CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JULY 11TH, 1870.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
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, July 11th, 1870, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ROBERT BESLEY, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Right Hon. Sir JAMES ALEXANDER COCKBURN , Knt., Lord Chief Justice of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; Sir JOHN BARNARD BYLD , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; THOMAS CHALLIS , Esq., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., M.P., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., M.P., and WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P, Recorder of the said City; SILLS JOHN GIBBONS , Esq., and ANDREW LUSK , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
BESLEY, MAYOR. NINTH 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, July 11th, 1870.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. POLAND and WRIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS the Defence.
FREDERICK ERNEST LEMON . I am a clerk in the Crown Office—I produce the writ for the election of the borough of Bridgewater in 1865, also the return and the poll-books—(By the return Henry Westropp, Esq., and Alexander William Kinglake, Esq., were declared as elected members).
WILLIAM GLYNN . I am clerk in the Journal Office of the House of Commons—I produce the journals for the Session of 1866—I find that a petition was presented complaining of the undue election and return of Henry Westropp—I produce the original petition; it is the petition of John Loyell Seeley and others—it was presented—(MR. COLLINS objected to the petition, it did not prove itself; it must be shown that the persons signing it were electors of Bridgewater. MR. POLAND referred to "Reg. v. Chambers," Sessions Paper, vol. 64, p. 315)—The name of John Lovell Seeley appears in the poll-books of 1865—(MR. COLLINS submitted that proof of the identity of the person was still wanting. MR. POLAND urged that prima facie identity of name was identity of person)—The other names on the petition are James Haviland and James Wood Sully—John Lovell Seely is described in the petition as a banker, of St. Mary Street, and also in the pollbook; James Haviland, of the Square, surgeon; and James Wood Sully, of the River Side, merchant—on 18th April, a Committee was appointed to try the matters in the petition—I was not present when the appointment was made, I am only reading from the journals—it appears from the journals that a Committee was appointed on 13th April—William Edward Baxter, Esq., was the chairman; the other members were J. T. Hamilton, Esq., J. A. Hardcastle, Esq., and Lord Henry Scott—on 16th April the Committee was sworn, and on the 7th, they met for the first time—here are the
minutes, they are in the custody of the House of Commons—I have authority to produce them—it appears from the journals that the Committee reported on 25th April that Henry Westropp was not duly elected, and that Arthur William Kinglake was duly elected.
SPENCER COMPTON SPENCER SMITH . In April, 1866, I was a clerk in the House of Commons—I was the clerk to the Committee appointed to try this petition—I produce my minutes taken with reference to the proceedings of the Committee—they are in my handwriting—I was not present when the Committee was sworn—they met on the 17th, 18th, and 19th—on the 19th a person named William Heale was examined; I can't swear to his identity—the decision of the Committee was given on 25th April—William Heale and the other witnesses were called and sworn in the ordinary way—I swore them.
Cross-examined. Q. How many witnesses were examined? A. About seventy—Philip Gilbert was examined—I can't find the name of Frederick Jarman—Mr. Henry Westropp was examined.
MR. POLAND. Q. Was Philip Gilbert examined in support of the petition? A. He was, on 17th April—Heale was examined on behalf of the sitting member.
FREDERICK CLARK FOSTER . In 1865 I was clerk to Mr. William B Lovibond, a solicitor—I assisted him on the Bridgewater petition—I was present in the committee-room of the House of Commons when the prisoner was examined in the name of William Heale.
Cross-examined. Q. You saw him in a room at the House of Commons? A. In the committee-room—he was a witness—I think it was on the third day, the 19th April, 1866—there were a large number of persons in the room.
MR. POLAND. Q. You were acting as clerk to Mr. Lovibond who was the solicitor engaged in the case? A. Yes, on behalf of the petitioners—I was there attending to the matter—the defendant was called on behalf of the sitting member, Mr. Westropp—the defendant is a brewer at Bridgewater—I have known him for some number of years.
MR. COLLINS. Q. Has he been living in or near Bridgewater up to the present time? A. Yes, at Durston, six or seven miles from Bridgewater.
JOHN STYLES . I am a shorthand writer—I attended as such before the Select Committee of the House of Commons on the Bridgewater petition in 1866—I was present the whole of the time, and took notes of the evidence—William Heale was examined on the 19th—I have compared the printed minutes with my notes, and they are correct—(The examination of the defendant was put in and read. The portions upon which the perjury was assigned were, that he had not received any money to give away in bribery at the election in 1865; that he did not pay any money at the Golden Lion; and that he did not know whether he had met Jarman at the landing).
BENJAMIN HUMPHREYS TROMP . I am a solicitor—at the Bridgewater election, in 1865, I acted on behalf of Mr. Henry Westropp, the conservative candidate—I went down to Bridgewater several days before the election—I was known there as "the stranger"—I took 1500 sovereigns down with me—that was for the purpose of being expended at the election, on behalf of Mr. Westropp, in bribing the voters—on the night before the election I saw the prisoner—there were several others with him—I first saw him at the house of a man named Harding, a baker—I arranged to meet him later—I did meet him the same night, with a person named Frederick Jarman;
that was about midnight, in a little lane leading to the river, near the lodging I had at that time—I, and Heale, and Jarman were the only persons together on that occasion—I then had 500 sovereigns with me, in packets of 100 sovereigns each, subdivided into packets of 10 sovereigns each—I had previously arranged with the prisoner that he and Jarman were to take charge of a particular district known as the Berkley Street district—it was arranged that the price of the votes was not to exceed 10l. each—when I gave the prisoner the 200 sovereigns, I said "Now, mind, this is to be spent at Pim's" (they had been previously supplied with a list of the electors to be bribed; Pim's is the Golden Lion)—the prisoner said "All right"—I gave Jarman 300 sovereigns, in three packets of 100 each, subdivided in the some way—I think the prisoner said something about its being more than he had got—I said "I have nothing to do with that, that is a matter between you, you have to arrange how to pay the money"—they then left me—neither of them knew my name—I returned to my lodging—after that, I had other appointments with other men, who were to do similar things, in other parts of the town—I saw Jarman next morning; I did not see Heale till he was examined at the House of Commons—I left Bridge water on the day of the election, about mid-day—I distributed the rest of the money, and 400l. or 500l. in addition—I was not examined before the Committee, in 1866—I was examined before the Commissioners last autumn; I was pretty nearly one of the last witnesses.
Cross-examined. Q. Where were you when the Committee sat in 1866? A. I was in London—I was then living in Kensington Gardens Square, at my own house—I was at the House of Commons nearly every day during the Committee—that was in 1866—I read the daily papers, and saw the evidence that was given—I did not spend this money out of my own pocket, it was handed to me by a lady in London—no, it was at Weston-superMare—I have been engaged in three of these elections at Bridgewater—once in 1865 and twice in 1866, I believe, and not since—Mr. Patten was the candidate in 1866—I spent 1000l. or 1200l. in 1866—Mr. Smith, a solicitor of Bridgewater, employed me—I was sent down to bribe the constituency—I went down with the money—I had known Mr. Smith for many years, while he was a student; and when he was in London he visited me, and shortly after he was admitted he asked me if I would object to going down to Bridgewater, in the event of there being an election—he said "You know that out of 600 there are about 400 that never vote without money; it is absolutely necessary that someone should bribe them"—I went down shortly after—I quite understood what I was to do, and I went down to Weston-super-Mare, and a lady gave me the money—she turned out to be Mr. Westropp's wife's sister; but I did not know who it was then—I don't remember Mr. Westropp being examined—I have heard so—I did not go into the committee-room at all—it was not likely—I kept away—I only went to the House when I was forced—I happened to be there, I could not help it—I had 250 guineas and all expenses, for the bribery—I was down there several days—I named a large sum because I did not wish to go—I expended all the money that was given me, every shilling—I did not see Mr. Benjamin Lovibond there—I did not go out except at night, and then I did not see him—I was not disguised—I also gave money to Frederick Harding, Frederick Tremble, a baker, a man named Freeman, a fishmonger, another man named Boys, and another person who lived in Berkeley Street, who was foreman at one of the workshops there—Boys was
one of those employed to bribe the electors—it was quite necessary that the persons should know the electors if they were to hand the money to them—I mean if they were to be bribed at all—it was Tom Boys—he was clerk to Mr. Smith, I believe—I don't know whether he was called before the Committee in 1866—I rather think he was—Tom Boys had, I think, 110l.—he had nine or eleven voters to see—I think it was 90l.—to the best of my belief it was 90l. or 110l.—I don't know whether Boys was called before the Election Committee—I believe he was—I saw Harding a day or two before the Committee began—he saw me in London—I met him by appointment once—I did not attach very great importance to the proceedings, and I did not read the whole of the evidence—I read sometimes the "Times'" report, not all—I knew they were telling a pack of lies, those who denied having to do anything with bribery—a great many told lies before the Election Committee—I don't know how many were examined—I should think half of them told lies; all those that I gave money to, and said before the Committee they had not told lies—I believe Boys said so—I was engaged in one other election besides Bridgewater, in one other town—I refuse to name that—I was down at the other town twice, and three times at Bridgewater—I bribed at the other town.
FREDERICK JARMAN . I live at John Street, Bridgewater, and am a baker—I was living in Bridgewater in 1865, when the election took place, at which Mr. Westropp and Mr. Kinglake were returned—shortly before the election I saw the last witness, Mr. Tromp—I did not know his name—I knew him as "the stranger"—I saw him in the presence of the defendant and Frederick Harding, a baker there, the night before the election—Mr. Heale and I were appointed to go and get voters—we received 500l. between us—we were to pay 10l. a vote—I arranged with Mr. Tromp to meet him the night before the election—he went into a house in King Street—Heale and I waited in a little lane close by—Tromp afterwards came out and joined us in the lane—he gave Mr. Heale two packets containing 100 sovereigns each, and he gave me three packets containing 100 sovereigns each, and subdivided into packets of 10 sovereigns each—the "stranger" then left us—I and the prisoner walked along together to go to our districts—Heale said "You had better walk up to my house, we shall be noticed if we go to our districts now"—we walked up to his house and went into his office, and he said "You have got 300l. and I have got 200l., I don't see that that is fair"—I opened one of the packets and gave him 50l.—we walked down together to St. John Street, to the Golden Lion, to see Mr. Pirn—we went to get a room, for the purpose of paying the voters next morning—I went there to see the landlord, with Heale, and we arranged for a room for the next morning—we afterwards walked as far as my house, and we parted—I went on the following morning to the Golden Lion, soon after 8 o'clock, when the poll opens—I and Heale went up stairs—he went in, and I stood outside, in the passage, and let the voters in, one by one—I let in five persons whom I knew as voters—Heale then said he wanted to speak to me—I went in and he said "I want your money"—I said "What have you done with your money, you have only paid five men," and he said, "Oh, I paid twenty before I left my house this morning"—I said that was against the orders he had last night—he said it did not matter as long as we went to the poll—I took out my 250l. and gave it to him—then I went out in the passage and let the men in, one by one, till the money was gone—I let in twenty-five—I then went away to see the
"stranger," and tell him what bad happened—I left Heale in the house—it. was a room in front, on the right-hand as you go up—Mr. Pirn if dead now—I was not examined before the Committee of the House of Commons, in 1866—I came up to be examined—I was examined last autumn before the Commission—I know a roan named Philip Gilbert—I saw him on the morning of the election; he was one of the persons I let in to the room to Heale—I did not hear what took place between them.
Cross-examined. Q. You said just now you came up; what were you going to say? A. I came up in the morning, and it was over in a few hours, and I had not time to go in—I only came up the last morning; I was not examined—I was not wanted—I should certainly have been on Mr. Westropp's side if I had been before the House of Commons—I must have been against him certainly—I was sent up by Mr. Westropp's solicitor—I am a baker—this was not the first election I was connected with in bribery—it was almost the first; I will swear that—I was engaged a little in Mr. Patten's election in 1859; but very trifling—I knew very little about electioneering then—I bribed a trifle in 1859; but very trifling—it was but a few voters I had to pay—I sent them to Mr. Merlees, the agent—I suppose it was about seven or eight that I bribed in 1859—I never took a bribe, no more than what they gave me afterwards—Mr. Merlees gave roe 15l.—he promised me more; but he did not give it me—in 1865 I did not bribe at all, because I did not give them the money—I gave Mr. Heale the money—I bribed in the election of 1866—I did a good deal that was done—I kept the accounts, and gave the accounts to the "stranger"—I did not bribe at all at Mr. Patten's election—I gave all the money to Mr. Heale that was handed over to me by the "stranger" that night—I got 100l. from the "stranger" the next day—Mr. Heale had nothing to do with that 100l.—I bribed ten voters with that—I accounted to the "stranger" for that, and put it upon Mr. Heale to account for the 300l.—I can't tell how much money I received-in 1866—I suppose I paid about 50l.—I received that from the "stranger"—Mr. Tromp did not give me any money for myself—I had some a long time after—I had 15l. from him and 5l. from Mr. Lilley—it was a long time afterwards—I think it was at the third election time—I can't tell you whether it was 20l. or 25l.—I said before the Commissioners at Bridge water that I thought it was 20l. or 25l. as far as I could remember—I won't be certain—I had nothing to do with the election of 1868—I was ill and had nothing to do with it—I went up and voted—I did not get anything for my vote at that time—I am a baker—the "stranger" employed me in 1866 at the third election—there were two elections in 1866 and one in 1865.
MR. POLAND. Q. Now you are disfranchised? A. Yes, I believe so. PHILIP GILBERT. I am a carpenter, living at Bridgewater—I remember the election of 1865—I was in the Golden Lion on the morning of the day of election, and I saw the prisoner there—I did not recognize the last witness—I can't say who let me in—I saw the prisoner in a room up stairs—he asked me what I wanted—I said I did not scarcely know what I wanted, and I said "What is it?"—he said "We are doing tens"—I told him I should not vote for Mr. Westropp for 10l.—he did not offer me anything more, and he told Mr. Vezey he ought not to have let me in—I told the prisoner that I had told Mr. Vezey, before I came in, that I would not take 10l.—the prisoner said "Won't you take it I"—I said "No, sir"—he said "Then you can go about your business"—I believe that was all that took place.
Cross-examined. Q. Your conscience was awakened, you would not take 10l.? A. It was the wrong party—I shan't get the chance again, I be rather sorry for that—I voted for Mr. Kinglake and Sir John Sully, at that election, for nothing—I was not sorry for that—I refused the 10l., and voted for nothing—I had 10l. soon after from the Liberal party—I should not care to vote for the Conservatives at all—I should have voted for the Conservatives for 15l.—there were two elections in 1866—I voted for Mr. Badgett—I got 10l. for that—I don't know how I got it—I had it a long time afterwards; it was on the eve of the next election—I believe it was Mr. White who gave it me but I am not certain whether it came by post, or how—I was bribed at the next election, in 1866—I had the money from Mr. White then, for certain—he was originally a confectioner; he was a gentleman then—he gave me 10l. in July, 1866—I was not bribed at any other election—I did not bribe at the last election—I did not bribe in November, 1868—I did not bribe at all—I did not bribe, or receive a bribe; I was offered nothing—I have heard the rumour, that I was accused of having money to bribe; it was nothing but mere town-talk—I heard such tales—I did not bribe at the last election—if I had had money to bribe, I should have bribed—I voted at the election of 1868 without a bribe, or being offered anything.
WILLIAM BUCK (Policeman E 232). On 8th April last I went to Durston, in Somerset, near Bridgewater—I am a warrant officer, at Bow Street—I saw the prisoner, and asked him if he was late of Bridgewater, and a brewer, and he said "Yes"—I read the warrant to him, and conveyed him to the police-station—he said he thought it was all settled, as he had not heard anything since the Taunton trial—I brought him up to London, and he was committed to Bow Street.
MR. COLLINS. Q. Where are you employed now? A. I am with Mr. James Phelp, a corn merchant, at Bridgewater—I have seen Mr. Seeley write at his bank, in 1866—I have not seen him write since that—I was in Mr. Lovibond's employment then—he was Mr. Lovibond's banker—I saw him write in 1866.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, July 11th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN PERRIN . I am a cheesemonger, of Gray's Inn Road—on 31st May, the prisoner came for 1 lb. of bacon, which came to 8d.—he gave me a half-crown—I bit it and told him it was bad—he seemed surprised—I asked where he got it—he said that he took it from his master, a waterman at Blackfriars—I went to a neighbour's shop, and when I returned, the prisoner had gone and left the bacon—I went after him and brought him and gave him in charge with the coin.
Prisoner. Q. When I told you where I got it, what did you say? A. That you were the party who had brought me a florin before—I broke the coin and then showed it to you—I found you 200 or 300 yards from the shop, walking as fast as you could—your back was turned towards me, but you looked round and saw me—the half-crown was never out of my sight till after I broke it.
SUSAN COLE . My husband keeps a beer-house in Britannia Street, Gray's Inn Road—the prisoner came there for a twopenny cigar, and gave me a shilling—I handed it to my husband, who broke it in half—I gave it back to the prisoner, and said "You gave me a bad shilling"—he said "Yes I have"—he took away the bad pieces and gave me a good one.
JOSEPH OUGH (Policeman G 232). I was on duty in Gray's Inn Road—oil 31st May, the prisoner called me to Mr. Perrin's shop, and said "They are going to charge me with trying to pass a bad half-crown"—I said "It is not the first you have tried to pass"—he said "Where?"—I said "In Britannia Street"—he said he would go to Britannia Street with me—he did not know where it was—I took him to the station, found a good sixpence on him, and received two pieces of a half-crown (produced).
Prisoner. Q. Did I say that the prosecutor wished you to go with me to where I got it from? A. No; you said that you did not know the place, but you could show it—I did not take you there.
Prisoner's Defence. The half-crown may have been bad; but he kept me and debarred me from getting it exchanged, or I could have shown where I got it from.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted of a like offence at this Court, in March, 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES BRANNAN . I am an officer employed by the Mint—on 9th June, about 1 p.m., in consequence of information, I directed officers to go to Long Acre and keep a certain house under observation—I got out of an omnibus in the Strand, and saw Hinds and Miller with the prisoner in custody—I followed them to Bow Street—Miller took from him a paper packet, which contained several smaller ones, and Hinds took another packet containing a half-crown, two florins, and a shilling—the one Miller took contained sixteen florins, in different packets, and twenty-three shillings, one of which was bent, as it now appears—I said to the prisoner "Well, Mr. Carpenter, you are suspected of having counterfeit coin in your possession; this is bad; you will have to account for the possession of it"—he said "My name is not Carpenter, you never saw me before in your life"—I said I did frequently—he said "Where?"—I said "Close to Blind Con's, in Golden Lane"—he said that the packet was given to him by a man to hold for him—I told him I had frequently seen him with boys and girls of tender age, and Miller said "I have seen him in company with a boy this morning, twelve or thirteen years of age, and two young girls, who ran away."
WILLIAM MILLER (Police Sergeant G). On 9th June, about 12 o'clock, I saw the prisoner with a boy—I followed him to Golden Lane and to Eagle Street, Holborn, and lost him in King Street—I found Hinds, and we went
to the back of St. Mary's Church, Strand, and saw him with two boys and a girl—we watched him some time—the girl went away, and the boy went with him to the Spotted Dog—we then lost the boy, and I went up to the prisoner and asked him what he was doing—he said "Nothing"—I said "You are suspected of having counterfeit coin about you; I shall search you; where has the boy gone?"—he said "There has been no boy with me"—I searched him and found this parcel (produced), which I handed to Brannan—I afterwards saw it opened—it contained the coins which he has produced—I asked the prisoner what it was—he said "You know what it is; I have lost my tools, I must do something for a living—he was taken to the station.
PHILIP HINDS (Policeman E). I went with Brannan and Miller—I have heard their evidence; it is correct—I found in the prisoner's left breast pocket two florins, a half-crown, and a shilling, all counterfeit.
Pritoner's Defence. I was not with any boy, neither did I speak to any girls. A man promised me 6d. if I would hold two parcels for him, and then the policeman tapped me on the shoulder.
GUILTY †— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH the Defence.
JOHN KNOTT . I keep a tripe shop, at 11, Church Street, Deptford—on 12th May, the prisoner came there for a bundle of dog's meat, which came to a halfpenny, and gave me a sixpence—I said "This is a duffer—he said that he had a friend outside and a dog, but I did not see either—I gave him in custody with the sixpence.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you keep the duffer and the dog's meat, too? A. Yes.
GEORGE DRAY (Policeman R 253). I took the prisoner at Mr. Knott's shop—I told him the charge, he said he did not know it was bad—I found 1s. 6d. in good silver on him—he was taken before a Magistrate at Greenwich, remanded till 14th May, and then discharged.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he kept in custody a great many days? A. One day—this is not a good sixpence, but it is a very good imitation.
GEORGE PHIPPEN . I am a beer retailer, of Salisbury Street, Marylebone—on 14th May, the prisoner came and gave my wife a bad sixpence for a pennyworth of tobacco—I saw that it was bad, took it out of the till directly he was gone, and kept it—on the 25th May, the prisoner came again for a pennyworth of tobacco, and gave me a bad sixpence—I said "This is bad, how many more have you?"—he said "No more"—I said "I have got one already waiting for you since the 14th"—he said "I have not been here before"—I said "You have," and gave him in charge—I am sure he is the same man.
Cross-examined. Q. Is your wife here? A. No—I saw her take the money, and I had cleared the till just before, leaving only threepenny and fourpenny pieces.
a sixpence, having on the obverse the head of the Queen and "Victoria, Queen of Great Britain," which is never found on genuine coin—the edges are knerled aa a sixpence is—on the reverse is a crown and the words "Prince of Wales"—the object has been to obliterate everything except the crown, which is in a sixpence—they are silvered over—their value is nothing.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CRAUPURD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MOODY like Defence.
MARY JANE DAVIS . I am barmaid to Thomas Smith, of the Rising Sun, Wych Street—on 1st June, about 12 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a half-pint of beer—he gave me a bad sixpence—I called Mr. Smith, who went after him, and brought him back—I bent the sixpence, and gave it to the constable.
THOMAS SMITH . The last witness made a communication to me—I went out and stopped the prisoner and said "You have offered another bad sixpence; we have had two or three before of you, and I must give you in charge—"he said "You will never lock a man up for sixpence; and if you will let me go, I will go and fetch the cabman I took it of"—I gave him in custody—I had seen him before, and always with a bag with old hats in it.
Cross-examined. Q. Had he paid you a bad sixpence? A. Yes, about a week before; but I did not find it out before he was gone—I paid it to a person who brought it back—the prisoner pulled 1s. 10d., in copper, out of his pocket, and laid it on the counter—I saw that 1s. 10d. again after he was given in custody—I saw that it was a new sixpence when the prisoner gave it to me, and it was a new sixpence which I gave to my customer, who brought it back an hour or more afterwards—twenty or thirty people were being served—it is the time when they come for their dinner beer—it was not in the till above a minute or two.
MR. CRAUFURD. Q. Had you served anybody in the mean time? A. No. JESSE PEARSON (Policeman E 362). Mr. Smith gave the prisoner in my charge, about 12.15, to the beadle of St. Clement Danes, who turned him over to me—he was told the charge and said "I did not pass the other one"—he handed me 1s., in silver, and 1s. 10d. in bronze.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Protection; and MR. MOODY the Defence,
ANNIE GODDARD . I am barmaid to Mr. Smith, of the Railway Tavern, Westbourne Terrace—on 31st May I served the prisoner with a glass of stout and bitter, which came to 2d.—he gave me a half-crown—I gave him a florin and 4d. in copper, and as I dropped the half-crown into the till I saw that it was bud—there was no other half-crown there—I tried it in the detector, found it was bad, and gave it back to the prisoner—it bent easily and was soft—the prisoner said "Had you any money in the till?—I said "No"—he said "Then I know it is the one I gave you," and gave me a good half-crown, and took the other.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he called back? A. Yes, by some one—the house is about twenty minutes' walk from the Wargrave Tavern.
WILLIAM FRY . I assist at the Wargrave Tavern, John Street—on 31st May, about 3.45, I served the prisoner with a glass of stout and bitter, which came to 2d.—he tendered a half-crown—I tried it with my teeth, found it was bad, and broke it in two pieces with the wire rupper—I said "You have given me a bad half-crown"—he picked up one piece, saying that he would take it where he got it from, and gave me a good florin—I gave the other piece to the sergeant.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know him by sight? A. Yes, I had seen him there three or four times in the last month—he uses the house.
HENRY GREEN (Policeman D 44). I took the prisoner just after he left Wargrave Tavern; another man was with him, who another constable took—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found a good half-crown—when the witnesses came he said that he had given the boy a half-crown, and that he might have given a half-crown at the Railway Tavern to the witness Goddard; but did not know it was bad.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the other man discharged by the Magistrate? A. Remanded for a week, and then discharged—when I charged the prisoner with uttering bad money he denied it—he afterwards said "But I was not aware it was bad."
MR. CRAUFURD. Q. Do you know what has become of the other man? A. He has been taken up again for the same offence.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN HARVEY . I am a leather dresser, of 21, Bridge Street, Bermondsey—I remember the prisoner being taken on 31st May—on the Sunday previous I had lent him 12s. 6d., which was part of the change of a sovereign which I had received, and I found a bad sixpence among the balance which I retained—I have known the prisoner employed at Lazenby & Phillips'—I never heard any charge against him.
Cross-examined by MR. CRAUFURD. Q. How long have you known him? A. About eight years—he has been a sailor—he was in no employment when I lent him the 12s. 6d., which was to get some clothes—I had changed a sovereign on the Friday night previous—I lent him four half-crowns, two shillings, and a sixpence, I think—I am sure there were four half-crowns—they were all good, as far as I am aware—I have never known him in trouble before; but he may have been without my knowledge—I have seen him several times in the eight years.
COURT. Q. How long have you ever been without seeing him, a year and a half? A. Yes—I do not know where he was in that interval.
Witnesses in Reply.
JOSEPH SMITH . I am warder of Coldbath Fields, and know the prisoner—he was there either six or twelve months, in 1869—I rather think it was for twelve months; but I only saw him half an hour ago—I think it was a summary conviction; but am not certain.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite certain it was in 1869? A. Yes—I think I am right, I am satisfied of it—a man cannot get twelve months before a Magistrate, a summary conviction would probably be for six months.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. One of the warders of Coldbath Fields—the younger branches are under my care; but J see all who go into the prison—they are all photographed; but only since May this year.
GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
THE HON. A. THESIGER, for the prisoner, stated that she was the wife of an officer in the army, who had sold out, and by investing the money in the Agra Bank and the Bank of London, had lost every penny, which, with other troubles, had preyed upon the prisoner's mind, and made her less responsible for her actions than she would otherwise have been; and further that there was insanity both in her father's and her mother's family. MR. METCALFE, for the Prosecution, stated that the gaol surgeons did not consider that she had any mental affection,— Judgment Respited. There were several other indictments against the prisoner.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 12th, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. METCALFE and SLADE conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
LEOPOLD SWARBERG . I am traveller for Messrs. Rice, of Watling Street—on 25th of May last, I was at Leicester—I had occasion to write to our firm, on that day, enclosing a 5l. note, No. 34312, dated 29th April, 1869, issued by the Bank of England; this is the note (produced); I posted the letter, about 4 o'clock on the 25th, addressed to Messrs. Rice & Co., 26, Watling Street, London, E.C.—the envelope was fastened.
WALTER THOMPSON . I am a sorter in the Leicester Post Office—a letter for London, posted at 4 o'clock in the afternoon would go up by the 7.10 train, by the mail bag—I made up the relief bag on 25th May—there were 104 letters for the E.C. district—this is the memorandum I made at the time, 72 were tied up in one bundle, and 32 in the other—I tied and sealed the bag, it was in a perfect state—Watling Street is in the E.C. district.
WILLIAM WHITE . I am a mail porter, at Leicester—on 25th May last, I received the Leicester and London relief bag, I took it from the Post Office to the station, and gave it to Henry Gardner; it was then perfectly sound.
JOHN SMITH . I am a guard in the Midland Company's service—on 25th May, I received the Leicester and London mail bug, from Gardner; I had it in my possession till I arrived in London, at 9.58, when I handed it over to the Post Office porter.
JOHN POTTER I am a mail porter, attached to the Post Office, at the St. Pancras Station, of the Midland Railway—William Folkard was the other porter, we were partners, there were only us two, one off and one on—I had a key of the mom in which the mail bags were deposited—I was on duty on the night of 25th May, for Folkard, that was by arrangement between us—when the Leicester train comes up, it is the duty of the porter in attendance to take the bags from the train and place them in the room—I did so on that night with the Leicester bag, and others, it was then in good con-dition—after placing it there, I locked the door, and went to the King's Crow Station, to get other bags that came up by the Great Northern line—I brought those to the same room at the St. Pancras Station; I was absent about twenty minutes, or perhaps more—sometimes I have remained in the room with the bags, and sometimes I have locked the door and remained about the station—I can't say how I acted on that particular occasion; but I should not leave the station again—it was my duty to wait and deliver up the bags to the mail van—I did so that night, at a few minutes after 11 o'clock, on the arrival of the 11 o'clock train—the Leicester bag comes at 9.50—sometimes it would be a few minutes later—the bag would remain in the room until 11 o'clock, when it was sent up with the others in the van—no one could have entered the room whilst I was at the station without my seeing them—whilst I was away at King's Cross it is possible they might have got in, if they had a key—there is only one other key that I am aware of—I know the prisoner—I had known him as a letter carrier in the Post Office—I was not aware until recently that he had left—I have seen him at the St. Pancras Station—not very many times, perhaps four, five, or six times—I think I have seen him in the month of May, with my partner, Folkard—I have never seen him except with Folkard—I have seen the prisoner's brother, Richard, with him, at the station—I saw them all three together on one occasion—I did not see Robert Bowman that night, and I don't remember seeing him afterwards—one morning, a few minutes before 6 o'clock, I found four men in that room—they were Richard and Robert Bowman, Folkard, and a man that I had seen before, who told me he was a sorter in the Post Office, but I did not know his name—they were all asleep, I could not get into the room, I had to arouse them in order to get in—the door was locked on the inside—when I inserted my key I could not get in—they had no right there, except Folkard—I should think that was some time in May.
Cross-examined. Q. Folkard, you say, would have a right in that room? A. He would have a right there; but not on that occasion—he was not on duty—he had one key and I the other—I have heard that he is charged with stealing letters from the railway, and the prisoner's brother also.
RICHARD WILLIAM BURKINSHAW . I am a mail van driver—I was on duty on the night of 25th May—I received the mail bag that night at the Midland Railway Station—I took them to Euston Square Station, and from there to the General Post Office—I got there about 11.40—the van was locked when the bags were in.
Cross-examined. Q. At what time did you receive the bags on the 25th? A. About 11.5.
CHARLES JAMES CHAPMAN . I am assistant inspector at the General Post Office—on the night of 25th May, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I received the bag from Leicester; it was tied up and sealed—I opened the bag and counted the letters—there were only thirty-five letters for the Eastern
Central District—they were tied in a bundle, labelled for the E. C. district—Watling Street it in the E.C. district—I did not at that time notice anything about the bag—it was subsequently shewn to me, and I then found a slit in the bag, in the seam—this is it (produced)—it would not be seen when folded, and might escape attention—it was tied and sealed as it ought to be—there was only one E.C. bundle, and that was a bundle of thirty-five letters—they were done up as they should be.
WILLIAM MATTHEW MINTY . I am employed in the bag room at the General Post Office—on 25th May, about 10 o'clock in the morning, inquiries were made about the Leicester mail bag—I had before that examined the mail bags that came from the Inland Office, and found a slit down the side of the Leicester bag—I put it aside to be repaired.
JOHN GARDNER . I am a clerk attached to the Missing Letters Department—on the morning of 26th May I gave directions with respect to the Leicester Post Office, and I had a return from Chapman and one from the Leicester Post Office—I compared the returns, and found a difference of sixty-nine in the number taken in London from those sent from Leicester, sixtynine short—I caused inquiries to be made about the Leicester bag—this is it—it was in the state it is now, with the slit down the side.
ALFRED FAYER . I am landlord of the Pindar of Wakefield, in Gray's Ion Road—I know the prisoner—I saw him on 25th May, between 10 and 11 o'clock at night, in my bar—he came in and called for some ale, and he then asked to have a 5l. note changed—he handed it to my barmaid, and she brought it in to me—this (produced) is the note—I took it, and went with it to the bar—there was another person with the prisoner—I asked if they wanted change for it—the prisoner said "Yes"—I then asked him to endorse it—pen and ink was handed to him, and he wrote a name and address on the back—it has been partly stamped out at the back—it was "James" something; but what the name was I can't remember, "No. 4, Bird Street"—I saw the prisoner write it—knowing Bird Street I asked him about a man named Russell, who lived there; but he did not know him—I expressed my surprise at his not knowing him—he made some excuse that satisfied me—I gave him the change in gold—there might have been 10s. in silver, and they went away, after drinking what they had called for—no it morning I paid away the note to Mr. Clayton, the gas collector.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner brought to your place tome days afterwards by Mulvany? A. Yes—Mulvany said "Good morning; you remember that little affair I called on you about?"—I said "Yes"—he then said, pointing to the prisoner, "Do you know this person?"—I said "Yes"—Mulvany had been to me previously about it—I knew the prisoner again at soon as he was brought into the house.
MR. METCALFE. Q. Had you before that been taken to the House of Correction? A. Yes—I there saw Folkard and the prisoner's brother; but I did not know them—I said they were not the men that brought the note.
COURT. Q. At what time exactly was the note brought? A. It was between 10 and 11 o'clock—I can't say to a half or quarter of An hour—I should think it was nearer 11 than 10 o'clock—I had never teen the prisoner before, that I know of.
SUSAN COULSON . I am barmaid at the Pindar of Wakefield public-house—on Wednesday, 25th May, between 10 and 11 o'clock at night, the prisoner came to our house with another young man—he asked for some ale, and gave me a 5l. note, which I took into the parlour to Mr. Fayer, and he came out and gave him change, and the prisoner wrote a name and address on the back—I saw him write it—the address was "4, Bird Street"—he received the change and went away.
Cross-examined. Q. It was just upon 11 o'clock, was it not? A. Yes, near to 11 o'clock—I was attending to my duties as barmaid.
JURY. Q. How long was the prisoner in the bar, do you think? A. About half-an-hour—not longer.
COURT. Q. Do you mean it was near upon 11 o'clock when he came, or when he left? A. When he left—it was nearer 11 than 10 o'clock—there were no other persons in the same compartment as the prisoner—I don't think I was attending to more than one other person—we were rather quiet that evening—there was no one serving besides me and Mr. Fayer.
JOHN MULVANT . I am an inspector of the detective police—I was instructed to watch at the Midland Station, St. Pancras—on Monday, 30th May, I saw the prisoner come on to the platform, about 10.10, and try the mail-room door—he did not open it, it was locked—I had seen Folkard and the prisoner's brother, Richard, on the platform, some short time before that—Folkard had collected the bags in the usual course, taken them to the mail-room, locked them up, and gone away—after the prisoner tried the door he left the station—Folkard afterwards came to the station again, a few minutes before 11 o'clock, with the bags from the Great Northern Railway—he collected the bags from the up mail train at 11 o'clock, gave them to the mail driver, and then went out of the station, along the Euston Road, to the Victoria public-house, at the corner of York Road, where he joined the prisoner, his brother, and another man—that is about five minutes' walk from the Midland Station—I left them there—on the night of 2nd June I took Richard Bowman into custody—Folkard was taken by Sergeant Moon, on the morning of the 3rd, on another charge—on the morning of the 3rd I went to the prisoner's lodging, Julia Cottage, Marlborough Road, Dalston—he was in bed—his sister brought him down to me—I asked if he knew a person named Folkard—he said he did—I asked when he saw him last—he said "Last Monday," that he was at the railway station with him, and also at the Victoria public-house—that was Monday, the 30th, the day to which I have been referring—I asked him to allow me to look in his room—he did so—I found nothing—on Thursday, 9th June, I again went to his lodging—he was in bed—he was called down, and I said "You know me, I am an officer; I am going to ask you some questions; you need not answer them unless you please; were you in a public-house in the Gray's Inn Road on last night fortnight?—he said "What public-house? '—I said "The Pindar of Wakefield"—he said "I don't know such a house"—I said it was a house not far from the coffee-house in which you and your brother very often slept, in the Gray's Inn Road—he said "I don't know anything about it"—I said "A 5l. note was changed in that house, on that evening"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I said "Were you in any public-house in the Gray's Inn Road on that evening?—he said "No"—I said "Where were you on that evening?"—he said "I can't remember"—I then said "Have you any objection to go with me to the Pindar of Wakefield?"—he said "No, I have not, I will go with you"—we went in a cab to the
corner of Swinton Street; we got out, and when about thirty yards distant, I said, pointing to the house, "That is the house I mean"—he said "Oh, I know that house very well, I have often been there with Folkard"—on going in Mr. Payer and the barmaid were both at the bar—I said to Mr. Fayer "You remember that affair I was speaking to you about the other night? '—he said "Yes"—I said "Do you know this young man?"—he said "Yes, that is the man; do you remember my asking you a question about Bird Street?—the prisoner said "No, I don't"—Mr. Fayer said "Why, you endorsed the note"—he said "No, I know nothing about it"—Mr. Fayer then said to his barmaid "Do you know him?"—she said "Yes, that is the man that gave me the note"—I said to the prisoner "You hear what they say now?"—he said "Yes, I do; but it is a mistake"—I then said to Miss Coulson "You are positive this is the man?"—she said "Yes, I knew him the moment he came into the house"—I then told him he would have to go with me to Bow Street, and I took him into custody—on searching him I found two duplicates, one for a gold Albert, pledged on 17th May, for 15s., and another for a silver watch, on 18th May, for 12s.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been an officer? A. Twentytwo years—I took the prisoner to the public-house to see if he was the person, to see if they knew him—I did not think it necessary to place him amongst others—the first time I went to his lodging was between 6 and 7 o'clock in the morning—Folkard was then in custody—I told him that Folkard was in custody for stealing letters from the Derby mail bag—I said nothing to him about his brother at that time, I did to his sister—I did not then say that Folkard had got his brother into trouble; that was on the 9th, in the cab.
MR. METCALFE. Q. When you took the prisoner to Mr. Fayer's, was he in custody? A. Certainly not; he came voluntarily—I took him there to see whether I should have to take him into custody.
JANE NEALE . I and my husband keep a coffee-house at 301, Gray's Inn Road—I know the prisoner and his brother—they frequently slept at my house—I remember their being, there the latter part of last month; on 28th or 29th they slept there—they paid for their lodging separately—one was in bed before the other came home on the Saturday night—the 28th they each paid for their own bed—the prisoner paid me 2s.—he gave me a half-sovereign—he had more money in his hand, silver and gold.
Cross-examined. Q. Had he slept at your house before that in that same week? A. Yes, on the Wednesday or Thursday night—I am not positive whether it was Wednesday or Thursday, whichever night it was he came in between 10 and 11 o'clock—they did not go out again that night; that I am sure of—my servant's name is Elizabeth Atkins.
MR. METCALFE. Q. How near is your house to the Pindar of Wakefield? A. A short distance on the other side of the road, about two minutes' walk—I know it was not past 11 o'clock when the prisoner came in—I know it was not 11 o'clock because my husband always goes to bed a little after 10 o'clock, and he was just gone to bed at the time—he always goes to bed between 10 and 11 o'clock, a little after 10 o'clock—I can't say to five minutes—he is not often after 11 o'clock—I remember that night particularly, he was just gone to bed, but I don't know whether it was Wednesday or Thursday.
CHARLES PEDLER . I know 4, Bird Street—Mrs. Strong, Mrs. Spicer, and Mrs. Adams, live there—the prisoner does not live there, to my know-ledge—I should know if he did—I have never seen him there—I live in
the next house, but I collect the rent a at No. 4, and know everybody who lives there.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ELIZABETH ATKINS . I am servant at the coffee-house, 301, Gray's Inn Road, kept by Mr. Neale—I know the prisoner—I remember his sleeping at our house at the latter end of May—I can't tell what night he slept there—it was either Wednesday or Thursday—he came home that night about 10.30, or between 10 and 10.30, about that time as near as I can judge—I am sure he never went out again, because directly he had had his supper, I gave him a light and he went up stairs—I know the time he came in because master generally goes to bed about that time—we have a clock—this was either Wednesday or Thursday night—I don't know which.
Cross-examined. Q. Did his brother sleep there too? A. Yes, he did so that night, in the same room—there was no third man, only those two—I have never seen a third one with them—they did not sleep there very often—about once or twice a week—I don't think he had slept there before in that week—I believe he slept there on the Saturday night after, but I was not there, I had gone to bed—I did not know his name—I used to call him "Sir"—he paid me for his lodging on the Wednesday or Thursday—I think it was 2s. he used to pay—I think he gave me a 2s. piece—they both slept in one bed—I don't know Folkard, I have never seen him there—the prisoner and his brother are not alike.
COURT. Q. When were you first asked about this? A. Last Friday, not before.
GEORGE EMILE PAWLET . I am the prisoner's brother-in-law—I know his handwriting—the writing on this note is not his—it is something similar, but it is very different—I decidedly do not believe it to be his—I recollect Thursday, 26th May—I did not see him that evening because he was ill in bed at my house—I believe he had a severe swollen foot and ankle.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first see this note? A. In Court, just now—I never applied to see it before—I have not been asked to come here—I came voluntarily to hear the trial—I knew that the prisoner was charged with stealing this note, and that it was stated his handwriting was on the back—I knew that two days after he was charged—I never applied to see whether it was his—I never saw it till now—I was absent from home the whole day on Thursday, and when I came home, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I found he had arrived—I did not see him—he was in bed—my wife told me so—my house is called Julia Cottage—he has lived there since February—he has a regular room there—he does not pay any rent—he did not sleep out very frequently—at times he has—I took no notice of it if he did—sometimes he went out to see a friend, and said he should not he home.
CATHERINE PAWLEY . I am the wife of last witness—the prisoner is my brother—I know his handwriting—this writing on the back of the note is certainly not his—I remember Thursday, 26th May—he slept at our house that night—he was not well all day—he was in bed a good deal of the day.
Cross-examined. Q. What is your brother? A. Nothing at present, he has been out of a situation since Christmas; before that he was in the Post Office—I never saw this note before to-day, it has never been shown to me fill just now—it is not a bit like his writing.
COURT. Q. Did he sleep at your house the other nights of that week? A. On the Tuesday night he did, and on Friday—I am sure he slept there on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, I am not so positive about the other nights—he generally slept at our house—he has been living with us—I know he did not sleep there on the Wednesday or Saturday, been uses he went to the hospital on the Wednesday, and did not come home—he a boil on his thigh—he left after an early dinner on Wednesday to go to the hospital.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth, and having probably acted under the influence of more guilty persons, — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
RANDAL JAMES . I am a bookkeeper in the employ of Joseph Galbraith & Co., 8, Austin Friars, shipbrokers—the prisoner was employed as our messenger, to assist in cleaning the office—on the 24th May I placed two 10l. bank notes in a desk in the counting-house, 4l. 10s. in gold, and 5s. in silver—I placed them there between 10 and 11 in the morning—I did not lock it up—about 5 o'clock next day I went to the desk and found it mining—this (produced) is one of the notes, it has my writing on it, "Williams, Deacon & Co.," the bankers from whom I received it—it is No. 91,418.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know that the prisoner has one of the badges from the City Commissioner of Police to act as a regular porter? A. Yes; he had only been employed about our premises a few weeks—I got the numbers of the notes from the bankers—I went there immediately I missed them, and got the numbers—I had received them between 10 and 11 o'clock on the morning of the 24th—I always endorsed the notes I received.
WILLIAM LEDGER . I am messenger to Messrs. Galbraith & Co,—I employed the prisoner about eighteen months to assist in cleaning the office—he was there on the 24th and 25th—he usually came about 7.30, and left about 9.30.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he come back on the 25th after the notes were missed, the same as usual? A. Yes, and continued to do so until he was taken into custody—he was previously in the employ of the Royal Exchange Assurance Office, and also in the employ of Guadstein & Co., of 26, Austin Friars, as a messenger five or six years—I had a good character with him, and believed him to be an honest man—he had 3s. a week.
AUGUSTUS ALEXANDER KING . I am assistant to James Russell, pawnbroker, of 10, Shoreditch—on the 25th of May, between 3 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the prisoner came and bought a silver watch and chain for 28s.—he gave me this 10l. Bank of England note in payment—I saw him write on it, "John Smith, Albert Road, Mile End Road"—he also bought this clock for 1l.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he long in the shop? A. Quite half an hour—we have not many customers in the sale department.
RICHARD ADYE BAILEY . I am a clerk in the Bank of England—I produce a cancelled Bank of England note for 10l., dated 8th January, No. 91,418—it was paid in on 27th May last by the London and County Bank—it has the names of "Smith, Broad Street," on it.
THOMAS BALDWIN (City Policeman 555). I took the prisoner into custody at a public-house in Leadenhall Street, on the 1st of June—I told him the charge—he said he knew nothing about it—I found on him three pawnbrokers' duplicates, some betting memorandums, a purse, and a knife—I found this clock at his lodgings.
FRANCES ANN JENNINGS . I am assistant to Mr. Tullett, a grocer, who keeps a Post Office in Shoreditch—I received this 10l. note, No. 91,419, on the 25th of May, in payment for 1l. worth of postage stamps—it was from a man—I don't know who it was—my initials are on the note.
RANDAL JAMES (re-examined). There is the date of 24th May on this note in my writing—I put that on directly I received it—I did not receive any other 10l. notes about that time—I can't say whether I received any others that day from Williams, Deacon & Co.—I might—there is no one here from Williams & Deacon's—I never paid any 10l. note to the prisoner—no one but my fellow clerk would have access to the counting-house.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. METCALFE and SLADE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.
WILLIAM FLETCHER . I am a sorting clerk in the Derby Post Office—on 2nd June last I made up the Derby relief mail bag for London—I put 147 letters into the bag—this is my memorandum—these (produced) are some of the letters, part of them were stamped by myself—I tied and sealed up the bag and sent it to the station between 6.15 and 6.20—it was a perfectly good bag then.
HENRY MATTINSON . I am one of the train guards on the Midland Railway—on the 2nd of June I received the London mail bag at the Derby station, about 6.35—I hung it up in the van after examining it, brought it to London, and delivered it to Folkard, who was the mail porter in charge, about 9.53.
RICHARD WILLIAM BURKINSHAW . I am a mail-cart driver—on 2nd June I received the mail bags at the St. Pancras Station, from Folkard—he put them into the van—I took them to the Euston Square Station, and from there to the General Post Office, where I arrived about 11.40—Richard Bowman was with Folkard when he put in the bags.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was it when the bags were put in at the St. Pancras Station? A. About 11.5—I have never been in the mailroom at St. Pancras Station.
WILLIAM DIXON . I am an acting inspector at the General Post Office—I superintend the night duties there—on the night of the 2nd June I was on duty there—I received the Derby mail bag from the van about 11.30—I examined it and found a hole cut in the side in the folds below the seal, sufficiently large to take out a bundle of letters—I found in the bag eighty-six letters, four papers, and four books—that was all for the E.C. district—I made a communication to Mulvany, who was waiting at the office.
at the Midland Railway Station—there is a room there in which the mail bags are deposited—I kept one key of that room and Folkard another—Folkard was on duty on the night of the 2nd of June—it was the duty of whichever of us was on duty at the time to wait the arrival of the up train from Leicester and Derby at 9.50, and then take the bags into the room, and then go across to the King's Cross Station and receive the bags which came up from the Great Northern and take them also into the same room, and then about 11 o'clock to put them into the ran for the General Post Office—during the time the bags were in the mail-room it should be kept locked, and the van also locked into which the bags are put—we were not allowed to take any persons into the mail-room—I have seen Richard Bowman with Folkard about three or four times, and his "brother, too—about 6.0 one morning I found them in the mail-room—I could not open the door—it was opened to me by Folkard from the inside, and there was Folkard, the two Bowmans, and another person—they were asleep till I aroused them.
Cross-examined. Q. What sized room is it? A. Nearly as large as this Court—there are two large cases in it intended for papers relative to our duties, a large table, and two stools, no screens, only a high desk—I did not take any account of the day on which I found the four persons asleep there, it was some time in May—it was unusual and improper—I did not report it—I asked Folkard for an explanation, and he said they were out late and could not get into their lodging, and came in there; that was satisfactory so far—I should not have thought it perfectly satisfactory if I had heard nothing afterwards about the bags being cut open—I did not approve of it, but I did not notice it to any one—6 o'clock in the morning is our ordinary time for going on duty—we remain there most of the day until 11 o'clock at night—the two of us do that duty—I should be on from 6 o'clock a.m. till 5.30 or 6 o'clock p.m., and part of the day we should be on together—I should be on duty from ten to eleven hours—it depends upon the arrival of the trains; it is not more than eleven hours at the outside, and we are not fully employed even that time—the second duty would commence at middle day from 11 to 12 o'clock, and the one that went on duty then would remain till night—we did not work alternately—I was chiefly on the early duty, from 6 o'clock a.m. till some time in the afternoon, and Folkard was chiefly on at night up to 11 o'clock—I knew Richard Bowman four or five years—he was in the employ of the Post Office as a letter-carrier—I have seen him a few times since—Richard Bowman has been to see him, so he told me, but I have not seen him about as I have Robert—both the Bowmans were respectable as far as I knew—I never left the mailroom without locking the door—there is a clock immediately opposite, on the other Bide of the platform, which can be seen from the door if there are no carriages on the line between.
JOHN MULVANY (Police Inspector). I was engaged by the Post Office authorities to keep a look out at the Midland Station—I was there on 2nd June, about 9.30, and saw the prisoners come on the platform—they went straight to the mail room—Folkard unlocked the door, and they went in—the gas was lighted—they remained in there till the bell rang for the arrival of the 9.30 up train—Folkard then came out and shut the door—he crossed the metals on to the up platform, collected the bags from the guards of the train, and went back with them to the mail room, and shut the door—shortly afterwards the gas was turned down sufficiently low for
any person inside to see what they were doing—in about five minutes he came out, locked the door, and went away with the key—in about twenty-five minutes he came back from the direction of King's Cross with other bags, unlocked the door, went into the room, and shut the door after him—the gas was then turned up—he remained in there till 10.45—he then come out on to the platform, looked up and down, went in again, and shut the door—in about two minutes he partially opened the door and put his head out—he then withdrew it, and closed the door—shortly afterwards the bell rang for the arrival of the 11 o'clock train from the north—he then came out, bringing with him the mail-bags, which he placed outside the door, and having collected them together, put them on his shoulder—the gas in the room was then turned out by somebody inside while he was on the platform, and immediately afterwards Bowman came out of the mail room—Folkard with the bags then crossed the metals again on to the up line, having locked the door—he collected the bags from the up train, and took them to the mail guard, Burkinshaw—Bowman came round from the platform, where the mail room is, on to the arrival platform, where he met Folkard—he first seated himself—he afterwards got up and went towards Folkard—I saw Folkard in the act of putting the bag into the van—I then went out of the station, and shortly afterwards saw the two prisoners come out of the private entrance, the passengers' entrance, into the Euston Road—a porter came to the gate, and closed it after them—they remained some minutes talking to the porter—he went back into the station, and they seated themselves on a ledge close to the gate—in about four or five minutes they ware joined by the porter, and they all three went along the Euston Road to the Victoria public-house, and went in—they had some beer, and directly they had finished it, they came out all three together—Folkard went away up the York Road, in the direction of his lodging—Bowman crossed the Gray's Inn Road and proceeded a short distance along it to 301, a coffee-house, which he entered—he passed through the shop, and in about a minute or a minute and a half afterwards I saw him come to the second floor front window, with a candle in his hand, and draw the curtain across—I then left Constable Moon there to keep watch, and took a cab and went to the General Post Office and saw Mr. Dixon—I got there before the bags—I had some conversation with him, and having ascertained the state of the bags, I went back to toe coffee-house—I had some conversation with the landlady and Moon, and I went up stairs, she going first—she knocked at the door of the second floor front room—I had told her to say that Folkard wanted to speak to him—some one inside answered, "Who's there?—she said, "Mr. Folkard wants to speak to you"—he replied, "Send him up"—I then went to the door and knocked—Home one inside said "Is that you, Bill"—I said, "Yes, open the door"—it was not opened, and he said again, "Is that you, Bill?" and I said, "Yes, open the door"—I heard a shuffling in the room, and I forced the door open, and found the prisoner Bowman Standing in the room in his shirt—Moon brought a light, and I saw the jacket which Bowman is now wearing, lying on a chair—I took it up, and he said "What are you going to do?" and I said "I am a police-officer'—I took out of the pocket of the coat a bundle containing 53 letters, some containing money orders and advices—two of the letters were in a pocket-book—I sent him to the station—I produce all the letters, they all bear the Derby post-mark of 2nd June, and each letter had been opened by cutting the envelope at the top.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you are the person who had been watching Robert Bowman at the St. Pancras Station before this? A. I had net been watching any one in particular—I believe a bag had been cut open before the 2nd June—I was informed so—I saw Robert Bowman trying the handle of the mailroom door—I knew that bag was not open when the witness Potter was on duty—I am only told so, and a 5l. note was traced to Robert Bowman, who has been convicted.
