CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 18TH, 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.
SESSIONS I. TO VI.
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, November 18th, 1872, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR SYDNEY HEDLEY WATERLOW , KNT., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir GEORGE WILSHIRE BRAMWELL, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir WILLIAM ROBERT GROVE , Knt., one of the Justice of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; JOHN CARTER , Esq., WIILLIAM FERNELET ALLEN, Esq., ANDREW LUSK , Esq., M.P., THOMAS SOAMBLBR OWDEN, Esq., THOMAS WHITE , Esq., CHARLES WHETHAM, Esq., WILLIAM MCARTHUE, Esq., and JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City (acting as Deputy-Recorder); and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WATERLOW, MAYOR. FIRST 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, November 18th, 1872.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution;MR. STRAIGHT defended Parker, and MR. RIBTON defended Linsey.
WILLIAM HAMMOND . I am in the employment of Mr. Boughton, the lessee of Hounslow Heath—I am paid wages by him for keeping the Heath, to look after the fences and the cattle, and to prevent trespassers—about 5 o'clock in the afternoon of 13th October the three prisoners came on the Heath, and were proceeding to walk across the Heath—I told them they were trespassing, and they had no right there.; they said, with an oath, that they were there, and they meant going—I told them they would be liable to be turned back again, and while I was telling them that, Linsey drew up close to me, and hit me a violent blow in the mouth with his fist, and I was knocked down immediately, and seized by all three prisoners; they all three closed in, and kicked and hit me with violence, and said "We have got you here in a good place now; we will do for you"—they all three said that—they kicked me in the eye, which bled most fearfully; I have the scar, and you can see the place now—one of them, I don't know which, said "Well, he has got enough, we have given him enough; we won't give him any more," and another said "I shan't take any farther part in it"—I don't know which it was said that; I was almost insensible at the time—I got up on one knee, finding they had left me, and Linsey then returned and made a most violent strike at me, but missed me, and threw himself right upon me—I had not done anything to them before they assaulted me; I had not put my hands to them, or attempted to; I merely told them they had no right to pass—I got up, and proceeded home as well as I could, and lost about a pint and a half of blood—I gave information to the police, and saw them in custody the same evening.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Mr. Boughton is a veterinary surgeon at Hounslow—I have been engaged by him about three months—I was engaged
on the Heath before, five years since, under Mr. Brewer—since then I have been gamekeeper to Mr. Adams, in Feltham Road—the prisoners were on the further side of the Heath from the Staines Road, next to the Southwestern Railway; they were coming across to Hounslow—I believe they live at Hounslow; I don't know—the first I said to them was "Are you aware you are trespassing?—I did not desire them to stop, or go before them—I had nothing in my hand—they did not stop; they continued walking on—I did not walk on with them; I turned round—I might have taken a few steps; but I told them before they got to me that they had no right to come that way—they continued on, and did not stop till the assault was committed—I went in front of them, and said they had no right to go that way—I did not stop them; they stopped themselves on me—they did not say they were going home, nor that they had a right to be there, or that I had no right to stop them—I have turned several persons back, before and since—they have not disputed the right with me—there was plenty of room for the prisoners to get past me without doing what they did—I don't know whether they are in the Militia; they were not in uniform—I have been a gamekeeper about sixteen years—I have never been charged with a violent assault—I was summoned five or six years ago by a man named Coombe—I don't know whether you call it an assault or not; he stripped to fight me, but instead of his giving me a good hiding, I gave him one, and he summoned me at Brentford; they fined me 1s., I think; I won't say for certain—I did not pay it; my master did—I was also summoned for assaulting a gentleman who was trespassing on Hounslow Heath, and fined 1s.; I paid that myself—it was not my fault; my master misinstructed me.
Vickery. Q. Did not you stop Linsey, and push him back? A. No.
GEORGE WARREN (Policeman T 87). On the evening of 13th October, about 7 o'clock, I saw the prosecutor bleeding from the eye, and apparently very weak—he named the persons who had assaulted him—I then went with other constables, and found the prisoners in the taproom of the George the Fourth public-house—I told them I was about to take them into custody—I first spoke to Linsey, and said "I want to speak to you"—he said "Come and say it here"—I told him he was charged with violently assaulting the prosecutor on the Heath, and he would have to go to the station with me—he said "I am b—f I shall"—I said "But you will have to go"—I then commenced to put the handcuffs on him—he was very violent, and struck at me; I missed his blow, and my brother constable struck him across the arm as he was stooping, apparently to pick up the poker—I succeeded in putting on the handcuffs; he still continued very violent—I then charged Parker and Vickery—Vickery was at first violent, but he afterwards went quietly to the station—afterwards, on the way to the House of Detention, Vickery said that, when Linsey had kicked Hammond over, he told him to come away, for that was enough.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The Heath has been closed since September, 1867, by the War Department, and boards are placed on each side of the Heath, and before that the old tenant closed it on the 1st of May every year for forty years—with that exception it was open to the public—I have been stationed there seven years—since 1867 the public have gone across the Heath to the powder mills, by permission from the person who has kept it; otherwise they have been sent back—I have known a good many persons turned back—I have not known many that have not been turned back.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I do not know that Parker is in the Militia; Linsey is—there is a footpath across the Heath, but not public; it is stopped up by the War Department.
JOSEPH RICHARD ALEXANDER DOUGLAS . I am a surgeon at Hounslow—Hammond came to me on the evening of the 13th—he had a wound over the eyebrow, and another on the top of the head—he appeared to have lost a great deal of blood—they were such wounds as might be given by a blunt instrument; a kick might have done it in both cases—he came four or five times to the surgery, I think, and my assistant dressed him—I did not see him afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The wounds healed in a few days—they were not dangerous; they were severe scalp wounds—they invariably bleed a good deal; a slight wound will make the scalp bleed very much—I should not think a blow with the fist would cause the wounds; a stick might, or a boot—I don't know that the Heath has been open to the public for a long time—I know that people have constantly gone on the Heath; I have myself frequently gone over it, both on horseback and on foot—I have never been turned back—I have known many persons who have gone across it—it is a review ground for the Artillery—it is a short way to the powder mills and the Hanworth Road—it has been open to the public for a great many years without interruption—I never had permission to cross—if I had been stopped I should have gone back.
THOMAS PETER BOUGHTON . I am the tenant of Hounslow Heath—Hammond is in my employment—he had directions from me to prevent anybody from going across—nobody had any right to cross there, by order of the War Office.
Vickery's Defence. I did not touch the man; I was 20 yards away from him.
Linsey received a good character, but Warren (T 87)stated that he was an associate of thieves.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.
VICKERY and PARKER.— Six months' Imprisonment.
LINSEY.— Twelve months Imprisonment.
MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; MR. RIBTQN defended Linsey, and MR. STRAIGHT defended Parker.
WILLIAM HENRY WEBB . I live at Feltham, and am foreman to Mr. George Daw—on Saturday night, 12th October, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I was on the Staines Road, with my wife—Linsey and Kilby (Parker), in company with another man, came across the road—Linsey grasped his left hand at my watch-chain, and struck a blow at me with his right—I bobbed my head on one side, and it just brushed my whiskers—I threw down a basket which I had in my hand, and I struck at Linsey and knocked him down—my wife called for the police and screamed "Murder!"—a man came up with a horse and cart, and one of the prisoners went up and told the man to go on—he said he should not, for he knew there was something wrong—he jumped off the cart, came towards me, and the prisoners ran away—during the transaction, Parker said "Come on; that is not parties," and my wife said "That is Kilby, the plasterer."
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Parker said "Don't, they are not the proper parties; come on"—that was after the man came up in the cart, and then they ran away—Parker was standing on the footpath.
MARGARET WEBB . I am the wife of the last witness—I was with him on the Staines Road going home—three men came across the road towards us—the prisoners are two of them—Linsey clutched at my husband's watch-chain, and struck at him—the blow missed, and my husband knocked him down—I called out, and a man came along with a cart—one of them went up and told him to go on, and he said he should not for he knew there was something the matter—I still screamed, and Kilby came up and said to Linsey, "Don't, they are not the proper parties," and I noticed he was Kilby, the plasterer.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. My husband had left his watch at Hounslow the night before, but he had got his guard on—it was hanging to his waistcoat—Linsey pulled it out, and he would have had the watch if it had been there.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The chain was not taken; nothing was taken—my husband knocked Linsey down, to defend himself—I did not hear any one call out "Is that Jack?"—Kilby said "They are not the proper parties."
GEORGE WARREN (Policeman T 87). I was on duty on the Staines Road, and about 11.50 I heard screams of "Murder!" and "Police!"—I ran up, and saw the prosecutor and his wife—they complained to me—I apprehended the prisoners on the last case.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I did not say anything to them—they did not say it was a mere lark, they mistook the man—I did not tell them this charge when I apprehended them, because I did not know that I should find the prosecutor at home; I did not tell them till they were at Brentford.
W. H. WEBB (re-examined). Parker was standing in the road when Linsey attacked me, about 2 yards off.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment each, in addition to the former sentences.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.
Prisoner. Q. How long did we live together before we were married? A. A little time—it was not seven years, or five years—I can't say how long—I had a child by him before marriage.
THOMAS CARLISLE (Policeman E 46). I apprehended the prisoner on 23rd August, at 10, Little Earl Street, Seven Dials, on the charge of bigamy—he said "She knew I was married when I married her; it is a bad job; I suppose it will be an Old Bailey job"—I produce two certificates, which I have compared with the registers, and they are correct. (Read. The first was a certificate of marriage at St. Pancras Church, on 30th September, 1844, between William Newman and Caroline Peel; the second was a certificate of marriage at St. Stephen's, Westminster, an 8th February, 1864, between William Newman and Susannah Margaret Jex.)
THE COURT considered there was no case.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 18th, 1872.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
5. ROBERT WILLIAMS (23) , to unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession, with intent to utter it, after a previous conviction.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES HILLS . I am shopman to George Nicholls, a draper, of Brixton Road—on 16th July I served the prisoner with some buttons and pins, which came to 3d.—she gave me a bad florin—I gave it to Mr. Nicholls.
GEORGE NICHOLLS . The last witness brought me this coin—I found it was bad—I asked the prisoner where she got it—she said she was sent by her mistress, Lady Montague, of Wynn Road, Brixton—I said that no such person lived there—she then said that she picked it up—I marked it, and took her myself to the station, and gave the coin to the sergeant—this if it (produced)—here is my mark on it.
JOHN LONG . I am shopman to Mr. Stokes, a pork butcher, of Commercial Road, Lambeth—on 12th September I sold the prisoner a trotter, which came to 1d—she gave me a shilling—I broke it nearly in half in the detector, and kept it in my hand till I gave it to my master, who gave it to a policeman in my presence—this is the coin (produced).
SOLOMON DALES (Policeman L 34). I took the prisoner, and received this shilling from Mr. Stokes—I took her to the Southwark Police Court—she was remanded to the 18th, and then discharged—she gave the name of Jane Dillon.
GEORGE DEER . I am assistant to Mr. Jones, a draper, of 36, Fulham Road, Brompton—on 29th October, between 2.30 and 3 o'clock, I sold the prisoner a pair of stockings, which came to 10 3/4 d.—she gave me a half-crown—I took it to Miss Scholys, the cashier, who gave it to me to try it again, and I found it was bad—I gave it to her to take to Mrs. Jones—this is it.
ALICE SCHOLYS . I am assistant to Mr. Jones—on 29th October Deer brought me this half-crown—the prisoner was in the shop—I took it to Mr. Jones, and afterwards gave it back to Deer—it was broken in my presence—I saw Mr. Jones give it to the constable.
GUILTY.*— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE MACAIRE . I am barman at the Falcon public house, Green Street, Bethnal Green—on 6th November the prisoner came in with another man—he called for a pint of half-and-half, which came to 2d.—he gave me sixpence; I put it in the till, and gave him change—he then called for some more beer, and gave me a bad florin—I bent it, gave it back to him, and told him it was bad—he said that he got it from the gas-house, and gave me a good half-crown, for which I gave him change—I afterwards went to the till, and found a bad sixpence on top of two good ones—I had not taken any sixpences between; I had not been to the till—I charged the prisoner, and gave the sixpence to the constable—he said that he got the coin at the gas-house, and said "Don't be hard upon a poor b—"—I saw him searched at the station, and a small parcel containing bad money was taken from his trousers pocket.
GEORGE SHEPPARD (Policeman K 318). I took the prisoner in Grove Road, about 200 yards from the Falcon—I charged him with uttering a counterfeit florin and sixpence—he said he did not know he had got any bad money about him—I took him to the station, and received this bad sixpence from Macaire—I searched the prisoner, and found in his right trousers pocket two packages, one containing four sixpences and the other nine, all counterfeit; and in his left trousers pocket a bad florin, which Macaire identified—I also found eight shillings and five florins, three of which were in one pocket, and two loose—there was paper between them—I told him they were bad—he said that he picked them up; it was a bad job, and he must put up with it.
The prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was that he picked up the parcel of coins near the gasworks and did not know they were bad.
Prisoner's Defence. I have only to say I found them and put them in my pocket. I would not let anybody know it, they looked to me to be good. Next morning I went to the public-house, pulled out the florin and paid with it. I had no idea, the money was bad.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
HASSAN (through an Interpreter). I am an officer on board the Sharpier—I was in the Commercial Road on this Sunday night after 12 o'clock, and saw three persons walking along side of me—I felt some one take my watch from my pocket, and caught hold of their arms—the one who stole it tried to put it in his pocket, and a gentleman tried to take it from him—he fell down and I fell over him, and two persons came up and struck me, one of whom is the prisoner—he struck me under my eyes, and I bled—I was only struck once—this is my watch, the constable gave it to me.
Cross-examined. I at first picked out a man at night-time, and when I went in the morning I found he was not the man, and he was discharged.
Cross-examined. I had him in my hands when he dropped it—he said "Let me go," and dropped the watch in the gutter—the prosecutor picked out another man, who he could not identify in the morning.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a former conviction at Worship Street in January, 1872, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. LATIMER conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN MCKENNA . I live at 20, Brook Street; the prisoner lived in the same house with me—I wrote to Dublin about three weeks ago for some money—the prisoner was present when I wrote the letter—I received an answer to it last week since he has been apprehended—up to that time I had received no answer and no Post Office order for 15s.—I never gave any body leave to sign my name to a Post Office order for 15s.
GEORGE HARRISON . I live in the same house—last Friday fortnight I saw the prisoner take a letter from the postman, open it, take the order out of it, and put it in his pocket—I saw a round black mark like a stamp on it, and in the other corner "15s."
Prisoner. Q. Was I in the house when the postman came? A. Yes—a man named Tuey gave the letter out of his hand into yours—you were in the yard, he handed it to you and said "Here is a letter for your pal"and you opened it with a knife, and went to the Docks to look after him with it in your pocket.
SARAH ELIZA LUFF . I live at 20, Sigh Holborn, and am in charge of the branch office there—I produce a money order payable to John McKenna—I do not know to whom the money was paid—here is "15s." in figures in the corner—it is made payable from the branch Post Office, Dublin.
JAMES VALANOE . I am a letter-carrier, and deliver Letters in Brooks' Market—on 1st November I delivered a letter addressed to J. McKenna—I gave it to a shorter man than the prisoner, and the prisoner took it from the man who I delivered it to.
Prisoner. I was not in the house at the time, I was out in the back-yard, and therefore you could not see me. Witness. I cannot swear to you, because there are several men very much like you.
Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CURRIE conducted the Prosecution.
Prisoner. I told the constable where I had picked it up. Witness. I was on the van, and it was tucked in through the rails of the van, it could not have fallen off—I never saw you.
said "You had better be off"—I noticed that he walked rather stiff, followed him, and found a whip inside his shirt and down the leg of his trousers—I pulled it out and said "What do you do with this?"—he said "Give me a good hiding and let me go, I won't halloa."
He was further charged with having been convicted at Clerkenwell in December, 1870, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GLYN conducted the Prosecution.
AMBROSE BARRETT . I am in the service of a pawnbroker at 88, High Street, Whitechapel—on 1st November, about 9.30, the prisoner came and offered me a set of teeth in pledge—I asked her where she got them from—she said "From a woman in a public-house"—I said "What public-house?"—she said "Up the street"—I said "What street?"—she said "High Street"—I called an officer.
Prisoner. She sent me to see how much they would lend on them.
MINNA WALLACE . I am the wife of John Wallace of 238, Brixton Road—I saw my teeth last on 31st October, at a few minutes past 10 o'clock in the morning, on the dressing-table in my bedroom—I afterwards missed them—these are them (produced).
THOMAS BERGEN (Policeman H 210) I was called to the pawnbroker's shop, and asked the prisoner where she got the teeth from—she said from a woman in a public-house—I asked her if she would know the woman—she said "Yes"—I went with her to a little public-house, and she said the woman was gone—I took her to the station.
COURT. Q. You made no enquiry at the public-house? A. No.
Prisoner's Defence. The woman gave them to me to go to the pawnshop and see what I could get on them.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 19th, 1872.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
15. SIDNEY CHIDLEY (35), was indicted for unlawfully obtaining the sums of 9l. 1s. 9d. and 16l., by false pretences.—He PLEADED GUILTY to a Count charging a fraud under the Debtors' Act, and no evidence was offered on the other Counts.—Judgment respited.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE, on the part of the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
17. JULES CHERET was indicted for unlawfully publishing a false and defamatory libel upon Emile Joseph Irlande. And EMILE JOSEPH IRLANDE was indicted for publishing a false and defamatory libel upon Jules Cheret.
