a lighted candle with him—it was a bedroom candlestick—we went into the kitchen; the prisoner was there—he said to Mr. Apt, "You Swiss donkey, come and see what I have done;" and he took the candle out of Mr. Apt's hand, and see followed him into the bedroom—I saw a dead body lying on the floor in the bedroom, near the bed, at the side of the bed, one or one and a half steps from the door—the head was lying towards the door, and about a foot and a half from it, quite in the bedroom—at first I did not see whether it was a woman or not, but afterwards I saw it was—when I first went into the bed-room I did not look particularly at it, and the second time I saw it was in the kitchen—I did not notice the state of the head in the bedroom—afterwards I saw it—the head was lying towards the kitchen, and the feet in the bedroom—the breast was bare, uncovered—I can't say whether any other part was uncovered—Mr. Apt went away and left the room—I went into the kitchen again about ten minutes afterwards, after the prisoner had been taken by two policemen, or kept there by two policemen—I can't say whether I went down with the policemen and Dr. Hess at that time or afterwards—
the prisoner was there, being held by two policemen; I mean he was sitting in the table, in custody of the policemen—they did not actually hold him, but they watched him—the body was then in the kitchen.
MARY STACEY . I am needle woman employed at Buecker's hotel—I sleep in a room on the basement—there is a passage between my room and the kitchen—I was there on Friday, 14th January—I had been the prisoner at work during that day—I went to bed about 10 or 10.30—during the might nothing attracted my attention—after I had been asleep some time, I heard a noise like a crashing and breaking of china and glass—I could not say the time, but it was quite dark—I opened the door and looked out, and saw the prisoner in the kitchen; he was lighting a piece of paper at the gas—he went as far as his bedroom door with the lighted paper in his hand—he then threw it down lighted as it was on the floor, and looked into his I bedroom as if he was looking for something inside—he then drew a basket, like a butterman's basket, out into the middle of the kitchen—I did not see where he took it from—I was behind him and some distance off—I saw him stoop down and draw the basket out from the room—he brought it into the kitchen and left it there—he had on his shirt and trowsers, I think; I did not take particular notice—I don't think he had a coat on—he was saying something in German—the only thing I could understand was "Lieber fraulein"—the English of that is "My dear miss"—I don't speak German, only a very few words—I heard him repeat that several times—that was after he had looked into his bedroom—At that time the cook and Weber, the porter, game down, and I went back into my room, and left them to settle it—I thought the prisoner was drunk—when I opened my door I saw the broken china outside in the passage leading from the kitchen to my door—I went to bed again—I had no idea what had happened until afterwards—there was a great rushing and calling for police, and I got up and dressed myself and went up stairs.
Cross-examined. Q. At the time you came down, were there other persons down stairs? A. I heard some one talking up stairs—Joseph, the porter, was not down at that time—he came down while I was standing there—the prisoner appeared very excited—I did not look into the room Afterwards to see what was broken—directly I opened my door I saw plates tad cups and saucers broken; they wed to be in the kitchen—I did not go into the kitchen, I saw them in the passage leading from the kitchen.
THOMAS CRABB (Policeman G 228). On this Saturday morning, about 5.30, I was on duty in King Street, Finsbury—Weber called me to the hotel—when I got there I saw the prisoner at the top of the stairs leading I from the basement floor, on the same floor as I entered—he seemed much excited and was calling out in a language that I did not understand—his hands were covered with blood, his trowsers and shirt were also covered with blood, and there were spots of blood on his face—on seeing me, he called out "Police! police!"—I told him to go down stairs, and I followed him into the kitchen—the kitchen door was open—there was a pool of blood nearly in the middle of the kitchen—I observed the body of a woman there—it was lying between the prisoner's bedroom and the kitchen; the head and part of the body in the kitchen and the legs in the bedroom—there is a door leading from the kitchen to the prisoner's bedroom, but no passage—the body was lying across the threshold—the prisoner's bedroom appears to be parted off from the kitchen in one corner—the clothes of the woman were thrown up over the body, the lower part of the person exposed,
the breasts bare, the hands clenched, and the right side of the face completely battered in—she was lying flat on her back, and the legs extended apart, slightly bent—both hands were clenched—she had on a pair of sidespring boots, and stockings—I sent for a doctor and another constable—the prisoner made an effort to speak to me, and I told him to go back and sit down, and he went back and quietly sat down on the table—I asked Weber, "Who has done this?" and Weber said, "Him," pointing to the prisoner—the prisoner said nothing to that—Weber went and fetched another policeman—I left the prisoner in charge of the sergeant, and went and searched his bedroom—there was no light in the bedroom—the gas was burning in the kitchen; that threw a slight light into the bedroom, but not much—I bad my own lantern, by the light of that I observed the bed—it was strewn with pieces of glass, apparently pieces of glass bottles and a looking glass—the mattrass was spattered with blood on the side nearest the wall, and the wall was spattered with blood—I found a brass candlestick under the bed, covered with blood and broken in—I observed the window of the bedroom looking into the yard—the whole of the panes of glass in that window were broken—at that time Dr. Hess came in, and another constable—the sergeant told Dr. Hess to tell the prisoner the charge—they had some conversation in German, at the end of which Dr. Hess said, "He seems confused; he knows that something has happened, but does not know exactly what"—I should say this was about 5.45 on the Saturday morning—I took the prisoner to the station in custody, with the sergeant 11 G—when we got to the station the prisoner said to me, "I was woke up from sleep and found some one in my room; I threw a jug of water over them, and with the candlestick I fight"—when I first saw him at the hotel he bad on a pair of trowsers, a shirt, and an old pair of slippers; no coat or waistcoat—I took him as he was to the station—his trowsers and shirt were covered with blood—the front part of his trowsers was open, and his shirt hanging out—there was blood on the shirt.
Cross-examined. Q. When you first went there this man was raving, was he not, in a foreign language, that you did not understand? A. He seemed much excited—he was calling out loudly'; he was raving, if you may term it so—every pane in the window was broken—I found pieces of the looking-glass on the bed, I did not see the frame—the glass itself was broken in pieces—I did not notice any crockery in the room, broken, nor in the basement—I had to make use of my bull's-eye when I went in, for the purpose of seeing distinctly what was in the bedroom—I did not notice whether there was a wash hand basin and jug in the room.
MR. POLAND. Q. Was the prisoner afterwards quiet? A. Yes—he went quietly with me to the station—besides what he said to me he made a statement which Rowe took down in writing.
CHARLES JOHN SERGEANT (Police Sergeant G 11). On the morning of January 15th, I was sent for to the hotel—I got there about 5.40 or 5.45—as I went down stairs I saw blood on the stairs, and afterwards saw the woman in the kitchen—the legs and person and breast were exposed—I afterwards went with the prisoner to the station—I noticed his trowsers, all the buttons were undone except the top, and the front flap of his shirt was out—he was quiet.
ARTHUR BARFIELD (Policeman G 272). I was called to the hotel on this morning—I got there about 5.40—I was there when the prisoner was taken away in custody—after he was taken away I went into his bedroom and searched it—on the bed I found pieces of broken bottles, part of a broken
looking-glass, pieces of a broken tumbler, and part of a candlestick, what a candlestick is loaded with—on the floor at the foot of the bed I found the frame of a looking-glass—there were parts of three or four broken bottles on the bed, there were three or four bottoms of bottles—I also found some wine bottles empty on the floor and one full of wine; the full one was in a chest, it had not been touched; there was some wine in one of the other bottles—the bed clothes were greatly disarranged, there was a mattrass, and a bed on the top of the mattras and the bed clothes—the bed appeared to bare been slept in or laid upon—on the Tuesday after this I met the witness, Mary James and had some conversation with her—on the Thursday I took her to St. Luke's workhouse, where the body was lying; I did not go into the dead house with her, I took her to the gate of the workhouse, and the porter belonging to the workhouse took her to the dead-house, where the body had been removed.
JOSEPH ROWE ) (Police Sergeant G R.) On Saturday morning, 15th January, I was the acting inspector at the Old Street police-station—the prisoner was brought there a few minutes after 6—he was very excited—his hands were covered with blood as far as his wrists; his face was splashed over with blood; his hair had a quantity of blood upon it; his shirt, which I produce, was also splashed over with blood; and the front flap of his shirt was hanging out from the unbuttoned trowsers, and was also covered with blood—the trowsers were saturated with blood, down by the pockets—I took off his trawlers and gave him an old pair of police trowsers—in his left hand pocket I found this handkerchief, also saturated with blood—I told him he was charged with the murder of a female at Buecker's Hotel, Finsbury Square—I cautioned him that any statement he might make I should use as evidence against him—he made a statement, which I wrote down immediately, this is it—(Read: "I thought it was a thief in the house; I had been drinking; I heard a noise at the side of my bed. I said 'Joseph;' I then think it was the porter; he no answer. I then take the looking-glass and hit her, and broke it. I took the candlestick and hit her, till I broke it; then I took the bottle, and hit her. I battled with her half-an-hour; and when the lights came I found the woman dead. I thought it was a thief in the house ")—he said this in broken English—I entered the charge—I could not understand the prisoner's surname properly, and I gave him a piece of paper and a pencil, and he wrote it down for me—he wrote it legibly—I have not got it here, it was lost in the bustle at the station—he only had upon him this purse and the handkerchief—the purse was empty—I afterwards took him in a cab to the House of Detention, after he had been examined before the Magistrate; he said, "You no take me to prison, I have done nothing"—when he first came to the station he had been drinking—he smelt very strong of drink; but he was not in a state in which I should charge a man with being drunk.
ROBERT MCKEWAN (Police Inspector G.) I saw the prisoner at the station on the morning of the 15th—I afterwards went to the hotel—Dr. Yarrow was there, examining the body—I saw the pockets of the deceased searched by Dr. Yarrow and a constable—I produce what was found; two clay pipes, a sixpence, a fourpenny piece, a threepenny piece, and a foreign coin, which I believe to be a Swiss 10 cent piece, 5d. in copper, and a common brooch—I went into the bedroom, and among other things I found this black jet chain on the bed, among pieces of bottles and glass, covered with blood—I found blood on the bed, close to the wall, and on the wall there was a
circle of blood, about 9 inches in diameter, towards the head of the bed; there was a stream running from it to the floor, which formed a pool on the floor—at the woman's head, in the kitchen, there was also a pool of blood—there was a silver watch hanging on a nail about the centre of the bed.
DR. AUGUSTUS HESS . I live at 14, Artillery Place, Finsbury Square—on Saturday morning, 15th January, some person called on me—in consequence of what they said, I went to Buecker's hotel—I got there at something like 5.40 or 5.45—I had been in the habit of being called there now and then—I knew the prisoner by sight; he had called several times upon me—I went straight down into the kitchen—I saw the body of a woman on the floor in the kitchen—I think the feet were under the threshold leading to the bedroom, and the body part in the kitchen—I felt the body—I saw no bonnet on in front, but I knew it must be behind her neck—my impression was that she had not been long dead; I mean to say an hour, or somewhat less, or perhaps much less—my reasons were, that she was warm all over, and even the wounds were warm where the blood had been, and all her limbs were perfectly flexible at the time, hands and feet, and everything—as well as I remember, her dress was somewhat above her knees—I saw the prisoner there—I did not say anything to him on my own account, but I explained to him the charge under which he was taken, and I heard him say something that would amount to this, "I don't know what it is all about"—he was then taken to the station—I was afterwards desired by a policeman to come to the station, and I went there and, in my presence the prisoner spelt his name and gave his age, quite calmly and correctly; he appeared to me very calm, but still bewildered—when I saw him he was certainly sober; I mean I did not see any symptoms of drunkenness in him—Dr. Yarrow, the police surgeon, was sent for, and I left the case in his hands.