RICHARD MOON (Police Sergeant). On the morning alter 2nd June I apprehended Folkard about 4.30 or 5 o'clock, outside the door of 9, William Street, Copenhagen Street, Caledonian Road—I was with Mulvany—I told him we were police-officers, and I should take him in custody for being concerned with another man in stealing some letters from the Derby mail-bag—he said "If you take me you take me innocently"—I took him into his room, and while searching him Mulvany said "When did you see Bowman last?"—he said "Which Bowman?"—Mulvany said "Richard Bowman"—he said "Last week"—Mulvany said "Have not you seen him since?"—he said "Yes, I think I have, I saw him last night"—some time afterwards as he was sitting on the bed, he said "Ah, this comes of doing a good turn for a friend"—Mulvany asked him if he had done Bowman a good turn, as he called it?—he said "Yes, I have given him his breakfast and his tea many a time when he had not any money, when he has not had a shilling in his pocket"—we searched the room, but found nothing relating to this case.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July 12th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common, Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAWFURD and DUNN conducted the Prosecution.
ROSA WEST . I am the wife of Henry West, and am employed at a baker's shop, 131, St. John Street Road, kept by Mrs. Bell—on 18th April the prisoner came in for two penny cakes—he gave me a half-crown—I tried it, found it was bad, and told him so—he said, "Is it?" and gave me a good one—I gave him 2s. 4d. change, and gave the bad one to the constable.
Prisoner. Q. Can you swear to me? A. Yes, by your looks.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT (Policeman 157 G.) On 18th April, about 10.15, I was sent for to Mrs. Bell's, and the prisoner was given into my charge—I found 2s. 8d. upon him—he gave his name George William Cope—he was taken before a Magistrate and discharged—Rosa West gave me this bad half-crown.
MARY ANN LEE . I am a widow, and keep a general shop at 50, Milton Street—on 11th June I served the prisoner with a bottle of ginger-beer—he gave me a bad shilling—as he drank it he gave a smack with his lips, which I recognized, and remembered that he had been there some weeks before and gave me a bad shilling, which I threw into the fire—I took the shilling to my son and asked him if it was good—he said "No"—I told the prisoner it was a bad one; he laughed, and gave me a good one—as I gave him the change I said "This is not the first time you have been here passing bad money"—my son said "Then he shall not get off," and gave him in charge—I bent the shilling and gave it to the prisoner.
Prisoner. I was never in the shop before. Witness. You were.
GEORGE BYWATER (Policeman G 86). Mrs. Lee gave the prisoner into my custody with this coin (produced)—he said he had taken it at his work—I took him to the station, and found on him a good half-crown and a 6d.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
554. GEORGE SCOTT (28), PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously forging and uttering a request for the delivery of books, with intent to defraud, having been previously convicted in July, 1869, in the name of Stephen Hart— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD LATTER (Policeman). On 22nd June, about 9 o'clock, I saw the prisoner and two others in Billingsgate Market, packing a quantity of fish baskets together—I watched them some time—the prisoner placed a, large quantity of baskets on his head and went through Nicholson's Wharf, leading to Fresh Wharf—I waited till he came out—he threw the baskets down and ran away—he was stopped on London Bridge without my losing sight of him—I said "I shall take you for stealing a quantity of baskets from Billingsgate Market—he said I should not have taken them if I had not been drinking—he was not tipsy—there were seventeen baskets—I produce one of them—Nicholson's Wharf was on his way to where he threw them down—it was not a place where he could be as easily observed—it was more out of sight than if he had gone through the market, where he would have been stopped—the police do not patrol the wharf—he saw me before that—the baskets belonged to different people.
FRANCIS BREMAN . I am in the service of William Jennings, a fish salesman, of Billingsgate Market—these baskets belonged to him—the prisoner bad no right to take them—they are consigned from Holland, with shrimps in them, and are worth a shilling a piece.
Prisoner's Defence. These baskets were sent up to me by Mr. James, of Aldershott, a fish salesman, who I have been working for for three years, and I took care of them; I generally put them on Nicholson's Wharf, but the second watchman would not allow me. When the constable stopped me I told him that they belonged to Mr. James, who is outside here (Mr. James did not answer when called.)
He was further charged with a conviction at this Court in May, 1863, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, July 12th, 1870.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
560. GEORGE WILLIAM GILLHAM (14) , unlawfully obtaining, by means of false pretences, from Henry Tunnell a portmanteau and other goods, with intent to defraud— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution; MESSRS. F. H. LEWIS and STRAIGHT defended JONAS.
EDWIN LURFORT . I live at 9, Caroline Street, Hackney Road, and am agent for the house 11, High Street, Stepney—I collect the rents for Mr. Clark, the landlord—Jonas is the tenant at 11, High Street, Stepney—he came in on the 29th of last September—he pays 26l. a year.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. And he has paid his rent regularly? A. Yes.
ALFRED SMITH (Detective Officer K). On the evening of 17th June, about 6 o'clock, I went to the Star coffee-house in Shoreditch, and apprehended Stern—I told him I should take him into custody for conspiracy and fraud with a man named Jonas—he said "You ought to bring a warrant"—I said I did not require a warrant, and I should take him to the station—I found some papers and cards in his pocket—I went afterwards to 11, High Street, Stepney, in company with another constable, and apprehended Jonas—I found 172 boxes of soap there on that day, and the next day sixteen boxes, making 188 in all—there were three different kinds of soap—these are the samples (produced).
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. This shop is 11, High Street, Stepney? A. Yes; it is a small tobacconist's—it does not look like the shop of a large shipper to foreign parts—I should not have taken it as such—Jonas went quietly with me—I had seen him before—the name of Mr. Shop-lioder is under the door—the name of Jonas was not up.
WILLIAM LILLISTONE (Detective Officer K). On the night of the 17th June, about 7.30, I went to 11, High Street, Stepney—it is a little eigar shop—I did Dot notice any name up then, I did the next morning—the name was Shoplander—I saw Jonas standing against his door—I told him that I should take him into custody for being concerned with another man in custody for conspiring to defraud a man narmed John Sadler of some glycerine soap—he said "I have paid all the money"—he said "Shall I see Stern?"—I said "Most likely you will"—I had not mentioned the name of Stern—I afterwards went with Smith, and searched the house, and found 172 boxes of soap like this produced, and next morning I found sixteen more—they were not concealed in any way—they were on a table in the bedroom on the first floor back.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you say before the Magistrate that Jonas said "Shall I see Stern?" A. Yes—a notice was sent to the policestation stating that the soap was waiting for us at Jonas's premises—that was the second lot—Jonas's solicitor sent the notice.
JOHN SADLER . I live at 4, Parkfield Street, Islington, and am an agent for glycerine soap, and also a dealer in soap—I have known Stern about twelve months—about five weeks" prior to the 18th June I met him opposite the Royal Exchange—he told me that he knew a buyer of soap, and if I liked he would introduce me—I told him if he was a good man I should be very glad if he would—he said I could do business with him, and do it safely—he said he could introduce me to several firms—some time about the 2nd June I received this letter in Stern's handwriting (Read: "12, Grey Street, Aldgate. Wednesday evening. Mr. Sadler. Meet me tomorrow, Thursday, between 2 and 3 o'clock, at the office, and bring a sample. I can sell some of the soap. Yours truly, L. Sten.")—I went
there on the 3rd June and saw Stern, and he agreed to go with me on the following evening to Mr. Jonas—I met him the following evening, and went to No. 11, High Street, Stepney—he said Mr. Jonas was a great shipper to America, he had a son in America to whom he shipped a large quantity of goods, and that he was a man of means whom I could trust—I saw the eigar shop—when we went in Stern addressed Jonas in a foreign language—I fancied it was German—Stern then told me to produce my samples—I went understanding that Mr. Jonas was going to buy some soap of me, and we went into the parlour, and I produced my samples—Stern said "My friend wants to buy some soap"—Stern explained to me what was wanted, and Jonas produced one of his printed memoranda, and wrote the order for the things that he should like to have—I spoke about the payment, and he said he was quite willing and able to pay directly they came over—the goods were to come from Berlin—Mr. Stern then explained to me that he wanted some to go on with—I said I could not spare him much—he said he wanted ten or twelve gross—I said I could not let him have as much as that, but what I could spare him he should have till the order came over—he had soap to the amount of 10l. 4s. 3d.—the whole order came to about 74l.—I asked for the money, and he said I should have it next week—I called Stern's attention to the matter, and said it was not my arrangement; that they were to be sold for cash—he said "It is all right, you can be perfectly safe; but I will give you something"—he went in and brought me 2l. and said "If you take this you can have the rest next week"—Jonas could speak a little English, and he said "You shall have it, for I will pay you"—I took the 2l. for which I gave him a receipt.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS defended Kelly.
JOHN BROOKS . I am a sailor—on the 16th August, 1869, I went into the Wade's Arms, Poplar, with a friend—I had nothing to drink there—the two prisoners were in there at the time—I knew them before by sight—I don't think they knew me—I remained in the house five or ten minutes—when I went out the prisoners followed me, and ran after me—I slewed round and asked why they were running after me—they said "Come and have a glass of something to drink"—I said "I refused you in the Wade's Arms, why do you follow me?"—I tried to get into Davis Street the back way, and the prisoners made a rush and shoved me into the middle of the road—I went on toward Chrisp Street, and they hustled me into one of the bye-streets leading into the West India Road—Kelly tried to tear the back of my vest—I tried to shove them off, and lifted my left hand out of my pocket—he then held my hand so that I could not get it to my pocket again, and McCarthy took the purse and ran off—Kelly also ran off—I went and lodged the complaint at the station—I had had six or seven small glasses of ale—I was perfectly sober—I suppose they were about two hours before they accomplished their task—I did not see a policeman from the time the prisoners first attacked me—I saw McCarthy again in the Royal Standard, a beer-shop in Wells Street—I did not make any accusation against him—I went in to have a glass of ale—I knew him and recognized him—I went out, and he came out after me—I looked for a policeman, but could not find
one—there were only two or three persons in the public-house at the time, and me and my friend, and I pointed him out to my friend—I left England on 27th September, and went to Sydney—I gave McCarthy in charge on the 16th June, when I came back—he was standing in Duke Street—I picked Kelly out of some others a day or two after that—I had seen him once in the interval when I went to stop the 10l. on the 18th—I lost a 10l. note and 5l. in gold—it was in a purse in my left-hand pocket—I was stopping in Shadwell at that time.
Cross-examined. Q. This was about 6 o'clock in August. A. Between 6 and 7 o'clock—it was quite light—it was just getting dusk when the prisoners took my purse—I did not have fifteen sovereigns in it—there was 5l. in gold and a 10l. note—I went to the bank and stopped the note on the 18th August—they were two hours and a half before they got the purse from me—I never saw a policeman during that time, or a single soul—I did not sing out because I did not know they were going to treat me in the way they did.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution,
CAPTAIN ALLEN HENRY GARDNER I am a captain in the Royal Navy—I am now captain of the Mersey—from October, 1866, up to February, 1867, I was in command of the ship Victoria in the Mediterranean—the prisoner was the paymaster of that ship—the duties of all paymasters are alike—Mr. Houghton will tell you those duties—this document is a requisition for money to the Admiralty, and purports to be approved and signed by me—that is my real signature—this is the signature of the prisoner, C. W. Eeles, paymaster—that is his signature acknowledging the receipt of 2,500l.—it is the duty of the paymaster to send in a monthly cash account, which ought to be certified to by me—this signature, Allen H. Gardner, is not my handwriting—I did not authorize the prisoner to sign it, or anybody else—I know the prisoner's signature—I believe that to be his signature, and I believe it to be in the handwriting of the person who wrote my signature—I have very little doubt that it is in the prisoner's writing—the prisoner left the ship, invalided, some time in February.
JOHN HOUGHTON . I am a clerk in the accountant's office in the Admiralty—I have been clerk there twenty-nine years—I am conversant with the duties of paymasters on board Her Majesty's ships—it is their duty to keep a cash-book showing receipts and disbursements—when money is required the paymaster signs a requisition, and upon the certificate of the captain the money is sent—it was the prisoner's duty to furnish the Admiralty a monthly cash account—it ought to be a true copy of the cashbook—I know the prisoner's handwriting—this requisition is in the prisoner's handwriting—I can't form any opinion as to the signature "Allen H. Gardner" to the monthly account—the cash-book of the Victoria was left in the custody of the paymaster—I saw an account received at the Admiralty—I have not got it here—1000l. was debited by the prisoner in the cash-book, in his own handwriting, on 28th January, instead of 2500l., which was sent to him.
GEORGE BENJAMIN LINDSAY . I am a clerk in the office of the Solicitor to the Admiralty—since 1867 I have been making inquiries for the prisoner and looking for him—I have not been able to find him till he was in custody—I heard that he was at Portsmouth.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
564. EDWARD SKELLOW (12) , Feloniously throwing stones at an engine, tender, and carriages, travelling upon the Midland Railway, with intent to endanger the lives of persons then travelling upon the railway.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY REYNOLDS . I am in the employment of the Midland Railway Company—in consequence of directions I received I watched the trains upon the railway between Camden Road and Kentish Road Stations, and on the 29th June, in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner come from the direction of Camden Town to the Kentish Town Station—there is a bridge over the railway at Cavendish Street, and there is a tunnel in sight of that bridge—as soon as the prisoner saw the smoke from the engine pass the tunnel he picked up a stone and threw it at the train—the stone was about the size of a hen's egg—he was about fifteen yards from me—I caught him, and told him I should take him for throwing the stone—he said he was very sorry, and would not do it again if I would let him go—I told him I could not do so, and I gave him into custody—many of the trains have been struck by stones thrown in that way—I saw a window broken—I did not see it actually broken, but after it was broken.
Prisoner. It was a piece of dirt I threw, it was not a stone—I did not see the train coming.
COURT. Q. How do you know it was a stone? A. There were a great many stones about, and I was close to him.
JONATHAN BUTCHER (Policeman V R 2). The prisoner was handed over to me—I asked him his name, and where he lived—he said he lived at Somers Town—I told him he was charged with throwing a stone at a railway train—he said "If you will forgive me I will never throw another"—he was very much frightened.
THE COURT considered there was no evidence that the life of any person was endangered; that it was not proved that there was any one in the train.
NOT GUILTY ,
MR. BESLEY offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH the Defence.
WILLIAM RICHARD BAKER . I carry on business at the White Horse, Cripplegate—the prisoner was in my employment as a carman—on 15th June I sent him to Devasses, from whom he received a parcel for Mr. Broadhead, Central Street, St. Luke's—he was to deliver the goods and receive 18l. 19s., and to pay the money into the office—he did not so—I did not see him when he returned in the evening, but I saw him next morning—he came to the office—he said that he had received the money for the parcel he delivered to Mr. Broadhead, but that unfortunately he had lost it—he pointed to a hole in the breast-pocket of his coat, and said "It must have dropped through there"—Brain, a boy in our employ, was with him on that particular evening—the prisoner has not accounted for the money or paid it to me at all.
Cross-examined. Q. What day was this? A. On Wednesday, 15th June—I did not see him that evening—he did not return home till 11
o'clock, and ought to have been home at 9 o'clock—I did not ask him about the money till the following morning—he left my place between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, and ought to have been back by 9 o'clock—I had a very good character with him for honesty and integrity—I dis-charged him on the 18th because of the money he had not accounted for.
HENRY JONES . I am barman at the Welsh Harp, Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell—I knew the prisoner as a customer when I was at the Bull, in Holborn—I recollect him coming to the Welsh Harp, I don't know the day—he passed over some money to me in a little bag, and asked me to take care of it for him—there was 18l. 18s. 6d.—he said he was afraid of losing it, and would call in the morning for it, or at night—he then went any—I went out to the door about half an hour afterwards and saw the cart standing there—the boy spoke to me—T then said to the prisoner, "The boy tells me you have lost the money, you know you gave it to me; take it away, I won't have anything to do with it"—and I gave him the money back.
Cross-examined. Q. When he gave you the money, did he say he felt stupid from drink and did not like to carry it about with him? A. Yes, he had some beer in our house, and before he came there he had had hit share.
WILLIAM BROAD HEAD . I am a draper, at 48, Central Street, St. Luke's—on 15th June the prisoner came to me with a cart and some goods—I paid him a 5l. note and 13l. 10s. in gold, 18l. 19s. altogether—he was to take that to his master—he gave me a receipt for it.
JOHN BRAIN . I am in the employ of Mr. Baker—on 15th June I went with the prisoner to Central Street, St. Luke's—I stopped in the cart, and the prisoner took the goods in—coming away from there the prisoner said he had received some money—we then went to the City Road—the prisoner then said he had lost his money—he was sober—we went to the Welsh Harp, and he told me to take the horse and cart back to the Angel, Islington—I went there and brought the cart back—I told him I had brought the cart back, and he said "All right," and went down Jerusalem Panage—the barman came to the door, and I said something to him.
Cross-examined. Q. The prisoner was quite sober all the evening? A. Yes—he was sober when he went to the Welsh Harp—he was rather intoxicated when he came away from there.
WILLIAM FAULKES (City Detective). I took the prisoner into custody on 29th of last month—I told him the charge, and he said "All right"—bringing him past the Welsh Harp I said "You were seen to go there with some of the money"—he said "All right, I had it after that."
Cross-examined. Q. He told you that it was lost? A. He told me previously that he had lost it, and he had had it after he had been in the Weigh Harp—he said before, he lost it before 9 o'clock in the evening—he give rather a confused statement—he was very much confused and alarmed.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
The prisoner having stated in the hearing of the Jury that he was GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, the Jury found that verdict — Two Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 13th, 1870.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. POIBTTER the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY .
He received a good character— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. F. H. LEWIS and BESSLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSERS GRIFFITHS and HUNT the Defence.
RICHARD SPYER . I am a clerk in the office of Registration of Joint Stock Companies, at Serjeant's Inn, Fleet Street—I produce several documents in reference to the Manchester Insurance and Banking Company Limited—it was registered on 2nd March, 1869—here is a notice, signed "Richard Henry Albus, Portland Street, Secretary to the above Company"—here is a notice signed by W. H. White, as trustee, on 13th May, 1869, of a change of situation—here is a list of shares dated 31st May, 1869, all in one writing, and signed at the bottom of every sheet "W. H. White"—I find W. H. White holding 200 shares out of the full number of 700—the whole shares taken up were 715, to 31st May, 1869—W. H. Albus, builder and agent, of Manchester, in down for five shares—on 26th November, 1868, there is another notice of change from the last office, 49A, Lord Street, Southport, to 56, City Road, London, signed "W. H. White, Director"—another change is registered on 10th February, 1870, from 56, City Road, to 55, Cheapside, and is signed "William Henry White, Director—these there is another summary of shares registered, signed "W. Henry White," it is made up to May 28th, 1870, the number of shares is in the same as before "White, 200"—on 11th May a special resolution is entered, signed "William Henry White, Director" passed on 2nd April, and con-farmed on 22nd April, 1870, at an extraordinary meeting, held at the office, at 55, Cheapside—the memorandum of January, 1869, shows that the capital of the Company is 2000l., divided into 2000 shares of 1l., each, with power-to the directors to increase it 2,000,000l. at any time; but the power to increase it to 2,000,000l. is struck out—the date of registration is 2nd January, 1869, and I find there the address of Mr. Albus, builder and com-mission agent, 9, Brown New Street, Manchester—that purports to be his ad-dresson 30th November, 1868—the address in Southport is 4, Portland Street.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you been clerk in the office a long time? A. Many years—I am quite conversant with the Acts—this Company has doubtless complied with all the requirements of the Acts.
MR. LEWIS. Q. You know nothing of the Company, except in your official capacity? A. No.
WILLIAM RHODES WATERHOUSE . I know the prisoner—in November, 1868, he was living at 4, Brown New Street, Manchester, in the name of George Chilwell—I served him myself with a copy of this agreement—he came to the place about November 2nd, 1868, and remained till the middle
of December, when I served it he said it was right, it was never signed—the name on the door was George Chilwell, and he answered to that name—I have not seen him write—there was no person named W. H. Albus residing at that time at Brown New Street, Manchester—that street is 200 yards long—the rent of the house is 80l. a year.
Cross-examined. Q. You are not the landlord? A. No, James Ash win is—he is not here—he does not let lodgings—he lets the house unfurnished—I know that because I am his messenger—the house is let off in offices, but Mr. Chilwell has the whole of it.
JOHN RICHARD TYNDAL . I am a solicitor—in September last, I had to do with the letting of 86, City Road—the prisoner applied to the agent, and this letter came into my possession, dated 17th September—it is aigned in the name of White—I afterwards came in contact with the prisoner, through the agent—he did not accept him, but he got possession, of the whole buildings on 29th September, 1869—there were seven, eight, or nine rooms—I know he stopped there till Christmas Day—it was found vacant about March, 1870—the rent was 130l.; a year, but I never got any—I went there between September and Christmas, but could not get in, and did not see him.
STEPHEN DUMMBRE . I am a tea dealer, of 55, Cheapside—about 12th January, the prisoner came and said he wanted my first-floor offices for the Manchester Assurance Company, and said he had offices at present in the City Road—I said I should require a reference—he said I could have one, the Company be belonged to would give me plenty of references—I went to 56, City Road, but found no one there—I saw him again, and told him I must have a reference—he said I should apply to Mr. W. H. Albus, one of the directors, at 66, City Road—I then wrote a letter, and got this reply (produced)—that was on the 8th January—he took the offices from the 12th—the interview was about the 6th—there was no agreement in writing, nothing but the letter—the rent was 70l. per annum for one room on the first floor—he brought on the '12th a few fittings, a counter, a little office furniture, and a partition to part the place in half—I was to have the rent quarterly—the first quarter would be 12th April—I never got a penny, and put in a distress—there was no extraordinary meeting of directors or shareholders on 2nd or 22nd April—I never saw more than Mr. Bray and Mr. White there—I was on the ground floor daily, and know that there was Do meeting on 2nd April—the only meeting I know of was between Bray and White—there were no other directors and no clerks—I never saw Mr. Albus—I found a host of prospectuses on the premises—he remained in possession till the time of his arrest—the only director I could find any clues to was the witness Gilbert, a pawnbroker of Bermondsey—I saw no directors, nothing but claimants for money.'
Cross-examined. Q. Do you carry on a large business? A. I have plenty to occupy my time, but everybody has to pass my window, and it is impossible for them to go into the house without my seeing them—they have not to pass through the shop, but I saw all who went in and out—I am nearly always in the shop, but am out sometimes for an hour—I go out to lunch, but it only takes me ten minutes.
JAMBS NASH . I am a cabinet-maker, of 90, Bermondaey Street, Surrey—the prisoner had asked me several times to belong to his society, and his agent as well; and to the 39th October he called to me, and I effected this policy with him—he signed these two signatures, "W. H. White" and
W. H. Albus" in my presence, which was the reason I did not pay him—when I demurred to his signing W. H. Albus he said, "I have got the authority of my brother directors to sign that"—he had signed the name when he said that—I will not be certain whether he said director or directors—immediately I saw him sign both names I had my doubts, and instead of giving him five shillings, I hesitated, and made up my mind not to give him the money; but I said "I will give you that stool and a shilling"—not the stool he was sitting on, but an old stool in the shop—he hesitated, and at last accepted that offer as the premium, and left this policy with me, and one of his brother directors took the old stool with him and went away—I do not know whether that was Mr. Bray, but he urged me to become an agent of the society.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You cannot say whether it was directors or director? A. Now I think of it, it was "My brother director" I am quite clear that I paid the shilling to him.
WILLIAM JOHN GILBERT . I am a pawnbroker, of Garbett's Terrace, Bermondsey—I was not a director of the Manchester Insurance and Banking Company Limited—I know the prisoner—he never spoke to me about being a director, and I never was one. (One Prospectus contained the name of J. W. Gilbert, Esq., and another document had J. Gilbert, pawnbroker, Blue Anchor Road, Bermondsey.
COURT. Q. Do you live at Blue Anchor Road, Bermondsey? A. Yes; there is no other pawnbroker named Gilbert there.
MR. LEWIS to W. J. GILBERT. Q. Did the prisoner represent himself as a man of means? A, Yes, he said he was a gentleman of 20,000.—that was some time in March, 1870.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Did you say you knew nothing about the Company? A. I knew they were a Company in Cheapside—I never was a shareholder, and never was at the office—my young man sold the furniture to furnish it—(The COURT inquired whether there was further evidence of forgery, as the prisoner signed the name of Albus in the prosecutor's presence. MR. LEWW stated that "Albus" was only the prisoner's own name Latinized, that there was no such person, and that it was therefore a forgery)—I never attempted to borrow 80l. of this Company, nothing of the kind.
FREDERICK WHITE PALMER . I am a physician and surgeon, of Osmond House, Old Kent Road—I was not aware of my name being used as con-sulting physician to this society till the proceedings were instituted at the Mansion House—the prospectus says "Surgeon, Dr. F. W. Palmer, Osmond House, Old Kent Road; at home for consultation from 9 to 4"—I have lived in that neighbourhood about twenty years—about twelve months ago last spring, some person who I cannot swear to called upon me about the London and Medical Insurance Company, I think it was called, and I said that I would turn it over in my mind, and if it was a respectable affair I should have no objection, but nobody called afterwards—none of the assured called on me, and I never heard anything about it afterwards.
RICHARD THOMPSON . I was formerly porter at a spice warehouse—last March I was engaged by the prisoner and Mr. Bray—the prisoner told me I was to canvass, and get as many persons as I could to join the society against fire—he gave me some prospectuses, large and small—I was paid 1s. in 100l.—I canvassed Mr. Curry, who, insured in the society—I know
the prisoner's writing—this letter, signed "W. H. Albus," has his signature.
Cross-examined. Q. Hare you seen him write? A. Yes, many a time (Read: "No. 6, City Road. Sir, In reply to yours of to-day, respecting Mr. White, he has been our surveyor over two years, and is in receipt of 500l. per annum, out of which he has to pay office rent only. During the time he has been in our employment he has given us every satisfaction, and I doubt not but he will give you the same. Yours truly, W. H. Albus.")—I do not know in whose writing the body of it is.
OSWALD CURRY . I am an eating-house keeper, of 189, Salmon Lane, Liraehouse—I was canvassed by Thompson, and this (produced) is my policy of insurance (This was signed "W. H. White," and "Richard Brey.")—I insured on 22nd March, 1870, and on 28th April I had a fire, and made a claim—I saw the prisoner, and told him I wanted the amount I had insured for—he said that he had nothing to do with the affair, he was only a mere agent—I afterwards showed him the policy, with "W. H. White, Director," on it, and asked him if that was his signature—he said "Yes"—he left the office upon that, saying that he would be back in two hours; but he never came back any more—I afterwards met him in the Borough, stopped him, and said I was completely ruined, and wanted my money, or 5l. on account—he said "I have got your money at my house, tod I will pay you"—he took me to his house, and got two policemen, and gave me in charge for setting fire to my house—I had been in the house five years before the fire.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. How long was it after you had insured, that the fire took place? A. About six weeks—I have not the slightest idea what occasioned it—it commenced, to the best of my belief, down stairs, about 6 o'clock in the morning—I was in bed at the time, and my family—I have not had the misfortune to have any other fire.
WILLIAM GREEN (re-examined.) I read the warrant to the prisoner—he said "The Mr. Oswald Curry you" mention is now locked up at Poplar police-station, charged by me with setting fire to his place"—I said "I know that to be false, I have seen him this morning; have you ever signed yourself 'W. H. Albus?"—he said, "No"—I took him to the station, and found on him a quantity of prospectuses of the same company, policies of insurance, and other papers—I went to his place, but found no papers or books—there were no books at the office, or any of the appliances of business.
PATRICK SHANLEY . I have been twenty-four years an Inspector of Police at Manchester, and have been well acquainted with all the builders there for the last eighteen years—there is no builder in Manchester named W. H. Albus.
Cross-examined. Q. You are not prepared to swear that there are not builders of that name who do not carry on business? A. No—I know most of the builders.
MR. GRIFFITHS contended that there was no forgery, at Albus was not in existence, and further that the name of Albus was a mere addition, as Mr. Nash would have parted with his goods and hit shilling whether the name of Albut was written or not.
THE COURT considered that the signature of a non-existing person, signed with the intention to deceive, was a forgery.
GUILTY .*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT—Wednesday, July 13th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
CATHERINE HARVEY . I am the wife of Aaron Harvey, a sailor, and live at 43, Morris Street, St. George's—I live in the kitchen—the prisoner and her husband and son live in the first floor front room—on the 10th June, at midnight, I was in bed—I heard the prisoner's voice up stairs scolding some one—I did not hear any one answer—I then heard crockery being thrown about, and afterwards some one moaning—I heard the prisoners son say "Oh mother, you have stabbed my father"—soon after the same voice said "O mother, you have stabbed me; bring me a light, bring me a light"—on bearing this I ran out of my room, and saw the prisoner's husband coming down stairs—he showed me a wound in his chest—air was blowing out of it—I laid him on the stairs and ran up stairs—I met the son coming down—his thigh was bleeding—the prisoner was at the top of the stairs—I said to her "What have you done? and she said "I have done it and I will do the same to any one who comes up"—she was very tipsy—I screamed for the police, and presently a constable came and went up stairs—before the constable came the son went back into the room—I saw the policeman take a knife from up the chimney, and there was blood on it—this is it (produced)—the blood was wet.
Prisoner. Q. When I came in that night were not you and the land-lady in the parlour, and did you not ask me where my husband was, and I replied "He is abed and asleep?" A. No, I did not see you come in—I did not call him down stairs—I did not see you at all that night until after I heard the noise.
WILLIAM BUTLER (Policeman K 427). On the morning of the 10th Jane, about 12.30, I was called to 43, Morris Street, St. George's—I found an old man, Henry Clark, lying at the bottom of the stairs—he was not bleeding—I then went up stairs, and saw the son lying on a bed—I could not see whether or not he was bleeding—the wound was bound up—in the presence of his mother I asked him who had done it—he said he would not charge her—from a communication I had with the old man I charged the prisoner with stabbing her husband—she said she knew nothing about it, and perhaps some of his b—when—s did it—she was drunk at the time—I found this penknife up the chimney—there was blood on the blade.
Prisoner. Q. When you came was there a light in the room? A. Yes, there was a light.
HENRY CLARK . I am the prisoner's husband—at midnight on the 10th June I was in the front room with my wife and son—we did not come in together—I had been in bed two hours and a half when my wife came in—my son was in bed—when my wife came in she began Jawing me—I says "I cannot put up with it, Sarah, I will go out first," so I put on my clothes, and went to put my hand on the handle of the door to open it, and she up with a knife and stabbed me in the lungs—I opened the door and went down stairs, and laid on the stairs—I had not touched her previously—the fort-part of the night I had been drinking—I had had about two pints of half-andhalf—I was sober enough—we have often had a bit of a quarrel before,
but nothing of any consequence—the knew perfectly well what she was about—my hand has been paralyzed for about two years.
Prisoner. Q. Did you and me go out together that evening after tea? A. Yes—I gave you 8s. 6d. out of 16s.—I do not know anything about what you did with the money—we had four pints of beer between us—we did not have five or six—you did not say "It is time to go in now," and I did not say "No"—we went home about 10.30—you did not say you must go out and get some thread—when you came back and tried to prevent my going out you did not say "You shall not go out, paralyzed as you are"—I did not knock you about the head—I did not strike you at all—the boy jumped out of bed to protect me, not to protect you.
MR. COOPER. Q. Did she stab you in more than one place? A. She stabbed me in two places, in the lungs and on the left shoulder.
Prisoner. Q. Did you hear me say that I would serve anybody else the same? A. No, I did not, I was in too much pain.
JOHN CLARK . Q. I am the son of the last witness—the prisoner is my mother—I remember the midnight of the 10th June—I was in bed—my father was dressing himself to go out when my mother came in—he got up before mother came in—it was about 12.30—she was the worse for drink—when she saw father wanted to go out she stood in front of the door and she would not let him go out—father said he would go out, and he hit her with his fist in the face—he hit her once—before the Magistrate I said "I think he hit her, for she said' He has hit me, Jack'"—I saw him hit her once—then mother stabbed him with the knife—she took the knife out of her pocket and opened it—I did not see whether she stabbed him once or twice—father says "She has stabbed me, Jack"—the candle was burning then, but it went over just as it was done—I went over to gave my father, and I got a stab in the thigh—it was then dark, and I was over against the fire-place—I called out, and the police came soon after.
Prisoner. Q. Was your father dressed when I came in, all but his coat? A. Yes—you stood against the door and said he should not go out—I did not hear you speaking to some one down stain before you came up—I did not say to father "What are you doing to mother, you want to kill her?—I did not hear what you said when he struck you—it all took place behind the door—you were on the floor when you stabbed me—the table fell over and the candle went out.
COURT. Q. Did you bleed very much? A. I do not know, I lost my senses.
Prisoner. Q. Was the door open all the time? A. The door was shut—I did not hear you say you would serve anybody the same—you have had so much knocking about the head that when you get a drop of drink it drives you mad—father has come home and struck you on the bed, and told you to get out and let your mistress come in—he was knocked me about too—that was about six years ago—I have come from school and seen you ill in bed and covered with blood through father's ill-usage—that was about six years ago—I do not know whether you began jawing when you came in—I was asleep until after he sang out.
WILLIAM LEBBINGWELL . I am house-surgeon to the London Hospital—Henry Clark and John Clark were brought there on the morning of the 11th June—Henry Clark had a wound on the left breast, penetrating the lung-tissue, and another on the left shoulder—I should say the "blowing" was caused by such a knife as the one produced—John Clark was also
stabbed—Henry Clark is getting all right now—the wound was at first very dangerous.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. DAVIN the Defence.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SLEIGH the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
574. HENRY DRAIN (19), PLEADED GUILTY to a robbery on John Norfolk, and stealing from his person a watch and chain, his goods; also to stealing a chain from the person of Thomas Panchen — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
575. GEORGE MORLEY ,** FREDERICK GRIMSHAW ,** and FREDERICK JAMES ,** to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Ambrose Summers, and stealing therein a watch, sixteen spoons, nineteen forks, and other articles, his property, JAMES having been before convicted. MORLEY and JAMES— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each. GRIMSHAW— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
576. ISAAC DACOSTA (17) , to stealing a handkerchief of John Hatfield Glossip, from his person, having been before convicted— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MESSRS. BESLEY and FIRTH BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution.
CLARA LAWLER . I am the wife of Henry Lawler, and reside at 24, Sidney Street, Clarendon Square—I have two daughters, Clara and Alice—on Easter Thursday last, my daughter Alice left my house—she wore at the time a linsey dress skirt, with a flounce at the bottom, black jacket, enamelled side-spring boots, black and red plaid scarf, and a hat with a red rose in front, or a black velvet hat with a blue feather—she took both hats with her, but I do not know which she had on—she had also a quantity of under-clothing—she left a note upon the table—I went to the Praed Street police-station, Camden Town, and gave a written description of her—on the 15th May I called at the police-station, Bow Street, and accompanied a detective to Foggarty's Buildings in Drury Lane—we met a police officer on the way there—I stopped outside at the top of Foggarty's Buildings until they came back—they brought back my daughter with them—she was then clothed in rags—she had not the linsey skirt, nor the jacket, nor the scarf, nor the hat, nor the boots—I have redeemed some of those articles since from the leaving shops which were pointed out to me—one of them was a sweet-stuff shop—I have got a pair of drawers and the linsey skirt—the chemise is still retained, but I believe it will be given up by the prisoner's mother—I have at home the ticket for the petticoat, which was taken from her the same day she left, and pawned for a shilling in Drury Lane.
ALICE LAWLER . I am thirteen years old—up to April last I lived with my mother—a day or two before I left home I became acquainted with the prisoner—I left my home in her company—I was wearing a skirt and other
articles of clothing at the time—on the 15th May the officers came and found me—I only had on my petticoat and my Garibaldi—the other clothes had been pawned by the prisoner—I think she pawned four or fire articles—she pawned my petticoat the same day I left home—besides the things that she pawned I missed some black velveteen from my box—I believe the prisoner gave it to the person down stairs—it was not taken with my consent—I did not know it at the time.
COURT. Q. Did she ask you to go away? A. Yes—she asked me if I would like to leave home—I said "No," and then she said she would take me to work where she worked—I said I would sooner stop at my place, but with great persuasion I went—I did not go to work with her—when I got up in the morning I asked her if she was going to work, and she said "No"—I was there a month—I did not do anything—I do not know what she did—men did not come there—I was always out of an evening over the way, and she had the door key then—I did not go back to my mother because I was frightened to do so after I had once left—I had nothing to go back in.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I ask you whether I might take the dress? A. No.
GEORGE LITTLKFIELD . I am a detective of the E Division—I received a communication about a girl having left her home some time in April—a description of two girls was given to me, in consequence of which, on the 15th May, at night, I went to No. 3, Foggarty's Buildings, Drury Lane—it is one of the lowest brothels in Drury Lane—in the second floor: front room I found the girl Alice Lawler—there were four soldiers and another female in the same room—the prisoner was not there—Alice Lawler only had on a petticoat and a Garibaldi—I told her to put on her clothes and come to the station, and she told me she had not any clothes, because Crick had pawned them—I took her to her mother immediately—I afterwards saw Crick, and told her I should take her into custody for decoying the girl away, and also for taking her clothes—she said the girl came away of her own accord—she made no reply to what I said about taking the clothes—I not find the pawn tickets, or go to any of the leaving shops—the tickets were given up to the mother.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, July 13th, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MARK DARLING PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. BESLEY and KELLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU
WILLIAMS defended Thomas Darling.
RICHARD RELF (City Detective 38). On the evening of 10th June I went with Wright, a constable, to Thomas Darling's lodging in Lamb's Conduit Street—I told him we were police officers, and should take him into custody for receiving a large quantity of purses and other articles from his brother—his brother was then in custody—he said "Well, I admit I had several from him"—I said "We know that, we found out where you have been selling them and dealing with them"—he said "I did not know they were stolen; I travelled for my brother Mark, and have done so for some time, and he allowed me 10 per cent, commission for selling them"—I said "You
must know your brother never came by these purses honestly"—he said "I did not know they were stolen; I sometimes met him in the Minories, and received them of him, and sometimes he brought them to my house"—I found some bank books in his house.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he tell you that his sister, Mrs. Gerrard, had also dealt largely with his brother? A. He said his sister had bought things from the firm.
ALICE MEREDITH . I am assistant to Mr. Nash, a fancy dealer, at 80, Bishopsgate Street Without—I made some purchases of purses from the prisoner Thomas—I don't know how many—this is the invoice—it is dated "February 18th, 2l. 6s. 4 1/2 d."—there are other invoices, dated "January 10th" and "March 9th."
Cross-examined. Q. You have him a fair trade price for them? A. Yes.
THOMAS LANE . I am a clerk in the employ of Lazarus & Rosenfeld, 4, Houndsditch—I have known Thomas Darling for the last year or eighteen months—I have seen him come to my master's place—he was not employed there—Mark was employed there—I have seen him meet his brother in Houndsditch and Aldgate.
ABRAHAM ROSENFELD . I am a merchant, of 4, Houndsditch—Mark Darling was in my employment for about six years—it was his duty to sell goods over the counter in my house—I do not know Thomas—he was never a customer in my establishment—these purses are mine—they were never sold—there is no entry in the books of their sale to Thomas Darling—I have searched through the books, and there is no such name in them—I have missed 264 dozen of this kind of purse in twelve mouths.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you allow Mark to supply his sister? A. No, she had an account at our place—she bought goods, and he was allowed to take them home for her—those goods were entered in the books in the usual way—they were paid for from time to time—there is 7l. against her at the present time.
CHARLES GILBERT PEACOCK . I keep a fancy repository in Bishopagate Street—I have had six or seven transactions with Thomas Darling—these are the invoices for the purses and the receipts for the money I have paid him—these invoices correctly describe the goods I bought from him—on January 20th, 23/4 dozen, 1l. 2s. 9 1/2 d.; January 22nd, 5/12 dozen, 5s. 6d.; March 24th, 2 1/2 dozen, 3s.; April 2nd, 2 11/12 dozen, 17s.; April 20th, In dozen, 2s. 6d.; May 21st, 1 dozen, 6s. 6d.—four of those were for bag purses—there was another invoice on 11th January "4 dozen purses, 1l. 7s. 6d.—I have shown Mr. Rosenfeld all the purses that I have left—I have got about eight or nine left now—I have not got them here; but Mr. Rosenfeld has seen them.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose you paid a full price for them? A. Yes—he did not tell me he had them from his brother—I did not know his brother.
CHARLES PRIOR . I keep a fancy shop, at 458, Kingsland Road—I purchased purses of Thomas Darling on two occasions—I had this receipt from him for the first transaction—he brought samples to my shop, and I ordered from the samples—the invoice is for "1 dozen portmonnaies, on 29th March, 1870, 17s. 3d.; 3s. returned, cash 14s. 3d."
WILLIAM MAUNDERS . I am a stationer, at 115B, City Road—I had two or three transactions with Thomas Darling—he gave me this receipt—it is dated "2nd September, for 1 gross of purses, 36s."—the other transactions amounted to about 2l.—he has called on me several times since; but I have bought nothing—I gave up all I had left.
WILLIAM JAMES BAILEY . I keep a fancy basaar, at 10l., Old Street Road—I produce five purses, the remainder of a dozen, which I bought of Thomas Darling—he represented himself as a dealer in those goods—I paid him 4s. for the dozen—he brought them to my place, and I paid him cash for them.
ABRAHAM ROSENFELD (re-examined.) I never authorised the prisoner to sell purses to Mr. Peacock—I have been shown the remainder of the purses Mr. Peacock had—they are my property—some of them were sold at a fair price—some that we sold for 3s. 8d. he sold for 4s., and he sold some at 6s. which cost 7s. 6d.—I have seen the purses produced by Mr. Maunders, Mr. Prior, and Mr. Bailey; they are mine, and correspond with purses I have lost.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARK DARLING . (The Prisoner.) I was in the employment of Mr. Rossns feld—the other prisoner is my brother—about ten or twelve months ago I was in difficulties; I had to pay my employers some money; I did not know how to obtain it, and I asked my brother if he would speculate in some purses, as there was a firm selling off their stock in Houndsditch, and I could buy some been—he declined to buy any of me—I then persuaded him, if I got some samples, to go round and sell them on commission for me, and I would allow him 10 per cent on all he sold—I got him some samples, and he sold a few, and has been selling them since, up to about two months ago—he gave me the money, and I allowed him 10 per cent—I have a brother named John; he was present on one occasion when I had a conversation with the prisoner about these purses—I have sold my sister a few purses—I told her I bought them of the makers, as I also told my brother Thomas.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the other prisoner much older than your? A. Yes—he did not get me into this employment, my sister got me the situation—I had 15s. a week when I left—I had 10s. or 12s. 6d. a week when I began to take the purses—I had a rise of a half-crown every year—my brother declined to speculate in the purses at first—he was not inclined to buy them—I then asked him to travel for me—I told him I got them from a Mr. Meyers; but there was no such man—I should think I supplied my brother with about 30l. worth of purses belonging to my employers—my brother lodged in the house of a man named James, in Kingsgate Street—I have left parcels for him at that house—he would have about 2l. or 3l. at a time—he paid me the money as he sold the goods.
JOHN DARLING . I live at 22, Clarendon Place, and am a tin plate worker—I am the prisoner's brother—I was present, about ten months ago, when a conversation took place between my two brothers—I was at my brother Thomas's—I had been there about ten minutes when Mark came in—that was when he first commemced to sell the purses for Mark—I asked Mark where he got the purses from, and he said he had ordered them of the makers, that he had got Thomas to travel for him, and paid him 10 per cent, commission, and he could get a small profit for himself—I have seen Thomas pay him money from time to time—on two or three occasions they have settled the account, and deducted 10 per cent.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there any bills or invoices on either of these occasions? A. My brother Thomas generally booked it on a slate that he had on the mantelshelf—if he sold two or three dozen he would book them and give Mark the money—I did not see any invoices or bills brought with the purses—Mark is about eighteen—we thought he had more than 10s. a week at Mr. Rosenfeld's—he said he had 15s., and that he got 6d. or a 1s. from the makers when they brought the goods—my brother Thomas gave him the money to get the purses for him—I was frequently at my brother's house, and in his company—I knew that he was buying these purses from my younger brother, but we were all deceived as far as anything being wrong—previous to this my brother Thomas had saved some money, which he had in the bank—when he first had business with Mark he had a boot and shoe shop in the City Road—he continued to keep the shop open; I can't say how long—he only cleared his rent by it—he found it would not pay and gave it up.
ELIZABETH GERRARD . I am the wife of Joseph Gerrard, and keep a fancy repository, at 31, Camberwell Road—I am the prisoner's sister—Mark lived in my house—I have heard him say that he was allowed by his employers to have purses of the makers, and I believed it was the truth—the makers themselves have been to my shop with goods.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe the goods that you had from Mr. Rosenfeld had accounts on paper sent with them? A. Not always—I had regular transactions with the house, and received bills from the firm—I ran an account to the amount of 3l. or 4l.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Did you believe that the things you bought of your brother were honestly come by? A. Yes, I had the fullest con-fidence, so had his brother, and all of us.
THOMAS DARLING received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
MARK DARLING PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. KELLEY offered no evidence against Thomas Darling— NOT GUILTY .
581. MARK DARLING was again indicted for stealing twentyfour dozen spectacles, eight dozen purses, and twelve watch guards, of Abraham Rosenfeld and another, his master; and JACOB CREWELL (19) , for feloniously receiving the same, to which
MARK DARLING PLEADED GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. KELLET conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH defended Crewell.
RICHARD RELF (City Detective 38), I went to Crewell's house with Wright, on 3rd June, at 2, Cannon Street Road, St. George's-in-the-East—I saw him at the door, talking to a man I had previously sent—I said "Holloa, Jacob, how about the purses, have you sold them yet?"—he hesitated, and then said, "Yes, sold and gone"—I told him to go inside the shop—it was a shut up butcher's shop—I said, "We are two police officers, and we have come to take you into custody for receiving a large quantity of spectacles and purses"—he said, "I don't understand you"—I said, "There is a young man under remand for having two dozen spectacles
in big possession, which we believe to be stolen; he has made a state-ment to the effect that he bought them of you"—he said "Well, I did sell a man some spectacles, at 18s. a gross"—I said "We are going to search the house, you had better show us where they are, I am sure they are here"—I searched, and amongst a lot of old lumber in the shop he pulled out this parcel, just as it is now, and said "Here are the purses"—I said "How do you account for the possession of these?"—he said "Why?"—I said "You are not obliged to answer the question unless you like"—he said "I bought them of a gentleman who has offices in the City"—I said "Where?"—he became very confused, and could not tell me—I said "Do you know a person named Mark?"—he hesitated, and I said "Did you get them from him, as I know they have been stolen from Lazarus and Rosenfeld, 4, Houndsditch"—he said "I did; I saw Darling two days ago in the day time, and I made arrangements to meet him at London Bridge, and there to receive the purses of him; I was proceeding there and met him in Fenchurch Street"—I said "The spectacles"—he said "I received them last night; I met him by appointment at the statue, this side of London Bridge"—I said "How much did you give for the purses?"—he said "45s. a gross"—I then went up stairs and searched the bedroom—as I was searching under the bed I heard a noise of paper—I turned round and seized his mother's hand, who was in the room, and took from her hand this dozen of silk watch guards—I said "What are these?"—he said "I know nothing about them, do I, mother?"—I then searched, and found eight or nine of these boxes with different labels on them, and a quantity of wrappers also with labels on them—I said "What have you had in these boxes?—he said "Different articles, all from the same lad"—I said "Did you ask him at any time where he got them?"—he said "No, I did not"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he say he would explain it all to Mr. Lazarus? A. He said "There are more implicated in the matter, and I will tell Mr. Lazarus all about it"—I am certain I said that before the Magistrate—my depositions were taken down and I read them over—I did not notice that that was omitted.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go to 31, Camberwell Road? A. I did—that was were Mark Darling lived—I found a lot of property, of different kinds, in his rooms.
ABRAHAM ROSEXFELD . Some four or five years ago Crewell was in my employment during the time Mark Darling was there—since he left he has been almost every day to the warehouse—the spectacles produced are my property, also the purses and watch guards—they were made for us—they were not sold to anyone.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you not in the habit of selling job lots to your employees? A. No—we have sold Crewell goods for his father, I believe; some travellers' samples, for 10s. or 15s.
MR. KELLY. Q. Did you sell these as a job lot to anyone? A. No.
COURT to RICHARD RELF. Q. Was there any business carried on at the house where Crewell was? A. The shop was shut up—it belonged to the prisoner's father, who called himself a dealer, supplying goods to the shops—Crewell lived with his father.
CREWELL— GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WILLIS the Defence.
HENRY PETER MATTHEWS . I live at 7, Southgate Grove, Sonthgate—in 1866, I was chief ledger-keeper at the Agra and Masterman's Bank, carrying on business at 35, St. Michael's Alley—at that time a Mr. Levy, of Moor-gate Street, merchant, kept an account at the bank—on 9th April, 1865 this bill of exchange for 125l. was brought to me, drawn by Edward Levy, and purporting to be accepted by J. Lazarus, payable at the Agra and Masterman's Bank—it was dated February 6th, and due two months after date—I refused to pay it, not believing the signature to be in Mr. Lazarus writing.
JOHN CLARK . I am manager at the Charing Cross branch of the National Bank—I knew the prisoner in 1865, as Edward Levy—he had an account at our bank—I knew him as a solicitor in Bow Street—I think when he opened the account he was practising in Henrietta Street—in April, 1865, I communicated with him with regard to discounting a bill—the first bill that I had, and the only transaction, was a bill for 150l. en 13th November—that was drawn by Edward Levy, and accepted by Mr. Lazarus, and was due 6th July, 1866—I had seen Mr. Lazarus prior to discounting the bill—shortly before the 6th, I saw the prisoner with reference to the bill, and there was a proposal to renew it—there were other transactions before I discounted the original bill, and I asked Mr. Levy how it was that a solicitor should be drawing on an Australian merchant—he said that business relations existed between Mr. Lazarus and his brother in Australia, and that he had authority to act as a sort of agent, and had authority to draw in connection with his brother—he said he expected a remittance, and asked for a renewal of the bill—I said I could not renew it, but I afterwards consented to take a bill for 125l., at two months—I discounted that bill on 6th February, 1866—it fell due on 9th April—this is the bill—I debited the 150l. bill to Mr. Levy's account—the signature upon that bill is in Mr. Levy's writing—I think the whole of the bill is filled up by him.
Cross-examined. Q. On the next day was the money for that bill tendered to you by a Mr. Gadden, on behalf of Mr. Levy? A. It was—I knew Mr. Gadden as being at Mr. Levy's office—the bill was noted—I did not receive the money—I don't know whether the money has been tendered since that day—it was tendered the day after.
MR. STRAIGHT. Q. The bill had been returned by you with this on, stating that it was a forgery?—A. Yes; it was in Mr. Mullen's hands at that time.
JAMES LAZARUS. I carry on business at 153, Houndsditch—in 1865 and 1866 I was in business in Moorgate in the City—prior to that I had been to Australia—I there knew a brother of the defendant's—I came to England at the latter end of 1866—in consequence of some communication with the brother in Australia I saw the defendant immediately on my arrival—in the month of November I opened an account at the Agra and Masterman's Bank—on the 17th of the month I advanced the prisoner 300l. by cheque—in 1865 I made advances to him from time to time—I could not tell you the amount—some of those advances were repaid to me—the advances were principally by cheque—I went back to Australia in September, 1867, and I then destroyed the majority of my papers—when I got back I had a settlement
with the defendant's brother—he had paid me the money before I went back—in May or June, 1865, I remember the defendant wanting 500l., I advanced it to him in cash, and accepted a bill—when I advanced him the 300l. be wrote over to his brother, asking to let me advance him more money—the brother wrote over to me to let him have what he might require from time to time, and at the same time to take his bills—I advanced him 500l., and he gave me a bill at four months—that was about November—when that bill fell due it was arranged that two other bills for 250l. each should be accepted by me—one of those bills became due in April—I imagine I destroyed those bills, or else gave them to Mr. Levy when I went away—I don't know whether the other 260l. bill was paid into my banker's—on 14th February there is a cheque for 250l., not a bill—I dare say I gave him a cheque to take up the bill with—in November, 1865, I accepted a bill for 150l.—it would become due either in February or March—this bill for 125l. purports to be accepted by me—it is not my signature—I did not authorise the prisoner to write my name on that bill.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you and the prisoner were very friendly? A. We were—in consequence of my intimacy with his brother in Australia—the brother was a man of large means—I did not know the prisoner before I came from Australia—from 1864 down to midsummer, 1865, I had money transactions with him—I had no bill transactions before that date—the first bill I gave him was the 500l. bill—the others were cheques and money transactions—I used to lend him day by day, as he might want it, 200l. or 250l.—at the time I knew him I had the account at the Agra and Mattel-man's Bank—he certainly never used my name without my knowledge—the 500l. bill became due in November—it was then renewed by two 250l. bills—I think he came to me and said he could not get the 500l. discounted, and asked if I would give him two for 250l. instead—the 250l. bill became due in February, 1866, and was renewed by two for 125l.—I can't say whether the prisoner believed he had any authority to accept the bill in my name—my only conjecture is, that the money being for his own use, and knowing that I was not responsible to his brother, and that the money was advanced on behalf of his brother, he thought he had power to do it—it is more a matter for his own mind than mine—he did do so, and he inferred, I should imagine, that he had the power—1000l. subsequently came from his brother to me for his debts—he was expecting money at the time of this transaction in 1866—he always led me to believe it did come over—it would have been some time before he could have communicated with his brother, and received the draft back again—the arrangement was that the bills were not to be presented at my banker's—they were accepted, payable at the Agra and Mastcnnan's Bank, but he was to get a cheque of me before the bills were due to replace those that were becoming due—the prisoner found the money and took up the 500l. bill himself—I know the prisoner's handwriting—if the bill had been brought to me I should have known it was his writing—looking at the bill, and taking all the circum-stances, if the bill had been presented at Moorgate Street, instead of at the Bank, I should have paid it out of friendship to him, and I should have gone and abused him for it afterwards, rather than that this charge should nave been brought against him.