No evidence was offered upon these indictments, and, on the part of Cheret, a written apology was put in and read in Court.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS DALFORD . I am a stab, and lodged at 4, Paternoster Row, and lodged at 4, Paternoster Row, a lodging-house, for four nights—on the night of 16th November, about 12 o'clock, I came home, and went into the kitchen—Moore was against the gas, and Goddard was standing by the side of the table, in his shirt-sleeves, and with his hat on the table—Moore turned the gas off, and they turned round and caught hold of me, and felled me to the ground—three attacked me; the two prisoners and a third—one of them held me down while the other cut my pocket off, and took the contents, 12s. 6d., and some halfpence—I had seen the money safe, and counted it, not five minutes before I went into the lodging-house—they then bundled me out into the street, and shut the door against me, and gave me a wrong hat instead of my own—I went in search of a policeman, and went back with him to the house, and saw Moore, who is the deputy or manager of the kitchen—I asked if he knew anything of that hat—he said "Yes, it belongs to a man up stairs, in bed"—I went up stairs with the constable, and saw Goddard, and asked if that was his hat—he said "Yes"—I asked where mine was—he said "Under the bed," and he gave it to the constable.
Moore. Q. Where was I standing at the time the gas went out? A. Under it, and you turned it out as I came in—I was sober; I had had no beer.
WILLIAM REILLY (Policeman H 157). I met Dalford, and went with him to the house—Moore was in the kitchen, in his shirt-sleeves, and four or five others—Dalford said "That is the man that put the gas out"—I asked if he knew anything of the hat Dalford was wearing—he said "Yes," it belonged to a man up stairs in bed—we went up, and saw Goddard, who owned the hat, and gave the prosecutor his—Moore said he was not present at the time, that he went out for candles, and it was the second job that took place there that night—Goddard said he knew nothing of it, as he was out in the yard wheat the occurrence took place in the kitchen—the prosecutor seemed to be under the influence of drink, but he understood what he was saying—I saw his pocket; it was either out or torn away—I found 2d. on Goddard, and 5d. on Moore.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. CHARLES MATTHEWS the Defence.
WILLIAM GARMENT, JUN . I am the prosecutor's son—the prisoner was in his service—on 31st October, about 5 o'clock in the evening, I was present at the loading of the prisoner's van—there were forty-five packages of tea, consisting of nine chests, thirty half chests, and six boxes—before loading, I counted the packages as they were piled in the warehouse, and found the number correct—after that I took the delivery-note, and checked every number—I helped to put them on the van, and after they were loaded I got up and tallied them, and found them correct—the nine chests were at the bottom, and the half chests at the top—they were loaded from our warehouse—we are City carmen, and they were to go to Ward's Wharf; for the Civil Service Co-operative Company.
Cross-examined. The boy Davis was also in our service; he is not now—there were forty-five distinct packages.
31st October, about 6.15, the prisoner came there with a load of tea, and a delivery-note—he only delivered forty-four packages—I told him there was one short—he said he thought there was one short—I only signed for forty-four—it was a chest of Congou that was short—I did not see what was in the van.
NELSON EDWARD DAVIS . I am nine years old—I went with the prisoner on 31st October to look after the goods—we went to Ward's Wharf—the chests of tea were not all delivered there; one was kept back—the prisoner drove away from the wharf with the chest in the van, and went over Waterloo Bridge to a coffee-shop—he took the chest in there, and remained there about half or three-quarters of an hour—I remained in the van—when he came out he gave me 2d., and said "You stick to Bill, and Bill will stick to you"—Mr. Garment spoke to me next day, and I afterwards pointed out the coffee-shop to him.
Cross-examined. It was the elder Mr. Garment—he is not here—I was examined three times before the Magistrate—I think I mentioned the first time about going to the coffee-shop—it was after the first examination that I pointed out the coffee-shop to Mr. Garment—I had told him about it before that.
GUILTY .—The Prisoner received a good character.— Twelve Months' imprisonment.
JAMES HENRY SMITH . I am a labourer, living at 3, Friendly Place, Whitehorse Lane, Stepney—on 30th August I was at the Comfort Arms—I went in there at 5.30, and remained till about 8.30—the prisoner and I went in together—we had some drink, and entered into an argument concerning military affairs—I told him that he knew nothing about it, and with that he lost his temper—he took up a pewter pint measure from the table and threw it at me, but fortunately it missed me and struck an old gentleman in the chest, who was sitting at the back—I then pitched into the prisoner—we fought, and I struck him several times—it ended by my throwing the prisoner on to the floor—after that the landlord, Mr. Cowley, requested me to go out—I went to the threshold of the door and returned again, and Mr. Cowley said to me "My good fellow, don't make any further disturbance in my house; take my advice and go"—I was standing against the door, with my back to it—Mr. Cowley was in front of me—I did not see the prisoner coming towards me, but I felt a severe blow over my left eye—I went out of the house—my eye bled very profusely—I leaned against some palisading and I fell afterwards from loss of blood—I found myself at the hospital in the morning—I remained there about seven weeks—I had been drinking that night, and the prisoner with me, but we were not intoxicated.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you strike me when I was lighting my pipe at the commencement? A. No; I did not say I would knock the front of your head in—I said "Come outside and fight"—I did not rush at you and say I would fight you, and knock your nose off.
GEORGE COWLEY . I keep the Comfort Arms—I did not see the prisoner throw the pot at the prosecutor, but it was thrown—I arrived after and they were then scuffling on the floor—they got separated—I got round the
counter and said to the prosecutor "Don't let us have any farther disturbance here, get outside"—he was then standing against the door—he said "All right, Mr. Cowley, I will go"—I turned my back to look at the prisoner to see what he was doing, and then the prosecutor turned round and said "What did you mean by throwing that pot at me "and he struck the prisoner three or four blows, not more than four, on the face as near as he could get at him—the prisoner held his head down and did not attempt to defend himself—he kept his right hand at the back of him, leaning up against the wall—then the prosecutor receded to the door, and I again said "Smith, go out, there's a good fellow," and I stooped down to endeavour to unbolt the door to make more room to get him out—the prisoner walked up to the prosecutor and struck him a violent blow—the prosecutor then went outside and leaned against the railings—the prisoner immediately walked out of the house—on the blow being struck blood must have flowed, because I had blood on my trousers—I distinctly saw a knife, apparently a short-bladed one—at the time the prisoner dealt the blow he said "You b—, I will," and he walked up to the prosecutor and then dealt the blow—it was after that I saw the knife—the prosecutor went outside, leaned against the railings, and then I saw blood running down his face—the scuffle had ceased two or three moments before the blow, but it was not three or four minutes from the commencement to the end of it—they both knew perfectly what they were about; they were neither of them intoxicated.
Prisoner. Q. Did not the prosecutor rush by you? A. He did in the first instance, but not while I was endeavouring to unbolt the door—not when the occurrence occurred with the knife—you rushed at him and struck him the blow.
Re-examined. I was standing between them, the blow was delivered over me; I was in a stooping position.
JOHN ENNES . I am a bootmaker at 19, Bridge Street, Stepney—I was the Comfort Arms on 30th August, about 8.30—when I went in I heard the two men having words—I heard some person say "If you do that or say that again, I will punch your head," and no sooner the words than there was a scuffle between the prisoner and the prosecutor—they fought and fell, I think the prisoner under; they got up and the prisoner retraced his steps towards the end of the form or fixed seat, followed by the prosecutor—the prisoner at that time had his head down, as if he had had sufficient—Smith gave the prisoner several severe blows upwards as his head was down—Smith then went back, and the prisoner followed, and with his uplifted arm—he said "You b—, I will!" and with the words, the blow—the knife went over his left eye—I heard something click distinctly when the blow was struck—blood flowed very profusely—I went for medical assistance.
Prisoner. Q. You said in your last evidence I said "Take that" A. So you did, you said "You b—I will, take that," distinctly—I did not see the prosecutor rush at you—I saw you come along the form and make the rush.
ALEXANDER COWLEY . I am the landlord's brother—I am a clothier, and live at 136, Stridmore Street, Stepney—on the night of 30th August I was in the bar—I did not see the pot thrown, but as I stepped out of the bar I saw the prisoner rush from the form—as Smith stood on the threshold of the door, he ran at him with a knife in his hand, and plunged it into his forehead.
JOHN COOKE . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—the prisoner was brought there on 30th August—he had a stab across the left eye, and an incised wound on the left cheek—the wound over the eye was about 1 1/2 inches long, and the stab about 2 1/2 inches deep, across the left eyebrow—the wound on the cheek was about 1 1/2 inches long and not so deep, both wounds were caused by the same blow—the knife entered the frontal bone on the outer part of the left eyebrow, passed into the orbit, then through the orifice of the orbit into the small bones of the skull, altogether penetrating about 2 1/2 inches—the direction the knife took was horizontal and inwards—the wound was a dangerous one—he remained under treatment for about seven weeks—in almost any other direction the wound must have been fatal—the blow must have been struck with terrific violence—the prosecutor had erysipelas for about twelve days—it set in on the ninth day after admission—the bone forming the arch of the orbit was fractured into three pieces, which were removed on admission—this piece of the blade was left in the wound impacted in the skull, it is 2 or 3 inches in length—he is perfectly well now, the only inconvenience is he can't open his eye; he can see—the eye is not at all injured—I attended him all the while.
JAMES BRIDEN (Detective Officer K). I apprehended the prisoner in Bermondsey on 12th October—I told him the charge—he said it was all an accident, he was cutting some tobacco at the time, and the prosecutor ran up against the knife, but what became of the knife after he did not know.
Prisoner. Q. I said to you "If I had known you had wanted me I should have come, and would not have given you the trouble?" A. Yes, you did.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. It was an accident. I had my pipe in my mouth; he went out, and when he had come in again, I had a knife in my hand, and naturally put up my hand to protect myself.
J.H. SMITH (re-examined). I did not say at the hospital that it was all my fault, and it was not the prisoner's at all—I said I forgave him, and so I do; but I should do my duty towards man.
Prisoner's Defence. There is another witness here, I believe. I was not wrangling with the prosecutor at all; he threatened to knock the front of my head in, and he wanted to fight, but I would not. He went out, and I thought it was all over, and I took out my knife to cut some tobacco to have a smoke. He ran at me, and I put my hand up. I don't know any more. I went and looked at him, and I saw he had a mark on his forehead.
MICHAEL BARRY . I am a mason, and live at 3, Florentine Street, Mileend Road—on the night of 30th August I was in the beershop, and Smith was having an argument with the prisoner—I asked Smith to come and sit with me—he did not, and the prisoner said "Don't make such a row in the house, Jimmy"—he said "What have you got to say about it, you're always on to me; you are the bully of the whole"—they got into, high words, and the prisoner took a pint measure from the table and threw it, but I did not see it hit any one—the prisoner said to me "Do you call that manly?"—I said "No, it was not," and then he hit him with his left hand, and then followed him up again and gave him another domino—they closed and had a scuffle and fell on the floor—the prosecutor threw him on the floor and caught hold of him by the whiskers, and had his left knee on his chest—I
went to separate them, but I could not, they were too strong for me—I called the assistance of another man, and we separated them—we got Smith as far as the door, and he rushed back again and pitched into the prisoner, and gave him good cheer—the prosecutor kept hitting him all the time, and he certainly gave the prisoner a regular good doing, as they term it—they were parted again, and Smith got as far as the door, when the prisoner rushed at the prosecutor, and I saw the blow given, but I saw no knife—I saw blood, and I picked up the prosecutor after—they were both excited and the worse for drink.
Prisoner. Q. Did you hear the prosecutor say he would knock my b——head off? A. No; I visited him when he was at the hospital; he said he was as much in fault at you, and he freely forgave you—you did not leave the house till I was picking up Smith—he was bleeding profusely, and I said to you "I think, Jack, you have done it"
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSES. GOUGH and PAWSON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BROMLEY defended Maskell.
No evidence was offered against JOHNSON.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN BRAWN . I am in the employment of Messrs. Pawson & Co., St. Paul's Churchyard—on 26th September the prisoner came into my department—he selected from another of the empleyes of the house in my presence two pieces of silk—he, said they were for Messrs. Weeks & Co., of Southampton Row—I don't think he said whether he was going to take them or whether they were to be sent, but that does not concern the person who sells them.
JOHN PAINE . I am a warehouseman in the employ of Messrs. Pawson—on Thursday, 26th September, I served the prisoner with two pieces of silk of the value of 59l. 7s. 7d.—I asked him where they were to be sent, and he said to Weeks & Co., of Southampton Row—I have been about two years and nine months in the employment of Messrs. Pawson—Weeks & Co. are customers of theirs—I got the goods ready, and sent them down to the entering-room in the usual way—it was not my duty to see that they were sent off—I sent down a ticket of the value of the goods and the name of the purchaser—I gave credit to Messrs. Weeks & Co.
Cross-examined. It was between 12 and 1 o'clock when the prisoner came—I was with the last witness when he came to select the things.
WILLIAM HENRY SYMONDS . I am assistant to Messrs. Weeks & Co., in Southampton Row—on Thursday evening, 26th September, we received two parcels of goods from Messrs. Pawson's, containing two pieces of silk, two pieces of black velvet, and two pieces of coloured velvet—those things had not been ordered by us—they were sent to Baker Street the next day—Mr. Weeks has a brother carrying on business there, and the goods were sent to his place.
WILLIAM DAWSON . I am an assistant in the velvet department at Messrs. Pawson's—on Thursday, 26th September, the prisoner came in and asked me to show him black velvets at about 5s. and 8s.—I showed them to him, and he bought two pieces of each price—as he was going away I called his attention to two pieces of coloured velvet—he bought those and
went away—the value of the four pieces was about 30l.—he ordered them for Messrs. Weeks, of Southampton Row—I sent them down to be entered to Messrs. Weeks, and I gave credit to them.
Cross-examined. I don't know the time he came—it was after noon—I dine at 2 o'clock—I believe it was before my dinner.
JOHN YOUNG . I am entering clerk at Messrs. Pawson's—on Thursday, 26th September, I received two parcels for Messrs. Weeks & Co., of Southampton Row—there were two pieces of silk sent down first, and afterwards some velvet came down—I entered them between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon—they would leave about 4.30, when our cart leaves.
JAMES WEEKS . I carry on business as a draper in Southampton Row—I am a customer of Messrs. Pawson's—I don't know the prisoner at all—I did not authorise any person to order any goods in September—I received some goods; I opened them, and found they were not goods ordered by me, or any one in the house—I have a brother, John Weeks, and we naturally have mistakes sometimes made, and I sent the goods on to him in Baker Street, on Friday.
Cross-examined. Mine is a large business, and there are several persons in my employ—persons order goods for me if they are sent to do so—I have no partner, except my wife, and she does not attend to the business at all—I order all goods myself—mine is a general drapery trade—if I was away I should order through my clerk—persons have sent goods to me, and then come to see me afterwards about them, occasionally—small quantities, as samples.
Re-examined. I never had a parcel sent from Pawson's in that way—I order the goods myself, or else send a special order for them—I never employed Maskell, and he had nothing whatever to do with my establishment.
JOHN ELLERTON PAWSON . I am one of the firm of Pawson & Co.—on Friday, 27th September, somebody was sent to fetch the goods back from Baker Street—I don't know whether any one went to Southampton Row.
Cross-examined. I heard the goods were at Baker Street, and I sent there and got them back—I have lost nothing by this transaction—I prosecuted two persons, the present prisoner and Johnson—I thought there was a very strong case against them at the Police Court, but I found afterwards that as regards Johnson it was a mistake—I don't know that a Mr. Miller appeared at the Police Court, or that he gave the prisoners into custody—I have seen Mr. Miller—I did not know that he represented himself as prosecuting this matter, certainly not for us—I took no steps myself personally, and I really know very little about the matter—I think I heard from my father or cousin that some one had been given into custody—they are not here—they assist in the-management of the business—my father is the prosecutor—I was not at the Police Court on the first hearing—I don't know that Miller appeared there to prosecute as a solicitor; I know he called on my father, but I don't know what took place.
JOHN SHADBURY HUNWICK . I am in the employ of Messrs. Pawson—on Saturday, 28th September, I went to Mr. Weeks, of Baker Street, in consequence of instructions, to fetch back a certain quantity of silks and velvets—I can't tell the amount—I was present when the prisoner ordered the. goods, and I saw him select them—I believe they were the same goods, considering they had our marks on them, and were the same description, quantity, and quality.
Road—I am a druggist—I have known Maskell three or four years—on Friday, 27th September, he called on me about 4 o'clock in the afternoon—he said "I don't know whether you are aware of it, but I have come into some property by my wife's relations"—I knew that one of his wife's relations had died—he said "I have been buying some goods from Messrs. Pawson's, of St. Paul's Churchyard, and, by some mistake, they have got to Weeks & Co., in Southampton Row, and I have sent the barman or potman to fetch them, but they say that they must have an order from Pawson's to deliver them back to them; I have got the order, and I want you to take it, and if you take the order and get the goods I will give you 2l"—I said "Let me have the order to look at"—he produced the order; I looked at it, and, knowing the handwriting, I said "You know this is a forgery; you know the handwriting as well as I do, and I am surprised you should come to me to ask such a question"—it was in Johnson's handwriting—I did not go—the prisoner said "Well, I thought you might not like to do it for Mr. Johnson, but you would do it for me"—I said I would do nothing of the kind.