Cross-examined. Q. You say he appeared sober at the time you were there; is that perfectly consistent with his having been in a state of intoxication an hour or two before? A. Oh, yes, that might be—I suppose the circumstances I have heard narrated would be sufficient to bring him to his sober senses, even if he had been drunk two or three hours before.
Q. Without suggesting that the man was in a state of insanity, or anything of that kind, is it not perfectly consistent with your knowledge of medical science, that persons even in a sane state, who go to sleep in a drunken state, and have distempered dreams and so forth, may be suddenly agitated by hallucinations and delusions, and still not be in a state what you would call insanity? A. Such things have happened.
COURT. Q. What things have happened? A. That persons suddenly waking up have committed some act under delusion or hallucination.
MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH. Q. Persons, in respect of whom it would be absurd to impute that they were insane, falling asleep in a drunken state and being visited by dreams, suddenly awaking, would be affected with hallucinations, illusions, and delusions, having no foundation whatever, in fact? A. Certainly; canes have happened where persons to all appearance previously sane, have suddenly awakened from sleep, labouring under some delusion which has impelled them to some sudden act which would not have been committed by them if they had been previously awake and collected—may I explain? such persons, in first awakening from sleep, are reckless and have committed some act of which no one would have thought them capable beforehand—they have been suddenly afflicted with the most absurd
illusions and delusions, without there being any permanent mental disorder, merely a temporary hallucination—I am not able to say whether a deep deep caused it, or anything in a dream caused it—I am speaking of a deep sleep, accompanied by drunkenness; cases have happened where such persons have awoke from sleep impressed with belief in respect of matters which did not really exist; they did not happen to me, but I know it from my reading—Dr. Taylor is a high authority in psychological science—the cases I heard of were cases where the hallucination was temporary—a man being afflicted with a powerful and impressive dream may awake under a delusion, haying been perfectly sane before, and be perfectly sane immediately afterwards.
Q. I will read you a passage from Dr. Taylor, under the head of "Hallucinations and Illusions," and tell me if it meets with your concurrence: "As regards hallucinations and illusions, these are the most striking symptoms which are met with in a confirmed state of insanity; hallucinations are those sensations which are supposed by the patient to be produced by external impressions, although no material object act upon his senses at the time." I will pause there to ask you, supposing, for instance, that a man had a dream in which he believed that the evil spirit, the devil, was in the room, might that operate upon his mind in a sleeping state in such a way as to impel him on awaking to do acts that he would not hare done if he had been awake and had his reflecting powers perfectly at his command? A. I should rather put it in this way, that a man waking up, might, at the time of waking up, fall under an hallucination, than make the hallucination the consequence of the dream—Dr. Taylor says, "A man has visions of all kinds, including the forms of the dead and living floating before him, when, in fact, he is merely gating on vacancy"—that is generally assumed—again, "a man sometimes fancies that he hears voices speaking or mysteriously whispering to him, while there is profound silence"—those are very frequent oases where persons are labouring under mere hallucination—I agree with Dr. Taylor when he says "These states of mind are dependent upon a disordered state of mind, no matter whether produced by physical causes or by mere mental causes, but they are indications, whether temporarily or permanently, of a diseased state of mind"—I shall not quite follow you in saying that a diseased state of mind, like a diseased state of body, may exist for a very brief period and be succeeded by a perfectly healthy state—oases are on record of a mere temporary delusion in the mind, existing for the moment, non-existing yesterday, and non-existing to-morrow—cases have over and over again occurred where a man, in dreaming, has believed that he has heard voices, and been in contact and collision with persons who have not been near him at all—I don't remember a case, narrated by Dr. Winslow, of a person imagining, while he was asleep, that he saw a person approaching him in a menacing attitude, and leaped out of bed, seized the first article that was near him, and, some person being in the room, beat him in a terrible manner—I should suppose there must be something amiss with such a man beforehand, either bodily or mentally, that was not known to those around him; some disturbance of his health, either mentally or bodily, or both together, and, all at once, a delusion or hallucination takes place and he acts upon it—I concur with this passage of Dr. Taylor," Instances of hallucination are furnished by the act of dreaming, while illusions often occur during the act of suddenly waking from sleep, giving rise occasionally to serious questions involving criminal responsibility."
MR. POLAND. Q. Did you ever know of a case of a man fighting with a woman for half-an-hour under an hallucination? A. No—I daresay I had seen the prisoner ten or twelve times before this occurrence—he always appeared to me a childish man, uncertain in his way of speaking and acting—he was able to attend to his business, I suppose; I had nothing to do with him at the hotel; I have attended him—he appeared perfectly calm when I saw him at the station.
COURT. Q. Were you examined before the Magistrate? A. Yes, once; I stated to the Magistrate all that I saw at the time I was called to the hotel and at the station—I gave no statement of opinion as to his mind; there was no question asked me—I said he seemed to understand that something had occurred, but did not know what.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am surgeon to the G division of police—on the morning of 15th January, about 6.30, I was sent for to the Old Street police-station—I saw the prisoner there and examined him—he had a wound on the third finger of the left hand, just below the nail, about the site of a fourpenny piece—it was merely an abrasion of the skin, just through the two skins—it was bleeding then—the inspector called my attention to it—it was a kind of wound that might have been produced by a bite—the next finger, the fourth, had also a slightly incised wound, not of the same character, that was an incised wound—his hands were covered with blood, and his face was bespattered with blood—the wound on the fourth finger might have been caused by coming in contact with a piece of broken glass—there was blood on the sleeves of his shirt and on the breast—I afterwards saw blood on the lower part of his shirt, and on the trowsers—I dressed his finger—he said "Thank you," several times—he seemed quite calm—he smelt of drink—he was quite sober—I saw a candlestick covered with blood, at the station—there was a small quantity of brain matter on the lower part of it, human brain I took it to be—this is the candlestick, but all the blood and brain matter has been wiped off—it was at the base, on the edge, and there were some long hairs attached to it which are gone now—there was a piece broken out—that was covered with blood, and also had brain substance on it—the composition that filled this up, to be a weight to steady it, was found in the prisoner's room in my presence, and I fitted it—I afterwards went to the kitchen of the hotel about 6.45—I saw the body of the deceased on the floor—she was lying on her back, in the door-way leading from the kitchen to a small sleeping apartment—the head and body were in the kitchen, and the feet and part of the legs in the bedroom—the clothes were thrown up over the body, exposing the person and the lower part of the abdomen—the right stocking was pulled down over the boot, and the breasts were exposed—the right arm was bent upwards and the hand clenched; the left arm was lying down by the side—there was a bonnet on the head—it was tied tightly round—I removed it—it was on the back part of the head, it had got out of its place—there was a large lacerated wound on the right side of the head, involving nearly the whole of the right side of the face, the fracture of the temporal bone, and the upper and lower jaw bones on that side—on the left eyebrow there was an incised wound, about an inch in length, coming over the eyebrow and eyelid—the right eye was partially dislodged from the socket; the left eye was contused, blackened, and the nose bones were both broken—I don't think I examined more minutely at that time; I made a post-mortem examination next day—I observed that some of the teeth were loose in the mouth—I took the
things which the policeman has produced out of the pocket; that win all that was in the pocket—she was very poorly dressed, the clothes were very old; she had on an old brown dress and side-spring boots—she was quite dead when I got there—I have no doubt she had been dead two hours; I believe certainly more—I had the body removed to the dead-house, and afterwards made a post-mortem examination—she was about twenty-six years of age, 4ft 11 in. in height; a very spare figure, fairly nourished—I examined her left hand, and between the finger and thumb I found about twenty short, brown curly hairs—I believe they were taken off the prisoner; they were his hairs—the hands were clenched, and there was some blood in the hand, and the hairs were matted together—I put them into a plate for the purpose of cleaning them, and some of them were thrown away—I have only been able to keep two or three, which I produce—in the wound on the head, that communicated with the brain, there were a number of small pieces of green glass, and some resinous substance, a small portion of which I have preserved—I compared it with the stuff at the bottom of the candlestick, and it was the same kind of stuff—an instrument like the candlestick would make a wound of that kind, and the bottles also—the back of the left hand was very much contused, and there were five or six incised wounds, and there were four or five incised wounds also on the back of the right hand—there were incised wounds on some of the fingers—there were bruises on the right thigh, down to the knee—the right knee was very much bruised—there were scratches also about the private parts and on the left thigh—the bruises on the right thigh were quite high up—there were scratches on the inner part of both thighs—they were all in the inner part of the thighs—they varied from about the site of a five-shilling piece to about the size of the palm of my hand—that on the knee involved the whole of the inside of the knee—that might have been caused by resistance to connexion—that was the only way in which I could account for them—there were some scratches on the left side of the private parts—I opened the stomach; it contained about 3/4lbs. of a dark-coloured fluid, with some white substance in it, consisting of fish and potato, and there was some potato peeling—the fluid smelt of wine; claret, I believe—I found no evidence of connexion having recently taken place.
COURT. Q. She was a woman of the town? A. Yes—the hymen was absent—no doubt connexion had taken place; but I found no evidence of recent connexion—I found no seminal fluid either in the vagina or about the private parts—supposing connexion had taken place after 2 o'clock that morning, I might have found some traces—it would be rather a long time afterwards to find it—the fracture of the skull was the immediate cause of death.
Cross-examined. Q. I don't understand you to pledge your opinion as to when she had last had connexion, whether it was within a few hours, or several hours? A. Certainly not; I do not give it as an opinion; I say I found no evidence that she had recently had connexion—in the ordinary course I should not expect the seminal discharge to remain in the vagina probably more than an hour—it might be overcome by a variety of causes; by natural discharge of her own—I do not venture to say she might not have had connexion within two or three hours of the time I saw the body—I believe the bruises and scratches were caused immediately before death—I think I may speak to the scratches with more certainty than the bruises
—we do not usually find an indication of A bruise until some hours have elapsed after the injury has been inflicted—it is my opinion that the scratches were not caused six or eight hours before.
MR. POLAND. Q. As to the bruises, was it consistent with their appearance that they were caused recently before death? A. I believe they were caused a short time before death; not six or eight hour before, but quite recently before death.
COURT. Q. Would the discoloration which is attendant upon a bruise, generally present itself after death? A, Oh, yet, it may be caused immediately after death; but the blood that is effused close by the side of a scratch would not present itself unless it was caused immediately before death, and before the body was cold—I made the post-mortem examination on the Sunday, about 1.30—it was not until then that I saw the hairs in the hand—she had then been removed from the hotel.
