CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
THIRD SESSION, HELD JANUARY 12TH, 1874.
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, January 12th, 1874, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ANDREW LUSK, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir GEORGE HONYMAN , Bart., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; THOMAS SIDNEY , Esq., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., and WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Esq., Sir THOMAS WHITE , Knt., and JAMES FIGGINS , Esq., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the 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.
CHARLES WHETHAM, Esq., Alderman.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
LUSK, MAYOR. THIRD SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX S.
OLD COURT.—Monday, January 12th, 1874.
Before Mr. Recorder.
99. CHARLES BRUCE (38), and THOMAS WILLIAMS (48), were indicted for feloniously breaking and entering the warehouse of John Chadwick, and stealing a 10 franc piece, 103 pieces of silk, and 7l., his property.
MR. BESLET conducted the Prosecution; MR. HARRIS defended Bruce, and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Williams.
JOSEPH KINSEY (City Policeman, 100). On Monday morning, 15th December, I was on duty near the premises of Mr. Chadwick, 23, Noble Street—I went on duty at 6 o'clock in the morning—I passed the warehouse several times between 6 o'clock and 7.50—it was then quite secure; this bar and padlock was on the door; I tried it several times—about 7.50 I was going from Silver Street towards Falcon Square, about 15 yards from 23, Noble Street, I there met the prisoner Bruce; I had just come round the corner suddenly; he was within sight of 23; he moved towards me, and asked me the way to Silver Street—I pointed the way out to him—he said "Is it to the right or to the left?" placing his arms in front of me, and moving himself each way as I tried to get by him, and at last I pushed him on one side and walked over to the door of Mr. Chadwick, where Williams and another man were; they appeared to be either locking or unlocking the door, I could not tell which, but I saw that the bar was off the door at the time, and the padlock was hanging loose on the staple—I caught hold of Williams, the other man ran and then joined Bruce where I had left him standing, and they both ran together up Monkwell Street; I still held Williams, and pulled him along, calling out "Stop thief!" several times—I met a painter, and asked him to follow the other men; they turned into Falcon Street, and I then lost sight of them—Williams threw away this key, which I afterwards found opens the prosecutor's street door—I have the lock here; I turned back and picked the key up—this other key opens the padlock; another witness will speak to that—the witness pointed
to the Roso and French Horn, and said one had gone in there—I went there and saw Bruce there—I took him out, and told him I wanted him—I still had Williams in my hand—I brought Bruce to the door, got the assistance of another officer, and handed him to him—I then took Williams to the station, searched him, and found on him these three keys (produced)—I do not know what they relate to—I also found on him 2l. in gold, a box of silent matches, and this piece of rope, which corresponds with the rope that was found round three parcels of silk in the prosecutor's warehouse, which had been got ready for removal—I asked Williams where he lived—he said he came from Birmingham the night before, and stayed in a coffee-shop in Holborn, he did not know which one it was.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Bruce told me that he lived in Barnsbury Road.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The other man got away; he and Williams were standing at the prosecutor's door when I first saw them—I produce the iron bar of the door, and the padlock—the bar was already undone.
GEORGE ROBINSON . I am a painter, at 6, Portman's Place, Globe Road—about 7.50 on Monday morning, 15th December, I was passing through Monkwell Street—I heard the constable cry "Stop thief!" and saw Bruce and another man walking very sharply close together, they turned into Fell Street—they stooped down, and Bruce put down this iron bar, and the other man put down a key, I think it was this small key—I followed them—Bruce went into the Rose and French Horn public-house—I told the constable that one of the men had gone in there; the other man ran down London Wall—I then went back and picked up this key and bar, and took them to the constable; he told me to take them to the station-house, which I did—at that time Bruce was in the hands of another officer—I should think not more than two or three minutes elapsed between Bruce going into the public-house and his being in the hands of the officer; the public-house is about eighty yards from where I picked up the bar and key.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. It was quite light at the time. I did not mention Bruce's name before the Magistrate as having put down the bar; I said "One of them"—the Magistrate asked me which, and I said "The one nearest me," that was Bruce—I did not see the bar in his hand before he put it down—I was about 20 yards in front of them when I first saw them; they were close together, meeting me; Bruce was not exhausted, he had not far to run, in fact he was not running when I saw him, he was not running after the other man—I did not lose sight of him until ha entered the public-house; I did not go in.
Re-examined. When I first saw them they were approaching me; at that time Kinsey, the officer, was at the far end of Monkwell Street, coming after them—there was not another person in Monkwell Street; Kinsey turned into Monkwell Street as the men turned into Fell Street, they were walking till the bar was put down and then they ran.
JAMES EGAN (City Policeman 187). About 7.40 on Monday morning 15th December, I was at the corner of Monkwell Street and Hart Street; I heard some one cry "Stop Thief!" and saw Bruce and another man running very hard up Monkwell Street towards me, they turned down Fell Street, they were followed by Robinson—I turned down Hart Street so as to meet them coming up Wood Street—I saw Bruce run from Fell Street
straight across into the Rose and French Horn; I was about 20 yards from him—he was handed into my custody in less than a minute afterwards by Kinsey—I took him to the station and found on him 2l. 3s. 2d. in money, a latch-key, a silver watch and chain, a knife, and an umbrella—he gave his correct address, he said the key was his own latch-key.
JOHN LOADER . I am a private watchman employed by the merchants of Noble Street; I usually go on my duty at 8 o'clock in the evening and come off at 7 o'clock in the morning; I was on duty on Saturday night, 13th December—I noticed the premises 23, Noble Street, they were perfectly safe—I walk up and down the street from one end to the other, trying the fastenings—I did that on Saturday and Sunday night—I went off duty on Monday morning at 7.5—I saw the prisoner Bruce in Falcon Street that morning about 7.5, standing talking to another man—I could not see the other's features as he was obscured by an umbrella, it was raining; they were about 20 or 30 yards from No. 23, Noble Street—the lust time I tried the fastenings of 23, was at 6.55, they were then all right.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I was about 2 yards from Bruce when I saw him.
CHARLES FULLER (City Police Sergeant 78). At 8 o'clock on Monday morning, 15th December, I went to the prosecutor's premises, 23, Noble Street—I found this brass padlock, unfastened, hanging on to the staple of the warehouse door—the door was fast at that time, with the bar oft and absent—I received these two keys from Sergeant Gisby at the station; I tried this key to the padlock which I found on the door and it unlocks it—it is one of Hobbs's patent; I tried this other key to the door of the warehouse and unlocked it—I went into the warehouse—I found that the inner glass doors had been broken open by some blunt instrument, and just inside the warehouse I found three bundles of silks tied up, two containing twelve pieces, and one containing eight—these four pieces of cord were round those bundles—I examined the premises—in a grate I found this dark lantern—one desk in the office was broken open by some blunt instrument—the paper covering the silks was strewed all over the warehouse, and the place seemed in great confusion.
WILLIAM HARDING (City Policeman 106). I assisted Fuller in examining the prosecutor's premises, and in the basement, under a quantity of paper, I found this cash box, broken open, and eight postage-stamps left in it.
WILLIAM MASSEY JENKINSON . I am in the employment of Mr. John Chadwick, of 23, Noble Street, silk manufacturer—on Saturday afternoon, 13th December, I left the warehouse at 3.30; I locked the inner door and outer door, put on the bar and padlocked it, and put the key in my pocket—I was there again about 9 o'clock on Monday morning, and found the padlock and bar off the door and the police in possession of the premises—I found that sixty-five pieces of silk had been taken away, of the value of between 1,000l. and 1,100l., and thirty-three pieces ready for removal, value between 500l. and 600l.—when I left the premises the cash-box was safe in the counting-house desk, and about 7l. 7s. and some postage-stamps in it.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The outer door is opened by the big key—I am in the habit of opening it—you have to push it inwards in opening it, not pull it.
Williams with the rope found on the prosecutor's premises; three of the pieces correspond.
Bruce received a good character.
BRUCE— GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Nine Months Imprisonment.
WILLIAMS— GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted at this Court in December, 1865, and had then been previously convicted.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. FRITH defended Brian.
THOMAS DONELLY (Policeman E 412). About 2.30 in the morning of 31st December, I was on duty in Grafton Street—I saw the two prisoners near the end of Grafton Street—I heard one say "There comes the bloke"—they went down Grafton Street a little way, and returned with the prosecutor between them; he went into his door, No. 28, and then came and stood on the kerb-stone, almost opposite the door, the prisoners being a few yards from him—I saw Brian run at him—I can't say whether he struck him, but he knocked him down on the road—Sullivan immediately ran to him, I could see they were feeling about the upper part of his person—I ran to his assistance—he cried out "Thieves! I am robbed"—at the same time, I heard a sound like money jingling on the pavement—when I was about two yards from the prosecutor, the prisoners ran off—I gave chase through several streets, calling "Stop thief!"—a brother constable came to my assistance, and we apprehended them—I at once charged them with knocking down the man in (Grafton Street, and robbing him—Brian said "We only took 4d.," and he held out his hand, showing some coppers, I could not see how much—Sullivan said nothing—I took them back to the prosecutor, and he at once identified Brian, and said "That is the man that knocked me down and robbed me."
Cross-examined. The prisoners were sober, the prosecutor was drunk.
JAMES FOSTER . I am a shoemaker, and live at 28, Grafton Street, Soho—on the morning of 31st December I was tipsy—I was going to my house, and was knocked down by Brian—they took something out of my pocket, and my keys too.
Cross-examined. I have never seen my keys since—I was very tipsy indeed—I hardly remember anything—I don't remember whether I fell down or was knocked down, or whether there was one or two men—I know they rifled my pockets, and took everything out.
GEORGE WHITLOCK (Policeman E 403). I saw the prisoners running, followed by Donelly—we apprehended them, and charged them with the robbery—Brian pulled 4d., out of his pocket, and said "We only took 4d. from him, and we will give it him back again, if you will let us go."
Cross-examined. I saw Brian searched, 5d. or 7d. in copper was found on him.
GUILTY of Robbery without Violence . Six Months' Imprisonment each.
NEW COURT.—Monday, December 12th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
MARY ANN DAVIS . I am barmaid at the White Lion, Brook Street—on Thursday, January 1st, I served the prisoner with some spruce and warm water, about 9.30 p.m.—he gave me a bad shilling—I broke it, and told him it was bad, and that he had passed a bad florin the Saturday before—he said "I have never been here before," and walked out, leaving the liquor and the bad shilling—I sent for Mr. State, the landlord, and handed him the bad shilling—Mr. Payne went after the prisoner—on the Saturday before the prisoner had come in with another man, he asked for a pint of beer, and gave me a florin, which I passed to Mr. State, who told him it was bad, and that he should give him in charge if he passed bad money again; he bent the florin, and returned it to the prisoner, who paid me with good money.
Prisoner. At 9 o'clock in the evening I was on board the Hull steamer, coming to London. Witness. I am sure you are the man, I recognised you as soon as you came in.
GEORGE VOSS . I am a coachman, of 54, Brooks' Mews—on Saturday, December 27th, I was in the White Lion, and saw the prisoner and another man come in, about 9 o'clock—he gave the barmaid a florin, and the master beat it and handed it back; the prisoner then paid with good money—on January 1st I was outside the house, between 9 and 10 o'clock, and saw the prisoner outside with a woman, passing something between them—I recognised him, and went into the house—they both came in, and I saw the woman served with 2d. worth of spruce, she paid with 2d.; the prisoner then called for 2d. worth of spruce hot, and paid with a shilling—the woman left first—I went to call the landlord, and when I got back the prisoner was gone.
Prisoner. The woman asked me the way to Priory Place, Haverstock Hill, and handed me this paper with the direction on it, I had never seen her before. Witness. I saw you both come down the street together.
MARK PAYNE . I am a groom, at 12, Avery Road—I was at the White Hart on 1st January, and saw the prisoner put a shilling down; the barmaid broke it, and the prisoner went out—I followed him to Vere Street, and gave him in custody.
JAMES STATE . I am landlord of the White Lion—on the evening of 1st January I was called down stairs, and received this shilling with a piece broken out of it—I gave it to a policeman—the prisoner was brought back and I said "I can swear that this is the man who passed a bad 2s., piece on Saturday"—I was in the bar on the Saturday before, when he came in.
Prisoner. Q. What can you swear to me by? A. By your features.
WILLIAM PALTRIDGE . Payne called my attention to the prisoner, and I stopped him—we met Mr. State, who said that he could swear the prisoner was the man who tendered a bad florin on the Saturday—the prisoner made no reply—I produced the shilling which I received from Mr. State.
