CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 22ND, 1873.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS & SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, September 22nd, 1873, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR SYDNEY HEDLEY WATERLOW , BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. SIR GEORGE DENMAN , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; The Hon. SIR CHARLES EDWARD POLLOCK , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer. SIR ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt. ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Esq., JAMES FIGGINS , Esq., M.P., and JOHN PATERSON , 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. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denote 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.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1873.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN HADWAY . I am a licensed victualler, at 169, Bishopsgate Street—on Wednesday, 16th July, my barman brought me a bad half-crown—I came out and saw the prisoner—I asked him where he got it—he said he took it that morning in change in buying some cuffs and socks in some house down a street, and he pointed—he did not tell me the name—I asked his name and address—he said his name was George Frost, and he came from Birmingham, either that night or the night previous—I let him go, and followed him some distance—he went down Bishopsgate Street, and another person joined him—he then went to King William Street—I next saw him in Newgate—I gave the broken half-crown to the police.
JAMES HOLLRIOK DAVIS . I keep the White Swan, Coleman Street—on Friday, 18th July, Green gave me a broken florin—I came in and asked the prisoner where he got it—he said he took it in change from a man who was selling cherries in the Walworth Road—I took him to the station, and gave the florin to the constable.
Prisoner's Defence. I went into the White Swan for a glass of ale, and gave a florin. I had no knowledge it was bad. I told the landlord I got it in Walworth Road.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GLYN the Defence.
ANNIE LAMB . I live at 116, Horseferry Road, Westminster, and am in the employment of a confectioner—on Wednesday, 20th August, I served the prisoner with two pieces of sandwich—he gave me a florin—I tried it in the detector and bent it, and said "This is a bad 2s. piece"—he said "I will take it back where it came from"—he snatched it from my hands and ran away, leaving the sandwich.
Cross-examined. I next saw him on the Friday at the Police Court—he was in the shop about two minutes—I had had a bad florin passed before, and that made me notice him—I picked him out of eight at the station.
WILLIAM ROGERS . I keep the Barley Mow, Horseferry Road, Westminster—on Friday morning, 22nd August, the prisoner came in about 5.30 in the morning—I open at 5 o'clock—he asked for a pennyworth of old ale and a penny worth of gin—he put down a half-crown—I gave him a florin and 4d. change—he said that he was very ill—he left—I put the half-crown by the side of the till—I never put half-crowns in the till—a few minutes afterwards he came in again and asked for a half-pint of ale and a pennyworth of gin and gave me 1 1/2 d.—he said he was very ill, he had had some money, left him, and had been on the drink for three weeks with some friends who stuck to him, and he could not shake them off—he said would I give him 2d. worth of gin and bitters as that had sometimes a good effect upon him—I served him and he gave me a half-crown—I put it by the side of the other and gave him 2s. and 4d. change—I then went down into the cellar—when I came back I found the two half-crowns were bad—I then went out to look for him and found him in Peter Street, followed him, and gave him in custody—I gave the half-crowns up at the station.
Cross-examined. The prisoner appeared ill, as if he had been drunk the night before—he was sober then.
ROSINA RYE . I am barmaid at the Barley Mow—on Friday morning, 22nd August, the prisoner came in with two other men and asked for 2d. worth of rum, half-a-pint of beer, halfpennyworth of ale, and a pennyworth of gin—he paid with a half-crown—I kept it in my hand a little while and put it down by the side of the till while I gave change—I gave him a shilling, two sixpences, and 1 1/2 d.—after he left I looked at the half-crown and found it was bad—I ran after him and caught him about 100 yards from the house—I told him he had given me a bad half-crown—he said that he had not, and if I would give it him back he would take it where he had got it from—he gave me the money and I gave him the half-crown back—I went back to the bar and saw Mr. Rogers there trying two half-crowns.
Cross-examined. I did not hear of the other two half-crowns till I went back—the prisoner was staggering and appeared to have been drinking—I don't know that he was intoxicated—he was rather excited.
FREDERICK DICKENSON (Policeman B 408). I received the prisoner in charge—I searched him at the station and found on him two half-crowns, three florins, seven shillings, and 1s. and 4d. in copper, good money—I produce two counterfeit half-crowns I received from Mr. Rogers.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had worked for Mr. Franks of Vincent Square.
GUILTY — Two Years' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE URBEN (Detective Sergeant X). I am stationed at Paddington—on 18th August Jane Giffard and her husband were tried here for an offence against the Mint—I was the officer in charge of the case—her husband was Sentenced to seven years' penal servitude, and she was acquitted on the ground of being married to him and under his coercion—on the 19th August she came to the Paddington police-station with her mother for some property I had taken from her—I received a communication from her, in consequence of which I gave her 3s. 6d., marked money, a half-crown, and a Shilling—on Thursday, 21st August, I went with her and her mother to Tottenham Court Road—I waited outside the Crown public-house—the prisoner came out of that public-house about 12. 20—I followed him and Giffard some distance, they parted and I followed the prisoner towards the Borough—I saw him again about 3 o'clock, with Giffard, at a second puhlic-house, the Crown, in Bloomsbury Street—I was then with Detective Smith—I went into the public-house and saw Smith in the left compartment and the prisoner and Giffard in the right—I left the compartment where Smith was and went into the right-hand compartment—I saw the prisoner and Giffard sitting opposite each other on two high stools, about a yard and a half apart—I said "Young man, I want to speak to you; we are two detective officers, and we shall take you into custody"—he threw his left hand back—I caught his right hand and Smith caught his left—I asked if he knew the female, he made no reply—I saw Smith take a halfcrown and shilling from his left; hand—that was the half-crown and shilling I had previously given to Giffard—there are two marks on the shilling and one on the half-crown—it was done with a sort of punch, which I produce—I asked Giffard what she had received from the man and took from her this blue paper which she held in her hand with her purse, which contains ten bad half-crowns—she said "That is all I have received"—the prisoner called out very loudly "Call a policeman! this woman has got half a load of bad money!"—I said "It is all right; we are police officers"—he said "See that she does not get away"—I said "I will see to that; I have got the money here"—we took him to the station—when Smith caught his hand he said "What have you got here?"—the prisoner said "This is all I have got," and he gave two packets to Smith, done up in blue paper, with a piece of brown paper, in the same manner as the other coins—he took them from his left-hand coat pocket—he said he thought there was something wrong in his pocket, and put his hand there, and the female must have put them there—the prisoner made a long statement, which the Inspector took down—I was present—the Inspector asked him if he wished the statement taken down, and he said "Yes; I should like it taken down," and he signed it—(Read: "The female brought in here to-day with me I have known some six months on the Seven Dials. Her husband was sentenced to seven years at the Central Criminal Court on Monday last (she was acquitted) for uttering counterfeit coin; after her husband was convicted on the Monday, she came to see me on the Dials, at the Clock House, and told me she had got off, and that she was very hard-up. She asked me did I know, or could I tell her where she could part with some counterfeit coin that she had planted; I said I did not know then; but as I had known her husband I arranged to meet her
tomorrow. I do know counterfeit coins through knowing her husband. I arranged to meet her to-day at the public where I was arrested. I did meet her. When I came in she was in the house, waiting for me. She said 'Have you found any one to take them?' I said 'No; its no use; there's nobody about. 'She said 'Speak slow, there's somebody watching in the opposite; bar;'she spoke in a low tone of voice, and caused me to bend over to hear her; she then said 'Do try, I am so hard-up I have not a stitch to my back;' she then said 'I'll retain half a load, meaning ten, and do try and sell the rest, so I shall have a back to do the rest. 'I said 'I can't.' She said "Do come here" (bending over to me more); I had scarcely regained my position when these two gentlemen came in, and said 'Have you passed any parcel to this female?' Something struck me that all was not right; I put my hand to my side, and found something in my pocket which I knew ought not to be there, and which I thought was put there by the woman; they said 'What have you got in your hand?' There was 3s. 6d. in it in good money. I told the officers to take the female into custody, as I believed she had got some bad money about her. I live with a female named Mary Ann Wilson, at 12, Short's Gardens, on the first floor, in a back room; the landlady's name is Mrs. Keefe. (Signed) Henry Williams.—I wish further to add that when the officers took me I said 'What do you want with me?' They said 'We shall take you into custody for having counterfeit coin. 'I said 'I have none; but I believe that woman has, take her. '"—I searched the prisoner and found two sixpences and 1 3/4 d. on him—I received the 2d. change from Giffard.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I believe you were both sitting when I took you—I charged you with having counterfeit coin in your possession—a dirty piece of brown paper came out of your pocket with the coins—I don't know where that is—I have not got it—I took you for the packet that was found on the woman.
WILLIAM SMITH (Detective Officer X). On Thursday afternoon, 21st August, about 3 o'clock, in consequence of directions I received, I went to the Crown Tavern, Oxford Street—Urben came in soon after—I was in the left partition—a few minutes after I went in Giffard came in and the prisoner joined her in about ten minutes—the prisoner stood up to the counter and the woman stood opposite, facing him—they were talking, but I could not hear what was said—I saw the prisoner hand a blue packet like this produced to the woman—I did not see where he took it from—I saw it in her hand—Urben came in and spoke to me and we went round to the compartment where the prisoner and the woman were—Urben went in first—I went in and said "We shall take you into custody for having counterfeit coin in your possession"—he got his left hand back, going to the coat pocket; his hand was clenched—I caught his hand and took a half-crown and shilling from it—the prisoner called out "Landlord, landlord, get a policeman"—I said "We are two police officers"—he said "Landlord, this woman has got half a load of bad money on her"—we took him out of the house, and I told the woman to come to the station and she did—on the way there the prisoner struggled very violently with his left hand, trying to get it to his left pocket, but I held him so that he could not get it there—when we got to the station he handed me these two packets from his pocket, and at the same time a piece of brown paper fell from his hand to the floor—he said "Here is the other stuff because I know you will find it"—I produce the two packets—one contains ten
counterfeit half-crowns, wrapped separately, and the ether eight florins separately wrapped in blue paper—the statement of the prisoner which has been read was made at his own request—I was at the station when he was charged, and subsequently at the Police Court—Gitfard was present but was not called on the first two occasions—when I was watching them in the public-house the woman was facing him—she was not near enough to have dropped anything in his pocket while I was there.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was about three yards from you, in the opposite bar—you were sitting down—the counter would be up to your shoulder—you rose up from the stool when you passed the packet to the woman—I had to go into the street to get into the compartment where you were—I did not hear you say "If I have got any coin the woman has put it there"—the coin might have been in two separate packets, but at the time you took them out a piece of brown paper fell from your hand to the ground—I picked it up and put it on the desk—I have not seen it since—I did not see you give the woman 2d.
JANE GIFFABD . I am the wife of Andrew Sullivan Giffard, and live at 1, Addison Villas, Kensington—I am a dressmaker—I was tried with my husband at the last Sessions for passing bad money—I was acquitted and he was convicted—on the Tuesday morning I went to the Paddington police-station to get my property—I saw Urben and made a statement—and on the following day I went with Urben to the Ship, in Seven Dials, between 3 and 4 o'clock—after I had been there a short time the prisoner came in—he did not recognise me at first, but he did afterwards and shook hands with me—he asked me how my husband had got on—I told him—he said he was very sorry, but was very glad to see me out again—he told me to tell my husband on the Tuesday, when I saw him on visiting day, that he would do all he could for me—he asked me if I wanted anything—I said I wanted to see Tom, who was selling—he said "Oh, he is not selling now, he's not been selling for three weeks"—the prisoner said he was a seller and I could have plenty—I said I did not want it then; I was going to my friends—he said "Will you come and see me to-morrow at 12 o'clock," and I said "Yes"—he asked me how much I wanted, and I told him ten—he asked me what I would have—I told him half-crowns, not 5s. pieces—he said "No, they are very awkward"—he told me to meet him the next day at the Crown, at the corner of Cromer Street, opposite Tottenham Court Road, and he would bring me ten half-crowns, and I could have them without the money—he said they would be 3s. 4d.—I went to the Paddington police-station on Thursday and received a halfcrown and a shilling from the inspector—I saw them marked first—I went to the Crown, and after I had been there ten minutes the prisoner came in, that was about ten minutes after 12 o'clock—he said he was very sorry to keep me waiting and disappoint me; but the maker had been drinking, and I could have no goods until 3 o'clock that afternoon as he was going to,. see the maker at 2.30—he told me not to meet him there, he would show me another house—he asked me which way I was going, and I said "Up Holborn"—he walked up Oxford Street with me, and showed me a small public-house, which I believe is the Crown Tavern—he said "This is more quiet here"—he left and I went across the street to my mother—she had been to the police station with me on the Thursday, and on all other occasions, but not on, the Wednesday before—her name is Jane Few, she is here—I went to the Crown Tavern at 3 o'olock, into the right hand compartment
—I had a glass of ale—a young lady was there, but she left shortly afterwards before the prisoner came in—he came in and said he was sorry to keep me waiting, but he had come to serve me before he served anyone else—he sat down facing me and called for a glass of ale—he took a packet from his right hand coat pocket, wrapped in a piece of brown paper—he opened it and took out a small parcel wrapped in blue paper—he said "This is all I can get, that is twenty-eight"—he said "You see I've come to serve you first, and I am keeping the other people waiting"—he wrapped the parcel in the brown paper and put it in his pocket—I gave him the half-crown and the shilling that were given to me by the police, and he gave me 2d. change—as he was giving me the 2d. the two police officers came in and said they were going to take him for having counterfeit coin—he called out "Landlord, have this woman searched, she has a load of counterfeit coin on her"—I opened my hand and gave the officer the packet I had just received from the prisoner—he stood up when he gave me the packet, and I leant forward to receive it—he did not ask me to lean any lower.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you saw me on the Seven Dials on Wednesday evening I had a pair of French boots in my possession—I did not say I was very hard-up—I had left the boots at the shoemaker's the day I was taken; they were 4s. 6d., and I went that day to fetch them—you did not lend me 3s. 6d.—I did not say that Henry Williams had lent me 3s. 6d.—I did not know you by that name—you always went by the name of the Captain—I did not say that I had some counterfeit coin planted in the Borough, and that if you could sell it I should have a back (that is some good money) to do the rest—you promised to meet me the next day and bring half a load of bad money—you did not say you would see if you could get anyone to take the counterfeit coin from me—you did meet me and you said you had not seen the maker—I did not say I would pay you 3s. 6d.—you showed me the public-house in Oxford Street, and met me there at 3 o'clock—I did not ask you if you had got anyone to take the counterfeit coin—I gave you 3s. 6d., in payment—I did not say "That is the 3s. 6d. I owe you"—I did not say "Bend low, I want to speak to you"—you leant forward and gave me the parcel and received the money—you did not catch my hand going to your pocket and say "That is not right, you wicked woman" as the detectives rushed in—you did not ask me what I would have to drink after I gave you the 3s. 6d.—you did not put 2d. on the counter for a glass of ale—I can't say that my appearance is good for passing bad coin—I never heard that I was called the "Take down" till you told me at Bow Street—I never heard that I went by that name—my husband has received counterfeit coin from you in my presence—I can't say that he gave you any money for it—I knew you were minding the bag for a man called "Billy Hamilton," and I know you let him have it.
Re-examined. I had seen my husband receive coin from him for me and my husband to pass—I gave the 2d. to Urben aud never saw it afterwards—I don't know what my husband paid for the coin—it was all shillings—it is always the same price.
JANE FEW . I am the mother of the last witness—I went with her to Paddington police-station, on Tuesday 19th—on the Wednesday she was at home till 12 o'clock, when she started to see the prisoner for the bad money—I had been to the police-station with her before she went—she got back at 5.30—she did not go out again; she waited at home to see Urben—I was with her on tho other occasions when Sergeant Urben went.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . The ten half-crowns in this packet are bad—three of them of 1844 are from the same mould, the remaining seven are of 1845 and from the same mould—in one of the packets found on the prisoner are eight counterfeit florins—in the other eleven half-crowns—eight of them are of 1844, and are from the same mould as the three sold; and three of 1845 from the same mould as the seven sold.
The Prisoner in his defence repeated the statement he made at the policestation.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARY ANN WILSON . On the Wednesday evening I was standing in St. Andrew Street with Ann Smith, when Giffard came and touched me on the shoulder—I turned round and did not recognise her—she said "Don't you know me; I am Andy's wife that got seven years' last Monday"—it was the Wednesday after last Sessions—I said "How bad you look"—she said "So would you look bad if you had been where I have been"—I said "Will you take a glass of something to drink?"—we went into a public-house in St. Andrew Street, and had three quarterns of port wine at different times—she then said "Do you know Tom, the jeweller?"—I said "No"—she said "I have seen Henry Williams," and then showing a pair of boots she said "I should have had to pawn these, only Henry Williams lent me 3s. 6d.; I am going to meet him to-morrow afternoon, I will then pay him"—she produced three packets in blue paper, and she said "I want to ask Henry Williams if he can sell some of these for me"—I said "I am quite sure Henry Williams won't have anything to do with them, as he can get sufficient money without"—she said "You might come and hold these things for me, and I will do one or two, or two or three, and I will give you halves, it is better than walking the streets"—Ann Smith turned round and asked me what she was showing me—I said "It is bad money"—she said "If that is bad money, for God's sake come away"—we then left.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about five years—he is my cousin—I have seen him frequently—I won't swear that I saw him in the year 1870—I will swear that I saw him in January, 1871, and February—I don't remember all the months—I can't say that I saw him in October, 1869—I don't know that I saw him in 1869 at all—I heard that he was convicted of passing bad money, and got two years; but I can swear I saw him in January, 1871—I have cohabited with him for nearly two years—I have not supported him by walking the streets—I received money regularly every week from gentlemen friends—I only received money from one; he seduced me, and he gives me 1l. a week—I had seen Giffard three or four times before—I have been on the streets of late—I was not here at the last Sessions, but I know this occurred on the Wednesday—it might have been later than 5 o'clock when I parted from her—I have heard the prisoner called the Captain frequently—I have not always been on the best of terms with him—I put some counterfeit coin between the bed and the mattrass, and charged him with having the bad money—it was a lie from beginning to end—I have given evidence for the prisoner here before—he was charged with having counterfeit coin—he got off, but not on my evidence in particular.
ANNE SMITH . I was with the last witness in St. Andrew Street on the Wednesday evening, between 3 and 4 o'clock—I was standing outside the public-house and Giffard came and touched Wilson on the shoulder and asked her how she was—Mary Wilson asked her to come in the public-house and have somethiug to drink, and gave her some port wine—she showed a
pair of boots and said she would have had to pawn them only for Henry Williams lending her 3s. 6d.—she showed the woman something in blue 'paper—I asked her what it was and she said "Bad money"—I said "For God's sake come out"—I never saw her more.
Cross-examined. I was not before the Magistrate—I was at work in Vincent Square, Westminster—I did not know the prisoner was taken up—I nevar saw him before—Wilson asked me if I recollected it—I live at 16, New Peter Street, Westminster—I do washing and anything I can get hold of—I have known Wilson about two months, from having drink with her.
JANE GIFFARD (re-called). I never spoke to Wilson in my life—I will swear that—it is not true that I met her and had some port wine—I was at home with my mother about 5 or 5.30—I left the prisoner about twenty minutes to 4 o'clock and took an omnibus from the corner of Tottenham Court Road through Notting Hill to Shepherd's Bush.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted of uttering counterfeit coin.— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, September 22nd and 23rd; and
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1873.
Before Mr. Deputy, Recorder.
569. ALFRED HODSON DODWELL and FREDERICK RICHARD SAWDAY were charged on fourteen Counts with offences under the Bankruptcy Act, for not discovering their estate, for mutilating their books, for pawning goods obtained on credit, and for conspiracy.
MR. STRAIGHT and MR. CHARLES MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution; MR. POLAND, with MR. MAOCAPIE, appearedfor Dodwell; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, with MR. JAINES, for Sawday.
Three of the Counts were withdrawn from the consideration of the Jury on the ground that they did not refer to matters upon which the defendants had been committed by the Magistrate; other Counts were also withdrawn, and two Counts charging the obtaining of certain chests of tea from Richard Worthington and another were the only Counts ultimately relied upon, as those Counts did not apply to the defendant Sawday, he was acquitted, and MR. STRAIGHT did not press the charge against Dodwell,—
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 23rd, 1873.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
571. WILLIAM HENRY GRAHAM (29) , to stealing two pianofortes of John Parker, his master.— Five Years' Penal Servitude, and to pay the costs of the Prosecution. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
572. WILLIAM OVERALL (43) , to stealing ten bottles of spirits and wine, of Richard Peter Atkins and another, his masters. He received a good characters Twelve-Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. GRIFFITHS and SIMS conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and CHARLES MATTHEWS the Defence.
FREDERICK JAMES SMITH . I am a barrister of the Temple and Recorder of Margate—I produce an order of reference, dated 22nd February—I took the arbitration on the same day, in one of the rooms of the Guildhall—Mr. George Francis, barrister, appeared on behalf of the plaintiff in that action, and he called the prisoner as a witness—he was duly sworn—the first meeting was on 22nd February, and that is the date of the order.
(The witness read the following portions of his notes of the examination of the prisoner, applicable to the assignments of perjury.—"I paid the men with my own money, if it was not it was some I borrowed from my sister. The defendant never paid me money, but he gave me money on account of labour. I have seen this book before, only once, in Mr. Wood's office; it was not shown to me every week while the work was going on, and the men's wages entered in it. I have seen entries made in a book of the wages of the men, but not in this book. I will swear that this is not the book. When I took the contract I did not ask Mr. Fuller to order the materials in my name that I might stand better with my creditors. On 10th July I left my book and bills with Mr. Fuller. The book was 12 inches long and 5 wide, marble-coloured sides and black back. Fuller did not take the money out of his pocket to pay Pitt. I paid the money out of my own pocket, and Mr. Pitt handed me the receipt. I paid Rosling's account of 50l. 10s. 11d.; I gave a 50l. note; I got that note from Mr. Fuller; I believe Mr. Fuller gave me that note; it was not given to me for—the purpose of paying Rosling; I told Fuller I was desirous of paying Rosling; it might have been the same morning that I had the 50l. That 50l. paid to me was a note paid for the labour account, it was not given to me for any timber account.")—Those assignments which I have read were unquestionably material to the issue that was before me—the first question before me was whether Fuller or Isaacs paid those different accounts, and the labour account, and whether Isaacs paid them with his own money, or money supplied by Fuller—it was also material whether he had left the different bills and the account-book at Fuller's house—I produce the award which has been produced, it was against the prisoner on all points, and he was ordered to pay the costs—the award was for the defendant.
Cross-examined. I should not call it a complicated question of accounts—there were five or six meetings—it lasted till 25th April from 27th February.