MARY JAMES . I am now living at a coffee shop in Old Street, near the police-station—I am a girl of the town—on Friday, 14th January, I was living in Great Arthur Street—I have known the prisoner two yean—I first saw him in Finsbury Square—I know Buecker's hotel—I was in the habit of going there with the prisoner—I have been in there with him twelve times—I went in at the front door—I usually went about 1.45 in the morning—he told me to ring, sometimes, and he told me to wait, sometimes—I did ring—when I rang, the prisoner always let me in—I used to go into his little bedroom, along a dark passage, down stain—I have been in that room with him about a dozen times—the last time was on the Tuesday night before this occurrence—I used to go there for immoral purposes—the prisoner always paid me—I knew the deceased—I was with her on the Friday night—I knew her by the name of Cissy no other name—she was not living with me—I saw her in Finsbury Square on the Friday night, about 10.30—we had something to eat together—we afterwards parted—I saw her again about 1.40 or 1.45, just opposite the door of the hotel, only a little round the corner—I afterwards saw the prisoner at the door—that was the door at which he used to let me in—he went in and shut the door—I did not see him open it the second time; I did the first time—he stood at the door, and Cissy went over to speak to him—she said she had got an appointment to go in; she did not go in then—the prisoner went in and shut the door—Cissy came back to me, and spoke to me—she then went back again, and went indoors—she went in at the door of the hotel—I could not say who opened the door, I did not se; it was opened by some one, and she went in—after she came from the door the first time, the door was shut—she went up the second time, and was let in—I did not distinctly see who opened the door then; I saw a shape, but I could not see distinctly—the door was opened, and she went in—that was about 2 o'clock—I don't exactly know what interval there was between the prisoner coming to the door and speaking to her, and her going in, but about ten minutes, as near as I could say—I remained outside about twenty minutes after she went in—she did not come out again, and I went away home—I got home about 3 o'clock—I lived in Great Arthur Street then, but I did not go the near way; I went round Aldersgate Street and Goswell Street way—I had seen the prisoner and Cissy speak together on other nights, but nothing more—I have seen him speak to her several times; I hare seen them together on the doorstep of the hotel—Cissy was not quite sober on this night—when I went in I used to stay ten minutes
or a quarter of an hour, no longer—I did not bear of this matter till Saturday night—I saw a constable in Finsbury Square on the Wednesday night, I think; it was a day or two afterwards, and I told him something—on the Thursday I was taken to the dead-house at St. Luke's, and there saw the body of Cissy, with her head all beaten in.
Cross-examined. Q. You had no cause to complain of this man; he had always behaved very kindly to you? A. Yes, he always behaved a gentleman to me—Cissy had had a good deal to drink that night before I left her—the door of the hotel is in a street leading into Finsbury Square—I was on the opposite side with Cissy while she was waiting, for a quarter of an hour, just round the corner—she went across on the first occasion and spoke to the prisoner, and then came back to me—that was about ten minutes before she went in, as near as I could say.
COURT. Q. She came and spoke to you, and then went back to the door of the hotel? A. Yes, that was not a moment after scarcely.
MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH. Q. I understood you to say that after she had been to the door of the hotel, and the prisoner came to the door, she came across to where you were standing? A. Yes, she came back to me, and we stayed there about ten minutes before she went back to the door of the hotel, as near as I can say—I remained where I was, on the opposite side of the street—she came back to me and said she had got an appointment, and we waited; that was at first—then she left me and went back to the door of the hotel—she was not long at the door before she went in—I can't say how long—she came back to me and said she had got an appointment, and she went back directly after—she stayed talking to me for ten minutes, and then left me and went in—when she left me the second time she did not stay on the steps of the hotel, she came back to me—I mean that she came—the back to me a second time, and then she went directly from me and went in door of the hotel is not far from the corner of the street—the square is at the other side of the way—at the moment she went into the hotel I did not see anybody but Cissy—how she got the door open I could not distinctly tell.
COURT. Q. When you stayed for about twenty minutes, before you went home, were you in such a situation that you could see whether she came out or not? A. I did not see her come out—I was not looking for her—I waited that time, and then went home—I could not see the door so as to see whether she came out or not.
EDWARD JOHN HEARD (Policeman G 247). On Thursday, the 16th, I went to the dead-house, at St. Luke's, and saw the deceased—I knew her—I had taken her into custody on 6th January, at 1 o'clock in the morning, in Compton Street, Clerkenwell, for being drunk and incapable—I had never seen her before that night—I took her to the Old Street police-station—she there gave her name and address, as "Cecily Aldridge, 27, Acorn Street, Bishopagate Street"—I saw that written down on the charge sheet by Inspector McKewan, and I signed it.
CHARLES REDDING . I am the infirmary and reception warder at the Middlesex House of Detention—on Wednesday, 19th January, I saw the prisoner in his cell about 6.30—I was the officer on duty for the night, and I went into the cell and made an inspection—I asked the prisoner if he was all right—he rose up in bed, and said, "Will you give me something for my finger? it is very bad; the woman bit it"—I said, "All right," and left the cell—on 26th I saw him searched, after returning from the Police Court,
and he turned to me and said, "Mr. Doctor, will you give me some more ointment for my finger, it is very bad; the woman I killed bit it"—he spoke in English.
Cross-examined. Q. And he did not speak in a whisper? A. No—he made no mystery at all about it.
COURT to SARAH BUECKER. Q. You say the prisoner went away for some time, and returned again; was the time he was away the time he was in the hospital, or was he away besides that? A. He was away while he was in our service, I believe—I think while I was on the continent—he frequently suffered with his neck—he had his neck and head bandaged, so that he could not be seen in the business—he went away on that account, not on account of his mind.
GUILTY — DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. F. H. LEWIS and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WINGHAM . I am landlord of 89, Cheapside—on 4th May I let the back room second floor to the prisoner, Batchelor, by letter—I afterwards saw him there, and I have seen Roberts there—"Reed & Co." was the name up—they appeared to be doing business in glass, rugs, and various other things—the furniture of the office was a table and two chairs—they left on 4th October, without paying the rent—I saw them together on many occasions in the office.
Roberts. Q. Had I ever any communication with you while I was there? A. No—I saw you there about a month after the office was taken by Batchelor, about June, and between June and October I saw you there dozens of times—you never paid any rent.
Batchelor. Q. Were not these books in the office? A. I never saw any but the Directory—I saw no samples of linen or leather—I saw some glass and rugs come in—I have been in the office twice, but I saw no books.
ALICE ELIZABETH VALLES . I am Mr. Wingham's step-daughter—I know Batchelor as Mr. Reed—I have received rent from him—I saw him sign this agreement for the lease of the house—I did not see Roberts till afterwards; I then saw him frequently.
JOHN BAKER . I am housekeeper at 24, Coleman Street—I know Batchelor by the name of Robertson—he took an office there about 4th October, after which I frequently saw both the prisoners there—"Baker & Co." was the name painted on the door—the furniture was two chairs, a table, and some boxes, which I never saw open—they remained there from four to five weeks.
Roberts. Q. What did you know me as? A. I always took you to be clerk to Robertson—I did not see any books in the office.
Batchelor. Q. Did I ever say my name was Robertson? A. I called you Robertson, and you never said that it was wrong—I also know it from
the signature of the agent who let the office, and I know that it was let to you by the letter you sent to my wife.
WILLIAM SMITH . I live at Brixton Rise—I received a letter with a card in it, in November, in consequence of which I went to 24, Coleman Street asked for Mr. Baker, and saw Roberta—I told him I had a reference to him about an office, 33, Leadenhall Street, and showed him this card (produced)—I asked for the name of Fountain, in which the office was taken—he said that it was very satisfactory, and he would trust him 50l. or 60l.—after that I let the premises in the name of Fountain—I received the rent by letter, and never saw Fountain at all.
Roberts. Q. Did I mention to you that my name was Baker? A. Ton did—I did not say that there was no occasion for me to see Mr. Baker.
COURT. Q. When you asked for Mr. Baker did Roberta say anything? A. He said that he was Mr. Baker.
Batchelor. Q. Have you ever seen me before? A. Not till I saw you at Guildhall.
ELIZA THOMAS . I am housekeeper at 139, Leadenhall Street—in November last the back room second floor was opened as an office—I saw Batchelor there first; he gave the name of Fountain—about a fortnight after he came there some boxes were brought and placed round the room—there was nothing in them—Roberts came about a fortnight afterwards; I did not know his name—I have seen people waiting outside when there has been a paper on the door, "Gone to the Docks"—the office hat been closed since 22nd December.
Roberts. Q. Who did you know me as? A, You told me you were a servant, and that your governor had gone to the docks.
Batchelor. Q. Who gave me the receipt? A. I did; it was already written out—you produced a letter, and I referred you to Mr. Smith—you laid "That is quite right, my name is Fountain"—you did not My that you came from Mr. Fountain.
JAMES STOCKTON . I am foreman to Mr. Isenberg, a leather merchant, of Leadenhall Street—on 23rd December, Batchelor came to me and asked if we had any calf kids—he gave me a card, and I gave him this price list and showed him a sample—he said that most likely we should hear from him in the course of the afternoon—I said "Our terms are cash on delivery, less 2 1/2."
ANTONY WILSON MONGER (Detective Officer). I searched Batchelor; he did not tell me his address, but I found it out by seeing a piece of paper in his pocket-book, stating that a nurse girl was wanted, apply at 29, Arlington Street, New North Road—I went there and found Mr. Isenberg's card (The price lift given by Stockton to Batchelor)—I saw a woman there minding Batchelor's children, who said that Mrs. Batchelor had gone to the prison to see her husband—I afterwards saw Batchelor's wife there, and saw her marriage certificate, but I have not got it here—I asked Batchelor several times to give me his address, and he said he lived in Arlington Street, but he would not say which Arlington Street it was—I told him I had been to his address, 29, Arlington Street, he said "Well; you did not find much there"—I said "Not much, only papers"—I found this price list there, and these other two papers pinned together—"London, 23rd December, 69, Fountain & Co., 137, Leadenhall Street, to L. Isenberg. Sir,—Our clerk having inspected the calf kid that we require, we hand you on the other side the order, and shall be glad if you con send them up this
afternoon, Thursday, and we will pay account 21/2 for cash payment"—"23rd December, To Mr. L. Isenberg. Sir,—Soon after your man delivered the calf kid, we had them forwarded on to the packers, being pressed for time, and could not get back in time. Mr. Fountain will not return to-day, but we shall see him in the docks to-morrow. Yours truly, Fountain & Co."
JAMES STOCKTON (continued). On the receipt of the first of the above letters, I packed 22l. odd worth of goods, and instructed White, our porter, not to leave them without the money—I gave him the receipt, dated the 23rd, with a stamp on it—Fountain & Co. were strangers to me—White came back some few minutes after he had taken the goods, and I sent him back and told him to bring the money or the goods, but he did not bring either.
Robert. Q. Was the account receipted? A. No, but it had a stamp on.
Batchelor. Q. Did you say 21/2 cash on delivery? A. No—I did not mention the name of Mr. Pound—you gave me this card (produced)—in the leather trade "cash" does not mean in a month, but cash on delivery; and I told you so, as you wore a stranger.
MR. LEWIS. Q. And you did not apply for a reference on that account? A. No.
HENRY WHITE . I am porter to Mr. Isenberg—on 27th December I took these goods to Fountain & Co.'s—I saw Roberts, gave him this account, with a stamp on it, and told him I was to receive the money—he said that Mr. Fountain was not in, but he would be in in half-an-hour, and if I would leave the goods he would send the money—I said that my instructions were not to leave them—he said that it would be all right—I ran across to speak to the foreman, who told me not to leave them—I returned, and then the office door was closed, though I had only been absent two or three minutes—I remained there from 3 till 6 o'clock, but saw nothing of the prisoners; and the housekeeper then allowed me to go into the office, where then was a table and chair, a large number of boxes, and some papers—I did not find the goods or the prisoners—when I left the goods I said nothing about coming back, and he did not know but what I was going to be half-an-hour—I was dismissed by my employer after that, and then took to watching the place—I saw Roberts on the 31st, followed him into the office, and told him I had called for the cash for the goods I had left last week—he said, "It is all right; Mr. Fountain is not in, he will be in about 3 o'clock"—a young man who came to speak to him fetched a constable, and I gave Roberts in charge—I have since seen the goods at Mr. Attenborough's, and knew them by the private mark.
Roberts. Q. Did you throw the skins down on the floor? A. Certainly, and handed you the bill, and told you I was to receive the money—you said that Mr. Fountain would be in in half-an-hour, and if he was in before you would bring the money over.
EDWARD SANDERSON . I am in the service of Mr. Attenborough, of Greek Street—there are some calf kid skins there, which have been seen by White—they were pawned by the two prisoners, to the best of my belief, for 12l., on 24th December, in the name of Henry Baker & Co., 24, Coleman Street, City.