PLEADED GUILTY**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
HERBERT SHEER . I am shopman to Mr. Bonham, a fishmonger, of 34, White Hart Street—on Sunday morning, 14th December, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I served the prisoner with 2d. worth of fried fish—he put down a florin—I broke it, and asked him for another—he put down a shilling, my mistress picked it up and told me to go for a policeman—I went into Drury Lane, and my mistress called out, "Look out, Herbert, there he goes"—I ran after him, caught him at Drury Lane Theatre, and gave him in charge—I put one piece of the florin on the counter, and my mistress picked it up—both pieces were given to the constable—the prisoner said that he got it at his master's, in the Strand.
MARY BONHAM . I saw Sheer serve the prisoner, who gave him a florin—Sheer broke it, kept one piece, and put the other on the counter, which I picked up, and asked the prisoner where he got it—he said from his master, in the Strand, and put down a shilling—another young man then came in, and said "Take your hook, for they have gone for a slop"—he also told me that it was quite correct that the prisoner had got it from his master—the prisoner then asked me in a hurry to give him his change—I told him to wait a minute, and then he ran out without his change—I called to Herbert to run after him—I gave the larger part of the florin to a policeman at the station.
Prisoner. Q. Did not I say that I got it from a man who employed me in the Strand that evening? A. I am positive you said from your master.
HENRY JENNER (Policeman E 401). I heard a cry of "Stop him!" and the prisoner ran into my arms—Sheer charged him—he said nothing—I found on him two sixpences and 10d. in coppers—he said that he had no home—I received this piece of a florin from Sheer, and this other piece from Mrs. Bonham—they correspond.
CELESTINO MORO . I am assistant to M. Monico, who keeps a dried fish shop in Soho—on 22nd November I served the prisoner with one pennyworth of dried fish—he gave me a bad florin—I broke it in two pieces and passed them to the mistress—the prisoner was given in custody with the pieces.
JESSIE MONICO . My husband keeps a fish shop in Grafton Street—on Saturday morning, 22nd November, about 12.30 I was in the shop—I did not see the prisoner served, but Moro said to me "You see what I have taken," and gave me two pieces of a broken florin, which were afterwards given to the policeman.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you say at Bow Street that it was the 27th, and not the 22nd? A. I said that I did not remember the date—I had broken my leg, and was taken from my bed—I had to go to Bow Street on crutches—I found eleven bad shillings in my till at one time.
Re-examined. He tendered a bad florin on Thursday, and another on Saturday.
JOSEPH PEARCE (Policeman E 271). I took the prisoner at M. Monico's, and received the broken florin from Mdme. Monico—I found on him three sixpences, two shillings, and 1 1/2 d. in coppers—he was taken to Marlborough Street, remanded and discharged—he gave the name of George Lee.
Prisoner's Defence. On December 13th, I was in the Strand and a man asked me to help him take a trunk to Waterloo Station; I did so, and he gave me a florin; I passed it at Mrs. Bonham's shop, who said that it was bad. I then remembered that I was in trouble three weeks before, through taking a coin while under the influence of liquor. Some one in the shop said "You had better get out," and I did so.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CRAUFURD and MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. SIMS defended 0'Meara.
DOUGLAS GRAHAM . I am a grocer, of 5, Hanover Court, Long Acre—on the night of November 7th I served Parkinson with some trifling article amounting to 1d. or 1 1/2 d., and while I was serving, him O'Meara came in, and they commenced abusing one another, and were going to fight for 1l.—I served O'Meara with a penny bottle of ginger beer, and they left one after the other—Parkinson came back in a minute or two and O'Meara followed him, still wrangling—Parkinson asked for a half-pound of cheese, that came to 5d.; he put down a florin, I suspected it and placed it on a shelf by itself, and gave him 1s. 7d. change—he went out, and O'Meara remained talking about what he could do with Parkinson, and pretending to be drunk—he asked for a half-pound of German sausage, and put a florin on the counter; I tried it with my teeth, found it was bad, and told him so—Parkinson was there, looking in at the window—O'Meara said "I had it given to me over the way"—I went to the door with him, and saw Parkinson just stepping out of the court—I went back to shut up my shop, I looked at the other florin, and found it bad also—I took an officer and found the prisoners in the kitchen of the mechanic's lodging-house in Seven Dials, and charged them—they said that they knew nothing about it—Mary Gosling went with me and my wife to the lodging-house.
Cross-examined. O'Meara kept up the appearance of drunkenness while he was in the shop—he walked off without the sausage—he was sitting in the lodging-house with Parkinson and Melbourne, who has just been convicted—I saw O'Meara in the kitchen, and I saw him in the passage, attempting to escape; he was taken in custody in the passage.
Parkinson. Q. By what do you know me? A. I have seen you in the shop frequently, and remember you, because you use very bad language.
MARY GOSLING . I am a dress maker, of 12, Church Street, Soho—I was with Mrs. Graham, in the parlour, on 7th December; I looked through the window and saw the two prisoners concocting a fight—they are the men. '
WILLIAM HILL (Policeman A 414). I went with the prosecutor to 20, Queen Street, which is not quite a quarter of a mile from his shop, and found the prisoners there—he charged them, and gave me this florin—
Parkinson said he thought Mr. Graham had made a mistake—I found a penny on Parkinson.
Cross-examined. I first saw O'Meara in the passage, coming from the kitchen—Mr. Graham went into the kitchen first, and O'Meara followed him up.
JAMES DAUNCEY (Policeman E 425). I went with Mr. Graham to 23, Queen Street—I remained in the parlour—he went into the kitchen, came back, and said "They are, there"—O'Meara followed him up, and I took him and told him the charge—he said he was innocent, but admitted having a bottle of ginger-beer in the house—another constable took Parkinson.
Cross-examined. I found no coin on O'Meara; he is a shoemaker, and works in Dean Street, Soho; he has a wife and children.
Parkinson's Defence. "I was under the influence of liquor, and have no recollection of going into the shop. I have a witness to call to prove I was elsewhere."
THOMAS FLANAGAN . I have known Parkinson three months—on Sunday, 7th December, he was at my lodging, 23, Queen Street, from 4 o'clock till I went to bed at 1 o'clock in the morning—he was in the kitchen and did not leave, except for a short time, till 10 o'clock—several other lodgers were there.
Cross-examined. I am a clerk, but have been out of service four months—I was in the Queen's service; I was orderly room clerk in Her Majesty's 58th Regiment in India, under Colonel Wood—I attended on Captain Hill—I came home from India in November, 1870, since which I have been working as potman for fourteen months at the Grapes in Great Earl Street—I left there on my own account, and went to the Crown Stores; I left there December twelvemonth, and went to 23, Little Queen Street; I remained there two months, and then went to Nation's lodging-houses, and returned there; I have now been there four months—I have been living like a gentleman on my income, and have been receiving money from my parents—my father is foreman to Mr. Thomson, a contractor, of St. George's works—he keeps me while I am out of work; I cannot get work because I have not got clothes—I decline to say whether I have ever been in trouble—I was once charged with illegally pawning a fellow-servant's watch, and got six months' for it.
COURT. Q. You say that there were a great many other persons there that evening whose names you know, are any of them here V No.
O'Meara was further charged with a previous conviction at Westminster in January, 1860, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment each.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE PORTER . I am a cook, and live at 6, High Street, Islington—about 12.30 on Saturday night, 27th December, I was in High Street, passing Parsley Court, and the prisoners came out of the court and pushed me from one side to the other, and Leary struck me with his list on my
nose, and made a snatch at my chain—whilst he was doing that, Henessey was pushing me towards the shutters—my uncle, who was with me, called out "Police!" and two constables came up—Hennessey knocked my uncle down—the prisoners went down the court with others, and we followed them, with the police, to a house on the left side of the court—we knocked two or three times and the light was put out—the door was opened at last, and we went into a room where we found fourteen or fifteen men—Hennessey was taken from under a bed, by a constable—Leary was behind a screen, which was hanging down; he had a jug in his hand, and said "You can see it was not me, because I am pouring out beer"—they were taken in custody, and I went to the station and charged them—I had done nothing to provoke the attack—I am certain they are the men—I have known Hennessey eight years by seeing him about.
Leary. Q. Did not you have a woman with you? A. Yes, behind me; she picked my coat up off the ground—I had not taken it off to fight you—it was over my shoulders, but I had not got my arms through the sleeves, and when you struck me it fell off—you hit me on my eyes and nose first, and then snatched at my chain—I had marks on my nose and eyes—I do not know whether I gave you a black eye.
SAMUEL WILKINSON . I am a house decorator, of St. Alban's Place, Islington—I was with Porter, my nephew; the prisoners came up and struck him in the eye, and made an attack upon his watch chain—I went to his assistance, and Hennessey struck me on my nose, and again on my eye, and I tripped and cut both my knees—eight or nine people came out of the court—we called "Police!" and they all rushed down the court; we went after them to the house—as soon as we knocked at the door the light was put out—we gained admission, and found twelve or fourteen people playing at cards and drinking beer—I saw Leary fetched from behind the bed, and Hennessey from behind a screen.
Hennessey. I did not strike you, because I was not there. Witness. But I swear you did; I have known you six or eight years.
Re-examined. I live a little over a quarter of a mile from the spot, and I am by there sis or seven times a day.
JOHN INNES (Policeman N 305.) I heard a cry of "Police!" ran across the road, and saw the prisoners run down the court, with five or six others—I went with Butcher and the last two witnesses to the house, and knocked at the door for four or five minutes—an elderly "lady" came to the door, and we got in and went to a room where there were fifteen or sixteen people drinking beer and playing at cards—Hennessey was behind a screen, and Leary was taken from under the bed.
Hennessey. Q. Had I some beer in my hand? A. Yes. I took you behind the screen.
WILLIAM BUTCHER (Policeman N 474). I heard a cry of "Police!" and saw the prisoners run down a court and into a house—I knocked at the coor, and after four or five minutes a woman opened it, and we found Leary under a bed and Hennessey behind a screen—Porter said "Those are the two men, Leary is the one who struck me and tried to take my chain"—Leary did not say anything.
leary's Defence. I struck him, but I did not attempt to take his chain; he sruck me first.
Hennessey's Defence. I was not there at all. James Danhy is my witnes.
JAMES DANHY . I am a labourer, of 3, Parsley Court, Islington—that is the same court where the prisoners were taken, but not the same house—I have known Hennessey for the last six years—he lodged in December with a person named Kennedy, in Parsley Court, right fronting my door—I am a lodger—I have come here to tell you that on the 27th December Hennessey was in my company for an hour about midnight—I also saw Leary run into a house in the court; no one was with him, but the police was after him—for an hour before that Hennessey had been in my company at No. 4—that is the house that Leary ran into—the police came up, but I don't think the door was shut in their faces—I heard a knocking—the light went out because it was knocked over—it was picked up and lit immediately, and then the police came in—the door was only latched—I had been there with Hennessey for an hour before Leary ran in—the police came in, and then the prisoners were taken—I was playing at cards with Hennessey.
Cross-examined. I saw Leary get under the bed—I do think that was right—we were in an up stairs room—I did not see Hennessey behind the screen at all—he was pouring out the beer just as the police came in—I did not notice any screen—he was sitting at the table, but whether he got up while the constables were in the room I do not know—I call myself an agricultural labourer—I work at Bexley Heath—I generally go into the country in the fruit season, at other times I do nothing, and get a little subsistence from the parish, and from the industry of my wife—a good many persons were looking at us playing at cards, but they are not here.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment each.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, January 13, 1874.
Before Mr. Recorder.
107. NICHOLAS JACKSON (24), was indicted for unlawfully and falsely pretending on 30th October, to Frederick Thomas Shoolbred and others, that Mrs. Faulkner, of Grove House, Halliford, wanted 51 1/2 yards of Brussels carpet, and obtaining the same, with intent to defraud; secondly for obtaining on 11th November, 1 1/2 yards of carpet, and I sealskin jacket, by like false pretences.
MR. OPPENHEIM conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES APPLEBY . I am a parcel porter at the Shepperton Station of the London and South Western Railway—I produce the delivery-book in which persons sign for goods when received—on 27th October here is an entry of one paper parcel of drapery, carriage 6d. to pay; signed, "T. J. Faulkner, for Mrs. F."—the prisoner signed that—on 5th November, he also signed "F. Faulkner, for Mrs. F.;" on 15th November, "F. F. for Mrs. F.;" and on 22nd November, "F. F. for Mrs. F."
WILLIAM WEBB . I am, clerk to Messrs. Wylde, Barber, & Brown attorneys for the prosecution—I produce six letters purporting to be signal "Eliza Faulkner"—they are not dated—I have compared the handwriting of those letters with the writing in this delivery-book, and I believe it to be the same.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have seen a good many letters and different characters of handwriting—I can swear to this, because the character of the handwriting in both cases is exactly identical—the formation of the letters is the same in every instance.