MR. STRAIGHT. Q. He had no authority to write your name? A. He had no authority.
matter, and got a warrant against the prisoner, in April, 1866—I made a search for him, but could not find him—I first heard of him in September, 1867, and went to Paris; I went to his lodgings, and found that he had left—I next heard of him on 1st July, this year, and I went to West Derby Street, Liverpool—I saw him leave No. 42, with two men—I fol-lowed him, and took hold of his arm, and said "Your name is Lingden, I believe"—he said "That is my name"—I said "My name is Funnell; I am one of the City detective officers; I hold a warrant for your apprehen-sion"—I called a cab, and said I was going to take him to the station—he asked me to read the warrant to him—I told him I would, at the station—I said "You say your name is Lingden?"—he said "Yes"—I said "I hold a warrant in another name, Edward Lawrence Levy, and signed by the Lord Mayor"—I took him to the station, and read the warrant to him, and he said I had made a mistake, that was not his name—I said I should remove him to London—on the way to London he said he was the person referred to in the warrant—he further stated that if his brother, who was in Australia, was in England, they could not convict him; that Mr. Lazarus had told his brother that he might make use of his name—I brought him to London, and he was charged before the Magistrate.
JAMES LAZARUS (re-called). Q. Had you ever told the prisoner's brother that the prisoner might make use of your name? A. It was never asked me—I could not say, with any certainty, whether I had ever told the prisoner so—I could not even say that I had not—my impression is that he thought he did have the power, as far as this bill is concerned—I can't recollect any conversation to that effect—if I was asked about it now, I should say that I believe he considered that he had authority—one of the 250l. bills was paid, and he paid off 100l. of the other—I gave him the 150l. bill to take up the 250l., as far as my recollection serves me—the went and got the 125l. from the bank, for the 150l. bill, and paid 25l. in cash, and got this bill for 125l.
NOT GUILTY .
The Jury stated that they considered he believed he had sufficient authority to use Mr. Lazarus' name.
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
PERCY BIRD . I live at 46, Gower Place, Euston Square—about 3.30 on 1st July I was on Tower Hill—I felt a jerk at my chain—I turned round, and saw the prisoner with my watch in his hand—I said "You have not got it quite"—I took it from him—this is the watch—it is worth five guineas—the bow is broken off.
CHARLES TANNER . I am a labourer—on 1st July I was on Tower Hill, and saw the prisoner standing by a mob, where the prosecutor was—he drew the watch out of his pocket, and ran away—I caught him 200 yards off, and gave him into custody.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not steal the watch.
He further PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted in May, 1868— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BROMBT the Defence.
JOHN SMITHSON . I am a vegetable cook at Cremorne Gardens—the prisoner occasionally helped me—on Thursday, 16th June, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I went in to the prisoner and asked him to help me—he said he should not obey my orders, he should obey Mr. Lindsay, and he said something indecent to me—I told him I should punch his head if he did it again, and with that he took up the knife and said if I touched him he would stick me—I ran away, and said I should speak to Mr. Lindsay—it was a black-handled knife, one that he was peeling potatoes with—this is it—it had a handle on at one time—William Hall, one of the witnesses, chopped it off—I went into the cellar to see Mr. Lindsay—I did not see him, and I returned to the green garden, and put my hand on his shoulder and said "If you take a knife to me again I will knock you down with the first thing I come to"—I put my hand on him in a quiet way—he jumped up, took me by the neck, and stabbed me—he had the knife in his right hand at the time—he stabbed me in the left side twice—we struggled together, because he was hanging round my neck—we were both sober—I struck him after he stabbed me, but not before.
Cross-examined. Q. You had had nothing to drink at all? A. Only a pint of beer—I was a little excited from his lifting the knife—on several occasions he has sworn at me, but I did not take any notice—when I put my hand on his shoulder he was sitting down peeling some potatoes with the knife—the knife was attached to a string round his waist—I did not pat my hand roughly on him—he jumped, up and caught hold of me; I did not knock him up—I was stabbed while I was standing up—I did not notice a potatoe in the prisoner's hand after I was stabbed—I suppose he dropped it when I put my hand on his shoulder, I can't say—I have not said before that I pushed him up—I was on the ground with him afterwards—we fell after I was stabbed.
HENRY POLEY . I am an assistant at Cremorne Gardens—I saw Smithson crying—he went up to Clark and put his hand on his shoulder, and said if Clark ever said such a thing again he would knock him down with the first thing he got hold of—he did not push the prisoner at all—the prisoner got up, and they had a bit of a scrimmage together—I saw the prisoner draw a knife from Smithsou's side, from his body—Smithson had his coat off—the knife was drawn out, and then he asked for it to be taken away—it was wrenched from the string that was round the prisoner's body—Hall took the knife and threw it on one side—he chopped the handle off afterwards—I called out that Smithson was stabbed—as soon as I could catch hold of him I lifted up his shirt, and saw the wound, and then I helped to take him to the hospital—Clark was taken away as soon as I caught hold of Smithson.
Cross-examined. Q. These two men have not got on very well together, I believe? A. I can't say—I did not see any rivalry between them—Smithson was crying, in a passion, when he put his hand on Clark's shoulder—the prisoner got up, and they had a scrimmage—the knife was taken away before they fell—I did not say before the Magistrate the knife was taken after they had fallen—I heard someone call out "Take the knife away," and some-one took it away—I am quite sure I did not say before the Magistrate "They struggled, and went down before the stab"—I won't say on my oath
that I did not, because I might perhaps in cross-examination—if I did say so it is not the case—it is a mistake.
WILLIAM HALL . I am kitchen porter at Cremorne Gardens—I saw Smithson crying in the cellar—he afterwards went to the larder, and I saw him and the prisoner close together—I saw Smithson put his hand on the prisoner, and push him—I went up, and Clark had his arms round Smith-son's neck—they wrestled for about two minutes, and then Clark held the knife out, and said "Take the knife"—it was attached to a string—I caught hold of the knife, and the string was either broken or cut—I afterwards chopped the handle off because Clark had threatened me on the Monday previous—I did not see any blood on it—after I took the knife away I threw it on the sideboard—I did not know Smithson was stabbed then—I sent for a constable afterwards, and gave the knife to him.
Cross-examined. Q. After you saw Smithson come into the kitchen, he rushed back into the vegetable room, did not he? A. Yes, he went back—I saw them fall down after the struggle, and after that Clark held the knife out, and I took it away—he held it away from Smithson.
EDWARD ROGER ROWLAND . I am house-surgeon at St. George's Hospital—on 16th June, Smithson was brought there about 4 o'clock—I found two wounds on the left side; one bleeding freely—one was over the region of the heart, and the other was lower down—they were incised wounds, such as would be produced by a knife or sharp instrument—I did not examine the depth, because it was not advisable to probe them—they were about an inch and a half long—they might have been dangerous wounds—they must have been done with some violence to have gone through the clothes—I should not think they were done by accident.
Cross-examined. Q. Might not it have been caused by falling on the open knife? A. The knife must be standing up, and there were two wounds—it would be possible with one wound.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It was an entire accident The man closed with me, and stabbed himself with the knife in my hand"
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN VEESTON . I was porter at Cremorne on 16th June—I was in the next apartment to where Clark was peeling potatoes—I saw Smithson in the larder—he went in to where the prisoner was—he was very excited, and crying—I considered him half drunk—Clark was sitting down on a box, with the knife in one hand and a potatoe in the other—he made a rush at Clark and struck him, and they both went down on the ground—he knocked Clark off the box, and they went down together, Clark underneath—the knife was attached to A string, and the string to a belt—Clark tried to struggle away from Smithson—as soon as he got up he held out the knife for someone to take away—I tried to lay hold of the string; Hall got hold of it too, and it broke—there was no wound inflicted with the knife before they fell—when the knife was taken away, Smithson had hold of Clark round the neck, and Clark was trying to get away—Clark said "Take the knife away from me before there is any danger"—they had a round after we got the knife away.
Cross-examined. Q. Just before that they had one another by the neck? A. They struggled together—they were on the floor, and Clark was under-neath—I was not three yards away when it happened—I did not see what took place before Smithson went to the scullery—I stopped in the room where I was until the third round—the knife was taken away as soon at they got up—it was not wiped in my presence—Clark has assisted Smith-ion in his work—when Smithson had had anything to drink, it has generally been a rule with him to come domineering over us, and the others would not give in to it.
MR. BROMBY. Q. Smithson is not over you all? A. No; Mr. Lindsay is.
GEORGE THOMAS BRICK . I was a porter at Cremorne Gardens on 16th June—Clark was there, peeling potatoes—I was doing some beetroot at the time, in the next compartment with the last witness—Smithson went out, after having some bother with Clark, calling him a d—liar, because he said he was kicked out of St. James's Hall—there was some disturbance, and Smithson went out into the scullery—he was doing nothing at the time—we had not got up long from our dinner—I heard Smithson come back, crying—he rushed on Clark, and they both fell together—Clark went down underneath—as soon as he got up he asked for the knife to be cut away from him, and the witness broke the string away—no wound was given to Smithson before they fell—if it had been I should have seen it.
Cross-examined. Q. You were in the next compartment? A. I was in the same compartment as the prosecutor—I was close to the door—I did not go into the other compartment—Smittaon told Clark that he was kicked out of Willis's Rooms, and Clark called him a liar, as any gentleman would—I had known Clark a week before—no one wiped the blood from the knife—Smithson did not say that any injury was done—I saw his nose bleeding—they had quite three rounds after the knife was taken away—no one knew Smithson was stabbed till he said "I am stabbed," when they had finished fighting—Clark was taken into custody, and Smithson was taken to the hospital—I know Clark was remanded from time to time—I had a letter from him on Monday—that is' the first time I heard from him—I went up to one of the hearings; but I was too late—Mr. Smythe took down my evidence last Monday week—I saw Clark before that—he came down, and asked me if I would give my evidence—I did not see Smithson stabbed before he fell—he might have been without my seeing it—there was a row about ten minutes before, and Smithson threatened to punch his head, and Clark said "If you do I will put this knife into you"—I thought it was only a joke between them.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — Four Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, July 14th, 1870.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MESSRS. BEASLET and BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSORS.
RYBTON and F. H. LEWIS the Defence.
parlour of 80, Sidney Street—that is on the ground floor—the prisoner occupied the room at the back of mine—the deceased, who was my landlady, occupied the back bed room first floor, and a Mrs. Morris the front room first floor—the street door opens into a passage, and opposite the front door are the stairs—I do not know what number of stairs there are to go up to the first floor—the staircase goes up straight, without a landing—the foot of the stairs commences opposite the room occupied by the prisoner—on 30th May I was cleaning a pail in the yard, which is beyond the prisoner's room—his window opens into it—some time after 2 o'clock in the afternoon the deceased came out into the yard to speak to me—she remained about five minutes talking to me—she had come from down stairs, from another room—she was in her usual state of health—she left the yard after the conversation, and went into the house, and I lost sight of her—the back entrance to the house is a kitchen, which is immediately in front of the room occupied by the prisoner—about four minutes after I lost sight of the deceased I heard the report of a gun—the door was then open, and I was four or five yards from the stairs, washing the pail; but heard no words or conversation—I went to see what was the matter, and I saw the deceased lying at the bottom of the stairs—her face was to the stairs and her feet to the parlour door, the door of the prisoner's room, and on the floor of the passage—the front door was closed at that time—I had heard no noise besides the noise of the gun—I called for assistance.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. How long have you been living in that house? A. Nine months—I heard the front door shut when I went into the house, as if somebody was going out—I passed the prisoner's room and went into the street, to call assistance; but I went to the back of the house first, and finding no one came I went to the front—when I went into the street I did not see the prisoner—the deceased and I were talking about washing—I saw her mostly every day—I have seen the prisoner most every day go out to his business—I was at home on the Sunday before this; but I did not see him—I believe he was at home—I do not remember ever having seen a rifle in his room—I was not in the habit of going in.
MARY ANN MORRIS . I am the wife of James Morris, a labourer—we lived at 80, Sidney Street, Mrs. Redhead's house, and occupied the front room first floor—the deceased had the room behind ours, the back room first floor—about 2.30 in the afternoon of 30th May I was washing some dishes on the landing at the top of the stairs—there is a turn in the stairs, a twist, two stairs, and a landing—the deceased spoke to me in my room—she came up from below stairs—she was on the landing when she spoke to me, and I was in my room—the landing is in the passage from the stairs—there was a knock at the front door, and she was going down to answer it when I heard the report of fire-arms from the bottom of the stairs, and smoke ascended into my face as I stood on the landing—I did not go down stairs, I was alarmed, and went into my room, and turned the key of the door, and called for assistance from the window.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Did you see the deceased come up the stairs? A. Yes, a few minutes before, and she came into my room and spoke to me—I was in the room, and she was in the lobby—she remained there about three or four minutes, talking on ordinary subjects—she left my room to answer the door, and had just got past the turn before I heard the report—she had got out of my sight—she had quite turned—she had got near the bottom of the stairs before I head the report—I know that by
the time I could not see her—she was out of my sight when I heard the report—I did not see the prisoner at all—I hare lived in the house twelve months last May, and the prisoner has been there the whole time—I have been in his room—he used to keep his rifle there, in a corner—I have never taken it up to look at it, but I have seen it—I may have put my hand upon it—I may have taken it up to examine it through curiosity—I saw him cleaning it once in the kitchen—that was about two months ago—I cannot say how long he was cleaning it—I was passing through to the yard—I did not say anything to him about it—that was the only occasion I saw him cleaning it—I do not know how often he used to go out to drill—I have been in to speak to him with Mrs. Redhead, and she took the rifle up and showed it to me, and passed a joke about it—I said something about if it happened to be loaded—it was not in the corner nearest the door, but the other corner—as you go in at the street door, his room is on the right—I had not seen him on the Sunday, or on the Saturday—I did not see him go out with his rifle—I never saw his military clothes lying about the room—I looked out at the window one day, about ten weeks ago, and saw him in a grey coat—I very seldom had any conversation with him about his drill—he was regular in going out to his work, and coming home at night—he did not have his meals at home—I do not know where he worked.
MR. BKASLEY. Q. Do you know where he kept his rifle? A. In the back parlour—when the deceased showed me the rifle, and passed the joke, she said "Mrs. Morris, Willy has joined the rifles, and this is his rifle"—that was all, just a mere joke—she seemed pleased that he had joined the rifles.
THOMAS ASHTON . I live at 83, Sidney Street, Stepney—the odd numbers are on one side of the street, and the even ones on the other—my house is exactly opposite No. 80—I occupy the first floor front—I am a tailor, and that is my workshop—on the afternoon of 30th May I was on my board at work, and heard the report of a gun opposite, and saw the prisoner run out, about two seconds afterwards, carrying his rifle—he turned to the right towards Mile End Road—he did not seem to run so fast when he first went out of the house till he got to the second turning—he went down there, and I saw no more of him—I saw the deceased brought out by the neighbours, and put into a cart, to be taken to the hospital; they thought she was alive—they got her into the cart, but Dr. Swyer came up, and then they took her out again, and took her back into the house—I did not go into the house afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Were there many people in the street? A. I only saw an old lady knocking at the door—I did not see many people from my window—he seemed very much excited—he had the barrel part of the rifle in his hand—I would not say whether it was his left hand—he pulled the door to, and went on at a sort of a sling trot—I had never spoken to him, but have seen him go out to his work and come home at night—I saw him go out to drill once, carrying his rifle.
JOHN NEWELL . I am a grocer, of 106, Oxford Street, Stepney—on Monday, 30th May, about 2.30 or 3 o'clock, I was standing at my door, which is just opposite 80, Sidney Street—I heard the report of fire arms from the other side—I saw the prisoner come out of No. 80, opposite, with a rifle in his hand—he shut the door and went away—that was all I saw of him—I believe he had hold of the barrel of the rifle, because he was carrying it straight along, like this.
was in Alfred Street, Stepney, in uniform, and the prisoner came up to me—I did not see him before he spoke—he was not walking fast, but at his ordinary pace, and was carrying this rifle (produced)—he said "Now I hare done it"—I asked him what he had done—he said "I have shot my mother in-law"—I said "Where?"—he said "At 80, Sidney Street, and after I did it I set fire to the house, and I mean to give myself up to you"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found five ball cartridges and six caps—I saw Sergeant Dillon examine the rifle cock at the station—the place where he spoke to me is three-quarters of a mile from Sidney Street.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. The conversations you have spoken to, I suppose, you are relating from memory) A. Yes, I did not take them down at the time.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Did you give an account of your conversation with the prisoner after it had taken place? A. As soon as I got to the station, to my superior officer—I was examined at the police-court about a quarter of an hour afterwards—I was also examined before the Coroner two or three days afterwards.
EDWARD DILLON (Police Sergeant.) I was at the station, Arbour Road, Stepney, when the prisoner was brought in by Smith—I told him he was charged with the murder of his stepmother, by shooting her through the body with a loaded rifle—he said "Yes, I did it"—when he was first brought in I told him he was charged with the wilful murder of his mother-inlaw—a rifle was brought in—I examined it—this cap (produced) was on the nipple—it appeared to have been recently fired—he was searched in my presence, and six caps and five cartridges were found on him—the caps and the cartridges fit the rifle—I called attention to them, and he said "Yes, they are mine, I am a rifleman"—I afterwards told him she was dead—he made no reply—he was quite sober.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. When you told him what he was charged with, had you the rifle in your hand? A. No, I had just laid it on one side in the charge room—I was not examined before the Coroner—I said to the prisoner "You are charged with the wilful murder of your mother-in-law, by shooting her with a loaded rifle," and in the depositions I think you will find I said nothing about "With this rifle"—his answer was "Yes, I did it"—I adhere to that—I do not know why the words "I did it" are not put down in the depositions. (The depositions being read, did not contain the words "I did it," but simply "Yes."
COURT. Q. You see there is this difference, before the Magistrate you said "He said Yes," but to-day you add "Yes, I did it? A. I used the words before the Magistrate, and he read it over to me or the clerk, but he has omitted it from the depositions.
EDWARD WORRALL (Police Superintendent K.) On 30th May the prisoner was at the station before I saw him—Sergeant Dillon wrote the charge down and read it over to the prisoner—I then asked him if he had anything to say in answer to the charge, what he did say I would take down in writing—he said "All that I have to say is that she was very unkind to me and my sister; that is all I have to say"—I have been to the premise in Sidney Street—there are twelve stairs—I have seen a mark on the wall at the top of the stairs, about 2 ft. 10 in. above the tenth stair, and measur-ing in a direct line from that mark to the parlour door is 10 ft.—the stairs are protected by an open low banister, there is nothing but that between the mark on the wall and the door of the prisoner's room—the width of the
stairs is 2 ft. 8. in., and it is the same width between the stairs and the parlour door; it is very narrow.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Were you in the station when the charge was entered in the charge-sheet? A. Yes—Sergeant Dillon entered it—I was standing by his side—after he had entered it he read it over word for word—I do not remember Dillon addressing him, but I asked him if he had anything to say—that is the usual practice when a charge is taken to ask if they have anything to say, as it will be taken down in writing—I am sure I told him it would be taken down in writing, and I took down his answer in writing, and have it in my pocket—this is it (produced)—I wrote this at the time when he spoke it—this was all written at the same time, it has not been touched since; this "I asked the prisoner if he had anything to say in answer to the charge," was written at the time; I swear that.
COURT. Q. Just look at it again, are you quite sure that this line and a half was written before or after the other? A. It was written after the other, but at the same time.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. That was written after you had written the answer? A. Yes, but immediately afterwards, within three minutes—I told him before the answer was given that I should take down what he said—he must have seen me write it, he was looking at me all the time, and several witnesses also saw it.
WILLIAM TURNEY (Policeman K 436). I examined the premises, 80, Sidney Street, on 30th May, at 2.30, and found this ball (produced) about half-way up the staircase, embedded about 2 in. in the wall—I had to scratch it out, it was straight in the wall, and the inclination was towards the front door.
ROBERT SWYER . I am a surgeon, of 25, Mile End Road—on 30th May, about 2.40, I was called to 80, Sidney Street—I saw a cart at the door, backed up to the kerb, and a woman's body in it—I had it removed immediately into the house, in hopes of doing something to resuscitate it—it was pulseless; I could see no marks of wounds then—she was dead—I got her clothes off and examined her body—I found a gun-shot wound by the left side a little behind the arm, and another about 2 in. above the right nipple going upwards from left to right, going in on the left below, and coming out on the right above—I saw the place where the bullet was found in the wall—I described the place to look for it when I found it had left the body.
Q. Taking the direction of the bullet through the body, and where the ball was found, can you tell us where the woman was standing when she was shot? A. Standing at the bend of the staircase descending the stairs—she had just turned the bend of the staircase, I should imagine—the cause of death was laceration of the heart by the gun-shot wound—it must have been instantaneous—I could not get into the prisoner's room, as it was on fire—I looked in and was obliged to close the door—I am surgeon to the 7th Tower Hamlets Volunteers—I know the prisoner's face among the men.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Did you say that the bullet entered the back? A. Yes, and fractured the tenth rib—I believe she was coming down the stairs, and if she had got a little further down it would have entered in front—I think she had scarcely turned the angle of the stairs; she had not fully turned the angle at the time the bullet entered—the rifle would, in my judgment, have been in the hands of somebody at the door of the back room.
Q. If fired intentionally by anybody at the door, the trigger must have been pulled before she was in sight? A. I cannot judge—it must hare been levelled, at all events, before; if the rifle had been fired before she came in sight, it would certainly have missed her.
Q. Or if it had gone off by accident, either one or the other, the hammer must have come down on the nipple before she was in sight? A. I cannot say that it must be so; I think that simultaneously with her coming in sight she was shot—I think she had scarcely turned the angle when the ball entered; not fully turned, or else it must have struck her further round—there would be an interval of time, however short, between the hammer falling and the ball entering the object, but it is a matter of doubt.
PHILIP PAGE . I am orderly sergeant to the 7th Tower Hamlets Volunteers—the prisoner had been a member of the corps five months up to that time—this is the rifle served out to him—these are the Government ball cartridges, similar to those served out by me for practice—they fit the rifle—they are made on purpose for the Enfield rifle—these are the regular cap—the bullet taken from the wall is shapeless—the prisoner had been out practising twice—instruction is always given in the use of the rifle before practice—a man is never allowed to go down to the butts until he has been thoroughly instructed in the use of the rifle—the prisoner had been so instructed, and had gone down to the butts twice—the last occasion of his going down was on Saturday, 28th May—we served him out twenty rounds, for the purpose of passing his second class—he fired every round, and after-wards he was served out with ten more for practice—he fired eight of those ten, and returned the other two cartridges to me—every man before he leaves the ground passes his ramrod down the barrel, and we know from the ring at the bottom that the rifle is discharged—that test was applied to his rifle, and it was not loaded—we left the ground on 28th May at 4.10, and he came up in the train with me—the range is at Woodford—he parted with me at Sutton Street, Commercial Road, and was going home to get his tea, to assemble again at Head Quarters, at Ham Park, and to put his uniform on—I had not the slightest idea that he was possessed of any ball cartridge—he would not require any for the inspection—he was very regular at his drill from his first joining the corps, and he was always exceedingly quiet and well behaved, and gave great satisfaction to the sergeant who instructed him.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. On this Saturday, the 28th, was he shooting for some particular prize? A. He was shooting to pass his second class—if he had passed that, in addition to 10s. per annum, it would have been a mark of distinction, because he would have been able to have fired for his badge in the first class—he did fire on the Saturday with that object, but was unfortunately four or five points short—he seemed rather low-spirited, and we tried to cheer him up—the sergeant and corporal down there asked him what made him so sad—I am quite sure I examined his rifle before he left, and I also saw him clean it out—we were not in a hurry to get to the train, we had twenty minutes to spare when we got to it—I examined the rifles of all the men, and collected all the ball cartridge—we go as far as we can in demanding ball cartridge from the men, and I have never heard of their having ball cartridge at their lodgings, but I have known the men to purchase ball cartridge to go down to other butts to practice—he came to Head Quarters at 6 o'clock, in uniform, and had his rifle with him—he joined the ranks, and marched off—he was not expected
then to say, or asked the question, whether he had any cartridges—I remember a young man coming up to me and asking me for some ammuni-tion—I then went up to the prisoner, and asked him if he had any—I took two cartridges from him, and left him with one, and his rifle was also loaded—I collected some from other men as well—I went to them all.
MR. BBASLEY. Q. When are you speaking of? A. On the range on Saturday, the 28th—when he left the range, I asked him particularly whether he had any, and I am quite certain his rifle was not loaded, I saw him clean it—a man would not clean a loaded rifle—there was blank firing at the inspection, no ball cartridge is served out for that purpose, it is only used at the butts.
JAMES BROOKS . I live at Heath Place, Commercial Road, and am an ensign in the Tower Hamlets corps, the same corps as the prisoner—I have seen the ball found in the wall; as far as I can judge from its battered state it is a similar one to those we use.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. Do you know the prisoner privately? A. No—I never went to his house—I have heard it said that he was in the habit of keeping his rifle loaded.
COURT to ANN BRIGHTON. Q. Is the prisoner's father a sailor? A. Yes, a steward—he was at sea at this time—he has not been home since, that I am aware of.
JAMES FORBES, GEORGE BOND , and JAMES ELLIOTT CUNNINGHAM, members of the firm of Bond, Forbes & Cunningham, hit employers; GEORGE THOMAS NORMAN, their foreman; GEORGE FRESHWATER, their clerk; RICHARD JOSEPH BURTENSHAW, their book-keeper; GEORGE RICHARDS, their cellarman; and THOMAS HENRY TREDGOLD, a bookseller, gave the prisoner a good character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth and good character. — DEATH . Afterwards commuted by the Secretary of State to Penal Servitude for Life.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
ROBERT BENNY (Policeman H 158). On Saturday night, 4th June, about. 5 o'clock, the deceased came up to me bleeding from four or five cuts on her face and eye—she made a complaint to me, and mentioned a person's name, in consequence of which I took the prisoner in custody, and told her she was charged with an assault on Elizabeth Ellis, and cautioned her—she said "I did it, there is the remainder of the cup I threw at her"—I had never seen Jane Ellis before—I afterwards took her to the London Hospital, and on 7th July saw her there dead.
JOHN MARSH , M.R.C.S. I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—Jane Ellis was admitted there on 4th June—she had two or three small lacerations about her face and scalp, and was suffering from slight concussion—there was a wound on the left side of her head, and another on the right of her nose, which was of the most consequence; it went down to the bone—erysipelas set in about a week afterwards—she was ill for two or three weeks, and then died of erysipelas—in all probability erysipelas would not have set in if she had not received those wounds—we find small wounds about the face exceedingly likely to take erysipelitic action, but she might have had erysipelas if she had not had the wounds—it is improbable—the cause of death, in my opinion, was exhaustion attendant on the erysipelas—
if this cup had been thrown at her when it was whole, it would very likely have caused such wounds—I think it very unlikely that the cup would give her concussion of the brain; a blow might have caused it, but it would re-quire a good blow—I cannot tell the state of the blow, or of her general health, but if she was in a bad state of health erysipelas would set in more readily.
COURT. Q. Could you tell whether she had had erysipelas before? A. I do not know, but she had none when she was admitted—she might have had it several times before.
JAMES MCCARTHY . I am the prisoner's son—on 4th June she was it home when I went in—I knew the deceased—she had no name whatever—she was not Jane Ellis, and she was not Jane Waterson—she was there when I went in, sitting on a chair, and my mother, who was sitting on the other side of the room, told her to go out, for she was apprehensive of an altercation—she said it would be best for her to go out—the deceased had a petition in her hand to raise a subscription to bury an unfortunate girl, the daughter of a man she had cohabited with, and this Mr. Ellis had at one time come and assisted me and my father when we had a child to bury, and we thought we could not do less than return it—I gave the deceased a shil-ling for my father and myself—there was then a row between my mother and her about some back debt—my mother said that the daughter had been tattling and backbiting—bad names were used, and the deceased struck my mother a severe blow on the mouth and cut her mouth, which was bleeding at the station—they were both the worse for drink, and they struggled, and the woman fell—my father said "For God's sake will you go out?"—I asked her to go out, and she would not, and my mother ordered her out—she went towards the door, and my mother picked up a cup off the table, when I had hold of her, and threw it—it struck the deceased, to the best of my belief, in the face—she walked about some considerable time, till she saw an officer—there was blood on the deceased before the cup was thrown, from a clout with the hand.
JURY. Q. Did you say that the deceased struck your mother first? A. I cannot say; they both struggled and called one another names; you can form an idea of what women are.
WILLIAM ELLIS . I am a gun-maker and dock labourer—I lived with the deceased as a wife—for the years I have known her her name has been Jane Waterson—she might take a glass now and then, but she was not a drunkard—she got tipsy sometimes—I afterwards saw her dead—I have known her fourteen years—she has not been subject to erysipelas.
Prisoner's Defence. On Whitsun Saturday, about 12.30, she came to my door and wanted to see my husband. She had had a little to drink. I said she could not see him, as he did not get to bed till 3 o'clock that morning. I asked her to go, very civilly. She wanted to stand in my passage and annoy the people opposite, but I would not let her; I put her out at the street door, and went on with my work. About 1.30 she came again, and got in on to the door mat; I got all the skin off my hand getting her out again, and shut her out. She came a third time, and said she would not go without seeing my husband. I called him up, and she spoke about the petition. She would not go out, and as I went to put her out, she spat a mouthful of filth in my face. I took her by the shoulders, and she fell and struck her head against the door. My teeth were knocked out, and in my passion I took the cup and threw it at her. I was driven to it. The skin is off my leg now.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, July 13th and 14th, 1870.
Before Lord Chief Justice Cockburn.
MR. POLAND and MR. BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS and MR. ST. AUBYN the Defence.
ROBERT COX . I am a private gentleman, and live at 29, Cheyne Walk, Chelsea—I knew the Rev. Mr. Huelin very well, he was formerly a clergy-man—I never knew him as a clergyman—he was somewhere about eighty-four years of age—on Monday morning, 9th May, I was in Wellington Square, about 11 o'clock, and saw him and spoke to him—I was in conver-sation with him for some short time—I saw Mr. Sansom—it was as near 11 o'clock as could be when I parted with Mr. Huelin—I left him in Wellington Square—I never saw him alive afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. How long had you known him? A. Many years—I did not know his family—I did not know where he came from—he did not speak exactly with a foreign accent—he had a little defect in his speech—he was a very aged man, and did not speak quite so plain.
WILLIAM HENRY SANSOM . I live at 132, King's Road, Chelsea—I knew the Rev. Mr. Huelin—on Monday morning, 9th May, I saw him get out of an omnibus and go into Wellington Square—I did not see him afterwards—I had seen Mr. Cox previously; he called at my house before he went into the Square—it was as near 11 o'clock as possible when I last saw Mr. Huelin—he had no dog with him—he was dressed very differently from what he usually was—he apparently had on a new suit of clothes—he was wearing a hat—I never saw him afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you acquainted with him? A. Not acquainted exactly, but I have known him for some years past—I should say Welling-ton Square is about half a mile from Paulton's Square.
THOMAS HUMBLE WALKER . I am a gentleman, living at 6, Wellington Square—I knew the late Mr. Huelin—on Monday morning, 9th May, I saw him about 11.15, as near as I could judge, on the steps of No. 24, Wellington Square, in the act of going up the steps into the house—that was the last I saw of him—I did not actually see him go in.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you a friend of his; did you visit his house? A. No, never—I had known him for several years, but not intimately.
COURT. Q. You did not actually see him go in? A. I did not, but he was going up the steps, as a man would that was going into his house.
EDWARD JAMES PAYNE . I live at 7, Leader Street, Chelsea, and am a labourer—I have known the prisoner about three years—he was a working plasterer by trade—I did not know where he lived—during the time I knew him he used to wear whiskers—on Monday, 9th May, about 12.30 in the day, I was standing outside the Admiral Keppel, in the Brompton Road, which is about five or ten minutes' walk from Wellington Square, when the prisoner came to me—he was in his working clothes—he asked me whether I would mind lifting a drain of him—I said I did not mind, as I was not doing anything—he said "You will want a pick and shovel"—I said I should have to go and borrow a pick, for I had not got one of my own—I left him for about half an hour to go and borrow the pick—I got a shovel as well, and returned to the Admiral Keppel—the prisoner was there,
waiting for me—he asked me whether I would mind having any beer, and I said "Yes"—we had a pint of beer, and then went down Keppel Street together, across King's Road into Wellington Square—we went to the bottom house on the right hand side, very near the bottom—I have since been told it is No. 24—I do not know that myself—the prisoner opened the door with a key, and I went with him down stairs into the back yard—he told me that he wanted to do away with one drain and to make another drain in the corner—I asked him why he wanted it done—he said he wanted to make the drain into the water-closet drain—I told him I thought it was a curious place for it—he said "Never mind; you can do as I tell you"—I then started to work, and got it out till he told me to leave off—I came out of the hole then—the hole was about 3 ft. deep, and about 7 ft. long—it was under the wall of the closet—I asked him to let me take up the closet stone, the floor, instead of tunnelling under it; that was after I had done a good bit of the work—he said "Perhaps the old gentleman would not like it"—I was there an hour and a half altogether—while I was at work the prisoner was lying on a heap of ballast in the yard—he did not leave at all while I was at work—when I had finished he said "That will do till I see the old gentleman;" perhaps he would be there that night or else the next morning—we then went into the front kitchen—he said I had better leave my tools there against the sink, in the back kitchen, and I was to come again next morning at 6.30 to finish the drain—I said "Very well"—he then took a bill out of the front kitchen window, and said it ought to have been done before, the house was let some time—the bill had on it "House to Let," I believe—we then went up stairs into the back parlour, and into the front parlour, and he took some bills out of the windows there—we then left the house together, and went up the square, and down Markham Street, and it was about 3 o'clock when I left him—next morning I went to the house again at 8.30, instead of 6.30—the prisoner was not there—I could not get in—I went again the next morning, but could not get in then; and again on the Thursday morning; I went two or three times that day—I then made inquiry where the prisoner lived, and I heard there was some one in custody—I did not know it was him—I communicated with the police, and on Friday I went to the house in Wellington Square with a constable—there were five or six constables there, searching about the yard—I pointed out to them the place where I had dug the hole—Constable Watts brought up the flagstone in the water-closet, and they dug out the earth in the place where I bad undermined it, and I there saw a body found—I assisted in taking the mould out—it was the body of a gentleman, dressed all but his coat; the coat was lying underneath the body—I saw the prisoner on the Saturday afterwards—he was then in custody—he had been shaved then—he had shaved his whiskers off, and his whiskers were dyed, what he had got on then, his moustache, a darker colour than what they were before—his beard was dyed too.
Cross-examined. Q. You are a labourer, you say; where have you been working? A. At Mr. Parfitt's, Westminster Bridge Road—I have worked there two years, on and off—I was not in any regular employment—I was examined before the Coroner, and also at the Police Court—I stated before to-day that I said to the prisoner it was a curious place to dig a drain in—I said it when I was at the Westminster Police Court—the prisoner did not take his coat off, he laid down on the heap of rubbish with his coat on—I was to go there next morning to finish the drain—I told him I thought it
would want an elbow to let it into the water closet drain—I was told to come at 6.30; but I did not go till 8.30.
COURT. Q. When you told him you thought the drain would want an elbow, what answer did he make? A. He said he would see by then I found the drain, whether it would want it or not—I was to come next morning to put the pipes in, I thought, not to make the elbow.
HARRIET SIBLEY . I am a widow, living at 6, Rutland Street, Knights-bridge—on Monday, 9th May, the prisoner was living at 26, Seymour Place—I have known him for two years—I was at his house that day about 3.30—he was at home when I got there; he had just cleaned himself—he was in the act of cleaning himself to have his dinner, or his dinner and tea—he had his trowsers on; they were grey trowsers—he did not put on his shirt all after he had had his dinner—Mrs. Miller was in the act of ironing it, and putting on the collar and cuffs—I saw him after he had put it on; I stopped there until 10 o'clock at night—he went out soon after I arrived, directly he had had his dinner—he said he was going to Hornsey to see after a job—I don't know exactly to a minute the time he went out; it may be 4 o'clock—I do not recollect whether he was wearing whiskers that day—I have seen him with his whiskers shaved off—he had whiskers when I first knew him, and I saw him twelve months ago with his whiskers shaved off; after that I did not see him again till Wednesday the 11th, I think—on this day I did not observe whether he had whiskers or not.
COURT. Q. How long before had you seen him with whiskers? A. I had not seen him with whiskers, that I am aware of, from the time twelve months ago till the Sunday night previous—I had seen him with whiskers before; I could not say how long before; I have left his house for twelve months—I had seen him casually, but I had never taken notice of his whiskers—I was there on the Sunday afternoon, the 8th, to tea—I think he had whiskers then, but I could not swear it.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. You say you stayed till 10 o'clock on this Monday night, did he come back before you left? A. No—I have never known him to wear spectacles as a rule; I have seen him put on a pair of spectacles for fun, in his own apartment, but I never as a rule saw him wear spectacles—I did not see him again that Monday afternoon.
Cross-examined. Q. He lives at 26, Seymour Place, with his wife and children, does he not? A. Yes—I have heard him say many times that in the summer he shaved off his whiskers; I saw him do it one summer; that was the only summer I lodged with him, that would be two years ago—he was always doing something to his whiskers—he appeared in his usual manner on this Monday, exactly the same as I have always seen him; I saw no change whatever in him; I saw nothing unusual about him, he was full of his fun, the same as he always had been—I mean he was laughing and joking the same as I have usually known him do—his wife and child were there—the child is two years and a half old—they occupied three rooms—he was eating his dinner, and while I was there he changed his shirt, and put on a clean one that Mrs. Miller was ironing.
JOHN HUNT . I am the square-keeper of Paulton's Square—I know No. 15, where the Rev. Mr. Huelin lived, and his housekeeper, Ann Boss—there was no other servant—on Monday morning, 9th May, about 7 o'clock, I saw Ann Boss cleaning the steps of No. 15—that was the last time I saw her alive—about 9 o'clock on the following morning I saw the prisoner go to the house—I attempted to go across the road to speak to him, but before I could get
across the door was opened, and he went into the house, and the person who let him in closed the door—on the Monday morning I had seen Mr. Huelin cross the enclosure of the square, about 10 o'clock, or a little before, he turned down the right hand side of the enclosure, and about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards he came back, and I saw him go up the square again towards the King's Road—that is in the direction of Wellington Square.
SIDNEY BALL . I am a baker, at 200, Fulham Road—I served Mr. Huelin at 15, Paulton's Square—on Monday, 9th May, I was there between 12 and 1 o'clock—I knocked and rang, but could get no answer—I knew the housekeeper, Ann Boss, and saw her last on Saturday, the 7th, about the same time that I went on the Monday.
SAMUEL STAINSBY . I am an artist, and live at 14, Paulton's Square—I knew both the Rev. Mr. Huelin and his housekeeper well—on Monday evening, 9th May, my attention was called to No. 15 by my children—I went out, and saw Mr. Huelin's dog on the doorstep—I then went to the back of the house—over my garden wall I saw that the windows were open, and every appearance of no one being in the house—I went and spoke to the policeman on the beat, and by his advice I went to the station—I went over the house with two policemen, at 11 o'clock at night—I got over my garden wall—I found the back-doors open—one of the back-doors was really open, and the other was simply fastened, not locked; we had merely to open it—we went over the house—there was no person in the house—there was no appearance of disorder in the house—in a bedroom on the first floor I saw a pail, with a scrubbing-brush, as if some one had been just interrupted in cleaning—the window of that room was wide open—the police and I left together, at 11.15—I saw a large box, painted green, standing in the back kitchen; there was nothing about it to attract notice, and of course we did not open anything—on the following morning, the first thing, I went to Mr. Carter, one of Mr. Huelin's intimate friends—I judged that no one had been in the house after I left, by seeing the dog there still on the step in the morning, a little before 8 o'clock—Mr. Carter afterwards came and went into the house—I did not go in with him—on the Tuesday night, about 10.30, I saw the prisoner get out of a Hansom's cab at the door of No. 15—I went to my window, thinking, perhaps, it was Mr. Huelin returned—that was bow it was I saw him—he asked some questions of the person who opened the door, which I did not hear; he then turned to the cabman, and as he got into the cab he said "Park Walk, No. 45 or 49," I think he said "49;" I could not be certain which—the cab drove away with him in it—in from ten to fifteen minutes I heard the cab return, and I heard the prisoner ask the person who opened the door if she had any wine, and tell her to bring a bottle of wine, and he turned to the cabman and said "Cabby, come and have a glass of wine"—I noticed no peculiarity about his voice, there was no peculiar accent about it that evening—the cabman went into the house, and I went and took the number of the cab—in a few minutes the cabman came out, accompanied by the prisoner, and I heard him say "9 o'clock to-morrow"—the cabman drove away, and the prisoner returned into the house—on the following night, just as it was striking 9 o'clock, the cabman returned, but without the prisoner—the cab was empty—I heard the person who opened the door say something to the cabman, and he said he would go away and have a drain and return—I afterwards went out, and on returning, about 9.50, I saw a van standing at the door of No. 15, and the same cab
two doors off—I saw the prisoner in custody at the station at 1 o'clock in the morning—when I saw the van I immediately went to fetch Mr. Carter, and while I was gone for him the discovery was made by the witness Piper, and when I came back I heard that the prisoner was in custody—I cannot now give the number of the cab, I have it written down at home—I communicated it to the police—I think it was 7542, speaking from memory—I put it down on the paper I was working upon at the moment.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you visit Mr. Huelin? A. I have called upon him on several occasions, he being my landlord I had occasion to do so—I have not heard from him that he was a native of Jersey, but I knew that some portion of his family resided there; he has told me so much—I think he told me that he was brought up at Jersey—I had very little opportunity of seeing who visited him—I hate seen one or two visitors there—he was not a man who received many visitors—I did not see who it was who came to the door and spoke to the prisoner on the Tuesday—I can't say that I heard the voice—I was looking from my parlour window—it was a woman's voice; I think my window was a little open; there is a thoroughfare through Paulton's Square—I am sure it was the prisoner who I saw on the Wednesday—I saw him get out of the cab and go in.
WILLIAM ARTHUR . I live at 43, Leader Street, Chelsea, and I work at painting, but I do a little of everything—I once lodged at 26, Seymour Place, the house of the prisoner—he rented the house of Mr. Huelin—I went there early in the year, about January or February—I have known the prisoner four years—I lodged with him up to the Wednesday night that he was taken into custody, but I did not go home that night when I heard of it—on the Monday night in that week he had no beard on when I saw him—that was the last time I saw him in his house—he had no whiskers, they were cut off; he had a tuft on the chin, and a moustache, but no whiskers—he did cut off his whiskers at times, but on the Monday night I perceived they were off—I must have seen him one day in the week before, but what day I can't say; he had whiskers then—I slept in his house on the Monday night, in the kitchen—the prisoner came down into the kitchen that night, I should say near about 12.15; he did not take supper there, he took it up stairs into his own bed-chamber—he might have remained in the kitchen about five or ten minutes—I don't know where he came from—there is but one door into the kitchen, that is facing the stairs—at that time he had not whiskers he had a moustache, and a bit of hair on his chin—he did not wear that at all times, he generally always wore whiskers, he generally wore his beard rather long in front, a full beard all round—his whiskers were shaved, leaving just a little bit on the point of the chin, and a moustache—he was differently dressed from his usual week-day dress—he appeared as if he had a new pair of trowsers on, a sort of grey—he had rather a darkish coat, by what I can remember, and I believe the waistcoat was something of a grey—I said to him "You are a regular swell"—I was in bed at the time—I also said that he had made himself look rather guyish like, by cutting his whiskers off—he did not make my remark, he only looked at me as much as to say he had new trowsers; that was what I took it to be—that was all that took place—he took his supper up stairs, and I never saw him afterwards—during the time I was lodging with him I have worked with him at 24, Wellington Square; I did some painting work for Mr. Huelin; I worked with Miller on Thursday, 28th April—Miller had the key of the house where we were working; he always let me in to work.
Cross-examined. Q. On this Monday evening, had he on his Sunday clothes? A. Yes, what I may term his Sunday clothes; those that I saw seemed to be a new pair of trowsers, I had never seen them before.
HARRIETT MIDDLETON . I am the wife of William Middleton, of 2, Sidney Mews, Fulham Road, and am a charwoman—I have known the prisoner about three years, and have lived in the same house with him a year and four months, not at Seymour Place, but at Hope Cottage, Stewart's Grore—I knew Mr. Huelin, and have done work for him; on Saturday, 7th May, I had been at work for him at 24, Wellington Square, cleaning the bottom part of the house after the repairs—the prisoner was at work there the same day, and on the previous day—I left the house on the Saturday about 11.30, or from that to 12 o'clock in the day, and went in the evening to Paulton's Square, to get my money, and Mrs. Boss paid me; Mr. Huelin told her to do so, I had finished my work—the prisoner's wife had come to me by the order of Mr. Huelin to go there to work; I had only known Mr. Huelin the week I cleaned the house—on the Monday night I was at home at Sidney Mews—about 12.30, when I was in bed, a knock came to the door; I opened the window and asked who was there—some gentleman said that he would answer me at the door if I would come down—I went to the loft door to see who it was, and the gentleman said he could not make me understand there, would I come right down; so I went down to the bottom of the stairs, and opened the street door—a gentleman was at the door, he looked to me like a Frenchman—he asked me if I knew Paulton's Square—I said "Yes"—he said that he was Mr. Huelin's nephew, that he had brought the key, that Mr. Huelin was gone into the country and if I would come and mind the place as soon as I could he would pay me, or see that I was paid—I told him I would go as soon as I could—I said I could not go that night, I would go as soon as I could in the morning, and he gave me the key, and said he was going at 4 o'clock, early in the morning, to his office—he asked had I got a daughter—I said "Yes," and me and my daughter would come in the morn-ing to mind the place—nothing more passed that night—he spoke broken English, like a Frenchman speaking broken English—I could not under-stand half what he said—I did not know at that time who it was; I know now; it was Miller in disguise—next morning (Tuesday) the prisoner came to my place at 8 o'clock, and asked if I had got the key of 15, Paulton's Square—I said "Yes, a French gentleman brought it last night"—he said "I want to go to 15 for my pails"—I said "Me and my daughter will be there almost directly"—he said "I am going home to breakfast first, and I will be there as soon as you"—he then left, and I and my daughter went to the house; we got there first—I did not notice his appearance when at my door—I got to Paulton's Squire about 8.45—I knocked twice and rang, as I did not understand from him whether the servant had gone or no—I could not get in, and I then opened the door with the key, and I and my daughter went in—I did not know the house was empty till the prisoner came about a quarter of an hour afterwards—he then had a great wrapper round his mouth and throat—I asked him what was the matter with him—he said he had got a very bad sore throat, and the almonds of his ears were down—I said I was very sorry—the wrapper was quite over his mouth, and up to the top part of his ears, so that I could not see much of his face—he was in his working clothes—he said the old gentleman was gone into the
country, and the servant was gone with him, and there was nobody in the house at all—he went and got his pails, and went to his work—I went all ever the house with my daughter—there was one room partly scrubbed—I told her to finish that room and the remainder of the stairs—I had got work at home, and I left her there to do this till I came at night—about 8 o'clock that night my daughter came home, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards the prisoner came to fetch her back again—I did not know at that time that it was the prisoner, but I heard some one talking to my daughter—he was dressed the same as he was on the Monday night—he spoke in the same language—he came as a foreigner—I did not see who he was, because I was up stairs—it was the same gentleman—I had another daughter standing at the door, and she said "Mother, there is the gentle-man come for Harriett to come back again"—I afterwards went down and he saw him—it was the same gentleman that had been on the Monday night—spoke the same broken English as he did to me on the Monday night, and all along—he said that we ought not to have left the house—my daughter said "Then I had better go back again"—I told my daughter not to go, for the gentleman was in drink, and I would go with him—I went back with him to 15, Paulton's Square, and all the way along he kept saying we should not have left the house; he would pay me, and we ought not to have left it—he was very angry—I said I was very sorry, but I would not leave it again—I had the key of the door, and I let myself in, and the prisoner too—he struck a light, and lighted me down stain to fetch the candlestick—when we had got a light, he asked me to go down and fetch a bottle of wine out of the kitchen cupboard—I went and got it, and a wine glass and tumbler—the cupboard was open—I had a wineglass full of the wine—about 9 o'clock a lady, who I now know to be Miss Evans, called to pay her rent—I let her in—the prisoner was then in the back dining-room—she asked if Mr. Huelin was in—I said "No," the nephew was—I went and knocked at the door, and laid a lady wanted to see him—he said "Ask her in"—she asked the prisoner whether he was Mr. Huelin's nephew, and whether he received the rents for Mr. Huelin—he said "Yes"—she said "I did not know you were in, or I would have brought the money; if you will call at my house in half an hour I will pay you"—the prisoner wished me to give the lady a glass of wine, but she would not have it—she gave him her address, but I could not remember the number—after she had gone, the prisoner and I went up stain—I carried the light, and he went up to look for the receipt for the lady's rent—we went up stairs, I think, to the second floor front room—there it a bureau there—he opened the bureau and the drawers likewise—some keys he found in his pocket, and the others he took out of a little drawer in the bureau—he opened the bureau with a key out of one of the small drawers, the little end drawer—it was not locked—there were none locked—he tried two or three keys to open the bureau, and could not get the right one—I don't know whether he opened it with a key that he took out of his pocket, or a key that he took from the drawer—it was one of the two—I saw him take some papers out of the bureau—he then went down, and went out—he came back again, I think it was past 10 or nearly 11, and asked me if I recollected the number of the cottage he had to go to, to receive the lady's rent—I said "No"—I told the cabman to ask some of the neighbours—he went away again, and said he should be back at 12—he did not have anything to drink then, that I recollect—he did not come back any more that night—I sat up for him till 3.30, in the
kitchen, against the box, with my feet on another chair—I had no candle—next day the prisoner came again at 12 o'clock—he was quite the gentleman then, just as I had seen him before—he told me to go down and get him another bottle of wine—he gave me a couple of shillings for the cabman, and told me to tell him to come at 9 o'clock at night—he said he owed the cabman that money—he had the wine, and went out—I remained in the house all day—at 9 o'clock at night the cabman came for the money, and I gave him the 2s.—the prisoner was not there then—some time after, nearly 10 o'clock, he came in another cab, and brought a young woman with him, who I now know to be the witness Green—the prisoner was dressed still the same, as a gentleman—he told me to go down and get a bottle of wine—I did so, and he had some, and gave Green some—soon after that a knock came to the door, and it was Mr. Piper—I let him in—I told the prisoner the man was come for the things—I knew Mr. Piper, and he said he was come for the box—I took the light, and I and the prisoner and Piper went down stairs to cord the box—just before that the prisoner had told me to go and cord all the bedding up to go with the box, and I was doing that when Piper knocked at the door—the prisoner told me that the bedding and the box were going in the country to the old gentleman—when we went into the kitchen the prisoner reached a cord off the dresser in the back kitchen, and gave it to Piper to cord the box—the prisoner wanted to cord the box himself, but Piper said no, he would cord it, he had corded a good many boxes, he could cord it best—he got the cord round the box once, and snewed it on the top, and in lifting it up to pass it round a second time he blooded his hands—he said "Mrs. Middleton, do you know anything of this?"—I said "No, the box was there when I came in, and there it is now"—Piper pulled the box away from the wall, and said he should not cord the box till he saw what was in it—when Piper moved the box there was blood under it, and the prisoner takes off his coat, puts it on the blood, and wipes up the blood with his feet, and he says to Piper "Are you going to cord the box?"—Piper said "No, not till I see what is in it"—I had the candle in my hand—Green went up the stairs first, I stood in the passage, and Piper and the prisoner followed—they went outside and walked up and down, and I stood in the passage by the door till the prisoner was brought back by the policeman, in about half an hour—I don't know what became of Green; she went away—I afterwards saw the box opened that night, and recognized in it the body of Ann Boss, the housekeeper, whom I had known before.