Roberts. Q. You did not take in the pledge? A. No, but I took the goods across the counter from you both, I believe—I cannot say who received the money; you signed the affidavit, I believe.
ANTONY WILSON MONGER (re-examined.) On 31st December Roberts was brought to Bishopsgate Station, in custody—I afterwards went with Welch to Deacon's Reading Rooms, and there saw Batchelor—I said, "Mr. Batchelor, I am a police-officer, there is a person named Roberts got in a little trouble; he is at Bishopsgate Station for obtaining some leather by fraud, and he says if you will come there you can clear him directly"—he went with me—I had not taken him in custody—he was shown some papers relating to Isenberg's transaction, and said that they were in Mr. Fountain's writing, and that he was only a servant, a clerk—I asked where we could see Mr. Fountain—he said that he was in Belgium, and that he was his managing man—he was then placed in the dock with Roberts—Roberts had told me previously that the papers were in Batchelor's writing, but they spoke together, and then said that they were Fountain's writing—Batchelor was asked his address—he said, "I live in Arlington Street"—he was asked which Arlington Street, and he would not tell—I went to 129, Arlington Street, and found the documents produced—I afterwards went to 139, Leadenhall Street, and found about thirteen dozen new paper boxes, all empty, placed round the room, also a little book, a stock-book, and a purchase-book (produced)—the stock-book gave no dates, but I believe the last entry is 13th January, 1865; the last entry in the purchase-book is in 1866, but there is no name or heading, and nothing showing whose books they are—the last entry in the letter-book is 24th October, 1865—the books were laid out on the table very nicely—I also found several invoices which tradesmen had sent in, and these two town Directories and two country Directories—at Batchelor's house I found a great many slips of paper, with merchants' names on them, ticked with little marks; also this paper, and a great many more, and a bundle of letters from different merchants.
Batchelor. Q. When I refused my address, did I state any reason? A. Yea, you told me your wife was just confined; these lists appear to be in the same writing as some of the letters, but I found some of your letters in different hands—I know your writing by seeing letters you have sent to people, who have had houses of you.
JOSEPH TICKELL . I am the officer of this Court—on the last day of the last Session I read to the prisoners the substance of the first count of an indictment for a conspiracy to defraud Mr. Isenberg and others—I had not taken their plea previously on that indictment. THE COURT considered that this evidence ought not to proceed further.
Roberts' Defence. All the transactions I had were on Batchelor's responsibility; I only acted as his servant. I gave Monger all the information I could.
Batchelor's Defence. I have no feeling towards Roberts; his name is Robertson; he is old enough to be my father, and I deny that he was acting under my advice.
Batchelor received a good character.
ROBERTS— GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
BATCHELOR— GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. COLLINS and
ST. AUBYN the Defence.
THOMAS NEWEY (Police Sergeant E 6). On Saturday afternoon, February 5, about 4.30, I was on duty in St. Martin's Lane, with Inspector Harnett, and saw the prisoner and two others standing outside a public-house at the corner of West Street—I have known Cook for two years—they went into the public-house, and I crossed the road and followed them in, leaving Harnett outside; he was in uniform—I found another police sergeant in the public-house, and saw Cook there—I went out again, and fetched Harnett in—Cook then came to the bar, and I pointed him out to Harnett, and mentioned his name—we went to the bar, and the prisoner said that his name was Cook—something was said which I did not hear, and we than left—Cook came out shortly afterwards, and I stopped him, and said "Cook, I believe you have something in your possession which you have no business to have"—he made no reply—I said "I shall see what you have about you," and in a small breast-pocket I found a gold watch in a leather case—I took it out very carefully, using no violence; it is just as it was—I said, "Inspector Harnett, take this gold watch; you see it has no bow on it"—Cook said, "No, you have broken it off," which I certainly had not done—I said "You will have to account for its possession"—he said, "I have purchased it this day at Debenham & Storr's, for which I can show a receipt"—he had a diamond ring on his finger, which I have here—I took him in custody to Bow Street station—on arriving there I missed the diamond ring from his finger—I searched him, and tried to find it, but could not asked him what he had done with it—I then heard a noise in his throat, and said, "You are endeavouring to swallow that ring," and took hold of him, took it from his mouth, and handed it to the inspector—he said that he had purhcased it at the same time as the watch, at Debenham's.
Cross-examined. Q. How far was he from you when you first saw him? A. About twenty paces; that was about two minutes' walk from Debenham & Storr's, and the public-house is close by—I had a glass of stout there—when I first went into the public-house Cook was in a little parlour—he could see me from there—I should say that he had been drinking—eight or nine persons were in the bar—I took him in West Street; he offered no resistance—he had a sealskin waistcoat on—I did not see that it was torn at any time—if there is any mistake in my deposition it is not my fault—I am certain I did not break off the bow of the watch—I looked for it, and so did others for several minutes, because the prisoner asked me to do so, although I was perfectly certain I had not broken it off—seven or eight people came round—he said, "I purchased the watch at Debenham & Storr's, to-day"—I do not know that their regular day for selling is Friday—I searched him at the station, and no one else.
THOMAS PETER HARNETT (Police Inspector). I was in uniform—I went into the public-house and heard the prisoner say "My name is Cook, and I should like to cook your b—y goose"—I left, and he came out soon afterwards—I was present when Newey took the watch out of his pocket; he put his hand in gently and took it out and put it into my hand, saying, "Mind, the bow is off"—the prisoner said "Then you must have broken it off"—we looked for it, and he looked also—he said that he bought the watch that day at Debenham and Storr's—I made enquiries to find an owner for it, and found Mr. Beaham—the prisoner wore a sealskin waistcoat; I did not observe that it was torn, but about 12 o'clock on the Monday following, he
pointed to a tear in it previous to his going before the Magistrate—I think I should have noticed it if it had been torn before.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you examined more than once at the Police-Court? A. I was present both times—I was not examined twice, only to corroborate the other witness—I said that I did not see the waistcoat torn till 12 o'clock on the day he went before the Magistrate.
JOHN BEAHAM . I am a clerk, and live at 58, High Holborn—on Sunday evening, 30th January, I went with a friend who was going to Ireland, to Euston Square, to his hotel, and on returning through Bedford Street about 11.30 I felt a blow on the back of my head, and another on my eye, at the same moment—I fell, and felt my watch being taken from me—I just vaguely remember catching hold of the long chain—when I got up I missed my watch and chain—I gave information at the station next morning, and a constable called on me and I gave him a description of the watch and two numbers on it—this is my watch, I have had it three or four years, the number on the outer case is 3530—it was given to me by Mr. Reynolds, the city marshal of Dublin—I have not the slightest doubt about it—it is made by Dobbin, of Dublin—the name on it now is James McCabe, Royal Exchange, London—I can see that it has been filed since I lost it—1976 was the number of the works, but the 7 has been turned into 9, and the 9 into 7—the number on the outer case remains the same.
Cross-examined. Q. Is it an old watch? A. Fifteen years at all events—I have not had it repaired for two years—I had been to church, and then walked with my friend to Clerkenwell Green, to see another friend—I was quite sober—I have said that I was not quite sober; I had had a little sherry, and was slightly heated—I was knocked senseless.
GEORGE BULLOCK . I am a watchmaker, of Dublin, under the name of Gaskin & Co.—I have one of my watch-books here, which is in my writing—I recognise this watch by reference to my book—on May 7th, 1861, Mr. Reynolds left it with me to be repaired—I have first entered his name, then the maker's name, Dobbin, and the number, 1976—that exactly tallies with this watch—I have also a private number or mark, and each watch that comes in is entered consecutively—the private mark in the watch is made by me and corresponds with the entry—this diamond ring is worth 6l. 10s., but I am not much in that line.
JOHN SAWYER . I am in the employ of Debenham & Storr, of Garrick Street, Covent Garden—I have the charge of their jewellery and watches—this (produced) is their sale book for the first, second, and third weeks in February—we had no sale on 4th or 5th February—we did not sell this gold watch that week—it has a false name in it; it is not one of Mr. Cole's watches.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you sell all sorts of jewellery? A. Yes; a large number of men assemble and buy things in these rooms—I never saw things re-sold in the rooms, but I have got my own business to attend to—a large number of Jews assemble there—the things are sold by auction only—if I saw things being sold in the rooms I should stop it.
Witness for the Defence.
EDWARD BENTLEY . I am a general dealer, of 39, Hewlett Road, North Bow—on 4th February, about 4.40, I was at Bassett's public-house, opposite Debenham & Storr's, with Mr. Kinzett, who wanted to buy a gold watch, and I took him there—I had been there before—watches are bought and sold there after they have been publicly Hold at Debenham & Storr's—
fifteen or sixteen people were there, and among them was the prisoner—I saw him buy a watch, which I had seen before he bought it—I had it in my hand to examine it for my friend—it wag a plain gold hunter—this (produced) is it, but it was not in this condition then; it had a bow and a glass—I saw the prisoner pay money for it, but how much I do not know.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know who the person was who sold it? A. No; I may have seen him before, but I did not recognise him—I have bought goods at Debenham & Store's, and received a ticket for them when I paid for them—it is called a clearing note—it gives the number of the lot that is sold and the price—every buyer has one, unless it is sold for ready money—I had not known the prisoner before—my friend wanted to buy the watch, but was too late, because the prisoner had bought it—I knew that it was Cook who had bought it, because Mr. Kinzett came to me last Thursday and asked me if I recollected being with him at Bassett's, on Friday, 4th February, and buying a watch—he is not a friend of Cook's—I did not go to Bow Street when the prisoner was first charged; I first knew of this last Thursday—no receipt or sale note was given with this watch when it was sold—I know it, because it had the name of McCabe on the back, and the dial was cracked—I handled it twice—I asked Cook for it out of curiosity—I do not know what he bought it for—I asked him whether he would sell it again, and offered 6l. 10s. for it, on behalf of my friend—I have been into the same public-house since, purchasing watches, and have bought one—I have not seen many watches since.
MR. ST. AUBYN. Q. Did you open the watch? A. Yes, and examined the different parts—I knew the prisoner by sight, but did not know his name—I had seen watches sold there before—I have seen the same people who frequent Debenham & Store's buying and selling watches at Bassett's—it is a regular thing.
COURT. Q. Your attention was first called to it last Thursday? A. Yes; I had not taken any note of the particulars of the watch or the number, but I recollect that it was McCabe's—when Kinzett came he said that enquiries had been made of him if he knew anything about it, as the party he Was in treaty with had been locked up—I said "Yes," because I went there for him, and was to have a commission out of it—he said was I willing to say what I knew about it, and I said "Yes."
JURY: Q. Was the watch sold in front of the bar, or in a private room—A. In front of the bar; it is a circular bar, and there are four compart-ment—this was in one of them—there were fifteen people in one compart-ment—at times there is a rush of people in—a miscellaneous lot of things were being sold there—three or four watches were sold while I was there.
HENRY KINZETT . I am a commercial traveller, of Hackney—I wanted a watch in February, and on 4th February I went with Mr. Bentley to Bassett's public-house, where I saw several watches—I did not know the prisoner till I saw him there—I looked at a watch, and took Mr. Bentley's advice upon it, as I took him there to buy for me—I saw him examine a plain hunting watch; this is the same, to the best of my belief—it has the same mark upon the face, a slight scratch across the name—it was then perfect—I saw the prisoner buy it, and saw money pass, but do not know what—this was done openly at the bar.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go to Mr. Bentley, and ask him if he remembered this transaction? A. Yes; because Mrs. Cook came to my house last Thursday, pulled out an envelope with my address on it, and
said, "Do you remember being at such a house on such a day?—I said "Yes," and that brought the thing to my memory—I had not heard of Cook I being taken up then—being a commercial man, it did not surprise me to see my name on the envelope in a stranger's hand—I did not ask her where the got it—as soon as I answered her, she said, "You remember buying a fitch," and I said, "Yes"—I had given the prisoner my address, because I had offered 6l. 10s. for the watch, and he would not take it.
