CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JULY 8TH, 1872.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS & SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE.
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 8th, 1872, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Right Hon. Sir WILLIAM BOVILL , Knt., Lord Chief Justice of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., JOHN CARTER , Esq., Sir BENJAMIN SAMUEL PHILLIPS , Knt., and ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right. Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., Alderman of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
Sir FRANCIS WYATT TRUSCOTT, Knt., Alderman.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
GIBBONS, 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 8th, 1872.
Before Mr. Recorder.
502. HARRY BENSON (24) , to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 1,000l., with intent to defraud, also to unlawfully obtaining the same by false pretences.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
504. WILLIAM GROVES (40) , to stealing whilst employed in the post office, two post letters containing a quantity of postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
505. AGNES EBBS(29) , to stealing nine yards of poplin and othergoods, of Edward Hutchinson, her master. She received a good character.— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
506. WILLIAM RIPON (34) , to stealing a ring of George Henry Thurston, his master, also to unlawfully obtaining 2l. by false pretences.— Six Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
507. JAMES WILCOCK (34) , to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Minter, his wife being alive, and also to feloniously marrying Sarah Ann Kinlock, his wife being alive.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
508. GEORGE RICHARDSON (30) , to stealing fifteen jackets, the property of John Wotherspoon, his master. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. BESLEY and WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, July 8th, 1872.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
510. AMY BOUISON (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for feloniously forging and uttering receipts for the payment of 8l. 4s. 1d., 9l. 2s. 7d. and 3l. 16s. 3d., with intent to defraud.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 9th, 1872.
Before Mr. Recorder.
512. SAMUEL SHELDRAKE (20), was again indicted with THOMAS WALLACE (22), and CHARLES ROWLAND (23) , for unlawfully conspiring together falsely to charge John Moorhouse with feloniously receiving a watch, knowing it to be stolen.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.
SAMUEL ROBARTS FOULSHAM . I am a clerk in the office of the Clerk of the Peace for Middlesex—I produce a certified copy of the record of the acquittal of John Moorhouse, in May, for stealing and receiving a watch, also the original depositions in the case, the recognizance to prosecute, and the bail.
Cross-examined. I have not got the names of the witnesses that were on the back of the bill—I have on the recognizance paper the names of the witnesses for the prosecution, they are Thomas Wallis and Charles Butcher, those are all that are mentioned in the recognizance paper, and all that were bound over—the case against Moorhouse for the watch was prosecuted by the County Solicitor—I think the two Sheldrakes were witnesses, in addition to those returned from the Police Court—I have not got here the record of the trial of Moorhouse, for stealing the cistern in December—it is filed among the records—I have not anything here in that case.
JOHN MOORHOUSE . I live at 18, Whitcomb Street, Leicester Square—I was tried and acquitted on a charge of stealing a cistern, in which a man named Wilson was prosecutor—I don't remember the date—I think it was somewhere about the 15th December last—I afterwards instructed my attorneys to bring an action against Wilson for false imprisonment, that action was pending at the time I was taken into custody on a charge of receiving a watch, knowing it to have been stolen—I know Sheldrake and Rowland—they were on and off in my employment, up to last September—since then Sheldrake has often been at my place in the ordinary way with his brother—on Monday, 7th May, the day before the policeman took me into custody, I saw Sheldrake—he had been in the habit of coming to me to borrow tools, and I have occasionally assisted him—on Wednesday, 8th May, about 8 o'clock in the evening, I was just coming home, entering my door, when I was accosted by the Detective Butcher—we went into the house together—we went straight into the shop parlour—I had a conversation with Butcher, in consequence of which I searched the pockets of the clothes I was wearing, and also the pockets of a coat that was hanging behind the door—during this transaction Mrs. Gowley, my housekeeper, came into the room where Butcher and I were, and in my presence she searched the coat that was hanging behind the door—she took out from that coat a small parcel, wrapped up in dirty paper, which turned out to be a little Geneva watch—that, watch was afterwards identified at the Middlesex Sessions by
the prisoner Wallace as his—I was then and there taken by Butcher to the police-station, on the charge of receiving that watch, knowing it to be stolen—about 10.30 that night, I saw Wallace at the station—next morning an examination took place, and I was remanded—at the second hearing Sheldrake was called into Court—then the trial followed—on Wednesday, 22nd May, when I was at the Sessions House, I saw the two Sheldrakes—I saw them again on Thursday—my trial took place on the Thursday—I heard the evidence of Samuel Sheldrake—it is not true that on 7th May, I went and had a pint of beer with him at Mr. Sewell's; it is true that I went and had a pint of beer with him, but not at Sewell's—it is not true that I asked him to buy a watch, or that I produced a watch and asked 15s. for it, and that it would take half-a-crown to repair; it is not true that he said he would go and see if it was worth anything—I was not in the house with him quite five minutes—he had brought back a tool that he had borrowed—I had never seen the watch until it was produced from my pocket by Mrs. Gowley.
Cross-examined. It is not true that I have been in the habit of buying lead and other stolen property, or that for eight or ten years past I have been receiving stolen goods—I know that Butcher, the detective, has said so—it is not true what he has sworn—it is not true that I have employed thieves in my service, not many of them—I have employed one convicted man of the name of Bottom; he is a respectable man now—I have only employed one thief—I swear that—Bottom is the one—I have had him in my service off and on two or three years—he has been convicted several times—I have got him in my service now—I have employed a person called Griffin as an errand boy—I was not aware that he had been convicted of stealing boots to the value of 200l. at Opie & Humby's, in Pall Mall—I did not know that he had only been out of prison a month when I took him into my service—I never sent Griffin to Mr. Reed's for employment—I gave him a character to a person in Regent Street, a French name; it is some years ago—Erhbroner is the name—I don't know that Griffin robbed him, I know it now—I did not have a sovereign for giving the character of Griffin as an honest man to Erhbroner; that is not true—I did not know Griffin when he was in Mr. Reed's employment, he never was in Mr. Reed's employment—I can't remember whether I sent him to Mr. Reed's to work for me, it is some time ago—Mr. Reed, of Great Pulteney Street, was a customer of mine—he did not at any time complain that one of my men, Griffin, had cut the lead off his premises—I never heard that—the police did not come to me about it—I knew a rag-shop in Norris Street, at the back of the Haymarket; it is not there now—I took the son of that man into my service as a little errand-boy, quite a boy—it is so long ago, I can't remember whether I took him about the time Mr. Reed was complaining to me—I had no intimation given to me that I should have till 8 o'clock at night to put back the lead—I never had a person named Bottomley in my employment—I have gone by the name of John Long for family reasons, which I can tell you—I went down to York at one time—I was away for three or four days to see my father—I dyed my whiskers and hair at that time—I did not go by the name of Long then—I did not go away to York because the police had been to my place—the dyeing of the hair and whiskers had nothing to do with the police—my place has been once searched for stolen property, that was some time ago, two or three years, all that—I was employed by Mr. Wilson to do some work there—I am a plumber and glazier
—Sheldrake was not employed there by me—a man named Ayres was—there was a lead cistern there over the counting-house—I instructed Ayres to cut out the lead—I did not find that Ayres was not a skilful man, and I did not employ some one else to go at 5 o'clock in the morning to cut it out—I did not take Sheldrake at 5 o'clock in the morning and help him with a ladder whilst he cut out the lead of that cistern—I did not tell Sheldrake not to make a mess, either on the roof or on the pavement, because Mr. Wilson's men might see it; besides, the cistern was my own—I did not tell Sheldrake to put zinc there in place of it, it never was put there—I did not sell that cistern for a penny a pound at a shop in Whitcomb Street; I exchanged it for some lead with Mr. Pickersgill, it would not do to sell old lead for a penny a pound in the trade—a man named Scott was my partner at that time—a complaint was made by Mr. Wilson that the water was coming through the roof into the counting-house—I did not say to Wilson, in the presence of Henry Scott, that it was a b—thing of a squint-eyed bricklayer who had been drunk two or three days, who must have stolen the cistern; nothing of the sort; it was not stolen, it was my own property—Wilson did not say in my presence and in Scott's presence, that if ever he found out who had taken the cistern he would prosecute them—I did not say in Scott's presence that I was very sorry, but I could not account for the cistern being gone—I afterwards told Scott that I had taken out the lead according to contract, but not that I had sold it to any party—Scott did not tell me that he had seen the cistern in the marine-store dealer's shop, in Whitcomb Street; he told somebody else, not in my presence—I did not say "Yes, I sold it there"—Scott said "It is a good way of doing business to sell a cistern for a penny a pound when the value would be 3s. 6d. to us," but I told him quite different—he did not say that to me; I had no conversation with him about it; he was about leaving me, and he was vindictive—I did not beg Mr. Scott not to say anything about it to Mr. Wilson—Mr. Scott ceased to be my partner about five or six weeks afterwards, I think, according to my recollection, I can't tell you exactly—it was after that conversation I was prosecuted by Mr. Wilson for stealing the cistern—I recollect Butcher taking me on that charge about the cistern—I said to Butcher "What cistern do you mean?"—we had several of them, three or four—Butcher came and asked me about it; he said he was sent by Mr. Wilson—I should think that was four or five weeks after I had had the cistern cut out; it was in September, I think, that it was cut out—I told Butcher I did not know what cistern he meant, because I had repaired three; as soon as I remembered I told him "Yes, that was in the contract"—I had taken it away by contract and replaced another—I did not tell him that I had never seen it—I was committed for trial for stealing the cistern—I said then that it was under a contract, and I proved it—we took it away and repaired the lead flat on account of the water coming in—it rained tremendously, and of course we had not the means of getting it done; as soon as it was fair, we repaired it—between my committal and my trial, Rowland called at my house; I did not request him to see Sheldrake, and beg him not to come to the trial; I knew too well what Rowland was—Sheldrake did not work at Mr. Wilson's previous to the time the cistern was taken away—I never went with Sheldrake with a ladder to Mr. Wilson's premises, and go up the ladder on to the roof—Sheldrake did not point out to me that the lead over the cistern had been partly cut; he had nothing to do with it—I said Dick, meaning Ayres, did cut it out; I
had no conversation with Sheldrake about it; I never said to him that I wanted it done before 6 o'clock in the morning—I was present when it was removed, and Wilson was there too, at 10 o'clock in the morning, by contract—I never saw Wallace before—I saw him in Court and never spoke to him—the coat that was hanging behind the door I had last worn the night before, out of doors in the street; I think Mrs. Gowley took the watch out of the pocket, according to my recollection; I think she took it out and gave it to Butcher, it is not the fact that she went through several pockets, and after that Butcher went to a particular pocket and produced the watch; I went to several pockets, and could not find it; I did not dream about a watch—Mrs. Gowley felt and found it in a little pocket on the right-hand side; a tail pocket I think—I was represented at Marl borough Street by Mr. Froggatt, the solicitor, on this charge—I heard Mr. Froggatt ask Butcher who gave him information; he was asked some questions, but he did not think proper to answer—I think he was asked if he knew Sheldrake, and he said he did not—I think Sheldrake was then called in by my solicitor—I don't know that Butcher then said that was the man that gave him the information; I did not hear—Sheldrake was not made a witness against me at that time—I think Mr. Knox gave Butcher some little understanding to the effect that he was not to disclose who gave him the information—I was out on bail—I saw Samuel and William Sheldrake at the Middlesex Sessions before the trial came on—I heard they were to be witnesses against me—I heard also that they were going to be witnesses in Mr. Wilson's matter of the action, but no witnesses were required, they were never there, and knew nothing at all about the transaction, not the slightest—I believe William Sheldrake was charged with these persons and all the evidence gone into against him—I heard him swear at the Sessions House that he was at a public-house where the watch was produced.
Re-examined. When I was tried for the cistern, I produced evidence in support of my allegation that it was a matter of contract, to the satisfaction of the Jury—Mr. Scott appeared as a witness against me—at that time we had dissolved partnership—the dyeing my hair and whiskers and going to York had reference to family matters which I could explain in a moment.
MARGARET GOWLEY . I live at 18, Whitcomb Street, and am housekeeper to the prosecutor—I was at home on 8th May—the day before that Sheldrake came to the house and brought back a putty knife that he had borrowed—on 8th May, he came to the house after breakfast, in the forenoon; I think it would be about 11 o'clock—he also came in the afternoon—we had some conversation; he was in-doors, at the centre door, the parlour door; he remained there between half and three-quarters of an hour; he remained just at the door—I did not remain in the room all the time; I was obliged to go up stairs to one of the lodgers just for a minute or two, and I left Sheldrake there, and when I came down again, I found him there, and he remained about ten minutes or so afterwards—Mr. Moorhouse's overcoat was hanging on the door; it was a coat that he sometimes wore over his house-coat—on that day, while Butcher was there, I heard a ring at the bell, and heard Sheldrake's voice asking if Mr. Moorhouse was in—in Butcher's presence, I searched three of the pockets of the great coat; I took the watch out of the coat—I searched the last pocket in consequence of something that Butcher said to me—on a Friday night, about 9 o'clock, about seven weeks before this occurred, I remember Wallace coming to the private door and asking if Mr. Moorhouse wag in—I told him he was not
in; he said he would go down to Nye's public-house and wait there half-an-hour, but he would wait no longer, and to send Mr. Moorhouse down to him—I afterwards went down past Nye's at 11 o'clock, and there saw Charles Bottom and Rowland talking together.
Cross-examined. I was not examined at the trial for receiving the watch—I have been housekeeper to Mr. Moorhouse about three years—I do not know Rowland at all—he had been described to me before I saw him with Bottom; that was how I knew him—Butcher called my attention to the pocket where the watch was found—it was wrapped up in paper—Sheldrake called at our house on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday—on the Wednesday he was standing in the shop, at the centre door of the parlour, in the doorway—I was only absent about a minute or two; when I came back he was standing in the same position—Mr. Moorhouse had not worn the coat that day, he had worn it the night before; I saw him take it off—I did not examine the pockets then—he had worn it out of doors, he was at Chelsea on the Tuesday night—I was at the Middlesex Sessions when he was tried for the watch, but was never called—I was not in Court.
CHARLES LUDBROOK . I was at 11, Norris Street, Haymarket, and am a carpenter, and also keep a lodging-house there for men—I know Rowland and Sheldrake—about six or seven weeks before this came on at the Police Court Sheldrake was at work for me; I should think it was about the end of March—he made a communication to me about a cistern which had been taken away from Mr. Wilson's, in consequence of which I saw Mr. Wilson on the subject—about three or four days after that Wilson came to my house—previously to that I had lost a portmanteau full of clothes, worth about 30l. or 35l.—Wilson made a communication to me relative to my portmanteau—I forget whether he mentioned any one's name—I made an appointment to meet Wilson—I subsequently saw him in company with a man named Gordon—Sheldrake and Rowland were present—Wilson said "Gordon can tell you something about your portmanteau"—I asked Gordon if he could—he said "Yes"—Wilson said "What will you give if Gordon finds your portmanteau?"—I said f did not know what I would give; "What do you want?"—he said he did not want anything; he had known me for some little time, and he thought he could get it—Wilson said "What will you give; will you give him 10l."—I said yes, I would—Gordon said he thought my portmanteau was at Moorhouse's house—at the end of April Rowland came to my place and rang the bell—I answered it—he said "Something must be done for Moorhouse, and it must be done quickly"—I said "What is it?"—he said "Have you anything belonging to the portmanteau that you can swear to that you have lost?"—I said no, I had not—he said "Have you a coat, or anything?"—I said "No, I have nothing at all," and I shut the front door and came out with him; we walked to the end of the street and stood at the corner, and then Mr. Wilson came round the corner—Rowland said "Ludbrook has nothing that he can swear to, nor anything belonging to the portmanteau," and I said no, I had not—Wilson then said "Why, a coat or anything will do hung up; it could be taken away if you left the door open, and put into Moorhouse's house"—I did not quite understand what the meaning was, and I asked Wilson if I was to leave the front door open, and the coat was to be taken out and placed in Moorhouse's house, and that I was to go up to a Court of Justice and swear that I had lost this coat?—Wilson said "Yes, and you will have lost it if it is taken out of your house—I said "No, I will have nothing at
all to do with it whatever"—Rowland and Wilson then went away together and I came in-doors—on the following Monday I had some extra work to do, and on Sunday, 5th May, about 1 o'clock, I went to see if I could find Wilson—I did not find him, but about an hour afterwards he came to my house and had some conversation with me—I was in want of Sheldrake—in consequence of what Wilson said I went to the Crown public-house in Rupert Street, Haymarket, at 9 o'clock, for the purpose of meeting Sheldrake, and I there saw Sheldrake and Rowland standing outside—I asked them what they were doing there—they said they were waiting for Wilson, that he had told them to be there at 9 o'clock—we then went into the public-house—Rowland said that a friend of his had lost a watch in St. James's Square, that he had taken it out of his pocket in St. James's Square to let a policeman see that he had this watch, and said that he was waiting for a young woman who was to meet him there; that then he went away and was gone a little time, and came back and told the policeman that he had lost his watch, and the policeman sent him to Vine Street Station and said he would follow—he said that the guard was cut, and that he knew it was correct, because he had been up to the police-station and heard the report read that morning—I don't r member his saying who had got the watch; he either said that Samuel Sheldrake had got it or would have it, I can't say which; he said he was going to put it into Moorhouse's pocket to-morrow—I then asked Sheldrake whether he could come to work on the morrow; he said he could not, and, turning his head, he said to Rowland "This might take me two or three or four hours to do"—I said "Well, if you have time to come you might come when you have done it," or "You might come to me as soon as you get away," or something of that—he said "I will"—I asked them what made them come over to the public-house—he said because they did not wish the others to know anything about it; he did not mention what others—Rowland said that Butcher, the detective, lid not know anything about it yet—I then bade them good night and left—Sheldrake did not come to work on the Monday or Tuesday—he came to me about 11 o'clock on Wednesday night, and said that the watch was in Moorhouse's pocket; that he had put it there; that he had given information to Butcher; and that Butcher was waiting in the house till Moorhouse came home—he asked me if he might say that he had been at work for me if anything occurred—I said "I don't know, but I shall see you to morrow"—about a week afterwards I saw him again and asked what he was doing, and how he was getting on—he said that he and Rowland were out of the way—he did not say where, but from the conversation I thought he was at his own house; I believe he lives at Clapham—I remember Moorhouse being tried at the Middlesex Sessions for receiving the watch—I was at the Sessions House.
Cross-examined. The portmanteau was lost from my own home, taken out of the house in the day time—Moorhouse was not at work for me, or anywhere near the place that I know of, nor any of his men—I had not employed him; I was at work for myself, I never employed Moorhouse—I employ plumbers sometimes—I have seen Bottom during the trial—I have never had the slightest trace of my portmanteau; it had been brought down from one of the bed-rooms and left in the front hall ready to put on a cab—it belonged to a lodger who was going away—I gave information of the loss immediately at Vine Street, it was some time in the beginning of March last year, or the latter end of February—I never employed Moorhouse—I have known him for the last three or four years, but I don't know that Lever
spoke a dozen words to him—I cannot give the date of the conversation when Gordon was present, I should think it was fifteen or sixteen months after the loss of the portmanteau—I did not see Butcher about the loss—I never saw him till this case; I saw the detectives, Beechey and Pickles, about it on several occasions, they came to my house to see me—it was in May last that I saw Gordon, Sheldrake, and Rowland, I can't remember the date—I knew that Gordon had been a police officer—the conversation with Gordon was some time before Rowland came to me about the portmanteau—no one was present at that conversation with Rowland—Wilson came round the corner, as I thought accidentally, and met us—I mentioned, at Marlborough Street, about the hanging up a coat in the passage—it was not said in the public-house when Wilson was not present—it took place at my front door, and the other part of the conversation was within five or ten minutes—after I had asked Wilson the question I thoroughly understood that the coat was to be put into Moorhouse's possession for the purpose of making a charge against him of receiving the coat—I did not go to Vine Street Station about it, or mention it to any official, I simply said I would not do it—Sheldrake was not in my employment then; I did not take him on afterwards, he had been before—the next interview was on the Sunday, the 5th, at the public-house—Wilson was not there—it was then that Rowland told me about the watch being lost—I mentioned at Marlborough Street that Rowland said his friend was waiting for a young woman—I don't know whether it was put down; I also mentioned about the policeman sending him to Vine Street and saying he would follow, and also about Rowland saying he knew it to be correct, because he had been to the police-station and heard the report read out, and that he said Sam was to put it in the pocket of Moorhouse to-morrow—it was after I heard that that I asked him whether he was coming to work or not—I thoroughly understood he meant putting the watch into Moorhouse's pocket, and I said when he had done that, he might come to me to work; that was what I meant—it was on the Wednesday night that Sheldrake told me the watch was in Moorhouse's pocket, and he had just put it there—I made a mistake when I stated that he did not say who had put it into Moorhouse's pocket; I have remembered it since—when he asked if he might say he was at work for me, I said I would see him to-morrow—I did not go to a policeman after that—I knew on the Thursday night when I came from my work that Moorhouse was in custody—I did not go to the police-station or to the Police Court on the remand, or communicate with any police officer, I simply went to the Middlesex Sessions on the day of the trial, 23rd May—I was there just as the trial came on; I did not listen to it—I made my statement to Mr. Harper the day before I was examined at the Police Court on this charge; that was the first time I had made a statement—I have spoken of Moorhouse as "Old Johnny"—I left the Sessions House before the trial was over; I had made an appointment to do some work and which I was bound, or thought I was bound, not to disappoint—I saw Butcher for the first time in my life at Marlborough Street police-station—I did not offer Rowland money to get Moorhouse put away, or Sheldrake; I had no occasion to do anything of the kind—I did not offer 2l. and a great coat if they could convict Moorhouse about the portmanteau, nothing of the kind.