Cross-examined. Q. What age is your daughter? A. Eighteen lad April—she did not see the man that came on Monday night—she was in bed—I think it is two and a half or three years ago that I lived at the prisoner's house—I can't say within a year—I lived with him and his wife for sixteen months—it is three years ago since I left—my husband and one of my sons lived there with me—we had only one room—I think I worked with the prisoner, at 24, Wellington Square, six days the first week, and four days the latter part of the time; that was at the end of April and the be-ginning of May—the last time I was at the prisoner's house in Seymour Place was on the Sunday night, as he came to me on the Monday—I don't think I stayed there more than half an hour—he was there—I got home at 9 o'clock—I don't think my place is half a mile from his—it is not half a mile from Wellington Square—I can go to it in ten minutes, and from Paulton's Square in a quarter of an hour—the man who came on the Monday night
did not come into my house—I was not dressed—I had just got out of bed—he was hardly ten minutes talking to me—next morning the prisoner called for the key—I did not see the man that called on Monday night until the Tuesday night—when the prisoner called for the key on Tuesday morning he was in his working dress—I did not recognize him as the man I had seen the night before—I recognized the man I saw on the Tuesday night as the note I had seep on Monday night—he did not come into my house on the Tuesday night—my daughter saw him that night—that was about 8.30, or from that to 9 o'clock—I went back with him to Paulton's Square—he was some time in the same room with me there; I held the light while he was looking for the papers—I was examined before the Coroner—I don't recol-lect laying there that I knew the difference between Miller and the prisoner—I did say "I know the difference between Mr. Miller and the prisoner; Mr. Miller is a Scotchman, and the prisoner is a Frenchman"—that was before I knew the prisoner—I don't recollect saying that Miller was about thirty years of age, and the man charged was about forty—I can't recollect saying anything of the sort—I went to the station—I might have said that Miller was not the man who I called the Frenchman, but I did not know it was Miller, he came to me in such a disguise—when Miller came in his working clothes on the Tuesday morning he did not stay five minutes—he did not come in, and at Paulton's Square he did not stay more than five minutes—he took his pail and went away—my daughter was there at that time—he was then dressed in his common working clothes, the clothes he wore every day when he was working with me—when I saw him on the Sunday he was in his working clothes, as if he had not cleaned himself—I saw Mr. Stainsby outside the door on Wednesday night—I don't recollect seeing him before that—that was at the time the van was standing at the door—I never heard the prisoner speak French in the three years I have known him—on this occasion he spoke in broken English to me, so that I could not understand him.
MR. POLAND. Q. Are you quite sure that the man who was down stairs with Piper, when the box was corded, was the same man that had called on you on the Monday night, and went over to the house with you and looked into the bureau on the Tuesday night? A. Yes—he wore spectacles all the time—I can't say whether they were light or dark, my sight is not very good—I don't mean that he wore them when he was in his working dress.
COURT. Q. Had he spectacles on on the Monday night? A. Yes, and on the Tuesday, and on the Wednesday, and when they corded the box he had them on—I never knew him wear spectacles when I knew him as Miller, the working man—the man who came on the Monday night spoke broken English, so he did on Tuesday, and on the Wednesday, when Piper was there—on Monday he was dressed in light trowsers, a light waistcoat, and black coat, and the same on Tuesday—I can't say as to the Wednesday night, for I did not notice; there was such a bother with the box, and all that, I never noticed him.
HARRIETT MIDDLETON, JUN . I am the daughter of the last witness—I know the prisoner—on Tuesday morning, 10th May, I went, with my mother, to 15, Paulton's Square, to take care of the house—I think it was about 8 o'clock—she went away and left me there all day—I went down in the kitchen in the morning—the fire was out—there were two saucepans on the fire, with a pudding in one and water in the other—the pudding was Partly boiled, but quite cold, and the water in the other saucepan was
quite cold—there were three potatoes, some cabbage in the scullery, ready to put in the saucepan, and water ready for boiling—I went to the first-floor room; it had got the carpet down—it was in a muddle—the floor of one of the rooms was partially scrubbed, and there was, on the floor, a dirty coarse apron, such as a woman would use for scrubbing the floor, three cloths, a pail of water, a scrubbing brush, soap, and flannel—it looked as if somebody had been scrubbing, and had thrown the apron down in a hurry and left it—I saw a box in the kitchen when I first went in—the prisoner came to the house about 8.30, soon after we got there—he had a smock on and light trowsers, his working drees—he took a pail and brush from the back garden and went away—I stayed there till about 8.30 that night—during that time he did not come back to the house—a gentleman named Carter, a neighbour, came in, I believe, twice, and Mrs. Carter came, and Miss Evans's servant brought a key, which I took and hung on a peg in tin hall—she told me to give it to Mr. Huelin—some trades people also called during the day—I went home about 8.30 at night—about a quarter of an hour after I had got home a Frenchman called—that was about 8.45—he had been drinking—he spoke to me—he had no whiskers, he had a dark moustache—I could not notice whether he had any beard—he had spectacles on—he did not say who he was—he asked me whether I had been minding the house in Paulton's Square—I said "Yes"—he said that I must go back, for he was going to sleep there—he said he went away in the day—he spoke broken French—he did not speak very loud—he appeared to be angry—he said that I had no business to leave the house, because there were several policemen round the door, watching the house, and he could not allow that—I was going back with him, and mother came along, and I told her I did not like to go back with him, because he appeared to have been drinking, and she sent me back home and went with him herself—I took him for a Frenchman, or foreigner, at this time—afterwards, when I saw him in custody, I could see he was very much like Miller—I still thought he was a Frenchman when I saw him in custody—the prisoner is the man I saw in custody.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you examined before the Coroner? A. Yes, and also before the Magistrate—the prisoner was before the Magistrate—I said it was not the prisoner who came on Monday night, but a Frenchman—I did not see him that night, I heard him—I also said "I saw that person again, he came on Tuesday night to mother's"—I did not see him in the day on Tuesday, it was in the evening, dark, between 8 and 9 o'clock—the prisoner was present when I said that—I said it was not him, but a Frenchman; but now they say it is Miller, of course, it was Miller—they say it was Miller dressed up as a Frenchman, and I say so too; but it was a Frenchman that I saw, in his appearance—I knew Miller before, when mother lived there, and I went three or four times to Wellington Square, when he and mother were working there.
COURT. Q. Did you observe how the man was dressed on the Tuesday night? A. Yes, he had a high hat on, spectacles, a black coat, and light trowters—I say he was a Frenchman because he looked tall and looked very much like French—everything in his way, as he stood, made me think he was a Frenchman—I can't point out any peculiarity, only that.
REBECCA EVANS . I live at 82, Park Walk, Chelsea—I rented No. 32, Paulton's Square, of the Rev. Mr. Huelin—I was not living there, I had sublet it—on Monday, 9th May, my tenancy had expired, and I took the key
to 15, Paulton's Square, for the purpose of delivering it up—I got there about 4 o'clock in the afternoon—I went by appointment that day; but not at that particular hour—I knocked and rang, but no one answered—I saw Mr. Huelin's dog on the step—I went again about 6.30, and knocked and rang again—there was no answer—I went two or three times, till 7.30—there was no answer on either occasion—on Tuesday morning I tent my servant, Eliza Bartlett, with the key—she came back without it, and made a statement to me—on Tuesday night, about 9 o'clock, I went to No. 15, Paulton's Square—I knocked at the door—it was opened by Mrs. Middleton—she showed me into the parlour to a man who said he was the nephew—I said "I have come with reference to a key which I sent in the morning; have you sent it to 32, Paulton's Square?"—it was to go to 32—we had brought it from there to send it back again—he did not appear to understand it—he asked me if I wanted the key—I said "No, I with you to send it to 32"—I asked him if he was authorized to transact any business for Mr. Huelin—he said "I am authorized to do anything for him"—I asked him if he was Mr. Huelin's nephew—he said "Yes"—I said "Is your name Huelin?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You are not the nephew I have seen before"—he said "Another, another"—he asked me if I had the rent—I said "No, I have it not with me; but you can have it if you will call at our house"—he said he would go with me—I said I would rather he would not—he said he would come in half an hour—I gave him my address—I am not sure that I said the number—I told him Park Walk—that was all that took place—he was wearing spectacles—I went back home to 82, Park Walk; but he did not come that night—during this con-versation he spoke with a foreign accent—I saw him next morning, about 1 o'clock at my house—he was dressed as on the previous day—I did not notice his dress particularly—he had not spectacles on then—he came for the rent, and pressed for it—he said he was quite authorised to receive it—I told him I would not pay it, I would rather pay it to Mr. Huelin or hit house-keeper—he said Mr. Huelin would not be at home—I said "When will be be at home?"—he said "They are coming home to-night, about 11 o'clock"—I said "We will see them to-morrow morning"—he said "Tnty are going off early to-morrow morning, and will not be home for a fortnight"—he said he would call again the next day—I said I would rather see Mr. Huelin—I had only the half-quarter's rent to pay, which was about 5l.—I afterwards saw him in custody at the Police Court—I did not exactly recognize him then—I did not notice whether the man who called upon me had whiskers or not—I looked at his general appearance, and when be called on me I knew he was the same I had seen on the previous day—when I saw the prisoner at the Police Court I did not form any judgment at all upon the subject.
Cross-examined. Q. You recognized a detective, did you not, as the man that visited your house?" A. I think I did.
ELIZA BARTLETT . I was servant to Miss Evans—on the Monday evening, by her direction, I went to 15, Paulton's Square to deliver a key—I did not get in—I knocked and rang—I went again next morning, and found the girl Harriett Middleton there, and gave her the key—on the Wednesday morning I was sent by my mistress again to make tome inquiries about the key—I was shown into the back parlour by Mrs. Middleton—I found some man there—I do not know who he was—he was dretsed in light trowsers, light waistcoat, and frock coat, a high hat, and spectacles—I think it was a
black coat, I am not certain—his hair was light—I asked him if he had delivered the key at 32, Paulton's Square—he answered "Me have no key"—Mrs. Middleton brought the key into the room from the passage, and showed it him—he then said "Me will send it to 32"—she hung it up again—he said "Me could not find it"—I suppose he meant he could not find my mistress's address the night before, but that was all he said—he showed me a card with a number on it, but I told him it was the wrong number—he took the card from his pocket—this is it (produced)—it has No. 47 on it—I told him the No. was 82—he wrote it down, and said be would call in a minute—I said I should not be at home in a minute, and he said he would call in half an hour—there was wine on the table, and be poured out a glass for me—I did not take it—I was there altogether about an hour, from 12 to 1, as near as possible—I then went home, and in about half an hour he came—I showed him to my mistress—she asked him if his name was Huelin—he said "Yes"—I did not hear anything further—I afterwards saw a number of persons at the Westminster police-station—it was on a Friday—I don't know the day of the month—I should think there were pretty nearly fifty—among them I picked out the prisoner as the man I had seen speaking like a Frenchman.
Cross-examined. Q. How many times did you go to the station to see if you could pick out anybody? A. Only once—that is the time I have spoken of, at the Police Court—I went with my mistress—the prisoner was in the station yard—I am quite sure of that.
THOMAS HERBERT . I am a cab-driver—the No. of my cab is 4,746—on Tuesday night, 10th May, I was with my cab, near Cremorne Gardeni—I was hailed by a gentleman, who asked the way to 9, Park Walk—I directed him the way—he asked if I could take him there—I said I would take him there for a shilling—he got into the cab, and on the way to Park Walk be ordered me to 15, Paulton's Square—I drove there, and he got out of the cab—he did not go into the house—he got into the cab again, and ordered me to No. 9, Park Walk—he got out there, and made some inquiries, but the people at the house did not seem to understand him—they asked me where I brought him from—I told them from 15, Paulton's Square—he then came to me, and said it was either No. 9, 7, or 5—he went to No. 7, knocked at the door, and was answered from an up stairs window—they could not understand him there—by his language you could not make him out—the gentleman at No. 7 could speak French and Italian, and spoke to him in both, but he could not understand it, and the gentleman persuaded me to take him home, and said he might come to-morrow, and probably be might find some of his friends that he was inquiring for—the man then tried No. 5, with the same result—they could not make head or tail of him there—he then got into the cab, and at his request I drove him to 15, Paulton's Square—he knocked at the door—it was answered by the charwoman—he did not go inside—a little conversation took place between them outside, and he got back into the cab again—I did not hear what the conversation was—this was something about 10 o'clock—the woman told me to drive either to 44 or 45, Park Walk, and said the people had newly moved in—the prisoner appeared to be quite intoxicated at times, at other times be appeared to be quite sober—I then drove him to 45 first—he got out there, and knocked at the door, but there was no result there—he then crossed over to 44, and knocked and rang, and was answered from the window above by a gentleman, who told him if he did not go away he would
lock him up for annoying him—he then got back into the cab, and I drove him back to 15, Paul ton's Square—he asked me to have some wine, which I declined—he pressed me again, and I went into the house—I saw the woman who answered the door on the second occasion—she let us in—he sent her down for a bottle of wine—she went down stairs and fetched a bottle, and opened it—the wine was offered to me and I referred it to the gentleman, and said "Will you drink first"—I was not paid on that occasion—I was to call on the Wednesday night at 9 o'clock, and he would give me 10s.—I called on the Wednesday night at 8.55 exact—I was not paid then—the woman laid the, gentleman was not at home—she paid me 2s. instead of 10s.—I did not see anything of the man then—he spoke to me at different times—sometimes he would speak almost as plainly as I do; at other times he would speak so that you could not understand him at all, you could make nothing of it—sometimes he would get out of the cab quite sober, at other times he would fall down as if he was helplessly drunk—he had on a pair of spectacles, very large eye-glasses—sometimes he would wear them right over his forehead, and at other times just on his lip—he had an imperial and a slight moustache, no whiskers; to the best of my recollection I think he had light trowsers and waistcoat—I know he had a black coat on—the prisoner is the man—I can positively swear to him.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you give this information to the prosecution? A. Not till I was called upon—the detective was up at my place next morning before I was up, to fetch me; I mean the next morning after the Wednesday, on the Thursday morning after the murder was found out—I was not examined before the Coroner or the Magistrate—I next saw the prisoner in Newgate on the Monday of the last Sessions, about a month ago—I did not go before the Grand Jury—the detective fetched me on the Thursday to the Chelsea Police Station; I don't know his name—I was not shown any prisoners there; I was not shown any till I saw the prisoner in Newgate—I have said that the gentleman at No. 7 spoke to the man in French and Italian; I do not speak either—the gentleman told me he had done so—it might have been German and Italian, I don't know the difference—I know he said French was one; he said he had spoken to him in two languages—I live at No. 1, Manchester Street—I should say it is under half a mile from Paulton's Square to Park Walk.
MR. POLAND. Q. Did you give your statement to the police? A. I went to the Hammersmith Police Station; I did not see the solicitor to have my statement taken down.
WILLIAM SMITH PILDITCH . I am a butcher, at North End, Fulham—on Tuesday, 10th May, about 11.15, the prisoner came to me, and asked the particulars of some houses of mine to let in Dieppe Street, North End, Fulham—I told him 12s. 6d. per week—he said he should not want it weekly, he would rather take one for three years—he said he wanted to go a little further on, and he would call again in two hours, and I was to think it over meanwhile, and let him know what I would let it for—he returned at about 12.45, and I told him I would let it him—he said he had taken Mr. Clark's stables, at the Clarence Hotel, for two ponies, which rather induced me to let him the house quicker than I otherwise should—I told him 25l. a year would be the price—he agreed to that in a moment, and said he would send in some of the goods that evening, and pay a quarter's rent in advance—the house was not quite finished—I set the men to work directly to get it done that night, but could not get it ready before Wednesday
at 10 o'clock—he was to have the key when the van came with the things—he did not come, nor any van and furniture.
COURT. Q. How was he dressed when you saw him? A. In a light loose suit, not exactly a working suit, such as you would see a working-man with on an evening; not like a gentleman, nor yet exactly as a working-man; like a working-man when off work and going out for two or three hours—he did not give any name or address—I am sure the prisoner is the man—he said he was going to teach two or three languages, which be shammed, a lot of then, and he was going to take me out in his pony carriage—when he first spoke to me I thought he was a Scotchman from his accent—when he came again I did not know what he was, whether he was English, Irish, Scotch, or French; sometimes he would talk like a French-man, something that I could not understand.
FREDERICK CHARLES VINCE . I live at 2, Stanley Road, Sandi End, Fulham, and am a gas stoker in the service of the Imperial Gas Company—on Tuesday afternoon, 10th May, about 2 o'clock, I saw the prisoner outside a beer-house at Sands End—I had not known him before; he was a little tipsy—he asked me if I could fetch him a girl—I said I could not, he might get one by-and-bye if he would wait—he asked whether I should be glad to earn a shilling or so; I said "Yes," as I had not done much lately—he asked me if there were any private rooms about—I said "No, there was a private parlour round there, behind the Plough"—we went to the Hand and Flower public-house—he asked if I would have anything to drink; I said "A drop of ale"—he said he had got a box to be removed, and asked if I would move it—I said "Yes"—he asked if I could fetch a cart, and not be half an hour about it—I said I would—I asked what time he was going to have this box removed, and he said "About 8 o'clock"—I went to him it 8 o'clock, and he told me to follow him—I had no cart with me then—he went down Gunter's Grove, I followed him to Stanley Bridge, along the Fulham Road, into Camera Square—I went into the Roebuck with him, and had a glass of ale—we then went across to Paulton's Square, and stopped about two doors down, and he told me not to disappoint him in fetching a cart in half an hour's time—he did not point out any house till we got to the bottom of Danby Street, Paulton's Square, and Danby Street leads into one—he pointed to a house, a plumber and glazier's, where he said he lived, but he did not go in there, he went into a house in Paulton's Square, but I could not see what house it was—when I saw him go into that house I did not fetch the cart, because I thought he was making a fool of me—when I was in the parlour with him he pointed towards North End as the place where I was to go to with the cart—I saw nothing more of him till he was in custody at Rochester Row Police Station—I picked him out from twentyfive or thirty people—he spoke to me in a French accent.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you ever say a word before to-day about the man speaking with a French accent? A. I told them the same before the Magistrate—they asked me what kind of tone he spoke in, and I laid I thought he was a Frenchman—I was not in regular work at this time—I do stoking when required; I take what they call odd chances—I am at work there now—I was not doing anything on this day.
COURT. Q. How was the man dressed? A. A kind of dark brown coat, light trowsers and vest, and Blucher shoes with square toes; dressed like a kind of a gentleman—the coat was a dark brown to me, not to say black.
in a street next to Windmill Street, Haymarket—I was selling lights in the street—he said to me "You had better put your lights in your pocket and come with me;" and afterwards he said "Will you have anything to drink?"—I said "I don't mind, for I am cold and wet"—he took me into a public-house and gave me something, and he bought me this hat, jacket, and skirt that I have on, and a pair of boots—he then took a fly, not a cab—I don't know whether I got into the fly with him—I expect I went to his house, I don't know; I found myself at a house in Chelsea—a woman opened the door—I don't know the number of the house—he called for a bottle of wine—he poured out one glass and drank it himself, and then poured out another and asked me to drink it, and I would not have it—he did not tell me why he took me to this house, or what I was to do—I was locked up that night about 1.15—I never saw no box—I left the house—I did not see the man that came with the van—I expect the wine had overcome me—I have no distinct recollection of what took place after I got to the house, or how I got away, I had had too much—I had not had much food that day, and it took effect of me.
Cross-examined. Q. As I understand, you did not see anybody at this house except a woman? A. No—I don't know how long I stayed there—I went into a room where the books are kept; I saw books there—I had one glass of wine, and he asked me to drink again, but I would not—I was locked up that night—I next saw the prisoner at the Police Court; I pointed out two other men as the person at first.
MR. POLAND. Q. Where were you taken into custody that night? A. In the street, I was taken up for being drunk; I was taken before the Magis-trate next morning and let go—I don't know where I was taken up or how far away it was from the house.
HENRY PIPER . I am a van proprietor and greengrocer, and live in Marlboro' Road, Chelsea—on Wednesday night, 11th May, the prisoner called on me, about 9.20; the shop was shut—he walked in and said, "I have a machine or a cart?" he talked it in quite a French accent, I thought he was a Frenchman—I asked him what it was to do—he said "To remove some luggage"—I asked when he wanted it—he said "In half an hour's time"—I asked him what the job would come to—he said he did not understand what I meant—I said "What shall you pay me if I come at this time of night, it is now pouring with rain and very late?"—he said "Me pay you anything you charge, you make your charge and I will pay," and he put his two hands to his pockets and rubbed his pockets, sounding the money—he told me I was to be there in half an hour; I asked where—he said "15, Paulton's Square"—I asked him where it was to go to, and he said "To Fulham, the West End"—I did not make any observation upon his putting "the West End" after Fulham, because I thought he did not know any better as he was a Frenchman—he then walked away from the shop—I looked after him, he seemed very agitated; I saw him go and speak to a cabman three houses away; he did not drive up to my shop, but three houses away—I got my cart and went to 16, Paulton's Square, I knocked at the door and Mrs. Middleton opened it; I asked her if there was some luggage to go away from there that night—she said "I believe there is, Mr. Piper"—the prisoner came out of the dining room, I was then in the hall—I said to him "Where is the luggage, Sir"—he said "Some up stairs and some down"—I went to goup stairs, and he said "Downstairs first, follow me"—I followed him, and Mrs. Middleton followed me with a light into the kitchen;
before going into the kitchen he put his hand into the front kitchen which was facing the foot of the kitchen stairs, and got a bundle of rope that must have been lying on the dresser; be got it in the dark, as if he knew where to put his hand upon it—the box stood in the back kitchen, under the wall, on the left-hand side—he said "I want that box corded"—I said "It don't require cording, it will stand in the bottom of the van"—he said he would have the box corded, and he would cord it himself—he went to cord it round the middle—I told him that was the wrong way—I took the cord out of his hand, and made a loop at the end, and put it under the box—after I had got the rope round over the lock, and under the box, I picked the other end of the box up with my left hand on its end, to make a half hitch with the rope underneath, and I felt something was on my hand—I looked at it by the candle-light, and saw it was blood—the prisoner stood on my right, and Mrs. Middleton on my left—I said to the prisoner "What does that mean?"—I had then got the box out about 2 ft from the wall, and looking on the floor, I saw that there was a pool of blood when I had lifted the box from—I asked the prisoner a second time what it meant—he never answered me—I asked Mrs. Middleton if she knew what was in the box, as there was something not quite right, I thought—the prisoner could hear everything I said—he was wearing a light coat at the time, but-toned by the top button—he did not stop to unbutton it, but wrenched it off over his head, and threw it down into the blood, and then stamped upon it—all this time I had got the box up on its end, resting on my hip—the woman Green stood at the foot of the stairs—I told the prisoner I should not remove the box until he showed me what was inside it—Green, at this stage ran up stairs, the prisoner followed her, and I followed him—he stopped on the middle of the stairs, and said "Go back and cord that box"—I said "Not me"—he stamped his foot on the stairs, and said "Go back, you carman, and cord the box, and do your work"—I said "I shall not, I don't mean losing you, I don't mean to lose sight of you"—when he said "Go back and cord that box "be lost his accent—that was the first time I noticed him not talk like a Frenchman; he talked like an Englishman, as I am talking now; he appeared to lose his temper—he then walked out into Paulton's Square, and turned to the left, towards the King's Road—as he was going up the Square he put on the coat which he had picked out of the blood—he had picked it up as he passed between the box and the wall, as he followed the woman to go up stains, and he put it on going up the Square—he walked on my right up the Square to the King's Road—I saw a constable standing under the lamp-post—it was then raining very hard—I went up to the constable, and told him my name, and where I lived—the prisoner was with me, by my side—I told the constable the way in which the prisoner had employed me that night to remove some luggage, and all that I had seen in the kitchen, and the way the prisoner had behaved in cording the box, and I told him to take charge of him, and not to lose him—the constable would not lay hold of him—we walked down to the house, No. 15, again, a distance of fifteen houses—the constable was about to go into the house, and I touched him on the shoulder, and told him if he went into the house we should lose the man—I then said to a man I had with me "Run, George, up to the station, and tell them to send some more men down to 15, Paulton's Square; tell them who sent you"—we were all standing still then, outside the house, at the foot of the steps—after I had sent for more police the prisoner got very fidgetty, and walked backwards and forwards for the
space of two houses—I said to the constable "Lay hold of him, he will bolt directly"—we were walking to and fro, when, as we were walking towards the King's Road, the prisoner in the middle, I on the kerb, and the constable next the houses, all at once the prisoner took a spring, and away he went—I said "There, now, he is gone"—as he was running at the height of his speed, he knocked off his hat into the road, and then pulled off his coat and threw that in the road—I followed him at the height of my speed, calling out "Stop thief!" and "Murder!" as loud as I could—he ran the best part of half a mile—the constable was some way behind me—we came to a very narrow part, where the people, hearing the cry of "Murder!" were standing close under the shop-windows, and left but very little room for the prisoner to run, he had to take to the kerb—the people stood on one side to let him pass—nobody offered to stop him, but he slipped off the kerb and fell on his face—I was within ten yards of him, and before he had time to get up I was upon him and collared him—the policeman came up, and I asked if he would lay hold of him then—he said "Yet"—we then both took him back, through Paulton's Square, into the King's Road, and there I met more assistance coming down, that I had sent for—I saw Sergeant Large and two or three privates, and I gave him in charge—I went back with Sergeant Large to 15, Paulton's Square, and pointed out the box in the kitchen—it was partly corded, as I had left it—the sergeant got the kitchen poker and wrenched it open, it contained the body of a woman all doubled up—she was dressed apparently as if she had just left off work—a doctor was sent for—I saw a rope tied tight round her neck, a similar bit to that which the prisoner got out of the kitchen to cord the box with; it was a piece of clothes line.
JOHN LARGE (Police Sergeant TR 1). On Wednesday night, 11th May, about 10 o'clock, I went sent for to 15, Paulton's Square—as I was going, I met the prisoner, the witness Cole, and Piper—I sent a constable to the station with the prisoner and Cole, and went with Piper to 15, Paulton's Square—I went down stairs with him, and he showed me a green box—it was locked, and had this piece of cord put round it once—I moved the box, and saw a quantity of blood on the spot that I moved it from—I then took a poker from the fire-place, and broke the box open, and in it I found the body of a female—I found she was cold—I sent for a doctor—Dr. Ryder attended in a few minutes—on moving the body, I found this piece of cord round her neck—after taking it off the neck, I put it together with the other cord that was round the box, and found that it corresponded—it appeared to have been cut—it was the same sort of cord—I took it off the neck—it was tied very tightly, and the knot was just under the ear—it was suffi-ciently tight to cause strangulation—the blood came from the mouth and nose of the female—it had run down the side of the box—the box was 2 ft. 11 in. long, 1 ft. 6 in. wide, and 1 ft. 7 in. deep—it was an old box, painted green, a wooden one, and no covering to it—I afterwards searched the place up stairs—I found a quantity of bedding tied up, ready to be removed—I then went to the station, and asked the Inspector on duty whether any key was found on the prisoner—the prisoner was then lying down in the room—I don't know whether he understood or not—I received a bunch of keys from Inspector Tarlton—I went back to the house, and found that one of the keys unlocked the box—I produce it—I took it off the bunch.
Cross-examined. Q. You forced open the box, you say? A. Yes, with
a poker—I forced the lid right off—this key was on a bunch of seven keys, I think—the Inspector has the others—I took this off in the presence of the Inspector, and returned him the others—the things that were packed ready to be removed were a bed, blankets, pillows, and a bolster; one set of things—they were in a room up stairs.
JOSEPH COLES (Policeman T 194). I have been two years in the force—on Wednesday night, 11th May, I was on duty in Paulton's Square, about 10 o'clock, and saw the prisoner and Piper at the top of Paulton's Square, against the King's Road—Piper said that he had been employed by the prisoner to remove a box from 15, Paulton's Square, and when he was moving it he got his hand all over blood, and be believed there was something wrong, he wished me to go down and see what was the matter—as soon as Piper said there was something wrong, the prisoner repeated "Something wrong, something wrong," about three times—when I got to 15, Paulton's Square with the prisoner, I wanted him to go inside the house, all three of us to go in together, to see what was the matter—he would not go in—he did not say a word, but he turned round from the door as though be would rather go back—he did not go in—I said to Piper "We had better get someone else, and see what is the matter," and Piper sent off his roan to the police-station for another constable—after the man had been gone about three minutes, the prisoner became restless, and began to walk back-wards and forwards past the door, and when in the direction of Danvan Street, leading to the water-side, he suddenly made a bolt, and ran about 400 yards, I should say—he went to step off the kerb, and tripped up—he threw off his coat and hat as soon as he started to run; his hat was off and on the ground in an instant almost—he took it off, and threw it on the ground with all his force, and then took his coat off—he was wearing two coats—I believe the overcoat was underneath—he had a light one over the black coat—it was the light coat he took off, and threw down—the one he had underneath was a kind of waterproof, dark colour—I did not pick it up—I ran after him—Piper got up to him first, a few yards before me, about twenty yards, I might say—I then said to Piper "We will take him now; I don't want anything else. I know he has done something wrong, or ha would not run away," and I took him to the police-station—I searched him there, and found on him 7l. 10s. in gold, 9s. 6d. in silver, 5 1/2 d. in bronze, a cork-screw, two knives, a pipe, pencil case, spectacles in case (only one pair), three gloves, a common ring, and an abstract of the title-deeds of 24, Wel-lington Square, Chelsea—I produce the things—the abstract of the title was in the breast pocket of the under coat that he had on when he threw the light coat off, it was all over blood—I also found a rent-book and a silk handkerchief, and two envelopes addressed to "Miss Boss, 15, Paulton's Square"—some pieces of glass were smashed up in his trowsers pocket—it appeared that a bottle had been broken in his pocket—I found this card on the prisoner, which was produced yesterday, and shown to Bartlett, but I can't say positively which pocket I took it out of—I saw a bunch of keys at the station—I found those on the prisoner, I gave all the property up to Inspector Tarlton.
Cross-examined. Q. How long were you walking up and down Paulton's Square with the prisoner and Piper? A. About three minutes after Piper's man had gone for another constable—I was not with him more than seven or eight minutes before the prisoner ran away—Piper did not tell me to take him in charge, or to lay hold of him; he whispered in my ear, and said he
thought he meant bolting—this paper I have in the list of the property I took from the prisoner—Inspector Tarlton made it out after I had taken the property from him—I don't think the keys were included in that list, but I remember taking the keys from him perfectly well—I have added the bottle in pencil—I found that in his left-hand trowsers pocket, smashed—I did not drop it and break it—I took it out of his pocket, all in small pieces—it seemed a small bottle—I could not say the size of it, because it was all smashed up.
HENRY PIPER (re-examined). The coat which the prisoner took off and threw on the blood was a light coat, a little lighter than the trowsers he was wearing—I can't say positively what became of that coat—he picked it up again, I think, when I told him I would not move the box, and followed the woman Green up stairs—he put it on going up the square—when I put the box down, and said I would not more it, the woman Green started first before he picked the coat up, and then he picked it up out of the blood and followed her up stairs—I did not stay down a minute—I followed him immediately—he was only three stairs above me, and the woman was in front of him—she went out—he stopped on the stain, and had a little conversa-tion with me—he did not go out into the street without me at all—I was not a quarter of a yard from him from the time he came out of the kitchen until he took the spring away from me, and then he was not more than tan yards from me—I kept him in sight all the time.
PITT TARLTON (Police Inspector). I was on duty at the police-station on Wednesday night, 11th May, when the prisoner was brought in—I saw him searched, and the constable gave the things into my possession—I have heard the evidence he has given to-day as to the things he found—this is the correct list of them, but the keys are not mentioned in this list—I directed the sergeant to make out two lists, and the keys were omitted in each—I put the keys down in my own list—the keys were found and banded to me—the following morning I entered the property found, in the charge sheet, and afterwards the sergeant made a list from the charge-sheet—I am certain the keys were found at that time—I gave this one key to the witness Large—when the prisoner was being searched there was a portion of a glass bottle taken out of his right-hand trowsers pocket—the neck of the bottle was complete, and the cork in it—the doctor has it—I said "Why, this is a poison bottle"—the prisoner immediately dropped down, and bent over the dock in that manner, with his hands down—he did not say anything—I asked the constable if he was drunk—he said "No," he was not drunk, because he ran too fast—I immediately sent for Dr. Godrich, and had the prisoner removed into the reserve room and laid down on the floor—Dr. Godrich examined him, and said he believed he was shamming, there was nothing the matter with him—the next day he was removed to St. George's Hospital, where he remained until Friday—he was then taken to the Westminster Police Court—I entered the charge on a charge-sheet and read it over to him—he made no reply—I afterwards asked if he under-stood what I said—he said "You said something about murder"—I again read the charge to him, and he said "I will say nothing now"—the charge was for the wilful murder of Ann Boss, at 15, Paulton's Square, King's Road, Chelsea—also, when that charge was entered, information was received of the body of the old gentleman being found, and I then charged him with the murder of the Rev. Elias Huelin, at 24, Wellington Square, Chelsea.
Cross-examined. Q. Where were all the things put to that were taken
from the prisoner's person? A. Tied up in this handkerchief, and placed in my desk at the station—neither of these lists is my writing, they are the reserve sergeant's; I gave the list to him, or read it out, and he entered the things—he left out the keys—this was not made the same night that the things were found—all the things were rolled up in this handkerchief, except the bottle, that was sealed up in a larger bottle and given to Mr. Godrich—the list was made by the reserve sergeant the next day, I think—no list was made out that same night—when the list was made the handkerchief was opened, and the things were put down as they were taken out of the handkerchief—we took the prisoner to the hospital about 12 o'clock on Thursday, and he remained there till about 1 o'clock on Friday.
COURT. Q. Why was he taken there? A. He could not speak, at least he did not speak; he lay in a stupid state—I kept two men up with him, and we gave him stimulants, some brandy in coffee, by the doctor's orders.
FRANCIS GODRICH . I am a surgeon—on the Wednesday night I was sent for to the Chelsea Police Station—I saw the prisoner there, lying on the floor—I spoke to him in English, and in French, as the police said they were informed he was a Frenchman—he did not answer at all—I examined him—he was in a very depressed state, weak, and pale, and either could not, or would not, move his limbs—the police showed me a broken bottle, and some small pieces wrapped up in a piece of paper; there was a until torn label on it "Laudanum," and I fancied it smelt of laudanum—thinking he might have taken laudanum I gave him an emetic, with coffee and brandy, which he drank freely without difficulty; the emetic acted—I examined the result, there were no traces of poison whatever; if laudanam had been recently taken it must have been found—I thought he was shim-ming insensibility, for his pupils acted naturally, and his pulse was regular though weak—I stayed with him a considerable time, and saw him twice next morning, and then by my recommendation he was removed to the hospital, and I did not see him again—I analyzed the bottle and found distinct traces of opium or laudanum.
Cross-examined. Q. You know that opium is used for toothache, and all sorts of things? A. Yes—he might have had as much as two glasses of brandy given to him while I was there, or it might have been more—that was on account of his depressed condition—I gave directions that he should have a little more if necessary—I did not prop his mouth open with a bundle of wood—I tried to introduce the stomach pump, but he clenched his teeth together, and unfortunately I had a bad mouthpiece, and it broke so that I could not administer it.
EDWARD CLUFF (Detective Officer B). On Thursday afternoon, 12th May, about 2.30, I went to 24, Wellington Square, with Watts and other officers; we were let in by Superintendent Fisher, and proceeded to examine the house—in the back kitchen I found this pick and shovel, and under the boards by the sink I found this hat (produced) all battered in as it is now, it lay like this between the rafters, crushed; no doubt it had been pressed in there—the lining was wet with blood—we found nothing else on the Thursday; we began digging in the back yard, and knocked off at 8.30 the same afternoon—there was a quantity of clotted blood and paper lying in the yard, but we did not find the body—the paper looked as if it he been torn off the walls—that and the blood was all mixed up together—I noticed that there had been a new flooring board laid down in the back
kitchen about 11/2 ft. or 2 ft. from the back window—I went to the house again on the Friday, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the afternoon—the witness Payne was there, and he pointed out where he had dug the drain—I and Watts dug up the earth there, and found the body of the Rev. Mr. Huelin—Watts found the upper part of the body, and I found the legs lying near the wall—he had on his shirt, gloves, and mittens, trowsers, boots, and cravat, but no coat or hat—I found the coat after we had removed the body, and placed it in the back room—it was underneath where the body lay, below the head, about half a foot below the surface of the gravel; one sleeve of the coat was turned inside out—I afterwards noticed the neck of the deceased, there was a piece of rope tied tightly round the neck—I saw Watts cut it off, and he has it—I sent for Mr. Turner, the surgeon, to examine the body—I afterwards examined the floor in the front kitchen, and saw marks of apparently a red substance, I can't say whether it was blood or not, the marks appeared to have been scrubbed.
WILLIAM WATTS (Detective Officer B). I saw the hat found on the Thursday—I was present that day, endeavouring to find the body—I assisted in digging it out—I took the piece of rope off the neck; it was tied very tightly round the neck, and the knot was under the right ear—this is it (produced)—it is 11 in. long.
COURT. Q. Did you find any traces of blood indicating where the body had been deposited, between death and the putting it in the drain? A. There were stains of blood on the floor in the front kitchen, and I believe some was found in a closet; but not by me—I saw the stains in the front kitchen, they appeared to me to be stains of blood, and that some strong chemicals had been used with a view of getting them out, so as to turn them white; and in the direction of the back place, where the body was found, there were two or three spots, I believe, of blood, which had not been cleaned.
THOMAS AUBREY TURNER . I am a surgeon, of 182, King's Road, Chelsea—on Friday afternoon, 13th May, I was sent for to 24, Wellington Square—when I got there I found the body of the deceased gentleman in the back kitchen—I had known him when alive—this rope was tied tightly round the neck, the knot coming under the right ear, quite tight enough to cause strangulation—there was blood on the right side of the head—I made no further examination at that time—on the following day I made a postmortem examination—I examined the head very minutely, and after a time found two small holes behind the right ear, from which the brain matter protruded—I removed the skin, and found the bone of the skull underneath fractured—I then opened the head, and found the inner plate of the bone of the skull fractured also—the holes were rather less than an inch apart—they must have been caused by a sharp, pointed instrument, also a heavy instrument—the holes were not so large as a pea in size—they would be caused by a sharp-pointed instrument, with a heavy weight at the end of it, and also a handle—it would be done by a sudden blow—there must have been two blows, I think—on the opposite side of the head, exactly opposite the blow, I found two distinct clots, or rather, merging into one—the left eye was very much contused, and the right eye slightly—I examined the chest, lungs, and heart, which I expected to have found very much congested, from the rope being round the neck, but they did not present the symptoms which one generally finds after strangulation, which led me to suppose that the death was caused by the blows—I had known the deceased some time,
and thought him to be seventy-four or seventy-five years of age—he was very active, and walked about very well—I examined the house—in the cupboard, under the stairs on the basement, I saw some spots of blood on the wall, which appeared to have dripped from a wound—there were several spots down the wall, about half a yard from the ground; nothing further—I noticed that part of the floor which the policeman showed me—it had evidently been scrubbed, and attempts had been made to remove a stain—that was quite visible.
Q. Supposing a body had been placed in that cupboard after the wounds behind the ear had been inflicted, leaning against the wall, would the blood have come from that? A. It is most probable—the cupboard was not long enough for the body to lay out straight—it might have been partially doubled up—the cupboard door was open when I saw it—it had been opened for me to see.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you attend Mr. Huelin professionally? A. No—I knew him very well—I did not know for certain that he had any acquaintances in Jersey or France—I had heard about the neighbourhood that he had—he never told me that he was a native of Jersey—I had only known him about two years—he was a heavy, stout man—I should think he was over 11 stone, nearly 12—I did not see the clotted blood in the yard, of which the officer has spoken—I did not see any blood upon any of the walls, except in the cupboard—I did not examine the house thoroughly—they showed me, casually, the parts that had been rubbed out.
COURT. Q. Was the rope quite tight enough to cause death if it had not been occasioned by the blows? A. Quite so.
JAMES PAY . I am an inspector of the Detective Police at Scotland Yard—on Thursday, 12th May, after the prisoner was in custody, I went to 26, Seymour Place, accompanied by the prisoner's wife, who had recognized him at the station in my presence; in a box in the front room ground floor I found this abstract of title deeds of 2, Trafalgar Square, Chelsea, with "Elias Huelin, 15, Paulton's Square," written on it in pencil; also an envelope, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Huelin, with some writing on the back about rent, and an enclosed estimate of some work to be done; also a catalogue of ten houses, a bunch of eight keys, one of which is said to be a patent, and unlocks the spirit cupboard on the ground floor at 15, Paulton's Square—I also found a pair of light trowsers, with two or three faint drops of blood on them, they were hanging on the bed, all the other things were together, put down by the side of the box—the prisoner's wife was present when I found the things—I tried the keys to the bureau, but could not find any of them to fit any of the locks in the house; I tried all the locks—I did not find any door key of Wellington Square or Paulton's Square—after finding these things, I went to 24, Wellington Square, I went through 23, and got over the wall at the back, and got in that way—I made a search there, and constables were placed there to try and find traces of the body—I was there on the Thursday and Friday—I noticed the marks on the floor in the kitchen, they appeared to have been stains of blood, rubbed over with stone, there appeared to be encircling marks, as though something had been rubbed round—there also appeared to be some stains on the back of a little cupboard under the stairs, about 2 ft high—I could not tell what they were marks of, Mr. Turner examined them—I saw where the body was found—a person at work there could not very well be seen from the adjoining houses, the houses at the back are in a row, but it is a very high wall; it would be
possible by looking out of the top window to see over—I have walked and measured the distances of the different places that have been mentioned—from 24, Wellington Square to 15, Paulton's Square, is 1,222 yards, and it took me ten minutes, walking at a moderate pace—from 15, Paulton's Square to the Admiral Keppel public house, in the Brompton Road, is 1,463 yards, walked in fourteen minutes—from the Admiral Keppel to 24, Wellington Square, is 1,151 yards, time of walking, eleven minutes—from Mrs. Middle-ton's house to Paulton's Square is 918 yards, walked in about eight minutes; and from Wellington Square to 26, Seymour Place, the prisoner's house, is 1,999 yards; that took me about twenty minutes—from the Hand and Flower, at Sands End, Fulham, to Mr. Pilditch's, at North End, is 1,790 yards, twenty minutes' walk.
EDWARD HUELIN . I am a nephew of the deceased; his name was Elias Huelin—he was a clergyman—he would have been eighty-four years of age on 19th June last—in May last I was living in Lincolnshire—my uncle had a farm there—he went down there generally about once a year—I was expecting him every day, about this time—I used to live with him at 15, Paulton's Square, until the 24th March last—he lived there alone, with only Ann Boss as his housekeeper, no other servant—he had property in the neighbourhood, Nos. 15, 24, and 32, Paulton's Square belonged to him—I came up to London upon hearing of the murder, on Thursday, 12th May—the police came down to make inquiries of me, and I came up on the following day—I saw the body of my uncle—his usual time for dining was about 1 o'clock—I have seen the different things that have been produced—I know this rent-book—it is all in my handwriting, except the first page, that is in my uncle's writing—it was written some time at the beginning of last year—I know this abstract of title with the blood on it—"No. 24, Wellington Square "is my uncle's writing—I don't know the other—I don't know the writing of these envelopes, addressed "Ann Boss" these spectacles belonged to my uncle, and this pencil case was his—I have been shown a green box by the police; it was the box of Ann Boss—she used to keep clothes in it—I don't know this bunch of keys—the writing on this envelope produced by Inspector Pay is my uncle's handwriting—it is "Mrs. Emmerson, one half-year's rent, due Lady-day, 1869, 67l. 10s.; received balance. I enclose a receipt for the 10l. you paid me while staying' with you, and am much displeased at your not paying me the whole rent due last Lady-day, and to avoid any unpleasant proceedings, I requests a satisfactory answer before the middle of next month, which will oblige your well-wisher, E. Huelin"—Here are two letters addressed to my uncle—I don't know the writing of those—I don't know the writing on this abstract of title—my uncle bought the house No. 2, Trafalgar Square—I know these boots to be my uncle's.
JOSEPH COLBS (re-examined). I produce a coat and a pair of boots—the coat is the one that the prisoner threw off, and I also produce the one he had on underneath—these boots he had on when he was taken.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you last see your uncle? A. On 24th March—not since—he was a native of Jersey—he had relations there, two nephews and three nieces, and it may be cousins—he was on good terms with all of them—I don't know that I was the favourite nephew—perhaps I may come in to the bulk of his property—he left a will—I don't know
about my baring four-fifths of the property—I have the farm in Lincoln, shire, and the rest of the property, with the exception of several leasehold houses—Mr. Wright, my solicitor, is in Court.
COURT. Q. Do you know the relations in Jersey? A. Yes—they could not speak English very well, not quite so well as I do, I should think—I have been five years in England.
JOHN CARTER . I live at the Vale, King's Road, Chelsea—I knew the Rev. Mr. Huelin twenty-five years; I also knew his housekeeper, Ann Boss, very well—I recognize these boots and spectacles to be Mr. Huelin's, and this hat I have brushed many times—I saw him on the Sunday morning before his death—it would be about 8 o'clock, I think—he stated to me that he was going to Lincoln next week—on Tuesday morning my attention was called to 15, Paulton's Square by Mr. Stainsby—I went there about 10.30—Mrs. Middleton's daughter let me in—I went into the parlour, and saw the bureau open, and a number of papers lying on the table and a portfolio—I gathered them up, and placed them in the bureau again, and locked it up and put the key in my pocket—I saw the cupboard open where the spirits were kept—I locked that also, and put that key in my pocket—I went over the house and searched almost every part—I did not go into the kitchen, I went up stairs—nothing particularly attracted my attention.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you search for a will of Mr. Huelin's? A. Certainly not—I have since heard that he made a fresh will, and left it unsigned—I saw it with the solicitor, who is now present, when we went over the house together—we searched for papers, with the police constables—Mr. Huelin told me on the Saturday evening that he had lost his spectacles—he came to my house—I am not clear whether he took tea with me that evening; but he wanted to read the newspaper and said "I have lost my glasses," and I lent him a pair, and he read the paper.
Cross-examined. Q. You searched for the papers, I suppose? A. Yes—we found a will which I had prepared for him, no other; it was an old will of 1866—I did not find any will prepared for signature and not signed—one was drafted by the testator as a new will—under the present will the housekeeper was interested; that is under the existing will.
THOMAS RYDER . I am a surgeon—on Wednesday night, 11th May, I was sent for to 15, Paulton's Square—I saw the box opened, and the deceased woman found in it—she was fully dressed—I examined the body—there was a rope round the neck—it was fastened with a double knot, tight enough to be the cause of death—blood had issued from the nose and mouth—that arose from the congested condition of the brain—the vessels had burst, and blood issued from the nose and mouth—that was from the stricture round the neck not being removed—there might have been two quarts of blood, perhaps, saturated through the box, trickling over the clothes, and on to the floor.
WILLIAM ARTHUR (re-examined). The last time I saw Mr. Huelin was at Wellington Square, with the prisoner—we were all three together—that was at the latter end of April—I believe Mr. Huelin asked the prisoner if he wanted any money on account, and the prisoner said "No," he would wait till the end of the job—I believe the prisoner paid the money by his work
—he did not receive any money—Mr. Huelin told him if he wanted any he could have it, and he said "No," he would let it stand over—I believe he received 10s. one week while I was there, but I never knew that he received any more—he owed Mr. Huelin for some rent—I was there three weeks and a day—Mr. Huelin told him if he wanted any money he would let him have some, and he said "No," he did not want it, he wanted to clear his rent.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
The Court ordered a reward of 50l. to be paid to the witness Piper.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, July 14th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
THOMAS WEDDLE . I live at Whilley Villas, Holloway, and am a collector of the Inland Revenue—on the night of 11th April I went to bed about 11 o'clock, leaving the doors and windows safe—I was awoke in the morning by the ringing of the front door bell—I went down and opened the door, and saw a sergeant and a constable—they came inside, and went to the back, through the kitchen—the constable had his hand severely cut—I found the scullery door open, and the bar wrenched from the outside of the window—the house was entered by that window—I missed three shoebrushes and some bacon—these brushes (produced) are mine.
ALFRED TAPPENDEN (Policeman G 123). On the morning of 12th April, about 4 o'clock, I saw the prisoner at the back of the villas—there was a good light at that time—I could see his face—when he saw me he ran into in empty house thirty or forty yards from the prosecutor's—I searched for him, and found him in the water-closet—I asked him what he was doing there—he dropped the brushes and bacon from under his coat, and struggled with me through the rooms—he tried to get away—I got him out to the back of the house, and knocked him down with my truncheon—I took him up, and was taking him into the Caledonian Road—as I was opening the gate he cut me severely across the hand with a knife, or something of that sort—I was compelled to release my hold, and he got away—I pursued him into some empty houses, but he got away—I was laid up nearly a month—I picked up the property and went to the prosecutor's house, when he identified the things—I found a basket of tools at the back of, the empty house the prisoner entered—there was a screw-driver, a putty knife, and a stock and bit—I saw the prisoner again on 23rd June, at the Kingsland Station, with twelve or fifteen others—I looked round and said "That is the man"—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. Q. This house was broken into on 11th April? A. Yes—I saw the prisoner two months afterwards—I did not apprehend him.
GUILTY *†— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
589. SAMSON ISAACS (51), THOMAS MUSGROVE (53) , Unlawfully conspiring together, with others, to steal the goods of John Bull and others. Second Count—Unlawfully inciting and inducing John Shorborn to steal the goods of John Bull and another, his masters.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; MR. WARNER SLEIGH defended Isaacs; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Musgrove.
JOHN SHERBORN . I live at 28, Lime Street, City—I am out of employ-ment at present—in 1866, I was in the employ of Messrs. Bull & Wilson, woollen drapers, in St. Martin's Lane—they employed a gentleman of the name of Sparrow, and Musgrove was a carman in his employment—I knew Musgrove in 1851, but I lost sight of him till I went to Bull & Wilson's—I was there three years and a half, and he came there frequently during that time—I only knew Isaacs by sight—I only saw him twice before I saw him at the Court, about six months before I left Bull & Wilson's—some time in 1866 we had a meeting at the Pavilion Music Hall—Musgrove asked me on several occasions to meet a friend of his who had plenty of money—I should think he asked me two or three times—I went to the Pavilion Music Hall, where I met Musgrove, and he introduced me to Samson Isaacs as a friend of his who had got plenty of money—we sat down together at a table—Musgrove did not join in the conversation—he could hear what was said—we were drinking and smoking—Samson began speaking about trade and business—he then asked me whether we were sufficiently paid, and whether we could do with some more money—I said "Of course we could do with more"—he was speaking about the young men in the trade—the conversa-tion after led to this, that I should give some goods to Musgrove—he said "If you give goods to Musgrove they will be given to me, and we will dispose of them and divide the profits"—that is what was said as near as I can recollect—I said I would see about it—he said it would be better that Musgrove should come about dinner time, because half the young men would be out of the way at dinner—I left him shortly after that—I was assistant at Messrs. Bull & Wilson's—I should have had access to the goods in their establishment—Musgrove had seen me in the warehouse nearly every day—I mentioned this conversation next morning to Mr. Grubb, a young man in the employ—I saw Musgrove that day, and I asked him what he meant by introducing me to such a vagabond as that—I mentioned what Samson had said to me, and Musgrove said he did not hear what was said—I said if I heard anything more of it I should speak to my employers—I spoke to two or three others about it—I did not make it a secret—we all left the Pavilion together, and parted a little distance off—I forget where—I bade Musgrove "Good night"—I left Messrs. Bull & Wilson's on 1st January, 1867—I had a conversation with Musgrove in October, 1867, in the presence of Mr. Sparrow, his master—I was then a Mr. Garnier's, in Golden Square—Mr. Sparrow came with Musgrove to inquire about the conversation—he said "What have you got to say about my man Tom?"—I said I knew nothing against him more than he intro-duced me to a bad man at the London Pavilion—Musgrove said that it was not Samson he meant to introduce me to, and afterwards he said it was—I complained of losing my situation for it, and we parted—I was dismissed from Messrs. Bull & Wilson's—I forget who paid for the beer at the London Pavilion—Isaacs paid for some, that is all I know.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You are out of employment at the
present time, I understand? A. Yes—I was last at Robinson's, in Leadeo-hall Street—I left there when this case came on—they knew nothing about this matter—I never explained it—it came on the last week I was there—I was not doing sufficient trade, and I was dismissed because it did not pay—this matter took place in 1866—my evidence was taken down before I went to the Police Court, by a gentleman acting for the prosecution—I have not seen that evidence since—I was examined at the Police Court, and my evidence was read over to me—I did not know that Isaacs was a Prussian Jew—Isaacs said that half the young men would be out of the way at dinner time—those might not have been the exact words, but it was the substance—I believe I said something about dinner time at the Police Court—he said dinner would be the best time—I don't know that I said at the Police Court that half the young men would be out of the way—that was the reason dinner time was mentioned—I don't know that I did use those words—I sat drinking with them after he had made the proposition to me—I was not there an hour; I won't swear that it was not—I had some drink, and he paid for it—we parted very good friends—I don't know whether I shook hands with him—I don't think I shook bands with Musgrove—I did not say I did—I said I should tell my master if it happened again—I did not tell my master—I mentioned it to the young men in the house, but not to my employers—I was at Mr. Kell's, in Oxford Street, for three months—I think a gentleman of the name of Toms recommended me—I had a character—not a written one—I was in a Scotch house before that, travelling for them in London, and they failed—I did not apply to them for a character, it was not necessary—I had a reference from Bull & Wilson's to my next place, at Garnier's, in Golden Square—I had a reference from there—Mr. Gamier did not give it me, one of the firm did—I was dismissed from there—they gave me a character afterwards—I was dismissed from Kell's—he thought I would not suit him—he gave me a character at my next place—when Samson made this proposition to me I said I would see about it—I went out of the place without remonstrating with him for it—I went there for the purpose of seeing what Musgrove's invitation meant, and I mentioned it before I went—I said "I went there to have a jolly good evening," but the words were put into my month by Mr. Humphreys—I was asked whether I went there to have a jolly good evening, and I said "Yes."