EDWARD FOULKES . I live at 11, Edward Street, Caledonian Road—I am a draper's assistant—I have seen the prisoner at Debenham's—I do not know the last two witnesses—I was at Bassett's on the afternoon of 4th February, and saw the prisoner there—he bought a watch like this, but there was a bow on it, and it was scratched—this is it—he showed it to me, and said "Teddy, take this watch to Mr. Whitrod's and get a glass pat in;" and I did so, and gave it to Mr. Whitrod's son the same day about 5.30, and told him to put a glass in it, and that Mr. Cook would call rat day—this is the watch—I did not see him buy it.
Cross-examined. Q. You did not examine it particularly? A. No, Cook gate it to me in the bar of Bassett's public-house—a lot of gentlemen were present, dealers from Debenham's—Mr. Mitchell, a well known dealer, was there—he did not see Cook give me the watch, but he was there when I took it away—I do not think the landlord was there, but I think the land-lady was—I cannot tell who also was there, but they were dealers from Debenham's—it was in the case when it was handed to me; I looked at it before I took it out—I cannot recollect when I took it out of the case, but I did so to see what sort of a thing it was—I looked at it about 5.30 or nearly 6 o'clock at the Cranbourne public-house, at the corner of St. Martin's Lane, I got to the Scotch Stores about 6 o'clock—I do not know the prisoner at all.
Q. Will you swear you have not been his constant associate? A. I have seen him at Debenham's—I never had any conversation with him.
MR. COLLINS. I suppose you know a large number of men by sight at Debenham and Store's, but do not know their names? A. Yes, I know a gentleman behind you, but do not know his name.
COURT. Q. How came the prisoner to call you Teddy, if he did not know you? A. He knew I went by the name of Teddy.
BENJAMIN WHITROD . I am a jeweller and watch-maker, of 55, Berwick Street, one door from Oxford Street—this watch was brought in my absence, it had a bow on then—I put a glass in, and the prisoner called for it on Saturday afternoon, 5th February, between 3 and 4 o'clock—when I delivered it to him it had a bow on it.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you open it and look at it? A. Yes, I did not see that it had been filed, the outer edge often projects, the unskilfulness of the workman will do that—that did not strike me—the glasses of hunting watches are often broken on account of this opening at the rim—there was a little piece of dirt in it and it had had a Call—I have seen some of McCabe's watches—I have been in the trade thirty years—I cannot say that it is McCabe's make—I do not keep a book—I knew Cook before as a customer, to have a similar job done and perhaps half a dozen; brooches, pins, and watches.
GEORGE JOSEPHS . I live at 8, Wilderness Row, and am a gold ring maker—I sold the prisoner a similar gold ring to this, on 15th or 16th August last year, and will swear that this is my make—I make some thousands in a year.
Cross-examined. Q. You sold this on Saturday; how was that? A. I keep open on a Saturday.
COURT to EDWARD BENTLEY. Q. You say that you examined this care-fully? A. I did; I did not observe this filing, and I do not see it now—I am not experienced enough to say that it has been filed—I cannot discover it, or that anything has been done to it.
GUILTY **†on Second Count. He was further charged with having been before convicted at this Court, in July 1856.
WILLIAM BENTLKY . I produce a certificate—(Read: "Central Criminal Court, July 1856, William James Dowling convicted, on his own confession, of housebreaking and larceny, One Year's Imprisonment")—the prisoner is the person.
Cross-examined. Q. What were you at the time? A. A warder, the same as I am now; it is fourteen years ago—I had him under my charge, in the infirmary—I do not know what he was there for—he was discharged by a medical certificate.
Cross-examined. Q. What were you in 1856? A. Warder, to receive all prisoners who came in, and I received him into the prison in the name of Dowling—he was tried at this Court.
COURT. Q. How do you know that? A. 'Because I was here, and saw him tried—I am certain he was for trial at this Court, but am not certain I was in Court at the time he was tried—I am sure I had him, and I also had him previously to that.
NOT GUILTY of the previous conviction.
Ten Tears' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. LANGFORD the Defend.
ANN COOPER . I am the wife of John Cooper, and live at 6, Tavistock Street, Bedford Square—on 11th January last, about 1.30, I was walking in Endell Street, Long Acre—the prisoner came in front of me, and seized my gold chain—it was a very strong chain—I held on to him, and he dragged me into the middle of the road—I screamed out all the time, but no one came—he tugged on till my chain broke, and then he ran down Short's Gardens—I ran after him—I don't know whether he struck me or not, because I did not recover myself until I got to the police-station—I found my lips bleeding; my teeth had been struck into my lips, but I don't know whether that was done in the struggle, or whether he struck me—he dragged me about six or seven yards into the road—the chain did not break at first—I lost nine or ten inches of the chain—I have not seen that since—I also lost my gold eye-glass; and a bunch of charms was picked up in
the road after the robbery, and given back to me—I hate not the least doubt that the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you wear glasses? A. Yes, sometimes—I went to the police-station several days afterwards to identify the man; nearly a fortnight, I should think—the same day as the examination at Bow Street—I picked out the wrong man first, the constable told me to walk round and take another look—my sight is defective in one eye, and when I am excited it affects the noire—I went again and looked at the prisoner side-ways, and then I knew him—he was sideways to me when be robbed me—I did not use my spectacles when I picked him out—I said to the prisoner "I could have taken you myself, for you did not run very fast"—he said "No, my lady, I could not run very fast, for I had hurt my knee"—I did not use my glass when I picked him out, I did afterwards.
EDWIN HARBOUR . I live at' 43, Clifton Road—on 11th January, about 1.30, I was in Endell Street—I saw the prisoner go up to the lady and seize her chain—he pulled her into the road, broke it, and ran away—I am quite sure the prisoner is the man, he ran down Short's Gardens.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you next see him?—A. About three weeks after, at Bow Street—he was placed with some other men and I picked him out directly—a detective came for me and took me to the station—I gave information the day the robbery was committed, and they took my address.
PHILIP HINKS (Detective S.) On 11th January I received information, and on the 27th I went to King's Court after the prisoner—I found him in bed—before I told him the charge, he said "I suppose it is for that job in Endell Street"—I then told him I should take him into custody on suspicion for assaulting and robbing a lady of a gold eyeglass, 'a bunch of charms, and part of a chain—he dressed himself—on the way to the station he said "Give me a fair chance"—I said "What do you mean?"—he said "Well, let us have some one something like myself"—he was placed with ten others—I sent for Mrs. Cooper and she at first picked out the wrong man—she was a little excited at that time; I told her to collect herself and walk round again—she walked round to the back, and when she got to the prisoner she pointed him out—she then came round to the front, and said "Will you allow me to see him side face"—I told him to turn, and then she said she had no doubt at all—he said he was lame at the time.
Cross-examined. Q. Did she give you a description of the man who robbed her? A. Yes; she said be ran lame—the first one that Mrs. Cooper picked out was a man about the prisoner's height—I did not draw her attention to the man when I told her to look round again—the prisoner is not lame, he was suffering from a sore on his knee—about two days after he came out of prison he fell down and out his knee on the kerb—when the lady said the man limped a little, I went and looked after the prisoner—I did not see Mrs. Cooper till the day I apprehended the prisoner—I received my information from the description at the station—the description was "A young man about 22, dark brown hair, rather full in the face, shabbily dressed, about 5ft. 2 in."—there was nothing in our information about his running lame at all—when I saw Mrs. Cooper she told me he did not run very fast, that was not taken down at the station in our information.
GUILTY .—He further PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in December, 1867.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude and Twenty-five Lathes with the Cat.
283. WILLIAM TURPIN (18), PATRICK DOOLING (19), and FRANCIS DALEY (17) , Robbery, with violence, on John Hill Marston, and stealing a watch and chain, a bunch of keys, and a handkerchief, his property.
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN HILL MARSTON . I live at 6, Southampton Street, Pentonville—on 25th January, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the morning, I was in Chapel Street with Mr. Jennings—who went into a urinal, and as we left I was set on by throe men—one seized me by the arms and held them to my sides, and the others rifled my pockets—I lost a gold watch and chain, a pocket handkerchief, and a bunch of keys—my watch and chain were worth about 19l.—they ran away and I followed them—I ran after Turpin and kept him in sight till he was stopped by the police—the other two went in a different direction—this pocket handkerchief is mine, and the one I lost that night.
Dooling. I was not there at the time.
GEORGE JENNINGS . I live at 45, James Street, Oxford Street—on 25th January, between 1 and 2 o'clock, I was with the last witness—I met him in a public-house in Oxford Street—the three prisoners were also there—we went to a urinal—as soon as we turned in the three prisoners came in and stood behind us—when we left they followed—Turpin caught hold of Man ton from behind, and pinned him—the other two set on with him, and hustled him up in a corner, and rifled his pockets and ran away—we chased Turpin into Oxford Street, calling "Police!" and "Stop thief?"—I did not lose sight of him till he was taken by the police—after he was in custody the other two came running up, and attempted to rescue him—one caught hold of Turpin, and the other got on the policeman's back—I did not hear them say anything—I called "Police!" and five or six policemen came up, and they were all three taken into custody—they had followed in all up Oxford Street, from the Victory, before the robbery.
JURY. Q. Did you help the prosecutor at the time he was attacked? No, because I was afraid I should be knocked about, and it was done so suddenly—we were perfectly sober.
WILLIAM NICHOLLS (Policeman E 184). I was on duty on the morning of 25th January, in Oxford Street—I saw Turpin running, pursued by the last witness and the prosecutor—I followed him, and captured him in Charles Street, Soho—coming along Oxford Street I saw the other two prisoners—one said, "Here, Charley, I have got your hat"—I allowed then to go about twenty yards when I threw my arm round Dooling, and knocked him down—he then tried to get on my back, and Daley did get on ray back—I called for assistance, and they were taken to the station—I found this handkerchief on Daley—the bunch of keys were afterwards found in the street—it wan about fifteen minutes from the time I captured Turpin till Daley was captured.
THOMAS BOYCE (Policeman E 55). I was on duty on 25th January, in Oxford Street—I saw the last witness bringing Turpin along in custody—I was some little distance from him—he called out my name, and the name of another constable who was with me, and Jennings called out, "Police! police!"—we rail up, and I saw Daley on the policeman's back—I got him off, and took Dooling into custody, and took him to the station; the other constable took Daley—I afterwards went back to the place and found this bunch of keys—I took this handkerchief from Daley's pocket—he said it was given to him by it friend six years ago—at the Police Court he said his father.
Turpin's Defence. We were together in Charles Street, and beard the cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw the witness and three other men running—I followed one of the men towards Soho Square—I lost sight of him, and I stopped, and the constable came up and took me.
Dooling's Defence. What he says is right.
Daley's Defence. What he says is right. That handkerchief was given to me some years ago by my father, on his dying bed.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment each.
284. SARAH CHADD (36) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of George Cook, with intent to injure. Second Count—Setting fire to a window curtain and curtain rags in the said dwelling-house.
MR. LEIGH conducted the Protection, and MR. LANGFORD the Defence.