JOHN FULLER .—I keep the Royal Sovereign, Back Street, Clapton—for many years I carried on the business of a licensed victualler, at the White Hart Shades, Reigate—I was intimately acquainted with the prisoner, and knew him when he was in prosperity and carried on the business of a builder—I made a considerable amount of money and was anxious to build a public-house for myself in December, 1870—I intended to expend 2,000l., or nearly so, in building it—I spoke to the defendant about it—he told me he was in needy circumstances—he eventually pointed out a spot of ground which I afterwards bought to build the house on—I paid for the ground—the prisoner wished to carry out the building for me at 2l. 10s. per week wages—he was to buy the materials in his name to enable him to have a good name amongst creditors, and to employ the men in his own name, and I was to find the money—I agreed to that and to give him 2l. 10s. a week for himself—he was to keep time-sheets and I was to keep time-sheets of
the labour—the men were to be paid at his place every Saturday afternoon—he brought his time sheets to me every Saturday, he called the amounts over and I entered them in a book—I gave him the money to pay the men in the afternoon, before I entered it in the book, at my own private home—I did not make any entry until I had paid him the money—he came and said, I want so much money—I gave it to him and then he came in the afternoon with the time-sheets showing how he had spent the money—I kept my own sheet and checked it against his—the first payment was on 3rd December, and I made entries from time to time until he was discharged—he called over the entries to me—I entered them and tore up the timesheet—he saw that book every Saturday—he wished me to hire the scaffolding of him and pay him a price for it at the expiration of the job, which I did—we laid the first brick the last day of January, 1871when the excavations were completed—I paid him up every farthing I owed him and that appears in the book—the arrangement about purchasing the material was made at my house—my wife was present, and I believe my niece, Miss Alice Head—when the accounts came in he brought the bills to me and I gave him the money to pay them—some bills I paid myselfalmost all the bills were made out to him—he did not on any occasion pay any bills for me without having first received the money from me or my wife—I remember an account of Mr. Pitt, 12l. odd for cartageI paid that myself, personally—Isaacs was with me at the time—I put the money on the table, Mr. Pitt took it up and gave me a receiptit was in Isaacs's name—I owed Mr. Kosling 50l. for timber—Mrs. Fuller gave Isaacs a 50l. note out of the cash-box—he came to me with the express purpose of going to Mr. Rosling's and I went with him—I did not owe the prisoner a single farthing at that time, with the exception of the scaffolding—on 24th June, 1871, the men made a communication to me—I knew at that time that Isaacs had some unfinished cottages—in consequence of the communication I discharged Isaacs, and I told him then to bring down the scaffolding bill in order that I might got out of his debt—I did not owe him a penny at that time, with the exception of that bill—I told him to bring me the bill on Monday and I would pay him—the 24th June was a Saturday—the bill was brought to me on Tuesday morning the 27th, by his son, there were also items in that bill for sashes and timber—the amount of the bill was 22l. 10s. 3d.—I objected to some items—' I sent for Mr. Isaacs, who came in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I asked him what he meant by sending me such an account as that, as he had put thing in which I had never bought of him—I called the men up and they make an accusation against him that he had got things concealed belonging to me and they went eventually and brought those things back from his house—the defendant said if I choose to send for the goods I could have them—I told him to his face that he had robbed me, and he said if the men liked to go they could have them back again, and they did so—he did not at that time or any other time bring me any other bills than those two—I did not bring any other bills but those on the 24th June, or the 10th July—he did not bring me a cash-book at any time—I saw him with a small pocket-book, but not a casebook, ten inches long—he was never at my house after 26th June, because I saw him at the building on the 27th—it is not true that he made various payments for me with his own monies—he did not make any claim at all on me, with the exception of the scaffolding, until he brought the action, and
that was some eighteen months afterwards—it is not true that he came to my house on the 10th July and smoked a pipe with me—he did not bring books down on 10th July, he was not near the place—he brought an action against me for 500l. odd, and the award was in my favour.
Cross-examined. I received a letter from the prisoner's solicitors about the action, at the end of November—he never made any application to me before that—I will swear that most positively—the action was brought in February, 1873—I know Mr. Knowles—I did not tell him that Isaacs was a man of substance—I might have said that he was a man of property—I knew his property was fully mortgaged; he told me so himself—Mr. Knowles had some ground to sell; I bought a portion of it—I did not take Isaacs to buy the other half—Isaacs told me himself that he was a man of property and could take the ground—I found out afterwards that he was in needy circumstances—he told me before the ground was purchased that he was in needy circumstances, that he represented that he was a man of property—I did not recommend him in the first instance—every bill was made out in Isaacs' name, and the men were employed by him by my permission—Mr. Pitt's account was settled on 2nd May—Pitt was indebted to me at that time—I owed him 12l. odd, and he owed me 8l. or 10l.—both of the sums were paid at the same time—I handed one to Pitt, and Pitt handed the other to me—we did not strike a balance, because the account was made, out in Isaacs' name—I made out my own account on 1st May—I might have said before the Magistrate that I made it out on 3rd May, but it was the 1st—I wrote it on the 1st, and receipted it on the 1st—this is Mr. Pitt's receipt, it is dated the 2nd, mine was dated on the 1st—I took it up and he was not at home, and I went again next morning—if it was dated the 3rd, I admit that it was to do away with all set-off—it was on a Wednesday or Thursday, at Mr. Pitt's house, in the parlour behind the bar—Koslings' receipt was handed to me-on the evening of the day the money was paid—I went to Kosling's in the evening, between 8 and 9 o'clock, with Isaacs, to pay the bill—Isaacs absented himself for the purpose of doing so and returned with the receipt, which be gave to me—I saw a man at Guildhall named Eldridge, he came and gave evidence against me—I never saw him before—I don't remember going on 8th August, 1871, to some houses where Isaacs was working, and seeing Eldridge there—he did not call out for Mr. Isaacs to come and see me—I went about a week after I discharged Isaacs, which was the 24th June, but I did not see Eldridge—I asked Isaacs if he had got any property of mine, and he said "I have not got anything on my premises belonging to you"—I did not say he was a liar—Isaacs did not say he was not a liar, nor did he say "Time will prove which is the rogue, Fuller"—I did not say "You can't prove anything, you have not got a leg to stand upon"—I have the accounts and book and bill, and a letter also from Mr. Rosling—I never said so—on my solemn oath, I never had a book belonging to the man in my life—I know the defendant's son, Frederick Walter Isaacs—I saw him frequently during 1870 and 1871, while the work was going on—I did not see him at the defendant's house on 10th July, 1871, that I swear—I never went near his place in July, 1871—I walked "past his house, but I never went inside his Kate—I know a man named Vigor—I might have met him in August or September, 1871, at Reigate; I met so many men—I did not tell him that I had Isaacs locked up in a room, and accused him of robbing me of a great deal of property—I never locked him in a room in my life, and I never said it
—I did not say that Isaacs had sent in a bill for the scaffolding which did not belong to him, and I did not owe him a farthing; for I knew I owed him the scaffolding bill—I did not say I had got Isaacs' books and bills, and did not care a d----for him—that I most solemnly swear—I know Ambrose Heather—he was in my employ at the end of January, I thinkmy book will prove it—I think he was there when Isaacs was dismissed—I did not arrange with Heather, Elsey, Beale, and Whye, that Isaacs should be locked in a room for the purpose of getting admissions from him with reference to false charges—I did not know that he was ever locked in a room—I totally deny that—I did not call upon Heather two or three days after 27th June, and say I should subpoena him on the trial that Isaacs was going to bring against me, no trial was thought of at that time—I remember Heather saying "If you bring me into it I shall speak the truth, "but that was just before the action; two years almost afterwardsI did not call Heather at the trial—I did not want him—I might have met Whye on 15th February, 1873, opposite Lisbon Hall, but I did not call him and say to Heather "Here is old Billy, tell him what passed between you and Isaacs"—I won't swear that it did not take place, or that it did—I never used those words—Heather did not tell me that Isaacs wanted him to let him read some questions from a paper to Heather, nor did he tell me that he did not want to have the paper read, but any questions that Isaacs liked to put he would answer—I know nothing of the door being lockedI did not ask Whye if he locked the door—I did not say then "I could not swear that the door was locked"—I did not say to Heather "Old Billy will swear that the lock was out of repair, and that he took it off, and it was up at Heather's shop"—Whye did not say "That I will," and I did not say to Whye "Go and get yourself a drop," and he did not refuse—J have not the slightest recollection of it—if it had occurred, I should recollect it—I met Heather and his brother-in-law while Mr. Marks was walking with me on 9th of July this year—I told Heather he had told lies, but I did not hold up my stick—I had a stick or umbrella—it is quite possible that I said "You swore that it was arranged to lock Isaacs in, that the door was locked, and I said ‘I have your book and bills'"—I did not threaten to prosecute him; that I swear—I did not say I would give him a longer term than Isaacs—Heather said "I have spoken the truth, and what you know to be the truth, "when I told him he had told lies—I said "When you were at Guildhall you might as well have spoken the truth"—he said at Guildhall that I said "I have got the man's book and bills, and I don't care a b----for him," and I reminded him that he had said that—I know Mr. Farrington, a lime merchant—I know Frederick Killick, a plumber at Reigate—he did not supply goods at the premises—I know James Griffin, in the employ of some iron merchants in Thames Street—I know Edward Penfield Longhunt and Alfred Rosling—I will pledge my oath that I did not see the defendant on 27th June, in relation to the house he was building for me—I will swear that I did not go to his house on 10th July, and that he did not come to my house on 11th July—he did not bring a book with him on 11th Jul;—Mr. Beale is my brother-in-law—I did not send him to fetch Isaacs to my house on 11th July—I never saw any book in Isaacs' possession between December 1870 and June 1871—I will swear that no book was brought to my house on 11th July, and left there by Isaacs.
Re-examintd. Elsey was one of the men who was in the room on 27th June—he has been dead about six weeks—Heather was called and examined
before the Arbitrator—I knew before I bought the land that Isaacs had houses unfinished, and that was what I meant by his being a man of property—I believe it was on 2nd May that I paid Mr. Pitt—I believe I paid him with a 10l. note, and he gave me my 8l.—I paid some of the bills myself in Isaacs' name.
SARAH JANE FULLBR . I am the prosecutor's wife—I acted as his cashier in December, 1870, and in the year 1871—I was present when my husband spoke to the prisoner about building a house—the prisoner asked my husband to employ him to superintend the works at 2l. 10s. per week, and he would do all he possibly could to save him every penny—Isaacs was to employ the men, but was to come to us for the money to pay them—in the middle of December, when some timber was wanted, he asked Mr. Fuller if he minded buying it in the name of Isaacs, to give him a good name when he had another job to do, as ours was to be a ready money transaction—Mr. Fuller agreed to that, with the understanding that we were to receive all the bills and invoices, and the receipts were to be brought every Saturday night, which was done every Saturday—about 3. 15 on Saturdays Isaacs used to come and say "Mrs. Fuller, I want so much money," and I would give him the money, and he would come down in the evening, and the amounts were entered in the presence of my niece, Alice Head, and the prisoner and myself—we found the prisoner money to purchase materials—we have part of the receipts and he held some himself, all that would be useful to him to show, and say that he had paid that amount of ready money—if the money was not given to Isaacs by me it was given to him by my husband in my presence—those sums were entered in this book after they were paid—I recollect giving George Reeling a 50l. note to go and pay Mr. Rogers—Alice was present—Mr. Fuller had drawn the money out of the bank on Saturday—I saw Mr. Fuller leave the house with him—he put the 50l. in his pocket, and said "If I lose it, it will be a lump to lose"—nothing was owing to Isaacs for wages, but bills were owing for scaffolding, which were paid afterwards—I had to pay the bills afterwards, which were made out in his name—he came to the house on 26th June, and said that the scaffolding bill which Mr. Fuller had asked him for on Saturday was not quite ready, and he should have it on Tuesday—my husband brought the scaffolding bill about lunch time on Tuesday, but Isaacs did not come down after that—I often saw him pass the house, but he never came to the private house after 27th June—he was not on the premises on 10th or 11th July—I never saw him with any account-book, except a tittle pocket-book.
Cross-examined. My niece Alice was present in December, 1870, when the engagement was entered into, in my back parlour—the ground was bought about 24th November; they were excavating it, and wanted some planks—Miss Head was not called at the Police Court—I am quite sure that the last time Isaacs came to the house was on Monday evening, 26th June—the writing in this book is all my husband's—the ink is dark from 7th January, 1871, to 27th May—I recolleot buying this ink Mr. Fuller would not use the ink we had, because he said it would, not look well, and I bought fresh ink; the other part is light—these two weeks are written with one ink—the 11th was Saturday and the 18th was Saturday—the book was made up every Saturday night.
Re-examined. I was present when all these entries were made—I was never away on a Saturday—Isaacs brought the time-sheets, and Mr. Fuller
entered the names in the book—some of tlie bills Mr. Fuller paid himself, and Isaacs never saw or handled them.
ALICE HEAD . I am Mr. Fuller's niece—I was living with him in December, 1870, at the White Hart Shades, Reigate—when he wished to build a public-house he had a conversation with Isaacs more than once—Isaacg asked Mr. Fuller to employ him—the first conversation was when the ground was bought, at the end of November, I think—Mr. Fuller said that he did not mind employing him, and paying him 2l. 10s. per week—Isaacs was to employ the men, and Mr. Fuller, was to give him money to pay them—I remember Isaacs asking Mr. Fuller to allow him to buy the things in his own name, so that at any time when he had a job of his own he could get credit—that was the second conversation—he came every Saturday afternoon to our private house for the money, which was regularly paid him, and in the evening he came again with some pieces of paper, and I saw Mr. Fuller make entries in a book in Isaacs' presence, who saw the book every Saturday night—the last time he came to the house was on 26th June—he never left an account-book or any books at our house—I Was present when he came down one evening and asked for the money to pay Mr. Rosling, and Mrs. Fuller gave him a 50l. note—Mr. Fuller then went with him—it is not true that, at any time, he put any papers or account-books on the table at our house.
Cross-examined. It was on a Monday that he last came to our house, and he was to bring the bills to Mrs. Fuller on the Tuesday—my uncle asked Isaacs about the use of his shop and tools—I may have said before the Arbitrator that all this took place on one occasion, I don't know—I say that Isaacs was never at our house after 26th June—I will swear that he was not there as late as 10th July—I will swear that I did not open the door to him on 10th July, nor did he come in and talk to my uncle and aunt, nor did I draw some ale for him, nor did he bring some accounts and leave them at the house.
Re-examined. I do not know whether I said before the Arbitrator that this was on one or two occasions—there was a conversation after the excavations were complete, with reference to the agreement.
DAVID PITT . I am a carman at Reigate—I knew that Fuller was building a house there in 1870, and carted certain goods there, which amounted to 12l. 6s. 7d.—I never took the van myself, but I have seen Fuller and Isaacs on the building ground before the debt was incurred—they asked me what I would deliver timber from the railway station for—I believe they both asked me—my bill was made out in the name of Isaacs, but Fuller paid it while Isaacs sat at the other side of the table—I cannot say in what coin Fuller paid me the 12l. 6s. 7d., whether there was a 10l. note or not, but I owed him 8l. 3s. 6d. which I pushed back to him at the same time—I gave a receipt, but I cannot say which of them picked it up, Fuller had it as far as my memory goes.
Cross-examined. This is the receipt—it is made out to Isaacs—I believe this was on a Saturday, but I am not certain—(referring to a book) he paid me on 2nd May, and I paid him on 2nd May—I do not know how it is that my receipt is dated 2nd May, and Mr. Fuller's 1st May, 1871.
Witnesses for the Defence.
AMBROSE HEATHER . I am a carpenter, and live near Reigate—I was in the prisoner's employ from the beginning of February to the middle of June, and was at work three weeks after he left—there was a row between
Fuller and Isaacs, between a fortnight and three weeks after Isaacs left—on the morning of the row I saw Beale leave Mr. Fuller's premises shortly after breakfast—he returned shortly afterwards, and Isaacs came very quickly almost upon his heels—Isaacs asked where Mr. Fuller was—I said "Up stairs"—I always received my wages from Isaacs—he used to have a book before him when he paid the wages, and his son was generally by his side—the gold and silver was arranged in two plates on a bench, and he used to hand us the money—on every occasion he paid I saw him enter the amounts in the book—Whye was called Bill Whye, and sometimes Old Bill—it was arranged that Mr. Fuller should send for Mr. Isaacs to dispute certain items in the bill—we were to be called into the room up stairs, and Elsey was to put his hand behind him and turn the key of the door—it was to dispute certain facts—Mr. Fuller had a bill before him relating to building materials and scaffolding—after Isaacs discharged us on the Saturday, Fuller told us to come on Monday after breakfast and he would engage us—we went on Monday, and during that day Mr. Fuller's property was fetched away from Isaacs's premises, but I did not go there—after we had done at night Mr. Fuller gave us something to drink and began telling us a great deal about Isaacs, and tried to impress upon us that he had been trying to take our bread out of our mouths, and trying to create an ill-feeling between us and Isaacs—I then said to Mr. Fuller, "If such is the case you had better ask where the pair of sashes are"—he asked what I meant; I said "A pair which were made in mistake and left behind on the premises"—next morning Mr. Fuller spoke to me about the sashes and said that he should go and fetch them—he brought them to me next morning and asked me if those were the sashes—I said yes as near as I could tell, and during the week he was continually asking us if we knew of anything which was left, and he led us to believe that there were things belonging to Isaacs, and to dispute those facts we were to be locked in a room face to face with Isaacs—the sashes for one of the window frames of Mr. Fuller's house were made on Isaacs's premises and were left behind—I had not seen them and Mr. Fuller led us to believe that Mr. Isaacs had been robbing him—I cannot say whether that was so—the men who made the sashes made one pair too many—when Mr. Fuller brought them down he said "Are these the sashes?"—I said "Where did you get them?"—he said "I went and asked Mr. Isaacs for them"—he put them outside the gate and I brought them away—I believe Elsey is dead—Mr. Isaacs engaged me and paid me, I looked upon Mr. Isaacs as my master—I was two hours in the room when the row was, there was a great deal of abuse—Mr. Fuller accused Isaacs of robbing him, and said "I have got your books and I don't care a damn"—just before last Christmas I was sent for to Fuller's house, he said that Isaacs had entered an action against him in the Queen's Bench and he should require me as a witness—I said "I had rather not have anything to do with it"—he said that he should subpoena me—I said "If either of you bring me into it I shall speak the truth"—I was not subpœnaed by Fuller—one Friday night I met Fuller and Whye—Fuller said "Whye, here is Ambrose, now tell old Bill all that has passed between you and Isaacs—Fuller then said "You will acknowledge to Isaacs that you knew the door was going to be locked"—I said "Yes"—he said "Did you see me lock the door?"—I said "How could I when you stood on the other side of the room?"—he said "What do you think old Bill will swear to?"—I said "I don't know"—he said "Old Bill will swear that the lock was out of
repair, and that he had to take it up to the shop"—Bill said "Yes, I will," and he said "Go and get yourself a drop of ale, and I will come back directly"—I felt disgusted, because I knew it was a most bare-faced lie, and I went home—early in July I saw Fuller again, going into Reigate with Henry Marks—he said "Halloa, Heather, how are you?"—I said "Pretty well"—he came and walked by my side and turned round suddenly and said that I would swear to some of the most bare-faced lies a man had ever uttered—he accused me of being a liar—I said "Mr. Fuller, you know too well the truth of what I swore to"—he said "You swore that I brought you those sashes"—I said "You did, Mr. Fuller"—he called me all the liars he could lay his tongue to, and I said "Mr. Fuller, as long as I have breath in my body or a leg to stand on, I will stand to what I have said."
Cross-examined by MR. GRIFFITHS. I was examined before the Arbitrator, and you asked me a good many questions—I was asked nothing about old Bill—Mr. Elsey is dead—I believe he gave evidence, but I did not hear it—I don't think Whye gave evidence—I believe he is at work at Reigate, I saw him there last week, but we did not speak—I do not know that he is subœnaed here—Fuller was very angry about the materials and the scaffolding—I cannot say that the man accused Isaacs of robbing him, but I will not swear that he did not—no goods were fetched back after the row, to my knowledge—most abusive language was used at these meetings, but there was less noise at intervals between the swearing—the swearing was all about this account—Isaacs called my attention to a piece of timber charged in the bill, and we were led to think that the whole of it was Mr. Fuller's—I could not at that time recollect it, but I afterwards recollected that there was a piece of timber lying up over Isaacs' shop, which was used in Fuller's house, and I believe that was the piece charged in the bill—I can't say whether the men said "Why, that is the very piece of timber we charge him with stealing"—I do not say that the noise was too great for me me to hear, but being locked two hours in a room in a row like that, it is very possible to forget something—what he said was "I have got your book and bills and I don't care a d—for you."
Re-examined. The goods supplied to Mr. Fuller were originally taken to his premises—the workshop was at Isaacs'.
ROBERT ELDRIDOE . I live at 4, Shorn Terrace, St. Leonard's-on-Sea—iu August, 1871, I worked for Isaacs at a house he was building at Reigate—on 8th August, after breakfast, Fuller came and asked for Isaacs, I told him that he was at the back part of the building—Fuller went and asked him to give up a glue-pot; he said "I have no glue-pot here belonging to you"—Fuller called him anything but a gentleman, in an abusive way—Isaacs said "I have nothing belonging to you on my premises, and I wish you would not come here blackguarding me in this manner"—Fuller called him all the rogues and blackguards he could—Isaacs said that he would prove who was a blackguard and who was not—Fuller said "You can't prove anything against me, you b----, I have your account-book and bills, and now I don't care for you; I have a letter from Mr. Rosling and you have laid yourself open to a felony"—Fuller then walked away to the new buildings—he came again on another occasion and asked Isaacs for some piping—Isaacs said "I have some piping here, but it is some you returned to me that I lent you"—Fuller said "It is my piping, and I will have it"—he went away for a short time and came back with a smith from the town
—Isaacs gave up the piping to him on condition that ho would pay for it, and they took it away.
Cross-examined. I was examined before the Arbitrator—I did not go before the Magistrate—Fuller said he would take the piping and pay for it.
JOSEPH VIGAR . I am a bricklayer, of Red Hill—I remember Isaacs at Mr. Fuller's premises in January, 1871—I asked Fuller if it was a contract job or a day-work job, he said "A contract job with Mr. Isaacs"—Isaacs paid me, I always looked upon him as my employer—when he paid me I saw a book 10 or 12 inches long and 6 inches wide—a little boy was sometimes present when the men were paid—I met Fuller one evening, he said that Isaacs talked of going to law with him, but he did not care if he did, for he had got his book and his account and did not care a b----for him, for Isaacs had robbed him of a great deal of material and employed his carpenters to make doors of it at his expense.