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. And I suppose if Mr. Humphreys had put anything else into your mouth you would have answered "Yes?" A. Not everything—I knew I was on my oath—I did not put a good deal into my mouth at the Pavilion—Isaacs paid for the greater portion of it—when I got there I saw Musgrove first—he came up and said "This is the gentleman who has got plenty of money," and I sat down—it was about half-an-hour or three-quarters after that that it was suggested I should rob my masters—we were sitting together about an hour and a half—it might have been more—I can't say for certain—I can't tell whether Musgrove beard the conversation—it was quite loud enough for him to hear—when I saw him with Mr. Sparrow, I said "You were close by, and must have heard"—he still continued in Mr. Sparrow's employ—Musgrove had told me two or three times that he wanted to introduce me to a friend with plenty of money—I went to the Pavilion to see what Musgrove meant, out of sheer curiosity, and to see who the party was—I expected it was for no good purpose—I could not tell you the reason—I had one—I said before the
Magistrate "I could give no reason for suspecting him"—my reason is not strong, and I should say there was no suspicion—I said I did expect it was for no good purpose—I had no particular reason—the Pavilion is a music hall—there were a lot of people sitting round—we were the only three at that table—there were tables close by—we were at the side of the hall—the tables are close together—the conversation was loud enough for me to hear, and Musgrove too, I should imagine—I have said that he might not have heard it—I could not swear that he did—it was a startling proposition for Samson to make—Musgrove did not join in the conversation—he said nothing, to my recollection—I expressed my indignation to him next morning, not then—I understood it as a proposition to rob my master—I did not think it right to sit three-quarters of an hour drinking after the proposition—I did do it—I have not forgotten any of this since 1866—I shall never forget it—I did not make any memoranda of what took place—I said I would see about it, and did mean to see about it—not about getting the goods, but about the proposition.
MR. STRAIGHT. Q. You have been asked a great deal about the employment you have been in, did you give the names and addresses of you employers at the Police Court, so that inquiries might be instituted at the several places? A. Yes—I left Messrs. Bull & Wilson six months after this affair—I had three months' notice—there was no reason for my being sent away—merely that there was to be a change in the establishment—I got a character from there to my next situation—I went to the Pavilion to see what Musgrove meant, and to see what kind of person he was going to introduce me to—I stayed there because I did not know what to do.
JOSEPH SPARROW . I live at 7, White Hart Street, Drury Lane, and am a cloth worker and presser—Messrs. Bull & Wilson were customers of mint—Musgrove was in my service for nearly eighteen years, as carman—he always conducted himself as an honest and respectable man—I placed very great confidence in him—he would have to collect goods from Messrs. Bull & Wilson, and bring them to my premises—I did not know Isaacs at all—I did not know that he knew Musgrove—in the month of September, 1867, a Mr. Coleman sent for me, and I went with Musgrove to have a conversation with Sherborn—I got them to confront one another, and I could not make head or tail of it—but I can see it better now—I said "Musgrove, you have been seriously accused, what have you to say"—he said he did not know what I meant—I said that Mr. Coleman had made a serious accusation, for assisting a man, named Samson, to incite a young man, named Sherborn, in his employ, to rob Messrs. Garnier—Sherborn said that Musgrove bad got an order for the Pavilion, and he went there and sat at a table with a d—vagabond named Samson, Musgrove introduced him to Samson, and said he had got lots of sugar, that he could take any amount of stuff, and had lots of sugar—Musgrove said he did not know the man, but he might have seen him—I pressed Sherborn very much to give me some more information on so serious a charge—he did not tell me any more—it was not corroborated by further inquiry at Messrs. Bull & Wilson's, and I kept Musgrove in my employment.
ISAACS received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
MUSGROVE— NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoners, which was postponed until the next Session.
FOURTH COURT—Thursday, July 14th, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM REGAN . I am a tailor, at 21, Hare Street Hill, Holborn—between 12 and 1 o'clock on the morning, 12th July, I was on Han Street Hill—I saw the two prisoners with four or six more—Hayes jumped on me behind, and pulled me back, and put his fingers in my face—Higgs jumped on me and rifled my pockets—I called "Police!"—he took 2 1/2 d.—they ran away, and I did not see them again until they were in charge—I was kicked in the hip while I was down, but I do not know which of the prisoners did it—I was very much frightened, and my clothes were damaged.
COURT. Q. Did you see the prisoners' faces? A. Yes—I recognize both of them—I saw them as they came, sideways—I cannot recollect that I ever saw them before—a policeman brought them to me five or tea minutes afterwards.
Higgs. You were drunk. Witness. I had been having a little with my daughter, at her house.
THOMAS KELLY (Policeman G 203). I was on duty on Hart Street Hill, on the night of 11th July—I saw the prisoners there with four others and two girls—I watched them—I saw the prosecutor coming down Hare Street Hill—Hays sprung at him and threw him down, and Higgs immediately got on the top of him, put his hand across his chin and commenced to rifle his pockets—I rushed across the street, but an alarm was given by the others standing there, and the prisoners ran away—I followed Higgs and caught him—on the way to the station Hays came up and I apprehended him—he passed what appeared to be a watch to a young man not in custody.
HENRY OAKS (Policeman G 72). About 12.30, on 12th July, I was at the corner of Baker's Row, and beard a cry of "Stop thief?"—I saw Higgs running, and the constable after him—he ran into Back Alley, and we caught him at the workhouse—just before we caught him he said he would give in, he had done nothing—we met the prosecutor, who said "Thai is the one that attempted to rob me"—on the way to the station Hays came up, and the prosecutor said "There is another one behind," and we took him to the station as well.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Hays said: "I was not near him when it happened; it is all false. The man aimed a blow at me; I went to ward it off, and he took me in charge for an assault like. He got me down, and charged me with robbing the gentleman." Higgs said: "I came out of the fish shop and saw a mob. As soon as I got out
the people halloaed out. There were about eight, and they ran. I ran, too, and the policeman took me."
Hays' Defence. I am quite innocent. I had been working hard all day for my living. I had been to the play, and I was coming home. I saw this young man in charge, and asked what he had been taken for.
Higgs' Defence. My statement that you have just read is the truth of it.
HAYS— GUILTY . He further PLEADED GUILTY† to having been convicted in May, 1869, at Clerkenwell— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
HIGGS— GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HUNT conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM HENRY LLOYD . I am a carpenter, of Lamb's Passage, Chiswell Street—about 1 o'clock, on the morning of 30th June, I was in Charterhouse Street—there was a crowd there, and I and two others went over—as soon as we got on the footpath the prisoner came alongside of me and made a snatch at my watch—I snatched at his hand, but caught the chain instead—he ran away—I went after him and called "Stop thief!"—a policeman stopped him on the steps of the Holborn Viaduct—this watch (produced) is mine—it was found close to the prisoner.
GEORGE MARJORAM . I live at 9, Adelaide Place, Lower Victoria Street—I was with Lloyd—I saw the prisoner's hand go away from his pocket—he ran away, and we after him—I never lost sight of him—he was on the steps of the Viaduct—the watch fell at my feet, and was picked up by a stranger—I heard the sound of broken glass.
THOMAS COGAN (City Policeman 313). On the morning of 30th June I was on duty on Holborn Viaduct—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw the prisoner running, and the prosecutor following—I stopped the prisoner—I heard a smashing of glass—the watch was picked up by another person.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY* to having been convicted in April, 1869— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, July 15th, 1870.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MR. DAVIN conducted the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY of the attempt — Six Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, July 15th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
598. GEORGE HERBERT (48), and WILLIAM WHITE (32) , Feloniously breaking and entering the warehouse of Steadman Law and others, and stealing 150 yards of canvas, 45 yards of damask, and other articles, their goods. Second Count—Receiving the same.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLET defended Herbert.
STEADMAN LAW . I am a cabinet manufacturer, at 49, Curtain Road—on Saturday, 6th June, I left my premises safe, and my property also—on the Monday, about 9 o'clock, I found they had been broken open, and I missed three pieces of canvas and some damask—I did not go to the warehouse on
the Sunday—the value of the property lost is between 20l. and 30l.—I saw the premises locked up on the Saturday night.
FRKDERICK BULLOCK . I live at 1, Kelsey Street—on Whit Tuesday, about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner White in the Barking Road, standing by the side of two parcels, done up in some rough stuff—I was in a dray belonging to Messrs. Truman—their name was upon it—I was coming from North Woolwich—the prisoner asked me to give him a lift'—I said he could get up if he liked—I took him as far as Spicer Street, opposite Mr. North's, the Two Brewers—I took one of the parcels off the dray, and White took the other off—it was about 5.30 or 6 o'clock when I put him down.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been in the employ of Truman, Hanbury & Co.? A. Sixteen years—Herbert was there when I went—I don't know how long he had been there before me—he was not a drayman—he had to repair the ropes, and put new ones on the carts when the others are done—Herbert knew me perfectly well by sight—Truman and Hanbury's name was on the saddle of the horse I was driving, and on the side of the dray—I met White about three miles and a half from the Two Brewers—I did not know him before—I knew his father at the brewery—he was superannuated—I did not see Herbert that day—I put White down opposite Mr. North's door—that is the width of the road from the brewery—he got down and I drove on—I don't know where he went to.
MR. COOPER. Q. Was Herbert in Truman's employ after then? A. I think not—I would not be sure—I am in one port of the brewery, and he is in another.
MR. BESLET. Q. Don't you know that Truman & Hanbury are defending him, and sent him here to-day to surrender? A. No.
SARAH HATFIKLD . I am barmaid to Mr. North—on Whit Tuesday, about 5.30 or 5.45, I saw the last witness bring in two bundles and leave them in the bar—soon after that Herbert and White came in together—I did not see them go to the side door.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you notice White come in with Bullock when he brought the bundles in? A. No—Bullock brought them in alone, and White came in with Herbert—I did not notice whether Herbert had been in before.
CHARLES NORTH . I keep the Two Brewers, at the corner of Spicer Street, Brick Lane—I did not know the prisoner until I took the Two Brewers, six months ago—I saw Herbert in front of the bar on this evening—I saw him afterwards, and he said "Mr. North, I want to speak to you; I have got something to show you;" and all the ban being full, I said "Mr. Herbert, go round to the private door;" and as soon as I opened the private door these things were put in by Herbert and White—Herbert said "Look here, here is some stuff; it is all silk; you can buy it for 7l., it is worth 15l."—I said "If you don't take it out of my place as quick as you can, I will chuck it out, and you too"—they took it away immediately, and that is all I know of it.
Cross-examined. Q. You had not seen the parcel in front of the bar? A. No—I never saw it till it was in the passage—I did not hear an offer made to Branton—I told Herbert to go round to the private door, as the bar was full—I did not see White in the bar—he came round to the passage with Herbert—I did not look at the parcels at all—no one would know what was in them without opening the parcels—I don't know whether White said
about "All silk"—I know Herbert asked me to buy it—White was there all the time.
JOHN BRANTON . I live at 17, Clarkson Street—on Whit Tuesday I went into the Two Brewers to have a glass of ale—I saw both the prisoners there, and two bundles—Herbert said to me "Jack, here is a chance for you; you can have them for 7l., and get 3l. or 4l. by them"—I said "I have not got 7l."—he said "More have not I, or else I would buy them"—White turned round and laid "Don't you know me?—he was so tanned by the sun that I did not know him—he said "Don't you know the man that you took down to the canteen at Norwich, and gave him some beer, and got put in the guard-room for it?—I had taken him there, and I shook hands with him—they went out of the house, and were gone two or three minutes, and came back again—a cab then drove up to the door, and they took the things out—I did not see where they went to.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you in Truman & Hanbury's service? A. Yes Herbert was there before I was, and I have been there nearly fifteen years—this property was packed in some rough canvas—it was not undone—I did not see what was in the parcels—White was there the whole time—White asked me to look after the things while he went for a cab—Herbert went to the doorway when White went out—I did not see Herbert after the cab went away—I did not go out of the house for half an hour or three-quarters afterwards.
White. Q. How long were we talking together? A. Only when you made yourself known to me, and I shook hands with you—you did not wait a minute before you went out.
GEORGE SEGAR . I live at 5, Gloucester Villas, St. Luke's, and am a cab driver—on Whit Tuesday, about 5.45, I was in Brick Lane—the prisoner White hailed me—I took him up, with two bundles, at the Two Brewers—he ordered me to Shoreditch—Herbert was standing by and put one pared in and White the other—I drove White to Shoreditch—he got out at the Fountain and went into the public-house—he came out directly, got into the cab, and ordered me to St. Giles's, to a shoe-shop, in Dudley Street—I waited there some time, and he went into a public-house three or four times with a person who came from the shoe-shop—after some time he got in the cab again, with another man, and ordered me to So ho—the other man got out and went away, and from there we went to Paddington, to a pawn-broker's and then to Richmond Street—he knocked at a door in Richmond Street, and it was answered by a little girl in her night dress—it was getting on for 12 o'clock at night—I had been driving about for over six hours—the little girl said "Oh uncle, is that you?'—the prisoner took the things out of the cab and put them in the passage—some female inside chucked them out on the pavement—he said to the woman in the passage "If you don't, I don't care a b—what becomes of you"—a policeman came up and asked whose the things were, and he said they were his—he was very drunk—the things were put in the cab again, and I drove the policeman and the prisoner to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. You left Herbert at Mr. North's? A. Yes—I only saw him when he put the parcel in the cab—he was standing at the doorway.
White. Q. Did you see me offer those goods for sale? A. No.
him to the station—I asked him where he got them—he said "I bought them; they are mine, that it quite enough for you."
JOHN EATON (Detective S). On 13th June, about 9.15, I went to Truman & Hanbury's brewery, with Kenwood, another constable—Herbert was sent for, and he came into the office—I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned, with a man named White, in custody, in offering for sale a quantity of chintz and damask, used for covering chairs—he said "I know nothing about it"—he afterwards said "I was standing against a post, outside the Two Brewers, when a man came to me I never saw before, and said he had got some stuff inside for sale—we went in, then came out, and took the stuff round to the private door, and called Mr. North, the landlord, and said "Here is a bargain, you can have it for 7l.; it is worth 15l. Mr. North refused to have anything to do with it, and that is all I know about it. I assisted White in putting the things into the cab"—I took him to the station—he said he should like to see Mr. North first, and on the way there we saw Mr. North, who said "You have got into fine trouble, you had better speak the truth"—Herbert said "The staff was brought here on one of our drays, I don't know the drayman's name"—he afterwards said it was Bullock—the property was produced at the station, and Herbert said "That green stuff is what I offered for sale."
Cross-examined. Q. When he said about the man he had never seen before, did he say that he heard afterwards from Bran ton that he was called White? A. Yes, and he mentioned White's name—he said one of the drays had brought it to Mr. North's house.
THE COURT considered that there was no evidence against Herbert.
HERBERT— NOT GUILTY .
White, in his defence, stated that he got the things from a man to bring them up to London, and that he did not know they were stolen.
WHITE— GUILTY of receiving. He received a good character.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and KELLET conducted the Prosecution and
MR. RIBTON the Defence.
FELICIE BERNARD (Interpreted). I live at 64, Dean Street, Soho—I knew a man named Alphonse Rausenthal—I have known him eleven years—I lived with him for some time—I have seen him write, and have received letters from him—I only know his signature well—the signatures to these letters are his writing—in the month of February, a cart and two horses came to the door with two bales—the prisoner Moltean was at Dean Street, with Rausenthal, when the bales arrived—I think they came to the house one after the other, but when I saw them they were together—the cart went away—Rausenthal died on 5th March, this year—after his death I had a conversation with the prisoner about certain articles which had been pawned—I asked him what Rausenthal had done with the goods that had arrived—he said they were at the pawnshop—I asked him where the tickets were, and he said he had them—I asked him what he intended to do with them—he said that Rausenthal had given him the tickets to sell—I went for the tickets several times, but he would not give them up—I did not receive any money for them—we occupied three small rooms at 64, Dean Street—no business was carried on—there was no warehouse of Rausenthal & Co., export agents, there.
Cross-examined. Q. You can neither read nor write, I believe? A. No—I have seen Rausenthal sign his name several times—Molteau lived in Frith Street—I think he was a newspaper agent—I saw newspapers in the window and I suppose he sells them, and paper and stationery—I have got an album which was purchased there—Rausenthal brought it home for me—I can't say whether it has been paid for—I have known the prisoner several years when he sold me newspapers, but I did not know him intimately—Rausenthal often went to fetch his newspapers there—I don't know that the reason—he said he had not got the tickets in his possession, he had given them to he refused to give up the tickets was because the album was still owing for somebody to sell.
LOUIS UVAN . I live at Princes Street, Hanover Square—Rausenthal was my tenant for some time—I have seen him write—these letters look something like his writing, but I could not swear whether they are.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you last see him write? A. I can't tell—he was in my employment, selling newspapers—he used to give me an account id writing—I am a newspaper vendor, at 33, Frith Street—he has left my employment three or four years, and commenced business for himself—I have not been to his shop—I have not seen him write since he left me—this letter is in the prisoner's writing (Read: "J. Growe & Co., 136, Stamford Street, commission and export agents of French and foreign merchandize, No. 19,227, M. Dujardin, at Tourcoing, Nord. In reply to your favour of the 16th, in which you ask for information, we beg to say that the house, A. W. Rausenthal & Co., is known here for its honourable character, and enjoys great credit. We do ourselves business with this house, and have always had to feel satisfied with the regularity of its payments. Receive our best respects, J. Growe & Co."
VICTOR DUJARDIN . I am a stuff agent and merchant—I wrote a letter in January to Mr. Rausenthal, to which I received this answer, marked (A) (This was a letter from Rausenthal ordering 97 pieces of carmelite, according to sample).—I received a good many letters from Rausenthal, and they are here—I received a letter signed Growe & Co., and in consequence of that letter I sent goods to London, on 2nd or 3rd July—I applied for payment and received a draft for 214l.—I then sent some more goods to Rausenthal, but I stopped them on the route, as the draft was not paid—I sent the goods after I received the letter from Growe & Co.
Cross-examined. Q. You wrote to Ranscnthal first? A. Yes—he had applied for goods to one of my friends, who had not got them, and I wrote and said "I have the goods and you can have them if you like."
JAMES MOORE . I am a carman—on 9th February, last year, I delivered two bales of goods at 66, Dean Street—I saw the prisoner there and anouser gentleman—the goods were put in a coach-house—they were taken from Dean Street up Princes Street into some mews, and put in a coach-house—the other man went with the goods—I saw the prisoner at the door when I drove up to Dean Street—two men went to the mews—I don't know who they were—I don't know whether the prisoner went there or not.
Cross-examined. Q. You say you saw the prisoner there? A. Yes—I have delivered some thousands of parcels since—I don't remember the faces of everybody I deliver parcels to—I pointed the prisoner out at Marlborough
Street—my attention was drawn to him, and I said he was the man—I had never seen him before February—I don't know the other—I could not see what he was like—it was rather dark at night.
MR. KELLEY. Q. Are you sure the prisoner is the man? A. Yes.
RICHARD BROWN . I assist my father, who is a carman—I remember going to Mr. Attenborough's, the pawnbroker's, with some bales of stuff—they were warehoused in a loft at 4, New Merry Yard, the prisoner and Mr. Rausenthal went to Mr. Attenborough's with me and the bales—I delivered the bales into the prisoner's hand, and the prisoner and Mr. Rausenthal took them into Attenborough's, the pawnbrokers—I know Madam Bernard by sight.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know Rausenthal? A. Yes, by sight—he was one of the men I received the goods from, and the prisoner was the other—I had not seen the prisoner before that time—I saw him after, at the Police Court—the bales were taken to Mr. Attenborough's three or four days after they came to the mews.
MR. KELLEY. Q. Had you seen the prisoner and Mr. Rausenthal in the loft open the bales? A. That was in the coach-house, they were there all night, and the next morning they were cut open and carried into the loft.
HENRY SULLY . I am assistant to Mr. Attenborough, in the Strand—seventeen pieces of stuff, called carmelite, were pawned with us for 76l., in the name of Bernard—I produce the ticket—this is some of the stuff—it was not the prisoner who came with it.
OCTAVE NADAUD . I received this pawn ticket from the prisoner, and sold it to a merchant, called Richards, for 7l.—I went to the pawnbroker's with him on 16th March—I received the 7l. in two payments, and paid the money to the prisoner—I have known him two or three years.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know him as selling newspapers? A. Yes, he had a tolerably good business—I considered him a respectable man—I never heard anything against him—it was about the latter end of February I bought the ticket of him—he told me he got it from a party whom he did not know at that time—he named Rausenthal after I had had the ticket some days—he asked me for the ticket back some time afterwards.
LOUISA PIERCE . I am the wife of James Pierce, and live at 136, Stamford Street—about the end of last January twelvemonth, the prisoner and another man came to my house, and took offices there, in the name of J. Crowe & Co.—they were to pay 8s. a week—a quantity of goods came there—I received two months' rent—I applied for the rent at 29, Frith Street, Soho—I saw the prisoner and another man there—they gave me 2s.—either the prisoner or the other man were at the office every morning—several gentlemen came, but I don't know who they were—I used to take the letters in for them, and some of the parcels—they only called for the letters about a quarter of an hour in the morning—the parcels went away in cabs—sometimes two cabs full went away—the prisoner and the other man came in the cabs to take them away—the goods that arrived there remained about half a day—they were unpacked and taken away in small parcels—the prisoner and the other man were in the office two months.
Cross-examined. Q. How many rooms were taken? A. Two—I never heard the name of Rausenthal mentioned—when the officer came to me to go to the Police Court he said that one was dead—the prisoner used to be there when the other one was not—he used to come for the letters—I don't
know whether Growe is the one that is dead—I called them both Growe—the office was furnished—there were half a dozen chairs, a table, and a carpet.
MR. KELLET. Q. Did the prisoner go by the name of Growe, too.? A. Yes, Growe & Co.
JOHN FOLEY (Detective). I took the prisoner on 22nd May—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension, for conspiring with another man in obtaining goods by fraud from Mr. Dujardin, to the value of 214l.—he said "Yes; who was the other man?"—I said "Rausenthal, who is dead"—he said "I was never associated with Rausenthal. I did not receive the goods. I had the ticket from Rausenthal, and I gave it to Nadaud to sell."
Witnesses for the Defence.
ANTOINE AIME . I live at Brydges Street, Covent Garden—I have known the prisoner about six years, as a newspaper dealer and publisher, in Frith Street—I knew him as dealing in paper at Frith Street—I know a party going by the name of Growe—he had a partner named Briar—I knew him by sight—they went by the name of Growe & Co.—they appeared to be carrying on very little business—I never knew of the prisoner having anything to do with the business of Growe & Co.—as far as I know, the prisoner has been an honest, respectable man.
Cross-examined. Q. You have known him for six years? A. Yes—he has been in London about that time—I know nothing about his career in France—I lodged at his house for a month or so—I was manager to the Oxford Music Hall—I did not know a gentleman named Le Chapelier—I never heard a person of that name called Growe—Le Chapelier was a hatter—I never saw him at Stamford Street—I did not hear him pass there as Growe—I have been there with Growe—I knew Growe as Le Chapelier, which means a hatter—I never heard the prisoner addressed as Growe—I bought fourteen yards of cloth for my children at Stamford Street, from Growe—I paid him the money—I did not know Rausenthal.
MR. RIBTON. Q. How long is it since you bought those things? A. I should think twelve months ago—the prisoner was not there at the time——I never knew him at Stamford Street—he was selling his papers at that time—I paid 5d. a yard for the stuff I bought of Growe—he had it on the premises—there was not a good show of goods—there might have been twenty pieces of the same stuff—Le Chapelier is the French for hatter.
CHEVALIER. I am a broker, and live at St. Ann's Court—I sold goods for Growe, to the amount of 35l., last year—that was the only transaction—I knew Growe's partner—it was not the prisoner—I only saw him when I paid Growe the money.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT—Friday, July 15th, 1870.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HORACE BROWN conducted the Prosecution,.
HARRT ROBERT CAPES . I live at 13, Park Villas, Ravenacroft Park—the prisoner was in my service, but was about to leave—on 11th June I left home at 8.30 a.m.—I met my wife at a friend's house, and we did not return till 11.30 at night, when we found the house in possession of the firemen—the house had been burnt in several places, and several pieces of furniture were burnt—I missed property amounting to 30l. or 40l.—a desk which had been in the dining room was found in the garden—I examined it, and found in it the jewellery and money which had been in a wardrobe, which was set fire to—I gave the prisoner in charge for setting fire to the house—she said that she did not do it.
EMILY CAPES . I am the wife of the last witness—on 7th June I went out about 2 o'clock, and left the house in the prisoner's charge—she was the only person in it—I have identified these articles of clothing—they were safe in my wardrobe when I left—I took 2l. out with me, and left five 5l. notes in a drawer, and 5l. or 6l. in gold, and four 5l. notes in an envelope, also some brooches, ring, and several dresses, which are in this bundle—I left them in the wardrobe, and saw them next in the dining room—this cotton dress is the prisoner's, but it was in the bundle with my things.
FREDERICK CRAWLEY . I am Mrs. Capes' nephew—on 7th June I went out with her some distance, and went back to the house from the station at 230—I went into the back and front drawing rooms, and up stairs—I was in the house an hour and a half and two minutes—I did not see anything wrong—there were no signs of fire then in any of the rooms in which I saw marks of fire afterwards—I saw the prisoner—she asked me what I wanted.
JOSEPH HURST . I live at 15, Park Villas—on the night of 7th June, a few minutes before 6 o'clock, I was going into my house, and noticed smoke coming out of the back of the house—I thonght it was a chimney on fire, and took no further notice—about three-quarters of an hour afterwards I saw smoke issuing from several of the windows—the front door was open, and I went straight into the house, went up stairs to the first floor, and saw through a hole in the wall that the room immediately facing me was in flames, and that it was unsafe to open the door, so I passed on to the other three rooms, and found fires burning under the beds in all the rooms—I afterwards saw a fire in the wardrobe in one of those rooms, and another fire in a chest of drawers in another room—I then went down stairs and saw the prisoner—there were no firemen or police—I asked her where her master and mistress were—she said her mistress had gone to the horse show, and her master was to meet her there—I asked her when the fire broke out—she said about half an hour after her mistress left—I inquired what time that was—I think she said something like 2 o'clock—I said I thought that very improbable, as there was so small an amount of smoke at 6 o'clock—"he said "It must have been 3.30"—while holding the conversation I noticed five issuing from the crevices round the door of the front sitting room—I opened the door, and the room was densely black with smoke, which almost knocked me back; but I could see a fire burning in the centre of the room—I got one or two neighbours, and we threw some pails of water on it—I asked the prisoner if she knew where the fire broke out, but she gave no precise answer, except as to the time—a short time after I was able to get into the room, and found that the heap that was burning was composed of newspapers and leaves torn out of a novel—in the back drawing-room a hole was bored through the table—I went into the garden and saw some
bundles—they were moved into the dining-room by the police—I saw a here of desks, oil paintings in gilt frames, and sheets—I asked her how the paintings came there—she said she had got them out by putting an a pro over her head—I told her that was impossible, seeing the state in which the room was.
COURT. Q. Did she say when she got them out? A. Yes, after the fire broke out, after I was in the house, but no one entered that room after the firemen came but myself—I told her it was perfectly impossible, and I was convinced that neither she nor any one else had been in that room after the fire broke out.
Prisoner. Q. You say you found some paintings? A. Yes, it was impossible you could remove them because they were hung by long cords—the policeman denied in your presence saying "Let them hang" when you said that the house was insured.
WILLIAM COPUS (Police Inspector T). On the night, 7th June, I went to 13, Park Villas and saw Mr. Hurst—he was there before me—the fire had broken out when I went in—I went into the dressing-room, it was on fire and the firemen were putting it out, the partition between that and the next room was on fire, there was a fire in most of the rooms—I saw this bundle, containing a dress and a variety of other articles and pictures, and a parcel of plated spoons and forks—I asked the prisoner how long her master and mistress had been out t—she said "Between 2 and 3 o'clock"—I asked her when the fire was discovered?—she said some few minutes after her mistress had gone—I said "I doubt it," and she said "Some time after"—I took her to the station, and Mrs. Capes came and accused her of setting fire to the house, and told her that when she went to the wardrobe for her money she was standing close behind her; she said, "I have lost some bank notes, and some gold, and a quantity of jewellery," and that she gave the prisoner a sovereign from there only yesterday—the prisoner said it was false, and that the jewellery was still in the house—I received these duplicates, a thimble, and other small articles from the female searcher—I went to 3, Chapel Street, Mrs. Dying's, and found a large bundle—she is confined to her bed and unable to come here—the doctor is not here.
Prisoner. You did not ask me what time the fire began; I said "I did not know anything about it till the gentleman opposite came to tell me."
WILLIAM BLAKE (Detective Officer). On the night of 7th June I went to the prisoner's house and saw a large bundle tied up very tight, and a quantity of other things in the garden—when the fire was extinguished I saw the bundle in the back dining-room—I had received instructions to keep observation on the prisoner—I said to her "That bundle is tied up very tight"—she said "Yes, it is"—I said "Did you tie it up?"—she said "No"—I said "Was it a woman tied it up?"—she said "No"—I said "Who tied it up?"—she said "I shall not tell you"—she did not tell me who set fire to the place, she said she would not say—she gave me a man's name but I have not been able to find him out.
COURT. Q. What did she say? A. That it was a man who came to see her, whose name was Henry Bates, a carpenter, and that he was in the house an hour and a half—she did not say he set fire to it—I saw the bundle untied, it contained a quantity of wearing-apparel, jewellery, and some notes.
ELIZABETH ALLEN . I am female searcher at Hammersmith station—I asked the prisoner seven times if she had got any money—she said she had not got one farthing—I searched her, and found 3l. 10s. in gold, 7s. in silver,
thimble, six pawn tickets, some keys and letters—I asked her how she came by the money?—she said that it was her own—she said that after her mistress went out she left the house but did not go out of sight of it"
Prisoner. I did not say I had not any money. Witness. Yes, you did, and I said "What a story," when I found it in your pocket.
ELIZABETH DICKENSON . I am the wife of John Swinborne Dickenson, of Amhill Place, Portobello Road—on 7th June, I was visiting Mrs. Capes, and left a thimble there in a small work basket—I believe this to be it (produced).
Prisoner's Defence. I think the policeman will testify that it was not tied up by me—I had been at needle work, and put the thimble in my pocket without any intention of stealing it.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS POLAND and BESLET conducted the Protection; and MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence.
JAMES MCDONALD (Policeman H). On 6th June, about 1 o'clock, I was standing with Franklyn and Whatmore, two constables, at the corner of Cannon Street Road and Cable Street—we were in uniform—I saw a man emerge from a wall on the other side of the street, 25 or 30 yards I from where I was standing down Cable Street—I saw him step from I the wall and turn towards where we were standing, and then I saw a flash straight from his shoulder towards where we stood, neither up or down—I beard an explosion of fire arms, and a whiz in the air—I cannot tell what distance it was from me—I immediately ran and seized his throat with my left hand, and his left wrist, from behind, with my right, and at the same time two other witnesses seized his right hand, in which he held this pistol (produced) by the stock, and was putting it into his pocket—I held him tightly till they took it from his hand—his right hand was then released, and he put it towards his left side—I immediately let go of his throat, seized his arm, and said "Look out, he has got something more about him"—I then brought him down on his back, and at the same time Whatmore took this dagger from his inside breast-pocket, naked at it is now; there was no sheath—this sheath was put on at the station to prevent accident, it did not come from the prisoner—they searched him carefully, but found nothing more, and we let him get up—he said "Don't hurt me, will go quietly"—we took him to the station, where the charge was read over to him, and his statement was taken down by the acting inspector—he said "I have been rather roughly used," but up to that time he said nothing about the pistol—he gave his address 42, Watney Street, Commercial Road—I went there and found it was his lodging—I searched, but found nothing—he was sober—I could not find any traces of a bullet mark on the wall where we were standing—there was a gas lamp 10 or 11 yards from where we stood, and another lamp about 50 yards further off.
Cross-examined. Q. Must he have been coming towards you? A. He was crossing from the wall towards the carriage way—I did not see him walk—I did not see him, he may have seen us—I have not seen a gun fired at me before, but I believe the flash would go straight—I immediately walked up to the prisoner, who was then about three yards distance, walking
gently—I did not see that he betrayed any excitement—he wilked eastwards towards Watney Street—his hand did not get into his pocket—the pistol was in his pocket, and his hand was on the stock of it, pushing it in—I did not say before the Magistrate "His hand was in his coat pocket when I seized him"—the pistol was in his hand when I got up—he held the pistol tight, but I held him too tightly for him to resist—the point of the pistol was towards the ground—he was not roughly used, only held very tight—I saw no cut on his lip—he was employed at some manure works at Normandy Wharf, Deptford Creek—I went there, and found he had been there a little over twelve months, and the master said that he bore a very good character—I heard the prisoner make a statement immediately after he was charged, which was taken down in writing—I did not hear him say that the pistol caught in the lining of his coat; he said "It went off accidentally as I was taking it out of my pocket"—the wall was 20 or 30 feet from where we stood—the pavement is, I think, 3 yards wide—if the bullet had come straight it would have hit the wall—there was nobody between me and the prisoner—I was not present at some bullet practice.
MR. POLAND. Q. How near were you to the comer of Cannon Street and Cable Street? A. Almost at the comer—I found that the prisoner had left the manure works on 13th May—he said at the station that he had nothing to do.
COURT. Q. What was the height of the wall? A. It is a threestorey house.
JOHN WHATMORE (Policeman H 198). On 6th June I was at the corner of Cannon Street, in uniform, and Franklyn and McDonald came up to me—I noticed the prisoner on the opposite side of the way, against the Crown and Dolphin public-house—he was walking up Cable Street East, going more east, away from us—he walked a couple of doors past the public-house, and I heard the report of a revolver—I turned round, and saw the smoke from the prisoner, facing me—I saw him drop his right hand, and immediately walk across the road—we all three ran after him—I went in front of him, and caught hold of his right band, and in his outside right coat pocket he had the stock of a revolver in his hand; I slid my hand down, and caught hold of the muzzle of it outside while it was in his pocket—he drew his hand from the revolver and put it to his left breast—Me Donald said "Look out, he has something there," and threw him down on his back—I put my hand in his breast pocket and took out this dagger, without any sheath—he said "I will go," that is all I heard him say, or "Don't hurt me, I will go"—I carried the revolver and dagger to the station, where I searched him, and found these papers, this book, and these twelve caps for the nipples of the pistol—one chamber had been discharged, and there was an exploded cap on the nipple—the other four chambers were loaded. One of the paper related to a ball for a patriotic Irishman, and the pocket-book contained a cypher and key, and some addresses in America.
Cross-examined. Q. You saw the prisoner almost immediately before you heard the report? A. Yes—I did not see him stop—I saw no pistol presented, but I saw him drop his hand—I could not see the pistol at the distance I was—I heard him say that the pistol had gone off by accident, by reason of the lining of his cont being torn—I saw that it was torn at the bottom—not where the trigger would be, I should think, but where the muzzle would be—he said that he thought it struck his foot at the time it exploded—I heard something at the Police Court about his going to
America, and the solicitor said that he had been down for the purpose of pistol practice.
COURT. Q. Describe the coat? A. It had outside pockets down both sides—the lining was torn at the bottom of the pocket, but there was no mark of a ball going through there—if the pistol went off in his pocket there must have been a hole, and his pocket would have caught fire from the explosion—he did not say that it went off in his pocket—there was no appearance of powder or burning in his pocket—I said that I heard the report, and then turned—I had not turned away from him, bit he bad passed on further, and when I heard the report I looked round.
Prisoner. This is where the muzzle was, and this is where the trigger was (showing his pocket)
GEORGE FRANKLIN (Policeman) I was in uniform, with the last two witnesses—I saw the flash, and heard the report—the flash was level with the prisoner's arm, which was straight out—he crossed over to the other side—I ran after him, and helped to secure him, while the witnesses took this dagger and revolver from his pocket—I afterwards searched, but could not find the bullet or the mark.
JOHN LE CORPS . I am an umbrella maker, of Whitechapel—I was very near the end of Cable Street, going west, and saw the prisoner fire a revolver—I was 8 or 10 yards from him—the flash was about the height of his elbow from the ground, in a direction straight towards the policemen—I saw them seize him, and take the pistol and dagger from him.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you very excited? A. Yes—I did not see the pistol till I saw the flash—that is what I mean by saying I sew it fired.
COURT. Q. In what position was it when you saw the flash? A. About this (Resting his elbow against his ribs)—I saw no one else in the road—he walked on towards me immediately after the flash—it would not have been two seconds before the police were upon him.
WILLIAM FREESTONE (Police Sergeant K 58). On the morning of 6th June I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in, charged by these men with shooting at them—he complained of being roughly used—I sent two of them to look for the bullet—he complained again of being roughly used—I read the charge to him after they returned, and he said "The pistol exploded accidentally. I did not fire at any person. I received some rough usage from the men who took me. I think the bullet may be found close to where I was standing. I thought it was near my own foot"—I handed the statement to him—he read it—I asked him if he noted to alter the statement in any way—he said that it was right—he had then been at the station half an hour, more or less.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you asked him whether he had any explanation to give before the men came back? A. No—it is not usual to ask that till after a charge has been made—he was in the reserve room during the absence of the two policemen—I believe he was with McDonald then, but I was in another room.
CHARLES GEE (Police Inspector K) This pistol was handed to me, and between the two examinations I fired it—four chambers were ready to be fired, and there were three caps on, I had to put a cap on the fourth—I fried at thirty paces at a wail in the Police Station yard, as the constables said it was that distance—all the chambers were charged with bullets—one bullet made an indentation on the wall of 11/4 in. and another of 1/2 in and then rebounded, and I could not find them—the other bullets did not strike
the wall—I only found one bullet which rebounded from the wall about as far as from here to the other side of this Court—I only found one bullet out of the four—there were two marks on the wall—this revolver will not fire except when put in full cock, the nipple then conies under.
Cross-examined. Q. Could you see bullets in all four chambers before you fired? A. Yes—it was fired off merely for safety—I was ordered by the Magistrate to fire it and see what impression it would make on the wall.
The Prisoners' Statement before the Magistrate: "I am not guilty. The pistol went off by accident"
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, July 16th, 1870.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLLINS, with MESSRS. DAVIN & HOLLING the Defence.
MARY McKEON . I am the wife of Daniel McKeon, a boot maker, at 39, York Street, Westminster—in 1867, I was in possession of eighteen Russian bonds, worth 900l., which I kept in an iron box—I was then living at Stibbington Street, Oakley Street, St. Pancras—I have known the prisoner 36 years—in August, 1868, I was taken ill and she induced me to go and stay with her—she was then living at 2, Barrett's Court, Wigmore Street—I went there, and took my bonds with me—she put them under my bed, in the framework of the bedstead I slept in—I never saw them after that—I never gave her permission to take them or use them—I went with her to Rothschild's to get the interest of the money, in Mr. Bray's cab, from the Caledonian Road—she went into Rothschild's and left me outside in the cab—she had taken a public-house at 12, Back Hill, Clerkenwell, and we went back there afterwards—when I came back, I said "Where is my box?" the prisoner said "What box do you mean?" I said "The iron box that my papers are in," she said "I put it in the usual place"—I asked for my box because I began to have a suspicion—I have asked her continually since then to see the bonds, and I have never seen a sight of them—when I demanded them from her, she said she had put them in the hands of a clergyman—I left her in January, this year, and returned home to my husband—I did not take my bonds back with me—I believe they were sold at that time—before I went to live at Barrett's Court I used to look at my bonds every day—the prisoner took my keys from my pocket when I was ill—I left my husband ten years ago to mind my mother—she is an eccentric character—I never gave the prisoner the bonds, or made her a present of them—do you suppose I should give them to her—they were in the name of my mother, Honora Austin.
Cross-examined by MR. DAVIN. Q. You have been living apart from your husband some eleven years? A. To mind my aged mother—I used to look at my bonds every day before I went to Barrett's Court—I had that full confidence I did not think she would deceive me—my habits are quiet and peaceable—certainly I like a drop, but I never imagined I should be robbed—I did not drink every day, but I firmly believe I was drugged—I was not accustomed to come down stairs and go out with money in my pocket and remain out for hours and then return in a cab perfectly drunk—she kept
every halfpenny out of my pocket—I have never returned to Barrett's Court in a cab drunk—I was never in a cab but twice while I was in Barrett's Court—my favourite beverage is porter—I drink about a half-pint a day—that would make me drunk when something was put in it—I used to be perfectly stupified—I had not access to my box at Barrett's Court, the prisoner always kept possession of the keys; the scheme was intended—I never made any attempt to go to my box while I was at Barrett's Court—the porter was not drunk while I was out, it was brought to me—I used to go to the end of the town on business, but never without the prisoner—I used to get in that stupid state—I might have told the Magistrate that I may have had a drop too much in a proper way—I might have had a glass and returned home quietly in a proper way, that is what I meant—I hare always led a regular life—I came home quietly and sat down and know no more about it—certainly I was stupified—I never took but the one drop and I always found a sleep coming over me afterwards—when I went out with the prisoner she would take me into a public-house and say "You will have a drop of something"—I can't say whether she drugged me there, and even if I came home drunk, I am not to be robbed—I never induced the prisoner to go and take this public-house, I was in the country when it happened—I did not tell her I wanted her to take a comfortable place in London for me to go and live with her; I wrote up a letter to her saying that I could not have anything to do with public-houses—I went there because she removed my furniture into the place without my permission, I did not wish to stay with the woman, I wanted to clear with her and leave her—I was never seen by any person in Barrett's Court perfectly drunk, with the box which contained the bonds in my lap—never to my knowledge, never sir, never—the prisoner never gave me money from time to time the result of negociation with these bonds—I never gave her a 50l. Russian bond to pledge for me—I never received part of 6l.—I got the money to pay my rent from Rothschild's and paid her every halfpenny—the prisoner got the money from Rothschild's, I went with her but did not get out of the cab—the prisoner got me to pay her rent under pretence that her daughter was dying—I got that money from Mr. Smith, he owed it to me—the prisoner did not negociate any of these bonds for me—I did not hand her the box when she took the public-house; I was not in London—she always knew I had the bonds—I gave her them to take care of, but not to go and spend them—I did not tell her, when I gave her the bonds to take care of, that she could negociate them and make a comfortable place for me; that never entered my head.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Were you a year with her altogether? A. No—the bonds were worth 900l.—I should not be likely to owe her that for lodging.
MARGARET MORRISY . I live at 9, Little Weymouth Street—I am a widow—I know the prisoner—I knew her when she lived at Barrett's Court—I remember Mrs. McKeon living there—the prisoner told me she was in great difficulty, and expected the brokers to be put in next morning, and that she tad got an aunt who had come into some money, and if I would be kind enough to speak to her aunt for her, she thought she could get her out of the difficulty she was in—she said her aunt was Mrs. McKeon—I went with the prisoner, in consequence of what she said, to Mrs. Roger—she was not at home, but I afterwards saw Mrs. McKeon—she said she did not wish to see Mrs. Downs, as she had been a pest through life to her—Mrs. Downs came up
stairs—Mrs. McKeon said she did not want to have anything to do with her, and then the prisoner told her how she was placed, that one of her daughters was ill, and that she expected the brokers, and Mrs. McKeon con-sented to get her out of her trouble—we all went away together in a cab—they were comfortable together after that—some time after this Mrs. McKeon was taken ill, and went to live with the prisoner—the prisoner said "Now I have got her, I must keep her"—about a month after that the prisoner said she was in great trouble, that she had interfered with aunty's papers, and pledged them at Mellish's, in Duke Street, and when she went to redeem them one was lost to the value of 50l., and George must have kept it; that is Mr. Mellioh's man, but she said she could not say anything to George, or he would tell Mrs. McKeon—I said "How can you get out of your trouble?"—she said "You come up to dinner this afternoon, and we will enjoy ourselves; I will have a row with aunty, and I will throw her papers at her, and I will tell her to take herself and her papers out of my place, and take her where we brought her from, to Somers Town or Camden Town; I will follow behind with Mr. Scarth's clerk, a man of the name of Lea; I will then demand that she count the bonds in my presence, and I will miss the one; when once she has got them out of my hands I shall be clear, but if she finds me out she will transport me"—Mr. Scarth is a lawyer, living in Welbeck Street—he is defending the prisoner—I refused to do what the prisoner asked me, and she has not spoken to me from that time.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you married? A. I have been—my husband is dead—I am a needlewoman—I work at 109, High Street—I have not been several times before the Magistrate in this case—only once, at Marl-borough Street, the other day—I don't know that she was discharged there—I don't remember her addressing any remarks to me as she was leaving the Court—I did not say I had had my revenge on her; nothing of the kind—I have had a difference with a friend of the prisoner's, but not with her—there was no enmity between us, only that I would not do what she the wished me to—the prisoner told me that Mr. Lea was Mr. Scarth's clert.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Have you any ill-feeling against the prisoner? A. No—this was said to me about June twelvemonth.
GEORGE RICHARD YORK . I am in the employ of Mr. Alfred Mellish, pawnbroker, Duke Street, Grosvenor Square—on 3rd May the prisoner came there and pledged a Russian bond of 50l. for 6l.—I have the original duplicate here—she redeemed it on 12th May—I have the ticket here—it was pledged by Ellen Downs for Mary McKeon, Barrett's Court—the prisoner came subsequently to the shop with a number of Russian bonds, and asked me to take care of them, as she was in trouble—I declined to have anything to do with them—I never lost one of the bonds—I had only one, and that was redeemed and given up to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Q. She pledged that one bond in the name of Downs for Mrs. McKeon? A. Yes—that was in May, 1869—it was redeemed nine days after.
ROBERT FREDERICK LEA . I am a solicitor's clerk—I am out of employ-ment at present—I was clerk to a person named Scarth, from October 1867 till 15th April, 1869—he carried on business at 35, Welbeck Street—I know the prisoner ns a client of Mr. Scarth—I appeared for her at the Police Court on one or two occasions as Mr. Scarth's clerk—about the end of May, or the beginning of June last year, I saw some bonds in her possession
—I was in Mr. Scarth's office when she came to get him to defend her for stabbing her daughter—she said if I liked to do it I could—I instructed Mr. Harris at the Marlborough Street Police Court, and she was discharged—I afterwards went to her, and she told me she had got some Russian bonds left her under a will—I remember going to the European with her, near the Mansion House—she had some bonds with her then—we went and fetched them from Mr. Dobson, a solicitor, of London Bridge—I introduced the prisoner to him for the purpose of selling 600l. worth of bonds—he gold them for her—we went from London Bridge to the European—that was about 23rd July, 1869—the prisoner, myself, and several of her friends went to the European while Mr. Dobson took the bonds over to a broker—Mr. Dobson came back and told her what they were fetching, and that if the would wait till later in the day there would no doubt be a rise in them—the said she could not; she had an appointment and she must have the money because she had to pay the deposit for a public-house—I went then with Mr. Dobson to the broker, and he received notes to the amount of 5l.—I changed a note at the Bank of England, and we met the prisoner—I handed her the money in Mr. Dobson's presence—I did not see Mrs. McKeon at all in that transaction—the bonds were payable to bearer—the prisoner gave 30s. to Dobson and 1l. to me—I owed her some money and that made it up—previous to that I went with her to a man named Reinhardt, a money-changer in Coventry Street, and she gave him 100l. in Russian bonds—I saw the prisoner again in August, after the bonds had been sold—the told me then that the bonds belonged to aunty; that is the name the prosecutrix went by, that she had stolen them, and she had got into a b—mess about it—after some conversation she said "Aunty t at Ports-mouth, I will give you 100l. to go to America; go to Stokes Bay, and get her over, and then you can easily topple her into the water"—she gave me 2l. to pay my expenses to Portsmouth—I took the 2l.—I did not go to Portsmouth—I saw the prisoner sign this receipt at Reinhardt's as "Honora Austin" (This was a receipt for 41l. 7s. 6d., the proceeds of a 50l. bond, signed Honora Austin, and witnessed by J. M. Dobson)—It is written by Mr. Reinhardt or his clerk—I drew up a paper, and gave it to the prisoner—it was to protect myself and Mr. Dobson—Mr. Dobson is an attorney on the rolls still.
Cross-examined by MR. DAVIN. Q. Did you suggest that the receipt should be drawn out in the name of Honora Austin? A. I did—Mr. Scarth had nothing to do with the transaction—I did not represent myself as Mr. Scarth's clerk during the whole time—it would be false if I swore that I had done so—I never saw Mrs. McKeon in reference to the bonds—the body of the document and the attestation are in my writing—I believe the signature is Mrs. McKeon's—I did not see her write it—I have led rather to irregular life—I have drank a little—I mean to tell the jury that the conversation about my going down to Portsmouth to topple the old lady into the sea did take place between myself and the prisoner—I listened to her suggestion, but I told plenty of people about it—I took the 2l.—the conversation was in August last year—I drew up the brief for the prisoner's defence at the Police Court; that was about two or three weeks ago—I instructed Mr. Bretton, Mr. Edward Lewis's partner—I tried three or four, and they would not take the defence up—I did not hear Margaret Morrisy speak to the prisoner as they left the Court.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Here is another receipt—do you know anything
about that? A. Yes—we went to Reiohard upon a second occasion, and she sold another bond for 4l. 12s. 6d.—that is signed "Honora Austin," in the prisoner's writing—Mr. Bretton would not defend her at the Police Court, and returned the papers, and Mr. Scarth went on with it, and I assisted him—he is defending her now—I drew up two documents at a public-house in Oxford Street, and this (produced) is one of them—I did not see Mrs. McKeon sign it—when I drew it up the signature was on it—it was a blank paper, all but the signature—I was told that she would only sign blank paper—I was in no one's service at that time.
COURT. Q. When was that drawn up? A. On 8th June, 1869—that was before the bonds were disposed of—the prisoner told me she had got some papers which had been drawn up by an attorney's clerk, and I went and saw a Mr. Boyce or Boyle, and he gave her a paper conveying these bonds from Mrs. McKeon to the prisoner—I said it was not business-like, and suggested another paper instead, and drew it up on the paper with the signature "Mary McKeon" on it—I knew that she was an eccentric person—I have seen her perhaps a dozen times—I did not find her very eccentric—I found her drunk once or twice.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Have you seen her have porter? A. She generally bad gin—the prisoner gave it to her.
JAMES METCALFE DOBSON . I am a solicitor, at 324, Mile End Road—Lea called on me in August last, and I went with him to London Bridge, and then to the European—I received some bonds from Mrs. Downs, and went to a stockbroker's—I received the money for them—I gave the money to Lea, and he gave it to the prisoner—I went back to the European, and she paid me for my trouble.
SOLOMON GOMPERS . I am a stockbroker, at 3, Crown Court, Threadneedle Street—I remember Dobson calling on me, and giving me instructions to soil six 5 per cent Russian bonds—I sold them for 516l., and deducted 1l. for commission—I don't know in whose name the bonds were standing.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you on the Stock Exchange? A. I am a mining broker—I did not deal with the bonds—I took them to another broker.
JOHN WHITEMAN , I am clerk to Charles Reichard, a money-changer, 14, Coventry Street—on 11th or 12th May the prisoner and Lea called on me—they brought an introduction from a man named Dobson—they gave me a 50l. Russian bond for sale—I sold it, and handed 41l. 7s. 6d. to the prisoner, and she gave me the receipt produced—she signed this "Honors Austin," in my presence—she came again on 16th June, and I sold another bond for her—she gave me the receipt marked "B," and signed "Honors Austin," in my presence—I handed her the money.
WILLIAM McMATH (Detective Offer). Between 11 and 12, on the night of 24th June, I went to Gloucester Street, and found the prisoner in bed, on the first floor—I said I was a police-officer, and wanted her for appro-priating eighteen Russian bonds, for 50l. each, with which she was entrusted by Mrs. McKeon—she said she knew nothing at all of the bonds, and never saw them—I said "You must come with me"—she said she could not, because her ribs were broken—I sent for a doctor, and he advised me to leave her that night—I went again next morning, and she said that Mrs. McKeon knew as much about the bonds as she did, and that she was entitled to them as much as Mrs. McKeon was, as Mrs. McKeon had made a will in her favour—she remained there till Monday, and was then taken to Maryle-bone Police Court—that was not in the right district, and the Magistrate
discharged her—I followed her, took her into custody again, and took her to Marlborough Street the next morning—she was represented by Mr. Scarth.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you at Clerkenwell, before Mr. Cooke? A. No—the case was never before him.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM DOWNS . I am the prisoner's son—I remember a conversation between Mrs. McKeon and Lea in July last, with reference to the Crown public-house, Back Hill, Clerkenwell—it was after my mother had the row with my sister—Mrs. McKeon said "Let us get out of this cursed neigh-bourhood and take a public-house in some quiet place"—and Lea, my mother, Mrs. McKeon, and myself went to look at it before we took it—Mrs. McKeon went down to Gosport afterwards—she said she would go while they were getting ready, because the house was very dirty and wanted cleaning—she desired mother to take the house—the first thing was, that mother had a row with my sister Ellen, she was tried at Marlborough Street for stabbing her—aunty, we used to call her, gave mother two of the bonds to go bail for a week—I saw her give them to her—they were two long sheets of paper, which she said ware bonds—she said "Take these, Jemima, you might want them, as you might get into trouble," and she handed them to her—that was last July or August—I saw eighteen bonds—I saw them brought to the house in a cab by Mrs. McKeon about six months before—she had the box under her arm, and a piece of string round it—she gave the box to mother, and said "Take this up stairs"—when the got up stairs mother gave them to her back—the box was locked and the prosecutrix always had the key of it—I used to see her lock it and unlock it—I saw her unlock it the day she came with them—she counted them out to mother, and said they were bonds—sometimes she said Turkish bonds and sometimes Russian bonds—it was a long while after that that mother got into trouble—she threw them in the box again after she counted them, she locked the box and gave it to mother—she had them afterwards under her bed—there was a little hollow under the bed, and mother put it in there—she used to be counting them over every day—I was always there—I was not always in the room—I was there occasionally and saw her counting the bonds—I did not hear her complain about the bonds being lost—I know she gave some to mother.