Cross-examined. I have always gone by the name of Johnson, never by any other name—I never changed my name and put one name first, and the other after it—I have never been in prison, and never had a warrant out for my apprehension—I have known Johnson about ten years—I have not been very friendly with him—there was never anything wrong between I and Maskell, we have always been friendly—I knew that he was acting as Johnson's clerk—I was never turned out of Mr. Johnson's office for being drunk, and never stole a book of him—I did not steal that book (produced); it is quite untrue—a constable was not fetched to give me into custody for stealing the book—I am not in business now—I have been a druggist—I was never a director of a company, nor secretary—I have been a bankrupt—I was never a director of the Provincial Union Assurance Company—(looking at a paper)—that is my signature "Walter John Johnson"—I was not director of that company—I was engaged by Johnson to act and sign anything that he thought proper—I am not the secretary of the Tradesman's Commercial and Legal Association for the Detection of Mercantile Fraud—this signature "J. W. Johnson" is mine, that was to suit Mr. Johnson's purpose—I never changed my names about except to suit his purpose—I will swear I have not gone under the name of Walters—I did not come to London as Walters from Liverpool—when I came from Liverpool, I came to Mr. Johnson as John Walters Johnson—I know Mr. Miller, a solicitor—he is not a friend of mine—I first acquainted Mr. Miller with the facts I have told you to-day—he is an attorney, and he does my business, and I sent for him and asked him to look after Mr. Maskell and the goods—that was on the Saturday morning—I left it in Mr. Miller's hands—I merely instructed him by letter and said such an application had been made to me, and I asked him to acquaint the Pawsons of it.
Gross-examined. A gentleman named Miller first put me in motion—I have seen him here with the witness Johnson, but not before—I found some documents on Maskell; a receipt for some rent and some other papers.
WILLIAM HENRY SYMONDS (re-called). A person called at Messrs. Weeks, Southampton Row, in the evening after the goods had been sent—I did not give them up to him because he had not got an order—that was before they were sent to Baker Street.
Cross-examined. Johnson, who was afterwards charged, occupied a room in my house—I have seen the witness Johnson going in and out—I was not aware that he was ever turned out for drunkenness—I was never told to turn him out.
Cross-examined. I am the wife of the last witness—I have seen the witness Johnson in and out of the office; but he was not the occupier—I have never complained of his coming there on account of his drunkenness—I have known him to be drunk there occasionally.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. A.B. KELLY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 19th, 1872.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. THOMAS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence. The Prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HARRY GIFFARD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. FRITH the Defence,
WILLIAM WOOD . I am a plate-printer, of 3, Dean Street, Fetter Lane—on 29th August, 1858, I was present at the Church of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, when the prisoner married my daughter Mary Ann Wood, who is now outside the Court.
THOMAS COLE (Policeman N 452). On 29th October the prisoner was given into my custody in Fleet Street by his first wife—I told him the charge; he made no answer—I produce the two marriage certificates—I have compared them with the registers at Shoreditch Church and St. Dunstan's Church; they are correct.
MR. FRITH contended that it devolved upon the Prosecution to prove that the Prisoner knew that his wife was alive, which they had not done. (See "Reg. v. Turner," and "Beg. v. Lumley," Archibold's Crown Cases.) MR. H. GIFFARD submitted that, as the Prisoner expressed no surprise when his wife
met him and gave him in custody, that was proof that he was aware of the fact. THE COURT considered that, as the Prisoner had described himself in the second certificate as a bachelor, and not as a widower, it was for the Jury to say whether that was done for the purpose of concealing the previous marriage.
MR. FRITH to W. WOOD. Q. Did your daughter live with you? A. No; I know that she often used to see her husband after he left her; they have been living together within the last three months—that was before the second marriage.
GUILTY . The Prisoner stated that he lived very unhappily with his wife and left her, allowing her 17s. 6d. a-week for the support of their five children. Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. LANGPORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MOODY the Defence.
WILLIAM CARTER . I am a fishmonger, of 9, Marylebone Lane—Mrs. Turner is one of my customers—on Saturday, 26th October, Read came and asked my young man outside if I would oblige Mrs. Turner with change for a cheque for 10l. 10s.—I heard her speak to him, but I was attending to two customers—I gave the prisoner 10l. 10s. in gold, and she gave me this cheque: "Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Oct. 16, 1872. Messrs. Wood & Co. Pay Louise M. Gore 10l. 10s. Alice C. Gray," endorsed "Louise M. Gore and Mrs. Turner"—it was never paid—I could not hear what the prisoner said to the young man, but he spoke very loud to me, saying "Will you oblige Mrs. Turner with change for a cheque for ten guineas," and, being a customer for years, I gave her the money.
LOUISA MARIA GORE . I am single—I was staying at 22, Woburn Place—this cheque has not my signature—in October I was staying at my brother's lodgings, 118, Gower Street—the two prisoners were servants there—I was expecting a cheque from the country from Mrs. Gray, and, on 17th October, received a letter from her without any cheque, but I did not expect it particularly in that letter—this cheque is in my favour—I did not authorise any one to sign my name to it.
Cross-examined. I was never in the habit of signing my name Louise—Mrs. Gray is, a friend of mine—I have seen her write many times, and am prepared to say that this is her signature—she spells her name "Gray," not "Grey"—I did not notice that the letter had been opened.
GEORGE KING (Detective Officer D). About 1.30, on 10th November, I went to 5, Lancing Street, St. Pancras, with Mr. Carter—I knocked at, the door and saw Read—I asked her if her name was Read—she said "Yes"—I said that I was a policeman, and was going to take her for obtaining 10l. 10s. from Mr. Carter, and also for stealing the cheque—she said that she knew nothing about it—we went up stairs with her, where we saw the prisoner Hall—Read said "Am I obliged to go?"—I said "Yes"—she said to Hall "Then if I go you will have to go too; you are as bad as I am; you persuaded me to do it"—Hall said "I know I did, and I am willing to go with you"—Read said to Mr. Carter "If I tell the truth you won't charge me"—he said "The case is not in my hands, it is in the hands of the police—I said "It is not a matter for Mr. Carter, because you will be charged with stealing the cheque"—she said "I will tell the truth, we did take it, and I have part of the money here, which I will give you if you
won't charge me"—she went to a box, unlocked it, and took out 4l. 10s. in gold, 15s. in silver, and some gold rings—I took them to the station—Miss Gore came there—I had the cheque in my hand, and she said that the signature was not in her writing—Read said "No, it is not," and Hall said "It is my writing; I wrote it."
Cross-examined. Hall said "I am willing to go," and Mr. Carter went out of the room—Read said "I will tell you all the truth about it," but Mr. Carter was called back, and I repeated to him in her presence what she had said, and then she said "I have part of the money in my box, and I will give it to you"—the statement was made perfectly voluntarily.
MR. MOODY contended that the Prosecution had failed to establish a material averment, namely, that the document was "an order for the payment of money, to wit, 10l. 10s." It was not proved that Mrs. Gray had any money at the Bank in question, and if the prisoners simply subscribed Mrs. Gray's name to a valueless piece of paper that would not amount to a forgery. THE COURT considered that it would be equally a forgery if there were no assets at. the bank.
HALL— GUILTY of the forgery. — Four Months' Imprisonment.
READ— GUILTY of uttering. She was further charged with having been convicted in February, 1870, to which she
PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 20th, 1872.
Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MR. HUMPHREYS the Defence.
ELLEN LAMBERT . I am the wife of Thomas Lambert, and live at 9, Northport Street, Hoxton—on 17th July last I let my back parlour, with the use of a, sitting-room, to the deceased girl, Ellen Moore—she gave that name—I had not known her before—the prisoner joined her on the Saturday night—I believe she went to meet him—that was the first Saturday after she came—he continued to come every Saturday afterwards, and stayed till Monday—on Saturday, 14th September, he had been there ten days—he stayed that Saturday night and the Sunday, and until Monday—I did not see anything of him on the Monday morning—I saw the deceased about 11.30 that morning; she was coming up stairs from below, with a jug of water, to her room—I saw her go into her room, and saw nothing more of her till 2.30—I then heard the report of a pistol—before I could get up stairs there were three reports—they appeared to come from their room—I went to the door, and tried it; I found it was locked—I tried to break it open, but found I could not—I ran to the street door, and called for help—a man named Barrett came up, also Alexander, and Mrs. Brett and Mrs. Howard, two neighbours—I went for a policeman and somebody went for a doctor—when I got back the room door had been opened, and I saw Moore coming from the room, bleeding very much from the cheek and from the eye—I caught her in my arms, and sat her on the stairs for a second, and then took her down into my room—she managed pretty well to get down the stairs by herself—I gave her some water, and the neighbours bathed her face—while she was there I went up into her room alone—I saw the prisoner
there, lying on the bad on his back—I asked him What he had done it with; he pointed to the table, and said "My revolver is there"—I picked it up; it was lying underneath the toilet-table—he could almost reach from the bed and put it there—the handle was wet with blood—I handed it to Barrett—the prisoner said "Be careful of it; there are two chambers not gone of"—he told me to go to his pocket, and take a ring from his waistcoit, and place it on the girl's finger—I showed him the ring that I took from the waistcoat, and asked him if that was the one; he said "Yes"—I then took it down stairs, and placed it on the girl's finger, and said that Gus had Bent it down—she said "Oh, has he?"—it was a ring I had seen before—the doctor came, and they were both taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I did not see anything of the prisoner except about once a week, perhaps—I might have opened the door to him on one or two occasions, or I might have met him in the passage—they went out every night during the eight or ten days that he was there—I don't know what time they returned—they went out about 8.30 or 9 o'clock—she had a latchkey—sometimes I have heard them return about 12 or after 12 o'clock, but it was very seldom that I heard them come home—before that, he had only been in the habit of remaining from Saturday to Monday, always coming.
WILLIAM BARRETT . I am a fishmonger, and live at 16, Wilson Street, Hoxton—on Monday, 16th September, I was in Northport Street, and saw Mrs. Lambert outside her door, No. 9—in consequence of what the said to me I Went into the back parlour; the door was closed, but I got in by merely turning the handle—the deceased had then been taken Out of the room; she was not there—I was the first man that was in the room—I saw the prisoner lying on the bed on his back—I turned round and said they ought to be ashamed of themselves to leave the man lying there in the gore of blood in which he was—I saw blood upon him—he asked me if the girl was dead—I said "What girl?" I did not know anything about a female—he said "The girl that I have shot"—with that in came Mrs. Lambert find asked if I would go down stairs and see the girl—I did so, and afterwards returned into the room where the prisoner was—he asked me if I would give the girl the ring out of his pocket—I said ho, if he would wail, some one would be there and go to his pocket for the ring—he asked me a second time, and soon after that Mrs. Lambert came in, and he asked her to go to his pocket for the ring, and she did so—I saw her show him the ring, and she said "Is this the ring?" and he said "Yes"—he said "Good God, I must have been mad to do such a thing as this; I shall get seven years for it at the least"—before this, when I came up, he asked me how the girl was, and I told him she was much better than he was, but to keep himself quiet—he wanted to rub his forehead where he was wounded—he told me that his revolver laid under the table, and to be careful of it, as there were two charges in it—Mrs. Lambert picked up the revolver and gave it to me, and I put it in my pocket—I afterwards gave it to the police—the prisoner asked me if I would give him some brandy—I said "No, that is more than I can do"—the doctor and the police came in shortly after, and the doctor ordered him some brandy.
Cross-examined. There was not a great deal of blood coming from the wound in the prisoner's head, it had done bleeding; there was a great deal of blood about the place—he seemed injured; he just seemed as if he was coming to himself.
FREDERICK ALEXANDER . I am a carpenter, and carry on business at 13, Northport Street—I knew the deceased by sight; I have seen her go in and out of Mrs. Lambert's—on Monday afternoon, 16th September, about 2.30, I was standing at my door, and was called by a man standing on the steps of No. 9—in consequence of what was told me, I went to the door of the back parlour—Barrett came in and I went to look for a constable, and when I came back Barrett was going into the room; at that time the deceased was not in the room—the prisoner was on the bed bleeding from a wound in the head—I did not speak to him or ask him any question—about five or ten minutes afterwards Barrett left the room, and I was left alone with the prisoner—he said if the girl got over this he might get seven years—I told him I did not think so—he asked if I would go and see how the girl was—I went down and looked at her wounds, and came back again and told him I did not think it was so bad as was represented—he asked me how she was; he said she had two balls in her—he said he wished he had finished it, meaning himself—I told him I thought the bullet was not large enough to kill himself; I had seen the pistol at that time, it was picked up from against my feet—I helped Inspector Ramsay to carry him out to the cab—he asked me to shut the window of the cab, people were staring at him, and he said, in a hoarse voice, "This is with whoring"—something was said about his name and address, and he said the papers would get that soon enough the next morning.
Cross-examined. I had seen the deceased before this at places of amusement, not with the prisoner, at the Grecian Theatre, I have frequently seen her there.
DANIEL RAMSAY (Inspector N). On Monday, 16th September, just before 3 o'clock, I went to 9, Northport Street, and into the room on the ground floor, where the prisoner was—the surgeon was there attending to him—I afterwards saw the girl below—the pistol was handed to me by Sergeant Goodyer—I produce it; it is a seven-chambered revolver—I found that five of the chambers had been discharged, and two were still loaded—I told the prisoner I should have to take him to the hospital—I sent for a cab, and carried him into it—on the road to the hospital his head was covered up with a handkerchief; he uncovered himself, and looked out—I said "Your name is Augustus Elliott"—he said "How did you find that out?"—I said "The woman told me"—seeing that he looked respectable, I said "Are you a gentleman?"—he said "No, I am not a gentleman, but my friends are very well off"—we went a little further, and then he said "I did not buy the revolver with the intention of shooting her, but to take with me to America; we had a few words, and I fired at "her three times and myself twice"—I said "If you are a gentleman, I will telegraph to your friends"—he said "Oh, my friends will find it out soon enough by the papers in the morning"—in his coat pocket I found a box of cartridges—I have tried them, and they fit the pistol; they are the same sort as the ones that were extracted—I left the prisoner at the hospital, and returned to the house and examined the room—I found an indentation in the party-wall about 4 feet 6 inches from the floor, such as would be made by a small bullet—Mrs. Lambert gave me a bullet; I should think it was one that had been fired—on the 8th October the prisoner was taken from the hospital to be charged with this offence.
Cross-examined. I only saw one indentation in the wall.
September, about 2.30, I was sent for to Mrs. Lambert's house—I went into the back room, and saw the prisoner lying on the bed; he was suffering from two wounds in the head, one near the centre of the forehead, and the other on the right side near the temple—I then went down stairs, and saw the girl—she was sitting, attended to by Mrs. Lambert and some of the neighbours—I found two bullet wounds on her, one in the left eye and the other in the left cheek—I did what I could for them, and sent them both—to the hospital, after giving the prisoner a little brandy.
JANE KING . I am a single woman—I now live at Murray Street, Hoxton—I formerly lived at Mrs. Lambert's, 9, Northport Street, and occupied the first floor back room—the deceased Ellen Moore occupied the back parlour—we both had latch-keys—I had known her about two years, and the prisoner about a twelvemonth—he used to visit the deceased—I think he was away about twice—I don't know for how long, only what Nelly Moore told me—for about ten days before this occurred he had been staying at Mrs. Lambert's—I saw the deceased on Sunday morning—I did not see her at all on the Monday—I was in the house when the shots were fired—I went to the hospital with her and had some conversation with her, in consequence of which I saw the prisoner—he was then at the hospital—I said "Gus, what did you do it for?"—he said "You know very well, Jenny, what she is; she is always wanting more money than I can afford to give"—I said "You have disfigured her for life"—he said "Look what I have got to suffer"—he said "She is not an ignorant girl, and she could get her living in a different way."
Cross-examined. The deceased and I used to go out together to the Grecian Saloon—I don't know that the prisoner was some time in America, only what the deceased told me—I knew he was away—she used to tell me that he used to go away—when he was in England he used always to come on a Saturday night to the Grecian to meet her, and then go home and stay with her till the Monday—he seemed to be very fond of her, and always acted as a gentleman towards her—he always treated her with kindness and affection in every way—I was not with them at all during the last ten days—I only saw them in the evening when I used to meet them at places of amusement, not to speak to them—they were out late every evening—I don't know whether he had been drinking a good deal, or whether he was spending his money freely.
GERALD CREASY PARNKLL . I am a member of the College of Surgeons, and am now living in the country—on 16th September I was house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—between 3 and 4 o'clock that afternoon the prisoner and the deceased were brought there—I examined the deceased—she was wounded in two places—they were two gunshot wounds, one in the left cheek, and the other had pierced through the left eyelid—she was in a state of partial collapse when she came in—I had to administer stimulants till 8 o'clock in the evening—she was placed under chloroform, and the bullet was extracted from the upper jaw; that was the one that had entered the cheek; I produce it—I examined the wound in the eye—I found that the bullet had passed through the eyelid and into the eye, and so into the head—I was not able to do anything to that wound—she progressed as favourably as possible under the circumstances, until 2nd October, when I resigned—I did not see her afterwards—another gentleman took charge of the case then—I examined the prisoner when he was brought in, and found two wounds on his forehead—they were both gunshot wounds,
one in the middle of the forehead, the other on the right side—both bullets were extracted, the one in the middle of the forehead on the 18th and the other on the 17th—I produce them—the prisoner went on very favourably indeed—the bullets were flattened against the bone—he made a statement to me when I first saw him—I said to him "What have you done?" and he said "I have shot the bitch"—I used to converse with him sometimes of an evening, as I did with other patients, and I made some little notes, and concocted a story of my own; but as to swearing to it I could not; it was to this effect: that he had a row with the deceased, and that she threw a ring at him, and he had bought a pistol to take with him to America, and he in his passion, when she did that, took out the pistol and shot her, and then, seeing what he had done, he shot himself—that was as far as I could make out, but I could not swear to it; there were hundreds of other patients.