Cross-examined. Fuller was very angry—I was examined before the Arbitrator and mentioned having a book or a bill—no one has been speaking to me since the Arbitration was over—Isaacs came and asked me to give evidence—I was asked in the solicitor's office if I remembered his having a bcok.
FREDERICK WALTER ISAACS . I live with my father, the defendant, at Reigate—I remembered his being absent on 28th January, 1871—my mother handed me the money to pay the men that day, and I paid them and saw my mother enter the sums in a book afterwards; the book which my father usually kept—it was not like this book (produced) it had a dark marble cover—I was usually present when my father paid the money, and he entered the amounts in that book-on Monday, 10th July, 1871, about 7 p. m., I saw Mr. Fuller come in at the gate and go to the front door; I opened it—he called my father into the back parlour, and they remained in conversation a short time—I did not see Fuller leave, but I saw my father leave between 8 and 9 o'clock, taking the book with him and some papersI heard him say that he was going to Mr. Fuller's, and I saw him go away in that direction—I have never seen that book since—I have never delivered any books or papers to Fuller.
Cross-examined. I am fifteen years old—I was then thirteen—I know it was 10th July, because two young ladies came from Brighton, on the 7th, and returned on 24th July—they are Annie and Ellen Hunt, of 10, Upper Rock Gardens—I was examined before the Arbitrator, but not before the Magistrate—I told the Arbitrator that I saw the book my mother entered: he money in—I described it and said that it was the book I had been speaking of.
JOSEPH ROSLINO . I am out of business, and live at Reigate—business is carried on in my name at Southwark Wharf, Bankside, London—on 7th April I received 50l. from Mr. Isaacs, and I think I allowed him 2 1/2 per sent, discount—this receipt is not in my writing, it is my brother's—I paid it to my brother—I gave no receipt—I think it was on 15th April; it was on a Saturday—it was between 8 and 9 o'clock.
Cross-examined. We have had transactions with Mr. Isaacs for years—I will undertake to swear that on the 17th, or the 15th April, he brought me a 50l. note—I left the business in the February before, and I have been this morning and asked my brother to let me see the book—I said to Mr: Isaacs "I will have a receipt sent to you preperly from the office"—I will udertake to swear that the 50l. note was not paid to me on 10th May—
he paid my brother at the office, and my brother would give him a receipt—the receipt of 17th April is in my brother's writing, but it is the 18th in the books—I paid the money to my brother; I gave a memorandum to satisfy Isaacs at the time, and I sent my brother to give an official receipt—Isaacs told me that Fuller was standing outside waiting for him.
Cross-examined. I was first asked to come and give evidence, about a month ago—I was not in Court yesterday; I was in London—I made a statement when I was subpœnaed—I was asked when I came, and I said 7th July—I stayed till the 24th—Isaacs' sister was not staying at his house at that time—I do not know her—I have heard that he has a sister, a lady's maid, or in service.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September, 24th, 1873.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
The Grand Jury having ignored the bill in this case, MR. HORRY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the Inquisition.—
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BRINDLBY conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY JOSEPH BUCHAN . I reside at Southampton, and am a Magistrate there—the prisoner was for some years a tenant of my father's, of a ship building yard, at Wolston, near Southampton—after my fathers death the property came into my possession, and the prisoner continued as tenant—in September, 1808, he relinquished the lease in favour of Messrs. Bartlett and Pudney, the mortgagees of his vessel, and I accepted them as tenants—the prisoner was building the ship, it had been remaining there in frame for a considerable period; these parties had sold him timber, he could not pay them, and the result was they took possession of the ship, and in order to enable them to complete the vessel, he made an arrangement with them that he should relinquish his lease in their favour, which he did—he did not leave Southampton for some twelve months afterwards—he never made any claim on me for any money until I received this letter of 31st March, the signature to it is the prisoner's: (This letter was a request to the prosecutor to fulfil an alleged promise of helping him, he having had heavy losses and been at considerable expense upon tlve premises in question)—I did not answer that letter—on 19th April I received a second letter, this is it, it is signed by the prisoner: (This referred to a claim of 20l. for extra rent, and compensation, for repairs, which the prosecutor was requested to send him, if not he should be compelled to consult a gentleman in the neighbourhood and expose his affairs)—I replied to that letter on 21st April, of which I have a rough copy: (This gave an unqualified denial to the prisoner's claim)—on 22nd April I received this other letter: (This stated that unless he received, by the following Thursday, 201., together with some offer of compensation for repairs, he should write to the person referred to in the former letter, and that the prosecutor mud blame himself if his affairs became publicly talked of)—This letter, of 6th August, was received by my son, Captain Buchan, it
is also signed by the prisoner: (This repeated the substance of the first letter, and urged Captain Buchan to use his influence with his father to induce him to act justly)—A letter was also sent to my mother's, signed by the prisoner's wife, and then came this letter, of 25th August, upon which the indictment is founded: (This contained the following passage:—"Blame yourself, and not me, if your affairs are published during next week's festivities, which they will be unless I hear satisfactorily from you previously.")—The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London were about to visit Southampton at that time, and on the occasion of that entertainment I presided—I presume the prisoner knew of that through the public press—I am a trustee of various charities at Southampton, I was Mayor last year, I am in an extensive business, and have business all over the world—it was fearing these statements would be of consequence to me that I took these proceedings—everything the prisoner has stated in these letters is most grossly false—there is not a word of truth in the claim he has made—the only thing I can imagine is that being an aged man his mind has got confused on the subject.
Prisoner. He admitted, at Hammersmith, that he had got 36l. extra rent for the yard.
Witness. I admitted that I had received more rent for the yard than he had agreed to pay in his lease—there was no agreement that he should share in the profit; when he gave up his tenancy I had done with him altogether—he never claimed anything from me in respect of the paling until these letters were written; I swear that positively—in the early part of 1868 he was continually asking me to advance money on this ship, and not wishing to have anything to do with him on the matter, I told him that I had lost a large sum of money, which was quite true, in 1866—he had the place for about five years, at 50l. a year—he had not spent anything like 200l. upon the paling—he was no doubt at my office several times, but he never made any demand upon me.
The prisoner, in his defence, handed in a statement which, in substance, was the same as that contained in the letters.
MR. JUSTICE DENMAN entertained considerable doubt whether the letter contained such a menace as came within the meaning of 24 and 25 Vic., c. 96, sec. 44. It had been decided that a menace must be of such a character at to produce alarm in the mind of the person to whom it was addressed: a mere thing that he might dislike to have brought to his attentiont such as a threat of legal proceedings, was not enough It must be such a menace as would interfere with the freedom of action of a reasonable and tolerably firm minded man. He left it to the Jury to say whether in their opinion it was a menace of that description.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. THORNE COLE the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1873.
Before Mr. Baron Pollock.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GOODMAN the Defence.
IBAN SHOBT . I am a labourer—at the time this happened I was living at 6, Shooter's Terrace, Fulham—I had lodged with the prisoner and his wife at Manchester—I left them three months ago—on 4th September the prisoner's wife had been living with me about three months, and the prisoner, who I had not seen since I left Manchester, came to my lodging, between 1 and 2 o'clock, and asked his wife to return with him, and he would forgive her all she had done—she said that she did not like to do it—he pressed her to go back and remained in the room with me and his wife till about 5.30, when he threw a bottle which struck my face, some black liquid came out of it, and burnt me very much—he then took up a chair and was going to strike me with it, but I closed with him and somebody called "Murder!" and the police came—the whole of the skin of my face was injured, and my eyes were swollen—my left eye is all right now, and my right eye is getting better.
Cross-examined. I lodged with them about twelve years—I am aware that they were married for twenty-two years, and lived a happy life till I came between them—I seduced the prisoner's wife three months ago—I had had no quarrel with the prisoner, we were always on good terms—I did not induce her, when she was on a visit to her friends, to come to me instead of going back to her husband, she came of her own accord—I did not write to her and ask her to come, I had said nothing to her about it beforehand, that I swear—I did not know that when she went to her friends for a short visit she never intended to return to her husband, but I knew it afterwards—I knew that the prisoner was a highly respectable man, employed as hallkeeper at the Manchester City Mission—the prisoner told his wife that if she would go back he would forgive her everything, I said that I did not wish her to go back.
Re-examined. She was somewhere in Dorchester with her friends before she came to me—I did not communicate with her there, she knew where I was living, by letters I wrote to the prisoner, and she came without any solicitation—the prisoner was from 1 o'clock till 5 endeavouring to induce her to return; he did not leave the house, and he only left the room to go to the water-closet.
COURT. Q. Before he threw the vitriol did he use any hard language to you? A. No, he only said he would forgive us both it she would go back.
DANIEL JONES . I am a labourer, of Oxford Place, Fulham—I was working right opposite Short's house, and I had worked with him; I heard a female call out "Murder!" went into Short's room, and found him and the prisoner clasped together; I separated them, and saw some dark liquid on Short's face—I said that it was a bad job, it would ruin him'for life; the prisoner said that he did not care if he went to the gallows for it—he was taken in custody.
WILLIAM DARLINGTON (Policeman T 377). On 4th September I received information and went to Short's house; the skin appeared to be off his face; he was blind—he said that he wished to give the prisoner in custody—the prisoner said that he had had his revenge, and he did not care what became
of him—I asked him at the station if he had got any more vitriol on him—he said "Yes, "that he had another bottle, and he gave me this bottle (produced) labelled "Poison, Gosby & Co., chemists, Manchester;"—he said that he meant to do for his wife, because the man was too much for him.
WILLIAM EDWARD LEE . I am a surgeon, of Fulham—I was called in to Short on 4th September—his face was very red all over, as If it had been burnt by some corrosive fluid; his eyes were a little swollen, but not as if any of the fluid had gone into them, but next day, at the Police Court, it seemed as if some of the fluid had gone into his left eye—one eye is injured, but the other appears as if it would get well, and the skin of the face is recovering—oil of vitriol would be quite sufficient to cause the injury I found—I sent a bottle, and some fluid was sent to me purporting to come from the bottle taken from the prisoner; I examined it and found it to be oil of vitriol—this bottle neck (produced) was afterwards shown to me; I extracted the cork, it looks as if it was burnt by some corrosive matter—Short's clothes were in rags, being burnt full of holes from some corrosive fluid.
Cross-examined. Sulphuric acid turns black clothes red—the red marks on the prisoner's clothes may have been produced by a similar fluid—the cork was in the bottle, and yet the bottle was broken.
COURT. Q. Is it common oil of vitriol? A. Yes, such as tinkers use—a man might have it in his possession for the purposes of his trade without buying it of a chemist—it would, I believe, be the kind of thing he would use to clean rails and that sort of thing—the prisoner had some marks on his face which were said to have come from the prosecutor's hands.
EDWARD LUCKINS (Policeman T 279). After the prisoner was taken, I went to Shooter's Terrace—Darlington pointed out a room to me, where I found marks of fluid on the floor, table-cloth, and wall—the paper on the wall was dropping off—I found this piece of a broken bottle under the fireplace, with the cork in the neck—I showed it to the doctor. The prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BRTNDLBY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GLYN the Defence.
MARY ANTONY . I am a widow, of 63, New Nichol Street—on 24th August, I was in Short Street, and heard a woman beating a baby—I went into the prisoner's room and found her beating a baby about sixteen months old—I remoustrated with her, and she hit me with a frying-pan—we had a struggle and the frying-pan fell on the bed—I struck the prisoner with my fist, and she took a bottle from the shelf and heaved it at me; it burnt my arm and my dress—I don't know whether the cork was out; it was broken all to pieces—this is my dress—I have two scars on my arm where the bottle struck me—if the prisoner had not been in drink it would not have occurred—my niece Jane Hurst came in.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner about before, but I never spoke to her—I was never in her room before—I live quite close to her—I did not catch hold of her; I asked her not to beat the child—she said that she should do as she liked, and she would hit me—she did so with the fryingpan, and I bit her back in the face—we had a regular struggle, and while it was going on she reached the bottle and threw it—I have heard since that she is a bottle cleaner and uses vitriol.
Re-examined. She had hardly any distance to go to fetch the bottle—I
was not touching her at that time—my niece was trying to get me out of the room.
JANE HURST . I live with my aunt—I heard a quarrel, went in at the prisoner's door from the street, and saw her with a bottle in her hand which she heaved at my aunt—I then saw that her jacket was wet and all going into holes—the bottle did not break when it struck my aunt, but it fell on the floor and broke—I could not see whether there was any cork in it—I saw that her dress was wet—she was not touching the prisoner when the bottle was thrown.
JOHN FITZGIBBON (Policeman H 126). I took the prisoner and went back to the room and found the bottle, the top part was on the floor and the bottom near the window—the prisoner said "I wish to God it had been spirits of salts, I would have blinded you, you b----cow; wait till the morning and I will stick a knife in you"—she had been drinking; I did not call her drunk—I showed the bottle to the prisoner, and she said "Yes, that is the bottle, it contained vitriol; I use it for washing bottles"—I produce the prosecutrix's clothes—I saw them wet and saw a scar on her arm.
Cross-examined. I made a note of those words while she was being charged—she was not drunk; she was very much, excited at first, but she got calmer before she used those words—people cannot walk when they are drunk.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "She beat me in the passage, and I ran indoors. She ran after me. I took up the bottle and threw it at her. How I came to do it I don't know, but I suppose it was the first thing that came to hand. I did not know it was the vitriol bottle till I saw it at the station. I did not hit her with the frying-pan."
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. LONGFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
HENRY ARCHER . I am a porter, of 2, Old Church Road, Stepney—on 15th August, about 9 p. m., I was at the corner of Sidney Street and Oxford Street, Mile End, and I saw a long trolly crossing from the north side to the south side—the prisoner was with it—I heard somebody call out "You are on your wrong side"—he was in Oxford Street and crossed from his right to his wrong side—there was a cart on the near side with Foster and Murphy in it, they were on their right side and Foster was driving, going towards London at a pace of about five miles an hour—four roads meet at that place—the trolly appeared to come out at a gateway and to cross the road, it was going between four and five miles an hour—it being on its wrong side and the cart on its right side, there was not sufficient space to get through, and that caused the collision—Mr. Murphy held up his hand—the trolly struck the cart, the two wheels were locked together, the pony shot away, and the two men were thrown out—I fetched a cab and helped to put the injured man into it.
Cross-examined. A trolly is a long thing with two wheels to carry tubs—in coming out of a gateway it would reach a considerable way across the road—the gateway is about forty yards from the four crossroads—it was getting dark—the defendant was driving slowly, four or five miles an hour.
JOHN MURPHY . I live at 15, Burton Street, Mile End—on the night of August 15th I was in a cart with Mr. Foster, the deceased, in Oxford Street, Mile End—we were going towards London from Stepney, and as we crossed Sidney Street, on the near side, I caught sight of the prisoner driving a trolly—I held up my hand, and called out to him "Where are you coming to? why don't you pull into your near side?"—he seemed to mimic me by saying "Har, har!"—he took no further notice, but seemed to be intent on filling or lighting his pipe—I cannot say whether he had the reins in his hand; I almost fancy he had them over his left arm—in a second or two the two tires of the wheels caught flush, and Foster and I were both thrown out by the shock, one on the off side and one on the near side—I was bruised, but I accompanied Foster in a cab to the hospital—I saw him dead next morning.
Cross-examined. I was more than eight yards from the trolly when first saw it—I said at the Inquest "Rather more than four yards"—I may have said "Four or more"—he was then in the middle of the street—I swear I never said he was only four yards off.
HENRY PRATT (Policeman K 277). On 15th August, about 9 o'clock p. m., I was called to Oxford Street, Mile End, and saw the prisoner with a trolly standing behind his horses' head, smoking a short pipe—I took his name and address on the van—he appeared very slightly under the influence of drink.
Cross-examined. I judge that by his ways and manner, but he was quite capable of knowing what he was doing—if he had run over a man he might be a little confused.
JAMES BRIDEN . I took the prisoner on the 16th, and told him he would be charged with causing Mr. Foster's death—he said "It was not my fault, they ran into me"—the trolly belongs to his master; it is 19 feet long and 21 feet with the horse—I have measured the distance from his master's yard to where the accident occurred, it is 24 yards.
GEORGE DAVID WIDDAS . I am one of the house surgeons at the Landon Hospital—Foster was brought in on the night of 15th August—he died the following morning, between 7 and 8 o'clock—he had a fracture of the eighth rib, a double fracture of the fourth rib, laceration of the left lung, fracture of the collar-bone, and hæmorrhage on both sides of the brain—those injuries caused his death.
Cross-examined. It is impossible to say whether he had been drinking—he kept relapsing into insensibility.
ELLEN HICKS . I am the wife of Philip Hicks, of 4, Oxford Street, Mile End—on 15th August, about 9 o'clock p. m., I was looking out at my window and saw two gentlemen in a little black cart; one of them, Mr. Murphy, put up his hand and said "Pull off!"—I looked the other way and saw a cooper's trolly—I halloaed out to the carman "Pull off!" he took no notice, but came close to the kerb; Mr. Foster's wheel struck the kerb as the trolly knocked against his cart, and the two gentlemen were thrown out—I went down to assist them—he was driving on the slant when I saw him.
Cross-examined. He was not driving fast; he never drives fast, but he always drives very uneven—a trolly is a difficult thing to manage.
Cross-examined. The verdict was "Accidental Death."
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was coming out of my
yard, the length of my truck was across the road. Before I could get across he was iuto me. I got down and held the horse's head, and drove to the corner, where the police took my name."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH HILL . I am resident medical officer of St. Pancras workhouse—the deceased was brought there on Saturday, August 9th, soon after 5 o'clock, suffering from severe contusions of the body and limbs and inflammation to the peritoneum and lungs—she also had symptoms of inflammation of the brain—I found bruises on her abdomen and head—she was apparently healthy, and I have no doubt that the inflammation which caused her death was set up by those injuries—the membranes were very much inflamed, and there was about a pint of matter suffused.
MARY HITCHES . I am the mother of the deceased—her age was twentytwo—she had been married to the prisoner over twelve months—I never knew them happy together, he was always knocking her about—on Wednesday, 7th August, I went to 3, Cross Lane, where she was living, to see if I could get a warrant, but I had not got 2s.—I found her in bed, very bad indeed—I had not seen her for five months—I sent for a doctor, and when he came the prisoner stood at the door—I pulled the bedclothes down, and the state my daughter was in was awful—I cut her hair off and took her to my own place.
SAMUEL BARBER . I lived in the same house as the prisoner and the deceased—I occupied the first floor front room, and they occupied the parlour—on Saturday night or Sunday morning, 3rd August, between 1 and 2 o'clock, my wife awoke me, and I went and asked the prisoner what the row was, and told them I would not have it—the deceased said that he was beating her with a poker—I told him I would not have that row, and went down, and in five minutes she screamed out again—I went up and pulled him out of the room, and told her to lock the door, and he slept on the stairs all night—he had been drinking, but I cannot say whether she had; she was crying.
Prisoner. Q. Was not that on Wednesday evening instead of Saturday evening, or rather Thursday morning between 1 and 2? A. No.
MARGARET BARRER . I am the wife of the last witness—on Sunday morning, 3rd August, between 1 and 2 o'clock, I was in bed with my husband, and heard a rowing—I awoke him—he went up stairs and came down again, and before he had time to get into bed he had to go up again—in the morning I found the prisoner lying on the stairs—I afterwards saw his wife; she seemed to have nothing the matter with her, and she nursed my baby—on the Tuesday evening I went up and found her very severely bruised—on the Thursday morning I went into the room and saw the prisoner standing by the fire with his hands behind his back—I said, "You villain, how can you stand there? look at that poor creature, you don't leave this room till I call a policeman to lock you up"—I ran to call my husband, and when I went back the prisoner was gone, and I did not see him again till he was apprehended—I never knew them to row before.
JOHN WOOLLER . I am a carpenter, of 3, Cross Lane—I have frequently seen the prisoner and his wife there—on Sunday morning, 3rd August, between 1.30 and 2 o'clock, my wife awoke me, and I heard Mr. Barber go
up stairs and ask the prisoner to be quiet; he was quiet then, but Barber had hardly got down again when the prisoner began kicking np a noise, and Barber went up and ordered him out of the room—on the Wednesday morning after that, when the wife's mother came up into the room, I said to the prisoner "Come down stairs"—we went and sat on a table, and I said "What do you mean by knocking her about so?"—he said "I mean doing for her before I have done with her"—they lived on very comfortable terms.
Prisoner. Q. Do you remember what morning it was that I struck my wife with a poker? A. On the 22nd, between half-past 1 and 2 o'clock—it was between Saturday and Sunday—I never knew you to strike her before.
SARAH WOOLLER . I am the wife of the last witness—on Sunday morning, 3rd August, I heard screams from the first floor front, but did not go up—next morning, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I saw the deceased on the top of the stairs, crying—I asked her what was the matter and she told me, and showed me some bruises on her shoulders—she was well and hearty up to the 29th; she was taken bad on the Tuesday, and I fetched her mother on the Wednesday.
Prisoner's Defence. I went home on Wednesday evening, about 12 o'clock, and saw my wife lying senseless on the floor; I helped her to undress and get to bed; she began quarrelling, and the landlord came up and said he would not have a row in the house. She was quiet a little time, and then began again. I said "I suppose you have been with George," alluding to a young man. She said "Yes, and twenty if I could get at them," and she threw a saucer at me and broke it I picked up the pieces and threw them at her. Then she picked up something else and struck me with it. I wrenched it out of her hand and struck her with it, and then she was very quiet and went to bed. We then had another quarrel and the landlord came and advised me to go down stairs till she was quiet I took my clothes and sat on the stairs and went to sleep, and at daylight I went in and went to bed. On the Saturday evening I returned home about 12 o'clock and said "You have not brought George. "She began to cry and said "You will quarrel with me if I do, and what is the matter. "I said "No. "She said "You know what you said about George? "I said "Well, it is true then. "She said "I will tell you. I went to meet him on Saturday evening, and he took me down some dark turning, a thing he never did before, and when he got me there he asked me whether I was married, and when I denied it he knocked me down and kicked me several times. "I said "Where? "She said "You must guess where he kicked me the last time. "I told her to tell me, and she told me, and said she was very bad. After that she went to the hospital.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury, believing he had received provocation. — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GLYN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BRINDLEY the Defence.
months—she lived in the prisoner's house, 4, Princes Street, Red Lion Square—in consequence of a letter I received twelve months ago from some person unknown, I went to Eagle Street and found the deceased girl suffering from a wound on her shoulder, where she had been burnt some years before—it was about the size of a shilling—she also had a black eye, and a slight mark on the other eye—I knew the female prisoner before she married the male prisoner—I understood that they were married, as her name is now Robinson—on 29th August I was called to Red Lion Square, and found the deceased in bed in an emaciated condition and very dirty with maggots and lice—I noticed vermin all over the bedding—the step-mother told me that the girl used to sleep at night, not on the bed where we saw her, but on the ground, and that the bed belonged to her and her husband's children—the doctor ordered nourishment, which I supplied—I had a case at Clerkenwell Police Court at 2.30, after which I went back and found the beef which I had supplied still in a cupboard, untouched—I was told that she had had some of the brandy, but I thought not, and gave her some—I saw her twice daily—she died on 8th September—the father is a bookbinder—I was present when he made a statement before the Coroner.