Re-examined. I wrote a notice to produce certain letters—I did not serve it—I caused it to be served on Friday—I saw it at the office of the defendant's attorney this morning—I did not serve it on the prisoner.
THOMAS STONE . I am in the employment of Messrs. Shoolbred, of Tottenham Court Road—it is my business to receive and open letters—to the best of my belief I received these six letters—they would be passed to the order room and entered in a book, and from thence go to the salesman, who would have to apply for authority to execute the order—those relating to carpet would go to Mr. Horsman, the superior of the carpet department, and the others to Mr. Greaves, the superior of the fur and mantle department.
Cross-examined. I do not open all the letters received by the firm; I have assistants—I cannot swear that I opened these identical letters—the authority to execute orders is sometimes given by me, and sometimes by the head clerk, or the heads of the departments—the order on this occasion was not obtained from me.
CHRISTOPHER HORSMAN . I am superintendent of the carpet department at Messrs. Shoolbred's—this letter came into my possession—(Read: "Grove-House, Halliford. Gentlemen, Please send me some patterns of Brussels-carpet, suitable for a drawing-room; the furniture and fittings are dark green. Yours, truly, (Mrs.) Eliza Faulkner. Nearest Station, Shepperton, L. & S. W. Railway")—Upon that I had some patterns sent, and they were afterwards returned with this letter—"Grove House, Halliford. Gentlemen, I have taken the ticket off the pattern I prefer, and enclose it. The size of the room is 18 by 6, by 16 by 9, and there are no crevices, so you will know what quantity to send. Yours (Mrs.) Eliza Faulkner." On the receipt of that letter I had measured off a quantity of carpet for a room of those dimensions—about 51 or 52 yards—I gave directions for it to be sent off as directed in the letter—I did so from the letter, and the name of Faulkner in the letter—I recognised the name—we have customers of that name—I believed that there was a Mrs. Faulkner residing at Grove House, Halliford—I do not know whether any invoice was sent with it—the value of the carpet was 5s. 3d. a yard, it came to £13 10s. 4 1/2 d.
Cross-examined. I believe the rules for executing orders are the same in all the departments—I only attend to my own—I am not aware that we have any customer named Faulkner at Halliford, or that neighbourhood—I am not prepared to say whether I should have executed the order if it had been in any other name, it would depend on circumstances—it is not the custom to execute orders received in this manner without inquiry—if an order came from a respectable address, it might be executed on the faith of the address being correct.
COURT. Q. You say you executed this on the faith of the name?. A. Yes. I supposed it to be one of our old customers—I did it quite independent of the statements in the letters—in the hurry of business I thought it was one of our old customers.
Upon this state of facts, The Recorder was of opinion that the case failed, the pretences alleged in the indictment not being supported by the evidence. A question arose upon the 24th and 25th Vic, c. 96, sec. 88, which provided that if upon a charge of fraud, the facts proved tended to establish a larceny, a prisoner should not on that ground be liable to be acquitted; but on the authority of "Reg. v. Bulmer," 9 Cox's Criminal Cases, p. 492, The Recorder held that the false pretences must be proved and as in the present case that had not been done, the prisoner was entitled to be acquitted.
>NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for larceny, but as that indictment omitted the word "feloniously," it was quashed, and another bill preferred, which was tried in the New Court on Wednesday. See page 165.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
THOMAS NEWTON . I am a labourer, and live at 1, Ann Street, Bethnal Green—on New Year's night, about 8 o'clock, I was in Bethnal Green Road, and had a bundle under my arm—as I was passing Essex Street, the prisoner came up and fetched me a violent blow in the mouth—as I was falling he snatched at my watch, and I had another blow from some one at the back of me—I fell to the ground, it was a minute or so before I could recover to get up, I then saw him run with two more—I attempted to run after him, but I was so injured by the fall that I could not run—I went to the police-station and gave information—next night I was fetched to the station and identified the prisoner, he was alone then—I am sure of him; it happened close against the shops, and I saw his face as he came direct up to me.
Cross-examined. The other two men were talking at the corner as the prisoner came up to me—it all happened in a second—I had to go to the hospital next day, and have done no work since.
CHARLES CARLISLE . I am a safe maker, and live at 21, Libra Road, Roman Road—on this night I was in Bethnal Green Road, with a barrow—I stopped to rest, and saw three men; the prisoner was one of them—they came walking on, one went down a turning and two stopped, about a minute afterwards Mr. Newton was passing and the prisoner attacked him; he gave him a blow, and as he was falling he snatched his watch from him; the other one was in the mess waiting behind him—they ran away—the prosecutor fell to the ground—I went and helped him up, and went with him to the station—I afterwards saw the prisoner there, and knew him again—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I said that he had a pea-jacket on—I did not say at the station I thought he was the man—I picked him out of nine others.
WILLIAM LANGLEY (Policeman K 598). I saw the prosecutor at the station, he made a complaint and left a description of the men—on the night of the 2nd I saw the prisoner with another man—I told him I should take them on suspicion of assaulting a man and robbing him of his watch, the other man gave a twist and got away—I took the prisoner into custody, and was present when the prosecutor and Carlisle identified him.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY CROW . I live at 20, Gibraltar Gardens—I know the prisoner well—on New Year's night he called for me at my house about 7.20—he came in and stayed about five minutes—I told him I should not have done work till two or three minutes to 8 o'clock, and he went and looked at a man sawing wood till a few minutes to 8 o'clock, when I went to him, and we went together to Dock Street, and I did not leave him till a few minutes after 9 o'clock—I had nothing to do with knocking a man down.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about two years—I was told of this matter by his father, last Saturday; he said he was locked up
for a false thing on New Year's night—he used to call on me generally every night—Essex Street is about half a mile from my place.
JOHN CROW . Last witness is my son—I have known the prisoner about four years—on New Year's night he was at my house from about 7.30 till about 7.50 or 7.45—he then went out with my son to take home some goods, opposite the London Docks, and they returned about 9.5—I saw them both together—next night he called again for my son about 7.30, but when he went out to him he was gone.
Cross-examined. I heard last Saturday of his being taken into custody, from one of the neighbours' boys—I am a wire worker—the prisoner generally called for my son five nights out of six—he is a hard-working, honest lad, he sells oranges and herrings—my son and he have been constant companions for these four years.
The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. PLATT conducted the Prosecution.
(The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner).
EMILY DURNDELL . I am fifteen years of age, and live with my father, at 11, West India Dock Cottages—on 13th December, about 12.30 in the day, I was in the kitchen, counting some of my father's money; the front door was open—the prisoner came in and said he wanted 2s., I told him I could not give it him, it was father's (he had been there before at 7.30 that morning for a lodging)—he said he must have it—I told him again I could not give it him—he swung his arms about in all manner of directions, and looked so that I was frightened, and I gave him the 2s., and he went away.
Prisoner. Q. Did you give it of your own free will? A. I gave it him because I was frightened of him—he said he was hungry and wanted something to eat—I had 24s., counting; he was satisfied with my giving him the 2s.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GLYN conducted the Prosecution.
HUGH NEWLAND (Policeman B 26). At 12.15 on Monday morning, 29th December, I was with another officer on duty in Pimlico; I heard a cry of "Police!" and went to No. 58, Cambridge Street, a crowd was collected outside the door; the prisoner was being held by a young man, who said he had assaulted a female inside the house—I called a constable and told him to detain the prisoner—I went into the house, and saw the prosecutrix in the parlour, sitting behind the door, bleeding very profusely from the head, which was cut—I took her to the hospital in a cab, and the prisoner was taken to the station—I produce a poker, which was given to me by the servant.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been drinking, but he was more excited than drunk, he was very excited—the prosecutrix was very excited; she was not insensible—she did not charge him then, or at any time—she appeared before the Magistrate—she did not make any charge against him—I charged him from what I had heard—I taw Miss Ralph afterwards; she was excited—the prosecutrix keeps a tobacconist's shop; I know nothing about the house.
ROBERT SELLINGTON (Policeman B 329). I went with Newland to the house and took the prisoner into custody—in going to the station he said if he had had the knife instead of the poker he should have finished her—he had been drinking, and appeared very excited.
Cross-examined. He said that she had a knife in her hand.
MARION RALPH . I did live at the prosecutrix's house in Cambridge Street at the time in question—I do not now—on the night of the 29th December, about 12.30, I was sitting up stairs in the drawing-room—I heard the prosecutrix running up stairs, she said "Don't murder me"—she rushed into my bedroom, which is next to the drawing-room—I saw the prisoner outside the bedroom door—I persuaded him to go down stairs—he said "Let me murder her"—he then knocked me down with the poker as I was holding the door—the prosecutrix was sitting half on the bed when I got up, and he gave her three blows, and as he raised the poker for a fourth I got it from him—he hit her on the head—she had plaits on her head, or it might have been much worse—he said he would do for her, and he said "If you don't get away I will do for you after"—he said she had wronged him, and if she had he would do for her—I put my arms round him and took the poker from him, and he threw me on the fire-place—I got up and screamed "Murder!" from the balcony, and three men came in, and the prisoner was taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I am a single woman—I have an allowance from a gentleman—I am not living with him—the prisoner objected to my living there—I am quite sure there were three blows struck; two blows were struck while I had my arms round him—I said "Don't murder her"—the prosecutrix has a little boy, he saw the blows; I have not said he was a wicked boy not to say there were three blows struck; I said he should speak the truth; he gave a different account to me—there is no lock to the door, only a little knob; it fastens inside, it was fastened at this time, Mrs. Norman fastened it—I held the door, and tried to prevent the prisoner from entering—I dared him to enter my room.
ELIZABETH LAING . I am servant at this house—on this night I saw Mrs. Norman run up stairs and the prisoner follow her with this poker in his hand—I saw Miss Ralph trying to prevent him from going into the room—I went up to my own room—I came down directly after, and I then saw Mrs. Norman down stairs in the dining-room, bleeding furiously from the head, and I saw the prisoner dragged out by three gentlemen.
EDWARD CHARLES STIRLING . I am house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—the prosecutrix was brought there on the Monday morning—she had a tolerably clean cut wound on the left side of the head, towards the top, also a sprained thumb—the wound on the head was such as might have been caused by this poker—all wounds of the head are more or less serious, I should not call it a dangerous wound—she was at the hospital five or six days—she has entirely recovered.
Cross-examined. I saw only one wound.
SUSAN NORMAN . I am married, and live at 50, Cambridge Street, Pimlico—I have known the prisoner between two and three years—on Boxing night he spent the evening at my house with friends; we had a few words, but they passed off—on this Sunday night I bad been out to my sister's, with Mrs. Ralph and my son; we had supper there, and came home about 10.30 or 11.0 o'clock—the prisoner came to the door and I refused to shake hands with him, I began to upbraid him, for I had not seen him
for two days, and I was very angry with him—he asked me to take something to drink; we went to the Clarendon and drank together; still I was very disagreeable indeed with him, and annoyed him very much; I told him I had burnt his concertina, which was a favourite instrument of his, and also his letters; and I told him I had had another man in the meantime, which I had not done, and that a supposed friend of his—after leaving the Clarendon we stood outside my house about a quarter of an hour, and then we went in together, that was about 11.15—we sat down and began nagging at each other; of course, I had the most to say; I told him again and again that I had torn his likenesses, and if he looked in the coal scuttle he would find one, and the remainder I wished him to have—whether I commenced to scuffle with him or not I really could not say, because I was in a horrible passion; I had been drinking, and he had had sundry glasses, four I can recollect—I ran up stairs—I could not say whether he ran up, or how he came up; I might have called out on the stairs; I ran into the bedroom on the first floor, and shut the door; he got into the room, and I received a blow, I suppose from the poker—I was then sitting on the side of the bed, which is close to the door—I really did not feel the blow; I can't say whether it was a severe one; I was excited, and had been drinking; I suppose that was the reason I did not feel it so much—I am not aware that he said anything at the time—after receiving the blow I lay back in the bed for a second, and then sprang to my feet and walked from one room to the other—he walked down stairs and I walked down after, and sat down in an arm-chair in the parlour, and he came to me and said "Sue, kiss mo"—three gentlemen came in and he was taken out—I never gave him into custody, and never wished it, I never should have done it; I aggravated him—I was taken to the hospital by my own wish, and remained there four or five days.