Cross-examined. He seemed in a very excited state when he said at first that he had shot her—he did not show any signs of hard-drinking—he was under my charge from 16th September till 2nd October.
COURT.Q. Had the bullet gone through the cheek bone? A. It was lodged partially in the cheek bone, and it was extracted from the cheek bone itself—it had lodged in the upper jaw.
MALCOLM POTGNAND . I am a surgeon—I was house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital on 3rd October, and then took charge of the deceased Ellen Moore—she was suffering from two bullet wounds, one on the left cheek, and one in the left eyelid piercing the eyeball; they had both healed up—she had some bad symptons, but she went on fairly well up to 16th October; on that day she became very much worse—on the 18th she made a communication to the sister of the ward as to where her mother lived—she died on the Sunday morning, the 18th—there was a post-mortem examination on the 21st, which I attended—the head was opened, and I found this bullet towards the centre of the base of the skull—the cause of death was inflammation of the brain and its membrane, produced by the bullet.
JAMES SQUIRES . I am a gunsmith at 14, Newcastle Street, Whitechapel—Inspector Ramsey showed me this pistol, it is a revolver with seven chambers; I drew the two charges—it is a single-action pistol, you have to cock it each time of firing—it has no cap, but a small rim cartridge—there are three grains of powder in the cartridge, as well as the detonating powder.
SARAH ALDINGTON . I am the wife of John Aldington, and live at Cheltenham—the deceased was my daughter, she was in her twenty-second year—she left her home about four years ago, and I had not seen her since, until I saw her at the hospital—her name was Mary Jane Aldington.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the majority of the Jury.
MESSRS. POLAND AND BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
GUILTY of the attempt. — One Year's Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 20th, 1872.
Before Mr. Justice Groves.
MR. COLLINS conducted the Prosecution.
ALFRED PASLEY . I live at 87, Marlborough Road, Chelsea, and am a smith—on Thursday evening, 7th November, I returned home, and found my little boy Robert, nine years old, suffering from pains in his inside—I called in a doctor—my son died on 8th November, in the evening.
WILLIAM DOHERTY . I am sixteen next July, and live at 1, Regent's Place, Leader Street, Chelsea—I have known the prisoner sixteen years, and never knew anything against him—he is a labourer—I have seen him in the "Guy" and in the "Jack-in-the-Green" for the last three years—on 7th November I was outside the Royal Oak public-house, and saw him in a clown's dress, with three chaps, about twenty years old, dressed the same as he was, and a boy—they were dancing, and some boys, who live in Oakum Street, were round them—the boys went behind Him, and stuck him with pins—they always do so every time there is a "Guy" or a "Jack-in-the-Green;" that is part of the amusement, because they think it is a lark—a clown's dress is loose over the figure—when the pins were stuck into the prisoner, I saw him attempt to kick one of them, who stepped on one side and avoided it, and he kicked another boy instead, who fell down—I do not know his name—I don't think it was Robert Pasley—I have been examined before, but my father said I did not know which boy it was, and I was taken to the house where Pasley was lying dead, and he was not so big as this boy—I have not said "The prisoner kicked Robert Pasley in the stomach;" I never mentioned his name, I did not know it—I have only talked to the Magistrate and the Coroner's jury about it.
COURT. Q. Tell the truth; you will do more harm than good if you have been persuaded to keep back anything you know. Tell the truth as far as you know it. Do you know who the boy was? A. No, I had never seen him before—I know I never gave his name before the Magistrate.
MR. COLLINS. Q. Did the prisoner kick a boy in the stomach? A. Yes, and that boy fell on the ground—it was not Robert Pasley; Robert Pasley was not so big—I do not know who the boy was who he did kick—I saw Robert Pasley in his coffin; that was the first time I did see him—I am sure the prisoner is the man who kicked a boy.
Prisoner. Q. Did you stick any pins into me? A. Yes.
Prisoner. And I clouted them for it. Two or three stuck pins into me, and I tried to hit one of them with my right hand, but missed him. I did not kick him. There were three or four of them; they were strangers to me. I kicked no boy at all. I was running across the road; it is rather a dark place, and I went up against him.
FRANCES MCKENZIE . I live at 40, Ive Street, Chelsea, and am the wife of a cab-builder there—on Thursday evening, 7th November, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I went by Oakum Street, which is close to Leader Street, and saw a "Guy Fawkes" and two clowns—the tallest of the two clowns caught Robert Pasley with his feet in the side, near his stomach, and he fell down—I mean that he kicked the child—the child went towards the gate, and he could not stand, and fell down by the gate—the prisoner is the clown who did it—the boy fell first, and the prisoner fell across him—the prisoner got up, and ran after the "Guy Fawkes"—the boy crawled to the gate—some one came up and rubbed his side, and he said "Don't rub me there; that is where he has kicked me"—I saw no other boys, and saw no one doing anything to the prisoner.
Prisoner. Q. I fell over the child and fell in the gutter. Did I kick the boy? A. Yes, you did.
COURT. Q. When you say he kicked the boy, could you see whether I he kicked at that boy or another boy? A. The crowd was at the bottom of the street—I did not see any other boy; this boy was by himself—the boy tried to get up, and the prisoner fell over him, and then the boy crawled towards the gate—he kicked the boy in front—the boy was facing him when he ran up and kicked him—the boy was going out of the street and the prisoner was coming into the street—they were 30 yards down the street.
JOHN HUTTING . I am a costermonger, of Westcott Street, Kent Street, Borough—I know the prisoner by his going out as "Jack-in-the-Green," and as "Guy"—I have been out with him as "Jack-in-the-Green"—on 7th November I was in Leader Street, dressed as a clown—we went to the coffee-shop to get some cake, and saw the prisoner running to catch the "Guy"—some boys had stuck pins into the prisoner, and he made a clout at one—I saw Robert Pasley down Oakum Street, stopping looking at something, and the prisoner fell over him into the gutter, and knocked him down—he was not kicked—the prisoner was running to catch the "Guy"—we were separated from the "Guy" when we went to the coffee-shop to get the cake—I say that the prisoner fell over the child accidentally—the child then sat on the kerb and said nothing, and we did not know he was hurt; and the prisoner got up and brushed the mud off his own clothes.
COURT. Q. How long did you stay? Did you see the child afterwards? A. I only saw the child sitting on the kerb, and I ran on to catch the "Guy"—we never thought the child was hurt—he got up and sat on the kerb—it was a quarter of an hour after the pins were stuck into the prisoner that he ran down to catch the "Guy."
JURY. Q. Was any one sticking pins into him at the time he knocked the child down? A. No—he was running to the coffee-shop, and it is a very dark street, you can hardly see your hand before you.
LOUISA SIMMONDS . I am 11 years old—on 7th November I was following the "Guy" in Oakum Street—there were four men and a little boy with the "Guy"—I saw some boys there, and little Bob Pasley—the man kicked Pasley in his side—I was 3 or 4 yards from him—the boy said "Don't kick me again, you have kicked me once"—the clown kicked him again, and said "Take that, you beast"—I do not know why he kicked him in that way—he kicked him twice, and the boy crawled along up to a window-ledge, and then he stood crying, and then he crawled along up to the Oak, and a gentleman carried him home—the clown then ran—the clown did not fall down when he kicked him, but afterwards, as he was running, he fell on his hands—the clown fell as far from the boy as from here to the other side of the room—I would not be sure that the prisoner was the clown who kicked him, unless he was dressed in his clown's clothes.
Prisoner. It was the other clown kicked another boy; this boy was standing in the road, and I knocked up against him, and fell over him.
COURT. Q. Was the clown who knocked the child running? A. Yes, but he stopped and kicked the little boy in the side, and then ran away—some other boys were there, but not many.; there were none in the way near the boy who was kicked.
the prisoner, but I saw him in the "Guy Fawkes" on 7th November—I saw the little boy Pasley looking after something in the middle of the road, and was just going to ask him what he had dropped, when the down, who was running with all his force, fell over him—the clowns both fell down, one fell over him, and then the other fell over him—I was close against the boy and was the first to pick him up—he fell against McKenzie's gate, and I picked him up—I had my baby in my arms—he was very ill, he put his hands across his stomach—I cannot say whether the prisoner kicked him because it was so dark—it appears that the clowns were running away from some boys who were sticking pins into them—I heard the clowns complain that they had been sticking pins into them on sticks—that was not many minutes before they fell over the child—I only live three or four doors from there, and was going for something for my husband's tea—I had seen the prisoner once before, but I never spoke to him—I believe he was dressed as a clown when I saw him before—my husband is a china hawker.
COURT. Q. Has anybody talked over this matter with you? A. No—I am speaking from what I saw, not from what I heard; I was the first that saw the child fall.
SAMUEL WALTER FARROW , M. R. C. S. I live at Fulham—on Thursday night, 7th November, a little before 9 p.m. I was called, and found a little boy on a bed writhing in agony; he was cold and pulseless, and complained of great pain in his side—I found no external marks, but great tenderness on pressure on the right side of the belly—that would not be a likely place to show a bruise, the elasticity of the walls of the stomach would prevent it—a sharp-pointed boot would have produced a mark, but a dull heavy blow would not—he died the following night Friday, and on opening the cavity of the abdomen I found the intestine bunt; it was a lacerated kind of tear, and there was a quantity of fetid matter and faces—that was the cause of death—the laceration must have been the result of some direct external violence; some heavy pressure—a fall and being run over by a man would produce it—I have seen a waggon wheel which passed over a body produce the same result—it would be too much of a guess whether it was more likely to be produced by a kick or a fall.
COURT to LOUISA SIMMONDS. Q. Have you had any talk about this matter with anybody since? A. No—I did not talk to the boy's mother, or hear anything from her about it, not a word.
MR. COLLINS proposed to call evidence to prove a statement made by the deceased about ten minutes after he was brought home.
THE COURT (having consulted MR. BARON BRAMWBLL) ruled that it would be dangerous to receive such evidence.
Prisoner's Defence. All I can say is I am very sorry for it; it was done quite accidentally. I had no idea of doing any harm.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
EDMUND HENRY REISBACK . I am a carpenter, and lived at this time at 5, Park Terrace, Kilburn—on Saturday, 26th October, I went into the Clifton Arms about 3.45, and saw the prisoner sitting in a chair—Little came in after me, and called for half-a-pint of beer—they got telling
laughable tales, and were very friendly together, and at about 4.50 they began light sparring in a friendly manner—Little said "Only just take the fly off the nose"—the prisoner proposed slapping with the open hands, and Little agreed to it—the prisoner gave Little rather a hard smack in the face, and Little said "That is a cowardly action, and I take it as an insult;" and he put up his fist and hit the counter, and said "So help my Christ, if you only attempt to do that again, you or I will be a corpse"—the prisoner went out first, and left us both there; I went out next, and left Little in the public-house.
Cross-examined. All the early part of it they appeared in perfectly good temper; and if Little had taken it in a quiet way, I have no doubt it would all have ended well.
CHARLES MOORE . I am a coachman of 8, Springfield Gardens, Kilburn—on Saturday, 26th October, I was in the stables in Carlton Mews, about 6 o'clock p.m.—the prisoner was engaged there, he is a coachman—Little came in and asked me for a pail—he was employed at the same stable, as a coachman—the prisoner said "Hallea, Jack, are you ready for another go"—Little told him to ax his b——a—; and prisoner said "F—your b—a—; you know Jack, I told you before, you are no man"—Little said "You are no man"—the prisoner said "I am man enough to be your master, when and where you like"—Little said "Yon had better start"—they were then about three-quarters of a yard apart, and the prisoner struck him in the mouth with his hand—I think it was shut, but I can't swear positively—they dosed together immediately, and reeled against the the stall-post and down into the stall, where there was a horse, which set to kicking directly, and kicked them both—I could not see where it kicked Little—I ran and caught him by the heels, and pulled him out immediately—he did not speak, he was not conscious—he was taken to St. Mary's Hospital.
Cross-examined. He reeled right under the horse; they both reeled, but the prisoner got out, and clutched the post, or no doubt he would have shared the same fate as the other—the prisoner has been my fellow-servant seven years, and is, generally speaking, quiet—I never saw anything wrong with him—Little did nothing to provoke him in my presence.
WALTER WHELLER . I am a coachman, and live at 24, Elgin Terrace, Maida Vale—I was in this stable—I have heard Moore give his evidence; it is true, but there were one or two additional words—the prisoner was sitting joking with me in the stable; he was in liquor a little, but Little was not, that I could see—the first blow was not a blow to hurt; it was a sort of challenge—the prisoner said "I am man enough to be your master," and Little said "Then you can start," or "You had better perform," or "You can strike when you are ready"—I considered that "start" meant fighting—I do not know that "start" has any meaning among our people—Little was outside the door; he had turned back to go for a pail when the prisoner spoke to him.
Cross-examined. When the scuffle took place first, one was outside the door and one was inside—I have known the prisoner two years and a half, working in the same place—I never had a single word with him—when Little rushed in at the prisoner, I said "Mind the horse," and somebody said "B—r the b—y horse"—I cautioned them both.
from compound fracture of the skull and depression, of the brain; there was also a fracture of the jaw in two places, and some scratches on his face—a compound fracture is when the bone protrudes—they were such wounds as would be occasioned by the kick of a horse—he died on the following Tuesday night, soon after 5 o'clock—he was never conscious—there was a post-mortem examination; death arose from compression of the brain, resulting from the fracture.
MR. WILLIAMS submitted that the case did not amount to one of manslaughter, the death not being consequent upon the act of the person giving the blow. He suggested the case of a man pursuing another down stairs, who falls and is then bitten by a mad dog, and dies; death could not there be said to be the act of the person pursuing him. The blows in this case were outside the stable, and it was no fault of the prisoner's that the deceased fell under the horse, nor was it proved that the prisoner knew that there was any horse in the stable. Death did not, therefore, flow out of the act of the prisoner, so as to constitute manslaughter. (See "Russell on Crimes," vol. i, p. 854.) MR. DOUGLAS contended that there was, in the language of Foster, "an accident which human prudence could have prevented;" there was danger, for the mm were actually warned that they were in a perilous position, just as much as if they had fought on the kerbstone of London Bridge, with vehicles passing. (See Reg. v. Archer, 1 Foster and Finlayson, p. 351, and Reg. v. Wesley, 1 Foster and Finlayson, p. 458.) MR. WILLIAMS was heard in reply.
MR. JUSTICE GROVES: "I consider that the case amounts to manslaughter; assuming the facts to be truly deposed to. It was an accident, in the language of Foster, 'which human prudence and foresight could have prevented.' Two people fight in a stable, and it it not an improbable result that they should get among the horses' feet. Gould that be said to be an accident which human prudence would not have foreseen? A horse's kicking was the probable and obvious result of persons knocking each other down, and scuffling at his feet Therefore the. case must go to the Jury."
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, November 20th, 1872.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH FREDERICK JESSOP . I am clerk to the Justices, at Edmonton—I was present at the hearing of the charge brought by the prisoner, and I produce the original depositions, to which I swore the prisoner—the depositions are signed by him. (The prisoner, in that depositions, accused Weight of stealing a trowel.)
HENRY GEORGE WEIGHT . I live with my father at Grove Cottage, Tottenham—I am a law stationer's apprentice—on Saturday morning, 17th August, I saw the prisoner, and something passed between us about a dog—I afterwards saw him at work in a house in the High Road—he had got a trowel in his hand, working with it, and I called "Cuckold"—he ran after me, and threw the trowel at me—I picked it up, and took it home to my father—the prisoner went and got a stick, I believe from a shed, and followed me as far as the Queen's Head and "Star, which is about ten minutes walk from the railway-station—it is not true that I went to the barrow and took the trowel out—I next saw the prisoner in the afternoon, in the road, but he didn't speak to me—I saw him again in the evening, and he then gave me
in charge, and I was taken to the station—I have known the prisoner about five years.
Prisoner. Q. Didn't you set the dog at me, and call me all manner of names? A. No—I did pick up the trowel after you threw it at me.
NOT GUILTY .
POWELL PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH BRUCE . I live at 48, St. Stephen's Road, and am a widow—on the night of 25th October, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I shut my house up—I came down about 8 o'clock, and found something wrong—no one had been down before me, and I found the gas burning in the back parlour—I missed about 7l. worth of property—some things were spread on the kitchen table, and not taken away—I have since seen the two table-covers, a gown, and many other things.
JOHN CLARK . I am in the service of Mr. Graves, of Mile End Road—on 26th October, 1872, I took in two table-covers, two shawls, and a cloak—they were pawned by the female prisoner—she came again on Tuesday, 29th October, and offered some other articles in pledge, and I sent for the police—all the goods have been identified by the last witness.
HENRY WITHERS (Policeman K). I heard of Mrs. Brace's house being broken into, and on the 29th I was called by the last witness to Mr. Graves' shop—I there saw the female prisoner—I produced the articles, and said "Who sent you with them?" and she said "My husband"—I took her into custody—going along, she said "He is not my husband, but a man I have been living with about twelve months"—she said she was living at No. 15, Cabinet Street—I went there, and found the male prisoner—I found some other property in the place, which has been identified by Mrs. Bruce and Mrs. Jacks.
ANN JACKS . I am the wife of Robert Jacks, and live at 82, Lonsdale Road—I got up about 6 o'clock, and found the back parlour window open, and missed about 10l. worth of property—some of the articles now produced are mine.