(This statement by the male prisoner, not on oath, was that he was a bookbinder, and was the father of the deceased, who lost her mother two years before; that he married the other prisoner eight months afterwards, that the deceased suffered from epileptic fits, that he gave her all the food he could afford, but she was always crying. That she had diabetes, that she washed lierself, but whatever was done the vermin would accumulate). I saw the girl the day before she die I—she was too ill to be moved—her age was nineteen or twenty.
Cross-examined. The father said that he earned 32s. a week when he was in work—he was in employment when this happened—there may be eight children of his and hers, but not at home; I saw four in the room, and this girl made five—one of her children is in Liverpool—the mother informed me the girl was ill with diarrhoea—no one had been to me with an order for medicine—I did not take the meat and brandy to her, they were sent, and I cannot say at what time they arrived—I believe the meat was cooked directly it arrived—the remains of a stew were in a dish in the cupboard, and some bread—I asked where the beef-tea was, and there was the beef in the cupboard—I should call the girl an imbecile, she was incapable of following any occupation—I never spoke to her but once.
Re-examined. There were two beds in the room, one for the wife's grandmother and another for the children, and the young woman slept on the ground.
By THE COURT. The girl could not lay two hours in a bed but what the bed would be full of vermin—when we stripped her her chemise was all over them—my opinion is that every soul in the room was lousy—the children were, and so were the beds—I told the daughter to poultice her head.
SAMUEL STRIPLING . I am Coroner's officer of St. Andrew's, Holborn—I was present when the male prisoner made a statement before the Coroner, who took it down—the prisoner was cautioned—I heard him say that he had 30s. a week up to May, and from May there had been a strike in the trade, since then he had had 32s. a week.
Cross-examined. I know, from his master, that he was in regular work.
ELIZA EVANS . I am the wife of Mr. Evans, of Princes Street, Red Lion Square—the prisoners live at the back of our house, I have known them some time, and she has told me that she is his wife—I was in their room
once, some time ago, on account of my little girl going for some sweet-stuff and biscuits for the deceased, I missed her and found her in their room, the female prisoner sent for me, and made great complaint of her daughter-inlaw, and said that she had stolen the money from her—the poor girl frequently asked me to give her a bit of bread, which I have done, and she has asked me to hide it—the prisoners were not present then—the female prisoner made great complaints about my going there.
Cross-examined. The grandmother was there, in bed, and there were one or two little children there.
COURT. Q. Did you look upon the girl as imbecile? A. She always spoke to me very nicely when she asked me to give her a bit of bread, and she thanked me for it—I never went to the parish about her because there were visiting ladies in the house.
ELIZA ASHTON . My husband is a waiter, we live at 3, Princes Street—I lived four or five months in the same house with the deceased and have frequently seen her sittiug at the window, killing the vermin on her clothes—I have seen her take cabbages out of the dust-hole, and eat them—she used to bring her clothing to the tap, and she used to scrub the stairs while she was in this state.
Cross-examined. She could go on an errand or to the pawnbroker's—she could have complained to me if she wished—the rent of their rooms was 6s. a week—I saw bread in their cupboard.
TOM ROBINSON , M.R.C.S. I practice in Great James Street—I first saw the deceased about August, 1872, she then had a contused eye, and it was alleged that her father had been ill-treating her—she had a large burn on her left shoulder, and the father said that she was subject to fits—I only saw her once—on 10th December I made the post-mortem examination—her body was extremely wasted, and there was a large old scar on the top of the scalp, which had healed; on the back of the left shoulder there was a superficial scar, about two inches in diameter—the intestines were devoid of fat, thin, and semi-transparent, the lungs were perfectly healthy, but their bases were congested, the heart contained a clot of discoloured fibrine, the stomach contained undigested food, its coats were thin—the convolutions of the brain did not sit well together, indicating a low intellectual state, and at the posterior portion of the right hemisphere of the brain was a small cist—she was in a very filthy state when I saw her alive—my opinion is that she died from inanition, for want of proper nourishment, there was not sufficient disease to account for that extreme wasting—deprivation of food would account for the exhaustion.
Cross-examined. I have not attended the family, only the grandmother—this hospital card (produced) has Dr. Buzzard's name on it—it expired on 2nd March, but it does not say that she was under treatment for that time—I find that she was admitted on 2nd November, 1870; it was renewed on August 9th, and expired on November 9th, 1871—that is a full year—I infer from that that she was under treatment at that time—she was under treatment at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, for the burn on her shoulder, from June, 1868, to March, 1869 (looking at another card)—the small cist, I found, would account for the fits—a girl so affected might fall and be burned—that would account for the bruises and marks I found—there was one unhealed wound—I had attended her twice daily for eleven days—I asked the Guardians to supply a nurse, who was there two or three days, and everything was done for her—they told me that she had been fed, and
she told me herself that she had had what I had ordered for her—I found food in her stomach—she had diarrhoea when I first saw her—it did not continue till she died—it was not serious, as she did not vomit—I should say that she was certainly not suffering from diabetes—she passed her water involuntarily—there was congestion of the lungs, but that was simply due to the mode of death—there was no heart disease—people who die slowly have discoloured fibrine—the tumour on the brain set up congestion at certain periods, when she had the fits, every four weeks, I suppose—she did not die during a fit—I should expect to find some active disease to account for what I saw—I don't know whether she was obstinate, and took things at some times and not at others—we have quite a different state of symptoms in hysterical cases—Dr. Grant saw her five times, and he attended the post-mortem—he is not here—the diarrhoea was checked, and it returned and was checked again—she passed her faeces involuntarily, and they were not relaxed, and there were foeces in the lower bowels, which would not have been the case if she had had diarrhoea, but if she got up from bed, or used any extraordinary exertion she might die from syncope—diarrhoea has sometimes that effect, if it is not checked.
Re-examined. The state of the heart precluded the probability that she died from disease of the heart—her arms were very much emaciated—she died from asthenia—the success of any treatment at the hospital would depend upon her having proper nourishment, and being taken care of—I have never seen a post-mortem where we could not find the cause of death out—she was so feeble that I could not judge whether she was of weak mind.
COURT. Q. Was there, on the part of the patient herself, a dislike to food? A. I should say that she would take food which would not do her any good and not take the food which was ordered for her; many people lose their lives like that, but I cannot form any opinion whether that was the case here—I can only say that if she had had proper food the condition of her body would have been better than it was.
MR. BRINDLEY submitted that the deceased was not a child of tender years, but a girl of nineteen, who was able to go on errands and discharge the duties of life, and that the duty of taking care of her did not at that age devolve upon her parents. THE COURT considered that the state of her bodily and mental health must be taken-into account, before the parents could be excused from the duty of taking care of her.
Witnesses for tlte Defence.
EVAN ROBINSON . I am a warder of one of Her Majesty's gaols, and am the male prisoner's brother—he is a kind indulgent father, and very kiud to his children—he treated the deceased just the same as his other children—I have been in the habit of calling there and seeing them—there was always food in the house—Eliza sat and talked with me, and took her meals with the rest—she never made any complaint to me of being ill-treated—during her own mother's absence she fell in the fire and got burned, and she was in St. Bartholomew's Hospital ten months, and an out-patient for two years afterwards; she was burnt on her left shoulder and side, and had to be placed on an air bed in the infirmary—the other prisoner is a very kind step-mother, and the children were very affectionate to her.
Cross-examined. I have known the girl from her infancy—I never saw maggots or vermin about her, or any of the children, and I visited them sometimes twice a week and sometimes more—the deceased was always at
home—she was bright in her intellect, but weak—she asked for what she wanted, and I never heard her refused—I have not heard the relieving officer's statement—I last saw the girl about a fortnight before her death—she was always thin.
AMELIA WHITEHEAD . I am a mission woman at St. John the Evangelist, Holborn—I knew Mrs. Robinson before her first husband died, and have been in the habit of calling at their house—I never saw them behave otherwise than kindly to the children, and I have gone there several times in the last nine months—Eliza was always treated the same as the other children—the prisoners are kind and humane.
Cross-examined. I have been there about a dozen times since they have been married, but only saw Eliza about half a dozen times, because they have two rooms.
REBECCA KENDAL . I am married—I knew Robinson's first wife—the deceased lived in the same house with me and her mother and father—there never was a kinder father—he was affectionate to the deceased, the same as to the others—I have not visited the house lately, but the girl used to come to see me with her father and her sister, who is outside now—she was very delicate, and was subject to fits; she always had plenty to eat, but he was sometimes out of work.
MARIA BLAY . I am married, and live at 13, Ellrick Place—I have known the prisoners four years and three months—I have been in the habit of going to their room; they are my neighbours—he always seemed a most kind and affectionate husband and father—I never knew him strike or illuse the deceased, she was treated the same as the rest of the family; in fact, better, for she was always hungry, and would eat anything you gave her at any time—she was always delicate and sickly, and so was her mother—I have seen her in their present house; she was treated there as before—I had not seen her since Mrs. Robinson was confined, six or seven months ago.
ELIZABETH SOUTHWOOD . I live with my aunt and grandmother, at 4, Princes Street, Red Lion Square—the prisoner and his wife are my aunt and uncle, and the deceased girl was my cousin by marriage—I used to go to their house every day—she was treated very kindly indeed by her father and mother, as kind as a mother could do it—I have been there when they were eating, and she had as much as her mother could afford to give her, as much as the others had—there was plenty of bread and other things in the house—the girl was delicate and subject to fits—she was hungry and avaricious.
Cross-examined. She used to breed insects very fast—I have known her have them for a year—there was a special difficulty in keeping her clean-the other children were not in the same condition, they did not breed insects so fast.
JANE ROBINSON . I am the daughter of the male and the step-daughter of the female prisoner—the deceased was my sister—the prisoners have always treated me kindly and affectionately, and they treated the deceased 13 well as the rest of the family; the food was all alike—we were supplied with as much food as father and mother could afford to give us—my sister had the same as the rest of us—she bred vermin, and my first mother used to let her sleep in a bed by herself on account of that—she had fits, and was always a delicate girl.
Cross-examined. I lived in the same house, but not since the second
marriage, though I went backwards and forwards and had meals with them—our food was not supplied from the parish, but from my father's earnings.
Re-examined. I am working for my uncle, and am able to get a little money to clothe myself—I first left my father's house about four years ago, but I have had my meals there sometimes.
GEORGE LOCKYER . I am an officer of the Middlesex Sessions—I have known the prisoner Edward over seven years, and believe him to be a very respectable man; his brother, who has been here, is an officer of the prison—he lost his wife with small pox, and came to me in great trouble, and I think I gave him something.
MARY WILLIAMS . I formerly lived at 21, Aylesford Place, Clerkenwell—I have known the female prisoner eleven years, and have gone to see her both in her first and her second husband's time—I always found them kind and affectionate to the children—I have seen her go without food to give it to the children, and have many a time given her 6d. or 1s. when I could afford it.
Cross-examined. I am speaking of six weeks or two months ago—I saw the deceased—she was very ill for some time; she ate the same when she was ill, and she asked for money to buy cakes afterwards, and I have said "What a shame"—I have seen her have a bloater for her tea.
NOT GUILTY .
583. CHARLOTTE AVIS (21) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously taking away and detaining Mary Ann Calverley, aged five years, with intent to deprive her parents of her and of her clothing. One Month in Newgate, her mother promising to take charge of her at the expiration of her sentence.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1873.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
584. CHARLES MAY (19) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing various sums of money, and orders for the payment of money to the value of 3, 796l., the property of Julius Warburg and others, his masters.— Judgment Respited. There was another indictment against the prisoner for forgery which was postponed till the next Sessions.
586. JOHN BEASLEY (46), and WILLIAM PERRY (28) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas James Parker, and stealing therein two pairs of trousers and other articles, his property—both having been before convicted, Beasley iu August 1872, and Perry in April 1863.
BEASLEY.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
PERRY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1873.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. DE MICHELE and MR. GLYN conducted the Prosecution.
CHARLES HURLEY . I keep the Horse and Groom public-house, Whetstone Park—on 8th September, about 10 o'clock at night the prisoner came and asked for a glass of mild ale and a 2d. cigar, and gave a florin in payment—I gave him change—I put the florin in the till, being engaged in conversation—as he went out I looked at it again, and then noticed that it was
counterfeit—I went out into Holbora to see if I could see him, and saw him go into the Robin Hood public-house—I called a constable and gave him into custody—the constable took hold of him and took him outside and asked what he had in his hand—he said "Nothing"—the constable told him to open his hand, he would not—the constable tried to open his hand—he resisted violently three or four times in going to the station—I saw his hand ultimately opened and a counterfeit florin taken from it—I had seen him in my house about 3 o'clock the same afternoon.
Cross-examined. I can't say what coin he paid with then—it was either a shilling or sixpence—I believe that was not counterfeit—I have only one till—I never put money I receive anywhere else, except 2s. pieces or half-crowns, which I place at the back after being put in the till—I put this florin in the till myself, and took it out again before placing it at the back, and I discovered that it was counterfeit—I had not taken any other florins shortly before—the prisoner was perfectly sober—he had not been drinkiug.
Re-examined. There was no other florin in, the till.
JAMES BADGER (Policeman E 473). I was spoken to by the last witness on the 8th September, in front of the Robin Hood—I went with him into the public-house, and he pointed out the prisoner there—I told him I should take him into custody for passing a bad 2s. piece—he said "Where is the 2s. piece, let me see it?"—I took him outside the door and asked what he had in his hand—I saw that his hand was clasped and he kept it by his side—he said "Nothing"—I said "Let me see"—he refused to do so—he struggled very violently and tried to bite and kick me—we both fell—he got his hand loose from me and made two or three gulping noises and said "It is gone"—but I still believed he had it in his hand—I got the assistance of three other constables—we forced his hand open and found in it this bad florin—I also got the other bad florin from Mr. Hurley—I searched the prisoner and found on him 9l. in gold, a 5l. note, eight shillings, and 15 1/2 d. in copper, a silver watch, a lady's umbrella, and a finger ring.
Cross-examined. He was perfectly sober.
HORACE CUNNINQTON . I keep a pie shop at 16, Russell Court, Drury Lane—on 25th August the prisoner came into my shop—my sister was serving at the counter—I heard him ask for two two penny pies—he teudered a half sovereign—she gave it to me to give change, as there was not sufficient in the till—I went down stairs to get it, and noticed that it was bad—I went and fetched a policeman and gave the prisoner into custody—he did not say anything.
Cross-examined. The prisoner remained in the shop with my sister; he could have got out—I was away about five minutes—I found him in the same place when I returned.
JOHN COOK (Policeman E 407). The prisoner was given into ray custody by Mr. Cunuingtou, with the half-sovereign—he was taken to Bow Street, remanded till 1st September, and discharged—I found on him 8l. 10s. in gold, 14s. in silver, and 4 1/2 d. in bronze.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted at this Court on 8th April, 1867.
JOSEPH FLAXMAN (Police Sergeant W 32). I was formerly 25 L—I produce a certificate of conviction of Samuel McShay here in April, 1867—the prisoner is the person—he was sentenced toseven years' penal servitude.
GUILTY.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. SIMS conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM LEWINGTON SMTDDEN . I am a bank manager, 1, Lombard Street, City—on 23rd August, at half-past 8 o'clock, I was going along Cheapside—when opposite Bow Church, at the corner of Honey Lane, the prisoner came up to me, snatched my watch and chain, and ran down Honey Lane Passage—I ran after him, shouting "Stop thief!" he outran me and I lost sight of him; I came up to him in Basinghall Street, and charged him—he said "You can't swear to me; I have not got your watch"—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man—I only saw him for a moment—I noticed his height and figure; quite enough to identify him.
Prisoner. Q. Did you not say at the station that you could not swear to the man? A. No; in the confusion of the moment I could scarcely make up my mind that he was the man, but when I slept on it, and recollected the momentary view I had of him, I swore he was the man from his dark complexion.
HENRY TEAL . I am a licensed victualler, of 4, Castle Court, Lawrence Lane—on the evening of 23rd August, about half-past eight o'clock, I was standing at the corner of Honey Lane Market, talking to a friend, and heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—the prisoner ran past, followed by some persons—I joined in the chase, along with three or four more, until I found him in custody in Basinghall Street—I lost sight of him for a minute or two as he turned the corner of Lawreuce Lane, but I was within half a dozen yards of him, and took up the view of the same man afterwards—there was no row or fight going on, it was all perfectly quiet—there was not a soul about.
JOHN HOLLY . I am a butcher, and live at Mr. Bannister's, 21, Newgate Street—I saw the prisoner in Lawrence Lane, running towards me; there was a cry of "Stop thief!"—he said "Don't stop me, it is only a fight"—I said "It is something more than that"—I threw down my tray and ran after him, and overtook him in Basinghall Street—it was rather dark.
THOMAS FARNDEN (City Policeman 560). I saw the prisoner running across Guildhall Yard into Basinghall Street—I caught him—the prosecutor came up and said "You are the man that has got my watch"—the prisoner said "You are not the man that I hit at all; you can do nothing with me; you will find no watch upon me"—he struggled to get away—he said he had been struck in the mouth—there was no sign of any blow.
NOT GUILTY .
FREDERICK LAWLEY (City Detective). On the morning of 28th August, about 7 o'clock, I was in London Wall, in company with Berry, another officer—I saw the prisoner carrying this bundle, I knew him—I stopped him
and said "You have got a very suspicious bundle there, what have you got in it?"—at first he refused to tell me; he afterwards said "Only some of my children's things"—I said "Let me look at them?"—he said "No, I shan't"—I said "I must"—he afterwards said "Here they are, they are felt hats"—I said "Where did you get them from?"—he said "I brought them from Mr. Hall's, London Wall"—I said "Had you any right to bring them away?"—he said "No, I have not paid for them, but I intend to do so"—at the station he said "I know I have takeu them, and I know I had no right to them"—there were eleven felt hats in the bundle, two more were afterwards found at his lodging, and others at other places—after he was committed, on taking him below, he said "I know I am guilty of stealing the eleven felt hats that you stopped me with, and also the six felt hats that you found, as to the caps I know nothing about them."
ROBERT HALL . I am a hat manufacturer, in London Wall—the prisoner has been our night watchman—these hats are our property, they had not been sold—the prisoner had no right whatever to be dealing with them.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:"—I am very sorry, I did it in an unguarded moment."
Prisoner's Defence. These two hats I bought and paid for, one about Christmas time, and one the night before the boat-race—the fact is Mr. Hall was about moving from these premises, and the warehouseman, when he found anything old or soiled, used to send them down to be burnt—I saw these eleven hats and thought they were lying there to be burnt and I took them, but without any intention of stealing.
MR. HALL (re-examined). The prisoner has purchased about five hats, of which he owes for two or three—one or two old hats may occasionally be thrown down as useless, but these are new and wrapped in paper.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
GEORGE WESTWOOD (City Detective). On 11th September I saw the two prisoners standing, with others, at the bottom of Leather Lane; they went, with another man, into Holborn, and they all stood round a lady who was looking in at a shop window, and the man not in custody put his hand into her pocket, they then went to the prosecutor, who was standing on some steps at the corner of Brook Street—Wilson snatched his watch—the others were close behind him, they then all three ran down Brook Street, through some courts—I spoke to the prosecutor, and then went another way and met them coming out at the other end.
JAMES NORRIS CHAPMAN . I live at 196, High Holborn—on 11th September I was standing on the steps of a house in Holborn, I felt somebody hustling me, I turned round and saw the two prisoners running away—I missed my watch, it was broken from the chain.
Wilson's Defence. I did not have the watch.
Statt. I ran after the other man.
PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction in March, 1872.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
STATT.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. AUSTIN METCALFE the Defence.
ELIZABETH ELLEN PACKER . I am the wife of John Packer, of Ampton Street, Gray's Inn Road—on 22nd August I was on Tower Hill, I felt my dress touched—I looked down and saw the prisoner's hand in my pocket, I grasped him by the collar with one hand, and with the other caught his hand in my pocket, with the purse in it; I pulled his hand out of my pocket, purse and all, and took the purse from his hand, it was open, there was then only 6d. in it, it had contained 2s. 6d. and two duplicates—I saw him pass his hand, and a young man with weak eyes ran away directly—some man said "There goes the man with the money"—I said "Never mind the man with the money, I have got the man who put his hand in my pocket"—I saw the money in the prisoner's hand—he got away from me, but he was stopped by a person named Robinson, and I gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. I was speaking to a person at a photograph shop, and the prisoner was looking at the pictures while he was picking my pocket—I daresay there were twenty or thirty persons about, it was about half-past 1 o'clock, just the dinner time—I caught hold of the prisoner's hand actually in my pocket, with the purse in it, and the 2s. was between his fingers—I had come up from New Cross with 3s. and I changed one at the station.
GEORGE CATCHPOLE (Policeman H 192). The prisoner was given into my custody, and the prosecutrix gave me the purse—the prisoner was told what he was charged with—he said he did not do it, he had not spoken to her, and did not see her.
GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, 25th September, 1873.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
594. FREDERICK MARTIN (a soldier, 24), Unlawfully taking Charlotte Foster, an unmarried girl under the age of sixteen years, out of the possession and against the will of Charlotte Foster, her mother.
MR. FRITH and MR. BEALE conducted the Prosecution and MR. KEIGHLEY the Defence.
CHARLOTTE FOSTER . I live at 56, York Street, Westminster—I am a widow—Charlotte Foster is my daughter; she was fourteen years of age last February—she lived with me up to the 18th August last—on that day she left her home without my knowledge—I saw her on the following Wednesday night, the 20th—I gave her in charge for stealing a shawl—she was taken to the Police Court, remanded for a fortnight, and then discharged—I know nothing of the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before I saw him at the Police Court—the back of my house looks on to the yard of Wellington Barracks—I have lived there twelve years—I have been a widow twelve years—my daughter was educated up to the age of twelve—since that she has only had what education I have been able to give her myself—she went to school up to the age of twelve—I have only taught her plain education,
spelling, reading, and arithmetic—I live with my mother—I carry on no busiuess in the house—the whole house belongs to my mother—for the list three or four months my daughter has not been away from me—I have seen her all day—I am prepared to say she has not been away without my knowledge—I am not aware that for the last three or four months she has been in the habit of going into the canteen of the barracks—we occupy four rooms on the first floor, and my daughter is frequently in a back room—that looks on to the barracks—she has been a great deal in that back room by herself—I am sorry to say she has not been a good girl to me—I have not been in the habit of beating her for behaving badly, but I have punished her in other ways—when she has wanted to go out I have kept her indoors—she has constantly wanted to go out—I saw her on the 18th August, but did not see her again until the 20th—it was about 9 o'clock at night—I met her in the barracks—she was with another girl—she was not with the prisoner when I met her—she has very seldom gone out by herself—sometimes she has for a short time—during the last three or four months she may have gone out by herself.