Cross-examined. I had had two glasses at the Clarendon, and two before at the Manchester—the prisoner was perfectly drunk—I said everything I could to annoy him—I strongly recommend him to mercy—the bedroom door was not locked, there is no lock or bolt to it, only a little fastening, but I never touched it; I did not turn it when I got into the room—J really can't say whether I took up the poker, I was so excited, and I am really not accountable for what I do in my fits of passion when I have drink—I don't remember having a knife in my hand—he only struck me one blow, I am positive of that—I lifted my hands to defend myself; I might have caught hold of his arms—I will not swear that I did not take up the poker and curry it up stairs.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "The blow I struck was not intentional, it was aggravated rage at the moment; I was not aware I had struck the blow till I saw the blood. I had been drinking very hard all day."
GUILTY of-unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the Jury and the prosecutrix — Six Months' Imprisonment.
SLEIGH the Defence.
on the morning of 13th December—a porter put some suet in it in this wrapper, which I identify—I missed the suet about 9.30.
JOHN HAMMOND . I am a licensed market porter—about 9.30 on the morning of 13th December I placed 47 lbs., of suet, tied up in this cloth, in Mr. Whiting's cart—I missed it about two minutes afterwards.
Cross-examined. Saturday morning is a very busy one, but we were getting slack just then.
FRANK LACY . I am a licensed cart minder at Smithfield—I had charge of Mr. Whiting's cart this morning—I saw the prisoners near it, my attention was called to them by the officer—about 9.25 I saw them both standing behind Mr. Whiting's cart, talking—I saw McCarthy come to the front of the horse, and just at that time some vehicles passed, which took my attention off; a moment afterwards McCarthy passed between the vehicles, and Greenwood went down with a bundle on his shoulder; the officer said something to me, and I followed Greenwood, and stopped him—I asked what he was going to do with that—he said a man gave it to him to carry—the officer came up and took it from him.
WILLIAM ROWLAND (City Detective). About 8.30 on this morning I saw the prisoners in Old Smithfield Market—I followed them into the Metropolitan Meat Market and round about the market until about 9.40—I then saw them go and stand close to Mr. Whiting's cart—I spoke to Lacy—McCarthy then came past the cart in front, and Greenwood looked over the tail of the cart—at that time a vehicle passed, which prevented my seeing what he did, but directly afterwards I saw him with a bundle on his back—it was this wrapper, containing about 47 lbs., of suet—McCarthy stood at the corner of Charter House Street, and as soon as Greenwood put the bundle on his shoulder he followed him on the opposite side—I took him, handed him over to a cart minder, and went and asked Greenwood what he was going to do with the parcel—he said "A man gave it to me to carry," pointing to McCarthy—I took them to the station.
Cross-examined. I spoke to McCarthy first, he was then about 30 yards from the cart.
GUILTY .—They also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, January 13th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution.
LETITIA GORMAN . I live at 12, Colonnade Mews, Russell Square—I became acquainted with the prisoner about two years ago—he said that he had a wife, but she was a very bad woman, and was living in adultery with another man, and it was nearly two years since he had seen her—he afterwards told me that he had heard that she was dead—I told him to find out, and he did so—I was married to him on the 2nd June, at the parish church of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, and when I had lived with him six months something came to my knowledge, but I continued to live with him afterwards—I have not instituted these proceedings—I find no fault with him, he was a kind, good husband.
COURT. Q. Did he tell you what he had ascertained? A. He said "I
am told she is dead; I have seen letters saying that she is dead"—and on the faith of those letters he offered me marriage, and I got married to him by banns—I saw the letters, and he read them to me—his wife gave him in custody six weeks ago.
Prisoner. Q. You say that two years ago I became acquainted with you, and it was then two years since I had seen my wife? A. Yes, I think so—you did not offer me marriage till you knew to the best of your knowledge that you were a widower.
RICHARD CHASE . I am a carpenter and joiner, and parish clerk of Benhall, near Saxmundham—I was present when the prisoner was married to Emily Straker, at Benhall, in 1842, after banns—this is the certificate produced—I have compared it with the original, it is a true copy—I see her now and I saw her yesterday.
Prisoner. Q. Have you been parish clerk twenty years? A. Since 1840—I know the woman well—I don't recollect her leaving Saxmundham—I know she did leave there between 1870 and 1871, with a married man—I have heard no report of her being dead.
JAMES REEVES (Policeman E 171). On 30th December the prisoner's wife gave him into my custody in the Colonnade, Russell Square—she went with us to the station—I told him he was charged with bigamy, he said that what he had to say he would keep—his wife said he left her four years ago—I went to St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, and compared this certificate of the prisoner's marriage with Letitia Gorman with the original, it is dated 2nd June, 1873.
Prisoner. Q. Did you go to my wife's native place? A. Yes; I did not hear she was dead, I heard she was living with a married man named Cotton, who had left his wife behind him in charge of the parish.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that his wife left him to live with Cotton; that he had taken her back several times upon her promise of amendment, and that she had handed over to Cotton money which he had borrowed for his of his employers, and went to live with him again. That afterwards, finding she was robbing her lodgings, he gave information against her, upon which she said "I will have my revenge upon you if it is ten years to come." That he received a letter last December twelve months, signed Henry Cotton, stating she was dead, and that her last words were "How I have wronged my poor husband" after which he married Letitia Gorman; that the letter had been taken out of his pocket, but that a witness who he had read it to was present.
Witness for the Defence.
WILLIAM NEWSOME . I live two doors from the prisoner, and have known him two years—I gave him away at St. Martin's Church at the beginning of last December twelve months—about six months before, we were standing smoking, and he said he had received a letter to say his wife was dead—he went up stairs and brought the letter down and I read it, it was signed "IT. Cotton," addressed "William Sanders," and stated that his wife had died—I don't remember that it gave the date she died, but it said her last words were that she was sorry for having wronged her husband—to the best of my belief, it was written from Ryde, Isle of Wight.
THE COURT having consulted THE RECORDER, told the Jury that if they thought the prisoner had received the letter, and that he honestly believed that his wife was dead, (hey ought to acquit him.
NOT GUILTY .
113. RICHARD ALDRIDGE (16), and THOMAS EGGMORE (29) , Stealing two reams of paper, of Charles Morgan and another, the masters of Aldridge. Second Count.—Charging Eggmore with feloniously receiving the same.
—ALDRIDGE PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. STRAIGHT and MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. A. B. KELLY defended Eggmore.
RICHARD ALDRIDGE (The Prisoner). I am 16 years old—in July last I went into the service of Messrs. Morgan, wholesale stationers, of Cannon Street—at that time I knew a lad named Johnson—he introduced me to Eggmore in November, and I went with him to Eggmore's several times—in consequence of a communication Johnson made to me, I went and saw Eggmore, who said to me "Where do you come from, and where do you get the paper"—I told him I worked at a wholesale stationer's, and got it from them, but I did not name them at that time—I had sent paper to Eggmore through Johnson—Eggmore asked me if I could get different sorts of paper, and I said yes—he knew that I stole it—I told him I took it—he told me if I could get the paper to bring it to him after dark, or he would send one of his boys with a barrow to fetch it—I said I would see about it—I then told Johnson, who was waiting for me outside—after that Johnson waited outside my master's warehouse, and I took out some paper to him, and he went away—I did not go with him—I afterwards went with him to Eggmore's with some paper—I was taking paper to Eggmore's about twice a week for six weeks—his place is a cellar in Bell Alley—it is a waste paper shop—I went into the cellar with paper, but not often—Johnson went down at other times—Eggmore never weighed the paper in my presence—I took him 20 reams in the six weeks, and Johnson and I received about 6l. between us—the last time I took paper from my master's to Eggmore's, was Friday, 28th November—I then took away five reams—I believe it was marked "C. M."—it was done up in a wrapper—Johnson chucked it down into the cellar, Eggmore was not there at the time; but when he came I told him I had brought the paper, and he said, "All right, I can't pay you now; I will give you a few shillings in advance," and he gave me 3s.—he told me to call for the rest to-morrow, and told me not to bring any more, as he was going to give up business—I went next day, and he gave me 9s., making 12s. for the five reams—a boy named French was employed there—he introduced me to Mr. King, who carries on business at London Wall, where I was taken in custody—that was after Eggmore's business had been closed—Eggmore had given me instructions that when I brought the paper I was to keep a good look out and chuck it down the cellar—I took waste paper and good paper together to Eggmore's.
Cross-examined. I commenced robbing my master about November last—sold no paper till I sold it to Eggmore—Johnson was outside when I had the first interview with Eggmore, but he had gone in before I did—that was not on the same day but about three days before—I had paper with me outside when Johnson went in—Eggmore knew that I came as a friend of Johnson's—Johnson had told Eggmore that I was his cousin, and that I was taking the paper from a printer's—I told Eggmore, in direct terms, that I stole the paper from Messrs. Morgan's, that I took it from the warehouse down stairs; he said that if I preferred he would send the boy with a barrow for the paper, and Johnson could take it to his aunt's house, and the barrow could be sent there, only I was to let him know if I had got the paper out of the shop—either Johnson or I were to call for the barrow—after that I
told Johnson, and he said that if I got the paper he would take it to his aunt's—what they call "waste "was the the outsides, and the other was good paper—the paper was conveyed to Eggmore's the same as it was when it was in the warehouse, but the waste was brought in a bag—the good paper and the bad were sent separately, they were taken separately—I used to take the reams of paper as they were done up—the "outsides" were tied up, and there was nothing over them, they were in a bundle—I put them in a bag to take them to Eggmore's—Eggmore did not say anything about the price, but Johnson said that he would give 1 1/2 d., per 1b, for the "outsides"—waste paper shops pay 1 1/2 d., or 2 1/2 d., per lb, for old rubbish, according to what kind of waste paper it is—the waste paper I took would be about 4 1/2 d. per lb.—when Johnson said he could get 1 1/2 d., I asked him if he could not get 2d., he said "No"—I am sure I was to be paid by the pound for the waste paper, but I never saw it weighed—T took whatever Eggmore gave me—November 20th was the last time I went to Eggmore's, he then told me not to bring any more paper as he was going to give up business—Johnson then said "I will get some of that note paper sold for you"—I said "Where?"—he said "At King's"—and he and French said that if I refused to bring more, they would split upon me—I only robbed my master of three bundles after Eggmore was out of business, it was put an end to only by my being arrested.
Re-examined. I took about sixteen reams of good paper to Eggmore's—the "outsides "were done up in bundles, not in reams—I have heard in the shop that they were worth 4d. or 4 1/2 d., per pound—Eggmore did not tell me what the paper weighed, but Johnson has said that it came to 2s.—I could tell from the money Eggmore gave me at what rate it was, and it was not 1 1/2 d. per lb, sometimes.
COURT. Q. Did you object to the barrow coming to the ware-house? A. Yes; it was used three times—Johnson fetched it from Eggmore's and went to his aunt's, and fetched the paper and took it to Eggmore's—I did not go with him till the last time—the paper was delivered about 7.30 or 8 o'clock—the warehouse closes at 6.55 or 7 o'clock—I have pleaded guilty, and was asked to give evidence on the part of the prosecution—a quantity of this paper was delivered in the day time—I used to take it out of the warehouse on the truck with which I had to deliver paper in the City, and Johnson waited outside with a bag.
ALEXANDER JOHNSON '. I have known Aldridge about twelve months—I went to him at Messrs. Morgan's—he asked me if I had any work, and if I should like to earn 2s., or 3s.—I said "Yes"—he said "I have some waste paper to sell"—I said "All right" and went out and waited outside Morgan's shop—he brought out a little parcel of note paper, about 12 or 13 lbs., and asked me to sell it—he did not mention Eggmore—he said. "There is a paper place in Leatherseller's Buildings, and very likely they will buy it there—that is in Bell Alley—I went there, and it was Eggmore's—I went in and told Eggmore that I got the paper from my mother, who was housekeeper at some offices—that was a lie—I gave him my address in Spitalfields—he bought the paper, and gave me 2s.—I afterwards saw Aldridge, and gave him 1s.—I afterwards went again, and got more paper—Aldridge gave it to me in London Wall—it was the same sort of note paper—I took it to Eggmore's, and he gave me, I think, 1s. 9d. for it—I don't know what month that was, but it was about six weeks ago—I do not know what month this is, but I think it is January—the year is
1874—I don't know what last month was—I cannot read—Aldridge went with mo the second time, and waited outside—I went in, and said "I have brought some more paper"—Eggmore said "Is it from the same place?"—I said "Yes"—I went back with Aldridge to the prosecutor's, and he brought out some more paper in the afternoon—I went to Eggmore's with that; Aldridge went with me—we took it down in a parcel, not on a truck—it was the same sort of paper—I went in and told Eggmore I had brought some more paper, and he bought it for 15d.—both then and at other times. I gave Aldridge part of the money—I took more paper after that—I went to Eggmore's about seven or eight times, and I got about 2l. 10s., altogether—I went about once in every two or three days, but sometimes I had to go two or three times for the money, because Eggmore was not in—I did not go more than once in one day—I took about twenty reams of paper altogether—on Friday, 28th November, I took two reams of paper, and we both took it to Eggmore's—we started with a truck with twelve reams on it from Morgan's, and two reams were delivered at Eggmore's.