Re-examined. I knew Moorhouse when I met him—he has brought no action against me—he was known in the neighbourhood as Old Johnny—when Rowland came to my house and rang the bell he made a statement
to me about the coat, and the matter was again discussed in Wilson's presence.
CHARLES EDWIN THOMPSON . I am a short-hand writer and reporter to the press, at the Clerkenwell Sessions—I took notes of the trial of Mr. Moorhouse, on 23rd May, for stealing and receiving a watch—I have here a correct transcript of my notes to the best of my skill and ability, I think it is a verbatim report—(The evidence given by Wallace and Sheldrake was here ready the substance of which was an account by Wallace of the loss of his watch, and by Sheldrake of its being offered to him for sale by Moorhouse for 15s., in a public-house a few days afterwards upon which he gave information to Butcher, the Detective.
RICHARD HACKSTON . I live at 9, Bear Street, Leicester Square, and am a zinc worker—I know Rowland, Sheldrake and Wilson—I have frequently seen them together—I was in a public-house in Newport Market about a fortnight before the trial of this case at the Police Court; it was about the 18th May I think, on a Saturday—I saw Rowland and Wilson go in together—I knew Wilson but not Rowland at that time—I watched them, and about two minutes afterwards I went in and saw Sheldrake standing in the corner—he nudged Wilson, called for a glass of ale, and they went out together; they looked at me—Rowland came back for Sheldrake, and called him, and then he went out—I pass along Cranbourne Street every day, I live close by—Wilson lives there, and carries on business under the name of Grosetti—I have not seen Sheldrake and Rowland in his place, but up the court, at the side, in company with Wilson frequently.
CHARLES BUTCHER (Detective Sergeant C). On 8th May, about 8 o'clock, Sheldrake came to the Vine Street police-station, and asked me if I was Butcher—I said yes—he asked if we had any information about a watch being stolen—I said I did not know, I would see, and I asked him why—he said he knew a man that had got one—I told him to walk on down the court into Piccadilly, and I followed him—I asked him who had got the watch—he asked if I knew Moorhouse—I said yes—he then described the watch to me—he said Moorhouse had one last night, and offered it to him for sale for 15s., in a public-house; and he said "If you go there you will find it"—he asked where he should see me, to know how I got on—I said if he would wait at Cockerell's public-house, next the station, I would see him as I came back—he walked with me to Piccadilly Circus and then left me—I went on to Moorhouse's, and in my presence a silver watch was found in the pocket of a coat hanging behind the door—it was found by Mrs. Gowley—while I was in the passage at Moorhouse's Sheldrake knocked at the door, and I heard him ask if Moorhouse was in—a man named Bottom answered him: "No, you had better call in the morning"—I took Moor-house into custody, and took him to Vine Street, and detained him, and some time after I took him to 31, Little Windmill Street, where Wallace lives—Wallace answered the door—I asked him if there was a person living there of the name of Wallace—he said "Yes, you are Serjeant Butcher, I believe?"—I said "Yes," and told him I had called about a watch that was stolen in Pall Mall, on Saturday night last—he said "I am Wallace, it was me; have you heard anything about it?"—I said "Yes, I have it at the station, I believe it is that, and a man in custody with it; I want you to come down to the station to charge him if it is your watch"—he said "I cannot come just now, I have nobody to leave in the room up stairs, I will come at 10.30, I cannot come earlier"—I said if you cannot come earlier
that must do"—I then left, and met him at the station at 10.30—Moorhouse was then charged, and Wallace signed the sheet—the watch was produced—he was asked if that was his watch, and he said yes—Sergeant McGillicuddy, who was the inspector in charge, held out the watch in his hand, and said "Is that your watch?" and the moment, before the words were out of his mouth, Wallace said "Yes, that is my watch"—next morning, as I was on my way from where I live to Vine Street, I met Sheldrake at the corner of Grafton Street, Bond Street—he said "Well, how did you get on last night, did you get Old Johnny?"—I said "Yes, and the watch too"—he said "I told you would, I was sure it was there"—he asked where I found it—I said it was found in a coat hanging behind the door—I then left him, and went to Marlborough Street—Moorhouse was remanded for a week—on the remand, on 16th May, I saw Sheldrake, and his brother William, and Wallace, at Marlborough Street—it is not true that Wallace pointed out the two Sheldrakes to me, saying "There are two young men who know something about the watch;" nothing of the kind—I had no conversation at all with Sheldrake at Marlborough Street—it was upon Sheldrake's information given to me at the Vine Street Station, that I went and took Moorhouse into custody—Wallace did not tell me that the Sheldrakes were coming to the Sessions—I saw all three defendants at the Middlesex Sessions on Monday, 20th May—I went before the Grand Jury on the Tuesday, and a true bill was returned that day—the two Sheldrakes and Wallace were in company together on the Tuesday—the case was fixed for trial on the Wednesday, but was tried on the Thursday—I saw all the three defendants there on Wednesday, in company together—on the Thursday, shortly after 10 o'clock, just before the case was called on, Sheldrake said to me "My brother and me are come down to speak what we know about the watch"—I said "Are you going to give evidence?"—he said "Yes"—I then took him to Mr. Sawyer, the clerk to the County Solicitor, to take his deposition—it was a prosecution by the county—I left him with Mr. Sawyer, and went up stairs into the Court—while Wallace was being examined I and the two Sheldrakes were on the balcony, outside the Court, and Samuel Sheldrake said to me "What about if I am asked who gave you the information, must I say or not?"—I said "Please yourself," and turned away from him, and never spoke any more—he said "Then I shall deny it"—I was subsequently called into Court, and in the prisoner's presence asked from whom I received the information—I had known Rowland many years, ten years at least, but never spoke to him—I had not known Wallis or Sheldrake.
Cross-examined. I have known Moorhouse eight or ten years, and have seen him constantly—I had charge of the cistern case against him; he was acquitted on that at the Sessions—Scott, who had been his partner, was a witness, and a man named Ayres—I was examined in the presence of Moor-house with regard to what I knew of him—I did not take the information with regard to the robbery of the watch; it was Sergeant Sheldon—I am not aware that Sheldrake has at any time been at the Vine Street Station to read the report of the loss—I should think he had not, but I don't know—it was on the Wednesday evening that I first saw him with reference to the watch, at the Vine Street Station—he said nothing about his brother then—he said that the watch had been offered to him the night before in a public-house by Moorhouse for 15s.—I went at once to Moorhouse's house—Moorhouse himself first took out some articles from
the coat, a pair of gloves, and an envelope, then the housekeeper turned out some, and I said "There is another you have not turned out," that was the right one outside, and she put her hand in and pulled the watch out, and put it on the table, it was wrapped up in this piece of newspaper—it was in consequence of my noticing that she had not searched that pocket, that she took out the watch—a warrant was granted by Mr. Knox for the apprehension of Wilson—I have looked for him from that time to this, but have not been able to find him—he is a linen draper, and keeps a French bedding warehouse—at the Police Court he was represented by a solicitor, watching the case for him; that solicitor is here now sitting at the table, Mr. Venn—Mr. Rickett's clerk is here, and has been here the whole day—I saw him at the Police Court on behalf of the defendants—this is the watch (produced)—Sheldrake was not to my knowledge in Court the next morning before Mr. Knox; he was not called into Court then; it was on the remand—I had not been to Sheldrake in the interval—on the remand he was brought into Court, and confronted with me by Moorhouse's solicitor—I did not refuse to say whether he was the man who had given me the information—I was not asked then; I was on the previous case, on the day he was charged first—I was asked who gave me the information, and I refused to answer—on the remand, I was asked if I knew him, and I said I did—I was not then asked whether he was the man who gave me the information; no such question was put to me—I did not call him as a witness, because it is unusual when a man volunteers to give information; but the moment I knew he was going to give evidence, I took him at once to the solicitor—I believed what he said to be true—when I saw Sheldrake after I had taken Moorhouse into custody, he did not ask me where I had found the watch; he asked me if I had found it, and I said it was found in the coat behind the door—I don't think he asked me where I had found it—he did not tell me that his brother was present when the watch was offered for sale; he did not say a word about his brother—I did not take his address at that time, because I had an appointment with him for that night, and I thought I should get the address then—I was examined before Mr. Knox and at the Sessions House—I did not say a word about the mode in which Wallace identified the watch, till I was cross-examined by Mr. Ricketts on this charge; I did not think anything of it; it was nothing unusual—the case of the watch was shown in the open hand of the sergeant; Wallace was some two yards away, and he said at once "That is my watch;" of course I was satisfied upon that point, because I knew that the number of the watch corresponded with that in our felony book—I had the number before I went to Moorhouse's—I have not seen Sheldrake since this case was commenced against him; not since he left Marlborough Street—I saw him at the Police Court—I was there the night he was taken into custody—I did not tell him if he would assist Mr. Moorhouse, he would get no punishment—I have not sent any such message by any person connected with him, or made any such offer—when he asked me whether if he was asked who gave me the information, he was to admit it was him, I did not say "Of course you are to tell the truth;" I had a reason for that, because I knew it was alleged to be a conspiracy, and I thought I would not advise him, but let him do as he liked—when he said he should deny it, I did not say that would be untrue—I did not after that decline to say who gave me the information; I said I would willingly give it, if the Court ordered me—it would be very unfair to
the informer I think if that was to be done—I did not demur or object; I only appealed to the Court whether I was to give it—I mentioned Mr. Knox's name, because at the first examination, when I was asked by Mr. Froggatt who gave me the information, Mr. Knox told me not to answer the question—I told that to the Judge at the Middlesex Sessions, as a reason for not giving the name, and I have been told so by Judges and Magistrates many times—I told Mr. Sleigh, before Sheldrake gave his evidence, what he had said to me, and I said "He will deny it."
Re-examined. After I told Mr. Sleigh, he withdrew from the prosecution against Moorhouse—the number of the watch was given by Wallace at the station, but I believe not at the same time as the loss—it was entered in red ink in the book—when asked who gave me the information, I appealed to the Judge, and said, "My lord, ought I to give the name of this person or not?"—I think he said, "You ought in this case," and I did—in cases of felony we sometimes get our information from persons connected with robberies—I don't always give the source from which I derive information; it would be very serious, I think, if I did.
MR. BESLEY. Q. When you called on Wallace did you tell him that an elderly man was taken for receiving the watch? A. No; I told him I had got a man in custody for receiving it, and the watch too.
PHILIP SHRIVES (Detective Officer C). I have known Sheldrake four or five years, and Rowland seven or eight—I have seen them together many times—on the evening of 8th May, about 7.30, I saw them standing at the corner of Swallow Street and Vine Street—I went into the station for a few minutes, and when I came to the corner Rowland had disappeared—I was there for the purpose of seeing Butcher—I did not see him then; I saw him about 8 o'clock at the station—I remained there a short time, and when I came away I saw Sheldrake standing on the steps of the station.
ARTHUR GRAHAM SAWYER . I am a clerk to Messrs. Allen and Son, the County Solicitors—I produce a writing taken down from the mouth of Sheldrake, partly by Mr. Froggatt and partly by myself, in the presence of Inspector Hambling and Superintendent Dunlap—it was signed by Sheldrake in the presence of Inspector Hambling—I went in consequence of a message sent to me through Mr. Froggatt.
Cross-examined. I was not aware at that time that Sheldrake was represented by a solicitor at the Police Court—it was on the day of the first remand that I was sent for; Mr. Froggatt, I think, informed me—I knew that he was Moorhouse's solicitor in that defence—I did not know until I got into Court that Sheldrake had any legal advice; I did not know that he was represented by Mr. Ricketts—I saw Sheldrake in the visitors' room, I think they call it—the first portion of this was taken in the handwriting of Mr. Froggatt—I was a little late; the remainder was taken by me—the whole of it was read over to him, and he signed it—I know nothing of any communication being made to him that he would be let off from punishment if he made a statement; nothing of the sort; in fact, I put at the bottom that he had no hope or promise at all.
The statement was put in and read as follows:—"I worked for Ludbrooke. He asked me many times about his portmanteau that he had lost. He said, 'I wish you knew as much about my portmanteau as you do about Wilson's lead cistern job.' He was often telling me why I did not go up and speak the truth. I said I did not like to. I had not been in a Police Court, and I did not like to. I said if it came to a push I'll tell Mr.
Wilson. I was at work with Mr. L. one day, and he said he'd got a job to do in the evening, would I help him and stop to tea. I finished the job. Mr. L. went out, and came back and asked me to go and have a drop of beer in at Clark's public-house, St. Alban's Place, where Mr. Wilson came into afterwards. He spoke to me, and I told him all about when I cut out the lead cistern. Mr. Wilson said to me that he had got a young man to introduce to me who had been in the employ of Mr. Moorhouse. That was Rowlands. From that time up to the proceedings connected with the watch case we were often together. When I was at work for Mr. L., Rowlands used to come and call me away often, and one afternoon said: 'I've bought a watch; this (showing me the watch) is going to be put into Moorhouse's pocket. I bought it of a young chap that sells coins. It will be a proper thing to have Johnny, as he's trying to get you into prison.' Two days after that he came and called me away from work, and showed me the man he had bought it of, and showed me a bad shilling he had in his pocket, and wanted some bad money to put in as well. He said, 'I am going to pay this young chap to put it in.' I was playing at bagatelle at Barnell's public-house, and he came and told me I must go and give information to Mr. Butcher that the watch was in Mr. Moorhouse's pocket, or else he'd give us five years. I've been in company with Rowlands and Wilson several times in connection with this matter. He (Wilson) told Rowlands in my presence that he would give Rowlands 30l. if the case against Moorhouse came off. The same night I gave information to Mr. Butcher, and he (Rowlands) said, 'Something must be done for Bottom; you go down there (to Moorhouse's) and try and get him (Bottom) into Saint James' Square,' and showed me a key and said, 'Look, this is what will do it; we can do it with this.' I said, 'I won't have anything to do with it; you can do as you like about it.' Rowlands asked me one day to ask Ludbrooke if he had a coat to put into Johnny's (meaning Moorhouse's), and I said no, I wouldn't. Rowlands gave me the watch, and said, 'Show it to your brother,' and I was to show it to my brother and tell him that Moorhouse had offered it to me for 15s. I showed it to my brother in Sewell's public-house; the same day I saw Moorhouse, and had beer with him. I gave the watch back to Rowlands, who was waiting at Surrage's public-house. Moorhouse never had the watch. I did not put the watch into Moorhouse's pocket; it was put there by the man of whom Rowlands stated to me he had bought the watch. My brother knew no more of it than that I did show him the watch as directed by Rowlands. I make this statement without any hope or inducement being held out to me to do so by any one S. SHELDRAKE. Witnessed, Hy. Hambling, Insp. C Division, 14th June, 1872, at Police Court, Marlborough Street."
HENRY SHELDON (Police Sergeant C 26). I was at the police-station at Vine Street on 4th May, when Wallace came and made a complaint of being robbed of his watch—he gave me a description which is in the book that I produce, the number was given the following day to another sergeant who was on duty.
Cross-examined. Wallace told me he could get the number—he stated that as he was standing in the street two persons came up one after the other and asked him the way, going in different directions—he said the watch was severed from a common black chain, and he showed me a portion of it—he did not say where he got the watch from—the name of Brown was not mentioned to me—I took his address and statement in the usual way,
and after I entered the report, I found that some one had entered the number of the watch.
HENRY HAMBLING (Police Inspector C). I took the prisoners on a warrant—Rowland said "Yes"—Wallace said "It is quite right, the watch was stolen," Sheldrake made no remark—while they were in prison Sheldrake made a communication to me—he said he wished to see Mr. Froggatt, to make a statement—in consequence of that I communicated with Mr. Froggatt.
Cross-examined. When I took Wallace I told him the charge would be for conspiring with reference to the watch—I read the substance of the warrant, and then it was he said it was quite right, the watch was stolen—he did not say that he had been no party to anything wrong in the matter—I copied his words down at the time.
JAMES MCGILLICUDDY (Police Sergeant C 6). I was at the station when the charge was taken—I went into the room and asked Wallace if that was his watch, I stood about three yards away from him and had the watch in my hand—I said "Come and see if that is your watch"—he said "Yes, I know it is;" that was immediately, before it was possible for him to tell whether it was his own watch or any other person's; he could tell it was a watch and that was all—he afterwards looked at it and said it was his.
Cross-examined. I was examined at the Police Court, not at the Sessions—the watch rested in the palm of my hand within three or four yards of the man, or it might perhaps be more—I would not swear it was not only six feet from him—it is a double-cased watch—it rested in my hand—I did not hold it by the bow.
THE RECORDER was of opinion that with the exception of Sheldrake's statement there was no evidence against Wallace.
WALLACE— NOT GUILTY .
SHELDRAKE— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ROWLAND— GUILTY †— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July 9th, 1872.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
513. DANIEL JOHNSON (47) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Sarah Lamplough, his wife being alive. The prosecutrix stated that she was aware that the prisoner's wife was living at the time of the marriage.— One Days' Imprisonment.
514. URSULA KELLY (26) , to stealing one mantle and other goods of Charles Grey, her master, also a 10l. Bank-note, a watch and other articles of William Chidsey Lee, her master, after a previous conviction at Marlborough Street, in March, 1871, in the name of Ursula Russell.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
515. JOHN THOMAS SLOWSON (23) , to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 8l. 18s. 3d., also a receipt for 11l. 11s. also a receipt for 16l. 5s. 6d.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
517. GEORGE BESLEY (48) , to feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 2l. 15s., with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor. — Three Months' Imprisonment.
519. HENRY LORTON CUSACK SCOTSON (21) , to unlawfully obtaining 12l. 10s. of Thomas Cobb, by false pretences, also to three indictments for feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of 21l. 16s., 10l. and 5l. 13s. 5d., with intent to defraud.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN ATKINSON . I am captain of the ship Ruby lying in the West India Dock—the prisoner was the carpenter on board—on Friday night, 5th July, I left the ship in charge of the prisoner and the boy Innes—I had nine 5l. notes and eleven sovereigns in a tin cash-box in a drawer in my state room—I had seen them safe that afternoon when I took out three sovereigns—I returned to the vessel on Sunday night about 12 o'clock, and missed ten sovereigns from my cash-box—I was led to go there seeing that the prisoner was rather intoxicated, and that he had money—I searched all his pockets and took 17s. 6d. from him—on the Saturday previous he said that he had no money, and asked me to give him a little, to get some tobacco, and I gave him 6d.—I left the state room door locked, and when I returned it was locked, but I found a bunch of old keys on board, one of which I found, unfortunately, fitted my state room door, which I was not aware of—no one had charge of the bunch, it was lying in the cabin—I asked the prisoner where he got all the money from—he said that he had no money—I said "You have"—he said "Ask the boy where I got it from; I got it from the boy"—I said that I would call a policeman—he made a rush on deck and went down to the forecastle—I heard his chest-lid go down with a bang—I went down and insisted on his coming out of the forecastle—I did my best to put him on deck—an officer came and searched the forecastle, but found nothing, as it was dark—we secured the forecastle, and found next morning that it had not been disturbed—I was just at the top of the ladder when the officer found the money—when we were searching the prisoner's chest, he said "You need not look there; you will find no money"—after searching the forecastle the policeman showed me six sovereigns and a half-sovereign.
Prisoner. Q. You sent me for 6d. worth of whiskey, and when I came back you accused me? A. Yes; I have not been four days beastly drunk.
CHARLES SORTWELL . I am a constable of the West India Docks—on Sunday night, 7th July, Captain Atkinson called me on board the Ruby and gave the prisoner in custody for robbing him of ten sovereigns during his absence—I searched him and satisfied myself that he had no money about him—I left him in charge of a watchman while I searched the forecastle, but found nothing—the captain secured the entry, and next morning I searched again and found six sovereigns and one half-sovereign in paper in the funnel of an old stove.
EDWIN ELLIS . I am barman at the Jamaica Tavern, West India Dock Road—on Sunday night, 7th July, between 5 and 6 o'clock, the prisoner and two other men came there and had 2d. worth of gin apiece—I saw the prisoner take two or three sovereigns from his waistcoat pocket.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I have not taken the money—I left the vessel all the afternoon—I call the boy."
Prisoner's Defence. I will call the boy—he never left the ship all day.
WILLIAM INNES . I was on board the Ruby in the West India Docks on Sunday, 7th July, I was with the prisoner all the time—he left the ship on Friday night, and he was ashore on Sunday night—when we were both on board, he was sometimes on board and I on deck—I was not in his presence all the time—I slept ashore—I went ashore with him—I have said that he went ashore, and came back in liquor, and I afterwards said "I went ashore by myself;" that was on Sunday night—he went ashore about
5.30, and did not come back—it was on Sunday morning that he came back in liquor—I slept ashore both nights—on Saturday night we both slept together ashore; on Friday night we slept on board, and he showed me the place where the drunken man was lying, and said "Look, and perhaps you will find something," and I looked and found a half sovereign, and he said "You must give me 5s. of that," and I changed it and did so.