Cross-examined. Q. You used to see Mrs. McKeon count them every day, did you? A. Yes—all times—sometimes two or three times a day—I have not seen them this long while, but I know she gave mother some—she gave her two—I was at the Police Court when my mother was tried—I was not called as a witness—I was not asked to tell this story before the Magistrate—the prisoner was represented by Mr. Scarth.
MR. DAVIN. Q. Did you see the prisoner talking to Mrs. McKeon in the country, when you were down at Portsmouth? A. Yes—I was down there; she would not go anywhere without me—I saw Mrs. McKeon give the prisoner the bonds out of the box—I can't tell how many—she gave her a great many, all she had in the box.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Did you see Mrs. McKeon sign this paper? A. I don't know—I have seen the paper before, at my mother's—it was always
in that state, with the writing on it—I never saw it with the signature alone before it bad got writing on it.
ALICE POTTS . I live at 18, Verulam Place—in July last I was servant at Mrs. Downs'—I remember the Crown public-house in Back Hill, Clerkenwell—Mrs. McKeon was always tipsy—she went out several times and came home drunk—I followed her by Mrs. Downs' orders—I did not find her, and she came home drunk—I saw her with a box and a quantity of gold and silver and paper, what they were I could not say.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you any relation to the parties? A. No—I did not know them till I went there as servant—I am waiting for a situation now—I don't know a man named Davis—I did not live with a man named Davis, who is now doing ten years—I have always worked hard for my living—I know something of one of the bridges in London—I did not throw my-self off one of them—after the death of my brother it gave me such a shock I almost went out of my mind, I went there, and I was apprehended—I was so excited I threw myself over the bridge—I am the person who attempted to commit suicide over the bridge—I did not know Davit in Somers Town—I never lived there.
SARAH ANN WATERS . I am the wife of a greengrocer, and live near where the prisoner lived—I did not know Margaret Morrisy until last Monday, when I came here—I was waiting about the place inquiring if Mrs. Downs' case had come off, as I felt anxious to know how it was going on—Mrs. Morrisy said "I beg your pardon, are you inquiring about Mrs. Downs?"—I said "Yes, I am"—she said "I have no doubt you know me, I am Mrs. Morrisy"—I said "No, I don't know you; I know no one, only Mrs. Downs, and I know her to be respectable"—she said "I am her greatest enemy; I am like a serpent in the grass, and I want my revenge, and when you are in a passion you will swear anything'—I said "I hope she has done you no great harm, as we all have a God to judge us, and I hope you will do her no great harm"—she said Mrs. Downs had done her the greatest injury; that she had two dear brothers keeping her as a lady at the time, and Mrs. Downs said that she was in the passage having improper connection with a man; that she put her fingers in her face and said "You know it is true," and that' her brothers had never maintained her since—she said "I am obliged now to work for my own living"—I told her not to say more against Mrs. Downs than she could help, and she said she would not do so, but she said "When I am in a passion I will say and swear anything."
Cross-examined. Q. You say this conversation took place on Monday A. On Monday afternoon, between 3 and 4 o'clock—I came here to see how Mrs. Downs' case got on, and to speak to her being a respectable woman—I served her as a greengrocer—she lives at 6, Gloucester Street—no one asked me to come here—I came of my own accord—I servo in the shop—I have left my husband with two men and a boy to do the business—my business is over at 1.30—I have been here every afternoon—one of the officers put his elbow in my back, and I asked a gentleman if it was allowed, and he said "Certainly not"—he did not turn me out—I was not turned out by any one—the officer spoke and sneered in a very nasty way, and put his elbow in my back—I did not abuse him, only when he pushed me down the steps I told him not to do it again—he did not put me out when he pushed me—Mrs. Morrisy was a stranger to me—she came and told me she was a serpent in the grass—I thought she was coming here to press against Mrs. Downs; to perjure herself—I saw Mr. Scarth and told him,
yesterday morning; no, the morning before—I told him what had happened—I was here on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I did not see Mr. Scarth then—I did not tell him till Thursday—I asked the policemen about it—when the conversation was going on with Mrs. Morrisy, Mrs. McKeon put her-self in the way, and she said this morning she would prosecute Mrs. Downs to the furthest of the law.
Witnesses in Reply.
MART McKEON (re-examined). I never said to the prisoner, in young Downs' presence "Let us get out of this cursed neighbourhood, and take a public-house in some quiet place"—I did not go with Lea, and young Downs and the prisoner, to look at the public-house before it was taken; I declined to have anything to do with it—I never gave the prisoner any Russian bonds when she went to the Police Court, and say "Take these, you may get into trouble"—I did not give her any bonds at Portsmouth—I had the box but she had the key—I did not take out a bundle of papers and give them to her—I have nothing in the world left now except 34l. a year, which I get from my first husband—I am left a beggar.
MARGARET MORRISY (re-examined). I have heard Mrs. Waters' evidence—it is not true—I had a conversation with her down stairs, she was inquiring after Mrs. Downs, and I said "Do you know anything about her?"—she said "No;" and she then said "Are you Margaret Morrisy?"—I said "Yes"—she said "Will a little money do you any good, and keep away?"—I told her no; I did not want her interference or her money—she said "I hope you won't do anything more against the poor woman than you can help"—I did not say "I am like a serpent in the grass, I am seeking revenge, and when I am in a passion I do not core what I say"—I said "I must speak the truth"—I did not say that she had done me a great injury, that two dear brothers were keeping me as a lady, and she had told my brothers that I was in the passage having improper intercourse with a man and that they had discontinued the allowance—I said nothing of the kind to her.
Cross-examined. Q. You say you had this conversation down stain? A. Yes—Mrs. Waters said "Will a little money do you good?"—I will swear that—the conversation lasted about ten minutes, it may have been five—I never had any row with Mrs. Downs—I did not say I had a great enmity against her—I said I was compelled to speak the truth—I never gave the prisoner a black eye—I hit her—she came between me and a person I had a row with, and she got the blow instead of the other, she put her face in where she ought not to and got the blow—I did not aim the blow at her—my brothers never allowed me any money; not a penny—I always worked for my living—I was certainly never discovered in the hall with any man—I do not owe the prisoner any enmity; I would not come here if I was not compelled.
WILLIAM McMATH (re-examined). I took the prisoner—I searched the room—I found six 5l. notes in a box—I left them there—a man named Donoghce was in bed with the prisoner—he said he was a lodger, and they belonged to him—Mrs. Waters abused me down stairs, and I turned her out—she knew I was the officer in the case, and she used very abusive language.
Cross-examined. Q. What was the language? A. I took very little notice—she called me a black scoundrel, and a great deal more, but I took very little notice—I put my hand on her and pushed her out—I did not put my elbow in her back.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
The Court ordered William Downs to be prosecuted for perjury, and would consider what course should be taken with regard to Sarah Waters,
OLD COURT.—Friday, July 15th, Saturday, July 16th, and Monday, July 18th, 1870.
Before Lord Chief Justice Cockburn.
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL, MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL, MR. H. T. COLE, Q.C.,
MR. POLAND, and MR. ARCHIBALD conducted the Prosecution; MESSRS.
COLLINS and HUNT defended Wilson, and MR. GRIFFITHS, MR. BAKER GREENE, and MR. MOODY appeared for Davit.
MR. BAKER GREENE , before the prisoners were given in charge, applied for a copy of the Jury panel; in a case on high treason, there could be no doubt of the right of the prisoners on this point, and he submitted that the statute upon which the prisoners were indicted (11th Vic., c. 12) did not take away this right; he also contended that by the common law the prisoners had a right to see the panel THE ATTORNEY-GENERAL referred to the case of "Reg. V. Mitchell" (3 Cox Criminal Cases)," in which it was decided that under this statute no such right existed. THE LOUD CHIEF JUSTICE said that every prisoner should, if he wished it, have the opportunity of seeing the Jury panel; but that no right existed to claim a copy of it. At the request of MR. GRIFFITHS, the occupations and addresses of the Jurors were read out at they were called. None were objected to on the part of the prisoners; on the part of the Crown, two were requested to stand aside.
JOHN SEAL . I am a detective sergeant, at Birmingham—I know a cottage in Caroline Street, Birmingham—I don't know the name of it, it is at the end of a lane—I had occasion to watch that cottage on 26th March last—it was occupied by a man named Rafferty, a dipper and silverer in the jewellery trade—it is a private house, having a very small shop, with a lean-to at the back of it—I have known the prisoner, Wilson, eight or nine years—he is a gunmaker at this time—he was in business for himself, with two others, named Meeninham and Gill, in Harper's Buildings, Weaman Street—Meeninham and Gill are Irish—Wilson, I believe, is an Englishman—there was no name up—it is a small shop, or rather shops, one above the other—there are a great number of gunmakers' shops in the same buildings—they had two shops, one leading out of the other, up stairs, on different floors—it is about a mile from Rafferty's cottage—about 4.30, on the afternoon of 26th March, I saw a brother of Meeninham, a youth about nineteen or twenty, coming up Caroline Street, with a hand-cart, apparently with something in it; I could not tell what—he went up the passage, towards Raffertt's cottage, followed by Wilson—Bodley, one of the Irish constabulary, was with me—I lost sight of the man with the hand-cart for about an hour—in consequence of what Bodley said to me, I went down Caroline Street, into George Street—I then 'saw young Meeninham with the same hand-cart, and a large box in it—he went to the Midland Railway goods receiving office, in George Street Sandpits, Wilson following—I can't say whether Wilson went into the office or not—young Meeninham came out without the box, and went away with the hand-cart—I went into the office, and saw a large box there—I believe it was the same box I had seen in the hand-cart—there was no other box there like it—there was a direction on the box—I read it, and took a copy of it; it was "Mr. John Wilson, Midland goods station, Leeds, from J. Wilson"—some little time after, by the
permission of the railway officials, I opened the box—it contained nineteen muzzle-loader rifles, nineteen bayonets, and one Snider rifle, a breech-loader—there was no invoice or bill inside—the rifles were in a rough state, finished so that they could be used; but not burnished, either the stocks or barrels—the stocks were not cut—the box was fastened up again in my presence—on the evening of 29th March I was watching the entrance to Rafferty's cottage, with Black, a brother officer, and saw young Meeninham bring a hand-cart, similar to the one I saw before up Caroline Street, with a cask in it—he turned up the passage in the direction of Rafferty's cottage, followed by Wilson—I could not say they went into the cottage; I remained; in about half an hour, young Meeninham came out of the passage again with the hand-cart and a similar cask in it; Wilson followed him down the passage, close to him—Black followed them—I afterwards went to the same railway receiving office I had been to before, and found there a small cask addressed "Edward Ward, 68, Rutherglen-loon, Glasgow, from J. Johnson"—I did not meddle with the cask that day, but I saw it opened on the 30th, it contained thirty large six-chamber revolvers, all alike, and fourteen boxes of cartridges, marked fifty "each; I should say they would fit the revolvers, they were marked No. 12, and the revolvers are what they call No. 12—there was no bill or invoice in that cask—it was fastened down again—I went to Glasgow and on 1st April I saw it delivered at 68, Rutherglen-loon; I should call it a marine-store dealer's shop; I did not go inside, I don't think there was any name up, I did not notice one—next day, 2nd April, I was again near Ward's shop, and about 12 o'clock two men came, they went into the shop and remained a minute or two, and then one of them brought out a cask, on his back, similar to the one I had seen, it was taken to a place called Gildey's Court, to McNamara's as I was told—I followed it there, it was taken into a room, I did not go in, I watched whilst the Glasgow police came, and they took it in hand—I saw it open, it contained fourteen revolvers and thirteen cases of ammunition—it was left with the Glasgow police and I returned to Birmingham—on 4th April I went to the arrival platform of the Midland Railway, Birmingham, and saw the 5 o'clock train from Leeds come in, and the prisoner Davit came out of it; I had known him before—I know nothing more about him at that time—on the evening of 14th April I was again watching Rafferty's cottage, with Black, and saw young Meeninham come up Caroline Street, with a hand-cart and three boxes, apparently empty—Wilson was following him close by; they went up the passage lead-ing to Rufferty's—in about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes young Meeninham came out of the passage with the hand-cart and three boxes, they appeared to be a great deal heavier than they were before; Wilson fol-lowed him down the passage; Black followed him—I afterwards went to the Globe Parcels Office; Black was there; I found there three boxes similar to those I had seen in the hand-cart—I copied the addresses on them, two were addressed "J. H. Kershaw, Glassmaker's Arms, Bailiff Gate, Newcastle-on-Tyne," and the third to "C. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle—on Tyne,"—I did not open those boxes, I marked them—I then went on to Newcastle-upon-Tyne and communicated with the police there, I went to the railway station and saw the boxes arrive, about 6 o'clock on Saturday morning the 16th, and pointed them out to Hickson and Thorburn two of the Newcastle police, after this I returned to Birmingham on 18th April I was at the Midland Railway goods station with Bodley, and saw two boxes there, one was addressed "C. H. Williams, Globe Express
Office, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle-on-Tyne," I saw it opened, it contained twenty-five revolvers precisely similar to those I had seen before; there was an address on the other box, I did not put down the name but the address was "Globe Parcels Office, Market Street Manchester," that was also opened in my presence, it contained about 1 1/2 cwt. of ball cartridges, part of it would fit the revolvers, and the other was for rifles—there was no invoice in either of the boxes—on the 14th May I was at the Great Western railway station, Snow Hill, Birmingham, and saw young Meeninham and a little boy with three parcelsin black oil-cloth, two of them seemed to have a strapor something round them—shortly after I saw the prisoner Wilson and a stranger—they went to young Meeninham—I could not say whether they spoke—they ultimately carried the three parcels into a third-class carriage, into which Wilson and the stranger got; the parcels were handed to them—that train was going to Paddington—I communicated with the chief of the police and a telegram was sent to Scotland Yard—I have since been shown some oil-cloth bags—I know Davitt, I had seen him several times in Birmingham prior to the 26th March, but not since 4th April—this manufactory had been carried on by Wilson and the other two for eighteen months or two years previous to my watching it, or perhaps more—Wilson formerly worked for a man named Wilson, a gunmaker, and afterwards for a Mr. Williamson; I believe he was the last person he worked for before he commenced this manufactory.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Do you know that Wilson was apprenticed in Birmingham? A. I have heard so, and that he has lived there all his life—I have known him eight or nine years; first as a working man, and for about two years setting up for himself—in Birmingham the floors are let out to different persons, which they call "shopping"—they are not let in that way to small manufacturers, principally to workmen who work for large manufacturers—two or three workmen work in the same room, or in two or three rooms—it is usual in those cases to have no name over the door—there are a good many gunmakers in Harper's Buildings, there used to be more—I am not aware of any names over the door.
MR. COLE. Q. Were these men "shopping," or working for themselves? A. For themselves, not for any manufacturers.
HENRY STOPPARD . I am a clerk in the employ of the Midland Railway Company, at Birmingham, and am on duty at the goods station in George Street Sandpits—on 26th March I was at the branch receiving office, No. 1, George Street, Parade—a box came there that day, addressed, I think, to "James John Wilson, Leeds Station, till called for," this delivery order was handed to me, by the man who brought the box—I delivered the box and the order to James Grubb.
JAMES GRUBB . I am a carter in the employment of the Midland Railway Company, at Birmingham—on 26th March I received a box from Stoppard, addressed "John Wilson, Midland Goods Station, Leeds"—I delivered it to Mr. Cooper, at the Lawley Street Station—on the morning of the 30th, I received a cask from Henry Taylor, addressed to "Ward, 68, Rutherglen-loon, Glasgow"—I delivered that also to Cooper—I received this paper from Taylor, with the case, and this is the one I received on the 26th—my name is on the back of each.
HENRT TAYLOR . I am in the employment of the Midland Railway Com-pany—on 29th March I received a cask at the office, directed "Edward Ward, Glasgow, from J. Johnson, Birmingham"—it was brought to the office by a young man about nineteen, who also brought this consignment
note (Read: "One cask, for Mr. Edward Ward, licenced broker, 68 Ruther-glen-loon, Glasgow, Scotland; from J. Johnson, March 28th, 1870")—I gave the cask and paper to Grubb the next morning.
GEORGE COOPER . I am in the employment of the Midland Railway Company, at Birmingham—on 26th March I received from James Grubb a box, addressed to "John Wilson, Midland Goods Station, Leeds"—I showed it to Seal, the constable, and afterwards forwarded it to Leeds—on 30th March, I received a cask from Grubb, directed to "Edward Ward, 68, Rutherglen-loon, Glasgow"—I also shewed that to Seal, and then sent it forward to Glasgow.
ZACCHEUS THORN . I am the manager of the Midland Goods Station, at Leeds—on 28th March, my attention was called to a box at the station, addressed "John Wilson, Midland Goods Station, Leeds"—I saw the box there—it was called for by the prisoner Wilson—I gave it him; there was another man with him—I don't know who he was—I have not seen him since—Wilson signed thisreceipt in my book, in my presence, "John Wilson," and they took the box away on a hand-cart—it had come from Birmingham on the 26th, I did not open it—it weighed 21/2 cwt.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. I think the direction was "J. Wilson, to be left till called for;" and on another part, "From J. Wilson?" A, Yes—it was invoiced from Wilson to John Wilson.
JOHN SMITH . I reside at Leeds, and am agent there for Mr. Jones, the owner of a warehouse in Milne Yard, Swinegate—in January last it was advertised to be let—Davitt came to me and hired it of me—he gave his name as W. R. Jackson—he said he was a traveller, and wanted it to store soda and soap in—he did not give me any reference—I let it him at 10l. a year, and he was to pay all the rates—he paid a month in advance—I saw him many times afterwards—he took it on 28th January, for three months, and he commenced paying rent from 1st February—he kept it on till the end of April—he had a warehouseman—I don't know what has become of him—the warehouseman came about the end of April to offer to give the place up—he left about the end of April, and has not been there since—while he was there I saw plenty of barrels come in and go out—I don't know what they were—they were a kind of flour barrel.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Everything that was done there was carried on in an open and business-like way, as far as you saw? A. Yes—I had not received any communication from the police at any time.
HENRY WOODTHORPE . I am a cashier in the Branch Bank of England at Leeds—on 4th April this draft for 60l. was presented at the bank; it was issued from the Newcastle Branch Bank of England in favour of William Roberts, on demand—it required endorsement—I can't say whether it was endorsed in my presence—it bears the endorsement of William Roberts, Leeds—I took the numbers of the notes in which I paid it, I have my book here in which I made the entry (looking at some note)—I find here two of the notes, Nos. 10,499 and 10,500, for 20l. each.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. The cheque was a perfectly good cheque; no suggestion that it was a forgery, or anything of that sort? A. Not the slightest, as far as the drawing goes; the endorsement I know nothing about—it is a bank post-bill.
MR. COLE. Q. I believe any person who pays a sum of money into a branch Bank of England can obtain one of these bank post-bills upon; Another branch? A. Yes, upon payment of a small commission.
EUGENE HYDE . I am a detective officer in the Leeds force—on 28th March last I went to the goods station of the Midland Railway, in company with Bodley and Inspector Hunt—Bodley pointed out a box to me—that afternoon two persons came with a hand-cart for that box; Wilson was one of them, the other was a man who acted as warehouseman for Davitt—the box was given to them and put in the hand-cart—Davitt's warehouseman took it away, and Wilson walked beside him until they got to the Horse and Jockey, about 100 yards away from the station—Wilson then went into the Horse and Jockey, and Davitt's warehouseman took the box along Swinegate into Milne's yard to the warehouse that, I have since ascertained, had been taken by Davitt—it appeared very heavy, and some persons living in the yard assisted the warehouseman up the yard with the hand-cart; it was taken into the warehouse, and the door was locked by the warehouseman, and they then went away—that was, I believe, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon—I and Knapp watched the warehouse through the night—about 9 o'clock next morning the warehouseman came and opened the door; in a short time Davitt came, and went into the warehouse; a short time afterwards the warehouseman came out and went somewhere, and in a short time returned with a hand-cart and four or five empty casks, which he put into the warehouse—about 12 o'clock they left for dinner, and returned about 1 o'clock—they were in the warehouse till about 3 o'clock; the ware-houseman then came out and got a hand-cart, and took it to the warehouse door, and they brought out two casks, which appeared to be very heavy, and Davitt assisted the warehouseman in putting them into the cart; he then handed the warehouseman a piece of paper, and the warehouseman went to the London and North-Western Railway goods station in Wellington Street, Leeds; he put the casks on to a landing-stage there—I copied the addresses on the casks, and handed them to Hunt—I then followed the warehouseman back to the warehouse; two more barrels were brought out by Davitt and the warehouseman, and put into the hand-cart—I did not see any paper handed at that time—the warehouseman took them to the same goods station, and placed them on the same landing-stage—I afterwards saw one of those casks opened on 29th April, the same night they were taken to the station; it contained rifles, sword bayonets, revolvers, ammunition, and ball cartridges—on 4th April I saw Davitt leave the warehouse with a green carpet bag; he went to the station, and left by the 1 o'clock train for Bir-mingham—the name of Jackson was painted on the inner door of this warehouse—I saw Davitt in Leeds several times after this; he lived at 22, Oak Road, Leeds, and the warehouseman lived in the same house, and passed by the name of Henderson and Wilson—I know the prisoner Wilson; I only saw him once in Leeds, that was at the time I saw him at the Midland goods station.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. That is the time you have just been speaking about? A. Yes—the Horse and Jockey is about 100 yards from Davitt's warehouse, or perhaps a little more.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. This was done in open day, was it not? A, It was, there was no secrecy, only Wilson left the cart, that was all there was about it.
JOHN KNAPP . I am a detective officer in the police force at Leeds—I was with Hyde at the Midland Railway Station, and saw the box taken to the warehouse in Milne Yard—two men came for the box, Wilson was one and the warehouseman the other—I did not see any other man—next morning,
between 9 and 10 o'clock, I saw some empty barrels brought to Davitt's warehouse, where the name of Jackson was written up—Davitt was there at the time—I saw two barrels taken away from the warehouse about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, by the warehouseman, in a hand-cart—Davitt assisted to put them into the cart, and the warehouseman wheeled them off in the direction of the railway station; he returned in about three quarters of an hour; he would have had time to go to the station and back—I then saw two more barrels put on the cart; Davitt assisted in putting them on—they seemed to be full—the warehouseman took them away in the same direction as before, and returned in about three-quarters of an hour with the empty cart—I did not know Davitt before in Leeds, either by sight or name—I had never seen him before 29th March—I did not know his name was Davitt.
EDWARD WHITAKER . I am inspector of the London and North-Western Railway, and the Lancashire and Yorkshire, at the joint station at Leeds—on 29th March, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I saw two barrels brought to the station by a tall man; I don't know who he was—they were addressed "John James White, Esq., of London, Burgon's Hotel, Athlone, Ireland," and "Miss Margaret Delmere, Castlereagh, Co. Roscommon, Ireland," and "from L. and W. Rawlinson, general dealer, Leeds," was printed at the bottom of both the cards—that same afternoon the same man brought two more in a hand-cart, one was addressed "Mr. John Flannery, general merchant, Ballyhaddareen, Co. Mayo, Ireland," marked "X 76," and the other "Messrs. McDonnell, general merchants, Tuam, Co. Galway, Ireland," and those two had printed at the bottom of the card "From J. Henderson, commission agent, etc., Leeds"—the man who brought those casks brought on each occasion a delivery note—these (produced) are the notes; they are what we call consignment notes, all the checks in red and black pencil are our writing; they were instructions to us how to send them—later in the afternoon the cask addressed to Flannery was opened in my presence; it contained rifles, sword bayonets, revolvers, and ammunition—it was fastened up again, and all four casks were forwarded by rail, according to the ad-dresses—I have lived in Leeds thirty-five years—I do not know a person named Henderson, a commission agent, there—I have inquired whether there is such a person, and cannot find that there is, or any such persons as L. and W. Rawlinson, general dealers.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. I suppose you would not under-take to swear there were no such persons in Leeds of that name? A. Oh no.
COURT. Q. What have you done in the way of inquiring? A. I have inquired among our draymen since this affair, and I cannot hear that any of them know such persons—I have not inquired of anyone else; they are as likely to know as anyone, going about the town regularly—no goods or parcels have ever come from or to those names—we had a cask returned from Ireland for Henderson, but we could not find an owner for it.
JOHN EDWIN HUNT . I am chief of the Leeds constabulary—on 27th March I got information from Mr. Bodley, of the Irish constabulary, and gave directions to Hyde and Knapp, officers of mine—on the 29th I got a communication from Hyde, and I went to the railway station in consequence—I saw a cask there at the parcel office, addressed to John Flannery—I had it opened—it contained nine rifles, nine bayonets, six revolvers, and two packets of cartridges—this (produced) is one of the revolvers—I handed
it to Mr. Wetherall, the chief constable—I had the cask fastened up again, and sent on to the address—I got two delivery notes, which I gave to Mr. Wetherall, and which I believe are the ones produced—about the middle of April I got further information, went to a railway station at Leeds, and found two casks, which I ascertained had been returned from Ireland—the address on both were "George Haugh, spirit dealer, Portlaugh, County Waterford, Ireland," and in print "From J. Henderson, commission agent, Leeds," and on the top "Via Dublin"—over that was "Returned to J, Henderson, commission agent, Leeds"—I had that cask opened—it contained arms—I did not take an account of them—it was sent on to London, and is here—another cask with the same address was opened under my direction, and contained arms—there was also a third cask, but only the first contained any ammunition—I have lived eleven years at Leeds—I have made diligent inquiry to find out Mr. J. Henderson, commission agent, Leeds—I can find no such person—I inquired at the post-office about letters, but could learn nothing about him—I made every inquiry which my experience suggested—there is a directory of Leeds—I find no such person there—I made similar inquiries with regard to L. & N. Rawlinson, general dealers, but found no one residing there of that name.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Do I understand you to say that there are people living in Leeds named Kawlinson? A. Yes—I know a pawnbroker living there named Rawlinson—I cannot say that he is the only person living there of that name—I do not think I said before the Magisstrate that there was no name of Rawlinson, a warehouseman, in Milne's Yard.
COURT. Q. So far as you are able to ascertain, there is no person named Rawlinson in Leeds, but the pawnbroker? A. Yes—I cannot say there is not such a person, but I cannot find him.
JOHN BODLKY . I am head constable of the Irish constabulary—I went to Birmingham, in February, by the directions of my officer, and was there for some time—on 26th March I was with Seal, watching the passage leading to Rafferty's cottage—I saw a hand-cart come down the passage, with something in it—Wilson and a young man were with it—I did not know Wilson personally then, but I now recognize him as the man—I did not know the other man, merely to hear what his name was—I have not seen him since—I made inquiries, but have not found him—they went on at a very quick pace to George street Sandpits, Birmingham, a receiving office belonging to the Midland Railway, and I followed—that is fully half a mile from the cottage they came out of—they left a case they had in the cart at the receiving office, and immediately on their leaving I went to the case and saw that it was addressed "John Wilson, Midland Goods Station, Leeds, to be called for, from John Wilson"—I afterwards, with Seal, saw that case opened—I have heard him describe the contents—next day, the 27th, I went to Leeds, and on the 29th I went to the office of the London and North-Western Railway, and saw a cask directed to "Mr. John Flannery"—on 13th April I saw a cask addressed to "Mr. Haugh, spirit dealer, Porthlan, Waterford, Ireland" opened at Leeds—the arms were fit for use, but they were not finished as they would be for sale—the stocks were cut—it contained ten rifles, six revolvers, five sword-bayonets, three bayonets, and three turnscrews—I suppose the stocks were cut for the purpose or packing them in a small space—they were cut regularly, so that they could be put together and held by a piece of brass, with a screw, and made serviceable in a very short time.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. You do not pretend to say that the rifles in the box directed to John Wilson were cut? A. No, but they were rough, not polished.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Do you happen to know Mr. Flannery? A. No—he may be here—I do not know whether Mr. Haugh is in existence—I do not know a Justice of the Peace in Ireland named Haugh—I have been in Ireland all my life, except within the last six months—I have never been in the county of Waterford—this (produced) is a portion of a stock.
THOMAS CAVANAGH (Detective Officer, Dublin.) On 31st March, in consequence of directions I received, I went to the North Wall, Dublin, to await the arrival of the steamer Windsor, from Liverpool—among other things taken out of her I saw three barrels, and with the address cards off them; these are two of them (produced); one is "John Flannery, general merchant, Ballyhaddareen, County Mayo, Ireland, from J. Henderson, com-mission agent, &c., Leeds; "the other is "Messrs. McDonnel, general merchants, Tuam, Galway, Ireland, from J. Henderson, commission agent, Leeds"—I opened the casks; the one addressed to Mr. Flannery con-tained nine breech-loading rifles, with sword bayonets to match, three revolvers, and two pockets of ammunition—the stocks were all like this—the other contained ten muzzle-loading rifles and ten common bayonets—the rifles and bayonets had no numbers—this is one of the rifles, and this (pro-duced) is one of the sword bayonets, it fits the rifles—I put a mark "No. 5" on it—this stock was sawn across in this way when I found it in the barrel, and the others in the same way—this is the card from the third cask; it is addressed "Miss Cecilia Rigging, Newport, Mayo, Ireland," and in print "From J. L. Rawlinson, general dealer, Leeds"—that barrel contained five breech-loading rifles, five sword bayonets, three muzzle-loading rifles, and three common bayonets—there was another cask addressed "John Jas. White, Esq., of London, Burgon's Hotel, Athlone, Ireland," and in print "From L. & W. Rawlinson, general dealers, Leeds"—another officer had opened it, I was not present—another cask was addressed "Miss Margaret Delmere, Castlereagb, County Roscommon, Ireland, via Dublin," and in print "From L. & W. Rawlinson, general dealers, Leeds"—I find another ticket addressed "Mr. Richard Cunningham, Mayne Street, Boyle, County Roscommon, Ireland," and in print "From J. Henderson, commission agent, Leeds"—I was not present at the opening of the casks addressed to Miss Higgins or Miss Delmere—all the casks were taken possession of by the police—they have never been claimed by anybody, to my knowledge—two are still in Dublin, and we have four here.
MICHAEL RONAN . I am acting-sergeant of the Dublin detective police—on 1st April I went to the gates of the London and North Western Railway in Dublin—the Holyhead steamer, Stanley, was lying at the side of the pier, and I saw two barrels taken out of her, which were left on the quay—I took possession of them, one was addressed to "J. Jas. White"—I saw them opened—one contained six muzzle-loading rifles and six common bayonets—the other was addressed, "Miss Margt. Delmere, Castleroagh, County Roscommon, Ireland," and contained ten muzzle-loading rifles and ten sword bayonets—the contents of those barrels have not been claimed by anybody, that I am aware of—I was present at the pier when The Countess of Erne came in from Holyhead, and saw a small cask opened, addressed to Mr. Kichd. Cunningham, it contained ten revolvers and ten packages of cartridges
of fifty in each; 500 rounds—I took charge of all those, and some of them are here—none of them have been claimed—I know nothing of Mr. J. James White, of Burgon's Hotel, or of Miss Margaret Delmere—I have not made inquiries.
JOHN FLANNERY . I am a general merchant at Ballyhaddareen, Mayo, Ireland—I have been in business there nearly twenty years, in the name of John Flannery—I know no other John Flannery, a general merchant, at the place—I had not in March last, or previously, ordered any arms to be sent over to me from Leeds—I know no person at Leeds trading as a commission agent, and had no business transactions with such a person—I heard of the siezure of a cask addressed to me, by the Dublin police—I knew nothing of the consignment whatever.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You have been living all your life in Ireland, I suppose? A. Yes—during the agrarian disputes a good many Irish gentlemen are armed.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Are the Irish gentlemen armed with rifles and sword-bayonets? A. Not generally.
ARTHUR McDONNE . I carry on business at Tuam, in Galway, but do not reside there—my firm is "McDonnel & Co."—there is no other firm or business-house of that name in Tuam, nor in the county, that I ever learned, and I know it pretty well—I have given no order for arms to be sent to me—I only know by report of a barrel of arms being sent to my address from Leeds—I did not know it was coming—I gave no orders.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Perhaps you were pretty well armed before? A. Yes; I generally have a revolver and a rifle—I do not mean to say that many gentlemen have not been armed.
ALFRED ORBELL . I live at 56, King Edward Street, Birmingham, and am foreman to Mr. Armstrong Cooper, a case maker, of Sweeny Street, Birmingham—on 14th April the prisoner Wilson gave me an order for three boxes—he gave me the dimensions—I made them—he paid me 1s. 6d. a piece for them—they were fetched away in the evening—Wilson paid 2s. 6d. when he ordered them, and the lad paid the other 2s. when he fetched them—on 16th April I got a second order from Wilson, in writing, for three more boxes—the solicitor has it—I do not remember the size—this (produced) is a leaf out of my day-book—I made the entry myself—it gives the dimensions—on the 14th there is no size put; it was entered by the boy; but 20 in. long, 14 in. wide, and 7 in. deep were the dimensions—the next is 24 in. long, 16 in. wide, and 5 in. deep, and the next 34 in. long, 20 in. wide, and 3 in. deep; those were 7s.—something was said by him when they were ordered, about when they would be required—I believe I said they would be done directly, and he said he would send for them—the same lad fetched them.
WILLIAM SINCLAIR . I am goods manager of the Glasgow and South-western Railway, at Glasgow—I was not in Court when Mr. Seal was examined—I remember his coming to Glasgow—he called my attention to a cask at the station addressed "Matthew Ward, 68, Rutherglen-loon, Glasgow"—that was received on 1st April—I saw it after it was opened—it contained cartridges and ammunition of some kind—I gave directions to our carter to deliver it to the address, and saw it out of our possession into Lockhart's hands—I know no more about it.
cask to deliver to M. Matthew Ward, of 68, Rutherglen-loon—I know nothing about him—I delivered it—it is a delf shop—delf is china—the name of Grant was, I think, outside the shop—I gave it to a woman inside, and got her signature for it, which Mr. Sinclair has—I did not find Mr. Ward—that is all I know about it—this is her signature "H. Ward."
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You do not know whether Matthew Ward lived there, or whether he did not? A. No.
AUDLEY THOMPSON (Detective Officer, Glasgow). On 31st March I received information from Seal, in consequence of which I went to McNamara's house Gildey's Court—he was not within, but a lady who said she was his wife was there—I saw a cask when I went in—she did not claim it—I took possession of it, took it to the police-office, broke it open, and found thirty revolvers and fourteen cases of ball cartridge for revolvers, fifty rounds in each case—there was no address on the cask, but there was a mark where it had been removed—I brought over some of the ammunition and revolvers as specimens—McNamara is an Irishman, and deals in old clothes—it is a dwelling-house of one apartment—he does not deal in revolvers—Seal saw the cask at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Is it only old clothes that he deals in? A. As far as I know—I know pretty well that he does not deal in other things.
COURT. Q. Did you see anything of other things? A. No—I had not been there before—it is a dwelling-house of one single apartment, up one single stair, up one pair of stairs—there is a place called Paddy's Market where he goes about buying old clothes.
JOSEPH DIXON . I am superintendent of detective police at Newcastle-upon-Tyne—on 15th and 16th April I got communications from Mr. Seal of the Birmingham police, and on the 16th went with Thorburn to the Central Railway Station—I saw a train arrive from Birmingham at 6.30, and saw three boxes taken out of the train and put on the landing-stage—they were taken into the parcels office—two were addressed "J. M. Kershaw, Glass-maker's Arms Inn, Bailiff Gate, Newcastle-upon-Tyne," over which another card was nailed, with "Inclewood" on it—"Inclewood" covered "Kershaw"—the other case was addressed "C. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle-upon-Tyne"—Thorburn and I watched those two cases the whole day—I watched most, up to 6 o'clock in the evening—no one came to claim them—I then opened the one addressed to Kershaw—it contained twenty-five revolvers—the other was subsequently opened; that also contained twenty-five revolvers—they are six-chambered breech-loaders—they have not been inquired for, to my knowledge—I have frequently communicated with Inclewood's Parcels Delivery Office in Pilgrim Street since the arms were seized, but no one claims them—no such name as "C. H. Williams" is known there—I have made every inquiry—I have not endeavoured to find Mr. J. M. Kershaw at the Glassmaker's Arms—on 19th April I was again at the station, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and in a goods van from Birmingham I found a box, addressed "C. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Newcastle-upon-Tyne," with one of Inclewood's cards over it as before—Thorburn took it to the station—I opened it; it con-tained twenty-four breech-loading revolvers, of the needle pattern—I have made every endeavour to find Mr. C. H. Williams—the case has not been claimed, to my knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Do not you know such a man as
H. Williams? A. No, I never heard of him—Inclewood's have agencies, I believe, in all the principal towns, and if the agents take a parcel in they put this card over it, and send it to their agents—Inclewood's is a pack parcel office.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. When did you make inquiries about Williams? A. From the 16th April to the 23rd—I never heard of a man named Williams, a commercial traveller, now in Spain—I made no inquiry at the post-office as to whether they had known a person named C. H. Williams—it did not strike me as a likely place for such a large parcel as that—I did not ask about Eershaw at all.
MR. COLE. Q. Did you ask at the Globe Express Office? A. Every morning for a fortnight—no such person was known there, and no person made application, they told me, up to that time—no inquiry had been made, I was told.
MARK THORBURN . I belong to the detective police of Newcastle-upon-Tyne—I have heard what Dixon has said, it is correct—he directed me to make inquiries with respect to Kershaw at the Glassmaker's Arms, I did so—it is kept by George Mullins, an Irish labourer, and is mostly frequented by Irish labourers—it is a beer-shop—I was told that the name of Kershaw was not known there—I went about the town, and found no such name.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. The Glassmaker's Arms is kept by Mullins; is he here? A. No one is here from there that I know of—they have not been subpoenaed that I know of—I did not inquire at the post-office for Kershaw or the other.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Could you find any body at the Glass-maker's Arms who could give you any information about Kershaw? A. I could not.
JOHN HODSON . I am a packer at the Globe Parcels Office, Manchester—on 18th April last a box came there, addressed "Mr. Benjamin Richards, Globe Parcels Express Office, Market Street, Manchester"—I had instructions from my brother to detain it—he is the manager of the Globe Parcels Express—the prisoner Davitt came for the box, on the same evening it arrived, about 8 o'clock—he wanted to know if there was a box addressed to Benjamin Richards—I told him we had advice of one, but we should not have it till the morning after, and showed him the bill—he then went away—next day, at noon, two men came for it in a cart—they seemed to be two Irish labourers, with white jackets on—they brought this ticket with them—that is the order I received from one of them (Read: "Manchester, April 20, 1870. Deliver to bearer a box, addressed 'Benjamin Richards, Globe Express Office, Market Street, Manchester.' Benjn. Richards")—I gave them the box and filed the order—as near as I can tell it weighed 1 1/4 cwt. or 1 1/2 cwt—when the men took it the police followed them.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Had you known Davitt before? A. No, I never saw him before—I am sure he is the man—I know him from his general appearance—I noticed his hair and his features, and I recognized he had only one arm when he came in—I saw him in the dock at Marylebone Police Court—I was asked "Is that the man that came to you?"—I was not before that absolutely taken into his cell at the House of Detention—I did not go to the prison at all—I was not taken to the cell of the Police Court—I saw him in the Court—I do not know a police-man named Smith; I only know a witness from Leeds named Smith by
people shouting "Smith" to him—he did not go with me to the House of Detention to see anyone—I went nowhere with Smith.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Just look at that prisoner, is that the man? A. That is the man, I am sure.
WILLIAM HENDERSON . I am chief inspector of detective police at Man-chester—on 18th April I watched the Globe Parcels Express Office, in Market Street, and saw Davitt come up within a few yards of the door—I did not see him go into the office—I did not go in—I went in next morning, and saw a box there, addressed "Benjamin Richards, Globe Parcels Eipress Office, Manchester"—I was there when it arrived, and gave instructions to the persons in the office—I saw Patrick Carthy, and another man whose name I do not know, come in a cart for the box next day—they stopped at the door, went inside and came out in a few minutes, bearing the box with them—they put it in the cart, and drove off together—I fol-lowed some distance on foot, found they were driving too fast, and hired a cab and followed them—the cart stopped first at a house in George Leigh Street, occupied by a joiner named Geoghan—Carthy got out of the cart there, and went into the house—he came out again in a few minutes and drove to a beer-shop occupied by him in Bengal Street—I turned the corner of the street in the cab, and as soon as I had done so, I saw that I was observed by them; they jumped out of the cart and ran off—I had an assistant with me who went in pursuit, but failed to catch Carthy's companion—I have not seen him since—Carthy took the box out of the cart, and took it into his beer-house—I went in, took possession of it, and took it away—Carthy did not claim it—I took it to the station, and examined it—it contained a quantity of cartridges for revolvers and rifles—I think there are altogether 11,000 rounds of No. 12 revolver cartridges, and 400 rounds of Snider's rifle cartridges, "Boxer" ammunition as they call it—this beer-shop of Carthy's is chiefly frequented by Irish labourers—Carthy is, I believe, still in Manchester—I went to Geoghan's the same night—he is an Irishman—I found there three No. 12 revolvers, and four packages of No. 12 revolver cartridges—the 11,000 cartridges are all No. 12—I saw Geoghan there—no claim was made to this property—I brought them away, and have them now in my possession—I do not know Benjamin Richards—I have been in the Manchester detective police getting on for four years—no claim has been made for this box by any one.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Did you inquire for Benjamin Richards? A. Yes, but not at the post-office—I saw Mrs. Geoghan at that house, and asked her to whom the revolvers belonged that were found—she said to a young man, a lodger who had gone away, and she could not tell where I should find him—she gave me his name, Brotherick, or something like that—she stated they were her lodger's.
MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL . Q. Has Brotherick ever made a claim to them? A. No—I have not been able to ascertain anything about him—I found two down stairs in a cupboard in the kitchen occupied by the Geoghan family, and one up stairs.
THOMAS BEMBRIDGE . I am a barrel-rider and sighter, of Birmingham—I used to work for Wilson and Meeninham, a man named Gill worked in the same shop, I cannot say whether he was a partner—their place of business was in Weaman Street—I heard of Wilson being arrested, I had worked for them eighteen months or two years before that—I do not know what became of Meeninham, I have not seen him since the Saturday Wilson was arrested
—I have been shown four casks of rifles and revolvers from Ireland—this paper is a memorandum which I made at the time I was looking at the arms to see what I could identify—I identify nineteen rifles and 125 revolvers as my work, made for that firm—here are marks on some and on others they are partially erased; I can see marks of the erasing tools, those I do not swear to at all—I also identify as my work twenty-nine revolvers from the barrel from Glasgow, and ninety-seven revolvers in the four cases from New-castle—I have seen the fifty pistols found on Wilson when he was arrested, and identify forty-eight of them—Wilson once came to me when I was sighting a rifle-barrel and when it was sighted I sent it to Wilson by a man named Huban, who left it with him and came back—I was perhaps 300 yards from Wilson's shop—when Huban came back he stopped about ten minutes and pointed to a man coming down the street from the direction of Wilson's shop, it was the prisoner Davitt—that was some time, in April I should judge, I cannot swear to the date.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Do you work at your own place? A. Yes, guns were sent to me by different firms, and I sighted them—I know Mr. Aston, of Edmund Street, I have heard that Wilson worked for him, but do not know whether he did so within the last twelve months—I have worked for Wilson eighteen months or two years and I believe he has taken in work for Aston during that time—Adams, Woodman and Clay are all gunmakers—he takes in work for them, side-gun making, sword-fitting, and percussioning, that is filing the cocks—gunmakers have a prejudice against a small manufacturer if they know he is making for himself, but they do employ him—I often went to Wilson's place, Gill was there working, and Meeninham and Wilson—there were two floors, Wilson worked in an open shop and Meeninham in an upper storey—I was before the Magistrate, but was not called—I am called for the first time to-day.
HENRY HUBAN . I am a rifler and sighter—I worked for Bembridge, but left him three weeks last Wednesday—I know Meeninham's shop; Wilson worked in the shop over it—those two shops communicate with each other by a stair—I have seen Davitt about twice, the last time was in Meenin-ham's shop about a fortnight before 25th April—I heard him inquire how long it would be before a rifle was finished, or whatever it was—I carried a barrel to Meeninham's shop, we had it to sight—Meeninhain said that he should have it as soon as he could—I left him there and he came down the street a little afterwards—I pointed him out to Bembridge—I saw him before that also in Weaman Street—I never saw him anywhere else—the second time, he was walking in Harper Buildings, Weaman Street—I did not sec where he went.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Did you take a considerable quantity of work from Meeninham to your master? A. Yes; rifles to be sighted; a great number—I cannot say that I have taken any from Wilson.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You say you never saw Davitt before? A. I saw him once before I saw him in the shop—I was quite sure when before the Magistrate that Davitt was the man—I had no doubt, but I was asked if I believed that was the man I saw, and I said yes—I had seen him but once before, that was walking in Harper's Buildings, Weaman Street—I do not pay particular attention to every man who is walking about.
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. Did you notice any peculiarity about him? A. I believe he had one arm off, just above the wrist.
the Tower of London—I have examined four casks of arms which came from Ireland, two from Leeds, one from Glasgow, and one from Nowcastle-upon-Tyne, and fifty pistols said to be taken from one of the prisoners—they are in a state in which they could be used—in the first cask, said to come from Ireland, I found ten short Enfields, muzzle-loaders, they are in what the trade would call the screwed-together state, that is, they are in a complete state, but not finished off or polished, they are very common indeed—I never knew them sent out for commercial purposes in that state—the cost of the arms would be so small that it would make very little difference in the value—these muzzle-loaders would not, perhaps, be worth 5s. each; taking everything, and the present state of the trade, we could have any amount made—they are birch stocks, and they do not appear as if a good workman had done them—I should think they would not fetch 5s.—these stocks are cut in two—this is what we call in the service an unserviceable stock—no person who had the least pretension to be a workman would issue stocks in this condition—the stocks are marked with blacklead pencil, and the barrels are privately marked—I do not swear that they all have nipples on them, but if they have you could fire with them when they are put together and the end was screwed on, and this band slipped down into its place—therevolvers are finished and ready for use—I have also examined some Snider rifles, they are finished, not in the screwed-together state the brass-work is polished, and they are in a far better condition than these, but they have sword bayonets to them, and each of them are private marked to fit a barrel, so that anybody can understand the use of them, each sword fits a barrel that is contained in the same cask; they would be perfectly serviceable when put together; I also found a box of cartridges with them, in some of the cases—this is a six-chamber revolver, requiring a pin cartridge; it is a breech-loader, and the cartridges fit it—I had a specimen of the cartridges, there were hundreds of them—if this cartridge was introduced into one of these chambers, it would be ready for use instantly.
JANE ROBSON . I live at 35, Guildford Street, Milman Street, near the Foundling Hospital—I let lodgings—I know Davitt—he came to my house, I think it was on the 14th, about a fortnight before he was taken into custody—he rented a back room, on the second floor, of me at 6s. a week—I asked him for a reference; he said he had come from the country, and he would pay me in advance—he gave the name of Matthews—he did not give any initials, but his letters came directed to "J. D. Matthews"—I gave them to him, and he took them—he did not say what part of the country he came from, and I did not ask him any questions—no persons visited him, only one person came to see him, I don't know who that was—he did nothing—he had his breakfast at 9 o'clock, and then went out, and I did not sec anything more of him till about 5 o'clock; he then had tea, and went out again, and I saw him again at 11 o'clock—I did not hear from him what he was doing in London—I took him to be a traveller.
Saturday, July 16, 1870.
GEORGE CLARK . I am an inspector of detective police, at Scotland Yard—on Saturday evening, 14th May, I received a telegram from Birmingham, in consequence of which I went to the Great Western Station to meet the train arriving from Birmingham at 10.40—I first went to the Underground Railway at Praed Street—I went by that line, and saw Davitt there—I kept a watch on him, and followed him to the arrival platform of the Great Western Station, at Paddiugton—this was about ten minutes before
the train arrived—he was waiting about, and I directed Sergeant Campbell to keep observation on him, and take him in custody—I remained on the platform, saw the train arrive, and saw Wilson get out of a third-class car-riage—he had a black bag and two other parcels with him—I saw Sergeant Foley take him in custody—the parcels contained 50 six-chamber revolvers, one of which you had here yesterday—I do not think he had any other luggage—I followed Davitt to the station, Paddington Green, where I searched him, and found among other things, 152l. in Irish and English bank notes, about 1l. in gold, and some few pieces of bronze—I have not got the list with the exact quantity—there was 10l. in four Irish notes, two 5l. notes, two halves of two 5l. notes, and one 1l. note, but two of the halves do not make a whole, those two are of the National Bank—I also found some papers in his pocket, and two keys, which I took next day to his lodging, 35, Guildford Street—I saw Foley take that address from Wilson—I was present when he was searched—four addresses were found on him, one is Mr. Matthews, 35, Guildford Street—I took the keys there, and found two carpet bags, in one of which I found some chisels and a jemmy—some money was given back to Davitt for the purposes of his defence, and he signed these three receipts for it in my presence (produced)—I did not hear Davitt say where he came from that morning—I went to Ireland on 5th July, to make inquiries in respect of some arms sent to Ireland—I went to Burgon's Hotel, and inquired for John James White, who was described as the consignee of one of the packages, and to the Prince of Wales' Hotel, Athlone, but could not find him—I inquired at the post-office, and at many places at Athlone—I made almost a house to house visit, and inquired of the shopkeepers, but could find no such person—I also inquired for Miss Margaret Delmere—I inquired at the post-office and railway station at Castlereagh, and 'of the shopkeepers—I found an elderly single lady living at Castlereagh, named Margaret Delamar—I made inquiries of her—she was in very feeble health indeed, and was not able to travel to London—she knew nothing about this barrel, and made no claim to it.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Did you speak to Wilson when he was on the platform? A. No—Foley took him.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Is this elderly lady attended by a doctor? A. I do not think she is—I merely give it as my opinion that she is not in a fit state to travel—I only know what she told me—I saw the lady who is nursing her—she is not here—she is not too ill to travel—the old lady came down stairs to see me in the front hall—I also found a pocket-book on Davitt—I have looked through it, to see if there was anything which I could make inquiry upon—I saw nothing which I could make inquiry upon in his favour—I do not find anything for or against him in it—Davitt did not come to Praed Street by the same train as I did—I was the first up stairs, and I found him standing reading a piece of paper, under the gaslight leading into the street—he might have come by the train before—I will not undertake to say that he did not give me his proper name and address at Paddington Station, but I was not listening—I searched him, and counted the money—I sent down to Has-lingden twice, and I went down to make inquiries respecting Davitt—I went to Mr. Cockcroft, the postmaster—he is, I think, a gentleman of great respectability—I ascertained from him that Davitt had been in his employment a great many years—I heard nothing against him—I do not think I asked Mr. Cockcroft his character—Mr. Cockcroft is not ill, but he
is an elderly man, older than the lady who I saw—I do not think he is unfit to travel—I cannot put faith in what he said—I could not get any-thing intelligible from him—I did not take a subpoena to him nor to young Mr. Cockcroft, but I have seen him here—I did not search their house—I saw an office book, but did not take possession of it—it contained entries as to the men's time and work there—sometimes it gave a few hours one day, and went on for a week, and gave a few hours again—it was meant to show particular work done.
COURT. Q. The entries were irregular? A. Yes, no doubt to show the cost of some, particular work being done, and if a man was engaged four hours one day he was charged four hours that day, and it might go on for a week before he was charged so again—Mr. Cockcroft is a postmaster and printer; his mind was so wandering that I could not make anything intel-ligible of what he told me, and I took very little notice of it.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Do you happen to know a man with one arm named Burke? A. I do not—I did not ascertain that any man of that name was living at Haslingden—I have heard the name mentioned, but not the person you are speaking of—I do not know any man named Burke with one arm at Haslingden, or whether his house has been searched.
MR. ATTORNEY GENERAL. Q. I think you said that Davitt had been in the employment of Mr. Cockcroft? A. Yes, I think he left in the early part of 1868 and had not been there since—I learned that from Mr. Cockcroft—this this not part of a newspaper which I cut off—Colonel Burke was the Fenian Burke.
JOHN FOLEY . I am a sergeant of the detective police, Scotland Yard—I was at the Paddington Station on the evening of 14th May, with Clark, and other officers—I saw Wilson in the train which arrived—I saw him getting out of a third-class carriage—he was carrying parcels, covered with black American cloth—I stopped him and said "I am a police-officer; there has been a larceny at Birmingham, I want to know what you are carrying"—he said "Only revolvers"—I said "Where did you get them from?"—he said "I made them myself, I am a manufacturer of fire arms," and he gave me this card "John Wilson, gun and pistol maker, Harper's Buildings, Weaman Street, Birmingham"—I asked where he was taking them to—he said "I have brought them up to sell"—I said "Where?"—he said "Where ever I can, I know nobody in London"—I said I was not satisfied with his statement, and I should take him to the station for further inquiry—I asked if he had had any other luggage—he said "None"
COURT. Q. Had you made up your mind from the beginning to take him into custody? A. I had, before I asked him any questions.