ELIZA BURTON . I am the wife of Samuel Burton, and live at 2, Coronation Place, Brewhouse Lane, Hamptead—my husband is a labourer—on Friday, 28th January, I was going home about 7.30 in the evening—I met the prisoner coming down stairs—she was the worse for drink—I stood about twenty minutes or half an hour in conversation with her, and then I went up stairs—I lodged in the room opposite the prisoner, on the same floor—my mother, Mrs. Powell, lodges with me—the prisoner came up almost directly after me—I smelt burning after I got up stairs—the prisoner came to my mother's door and asked for a candle—my mother gave her one and she went to her own room—mother afterwards called me and I went into the prisoner's room—the room was full of smoke, and I saw a bundle burning on the floor—the prisoner looked at the fire place, there was no fire there, she turned her back round—I picked up the bundle from the floor, she took it out of my hand and chucked it out of the window—she did Dot say anything—the curtain was not set fire to when she threw the bundle out of window—I am quite certain it was not—it was put clean out of the window, without having time to catch the curtain—I went away down stairs to her mother—the bundle was not flaming, it was embering away—I told her mother, Mrs. Day, what had taken place—I saw the bundle flaring on the tiles and I got out of the window and got the bundle off the tiles—they were smouldering—I put it in the sink and threw some water over it—it was a very small bundle—about the size of a hat—it looked like small pieces of lining—I went up stairs again, after I had put the bundle out—when I went up the prisoner went down, and when I looked out of my window she was breaking her mother's windows—she put her fist through them—she broke three or four panes—she came up stain again and asked my mother for some lucifers—my mother gave her some and she went into her own room with them—she left her room after, and I smelt fire again—I looked out of my window and I saw some flare coming out of the window of the prisoner's room—she asked the man in the yard for some lucifers after my mother had given her some—when I saw the flames coming out of the window she wad down in the yard—she looked towards the window as if she was surprised when she saw it—my mother then went into the prisoner's room and I went in after her—the muslin curtain was in flumes, my mother pulled it down with her hand, and put it out—that was about half an hour after the bundle was on fire on the floor—the prisoner came up stain again after the fire was put out—she was very drunk and seemed greatly excited—she used very bad language—the paint of the window sash was just scorched.
Cross-examined. Q. You talked to her for twenty minutes; did not you
notice anything strange? A. Yes, she was very drunk and very strange—she used very indecent language—she did not say anything when she took the bundle out of my hand and flung it out of the window.
CHARLOTTE POWELL . I am a widow, and lodge at 2, Coronation Place, Brewhouse Lane, Hampstead—the prisoner lodged in the same house, and the last witness lodged with her mother, on the same floor, opposite the prisoner's room—on Friday, 28th January, between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening, the prisoner came to my room, and asked for a candle, and I gave her one—the prisoner is usually a quiet, well-conducted person, when she is sober—she often gets drunk—she was very drunk on this night—I never saw her so drunk—her mother was not in the prisoner's room at all—the curtain did not catch fire from the bundle that was pitched out of the window—there was about half-an-hour between the two fires.
Cross-examined. Q. She was a very quiet woman, was she not? A. Yes.
CHARLES FLETCHER Q. I live at 1, Coronation Place—on the night this occurred the prisoner came and asked me for some lucifers, and I gave them to her—I saw the flames, and took a part in extinguishing them—I went for the firemen—the fire came from the window of the prisoner's room—I could not see what it was that was burning—I went up afterwards with the fireman, and found the window-curtain burnt, and the window-sill scorched—the paint was affected with the heat.
Cross-examined. Q. Was not the candlestick in such a position that the heat might come from that? A. Yes, the candle was burnt down in the socket—it was standing on a table, at the side of the window—I did not notice any curtain at the time—I don't know how far it was from the curtain.
CHARLOTTE POWELL (re-examined). I put out the muslin curtain that was burning—I pulled it down and put it out with my feet—I did not notice any candlestick near—there was no candle burning when I went into the room—the fireman and Fletcher came up about an hour after the curtain was put out—when I put the fire out we were in the dark—there was no candle burning then—the window was open a little way—I was very frightened—I hardly knew what I was about.
MARY DAY . I am a widow, lodging at this house—the prisoner is my illegitimate daughter—she is about thirty-six yean of age—she has been out of her mind, and has been in the insane ward of St. Pancras Work-house—at this time, and for some time past, I have considered her sane—I was on friendly terms with her on 28th January last, and had been for some time—she is a quiet, well-conducted woman, but when she gets drunk she is very violent—I was afraid of her violence, and I locked myself in my room on this night—I never knew her to do anything of this kind before——she suffers a great deal with her head at times—she broke three or four panes of glass with her fist on this night—she did not say anything, only she mewed like a cat.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you known her since she came out of St. Pancras? A. Yes—she lives on a small income.
GEORGE COOK . These houses belong to me—I am a builder—on Friday, 28th January, I was fetched to the place of the fire—the prisoner rents one of the rooms of me—I was taken there by the prisoner's mother—there are four lodgers in the house—I went into the prisoner's room—the floor was a little charred by the side of the bed, a little black; there was not 18d., worth of damage done to the whole place.
JAMES WOODLAND (Police Inspector S). I went to the house, and saw the state of the room where the fire had been—prisoner, had been given into custody as drunk and disorderly at the station, and this charge was preferred against her afterwards, when I was told about the fire—I charged her on the following morning—she was then sober—she first commenced to make an apology for the language she had used over night—I said, "What about the fire?"—she said, "I know nothing about that"—I had not said anything to her about the language she had used before she apologised; no one suggested it to her.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see her hands were bleeding? A. There was blood on her hands—there was nothing in her conduct the next morning to lead me to suppose she was not in her right mind.
JAMES GRIMWOOD (Police Sergeant S 17). On Friday, the 28th, the prisoner came to the station—she was very drunk—her hands were covered with blood—she came into the inspector's room and said, "Look at my bloody hands, I want a doctor to dress them"—I said, "Who are you; what is your name?**—she said it did not matter to me what her name was; she wanted her hands dressed—she commenced dancing and holding up her clothes—I saw her next morning, when she was sober—she then said she was very sorry for what she had done over night.
Cross-examined. Q. Were not her hands cut? A. Yes; nobody dressed them; they were not cut sufficiently.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"All I have to say is, I went down, and when I returned our door was wide open, and the first thing that struck me was, that the room was full of smoke, and whether I asked for the lucifers or not I don't know. I went and saw something burning before the fire place. I took it up and threw it out of the window—I have some recollection about the curtain being on fire. I went oat, and went to the police-station.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT. Thursday, March 3rd, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
JULIA HELEN HUGHES . On 10th January I lived at 13, Upper Avenue Road, as servant—I have been acquainted with the prisoner since June, he has been courting me—about 7.45 that evening I was in the kitchen—there was a ring at the bell and I went to the kitchen door and saw the prisoner—he said "Let me come in"—I said "No"—he said "I want to come in, only for a minute or two"—he said "Have you written to met?"—I said "No"—he asked me if I would go to the theatre with him the next evening, I said "No"—he asked me why—I said "Because I have written and liked my aunt to come over"—he said "Then you meant to have deceived me again by not coming"—I said "Yes, if you had been silly enough to come"(something had been said on Saturday the 8th about going to the theatre)—I was in his company on the Saturday, and there was a quarrel Between us about a letter I had received the night before and which I showed him, and we did not part friends—I was not going to marry him—I was engaged to him at one time, and had broken it off in November; but he continued paying attentions to me, still pressing mo to renew the
engagement—I had not been to the theatre with him—I think something was said on the Saturday about him coming to see me on the Monday—I had not deceived him before about going to the theatre, but I had often deceived him—I mean that I sometimes said I was going somewhere with him and I did not go—he asked me to let him in again, I still said "No!" and tried to push him out of the gate—he was trying to push his way in—I said "I shall not stand here any longer, for I am cold," and turned round and went towards the kitchen door—he was after me and caught hold of my throat—I pinched his arm and told him to let go, but he did not—I then slipped down and screamed, and he let go of my throat and caught me by my hair and dragged me to the back-door (there is a little garden in front)—I screamed, and Mr. Clarke came out of the kitchen and said "What are you doing?"—I then felt something across my throat, which I thought was a knife; I put up my hand and caught hold of something which cut my fingers—Mr. Clarke knocked whatever it was out of his hand, and he then let go of me and ran up the steps into the road, and I saw no more of him—I did not faint, I ran into the road and stayed there till a policeman came.
Prisoner. Q. In the letter you received on Friday evening, did not Mr. Clarke ask you to accompany him to the theatre? A. Yes; you did not say "If you do you will see no more of me;" you said, "If you do it will be the worse for him," and that you would write and ask him what he meant; I said "Don't do that, Ted.; if you don't write to him I won't go; Mr. Clarke is nothing to me"—I did not renew our engagement on the same terms—I have not, since breaking it off, written and signed myself "Your affectionate wife, Julie"—I have called you a coward—I daresay I excited you by my words to make you catch hold of me—I did not hear you beg my pardon—I do not remember you speaking to me after you took hold of my throat—I sent you my carte de visite the day before Christmas.
THOMAS STRUTHERN CLARKE . I am a clerk, and live at 51, Culvert Road, De Beauvoir Town—on the evening of 10th January I was at 13, Upper Avenue Road, St. John's Wood, in the kitchen—I remember the last witness going to answer the door—about five minutes elapsed, and then I heard a slight scream and a scuffle—I went to the door, and saw the prisoner dragging Julia Hughes along, but I could not see her plainly, because her back was to me—half of her body was on the ground—I said, "Cox, what are you doing?"—he then pushed her up in a corner, put his hand in his pocket, and I saw something glistening go to her throat—I caught hold of his wrist, and a razor fell out of his hand, open—I closed with him, and we struggled—he caught me round the shoulders; I gave him a push, and he went against the door, and he put his leg against me, threw me, jumped on me, knelt on my chest, banged my head on the stones, reached the razor from where it was lying a few inches off, and made a cut at my throat—he spoke two or three times, but I could not hear what he said—I got hold of the razor with my glove, and managed to wrest it from him, and put it in my pocket—my glove was cut, and it took the skin off my little finger—I ran to the door to try to get out, but could not, as I did not know how it opened—the prisoner ran into the kitchen, and I heard a rattling, as if he had got to the knife drawer—I ran up the stairs of the house, opened the back window, and called out, but no one answered—I opened one of the doors up stairs, and thon came down stairs again, found a policeman there, and gave the razor to him—the prisoner had then gone—I
cannot say whether he was sober; he seemed in a great state of excitement.
Prisoner. Q. When I called on you, on Saturday morning, what did I say? A. You said, "I have talked about this letter you have written to Miss Hughes. I consider it a great piece of impertinence. Don't you know I have been engaged to her six months?"—you also said, "I spoke to her brother, and he did not know it"—I said, "You might as well have waited for the train the other night," and we shook hands, and parted.
LEWIS HITCHER ARCHER . I am a surgeon, of Avenue Road—on 10th January I was called to the prosecutrix—she had an incised wound on her throat, more than three inches long, and widely gaping, as if the instrument had been turned round, so that it did not go very deep—she lost a good deal of blood, and was very faint—one wound was just under the jaw, and another near the clavicle—the upper wound just missed the jugular vein—neither wound was dangerous, but the lower one has not healed yet—this razor would inflict them.
JAMES TAYLOR (Police Inspector S). On the evening of 10th January, about 8.30, I received information, and waited in Manning Street, Bermondsey, till a little after 12 o'clock, when I saw the prisoner and another person come into Manning Street—I stopped him as he was about to enter the house, and said, "Cox, I want you"—he became very violent, called for his father, and said, "I know you; I know what you want me for"—I was not able to take him, and got the assistance of two constables—I searched him, and found a bottle of laudanum—I said, "Here is a bottle here"—he said, "Yes, it is poison"—I also found a carte de visite, under which was written "Yours affectionately, Julia," also a lock of her hair—I told him I was an inspector of police, and took him in custody for cutting and wounding Julia Hughes, with intent to murder her—he said, "I did it, and I hope she is dead. Do not hurt me, and I will go quietly with you to St. John's Wood"—I put him in a cab, and cautioned him—he said, "I wont no cautioning; I did it, and I hope she is dead. If vou had not had me to-night it would have been too late in the morning; if you will allow me to leave the cab I will not be long two inches above water"—he then asked mo how Julia was—I said I could not tell him, for I had not seen her, but I believed she was very bad—he placed his hand to his throat, and said, "I would rather be scragged for her to-morrow than see her belong to another"—he was taken to the station and there charged.