Re-exxmined. I did not approve of her going out by herself—she went out with my consent then—I have endeavoured to bring her up as well as I could—I have taken as much care of her morals as I could.
CHARLOTTE FOSTER . I am daughter of the last witness—I know the prisoner; I cannot tell how long, but I have known him some little time by sight; perhaps four months—he has frequently spoken to me—he is in the Wellington Barracks—he addressed me by my Christian name—he had been for some time in the habit of doing so—I saw him on the 18th August; he came past our house—I was crying at the time—I was standing at the door—he asked me what I was crying for—I said "I cannot tell you here, but if you will go through the next door, "meaning the Crown public-house, "I will tell you"—I meant the yard at the back—he went through into the yard of the Crown, and I spoke to him over the wall first—I told him I was crying because my mother would not let me out—I asked him what he would do if he was me—he said he would do anything, and I said "What is the anything?"—"Oh," he said, anything he would do—I said "Suppose you sent me one of those girls"—before I said that he said he would not be humbugged about—he said he would send me one—I said "Send me one that does not swear"—he sent me one—she came directly—he went through the house again and this woman came almost directly; as soon as he could get outside—this was about 8.30 or 9 o'clock in the evening—when the girl came, I was standing in our own passage—I next saw the prisoner on the Monday night—I did not go anywhere with this woman—I remained at home until Monday night—I received a letter on the Monday; the prisoner threw it out at the back window—I saw him do so—he saw me when he threw it out—I was under the back window—I saw him again that night—(The letter was read)—I saw the prisoner on the Monday night at our own street door—he went into the Crown public-house—I went into our own house and put on my hat and jacket—a woman then came to me at the door—it was not the same woman as came on the Sunday night—I had some conversation with her—I went and put on my clothes, and then went round by the workhouse—I did not go into the Crown, the prisonor came after me—I told the woman to come with me, hut she did not—the woman I saw on the Sunday night promised she would be there—the prisoner said "Come along, be sharp, or they will be after
us"—I went away with him into Pye Street—I said to him "Martin, you are going to take me to that young woman you promised," and he said "Yes"—he took me down Pye Street, and when he got there he could not find the young woman's house—he said he did not know which, and then he took me to another woman's house in the same street—we went to a room—an Irish woman showed us in—I had my clothes with me—I was afterwards charged with stealing my mother's shawl—he did not do anything with my clothes—when we were in the room he told me to undress—I did not do so at first, but I did subsequently—when I did not undress myself he said he would undress me—he commenced to do so—we slept there.
Cross-examined. I never told the prisoner my age—I never informed him that I was under sixteen—he did not offer any inducement to me to leave my home—I left home entirely at my own free-will—when I had this conversation with him on the 17th he saw that I was crying—he asked what was the matter, and I then told him—I did not tell him that I had been beaten—I told him I was crying because I was not allowed to go out—when I went out I did not go with him—he was in the Crown public-house—I left our house and went past the public-house, the road round by the workhouse—he came directly after me, out of the public-house—when I asked him to send me one of those girls, I meant a bad girl—she said he would come down to her house if I liked, but I would not go that night—I was not in the habit of standing at our window and kissing my hand to the soldiers, that I deny—I stood at the window and looked at them and spoke to them—our window is about as far from the barrack window as the width of this Court, and I could speak across—for the last three or four months I have been in the habit of speaking to several of the Coldstream Guards, out of that window—I have walked out with several of them—I never walked out with the prisoner—I had seen him before the 18th—I may have walked out with three or four of the soldiers—I went once into the canteen of the regiment—whilst I was with the prisoner he did not offer any obstacle to my returning home—I said I wished I had never left home—I said that the next day—we were then at Chelsea, and he was with me—up to that time he had not offered any obstacle—I do not know a woman named Sarah Dyke—the only conversation I had was with the woman he promised I should go to—I do not know her name—I did not say to any woman "Will you take me to Fred. Martin; I will have Fred. Martin"—I have not asked numbers of the Coldstream Guards for Fred. Martin—when we got to the house in Pye Street, I did not ask the landlady for a room—if she says on her oath that I did, that is untrue—I made no arrangement about the room—the woman went up into the room first—then I went up and the prisoner came up after me—I did not state to the woman that I had just left my situation.
Re-examined. I have not been more than once into the canteen.
MARY LANDRIGAN . I live at 31, Old Pye Street—I am the wife of William Landrigan—he is a hawker and umbrella maker—I remember the last witness and the prisoner coming to our house on the Monday night, the night before Foresters' Day—she said they were man and wife—she asked me if I had got a room, and she paid me a shilling for the room and sixpence for myself—she had a shawl over her head and a large bundle, and I said "Is that a child you have got there?"—she said "No, it is my clothes after leaving my situation"—I went up stairs with the candle in my hand and she walked up after me—she went up before the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I am perfectly certain it was she who asked me for the room, and not the man—she paid me a shilling—I am sure she said she was leaving her situation, and she cannot deny it.
Re-examined. I keep nightly lodgings—they only come and go in the morning.
EDWARD SHAW . I am a detective of the B Division—I apprehended the prisoner on the 4th September at Wellington Barracks, upon a warrant—I rend the warrant over to him—he made no reply—I took him to Rochester Row station.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was read: "I did not take her away; I have got two girls outside as witnesses. She asked them to take her away. She asked me to take her away on the Sunday night, and I would not. She has kept company with six or seven of our soldiers; she has been in the canteen with them and through the parks. I did not know who she was, except through seeing her with the soldiers. I did not know what age she was. I had seen her come to the barrack gates with soldiers, and she asked me to come out with her; I could mention the names of the soldiers. I did not have connection with her at all; I could not. "He received a goad character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of the previous conduct of the girl. — One Month's Imprisonment.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 26th, 1873.
Before Mr. Baron Pollock.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and CHARLES MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
EDWARD THOMAS HIBBERT . I am a beer retailer, of 9, Dove Row—on 25th July I was at the Victory beer-house, Mr. Hilldrup's—Mr. Tidyman came in, and while he was talking to me the prisoner came up, he was walking with a horse and van, which was loaded with greens—Tidyman went and said something to him, and they came back together, and the prisoner called me all manner of names, and challenged me to fight him—he has been a great annoyance to me for the last four years—Mr. Hilldrup went away, and I went to another table—the prisoner, came there, and put his face close to mine, using very abusive language, and asking me to fight him—I told him if I fought him I should have to fight all his relations—he said "When I get up in the morning at 3 o'clock I shall have my b----eye sight, "putting his finger to his eyes, "and that is a b----sight more than you will have;" and he laid his hand over my glass, which was on my right side—he put his face close to mine again, and I said "If you do so
again I will knock your head out of the way"—he put his face close again, and said "Now do it, you b----"—I got up and went to sit at another table, leaving my glass, and sat alongside of his father, but I did not know it was his father—he hoisted me off and said "I will not allow a big prig like you to sit alongside of me"—I went and complained to the landlord, and the prisoner followed me and challenged me again—the landlord said "If I were you I should get home; I cannot assist you, there are so many"—I said "I will"—I then took the seat I had moved from at first, and took up my glass of ale—I swallowed some of it, and thought they had been putting gin in it to make me intoxicated—I thought it tasted like gin and ale, but my head became affected, and I found a terrible burning at my throat—I threw the contents away, and poured out another glass, and gave it to a man named Valentine—I had to go through a crowd of people to get into the road, and when I got there the prisoner said "Come on, you b----!" and struck me and knocked me down in the road—here is the mark on my elbow where I fell—I said "Where is the man who knocked me down?"—someone said "He has gone into the shop"—the prisoner came running out of his shop, took off his coat, waistcoat, and apron, and said "I am the b----man, come on"—he began to spar, and raised his hand, as if he was going to strike me, and I felt something come on my face which took away my senses—I ran as far as from here to you, to a butcher's shop, and then fell insensible—I was carried home, and am still under the doctor's care.
Cross-examined. I had been drinking, but very little—I never left home till 9 o'clock p. m.—I was a teetotaller up to that day—I had not taken the pledge, but I had said to myself "I will not drink liquor for so long a time"—I am not in the habit of giving way to drink, but when I do I am very dull—this was about 11 o'clock at night—I have not authorized my friends to settle this matter by a payment of money—I distinctly saw the prisoner's hand open—I could not see whether there was a bottle in it, because the stuff came in my face—a great, many people were about—I had not been trying to pick a quarrel with the prisouer—when we were at the door Tidyman said to the prisoner "Go it, Joe, let him have it"—I recollect everything—I gave evidence before the Magistrate, and my deposition was read over to me—I said that there were one or two mistakes in it, and Mr. Lewis said "You had better leave that entirely to me"—I said that there was a mistake on the third page—I do not know whether the Magistrate's clerk declined to alter it, but he did not alter it—I poured out some ale for my friend; that was after my ale had been tampered with, but mine was in a glass, and the other was in a quart pot—I tried to get out of the prisoner's way—I went about six yards off—I came back with his brother to the place where the prisoner was, and sat down by his brother, who shoved me off—I did not tell the prisoner at what time I went to market, but I said "If I fight you now, I shall have to fight the whole lot, but I will meet you at the market and make you fight"—I know he goes to market early, but I don't know at what time—I was not quarrelsome, quite the reverse; I got out of his way many times—I told the Magistrate that when I have had a little too much I do feel a little quarrelsome—when this stuff came into my face I said "I am poisoned and blinded"—I know that what was thrown was scattered over two or three people—there were 100 or 150 people there.
Re-examined. I have only taken the pledge within my own mind—I
have not offered money to settle this case, I thought it was too serious—although I saw nothing in his hand, I felt this blinding sensation immediately his hand was opened, and I was not more than six seconds before I fell down insensible.
GEORGE BROWN . I am eleven years old, and live with my parents at 21, Mason Street—on the night of 25th July, about 12 o'clock, I was going down Goldsmith's Row, and heard a row—I stopped and heard the prisoner say to Hibbert "I can eat too well and hearty for you"—he also said "I shall wake up to-morrow morning with these 'ere open," pointing to his eyes, "and that is more than you will do"—I did not hear Hibbert say anything—the prisoner went under a blind, and came back and knocked Hibbert down in the gutter; he got up, and as soon as the prisoner sparred up to him again he fell down insensible—something came into my eyes at the time, and they smarted and water came out of them—I could not see in what position the prisoner's hands were then.
Cross-examined. I told the Magistrate that Hibbert sparred up a second time, and was knocked down insensible—he was knocked down by the prisoner's fist—I know Mr. Higgins, the chemist—I did not see him there—there were a rare lot of people there, and a great deal of excitement and noise—I did not hear the prisoner tell Hibbert not to come near him when he went under his own blind—I told the Magistrate "He went under his blind and told Hibbert if he came near he would give it to him, and Hibbert went there and Joseph knocked him down."
JESSIE HAMMOND . I am the wife of Edward Hammond, of 21, Duncan Street—on the night of 25th July, about 11 o'clock, I was in the Victory public-house, and saw Hibbert drinking and the prisoner quarrelling with him—the prisoner put his hand to his eyes and said "I shall wake up with these open to-morrow, and that is more than you will do"—I saw Hibbert go under the prisoner's blind, and then the prisoner threw some stuff in his eyes—some of it came into my eyes, which smarted very much, and I felt the effects for about five minutes afterwards—I stood close to Hibbert.
Cross-examined. I mean that my eyes smarted, not the flesh round them—I saw the whole of the quarrel—I told the Magistrate that I saw the liquid leave the prisoner's hand—I mean to swear that—it was his right hand—I could not see anything in his hand to hold the liquid, the act was too quick—his hand was half open and half shut—he was standing without his coat, I can't say about his waistcoat—the prisoner did not go uuder his blind and tell Hibbert that if he came there he would knock him away, he said that if he wanted him he would find him under his own blind—Hibbert was not sparring when he was knocked down; he once raised his hands in a fighting attitude—that was before he was knocked down, but not afterwards, he put his hands over his eyes without any sparring at all—all this occurred under the blind which goes out over the pavement—the whole quarrel did not occur in the beer-shop.
ARTHUR HAWKINS SUCH . I am a clicker, of 2, Croft Street—I was in the Victoria public-house, about 11 o'clock, and saw Hibbert sitting at a table and the prisoner stooping down with his hands on his knees, and his face within a few inches of Hibbert's face—Hibbert pushed him aside by the shoulder, and said "Take your face out of my face V—the prisoner said "Don't you handle me, I can stand anything but handling."—I was rather too far off to hear what was said next, but the prisoner said "When I get up to-morrow morning I shall have my eyes open, but you won't"—I am
quite sure I heard those words, and he put his hand to his eyes when he said it—they both seemed out of temper—the prisoner then said "Iam going to stay on our own ground, under my own blind," and Hibbert got up and was going away, but he met a young man and asked him where Mr. Sparrowhawk was, and went to the blind and asked where the man was that wanted to right him, and the prisoner got up and knocked him down in the road—a young man asked Hibbert to go away, and he walked to the blind and said "Allow me to explain"—the prisoner said "Don't let him come near me, for I can settle him with a look"—the prisoner had been into his shop and taken his waistcoat off, and he was sitting on a chair without his waistcoat—it was a very hot night—he then got up and squared up to Hibbert, and said "Take that, you b----," and Hibbert fell—the prisoner said "There's a coward, he has fallen down before I hit him," but as the prisoner threw his arm over I saw some drops come from his hand—I have not the least doubt that I saw liquid come from his hand, because, from the position of the persons sitting behind him, they could not have thrown it over his shoulder, they were sitting too low.
Crost-examined. There were not so many as 150 people—I saw no people under the blind, they were behind the prisoner, in a sort of half-moon—the prisoner went away from Hibbert, under his own blind, and said "Don't let him come near me "and, in the face of that remark, Hibbert went up to him—the prisoner gave him a strong push, it was hardly to be termed a blow—I did not see Hibbert put himself in a fighting attitude after being rushed down—Hibbert's manner was not offensive and quarrelsome.
Rt-examned. I have no doubt about the fluid coming from the prisoner's hand, three people were sitting behind him at that time, and there were people four or five feet from him on each side.
COURT. Q. Why do you say that the fluid could not have come from the people behind? A. Because they were sitting on chairs, and the prisoner was standing up two or three feet ahead of them.
EMMA WAKEFIELD . My husband is a harness maker, of Dove Road—on 25th July, about 10. 40 p. m., I was near the Victoria beer-shop and saw the prosecutor and prisoner going to fight—I saw Hibbert fall—he said "I am blinded and poisoned"—I did not notice whether the prisoner's foot was up at that time.
JOHN CHAMBERS , M.R.C.S. I live at 24U, Hackney Road—on 25th July I was called and found Hibbert sitting in a chair—his skin was blue, his tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and he was in a state of collapse—I smelt his breath and could not detect beer or spirits—I fortunately had two agents with me, one of which was a solution of acetic acid which seemed to do him good, as it counteracted the strong alkali—I administered that and after a little time reaction set up and his heart began to beat again—he was in a cold perspiration, and his breath was hurried aud short—I found stains on his waistcoat which I analysed, and in my opinion they were produced by liquid alkali—I should attribute them to ammonia, which is a very destructive fluid—it would be very injurious if thrown on a person's eyes—it will kill a person in eight or ten minutes, from the effluvia alone, and another effect would be to cause blindness.
Cross-examined. Ammonia is used for the purpose of making linaments, for instance for hoping cough, but the strong ammonia of the English Pharmacopoeia, would be very injurious in any linament; when used to make harts-horn
and oil its strength is only once in seven,—that would not be strong enough to produce the effect I have been speaking of.
COURT. Q. Is the ammonia of the English Pharmacopoeia, one in nine? A. Yes, English chemists are not allowed to sell the strong article—you never get it if you ask for it.
Witnesses for the Defenee.
ALFRED HIGQINS . I am a chemist and druggist, of 159, Goldsmith's Row, Shoreditch, next door to the prisoner's house, between 10 and 11 o'clock on the night in question I was making a linament in my shop, consisting of ammonia, soap linament, and compound camphor—it is used for hooping cough and rheumatism—I was using the liquor ammonia fortis—while I was making it up I heard a large noise outside, and my wife, who is in delicate health, having an infant at her breast, being out at the time, I went to the door with the bottle containing the ammonia in my hand, preparatory to making up the mixture—the ammonia was undiluted—when I got to the door I saw fifty or sixty people, and the prisoner beyond them—the pavement is very broad and a portion of it is considered private property; there is a blind over that part—I stepped out to look up and down the road to see where my wife had gone, and before I could turn round I was surrounded by the mob, which was surging and swelling and pulling somebody along; I don't know who, and before I could get out of the crowd the stopper of the bottle jumped from the heat of the weather, and two or three drachms were spilt—I went back and put the bottle down and heard nothing more: nobody complained—I did not know the ammonia had reached anybody—I went to the Police Court when the prisoner was tinder examination on every occasion, to be called as a witness if wanted.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner from his living next door to me so long; three years or thereabouts—I never visited him—I have seen him daily, almost hourly in his business—Mr. Beard did not take down the statements of any witnesses, which I consider he ought to have done, and I believe he advised the prisoner to go to trial—I considered that it was not in my hands, or in my discretion, to say whether I gave evidence or not, but I was ready to give evidence when called upon—Mr. Beard, junior, represented the prisoner—he never asked me for my statement—I did not know till the third examination that the prisoner was charged with throwing ammonia—I was not allowed inside the Court on the first examination—I went there to give evidence of what occurred outside my door, because I thought the prisoner was taken up for a common assault, striking or something of that sort—he was taken up with two others—he said that he saw me at my door and asked me if I would come up as a witness—that was before I had heard of the nature of the accident—until the third examination I did not connect the ammonia with the case, because I heard that the man had been smothered with vitriol, and there is a great difference between vitriol and ammonia—it was a week or two after the accident that I knew the nature of the charge—I mean to tell you that after the first examination I continued in the belief that it was a charge of common assault—I believe the prisoner was let out on bail: he came home to his house—I saw him between the first and second examinations—when he told me that he was charged with throwing ammonia, or spirit of some kind, I said "I can remember now how that happened"—that was between the first and second examinations—there were three attendances at the Police Court, but on the first nothing was gone into—by the first examination I
mean the second attendance—I went with the prisoner on the second examination to Mr. Beard's office—I did not make a statement to Mr. Beard because when we had been there some minutes some Alderman was announced who was wanted to be seen particularly, and we were ushered out—I saw Mr. Beard subsequently at the Police Court, but not to speak to him—I was about to make a statement to him, but I was told that the case would be committed for trial, and I need not do so—although I saw Mr. Beard twice, I never told him that the fluid was thrown by my hands—I only saw him about a second, and I did not tell him this until the prisoner was committed for trial, nor did I tell any solicitor, but I had spoken to other persons about it—this is the first time I have been examined—I saw Mr. Beard to speak to at the Police Court—I was in the crowd when the stopper flew out, holding the botttle midway, like this—that arose from the heat of my hand and the weather being very hot and the struggling in the crowd, although I had got out into the air—judging from what I saw when I got back, I supposed that some of the ammonia had been spilt on the ground about me, but I did not look to see—I have talked this matter over with the prisoner since, because I believed he was an injured party, and I gave him my explanation—I first told him what I have told you after the first examination at the Police Court, that is the second attendance, so that he knew the story that I was ready to tell, and no doubt this case has been the topic of conversation between us when I have seen him—he has made no offer to me.
Re-examined. The common talk was for some time that the injury had been caused by throwing vitriol, which I believed up to a certain part of the case—Dr. Chambers, who designated the agent as ammonia, was not called till the last examination, and when I heard that I explained it—there is not the slightest ground for suggesting that I have been bribed or induced to give this evidence—I went to give evidence as to the impossibility of the prisoner injuring Hibbert with vitriol, because I saw him with a pipe in his right hand—no evidence was discussed with Mr. Beard, junior, in ray hearing, I only saw him for a second—when the Alderman came into Mr. Beard's office, he said that he would see ns at the Police Court, and when we got there he said it was no good giving evidence, the case would be sent for trial—I have not seen Mr. Beard to tell him the evidence that I hive given to-day, and until the prisoner was committed, I had no opportunity of giving evidence about the ammonia.
JURY. Q. What part of the crowd were you in? A. Nearest to my own door, and almost under the prisoner's blind, which came up to my doorway—I found no stains on my clothes—ammonia would not stain black cloth—I did not see Hibbert, neither did I see who the quarrel was with—all that I saw of the prisoner was that he stood up from his chair, with a pipe in his hand, and said "Go away, go away, you only want to make me hit you, but I shan't"—I was then as far from him as I am from the Judge's desk—I was not facing him—I was hero, and the crowd were round about, some on the pavement, and some by the blind—the vapour of the ammonia would cover a very large distance, but the actual fluid I can hardly imagine would go so far—the fluid only affected me by the stinging sensation of the vapour, which is like smelling salts—it did not make me insensible; it is used to revive people from insensibility—I think the fluid got on Hibbert's face by my jerking it in getting out of the crowd—I had to jerk myself out, and that would jerk it away—the bottle had a bout an ounce and a half in it.
COURT. Q. Did you hear Dr. Chambers give his evidence? A. No. (Dr. Chamber it evidence was lure read over by the learned Judge)—I should think ammonia would cause the effects there described—I have no doubt that it would produce a very serious effect, but I can't put myself in opposition to the doctor—I have been a chemist twelve or thirteen years, and have often prescribed for people, and have had people brought into my shop suffering from swallowing ammonia, and I have found them to complain of great heat and burning, not of coldness; this was collapse, but I don't say that if a drop of cold water only was thrown at me in a crowd, I should not feel frightened, and think it was something else—if the ammonia was jerked from my bottle into Hibbert's face, I believe that would produce the results described, especially if it got into his mouth—I have not heard any of the evidence in the case whatever—I made no note or memorandum of this—I have mentioned it in conversation when people have said "What a blackguard thing for young Sparrowhawk to do"—I have said "It was not young Sparrowhawk; I saw him with a pipe in his hands, which makes it impossible for him to have done it"—I also said "I took some ammonia out, and if the man had ammonia in his mouth, it must have come from my bottle."