Cross-examined. I have not been in the paper trade—I know what a ream of paper is, it is a ream when it is tied up—he declined to buy any paper of me until he asked me who I was and where it came from—it was upon that that I invented the story that my mother was a housekeeper, and gave the address, which he wrote down, and he bought the paper then, but there was no talk about the rate of payment—he bought it by the pound, and I always saw it weighed when I took it down, but I did not understand it—after ho weighed it, he handed me so much money for it—Aldridge and I very seldom went to Eggmore's together, not more than once—when I did not take it there he did—I know that, because I was with him, and waited outside Eggmore's door—the paper was quite as many times in a bag as in a truck—when he had parcels to take to other places, ho put it on the truck in a brown paper parcel, and at other times it was in a bag—I gave my mother's correct address—I live in Steward Street, Spitalfields—my mother did not get the paper as housekeeper—I told Eggmore that Aldridge was a printer's boy, that the printer had given up business, and that this was paper which was about the place after that—Aldridge told me that it was paper which was brought down from up stairs, which was of no use—it is not a fact that I introduced Aldridge to Eggmore, he told me to go there.
Re-examined. He only told me to go to Bell Alley, and there I found Eggmore, whose name was over the door—Aldridge did not mention Eggmore's name, he only said "There is a paper place there, perhaps they will buy the paper."
COURT. Q. Do I understand that you supposed Aldridge was getting the paper honestly? A. No; I did not believe that it was brought from up stairs—I knew some printers who had given up business, where my mother was housekeeper, but I knew nothing of paper having come from there—I knew that Aldridge was not with a printer, but with a wholesale stationer—I was a bricklayer's labourer before this.
ALFRED FRENCH . I was formerly in Eggmore's employ—I remember Johnson six or seven times bringing some small waste paper there; it was outside sheets which had been scribbled over, it was tied round with string in bundles—after that Aldridge brought some, he brought twenty reams altogether, most of which was good paper—I saw my master buy some of it,
but don't know what price he gave—the shop is a cellar—some of it was paid for in the office, and some outside.
Cross-examined. Eggmore had been a chimney-sweep before this—I was present when Johnson came and told Eggmore he had some paper to sell—Eggmore asked where he got it from, he said his mother had sent him there, and that she used to clean offices, that this was some of the waste, and she sent him to sell it—Eggmore put several questions to him, but I heard nothing said about printers—I did not hear him mention Aldridge till some time after; he then said he was not going to bring any more, Aldridge was going to bring it himself—Eggmore always weighed the paper himself—I don't know what he paid, he paid half when he weighed it, and half another time—Eggmore gave up the business and returned to his business of a chimney-sweep, and I then brought them to King.
Re-examined. Eggmore did not always weigh it at the time; sometimes he was out, and then he weighed it when he came in, and they called and were paid
FREDERIC LAWLET (City Detective). On 12th December I took Eggmore, and charged him with receiving two reams of paper, knowing them to be stolen—he said "I did not know they were stolen"—on the way to the station I said "You have been buying a large quantity of this paper; Aldridge and King are in custody"—he said "Yes, I have bought some, and the chief part of it I have sold to King, of London Wall, and some to Mr. Emmerson, of Bishopsgate Street—he said he paid 1 1/2 d. and 2d. a lb, for it, and that the boy he bought it from said his mother had sent him—I went to Emmerson's and received a of paper, which was shown to Eggmore, who said "I know nothing about that paper; I never saw it before"—he said King used to give him 3 3/4 d. and 1d. a lb, for the same paper that he bought of the boys—I got all this paper (produced) from King's, and two more reams; it was shown to Eggmore, and he said "King gave me 3 3/4 d., for it"—this other paper (produced) I got from Emmerson's.
Cross-examined. I found it was true that Eggmore sold this paper to King, but he denied all knowledge of the paper found at Emmerson's—I was in Finsbury Circus, and Eggmore came up to me and said "Good evening, Mr. Lawley"—I said—"Good evening, Tom, I shall take you in custody"—I had been on the look out for him since the Tuesday, and had made inquiries at his home, but he was not there—I have known him eight years as a chimney-sweep, and since giving up the paper business he has taken a chimney-sweep's business again—I never knew him to be in any trouble—he was employed by respectable people—he worked for Mr. Badger, who is a respectable man—he walked up and addressed me—I had appointed to meet Mr. Badger, and understood that I was to see Eggmore ultimately.
Re-examined. I saw him before he came up to me—I saw him walk across the road—he was missing from his home, and never showed up till that evening.
COURT. Q. Was he a master chimney sweep? A. This new business was on his own account, but he was with Mr. Badger, as a journeyman.
JOSEPH KING . I am a waste paper dealer and stationer, of London Wall—I have bought paper in reams of Eggmore, at various times during the last six or nine months—when Lawley came, I had three bundles of paper, which I had bought of Eggmore—Lawley had it—it was similar to this before me—it was outsides of new paper—I bought it as a mixture at 1 1/2 d., per lb., but not of Eggmore—this other I bought of Eggmore at 4d., per lb.
—this is my book—the first transaction I had with Eggmore was on 28th November, three-eighths of a hundredweight at 4d., per lb.—this produced looks very much like it—here are about two reams here.
Cross-examined. The last parcel I bought was three bundles similar to this—good waste paper outsides, such as a housekeeper would get, would be worth 1d. per lb, if it was dirty, and only fit for waste paper—I never bought paper like this, all of one kind, of Aldridge—after November 28th they brought me a mixture of different kinds and sizes, some torn and some dirty—that would be called waste—I should consider everything waste unless it was reams, and all of one kind, and should give 1 1/2 d. per lb, for it—the boys brought me this.
COURT Q. What use would you make of the paper you gave 4d. per lb, for? A. I bought it to sell again—I should make about 1/4 d. or 1/2 d. a lb, profit on it—it might be made into account-books, or any books—it is not the best class of paper—I did not consider it waste paper, but every sheet was blemished—the blemished sheets are afterwards put together.
GEORGE HENRY EMMERSON . I am a stationer, of 3, Bishopsgate Street—Eggmore has sold paper to me, two lots in October, and I think one in November—there were four lots altogether—I see the paper here, this in wrappers is the first lot I bought—that was on October 13th—the other lots were on 29th October, and 18th and 25th November—I gave 4 1/2 d. per lb, for the first lot, 30s. per cwt, for the second, 4 1/2 d. per lb, for the third, 35s. per cwt, for the last, and I think I bought a little at 4d.—it was a little under the market value, and I wanted to know where he bought it—he came in with a catalogue, and said he had bought it at a sale—that was on 13th October.
Cross-examined. We call this outsides post in the trade—I gave him 1 1/2 d. a 1b, for it, the full value being about 5 1/2 d.—that was the highest price I gave him for any paper—the other was miscellaneous, what would be termed outside quires—waste paper is worse than that.
WILLIAM CHARLES BRIDGELAND . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Morgan, wholesale stationers, of 58, Cannon Street—Aldridge was in their employ as porter and errand boy, from August till he was taken in custody—I missed 30 reams of paper in October or November, besides what we term outsides—we don't call outsides waste paper—I identify this paper (produced) it has never been sold—some of it is worth 6d. a lb, to us, and some 4 1/2 d.—it was not possible for such paper to be sold at 1 1/2 d. per lb.—old newspapers sell at 1 1/2 d. and 2d. a lb., but this is not printed on.
EGGMORE received a good character— GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
ALDRIDGE.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT, Tuesday, January 13th, 1874.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
114. GEORGE JONES (37) , PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering two orders for the payment of 23l. 10s., and 10l., with intent to defraud, having been before convicted in November, 1862.— Seven Yens' Penal Servitude. And
115. WILLIAM GRAY (17) , to stealing one breast pin of Harry Dannan, from his person, having been before convicted in August, 1872.— Two Years' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.
BENJAMIN SIMS . I am a cab-driver, and live at 3, Duke Street, Mile End—on Sunday, 4th January, about 12.45 a.m., I was going home through Charles Street—I met the prisoner and two other men—the prisoner hit me on the hat—I said "What is that for? "and he hit me fair in the mouth, and I went down in a lot of mud—he put his hand in my right hand pocket, and I had 3s. 6d. there—I said "Let me have my 3s. 6d."—I no sooner said that than the other men kicked me in the ribs—I caught hold of the prisoner and struggled with him, and I went down on my head—I stuck to him and got him against the wall, and halloaed out "Police and Murder"—the other two got away—a constable came up, and I gave the prisoner into custody—I afterwards went to the London Hospital—I am bandaged up now, and can't work or lift anything.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not catch hold of anyone else before I held you—I kept you and never touched the others, and you threatened to knock my eye out if I did not let you go—I was not drunk—I had only had 2d. worth of whisky and two pints of stout all day.
CHARLES HOUSEMAN (Policeman H 204). I heard cries in Charles Street—I went up and found Sims holding the prisoner by the collar—Sims was covered all over with mud, and was bleeding from the nose and mouth—he had been drinking heavily, but I could not call him drunk—I took the prisoner into custody.
Prisoner's Defence. As I was going along on this night, I saw the prosecutor and three men round him—they ran away and he laid hold of a witness who should have been here for me now, and then he let him go and caught hold of me—I stood there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour waiting for a policeman to come. Guilty.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in September, 1872†— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Twenty Lashes with the Cat.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the
THOMAS ARMSTRONG . I am shopman to William James Benson, of Lud-gate Hill, watch manufacturer—on Tuesday, 22nd December, about 2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the prisoner came in and asked to look at some charms—I handed a tray of charms out of the window, and placed them before him—I partly turned round to close the window, keeping my eye on the goods at the same time, and whilst I was partially turned away, he lifted up a seal and key with his right hand and throw it down his left sleeve—I immediately turned to the counter and asked him to give me the seal and key that he had in his sleeve—he said "I have not got one"—I said "I can see it inside your sleeve"—he still said he had not got one, when I caught hold of him by the wrist, and in the struggle it dropped out on the counter—I drew the attention of the shopman who was standing next to me, and asked him if he had seen what had happened—he said he had, and I immediately sent for an officer, and gave the prisoner in charge.
Cross-examined. When I saw it in his sleeve, it was just inside—there Were a number of charms in the tray—the prisoner spoke with a foreign accent.
FRANK ROBERTS (City Policeman 434). I was called into Mr. Benson's shop—I went inside and saw the prisoner—the shopman said "This man has put a seal and key up his sleeve"—the prisoner never spoke—Mr. Armstrong gave him into custody—I took him to the station and searched him, and found three 10l. Bank of England notes, 12l. in gold, 9s. 6d. in silver, and sixpence in bronze, a bottle of rum, and a watch, and sundry other articles.
JOSEPH HORNE SQUIRE . I am assistant to Mr. Benson—I was in the shop on 22nd December—my attention was called to the prisoner by Mr. Armstrong—I heard him say "Give me that seal and key that you have in your sleeve?"—he said "I have no seal and key"—Mr. Armstrong caught hold of his wrist, and it slipped from his sleeve.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH BOSMACK (Interpreted). I am a diamond polisher, and live at 1, Butler Street, Spitalfields—I am employed by Mr. Joseph Spire—I used to take diamonds to and fro from my own house to his shop—on Friday morning, 9th December, about 7.15, I was on the Holborn Viaduct—I had a bag on my shoulder containing seventeen diamonds, worth about 1,500l.—the prisoner came up to me about St. Sepulchre's Church and struck me in the eye, and caught hold of the bag—I called out "Police!" and the prisoner ran off—I followed, and he went into a pubic-house—I waited outside—he came and looked out, and I said I should not go away—he asked me to settle the matter, and drink with him—I waited till a policeman came up, and I gave him in charge—I had seen the man before, sometimes.
HENRY WEBB (City Policeman 492). About 7.50 on this morning I heard the last witness calling "Police!" and saw a crowd outside the Blue Anchor public-house—I hurried up to see what was the matter—the prosecutor had this bag on his shoulder—I called the prisoner out of the public-house, and from what the prosecutor told me I took him to the station, searched him, and found 3s. on him.
JACOB ROSE . (Interpreted). I was with Mr. Bosmack this morning—the prisoner came up to him on the Viaduct and gave him a strike in the eye, and went to catch hold of the bag—Mr. Bosmack kept the bag, the prisoner ran away, and Mr. Bosmack pursued him.