MR. COLE. Q. Did you take possession of the parcels? A. I did—there were three other officers with me, Lansdown, Campbell, and Mitchell—at the station I found that the parcels contained fifty revolvers, with the name of "Mafosure Breute" upon them—when he saw me examining them he said "They are Belgian make"—I searched him, and found on him the documents which have been produced by Sergeant Clark, among them the address of "Matthews, 35, Milman Street, Guildford Street, London"—I was not aware at that time that Davitt was living there—Davitt was at the station before I arrived—they were placed side by side close to each other—they did not show the slightest sign of recognition.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Have you told us all you found on Wilson? A. There were two other pieces of paper, 1l. 0s. 2 1/2 d., and a
handkerchief, and I found one more of his business cards, I believe exactly similar to the one he gave me.
WILLIAM HENRY CAMPBELL . I am a police-sergeant of the detective department, Scotland Yard—I went with Foley and Lansdown to the Paddington Station soon after 10 o'clock on this night—I saw Davitt walking up from the platform towards Praed Street, in the direction of the Under-ground Railway—I communicated with Inspector Clark, and he told me to keep observation upon him, and I did so for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—he did not leave the station—I then went up to him, and said "What are you doing here?"—he said "Waiting for a friend"—I asked him his name and address—he said "I shall not tell you"—I asked his friend's name—he said he did not know—I then asked him where his friend was coming from—he said "From Manchester"—I told him I thought he was there for no good purpose, and apprehended him and took him to the station—he made no resistance.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Did he not tell you that he would give his name to the proper authority? A. Yes—he did not say "For aught I know you may be a swell-mobsman."
COURT. Q. Did you know who he was? A. I did—I asked him his name, because I wanted to have it from himself—I had kept observation upon him since October last—it would depend upon what answers he gave me whether I should have apprehended him or not.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Had you not received instructions to apprehend this man when you saw him, when you had a certain signal given? A. Certainly not; I had instructions to keep observation upon him, and if I found he was going away to apprehend him—he was going away when I arrested him, before I accosted him—I never cautioned him; under the circumstancs I had no business to caution him—he was going from the direction of the platform, from the direction of the train that was coming in.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. I believe you were instructed to let Davitt have some of his money? A. Yes, he signed this receipt for it, I saw him write it—there were several policemen in uniform at the station—I believe Wilson had been arrested at the time Davitt was about to leave the station, but I could not say, because I was not sufficiently near—there was a considerable deal of confusion.
JOSEPH WOUNTON (Policeman X R 2). I was on duty at the police-station on Saturday night when the prisoners were brought there—it is my duty to investigate the charge previous to taking it—I asked Davitt his name—he gave me his correct name, Michael Davitt—I asked him what reason he gave for being at the station—he said he was waiting for a friend from Manchester.
COURT. Q. Do you interrogate prisoners, too? A. I asked who he was, and what he was doing there—he was brought in on a charge of loitering.
MR. POLAND. Q. Did you ask him anything else? A. I asked where he resided—he said he had no fixed abode in London, he came from Manchester that morning—he said he had no fixed abode there; he was a speculator, and travelled—he afterwards said he had been in London five days—the prisoners were charged, not with treason-felony, but under the Vagrant Act—it was my duty to determine whether they should be detained or not, and to have the charge entered—Davitt afterwards gave his address at Haslingden, near Manchester.
Davitt—I first knew him about the latter end of October or November last—he was then residing at the Bell restaurant, in the Euston Road, by the name of Jackson—I don't know that he was doing anything at that time.
JAMES SMITH . I am a warder in the House of Detention—I have had Davitt in my charge—on 17th May, he wrote out this complaint in my presence (Read: "I only received half-pint of beer for dinner, instead of a pint of bitter ale ordered. Michael Davitt")
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You admitted certain of the witnesses to see Davitt, did not you? A. No—visitors are allowed to see prisoners every day from 12 till 2 o'clock—I don't remember any witnesses from the police calling to see him.
CHARLES CHABOT . I have, for a long time, devoted my attention to the study of handwriting, for the purpose of ascertaining the genuineness or otherwise of documents—I have had several documents laid before me pur-porting to be signed by Davitt, the complaint marked A, and four receipts for sums of 12l., 18l., 10l., and 20l., received from Inspector Clark and Mr. Campbell—here are four cards, Nos. 5, 6, 7, and 8, one addressed "Mr. C. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle-on-Tyne," two to "J. M. Korshaw, Glassmaker's Arms, Bailiff Gate, New-on-T," and one to "Mr. C. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Pilgrim St., New-on-T"—I have compared those addresses with the undoubted writing of Davitt, and I believe them, without a doubt, to be in his handwriting—there is the word "mail" on three of the cards, in a different handwriting—here are six other cards, No. 9 to 14 inclusive, No. 9 is addressed to "Mr. Richard Cunningham, Mayne St., Boyle, Co. Roscommon, Ireland;" No. 10, to "Mr. John Flannery, general merchant, Ballyhaddareen, Mayo, Ireland;" No. 11 "J. Jas. White, Esq., of London, Burgon's Hotel, Ath-lone" No. 12 to "Miss Margaret Delmere, Castlereagh;" No. 13 to "Messrs. McDonnell, general merchants, Tuam, Gal way;" and 14 to "Mrs. Cecilia Higgins, Newport, Mayo, Ireland, via Dublin"—I believe all those to be in Davitt's handwriting—I also believe these two delivery orders, dated 16th March, to be in Davitt's handwriting, except the receipts; this card, No. 4, and the paper, No. 2, I also believe to be in Davitt's hand-writing; the whole of it, including the signature "Benjamin Richards"—I believe the whole of these documents are in the same handwriting—I should perhaps have had a difficulty in taking any one singly, but taking them collectively I have no doubt whatever in tracing the handwriting—the endorsement "Wm. Roberts," on the bank post-bill I also believe to be in Davitt's handwriting—here is a letter, No. 1, said to be found upon a person named Forrester, I believe that also to be in Davitt's handwriting—(The Witness pointed out to the Jury some of the peculiarities in the formation of the letters upon which he founded his opinion.)
RICHARD CUNNINGHAM . I live at Boyle, in the county of Roscommon—I have only arrived from Ireland this morning—I keep a hardware shop there—my father, Bernard Cunningham, lives in Bridge Street, Boyle—I know of no other Richard Cunningham living in Boyle but myself—I never gave orders for any arms or ammunition to be sent to me from England—I know nothing of a cask of arms addressed Mr. Richard Cunningham, Mayne Street Boyle, County Roscommon, Ireland—I did not order it—my father is a general grocer and spirit dealer—I know nothing of Henderson of Leeds.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Do you live with your father?
No; but in the same town—he is not here—his name is not Richard, and he lives in a different street—I do not know a halfpeth about this cask coming to him or to me—he is a grocer and has nothing to do with arms—I deal in hardware.
CECILIA HIGGINS . I live at Newport, Mayo, I have just arrived from Ireland—I have been a widow three years, and carry on business there as a grocer and spirit dealer—I know no other Cecilia Higgins, except my daughter, who is fourteen years old, and who lives with me—I have lived in Newport seventeen years—no one else of that name lives at Newport except my own family—I did not order any arms to be sent over to me from any part of England in March, or at any other time—I know nothing of L & W. Rawlinson of Leeds—I never got any goods from Leeds, and never ordered any—I know nothing whatever about this cask, containing breech-loading rifles, and muzzle-loading rifles and bayonets.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Will you undertake to say that you do not know any other person named Cecilia Biggins in Newport but yourself? A. I do not know, of course—we are the only family of the name there, and there are two Cecilias, myself and my daughter.
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. If there was anybody else of the name would you know it? A. Yes; it is a very small town, there are only two streets in it, two or three back streets, but only one business street.
CHARLES HAUGH . I live at Porthlaw, County Waterford, and am a spirit dealer—there is no other Mr. Haugh a spirit dealer there—I never ordered any arms from any part of England—I do not know Mr. J. Henderson, commission agent, Leeds—I have just come over from Ireland, about half an hour ago.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Are you a Magistrate for the county of Waterford? A. No—I do not know anyone named George Haugh, there is no one of that name in Porthlaw.
MR. COLE. Q. How large is Porthlaw? A. Not very large; there are about eight or nine streets—there is only one family of the name there, and there is no George in that family.
JOHN JOSEPH CORYDON . I was at one time an officer in the Federal Army, in America—I left it in 1865—I became a member of the Fenian Confederation in 1862, and remained so till 1866—an organization of the Fenian conspiracy existed in New York and in several parts of America, and meetings were held at which I was present—the object of the conspiracy was to overthrow Her Majesty's Government in Ireland, and establish an Irish republic—an oath was administered to the members, at first—I swore it—it was to be faithful to the Fenian organization, and to take up arms, when required, for the establishment of this republic in Ireland—the organization was very extensive in America—the head quarters were in New York, and there were branches at different cities throughout the United States, with state centres as the heads of them—I was sent to Ireland in 1865, by John Mahoney, who was then the head of the Fenian organization in America—the Fenian organization existed at that time in Ireland, and the head centre of all, Stephens, was in Dublin, and the organization was ready to fight at any time if he gave the word—the organization extended to England—at the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland, in the early part of 1866, all the prominent leaders were sent to England, to Manchester and Liverpool, and likewise to Scotland—we had frequent meetings in Liverpool, at different public-houses, at which I was
present—money was collected at those meetings to carry on the organization, is well as to buy arms—arms were procured from Leeds, Birmingham, and ill the manufacturing towns in England, bought with the money collected by the Fenians—I knew Colonel Burke; it was his function to buy arms—a great quantity were bought—arms were sent to Ireland, and seized—some were sent by the Fenian organization in England to Ireland—this went on in 1866, and up to March, 1867—in February, 1867, an attempt was made to seize the arms in Chester Castle; the mail train from London to Holyhead was to be seized as it was passing Chester, the telegraph wires were to be torn, and the rails taken up—the arms taken at Chester Castle were to be put in the train and taken to Holyhead, where the mail-boat was to be seized, and the arms put in it, and taken to some port in Ireland, not Dublin—I gave information, and that enterprize was disconcerted—many Fenian meetings were held at Liverpool in February, 1867—a man named Flood was one of the leaders in the attempt on Chester Castle—he has since been convicted at Dublin—he was acting at that time in getting men from Birkenhead and other places, in company with Captain McCafferty—Flood got fifteen years, and McCafferty was sentenced to be hanged, but his sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life—it was supposed that as many as 1,200 Fenians were to surprise Chester Castle, but I did not go to Chester; I only went to Birkenhead—I saw as many as 600 going from the Liverpool district—the night before they started, it was expected that there would be as many as 1200 or 1400—I think the attempt was on 11th February, it was on a Monday—Fenian meetings were held at this time in Liverpool, at Mullins's beer-house, in Birehfield Street—I know Davitt—I gave his description before he was arrested—he has lost one hand—I was asked about him by Mr. Williamson, and I gave his description, and said that he had only one arm—I saw him at public-houses in Liverpool at the time of the Chester rising, and at different Fenian meetings—I cannot say whether I saw him the day after the attack on Chester Castle, but it was immediately after—meetings were held every day until we went to Ireland—Mullins's house was full at those meetings, up stairs and down—these meetings consisted entirely of Fenians—McCafferty and Flood were there; Captain Deasy, who was arrested at Manchester, and several others, about thirty altogether, all American officers—Captain Dohany, of the American army, was also there—he has not been tried—he has gone to America—Colonel Burke was there—he is now undergoing his sentence—the subject of discussion at those meetings was the loss of not having taken Chester Castle, and making arrangements for the rising of the night of 5th March, in Ireland—that meeting lasted, very likely, three or four hours—Davitt was there the whole time—I saw him there about three times altogether—I have seen him twice since—the meetings were all one as prominent as the other—there were three meetings at the same place—some of the people there were the same, and some were not—the subject of discussion was just the same as the first, a rising which was contemplated in different parts of Ireland, on the night of 5th March, that was arranged at that meeting—I did not know what Davitt was at that time—I did not inquire—I know he was well known by the members, he would not be allowed in company if he was not a prominent man—these meetings were only of leaders from the different centres, from Runcorn, and different places round Liverpool—a good many towns in England had their organisations—the
privates would not be admitted to those meetings—a number of Fenians went to Ireland—I know I had sixty captured in one morning, on their arrival, and several smaller batches—there was a general movement of Fenians to Ireland—I was not in Ireland when the outbreak took place—I went to Ireland, and saw General Massey, who was to command them arrested on the night of 4th March—I gave information to the Government that the rising would actually take place, and left that night—I knew Forrester well in Liverpool—he was present at these meetings—he was a Fenian lecturer and a printer, I think—he was not present when Davitt was, but I saw him oftener than I did Davitt.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Q. Do you know Wilson? A. No.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Was Forrester arrested? A. I did not see him arrested, but I saw by the papers that he was, and that he was acquitted by the Magistrate—I don't know where he is now or whether he is within the precincts of this building; let me see him and I will tell you in a moment—this giving information against Fenians has not turned out so profitable to me as people imagine—if it has anything to do with this case and his Lordship tells me, I will tell you—I can't say within 100l. or 200l.—I don't get just so many hundreds—I should like the Government to give me 300l.; I think I have earned it—they give me nothing per case, only my expenses; I have no interest in his conviction—I have nothing else to occupy my mind except looking after these people, I am entirely cast out from society—I was connected with the Fenian organization, and I intend to punish as many as I possibly can—anybody I know who is made prisoner of, if they are connected with the Fenian organization and I can identify them, I will—I was sworn on the Gospel, but I thought I was doing much better for myself and people generally by breaking the oath than to have these people ruin the country and several respectable young men, they have ruined agreat many—I don't think that I have said that I saw Davitt five or six, or four or five times at these meetings—what I swore was written down and I signed it—you will find it was only three times—I corrected the clerk at the time (The depositions being read stated "I have seen Davitt I dare say at four or five Fenian meetings at different places in Liverpool—perhaps three, I will not swear about four")—I was sure of three but not of four—I was on my oath and I am now—I don't intend to break this oath—the meetings were all at one house—it is untrue that I said that the meetings were at different places—I signed this, I did not read it, it was read to me—this does not say that it was at one house and only one house—what is on that paper is untrue—the attempt on Chester was in 1867, I believe—I went as far as Birkenhead with them.
Q. thought you said to-day that you left the Fenians in 1866? A. I commenced giving information to the Government in 1866 but I still attended the Fenian meetings—I don't think I broke my oath in 1866; but if becom-ing an informer to the Government is breaking the Fenian oath, then I did break it—no privates were admitted to those meetings, that I am aware of, these were the Liverpool people—by privates I mean men who had no rank, private soldiers—I saw Davitt there for the first time—I don't know whether he had rank or not, I never knew him—I did not, to my knowledge, say before the Magistrate "Davitt had no rank, he had only one arm."
Q. He had no rank, and yet you say that nobody who had not rank was allowed to enter? A. He was in company with those big people—he had not rank, to my knowledge—I was a lieutenant in the Confederate army—I
was not engaged at Bull's Run although there were a great many good men there—I was on the Federal side.
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. You gave information the night before the Chester affair? A. Yes—I don't believe any were taken there—they did not have the Habeas Corpus Act suspended in Liverpool, and they could not have anyone taken on suspicion—I had a bigger object in view than taking a few men—I gave information to the police about the rising on the 15th—I mentioned the names of persons connected with it, and they were well known, I think.
Q. They being known, were they allowed to depart this country? A. I know I found fifty or sixty in the different gaols in Ireland—I don't suppose I gave many names to the police—I gave Colonel Kelly and General Hal-pin; they were arrested; General Halpin got fifteen years, and is in prison now—he got back to Ireland, and I had him taken off a steamer going to America—the police could not take all the persons—I don't think they had done any harm in Chester, because the troops came there—they went there for the purpose of taking the Castle that night, but the troops were there before them, on my information, the night before the intended attack on the Castle—the persons that could be apprehended, or that the police could take, would be fined, and that would put an end to my career as a Fenian if they were prosecuted—I don't think it is much of a profession—I told their names that the police might look after them and watch them, I did not give Davitts name at that time, nor 100 others—I did not think of Davitt then; I thought of bigger men—they had more generals than any-thing else—they were all generals and captains—I was not a general, I was a confidential friend of the Fenian officers, so much so, that I was intrusted with despatches from Colonel Kelly, in Dublin, at the time Stephens was in gaol, I read them, and they stated that Stephens would be out four or five days after I left—it cost me more money than they paid me—that it not the reason I left them; they were quarrelling amongst themselves, and it would only lead to bloodshed—some of the generals whose names I gave were taken afterwards—Davitt wore his hair, in 1867, just the some as he does now, and I think he had a moustache—I will not swear it, or that he wore a beard—I knew him well, and I know him well now—his hair might be longer for aught I know—you asked me if it was the same as it is now, and I must look at him.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Had he a beard on his chin, or had he not; you know what a beard is? A. I will not swear to that—he had a moustache, but I would not swear to his whiskers—I knew him well, or I could not give a description of him before he was arrested—he had a moustache, but I won't swear he had a beard—I will swear he had a moustache in 1867, but I won't swear he had a beard, or whether he had whiskers or not—I never saw him before—I saw him at three meetings, and then knew him—if I did not become acquainted with his appearance then, how could I give a description of him—I described him as a man with his right arm off—he is the only Davitt I knew with his right arm off—I do not know a man named Burke with only one arm—I do not know whether he was a Fenian, there were several Fenians, I cannot be all over the world, you know—I was a clerk in New York before I went into the American army—I am an Irishman—I went to America about sixteen years ago; I am not sure—I left the army because it was disbanded—there was not much imputation on my bravery, nor even a little; I am not afraid of anybody—I
should be afrraid of arms if the Fenians had them, and there are plenty of them in London—I was not drummed out of the army for cowardice—I was asked that seventy or eighty times in this Court before, it was quite a different thing to being drummed out—I shall not tell you my address—I live in some part of England, and I do not want the people there to know how I live, because it would very likely endanger my life—I will not tell you how I employ my time, unless I am compelled.
MR. ATTORNEY GENERAL. Q. You have been asked a good deal about your courage, is there any foundation for your being drummed out of the army? A. Not the least; I believe my discharge is in Dublin now, and it could be brought here secretly, unless it has been burnt—I do not get so much a case from the Government; if they are acquitted I get my expense the same as if they are convicted; I only hope there will be no more of them—I should not like to meet a Fenian with one of these rifles or revolvers—some of my deposition is wrong (read)—the substance of it is correct, with the exception of the different places of my seeing Davitt at four or five Fenian meetings, it was only three meetings I saw him at, and they were at one because—I am positive of that—I had not known him before—he was not a general or a head-centre but he was in company with those big men; Fenians of distinction—he had a moustache, and I observed that his right arm was off, and from that I gave his description to William-son a short time before his arrest—I was asked if I knew a man by the name of Davitt, I said "Yes, I know two, I know one with the right arm off and another who has both his arms perfect"—I said that he was about 5ft. 10in. or something like that, dark complexion, and had lost his right arm—I identified him at the House of Detention in a minute; there were a lot of different cells I went along; I did not know who I was looking for, but I looked through a little hole; he was sitting down, I think, and I said "That is the man that I gave a description of"—my attention had not been directed to him—I have not the least doubt that he is the man.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Was there any other man in the cell with only one arm? A. I will not be positive, I did not see either of his arms, only his head, as soon as I saw him I knew him—that was before I went before the Magistrate; perhaps it might have been a week before, but I will not swear that.
THOMAS SKUSE . I am a first-class constable in the Liverpool police—I have been seventeen years in the force—in February, 1867, I was specially employed to watch the Fenian movements at Liverpool—I ascertained what were some of the Fenian places of meeting there; one was Rossiter's a beer-house, in Addington Street, Marybone, and Mullin's was another—Davitt was a man who came under my notice—I have seen him in company of a man named Flood, who was afterwards convicted—I was a witness on his trial—I remember the time of the raid on Chester Castle—I saw Davitt with Flood a few days before that—I can't say how many days before—they were in the street, and there were some others, who were reputed Fenians, with them—they were coming from the direction of Birchfield Street, going down London Road—I saw Davitt in the London Road previous to the Fenian raid and afterwards—I got information as to who had been seen at Chester, and I watched certain persons—I knew a man named McCafferty, he was afterwards tried and convicted—I was at his trial—there was a great deal of movement at Liverpool just after the Chester raid, and a great many strangers were there—I know a place in Liverpool called
Watson's, a public-house in Mary bone; it used to be frequented by persons who were called American officers—I have seen Davitt there after the raid on Chester, with the American officers—I have seen Flood there, and I have seen Flood with a person named Codey, a man who was at the head of the assassination department, pointed out to me as such—he was afterwards tried and convicted in Dublin—I was at his trial—I have not seen Davitt with him—I have seen Davitt in the company of several reputed Fenians it Liverpool that I became quite familiar with—I have not the least doubt of his being the man.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You were not before the Magistrate? A. No—I first said something about this about a week ago—I was asked by Superintendent Williamson, of Scotland Yard, whether I knew a man named Davitt—I said I knew two Davitts—I described Davitt to Williamson at the time—I told him he had dark whiskers and moustache, one arm, part of his arm taken off—he said he should require me in London—I did not know what case it was then, he did not tell me—his whiskers were reasonable, not large, something like yours, not quite so large—I will undertake to say he had whiskers and moustache—I won't undertake to swear he had no beard—he had reasonable whiskers all round his chin, not shorn, reasonable—he had a beard—I should say it was between 1st and 9th February that I first saw Davitt at Liverpool—I can't say nearer—I saw him on the Tuesday and Wednesday following the 11th, following the Chester raid.
MARTIN MEAGHER . I am sub-inspector of the Royal Irish Constabulary—in the spring of 1867 I was in Liverpool, in charge of the Irish constabulary there—they were employed in watching the Fenian movements—I watched where the Fenian meetings took place in Liverpool—I know Mullinms, in Birchfield Street—reputed Fenian meetings were held there—I went in and saw them—they were meetings of those who were suspected.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You attended meetings at Mailing's? A. I walked in—they would let anybody in who wanted a glass of beer or a glass of whisky—no inquiry was made of me—the owner of the house knew me very well, and would make no objection to my going in—other people I know nothing about.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. You say they knew you? A. They knew me to belong to the police—I did not go in when any of these topics were being discussed, about the overthrow of the Government—I went when we heard that meetings were to take place there—they did not discuss in my presence—I was pretty well known—from twenty to thirty people assembled on one night, and sometimes more.
WILLIAM BRAY (Detective Sergeant, Chetter Police.) I was in Chester on 11th February, 1867, and saw persons assembled there, who came from Manchester, Liverpool, Crewe, and so on—I saw Flood there about 9 o'clock a.m., and saw Flood and McCafferty together at the railway station in the evening—I afterwards saw those two men tried in Ireland for treasonfelony—about 2000 strangers came into Chester that day—I know Chester Castle very well it is the magazine for the northern division of England; there are about 30,000 stand of arms there, and a store of ammunition—about 100 troops are there, but no Artillery—I received information about this raid—troops came down from London the following day, and nothing took place—after the strangers came in I found cartridges and cape about in the railway field and different places.
RICHARD ADAMS . I am head constable in the Royal Irish constabulary Kilmanlock—there is a barrack there, in which I and other constables live—I received information previous to 5th March—I had fourteen constable in the barrack on that night—I got an additional force in, some few hours before we were attacked; there were fifteen, including myself—we were up all night anticipating a disturbance, and at 5 o'clock in the morning of the 6th we retired to rest—about 6 o'clock an attack was made on the barrack—I had not the opportunity of seeing how many men made the attack, but I heard the number described as 500 by those who were outside—after they had taken up their position, front and rear, an attempt was made to set the house on fire in the first instance, but the guard being on the alert they could not do so—they fired volleys at the barrack, front and rear, through the windows—my party returned the fire immediately, and after some time calls were made to us to surrender in the name of the Irish Republic, and Colonel Dunn compelled a man, who he believed to be friendly to the police, to enter the yard in his name—we were three hours defending the barracks, and one in the suburbs—I saw relief approaching, and directed the doors to be opened, we sallied forth, and they all ran away—I found two of the insurgents dead, in the rear of the house, and a lot of arms in all directions—a Captain Welch was wounded—he was after-wards tried and convicted.
FRANCIS SHERIDAN . In March, 1867, I was a sergeant in the Dublin Police Force—on the night of 5th March, I was on duty with three constables at Milltown Village, about two and a quarter miles from Dublin, about 12 o'clock at night, I saw 700 or 800 men concentrated on the Grove Marsh, four deep, armed with pikes, rifles, and revolvers, marching in military array—they surrounded us, and demanded that we should go with them as prisoners—they took our arms, and marched us off to Dundrum, and a place called Stepaside, which is a constabulary barrack—they rapped at the doors of the barrack, and called upon them to surrender in the name of the Irish Republic—they fired several volleys, and broke the windows, and put straw in and set fire to it, broke in the doors with sledge hammen, and brought out the constables, and their arms and accoutrements—they then dragged us off to another barrack called Glencullen, and I saw some of them putting on the military accoutrements—they did the same there, they demanded a surrender in the name of the Irish Republic, and fired volleys through the windows.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Are the gentry in Ireland pretty well armed? A. Some of them—I do not know Mr. Burdett Malouy—I do not know the Magistrates in the rural districts.
JOHN BROWN . I am a constable, of Ballyuochane, Cork—on 6th March, 1667, 150 men came to our barrack, and demanded our surrender in the name of the Irish Republic—they broke in the doors, and set fire to the barrack—the leaders were subsequently convicted in Cork—there was Colonel O'Brien and Captain Mackay—within the last year there has been a tendency in that neighbourhood to moving about at night, parties going about with bands, which we attempted to put a stop to—that has ceased since the winter, since March or February last.
WILLIAM HORNE . I am senior inspector of the detective department at Liverpool—I have had to keep a watch on the Fenians there—there are a great number of them—they held meetings in 1867, and up to the present moment, as far as I can judge—it is still going on in Liverpool, but there
have been no Fenian processions there since that—there was an attempt once, but it was suppressed by Major Gregg, the head constable—Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien were executed in 1866, I think, and I think this was the anniversary, and it was attempted to get up a procession in their honour—it was in 1868, I think—I know a man named Forrester—I have seen him at Liverpool, but not at Fenian meetings—I know him—in September, 1869, in consequence of information I received I went into Smith's eating-house, 9, William Brown Street—I there found Forrester in a "snug," at the back, reading a letter, which he immediately tore up—I ran and seized his arms—I took up the pieces and pasted them together—this is the letter (produced)—I arrested Forrester, and found A loaded revolver in his side pocket, and four unloaded in a portmanteau which, he claimed—I charged him with having revolvers in his possession, and not satisfactorily accounting for them—he was held to ball, himself in 200l. and two sureties in 100l.—during the time he was in custody I observed Davitt endeavouring to get bail for him, with Forrester's mother—that was in 1867—he was liberated on 7th January—bail was procured—I saw Davitt at Liverpool several times on that occasion, in company with Forrester's mother, stopping at the same hotel—that was in December last—I had seen him in Liverpool on several occasions before that, in the street, not in any house, except the hotel he was stopping at—I have not seen him in company with any one—he never carried on any trade to my knowledge—it is from twelve to eighteen months back since I first saw him, but I had heard of him.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Forrester was not then committed to take his trial on anything of that sort? A. He was not—I was present when he entered into recognizances—I don't recollect the Magistrate saying to him" Have you any objection to enter into your recognisances I"—I will not swear he did not—I did not hear the Magistrate "If you are an honest man, you will not object to enter into recognizances; if you are a dishonest man, I shall feel it my duty to compel you"—I will not swear it was not said—I did not hear him say in reply" I am an honest man, and I have not the slightest objection to enter into recognizances"—I will not swear that he did not—I do not know that Davitt was a hawker—I have hoard it said that he was, but I never saw him carrying anything in the shape of business of that sort—I have not seen Forrester lately.
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. Did you search to ascertain if he had any goods to hawk about? A. I did, I searched Forrester's house, Forrester said he was a hawker as well—Mr. Pigott of the Irishman newspaper was indem-nifying Mr. Doran one of Forrester's bail.
GEORGE CLARK (re-examined.) The distance from Haslingden to Manchester is eighteen miles, it is between Manchester and Blackburn, or between Manchester and Accrington, hardly between Manchester and Liverpool—I believe it is from thirty-five to forty miles from Liverpool; there is a railway all the way—it may be forty-two miles.
JAMES HICKSON (Police Inspector X R.) I was on duty at the station at Paddington when the two prisoners were brought there—I took the charge against them—I asked the name and address of each—I first asked Wilson his name—he said "John Wilson"—I said "Where do you live—he said "St Thomas Street, Sparkbrook, Birmingham"—I asked he had occupation—he said "A gun and pistol manufacturer"—I asked if he had any address in London—he said "No"—I read the charge to him, it was
for having in his possession fifty six-chamber revolvers and not giving a satisfactory account of the possession of the same, supposed for an unlawful purpose—he said "I brought them here to sell them, I am the manufacturer of them, I am a dealer in pistols"—I then asked Davitt for his name and address—he said "Michael Davitt, Wilkinson Street, Haslingden, ManChester"—I asked his occupation—he said "I have no occupation"—I said "Where were you last employed, or are you a gentleman living on your means?"—he said "No, I am a speculator; I attend races"—I said "Are you a betting man?"—he said "No, I speculate upon public events"—I then read the charge to him "Loitering in and about the Paddington Station of the Great Western Railway, supposed for an unlawful purpose, in the parish of Paddington"—he did not make any reply—those were the charges that were first made before the Magistrate against the prisoners—they were remanded upon those charges, and the matter was taken up by the Treasury—I asked Davitt also if he had any address in London—he said "No"
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. He said he had no regular address in London—were not those his words? A. No; I asked him if he had any address in London, and he said "No"—I said "Is this your only address?"—he said "Yes"—I mentioned that before the Magistrate at the first hearing—I presume it was taken down, I saw the clerk writing—my deposition was read over to me—that was not read over, but I decidedly said it—what the clerk read over was correct—there are times when evidence is offered which is not entered by the clerk or the Magistrate; I have often found it so, and I have often heard attention called to the omission—I did not mention it to the clerk when he read over my deposition—I am certain I stated it.
The torn letter found on Forrester was read at follow: "Glasgow, Wednesday. Dear friend, I have just returned from Dundee, which place I have left all right; your letter of Monday I have just read, I have no doubt bat what the account is correct. In reference to the other affair I hope you won't take any part in it whatever, I mean in the carrying of it out; if it is decided upon and you receive Jem's and through him Fitzs consent, let it be done by all means, but one thing you must remember, and that is, that you are of too much importance to our family to be spared even at the risk of allowing a rotten sheep to exist among the flock. You must know that if anything happened to you the toil and trouble of the last twelve months will have been almost in vain. Whoever is employed don't let him use the pen we are and have been selling, get another for the purpose, a common one. I hope and trust that when I return to Man I may not hear that every man, woman and child knew all about it ere it occured."
MR. GRIFFITHS submitted that no overt act on the part of Davitt was proved to have been committed within the jurisdiction of this Court. MR. BAKER GREENE, in supporting the objection, urged that the only evidence tending to connect Davitt with any act in this county was his possible meeting with wilson at the Paddington Station, and further that there was no evidence of any existing Fenian conspiracy. THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, as to the last point, considered there was abundant evidence for the jury, and as to the first, they would have not only to consider the single act of the meeting of the prisoners at Paddington, but connecting that with the destination of the various parcels of arms sent to different parts of the country, it would be for the jury to say whether the whole facts taken together did or did not satisfy them that the acts done were in furtherance of the Fenian conspiracy.
Samuel James Harper, gunmaker, of Weaman Street, Birmingham and David Gardiner, gunmaker, of Little Hunters Lane, Birmingham deposed to Wilson's good character.
The following witnesses were called on behalf of Davitt;—
MARTIN HARRAN . I live at Haslingden—I sell various things in the country, drapery sometimes, travelling with it—I have known Davitt since he was a boy, at Haslingden, thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen years—I think he is now about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age—I knew him in the beginning of 1867; he was at that time living at Haslingden; he was a compositor there, or sometimes letter carrying, I think, in the employment of Mr. Cockcroft, the postmaster—I saw Mr. Cockcroft last week I think he is suffering mentally, I understand his mind is affected—I have seen his son here—I recollect seeing Davitt, in February, 1867, at Haslingden, at the time of the raid on Chester; I saw him before and after the raid, at Haslingden, in his own house and in the street—I saw him two or three times a day, sometimes, but every night—I think he had a whisker at that time, a little one, a little moustache; I think it was a whisker, it was a little hair on his lip, nothing else—this (produced) is a photograph of him as he appeared in; I think this is pretty near it—he lost an arm when quite a boy, about eleven or twelve years old, by an accident—I knew a man named Burke, who lived at Stackstead, four or five miles from Has-lingden; he was very like Davitt, and he had also lost one arm—I don't know whether Burke was at Liverpool at that time.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. What did you say you were, that you sold drapery in the country? A. Yes, sometimes other matters, brushes, looking-glasses, or anything that way—I am a hawker, and go about the country—I live at Haslingden when I am at home—I came there in 1847—I am an Irishman—I go about the country in the day, but come home every night—Davitt left Haslingden sixteen or eighteen months ago, or perhaps nearly two years, I can't tell exactly—he com-menced hawking after he left Mr. Cockcroft, hawking drapery—he has hawked about Haslingden for five or six weeks, or perhaps longer—I don't know what he has been doing since he left Haslingden—I have not been in communication with him since—I have had letters from him, to know about his parents since they have been in America—I don't know where I had letters from him, I have had two or three from him, I think one was from Leeds—I don't bear in mind where the others came from—he signed his name "Davitt"—I never knew him by the name of Jackson, or Roberts, or Matthews—I never knew of his being in Birmingham, or Liverpool, or London—I knew it, by reading, after he was taken in London; except from that, I did not know from him. that he had been in London—I don't know where he has been residing since he left Haslingden, or what his occupation has been—I did not know of his taking a warehouse, at Leeds, in the soda and soap trade—in Feb-ruary, 1867, he was working at Mr. Cockcroft's as a compositor—he lived in Wilkinson Street—I understand that young Mr. Cockcroft was there, and I have a boy apprenticed to Mr. Cockcroft—I was out hawking all day—I sometimes saw him in the day-time—I did not go out every day to hawk; I lived close by to his house, and in the morning, very often, I saw him at breakfast time—I was about my business as usual about the time of the raid on Chester Castle—I generally go out about 10 o'clock in the morning, and get back by 5, 6, or 7 o'clock—I did not see him when I was
out in the country—I generally went out five days in the week, and some weeks perhaps six days, and some weeks perhaps four days—I was first asked about this after the prisoner's arrest, by Mr. Paine; he asked if I recollected February, 1867; that was a few weeks ago—I recollect the time of the raid on Chester, from reading about it the day after, and by the excitement it created—I don't recollect what day of the week it was I think it was the beginning—I believe I had seen Davitt every day the week before—I saw him every night, and sometimes every day—I saw him at his own house every night—I never missed, I went there every night—we used to discuss matters there, we used to talk about politics and that; sometimes we played at dominoes—we discussed general politics, not Irish politics exclusively, but very much so—we did not disagree—there were sometimes three or four, or five or six of us—there was Matthew Shearin, he is an Irishman; he is a young man who travels, goes out hawking—he is not regularly at Haslingden—he was there in February, I met him every night, and two or three more—there was John Tinley, an Irishman, he used to work in a factory; he is now in America, he went some time ago, perhaps twelve months, I can't say; and there was Thomas Barrett and Thomas Lyons—Barrett was a tailor by trade, an Irishman; he is in America—Lyons is an Irishman, he is living at Haslingden now, he is an out-worker; he is not here to-day—I have heard from Barrett and Tinley since they have been to America—they have sent letters—I am not aware that any of these men went to Liverpool from time to time—I have been there twice, connected with a foctory that I collect for, the United Assurance—those are the only two occasions upon which I have been there—Burke was not one of those we used to meet every night; I knew him by being an Irishman, and, living in a country place, we used to get acquainted—I knew him well—I think he was a Fenian—he is dead—he died some time the latter end of last year, I understand—Tinley and Barrett were not Fenians, that I know of—we did not talk Irish politics exclusively, every sort of politics, American, French, and Russian—we dis-cussed the Fenians—all these persons did not meet every night, but I went every night—I mean to swear that I met Davitt every night during the week of the Chester raid, every night the week before, and every night the week after; I never missed a night; I positively swear that—I won't say I met him every night during the whole year, but I do swear that I have been in Davitt's house every night, and talked to him every night in February and March, and before and after—I bear this time particularly in mind, because of the excitement that was caused in Lancashire by that raid on Chester; we used to read about it and discuss it, and Davitt with me condemned it as a foolish idea, a foolish undertaking; we could not see the object of it, a foolish undertaking altogether—I did not know the object of it—of course I suspected the object was to take possession of the Castle, but I thought it foolish—I don't know that it failed; it did fail by the reports—I will swear that I saw Davitt, every night during February and March, at his house, and sometimes in the street after we came out of the house, and went back again to the house perhaps—I saw him every night in April, and I think I did every night in May I will swear I saw him every night in May and every night in June—I don't know about July—I won't swear that I saw him every night in July or August, there might be nights that I did not, but I used to go to Davitt's—I don't know the date of his leaving Haslingden, I think it is nearly two years since, fifteen, sixteen, or eighteen, or
twenty months; I can't say whether it was in 1867—he did not leave Mr. Cockcroft in 1867 or 1868—I don't know particularly what time he left—I have seen him since; he has been at Haslingden at the time big parents went to America three, four, or five months ago—it was the left arm that Burke had lost.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You have been asked about going to see Davitt every night, was there an institute at Haslingden? A. Yes; Davitt was the only Irishman that belonged to it—I did not go, nor any of the other young men, and we went to Davitt's to hear the news—I had an opportunity of seeing the papers and talking politics—I did not agree with the Fenian movement, nor did Davitt—a great many persons from the north have emigrated to America, and a good many are going now—I did not go to Liverpool for any Fenian purposes; I positively swear that—I believe Burke to have been a Fenian, from sentiments that he expressed to me.
COURT. Q. Where did you meet Burke? A. I have seen him at his own house twice, and I have seen him at Haslingden once or twice; I saw him once in the street, and once at my house—he might know Davitt, but he was no friend of his, that I know of.
MATTHEW SHEARIN . I am a travelling draper, and live at Haslingden—I was living there in 1867—I know Davitt, he was there at that time; I knew him very intimately, we were schoolboys together; I think he is about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, the same age as me—in 1867 he would have been about twenty-one—he had only a moustache at that time—I was wearing one myself then—I was beardless—(looking at the photograph)—this was his appearance in 1867—he was then in the employment of Mr. Cockcroft, the postmaster; after that he became a hawker, and he travelled for about six weeks along with mo—I recollect the raid on Chester Castle, in February, 1867—I saw Davitt at Haslingden at that time—I saw him every night for that week, and the week following, because I made it a practice to go into his house every night; I was slightly indis-posed at that time—I was troubled with a bronchitis—not so as to compel me to keep my bed, but it prevented me from following my employment—I recollect the raid on Chester Castle, because it happened at the time I was badly—I saw Davitt in his own house, and in the streets occasionally—I lived perhaps 200 yards from him—I discontinued hawking while I was ill, but I went to Davitt's every evening during that fortnight—the Chester raid was always discussed every evening, and condemned by Davitt and others—I knew Burke, who lived in the neighbourhood of Haslingden; he had lost an arm—I don't recollect which arm—he bore a very striking resemblance to Davitt—he was about the same height, about the same complexion, and about the same age—I have been in Burke's company when he has talked about Fenianism, and he always sympathised with them very strongly—I saw him several times.
Cress-examined by MR. ATTORNET-GENERAL Q. Did you ever see Burke and Davitt together? A. Yes, I have seen them together; in 1866 I saw them together, sometimes in Bacup and in Haslingden; not frequently, occasionally—sometimes they met accidentally—I have seen Davitt in Burke's house occasionally; I have not seen Burke in Davitt's house, to my recollection—Burke lived four or five miles off—I and Davitt were very intimate friends—we went into Burke's house, as we would go into any other neighbour's house; in a country place like that, where the population is not so numerous, of course everybody knows everybody else—we happened
—casually to drop into Burke's, being friendly—I am not prepared to swear how often we did that—sometimes I and Davitt went there together; I was not always with Davitt, because I travelled the country—I travelled very wide—I have not been to Burke's by myself, and found Davitt there.
Q. How came you to go to Burke's? A. No other object than to call, as I would in any other place—sometimes we would go to Rochdale or elsewhere, upon an out on a Sunday, and it was on the road going to Rochdale, and of course we would call in, sometimes, perhaps—we did not go exactly to see Burke—we went in as we passed along—I can't say how long we stayed—I was suffering from bronchitis during the Chester week, but I went to Davitt's every night—I was not bad enough to stay in; I went every night for that fortnight—I won't say as to the following fort-night—I went every night the week before the Chester raid, and for a fort-night after; that would be three weeks altogether; I was slightly indis-posed during those three weeks—I am suffering from bronchitis now, and taking medicine for it—sometimes I was away from home—I travelled wide; sometimes into Yorkshire and 'Cheshire—I did not go to Davitt's for the purpose of discussing the Chester raid, we discussed the general topics of the day; we discussed Irish politics—we always condemned Fonianism—I understand Fenianism is Irish politics—I don't know what Irish politics means, if it is not Fenianism—we did discuss Fenianism during the Chester Castle excitement—it was always discussed and condemned—if there was anything particular in the papers about Fenianism before that, of course we discussed it; we discussed the general topics of the day—sometimes Harran and Fearon and other parties were present, Lyons and Doherty—Lyons is not here—Davitt left his employ at Haslingden about fifteen or eighteen months, or two years since; I can't give the month or the year—he told me he had a wish for going hawking, and he went hawking along with me for about six weeks—since then I understood him to be dealing in revolvers and guns; he told me so before Christmas—I saw him at Haslingden, and I have met him in several towns since I have been travelling—I did not see him at Leeds—business took me to Manchester—he did not tell me how long he had been in the gun trade—I did not know him by the name of Jackson, Matthews, Richards, or Roberts, or of his taking a soap and soda warehouse at Leeds.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. I understand that you discussed the Fenians when you saw there was anything in the paper about it? A. Of course; I always condemned it—it is a fact that for a week before the Chester raid, and for a fortnight after, I went to his house every night, and whenever I was at Haslingden we used to see each other—he belonged to an Institute there, and I had the opportunity of learning the news from him.
HENRY COCKCROFT . I produce a medical certificate as to the state of my father's health—he was subpoenaed on the part of the prosecution—he is too ill to be hero—my father is postmaster at Haslingden—I am relieving officer of the Haslinden district—I do not live with my father—I know Davitt very well, he was in my father's service—he entered the service eight or nine years ago, or more, and was in his service six or seven years—he came as an errand boy, to run about with newspapers, and so on, and he worked himself up until he got into the office, so that he could do anything there; I knew pretty well what the duties of the office were—there were books kept for the purpose of the men putting down their time, and what work they had done—one was called the office-book, and the other the
tillet book—a tillet is a piece of cloth, with an emblem worked in the middle of it, which is used for packing woollen goods in, to send off to foreign parts—the tillet book was kept to show how many tillets had been done, and who for—there were no odd jobs put down in it, only tillets—my father is a printer and stationer, at well as postmaster—the tillet-book would show certain work that certain workmen did, and the time they did it—Davitt generally did them; he printed the cloths—the tillet-book would show the date that he printed them, and so on—I believe Inspector Clark came down to see my father—I have not seen the tillet-book for the last two years—I believe Inspector Clark was shown the office-book; that book is here (producing it)—I believe the leaves are all perfect—if Davitt had been working at tillet work it would not appear here—these entries in February are all in Davitt's handwriting, except one about the middle of the month; here are entries of his on 12th and 16th—this "did" means distributed. (The book being referred to, it was stated that there was an awry on 12th feburary and no other entryuntil the 16th, upon which day was enter "set, February 14th and 15th by Thomas Lech, altered by Thomas Leech, worked on 16th by Thomas Davitt, and distributed on the 19th by Davitt; five hours")—He appears on the 16th, not on the 15th—that entry is in Davitts writing—if he did tillet work on the 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th, it would appear in the tillet-book—diligent search has been made for that book, but it cannot be found—I do not remember the Chester raid—I remember hearing of it after it was over, but I took no further notice of it—I dare say I had con-versation with Davitt about it—I have no recollection of it, but I have no doubt but what I should have—I do not remember whether it was in the month of February; I have nothing to remember it for, there is nothing that particularly brings it to my notice—my sister is not here—I very seldom missed the prisoner, he was a very regular attender to his work—I should not have remembered it if he had stopped away half a day or a day; if he had been away two or three days I should—from all that I have ever known or seen of him, he has been a very respectable, steady, honest young man.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. Have you heard any-thing of him lately, for the last two years? A. No, I have not heard any-thing I have seen him three or four times—he left my father's employment about the spring of 1868—I don't know how he came to leave; I presume he thought he would like to see the country, more than a sedentary kind of life—he said he was going out hawking—I have seen him three or four times since he left, but only once to speak to him; I don't think it is more than twelve months since; that was at Haslingden—I knew nothing of his having to do with arms, or going by the names of Jackson and Mathews until I saw it in the papers.
PATRICK FEARON . I am a weaver by trade, and live at Haslingden—I have known Davitt from a boy, fourteen or fifteen years—he is now about twenty-four years of age—I remember the time of the raid on Chester Castle—I was living at Haslingden then—at that time Davitt had a alight moustache; his beard had not grown to the strength it is now; he had not haved above once or twice—I don't think he had above half a dozen hairs that you could notice, no beard—he could not, if so disposed, have grown a beard at that time—I remember seeing him at Haslingden every night during the week of the Chester raid—I saw him on the Monday night, and Tuesday night, and every night that week, and for every night for weeks
after; I made it a particular practice to go with Davitt—I saw him every night during that week, and for several weeks; for weeks before and after I used to se him at his own house, and in the street; we used to walk back-wards and forwards through the town.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. You are an Irishman, I suppose? A. Yes—I live at Haslingden—I saw Davitt regularly every night of the Chester week; at his own house; sometimes there would be a lot of lodgers there, travellers that travelled about, and I used to get information there as regards the news of the day—I was there every night of the Chester week, every night the week before almost, well, every night, I can't say for how many weeks before—I made it a practice continually to go with him—I can't exactly say how many weeks before it was that I began to go to his house every night, I am not supposed to keep a memo-randum of everything I do; I know particularly that I went for a week or so before, and perhaps more—I daresay I might go odd times at the begin-ning of the year, perhaps every other night, but particularly every night for the week before the Chester raid, and for weeks after; I can't exactly say for how many weeks after—I daresay I went every night the week after the raid; I won't swear it—I saw him odd times the week after that; I can't say exactly whether I saw him every night or not—I went every night of the Chester week, because he was a member of the Mechanics' Institute, and used to go there and read the periodicals, and I used to go there and get information from him—he was a member before that, and I got information before that—I went that week because I did not believe that any persons would be so foolish as to make a raid; Davitt always condemned it strongly—I did not hear beforehand that it was intended, and we did not believe it when we saw it in the papers—I first heard of it on the Tuesday—I went to his house every night for about a fortnight after the raid, I will be bound for it—I can't say that that was still to hear about the raid; companions generally go together; what makes anyone go together—I can't say whether or not I went every night during the summer—I used to go every time that I felt inclined to go—he left Mr. Cockcroft perhaps a year and ten months since, it must have been in 1868—I have seen him since at his own house at Haslingden, not anywhere else; I have not heard from him, I have had no communication whatever only when I have seen him—I knew Burke, he had lost an arm—I have seen him with Davitt—they were very like each other—I have seen them together perhaps a dozen times; Burke bore a very great resemblance to Davitt—he wore a dark beard.
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. During the whole time you have known Davitt has he borne the character of a straightforward respectable young man? A. Yes, always; that is the character he bears in the neigh-bourhood.
Monday, July 18, 1869,
JOSEPH DIXON (re-examined). I never received a notice from Geneva, making a claim for these goods or casks which were directed to "G. H. Williams, Globe Express Office, Pilgrim Street," nor did I know that there was one in existence.
MARTIN BURKE . I live at Stackstead, and am a woollen carpet printer—in 1866 I had a brother named Thomas—he had only one arm, he had lost the left—I know Davitt—there was a very extraordinary resemblance between my brother and Davitt, in complexion, height, appearance, and
in every brother had whiskers, a beard, both on the jar and ail round—I recollect the raid that was attempted on Cheater Castle—a seizure was made by the police at our house, at Staokstead, not at Haslingden—my brother, my sister, mother, and I were living together—I knew Davitt at that time; he was living at Haslingden—I never heard of any search made at his house—Stackstead is four miles from Haelingden.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY GENERAL. Q. Were you here on Saturday? A. Yes—we have all been living together since we came to the City—we were together yesterday—my brother and I lived together at the house at Stackstead—Davitt used to come and see us sometimes—my brother and him being both disabled, they were acquainted with one another and took a great fancy to one another—my brother lost his arm in a factory—he lost it close up to the shoulder, within an inch or two from the shoulder—my brother told me about being at meeting! with Colonel Kelly, Captain O'Brien, and Deasy, and a man named Flood—I was not a Fenian—I have told the same tale here as I told the solicitor.
ANNA BURKE . I am the sister of the last witness—in 1867 I was living with him and my mother, near Manchester—I had a brother Thomas alive at that time—his appearance was something about the same as Davitt's dark-complexioned, large-featured—he bad a beard all round, but not very thick—I knew Davitt—they were mistaken several times one for the other—I remember hearing about the raid on Chester, but do not remember how long the time is—our house was searched after that—I am never at Liferpool.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. Were you here on Saturday last, were you in Court? A. Yet; I have been staying with my brother in London—I was with him yesterday, Sunday—I was not in Court when Corydon was called; I was in a room at the back.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Were the other witnesses who are here on behalf of the defence in the room tool? A. They were.
COURT. Q. How often did it happen that your brother and Davitt were mistaken for one another? A. The first time I remember was when my brother went to Ireland—Mr. Davitt and his sister came to the station and he said "You are welcome Mr. Burke from Ireland," thinking it was my brother—it was the last train at night at 9.40—I have heard from people that they often took one for the other.
ARTHUR FORRESTER . I live at 18, Brighton Street, Salford—I am at present a newspaper correspondent and lecturer—I saw a report of Corydon's evidence as given before the Magistrate in this case—in consequence of what Corydon said I am here to-day—it is untrue that I attended Fenian meet-ings in Liverpool in 1867—I first saw Corydon when I was in prison in Kilmannen in 1867—he was brought to identify me, and did not do so—I was tried at the Special Commission, which opened on 18th April that year, for having arms in a proclaimed district—I had been arrested on the Lord Lieutenant's warrant—I was not a Fenian—I received this letter (the one produced) from Davitt—it is in his handwriting—he had received the original from some quarter, he could not tell whence, and he left me this copy in order that I might give him my opinion upon it.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. You said you were a newspaper correspondent, what newspaper do you correspond with? A. The Irishman; Mr. Piggott is the editor—I have been a correspondent of the Irishman since January, 1868, and occasionally before—I did not attend
any Fenian meetings in Liverpool in 1867—I never attended any Fenian meetings—I hesitated because I thought your question was foolish—I swear on my positive oath I have never atttended any Fenian meetings—I know Regent Street, Liverpool—I don't know Mr. Wagg's public-house there by name—I may have been at a public-house at Liverpool on 30th December, 1868, but I attended no Fenians meetings—I go into public-houses so often that I can't swear to any particular date—I may have been at a public-house in Liverpool in December, 1863—I can't give you the names of the public-houses I attended—I was living at Salford at that time—I can't give you the name of one public-house I attended in Liverpool—I have not been to Mullins's—I can't remember that I met Davitt at a public-house in Liverpool on 30th December—I can't recollect particular dates—I won't swear that I did not meet Davitt at a public house in Liverpool in December, 1868, because I have met him in Liverpool, hit I don't remember the dates—I won't undertake to say that I have met him in public-houses, or that I have not—I am not at all confident on that point—I met him in Liverpool once or twice in 1868 and in 1869—I can't remember how often I met him in 1869—it may be about three or four times—I don't know where I met him—I don't remember the exact places—I don't carry a memorandum book about with me—I should say I have known Davitt eighteen months or two years—I was introduced to him by Mr. Brady, of Salford, an old friend of mine, at his own house—I have seen him pretty frequently since that—I have seen him at Liverpool, and Manchester, and Leeds, I think—he went by the name of Davitt—I did not know him as Jackson, or Richards—he never told me any of his aliases—I understood him to be a traveller in hardware, and sometimes in soft goods—the first time I was introduced to him he was travelling with drapery—I know Has lingden—I was there frequently—not in 1867—I don't know Burke—since I came to London to give evidence I have known him—I have been with him—I don't know any of the American officers who have been described—I knew the Glassmaker's Arms, Bailiff's Gate, Newcastle—shortly after theseizure I was in Newcastle lecturing—I lecture on various subjects, Irish poetry, literature, Irish life in England and other subjects; not Irish politics, Irish poets—I have delivered a burlesque on politics, ridiculing everything political, always—I was lecturing in the north of England—I came back by way of Newcastle; I had read of the seizure, and went out of curiosity to look at the place—I did not know the place before—I do not know whether it is resorted to by Irish labourers—I do not know all the resorts of Irish labourer—it is a beer-shop—I did not ask for Mr. Kershaw—I have not been frequently to the Glassmaker's Arms within the last few months, to my knowledge; but I have been in Newcastle lecturing—I was in prison in 1867 for having arms in a proclaimed district—I was arrested with a number of men—they had not all arras—they were discharged—if they had been Fenians they would have been committed—they were discharged and I was detained under the Lord Lieutenant's warrant—they were all natives of Dublin—I was kept in prison six months—I knew nothing of the men intimately until after their arrest, and as far as I know none of them were Americans—none of them served in the American army that I remember—I was arrested in Liverpool for having a loaded revolver in my pocket and four others in a carpetbag—I had got them for sale—the loaded revolver was for my own protection against thieves and garrotters, and the others were for sale—it was 11 or 12 o'clock at night—I have not dealt in arms since—I had for a short period before—I sold revolvers
to any one who would buy them—I sold one to Mr. McCabe, a newspaper reporter, of St. Helen's, Lancashire, near Liverpool—he was reporter to a St. Helen's newspaper—I sold two or three to Mr. Danvers, a newsagent at Liverpool, for Liverpool, Manchester, and London newspapers, a whole-sale newsagent—those are the only ones I remember—I did not have a place of business for their sale—I sold a very few—I had been carrying on this sale a few months previous to my arrest—I had four at the time I was arrested, and had sold five—I sold one to Mr. Conelly, a butter merchant, at Scoles, Wigan—I bought these revolvers at Birmingham, Urn of them, of a Mr. Meeninham—I don't know that he carried on business in the same shop with Wilson—his place of business was Harper's Buildings, Weaman Street, Birmingham—I did not know Meeninham was in partnership with Wilson there—my transactions were all with Meeninham—I can't say I saw the prisoner Wilson there—I may have done—I think Metninham was a Birmingham man or a London man, from his accent—I introduced myself to him on purpose—I went to Birmingham to find someone out to buy re-volvers of—I was talking at the place I was lodging in, and somebody told me to call there—it was a stranger—I can't give you his name—he was living at the same place—it was not Davitt—I knew Davitt at that time—I bad seen him shortly before or shortly after—I saw him frequently since I knew him—he knew I was carrying on this trade in arms—I can't say that he knew where I got them from, until after my arrest in Liverpool—I told the police then, and it appeared in the papers—I was not in the habit of carrying a loaded revolver about—I did not like the place I had taken the lodging in for the night, and I had money on me, and I was afraid I might be robbed—I loaded the revolver that night—I had the ammunition in my pocket—I found out I did not like the place when I went into it the same night, half an hour before I was arrested—when I went to the place I did not like it—I had bought the revolver for myself, and when I thought there was danger I should have defended myself—I bought it with the others—I bought the ammunition at the same time—I carried it with me in my pocket; it was more convenient to carry loose ammunition; I had only six or seven cartridges—I bought it two months before, when living at Sal-ford—I brought it to Liverpool in case I might want it for my defence—I did not suppose I should be less safe at Liverpool—I carried the ammuni-tion loose in my pocket—I mean to say seriously that I loaded the revolver that night because I thought I was in danger—I carried the ammunition with me along with the revolver—I always carried two or three samples loose along with the other revolvers, in case they should be ordered, because they were different sizes—they were No. 12, mine was No. 7.