CHARLOTTE HIGLEY . I reside at No. 1, Princes Terrace, Bethnal Green—my house was entered between the hours of 10 and 6 o'clock on the morning of 10th October—I missed these boots and that razor (produced)—I value them at between 4l. and 5l.
FRANCIS— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
POWELL.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MOODY offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
The Prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to a second indictment for a common assault.
— Six Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, November 21st, 1872.
Before Mr. Justice Grove.
MESSRS. POLAND, BEASLEY, and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; and
MESSRS. COLLINS and GOUGH the Defence.
The evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner by Charles Albert.
AUGUSTE DIRCKS . I am a waiter at a restaurant in the Strand, and am a native of Hanover—on 9th August I was coming over in the boat from Ostend to Dover, and saw the prisoner and a young man named Herman Nagel on board—we got into conversation, and I came with them to London, and took them to Cline's Hotel, Finsbury Square—they said that they came from Hanover and were going to America—there was another German and his wife with us—we were living at Dover, and they asked me to come to London with them, and act as interpreter—we arrived at the hotel on Saturday, 10th August, and about 10.30 that day, May and myself, and the German and his wife, all went out together to make purchases—the young men brought no luggage with them, only a few books—May bought a six-chamber revolver in Oxford Street, and paid 2l. for it—I do not know the name of the shop—we were all five present—he had said in passing other shops that he should buy one to defence himself from pickpockets—he also bought a tin box of cartridges—they both bought some portmanteaus and shirts, for which they spent, I suppose, 15l. or 18l.—before they started that morning, May changed 30l. in thaler notes—a thaler is 3s.—next day, Sunday, I walked to Hyde Park and other places with them—on the Monday we went to the Crystal Palace, and in the evening to the Surrey Gardens, where there was shooting going on—they both shot, and I noticed that Nagel shot from his left shoulder and May from his right—we went from the Surrey Gardens to Cremorne, and got there about 9 o'clock—in the refreshment-room there we met three girls, who turned out to be Burgess, Gordon, and Curtis—the young men did not speak any English, and they asked me to make acquaintance with the girls—I found out that Burgess was a German, and May entered into conversation with her—we were, perhaps, half an hour at Cremorne, and on arrangement was made with Burgess that we should go next day to where they lived, 21, Langton Street, Chelsea—May made that arrangement; he had the address, I think; and next day, Tuesday, we all went there—they spent some money at Cremorne and the other places, but not so very much—we all remained at 21, Langton Street on Tuesday night—we found Burgess, Gordon, and Curtis there—they occupied separate rooms; Burgess occupied the ground floor, and May associated with her; Curtis occupied the first floor, over Burgess's room, and I took up with her; Gordon occupied the ground floor back, and Nagel took up with her—we all slept there that night, and the next day the young men brought their portmanteaus to that house—I was with them when they left the hotel—I did not see who paid the hotel bill; I did not—May usually carried the money—we all slept in the same house in the same way on Wednesday night—we went about together on Wednesday, spending money and seeing sights, and about 2 o'clock on Thursday I went with them in a cab to Euston Square Station, with their baggage—they both said that they were going to America—the German and his wife
were not with us then; we had lost sight of them—May gave me the money, and I took their tickets for them for Liverpool, and remained till the train started—I saw it carry them off—they paid for everything, and paid my expenses throughout, and their own—May usually carried the pistol—just as they were going away by the train, I said "I see you have money enough to reach America;" I saw that May had 30l. or 40l.; "Oh, yes," said Paul May, "and if not I have got the pistol."
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. I had not come from Germany, but from Belgium—I was there six months—I had been in England before, and was in the Union Club, at Bradford—these men were perfect strangers to me when I met them on board the steamer on Friday night till the following Thursday—I paid my fare by the steamboat, but paid nothing after I kept company with them—they gave me their names in Dover—Nagel usually carried the money—he paid me 1l. on Tuesday, 12th August, and May paid me 1l. on the Thursday when they started for Liverpool—I mean to say that 2l. was all I had from them—I said before the Coroner that Nagel bought the pistol, but I was not sure—I gave my evidence last Friday to the Solicitor to the Treasury—I said before the Coroner that Nagel bought the pistol, and always kept it; I changed the names, I made a mistake—I, knew that the proceedings before the Coroner were on Nagel's body—I said before the Coroner "They had some 40l. in English paper;" I meant that May had—May did not complain that I had taken some paper money from him, and also a 50-thaler piece—he did not say at any time that, in changing money, I had cheated him out of a 50-thaler piece—I did not change his money, he changed it—he never complained of my doing so—they had some cards printed at the Crystal Palace, with their names on them, but I did not know which was May and which was Nagel—I heard them call one another by their names, but I always thought May was Nagel—they called each other Herman Nagel and Paul May—I heard the names, but it was always in my mind that May was Nagel—that is the reason I give for saying before the Coroner that the other man bought the pistol.
Re-examined. I am quite sure the prisoner is the man who bought the pistol—we left the German and the lady at the hotel, and I never heard of them more.
AUGUSTA BURGESS . I am single, and am a German by birth—I have been in England about ten years—in August last I was living at 21, Langton Street—I was at Cremorne on Monday, 12th August, and there made the prisoner's acquaintance, and that of Nagel and Dircks—arrangements were made for them to come to Langton Street next day; and they came on the Tuesday, May went with me, Nagel with Gordon, and Dircks with Curtis—they all remained that night, and on the following day they brought their luggage—I saw May's portmanteau in the room, but did not see the contents of it—I did not see anything of a pistol that day—I do not remember when I first saw the pistol, but it was three or four days before the accident—they stayed there on Wednesday night, and left on the following day, Thursday—May told me that he was going to Liverpool on business, and that he would return on the Saturday morning, but he came on the Friday instead—he told me that he came from Berlin—I had not seen the pistol before the young men left on Thursday; I am quite sure of that—nothing had been said to me about the pistol—they went away, and I did not see Dircks afterwards—on the Friday May and Nagel returned—May said he had been to Liverpool; he did not say what for—he occupied my room as
before, and Nagel went to Gordon's—on the next day, Saturday, May left his watch at a jeweller's in the Strand to be cleaned, I was with him—on the Monday they went out by themselves; they said they had been out on business—on the next day I missed their overcoats, and in the evening their railway shawls—I did not notice whether Nagel had his watch that day—he generally had his coat unbuttoned, but he then had it buttoned, I thought it strange, and asked him the time, and he said he did not know—I did not see him use his watch—they went out again on the Tuesday, the same as on Monday—May had a long chain which I missed on the Tuesday evening—he used to wear it—I first saw the pistol on the Sunday; they had it in their hands once or twice a day, loading it and unloading it—I first saw it in the sitting-room—it came out of May's portmanteau; it was loaded then I believe, and he unloaded it—Gordon and Nagel were there at the time—I told May to put it away—he said he did not want to put it away, and he kept loading and unloading it—I do not remember what he did with it, as he went into the other room for some time—I was in my room about half-an-hour or so, and then I heard some words in the other room, and went in and saw the pistol still in May's hand—I wanted him to put it away, and he would not do so—he was walking up and down the room, and at last he laid it on the armchair, and covered it over with his handkerchief, and I said to Gordon, that if she could, she had better take it away and hide it somewhere—I asked May to go into the other room with me, and while I was gone Gordon took the pistol up stairs to her own room—May returned from my room into the sitting-room, and when he missed it he was very much annoyed about it; he wanted me to give it to him, and I would not—he had a wet handkerchief in his hand and he hit Gordon in the face with it, but I do not think he did it intentionally—this was close upon 10 o'clock at night—Gordon and Curtis still occupied the second floor on Tuesday, and I the ground floor—when this took, place about the pistol Nagel said in May's presence that he had better go up stairs and leave them until the morning, and he went up stairs and Gordon too—May and I remained down stairs—on the following morning, Wednesday, May was very cross again, and said he would not eat his breakfast till he had the pistol—we used all four to breakfast together—I told Gordon she had better go and fetch it, and save any more words—she went up stairs, and I think Nagel went up too, and unloaded it—he came down and gave it to May, and at that time it was unloaded—when May got it, I believe he put it in his portmanteau, I don't exactly recollect—I saw a small box of fifty cartridges in May's possession, but I did not see him with any loose cartridges—May had a green or blue bag for the pistol—we all four breakfasted together on Wednesday, and May and Nagel went out together about 12 o'clock, and returned close upon 6 o'clock—I had been at home all the time—May returned in a Hansom cab about 1.30, as he had forgotten something—he went into the bedroom, and went out again—I did not see what he took with him—the cab was waiting for him—he was alone in the cab—they both returned about 6 o'clock, they were on very good terms—I went out about ten minutes afterwards, and went to Cremorne Gardens, leaving May, Nagel, and Gordon behind—I did' not notice whether Curtis was in the house when I went out—I was sent for to Cremorne close upon 10 o'clock, and returned at once to my lodgings; but I did not know what it was till I went into the room—I first went into my sitting-room; there were five or six people there, but I do not
remember who they were—I was called up stairs, and went up into Gordon's room, and saw Nagel on the sofa; he appeared to be dead—May was in bed, I did not at that time see that he was wounded—I stayed in the room, and this letter was shortly afterwards brought to me by Mrs. Curtis and Ellen Gordon, with some pawntickets in it—I translated it to the police—a shell box was pointed out to me as the place where it was found—the letter was not there when I went to Cremorne, because I took a stud out of the box then—I had not seen May writing that day, but I have on other occasions—I have not seen enough of his writing to know it—I did not see the pistol that night—May remained in Gordon's room to be attended by a surgeon—next morning I asked him who wrote the letter—he said that he wrote it, and Nagel wrote on the the other side—he said nothing further about the letter at that time; but on the Saturday I told him he had put everybody to great inconvenience and trouble—he said "Why?"—I said "Because of the letter you left before"—he said "Why?"—I said "Because of the amount named," and that we did not see anything of the amount mentioned there; I was alluding to the 2,000 thalers—he said that they did not bring that money when they came to us, but they had been to two or three other places, travelling about, before they came—he did not say that they had been spending money—he said "Why did you show any one the letter?"—I said "I did not see the letter myself, it was in other hands than mine"—nothing further passed between us—when we went out together, May paid for the different things—he paid Nagel's and Dircks' expenses, as well as his own—presents were bought for me, and Gordon, and Curtis, which May paid for—May never told me why they left Germany, or what they were—he said they came from Berlin—the pawntickets were in the letter when it was shown to me.
Cross-examined by Mr. COLLINS. When Dircks lived in the house the three went to the hotel to breakfast, but we did not—very little money was spent while they were at our house—the presents which May paid for were very small; there was an 8s. ring and some article of dress—I was examined before the Coroner—I told the Coroner that the revolver was in both their hands, sometimes one and sometimes the other, but it was more in May's hands—they had one portmanteau each—there was a policeman present when the conversation took place after May was wounded—May also told me at that conversation, referring to his own wound, that he was not to blame, that Nagel had done it, and he had nothing to do with it.
Re-examined. The conversation on Thursday in the prisoner's presence was in German—May had the pistol the most.
ELLEN GORDON . I am single, and live in Seton Street, Chelsea—in August last I lived at 21, Langton Street; I occupied the top front room—on Monday, 12th August, I went to Cremorne Gardens with Augusta Burgess and Elizabeth Curtis—we there met three young Germans, who agreed to come to us on Tuesday, and they came on Tuesday and did not go till Thursday—I understood from Mrs. Burgess that they were going to Liverpool—they came back alone on Friday; Dircks was not with them—Nagel lived with me—they remained with us till the following Wednesday, I and Nagel occupying the top room—on the Friday and Saturday we all went out together to different places, and on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday they went out alone, and returned to our place every night—on Wednesday I was at home the whole day—Dircks did not come back with
them—after breakfast they went out together—I do not know what time they returned, but it was when Burgess was dressing to go out—she occupied the parlour—when they returned, I was down in that room—before she went out, some champagne was had—I do not know the exact time Burgess went out, but when she went out I was left alone with May and Nagel in her room—I do not understand German—May motioned to me for paper to write on—I gave him some paper, and saw him write while Nagel sat on the sofa—he called to Nagel to get up, and Nagel read the note, but I did not see him write on it, or take up the pen—he said "Yah, yah" and went back to the sofa—I did not see where the letter was put—after that I went up stairs to my bedroom; I do not remember the time; and in about five minutes I went down again and met Nagel coming up in the direction of my room—I was on the first landing—he tapped me on the shoulder, and mentioned the name of Paul; I thought he motioned me to go down, and I went down to the next landing and met Paul May coming up stairs—that was a very short time afterwards; only just the time of going down stairs—I did not see where he went to—I went down into Mrs. Burgess' room—May also tapped me on the shoulder, and made a motion—I do not understand German—they had been together once or twice before in my room—about five minutes afterwards Curtis, who sleeps in the room above the parlour, came to the door of Burgess' room, where I was, and said something to me, upon which I went down stairs with her, and I and the servant and Mrs. Carter went up stairs together to my room, the door of which was locked inside—the servant forced it open, and when I got into the room I saw Nagel lying on the sofa bleeding from the mouth—he was rather inclined to his right side—his right arm was under his mouth, and his left arm lying by his left side—the sofa faces the door of the room as you go up; the foot of the sofa faces the door; it stands at the side opposite the door—his face was facing me as I went in—he groaned several times, and died very shortly—he remained in the same position on the sofa bleeding from his mouth—I afterwards saw a wound in his left side—he had his coat and waistcoat on, but unbuttoned and open, and his collar and necktie were off, and were lying on the drawers—I do not think his shirt was open, but I do not remember—I saw a slight burn on his shirt, and blood—the round table was at the foot of my bedstead, and May was lying with his head under the table, and his feet under the head of the sofa towards the window side of the room—there are two windows in the room, and the sofa stood between them—May's body was at right angles to Nagel's—(A model of the room was here produced, in which the witness arranged the articles of furniture and placed two dolls in the positions occupied by the prisoner and Nagel)—May could speak at that time—he said something in German—I put a pillow under his head, and then saw a pistol close to his left side with the mouth of it pointed towards his side—I did not see it till after I had given him the pillow—he moved a little which caused me to see it—I moved it and put it about midway between the two, where the constable found it—I am quite sure of that—things remained the same till the doctor and constable came—I afterwards went to Cremorne to fetch Burgess—I do not recollect the exact time—I then went up to the room again—conversation was going on, but I do not know what it was about—I remember them writing a letter that day, and I afterwards went with Mrs. Curtis into Burgess's bedroom and found this letter in a shell-box without a lid, on the chest of drawers—this is the letter I saw him writing, to the best of my belief, but I don't understand German.
COURT. Q. What are the grounds of your belief? A. Because I saw it, and it was addressed in this manner—I did not see it when he was writing it—I saw it when it was found—I did not see the envelope when it was written—I only saw it when it was found—he made motions for me to give him paper, and he wrote the note—I did not see him address the envelope, and did not notice where he put it—I only speak to this letter being the one which was found—I furnished him with the paper and envelope—I cannot judge whether this paper is the same, because there is so much white paper alike—when I saw it after it was found, I saw the address on it—I had not seen the address on it when he wrote it—I do not know whether he wrote two or three letters to Miss Augusta Burgess—I saw him go into Burgess's bedroom after writing—I cannot remember the exact size of the envelope I gave him.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. How long after they had written the letter did you proceed to go up stairs? A. I don't remember—they had finished writing when I went into my bedroom, and five or ten minutes afterwards I came down—they never left the house after the letter was written till the deed was committed, and I had been with them in Burgess's room till I went up stairs—Burgess went out leaving those two young men with me in her room, and one of them proceeded to write after asking me for paper—I saw him write the note—looking at this paper I should say that this was the same sort that I gave him—I don't remember the size of the envelope, but I should say it was about this size—I did not notice how long he was occupied in writing, there were several lines—I did not see Nagel write on it, but I heard him say "Yah"—I then observed several lines on it—they had sufficient time to go into Burgess' bedroom, and place the letter in the shell-box—the door was not locked—I do not know whether I gave him more than one sheet of paper and envelope—he put the paper away after he had done with it and the blotting paper—I do not know whether anybody went into Burgess' room—I did not shut the door—the constable White took the letter from the shell basket up stairs—I followed them up and heard the letter read by Mrs. Burgess in German, and she translated it into English—May was awake at that time, but I do not know whether he was sensible—she read it to him—I do not remember whether he spoke; if he did it was in German, and I should not understand him. (The letter was put in and translated as follows: "Beloved Augusta,—We separate to-day from thee; the cause is this—we fled from Berlin to avoid military service. We took our cash, 2,000 thalers, with us, and this sum is all gone. Relations I have none, and for that reason we do it. Thou liest too much to my heart. I cry for you from my heart, and for your fate. Good-bye, we shall not see you any more—perhaps in the other world; for me the world is nothing any more. Good-bye, or follow me, dearest I should have done it already, but love for thee kept me back. The watch is thine; fetch it and everything else. Once more, a hearty good-bye, from thy lover, Paul May." On the other side of this letter was written: "Take the pawntickets into your possession, and redeem what you wish from the pawn.—Thy friend, Herman Nagel, from Germany," The envelope was addressed: "Miss Augusta Burgess, London, Langton Street, 21.") I attended on May, and sat up with him and nursed him the first night, and Mrs. Burgess also—I had first seen the pistol the night before on the easychair in the parlour; it was the same pistol which I saw up stairs, a revolver—Nagel was then sleeping on the sofa, and there was a quarrel between
Mrs. Burgess and may—I don't know what it was about; it was in German, but she said that Paul had threatened to shoot her—while the quarrel was going on, the pistol was on the easy-chair in the parlour—Paul put it there; he brought it out of the bedroom he occupied with Burgess, put it on a chair, and covered it with an anti-macassar—he appeared in a temper, and had been walking about with it in his band—Mrs. Burgess made a communication to me, and I took Paul into the bedroom, and took the pistol up stairs and put it in my cupboard—I left him down stairs with Mrs. Burgess—when I came down again he was in the parlour; he still appeared in a great temper; he slapped me on the head twice with a wet handkerchief, and upon that Mrs. Burgess told me something—May remained in the parlour, and nothing else passed that night—Nagel and I went up to bed, leaving May down there with Mrs. Burgess—I had the pistol in my room all night—in the morning I and Nagel went down to breakfast leaving the pistol up stairs—May said he would not eat any breakfast till the pistol was returned to him—I said that I would not return it to May, but I would return it to Nagel, and Nagel went up to my cupboard, unloaded it, took it down stairs, and returned it to Paul, who re-loaded it again sitting on the sofa, and I did not see it again until after the occurrence.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. I did not give the pistol to May; Nagel took it from the cupboard in my bedroom, unloaded it, and took it down stairs—I believe he put the cartridges he took from the pistol in his pocket; he then gave the pistol unloaded to May, and that was the last I saw of it till after the deed was committed—when this matter burst upon me I was very much shocked and frightened to see a dead man and a dying man on the floor—I went to Nagel first, as well as I recollect, stepping over May's legs—I stayed by Nagel's side about half a minute—he was not dead; he groaned several times, but I saw that he was dying—I had not been out that day—I cannot say whether Nagel's shirt was open or not—from Nagel I went to May, turning round—I got a pillow from my bed, and touched him in putting it under his head—I must have stepped over May's legs in going up to the head of my bed—I came back with the pillow, raised his head and put the pillow under, and I then saw the pistol by his left side—it appeared close to his left side; I think I moved it when I put the pillow under his head—I have a distinct, recollection of that—I said before the Coroner "In my fright I must have removed it to where they found it"—I am sure I moved it—I gave no further account of it, till last week to the Treasury Solicitor.