Cross-examined by MR. LANGFORD. Q. Where did the prisoner keep his box? A. In the forecastle—Captain Atkinson was beastly drunk for four days that week—I saw him lying down—the prisoner was not in liquor on Friday; he was on Sunday morning—I slept with him on Saturday night, and he paid for it—I did not see what money he had—I came ashore on Sunday—he was in liquor when he came on board on Sunday—I did not break into this cabin—I did not know that there was a bunch of keys, one of which opened the state room.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.
JAMES SHERGOOD . I live at 4, Frederick Place, Fulham—the prisoner was married to my daughter Ann on 10th November, 1865; she is alive and in Court—I did not go to the church—he lived with her six weeks, next door to me—a year after that she came to my house, and I have kept her ever since.
Cross-examined. After living next door six weeks, they removed to Poplar, and lived together there about four months, and then she returned to me, and lived with him no more; that was in June, 1866.
COURT. Q. Did you ever see him? A. On several occasions—my daughter was confined with a dead child—the medical man attended her six weeks, and charged me 2l. 2s.—I asked the prisoner to come and see his dying wife—he refused to do so, and the foreman said "If you do not go and see your dying wife, you shall be no more servant here"—he went with me as far as London Bridge, and then went the other way—he did come at 12 o'clock at night with his mother, but he never paid anything—I never asked him for an explanation why his wife was not living with him—I know of no reproach on her conduct at all; she has always been a good girl, and she lives with me now—the prisoner's age is twenty or twenty-one.
Prisoner. She was three years older than me.
WILLIAM MEALING . I am a cabman, of 33, Park Road, Battersea—I know the prisoner and knew his wife, she is now in Court—I was present at their marriage six years ago at St. Peter's Church, Hammersmith—he looked about twenty then.
JANE WILLIAMS . I live at 6, Golden Lane, St. Luke's—on 17th March, I was married to the prisoner at St. Peter's Church, Stepney—I lived with him two months and a fortnight—I understood from him that he had been married, but he told me he had obtained a divorce—he afterwards gave me to understand that I was not married to him, when we had a quarrel—I did not live with him after that; I only returned to fetch my clothes when I went to service.
Cross-examined. I have heard that his first wife has been living with another man for years, but I do not know it—I have not a very good feeling
towards him since he ill-treated me—I did say that I would hunt him down—I wished to part friends with him, and he refused to shake hands with me, and that annoyed me—this piece of a letter is my writing—(Read: "George Langston. You refused to shake hands with me this morning, if you had done so you would have saved yourself, but now the next act of mine will be to seek out Anna Shergood, and together we will hunt you down. I ought to say Mrs. Anna Langston, ought I not? I do not mind this half so much as if I were your legal wife; believe me I shall not break my heart. I wonder what Mrs. Pearce will say when I tell her that I am not your wife; it will be quite a romance for her, will it not, dear? I can't resist the pleasure of telling—")—that is quite correct, but I wrote more than that—this other piece of a letter is also mine—(Read: Mrs. Langston I have sent the only thing belonging to George that I have in my possession. I rather expect the old darling is losing his memory, or else he would recollect that he took them out of the drawer and put them in his box. I saw Lucy on Sunday, and was overjoyed to find that George had quite forgiven me, but unfortunately his forgiveness comes too late; he should have forgiven me when I ate humble pie to ask him. Had you come the other day I would have spared him, now he must take his chance as well as me, for I have still to suffer for it, and in a way that ought to make George forgive if nothing else would, &c.")—I also wrote this post-card—(Read: "If Mrs. Williams wishes to save her son a little, she can do so by seeing Jane Williams at Aldersgate Station on Sunday, at 6 o'clock in the evening, and if you are not there I shall prosecute him to the extent of the law, and it is not all out yet Save him for your own sake, if not for his. Come alone, and I shall not say a word.")—that was a very good joke.
JAMES MANBY (Detective Officer T). I took the prisoner at Poplar, and told him the charge was marrying Jane Williams, having a wife alive—he turned to the second wife and said "You are doing something for me, ain't you"—I took him to the station.
GUILTY —He received a good character— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES FLIGHT . I am under waiter at Mouflet's Hotel, Newgate Street—on 8th June, about 11.30 p.m., I was called to turn the prisoner out—a man named Wallace assisted me—I got the prisoner to the door, but could not get him any further, he came back three times—he was drunk—I eventually got him out, with Wallace's assistance—he then turned round, took Wallace by the hips, put his head down, threw Wallace over his head, and ran away—I ran after him, and caught him, and he was given in custody—Wallace's head was cut open, and he was smothered in blood, he was lying on the ground insensible.
JAMES WALLACE . On 8th June I was a porter at Mouflet's Hotel, and was called about 11.15 to turn the prisoner out of the bar—I got him outside and was about turning to go in, when he took me by the hips and threw me over his shoulder—I fell on my head and became insensible—I was taken to the hospital and am still there, I am very weak and ill now—I was not in the best health before this, but I had nothing the matter with my head—I lost my watch in the fall.
lacerated out over the right eye—he was bleeding, but sensible—I attended him till the following Thursday, after which Mr. Irving attended him—being thrown over a man's head would cause the wound.
CHARLES IRVING . I am a house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's—I took the prosecutor under my care from the 15th, and am still attending him—he is very ill and weak, which I attribute to loss of blood, and it will be some time before he is well.
Prisoner's Defence.—I do not recollect anything about it.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
DANIEL MORGAN (Detective Officer T). I received instructions and took the prisoner on 4th June—I told her that the charge was marrying a man named Lloyd, her first husband being alive, and asked her whether her name was Margaret Dudley; she said "Yes, but my name is now Murphy, I have not seen my husband for the last twelve years, and I do not know and do not care where he is"—on the way to the station she said "I am very sorry for what I have done"—when the charge was read over to her she said "I have heard that my first husband, Murphy, was married about six years ago to a woman, and that they went to America; I am very sorry for what I have done."
JAMES LLOYD . I live at 2, Kensington Buildings, Earl's Court, and am a chimney-sweep—I now know Daniel Murphy, he is a coachman—on 1st July, 1871, I married the prisoner as Margaret Dudley, spinster—this is the certificate (produced)—I did not know that she was a married woman—I saw Murphy last Sunday week, he lives at Twickenham—the prisoner has not been with me when I have seen him—I also produce a certificate of the marriage of Daniel Murphy from Somerset House—I compared it with the register there, it is correct—the prisoner said, when I produced it, "That is all right"—she did not read it, she cannot read—the inspector read it to her—she lived with me about five months; I then challenged her with having been married before, and she said that I had got to find out—I did find out, and she said that she had not seen her husband for twelve years.
CHRISTOPHER DUDLEY . I live at 5, Park Mews, Notting Hill—the prisoner is my sister—I was at Bristol in 1850 or 1851, and saw her living there with a man named Murphy—I know that she was living with Murphy at Twickenham in 1860, and I never saw him after that; she went down to bury her mother, at Bristol, and when she came back he led her a dreadful life, and she was obliged to leave him, and has been maintaining herself in London as a cook.
Prisoner's Defence. I am very sorry for what I have done, but I never saw Murphy from the time I left him, and never went to seek him—the last I heard was that he was married and gone to America.
COURT to J. LLOYD. Q. Did she state what she was, to you? A. She told me her husband had been a great brute to her—that was when we quarrelled, after she had a little drink—I am sure I know Murphy, I saw him only a month ago—I know he is the right man, because he told me he was very glad that somebody had taken her—I never knew him till I began to look out for the prisoner's husband—his age is about 45.
COURT to CHRISTOPHER DUDLEY: Q. Have you seen Murphy lately? A. Not since 1860.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. M. WILLIAMS and MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD DANIELS . I am a foreman in the employ of the Great Western Railway, at Smithfield—on 2nd July, about 3.40, I was walking down the yard, between the trucks at the goods station, under Smithfield Market, and saw the prisoner pulling some parcels about on the platform—I watched him for a minute or two, and then went on with some tools which I had and placed them in the lobby—I returned in a minute or two and the prisoner was still there; I saw him pick up the parcel and throw it under the trucks at the platform, then he got down under the waggons, caught hold of it, drew it 40 or 50 ft., and placed it under the platform—I told Rutherford.
Prisoner. Q. How many trucks are there loaded, between the place where I brought it from and the wharf? A. Two trucks, 24 ft. long—I will swear that the place where Rutherford caught you with the parcel was not the proper place for its transit—it was a Reading truck, I believe, which was loading at that place—I do not know where the parcel was for—the dock is 14 or 15 ft. wide or more.
ROBERT NATHANIEL RUTHERFORD (G. W. R. Detective). On 2nd July, Daniels made a communication to mo, and I went underground at the station—the prisoner has been a police-constable there a very short time, but he was a porter before—I saw him come in at the Farringdon Street end of the station, and go on the line opposite to where the parcel was concealed—he stooped two or three times against the platform and then went on his duty, and I concealed myself under the platform where I could see the parcel lying, and in about half an hour he came and took the parcel, brought it up to the light as near as he could without being detected, put his hand in his pocket and brought out what I supposed to be a packing-needle and some twine, and commenced sewing the parcel up—he left it lying very handy so that he could take it up again—he was going to lift it on to the platform, and as he was doing so I jumped out and took him, and the parcel too—I took him to the station and charged him—I returned to the place and was groping about to find the needle, and found these two pieces of muslin concealed under the platform.
Prisoner. Q. When Daniels came to you, did you go to see if the parcel was there? A. Yes; and it was open at one end—I could have touched you with my foot, but I did not take you because I was going to see what you were going to do with it—that was not the proper place for it—it should have been on the platform—it was 40 or 50 ft. from its proper place—I could only see 5 or 6 yds. under the bank, because it was so dark—it was your duty to be all over the station, and if you saw a package lying down to pick it up—it was sewn up when I arrested you.
ROBERT BULL (Police Sergeant G. W. R). The prisoner came to the station on probation in June, and he was appointed a constable on 2nd July—he was brought to me on that day by Rutherford, and I told him I should charge him with stealing the truss—he said, "I shall have nothing to say until I see Rutherford's report in writing."
Prisoner. Q. At what time did Rutherford bring me to you? A. About
5 o'clock—the parcel was sewn up but it was very loose, and I thought it looked very strange sewing—I cannot say whether this is the same thread which is used in the warehouse.
ROBERT CARTHOYES . I am a packer in the employ of Pawson & Co., of St. Paul's Churchyard—I packed this parcel (produced)—it has been opened and a quantity of muslin abstracted—I put six pieces of goods of this class in it, and there are only four now—I cannot say whether it contained these goods produced.
Prisoner. Q. Look at this thread and say if that is not the same which is used in your warehouse? A. It may be—I will not swear that these two pieces of muslin belonged to this packet.
JAMES SPENCER . I am a porter in the employ of the Great Western Railway—I received a parcel from Cross and put it outside the Reading truck on the platform—it was in sound condition when I left it—it must have been wilfully thrown off the bank, it could not have fallen off.
Prisoner. Q. What makes you swear that? A. I left it with other goods which were 5 or 6 ft. from the bank—there were not so many goods there, that there was no room for your foot.
HENRY ARMS . I am superintendent of the Smithfield goods station—it was no part of the prisoner's duty to repair any parcel which came open—proper officers are appointed for that duty—if the prisoner found an open parcel, it was his duty to take it to the superintendent of the platform; it was no part of his duty to repair it—he entered the service on 9th May, as porter, and at his own request, he was transferred and made a policeman—on 19th June, he was appointed by me, subject to confirmation, and on the day of this robbery his appointment had been confirmed in the morning—all I know of him is from his written testimonials.
Prisoner. Q. Was it not my duty, if I saw a parcel broken, to count the contents? A. Yes, and to make a report to Mr. Groves, the superintendent of the platform, not to take the repair into your own hands.
FRANCIS BURDETT NORBURY . I am warehouseman to Pawson & Co., of St. Paul's Churchyard—I identify this parcel as having been there, and these two pieces of muslin as having been in it—I tied them together, and sent them to the packer.
WILLIAM ROWLAND (City Detective). The prisoner was given into my custody at Smithfield station—as he stood in the dock he said "This is a trumped-up case, I don't know nothing about it; I merely kicked it with my foot, and jumped down to pick it up, and as I was about to put it on the bank, I was collared."
Prisoner's Defence. It was my duty, when I saw the parcel lying there to pick it up, and put it in its proper place—I distinctly deny that I ever mended it.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY FLAWS . I am a gold-lace maker, of 48, Brewer Street, Golden Square—about 3.15 on the morning of 19th June, I heard a noise in my back shop, and found a quantity of coats, trousers, and boots lying on the floor—I went into the shop, saw the prisoner, and said "Halloa! what are you doing here? drop that bundle"—he had a bundle containing a lot of my clothes—he made no answer—I said "I will have you"—he turned round, looked me full in the face, and jumped through the ground glass fan-light like a Harlequin, saying, "No you won't"—I informed the police, and saw him at the station a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes afterwards, with two of my coats on—he must have dressed himself in them just outside my bedroom door, as two coats and a waistcoat were left there which were not mine—I had fastened up the place, and seen the things safe between 9 and 10 o'clock the night before—the sky-light was shut down, but not bolted—the entrance was obtained by the sky-light, as none of the doors were broken—my house is in the parish of St. James, Westminster.
Prisoner. Q. Was it day-light? A. Yes, it was 3.30—I described one of my coats to the sergeant before I saw you—it had a pocket-book in the breast pocket, which I lost—before you were captured, I described you as having a dark moustache, sallow features, and short, with a long great coat on—I heard that you had a brother; you said "Don't prosecute me; if you like to go to my brother, he will give you some money, and make a man of you, and set you up in business"—the coat you are wearing is not mine—the shop which was broken into is under the same roof as my dwelling-house—there was no breaking to get in, as the sky-light was lifted up on its hinges, but there was breaking in getting away—you had to get on the roof, and drop down from the sky-light.
Re-examined. The prisoner is an acrobat—I do not want to be set up in that business—these coats are mine.
BENJAMIN JEFFERY (Policeman C 21). On 19th June, about 3.30, I was in Peter Street, about a hundred yards from Brewer Street, and saw the prisoner running—I directed Waller to follow him—I went back into Brewer Street, and found a ladder close by the prisoner's house in Smith's Court—I am sure the prisoner is the man—I found these coats on the prosecutor's premises.
Prisoner. Q. Which way did I run? A. Up Oxford Street, away from the prosecutor's premises.
HENRY WALLER (Policeman C 151). On 19th June, about 3.30 a.m, I saw the prisoner running about 150 yards from the prosecutor's house, and away from it—I followed him to the corner of Edward Street, where he turned a corner when I was nearly overtaking him, and I lost sight of him for about five minutes—I saw him again in the closet of a yard at No. 14, St. Ann's Court, and am sure he is the same man as I saw running—as soon as I opened the door he sprang from the closet to a pair of steps, and then to the top of a wall 7 ft. high—he then went across two or three cisterns, and jumped down into the area of No. 13—I was still after him—I can jump pretty well—he went up a staircase, and through a small window, on to the roof—there was no means of my getting to the roof except by going to the second floor back, and I had to jump upwards to a stack of chimneys,
and on to the roof—someone told me something, and I saw him lying crouched by the stack of chimneys, holding the far end of the chimney pots—he said "Are you coming after me?"—I said "Yes"—he said "I am b—d if I don't throw you over into the court"—I said "Here goes then," and by the time I reached the stack he sprang across the alley, which is 40 ft. deep and 5 ft. wide, into an aperture 44 ins. wide—I jumped across the alley after him, and into the aperture—he ran along a corridor, and I after him—he dodged me on the landing, and slipped down the second landing—I got hold of him, and he slipped away like an eel, through a passage, and in at several doorways, and got into an old lady's bedroom—the whole of the tenants ran out in their night-clothes, and it being rather dark I caught hold of an old gentleman in mistake, and the prisoner slipped out at the doorway, and went on to the first floor, and I after him—he looked over into the court below, but thought it was too far to drop, and ran into the entrance of the building, where I caught hold of him tight, and took him to the station—he was wearing the prosecutor's coats—he said, going along, "You might as well have given me a b—good hiding, and let me go"—he did not attempt to throw me down; he found it was no use.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I walk down the street? A. You ran as hard as your legs could carry you—you had plenty of time to chuck the coats away if you had stolen them—I ran after you because the coats did not seem to fit you very well.
Prisoner's Defence. I told the inspector I was an acrobat. A lot has been stated to-day which has not been stated before, the inspector took him to a private place and persuaded him. The man with the black moustache has got away. The robbery was committed at 3.30, and at 3.30 I picked the coats up. My brother is an acrobat, and I was running to see him; he is the only friend I have in the world; the coat was stolen, and I unfortunately put it on. When the policeman halloaed after me I would not come because I didn't want to be locked up, I only ran for a bit of a game to let him see he could not take me; he knocked me down and made me bleed, then he said I did it myself; he broke the cartilage of my throat, he bled me all over with his staff. When he first came he could not say I was the man.
PLEADED GUILTY. He had been nine times previously convicted, and the officers stated that during the last sixteen years he had spent twelve years in prison.— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
THE COURT ordered a reward of 10l. to be paid to the officer Waller.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, July 9, 1872.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WHITELEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
ROBERT PALMER . I am a watch maker—previous to and a short time after the robbery I carried on business at 118, Fenchurch Street—on Thursday, 30th May, I left my premises about 7.45 in the evening—I locked the watches in a drawer in the iron safe, and locked the outer door—I kept the keys in my pocket—the next morning I got there about 11 o'clock—I found
the lock of the door had been tampered with, and I could not open it—I burst it open—I found the safe door closed but unlocked, also the drawer in which the watches were—I missed ten gold and silver watches and one gold case—I afterwards identified three of the watches.
LEONARD WILSON . I am a pawnbroker, of 253, Goswell Road—on 4th June, about 5.30 p.m., the prisoner came into my shop and offered this silver watch in pledge—I asked him whose watch it was, he said it was his own—he asked me first of all to lend him 25s., then he said he had had it in for 22s. before, and I could advance him the same amount if I liked—I had seen a list of property alleged to have been stolen and I asked the prisoner how long he had had the watch—he said it belonged to him, and he had had it four years—I asked him if it had been out of his possession—he said yes, he had had it once cleaned—I then asked him his name—he said John Lewis—I asked him where he resided—he said "13, Charles Street, New North Road"—I said "I suppose 1l. would answer your purpose?"—he said "Yes"—I then feigned to take the watch in pledge, and begun writing the ticket—he said he purchased it four years back in Shoreditch—while I was entertaining him with these questions, I had sent a messenger out to a house where I thought they would know whether it was one of the watches—he began to get uneasy—another customer came in—the prisoner stood behind him for a moment and then started out of the shop, and ran up the road as hard as he could go, leaving the watch—I had given him no money—I sent my assistant after him, who brought him back to the shop—I had sent for a constable, he came, and also the party who I had sent for came into the shop and identified the watch—it was one of Mr. Dicker's people—I don't know his name.
Cross-examined. People who pawn things, very often use other names.
HENRY RANDALL (City Detective). On Wednesday afternoon, 5th June, after the prisoner had been examined at the Police Court, I went with another officer, Gilbert, to 19, Mount Pleasant Place, East Road, City Road, the address the prisoner gave—I searched the house, and found in chest of drawers in a room on the ground floor, fifty-nine duplicates—I have got here one for a gold watch which was pledged for 2l. 10s., on 1st June, at Mr. Dicker's; and one for a silver watch, pledged on 3rd June, for 2l., at Mr. Seeker's, 86, Lever Street, Goswell Road—I afterwards went to those pawnbrokers' with Mr. Palmer.
The prisoner received a good character— GUILTY of receiving — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. A. B. KELLEY conducted the Prosecution.
long barrow with some forty or fifty barrels on it—the prisoner jumped on to the back of the barrow, which tilted up—the man was standing, and it caused him to go almost on to the horse—he sung out "Jump off"—the prisoner jumped off and ran by the side of the barrow, and then I saw the barrow stop and the man jump down, and the prisoner and the man began fighting—while that was going on Mays came up—I heard him advise both the men to go away—the man said "He has cut my rope"—he tied the rope and drove away—the prisoner was requested several times to go away, and then Mays took him in custody—he began to resist—he was tripped up on his back in the scuffle—Mays took hold of him, and Hartley came to his assistance—they went for about forty or fifty yards, and I heard a cry, "The policeman has been stabbed"—I ran to the spot, and at the corner of the street I saw Mays being carried into the surgery, and the surgeon attending to a wound in his arm—the prisoner had been drinking—he out himself at the same time.