The prisoner handed in a written defence, stating that Clarke had been passed of as the prosecutrix's brother; that he afterwards called on Clarke, and complained to him of his writing the letter which the prosecutrix had shown him; that he afterwards quarrelled with the prosecutrix, but made it up again, and determined to destroy his own life if she deceived him again, for which purpose lie carried the razor, and on the evening in question his suspicions were excited by her not admitting him, and confirmed by the appearance of Clarke, upon which he drew the razor across the girl's throat, but denied using it upon Clarke.
The prisoner called
ELIZA CROSS . The prisoner is my stepson—he and the prosecutrix are cousins by marriage—she is my niece—the last letter she wrote him was on 8th January—I did not see a letter in which she signed herself "Your affectionate wife, Julie," but I saw several others.
GUILTY — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
286. TIMOTHY HAMILTON (34) , PLEADED GUILTY , to unlawfully obtaining by means of false pretences, various sums of money from John Stanmore Stevens and others, with intent to defraud— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS WILLIAM ASHTON . I keep the Rose and Crown beer-house, at Woolwich—on 27th December, about 8.30, the prisoner came to my house—I heard him ask for the Mississippi room, that is a room up stairs where the billiard table is kept—the potman took him up stairs—about three minutes after wards, from information, the potman went up and came down directly and told me something, and the billiard balls were gone, they were worth about 4s. or 4s. 6d. each—I knew the prisoner by sight.
GEORGE PERKINS . I am potman at the Rose and Crown—on 27th December, about 8.30, the prisoner came in, and asked for the Mississippi room—I took him up stairs, he asked for the balls, I showed him where they were—they were all right at that time, I counted them—he began to play with them—I asked him who was going to play with him—he said he expected his mate here in a minute or two—about a minute afterwards be went to look for his mate and came up with another man—I then saw that the balls were safe—I remained in the room about three minutes, and was then required down stairs; I left them playing—in about two minutes afterwards they came down with their hands in their pockets—I went up directly, and the balls were gone—I then went to look for the prisoner and his mate, but they were nowhere to be seen—I gave information to the police—these (produced) are the balls, they were produced by a pawnbroker at the Woolwich Police Court—I knew the prisoner by sight.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I come down a few minutes before my mate? A. No, you came down pretty well together.
JAMES MAROETSON (Policeman R 122). I got these eight billiard balls from Mr. Phillips, pawnbroker, of Blackheath Hill, on or about 22nd January—the person who received them in pawn had left his employment.
Prisoner's Defence. I went there with a young man, to play; I know nothing about his stealing the balls; I did not steal them myself.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES ELLIS . I am assistant to my father, who keeps the Queen Victoria tavern, Woolwich—this (produced) is my coat—I saw it safe in the house on 11th January, and missed it on the 12th—the prisoner came in
on the evening of the 11th for some drink—I saw the cost again a week or ten days afterwards, in the hands of the constable—an umbrella was missed it the same time; they were hanging in an out-house, about twenty yards from where the prisoner was standing.
JAMES MARGETSON (Policeman R 122). I took the prisoner into custody on Tuesday, 17th January—he was remanded till Friday, and then admitted to bail, with a promise that he would give every assistance to recover the coat and umbrella—on the Saturday night I was in High Street, Woolwich, and saw the prisoner coming along with this coat under his arm—I stopped him, and said, "Halloa, George! what have you got there?"—he said, "I have got the coat; I was going to bring it to you"—I said, "It is a curious way to bring it to me"—he was going in his direction home—I said, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "It was pal of that other fellow, Roberts, that gave it to me"—I did not know Roberts—I asked him to show me where the pal lived—he took me down to Rope Yard rails, to a low lodging-house, and said he thought he went into that house—I went in with him and searched for the man, but could not find him; the prisoner made inquiries about the man, but I did not hear the answers he received—I told him to keep himself quiet, and went away—on the Monday, in consequence of information, I went to the Union beer-shop, in Union Street, Woolwich, and saw the landlord, who made a statement tome, and on the following Friday I took the prisoner into custody on the other charge, together with a number of other charges.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I always meet you of a night? A. Yes; not in the place where I saw you with the coat, nor coming towards the police-station or my house.
JOHN REED . I keep the Union Arms beer-shop—the prisoner used my house at the time I was manager of it—I let him have beer to the amount of 3s. 8d.—he never came nigh the house for three months afterwards—about 12th or 13th January he came in with a coat, and asked me if I would trust him with a pot of beer—I said, "No, you owe me 3s. 8d., and I want it"—he said, "Oh, for the sake of the 3s. 8d., mind this coat till Saturday, and I will pay you"—I took the coat, and he said, "Now, will you let me have a pot of beer"—I said, "No"—he then said, "Here is an umbrella, I have just given 1s. for it, will you let me have it now?"—I said, "I will not"—he then threw down three half-pence, and I gave him close upon a pint of beer for it—he did not leave the umbrella with me; he said he would come for the coat on the Saturday; he did not—he came on the Saturday after and said, "There has been a deuce of a row about that coat; it don't belong to me, it belongs to my mate"—I said, "I thought you told me it was your coat, and you gave half-a-guinea for it"—he had told me so—he said, "It belongs to my mate"—I gave him the coat, and saw no more of him till at the police-station.
Prisoner. Q. Was not another man with me when I came into your house? A. Yes—he did not tell me the coat was his, you said it was yours, and you had given half-a-guinea for it—you did not ask me to buy the coat for your mate, as he wanted to go to Liverpool.
MICHAEL LARKIN . I keep a beer-house, at 28, Beresford Street—on 11th January, about 10 in the evening, the prisoner was at my house, and offered me a coat for sale, similar to this—he put it on, but I did not handle it—he was in the bar a long time, wanting me to buy it for a crown—I said I
would have nothing to do with it—he went into the tap room, and wanted some of the people there to buy it, and an umbrella as well.
Prisoner. Q. Was there not another man with me? A. Yes, but he had nothing to do with selling the coat—you can walk from the prosecutor's house to mine in 10 minutes.
Prisoner's Defence. My brother gave me the coat to sell; I did not know it was stolen; it is not likely if I did I should take it where I was well known. I have lived twelve years about there, and worked five years in Woolwich, and have a wife and two children.
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Imprisonment.
Before Baron Channell.
291. In the case of JOHN HARRIS (24) , indicted for feloniously wounding Henry Jones, with intent to murder, upon the evidence of Mr. John Rowland Gibson, surgeon of Newgate, the Jury found the prisoner of unsound mind, and unfit to plead— Ordered to be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. M. J. O'CONNELL and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
CHARLES KINO . My brother keeps the Brown Bear public-house, South-wark Bridge Road—I assist him—on 21st February, about 10.10 in the morning, the prisoner came and asked for three halfpennyworth of hot gin and water, and dropped a sixpence out of his right hand on the counter, to pay for it—I tried it, bent it, and found it bad, and said so—he took it up in his left hand and dropped another out of his right—I told him that was bad also, and I should give him in charge—I sent for a constable, who searched him in the bar—I thought I saw something in his mouth, and suggested we should go into the room to search him—the constable searched him in my presence, but found nothing—I gave the second sixpence to the constable—the prisoner said he had doubts about the sixpence, he was a poor man, and he wanted to get rid of it.
Prisoner. I had but one sixpence, you said it was bad, and I was going to pay you with a sixpence. Witness. I am quite sure the second sixpence he gave me was not the one I returned to him; I bent it.
DKNNIS KELLY (Policeman M 133). The prisoner was given into my charge by Mr. King for passing two bad sixpences—Mr. King handed me one bad sixpence, which I produce—he told me he had bent the other sixpence that he first gave him, and the prisoner took it up—the prisoner
denied that, and said he had not any other sixpence—I asked if he had any more money about him, and he pulled out a good shilling and 5 1/2 d. in coppers—I fancied I heard something knock against his teeth, and we took him into a back room and searched his mouth, but found nothing in it—the prisoner asked me if tha sixpence was bad—I said it was—he said, "I had my doubts about it"—at the station he said, "I knew it was a bad sixpence; I am a poor man, and I wanted to get rid of it, as someone else put it on me.
Prisoner's Defence. I never had but the one sixpence, and could not have thrown down two.
GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. M. J. O'CONNELL and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY HOBBS . I am manager to my father, who keeps the Feathers public-house, Commercial Road, Lambeth—Henry Russell was our barman—on 13th January, between 8 and 9 o'clock that night, I saw him serve the prisoner with a pint of half-and-half; he paid with a shilling, which Russell immediately handed to me, and said, "Here is another bad one, Mr. Henry"—I tried it and bent it, and it was bad—I sent for a constable and gave him into custody.
WILLIAM SCRASE (Policeman L R 37). The prisoner was given into my custody with the shilling—I found on him a sixpence and 7 1/2 d. in bronze—he said he did not know the shilling was bad—he was taken to the Police Court, remanded to the 19th, and then discharged.
MARTHA LEE . I live with my father, who keeps the old farm beer-house, Hooper Street, Westminster Bridge Road—on 9th February, the prisoner came there and had some beer, which came to 3d., and paid with a 2s. piece—I gave him his change and he went out—as soon as he had left I examined the 2s. piece and found it bad—I gave it to my father.
THOMAS LEE . My daughter gave me this coin, I put it in my mouth and found it was bad—in consequence of what she said I went out and found the prisoner at the top of the stairs where he lodged—I called to him, he came down and I said "The 2s. piece you gave my daughter is bad"—I shewed it to him—he said, "I never had a 2s. piece"—he then said, "Wait a minute till I go up stairs"—he went up stairs and shut the door—I then fetched a policeman and gave him in charge—he said, "I dare say we can settle it without going to a station-house"—I gave the 2s. piece to the constable.
EDMUND DASH (Policeman L 151). I took the prisoner into custody, and received the florin from Mr. Lee—the prisoner said he did not know it was bad, and asked Mr. Lee to settle it—I found on him a half-crown, three sixpences, and 3d. in bronze, all good.
The prisoner handed in a written defence, stating that he had received two half-crowns that day for work done at a carpenter, and changed one to an omnibus conductor, but had no idea any of the money was bad.
GUILTY .— Nine Months Imprisonment.
MESSRS. M. J. O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution
ELIZABETH CHESHIRE . I am the wife of Thomas Henry Cheshire, a butcher, of Rodney Road, Woolwich—I first saw the prisoner about a fortnight after Christmas—when she was served with a piece of heart, which came to 3d.—she gave me a shilling, which I perceived was bad after she left—I placed it in a milk jug by itself that night, and then in a drawer—on Tuesday night, 15th February, my husband called me into the shop, and I there saw the prisoner—he said, "Is this the woman that you took the shilling of?"—I said, "Yes"—I knew her again directly—she said nothing—my husband told me to go for a constable—she directly rushed out—I ran after her and fetched her back, and she was given in custody—I told my husband to go to the drawer and fetch the shilling; he did so, and it was given to the constable.