COURT. Q. Did you hear any report of pistols at all. A. No.
ELIZABETH CURTIS . I am single, and live at 19, Limestone Street, Chelsea—in August last I was living at 21, Langton Street—I occupied the drawing-room floor—I remember Dircks, the prisoner, and Nagle coming on the Tuesday—Dircks left on the Thursday, and did not come back—I saw nothing more of him—on Wednesday, 21st August, the prisoner and Nagle were in the house, but I did not see them at all that day—about 8 o'clock that evening I heard two reports and a noise over my head; it was not a fall, it was a stumbling noise, as if it was a person's two feet; it proceeded from Mrs. Gordon's room—I cannot tell what time elapsed between the two reports; it might have been two minutes, it might have been three; I could not say positively—the stumbling noise was after the two reports—I was so alarmed that I immediately ran down stairs and called to Ellen Gordon—the servant met me, and followed me up stairs to Gordon's room;
the door was locked—I believe the servant broke it open, and I went in—Nagle lay on the sofa, shot through the breast; blood was flowing from his mouth and breast—his breast was naked—I did not notice his shirt—he did not speak—I left the room, and went down stairs—I did not see anything else—I only heard May moaning underneath the table, I did not see him—I went down stairs—I believe the medical man was in the house by that time—I did not return to Gordon's room for some time afterwards; about 12 o'clock—Nagle was then dead—I had not heard any quarrel between May and Nagle—I was with Gordon when she found this letter in a shell box.
Cross-examined. I think the letter was found about 9 o'clock; it was some time after the occurrence—I was so excited when I heard this noise in the room that I don't remember much about it—I only believe I heard two shots—the moment I heard the noise I rushed out of the room; I can't give any idea of much that followed—I went into the room where the bodies were lying—I did not go further than the bedstead where May was lying, and then I went out of the room as quickly as I could.
Re-examined. I have no doubt that I heard two shots—I know I heard two shots distinctly.
ANN DINAN . On 20th of August I was living as servant at 21, Langton Street—on that night I was in Mrs. Burgess's bedroom on the ground floor—I had been there all the evening, and late at night I was in the front parlour waiting on them—there are folding doors between the rooms; they were open—the front room is the sitting room and the back is the bed-room—Burgess was lying on the bed, Gordon and Nagle lay on the sofa, and May went to the bedside to Burgess and spoke to her—that was about 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening—it was rather late in the night when I heard the row—May was walking in and out from one room to the other, and from there to the hall door—Burgess was then sitting on the sofa—I heard some noise between May and Burgess—I did not understand what they were saying—Nagle was lying on the sofa, and never spoke—next day, the 21st, I waited on them at breakfast before they went out—I remember their coming back in the afternoon—they had some champagne and three bottles of lemonade—Burgess went out in a Hansom cab, and did not come back till she was fetched from Cremorne at 10 o'clock at night—about 8 o'clock Curtis came down stairs, and said something to me, and upon that I went up to Burgess's room, where Gordon was—in consequence of what passed we all three went up to Gordon's room at the top of the house—the door was locked—I pushed my elbow against it, and went in, door and all—I broke the hinges off—it was locked on the inside—Gordon first saw the deceased on the sofa, and said "Herman! Herman!" and then she went to May—the room was dark with smoke—May was sitting underneath the table at the foot of the bed—I heard both of them groaning, but Nagle was the worst; he was almost dead; bleeding from the mouth—Gordon put a pillow under May's head—he was lying on his back, facing the left side, with the pistol close to his heart, close to his side—I am sure I saw the pistol lying there, and I told Gordon not to move it; it was close to his left side, close to where the wound was—I never before saw a pistol—it was in the same position when I saw it as when Gordon saw it—she moved it—I saw her move it—she took it in her hand, and I said "Don't touch it, don't touch it," and I left the room—I can't say where she moved it to—I went for a doctor, and a doctor came.
Cross-examined. I felt rather timid—I was very frightened—I did not go up to either of them—I stood at the bottom of the sofa—I did not go further than that.
EDMUND BLAKE (Policeman T 368). I made the model produced of the top floor front room—it is mode to scale, one inch to the foot—the room is nearly square, about 16 or 17 by 14—the furniture in the model is placed as it was seen by Inspector Gill—the table, couch, and bed are according to scale.
JOHN GILL (Police Inspector T). On the night of 22nd August I was called to 21, Langton Street, about 8.40, and was directed to the top floor—I found in the room Ellen Gordon, the prisoner, and Nagle—no one else—Nagle was lying on the sofa, with his right hand extended towards the bed and his head resting on his right arm—his legs were drawn up slightly on the sofa—his body was altogether on the sofa, no portion of it touching the floor—blood was issuing from his mouth, and he was lying on his right side, facing me as I went into the room—his left arm was down by his side, his head towards the foot of the sofa, and his feet towards the head, towards the fireplace—he had his coat and waistcoat on—no necktie or collar—the coat and waistcoat were lying over the place where he had been wounded, but his shirt was unbuttoned—he was quite dead—I examined him, and found a wound as from a pistol shot in the left breast—that was the only wound I saw about him—the prisoner was lying with his head under a round table at the foot of the bed, his feet under Nagle's feet, under the sofa, nearly as far as the knees—he had got his trousers and shirt on—his shirt was open, unbuttoned from top to bottom, and a hole in the left breast of the shirt, as if from a pistol-shot—he had received a wound on the left breast corresponding with the hole on the shirt, and had the appearance of being in the exact spot as the other man's—there was no other wound found upon him—his coat and waistcoat were on the table, as if they had been taken off and carelessly thrown there at the foot of the bed—when I went in Gordon was attending upon him—his shirt was slightly scorched, and there was a hole through it about where the wound was, but it was not over the wound when I saw it—there was no smoke or mark of fire on Nagel's shirt—I did not see any corresponding hole in the shirt or any mark of fire—it appeared quite clean—the flesh appeared to be black round the orifice—I should think it was black from smoke—the appearance of burning and smoke was also on May's shirt—when I had been there a few minutes a medical man named Irving came in—he did what he could to May, and gave him some brandy and water—I saw the pistol, when I went into the room—this part of the butt of the pistol was close to the foot of the bedstead, the muzzle pointing towards Nagel's right hand as he lay on the sofa, in that form—it was nearer to May than it was to Nagel—if his hand had been stretched out he could have touched the pistol, and barely touched it—I sent for Dr. Godrich, and he came about 9.20—I pointed out to him the exact spot where I picked up the pistol—I had removed it—it was in my hand then, and I described to him how it was lying—I did not know Irving before—I don't know where he is now—I have made every effort to find him—he was there that night about two hours—he was there when Dr. Godrich came—he described himself as a medical doctor belonging to the Royal College of Surgeons, but I have some reason to doubt that—I had an address that he was living at Somer's Town—I went there, and he was denied—I could not find him—after this White, the police-constable
arrived—I searched the clothes of the men—I searched Nagel first—I found a portmonnaie and 7d. on him, and a small comb and looking-glass joined together in his trousers pocket, and this pistol-case or cover in the right pocket of his coat—it will fit the revolver—I also found a watch-key—on May I found a portmonnaie, two hotel bills, 2s. in the purse and a knife—I have the hotel bills here, and I produce all the things that I found—they are both for Cline's Hotel—one is for 2l. 2s. 2d.—they are not made out to any name—when Dr. Godrich came May was put to bed and attended to—at that time White was called down stairs by the women; they afterwards came up with him, and he produced a letter and handed it to me—this is it—it contained these four pawntickets—I gave it to Burgess and asked her to read it—she read it in German to May and in English to me—I can't tell you what answer he made; she did not tell me—I went away about 2 o'clock in the morning, taking the pistol with me, and I have had it since—I examined it and found it loaded in three chambers—in two chambers the caps were exploded—there was one chamber not loaded—it is a six-chamber revolver—it was quite clean—I should think the pistol had never been fired out of before—the two chambers which had been fired looked as if they had been fired recently—they have never been cleaned since—the two with the white deposit in are the ones that were fired—it is a pistol with one barrel and six chambers, and has a repeating action—it is not necessary to cock it each time—after the letter had been read it was given to me, and I found in it four pawntickets relating to the pawning of two coats and two shawls on 19th and 20th August, at Wither's, King's Road; two in the name of May and two in Nagle's name—at the same time I was shown the portmanteaus—I found a number of things; books—I found some bills in May's portmanteau; nothing of any value—I found a cartridge in May's portmanteau similar to those with which the pistol was loaded—I have a box of cartridges also—there are forty-four in the box, and they fit the pistol—an inquest was held—May remained in the house until 29th August, and he was then taken to St. George's Hospital and remained there till 2nd November, then he was taken to the police-station, and the following Monday committed for trial—I have got the coats and shawls which answer to those pawntickets—I got them at Wither's—the box of cartridges was given me at Scotland Yard—they were left there by a cabman—on 23rd of August I was present when the prisoner was examined before Mr. Curzon at 21, Langton Street—Mr. Curzon is a county Magistrate living in the neighbourhood—May was then supposed to be in a dying condition—his deposition was taken in the usual way—he was sworn, and he made a statement, which I wrote down as it was translated by Mr. Albert—I produce that statement—the prisoner signed it—(Read: "On Wednesday last, 31st inst., I was with my cousin, Herman Nagel, in this house; before this time we had made some purchases, and amongst them a revolver. I don't know for what object my cousin bought the revolver. He went out alone to purchase it. I think he bought it last Friday. On Wednesday last we had been out. Before that day we had been to many places of amusement. On Tuesday we had been to the German Waiters' Club to look for a place as waiter, and we were told to come again about 6.30. On Wednesday night we had a bottle of champagne. After that my cousin went up stairs; I followed him five minutes after. We had cried over our unfortunate position for some time. We had tried, by every means in our power, to find a place, but in vain. We had no more money. Herman Nagel did not tell me of his intention
to take his own life nor to shoot me. We were alone in the room crying, when he (Herman Nagel) fired upon me (May) and then upon himself. He had placed the pistol in such a manner as to cause him to die instantly. After he had shot me I had still enough conscienceness left to see him place the pistol upon himself. I also heard the report of the pistol shot, but I was at that time lying on the ground. That is all I know about it I make this declaration under the belief that I am in danger of death, from this wound I believe that I am now lying on my death-bed.")—I have seen the model produced—the furniture and the condition of the room represents the state of things when I went in that day—I instructed Blake to make the model.
Cross-examined. Gordon was in the room when I went in first; that is all; everybody else had left the room—Irving attended on the men a little—he had been there before I arrived, I believe; I don't know it for a fact, I heard so—he came in after I had been there about three minutes—May's shirt was open—the bullet had passed through the shirt—the shirt was fastened by studs—I have got them here—the bullet had passed through the shirt into the body—the doctors suggested the examination of the prisoner on the 23rd—Dr. Godrich thought that he was in such a position that it was necessary to take his statement.
ABEL COMBER WHITE (Policeman T R 44). On 21st August I was sent from the station to 21, Langton Street—Irving was there when I got to the house—he stayed about half an hour after I arrived, until I went out—he came again the next morning—I took the letter up stairs with Gordon, and handed it to Gill—I got it from Ellen Gordon.
ELLEN GORDON (re-examined). I believe Mr. Irving was the first gentleman that came into the room after the. deed was committed—he went down stairs for some brandy—he gave May brandy, and bathed his head with water—he came several times that evening, and came again the next morning—he came before either of the policemen came, and after they were there.
FRANCIS GODRICH . I am a surgeon, at 140, Fulham Road—on the evening of 21st August I was sent for to 21, Langton Street, about 9 o'clock—I was taken to the upper room, the second floor front—Mr. Irving was there at that time, and Borne of the girls, and the policeman Gill—I saw the two young men lying in the room—Mr. Irving left, as the policeman had sent for me—I am divisional surgeon to the police—the bedstead was on your left side, with its head against the north wall—there was a passage between that and the sofa—on the sofa laid Nagel, with hit right hand extended over that passage; across his feet laid May, with his left hand partially extended towards the same point at which Nagel's hand was spread over this passage—the pistol was lying rather nearer to May's hand—Nagel's right hand and May's left were pointing to the same point, because May was lying at right angles, with his head towards the door and away from the window; his feet were towards the window, under the sofa, and his head nearer the door—May's left hand pointed in the same direction, between the bed and the sofa—when I saw the pistol it was lying between the left hand of May and the right hand of Nagel—that was about the place in which Gill pointed it out—it was further from the hand of May than the girl Gordon spoke to; it was pretty nearly midway between the two hands—Nagel was quite dead—May was in a state of syncope—I attended to him—the coat and waistcoat of May were off—the shirt had been pierced, evidently by a ball; round the orifice of a ragged wound, about a quarter of an inch in diameter it was all blackened, as if by the combustion of powder—Nagel's
coat and waistcoat had not been taken off—his shirt was loosened, and I should think that the shirt had been moved by the left hand whilst the wound had been made by the pistol with his right, because there was nothing intervening between—the chest was blackened precisely the same as May's shirt was, and there was no entrance of the ball through the shirt; the shirt was clean—I agree with Gill—the pistol would have laid in such a position as it would have fallen from Nagel's hand had he killed himself and thrown his right arm out—his right hand was extended, pointing over the passage between the bed and the window—his hand was extended right across the passage—he was lying on his back, and his head a little bent to his right shoulder, and his right hand extended in that way, and that was deluged in blood—he had evidently been dead about an hour, or perhaps not so long as that—the head was lying rather over the right shoulder—the arm was very nearly clear of the head—I could not ascertain the direction the ball had taken in Nagel's case unless I had examined the body—I did examine it afterwards—I then found the ball had taken a direction beginning on the left side of the chest high up on the third rib—it had not fractured the rib—it had made a round hole through the third rib, at the edge of the rib—the circle was not quite complete—the ball passed below the root of the lungs—it went through the front of the great aorta, which is a continuation of the heart itself—it went out at the back of the aorta, lower than where it entered, showing that it was still going downwards, and to the left; it then smashed the angle of the eighth rib, within about an inch or two of the spine, and was cut out at the loins, about half an inch from the surface—it went downwards, as though the pistol had been held in this direction—he must have shot himself—no one could have shot him—there is the bullet, showing the immense force with which it impinged upon the rib—it was flattened on one side—these conical bullets don't fly off at an angle like the round ones—you can see it is flattened on one side, where it hit the angle of the eighth rib—it weighs a quarter of an ounce—the bullet would be projected with the conical side forward—the eighth rib is a very thick one—I cannot say how this burr on the bullet would be occasioned, further than its meeting with great resistance there—it just passed over the heart, the same as I apprehend that May's passed under the heart; it was a course downwards, inwards, and backwards—I say that he must have shot himself—I formed that opinion from the direction of the bullet—unless May or any person had gone round to his right shoulder and shot down in the same manner as he would have shot himself, it is clear no one in front of him could ever shoot a bullet in that direction—nobody shooting at him point blank opposite could have inflicted that wound—it must have been done obliquely, and the pistol lay just where a man in his agony would have thrown it—I have no doubt that he shot himself—that is my conclusion—in coming to that conclusion I have taken into consideration the place where I found the pistol—I think the tremendous blow must have knocked the life out of him almost in a minute, and in the agony of the moment he would have thrown the pistol where it was—he might have been shot by a person standing above him on the bed, but that is an extreme possibility—he must have been on the sofa, because he could not have moved after the blow—he must have dropped, unless he was lying flat on the sofa—I say it is far more probable, seeing the position he was in, that he shot himself than that another person got into a very peculiar position so as to shoot him—I was not told that the pistol had been moved
until I heard it in evidence—I was not told so in the room, nor at the first inquest—quite irrespective of the position of the pistol, I should have precisely the same opinion—if it had been thrown half-way across the room it would have made no difference whatever—the bullet might have passed an inch above the aorta—it was not in the arch of the aorta, but in the descending portion—the aorta is the great artery of the body—it is a continuation of the heart itself; it pumps out and empties the body in a minute or two—May was lying quite senseless on the floor when I went in, and I believed, from looking at the wound, the heart must have been pierced; the pericardium—he was, in fact, dying—after getting some brandy down him, however, He revived, and we got him to the sofa—he was wounded about two inches and a half below the left nipple, and if he had been expiring instead of inspiring, I think the heart would have been wounded, it was so nice a point as that—the bullet is still in his body—I have no doubt it had gone in horizontally, but I could not tell—round balls are erratic, but these conical bullets are not, they will go through anywhere—if the side of the bullet struck on the edge of the rib, it perhaps might be deflected—he had inflammation of the pericardium afterwards, as well as the diaphragm, and a large quantity of fluid in the chest, so that the heart was pushed down from the left side to the right.