WILLIAM HARTLEY (Policeman B R 36). On the morning of 12th June I saw the prisoner and another man engaged in a scuffle near the Music Hall—I saw Mays come up—he tried to persuade the prisoner to go away, and I told the other man to go away—the man with the barrels went away, and the prisoner would not go—he used bad language and Mays took him in custody, they went down, and then he said he would walk quietly—I took hold of his left hand and Mays his right, and he walked about twenty or thirty yards—he made a bit of a scuffle, and I saw him lift his right arm and make a deliberate chop at Mays with the knife—I let go his left arm, and seized his right, and tried to take the knife away from him—I threw him on the ground, and we were struggling for the possession of the knife, and I got cut and kicked on my knee and forehead—another witness came up and took the knife out of his hand—I assisted to take him to the station—a gentleman brought a strap, we strapped his legs, and carried him to the station on a stretcher.
WILLIAM MORRIS . I am a tailor, at 10, Marshall Street, Golden Square—I saw the prisoner and the policeman, Hartley, struggling on the ground—the prisoner had a knife in his hand—I took it from him, and in doing so I cut my own thumb.
Prisoner's Defence. I was drunk and had the knife in my hand after I cut the rope of the flour barrels—I am very sorry.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; MR. HARRIS appeared for Holmes, and MR. BROMBY for Dennis.
In this case the Jury were discharged, not being able to agree to a verdict—(See Third Court, Thursday).
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
present at the marriage, which was according to the rites of the Church of England—they lived together as man and wife to my knowledge for six or seven years—I can't say when she left her husband.
MARY ANN NEWSOME . I was formerly Mary Ann Omer—I am a daughter of the prisoner by his first wife—I was present at the marriage celebrated between my father and Faith Hardcastle at Hackney Church, on 17th April, 1865—I was bridesmaid—the prisoner had not told me anything about his first wife previous to that—when the second marriage took place in 1865, I was told by lots of people that she was dead, and a twelvemonth ago I heard she was alive—I did not hear from my father that he had been to her house in 1862—I never heard him mention her name—I had been told what my mother was like by another person who knew, and she was passing by the house and I recognised her.
Cross-examined. I had not seen her for fifteen years—my father never said that he had had a divorce.
JOSEPH SMITH . During the time the prisoner and his first wife cohabited I lived in the house—that was about 1855 or '56—I left some time before she left her husband—I was merely a lodger there, and after I left all acquaintance ceased—I subsequently met her one night in the street, in a most distressed state, in consequence of which I took her in as housekeeper, and she lived in my house—I recollect the prisoner coming to the house in 1862, when she was living with me—I think it was about the middle of June—I did not make any memorandum—he came and knocked at the door, and asked for the Missis, and the servant, a little girl who was there, opened the door, and Mrs. Omer, seeing him, went out after him, and asked him what he wanted, and he then exhibited a knife to her, and ran away—he had been several times, and exposed us to the neighbours, and when the Missis has been out, she has been pointed at by the neighbours.
Cross-examined. I left the lodgings at the prisoner's house somewhere about 1856, and about ten months after that I met his wife, and took her home—she lived with me as my housekeeper, and looked after my children—I was a widower—some time after she brought two children into the world—the first was not born in 1858—I don't think it was '59—I did not make any memorandum—I know it was in '62 I saw the prisoner—I have proof of that, because I was in difficulties at the time, and the brokers were put in because I had nothing to pay—that is what I can go by—he came and made a disturbance that morning—I have never gone through the marriage form with that woman—I can't say when the children were born—one is eleven and the other ten—they are both girls—the eldest is nearly twelve—within a few days of the prisoner being charged before the Magistrate the woman was living with me—she left me just before the charge was made—she is under my protection now—she left my house before the charge was made at the Police Court—I know that Mr. Chance let the prisoner out on his own recognizance in 20l.—I did not hear him say it was a disgraceful charge, and if it was pressed he must send it for trial—the woman came back to reside with me very soon after the prisoner was committed—she was not at my house while the charge was being investigated before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. She was at the Police Court—I took her to my house in the first instance out of kindness.
The Prisoner received a good character, and Faith Hardcastle dated that he had acted kindly towards her.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 10, 1872.
Before The Lord Chief Justice Bovill.
JOHN RONALDSON LISLE . I am a clerk at the Marylebone Police Court—on 31st May, between 11 and 12 o'clock in the day, I went with Mr. Mansfield, the Magistrate, to the University Hospital—I there saw James Brown, who was a patient—the prisoner was brought to his bedside, and in his presence I took the examination of James Brown, after he was sworn in the usual way—the charge then was feloniously wounding—the prisoner had an opportunity of cross-examining Brown, and he availed himself of it—the cross-examination was taken down, and the deposition signed by the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. The deceased was very ill indeed at the time—he had some difficulty in giving his evidence—the prisoner was very much affected, and so was the deceased.
(The deposition of James Brown was read as follows: "About 12.30 on Monday night, Whit Monday, I was in Stanhope Street. I had had a quarrel with the prisoner about half an hour before; we were both three parts drunk. I do not know what the quarrel was about. The prisoner had gone about half an hour, and when he returned I was standing talking to a girl. Newman, the witness in this case, was in front of the public-house. The prisoner came up to my left hand side, when this girl that I was speaking to, said 'Mind him, he has got a knife in his hand; I said 'If he has got a knife I will soon take it away.' Before I could turn round I felt myself stabbed in my left breast. The prisoner walked away, and I was taken to this hospital. I had known the prisoner some time, but had had no quarrels with him.' Cross-examined. 'I came up to them, he did not come up to me. I did not say at the Hen and Chickens that I would do for the prisoner before long. I did not take out a knife first; I had no knife.')
EMMA NEWMAN . I live at 6, Grafton Street, Kentish Town—last Whit Monday, about 6 o'clock, I was in Henry Street, and met the prisoner—he asked where Brown was—I said he was at work—he said "Nonsense"—I said "Yes, and I am going to meet him now, at Jackson & Graham's"—he said he would go with me, as he wanted to see him, and we went—the book entrance to Jackson & Graham's is in Newman Street, Oxford Street—Lee went down the yard to look for Brown—Brown came out shortly after—Lee was then standing in the street, at the corner, with me—this was about 6.40—he came up to us, and went back again to work; he had not done work—there was some conversation between Lee and Brown—I could not say what it was; all I heard was how long he would be, and he said he could not leave work till 7.30—they seemed on very good terms—Lee and I waited there till 7.30, when Brown came out again, with four of his shopmen—they joined us, and we all went into a public-house in Newman Street—I don't know the sign—we were still all very good friends—there were six men and myself—they had two pots of ale—nothing was said between Brown and Lee at that time—we remained in the public-house
perhaps half an hour or more—we then went in the direction of Brown's lodging in Henry Street—the other shopmen went away, and left me, Lee, and Brown—we did not go anywhere, we only walked about the street—I should think it was then about 8.30—we went into the Cock public-house, at the corner of Henry Street, about 9.30—they had a pot of stout—Mrs. Brown, the sister-in-law of the deceased, was there; she is Lee's sister—I went across the bar to speak to her; she was at the further end of the bar—I was talking to her, and all at once Brown and Lee had a quarrel, and she turned round, and saw them quarrelling—I had not been away from them two minutes—Mrs. Brown went and parted them—I saw that Lee's nose was bleeding—I took Brown outside into the street—Mrs. Brown attended to Lee; she bathed his face—I did not see any blow struck; I had my back to them at the time—I went out, and talked to Brown, and asked what they quarrelled upon, and he told me to mind my own business—he only remained two or three minutes with me—I then lost sight of him for about twenty minutes or half an hour—I stood outside, talking to Mrs. Brown—this was about 9.30 or 9.45—there were no marks on Brown's face—he had a slight black eye—I did not observe it till he was lying in the hospital a day or two after—I did not notice any appearance of blows at the time or previously—as I was talking to Mrs. Brown, Lee crossed the road—I crossed after him, and asked what they wanted to quarrel for—he made use of foul language, and said God strike him dead, he would do for him that night—he called him a b—y f—g sod—I said "Nonsense; what is the use of talking that fashion?"—Brown came up at the time, and said "Have not you done yet; you had better go away"—Lee then drew out a knife—I said to Brown, "Oh, Jem, come away, for Bob has got a knife"—Brown said "If he has got a knife I will take it away from him"—Lee did not say anything when he drew the knife—they faced each other; Brown was sideways towards Lee—he was going to take the knife from him—he did not strike any blow or say anything—Lee then struck Brown a blow under the left collar-bone, with a brown-handled knife—I saw the knife when he took it out of his pocket—it was shut when he took it out—he opened it—after Brown was struck, he put his hand up, and said to Quiltey, who was Standing by, "Oh, Jack! he has done it!"—Quiltey said "Done what?"—he said "He has stabbed me," and he then reeled back—I had hold of Brown previous to Lee stabbing him, and Quiltey said "Leave go of him, Emma; I will see fair play with them," and then Lee struck the blow—I was endeavouring to keep Lee from him—I had hold of Brown; I wanted to keep him back—he was not trying to get at Lee, but I wanted to prevent him being struck with the knife—Quiltey knew Lee had the knife, because I told him—I took hold of Brown almost directly I saw Lee take the knife out—when Brown reeled back he threw his coat open, and I saw blood fall from him—then Quiltey and Brown ran away in the direction of University Hospital—Lee went away—I did not see him any more after that till he was taken into custody—I went after Brown and Quiltey—I saw them in a chemist's shop, and then they went to the hospital—I had known Brown for many years; I was an intimate friend of his—I was not a friend of Lee's—I had known him also, but I was no friend of his—I had known him for several years by knowing his sister, Mrs. Brown—Brown would have been thirty-one years of age on the 25th of next September.
Cross-examined. I am not in mourning for Brown—he was not a very tall man, not much taller than Lee—I believe he was much stronger—he
was rather passionate when in drink—I believe Lee and him were on very good terms always—Lee would never keep away from him, he was always following him about—Brown was not frequently at my house nor I at his—he only came once to my house—we were not on very intimate terms of late years; we were some years ago; six or seven perhaps—I was married at that time—my husband was not sent to penal servitude for fifteen years—it was not my husband at all who you are alluding to—my husband is dead—he has been dead some twelve months, or more than that—he was convicted here—my mother, my sister, and I were tried with him—my mother was also convicted, for uttering counterfeit coin—my husband's sentence was seven years—the next time I was tried in this Court was two years ago—the first time was three years ago—I was convicted the second time—that was for uttering—I don't know anything about my sister, because I had been away from home, I can only answer for myself—I believe she was convicted—those are the only occasions upon which I have been convicted—I have never been in custody for other cases—I have been tried twice and convicted once—I know a man named Copeland—after my trial with my husband I went and lived with Copeland for a short time—I had not seen Brown for several years then—I knew him—he had been a friend of Copeland's, but had been away for several years—I don't know where Copeland was tried—he was sentenced to fifteen years' penal servitude—I can't tell you what it was for, it was some time before I was with him—it was for an affair at Battersea—I believe it was for coining—I was told so—I believe when Brown was away he was undergoing penal servitude—I don't think he was on ticket-of-leave at the time he met with his death—his last sentence was eighteen months—he had been convicted more than once—I can't tell you when he was first convicted—Lee can tell you better than I can—it was some years ago, I could not say exactly how long—it was for felony—I can't tell what kind of felony—I was not so acquainted with him as to know—I can't tell you the next time he was convicted—I should think it was in 1864—he was absent from me then four or five years—how I knew him was living in the neighbourhood; that was all the intimacy at first—I was not living with Copeland at that time—I only lived with him a very short time before he was convicted—I knew that Brown was undergoing some punishment when he was away in 1864—I don't know what it was, I believe it was for felony—the next time I knew of his being convicted was three or four years ago—I think that was the last—I don't know what that was for—he had eighteen months then, I believe—he was not on ticket-of-leave at the time of his death—they sent him back to do the remainder of his time the last time he was convicted—I can't tell exactly how long he had been out of prison before 20th May—perhaps a twelve-month—my name is Emma Newman Wilson—I did not think it mattered my dropping the Wilson—I always go in the name of Emma Newman—my husband's name was Edward Newman Wilson—I did not call myself Wilson in his lifetime—I always called myself Newman when I was living with him—I never knew counterfeit coin made in my house, in the house where I used to dwell—it has not been finished or polished in my house, or the house where I lodged—I have uttered it, and I have been punished for it—Brown did not give it me to utter—I have not been in the habit of doing it lately, not for some time—it was Copeland that I uttered them for the last time—I have never seen Brown do it, but I believe Lee and him have done it together—I did not utter any on the night of 20th May—I believe Brown
did, and Lee also, it was not in my presence—I don't know what it was for—I was told that three of Copeland's friends were convicted and sentenced to fifteen years', but I know nothing about it—I was not associating with Copeland at that time—I was not living with any one—I did not know the three men—I did not know Copeland at that time—from what I have been told they were friends of his—on the night of 20th May, between 6 and 7 o'clock, I met Lee at the corner of Henry Street—I did not ask him to accompany me to Oxford Street, and show me Jackson and Graham's workshop—I told him where I was going, and that I had promised to meet Brown there—I scarcely know why I went to meet Brown—when we went into the public-house a pint of porter was drawn, and Brown and Lee drank out of it—I had a glass of brandy, for which Brown paid—Brown then went back to his work, and Lee and I remained in the street—he finished his porter before Brown came out of the public-house, and we came out together—I did not swear that I had nothing to drink on the first occasion I saw Brown—I did not have anything myself then, it was the second occasion we went in that I had the brandy; I swear that—Lee did not go into any public-house while we were standing in Newman Street—when Brown came out again four of his fellow-workmen were with him—I did not before that go into a public-house and pass a counterfeit Shilling at Brown's request—I had 1s. 6d. in silver and a few coppers with me that day—that was all I had—Brown had not given me any money that day—I had not seen him—I had nothing that purported to be money—when we met Brown and his four friends they invited Lee and I to go into the Blue Posts, and have something more to drink—they remained drinking there for some time—they were drinking ale—they had no gin, to my knowledge—I had some brandy—I never touched their ale, nothing but brandy—I can't give you the names of the other men—I don't know them—we were not there more than three-quarters of an hour, perhaps not so much—I did not see anything pass between Brown and Lee—I did not hear of his giving Lee three counterfeit florins to tender in payment—I only know what Brown told me when he was dying—he said that he himself had passed two counterfeit half-crowns, and that was what they quarrelled upon—we went from the Blue Posts down Marylebone Street, through Cleveland Street, into the Euston Road, through Stanhope Street to the Cock public-house—Brown and Lee did not go into any public-house on the way; I swear that—they were not tipsy—Lee was the worst of the two—I believe he had had the most to drink—Brown was sober, I believe—he had no appearance of being the worse for drink—he had been drinking—I could not say he was sober—the prisoner was not—I discovered that before we got to the Cock—we got there about 9.30—I am not a very good judge of time, whether it was 9.40 or 9.20 I would not pledge myself—only Lee and me and Brown went into the Cock together—there were several there, perhaps seven or eight—the four friends left us in Newman Street—they called for a pot of stout when they went in—I did not have anything to drink there then—I did not have another glass of brandy—I sat down, and Lee sat down for a few minutes—Brown was standing amongst a lot of people, drinking the stout—Lee was not talking to me—he sat some distance from me—I did not see Brown go up to Lee and ask him what he intended to do—I went to the further end of the bar to speak to Mrs. Brown, and then the quarrel commenced—they were perhaps half a dozen yards from me then—I was in the large bar—I turned my head and saw them quarreling,
and Lee was sitting down and bleeding from the nose—I did not at any time that evening, after leaving the Blue Posts, hear Lee tell Brown that he owed him 3s., or any money—I did not hear Lee say to Brown "I must have my share of the money that you have passed;" or Brown answer "No, I intend to hold it tight"—I heard nothing to that effect—I did not hear Brown say "Here are two more florins, pass those and we will be quits"—I did not hear Lee say that he should not pass any more, he had done enough for one night—I did not hear Brown say "If you don't pay me the 3s. 6d. you owe me I will take it out of your head"—I did not hear loud talking between them, it was done very quietly; I mean the quarrel—I heard no words at all—Mrs. Quiltey sat next to me, and she saw the commencement of the quarrel, I did not—when I saw Lee he was bleeding very much from the face—I can't say whether it was cut—his face was covered with blood—the landlord turned Brown out—Mrs. Brown got a handkerchief and washed Lee's face—I did not hear Lee say a minute or two afterwards "Oh dear me, he is coming again"—Brown had gone out, and I also—I followed him out—I went out with him—he was no trouble to turn out—I lost him then for about twenty minutes or half an hour, it was more if it was anything—I know a beer-shop called the Hen and Chickens near there—two or three pleasure-vans drove up there that evening—they had started from there in the morning—Lee's sister, Mrs. Gribble, was one of the party, and her husband—when the vans drove up Lee walked over—he was looking for Brown at the time—he went across to where the vans were standing—I did not then say to him "Bob, you have had enough, and I hope Jem won't begin it again;" nor did he say "If he does, God strike me dead I will set a bigger man than myself upon him, or someone else on him;" nothing like it—there were a lot of people about—I can't say whether they heard it—it was when Brown came up that he made use of the words—Brown did not come up and shake his fist in his face, and say "I will give you more before I have done with you"—he told him he had better go away—I will swear I did not hear him say that—I could not swear he did not say it, but I did not hear him—I was very close to him when the prisoner struck Brown with the knife—Brown did not strike Lee in the face—he never struck him after he came out of the public-house—he was standing at my left side—he never raised his hand, he had no time—Rhoda Stone was there—I did not see Brown raise his hand till he put his hand up after he was stabbed—I don't think he could have raised his hand without my seeing him—there was a lot of people there, and great confusion—he might have done so without my seeing him—I think it is impossible he could have struck Lee without my seeing him—they were both standing still at the time the blow was struck, Lee reached over to him—I did not see any blow struck—I could not swear there was not—there was great confusion—Lee did not say "If you come that again I will put somebody else on to you"—I got hold of Brown, and twisted him round to the left of me—he did not then say "You talk about putting somebody on me, you tinker, I will do for you"—nor did he make a rush at him—when I pushed him away he said "Mind your own business"—I don't know what he meant—Quiltey dragged Brown out of my hands—Brown did not then draw a knife from his pocket and make a rush at Lee—I know that he carried a knife sometimes, but he had not got one with him that night, so he said—I had not seen him at his place of work that morning—he had not a knife when his clothes were taken off him in the hospital—he said he had left it on the table in his room—he
said that after what Lee said that he drew a knife in his own defence; not when the Magistrate went to him—I asked him myself whether he had a knife, and he said "No"—that was the first week afterwards—he was not so ill then.
Re-examined. I went with Brown to the hospital, and saw him when he was put to bed—Quiltey took Charge of his clothes; he out his clothes off, and his wife took them away in her apron—I saw nothing of a knife in Brown's possession that night—I believe he had no knife—I am sure he had not one in his hand—the conversation I had with Brown was a day or two previous to his death—he said he thought he was dying, that he should not live long, and he told me all about it—I asked him if he forgave Bob for what he had done; at first he said "No," but afterwards he said "Yes"—he said it was over two half-crowns that they quarrelled; that he had passed two half-crowns himself, and Lee wanted half the money, and he refused to give it him—he said nothing more; that was all that took place—I had never been out with Brown and Lee before—I don't think Lee was in work at that time—I had not seen him before I saw him in Henry Street that day—Brown had only been at work one day at Jackson & Graham's—he was working at Belmont's, in Cleveland Street, before that—Rhoda Stone lives in Benwell Passage—I have known her for some time—she was outside the Hen and Chickens that night.
COURT. Q. What did you say, before the Magistrate, as to the state Lee was in? A. I said that he was the worse for drink, of the two—I said Brown was quite sober, he had the appearance of it—I said, all through, that Lee was the worse—I could not swear that I did not say, before the Magistrate, "Both Lee and Brown were sober." (The witness's deposition, being read, stated "Both Lee and Brown were sober.") I have no explanation to give of that—I was not examined the first time, before the Coroner, only the second—I said I believed they were sober, but Lee was the worst of the two for drink—Mrs. Brown said that her brother had been drinking all day—neither of them seemed the worse for drink; Lee had every appearance of being sober—I could not be on my oath that he was either sober or drunk—they are so quick in putting things down—I did not pay any particular notice to that point when my deposition was read over.