MR. W. SLEIGH to E. T. HIBBERT. Q. Did you see Mr. Pitcher on the Sunday? A. Yes, at dinner time—I did not say that I did not believe it was Joe, but I would try and find out; not to my knowledge—I did not inquire—I should think if I said so I should remember it—I can take my oath that I never said it—I did not ask him who threw it—when he came on Sunday I had just got out of bed—ray wife said "Here is. Mr. Pitcher coming into the bar"—I said "I should like to see him"—I went into the bar parlour, not into the kitchen—he said "This is a bad job, I should like to see the b----that done it punished"—I said "Look, at my mouth here, it is a serious job"—he said "There is all your tongue burnt away, do you know who done it?"—I said "Nobody done it but the man who got up to fight me"—he said "To tell you the truth, I did not see it, I had my back to him."
JURY. Q. Did the crowd press on you previous to the ammonia being thrown in your face? A. No, there was only'us two standing together; there was a regular ring, and Mr. Higgins was standing at his own door—his door was about 20 feet off—the prisoner's house is next door to the chemist's.
WILLUM PITCHER . On 25th July, between 10 and 11 o'clock, I received a communication and went to the Goldsmith's Arms—I saw the prosecutor there, tapped him on the shoulder, and said "Mr. Hibbert, you are just the man I am looking for, don't you know me?"—he said "You are the man who came to my little dog"—I said "Yes, I want you to go home with me and see how he is getting on"—he said "All right, I will go with you as soon as I have spoken to these people"—he went to tho prisoner's shop, who was sitting on a chair smoking his pipe, and said "Where is the man that wanted to fight me?"—the prisoner said "Get away from here, and don't kick up a bother'—Hibbert said "I shan't go away," and the prisoner got off his chair and shoved him away, and he fell; he got up and was going at the prisoner again, and put his hand up to his eyes and said "Oh, what is this!"—he went towards a butcher's shop, a woman stood at the door, and he said "Let me come in"—she said "No, you can't come in," and he fell down—he was taken home, and I followed him—on the Sunday I went to
Hibbert's with two or three friends; we went into the kitchen and had a little conversation about the dog, and then Hibbert said "You know about that job on Friday night; who threw the stuff?"—I said "No, I do not"—he said "I thought you knew who it was"—I said "No"—he said "Do you think it was Joe?"—I said "No, I was close by and did not see Joe throw anything, and he could not throw it over you without my seeing it"—he said "I don't believe it was Joe," and he said that he would find out who it was if it cost him 20l., for he wonld advertise for it—there was a crowd and they surrounded me.
Cross-examined. This conversation took place on Sunday, 27th July—I have not given an account of this in any Court before—I know the prisoner by living in the neighbourhood—I know that he was examined before the Magistrate two or three times—I went once, on the 30th, but was not called—I don't know Mr. Beard—I saw no one called on the prisoner's behalf—the prisoner asked me to go—I did not tell him what Hibbert had said on the Sunday, or anything about his asking whether it was the prisoner who threw the ammonia—I did not think it important—I have told the prisoner since that Hibbert said that he did not believe it was he who threw the ammonia—I did not tell him before because it was not important to tell him—I did not see the attorney at the Police Court—I gave my proofs to the prisoner's present solicitor, he was the first person who I told, in detail, the conversation of Sunday; I did not tell the prisoner—I went three times to the Police Court to give evidence, and then heard that the case was committed for trial.
COURT. Q. Of course you did not see anything of Mr. Higgins? A. No, I was looking after the prosecutor, seeing that he did not come to harm—he is not a friend of mine, I only went to look after his dog—Hibbert was decidedly intoxicated, a man asked me to get him home because he was drunk.
JOSEPH HOWS .—I am a boot and shoe maker—on 28th July, about 10. 30 or 11 o'clock, I was in the Globe public-house, seven or eight doors from the prisoner's house—I heard a great noise, went out and saw a crowd in front of the prisoner's shop—I saw Hibbert, he was decidedly drunk, and said "You b----hounds, I will wait till I do have it out with one of you, and if I don't have it out now I will meet you in the market to-morrow"—the prisoner was' then under his blind, which extends nearly across the pavement—he wished Hibbert to go home, and Hibbert said that he would not go until he had had it out with one of them.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 25th, 1873.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
598. GEORGE BROWN (61) , PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for embezzling 1l. 14s., 22l., 21l. 15s., 44l. 10s., 22l. 5s., and 5l. 9s. 6d., the moneys of Edward Russell Clarenshaw, his master, who recommended him to mercy.
GUILTY.— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
my daughter awoke me at 1.30, and I heard a noise on the roof—about 2 o'clock the house door suddenly gave way; it is a large door—it was taken right off the hinges—I looked out at the window and called "Police!"—a policeman was passing, and I saw the prisoner soon after at the station—I did not see who burst the door open—my house adjoins the school—the door that was forced was bolted, but the school-room window was cut out—it was all safe when I went to bed—being in the school-room, a person could get into the house by the inside door, which was cut out.
JOHN CARNEY (Policeman K 268). About 2 o'clock on the morning of 9th August I heard a cry of "Police!" from the window—I ran into Union Street, at the back of the school, and saw the prisoner coming over a wall 10 feet high—I was about twelve yards from him—he ran as fast as he could—I followed, crying "Stop thief!" and springing my rattle—he turned into Wilmot Square, and I saw him stopped by K 140—I ran up and said "I want you for coming over from the rear of the schools"—the constable told me he had thrown something away into the square—the prisoner was taken to the station—an entrance had been gained to the premises by cutting a window out, about 16 by 15 inches, which led to the school, and then a large door had been completely forced off the hinges—Holder gave me this chisel, which exactly corresponds with marks on the door—I found on the prisoner a small wedge and a key.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw You before you were stopped that night.
CHARLES COVENTRY (Policeman K 140). I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" about 2 o'clock a. m., and a rattle, and the sound of running—I saw the prisoner running through Wilmot Square—as he passed the corner where there is a lamp, I saw him throw something into the square with his right hand—he threw something else away when I was close to him—I stopped him, and a constable ran up and said "Hold him, he has been in those schools"—I took a knife out of the prisoner's hand—it was shut—when daylight came I went with Holder to Wilmot Square—he got over the railings, and I saw him pick up this large chisel and this small one—the prisoner was the only person about at that time, except the constables.
RICHARD HOLDER (Policeman K 602). I went by the sergeant's directions to Wilmot Square—Coventry pointed out some places to me, and I found in one place this large chisel, and at the other end of the square this smaller chisel.
Prisoner's Defence. I had been drinking with a female I lived with, and spent all my money. I could not get a lodging anywhere, so I walked about, and me and her had a row. I ran down this street and the policeman ran after me; he caught me, and I said "What is the matter?"—and he said "You have broken into those schools. "I said "It is not me that done it. "He said "It does not matter, we must have some one for it."
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted July, 1865.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
600. THOMAS MILES, MAURICE ABRAHAMS, CHARLES TEAGUE, EDWARD ABRAHAMS , and JOHN SKILLINGTON were indicted (with William Weedon and Thomas A. Adams, who did not surrender) for unlawfully aud riotously assembling to disturb the peace.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted tlie Prosecution; MR. F. H. LEWIS defended Miles; MR. HARRIS defended Maurice Abrahams and Teague, and MR. DOUGLAS defended Edward Abrahams. After hearing some evidence on behalf of the Prosecution, THE COURT considered there was no case to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JAMES SMITH STEELE . I am a watchmaker, of 36, Great Sutton Street—on 12th August the prisoner came to my shop with two silver watches, and said he wanted the plates taken off to he regilt—the name on one was "Adam Burdees, London, No. 1,027"—I took the plates off, and he took them away—he came again next day with the plates; the name had then been obliterated, but you can see part of it now—I had received the police sheet at that time, and I said to the prisoner "From information I have received I shall detain those two watches"—he said "Very well, I will go and fetch the man that I bought them of"—he left, and I saw no more of him—I can identify this plate as having had the name of Burdees on it; the other one was numbered 528, and that has been altered.
Cross-examined. Something; like twelve months ago he brought me two watches to clean—I believe he is a dealer—it is not an uncommon thing to alter names upon watches—I am not an engraver, so I could not do that.
AMOS ALDRIDGE . I live at 72, Upper Ground Street, and am a foreman in the Lime Works—on Sunday evening, 10th August, I was in Bishopsgate Street, about 9. 15—my watch was snatched from me—it was attached to a chain—the name of "Adam Burdees "was on it, and the number was 1,027—I saw it again the next week at Guildhall—I gave information that it had been stolen—this is my watch—I can swear to it.
JOHN DAVIES (City Detective). On Wednesday, 13th August, I saw the prisoner in a public-house in Castle Court, amongst several others—Mr. Steele had given me a description, and I went down there with him—I told the prisoner he was charged with receiving a watch, well knowing it to be stolen—he said he knew nothing about it, and he had not taken the two watches to Mr. Steele's—I called Mr. Steele forward, and then the prisoner said "I did take the two watches, but they were my own, and I have had them for a long time."
Cross-examined. He did not tell me he was in the habit of taking watches to him to be done up—I knew him and apprehended him from a description.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS BURNS . I keep the Maltster Arms, 52, New Road, Stepney—on Sunday night, 17th August, about 9. 15, the prisoner came in front of me, struck me a violent blow on the chest, and, at the same moment, tore my chain from my breast and made off—the watch remained in my pocket—I ran after him, crying "Stop thief!"—when I had run about a quarter of a mile I was tripped up, and fell violently—I got up and caught sight of him again, and saw him stopped by a policeman—this seal is mine, it was attached
to the chain—I have not seen the chain since—I have not the least doubt about the prisoner being the man—I was badly injured by the fall, it was a bad shock to my system.
JOSEPH MARRIOTT (Policeman H 174). I was in my house and heard a scuffle outside—I ran out and saw the prisoner and two others and the prosecutor following, crying "Stop thief! he has stolen my watch"—I pursued the prisoner about a quarter of a mile—the first of the other two tripped the prosecutor up, and the other lay down in front of me to throw me down, but I jumped over him—I continued the chase for a considerable distance—I became exhausted—I recognised a brother constable in plain clothes, who took up the chase and caught the prisoner—I saw him searched at the station—he said "I did not do it"—this seal was found in his pocket, and then he said "I did it, and I threw the chain away when you were chasing me in the dark place."
JOSEPH SOPER (Policeman K 383). I saw the prisoner running and followed him—I caught him in Walburgh Place, St. George's—he said "What do you want down here?"—I said "I want you"—he said "I have done nothing"—I said "You will have to come with me till I see what you have done"—I took him into Walburgh Street—Burns, who was standing against the wall, said "That is the man"—I said "What has he done?"—he said "He stole my chain"—I took the prisoner to the station and found this seal in his coat pocket—he said "I stole the chain and threw it away a turning or two before I was apprehended, but I never struck the man."
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent of the violence. I stole his chain.
GUILTY .*— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
ALFRED WHITE (Policeman G 285) On the morning of 24th August, at 3.30, I was in Skinner Street, Bishopsgate—I saw the prisoner there, lying on the ground, his head was on the edge of the kerb and his body and legs in the carriage-way, so that if a carriage came along he must have been run over—I went up to him, with another officer, and we took hold of each side of his arm and tried to lift him up—he appeared as if he had been drinking a little, but he was not drunk—he said he had been knocked about by four other constables, and he was not going to stand it any longer—he gave me a violent blow with his fist in the chest—I took hold of him to prevent his violence, and he got his hand in my belt and pulled me to the ground—he took his knife from his pocket and opened it—he was on the top of me—he stabbed me three times in the left breast—I was wearing this coat and a padded waistcoat, and the knife did not penetrate to the flesh—I got him off me and he struck me a blow with the knife, on the kneecap, it cut through my trousers and cut my leg—it bled—we took him to the station, with assistance—he was very violent all the way.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No one kicked you in my presence, or used any violence to you—I was pulled on the top of you first, and then you crossed on to the top of me.
Prisoner. I took the knife out to cut my necktie, as he was choking me, not to stab him.
JOHN Cox (Policeman G 309). I saw the prisoner lying in the road, with his head on the kerb—I went up to him with White—one stood one side
and one the other—I gently shook him, and when he woke up he struck at White—he got up and struck White in the chest and they both fell, when the prisoner got up I saw he had a kuife in his hand—I said "Look out, he has got a knife"—I struck him on the chest and knocked him down, and while he was on the ground I got the knife out of his hand—we got him up and took him to the station—he was violent.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am divisional surgeon of police, and live at 87, Old Street, St. Luke's—I examined White's leg and found a small incised wound, such as this knife would inflict—it was quite superficial.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not intend to stab him. I took the knife out to cut my necktie, and it unfortunately cut him.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAFFORD conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES RICHARDSON . I am a ship's chandler, and live at 1, Sidney Street, Stepney—on 21st August, about 2.30 a. m., I heard a noise—I was in bed—I saw the prisoner lying stretched along the floor—his hand was stretched out, and he had drawn my trousers out from my other clothes, and had them in his hand—I said "What brings you here this time of the morning?"—he said he had come after 2s. I owed him—I did not owe him 2s.—I said "You young rascal, you have got my trousers there"—he said "No, I have not"—I said "Get up," and I took my trousers and pulled the money, 41l. 17s. 3d., out of the pockets—he had worked eight months for me, and left without notice about four weeks before—I called my son up and sent him into the yard to see if there was anyone else there—I went down to the street door and called a policeman in—the prisoner said he got through the wicket-gate with the knife and went in the office in the yard, at 11 o'clock at night, that he watched us all to bed and saw my son come in at 12. 15, and he made his way to come through the sheds at 2 o'clock into the house—he had unlatched the door next to the yard and got over two stacks of iron in the sheds, and into the kitchen—they all communicate with the inner door of the house—there was also a door in the kitchen which leads to the stairs—he had pushed that door open—I always found him very honest—I have sent him out with cheques to get changed, and he has fetched them all right—I never found anything against him—after he left my service I sent my son round to his lodgings, and he sent a message back by my son—he said "Tell your father I have got a place for 18s. and I don't want to come back to him, "
Prisoner. He says he did not owe me 2s., and I say he did. He said I moved his trousers, but I had not. I was lying down close by them.
JOHN DICKENSON (Policeman K R 30). I was called up stairs and found the prisoner with his boots, coat, and cap off—I left him in charge of the prosecutor's son and examined the premises—I found his boots in the office in the yard, and at the foot of the stairs in the kitchen his coat and cap—I
took him to the station and searched him, and found this knife—I examined the lock of the gate and found marks on the latch of the wicket, leading from the street into the yard—the prisoner said he had come to ask Mr. Richardson for 2s.
Tlte Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "The marks on the gate were done when I worked for Mr. Richardson, and opened the gate so."
Prisoner's Defence. I used to work there; the children used to open the gate with a knife regularly. I always understood he owed me 2s. He told me to keep away if I could not get there at 6 o'clock. I was passing there and I thought I would ask him for 2s. I did not like to ask him till I see him going to bed, and I thought it was too late, and I thought I would go up and try, and I went up and he found me. I had not moved the trousers.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 25th, 1873.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr. Esq.
606. WILLIAM KING (17), and RICHARD HILL (16), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a chest of tea, of Joseph Baxendale and others, both having been before convicted.— One Month's Imprisonment and Five Years in a Reformatory.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and M. SIMS the Defence.
EDWARD RILEY . I am a cab proprietor, and live at 11, Cumberland Place, Chelsea—I deal with Messrs. Green, the corn chandlers—the prisoner was their traveller—on 16th June I paid him 13l. 5s., and on 9th July, 10l.—I produce the receipts—I saw him with them.
Cross-examined. I had transactions with him during the three years he was in Messrs. Green's service, and paid him various sums.
Cross-examined. I believe I paid him all in silver.
HENRY GREEN . I am a corn merchant, in Upper Thames Street, in partnership with Mr. Sedgwick—the prisoner has been in our service three years as traveller—his duties were to solicit orders, collect moneys, and pay them in to us either the same day or the following morning—he was provided with a book—this is it—there is no amount entered on 16th June as received from Mr. Riley—on 10th July there is an entry, not of 10l. but of 13l. 5s. from Mr. Riley—on 11th July there is no entry of 23l. 2s. from Mr. Farmer—the prisoner has never paid me those two sums of 10l. and 23l. 2s.—he was in the service three or four weeks after 9th July—we then discharged him on discovering the first item of 10l.—I spoke to the prisoner about it, and he said there was some confusion in Riley's account—I afterwards discovered the other item, and gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. He solicited orders, and was paid a commission upon them when the accounts were paid in full—I first charged him with embezzling the 10l.; at the same time I charged him with embezzling a sum of 1l. 10s., that ought to have been paid in on 28th February, and we found
a like amount entered on 3rd March, therefore we did not go into that—that was an amount due from a man named Dawes, who was paying by instalments—the prisoner had kept back that amount for three days—I don't know on what day he was discharged, I think it was the latter end of August—we theu wrote to his sureties for these two sums of 10l. and 1l. 10s.—we afterwards applied for the 23l.—I did not write, my partner did—I have only one partner, Mr. Sedgwick—he has a son who is a clerk, a young man, not our principal clerk—we have a stall at the Corn Exchange—we close there at 3 o'clock—it is a busy time at 3 o'clock—young Mr. Sedgwick is here—this memorandum book of the prisoner's shows the amounts of money received on various days—that book was taken from him when he was given in charge—he was not admitted to bail—we serve Mr. Maggs, of Dowgate Hill—our cash-book shows his payments—it is not here—any payments he would receive from Maggs should be in this book; the entries are in his writing, and are initialed—"W. K. S." are my partner's initials, "G. A. S." his son's, "J. S. S." our principal clerk's, and "P. S." another son of my partner's; he only assisted in his brother's absence, he is not regularly in our employ—every item received by the prisoner should be entered in this book, it was his own fault if it was not—he sometimes paid over money at our office in Upper Thames Street, and sometimes at the Corn Exchange—he had to solicit orders and we paid him a third of the profit upon such orders as he brought, together with a small salary—if there was a loss, his commission was deducted—our principal business is with corn dealers—the prisoner was town traveller, and had to go about to all parts of London—I heard that he called at the office after he was discharged, and my partner's son told me that he once saw him at the Corn Exchange—I never saw him, or I should have given him into custody—it was four or five weeks after he was discharged that he was given into custody—I gave him in charge—I met him in a court in Lombard Street, and he made some remark about his coming down to square accounts and so forth; however, I looked for a policeman, and gave him into custody.
Re-examined. It was the prisoner's duty to enter all moneys he received in this book, and when he paid in money to have it initialed by the person receiving it—we paid him 1l. a week salary in addition to a third of the profits—we found out this second item about three weeks after he was discharged.
By THE COURT. There had been a previous delinquency, which we condoned, and he was told by me that the next time it occurred he would be given into custody; that occurred twice, with trifling amounts—he has a wife and three or four childreu.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, September 26th, 1873.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; MESSRS. HOLLINGS and SIMS defended Atkins; and MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and WARNER SLEIGH defended De Valero.
JOHN BRUCE SMALLMAN . I am cashier to Messrs. Hemes, Farquhar & Co., of St. James's Street—Captain Candy, of Park Street, Grosvenor Square, has an account at that bank—on 19th May, between 10 and 11 o'clock a. m., Trimblett, a commissionaire, came to the bank and handed me an undirected envelope—I opened it and found this cheque: (Read: "Messrs. Herries, Farquhar, & Co., please pay bearer 400l. Henry Candy. May 17, 1873"—it is written on a sheet of paper—I took the cheque and envelope to Mr. Farquhar, and left them with him—on the afternoon of the 19th another commissionaire came and handed me a letter addressed to Mr. Farquhar—I took it in to him, and received instructions to pay a 400l. cheque—I paid it with three 100l. notes, Nos. 57, 779, 58, 236, and 58, 237, dated 11th January, 1873, and twenty 5l. notes, numbered from 37, 680 to 37, 700, inclusive, dated 5th February—they were handed to the commissionaire.
WALTER RANDOLPH FARQUHAR . I am a member of the firm of Herries, Farquhar, & Co., bankers, of St. James's Street—on 19th May this cheque for 400l., with an undirected envelope, was shown to me by the cashier—in consequence of the amount, I wrote a letter to Captain Candy—he is a friend of mine and a customer—he keeps a very good account, and there was money enough to pay that cheque—the letter was given to the commissionaire—we retained the cheque—my letter was simply to know whether the cheque was right, and I added that there were some swindlers about, and I thought it was necessary to take that precaution before I could pay it—I directed the letter to Captain Candy, and in the afternoon I received this letter: (Read: "19th May, 1873. My dear Farquhar, the cheque presented to you this morning was given by me to Captain Ford. I dare say you were right in not paying the commissionaire. Please pay the bearer. (Signed) Henry Candy."—I. thought that was written by Captain Candy, and in consequence of that letter I had notes to the amount of 400l. put into an envelope and given to the commissionaire, directed to Captain Candy—I know now, from Captain Candy telling me, that the cheque and letter are not in his writing—they are wonderful, imitations, I could not tell one from the other.
HENRY CANDY . I live at 22, Park Street, Grosvenor Square—I have an account at Herries, Farquhar & Co.'s bank—on 17th May I was at the Eltham Races, and had occasion to pay two bets with two cheques for 10l. each, which I drew at the meeting—I believe these are them (produced)—before the Eltham Meeting I had known Valero by sight—he was at that meeting—this cheque for 400l. is not signed by me or by my authority, nor is this letter—I did not employ a commissionaire to take that letter for me on 19th May—I believe I was not in London on that day—I have known Valero as attending race meetings.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I have seen him frequently during the last six months—the first time I noticed him was at Hampton—I attend small races very often—I don't know the men to whom I gave the two 10l. cheques—I wrote them in the weighing-room after the race; they were for bets—the bet was about "Milanese" at Windsor Races, and a man came up to me at Eltham Races, and said "You owe me 10l."—I said "I have not got 10l., I will write you a cheque in the weighing-room," and I did so—I did not know who the men were who I made the bets with—I owed 20l. to some men, I did not know who—they did not ask me to pay at the time—the horse fell; and I ran out of the ring to see who was riding it—I was only at Eltham one day; I believe it was a Saturday—I asked
somebody in the weighing-room what the date was, and I think it was the 17th.
Re-examined. I am well known at these race meetings—I used to ride a good deal—I was in the Lancers.