Prisoner's Defence.—I am innocent of the job. I knew this man by being on board ship, and I merely turned round to give him a smack at the side of the head. I did not know what he had in the bag. I was never locked up in my life before.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GOODMAN* conducted the Prosecution.
JEREMIAH MAHER . I live at 15, Skinner Street, Somers Town, and am a baker—between 10.30 and 11 o'clock on the evening of 28th December, I was in West Street, near the Euston Road—Roach spoke to me—she said "Halloa, ducky! what have you got under your arm?"—I said "A bundle"—she asked me to give her the bundle—I would not—shortly after she
followed me, and got hold of my arm—she spoke one or two words, and took the bundle from under my arm—I said "If you don't give me my bundle perhaps there will be some one here who will take it from you"—I snatched the bundle back—I went down with her to a passage by 32, West Street, that is a goodish way from where she first spoke to me—she had hold of me by the arm, and I was making my, way home, and that was my home down that street—Brown followed us down the street—when we got to 32, West Street, Roach began talking to me and asking me for money, and I would not give her any—she swore at me three or four times, and said "You have kept me here for a quarter of an hour, or more," and she said if I did not give her something she would have it, and then she took the bundle—I did not go into any room with Roach—she got hold of me by the throat, and throttled me so that I could not speak or halloa in any way—as soon as I could I called for assistance—she dragged me on the ground, I got up, and she got me by the throat again—Brown put her hand in my pocket—there was a man there, he struck me, and twisted my arm up my back—they took two half-crowns from me, which were in my right hand side-pocket.
JOHN HENRY TRAPP . About 11 o'clock on the evening of 28th December, I heard cries of" 15, Skinner Street," and "West Street," and "Murder" I was in the house 15, Skinner Street, occupied by Maher—there is an entrance in West Street—a knock came to the door—I opened it, and saw a little boy—I went out, and saw a crowd, and the prosecutor struggling with Brown—he said she had robbed him—I asked him how much, he said "Five shillings"—I said "Why don't you give him the money back?"—she said "No: the money is all right, it will soon be spent, he shan't have it."
FRANCIS THOMPSON (Policeman Y 461). I saw the prosecutor holding Brown in West Street—he complained that he had been robbed by her and another female and a man—I took her to the station—about an hour or so afterwards, I went to 32, West Street with the prosecutor and Poile, and the prosecutor identified Roach from two or three other women there, and said she was the other one who assaulted him—she denied it—I found 5 1/2 d. on Roach.
Brown. There was no money found on me? Witness. No.
GEORGE POILE (Policeman Y 429). About 10.30 on the night of 28th December, I was on duty in the Euston Road—I saw the prosecutor coming down with Roach, followed by Brown—I followed them, and being a short street, I went round the reverse way and passed Roach, who was standing at the door of 32, West Street, with the prosecutor—seeing that he still had his bundle, I passed by, and about an hour afterwards I received information that a robbery had been committed, and I went with the other constable and took Roach.
GUILTY .—They also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted. Roach on 30th January, 1871,* and Brown on 8th March, 1869.** Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
—passing King's Court, which is rather a narrow passage, a young man stepped out of the court, and snatched my watch away—this is the chain the watch was broken from—he ran into the passage, and I followed him—just as I entered the passage, the prisoner dealt me a blow on the bridge of the nose—it knocked me down, and whether he kicked me on the knee or not, I don't know, but my knee was injured from the fall or from a kick—I got up and followed the prisoner and the other man—J came up with them at the upper end of the Court, and caught hold of both of them, but the other man wriggled out of my grasp and got away—a constable came up, and I gave the prisoner in charge—he said I might make it as bad as I could, or some words to that effect—the watch was afterwards given to me by a man who picked it up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There is a small step to the passage, not 2 inches high—I did not fall on my face—I fell inside the court when you struck me, my feet were not in the street.
PHILIP ISAACS .—I live at 3, Vine Court—I heard a shout of "Police! "and ran up, and saw the gentleman with the two prisoners, one in each hand—the one that got away handed the watch to the prisoner, and when he ran away the prisoner gave it back to him, he threw it to the man who got away—I saw it picked up and handed to the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. I saw the watch in your hands, distinctly—it was found at the side of the post at the corner of the court.
Prisoner's Defence. I never touched the man, he met with an accident, and he wants to make somebody pay.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted in October, 1871— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Thirty Lashes with the Cat
MESSRS. POLAND and Straight conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD DAVIE . I am a cashier at the Charing Cross Branch of the National Bank—Mr. Solomon Ullman, of Regent Street, jeweller, keeps an account at that branch—a little before 4 o'clock on the afternoon of 9th December, the prisoner came to the bank and gave me this cheque (produced)—I thought there was an alteration in it, and I went to my note till, and said "How will you take this, in notes T—he said "Yes; notes will do"—I then said to him "What do you claim for this cheque, 80l.?"—he did not make any particular reply to that, and I said again "You claim 80l. for this cheque?"—he said "Yes; 80l., what is in the cheque"—I thought it my duty to refer the matter to the manager—as I was going to the manager, he walked that way, and after I had spoken to the manager the prisoner said "What is the matter? if there is anything wrong with the cheque, I will take 8l., and go about my business"—the manager said "Oh, no; we can't do that"—the prisoner said he had sold a ring to Mr. Ullman for 8l., and he wanted the 8l. for it, that was all he wanted—the manager requested him to wait until we sent for some officers—young Mr. Ullman came in while he was there, and the prisoner was given into custody
—he made a statement to the effect that if I had given him 80l. he should have taken it, although he knew it was dishonest.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I should think it was about a minute to 4 o'clock when you came to the bank—young Mr. Ullman was there when you came in—he was standing on my left, and you stood some two or three yards from him—the door was behind him—you would have to pass him—you did not speak to him when you came in—I did not notice you hold the cheque up to your eyes before you presented it—after I had looked at it, I asked Mr. Ullman to wait a minute—I did not say "There is some swindle here"—I leaned over the counter to speak to him—I said to you What do you claim on this cheque, 80l.?"—you said "Yes, sir, what is in the cheque"—you said you would take 80l., what was in the cheque—I am positive you said "80l."—I only spoke to Mr. Ullman once, and then I left him and you also, and went to the manager—I asked if you would take notes for it—I don't believe I said "gold or notes"—you did not say "Anyhow will do," you said "Notes will do"—I don't think you mentioned the word "Anyhow "at all—I did not lay the cheque before the manager and say "This cheque is not good"—it was impossible for you to hear what I said to the manager—I told the manager young Mr. Ullman was at the counter—you were wandering up and down—I said the cheque had been altered, but you did not say how, and I did not say "By putting a 'y' to the word 'eight'"—you said "I am certain I know nothing of it"—but you did not say that to me—I did not say "Why, you have just claimed 80l. a minute ago"—the other cashier may have said so—you did not say "If you asked me 80l. I did not understand you," and I did not say "Gracious, how did you expect to get 8l. in notes"—the other cashier may have said so, I did not hear him—I did not hear you say "I know nothing about notes, can't you give me 8l. in notes"—the manager had the cheque then—I did not hear you say to Mr. Ullman "Is not the cheque just as you wrote it"—you were talking a great deal, I know—Mr. Ullman said there was 8l. due—you did not say in my hearing "The boy has acknowledged there is 8l. due; I claim no more than 8l., neither have I claimed more; give me that 8l., that will settle this business"—I can only speak of what you said to me, not what you said to other people—I could see that the cheque was wrong—Mr. Ullman's son had told me that he had given a cheque for 8l., but that in writing the cheque he had smudged the figures, and he hoped that I would pay the cheque, because he did not wish the gentleman to be prevented from getting his money, and that he had called at the bank in order that the cheque might not be returned—he told me, that about a minute before you came in.
JOSEPH ULLMAN . I am the son of Solomon Ullman, jeweller, 94, Regent Street—I assist in the shop—my father keeps an account at the Charing Cross Branch of the National Bank, and I have cheques entrusted to me with authority to fill them up—on the 9th December, a little after 3 o'clock, the prisoner came to the shop—he said he wished to sell a ring, he wanted 10l.—it was a very foggy day, and I could not see exactly what it was, and I told him I would give him 8l. then for it, and if it was worth any more I would give him 2l. on the following day—I asked him who he was, and he gave me this card, and said he was correspondent to the New York Herald; and he showed me a document and said it was a letter of credit on London for 10,000 dollars, that he could not draw the money for ten days, and he wished to telegraph to New York, and he wanted the 10l.
to telegraph—this (produced) is the document—I agreed to give him 8l., and the 2l. the next day—I filled up a cheque for 8l.—this is it (produced) I wrote the words "W. H. Stanton or order," and the word "eight "with-out the "y"—when I came to put the figures, I was thinking about the 10l. I had been talking about first, and then I blotted the 10 with my fingers and put 8 on the top of the two figures—I am quite sure when I gave it to the prisoner it was a cheque for 8l.—since I gave it to him the "y "has been added, and the "0"—the prisoner left the ring with me and went away with the cheque—it was then about 3.40—I don't remember that I said anything to him about the bank or the time—I filled up the counterfoil—I had to go to the Borough afterwards, on business, and as I passed the bank I went in and made a statement to the cashier—I was in the act of going to the Borough when the prisoner came into the shop, and I stopped to serve him—when he left I went up and put my coat and hat on, and went to the bank—the prisoner was not at" the bank when I got there—he came in some few minutes afterwards—my father saw the cheque before I gave it to the prisoner—T handed it across the counter, and my father took it from me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You might have said when you came in, "Is the proprietor in?"—I said I was his son, and could accommodate you—I did not say he was not in—you did not ask me if we lent money on jewellery, but if we bought jewellery—you said you had come from Paris to London with the expectation of getting some money—you showed me that document directly after we had decided the amount—I asked you who you were, and you showed me the card and the document at the same time—you read parts of it to me—you were standing by the door when you read it; it was rather dark, and you went to the door—you held it up to read it, and I thought you were near-sighted from the way in which you read it—you took out a pocket-book; you had a great many cards, and you gave me one—I went to the door to look at the ring, to get as much light as possible—we were not talking about lending money on the ring, but about selling it—you asked me whether I would buy the ring—I asked you if you had got anything to sell to make up the 10l., and you said "I don't wish to sell anything but the ring"—my father is a pawnbroker—I believe the ring had "W. H. S." inside—after I told you it was not worth 10l. I went up to show it to my father, to have his opinion upon it—you did not say "Will you give me 10l. and take the ring? "and I did not say "You will sell the ring, will you?"—when my father came down he did not take the matter out of my hands; we did it between us—when my father came down, he said "You want to sell a ring, do you?"—you said you wished to sell it, you wanted to get 10l. out of it—he said he would not give you inore than 8l.—I went behind the counter, and wrote out the cheque—I wrote "Eight pounds "at the top, and put "10 "below in the figures, and then I wrote it "8l.;" I began the word "eight "a little too far back, and I rubbed the ink out with my finger and I wrote "10 "at the bottom, and I rubbed that out and put "8 "over it—I did not pass the cheque to you, and say "You will just have time to get down to the bank and get the money"—I was going to give you the cheque, and my father took it out of my hand—you asked my father where the bank was, and he said at Charing Cross—the ring is not worth 25l.; it was a French make—I daresay it would sell for 13l. or 14l.—I believe you put the cheque in your pocket—I am sure you looked at the cheque—I did not tell you that it was a cheque
for 8l.—one of the assistants was in the shop, and another gentleman—my father's name was on the cheque—when you came into the shop I was going to our shop in the Borough, and to go there I should go past the National Bank—it did not strike me that I should show you where the bank was—I did not tell you that I was going to give you a cheque for the money before I gave you the cheque—you either asked me what bank it was, or where the bank was—after I gave the cheque to my father I shut up the book and put it back in the drawer—I told the cashier at the bank that I had given a gentleman a cheque for 8l., and I had blotted it in writing it out, and if it was presented he was to pay it—I went in to tell him to pay it; I did not go because I thought I had made a mistake and that the cheque was for 80l. instead of 8l.—I was quite sure I had not made that mistake, because I read the cheque through—I had been at the bank two or three minutes when you came in—you presented the cheque to the same cashier that I was talking to—I was just going out and I noticed you coming in, and you stood about 6 feet from me—you held the cheque up, and said "Is this the National Bank?"—the cashier looked at it, and he said to mo "Stop a minute," and I waited—he did not show me the cheque; he did not hold it down to me, and say "There is some swindle here"—he said "How will you take this: in notes V and you said "Yes, notes; anything will do? and he said "How much do you claim on this cheque, 80l.?" you said "Eighty pounds, yes; what is in the cheque"—he went to the manager's room, and then, he came back, and I went away to fetch my father.