Cross-examined. I have been forty-five years in practice, and have had considerable experience in that time—I have been perhaps for twenty years divisional surgeon to the police—in all cases of violence and wounds I am called in to attend police cases, and have had considerable experience in that branch of the profession—I was examined before the Coroner, and gave evidence there—when I made the post-mortem examination of Nagel I did it for the purpose of satisfying myself as to who caused his death; that was one of the great matters—I asked the Coroner to allow me to examine him, as as to give an opinion of the direction of the ball—I could not give it without—it is from that examination that I give the decided opinion I have to-day—my impression at first certainly was that Nagel must have shot May and then himself—it is very likely that I expressed that opinion before the Coroner, it seemed to me the most probable—after a day or two I thought May in great danger, and directed an examination to be made of him by the Magistrate—I thought him in extreme danger—he was taken to the hospital as soon as thought him well enough to be removed, and was attended by the hospital surgeons—it was about a week before I had him been removed—I then gave up my charge, and had nothing more to de with him.
Re-examined. If I had found the pistol where the woman says it was found, on the left side of May, and close to him, I should still have the same impression that Nagel shot him, because that would have been just the position in which I should fancy in the agony, the spasmodic effort of getting rid of the pistol, it would have been thrown by Nagel, assuming it to have been used by him—I should have expected it to have been on the right side of May, if he had shot himself—I have beard that it was found close under his left side—I don't think that would alter my impression at all as to who shot first—I should still say that Nagel first shot May and then himself—I could not conceive anything more horrible than the wound the man had received and the shock to his system—if he had had a pistol in his hand shooting himself, the spasm of the arm would have thrown the pistol 3 or 4 feet further than I found it—the real position of the pistol would not signify—its position did operate partly on my mind from
its being on the left side of May—I don't think he would have shot with his left hand—that was my conclusion, and it is unaltered—if May had shot himself, I should have expected the pistol to be on his right side—I did not say anything to May about his state, because he could not speak English—I told Mons. Albert that I thought him in extreme danger.
CHARLES ALBERT . I am an interpreter and live at 28, Great Marlboreugh Street—on 23rd August I was called to 21, Langton Street by the police to interpret for the prisoner—he was supposed by the doctors to be dying—I told the prisoner so—I said that the doctors had given a strong opinion about his very dangerous state—he made a statement on oath in German, which I translated—it was taken down by Inspector Gill in presence of the Magistrate—I read it over to the prisoner and he signed it—it is the statement that has been read—when I first went into the room the prisoner asked who all those gentlemen were; the doctor was there, the Magistrate, the Chancellor of the German Consulate, the policeman, and the inspector—I told him who they were—he said "Am I going to be punished then?"—that was all he said before his statement was taken—I made the translation that has been read of the letters produced by Inspector Gill, it is correct—there are two handwritings on the original letter—I have translated, by order of the prosecution, all the depositions from English into German for the prisoner—I was present at the police-station on 2nd November, when the prisoner was brought in—I told him he was charged with killing Nagel—he said "I did not do it—I find it very extraordinary that I should be accused of shooting my friend—I did not shoot him"—I was present on the 4th, and read over the warrant to him charging him with killing Nagel, and he said "I did not shoot him."
THOMAS FAGS . I am a Hansom cab-driver—on Wednesday, 21st August, between 1 and 2 o'clock, I was called off my rank in Leicester Square by two young men, foreigners—they asked me to drive to some street, but I could net understand what they said—after they got out I found a tin box in the cab—I gave it to the inspector on duty at Bow Street.
GEORGE FREDERICK GILES . I live at 18, William Street, Caledonian Road, and am a pawnbroker's assistant—in August last I was in the employment of Mr. Brown, of Ryder's Street, Leicester Square—on Tuesday, 20th August three foreigners came there—one of them interpreted for the others—they pledged a gold chain for 1l. 15s.—they came again next day without the interpreter and redeemed the chain—one of them came again the same day and pledged a revolver made by Reilly, of Oxford Street, for 8s.—the same afternoon somebody came back again with the chain, and I bought it for 2l.—I can't say who that was—about 4.30 one of the foreigners came and took the revolver out—the chain was pledged in the name of Paul May—I could not swear to the prisoner.
THOMAS CAVENET . I am warehouseman to Mr. Reilly, gunsmith, of 315, Oxford Street—this pistol was made by Mr. Reilly—it was sold on Saturday, 10th August, for 2l. 13s., including cartridges, to a German—there were two Germans and somebody who could speak English, and three young women—I can't identify the prisoner as one of the men.
EDWARD MAYER . I am Chancellor of the German Consulate in London—on Friday, 8th of this month, I went by the direction of the Consul-General to see May in Newgate—I asked if there was anything he wanted as to his bodily comforts—he said that he was well cared for, and that he had no complaint whatever to make—I told him that the Consul-General would
not interfere about his defence, that that must rest entirely with his friends and relations, and I advised him to write to his father—he afterwards made a statement to me quite voluntarily—he said "Well, sir, I must tell you the whole truth; Herman Nagel did not shoot upon me, but shot first upon himself—I then took the pistol in one hand, and opening with the other my clothes (he accompanied that with a proper gesture), I shot upon myself; it was by this very reason that the pistol has been found close to my hand."
Cross-examined. I went to the prison only to see after his bodily condition, because he had complained at the Police Court that he was not in a state to leave the hospital and enter the prison—I had no intention of rendering him any legal assistance—I will not say that I have stated before to-day that he said "It was by this reason that the pistol was found close to my hand," but I complete now my evidence—I told Mr. Wontner, on the 15th, what the prisoner had said to me on the 8th—I did not then tell him that the prisoner said "It was by this reason the pistol was found close to my hand," because at that moment I did not think of it—I did not ask the prisoner any questions or tell him to tell me the truth—I had no idea that he was going to make any statement to me.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
36. GEORGE TRIMBLE (34) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of Henry Trimble, Phoebe Ann Pickard, and others, being therein. Second and Third Counts.—Setting fire to certain matters and things in the said dwelling-house.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence.
PHOEBE ANN PICKARD . I am single, and was servant to Mr. Henry Trimble, at the Pier Tavern, at Woolwich—the prisoner is his son, and lived there with his father—on Wednesday, 23rd October, I went to bed about 10.30—the prisoner had gone out and had not returned when I went to bed—about 1 o'clock or 1.30 he came to my bedroom, and knocked very loud, and said "Phoebe, get up, the house is in flames"—I immediately got up, and went to my mistress's bedroom door and rapped very loud, and said "Mrs. Trimble, get up, the house is on fire"—I then went and fetched water—I was afraid to go into the room—it was the next room to where I slept—I knew that by the smoke on the landing coming from the room—I saw the prisoner as soon as I went out of my own room—he was standing at the bedroom door with a lighted candle in his hand—I went down stairs and Miss James and I fetched some water—I did not do anything with the water; Miss James did; I was afraid to go into the room—the prisoner was standing at his mother's bedroom door then—Miss James took the water into the room, and I stood on the landing—Mr. Trimble came up then, and looked at it, and then we called Mr. Baggott in, and he came up, and then a policeman came in and they fetched some more water—I went into Mrs. Trimble's bedroom—the policeman put the fire out, and then the prisoner and the police went down into the kitchen—I went down—they stood talking, and then fetched some more policemen in—he was then taken into custody—I went to bed again about 4.20; about 5 o'clock I heard something like crackling and burning—I immediately got up, and went down to my mistress's bed-room—Mrs. Trimble and her granddaughter put that out—I went into the room—the partition was on fire.
Cross-examined. That was three hours after the prisoner had been taken away—I saw where the partition was burning—the second fire was about a yard from where the bedclothes, which had been burning, were on the ground—at the time of the first fire the prisoner, his mother, and father, and Miss James, and I were in the house—no one else—the room where he was sleeping was a front room, visible from the street—it was at the top of the house—the fire was seen from the outside—there are back rooms to the house—there was a room down stairs full of wood and combustible matter—I was on perfectly good terms with the prisoner—if the fire had spread without him alarming me I should probably have been the first person burnt—there were two very large canfuls and two large jugfuls of water taken in to put the fire out—the first fire was limited to his own bedclothes—I did not take much notice, but I think the prisoner was muddled with drink—I did not see a pipe full of tobacco in his room when I went in the second time—I did not notice a candle in the room which had been lighted—there appeared to be some paper torn away from the partition—I had been in the house five weeks—I noticed the paper torn in his room where the second fire was when I first went to live in the house—I said that before the Magistrate and it is true.
Re-examined. The room where the wood and things were was in the lumber room down stairs—this is a public-house—the premises run very deep, and the room is along a very long passage as you go out—that room was never kept locked—it was always open, but sometimes of an evening we used to lock it—my master slept in a room by himself on the first floor, and my mistress slept in the next room to him on the same floor.
MARTHA JAMES . I am single and am the granddaughter of Mrs. Trimble—I sleep with her—on the night of 23rd October I was aroused by the servant—I got up and ran up stairs to my uncle's, that is the prisoner's, room—I found the room full of smoke, it nearly suffocated me for a moment or two—I saw the things heaped up on the bed, they were smouldering but not in flames—they were all together in the centre of the bed, not spread out as they ought to have been—they appeared to be gathered up in a heap—I went and got some water immediately—the prisoner was standing outside the room with a candle in his hand, and something on his arm—he did nothing—he did not move or make any attempt to put the fire out—I threw some water on, but when I found it blazed the more I ran down to get help—I saw a man outside the house and asked him to get a policeman—the man came in afterwards and the police afterwards—I was present when the prisoner was taken into custody—my grandpapa went up to the police-station "to give the charge—it must have been after 4 o'clock that we were aroused again by the servant telling us the house was on fire again—we both rushed up stairs into the same room and I found the partition smouldering, red hot—I can't say there was smoke—it was embering, not in flames at all—it had smouldered away—it was very damp.
Cross-examined. The bed consisted of sheets, blankets, and quilt—the bed itself was burnt, but not completely—I noticed that the clothes were heaped together on the bed—they were almost destroyed—that was the only fire that I saw in the room—one of the men I believe dragged the bedclothes from the bed into the room in putting them out—I did not notice any lucifers on the ground till long after the fire—I saw one or two the next day—I did not take any light into the room; it was dense, you could not see anything but the flames on the bed—they seemed to give enough light—I
found a pipe afterwards which had been filled with tobacco—I looked for it in consequence of something my uncle said—it was on the chair by his bed—there was no candle in the room—he had it in his hand outside the room—I did sot notice a candle which had been used by the prisoner to retire to rest—I could hardly tell that he was the worse for drink—I did not think about him—I should imagine he was drunk when he went to bed from the noise he made—he was talking a long while outside the door with my grandfather, as he generally did—he made a great noise and gave me the notion of being drunk.
Re-examined. When I saw the prisoner on the landing the first words he used were "See how it burns"—those are the only words I remember—he was muttering a good deal.
JOSEPH JAMES BAGGOTT . I am a master lighterman, and live at East Greenwich—on 23rd October I was passing Mr. Trimble's house, between I and 2 o'clock—I smelt fire before I came to the house—I looked about some little time, and saw smoke pouring from the window at the top—I heard voices inside—I looked about for a constable—I did not see any one at that time—I called out; some one answered me from the front window—I said "Your house is on fire;" they said "Yes, will you come in and put it out?"—I said "If you go up stairs you can put it out yourself"—I was there about twenty minutes before I got in, and then I went in with a policeman, named Phillips—I went up stairs, and found the bed was all on fire and the room full of smoke—the constable tried to enter, but in hastening up stairs I suppose he was out of breath, and he had to come out again—I tried also to enter the room and could not—the constable went down stairs for some water, and while he was gone I rushed into the room, and took the bed and clothes and turned them upside down on the floor, and stamped the fire out—I burnt my trousers—it was not blazing much, it was all red hot—the prisoner was standing there at the time, and he tried to enter once himself—he asked me for his boots, but I did not see them—I did not notice how the bedclothes were; I could not for the smoke—I could not swear that the clothes were spread out as if a person had been in bed—the prisoner seemed greatly muddled, as though he did not know what he was about.
Cross-examined. I could not swear that the bedclothes were in a heap; there was too much smoke—we soaked them well with water after I had stamped upon them, and we looked round, but did not see any more fire—I went to the police-station with the prisoner's father—the prisoner asked him if he charged him with drunkenness—on the way to the station the father walked with me, and he offered me a half-sovereign not to criminate him—he was rather an aged man, about sixty—he said "Ain't you a policeman?"—I said "I am not"—he said "I will give you a half-sovereign if you don't criminate me"—I did not mention that on the first evidence—the father did not appear against the prisoner—when he said he would charge his son, the prisoner said "You will be sorry for this," and the father said he had lately insured the house, three days before, for 940l. or 950l.—I told him to be careful what he was saying—the father committed suicide a few days after he had charged the prisoner—I saw the room after I had put the fire out—we searched all over the room, and left it safe, as far as we could see—the prisoner produced his shirt at the hearing before the Magistrate; it was all burnt.
Re-examined. I mentioned about the half-sovereign on the second occasion
before the Magistrate, but Mr. Maude did not think it evidence, and it was not taken—the father did not charge the son till the police asked who set fire to the place, and the father said "My son threatened to set fire to the place on several occasions"—the prisoner heard that; he made no answer—I did not know them before, and I have not visited the prisoner since—when I took the bedclothes off the bed I put them in the middle of the floor, away from the partition that was afterwards found burning.
ALFRED GILLHAM (Policeman R 109). On the night of 23rd October I was called to Mr. Trimble's house about 2.30—I saw smoke issuing from the top window—I went up stairs with Baggott, and saw the prisoner standing outside the room which was on fire, partly dressed, his coat and trousers and hat on, and a candle in his hand—he had no boots on—he remarked that the room was on fire, "See how it burns"—I went into the room, and found the windows wide open—I went in before Baggott—the bedclothes were all in a heap on the bed, as though they had been gathered together—I went and got some water—there was a great deal of smoke in the room—I carried the water up stairs, and in the meantime Baggott had got the bed off the bedstead on to the floor—the prisoner was standing outside the room at the time, on the landing talking and muttering to himself; I could not understand what he said, for I was too busy—I told the prisoner that his father had charged him with getting fire to the house and I should take him to the station—he said that he had not done it, and that the premium of insurance was only paid three days before for 900l.—there was a great deal said, but that is all that I remember—the prisoner said that he was in bed at the time, and was woke up by a great heat and he found the bedclothes on fire—after his father charged him, he said "You will be sorry for this, and I shall get three years to-morrow," that was in the kitchen, down stairs—I took him to the station, and then went back and searched the room—I found this box of matches lying outside on the landing, where the prisoner had been standing, and there were four matches loose and a pipe on the chair by the side of the bed.
Cross-examined. I did not see a candle and candlestick—I looked all round the room—that was after I came back from the police-station—I asked the prisoner how he could account for the fire, immediately after we had extinguished the fire—I did not say to him "Is not the house insured"—I am quite certain, we are not allowed—the prisoner went down stairs, and got a pair of socks, and the boots that were in the bedroom—he had his coat and trousers on, in fact, he only put on the socks and boots—I did not see him with any other clothes—he appeared to be recovering from drink.
HENRY PHILLIPS (Inspector R). I went to the house on 24th October, about 1 o'clock, I went to the room where the fire occurred—the prisoner's father and a salvage corps man in charge were with me—I found the remains of bedclothes and bedding in the middle of the room very much burnt, and water had been thrown on it—an iron bedstead stood at the end of the room, and at the same side there is a partition which divides the servant Pickard's room from the prisoner's—to all appearance it was a solid wall, but on examination I found the wall was canvas covered by ordinary bedroom paper—the hole was about 5 feet from the floor—the partition was made of upright timbers about half-a-yard apart, covered with canvas and paper—the hole was large enough to put my hand in, it was burnt at
the edges—I tore the canvas and the paper right down, and found this piece of newspaper inserted in the crevice, and the edges had been burnt and embered—it was not exposed till the canvas was torn down—the portion of the paper is the "Standard" of the 7th October, 1872—there were various other pieces which had fallen from this; they had fallen down inside the hole—the hole was close to the bedstead—I should say the bed had been against the partition originally, but it had been moved when I saw it—I found six matches on the floor which had been ignited.