DANIEL TRIMBLETT . I live at 22, Castle Street, Long Acre—I am a commissionaire, and I was stationed at Long's Hotel, Bond Street, in May—while I was there, Atkins came up to me and gave me an undirected envelope; he had a moustache at that time—he asked me whether I knew Mr. Farquhar's bank in St. James's Street—I said "Yes"—he said "Take this letter to Mr. Farquhar's Bank, and bring me back an answer at Verrey's Café, in Regent Street, I shall be there with two ladies"—as I was going away he said "When you get it, don't you lose it"—I said that I would not—I went to the bank and delivered the envelope to Mr. Smallman, the cashier—after waiting a little while I received an envelope in answer, addressed to "Captain Candy," I took it to Verrey's, but did not find Atkins there—I looked about for him, and as I was coming out a welldressed young gentleman walked in and called for a glass of wine—that was Valero—I stood outside waiting for Captain Candy—Valero called a cab from the opposite side of the street, and when the cab came across he said to me "Have not you been to Farquhar's bank for Captain Candy?"—I said "Yes, sir, I have, I was to meet him here in company with two ladies"—he said "Captain Candy is engaged, he can't come, he sent me to fetch the note"—I gave him the letter, as he mentioned Captain Candy's name, and said "I hope it is quite correct"—he said "Oh, yes, it is quite correct"—he gave me a half-crown, got into the cab and drove towards Waterloo Place—I have not a particle of doubt about the two prisoners being the persons I have spoken of—on 31st July, I went down to Goodwood Races with the officers in the case—I saw Valero there, and identified him, and he was taken in custody—I had seen him again before I saw him at Goodwood, and took a letter for him to a gentleman at Shepherd's Bush, between 7 and 8 o'clock on Saturday night—at that time I knew him as the person I had seen in Regent Street.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. It was about mid-day that I took the letter from Long's Hotel—I am not sure it was 19th May—I never saw Atkins again till I identified him at Marlborough Street Police Court; I dou't know, the date—I never saw him after he gave me the letter till I saw him at the Police Court—I identified him in a moment from four or five men—I have not always said I had not a particle of doubt—I always bore it in my mind as much as I could—I remember saying at the Police Court, that, to the best of my belief, he was the man, but the more I saw the man the better I knew him—the interview lasted about seven minutes—he was telling me where to go and where to come to—it took place at the corner of Clifford Street—we always take particular notice of people who send us—I mean me and my mate, we were both together—to the best of my belief he was wearing a moustachehe was clean shaved when I saw him at the Police Court—he had a small stumpy moustache when I received the letter from him.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS., I saw Valero a second time when he sent me to Shepherd's Bush—I knew then he was the man who received the letter from me—he was at the corner of Clifford Street when he sent me to Shepherd's Bush—it was between 7 and 8 o'clock on a Saturday night—I did not see any constable about—he was talking to me about five
minutes—there was no answer to bring back—I did not attempt to stop him till a constable came—I saw him in the park at Goodwood, outside the racecourse—I went down with two officers—when we got to Goodwood the officers left me, and I stood and smoked my pipe—Druscovitch came and told me to look round—I did not see Micklejohn go up to the prisoner and shake hands with him—after I was told to look round, I walked round the little railing place where they come from the grand stand, and I saw the prisoner with three or four, and Mr. Micklejohn was talking to some of his own friends—I daresay the prisoner was five or six yards from Mieklejohn—I identified the prisoner, went back and told Druscovitch, and he took him in custody—I did not see Micklejohn put his hand on the prisoner's shoulder—I knew at the time he sent me to Shepherd's Bush, that there was a forged cheque in existence that had been Bent, and I knew he was the man who received the envelope from me which contained the answer—I communicated that to the police.
Re-examined. I recognised him directly I saw him—he was not pointed out to me in any way—I was taken there to see if I could recognise anyone—I communicated with the police after I had been to Shepherd's Bush.
EDWARD RICHARD BINKS . I am a commissionare, and live at 70, George Street, Euston Road—I generally stand inside the Junior United Service Club—about the end of May last the prisoner Atkins called me and handed me a letter, and told me to take it to Farquhar's bank, in St James' Street, and there would be an answer—I said "What is your name, in case I should not get answer, to ask for you when I come back"—he said "Captain Candy"—I took the letter to Farquhar's bank, and received a packet in answer, which I took to Cremorne Restaurant, in Leicester Square, as Atkins had told me—I saw him and he said "Have you brought an answer for me I"—I said "Yes," and he took it from me, put it in his pocket, paid me 2s. and left.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINOS. I have not got the date of this—I think it was just before the Derby Day—I rather think it was in the afternoon, but I won't be certain—I speak to Atkins with certainty now, and so I did at the Police Court, where I picked him out of six in the back-jard—I spoke to him as far as my recollection went—when he gave me the letter he had on a brown great coat and a tall hat, and he had a moustache which he has not now—I say to the best of my recollection and belief he is the man.
ALFRED WALKER . I am in the service of the Fore Street Warehouse Company—I know Atkins by the name of Neale—he has dealt at our place on several occasions—on 20th May he came and asked for some coloured handkerchiefs for a boat-race between Spencer and Kilsby—he bought two pieces for 2l. 11s.—I made up the parcel and took him to the desk to pay the cashier—I have an entry of the transaction in our book.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINOS. It was between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning—I had known him before—I am quite certain of the day—we conversed about what he wanted the handkerchiefs for—I take a great interest in boat racing.
FREDERICK JONES . I am in the service of the Fore Street Warehouse Company—on 20th May I received payment of 2l. 11s. from Mr. Neale—he paid me with this 5l. note, No. 37, 683, and I gave him change—this is my writing—"Neale, Putney, 20/5/73"—Neale did not give me the address—I had it given.
Cross-examined. I received the note from Neale—I do not remember the person—I took the note in payment of the goods sold by Walker, and I identify the note by my writing on it.
JOHN WILLIAM DUPERE . I am clerk to my uncle, who is a tobacconist, in Bouverie Street, Fleet Street—I live at Greenwich—I have known Atkiua by the name of O'Neill—somewhere about 19th, 20th, or 21st May, he bought a box of cigars of me, in payment for which he gave me a 5l. note—I had not enough change in the till and I changed it out of my own pocket—I took the note with me to Greenwich and paid it away that evening or next day to Mr. Hurdle.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I had known Atkins two or three months, by coming to the office to buy cigars—I think I have had bets with him—the 5l. note was not in payment of any bet, he gave me gold for that, this was in payment for cigars.
SAMUEL HURDLE . I keep the Coach and Horses, in Market Street, Greenwich—I changed a 5l. note for Mr. Dupere—on 29th May I paid in 50l. to the London and County Bank, at Greenwich, amongst which was two 5l. notes, one of those I had received from Mr. Dupere.
ALFRED THOMAS ROANTREE . I am a clerk at the Greenwich branch of the London and County Bank, where Mr. Hurdle keeps an account—on 29th May 50l. was paid in to his credit—amongst it was two 5l. notes, one was No. 37, 681—it has our stamp on it.
GEORGE VENDERCOM . I live at 53, Great Tichfield Street, and am in the service of Mr. Baker, a licensed victualler there—I have known Atkins as O'Neill about three years, by using the house—somewhere about May or June last he tendered me a 100l. note in payment of a glass of stout—I said we were not a bank, he took it back and tendered me a 5l. note—I gave it to Mr. Baker, and he gave him change—it was after the race for the "Two. Thousand "and before the Derby.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. He said "The ‘Two Thousand' has done this for me"—he did not tell me from whom he won it.
WILLIAM HENRY BAKER . I am landlord of the house—I have known Atkins two or three years by the name of O'Neill—I remember changing a 5l. note for him, either on 23rd May, or within eight or ten days before—I paid it away, in a lump sum of 50l., to my distillers, Messrs. Nicholson.
FREDERICK KILSBY . I live at 15, Upper Park Fields, Putney, and am a waterman—I know the prisoners—I have not known much of Valero—I have known Atkins for some time by the name of James O'Neill, Valero I knew as Fred, and as attending race meetings—in May last there was a boat race in contemplation, between Spencer and Kelly—O'Neill always took a great deal of interest in any boat races—I am a professional rower—he was frequently at Putney—I was at the Croydon races-two or three times this year, I don't know about the dates, I saw Valero there—he asked me if I knew Jem, at least he did not ask me if I knew him, because he knew that I knew him; that was O'Neill—I told him I was going to meet him that night and he told me to tell him that he had better go out of town a little while—he did not say why; I took no interest in it—I did not trouble my head about them—that was all he said—I saw Atkins that same evening and told him what Fred, had said, that he had better go out of town for a few days—I don't
remember whether I asked him what it was for, in all probability I did—he said something about there had been some money got, and he thought he had better go away—he said he had heard that there was a warrant out for him, and he asked me if I knew any place where he could go and stay a little while—I gave him the address of Mrs. Brown, 96, West Street, Gravesend—I don't know whether the race between Spencer and Kelly had come off at that time, it was just about that time, within a week either way—I afterwards went down to Gravesend, and found him living there, in the name of Spencer—he had been about with Spencer a good deal, at Putney—he paid great attention to that race, and had a lot of money on it—I was at the race, and saw him there.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I am a rowing man—I do not get my living by it entirely—I am clerk to a bookmaker, who attends races—I have known Atkins many years—I have had a great many money transacttions with him—I saw him nearly every day at Putney about the time of the race between Kelly and Spencer—I went to Gravesend to see how he was getting on—I was on friendly terms with him—I was doing some business for him, drawing some money from persons who were owing it on the boat race—I owe him a little money—I have not paid him, because I have not got it—I was supboenaed as a witness in this case—Micklejohn communicated with me before—I did not volunteer any evidence to him—I did not go to him; he came to Putney and met me one evening—I did not know who he was—he said "I have come to ask you about Fred, sending a message from Croydon to the other one"—I said "Yes; I presume you are Micklejohn"—I had never seen him before, to my knowledge; I presumed he was Micklejohn by his asking me the question—I thought no man would ask me about it except a police sergeant, and I anticipated it was him, reading so much about him.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. It was at Croydon Races that Valero told me to give this message to O'Neill—I have no idea of the date—we were not talking alone, it was in the afternoon, a man named Shine was present; I have not the slightest idea what he is, he attends races; I should call him a backer of horses—I saw O'Neill that night at the Rose and Crown, Commercial Road, Lambeth, where our rowing club is held—he said he had heard there was a warrant out against him—he said there was no cause, that he had done no harm; it was to save bother—that was how I understood it—it is not at all uncommon in the betting ring for a man to have two names, a private name and a betting name.
Re-examined. I knew Atkins by the name of James O'Neill—he did not tell me why he took the name of Spencer when he went to Gravesend.
MARTHA BROWN . I am a widow, and live at 96, West Street, Gravesend'—I am a friend of Mr. Kilsby—Atkins came to lodge with me from 7th June to 15th July, in the name of Spencer—he did not tell me what he was—he said Mr. Kilsby had recommended him—my daughter made out his bills—I have since seen some of them in the possession of the police—when he left on 15th July he did not say where he was going—I expected him back to supper as usual—he did not come back—I heard through the papers that he was in custody.
JOHN MICKLEJOHN (Detective Sergeant). I have, together with Inspector Druscovitch, had charge of the inquiries respecting this case—on 30th July, in company with Druscoviteh, I went to Southend—I saw Atkins walking up Scratton Road, and go into No. 17, there—he came out again shortly
after—I followed and overtook him, and said "Jim, I want you"—he said "What do you mean by Jim"—I said "Your name is James O'Neill"—he said "No; my name is Atkins. What do you want me for?"—I said "I want you for forging and uttering a cheque for 400l. on Messrs. Herries, Farquhar & Co., of St. James's Street, in May last"—he said "I know nothing whatever about it"—I am frequently in the habit of attending races as a detective officer—I have known Atkins in the name of James O'Neill attending races—I have also known Valero attending races—I knew him as Fred. Wheeler—when Atkins said he knew nothing about it, Drug, covitch came up with the 400l. cheque, and called Atkins' attention to itAtkins said "I know nothing about it; I never had it"—he was then taken into custody—these two bills of Mrs. Brown's were found in his box at the house in Scratton Road—on Thursday, 31st July, I went with Druscovitch to Goodwood; the races were over when we got there—I went to a place under the trees, behind the enclosure, and there saw Valero; I came round close beside him—he said "Halloa, Jack"—I said "Halloa. Fred." and he came up and shook hands with me—there were two or three persons with him, standing talking to him, betting men—I stood two or three minutes talking to him about the races—he asked what I was doing there—I said I had come down to see the fun—Druscovitch then came up, tapped me on the shoulder, and made some communicatiod to me, in consequence of which we followed Valero, and he was taken into custody.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I have been in the habit of going to race meetings as a detective for nine years—I have constantly seen Kilsby—I have not known him intimately—I knew him at Putney, where he lives, previous to my being transferred to Scotland Yard—I have not spoken to him—I never was intimate with him—I had not spoken to him in April and May, nor I should say for quite eighteen months or more prior to this case—he must have known me well enough—I should think he knew me well before this, I was stationed at Wandsworth, and frequently saw him—he did not give me any information as to the apprehension of the prisoners—he made no communication with reference to Gravesend—I did not see him prior to the prisoners' apprehension—I saw him since, one afternoon at Putney—I met him there accidentally—he recognised me in a minute, of course, when I spoke to him—I simply said "Frank, I have got Jem O'Neill, and Fred, in custody, I suppose you have heard of it;" and he said "I know all about it," and he gave me the information that was taken down at Mr. Mullen's office—the prisoners had been examined before the Magistrate at that time and remanded.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I and Druscovitch and Trimblett went to Goodwood together—Trimblett was under the trees—when I went up to Valero and shook hands with him, he was standing with two or three betting men—they were not friends of mine—Trimblett went with me for the purpose of identifying the man.
Re-examined. I don't know where Trimblett and Druscovitch were when I went up and shook hands with Valero—we did not know positively that Valero was at the races, but we presumed that he was there and we went there to look for him.
NATHANIEL DRUSCOVITCH . I am chief inspector of the detective police at Scotland Yard—I took Atkins into custody on 30th July—I said "O'Neill, I am going to take you into custody for forgery upou Messrs. Farquhar & Herries, in London"—he said "My name is not O'Neill, my name is
Atkins, and I know nothing at all about what you are speaking of"—I showed him the cheque and he repeated that he knew nothing at all about it—he asked where I was going to take him to—I said in the first instance to search his lodging—I went with him to 17, Scratton Road, and searched the first floor front room—he was afterwards brought to London and placed in the yard at Marlborough Street Police Court, with five or six others—I sent for Trimblett, to see if he could identify any person, and he identified Atkins—when the charge was entered he said he was as innocent as a baby—I had received from Trimblett a description of the man to whom he had given the letter at Verrey's—I had known Valero for some years as Fred. Wheeler and Flash Fred—on Thursday, 31st July, I went with Mieklejohn and Trimblett to Goodwood—I saw Mieklejohn speak to Valero—in consequence of what Trimblett said I went after Valero, and said "Fred. I want you"—he said "What for?"—I said "For the forgery of a cheque of 400l. upon Farquhar & Herries, in which James O'Neill is also concerned, and who is now in custody"—he said "I know nothing about the cheque, I know you have got Jem in custody, and I was fully aware of your every movement"—I brought him to London—he gave the name of Frederico de Valero—I found on him some keys—he said "Are you going to search my place."—I said "Yes"—he said "You will not find any papers there, nor will you have the satisfaction of finding even blotting paper"—he gave his address "4, Stafford Place, Buckingham Gate"—I went there, Mrs. Fernandez pointed out the rooms to me, and I found this album with some writing in it, a large quantity of papers, and a number of drafts of letters—he also gave me an address at Brighton—he said "I hope you will take care of my things which are down there"—I said "Where?"—he said "At Belvedere Mansion, Brighton"—I went there and searched, and in a portmanteau I found a draft of a letter and two bills made out to Valero.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. Atkins had on a light overcoat when I took him—the other persons amongst whom I placed him were pianoforte makers, just leaving work—they were mostly dressed in dark clothes—they were total strangers to me—I won't swear whether Atkins was the only one in a light coat.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I had known Valero, about racecourses, for some time, but had never spoken to him—I did not see Mieklejohn shake hands with him—I was, perhaps, forty yards off them, and Trimblett was about fifteen yards from me at the time I caught sight of Valero.
HENRY WILSON HAZLEGRAVE . I am in the Accountant's Bank Note Office, in the Bank of England—I produce three 5l. notes, Nos. 37, 698, 37, 681, and 37, 683—I have searched for three 100l. notes, Nos. 57, 779, 58, 326, and 58, 327, only one of those has been paid in, 68, 326 and 58, 327 are still outstanding.
JOSEPH BUCHANAN . I live at 112, York Road, Lambeth, and am a commission agent—I have known Atkins about three months, as O'Neill—I saw him at Phelps' public-house, in Westminster Bridge Road, in March last—he asked if I had an account with the London and Westminster Bank—I said "Yes"—he asked would I oblige him with a cheque of mine—I said "Yes"—he called next day, and as my account was run out, I said he had better have two, in fact I proffered him the book—I tore out the last two, I believe, and gave them to him—he did not tell me what he wanted them for.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I have never given blank cheques to
other persons, I have borrowed cheques on the same banker's—here are eight other counterfoils that have no writing on them, those I used myself, I am quite sure I did not give them away to anybody—I can say I gave these two to Atkins because they were the last out of my book—there is no writing on the other counterfoils, but the cheque-book was in my drawer, and nobody but myself was allowed to take it.
By THE COURT. I cannot say how long I had had a banking account—I do not remember his telling me that he banked at the London and Westminster—I have not a very good memory, I see so many persons at races, and if they ask me for a thing in the way of business I should give it them—I always thought Atkins was a respectable man—he did not tell me what he wanted the cheques for, and I did not ask him—I thought he banked at the same bank.
JAMES LAING . I am hall-porter, at the Junior United Service Club, at the corner of Pall Mall—Colonel Longley is a member of that Club—in March last Valero came and asked for Colonel Longley—I told him he was not in, and, I believed, not in town—he requested to be allowed to write a note to him—he was shown by one of the pages into the stranger's room, where there was a pen and ink and some of the club paper, in different colours—he wrote a note there, and left it for Colonel Longley, this is it, it is addressed to Major G. Longley—I afterwards gave it up to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I was first spoken to about this matter about the beginning of May—persons come in daily to write notes and see members—I think it was towards the end of March—I was afterwards taken, by Inspector Clark, to Great Marlborough Street, to see if I could identify the person who had left the note—I saw Valero there, among five or six others, and I picked him out—he had not been described to me—I did not notice how the persons were dressed, I looked at their faces—he was dressed very differently to what he was when he called at the club—I would not swear he is the man, but to the best of my belief he is—I have no doubt about it, but the lapse of time is so great I would not undertake to swear it.
SAMUEL CANDY . I am manager to Poole & Co., tailors, of Savile Row—on Saturday, 22nd March, a person called and brought this letter, addressed to Mr. Poole, the envelope was stamped "United Service Club," and the letter is on the club paper—(Read: "Pall Mall, S. W., 22nd March. Sir,—Will you oblige me by cashing enclosed cheque and handing change to bearer, less 30l. off the account I hope to send you the balance on my return to town, in a few weeks hence, G. Longley.") The letter contained a cheque on the London and Westminster Bank for 260l., payable to G. Longley, or bearer; drawn by Edward Hanning Lee—(This was drawn on one of the cheques given by the witness Buchanan to Atkins.) I fail to recognise the person who brought it—we had not the money at our place of business—I promised to send out for it—I sent the cheque to our banker's, the City Bank, and got the money—the person who brought the letter went away and was to return in a few minutes—I deducted the 30l. and the rest of the money, 230l., I put in an envelope, and addressed it to Colonel Longley—he has been a customer of ours for some years, and there was an account owing—about two hours afterwards a commissionaire came for an answer to the note, and brought this letter: "Sir, I shall be much obliged by your handing the change of my cheque to the bearer; my friend tells me he was to have returned in a few minutes. Yours truly, G. Longley."
I gave the commissionaire the envelope containing the money—the cheque was afterwards returned to us, and the loss is ours.
EDWARD STANTON . I am a commissionaire, stationed at the Army and Navy Club, in Pall Mall—on Saturday, 22nd March, between 12. 45 and 1 o'clock, Atkins came and spoke to me outside the club—he asked if I could take a note to Poole's—I said "Yes"—he gave me the note and told me to wait for an answer; he called himself Major Longley; I was to walk there, be as quick as I could, and when I got the answer I was to take a cab to the Cremorne Restaurant Branch, Leicester Square—I went to Poole's, left the letter, and got an answer, and took it to the Cremorne Restaurant—I did not see Atkins when I arrived there, after a little time I saw him in the middle of Coventry Street, coming from Piccadilly Circus—my cab was waiting when he came up; he said "Have you got the answer?"—I said "Yes, sir," and gave it to him, and he gave me 3s.—I asked him if I was to pay the cab—he said "Yes," and then he said "Never mind, here is a bob for the cabman," and he gave 1s. to the cabman—he then made his exit as quick as he could—I was afterwards brought to Newgate, and in the yard saw a number of persons, twelve or thirteen, or more, and I there picked him out—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. HOLLINGS. I had not seen him since March, until I saw him in Newgate last Tuesday fortnight—I did not communicate with the police—Sergeant Micklejohn came to the club and inquired who had taken a note to Poole's last March, and I said I was the man—he asked if I should know the man again, and I said yes, I should know him out of a thousand, and I described him—my attention was specially drawn to him, I made a note in my book at the time—this is it "Took a letter, 12. 55, to Poole's; took answer to Cremorne Branch, Prinoes Street, March 22nd"—that is how I fix the dates—he said he was Major Longley—he did not look like a military gentleman—he had on an overcoat, a high hat, and either a skin collar or a skin waistcoat—he wore a moustache.
Re-examined. I am not an old soldier; I am an old sailor—I have not the slightest doubt about him.
COLONEL GEORGE LONGLEY . I am a lieutenant-colonel in the Army, and am a member of the United Service Club—I have an account at Poole's—in March last I was away from England—I went to Corsica and afterwards to Malta—I returned about a month or six weeks ago—I know nothing of the writer of this note, "Dear George, I will call and see you on Thursday next. J. B."—I was not a major when I went away—these two notes, addressed to Mr. Poole, are not my writing—I know nothing of them—I did not send this cheque for 260l.; it was never in my possession.
THOMAS ROBERTS . I am a traveller to Mr. Johnson, tailor, 34, Sackville Street—I know Yalero as Frederick Wheeler; he was a customer of Mr. Johnson's—in February last he owed 110l.; Mr. Johnson drew on him for that amount, I took the bill to him, and saw him accept it—this is it; it is a four months' bill, dated 1st February, 1873.