JANE BROWN . I am the wife of Henry Brown, and live at No. 4, Henry Passage, Henry Street, Hampstead Road—the prisoner is my brother—the deceased was my husband's brother—he was about thirty years of age; the prisoner is between thirty-one and thirty-two—on Whit Monday I was in the Cock public-house in Stanhope Street—I went there about 8.30 or 9 o'clock, with my husband and one or two friends, and had some drink there—while there, the prisoner, the deceased, and Emma Newman came in together, between 9.30 and 10 o'clock—they called for a pot of stout, and asked me to drink, which I did—I then turned my back to them, and went across the bar to the same department, and was standing talking to a woman, and Emma Newman came over to me, and asked me how my children were getting on, and she said to me "Oh! Jane, they are fighting"—I turned round, and saw Lee and Brown entangled the one with the other—I could not say whether Newman's face was towards them, my back was towards them; she was standing aside of me—she told me they were fighting, and I turned round to look at them—she said "Part them, for I can't"—I went across to them, to part them as well as I was able—Brown
had my brother up against the partition of the bar, and they were close together, and fighting—I did not notice which struck the blows; I saw that they were fighting, struggling together—I believe they were parted, and Brown was turned out, I think, by the barman—my brother was bleeding from the face, I think from the nose, and there was a place over the eye, I could not say which side. that was bleeding as well—I did not see what became of Newman—I should think she could see them fighting from where she stood; she was quite close to my shoulder—I asked for some water, over the bar, to bathe my brother's face, and I wiped the blood off with a handkerchief; I then put it into the water, and squeezed it two or three times, and they gave me some more water, and I bathed him again—Mrs. Quiltey assisted me—after a few minutes, I and Mrs. Quiltey came out, and I think my brother came out with us—I could not swear whether he came out with us or not—I think his nose had left off bleeding then; the mark on his face was still bleeding a little, the blood was running down—from the time Brown was turned out, to the time Mrs. Quiltey and I came out, I should think was about ten minutes—after I came out I stood at the corner of the Cock, with Mrs. Quiltey and my brother—Newman came up and spoke to us, and while we were talking, Brown came up and stood at the post; I did not see which way he came—my brother did not say anything about him before he came up, not to my knowledge—I asked Newman what they were quarrelling about—she said she knew, but she would not tell me—my brother did not say what they had quarrelled about—I said to him "Why don't you keep away from him, you don't seem to agree, why don't you keep from one another?"—I cannot say what he said, they both began to jangle, and I was shoving my brother away to go away, I was afraid they were going to fight again—they began to talk one to the other, what it was about I could not say—I then lost sight of them both; they both went away, I went over to the other corner; some vans came on with a pleasure party—I believe Mrs. Quiltey went across with me, I stood talking to some persons, there was a lot gathered together—not for many minutes, I should say about twenty minutes—and all at once I heard them say that James Brown was stabbed, and I turned round and saw him, and saw some men taking him towards the hospital—I had heard nothing before that to attract my attention—I did not see anything of my brother at that time—both the men seemed to have had something to drink—but of the two I think my brother was the worst—they were both I should say about half drunk, and Lee was the worst—I am not aware that Brown used to carry a knife—I don't know that my brother did, I have never seen him with one—I was examined at the inquest not before the Magistrate—I saw my brother in Newgate after the inquest was adjourned—I asked what the quarrel was about—he said it was all through Emma Newman, she met him at the Cock public-house, and they went together to meet James Brown, and when they met him they had something to drink, that she carried the bad money, and gave him three to pass, he passed three and then Brown passed same, Brown made him give him his share out of one, and then he passed some and he would not share it, and then the quarrel across—Brown wanted him to pass three more 2s. pieces, to pay him 3s. 6d. that he owed him—he said he did not think it would be so bad as I thought, for the chaplain of Newgate knew all about her career, for she had been convicted at Newgate and likewise her mother and her husband—he also said that Brown used to go to her house and they used to make the money between
them I don't know whether my brother was in work on Whit Monday, or what he had been doing during the day, I saw him in the afternoon standing at the corner.
Cross-examined. I think my brother is of a very warm heart and kindly disposition, and as a rule very good tempered, I never saw him out of temper much—as far as I knew he and Brown were always good friends—I did not hear Brown call for a glass of brandy at the Cock and give it to Newman—I don't whether she had any brandy—I did not hear any of the conversation that took place until Newman called my attention to the fact that they were fighting—my brother was not sitting down then, Brown had him up against the partition—a deal of blood came from him, there was a great deal of blood all over his face—I did not see that his mouth was cut, only the place over his eye, and next day as he was going into the police-van at Marylebone, I saw that the blood was dried on his face—I did not, whilst bathing his face, hear anyone say, "Here he is coming again," but I turned round and saw Brown in the door, looking in, and he said something, and put up his fist to my brother—that was after he had been turned out—he came back again—I should think that was ten minutes afterwards—I don't remember my brother telling me, in Newgate, that Brown said if he did not give him the 3s. 6d. that he owed him he would take it out of his head—I did not hear my brother say that if he came at him again he would set a big man, or somebody else, on him—I have told you all that I know—my brother seemed very much distressed—there was great confusion at the time, and a great crowd—I do think freely from my heart that it would never have happened but for that woman.
MARGARET QUILTEY . I am the wife of John Quiltey, and live at 8, Henry Passage—on the night of Whit Monday I was in the Cock public-house, about 10 o'clock, as near as I can guess—I had known Lee about ten months—I knew James Brown and Mrs. Brown—I did not know Newman—I did not see them come in—I was talking to a friend, a woman I only knew by sight—Brown was sitting down, and he asked me how the child was—I afterwards heard Lee and Brown having a few words; I did not hear what they were about—I saw Brown stand up and strike Lee with his fist, and the blood came from his face; he was sitting alongside of Brown—I and Mrs. Brown separated them—Lee struck back when Brown struck him; he did not get up from his seat; Brown kept him down, he had not power to get up—I could not see for the crowd whether there were more blows struck or not—a lot of people rushed in at the door to see the fight—Mr. Carnell, the landlord, handed some water over the bar to bathe the prisoner's face—one of Mr. Carnell's servants had put Brown out at that time—I did not notice him before he was put out; the crowd was too great—I did not notice whether he had any marks—the prisoner was bleeding from the face and nose—Mrs. Brown and I washed the blood off his face with a pocket-handkerchief, and squeezed the handkerchief—I don't believe there was any second water; I don't remember—we were attending to him for a few minutes—his face stopped bleeding—I remained in the public-house about five or ten minutes—I heard the children shout out that the vans were coming, and I went to look after my husband, who had been to Riddlesdown—I did not see Lee after that night; he left the public-house before me, and I don't know what became of him—I saw my husband, and gave him the baby; he stood talking to some friends, and I went round the corner, and I heard no more till I heard the people shout out that Brown
was stabbed—I did not see anything of Lee then—I saw my husband taking Brown to the Hospital—Brown said, "Jack, I am stabbed;" my husband said, "Where?" and he put his hand round him and ran him off to a chemist's, and afterwards to the hospital—I followed—I saw Brown undressed at the hospital—Newman gave me his clothes; she searched his pockets first—I did not see anything of a knife—I took them home, and kept them for a week; there was no knife amongst them—I saw Rhoda Stone that night after the stab; I gave her my baby before I followed my husband, and I fainted away—she was waiting for her brother-in-law, who was with the vans—Brown and Lee were both tipsy, but the worst was the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Newman searched Brown's pockets before she gave me the clothes—I had never seen her before that night—I don't know whether she lived with Brown as his wife; I never spoke three words to her—Brown was a considerably taller man than Lee, a fine strong young fellow; they were drinking stout in the Cook—I did not notice whether they gave Newman any brandy; the three were sitting together—I did not see Newman drink any of the stout.
JOHN QUILTEY . I live at 8, Henry Passage, Henry Street, Hampstead Road—on Whit Monday I had been out with a van—I came home with it, and drew up at the Hen and Chickens, in Stanhope Street, about 10.30—I have known the prisoner for a number of years; he was not a friend of mine—I knew Brown about the same time; he was a friend as far as this, he stood for my child—when I drew up with the van I did not see Brown or Lee—I saw Newman standing at the corner by herself, six or seven yards from the van—she told me that Bob and Jem had been having a row, and that Jem had cut Bob's face, and they were frightened if they came to fight outside that Bob's mob would slip into Jem—I said, no it would not be such, for I would see Jem righted—I then walked away; my wife came up and I took the child, and went and stood on the kerb by the side of the vans, talking to the man with the horses—I saw Newman talking with Lee, on the area railings of a shop next to the Hen and Chickens, three or four yards from me—I heard some one say, "Here comes Brown," and I saw Brown coming straight down on the pavement on the same side; he came direct facing Lee—he said to Newman, "Mind yourself, Emma;" she was between them—she said, "Here comes Jem"—Brown was moving towards Lee, as I thought, in the attitude of fighting; he had his hands up in a fighting attitude—I did not see whether he struck any blow or not—I did not see what was done next, because I turned round to get my child away—I did not observe whether or not Brown had anything in his hands; I did not notice anything in Lee's hands—I did not hear any more till I turned back again, and Brown turned round to me and said he was stabbed—I took him before the light and opened his shirt, and saw that he was stabbed in the breast—I don't know where Lee was then—I took Brown to the chemist's, and afterwards in a cab to the hospital—both Lee and Brown had been drinking, but of the two I think Lee was the worst, by appearance—I had known them both for a good many years—I never knew them quarrel before—I helped to undress Brown at the hospital; I cut his clothes off, his coat and waistcoat, not his trousers; they took them into the ward with him—I did not look in to his pockets or examine his clothes—I did not see any knife.
Cross-examined. Newman examined the pockets in the hospital and gave me a tobacco-box and tobacco in some paper; that was all she gave me—I knew her pretty well, she had lived with Brown as his wife about four
years ago—they were still very intimate—it was difficult to see what was done in the crowd—there were three large vans and a small one, and a great many people about, just come home—all I saw was Brown coming up in a fighting attitude—whether he struck Lee or not I could not say—he might have done so.
Re-examined. When I turned away Newman was close by the side of Brown—I should say there was about a yard between Lee and Brown the last time I saw them together—Lee stood in the same position as when he was talking to Newman—he did not do anything as far as I saw—a very few seconds could have elapsed after that when I heard the cry that Brown was stabbed—I did not see what became of Lee.
RHODA STONE . I live at 8, Henry Passage—on Whit Monday I was at the Hen and Chickens about 10.15, waiting the arrival of the vans—I had known Brown for many years, and Lee only within the last ten or eleven months—I knew Newman some years back when she was a little girl, but know nothing of her—when the vans arrived I saw Brown, he came between the vans and asked me if I had been pleasuring—I saw Lee Standing in the road talking to Newman—Brown went to both doors of the Hen and Chickens and looked as if he was looking for some one, and then went further down Stanhope Street towards the Goat in Boots public-house—he was away I should think about twenty minutes—he then came back and came up to Lee in a fighting attitude as he was standing in the road talking to Newman—I did not hear anything said, but there was a great bustle with the people that had come home in the vans—he was near enough to Lee to strike him a blow—Newman was standing by the side of Lee—Brown rose his fist a second time as if to hit Lee—I did not see him strike him; he was within striking distance—Lee put up his hand as if to push him, to guard the blow off, and struck him on the shoulder—I did not see anything but his fist—I had not seen him do anything before he struck that blow—I did not notice his pockets; he generally stood with his hands in his pockets—Brown stood a few seconds, then he put up his hands and said, "Oh, Jack, he has done it"—Quiltey said, "What has he done?"—Brown said, "He has stabbed me"—before Lee struck the blow I had not heard any words pass between them—directly Lee struck the blow he was gone; I did not see any more of him—Quiltey took Brown to the gas-light and opened his chest and saw the blood.
HENRY JAMES BENHAM . I am house surgeon at University College Hospital—I was not there when Brown was brought in—I saw him on Tuesday evening—I did not examine him there, as he was bound up—I examined him next morning—he had a wound half an inch below the left collar bone, and that wound had been enlarged a little in order to stop the bleeding—it was going on very well; I just took off the dressing and put on another—I can't say how deep the wound was—it would not have been right to probe it, but I afterwards made the post-mortem examination—the wound went through all the muscles and right down to the second rib, which was broken across and splintered, and there was an opening into the cavity of the chest; the lung was collapsed, and the cavity of the chest was half fall of blood and fluid—the wound was in itself dangerous, apart from its consequences—he came in on May 20 and died on June 6, solely from the effects of the wound and its after consequences—a blow with a knife might cause such a wound—it must have been a very hard blow—I saw no marks of violence about his face or anywhere else.
FREDERICK RAPSON (Policeman N). I heard of this matter on Whit Monday, and next day went to Wilstead Street, Somers Town, where I took the prisoner into custody—I charged him with feloniously cutting and wounding James Brown—he said "I know nothing at all about it; my name is not Robert Lee, my name is William Jenkins"—Newman, who was with me, said "You know your name is Robert Lee, what is the use of denying it?"—he said "Well, you know best about it"—Weston, another officer who was with me, took this knife (produced) out of his pocket in the street; there was blood on the blade—I also found on him a handkerchief that had been used to wipe his face—this is a common clasp-knife; it has a spring back—this letter(produced) was given to me by Newman at the hospital; it is signed Robert Lee.
MRS. BROWN (re-examined). This is the prisoner's writing (Read: "June, 1872. Dear James, with an aching heart, I now sit down to write these few lines to you, hoping that by this time you have recovered from your sickness, which, I am very grieved to say, that had it not been for the drink, you would not have been where you are, and I should not have been where I am at the present, and I sincerely hope you will not continue to bear any malice against me, but forgive me, as I would certainly forgive you if placed in the same position as myself, and I hope and trust, knowing how I stand, you will not be so cruel as to prosecute me any further. It all lays on you; you have only to say you do not wish to prosecute the case, and that will be an end to it. It will not benefit you in any form to see me sent away, and if you will only forgive me this time, and be my friend, I will do in future all I possibly can to recompense you for your kindness. I shall be brought up to-morrow Jem, so if you intend to forgive me, you might send a few lines to the Court to that effect. I must now conclude with my best wishes, hoping you will soon be well again. Robert Lee."
SAMUEL EDWARD PERRY (Police Inspector). I was at the Station when Lee was brought there—after I read the charge over to him, he said that he and Brown had had a quarrel, and that Brown drew the knife first—Lee's face was not bleeding at the time; he had two marks under the left eye, as if done with finger nails; the skin was broken—I saw Brown in the hospital on 31st May, the day his depositions was taken—I did not notice anything about his face.
GUILTY of Manslaughter — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The Grand Jury, having ignored the bill in this case, no evidence was offered on the Inquisition.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WHITE . I am a farm labourer, and reside at Hayes Town—the prisoner is my son—the deceased, my daughter-in-law, was 52—I lived with them—she was a laundress, and he used to carry clothes home and fetch them—he had been unable to follow his work as a labourer for some years—on Monday, 24th June, I went home to breakfast at 8 o'clock, and they were all right then—I saw the deceased alive a little before 2 o'clock; I was speaking to her—I did not see anything the matter with her; she seemed
to be in the usual state—I think she had been drinking, but she knowed what she was about—I left her to go to work, and left the prisoner with her—they seemed to be on very good terms—I was fetched about 4 o'clock—she was then lying down on her back, dead, against the tub in the yard—it was a largish soap-sud tub, about 2 ft. high or rather better—her head laid a very little way off the tub.
EVANGELINE ROFT HUNT . I live at Hayes—I am eleven years old—I knew the prisoner and his wife—on the day this happened, I went to the house about 1.40—I did not go in because I heard a noise as if they were quarrelling—I went a second time at 2.10 with my brother—he knocked at the door, and Mrs. White came to the door—she went to get the money for the rent—I heard her go up stairs—I did not see Mr. White, or hear his voice—I thought quarrelling was going on became I heard a noise—I did not hear the voice of more than one person—the noise sounded to be quarrelling, and I would not go in.
ANNA CHILTON . I live at Hayes, and am the wife of Charles Chilton, a sawyer—a Mrs. Smith came for me on Monday the 24th, and made a statement to me, and I went to Mr. White's house—I saw Mrs. White lying on her back, quite dead; her clothes were wet behind and dry before—her head was dry—the whole of it—I saw the prisoner there—I said "Oh, Dick what is the matter; what have you done?"—he said "My wife has drowned herself; she must have done it for the purpose"—I said "Where has she drowned herself?"—he said "In that tub"—I said "Who picked her out?"—he said "I did"—the front of her dress was quite dry; the back part was wet from the knees up to the shoulder.
MATILDA PEARMAN . I live at the West End Green, near Hayes, and am a widow—on the Monday this affair happened, I saw Mrs. White about 11 o'clock in the morning—that was the last time I saw her alive—she was at the Black Horse public-house—she had been drinking a little—at 4 o'clock I was told something, and went to the house and saw her lying on her back—I saw the prisoner outside the gate; he was tipsy—he told me he had taken her money, and I saw him count some money in the kitchen in a purse—at that time the deceased was lying in the yard, dead.
JOHN WILSHIRE (Policeman X 228). I was present before the Magistrate when Sarah White was examined in the presence of the prisoner—he had an opportunity of cross-examining her—I have not seen her since she was at the Police Court—her deposition was read over to her.
ARTHUR NORTON . I am a Fellow of the College of Surgeons—I saw the witness Sarah White at the Police Court; she was then in an advanced state of pregnancy—she is a very excitable woman—I don't think it would be advisable for her to travel.
THE COURT was of opinion that this evidence was not sufficient to admit the depositions of SARAH WHITE.
ARTHUR NORTON (re-examined). I saw the deceased woman on Wednesday, 26th June, in one of the rooms of the cottage in which I believe she lived—I made a post-mortem examination—superficially there were bruises—there was one bruise behind the right ear; it was grazed down by some sharp or cutting edge—there was a cut about three-quarters of an inch on the ear itself, rather higher than the bruise—that was evidently done after
death—there was a bruise over the left eye, and a large bruise at the back of the head—the bruise over the eye might have been caused by a fall against something not of large size and somewhat rounded, or a blow would have done it—the bruise on the back of the head was of large size, and must have been produced by a flat surface—there was also a bruise on the under part of the jaw—the tongue was bitten on the right side near the tip—the wounds were all recent; I mean within nine days, because the blood would alter in nine days and turn the colour—they might have been within two or three days or two or three hours—I found some older bruises on the arms and legs—the cause of death, in my opinion, was the effusion of blood at the base of the brain—it did not proceed from the large vessels, therefore it must have come from the small, and I could not trace the small vessels—I have heard the witnesses state the position in which the body was found—the marks of violence that I found could certainly not all have been caused by a fall against the tub—the bruise over the left eye could not, because it must have been done by something round and small; and the one on the jaw and the one at the back of the head could not have been caused in that way—I am not able to say which of the blows caused the effusion of blood; any one of them would have been sufficient—the violence which produced such bruises as those three, on the jaw, the back of the head, and the left eye, might have produced the rupture of those vessels, or the one behind the ear—the blow behind the ear might have been caused by falling against the tub; that is the only one in my judgment which could have been caused in that way—the heart was full of blood, some coagulated, both sides of the heart—the lungs were congested—that is to say, full of blood at the back, not at the front—I am able to say that the woman did not die from suffocation, nor from drowning, which is a form of suffocation—in my judgment the marks which I found could not all have been caused by one fall—there must have been a number of falls, if caused by falls.
JOHN WILSHIRE (re-examined). I apprehended the prisoner on 24th June—I was called to his house about 4 o'clock, and saw the deceased lying in the back yard, at the side of the washtub, on her back—the prisoner was there and several other persons—the prisoner said "I saw her fall into the tub, but I would not go and pull her out"—some few minutes after he said he did pull her out of the tub, and she fell down by the side of the tub—I took him into custody.
THOMAS EDWARDS (Police Sergeant X 27). I went to the prisoner's house between 5 and 6 o'clock on 24th June—in consequence of a bruise I saw on the deceased, I went and looked at a large tub outside the back door, 33 in. in diameter and 18 in. deep—there was about 7 in. of dirty soap suds in it—I found a quantity of hair embedded in the wood, which I compared with the hair of the deceased, and, in my opinion, they were the same—there was no sign of blood.
Prisoner's Defence. I am not guilty. The first time I saw her, she sat on the sill in front of the kitchen window, and she got up and fell in the wash-house, and then she got up and fell near the tub. I went out to the shed, and when I came back I found her in the tub, and I pulled her out. That is all I have to say.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 10, 1872.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. HARRIS and GLYNN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. WILLIAMS the Defence.
The prisoner received an excellent character.—
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Protection; and MR. HOLLINGS defended Bosworth.
WILLIAM NICHOLLS (Policeman E 184). On 20th June, at 1.30 a.m., I was on duty on the south side of Tottenham Court Road, and saw the prosecutrix—she was drunk, and was going towards the Euston Road—the prisoners, who were coming from the Euston Road, surrounded her, and Bosworth hit her; but whether she fell from the hit or from being drunk I do not know—I saw them take the things from her—I followed them with the shawl and bonnet, which they dropped in Tottenham Street—I picked up this ear-ring behind them (produced), and said that I should take them in custody; they both said that they knew nothing about it—this (produced) is the corresponding ear-ring belonging to the prosecutrix.
Cross-examined. When they dropped the shawl I picked it up—I was twenty yards from them—I charged the prosecutrix with being drunk and incapable—I had seen her before that night; she was then going along the road just as anybody else would—Bosworth said she knew nothing about the shawl; I said, "Yes, you do; it was behind you"—she said that she had exchanged bonnets with the prosecutrix—she claimed one bonnet as her own at the time, but ultimately tore it up as if out of spite; that was a black one—Bosworth dropped the shawl behind her, and the prosecutrix came up and said "That is my shawl"—they both said that they had all three been drinking together at a public-house—I had never seen the prosecutrix till that night—I have heard this morning that she was looked up last night for being drunk and incapable—this (produced) is one of the prisoner's bonnets, which was left on the prosecutrix's head, and this is a portion of the prosecutrix's bonnet, which was torn up by Bosworth, and this is the shawl.