Q. When you were arrested in Dublin upon the charge of having arms in your possession, did you not take out a pistol to fire at the police, and were you not stopped before you fired? A. I did not fire at the police—I took a loaded revolver out of my pocket, not to fire, to give to the police when I was asked if I had any arms—I had a loaded revolver on a former occasion, it was on account of that I was convicted—I had it loaded in my pocket—I came into possession of it, I was very young at the time, and carried it about with me as a kind of bravado—I don't think I had more than one loaded revolver in my possession at that time—I won't swear it, I think I had only one—when I was arrested in Dublin I was in the act of taking the revolver out of my pocket—I was usked for it—we had all been asked whether we had arms, I had not
answered, they siezed us before the gave us time to answer—when I was siezed, I lost my temper and made resistance—it was not then that I took the revolver out; they had cot it then—I was taking it out when I was siezed roughly, arrested, and the revolver was wrested from me—I don't know how many of the others with me had loaded revolvers, some had; there were about eight or nine taken altogether—about half of them had revolvers—I don't know whether they were loaded or not—I knew none of the other persons—I went in there to take a drink, and I was in a part of the room apart from the others when I was arrested—it was in the back room of a public-house at Dublin—all in the back room had not revolvers—I believe I was the only person in the back room that had one—I won't swear it, but I believe it—others who were captured at the same time had rerolves—I had only got this revolver the day before—this was on 9th March, 1867, three or four days after the Fenian rising in Ireland—the revolver was given to me by a man going to America, named Lynch, an Irishman; he was afraid to take it with him, I believe—I don't know whether it was a No. 12, it was a muzzle-loader—I had been in Ireland since the Saturday morning after the Chester raid—I went from Liverpool—I went by myself; there were a great many Irishmen in the same boat—I left Manchester on the Friday after—I was in Ireland when the rising took place; I was in Dublin at the time—I was in bad health, and I went over to Ireland to stay for a fort night or three weeks for the benefit of my health—I intended to go from Dublin to my aunt's in Drogheda—I got this letter from Davitt—I had received letters from him before; I have not got any of them—I had corresponded with him pretty frequently—I had just read this letter and was tearing it up when the police came up; they say I tore it up as soon as I saw them come in, but that was a coincidence; it was not because the police came in—I knew it was a dangerous document if it was taken upon me—I did not know that I was going to be taken—it was a dangerous document in case an accident might happen to me, an Irishman and dealing in revolvers, and I was perfectly well aware that it was possible that while dealing in those things, some policeman might ask me what I was dealing in, or how I came into possession of them, and I thought it would not be convenient to have such a document upon me—the wording of it is dangerous—the meaning of it I should say would be very palpable to anybody—Mr. Davitt, in the accompanying note which he sent with that copy, said he thought it was a police trap—I destroyed that accompanying note as soon as I had read it, five or six hours before I was arrested; I did not destroy this at the same time, became I wanted to make myself master of its contents, so that I might be able to give my opinion upon it—it was at Manchester that I tore up the other note, where I had received it—this letter is in Davit's handwriting—it is evident that it relates to some secret understanding about this traitor or "rotten sheep," as it is expressed—I do not know what the meaning of "the pen "is—I can surmise, but I could not know exactly—I should say it meant fire arms, pistol, or revolver, or something of the sort; I surmise, I don't say that it does mean that—I can't tell to what the traitor alludes—I don't know whether it is to the Queen or to the Fenian conspiricy—on my oath, I did not know what was meant—it meant a traitor to the Fenians or some other secret society; I can't tell what other society—I don't know who Jem and Fitz are—I am not a member of Davitt's family—I can't tell the meaning of the word "family;" I can surmise—I would surmise it meant the same secret society; I don't know that it meant the Fenians.
COURT. Q. You never heard the term "family" applied to the Fenian conspiracy? A. I have read it on evidence, in different Feniain trials; I have not heard it myself.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. On your oath, did you ever attend any Fenian meetings? A. On my oath, I did not—the revolvers found on me on the second occasion, I had to sell—when I was taken before the Magistrate, the Crown required that I should be bound over to keep the peace; the Magis-trate asked me had I any objection—I replied I had no objection to being bound over to keep the peace, as I never intended to violate it; but I had an objection to the reflection that would be cast upon my character if my being bound over to keep the peace was considered as an insinuation that I intended to break it—he replied that if I were an honest man I could go on with my business just as before, or something to that effect, and if I were dishonest I could not be vexed at being bound over to keep the peace; and I was then bound over—I was a newspaper correspondent at that time, and added to that the functions of a hawker; sometimes I hawked knives, sometimes revolvers—I think I hawked ten or eleven revolvers altogether, and four or five knives, cutlery, and odd pieces of drapery—I had a hawker's licence—I have it here (producing it).
COURT. Q. Is this the first you took out? A. No, the second—they all expire at a given date, I believe.
ELIZA GEOGHAN . I live at 41, George Leigh Street, Manchester—three revolvers were found at my house—it is a private house—I had a lodger named James Broderick—when he went away he owed me some rent, and he left three revolvers and some cartridges in payment for it—my house wag searched on 21st April by two or three detectives—Mr. Henderson was one, and they found the revolvers, two in a cupboard and one up stain in a box that Broderick sometimes used—Henderson asked me some questions about them, and I made a statement to him—about a month afterwards Broderick applied for them.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. You don't keep the house yourself, I suppose? A. Yes, my husband does—he is a cabinet maker and upholsterer—he is an Irishman; he is not here, he is at business in Manchester—this was the first time I ever received any revolvers in pay-ment of rent—I did not tell Mr. Henderson that I did not know there were any revolvers in the house—I said I knew nothing about them—I told him a lodger had left them—he asked me who did they belong to, and I told him to a young man who stopped with me some time before, and had left them for rent.
JAMES BRODERICK . I live at 15, Taylor Street, Lower Broughton Street, Manchester—I know Davitt—I knew him in April; he was introduced to me as a hawker in fire arms—I purchased of him three revolvers and 100 cartridges—I was going to America, and I was told that I could buy them cheaper here than I could in America—I was going to Philadelphia—I had a father and sisters there—I paid 27s. each for the revolvers, he wanted 30s.—I paid him 3l. down before I got them—I left them in Mrs. Geoghan's house, where I was lodging, at 43, George Leigh Street—I owed her some money—I had borrowed some money, and I had missed paying two weeks rent; I owed her 2l. 3s.—I have paid her since—I did not get the revolvers, I applied to her for them.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. You were to take those three revolvers to America? A. Yes—I was going to have one for myself,
to make a present of the other, and to dispose of the third to friend there—the prisoner told me they were No. 12 revolvers—I was told it was a general thing for every person in America to carry a revolver—after leaving Mrs. Geoghan, I went to lodge at 8, Harrad Street—I did not tell her what I was going—I left the revolvers behind me—I was once in the Volunteer Artillery, at Manchester—I did not go away and carry off my carbine and accoutrements—I never received them—I swear that—I left the force without getting them—I was born in Bristol, of Irish parents.
MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Did you leave Mrs. Geoghan in a friendly way or not? A. No, we had a quarrel; I did not tell her I was leaving; I merely told her she could keep the revolvers till I came to pay her.
JAMES CLARK . I live at Willington-on-Tyne—I know Davitt—I bought some revolvers of him, as near as I can remember, about eighteen months ago—I bought either seven or nine, I don't remember which—I did not buy them for myself, but for Father Sharpies, the parish priest of Willing. ton—I think he wanted them in consequence of some Catholic priets in the neighbourhood being robbed some few weeks before, and he wanted them as a protection for his own house—I can't tell whether he wanted them all for himself—I think the houses of five parish priests were broken into that winter—I know there were some; I saw it in the paper, and I have been in the houses soon after; there was Canon Bewick, of North Shields, for one, Mr. Brown, of Howden, and others, and some money was taken away—I remember Mr. Murphy preaching; some of the robberies were before that, and some after, but I think most of them before—Davitt gave me his address, 6, Wilkinson Street, Haslingden, Manchester; he was introduced to me as a hawker by my brother, John Connell, who went to America scon after—Davitt said I had to pay him in advance for them for fear when they came they might not be taken, and he might be at the loss of them if they were not—I am a copper extractor, at present in the em-ployment of Mr. Cook, a lead and silver merchant, at Howden and Wil-ington.
Cross-examined by MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Q. When were you introduced to Davitt? A. Nearly eighteen months ago, as nearly as I can say, at Willington-on-Tyne—I and my brother are Irishmen—Father Sharples employed me to buy the revolvers, as I live close to his place, and some-times do some work for him—I have bought several other things for him, not revolvers—I have made marketings for him at different times—I hare never bought any other revolvers, I swear that—my brother bought two of Davitt, so he told me—I attend church at Father Sharpies every Sunday, and live close to him; I am one of his flock—he is not here, that I am aware of—my brother bought his two revolvers some few weeks before he went to America—I gave between 32s. and 36s. for mine; they were very small.
HENRY COCKCROFT (re-examined) When Davitt was working for my father he generally commenced at 9 o'clock on Monday, and 7 o'clock other days—he had not carried out letters for a long time—he generally left at 7 o'clock in the evening, on Saturday at 2 o'clock—I think the last train left Haslingden at 8.16—I scarcely think that would run through Liverpool; I fancy not—I think the last train for Liverpool was between 5 and 6 o'clock, that would go to Accrington and Preston, or you could go from Haslingden to Manchester, and from there to Liverpool—the first train dowan in the morning was somewhere about 8 o'clock; from Liverpool I
think it was 10.13; there are two routes from Liverpool to Haslingden, one by way of Manchester, and another by way of Preston—there are several trains in the course of the day both there and back—I am almost sure that the first train from Liverpool to Haslingden is 10.13—the last train would be between 8 and 9 o'clock—"Tillet" is printing generally upon linen we were only occasionally doing that—when Davitt was not doing that he would be in the office, doing odd jobs, anything almost—tillet work was done by the day—he was not allowed any special holiday, we have no fixed time; if he wanted a day he could have got it; he did not that I know of; if he was away for a day or half a day I should miss him, but not think anything at all about it—I would not undertake to say that on any particular day in 1867 he might not have been away for half a day or a whole day—it was his duty to carry the mail bag to meet the train from Haslingden to Manchester at 10.13; that is the train coming in from Liverpool—if he was not there my father as a rule would do it for him, he did it sometimes; there was only that one mail bag to be carried; there was one from Manchester at 5 o'clock, but the letter carrier fetched that—Davitt took the morning one because the letter carriers were out with their letters; sometimes another man might do it, I will not be certain.
WILSON— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
DAVITT— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
GUILTY.— Seven Year' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KLLEY; conducted the Prosecution.
STEPHEN BEECH . I live at the Kale's Arms publics-house, Deptford—it is kept by my son—on Sunday night, 5th June, about 11 o'clock, I was putting up the shutters of the parlour window—the prisoner came up, with five or six others, and began to use bad language to me, and insulted me—my son Joseph came out to see what was the matter—my son asked what he was doing, and pushed him off the pathway into the road—the prisoner directly drew his knife and made a stab at me—James Cavell, a young man, drew me back, and the knife caught me a little below the groin—I have not had the use of my right leg since—the witness pulled me back, or I should have had the knife in my chest.
Prisoner. I was drunk at the time.
JAMES CAVELL . I live at the Hale's Arms, Deptford—on Sunday, 5th June, I was called from the parlour into the street—I saw the prisoner there, with an open knife in his hand—ho rushed towards Mr. Beech, who was standing near me—I pulled Mr. Beech towards me at the time the prisoner struck,
and the knife caught him in the leg—he was standing with his back towards me, and I dragged his body back, and his legs were down—I saw the prisoner open the knife as I got to the door.
THOMAS PARKER . I am a member of the Rojal College of Surgeom, at Deptford—on Sunday, 5th June, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I was; called to attend Mr. Beech—I found him suffering from a punctured and slightly lacerated wound on the right thigh, a short distance from the groin—I dressed the wound—he has been suffering ever since—I did not probe the wound, and can't say how deep it was—if the knife had gone to the right instead of the left, fatal hemorrhage would have taken place—it was very close indeed to the artery—it was such a wound as a large knife would inflict.
JAMES CLARIDGE (Policeman R 157). I apprehended the prisoner about 7.45 on the morning of the 6th, at Deptford—I found a purse and this small knife on him—I told him I wanted him, for stabbing old Mr. Beech—he said he knew nothing about it—I said "You will have to satisfy no you are not the man," and I took him into custody, and Mr. Beech at once identified him.
COURT to JAMES CAVELL. Q. What sort of a knife was it? A. I was five or six yards away—it was a large-bladed knife—he had it in one hand, and opened it with the other—I could not say whether he was drunk, it was so momentary.
The Priioner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I wish you would settle it here, I was half drunk at the time, and hardly knew what I was doing."
Prisoner's Defence. The drink took effect on me, and I did not know about it till the policeman told me next morning. I hope you will be as light as you can. I will never be here any more.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
GUILTY.— Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
WILLIAM DRUMMER . I live at Deptford Bridge, and am a dyer—on Whit Monday night, about 12.30, I was in the New Cross Road—five or six young fellows came up; the first one hit me on the head, and the second took my hat off—the prisoner came up and said "That is the man that has got your watch"—I put my hand to my pocket and missed my watch—the prisoner was hustling me at the time—I did not see the watch in his hand—I felt a pull at the time he was close to me—I never lost sight of the man—the others ran away—I met a constable, and gave him in charge—I was perfectly sober—I also gave Tucker in custody, but he was discharged.
Cross-examined. Q. Whereabouts was this? A. Close to the Marquis of Granby—there was no one passing—I have been to Merrick's employer, and found that he has been working for him, on and off, for the lost ten or eleven years.
prosecutor caught hold of prisoner, and said "This man has stolon my watch"—I took him to the station—Tucker followed, and he also was charged—no watch was found—they were all quite sober.
Witness for the Defence.
JAMES TUCKER . I live at 13, James Street, Old Kent Road, and am a bricklayer—I was with Merritt on this night, and had been with him all day—I saw the prosecutor—Merritt did not knock his hat off—I did not see him lose his watch—we were not in company with other boys—I walked to the station, and was charged—I was detained until Tuesday, and then dis-charged—I had not seen any other boys about.
Cross-examined. Q. What had you been doing all day? A. In Greenwich Park—we went into a public-house where there were some soldiers singing—we left at 11.30, but we did not pick up any company on the road—I saw Do hustling or joking going on—I have known the prisoner over eight years—I work for Mr. Gush.
The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MR. KELLEY conducted the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KELLEY conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES DEWAR BOURDILLON . I reside at 2, St. John's Park, Blackheath—about 3.30 a.m. on 10th June, I heard shrieks in my house, and found the fastening of the window, which I had securely fastened the night before, pushed back, and marks of a knife on it—I missed a silver presentation cup—I went down to the basement, and found the front door open, and a pair of plated candlesticks and another presentation cup there, which were in the drawingroom the night before.
CHARLOTTE BOOKER . I am in Mr. Bourdillon's service—I sleep down stairs, in the housekeeper's room—about 3.30 a.m. on 10th June, I heard noises several times, and then I distinctly heard footsteps in my passage—I thought it was one of the young gentlemen—I looked at my watch, and found it was 3.30—then I heard the handle of my door go—I jumped out of bed, and said "Hallo a, who is there? What is it? What do you want?—I went out of my bedroom, and saw the prisoner standing at my bedroom door—I am quite certain he is the man—it was daylight—he had this candlestick in his hand, which I took from him (produced)—I said "You wretch"—he ran away—I rang the call bell, and followed him into the garden, where he got away.
Prisoner. Q. How long was I in your presence? A. Three or four minutes.
THOMAS KITTMER (Policeman R 4). The last witness gave me a description of a man, and about 7.30 p.m. on the 16th I was with her in London Street, Greenwich—she pointed out a man to me, and said "That is a man who resembles the man who was there that night"—I said "Is it him?"—she said "No, it is not"—we walked towards the railway station, and met the prisoner, and she said "That is the man"—I said "Be certain; run across
the road again and moot him"—she did so, and camo back, and said "Yes, that is the man"—I had not pointed him out—he was taken to the station—he said he could prove where he was, that he was not there—I searched him, but nothing was found.
Prisoner. Q. Do you remember saying "Wait till we get to the station, and we will have a good look at him there? A. No; I might; I do not think I did.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM BALES . I am a fisherman, and live at 4, Marlborough Cottages, East Greenwich—I have known the prisoner nine or ten years—I remember his being taken on the Friday night—I saw him on Thursday night at Mr. Starling's, the keeper of two brothels, No. 2, Lamb Lane—I went there with a young woman, between 11.30 and 12 o'clock—I had been asleep about an hour or an hour and a half, when the prisoner came in—that was between 1.30 and 2 o'clock—I could not tell the exact time, for there was no clock in the house—there are only two rooms—two young women came in about five or ten minutes before him, and went up stairs—he also went up stairs—one of the young women stayed up stairs and one came down to me—I saw prisoner again between 7 and 8 o'clock next morning—no one else came in after him.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLEY. Q. Does the staircase to the room up stairs go out of the room you slept in? A. Yes—I was in bed with my young woman when the other two women came in—some time in the night there were two women with me in bed—the other one remained with me two or three hours, and then went up stairs.
COURT. Q. Who was the young woman that came down to you? A. Selina Perry—she remained two or three hours—she came down about 3 or 4 o'clock—she was up stairs two or three hours—she went up again after the prisoner had gone—he went out between 7 and 8 o'clock—he slept with Hannah Jones—I had not slept there the previous night.
MR. KELLEY. Q. When had you seen the prisoner before this night? A. I daresay it was three or four months.
SELINA PERRY . I live at 2, Lamb Lane, Greenwich, and am a prostitute—I heard of the prisoner being taken on 10th June—I saw him on the 9th—he slept at our house, 3, Lamb Lane—I and Hannah Jones met him, and asked him to go home with us—we met him at 1.30 and got home about 2 o'clock—Hannah Jones asked Mr. Starling for the key of the little house, and when Mr. Starling had closed his door we let in the prisoner—he was standing in the court—I went up-stairs to get a candle, but only stayed a few minutes, and then came down into Bales' room and slept on the floor—Jane Davies was in bed with him—in the morning I went up stairs—the prisoner and Jones were there—he went out between 7 and 8 o'clock.
Cross-examined. Q. How long did you remain in the room with Bales and Davies? A. Till the morning—I did not go to bed in that room.
COURT. Q. Why did not you go back to 2, Lamb Lane, where you lived? A. Because I had to sleep with Hannah Jones, and Mr. Starling did not know Dawson was there.
HANNAH JONES . I live at 2, Lamb Lane—on Thursday night, 9th June, between 1 and 1.30, I and Selina Perry met the prisoner—I said before between 11 and 12 o'clock, but I was so confused then—he went home with us, and we got there about 2 o'clock—I got the key of No. 3 from Mr. Starling—he knew nothing about the prisoner being there—he came in two
or three minutes after we did—Perry slept down stairs with Bales and his young woman—she called us about 7.30.
Cross-examined. Q. When you and Perry entered the house, did you close the door? A. No, we left it open—the prisoner left about 7.30—Mr. Starling opened the door of No. 3 for us.
Witneuet in Reply.
JOHN STARLING . I keep two houses, 2 and 3, Lamb Lane—I remember Thursday night, 9th June—Dawson did not sleep in either of those houses that night—I gave Jones the key of No. 3—I did not open the door, but stood against my door while they opened it—Jones and Perry went in—they came for the key at 2.50—I did not go into No. 3 after that.
THOMAS THEW . On Thursday night, the 9th June, I lodged at Mr. Starling's house, No. 2—I slept with Mr. Starling—I remember Jones and Perry coming home at 2.50—I looked at my watch, and said it was a nice time in the morning to come home—there was no one with them—I did not go outside.
GUILTY *— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
Before the Common Serjeant.
WILLIAMS PLEADED GUILTY *— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DUNN conducted the Prosecution.
ELLEN STANLEY . I am the wife of Robert Stanley, a costermonger, Church Street Greenwich—on 30th June I was selling fruit outside Green-wich Park gates, and Williams asked me to give him a shilling for two sixpences—I said I had not got one—he walked away, and Mortlock said "She is too fly"—they went away together.
JOHN WEBB . I am a hawker—on 30th June I was talking to Mrs. Stanley—the prisoner came up and asked her to oblige them with two six-pences for a shilling—I saw that the sixpences were bad—she refused, and I followed them into the Park—they sat down—Williams pulled a sock from his pocket, and gave Mortlake a shilling out of it—they then went to Chamberlain's, the butcher's—Williams went in and asked for change for a shilling—that was refused—they then went through Burney Street, and stood outside the Lecture Hall for some time, where Mortlake rubbed a shilling on the pavement—Williams went into the Globe public-house to get a light for his pipe, and then they went on towards Blackheath—the pri-soners separated—Williams put his hand in his pocket and threw away the sock as he went along—I was two hours and a quarter following them before I could see a policeman—I picked up the sock and gave it to 230 R.—they were both taken.
EDGAR BOURNE (Policeman 230 R.) I was on duty on Blackheath—I saw the prisoners, and Webb behind them, who called out "Take those men in custody"—Dodd was with me—Williams separated from Mortlock, and went down into the pits and pulled his trowsers down, but I took him in custody, and charged him with uttering—he said I was mistaken—I received this sock from Webb, containing six shillings and five sixpences, bad money—they both denied knowing anything about it.
PHILIP DODD (Policeman R 301). I was with Bourne and took Mortlock—he gave his address, but I could not find the house—Williams gave his address, 1, Miner's Court—I went there, saw a woman, showed her this sock, and she gave me another—the two appeared to be a pair.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DUNN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. PATER defended Powell.
LOUISA CHOWN . I am the wife of John Chown, who keeps the Wellesley public-house, Woolwich—on the night of 29th June Emblin came in with a young man—they asked for two glasses of porter, and the young man gave me a bad florin—I told him it was bad, and they gave me a good half-crown—I gave the florin to the constable.
EMILY RITCHIE . My mother, Mrs. Hickman, keeps the Yorkshire Grey, Woolwich—on 9th May I served Emblin with a pint of bitter ale—a young man with him gave me a bad florin—I said I did not like the look of it—he put it in his pocket again, looked at Emblin and said, "Pay in coppers, and I will pay you when I get to Stepney"—he did so, and they left together.
MARY ANN MOORE . I am barmaid at the Ship, Woolwich—on 29th June Emblin came with a young man, who asked for a pint of ale—they paid with a florin—I can't say who paid—I put it in the till—there was no large money there—Emblin took a glass of ale outside for someone, and came bock with the glass empty—after they left I took the florin to my mistress to get some sixpences, and she found it was bad.
HENRY COLEMAN . I am a sawyer, of Chapel Street, Woolwich—on 29th June I saw the prisoners and a young man about 9.30 in the evening—I heard some boys talking about passing bad money—they pointed out Emblin and the other man—I watched them, and afterwards gave them in charge—Powell stopped outside, and when the men came out they crossed over to her and stood talking for a few minutes and then parted—I saw them go to a shop—the two men went in, Powell stood outside—they came out, passed her, and went on—I gave Powell in charge—the men went up some back street—I gave Emblin in charge at the Dyke public-house—he was alone.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it you who gave Powell in custody? A. No, but I gave information—I saw her go into the Wheatsheaf—they both went in there, and the young man stopped outside—that was the first house I saw them at.
MR. DUNN. Q. Was it after or before that that you saw them outside the Ship? A. That was the first—when they came out of the Wheatsheaf they spoke to the young man, and then went to Hickman's.
DAVID COLLIS (Police Sergeant R R 2). On 29th June, about 10.30 at night, Coleman pointed out Emblin to me at the Lord Howick public-house—Powell was then in custody—I took Emblin and charged him with being concerned with others in uttering counterfeit coin—he said it was false—I received this bad florin from Mrs. Slowman, and a florin from Mrs. Chown.
in uttering counterfeit coin—she said "I have not been with any men"—I took her to the station, and afterwards went back to where I arrested her, and found a paper parcel in the gutter containing four half crowns and two florins, all bad.
Cross-examined. Q. What time did you find it? A. Between 4 and 5 o'clock in the morning—I had been on the beat the whole time.
CAROLINE CROCKFORD . I searched Powell, and found 13s., in shillings and sixpences, tied up in the corner of her handkerchief, and 9s. 6d. in shillings and sixpences, in her pocket, and 2s. 7 1/2 d. in bronze—she seemed greatly surprised when I found the 9s. 6d., and said she had no idea she had so much.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . The two first florins are bad—they are of 1869, and from the same mould as those uttered—this parcel contains four half-crowns and two florins, all bad, and of the same date as the first two, but only one is from the same mould.
Emblin's Defence. I was coming up from Gravesend, and this man spoke to me, and said he was the mate of a ship. He asked me to drink, and I did not notice what he changed. When the young woman said the florin was bad, I asked him when we came out if he knew it, and he said "No"—I refused to drink any more with him.
Powell received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DUNN conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM COLE . I am a sergeant of Artillery, employed at the Woolwich canteen, as barman—on 18th June, about 3.30, I served Bird with a quart of stout—he gave me a bad half-crown—I broke it, and asked him where he got it—he mentioned a house in the neighbourhood, and said he got it in change for a half-sovereign—he gave me a good half-crown, and left.
EDMUND BIDDICK . I keep the Walpole Arms, Woolwich, about a quarter of a mile from the canteen—on 18th June, about 4.30, Bird came in—he looked round for a second or two, and asked two soldiers who were there to drink—he called for a pot of half-and-half, which my barmaid drew—he gave her a half crown—she gave it to me, saying that it was bad—I broke it in two with my teeth, and said "This is no good to me"—he said "Is it a bad one?"—I said "It looks very much like it"—I put it on the counter; he put it in his pocket, and gave me a good one—I told my wife to watch which way he went, while I dressed myself—she told me something—I went to the Anglesca Arms, and the Shakespeare Tavern, and the Elephant and Castle, and described him, and also at the police-station.
Bird. Q. I never was in your house? A. You were—I did not suspect you, knowing you to be a betting man, for I never saw you, to my know-ledge, before.
ALBERT JAMES PADGEN . I keep the Shakespeare Tavern, Woolwich—about 5.30 on the afternoon of 18th June I served Bird with twopennyworth of gin and bitters—he tendered a half-crown—I told him it was bad, and asked him for another—he gave me a good one, and I gave him the change—he asked me to return him the bad one; I refused, and said it was
not the first or the second he had passed that day—Biddick had given me information, and his description—he appeared very indignant—I followed him out, and saw Dicks standing within ten yards of the door—Bird walked straight up to him, and they went away together—I followed them about half a mile, to the Crown and Anchor—Dicks stood outside, and Bird went in; but before that Dicks put his hand in his side-pocket, and handed some-thing to Bird—I spoke to a friend, and sent him into the house—I went in, and found Bird in the landlord's custody—I came out, took hold of Dicks, and took him inside—he was not two yards from the door.
Bird. Q. What made you take the half-crown into the parlour? A. I did not—I did not put it on the sideboard—I have no animosity against you about your robbing me of a sovereign—I did not say I knew you as a welsher—Dicks said "Have you ever seen me before," and I said "Yes; I have seen you welshing"—you also stood outside while Dicks went into a general shop.
Dicks. Q. Did you see me between 1867 and 1869? A. I can't say; I never booked it; I have seen you several times welshing with a friend of yours who got twelve months' yesterday—the man who does the purse trick—my wife was in the bar with me—she is too ill to attend.
HENRY EDWARD LANGHAM . I keep the Waterman's Arms, High Street, Woolwich—on Saturday night, 18th June, I met Mr. Padgen on Market Hill, between 5 and 6 o'clock—he pointed out the prisoners to me—I saw Bird counting out of his hand—he gave it to Dicks, who went into Dells, a grocer's shop—I saw him hand something to Mr. Dell, and he got a half-sovereign in change—Bird stood at the door—they both walked down the hill together to Mr. Uttley's, the Crown and Anchor—Bird went into the lower compartment, and I went into the upper and told Mr. Uttley some-thing—he came out and spoke to me—Dicks was standing outside, and I took hold of him six or eight yards from the door Bird went in at—I shoved him in at the door, and he said "What do you want with me, my good gentle-man?"—I said "We will see directly"—I called two or three coal porters to guard the door while we got a detective, and they were given into custody.
Dicks. Q. What do you term a smasher? A. A man that posses bad money—I did not learn that when I had fourteen years at Portland—that is entirely untrue—when you went into Mr. Dells I heard you ask for a half-sovereign for ten shilling's-worth of silver.
THOMAS UTTLEY . I keep the Crown and Anchor, Woolwich—on 18th June, about 6 o'clock, I served Bird with a glass of bitter beer—he gave me a half-crown—I bent it in a nick in the till, told him it was bad, and I should detain him till a policeman came—I saw Dicks standing outside—I gave them into custody with the coin.
Bird. Q. How far is the place where I tendered the coin from the till? A. About six yards—no one handled the coin before it came to me—I was told that there were smashers about, and I must look out—I took you to be a regular swell this time, but the time before I took you to be a theatrical, and I believe you passed a bad florin on me then.
PATRICK DAVIS (Policeman R 238). I took the prisoners—Bird said he did not knowingly utter the money—Dicks said he was entirely ignorant of the whole affair—they walked quietly fifty yards, then Bird assaulted me and Dicks ran away—I took Bird to the station, and found on him 5s. a florin, and 4d., good money—I afterwards received from Mrs. Denton a glove containing three bad half-crowns—the showed me the spot, in her little
boy's presence, where they were found—that was in the direction in which Dicks had run—I received this half-crown (produced) from Mr. Uttley, and this other from Mr. Padgen.
Bird. Q. Was the glove found the same afternoon? A. The same evening.
JOSEPH DENTON . I am seven years old—I live with my mother—I found in the garden in Monk Street some bad money in a piece of whitey-brown paper, and then in an old kid glove—it was on a Saturday, after I had had my tea—I took it to my mother.
Dicks. Q. Do you know whether the policeman came to fetch the money from your mother's house? A. Yes—my mother did not take it to the station—I went out about 5 o'clock—I don't know who put it there—the policeman did not tell me he put it there—I saw nobody run up the street.
MARIA DENTON . I lire at Woolwich—the last witness is my son—he brought me this glove, containing a piece of paper and three bad half-crowns, between 6 and 7 o'clock on the evening of the 18th June—I put them on the mantelpiece till my husband came home—another child went out and Spoke of it, and I afterwards gave it to the policeman—my son pointed out, in my presence and the policeman's, the spot where he picked it up, which was 2ft. from my garden wall.
ROBERT CATER (Policeman A 216). On the night of 18th June, I saw Davis with Bird, in custody—in consequence of information, I went up Hare Street, and saw Dicks running in Clara Place—I chased him into Charles Street, where I apprehended him—he ran past Mrs. Denton's garden, close to the wall—I searched him at the station, and found on him twenty-two shillings, two sixpences, three for penny-pieces, a threepenny-piece, and 6 1/2 d. in copper.
Birds Defence. I have served fifteen years in the Hussars, and have lately taken to book-making. I met this man, who I did not know, and we walked together. I did not know the money was bad.
Dicks' Defence. I am a hawker, and am a teetotaller. This man asked me to have a glass of ale, which I refused, knowing that I should have to pay for a second; so I stopped outside. Do you think it likely that if I had had a lot of bad money I should have stopped close against the door. I ran away because there was a crowd round me. Nobody saw me throw the coins, though it is a public street.
BIRD— GUILTY .
DICKS*— GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment each.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
613. WILLIAM FINCH (25) , Stealing three metal taps, 100 metal nuts, twelve metal knobs, and fifty screws, of John Walker and another, his masters; and CHARLES TUDOR (22), (with JOSEPH GRICE , not in custody), feloniously receiving the same.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution.
DAVID JOHN LEWORN (Detective M). On 21st June, I went to Grice's house, in Walworth—I saw Grice and another man at the door, and went with them into the back parlour, where I found these three metal taps
(produced)—I took Grice into custody next morning, and he was committed for trial—after I had been to Grice's house, I went about 12.30 to Tudor's house, with Knowles, another officer—I took Tudor into custody, and went with him to the Star, in Bear Lane—I saw Finch there, and showed him the taps—I asked him how he came possessed of them, and turned round to a cupboard in which I found twelve iron knobs—when I found them, he said "I bought them of a man in the street, and gave 4s. for them"—he said he should not know the man again—I searched his house, and found a quantity of nuts and screws (produced)—I asked him how he came with them—he said "I brought them home a few at a time"—I asked him where he worked, and he said "Mr. Walker, stove and range makers, in the City."
THOMAS KNOWLES (Detective Inspector). On 22nd June I went to 24, New Street, Lambeth, with the last witness, and saw Tudor—I told him I should take him into custody for dealing in brass taps and other articles supposed to be stolen—he waited a short time and then he said to his wife "I shall not stand to it, I shall toll the truth"—he said "I sold some tape to Mr. Grice"—I asked him if he was aware that they were stolen—he said "I expected they were, from the manner in which my brother-in-law came up to me "(the prisoner Finch is his brother-in-law)—he said he gave 2s. for them and had to pay 2d. for beer—I asked him where his brother-in-law was working—he said "At Walker & McLaren's, Swan Lane, City"—I took him to the station.
JOHN WALKER . I am one of the firm of Archibald Goodwin McLaren and Walker, 2, Old Swan Lane, Thames Street—Finch was in our employ as a stove-fitter until he was taken into custody—I believe these three brass taps, the nuts, and also the screws and knobs are my property—the taps are worth 2s. each, and the knobs 9d., the screws 2s. a dozen, and the nuts about 2s. the gross—there is about 2l. worth altogether—I am not aware that these screws are used by any other firm in London—Finch could get plenty of the nuts and screws, they were at his command, but the taps and knobs were under lock and key, and the key was kept in the clerk's desk—it was the clerk's duty to give them out as they were required—Finch never required the knobs or tape when he was in my employ.
Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate: Finch says" I bought the things of a young man I used to work with." Tudor says "I met Finch, my brother-in-law; he asked me if I was in work; I said 'No.' He asked me to sell some tape he had bought and earn 6d. I took them to Grice's and sold them. I thought they were honestly come by."
FINCH— GUILTY of stealing — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
TUDOR— GUILTY of receiving — Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HANCOCK conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM ANDERSON . I am a doctor of medicine, in partnership with Dr. Hassal, at Richmond—the prisoner was my assistant—I engaged him about the middle of April—he told me he was a member of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh—I have since had reason to believe he was not—his duty was to make up medicines, to receive all the bills and fees that came in during our absence, and to account for them once a week—he was provided with a cash-book for that purpose—very Boon after his
engagement commenced, a sum of 20s. was unaccounted for in his books—about the 23rd May last I received this cheque, for 7l. 10s. 6d., from a Mr. Knight—I handed it over to the prisoner, to be accounted for in the usual way—about the same time I received 3l. in money from a Mr. Crow, which I also handed over to the prisoner, and another sum in money of 5l. 13s. 6d. from a Mr. Smith—those sums were not accounted for in the prisoner's book—I have not received them from him—the next day for settling the accounts was the following Saturday—I do not know that we noticed the omission at the time, but the accounts did not appear in his cash-book—on the 2nd June the prisoner left without notice—I gave information to the police—he was afterwards taken at Liverpool—he never handed over any of the money to me, nor accounted for it—his usual practice was, at the end of the week, to give us the cheques and the cash together, and we paid them into the bank ourselves.
Prisoner. Q. I had received notice to leave, had I not? A. No; both Dr. Hassal and myself had found you were incompetent to fill the situation, and we certainly had told you we should very soon make a change, and we were contemplating that change, but we could not make a change in a large and important business in a moment—we had several times told you you were not equal to the post, and that things were all going to rack and ruin—we had received two applications from assistants before you left—the last one was not engaged—you never saw the man who is now in our employ.
GEORGE HEATH (Police Officer V 113). On Saturday, the 11th June last, I went to Liverpool with a warrant—I found the prisoner at the Central Police Office—I told him he was charged with embezzling a cheque for 7l. 10s. 6d., the property of his late employers—he said he was not aware that he had got it until he arrived at Liverpool—I searched his portmanteau and found the cheque—I brought him back to Richmond—I searched him at the police-station, and found 3d. in silver and 4 1/2 d. in copper.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I did not know I had the cheque; and the money I took I understood to be part of my salary."
DR. ANDERSON (re-examined). He was to be paid monthly, at a salary of 50l. a year—he boarded in the house—he had no leave whatever to draw anything—when we found he was 25s. deficient, we looked it over; we said it was an extraordinary proceeding, and one to which we were quite unaccustomed to, but we did not say anything further.
The Jury being unable to agree were discharged without giving any verdict. The prisoner was subsequently tried again upon the same indictment, and the same evidence was given.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE HEATH (Policeman V 113). I apprehended the prisoner—I found this cheque for 323l.—I brought him back to Richmond Station—on the following Monday, the 13th, while removing him from the petty sessions to the police-station, he stated he did not know what possessed him to fill up those cheques, as he knew Dr. Anderson had no assets at the bank.
DR. WILLIAM ANDERSON . At one time I banked with the Burton and Uttoxeter Bank—I had some blank cheques of that bank—I saw them last shortly before the prisoner left—they were kept in my writing table—the prisoner had access to them—this is a cheque of that bank—it is in the prisoner's handwriting—I received this letter from the prisoner, dated
June 21st—I had not given the prisoner any authority to sign cheques for me at any time—I had no account at this bank at that time—I had trans-ferred my account to the Richmond Bank three years before.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for forging and uttering an order for the payment of the sum of 280l., under circumstances exactly similar to those in the previous case, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; MR. BROMBY defended Hibbell and MR. STRAIGHT Anderson.
JOHN RAMUS . I am a pawnbroker at 55, Charlotte Terrace, Lambeth—about 2 o'clock on Friday morning, 10th June, I heard a noise of something smashing—I went down stairs and disturbed the assistant, who slept in the shop—we made a search but could find nothing—I went to bed again—the boy came to me, and in consequence of what he said I went down and waited at the door till a policeman came—when we opened the inside case we discovered that a hole had been cut in the shutter, and the plate-glass shattered—the goods were all distributed about—I missed about half a dozen knives and two or three meerschaum pipes—anyone could have reached them by putting an arm through the shutter—this is the plan of the panel that was cut (produced)—I was last to bed the night previously and the shop was securely barred then.
GEORGE HARRIS . I am a coffee-shop keeper, of 24, Charlotte Terrace—that is about 60ft. from Mr. Ramus's on the opposite side—about 1 o'clock on Friday morning, 10th June, I was standing at my door—I saw two men go up to Mr. Ramus's shop—they did something and went away—there was another man on the opposite side and he joined them at the comer of Eaton Street—in a minute or two they went back to the shop—I was inside my shop then, looking through the window—they went to the shutters, went away and came back again—I heard a noise like a large crushing of glass, or something of the sort—the two men were at the shop then—I only saw their side-faces—they wore black felt hate, black coats, and the trowsere were something dark, but I could not say what they were—I gave a description to the police, and on Sunday afternoon I went to the police-station and there saw eight or ten men—I picked Hibbell out as one of the men I saw on that morning—on Sunday night I was again called to the station, when I picked Anderson out of about eight men—I said I fancied he was the man, but I could not say for certain—he on had a high hat then, and that made the difference—to my knowledge I had never seen the men before—I do not think I hare any doubt about the two prisoners being the men.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. How long were you watching these men at the shutters? A. About a quarter of an hour—I did not take any particular notice of them until I heard the crash—I said before the Magistrate that I could not say candidly whether Anderson was the other man or not—I did not say at the police-station, pointing to Anderson, "That is not the man"—it was about 1.15 when I heard the crash, as near as I can say—I had no watch.
SAMUEL WATTS (Policeman L 220). On Friday morning, 10th June, I on duty in New Cut—about 1.30 I heard A noise like the falling of a shutter bar—I saw two men run from the shop across the Cut—I ran across the Cut into Marlborough Street, thinking I should meet them by Christ Church Workhouse, but I did not—I spoke to 99l., and pursued my search, but did not find them—I then went to Mr. Ramus's shop and found a hole had been cut in the shutter—I was about fifty or sixty yards from them when they ran away—they were dressed in dark clothes—to the best of my belief, according to the height and dress, the prisoners are the men—I did not know them before.
MATHHIAS SHARPE (Policeman L 99). On Friday morning, 10th June, about 2 o'clock, I was in Pontypool Place, that is about two minutes walk from the prosecutor's—I saw Hibbell, Anderson, and a woman there—the woman said the did not like going through back turnings, and Hibbell said "Come on, this is the nearest way"—I met Watts in Marlborough Street, and then I went across to prosecutor's shop—I have known Anderson for about four months, but I do not recollect seeing Hibbell before—the witness Harris gave me a description of the men—I was in Lower Marsh on Sunday morning, with Bundy—I saw Hibbell there, and took him into custody—I said "I am going to take you into custody for boring a hole in Mr. Rumus's shutter"—he said "You are wrong this time, I am innocent of this charge"—I took him to the station, where he was placed among seven or eight others, and Harris came and picked him out—Hibbell said he was in bed and asleep at the time—I asked him where, and he said "58, York Street, York Road."
Cross-examined by MR. BRINDLEY. Q. Is this New Cut a very frequented neighbourhood? A. Yes, very.
THOMAS PHELAN (Policeman L 63). About 6.30, on the 12th June, I went to the Tower public-house—I saw Sharpe there, and in consequence of what he said I went into the public-house, and told Anderson I wanted to speak to him outside—he came out—there was a man with him named Banks—I told the prisoner he would be charged with boring a hole in Mr. Ramus's shutter on the 10th—he said "Are you getting this up for me?"—I said "No, I am getting nothing up for you"—he said "I slept with that gentleman (pointing to Banks) on the night you mention"—I said "What is his name?"—he said "I do not know his name"—I said "Where did you sleep?"—he said "In the neighbourhood of the St. George's Road"—I have known him about four months.
WILLIAM BUNDY (Detective L 25). On Friday morning, 10th June, at 12.30, I was in Webber Street—I pushed open the door of the Coburg Arms and saw the two prisoners there, in company with a third man—they were drinking together—I was told of the burglary, and I gave a description of the men—on the following Sunday I pointed Hibbell out to Sharpe—had seen them frequently before—I never saw Anderson in any other coat but a black frock—they had black felt hats on, with rather broadish brims—Hibbell was wearing just the same kind of clothes as he is wear-ing now.
Witness for the Defence.
WILLIAM BANKS . I live at 32, St. George's Road, Southwark—I have known Anderson two months or a little longer—I am a scale-maker—Anderson was in my company when taken into custody—I said to the officer "What does this mean?" he said "This man is charged with breaking into a pawnshop in the New Cut." I said "When did this happen?" he said
"On Friday morning between 1 and 2 o'clock. I said "Well, I can clear him of that, for he slept with me on the Thursday night, we were together till 1.30 on the Friday morning," and he said "I cannot go home to-night I must go and get a lodging;" I said "I am sleeping by myself, you can come with me for the night," and he did so—he was in my company up to 9.30—I am positive he never left my company only for a minute or two—my house is about a mile from the prosecutor's.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go into the Coburg Arms? A. No—I first met the prisoner in the Tower public-house—I had never slept with him before—I was the first to tell the constable he had slept with me—32, St. George's Road is a broker's-shop—I know a man named Roche, but I do not know where he is now—I do not know a man named Leonard—I heard Roche had got ten years—I know a man named Hurley, and I believe he is in trouble—I have come up here on my own account, having seen the deposition.
COURT. Q. How did you see the depositions? A. The sister of this man got the depositions and asked me to read them.
MR. BOTTOMLEY. Q. Were you at the Police Court at the time of the examination? A. I was not, neither inside nor out.
COURT. Q. Are you quite certain you were not there? A. I am quite certain.
Witnesses in Reply.
MATTHIAS SHARPE (recalled). I know the last witness well—I was at the examination at the Police Court—he was there—I spoke to him, and he said "What are you going to do with Heunessy," meaning Anderson.
HIBBELL GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
ANDERSON GUILTY *— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
GEORGE POULTER . I am a licensed victualler at Bishop's Waltham—I also deal in hay—in the month of May last I had some hay for sale, and I advertised it in the Hampshire Advertiser and the West Sussex Gasette—I received this letter (produced), written on one of the forms generally made use of by tradesmen, inquiring the price—I replied to that on the 19th May—I received an order to send the hay to Waterloo Station; I found goods were not sent to Waterloo Station, and I replied that they must be sent to Nine Elms—on the 22nd I received a letter directing it to be sent to Nine Elms, and I sent one truck, containing 2 tons, at 5l. 5s. a ton—after that I received another paper, and a draft on the Alliance Bank for 31l. 10s.—it is for two more trucks, and the draft is for the full price of the three trucks; but as I had a cheque returned that morning, in the name of A. Todd, whom I had been serving with hay, I went to London to make inquiries—I went to 64, Sun Street, Bishopsgate, that being the address given me by my correspondent of the name of Quarry—I found what appeared
to me to be a greengrocer's shop—there did not appear to be the business of a hay salesman carried on, and there was not the convenience for it—I made inquiries for Mr. Thomas Quarry—I then went to the Alliance Bank, in the Borough—after I had entered into correspondence with a person named Quarry, I received a communication signed "Todd," requesting to know the price of hay—I answered that, and received this reply (produced), dated May 24th, 1870, and it is on the printed form of "Todd & Co., Long Lane, Borough"—with that letter there was a cheque for 11l.—the hay was sent, as requested, to Wimbledon, in the name of Mr. Todd"—on the next morning I received another letter, to send on another truck to Surbiton Station, in the name of "A. Todd," to "G. Anderson, Esq.," which I sent—I received another order, but in consequence of a cheque being returned that morning, marked "Not sufficient," I did not execute it—I had sent two trucks, but I telegraphed at once to Wimbledon to stop the hay—I at once came to London—this cheque (produced) for 19l. was for the two trucks that were on the line at the time—I went to the Birkbeck Bank and made inquiries there, and also to Baalzephon Street, Long Lane, Borough, where I found a shop with the shutters up; a woman answered the door, but I could not find anybody there—I was induced to part with the hay to Quarry on the understanding that I was to receive money in return.
GEORGE STRUTT (City Policeman 895). On 10th June, I took the prisoner into custody on a warrant, at 64, Sun Street—I told him there was a war-rant out against him for fraudulently obtaining two tons of hay, from Mr. Poulter—he said "All right; I had the hay, and I intended to pay for it"—he did not give me any reason for not paying—he took this shop about three weeks after Christmas, and opened it as a coal shed—I have been on duty there, and have passed perhaps a dozen times a day—I have not seen any hay delivered there, or taken away from there—there is not sufficient room for it—I knew nothing of him before he came there.
Cross-examined. Q. Don't you know that coal merchants sometimes deal in hay? A. They might do—I believe he did say afterwards "I intended to pay for it, but there was a deficiency in weight"—I have seen some small boxes in his shop.
WILLIAM ADAMS . I live at 3, Little Lant Street, Borough, and am a cow keeper—I have known the prisoner by sight for about twelve months past—on 24th or 25th May, he came to my place with another man, and said his friend had got a truck of hay at the Nine Elms Station, and asked if I would go and buy it—I went and saw the hay on the ground, and I bought it at 4l. a load—a load is a little less than a ton—I gave Quarry 1l. 12s. to pay for railway charges, and ultimately I paid them a little over 7l., upwards of 8l.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean to say you paid 8l. or 7l.? A. I paid more than 7l., it was nearly 8l.—I have said that I first of all paid the charges, amounting to 1l. 12s., then I gave him 1l., and afterwards I paid the other man 4l. 8s., making 1l.—I had the hay weighed in the presence of the other man, and I had 1l. 11s. deducted from the 4l. 8s. for deficiency in weight—I paid him market price for the hay.
MR. MOODY. Q. Is that the receipt that you received for 4l. 8s. from the prisoner? A. Yes.
MR. WOOD. Q. Have you known the prisoner as dealing in hay?
A. Yes, I have seen him about at stations—I buy a goodish deal of hay—I have seen him at stations in close proximity to hay.
JOHN DAVIS . I am head porter of the hay department of the South Western Railway—on the 26th May, I received a truck of hay, addressed to Mr. Quarry—next day the last witness, Adams, the prisoner, and another man, came about the hay—Adams took it away.
GEORGE WILLIAM FRYER . I am clerk at the Alliance Bank—we have not a customer of the name of Quarry—we do not allow bills to be made payable at one of our establishments unless they are drawn or accepted by one of our customers—we had received no information at all about a draft payable at fourteen days.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know what the custom of other Banks is in that respect? A. I have understood it is the same as ours—I do not know it as a matter of fact.
JAMES THOMAS . I am clerk at the Wimbledon Station—on the 27th May I received two tons of hay from Batley Station in the name of Todd—application was made for it before it arrived—the same person came again the next morning and paid for the carriage, and the hay was delivered to him—I believe the prisoner to be that person, but I cannot positively swear—on the 31st May I received another consignment of four tons to the same person—the same person came to fetch it, but I had received a telegram to stop it—he asked the reason why it was stopped—I said I did not know and he left the office—this is the order (produced) that he gave to me, and this is the telegram (produced)—to all appearance the prisoner is the same person.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you have much hay about your station? A. We have had lately—the last four months—I saw the prisoners in custody at the Lambeth Police Court.
SAMUEL WESTON . I am clerk at the Birkbeck Deposit Bank, South-ampton Buildings—in January last an account was opened there in the name of "Alfred Todd, of 3, Leigh Street, Burton Crescent"—it was opened with an amount of 4l.—a cheque-book was delivered—several small sums were drawn out, which left a balance of 2s. 3d.—the cheques that have been put in are taken from the book issued to Alfred Todd—I cannot say whether the prisoner opened the account or not—we have had other cheques from that book presented, but we have been obliged to return them.
Cross-examined. Q. Who "A. Todd" is, you cannot say? A. No; we have so many customers—I know the signature of Todd in the book.
COURT. Q. Is that the writing (handing paper) of the person who opened the account? A. No; this is much better writing.
JAMES HAM (Detective-Sergeant P). I have known the prisoner for five years—I have heard him called Todd, and several other names—I have never known him by the name of Quarry—this place in Baalzephon Street was taken but never opened—I do not know by whom it was taken—I have not known him to carry on the business of a hay dealer anywhere, but he has carried on the business of a corn chandler, and also that of a wharfinger with others.
Cross-examined. Q. When do you say you heard him called Todd? A. At Hampton Races—he was serving behind a bar—there were a great num-ber of people there—I heard someone say "Todd, draw me a pot of beer—there were two others behind the bar besides himself.
GEORGE POULTER (recalled). Q. What was it induced you to part with the hay to Quarry, or to the person trading under the name of Quarry? A. I took it from the heading of the bill that he was a genuine man of business.
The Court was of opinion that there was not sufficient evidence to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Juttice Byles.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 15TH AUGUST, 1870.