JOHN BROWN JOHNSON . I am a tailor, at 34, Sackville Street—I know Valero as Wheeler—he was a customer—this bill was drawn by one of my clerks, and after it was accepted was brought to me—before it became due
I received those two letters, purporting to come from Wheeler, asking me to hold over the bill—it never was paid.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I have known him about three years—I have made for him all that time—he always paid me until this.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I live at 18, Golden Square, and am a lithographer, and expert in handwriting—I have had a large experience in handwriting for the last thirty years; I have made it a study—I have seen all the documents put in, and examined and compared them thoroughly, and in my judgment they are in the handwriting of the person who signs himself "F. Wheeler" in the letters to Mr. Johnson; also the cheque for 260l., the letter left at the club, and the two letters to Mr. Poole, they are all undoubtedly in the same handwriting—I would call attention to the words "I will call and see you on, "both in the letter to Mr. Johnson, and the one to Colonel Longley—I. have seen this Latin quotation in the album, it is in the same handwriting; if you look at the capital "F" in Frederick you will see it in a moment.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I have been examined as a witness on a great many occasions—I believe that I have always been correct—I cannot call to mind anything, perhaps your memory is better than mine—you have examined me before, and although you got your case, I think you were perfectly satisfied that I was correct; it was a case of Post-office Orders; Mr. Commissioner Kerr said there was no evidence whatever except that of the expert, and you had two experts on your side that I never heard of before or since—Mr. Chabot and I have been together very often, and I believe three times in our lives we have been opposed, upon an isolated signature to a will, and it will never be known till the day of judgment which was right—I gave my opinion and Mr. Chabot gave his; experts disagree and so do doctors.
Re-examined. If it is wished I can point out the similarities—I have not the slightest doubt about the matter—the cheque is very cleverly done, but the letters are shocking.
ELIZABETH FERNANDEZ . I am a widow, and live at 4, Stafford Place, Buckingham Gate—Valero lodged with me in the names of De Valero and Wheeler—I pointed out his rooms to the officer who came there and made a search.
ATKINS— GUILTY .*†—
VALERO— GUILTY .**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude each.
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 26, 1873.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY GODLEY . I am landlord of 20, Robert Street—I let it out to lodgers—Thomas Eden and James Gibson are lodgers of mine—the prisoner had lodged with me—he left six or eight weeks before this without paying me his week's rent or giving me the latch key—on the night of 13th September the door was shut about 1.30—the policeman afterwards showed me this latch key (produced); it is the key of my door—I have others like it—all the lodgers had keys.
THOMAS EDEN . I am a labourer, and lodged at Mr. Godley's in a front kitchen with Gibson—on 13th September I went to bed about 11. 45, and placed my two coats on the bed—I heard a knocking at the front door about 1.30, went up stairs to let the lodger in, and as I went down again I heard a shuffling—I called somebody down who called a constable, who found the prisoner in a back vault, crouching up in a corner—I afterwards found my two coats in a copper in the back kitchen—they were safe on the bed when I went up to let the lodger in.
JAMES GIBSON . I occupied this kitchen with Eden—on 13th September I came home at 1.30 or 1. 40—I opened the deor, and hearing somebody on the stairs I closed it, and called the other lodger—I then fetched a policeman, and we three went into the back vault and found the prisoner there—we then went into the back kitchen and found two coats in the copper.
Prison r's Defence. I entered the house to pay the landlord, and gave him the latch key. He keeps a fried fish shop, and I went there to get some fish for my supper. Having had too much drink I wandered into the back yard, where I was found by the policeman, who took me into the kitchen and charged me with stealing the coats. I know nothing about them. I saw no lid to the copper.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
There was another indictment against the prisoner.
MR. MILLWOOD conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM LOOKYER . I am a shopman to Alfred Wagstaff, jeweller, of Bishopsgate Street—on 2nd September, about 9 o'clock at night I was in the shop and heard the smash of glass—I turned round and saw the prisoner with his hand in the window—I ran out and he escaped—I saw a quantity of jewellery on the pavement and in the road—I identified him half an hour afterwards.
Prisoner. I deny that you saw my hand in the window—I stumbled and broke the glass, but not wilfully.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MILLWOOD conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE WHEELER (City Policeman). On the evening of 2nd September I saw the prisoner go up to Mr. Levy's shop window and break it with his knee—I laid hold of him and asked him what he had done it for—he said he wanted to be locked up—I took him to the station arid found on him a knife, a pair of scissors, a tobacco-box, and a halfpenny—he said he would rather go gaol than the workhouse.
Prisoner. I did not say so; I had had something to drink, and slipped or stumbled. Witness. One window was broken at 9. o'clock, and the other at 9.30;
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BUCK conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD PERCY . I am manager to Mr. Lilley, who keeps a boot shopon 28th August I saw the prisoner rise up from the doorway—I got up off my stool and missed a pair of boots worth 8s. 6d.—I went outside and saw the prisoner with a bag under his left arm—I asked him what he had got—he dropped the boots and ran away, and I pursued him, brought him back and gave him in custody.
Prisoner. I looked at the boots and felt them, but I never moved from the door.
JOHN LORD (City Policeman 874). I took the prisoner and found 8 1/2 d. on him—Wheeler gave me the boots—the prisoner said at the station that he took them up and intended to buy them by paying 6d. a week.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not intend to steal the boots. I should have paid him 6d. down. I wanted them and was looking at them, but I never had them in my hand.
GUILTY .**—He had been nine times convicted.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
GEORGE WESTWOOD (City Policeman 707). On 9th August, about 9.30, I was on London Bridge, and saw the prisoner—he was afterwards taken to the station, but not by me—I searched him there and found in his pocket a quantity of papers, and these photographs (produced).
WILLIAM BOARDMAN . I am a preacher living at Clapham—on 9th August, about 9 p. m., I was crossing London Bridge, and missed ray pocket-book containing several receipts, and these photographs of my wife and myself, also a letter which I want, but which has evidently been thrown away with the pocket-book.
Cross-examined. I have lost the pocket-book.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE WESTWELD . On the same evening, about 9.30, I saw the prisoner on London Bridge, following a gentleman—I watched him, and in King William Street saw him take this handkerchief out of the gentleman's pocket and put it into his own—I caught hold of him—he struggled for some minutes, and said "I have got nothing, only what belongs to me"—I lost sight of the gentleman in the struggle.
Cross-examined. I was in plain clothes—he went about three yards before I caught him—no other handkerchief was found upon him—I never lost sight of him.
The Prisoners statement before the Magistrate. "The handkerchief belongs to me."
He was further charged with a previous conviction at Newington, in January, 1866, when he was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude; to this he PLEADED GUILTY.— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence. CHARLOTTE ALSOP. I live at 5, Providence Place, Limehouse, and am in the service of John Cox—the female prisoner is my brother's wife—I was not present at the marriage, but he brought her home, and I saw this marriage certificate, or this piece of paper, which looks like one—I also saw it at the Court of Queen's Bench, when it was put into Mary Cox's hands—I cannot swear that it was the same paper which I saw brought home—Mary Cox was a witness, and I heard her admit that it was true—the name on it is Mary Tonnage.
RICE. I obtained this certificate of the first marriage at st, John's, Bethnal Green—I compared it with the books, which are in Court, and the defendant admitted it before Baron Bramwell.
THOMAS CLAPHAM (Policeman K 369). I apprehended Cox on a warrant on 19th August—I read it to her, and she said "I did not know that I was doing any wrong; I am very sorry for it"—she said that she had married in her maiden name, and did not know she was doing wrong—I took Fletcher the next morning at Chigwell, and read the warrant to him—he said "I thought this case was done with; they are only doing it to get money out of me; I have been frequently to Rochester, and they would have known that if they wanted to find me"—he used the words he had got married, and did not know under the circumstances that he was doing wrong.
MR. M. WILLIAMS to RICK. Q. Were you at the Queen's Bench when the action was tried? A. Yes; it was against Fletcher, charging him with taking Mr. Cox's furniture away-twenty years ago, together with his wife—Cox was the plaintiff and Fletcher the defendant—the verdict was not for the defendant; 2s. damages was paid into Court, which was considered sufficient—the cause was heard about 2nd May—Cox gave his wife in custody for bigamy, as she left the Court—she was taken before Mr. Woolrych, who dismissed the charge—the prosecution at Westminster was adjourned from day to day for three hearings, and several witnesses were had up from Rochester, but by some trick the case was dismissed because they brought it on when we were not there.
NOT GUILTY .
616. The said MARY COX was again indicted, as MARY TONNAGE , for feloniously marrying Robert William Fletcher, her husband, George Cox, being alive; and ROBERT FLETCHER with inciting her to commit the said felony.
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
MR. HORRY stated that he could not prove that the prisoner knew that her husband was alive within fifteen years, upon which THE COURT directed a verdict of NOT GUILTY .
MR. HORRY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JOHN Cox. I am a master mariner—in 1846 I was married to Mary Tonnage, who I saw at Westminster—I have not seen her here—when I
came home from one of my voyages, in 1851, I found my house empty and my wife gone—I missed several things, two or three bolsters, some sheets, blankets, and chairs—they were taken away without my consent.
Cross-examined. My home is at Rochester—the goods were taken from there—I have not received them back.
EDWARD JOHN ROGERS . I live at Northfleet, Kent—I know John Cox—I knew him in 1851, residing at Rochester—I know Fletcher and Mrs. Cox—I knew the house where John Cox lived—in 1851 I saw Mrs. Cox and Fletcher together at the house—the furniture was taken away in a cart—I was next door, and saw them taken away, and when Mr. Cox came home he asked me where his things were—I saw them taken to New Road, Rochester.
THE COURT considered that there was no case, as the goods were not carried into the jurisdiction of this Court.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
JOHN HART . I am a collector, and live in the Clapham Road—on 2nd September, about 12. 10 at night, I was passing along Blackman Street, Borough—Connor ran across my path, and made a snatch at my watchchain—the chain broke, and he got the watch—he ran away down a court—I was about to follow when Cleary ran across my path, got down the court before me, and placed himself across the court, preventing me securing Connor—I endeavoured to push on one side, and eventually succeeded—I pushed past him, and when I got to the end of the court I found it was dark, and I came back—I saw Cleary standing at the top of the court—I ran towards him—he pulled the gate and ran off in the direction of Mint Street—I called out "Police!"—12 M came up and I gave him information—I saw both the prisoners at 4.30 the same morning, at the police-station, and picked them out from five or six others—I am quite certain they are the men—I have not seen my watch since.
Cross-examined. The court is 2 ft. 8 in. wide, and it was impossible for two people to pass—I pushed past Cleary by going sideways—there were two lamps, and I could see them as plainly as I see you now.
JONATHAN CHURCH (Policeman M R 12). I was on duty in Trinity Street and Blackman Street about 12. 10, and heard cries of "Police!" and I ran down to the court and saw the prosecutor—I went down the court into Mint Street, and while standing there a man came by—the prosecutor looked at him and said "I think that is the man"—I took the man to the station, and the prosecutor said then he was not the man at all—he gave a description of the two, and I went back again to the Mint and saw Connor in a shop—I put my hand on his shoulder, and said "Connor, I want you—he said "What for?"—I said "For stealing a watch in Blackman Street"—he said "Very well, I will go, I know nothing about it"—on the way to the station he said "How came you to know me?"—I said "I have known you some time"—he said "Do you think if I had the watch I should have been here now?"—I went again to the Mint with 175, and saw Cleary standing there—I had known him some time, but not in that name—we
went to a lodging-house and looked round, and then we went to Williams lodging-house and saw Cleary in bed; 175 told him the charge—he said he wished he had a gold watch—at first he said he was in bed at 9 o'clock, and afterwards at 12 o'clock—I saw him myself after 12 o'clock—I was present when the prosecutor picked them out—they were put with three more—two out of the cells and one man came out of the street—he went in front of Cleary and then at the back, and he saw the white on his coat and picked him out—the man I took first was like Connor—there is a gate at the end of the court; it is generally open.
Connor's Defence. I can assure you I am innocent of this. The man took me for somebody else. I was not the man.
Tliey also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted, Connor in June, 1872, and Cleary in November, 1871. CONNOR**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. CLEARY— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Justice Denmam.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY BREANG (Policeman L R 21). I was on duty in Lambeth Walk about 11 o'clock—I was called into a house—I found the prisoner lying on a bed in a back parlour, evidently in much pain—a little child was in the same room, vomiting into a pail—the name of the child was Rose Alice Catherall, about six years of age—I took them both to the workhouse, where they were treated by the resident surgeon—I was told to be at the work-house about 1 o'clock on the same day, and then I took the prisoner into custody—on her way to the Police Court she made a statement—she said "I left my apartments this morning, what things I had I sold, and the rest I gave away, and I fully intended doing this"—I had told her that she would be charged at the station with attempting to murder the child and with attempting to commit suicide—she said "I bought oxalic acid for myself, and precipitate powder for the child"—she said "The child's father has ruined me, and this is my revenge"—I took her to the station—I searched the room—I found this cup and spoon and two packets—the precipitate powder was all used, but there was a little oxalic acid in the blue paper—I also found her rent-book—she had left her apartments that morning, and paid her rent.
Prisoner. I do not recollect saying it was revenge. Witness. I am sure she said it was revenge—she used the word "revenge" more than once—I repeated the statement to the acting Inspector when the charge was made, and she then said "What the constable has said is quite correct"
WILLIAM WILKINSON . I live at 38, Lambeth Walk, and am assistant to Dr. Oswald—I see the paper before me marked "White precipitate powder—poison"—I cannot say whether it was sold by me, but it is my writing—it came from our shop; I cannot say when—I do not know by whom it was sold.
COURT. Q. How far is it from where the prisoner lives? A. About two minutes' walk.
Buffering from the effects of an irritant poison—I cannot say she was in any great danger—she has now recovered—she was quite well the next day—I gave her an emetic and treated her with chalk and magnesia and an egg—I do not think she had taken much of the poison—I examined the contents and found precipitate powder—I found both.
JOHN RUMBLE . I was at work in the house on the day in question—I heard the child cry—I went into the room and saw the prisoner on the bed—I asked what was the matter with her, and she said "I am in great agony"—I asked again "What is the matter?"—she said "I have taken poison"—I said "Did you take it wilfully or accidentally?" Wilfully, "What for?"—"I have my reasons for saying so"—she said she had her reasons and took it for revenge—when I saw her on the bed the child was standing in the front parlour—she was sick—I saw signs of that down her face.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I wish to say I had cause to do it."
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM WARBURTON . I am waiter at a refreshment contractor's, 142, Bermondsey Street—on Friday morning, 22nd August, about a quarter or twenty minutes past 1 o'clock, I was at the door of the house, unloading things—the prisoner was at the door; I heard Mr. Philcox order him away—I went into the warehouse to stow away some goods, and hearing a disturbance, some trussels being knocked over, I came out to see what was the matter—I saw the prisoner still there, he was a total stranger—I said "Why don't you go away when you have been told?"two or three timeshe said "I will put a b----chis into one of you b----s directly"—as I was going back to the warehouse I received a blow; I did not know I was stabbed till I felt the blood—I saw the prisoner strike the blow, but little thought it was a knife—I put my arm up as the blow was coming—somebody said I was stabbed, and I saw him part with something; I could not see that it was a knife—he took to his heels and ran, and I after him, with three or four of my mates—he ran into a policeman's arms, and asked for protection—he was very drunk—I was laid up for three weeks, and am weak and stiff now, but I think I can go to my work—I don't want to press against the poor fellow, he was mad drunk.
ELIJAH TALBOT (Policeman M 263). I took the prisoner into custody—I told him he was charged with stabbing—he said he knew nothing about it—I picked up this knife in Bermondsey Street, near Mr. Philcox's, it had fresh blood on it.
Prisoner's Defence. I am very sorry. I had no intention whatever of
hurting the man. I must have fallen against him, or he against me, as I had the knife in my hand.
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence. This prisoner was tried, with others, at the last Session (see page 382) and the Jury, as to him, being unable to agree, were, in two eases, discharged without returning a Verdict. The witnesses to-day gave precisely similar evidence, and the Jury, being again unable to argee, were discharged without a Verdict.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and M. SIMS the Defence.
GEORGE ROBINSON GALLYMORE . I am a carman to Mr. Williams—on 31st May, Mr. Smith sent me with the van to Hayes's Wharf, Tooley Street, where I received ten half chests and five caddies of tea—I drove to Cotton's Wharf, where I left the van for five minutes, in charge of my boy, and when I returned it was gone—I saw it again next morning, Sunday—my master's name was on it.
GALLYMORE. (This Witness, aged seven years, not understanding the nature of an oath, was not examined.)
WILLIAM O'SHEA . I live with my father, carman, at 51, Hickman's Folly, Dock Head, and am employed by him—on 31st May, I was near Cotton's Wharf and saw a van with the name of Williams on it—I could see no one in it—the prisoner, who I know by sight, and another chap, went into Cotton's Wharf, and one talked to the gatekeeper to keep his attention while the prisoner took the reins and drove away—I picked the prisoner out from twelve or fourteen others at the station.
Cross-examined. I was not called as a witness before the Magistrate till the third occasion—I could not see the boy in the van, because it had hoops—no man was with it; he went in to lodge his order, I suppose—I have never been convicted and was never charged before a Magistrate, only for a horse's sore shoulder—I picked the prisoner out directly I was called in—he was not taken into the cells and brought back again before I said that he was the man—I had a horse and van of my own, but I was standing on the pavement—the prisoner jumped up in a hurry, and, it being a covered van, I could not see him.
Re-examined. I saw him standing in the street before he jumped up—I knew him before, when he worked for Scott, and had seen him in the morning.
DAVID FRANCIS (Thames Detective Officer). I had charge of the prisoner from the station to the Police Court—he said "Mr. Francis, how do you think I shall get on?"—I said "I don't know, Jem"—he said "Well, I think I shall pull through it for the hides, but I shall have to battle the watch.
Cross-examined. Another constable was with me, Kingston, but the prisoner was handcuffed to my arm—this was by the cab stand in Southwark Bridge Road, at 10 o'clock a. m.—a large number of vehicles were about—he did not say "I shall pull through for the hides, but I don't bother much about the tea."
Cross-examined. I did not hear what the prisoner said, as I was behind Francis—we could not walk three abreast.
Prisoner'8 Defence. I am innocent.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been convicted at this Court in October, 1870, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for stealing the hides.
624. GEORGE HOPPER (24), and ALFRED HOOKER (20) , Stealing 718 yards of gimp and other articles, the property of Montague Barnett, the master of Hopper, to which HOPPER PLEADED GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
MONTAGUE BARNETT . I am a wholesale trimming manufacturer—Hopper was in my service three years and a half—I found a letter from which I discovered that he had been robbing me—I sent one of our representatives to Hooker's shop with a detective—I have seen Hooker about my premises in the middle of the day, speaking to Hopper on each occasion—he had no business there connected with me.
JAMES HAM (Detective Sergeant). I took Hopper—he confessed to me, and on the same day I went with Inspector Dann to Hooker's shop, 39, Commercial Road—I took this parcel with me, which Mr. Lewis gave me—I went in and said "Mr. Hooker"—he said "Yes"—I told him who we were, and said "Do you see that parcel"—he said "Yes"—I said "It was purchased of you yesterday, this gentleman bought it"—he said "Yes"—I said "How do you account for the possession of it?"—he said "I bought it with other goods of a man named Hopper"—I told him that Hopper was in custody, and had confessed to stealing a quantity of property from his employers, and stated that he, Hooker, had received some of it, and he must consider himself in custody for receiving it knowing it to be stolen, and that I was going to search his place—I commenced searching, and he said "If you will allow me, I will assist you all I can"—he jumped on the counter and kept handing the goods down which are here, and Mr. Lewin identified them—I said "Have you got any invoices or receipts for these goods?"—he said "Yes, I will show you"—he took me down in the kitchen and gave me a file with two bills on it—I said that there were none there and asked him for his book—he said ho kept no book—he also said "Last night I sent all my books to Mr. Batchelor.
MR. LAWYER, to have them put straight"—I said "Have you any more goods belonging to this firm?"—he said "No, that is all I bought, excepting what I have sold to ready money customers"—his wife then asked me, in his presence, if I would allow her to have a half-pint of stout as she felt rather faint—I said "Yes," and as her sister was going out for it I saw something rather bulky by her side—I said "What have you got there?"—she said nothing, but put a parcel down which turned out to be a great number of receipts and invoices, but not connected with this case—I wont up to search the upper
rooms, and he said "I will tell you the truth, Hopper came down the other night" (I think he said Friday night), "and told me there was something wrong, and assisted me to tear up all the invoices and receipts that I had from him, and at that time he always used to sign his name backwards"—he told me to put the goods away—at the Police Court he said that he would endeavour to do all he could to recover the prosecutor's property—I received further information from him which led me to Mrs. Bagnell's, 17, Lant Street, where we received about 30l. worth more.
Cross-examined. When he showed me the pile of receipts—he said "I know now I have not got them here"—he did not say "I saw Hopper yesterday, and he told me if I gave up the articles it would be all right; but it was similar to that—I believe he said "Hopper came here on Friday night, and told me to tear up all the receipts and papers relating to the property and put the property away"—he may have said that Friday was the first intimation he had that the property was stolen.
ALFRED LEWIN . I am traveller to Mr. Barnett—I received instructions from him, went to Hooker's shop, and purchased some trimming and buttons from his wife; he was not there—I paid her 7s. 5d.; here is the bill—I identify them as my master's property—this (produced) is 4d. a yard wholesale, and I paid 2d. a yard for it, and the same with these trimmings, for which I paid 2d. a yard—I heard Hooker tell the prisoner that he bought the things of Hopper.
Cross-examined. He did not say he bought them as job lots—he said "In the usual way"—I do not know that City houses sell job lots at reduced prices—I have been two years in the trade—we have job lots, and make a difference off the ordinary price.
MRS. BAGNELL. I am a widow, of 17, Compton Street, Newington—on 29th August Hooper came to me and said that his pony was tired, and he wanted to leave some parcels with me—he left five good sued parcels in my charge—they were rather heavy—I gave them to a policeman on the succeeding Tuesday, in the same state in which I received them—he has never done anything of that sort before.
Cross-examined. This was on Friday night.
JAMES DANN (Police Inspector P). I went with Ham to Mrs. Bagnell's and received these parcels from her—they weigh about 40 lbs.—they have since been opened, identified, and measured—I was at Hooker's shop and heard him say that he bought them of Hopper, who represented himself as a commercial traveller—he said that he kept no books; his transactions were all cash, and did not require invoices or receipts.
Cross-examined. He said that he bought the things for ready money, and could afford to sell them at a low price.
M. BARNETT (re-examined). The prisoner brought me five parcels—I opened them at the station-house and identified the greater portion of the property—the articles which Lewin bought at 2d. a yard I could not sell under 4d.—we never sell job lots—I never heard of job lots being sold at half price—the fringe and gimp were all wound on cards, and the buttons were in boxes, not like job lots—the value of all the property found is 60l. 10s. 10d.
HOOKER— GUILTY .
He received a good character.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 27TH, 1873.