ELLEN HICKEY . I am a dressmaker, of Francis Street, Tottenham Court Road—on 20th June, about 3.30 a.m., I was in Tottenham Court Road, the worse for drink, and was wearing this shawl and bonnet—I remember them being taken from me—I was knocked in the mouth, and have never been well since—I have a very large lump behind my ear, but I do not know how I got it—I had not been drinking with the prisoners; I never saw them before.
Cross-examined. I had been drinking, but I was not insensible till I was knocked down—I went into a public-house, and had 3d. worth of brandy; I think it was somewhere in the New Road—I never spoke to anyone there—I only remember going into one public-house; I do not know the name of it—I do not remember meeting the prisoners that night—if we were all drinking together I should remember it—I do not remember quarrelling with anybody that night; nothing of the sort—this is my bonnet; it is torn up, and this is one which was left on the ground, and which I put on when I found I was without one—I am not in the habit of getting into this
incapable state—I was very ill last night, and was taken to the station; drink had much to do with my being ill; I was drunk—I got the drink last night in a house in Oxford Street; I do not know who I met there—I was locked up all last night.
Cobb. Q. Were not you and me and Bosworth drinking in a public-house in the Euston Road that day? A. No, you did not afterwards find me lying drunk and come to help me, nor did I say "Get away"—a blow was given to me while you were with me, and my bonnet-strings were wrenched from my head.
COURT to WILLIAM NICHOLLS. Q. Were there any marks of blows? A. Yes, in the morning, on the prosecutrix's mouth. Mr. D'Eyncourt, the Magistrate, looked at them.
Cobb. Q. Did you see me strike her? A. No, it was Bosworth—I saw you take her bonnet off and her shawl, and as soon as you took it I followed you—you endeavoured to throw it down an area, but I got you against the rails.
MR. HOLLINGS. Q. Had Bosworth a bonnet and shawl on? A. She had left her bonnet with the prosecutrix, and was tearing up the prosecutrix's bonnet.
Cobb's Defence. I am not guilty, and never touched anything. We had been drinking.
BOSWORTH received a good character.—
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT. Wednesday, July 10th, 1872.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
535. JOSEPH NORTON (43) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Walter Rengrove, and stealing therein eighty pairs of trousers, sixty-eight waistcoats, and other goods, his property.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. AUSTIN METCALFE the Defence.
WALTER RENGROVE . I am a tailor, of 44, Roman Road, Old Ford—about 11.15 on Thursday night, 30th May, I fastened up every part of my house—about 7.45 next morning I found it had been broken into—I found the back parlour window open, and a pair of steps outside, which I believe belonged to the shopkeeper next door—the house had been entered by that window—upwards of 100l. worth of stuff was gone—I missed about eighty pairs of trousers, ten coats, sixty-eight waistcoats, twelve pieces of cloth, two tablecloths, and sixty jackets—these (produced) are part of the goods—they were safe in my house on Thursday night—I have not recovered them all.
WILLIAM JENKINS . I live with my parents at 184, Roman Road—on the morning of 31st May, about 5.45—I was going to market with my master—I saw the prisoner with a pony barrow—he came round by the back of Mr. Rengrove's house and looked over into his place—he went to the front door of the house, then—two men came out with a bag each, and then they went to the door and fetched another bag—the prisoner fetched one bag from the door, then brought out three bags and two bundles—they were put on the pony barrow, which stood in the road—the prisoner put one bag on, and the two men put two bags and two bundles on, and they were covered over with a tarpaulin—the prisoner drove away, and the others walked—I knew Mr. Norton by his pony barrow, because I have been in Spitalfield's market—I did not know his name till now.
Cross-examined. I am perfectly certain he is the man.
JAMES HOWLETT (Detective Officer R). I examined Mr. Rengrove's house on Friday morning, 31st March—an entry had been effected by forcing the catch off the back kitchen window—on 2nd June I went to 38, Devonshire Street, Mile End Road, which is about a mile and a half from the Roman Road, with Lambert—I saw the prisoner there and told him we were police officers, and we were going to take him in custody for being concerned in breaking and entering the premises of Mr. Rengrove, 44, Roman Road, on the morning of 31st—he said he knew nothing of it—I then asked him if he had any property in his house which did not belong to him—he said "No"—I found a cupboard in the kitchen which was locked—I asked him twice for the key—he said he had not got it, it was lost—I told him if he did not unlock it I should break it open, which I did with a poker—I found in it 33 juvenile suits, 19 pairs of trousers, several coats, and six jackets, and some other things were found in different parts of the house—I asked him to account for the possession of them—he said he did not break into the house, the other man broke in, but he brought the things away, he was there—I took him and the property to the station, and it was identified.
LEWIS LAMBERT (Detective Officer R). I went with Howlett to 38, Devonshire Street—I found a pair of trousers in the cellar under the shop, and in a chest of drawers in the bedroom I found seven pieces of cloth, three coats, and two pairs of trousers—I showed them to Mr. Rengrove and he identified them as his property.
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WITHERS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COOPER the Defence.
JOSEPH DIGAN . I am a tailor, of 1, Macclesfield Street—on Tuesday morning, 19th June, I was going along Princes Street, Leicester Square, about 12.30—I heard a noise and ran over in Gerrard Street, where I saw the prosecutor showing part of his watchguard to the policeman and pointing to two men running—I immediately ran after them—they separated at the corner of Macclesfield Street, and one ran in a doorway to the right—I passed him, thinking the policeman would arrest him, and followed the prisoner and caught him—I had only lost sight of him for a moment, turning the corner of Macclesfield Street—he was still running when I saw him again—I am sure he is the same person I was following from the first—when he got to the corner of Church Street I saw him throw the watch down an area, catch hold of another man, and said "I've got you"—I caught hold of him and said, "No, I have got you"—I held him till the constable came up and gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. I first of all saw two men running—I was about fifteen yards from the man whom I lost sight of when he turned the corner—I did not look particularly at his dress—the other was a tall man with a high hat, and one was about the description of the prisoner—when the watch was thrown away the prisoner was a short distance behind the man he caught hold of.
was just putting my key into the door—I saw two men, one was short and one was tall—I can't speak to either of them—I felt a hand near my watch, and then I turned round; one man behind seized my arms, the other man snatched the watch and broke the chain—I screamed out "Policeman," and I saw some people running after the men, who ran away—this is my watch and chain—I am not positive of the prisoner, but by his appearance I believe him to be the man.
JOHN REID . I live at 14, Green Street—on Tuesday night, 14th June, I was at the corner of Gerrard Street and Princes Street—I heard a noise, and a man who was with me ran on first—I ran after him—I saw the prosecutor pointing to his watch chain—I said "Run on, go"—the man who was with me ran on and I stopped and walked behind to see what it was—I turned the corner and saw the two men running, but I could not see sharp enough, as I was more behind than Digan—I saw him stop the prisoner in Church Street—he is the same man that I saw running at first.
Cross-examined. I was about thirty-five yards from the men I saw running in Gerrard Street—I saw the prisoner catch a man and say "I have got you," and the witness said "No, I have got you."
SAMUEL BOND (Policeman C 228). About 12.30 on 19th June I was in Gerrard Street—I saw a man run past me and another one after him—I said to the last witness, "What is he running for?"—he said "He has stolen a watch in Gerrard Street"—I turned after him; as he turned the corner of Church Street the witness said "He has thrown the watch down the area"—the prisoner ran and caught hold of another man and said "I've got you"—I told witness to go to the station with him while I went to look for the watch—I went to the corner of Church Street and found the watch down the area—the prisoner is the man I first saw running.
RICHARD WALTERS (Policeman C 233). I was in the neighbourhood of Gerrard Street at 12.30 on 19th June—I saw the prosecutor—he called me across in an excited state, and explained he had lost his watch, and pointed to two men running—I went after them, and saw the prisoner catch hold of another man—he said "I have got you"—the first witness said "No, I have got you," and he gave him into my custody, and I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. The man the prisoner caught hold of was taken—he was let go because there was nothing against him—that was the sole reason—he was well known to the police—he was not examined before the Magistrate—he was taken to the station, and then he was let go—I knew him—he has not since that been on demand for a watch robbery in the city—I don't know that he has been in custody—I had not any charge against him.
SAMUEL BOND (re-examined). We were called down to the Old Bailey—the prisoner said that the man was there who had committed the robbery, and that was why we were sent for; but it was not the man at all—the prisoner were walking round in the yard, and we were called in to see if we could identify the man, but he was not there—the man who was taken was a pock-marked man, and the Governor of Newgate sent a letter to Mr. Newton, at Marlborough Street—Mr. Newton sent the letter to the Superintendent, and we came down to Newgate, and saw the men walking round the yard, but could not find the man—the man that the prisoner had seized upon was not in custody at all—the one that I saw that night was pitted
very much with small-pox—I don't know what the man was charged with that he did point out—I could not find the man I had taken that night with the prisoner—the Governor would not tell us what the man the prisoner pointed out was there for.
ROBERT MAPERSON (Warder). The morning after the prisoner was brought into the prison, when he came out of chapel he said he had recognised a man who had been given into custody the same night as himself, and was taken to the station, and that was the man who had committed the robbery—after a short time the Governor took him into the yard to point out the man whom he had recognised; he did so—the Governor sent for the officers, to see if they could identify the man, but they could not—the prisoner then said there was another officer present at the police-station who would be more likely to know him—the other officer was sent for, but he could not identify the man who had been pointed out by the prisoner—he had come in since the robbery had been committed—the man was not pointed out to the officers—he was placed in the yard amongst others, and they could not pick him out.
SYDNEY ROBERT SMITH (Clerk of Newgate). What Maperson has stated is correct—the prisoner said there was a person in the gaol whom he had seen in the chapel—he pointed him out at once to the Governor, and the Governor made a communication to the Superintendent—I think the man was charged with stealing a watch, and he is now in Holloway for three months—he came in after the robbery in question was committed—he stated that the police said in answer to the Magistrate, who reprimanded them for having let the man go, that he could be found at any moment, and the prisoner was remanded to the House of Detention in order that he might be found—on the day of the remand the man could not be found, and this man was committed—when the prisoner was brought into the prison, he had some cards, with the words "saloon steward" on them—they were given up to the prisoner's brother by his directions.
SAMUEL BOND (re-examined). I searched him—I did not find any papers on him—he said he was a ship's steward, and had come that afternoon from the Prince of Wales at Woolwich—I went to Woolwich—the man who was taken at the same time walks about Coventry Street, selling pipes—the detectives knew him well—we have been looking for him, but have not been able to find him since—I only know him selling pipes—he has never been in custody.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN DAVIS . I live at Oporto Stores in Princes Street—about 12.30 on the night of 19th June the prisoner was in the bar, drinking—he came out just as I put up the last shutter—he was with the witnesses, Bishop and Gray, he was walking just before them—they had passed me going up Gerrard Street towards Macclesfield Street—I saw a scuffle about thirty yards off in Gerrard Street—I could not say whether they had got up as far as that when I heard the scuffle—I had lost sight of them—it all happened in about a minute—they would have to pass the spot where the scuffle took place—the two women were behind the prisoner—when I saw the scuffle I ran up to the place—I saw the prosecutor with his chain broken and halloaing "Police," and a lot of people began running, and I saw two men running, and there was a cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the prisoner running—there was a man running in front and he was running alter him—they went round Macclesfield Street, and that is all I saw.
Cross-examined. I lost sight of the women and the prisoner at the time I heard the scuffle—I said I could not discover whether the prisoner was one of those scuffling with the prosecutor or not, it was all over in a minute.
GRACE BISHOP . I am a widow, and live at 22, King Street—on the morning of 19th July I was with the prisoner in the Oporto Stores—another young girl was with him of the name of Nelly Gray—the prisoner came in while we were there—he left with us—as we left I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—we ran on then—the prisoner ran behind us—we ran up Gerrard Street—Miss Gray ran with me—I ran first—we had been to the Adelphi Theatre—I was examined at the Police Court, and so was the last witness.
Cross-examined. I sometimes see gentlemen, but I don't get my living by that—the prisoner was a stranger to me—I had seen him a fortnight before, but I did not know him—he has never been to 22, King Street.
NELLY GRAY . I live at 22, King Street—on the 19th I was with the last witness and a servant at the Adelphi Theatre—after leaving the theatre we went to the Oporto Stores in Princes Street—the prisoner came in while we were there, and we all left the place together—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" just as we left—Mrs. Bishop ran first, then the prisoner, and then me and the servant.
Cross-examined. I live in the same house as the last witness—I am a milliner—I see gentlemen occasionally—I knew the prisoner as a barman at the Euston Tavern, in the Euston Road, twelve months ago last March—I used to go in there for beer—I met him now and then.
MARY DWYER . I am servant at 22, King Street—I had been to the theatre with Miss Gray and Mrs. Bishop that night, and we afterwards went to the Oporto—the prisoner came in there, and we all left together—as we came out we heard a cry of "Stop thief," and we all started in pursuit—Mrs. Bishop ran first, then the prisoner.
Cross-examined. That was the first time I had seen the prisoner.
WILLIAM STEVENSON . I am an upholsterer and undertaker—I have known the prisoner very nearly four years—during that time he has borne a very good character indeed for honesty and good conduct—he was steward of a vessel, I think the Adelaide, and he was at a gentleman's house at Hastings—I never knew him in bad company or the worse for liquor.
NOT GUILTY .
THE COURT considered that the witnesses Bond and Walters had not behaved rightly, not taking the trouble to ascertain anything in the prisoner's favour.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES TATTOE . I live at 6, North Street, Whitechapel, and am a coaldealer—I shut my shop door on 20th June, between 11 and 12 o'clock—I was awoke by my wife about 2 o'clock in the morning, and heard someone going down stairs—I went down and saw the prisoner at the bottom of the stairs turning round to go through the shop—he went out of the street door, which was wide open—I pursued him and saw a constable take him—nothing was stolen—there was a square of glass over the door which had been cracked, that was completely broken out in the morning, and a hand put through could reach the bolt—as far as I can judge that is the way the door was opened—I am quite sure the prisoner is the man I followed—I
only lost sight of him for about half a second, when he turned the corner—I was after him in my shirt.
SAMUEL BULLOCK (Policeman R 487.) I was in North Street—I saw the prisoner running towards me—I stopped him; the prosecutor came up after him in his shirt, singing "Stop thief!"—the prosecutor said he had been in his house—the prisoner said he had not, he had just come up the court from the Whitechapel Road—that was not true, because I saw him pass the top of the court—he was coming in the direction from the prosecutors' house, and was about 150 yards from it.
Prisoner. Q. What did you find on me? A. A tobacco-box, pipe, and matches, and a certificate for the London Hospital—you said you had come from the London Hospital—I read your name, ThomasCross, on the certificate.
Prisoner's Defence. I had just come from the London Hospital, from having my arm and shoulders dressed—the papers were torn up when I came here—I left the hospital at 1.50 in the morning, and I was rather the worse for liquor.
GUILTY —He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in May, 1871.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, July 11th, 1872.
Before Lord Chief Justice Bovill.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS LICENSE . I live at 104, Cromer Street, and keep the Rose of Denmark beer-shop—on Saturday, 8th June, about 6 o'clock, the prisoner was there—the deceased came in and sat down, and they spoke to each other—the deceased was very drunk—he called for a glass of ale, I refused to serve him—he was very abusive, to me, and was going to drink other people's ale—he told me not to interfere, and said he would knock me all to pieces; I put him out, returned in and asked one of the men inside to hold the door to keep him from coming in again—I did not see what occurred outside—I saw him almost directly he fell, for I picked him up and set him against the front of the house; he was insensible—before this, when he wanted to drink the other persons' ale, the prisoner took hold of him and put him down on the seat and told him to keep his own company, and not interfere with other people, as they did not want anything to do with him; that was done in a friendly way—the deceased was very violent then, and wanted to get either at me or the other persons, for not letting him drink the ale—he struck at me several times and kicked very violently—after putting him out at one door he went round to the other, and as I was opening it to go out he made a kick at me; I pushed the door to avoid the kick, and when I pulled it open again he was lying on his back outside with his head on the paving stones, the prisoner was standing close to him, and there were several persons against the door.
Prisoner. Q. Did you notice when you pressed the door back on him, whether he went down? A. I don't think he did on either occasion, I could not say how he went down.
MARTHA WALTERS . I live at 113, Cromer Street—my husband is a bootmaker—on 8th. June, I was called to the door by my husband, and saw Mr. License standing at his private door to prevent deceased going in—I
did not see him thrown out of the house, I did not see him come out: when I first saw him, he was standing very near the landlord, trying to get in, he was not particularly violent—I saw a man take hold of him by the two shoulders and throw him on to his back, I could not swear to the man, because I did not see that he had a moustache on the Saturday night—when the man did this, the landlord was standing at the door and saw what happened, and he lifted him up and put him on the cellar flap, and he never moved afterwards; he was taken away in a barrow—the man that seized him by the shoulder went into the beer-shop again.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see him on the ground at any time before you saw the man throw him down? A. No; I heard you, if it was you, say, you had done it and would do it again.
THOMAS LICENSE (re-examined). I did not see anybody push the deceased, or lay hold of his shoulders and throw him back—I was inside the door at the time—I did not see him till after he lay flat on his back—I did not see him fall—I think the prisoner had been drinking.
ELIZABETH LEWIS . I live at 95, Cromer Street—on this Saturday night I saw the landlord push the deceased; he took hold of his shoulders and pushed him from the door—he did not fall down, he stood against the door—I then saw the prisoner come out, and he took hold of his two shoulders and pushed him down—he was talking to Mr. License at the time—Mr. License was telling him to go away, and he would not—he fell on the back of his head—Mr. License came out and picked him up, and put him against the window—he was afterwards taken away in a barrow—I followed him home—I don't know what became of the prisoner.
JURY. Q. Did the prisoner push him down spitefully, or merely to prevent his coming into the house? A. I can't say; he was not rough with him, he only pushed him to keep him away.
JOHN WILMOT . I am a clothier, at 106, Cromer Street, next door to the beer-shop—I saw the deceased put out by Mr. License—he was resisting and trying to get in at the other door—he said he would go in; the prisoner came up and said you shan't, and he caught hold of him by the two shoulders and flung him away from him, and he fell on the back of his head—I could hear the sound—I told the prisoner he was a scoundrel to touch the man like that—he made no reply—Mr. License came out, and some women began scolding him, thinking he had done it, and the prisoner said "It was not him, it was me; I done it"—I don't think the prisoner intended to hurt the man; he seemed vexed with him for being so silly, as to want to get into the beer-shop again.
THOMAS FRANCIS ODLING , M. R. C. S. The deceased was brought to me on Sunday, 9th June, about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, suffering from symptoms of compression of the brain—he died at 8 o'clock the same evening—I made a post-mortem examination—there was an ordinary black eye on the right side—on removing the sealp on the left side, I found a fracture immediately above and behind the left ear—there was also a slight graze below the left knee—the cause of death was effusion of blood within the skull cap—the description given by Wilmot and others of the fall, might be sufficient to account for the fracture—I could find no other cause.
Prisoner. Q. Would the black eye be anything towards the fracture if he was knocked down by a blow there. A. It is possible that might cause the fracture; it would not be likely; a fall from the blow might do it.
9th June—I told him it was for causing the death of Dennis Durkin; he made no reply—as we went through Cromer Street, Bishop and Walters saw him, and said "That is the man, you have got him."
ELIZABETH DAY . I saw the deceased between 1 and 2 o'clock in the day—he was very drunk, and, was fighting; he had been drinking, all the morning—I saw him brought home the, same evening—I saw a mark on his eye where he fell on the floor outside the public-house; he was knocked down several times on to the pavement when he was fighting, with another man at the corner of Riley Street—he had the black eye then; he was led home and had his face washed; he could walk, but he was very tipsy—he was very irritable when he drank, and would fight any one—there was my son-in-law, a young man named Murphy, and Denny, and Sharp all fighting together—I saw the deceased, fall on the pavement on the back of his head.
MR. ODLING (re-examined). I have no means of knowing whether the injuries I saw were inflicted in the evening or between 1 and 2 o'clock, the fracture would cause a bleeding which would be so profuse that he would not be sensible for any Length of time afterwards; that would depend in a great degree upon the nature and extent of the fracture—the vessels might have been injured easily in the affair, but not so as to rupture them completely, and then any further excitement might cause them to burst, with or without a fall—their, tendency, to burst would be increased by the fact of his being drunk.
Prisoner's Defence. We went there as friends, we never had a wrong word—if I did shove him, it was for his own good, to prevent him from going into the house and getting into further trouble, but I don't remember doing it at all.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. DAVIS the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, July 11th, 1872.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HOLLINGS conduced the Prosecution.
MR. COOPER for the prisoner, stated that he would PLEAD GUILTY to stabbing the prosecutor, that he was under the influence of a sun stroke at the time, and did not intend to do him any harm.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. He received a good character.— Three Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CURRIE conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the defence.
JOHN MCCARTNEY (Affirmed). I am agent to Messrs. Chance Brothers, Finsbury Circus—on Friday afternoon, 21st June, about 4 o'clock, I was in Princes Street, near the Bank, intending to go into an urinal, but I changed my mind, and came out on the northern side, in Lothbury—the prisoner and another man came up to me; I thought I had seen the prisoner before
—I examined his face carefully, and watched him—when he got up to me I was pinioned up against the wall of the urinal, and immediately found a hand going to my watch; it was removed, and I saw it go in the direction of the other man, but could not see what was in it—they both pressed against me, and the prisoner removed my watch from my chain—I dashed into the street, holding up my umbrella and shouting, "Stop thief!"—I am a little lame—I do not think I lost sight of the prisoner—I am certain he is the man I saw running, and I think I saw him all the way, but I can only judge by his back—I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is the man who took my watch.