COURT. Q. Did the same person who wrote "W. H. Stanton "write the "Eight pounds?" A. Yes, they are both in my writing—I always write the words of the amount before I write the figures—I wrote "Eight pounds" before I wrote the, figures "10," and then I smeared the "10" and put "8" over it.
Prisoner. Q. Did you hear me say "If there is any mistake in the cheque I don't know anything about it?" A. No; but I heard you say afterwards, to another cashier, that you had not altered it—you said some time afterwards that if there was any mistake I must have made it—the cashier said "What is to be done?" and I said "Shall I go for my father?"—I went and got my father, and we all went into the manager's room—you wanted to come in, and they told you to stand back.
MR. POLAND proposed to put in evidence the counterfoil of the cheque, in order to negative the possibility of mistake in the filling up of the cheque. Mr. Commissioner Kerr (after consulting The Recorder) was of opinion that it was not admissible.
SOLOMON ULLMAN . I am the father of the last witness—on the afternoon of 9th December I was called down into the shop, and saw the prisoner, there—he said he wanted to sell this diamond ring—I asked him what he was, and he gave me this card, and he showed me a yellow document, and said he was entitled to 10,000 dollars, and he partly read it to me—it was a very dark day, and I offered to give him 8l. for the ring—he said he would not take less than 10l.—I said "If you will come to-morrow when it is clearer I will give you the other 2l., or you can take your ring back by returning the 8l."—this cheque was signed by me—I always leave one or two cheques at home with my son in case they should be wanted—the filling up is my son's—I was present when he wrote it—I took it out of his hand to see whether the Bank would pay it, on account of it being a little dirty—I am
sure it was a cheque for 8l.—neither the "y" was there nor the "0"—I can positively swear it was a cheque for 8l. when it left my house—I handed it to the prisoner myself.
Cross-examined. When I came down stairs I asked you who you were, and you said you were correspondent of the New York Herald, and W. H. Stanton was your name—you said you wanted 10l. for the ring—I agreed to give you 8l.—you did not say you would not take less than 10l., and it was no use talking—I don't suppose you knew that you were going to receive a cheque—you showed me this document after I came down stairs—my son was in the shop at the time—he daubed the first letters, the eight, with his finger, and then he made the ten, and daubed that, and I took it from his hand and looked at it—I handed it to you—you said "What bank is this?" and I told you it was the National Bank at Charing Cross—after you had gone I told my son to go to my house in the Borough—I had not told him previously—he might have known, because he frequently goes in the evening—I am a pawnbroker—I have a license to do a pawnbroker's business in the Borough but not in Regent Street—I told your attorney I should bring the ring to the Court—I knew the cheque was not paid, and that the ring belonged to you—I could not give it up without an order from the Court, and the Court did not order it to be given up.
EDWARD SAYER (Police Inspector). On 9th December, in the afternoon, I went to the National Bank at Charing Cross, and saw the prisoner and young Mr. Ullman there—I said to the prisoner "I am an inspector of police, and I shall take you into custody for altering a cheque from 8l. to 80l."—he said "All right, you can take me; I did not alter it"—he was searched and those papers found on him—he gave a correct address, at 11, Ryder Street, St. James's; it is an hotel—I went there and searched—I found a seal, which I produce, which corresponds with the stamp on the documents, "Highland Circuit Court, City of New York, 1803."
Cross-examined. You were standing at the counter when I took you—you did not seem at all excited or inclined to resist, and you told me without hesitation where your address was—I found your things all scattered about the place, and a great many books and papers—I should have said that the place had been inhabited by a literary man—I found copies of several pieces' of manuscript, and there was nothing bad in the letters—I found you had paid your bill five days previously.
GEORGE SAWER . I am the English agent of the New York Herald at 46, Fleet Street—the prisoner was not a correspondent of that paper, nor do I know anything about him—there is no such place in New York as the Highland Circuit Court.
Cross-examined. It is possible you might write under a nom de plume—the New York Herald has not got a correspondent in every town where there are more than 8,000 people; not unknown correspondents.
The Prisoner, in his defence, admitted that the two documents found upon him were fictitious, but stated that they had been written by him when he was at the Military Academy at New York, at his studies, and that he never represented that one of them was a letter of credit; that what he showed to Mr. Ullman was a letter he hud received; that after he left Mr. Ullman's shop he went to the wrong bank, and only got to the National Bank just before 4 o'clock; that he could then have got away if he had been guilty; that he knew nothing about the cheqae being for 80l., and when the cashier asked him if he would take notes for it, he said notes would do, not being used
to English notes; that when he went into the, shop in the first instance, he, did not know that he was going to receive a cheque, and then he wanted a cheque for 10l. and not for 8l.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, January 14th, 1874.
Before Mr. Justice Honyman.
RICHARD HONETSETT (Police Sergeant E 6). On 23rd November, at 12.25 o'clock at noon, I was on duty at King David Lane police-station—the prisoner came in, and said "I am come to give myself up"—I took him into the reserve room, and placed a chair in front of the fire; I thought he was ill—he sat in the chair, and commenced to cry—he put his left hand into his trowsers pocket, and drew out this knife (produced) and handed it to me, and said "That is what I have done it with"—I noticed stains of blood on the knife, and said "What.! do you mean to say you have used that on your wife?"—he said "No, I have killed my poor dear children"—I said "How many?"—he said "Two"—I said "Is your wife at home? does she know anything of it? '—he said "No, she is dead"—I then asked him the ages of the children—he said one was turned four and the other was turned two—I asked him his address—he said "19, Chopping's Court, Old Gravel Lane"—I sent a constable there to ascertain the facts—the prisoner was perfectly sober—I asked if he would take any refreshment, and he said "No, not at present."
Cross-examined. I thought from his look that he was ill; he seemed all on the shake, and he looked so very pale I thought he would fall down.
COURT. Q. What made you say to him "Do you mean to say you have used that on your wife? "A. He appeared so agitated when he gave it to me, I made that remark—I had no particular reason for supposing it referred to his wife
JOHN ROUSE (Police Inspector K). At 12.45 on 23rd November, I was called by Mrs. Wilson to 19, Chopping's Court—I went into the front room first floor, I there found two children in bed, covered up with an old quilt—I uncovered the quilt from the bodies, and saw that they were dead, and their throats were cut; the bodies were still warm—I found a slop-pail standing by the side of the bed half full of clotted blood, and a hand basin standing by the fireplace, containing apparently water and blood—I searched the place to find some instrument with which the deed might have been committed, but found none—there was not a particle of food in the place—the room was in a very dirty and neglected state, it betokened considerable poverty—there was a small wooden box, with apiece of paper that fell down over the
front, in that there were three plates but nothing on them, not even so much as a crust of bread—I then went to the station and saw the prisoner there—I charged him with the wilful murder of his two children—after reading the charge to him he seemed in a very low and distressed state; I asked him whether he thoroughly understood the charge that was against him, it was a very serious one—he said "Yes, perfectly"—the left leg of his trowsers that he had on was spotted with blood, and also his right slipper—I sent to the workhouse for other things, and had these taken off.
Cross-examined. The pail had a large quantity of blood in it, it was quite half full, and there was blood all round the pail, where it had spouted out, and when I removed the pail, the bottom where it stood was quite clean and free from spots.
COURT. Q. What sized pail was it 1 A. It was a common zinc pail, a medium size—I should say it would hold a gallon and a half, or two gallons, and it was about half full of blood—it appeared to be solid blood—I think there was very little in it with the exception of the blood.
JURY. Q. Was there any blood in the bed? 4. Very little—it seemed to me as if the children's throats had been cut and held over the pail for the blood to flow into it until they were perfectly dead, and then they were laid in the bed—it was a low stump beadstead, near the window—the eldest child was lying nearest the window, as if that was the first one killed—their faces seemed as if they had been recently washed.
SOPHIA WILSON . I am the wife of Joseph Wilson, a blacksmith, of 19, Chopping's Court—the prisoner had been living there from about a fortnight before Whitsuntide—he came first with one child, the boy, and the girl came afterwards, I can't say how long after—his wife was dead—he had been out of work some six or seven weeks prior to the death of the children—on Sunday, 23rd November, at a little after 12 o'clock, I had a conversation with him—I had seen the children alive between 2 and 3 o'clock on the Saturday afternoon, the day before, in the front room first floor—on the Sunday, a little after 12 o'clock, the prisoner came down into my room on the ground floor, to go through; he did not say anything to me—I spoke to him and said "Now Parker, you must take those children and go to-morrow, for my husband is cross, he thinks I am doing too much"—he said "I will do so"—I said "I suppose you heard him last night"—he said "A little, ma'am"—(my husband and I had had a few words about keeping the children)—he said" I will do so;" and he went on to the threshold of the door—I said "You know you are not doing quite right"—he said "I will be back in five minutes"—he never returned—I went direct up into his room, directly he went from the door—I did not see where he went—I went up to take the children some food, it was all ready for them—I found the room door shut, which was very uncommon—I went in and found the children in bed, covered over, they had only their night gowns on—I turned the counterpane back—I called out "Oh, Mrs. Moore, the children don't move"—Mrs. Moore was down stairs, she came up, and I then looked at the children, I saw the little girl saturated with blood, I put the quilt down again and came out of the room, leaving them as I found them—I did not notice the pail, only the hand basin with blood in it—I went straight up into the room after having the conversation with the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The prisoner came to us just before Whitsuntide
—it was not arranged that I should find food for the children and he pay me for it—he had not work when he came to us; he got to work for Mr. Knight afterwards—he had no wife—I looked after the children when he was at work—I gave them food, but I had not anything for it, because he was not earning anything—I did not agree with him that I would provide for them; when he got to work I found food for them, and bought things, and he paid me for it on the Saturday, and he gave me 5s. a week for looking after them, and cooking the food for him and them—when he came down stairs on the Sunday, I think it was about 12.15, I can't quite say the time—he had always been a kind father to the children while with me; he was always very kind, but most to the little boy, he was very fond of the little boy.
Re-examined. I was in the habit of seeing him from day to day, during the whole time he was living with me.
COURT. Q. You say that for six or seven weeks before that he had been out of work; had he paid you any rent during that time? A. No; he was on his club for a fortnight—he paid 2s., a week rent for the room; he owes me 2l. 10s. 2d., I think—he had been getting into arrears for some considerable time, he had nothing to do—that was what my husband alluded to when he said I was doing too much; he was very angry about it—I found the food for the children during the six or seven weeks that he was out of work; I have never been repaid for that—I was in the habit of seeing the prisoner every day—I never noticed anything peculiar in his manner during the time he was living with us—there was nothing eccentric or odd about him; I used to talk to him—sometimes he would be very cross and out of temper, and sometimes he would sit and cry—he quite understood me when I spoke to him—his manner was very much depressed, especially during the latter part of the time, the five or sis weeks that he was out of work—when he came down stairs on the Sunday, I told him my husband had been very angry with me for letting him get into debt—and upon that he went out directly; I saw him go out—he did not go up stairs again; he had to pass me to go out, because there is no passage to the house—he must have cut the children's throats before he came down—I had not told him on any previous occasion that if he did not pay I should have to turn him out, but my husband had said so; he said he should not stop any longer—I never told him that until the Sunday morning—I did not notice anything strange about his manner then, he appeared to be quite right, and answered me quite correct—he had been on a sick club for a fortnight during the earlier part of the six weeks, when he was laid up with a bad foot—I did not notice anything about the prisoner's dress which made me go up stairs directly—I generally gave the children their dinner at 1 o'clock, but I always waited till he came out of the room before I took up the food—I was waiting for him to come down stairs before I took the food up, and when he went out I took it up—I said to him "Parker, you know you are not doing quite right," because I thought he did not put his shoulder to the wheel enough—I really don't know what trade he was, he worked for Knight & Co.—I don't know whether he was a soap maker or a soap boiler—I don't know whether he was a butcher.
WILLIAM DUNCAN KNIGHT (examined by MR. BOMPAS). I am a soap boiler, in Old Gravel Lane—the prisoner was in my employment—he worked as a weekly labourer in our soap factory, not in any skilled labour, the labour he was employed at did not require any technical knowledge—
he told me when he came to my employ that he had been in the army, and served through the Indian mutiny; he said he had served ten years, and had his discharge; after he left the army he worked as a porter at some industrial dwellings for a little time—he worked for me through five or six years, at irregular intervals—his state of health during that time was very uncertain; he would work, perhaps, for three or four months, and then fall sick; his chief trouble was rheumatism, he suffered very much from rheumatism in the ankle joints—the last time he came into my employ was in May last—there is a sick club among the men in my factory—the prisoner became ill, and went on that club in October—the first payment he had from the sick club was on 10th October, he was nearly three weeks on the club—when a workman who has been on the sick club recovers, he would come back to my employ as a matter of course, if he chooses, it would depend upon himself; the prisoner did not come back—I was in want of hands at the latter part of October and November—if he had applied to me during any part of that time, I would have given him work—he was a very steady workman and sober; I never knew him to be the worse for drink—he was a very kind-hearted man.