Cross-examined. I have produced all the paper that I found in the crevice—there was also a portion of a child's book—the paper had been wedged into the hole, no doubt, in the first instance—the hole was above the bed—I should not think there would be any draught—the paper had smouldered—it did not stop the hole at all, it was hidden until the canvas was torn down.
WILLIAM HOOPER (Police Inspector R.) I came into the police-station at Woolwich when the prisoner was there—the sergeant in charge, the prisoner's father, the constable, and Baggott were also there—the sergeant had not entered the charge because he wished to consult me previously—the prisoner was then is the dock, and his father was standing by the side of him—I asked the father to explain to me the circumstances of the case before entering the charge—he then made a statement to the effect that the prisoner came home between 12 and 1 o'clock, that he came down stairs to let him in, that the prisoner required some drink, that he prevented him from going behind the bar, that the prisoner took the measure and drew some liquor from the engine while standing outside and drank it—he then asked for some lucifer matches—he (the father) told him that there was a light already in the room for him—the prisoner said "I want some matches, for I intend to set the b—house on fire to-night"—the prisoner heard all this, but he made no answer—he had been drinking, but in my opinion he understood perfectly what was said—the father said the prisoner then went to his bedroom and he went to his—some short time after an alarm of fire was given, and he, the father, went upstairs to his son's bed room and found him standing outside his bedroom door—he said to his son, "What is the matter?"—he replied, "I will set the b—house on fire, and you will be able to get the insurance money now"—the prisoner said, "You intend to charge me, do you?" and the father said "Yes."
MARTHA JAMES (re-called.) The business was my grandfather's—the prisoner had no interest in the business—he lived in the house—I should not imagine he had any interest in the insurance—he was the only son living there—my grandfather slept alone—he was very much given to restlessness and was in the habit of taking sleeping draughts—he had been in very low spirits for the last year or two—he complained he could not sleep at all—he poisoned himself afterwards with rat poison—I was quite familiar with the affairs of the house—I had been staying there backwards and forwards for two or three years, two years at all events—I did not know that the house was taken for the son—it was disposed of to Mr. Willis, and the prisoner's father had received a deposit from Mr. Willis—that was a week before the fire, I think—my grandfather could not manage it—the son would not help him, and he was obliged to give it up, the prisoner drank so much—the proceeds of the sale of the house did not go to the prisoner, it went to his father—he was living there and was entirely maintained by him—he had no other means—I know the furniture of the
room where the fire was—there was a washhand-stand and basin—there was no water, because he did not use that as a dressing-room—I had to run into my own room for water—I did not call out of the window, I believe my grandmamma did—I believe it was about ten minutes before that I was aroused—I have served behind the bar occasionally, and so has the prisoner—he never turned me away from the bar—he has said that he would put me the other aide of it, or something like that.
HENRY PHILLIPS (re-examined). When I pulled out this piece of paper out of the crevice it was quite out—it was eight hours after the fire was extinguished—the wood of the partition was charred very slightly—it was turned to charcoal to a slight extent—I think the prisoner discovered the burn on his shirt at Maidstone Gaol—I believe he changed it at Maidstone—I should say that the paper had been ignited after it had been put into the hole—it was invisible—I can offer no opinion as to whether sparks from the burning bed might have set fire to that—if the bedclothes had been lifted from the bedstead, and had come in contact with the paper, it probably might have burnt it.
MARTHA JAMES (re-examined). It was a piece of the timber of the partition that was red hot, and it was embering away—that seemed to have caused the hole—it had burnt away and formed the hole—I am not aware that it was a rule to have a lighted candle left for the prisoner—he used to come in at all times; I don't know—I was in bed.
GUILTY on the Second and Third Counts. — Two Years' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. METCALFE and SLADE conducted the Prosecution.
HARRIET YORK . I live at Coventry—on 4th September I got a post-office order for 10s. from the post-office at Coventry, payable to "John York," my son—I placed it in a letter with two book-marks—I addressed the letter to "Corporal Collar-maker John York, F Battery, B Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery, Woolwich, Kent"—I posted that letter about 8 o'clock on the night of 4th September in time for the night mail to London.
Prisoner. Q. Did you mention to your son whose name it was drawn in? A. In my own, Harriet York—he was to name the person who sent it.
JAMES MARTIN . I am a bombardier in the G Battery, B Brigade of Artillery—John York is in the F Battery—on the morning of 5th September the F Battery went to Aldershot, and York with it—the prisoner was also a bombardier in my battery—there is a post-office in the barracks—I receive the letters bodily from the post-office and take them to the barracks and distribute them—on the morning of 5th September I received a quantity of letters for the G Battery and the F Battery—I took them to the B Brigade office—the prisoner was there, and we both sorted the letters for the G and F Batteries—I took possession of the G letters, and afterwards distributed them—the prisoner took possession of the letters for the F Battery—he was to post them after redirecting them to Aldershot—he said he would do it himself—I noticed a letter for Corporal York amongst the letters for the F Battery—I remarked to the prisoner "Here is a letter for Collar-maker York, it is a bulky one"—it was different from an ordinary letter, it was bulky—the prisoner did not say anything—he took possession of the letter—that was about 9.15—I did not see any more of the letters—to the best of my belief the words "Ten shillings" and the name of "Collar-maker
Corporal York" on that order are in the prisoner's writing—I have seen him write frequently—the words written are "Of ten shillings, C. M. Corporal York, B Bge. R. H. Ay."
Prisoner. Q. Did not you give any letters to Quartermaster McKenzie of that battery? A. I might have done so, I can't say whether I did or not.
Re-examined. I did not give that letter to him—he is in the F Battery—he would have nothing to do with the letters—the prisoner was in charge of the office, and it was his business to post the letters to the F Battery—McKenzie was quartermaster in the battery, and he was left behind to give the barracks over.
JOHN YORK . I am a corporal in the F Battery, B Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery—the prisoner belongs to the G Battery—in the beginning of September, we were quartered at Woolwich—on the 5th we left for Aldershot, about 7 o'clock in the morning, before the letters were delivered—my mother lives at Coventry—I did not receive a letter from her containing a money order for 10s.—this receipt is not in my writing, nor written by my authority—to the best of my opinion I believe it to be the prisoners—I have seen his writing on many occasions, from showing brigade orders, and I have taken releases to the guard-room to release court-martial prisoners, and they have all been in his writing.
Prisoner. Q. Was I on any intimacy with you to know that you expected any letters? A. I have been out with the prisoner on many occasions—I could not say whether I have mentioned it to him, but I have mentioned that I expected an order—I could not say whether I did so in the prisoner's presence.
WILLIAM SIBLEY . I am assistant at the post-office in Church Street, Woolwich—I gave the cash for this order on 5th September to a soldier in uniform, an artilleryman—I don't know what time it was—it was written upon in that way when it was presented—this is the letter of advice which we received the same morning.
RICHARD GOODS . I am sergeant-major in the G Battery, B Brigade—the prisoner was in the same battery—we were at Woolwich, and then we went to Aldershot—on 5th September Martin brought the letters—the prisoner has been brigade clerk, and he. wrote under me—I have been in the battery with him four years and a half—I say that that document is in his handwriting.
JAMES PRICE . I am quartermaster of the G Battery—I have known the prisoner ten years—he was clerk to me seven years ago the first time, and I had an opportunity of seeing him write—that document is in his writing—the words are shortened, "Bge." for brigade, and that is the way we shorten them—a civilian would not know how to shorten those in the ordinary way.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he never saw the letter, and was not aware that York expected any money from his friends, and that Martin did not leave any letters in the office to be reposted; and if he had done his duty the letter would never have been lost; that he had been thirteen years in the service, and several eleven years and six months in India, and was in possession of a good-conduct badge, which he would not sacrifice in this way.
Recommended to mercy on account of his previous good conduct and long service.— Four Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.
SAMUEL CALLOW . I am a painter, of 43, Clarendon Street, Southwark—on Saturday night, 5th October, I was in Kent Street, going home, and saw a bit of a row between Fuller and my brother-in-law, Way—I said to Way "You go home, Jem"—I had some boards in my hand; I took them home to my wife, came back, and the prisoner and Way were going to fight—I said "Don't you fight him, he is too big for you; if you want to fight, fight me;" and as I was taking off my coat the prisoner closed with me and got me up against the iron railings of a house and stabbed me in the head in five or six places—my wife came to my protection, and she got stabbed in the arm—I am sure the prisoner is the man who got me against the railings; I was perfectly sober.
Prisoner. I assure you I did not have any knife in my hand; another man swears it was him who stabbed him. Witness. I am quite sure no person struck me but you.
MARY ANN CALLOW . I am the wife of the last witness—on Saturday night, 5th October, he came home about 12.30, and shortly afterwards went out again—I followed him to the top of our street, and saw him in the road and the prisoner in a blue guernsey squaring up to him—I said "Don't fight," but they both ran at each other—the prisoner hugged my husband round the neck; then rustled the railings, and then the prisoner struck my husband on the head—I was close to them—no one else struck my husband—I ran up to prevent his striking another blow on his head and got cut on my arm—my husband, not a minute afterwards, said "He has stabbed me"—there was no one near him then but the prisoner and me—I did not see Goldsmith or Way there—there was not a blow struck in any shape except by the prisoner—if Way had stabbed my husband I should have seen it—I was there all the time with my husband—I got up to the top of the street almost as soon as he did—he was taken to the hospital and I with him—nobody else struck my husband; if they had I must have seen it.
WILLIAM TODD . I am a carpenter, of 2, Queen's Gardens, Crosby Row—on the night of 5th October, about 12.30, I was in Kent Street with the prosecutor—I took some boards home with him—there was a bit of a row at the corner of the street—he stopped and said it was his brother-in-law, a person named Way, and that he would try and persuade him to go home—he said "Stop a minute till I come back"—I waited, and while he was gone Way and the prisoner were going to fight—they were strangers to me—when Callow came back he said "Don't fight him, he is too old for you, fight me"—the prisoner, who had nothing on but a blue guernsey, rushed at Callow—there were forty or fifty people round and I got knocked down, and when I got up Callow said he was stabbed—I did not see Goldsmith or Way near the railings—if they had been there I must have seen them—nobody was near enough to stab Callow but the prisoner.
COURT. Q. How were you knocked down; by the rest of the people? A. I was trying to save Callow and persuade him not to fight, and with the crowd I was knocked down—when the prisoner closed on Callow there was a rush and my hat was knocked off; I stooped to pick it up and was pushed down.
FRANCIS JAMES CAREY . I am house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I saw Callow the morning after he was brought in—he had six incised wounds on his scalp—the largest was about an inch long—a penknife might have done it.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
GEORGE KENDAL . On this Saturday night I was standing while my wife got some supper at a cook's shop and saw this fight—Callow said, "You are too big for him, you had better go with me"—the prisoner said, "No, you are too big for me"—a little fellow called Goldsmith pulled Callow over against a shop, and when he got up he was smothered with blood—a little fellow of the size of Goldsmith was fighting with him, but I did not know him then—it was not the prisoner, for he was about 10 yards from the railings at the time.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I am a costermonger—I was there when they began fighting—Way and Fuller were fighting when I went up—I saw Callow against the railings and the other little fellow, but I did not go up to the railings—I was about as far from them as from here to the other side of the Court when Callow was against them—there was a crowd between me and the railings.
EDWARD GOLDSMITH . Between a quarter and half-past 12 o'clock on this night I heard a noise and saw Way very intoxicated—he wanted to fight me for a sovereign—I put my hands in my waistcoat pockets and he punched Fuller two or three times, and he put his hands in his pockets and pulled out a knife—Callow came up and said, "You get on one side, I have got a match for you"—I saw Way go to Callow, and I believe he gave Callow the knife—I was struck first with the knife, and I took it from his hand and stuck it into his head—I was the one who did it.
Cross-examined. I am a house boy employed by a linen-draper in the Borough—I gave evidence before the Magistrate and he cautioned me—I first saw Callow when I saw him pick up Way—I did not see him carrying boards—I saw Mrs. Callow first when I had her husband round the neck—Baker had hold of Fuller up against the cook's shop—the difference I bad with Callow was in the middle of the road, and I got him round the neck again the railings—there are two cooks' shops; this is the one opposite Henry Street—at the time I was hustling Callow Mrs. Callow was close by him—I saw Fuller stripped to fight—I saw Callow speak to him and attempt to take his coat off; that was in the road—it is not a very narrow turning—they were going to fight, but Baker pulled Fuller away—that was about 6 yards from the railings—Callow struck Fuller twice—Fuller did not upon that rush into Callow—Callow was along with Way and they were going to fight, and Callow struck Fuller—the fight did not occupy five minutes altogether—Way and Callow were against the iron railing—I mean to swear that there was fighting between them in the middle of the street—they did not fight up against the railings—it was me who fought up against the railings, and Callow had my hat on on Sunday morning; had not you, Mr. Callow?
SAMUEL CALLOW (re-examined). In the crowd I lost my hat—there were two or three hats about, and they gave me one—a young girl named Aggy Shaw said "Have you got So-and-So's hat?"—I said I didn't know—I hive not got my own.
EDWARD GOLDSMITH (continued). I swear that Fuller and Callow did not fight up against the railings—I swear that I was fighting with Callow against the railings—I go so far as to say that it was I who stabbed him—
the knife came out of Way's pocket—Mrs. Callow was alongside Mr. Callow at the time, and she saw what was going on—if she likes to speak the truth she knows it was me who done it.
—CARTER. I was coming home between 12 and 1 o'clock, and saw a bit of a row—I saw Callow coming; he up with his fist, and said "You are too big for Farthing have a go with me," and he struck Fuller twice—Farthing pulled out a knife, but whether he gave it to Callow I cannot say—when Callow held up his hand again I halloaed out "He has got a knife," and Goldsmith ran to take it away, and got stabbed in the wrist, and he took it from him and stabbed Callow.
Cross-examined. He got the knife from Callow; I do not know who Callow got it from—Farthing is Way—I am a costermonger—I did not see Mrs. Callow there—I do not know her when I see her.
Prisoner's Defence. I declare it was not me who stabbed the man. I did not have the knife in my hand at all. It was done by the man who swears he did it.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COOPER the Defence.
JAMES GEORGE CRIPPS . I live at Abbey Street, Bermondsey, and am a purveyor of cat's meat—on Sunday evening, 3rd November, I was in Lant Street, Southwark, about two or three minutes to 11, returning home—I received a violent blow behind the head—I fell, and, getting up, I caught hold of the male prisoner behind me—I then saw the woman; she bit me in the eye—I had a struggle with the man; I had him with one hand, and protected my watch with the other; his shirt gave way and I fell, and the man and woman hit and kicked me—the man kicked me—I called "Police!" as loud as I could, and they ran away—the police came up, and I gave information and described the man—I had been robbed of a silk pocket-handkerchief which I had safe a few minutes before—I did not notice the woman's face, but I noticed her dress—she had a black shawl, a kind of cinnamon or brown dress, and a print apron—I went to the station and saw the man about twenty minutes after; he was brought in, and I identified him as he came in—I was sent to the hospital, where I was treated by the house-surgeon, and remained there till 1 o'clock the next day—from the hospital I went to the Police Court at Stone's End—I saw the male prisoner amongst about twenty others, and I picked him out—I was bruised all over from the kicks and the hit the woman gave me in the eye.
Cross-examined. I was very much alarmed—I have never been served so before—I was obliged to call out, I thought I was going to be killed—it was a little bit dark that night, and it was rather a darkish place—I had only been drinking in a moderate way—I had been into two public-houses, and had a glass of ale in the usual way—I did not have any spirits—I only had a pint and a half of beer the whole day—I had been about with my cat's meat in the morning, and then I went home, and had a cup of tea
—I am quite sure I did not lose the pocket handkerchief—it was in my left-hand outside pocket—I had never seen either of the prisoners before that I am aware of.
Re-examined. There were lamps about—I should think I was attacked within half-a-dozen yards of a gaslight—I could see the male prisoner, and he is the man—after the remand I received a visit from the woman and three men—she was dressed the same as she was on the Sunday evening—she said "Will you be a little bit lenient with my husband, as we have two children, and if you don't be hard against him we will make a recompense of what little loss was done in the damage?"—I told them of course the ease was not come off, and I had got it to consider; I did not want to be paid for what was done—she said it would not have happened if I had not pushed up against them, and as they had had a little drop to drink, that was how it occurred—I did not push up against them; that I am quite positive about.
HENRY MARTIN (Policeman M 232). I was on duty in Lant Street—I heard a cry of "Police!" and ran up—I saw Cripps doubled up against the wall, crying out "Police!" and groaning—he was crouching down, as if he had received a kick in the stomach—he complained of having been robbed, and gave me a description of the man who had committed it, in consequence of which I apprehended the male prisoner about twenty minutes afterwards—I took him out of a house about 30 yards from where I found Cripps—I believe he lived in the house—I found him behind the door—I saw the female prisoner in the room also—I took the man to the station, and the prosecutor identified him—the prosecutor was taken to the hospital, and on he Monday morning he was taken to the Police Court—the prosecutor was not there when the case came on, and the man was remanded for a week—the prosecutor came in the course of the day—he was then shown the prisoner in the cell, and he picked him out from about twenty others—I saw the female prisoner in the course of the day—she wore a black shawl and a dark dress, and print apron—she was taken into custody on the 11th, the day of the remand.
Cross-examined. A black dress is a very common thing, and so is a print apron—the first time Cripps identified the man was when he was alone—I took him up to Cripps—he said he was the man.
JOHN MARNEY PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in February, 1870.**— Seven Years Penal Servitude. MARGARET MARNEY— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMEBER 16TH.