Cross-examined. I am short-sighted—I cannot say whether I mentioned before the Magistrate about my watching the prisoner before he came up to me—I was very much agitated from illness—when I called "Stop thief!" I was about twenty or twenty-five yards from the men—mine is rather a confused sight, but I can see objects at a considerable distance—I did not ask to have another look at the prisoner at the station because I was not sure of him, but as I did not know how long it might be before I had to appear against him I wished to examine his face clearly and fully, that his features might not go out of my mind—he was brought in, and I had a good long look at him for about three minutes, that I might keep him in my mind.
Re-examined. I have not the least doubt that the prisoner is the man; if I had I should not be here to-day.
THOMAS DEATH . I am an inquiry agent, of 15, Basinghall Street—on the 21st June I was in Lothbury, about 4.30 p.m., and heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw the prisoner running, and stopped him—another man came up and said "It is all a mistake, you are not the man"—the prisoner put his hands together and touched him about the breast, and he made off for Bell Alley—the prisoner then said "What do you want? what is the matter? I am not the man"—I said "Well, we will wait and hear what the people have to say"—the prosecutor came up, saying "I have lost my watch; that is the man—I said "Your watch has gone round the corner with the prisoner's friend"—I should know the other man again.
Cross-examined. I saw nothing pass, but I saw his hand touch the other man's—he did not offer to strike me, but he struggled—he was not in my custody alone, there were several.
JOSEPH BRABNER (City Policeman 105). On 21st June, in the afternoon, I was in Lothbury, and heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw the prisoner running from Lothbury towards the London and Westminster Bank, he and another man were heading the crowd—Mr. Death stopped him, and I immediately took hold of him—he said "I am not the man, I was running after him for you"—the prosecutor came up and said "That is the man who robbed me of my watch"—the other man ran through Tokenhouse Yard—on the way to the station the prisoner said "It is all a mistake, I am a respectable man"—I said "If you prove that at the station, it will be all in your favour"—I searched him at the station, and found 11s., a knife, and a ring—he said that he was stuffer to an upholsterer, Mr. Matris, High Street, Bermondsey, but I could find no such person—he said his address was 16, George Street, Bermondsey, but I could only find Little George Street, and he was unknown at No. 16 there.
Cross-examined. There used to be a George Street, but it has got another name—I could not find any No. 16 there—it is usual to say "I am running after him for you."
PLEADED GUILTY**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
SARAH ANN WOODFORD . I live at 29, Paradise Walk, Chelsea—I produce a marriage certificate—(Read: "St. Saviour's Church, Chelsea. James Allen, bachelor, and Priscilla Williamson, spinster, married May 2nd, 1850")—I have seen Priscilla Williamson, she came to me on 2nd and 3rd January this year and inquired for the prisoner—I had never seen her before—I was married to the prisoner on 9th October at St. Jude's Church—he told me before our marriage that he had lived with two women, but he never was married.
Prisoner. I told you I was a married man, and you persuaded me to get married. A. No—I did not borrow the money to pay the fees, it was part yours and part mine.
ANDREW WILLIAMSON . I am a stonemason, of 8, Pond Place, Chelsea, Priscilla Williamson is my daughter—I know that she lived with the prisoner as his wife—I last saw her alive at the beginning of last January, and she is alive now, to the best of my knowledge—she was transported, and about two or two and a half years ago the prisoner came to me and said "Lil has come home"—I said "I don't believe it"—he said "I know she has for she has been along with some of my friends"—he mentioned the names of persons who saw her, but I don't know them.
Prisoner. You told the Magistrate you knew her, but you would not tell me whether she had come home, and that you defied your daughter to speak to you. A. My daughter and me passed you standing at a public-house door last Christmas, and I said "That is James Allen, don't speak to him"—you have come and asked me many times where she was, and I would not give you information, because she was in a good situation.
GEORGE WILLIAMSON . I am a stonemason, of Dacre Street, Westminster, and am the brother of the prisoner's wife—I saw my sister alive in February, when I carried her boxes to the Waterloo Station—I have no doubt about the date—three years and a half ago the prisoner said that his wife was coming to Sloane Street, but I do not know any place there that she was coming to—what fixes the date on my mind is that I had been a soldier, and had just bought my discharge—I have been ten years in America.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I come and ask you where your sister was? A. Yes; and I told you I did not know.
Prisoner. She had two years before she had the seven years, and out of twenty-two years she has only been with me seven.
JOHN BURROUGHS . I live at 2, Pond Street, Chelsea—the prisoner worked for me about two years ago, and he came home half-tipsy one day, and said "Lizzie has come home"—I said "What, your old woman?"—he said "Yes"—I said "If you don't mind there will be a piece of work with the woman you are living with; she will come and smash your place."
Prisoner. As soon as I saw the brother I asked him.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "My first wife was transported for two years. She was out three weeks and then she had seven years; her time elapsed five years ago. I have not seen her now for thirteen years. I did not know that she was alive.
Prisoner's Defence. I have made all inquiries about my wife, and if she had been at her father's, about 100 yards off, she could have come to me. The father says he checked her for so doing, and consequently she has kept out of my sight. When I entered into this marriage I had no knowledge of my first wife, and thought I was at liberty. I do not know now whether their words are true, or whether she is alive or not. She has not been brought forward, and she has not been with me seven years out of the twenty-two. She has always been flying about and prostituting, and never staying at home, and taking my things whenever she did come home.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, July 11th, 1872.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; MR. HARRIS defended Holmes, and MR. BROMBY defended Dennis.
JOHN BIRD (Policeman N 400). On Monday morning, 26th May, I was on duty in the Essex Road, Islington, about 5.15—from information I received I went to a low wall where I could see the backs of the houses in Cross Street—I looked over the wall, and I there saw the prisoner Holmes and a man named Llewellyn who is now under sentence—they looked me straight in the face, and I asked them what they were doing there—they made no reply, but immediately went to the back kitchen window of 35, Cross Street, and forced their way through that window into the house—I ran round to the front door—that house was untenanted, but there was some one minding it—the door was open, and Holmes and Llewellyn stood in the doorway; it was partly open; when they saw me they pushed the door to again—I forced it open with my shoulder, and seized hold of Llewellyn in the hall—at that time Holmes was about two yards from him—it was quite light; the sun was shining—three gentlemen came in to assist me, and they seized hold of Llewellyn too—I let them hold him, and pursued after Holmes—he made his escape down the back kitchen stairs, and out of the window he had got through—I saw a third man standing behind the door in the passage, and when I went in he ran out the front way—I can't speak positively as to that man being Dennis—Llewellyn was taken to the station—I found property tied up in three large bundles in the garden at the rear of 35—I took it to the station, and Mr. Carruthers identified it.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I gave evidence the day before yesterday against these men in this same case, and they were not convicted—I said then that I caught hold of Llewellyn—I will swear that—I said Holmes was in the hall close against Llewellyn when I caught hold of him—I said so before the Magistrate—it is in the deposition—the men were in the second garden from me—I had to look over one garden into the next—that would be about 8 or 10 yards—I have said that the view I had only, lasted
a few seconds—I saw Holmes again on 15th June—he was placed among eight men—I saw him as soon as I entered—he was not standing close against the door—it was in the cell passage—they stood with their backs against the wall—they were dressed about the same style as Holmes, and about the same size.
Cross-examined by MR. BROMBY. Hewson was one of the three who came to assist me in taking Llewellyn.
WILLIAM HEWSON . I live at 2, Paradise Place, Essex Road, Islington, and am a bookbinder—on the morning of 26th May, about 5.15, I was passing the bottom of Cross Street—I saw the last witness and a gentleman walking up Dagmar Terrace, and I followed them into Cross Street—they went into No. 35—a witness, who is not here, called upon me to help them, and said there were some burglars—I saw the two prisoners open the door of the house, and a third man, Llewellyn, who is now under sentence—I saw the last witness catch hold of him—he gave Llewellyn over to me and the other gentleman, and ran after Holmes—Holmes stared me in the face, and then ran down stairs—Dennis was behind the street door—he turned out of the street door, and ran down Cross Street—it was quite light—I am perfectly certain that the prisoners are two of the men—I knew the whole three of them before—they did not live far from me, and are always at the bottom of my street.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I said at the Police Court that they stared me in the face—I don't know whether it was written down or not—I have been a witness in this case once before, and I was a witness at this Court in a case I prosecuted myself—my brother had 2s. stolen out of his pocket—I saw it done—the man got three months—I have only been a witness those three times—my view of the prisoners was a Very short one; I did not want them to stop long—it was 5.15—I was going to have a bathe—I have not spoken to the policeman about this since the last trial; not a syllable—I said the day before yesterday that I looked up and down two or three times before I picked out Holmes, so that I should not make a mistake.
Cross-examined by MR. BROMBY. The persons opened the door, and when they saw us they tried to slam it—it was not shut—we stopped them—it was very nearly shut—I only saw them for a second the first time—when it was forced open I had a good view of them—we rushed in and secured Llewellyn, and Dennis stared at me, and ran down Crow Street.
Re-examined. I am sure the third man I saw was Dennis.
GEORGE DUDLEY (Detective Officer R). About 12 o'clock on the evening of 25th May, I saw the two prisoners, with Llewellyn, in Cross Street, Islington, near the prosecutor's house—next morning I saw Llewellyn in custody at the station, and he gave me certain information, in consequence of which I went in search of the prisoners—on 15th June I saw Holmes in Cashland Street, Hackney, where I had been keeping observation—I said "Holmes, I want you"—I seized him, and he began to struggle violently—I said "What do you want to struggle for?"—he said "Would not you struggle if you saw seven stretch staring you in the face?"—I then told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with Denny Devine, that is Dennis, and Llewellyn, with committing a burglary at 19, Cross Street, and stealing 150l. worth of property—he began to struggle again—we conveyed him a little way, and then placed him in a cab—he was so violent that he caused about 50 or 100 to collect, and
they cried out "Stone him! stone him!"—we got him to the Islington police-station, where he was charged—he was placed among eight other people by the sergeant on duty—Bird was fetched from his home, and he picked him out—he refused to give any address, but gave his right name—next morning he was placed among ten others, and picked out by Hewson—on 20th June I was coming through Barbican, and I saw Dennis at the corner of Old Street—when he saw me he turned his back towards me—I tapped him on the shoulder, and said "Denny, I want you"—he said "What for?"—I said "If you will step a little on one side, I will tell you"—he was with another man—I then told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with Edward Llewellyn and George Holmes in committing a burglary at 19, Cross Street, and stealing 150l. worth of property—he said "I can prove where I was"—I took him to the station, where he was placed amongst eight others, and picked out by Hewson—he was then charged in the name of Dennis.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I did not state as much before the Magistrate as I have stated here—I did not call the attention of the Magistrate, that there was a great deal left out.
Cross-examined by MR. BROMBY. Two of the men he was placed with were much like him, and about his height—the constable who has given his evidence was not one of the eight—I would not allow such a thing—it was not so.
WILLIAM GEORGE READ CARRUTHERS . I am a draper, at 19, Cross Street, Islington—on the morning of 26th May, I went to bed about 1 o'clock, leaving everything fastened up—I was awoke about 6 o'clock the next morning by the police and found the shutter was wrenched off the back window, and an iron bar unfastened—an entrance had been effected that way—the place was in the greatest disorder and I missed a quantity of goods—I went to the station and there identified the property, which had my private marks upon it—I estimated it at the time as worth 150l., but I find it is 175l. my house is in the parish of St. Mary, Islington.
Witness for Holmes.
AMELIA FITTER . I am the mother of the young woman who was keeping company with Holmes—she was here the day before yesterday and gave her evidence—the policeman has been to our house since the last trial—he called on Tuesday night, and my daughter is ill through the fright of him coming, for my husband knew nothing of it—she is ill, and if she was not her father would not allow her to come—he is a very strict man—I have not any interest in Holmes at all—I knew that he was engaged to my daughter, but my husband did not—he was never at my house but one night, and that was on Saturday evening, 25th May—I recollect it was that day because it was the first Saturday night after Whitsuntide, and my sister died on 30th April, and my son came on the 25th, and he was reckoning that it was about a month—Holmes came about 12 o'clock as near as could be—I was waiting for my daughter and he came with her—my daughter asked me if I would allow him to sleep there till the morning, and he did sleep there till about 5 or 5.30—my daughter got up and called him, and they went out for a walk—my daughter came back alone about 8 o'clock—I got up a little after 8 o'clock, and she had just come in—I live at 16, Gainsborough Road, Hackney Wick.
Cross-examined. I am perfectly certain that he was at my house on Saturday evening, 25th May—the first time I saw him was at 12 o'clock—
my daughter left the house a few minutes to 9 to go and meet him—she was cleaning my room between 7 and 8—Holmes had never stopped at my house before—he slept in the kitchen on the ground floor—I slept in the front room on the first floor—he went to bed a little after 12, and my daughter called him just after 5 o'clock—I think I could say that he did not go out between 12 and 5 o'clock, because I have a diseased heart, and I was very bad that night; I hardly closed my eyes—my husband would not allow my daughter to come to-day—he would not allow her to speak to Holmes or any other young man if he knew it—he did not know she was engaged to Holmes; I knew it, and I tried all I could to persuade her to break it off, because her father would not allow it.
Re-examined. I did not hear my daughter's evidence on Tuesday—the prisoner brought her home a little after 12 o'clock—she went out to meet him about 8.45—my husband was in bed when he came—I have a large family; they were all in bed—my daughter got up first to let him out in the morning, so that her father should not know of it.
Witnesses for Dennis.
LOUISA DEVINE . I live at 1, Clayton Street, Caledonian Road—I am step-sister to the prisoner Dennis; he lives there too—I am a laundress—he was living with me last May, and had lived with me for about nine months up till the 25th May, and after until the day he was apprehended, the 20th June—on 24th May I was rather short of money to get starch and coals, and had to pledge a dress, and on the next day, the 25th, I was washing and ironing, and a person named Mrs. Cramer came for some work—it was not ready before 10 o'clock, and the prisoner and I took it home to 149, Old Street Road—Mr. Cramer waited, and we all went together—we got back about 1.30, because we stopped and had a little ale on the way back—it is about a mile and a half, I should say, from our place—when I got home I made the bed for him, and he went to bed—he said just before he went to bed, "If you will call me in the morning I will get up and get some watercresses"—I said, "Very well, I will"—I called him the next morning between 6 And 7 o'clock—he sleeps in my room.
Cross-examined. I have lived in Clayton Street over a twelvemonth—I have only one room; me and my sister and brother occupy that room—the prisoner slept there on the night of 25th May, and my sister too; he lives there, and always sleeps there—I don't remember what day it was that he was taken into custody; a young woman came and told me—I recollect when he was taken before the Magistrate; I was in the Court—I did not give evidence; I was not called upon—he slept at my house until he was taken—he came in with a key—he used to come in sometimes at 11 o'clock; sometimes he would stop at home all day, and not go out.
JANE DEVINE . I live with the last witness and my step-brother—on the Saturday night after they had gone out with the washing I went out to market to get something for the Sunday—they came back at 1.30, as near as possible; it was after 1 o'clock—Dennis slept in the same room with us that night, the first floor back room—I saw him there in the morning; he left his coat in the same room.
Cross-examined. He always slept there; he slept there till he was taken on the Thursday—he told my sister to call him in the morning, and he would go and get some watercresses—she called him at 6 o'clock on the Sunday morning, but he did not get up till a little after 6 o'clock—I was in the room; he could not have gone out during the night—I made a mistake
when I told you on Tuesday that he could not have gone out because he would have had to come into my room to fetch his coat—I was confused, and I knew before I left that I had made a mistake; I could have corrected myself at the time.
Re-examined. I have the use of the wash-house, and when the gentleman asked me where his coat and hat were, I said they were in my room; it was in my room, and I could have corrected myself; they were in the first floor back room—I do my washing in the wash-house, and I consider that my room too.
GUILTY —They also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted, HOLMES in July, 1870, ** and DENNIS in July, 1867.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BRINDLEY the Defence.
GUILTY — Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; MR. GLYN defended Blane, and MR. WHITELEY defended Wood.
JOHN SMEETON . I live at 13, High Street, Bow—on Tuesday afternoon, 18th June, I went with my brother Stephen and a young man named Jackson down to the River Lea to bathe, near the Hackney Marshes—when we got there was a crowd of people, about on the bank and bathing—they tried to put their hands in my brother's trousers pocket, as they were lying on the ground, and we came away—as we were walking along the prisoners and the others threw stones at us, and they kept on for about a quarter of a mile, until we came under a railway arch—we waited there for them to pass us, instead of passing us some went in front and some behind us, and before I was aware of it I was throttled and thrown on the ground—I could not say who did it—there were seventeen or eighteen of them—I was on the ground from five to seven minutes, and while I was on the ground I was kicked on the head and about the body—Wood kicked me on the head—Standley kicked me in the back, and one, not apprehended, hit me in the eye with a stone—they tried to put their hands in my pockets, but I kept my hands in—I had two half-crowns—they threatened to dash my brains out if I did not take my hand out, and I would not—I had hold of the towel with one hand and the other was in my pocket—Wood jumped upon me and kicked me in the head, because I would not take my hand out—I said I would give them all I got if they let me get up and did not murder me—they let me get up, and then those on the outskirts of the mob began to run away when they saw some men coming over the railway bridge—one of the crowd, not any of the prisoners, snatched my pin out of my scarf and said "I will have this," and my hat was lying on the ground, and they took that—one of the men put an old hat on my head which did not belong to me—after that they ran away—my brother and Jackson were standing about three yards from me, not being touched—when they ran away I went on the opposite side of the bridge, and we went over the bridge and followed them—the prisoners were amongst those we were following—they weat
towards Homerton, and I ran round and met them; they all ran back to the arch, and a man named Noad took two of them—I did not see my brother and Jackson attacked—it was between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon—I can't identify the prisoners as having taken anything.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
546. JAMES WATTS (29), JOHN SWALLOW (38) , Stealing 26 iron fishplates, and 224 lbs. of iron, of the Great Eastern Railway Company. MR. AUSTIN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLEY defended WATTS.
JONATHAN SAWYER . I am a general dealer—on 3rd May, I met the prisoners close to the Green Man, at Leytonstone—James Woods was with them—I have not seen him since he was convicted here last Sessions—they asked me whether I bought old iron, and I told them "Yes"—they said "We have got some for sale, come and look at it"—I said "No, bring it to me and I will look at it"—they brought some iron to me—I turned it over and looked at it and I said "This is new iron, but it is very much rusted"—they said "We are quite aware of that, we have had it in our possession nine months"—I said "Are you sure this is your property?"—"Yes," they said, "we took it in our dealings"—I agreed to give them 10s., they told me they had weighed it and there was 2 cwt. and a half—I paid Watts 1s., and Swallow 9s.—I was giving Watts the money, and Swallow said "That is my money, give it to me," and I handed him 9s.—I sold the iron afterwards to Joseph Yates—I could identify it if I was to see it now—this is a part of it—it is not a usual thing for people to offer new iron.
Cross-examined. Swallow said "He would take the money"—I made the bargain with all three—I began to pay Watts—I gave him 1s., but the bulk of the money I handed to Swallow.
ARTHUR ELDRIDGE . I am the step-son of the last witness—I saw the prisoners with some iron at Leytonstone—they asked my farther whether he bought old iron, and my father said "Yes," and he looked at it, and said it was rusty, only it was new.
Cross-examined. Watts said he got 6d. and that was all he knew about it.
GEORGE ESTELL . I am in the engineers' office, on the Great Extern RailWay—I have no doubt that this iron is the property of the company—iron resembling this has been missed ever since this particular class of iron has been made—I don't think other railways have the same—they were designed for a special class of rail-they were first made in 1868 for our rails—they would be all along the line wherever relaying was going on.
Cross-examined. I can only say that iron resembling that has been lying all over the railway, and has been missed, I can't say where it was taken from.
Swallow's Defence. I was not there at all.
GUILTY of receiving. The Jury recommended Watts to mercy. — Six Months' Imprisonment.
SWALLOW PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in August, 1865 *— Two Years' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.
EMILY JANE GUTTERIDGE . I am the wife of Thomas Gutteridge, of 7, Brunswick Street, Deptford—up to Monday, 21st May, the prisoner Jones and her husband lived in our house, and on Whit-Monday, 20th May, I gave them notice to leave through their bad behaviour—they went out on Whit—Monday and returned between 12 and 1 at night, and when I gave her a written notice, she threatened my life—we were in bed when they came home, but they got in at the window, and I called my husband to go for a policeman as they were swearing—on the next afternoon, 21st May, my husband and I were at home between 2 and 3 o'clock, and the two Jones' and Clark came knocking at the door—Strickland was with them; there were four persons in all—my husband went out the back way, and I told him to go for a policeman, and I went up stairs and looked at the bedroom window; the four persons were then outside the house—they said "Come down you old b—and let us in"—I did not let them in, but Mr. Jones got in at the window—they all four came into the house—I went down into the passage, and Strickland said "Do you mean to turn my sister out of this house?" she called Jones to assist her—I said that my husband would make them go, and Strickland struck me in the face, and Clark said "Give it to her Poll"—the woman Jones then caught hold of my hand and pulled me, and then they all kicked me; I was kicked I should say twenty times—Clark said "Finish her before you have done"—they left, but Strickland and the woman Jones returned—I put up my hand, and Jones said "Ain't you dead, you old b—?" and she jumped on me, and left me in a gore of blood.