THOMAS HENRY CHESHIRE . On 15th February the prisoner came in for 1/2lb. of cheek, which came to 2 1/2 d. and gave me a shilling—I said, "This is bad"—she did not say anything—I had seen her a month or five weeks before, and after she left on that occasion my wife had shewn me a had shilling—I sent for a constable, and gave her into custody with the shillings.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
ARTHUR SARD . I am a carpenter, at 3, Garden Row, London Road—about 10 o'clock at night, on 3rd February, I was passing St. George's Church, coming from my work—I felt a hand in my coat pocket, where I had a handkerchief and rule—I put my hand in, seized the hand, and held it—it was the prisoner's hand—he had the rule in his hand—the handkerchief dropped on the pavement—he struck me in the eye to release himself, and I gave him into the custody of a constable, who came up immediately—I was not the worse for drink—I had had two glasses of whiskey and water at Hackney, but nothing since.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you just come from Hackney? A. Yes—that was all I had had all day, and that I had about 8 o'clock—I did not speak to the prisoner at all—I did not say I was a fenian—I did not jostle against him or touch him, till I found his hand in my pocket.
ROBERT CRANSTON (Policeman M 77). I was on duty on this night in question, near St. George's Church—I heard cries of "Police!" went up and saw the prisoner and the prosecutor struggling—I seized hold of the prisoner—he had the rule in his right hand—I saw a pocket handkerchief on the ground—the prosecutor gave him in charge—he did not say at that time that he was not guilty; he did afterwards at the station.
Cross-examined. Q. Had the prosecutor been drinking? A. He had had a drop to drink, but nothing to put him out—the street was tolerably full of people at the time.
He further PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in February, 1868.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM BURNON (Policeman M 205). On Saturday morning, 5th February, I was on duty at Station Road, Bermondsey, when the prisoner gave Mary Ann Aplin in custody, and charged her with stealing his watch—she said, "Oh you wicked man, God will punish you for this; you know your watch is in pawn at Mr. Gill's, in the Grange Road; it is only spite because I gave you in charge three months ago for stealing my brooch"—he told the inspector at the station that he bought the watch of a hump-backed man, in Suffolk Street, Borough—the woman was taken before Mr. Benson, at the Southwark Police Court, the same day, and I saw the prisoner sworn and heard the oath, and saw him kiss the book—he then stated that she had robbed him of his watch, in the Station Road; that she took it from his waistcoat pocket, tearing his button-hole; that he took the watch out from Mr. Sprunt, in Blue Anchor Road, about four months ago, where it had been five years, and that he had paid 4s. a year for it and that the maker's name was Veni Nicola—he took out this bill of a watch, at the tune time, which has the maker's name on it, and said he bought it of Mr. Belsey—I found the watch at Mr. Gill's, in Grange Road—this is it (produced,) and this is the pawn ticket.
Prisoner. Q. Was I in company with anyone on this night? A. No—I you were not speaking to a constable—you said the person had been up the I Station Road, and I went there with you—I did not order two men and two I females away from you by the railway station—I took hold of your button-hole, and it was perfectly sound—I said at the station, "Your button-hole was not torn when I took you"—you said nothing—it was torn while you were before the Magistrate—you went with me to Mr. Sprunt's, and a person Marched a book—I do not recollect that he said, "Here is the name," there or four times, or that when he came to examine the two there was a little deficient.
WILLIAM GOOD . I am manager to James Sprunt, of Blue Anchor Terrace, Bermondsey—he has no other establishment—I have charge of the books—when I take a watch in pawn I put the maker's name on the ticket—no watch has been pawned by the prisoner with the maker's name, Nicolas Taunton, No. 1296—I do not know him; he has not paid me interest, and I was not present when he came to the shop with a constable, or when he talked of redeeming any watch.
Prisoner. Q. Were there not three or four names of Nicola in your book? A. Nicholson—it is Nicola on this pawn ticket—we sometimes write the tickets ourselves, and sometimes the lad does it from dictation, and the name would be spelled to him.
COURT. Q. Has the prisoner taken out any pledges from you? A. No—I have searched the file.
MARY ANN APLIN . I am an unfortunate girl, and lire at 37, Rodney Road, Walworth—I lived with the prisoner at one time, and left him about eighteen months ago, since when we have not been on very friendly terms—he stole a brooch, and I gave him in charge, about three months before—the case was called on, and dismissed because I could not get in, and nothing was done to him—I did not see him again till the night of 6th February, when I saw him talking to a policeman, and he gave me in charge—while we were living together he had a small watch, which he pawned at Gill's—he bought it when he lived with me—I was with him when he
pawned it—I think it was on Whit-Tuesday—I did not see another watch belonging to him.
Prisoner. Q. Do you say that you never saw me that night till you saw me speaking to a policeman? A. I did not; a policeman came and fetched me—you turned me out, with my children, at 8 o'clock, and I had to take them next door, in a blanket—J gave my evidence about the brooch, and the Magistrate discharged you.
Prisoners Defence. This is a different watch altogether. I bought this for 17s. at Mr. Gill's; the one I have lost was a good watch, which coat me 2l. 10s. I am a pipe maker; this female accosted me, and I pushed her away; she took my watch; three females prevented my going on, and I lost sight of her. I described her to a policeman. Two persons called her by some such name, and said they were looking after her, and in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour he brought her back. The name is very curious, it only wants an "S" to make it Nicolas. I bought the watch of Mr. Belsey, and I wished to go there; but he would not go with me. The lad is here who fetched the watch from Mr. Gill's.
Witness the Defence.
FREDERICK THOMAS . I got a watch out of pledge for the prisoner, at Mr. Sprunt's, about the end of August or the beginning of September, and took it to him at my father's—I paid 14s. or 15s. for it, which my father gave me—I last saw the watch last Christmas, when my father pat it in his pocket, and went out a little way, and came back and put it in a little box, and I have never seen it since.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever gone to Sprunt's shop before? A. Yes two or three times for trowsers and other things. I took 14s. or 15s. and the ticket, and said "Please, sir, I want a watch"—I gave them the ticket upon which was "Joshua Thomas."
WILLIAM GOOD (re-examined.) I do not know this lad—I did not in August or September, give up a watch to anybody in the name of Joshua Thomas—we file our tickets every day—I have looked over them, and there is no such ticket, and I have looked over the books—there is no such name in August 'or September; we cross them off as they go out and file them.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DUNNE conducted the Prosecution; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS appeared for Knight; MR. GRIFFITHS for Ryan; and MR. STRAIGHT for Townsend,
HENRY MITCHELL . I am a porter, at 7, Gilbert Place, Spa Road, Bermondsey—on 23rd January, at 7 o'clock in the morning, I was passing down Waterloo Road; when I gut to the corner of Webber Row, I was struck in the mouth, had two teeth knocked out of my head, and was rubbed of my watch; it was in my waistcoat pocket, attached to a chain—I believe there were five or six in the gang that came and surrounded me—I recognise Knight as one of them, and I believe the other two are about the same height as the others; I believe they are all connected with one gang; I can't speak positively to them; I caught a slight glimpse of Knight's face, by the light from a fish shop, but nut sufficient to swear to him—I next saw him on the 28th, at the Tower Street police-station, and identified him out of eight or ten others—I have not gut my watch back.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You were very tipsy, were you not? A. No, I had had a glass.
DAVID GADDES . I am a box-maker, and live in Legrand Place, Waterloo Road—on the morning of 23rd January, I was passing down Waterloo Road; when I got within a few feet of Webber Row, I saw seven or eight men talking in the road; I thought they were shopmates wrangling, I halted about a minute and heard a person exclaim "Let go, let go," and one of them drew his fist and hit the man in the neck, and another hit him in the side, and the prosecutor came staggering across to me—I said "What is the matter?—he said, "You see how they have served me, they have robbed me of my watch"—the three prisoners turned down Webber Row, and turning round there are two fish shops lighted up with gas, and the gas threw the light on their features and I saw them by that; I am certain of all three—I don't know which it was that struck the prosecutor; that was done in the dark—there were six or seven persons surrounding the prosecutor, and I saw these three come out from the six or seven—I knew Ryan and Towasend by sight—I gave a description of them to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. What time was this? A. As near 12.30 possible, between that and 12.45—I did not say 1.30 before the Magistrate; that was a mistake in taking it down, I corrected it afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. How many persona were there altogether? A. Seven or eight, with the prosecutor—I was about eight or nine yards from them, there was nobody else about.
MATTHIAS SHARPE (Policeman S 99) Knight on toil charge—he said, "Will you give me a fair chancel"—I said, "Yet"—I apprehended Ryan on the Wednesday after the occurrence in Waterloo Road—he saw me coming and ran across the road, putting hit hat across his face—I pursued and caught him—I also apprehended Townsend—the prosecutor said he thought Knight was the man, and he thought the other two were about the same sort of men as were about there—Gaddes identified Knight as the man the prosecutor had got hold of, and he afterwards came and picked out the other two.
MR. M. WILLIAMS called the following witnesses for Knight.
WILLIAM KNIGHT . I am a carman—the prisoner is my son—on Saturday night, the 22nd, he came home about 11.30—I let him in—he lives with me at 3, Swan Row, Swan Street, Borough, and sleeps along with his two brothers, up in the backroom—he went up stairs to bed—when I let him in he had got the head ache—he bade his mother and me good night—I sat down stairs with my wife—a few minutes afterwards I let the other boys in—I then fastened up the place—I bolted the door, and was in bed before the clock struck 12—we sleep in the front room—I am positive my son was in bed when I fastened up the door at 12 o'clock, and he never rose till Sunday afternoon, pretty near—I had one of his brothers here yesterday, and he was obliged to go to his situation this morning at Lazenby's, or he would have lost it—there are two bolts to my door, one at the top and one at the bottom, besides the lock—I fastened both bolts on this night—it is a one-storey house—the room my boy slept in is on the same floor as mine—I did not hear the bolts undone in the night, in fact I was down first in the morning and unbolted them myself, between 7 and 8 o'clock—they were the same as I had left them—if the bolts were undone the door could not be opened from the outside without a key.
Cross-examined. Q: How do you open it when you go in? A. With a
key—I carry it with mo or leave it at homo with my wife—I do not leave the key in the door at night, it generally hangs over the mantelpiece—my other boy is employed at the baker's—he is delivering his bread—he knew his brother was charged with highway robbery to-day—I don't know whether this key (looking at one) is the one that hangs over my mantelpiece—my wife might recognize it, I don't take much notice of such things—I was not examined before the Magistrate—I did not know of it till the Friday following, as ho was taken on the Thursday—my son lodges at home at nights—he generally comes home—he has been home regularly every night—sometimes he is out of a night—I don't know that he was out at all in January—I can't swear it—I can swear he was at home on this night—he sometimes has his meals at home, but does not work at home—he lives regularly at home—he sleeps at home more often than he sleeps out—he has slept out of a night, not very often—I know he has been living with a woman—I can't tell you where—I can't bay whether he has had a child by her—he was at home on the Friday night; I believe he had been at home all that week—I am not sure of that—he does not cohabit with the woman, that I am aware of.
ANN KNIGHT . The prisoner is my son—I remember Saturday night the 22nd—he came home that night at 11.30—his father opened the door for him—he wished me good night, and complained of a headache and went to bed—his brothers came in after him—they slept in the same room—the door was closed about 12 o'clock, and was never allowed to be opened afterwards.
COURT. Q. Does your son live at home? A. Yes, he sleeps at home when he is home by 12 o'clock—if he is not home by 12, I never allow the door to be opened—he usually comes home—he generally slept at home during January—one night he was out all night, and I don't know where he was that night—that was on the Thursday night—he did not life any where else except at our house—he was mostly at home—he had no key; that wan kept hanging up over the mantelpiece.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoners, for an assault on the same person, upon which no evidence was offered.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
GUILTY of the attempt— Eighteen Months Imprisonment.
MR. BRINDLET conducted the Prosecution; and MR. LILLET the Defence.
The Jury in this case being unable to agree, were discharged without giving any verdict.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 4TH APRIL, 1870.