Jones. Q. Did not you throw my supper beer in my face? A. No—I did not attack you with a street-door key; I had no key—I was undressed and had been in bed three or four hours—I did not bite your finger while you were on the ground—the landlord of No. 4 did not come in on Monday evening—the sergeant did not come and demand entrance—only Jones got in at the window; he then let his wife in—you did not call "Murder," and ask some one to come and assist you—when my husband came with the police, you had all gone—I did not hold a poker in my hand and say "God strike me blind, I will either kill you or you me."
Clark. Q. Did I kick you or jump on you? A. You all kicked me and Jones jumped on me.
Strickland. Q. You and Mr. Jones were fighting in the passage, and I parted you? A. No—I had no poker in my hand, I have not had one in the house these two years.
THOMAS GUTTERIDGE . I am the husband of the last witness, and am a gardener—I gave Jones and her husband notice to leave on Whit-Monday—they went away in the day time, and after we had gone to bed, they came back in the middle of the night and knocked at the door—I went down as quick as I could, but before I got down Jones had got in at the window—next day, Tuesday, I was having tea with my wife about 3 o'clock, there was a knock—I looked through a pane in the door and saw the prisoners and Mr. Jones—I left the house at the back; went through a neighbour's garden and house and fetched a policeman—I came back twenty-minutes afterwards, and found my wife bleeding in the passage and unable to speak—I went for a doctor.
Jones. Q. When my husband got in through the window did not you hold him for your wife to beat him with a street-door key? A. No; I never touched him—my wife did not push you back from the window—I did not open the street door and fetch three men in their shirt sleeves—there had not been a blow struck when I went for a policeman, but you were going on with foul talk.
SOPHIA DUNMORE . I live at 4, Brunswick Street, Deptford—on Tuesday, 21st May, between 2 and 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I was sitting at my door, and saw the prisoners and Jones—when I saw them turn the corner, I went in and shut the door, and they stood at my door and swore for a second or two—I heard them pass my door towards Mrs. Gutteridge's house, and about a minute or two afterwards I heard screams of murder—about five or ten minutes afterwards Mrs. Jones knocked at my door, and the three others were there—they asked for my husband; I said that he was at work—they asked where my lodgers were—I said that I did not know anything about them—Jones said, "We will fight them all," and he tore his slop off, and said, "If I cannot get them to fight, I will fight you"—Mrs. Jones left the door, and said, "I will go back and see if the old b—is dead; if she is not, I will jump on it"—she went into the house, and came out in two or three minutes, wiping her hands on her apron—I saw blood on her hands, and Strickland came back to me and said that I was not to think anything of it, for they had made a mistake and wanted to apologise.
Jones. Q. Did not you come out on Monday evening and kick me? A. No; I was in bed—my husband did not kick you; he had nothing to do with it—none of us were up after 10.30—my two lodgers did net go into the country lest they should be brought up; they are there now—my husband did not call you a b—; I did not say, "Let her have it, old woman—it is not me that is speaking untruths, it is you—I did not cut your husband's lip.
Clark. Q. Why did your lodgers run into the country? A. They have not been away from my house, they are there now—why should they run away?—they have done nothing.
EMMA MILLER . I am the wife of Alfred Miller, of 2, Brunswick Street—on Tuesday, 21st May, in the afternoon, I saw the three prisoners and a man who is not here come up the street—I saw Jones get in at Mr. Gutteridge's window; he then opened the door and let the three prisoners in—he shut the door, and I heard screams of "Murder"—they were inside the house about ten minutes, and I saw them come out—Mr. Jones went up the street, and the three prisoners came down the street again, and passing my door I heard Mrs. Jones say "We will go and see if the old b—is dead; if not, we will do for her," and Mrs. Jones and Clark went into the house a
second time for a minute or two—I went to Mrs. Gutteridge's door, and saw her in the passage, and blood flowing from her face and eyes—the police came to me, and the police bathed her, and I remained till the doctor came and dressed her wounds.
Jones. Q. Did not you find her in a standing position? A. No, doubled up like a ball.
Clark. Q. I never went inside the house? A. Yes, you did, and you went in a second time.
GEORGE MIDDLETON . I am a biscuit-baker, of 6, Tanner's Hill, Deptford—my yard backs to Gutteridge's house—on 21st May Gutteridge went through our house—I do not know where he went to—I heard screams, jumped on the fence, and saw the prisoner Jones pulling Mrs. Gutteridge off her chair by the hair of her head—I saw the other two pass there—Clark pulled her off the chair by the hair of her head, and kicked her, and Strick-land kicked her in the mouth—the man, Jones, came into the yard, and said "Where the b—y hell is he gone to?"—I went round to the house, and the police came.
COURT. Q. Did they pull her out of the room? A. They were in the passage—I could not see what passed afterwards—I saw two kicks before they got into the passage.
Jones. Q. Were you not standing at the street door while we were fighting? A. No, it was a long while before I went round—I had my dinner and fed my pigeons, and gave them water first.
Clark. Q. How far is the fence from the window? A. Twelve yards; I measured it—the window was wide up and I could see you.
Strickland. Q. Did you see me kick Mrs. Gutteridge in the mouth? A. Yes.
ELIZA BALDWIN . I am the wife of William Baldwin, of 5, Victory Street, Deptford—on Whit-Tuesday afternoon I was in Brunswick Street going to my mother's at No. 8, which is opposite to Mr. Gutteridge's—I saw the prisoners knock at Gutteridge's door—there were four of them—Mrs. Gutteridge came to the window and told them to go away, she did not wish to be insulted; but one man got in at the window and let the others in. I heard Mrs. Jones say "Go and finish her, Poll"—I heard cries of murder immediately after they went in—I saw them come out of the house; the female prisoner had blood on her hands, and there was blood on Strickland's apron—I heard Mrs. Jones say that she had settled the b—the prisoner went down to No. 4; Mrs. Dunmore stood at her door a few minutes, and then Mrs. Jones returned and went to Mrs. Gutteridge's door, and said that she wished to fetch that b—out—while they were talking I saw Mrs. Gutteridge go to the coal-cellar door, which faces the front door—her face was all blood and her hair hanging down, and Mrs. Jones rushed back and pushed her back into the room again—I ran for a policeman.
Jones. Q. Did you see me strike the woman? A. No; but I saw you push her back into the room—I did not see her strike you.
COURT. Q. Did you see Clark go into the house the second time. A. Yes; after Mrs. Jones had pushed her back into the room he went to the front room.
Jones. He went to fetch my clothing.
state—the passage was like a slaughter-house. I went out after Jones and Clark and told them I should take them in custody for violently assaulting a female at No. 7; Jones said "I did it, and if the b—is not dead I will finish her when I come out"—she also said that the others had nothing at all to do with it—Clark said that he went with her to have a cup of tea—I took them to the station and went back and took Strickland—she said she had nothing to do with it, she went with her husband and had a cup of tea with Jones—she had been living with Clark for nine years—I have not been able to find the man Jones.
Jones. I am not aware that I said that I would finish the woman; if I did I am truly sorry.
WILLIAM BROWNING (Police Inspector R). I took the charge, and when I asked them their names and addresses Jones said "You need not ask them any questions, it was I that did it—I told her not to treat the matter so lightly, for if the woman was not dead it is likely she will die through your violence—she said "If she is not dead I hope she will die, and if she does not I will kill her the first chance I get, for she and her husband have tried to kill me"—the other two prisoners said that they did not assist in assaulting her.
Jones. I was in an agitated state of mind at the time, and if I hurt the woman I am truly sorry.
EDWARD HUGH DOWNING , M.R.C.S. I live at Evelyn Street, Deptford—on Wednesday, 22nd May, I was called to 27, Brunswick Street, and saw the prosecutrix—my father had seen her on the Tuesday, and dressed her wounds—he is the divisional surgeon—she was Buffering from a severe wound over her left eye, and a wound behind her right ear—she could not move her left arm, it was so severely bruised, and she complained of great pain in the chest and abdomen, and she had bruises on her legs—her head was very much contused, and I understood she had vomited blood, but I did not see it—I saw blood which she passed from her vagina and bowels, from internal injuries—there was no wound on her mouth—I considered her in a dangerous state—she is in a very weak state still, and it is doubtful whether she ever recovers—blows or kicks would cause the injuries.
Jones. Q. Did she tell you that she had been to some other doctor? A. No—she did not say that the doctor told her husband had ill-treated her, and that she was obliged to wear an instrument—she did not say that she was pregnant; I think she is past that.
Jones's Statement before the Magistrate: "I don't want to say anything. She threatened me with the poker. It is through jealousy."
Jones produced a written defence, stating that the prosecutrix had ill-treated her on the Saturday and Sunday before, and said that she would make her fight her; that the prosecutrix struck the first blow with a poker, and that she (Jones) struck her in return, but never kicked her.
COURT to WILLIAM BROWNING. Q. Was any complaint made to the prisoners of any injury? A. No, but when I went next morning I found a doctor had been called to dress the wound of Jones's husband—no complaint was made by Mrs. Jones of any injury to her by a poker, but summonses were taken out—the prisoners were all three the worse for drink.
Clark's Defence. I was not at home when Mrs. Jones came. She came to the public-house where I was, and Jones also; he was in a dreadful state of blood, and told me he had summoned his landlord and landlady to the Police Court, and would I walk down with him. We went into a public-house,
and Mrs. Jones asked me to let Mrs. Strickland bide with her till the Court was over. I went to work, and when I came back the Court was closed. I went with them, but as to doing any injury, or hitting or kicking, I did not.
Strickland's Defence. I am innocent of any such thing as has been mentioned.
JONES— GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
CLARK— GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. STRICKLAND— GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE HILLS . I live at 2, Albert Terrace, Blackheath Road, and am apprentice to a tinman—on 22nd June, about 9.15, I was in High Street, Deptford—there was a Punch-and-Judy there, and the prisoner shoved against me—I said "Where are you shoving? you have got my watch"—he said "No, I have not; search me"—I said "No"—he said "If you don't let me go it will be the worse for you," and struck me on the forehead, and got away—I saw him snatch the chain, but did not see the watch—I am able to say that the watch was in my pocket at the time—I have not seen it since—I gave him into custody.
Prisoner. Q. What was there to hinder you from seeing the watch come out of your pocket? A. You stood so close to me; you only made one snatch—I did not see you give the watch to anyone; I did not see it in your hand, but I saw your hand leave my waistcoat, and saw you have hold of the chain—the chain is not broken; this is it (produced); the swivel was bent almost straight, but I bent it back again—you had some of your mates round the corner, and some of them followed you—my mate was with me.
COURT. Q. Did you see which way the prisoner went? A. Yes; he was stopped almost immediately; he was hardly out of sight—he said, "I beg pardon, come round the corner and I will get you your watch back," but I refused.
HENRY MEMBRY . I live at 9, Garden Road, Lewisham Road, and am a plumber's labourer—I was with Hills on 20th June, and was standing in front of him at the Punch-and-Judy show—the prisoner pushed against him and snatched his watch—Hills said "Who are you shoving of? you have got my watch"—the prisoner said, "I have not; if you don't leave go of me it will be the worse for you," and struck Hills a blow on his forehead, and ran away—he was caught, and he said "If you will be quiet and come round the corner, I will find you your watch"—Hills said "If you will give it to me in front of all these people, I will let you go"—he saw that he had not got it, and was given in custody.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see my hand in his waistcoat? A. I saw your hand leave his waistcoat—I did not see the watch in your hand, but I saw your hand pass down from his waistcoat to your side.
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing of the robbery—I was shoved against the man, and the watch was snatched from the pocket.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with a previous conviction on 10th May, 1869, at Clerkenwell, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
FRANCIS PYCROFT . About the end of last March the prisoner came to me, and applied for lodgings—he said he was a civil engineer and very highly connected, and he went into the City every morning at 8.30, and required breakfast at 8 o'clock—he said he had a brother down in the shires very rich indeed—I let him the lodgings—he asked for a pen and ink, and wrote a list of things for me to get, such as tea, sugar, bread, and butter—he stopped about a week—the day before he left I put a pair of clean sheets in the chest of drawers in his room—after he left in the morning I went to make the bed, and they were gone—the prisoner never came back—I did not see him again till I saw him at the Police Court—he left without notice, and did not pay me anything.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he admitted taking the apartments, but denied stealing the sheets.
CHARLES LILLYWHITE . I live at 26, Cambridge Street, Hyde Park Square, and am a lodging-house keeper—on 2nd December, 1869, the prisoner came to my house to take apartments—he gave the name of Royston—he said he was a civil engineer, and his brother would be up from the country at the end of the week, as he had business on at Westminster against some railway company for compensation—he said his mother lived in Yorkshire, and he had a brother in Eaton Street, and he gave me the reference in Eaton Square—he said he had an uncle named Watson, in the Three per Cent. Office at the Bank of England—all the luggage he brought was a little paste-board box carefully tied up—he said his brother was coming up, and he was going to bring his luggage—in consequent of what he told me, I let him have the rooms, and tea and sugar and supplies—he never paid me—I have enquired at Eaton Square, he had not got a brother living there—I enquired at every place—I could find out nothing about him—the prisoner stopped from the 2nd December till the 13th—on the 13th he went out in the morning—he was pressed every morning for payment, and he said on the 13th that his brother would sure to be up on the 15th—he ordered his fire to be lit—I never saw him again until I picked him out at the Lambeth Police Court—I believed what he told me, and I took him in because he represented that he was in a position to pay.
CHRISTOPHER GOULD (Police Sergeant W 2). I took the prisoner into custody on 20th June, at 9.30, at Clapham—I met him carrying a box and parcel—I told him I should take him for obtaining food and lodging from various parties under false pretences—he said "I am a gentleman just arrived from the country, you make a mistake"—I said "You answer the description, I shall take you"—on the way to the station he said "I am
very sorry; it is a bad job"—he admitted taking the lodgings, and said he had no means to pay—I searched him and found 7l. in gold in the waistband of his trousers, and 19s. 10d. in his pocket—he said "Be careful of my parcel, they relate to drawings"—when I examined the parcel it was all brown paper, and the box was empty—I went to Eaton Square, where he said his brother lived, and asked for Mr. Royston—they knew no one of that name at 84, Eaton Square—he also gave the address at 11, Bath Place, Moscow Road, Bayswater—I went there, but no one was living there—I went to the Bank of England and made inquiries with reference to his uncle—I saw the secretary, and he said he did not know anyone of the name of Watson—he has left a box similar to this at every place he has been to.
ELIZABETH WRIGHT . I am the wife of Edmund Wright, and live at 10, Camberwell New Road—the prisoner came to me about a fortnight and three days before 25th April, that was the day he left—he asked to see some apartments, and I showed him the drawing room floor—he said they were too expensive for himself—he said his brother was coming to town at the end of the week, and he would assist him if I would let him have the bedroom till the end of the week—he said he was an engineer, and that he and his brother were engaged in town during the Session of Parliament—he said his uncle was the head of the Three Per Cent, office, and that his brother was connected with the large building firm of Kelk and Lucas—he did not mention Eaton Square—I believed his statement to be true, and let him the rooms, and supplied him with partial board the time he was with me—he stopped a fortnight and three days—I gave him notice, because I wished to get rid of him, but he did not pay me—he kept putting me off from day to day—he went away in the morning and said he would return and settle the bill, and vacate the place—I never saw him again—he brought a roll of drawings and something in a little box which he said were valuable papers, which he did not wish to be touched—we opened them afterwards, and it was an empty paste-board box, and the roll of drawings were the papers we had been supplying him with—he wished to have the newspaper every morning, and he said he would pay me at the end of the week—his bill was about 2l. 13s.—he gave the name of Rawson.
Prisoner. I admit that I had the apartments and did not pay for them—my uncle, Mr. Watson, was in the Bank of England forty-eight years.
CHARLES WATKINS . I am a clerk in the New Three per Cent. Office—I have been about two years in that office, and nineteen years in the Bank of England—there has been no such person as Watson in the Bank of England since I have been there—I have not been able to learn that there ever has been.
Prisoner. The senior clerk would be able to tell my uncle held the position forty-eight years, and had a pension—he has been dead about fifteen years now—I leave it in the hands of the Jury; I had means to pay, and I meant to pay—I could not do so at first—I did not live extravagantly—I know I owe the money.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. LEIGH conducted the Prosecution.
Town Hall, about 200 yards from my own name—as I was walking along the prisoner came and looked me full in the face—I thought he wanted to recognise me—he butted with his head and seized my watch, and snapped the chain—another man behind me had me round the neck, and as soon as the prisoner had got the watch the other man threw me on my side—I called out "Stop thief as loud as I could"—they ran away and I saw the prisoner stopped by the officer—I am quite positive he is the man—my watch and chain was worth 36l.—I have not seen it since.
HENRY JARMAN (Police Inspector C 5). I saw some one on the ground, and some one running; I followed and caught the prisoner—he said "Don't knock me about, I have not got the watch"—he ran from the direction of the prosecutor, who was lying in the, middle of the road—I took the prisoner—he had no watch.
EDWARD CROSS . I am a warehouseman, and live in the Borough—on 23rd I heard a cry of "Stop thief," and I saw the prosecutor in the middle of the road—I saw two men—the prisoner was one—he handed the watch to the other man—the prisoner came across the road, and I caught hold of the corner of his coat, and gave him to the constable—I gave chase to the other one, but he got away—I lost him.
Prisoner's Defence. I can assure you another party done it—I said to the policeman "Don't knock me about, I will go quietly with you"—I never said I had no watch.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in December, 1870 **— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM DAVID CLARK (Policeman R 177). On the morning of 12th June I was on duty in St. James's Street, New Town—I saw the prisoner standing close against the window of the St. John Street flour mill, belonging to Messrs. Andrews & Co.—I was about forty yards from him—I watched him for about half a minute—I heard a smash, and went towards him—he appeared to catch sight of me, and ran round the corner of the mill, up the mews into a cart-shed, and concealed himself behind a cart—I followed him, and asked him what he was doing there, he said "Nothing"—I brought him back to the window, where he made a slight resistance—I found the putty cut away and the glass taken out—the putty was quite fresh, as though the glass had recently been put in—I called up Mr. Weiss, the manager, and took the prisoner to the police-station—I found a pocket-knife in his pocket—he gave a correct address—the prisoner said on the way to the Police Court "Have you seen my wife"—I said "Yes"—he said "I can't make out what made me go there at that time in the morning"—I also found a tablecloth in his pocket—that was given up at the Police Court—the prisoner lives at Blue Anchor Alley, Wapping—the tablecloth belonged to him—Wapping is about three or four miles from the mills.
MITCHEL WEISS . I am manager to Messrs. Andrews & Co., millers, who carry on business at St. James's Street, Hatcham—the prisoner was in their employment on 11th June, and had been for several weeks—he was too late for his train that night from the Old Kent Road, and I drove him down to the New Cross Station, in order that he might go to his home—I next saw
him in the hands of the constable, about 2.30 in the morning—I was awoke by a knock at the door, and on looking out of the window I saw the constable with the prisoner in charge—I came down and saw the window broken and part of the glass was on the ground—the putty looked as fresh as if something had been done to soften it—I can't account for that—we have had no window put in since Christmas last—the safe containing money and valuables was in the office, and also the keys of the premises—the office leads to the mill—the prisoner knew what was in the office—we used to keep a dog in the yard, but he was missing several days before, and I gave notice to the police in consequence.
Prisoner. A. Were not you always there in the morning before I came? A. Yes; after you came you were locked in the mill, and I let you out and in—I had a dog lent to me afterwards by a policeman.
Prisoners Defence. I went down with the manager to the New Cross Station. I was too late for the train, and went to have some beer, and got too late for the other train. I went and had some more beer, and got too late for any train at all, and I went back to the mills thinking to go and lie down there till 6 o'clock, which was the time to go to work.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WHITELEY conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD HINES . I live at 19, High Street, Lambeth—the prisoner lodged in the same room with me—he came on 25th May and left on 3rd June—I missed a pair of trousers from my box on the 6th—I had seen them safe on the 2nd—I saw the prisoner on 7th June, he had my trousers on then—I did not give them or sell them to him—he asked me to lend them to him, and I refused.
Prisoner. He promised me I should have the trousers, and I promised to pay for them, and I should have done so.
COURT. Q. Was the box locked? A. Yes; the key was in my pocket—he must have taken the keys out and put them back again—he slept in the same bed.
THOMAS PERRY (Detective Officer P). I saw the prisoner wearing these trousers—they were taken off him in my presence—I charged him with stealing them; at first he said nothing, but he afterwards said they were lent to him.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in February, 1866.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 19TH AUGUST, 1872.