COURT. Q. You say that while he was with you, the only thing the matter with him was rheumatism; was there anything else?" A. I think not—that was the only reason that I knew of why he stayed away from his work—to my knowledge, that was the only thing that prevented his working—there was nothing else the matter with him, to my knowledge, except the state of his mind—I have noticed in his manner something strange and peculiar, which possibly might have kept him away from his work, although I could not absolutely say that it was so—latterly he had seemed to me to be so very depressed in his manner, as if he were quite indifferent as to whether he had work or not—he showed that by his listless habits and want of interest in everything-he was not, to my knowledge, unsteady, and he did overtime at his work, but in such a very listless manner as to lead me to suppose he was indifferent as to whether he kept it or not—he was paid at the rate of 24s. a week—he worked with me till the beginning of October—I paid him up to the time he went on the sick fund; that must have been a week before 10th October—I had occasion to complain to him about the mode in which he did his work; I did so when he was paid on the Saturday—I don't remember the exact date at this moment—there is a great deal of difference between workmen; two workmen may both do their work, but one may do it in a much better and more satisfactory manner than the other—I went on paying him 24s. a week—I was glad to have him when he chose to come; what I mean is, that he was very slow—when we are very busy we are not always able to choose our hands—I have nothing else to say as to the state of his mind, that I know of.
HARDWICK BRAY . I am a surgeon, living at 15, New Road—I was sent for to Mrs. Wilson's house on 23rd November, about 1 o'clock—I saw the two children lying in the bed, side by side, with their throats cut—they appeared to have been washed; that must have been done after the act was committed—where the wound was, was very nearly free from blood; almost clean—it had the appearance of freshly-cut meat, there was so little blood upon it as that—the blood must have been washed off after the throats had been cut, on account of the quantity that had been lost—there was a pail there, apparently containing simple blood; there was
one large clot—it was very nearly half full—I have not the least idea of the capacity of the pail; it was a smallish pail, a common housemaid's pail—I should think there were a good many pints of blood there altogether—the throats were cut apparently from ear to ear—the knife produced would, I should think, produce such wounds—I saw a hand-basin in the room, with blood and water in it.
Cross-examined. I got to the house between 12.12 and 1 o'clock, I should think; I could not state the exact time—so far as I could judge, I should fancy the act had been done about half-an-hour before I got there, or perhaps a little over—I am not acquainted with the symptoms of insanity; I know nothing of them, except in the ordinary course of my practice—I have not made any particular study of it—I have read some of the works that have been written on the subject, but not any particular book, that I am aware of.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
ANN PRESTON . I live at 13, Pearl Street, St. George's-in-the-East, and am the prisoner's sister—I remember my brother meeting with an accident when he was a lad of about ten years old—I cannot recollect what my right age was at that time; I am now forty—I cannot recollect the date of the accident, both mother and father being dead—it was at Cirencester—my brother was from about ten to fourteen at the time; I must have been between fifteen and sixteen; I am two years older than he is—I was living at home with my mother at the time when he was brought home—it happened through a coach-horse—he was between two, holding one in each hand—I was not there—he was brought home smothered in blood, and he had a serious cut on the top of the head; it caused him to keep to his bed for a considerable time—he was very dangerously ill; the doctor gave no hopes of his ever recovering—I saw him every day during his illness; I and my mother attended on him—he knew none of us for many days; he was not at all conscious—when he was recovering he always complained of a headache—I remember his enlisting in the Welsh Fusiliers—I can't tell the date—I know he was away for ten years in the Army—he went abroad part of the time, to India—he was there during the Indian mutiny; we received letters from him—he returned from India about eight or nine years ago—he was out in the Crimea—I don't know whether that was before or after he went to India—he lodged with me after he came from India—whilst he was there I remember his coming home on one occasion the worse for drink; a little overcame him—when he came home I told him of it; he would not retaliate much upon me, but he turned round into the passage and kicked against the wall violently, and likewise with his hands as well as his feet—the last time I saw him before this occurrence was on the Tuesday as it happened on the Sunday morning—he came into my place—very few words passed between us; he merely came in and out again—he seemed in a very low, desponding state, but I thought it was through his being out of work—I know that he had previously worked at Mr. Knight's—I frequently saw him during his married life; I often saw him in company with his wife and children—he was very kind indeed to his children, and wife, too—I was present at his wife's death—she was about thirty-eight years of age—she died on Easter Monday last—my brother seemed of late to be in a very low, desponding state of mind, but I thought it was from being out of work or being ill—he was very deaf, indeed, after he began to get about after the accident, but it gradually wore off; he was always a little deaf.
COURT. Q. You say he was attended by a doctor at the time he was brought home? A. Yes; the doctor attended him between three and four months; it was some doctor at Cirencester, I do not know his name; I have not made any attempt to find him—I had seven brothers and sisters, four are living, the other three died quite young—I never knew any of them to have anything wrong in their minds—I had three or four aunts on the mother's side, and one on the father's side—my mother had no brothers, nor my father, only one sister—one of my aunts (my mother's sister) married Mr. Hedges—I have heard of her being out of her mind—that must have been twenty years ago, I should think—she was not in confinement—I never heard of any of my other aunts, or any member of the family, being out of their mind, that was the only one.
SOLOMON HEDGES . I am the station-master at Swanbourne, Bucks—my wife is an aunt of the prisoner's—we have been married about forty years—about the year 1848 we were living at Woburn Sands—my wife was then very ill indeed, for a long time, and she was very low and desponding, and I was obliged to have her taken away from her family altogether—she was ill both in body and mind—she was attended as an out-patient at the Northampton Infirmary at the first outset, for some length of time—she was not attended by a medical man at home at that time, not till after she had left me; she was taken violently ill in 1848—it was about six months before we went to Woburn Sands that she was an out-patient at the Northampton Infirmary; I was then living at the Weedon Station, near Northampton—she was brought into a very low state of body by illness, and her mind was very much wandering as well—she was never violent—she was always very strange for a length of time, until I had her taken away from me, and after she was taken away I can't say what was the matter with her—I did not have a medical man to see her while she was with me—I am not aware that there is any medical man here who did see her—I consider that her illness at the first onset was rheumatic fever—she was very ill, and she was going on in very strange language, that the house was all on fire; and she got all my children out in the road one morning about four o'clock, and was praying with them; I could not do anything at all with her; I got some of my neighbours up, and got her into bed again, and got the clergyman to come and see her; I did not have a doctor till the next day; it was Dr. Barker, I think, that attended to her, but she was taken away the next day by her sister, Mrs. Millard, to King's Langley—she was taken away on my own account; I wrote to her sister to say what a state she was in, and she came and took her back with her to King's Langley—Mr. Moore, the clergyman of the parish, was the gentleman that had her taken away.
CATHERINE MILLARD . I live at 42, Drummond Street, Euston Square, and am aunt to the prisoner—I have a sister married to Mr. Hedges—whilst they were living at Woburn Sands, in 1848, I received a communication from Mr. Hedges, in consequence of which I went down there and saw my sister; I found her in a very melancholy state; she thought that every one was interfering with her, and finding fault with her, and she took her children out in the lane to kneel on the sands and pray to the moon—she was not at all violent—she could not eat, or drink, or sleep—I took her home with me to King's Langley—she would not mind what her husband said to her—she was about three weeks with me—I took her to Hemel Hemp-stead Infirmary, and she was there three days, and when I went to see her on the Sunday with my husband, the house surgeon said that I must take
her to an asylum, she was not a fit person to be there—I took her back home, and kept her at my home three weeks, and she was very desponding and very unhappy—I did not know what to do with her, and my mother took her to her own home—my mother lived in Oxfordshire at that time—my sister was then about thirty years of age—I saw her last about twelve months last Christmas—she was then very strange, but not bad—she never was outrageous to do anything—she is now at home with her husband at Swanbourne Station.
JOHN ROWLAND GIBSON . I am surgeon to the Gaol of Newgate—I have seen the prisoner daily since he has been confined in the gaol, since 1st December last—I have examined his head—there is a very distinct mark on the upper part of his head, in the shape of a horse-shoe, between four and five inches long, and an eighth of an inch wide, showing that there must have been a very violent external injury—there is no evidence of the bone having been injured—it was alleged to have taken place twenty-four years ago, I think—that injury would affect the brain at the time very decidedly, and that injury to the brain might or might not continue—if deafness followed upon that injury, the presumption would be that it was the result of it—I have had some experience in cases of insanity in this gaol for the last eighteen or nineteen years—lunatics very often reason logically, but the basis of their reasoning is very often quite false and delusive—the presence of skill and arrangement in an act does not necessarily imply that the act-is not an insane act in itself—when the brain is diseased, it may not show itself in permanent and continuous insanity, but in outbursts of mania from time to time; that is quite consistent—outbursts of mania may occur, although usually there is some indication of madness independently of and antecedently to the acts of violence—insanity is so varied in its form that it would be difficult to give any particular indication of what may exist prior to an outbreak of acute mania—a melancholic disposition of mind is one which very often leads to acts of suicide as well as murder, and again persons may have certain delusions which prompt them to acts of violence—I think an unwillingness to avail oneself of the ordinary and natural means of providing for one's daily livelihood, is an indication—a man not availing himself of the ordinary means of living, when he has them at hand, that is a state of things that may accompany insanity—a man may be of a melancholic disposition and not be capable of doing anything.
COURT. Q. I suppose you do not mean to say that if a man who has a profession by which he can make a fortune, prefers to do nothing, he is mad? A. Certainly not; but if a man has been working up to a certain time, and then gives it up and does not go on, there would probably be some mental reason for it.
MR. BOMPAS. Q. Do you think that a combination of these four characteristics in an act, viz., that the act is committed without communication with other persons, by the man himself; that it is committed without any apparent motive; that it is committed upon persons whom he loved beyond all others; and that, immediately after this act he delivers himself up, do you think that a combination of these four circumstances is an evident indication of an unsound state of mind? A. Decidedly it is—I think the last act especially, the giving himself up in despair, and with an utter disregard to his own safety, is not consistent with sanity.
COURT. Q. Do you think that it shows that he did not know what he
was doing? A. That is another matter—I believe there are many acts, the nature of which they know, but they cannot control; they are the victims of delusion—I will explain what I mean; if a man destroys those for whom he has shown kindness and affection, and does not seek to conceal the act, and then gives himself up, showing a perfect disregard of the consequences of the act as regards his own safety, I think those are indications of an unsound mind; the fact of his having no accomplices I attach very little importance to; I cannot imagine an insane man having any accomplices—I cannot enter into whether it shows that at the time he did the act he did not know what he was doing, or that what he was doing was wrong—I cannot speak of the state of a man's mind when I am not present.
Cross-examined. I would not go so far as to say that if a man kills his wife and gives himself up he is insane, and if he runs away he is sane—his giving himself up is not necessarily a proof of insanity—there is nothing about the prisoner to show that he is unfit to plead this morning—he has not given me any reason while he has been in Newgate to indicate that he is of unsound mind—he has been somewhat depressed, more than men usually are—I have seen him every day since 1st December.
Re-examined. An attack of mania may come on very suddenly, and pass off very suddenly, just like an attack of epilepsy.
GEORGE BEAMONT . I live at 62, Old Gravel Lane, and am under foreman at Messrs. Knight's, soap manufacturers—I have been intimately acquainted with the prisoner for about eight years—I know that he had been in the Army—I was acquainted with him at the time of his marriage, and during the whole of his married life—they lived happily together—he was a very kind and affectionate husband and father—I visited him at his house—he was of a kind of melancholy disposition—he would sit down just like a man who was rather docile I might say, who wanted a little bit of speaking to and enlivening up—he suffered a good deal in the head—I had him under my e yes at Mr. Knight's day and night—instead of moving an article out of his way like another man ought to do, he would sometimes push it or kick it out of his way, such a thing as a shovel, instead of stooping down and picking it up, he moved it with his foot—there was nothing else peculiar in his behaviour that I noticed—he was very fond of his children—I knew the little one from the time of its infancy up to its death—I told him at the time of his illness that he could come back again to Mr. Knight's to work.
ANN CLEGG . My husband is a stoker on board ship—I live in St. George's-in-the-East, near the prisoner—I have known him for the last eight years—I had his little girl for three months altogether with me, one month before her mother's death, and two months afterwards—I saw the prisoner three times during the last fortnight, before this happened—I noticed that he did not speak at all free as he used to do to me—he spoke in a distant manner, as if he did not want to have much to say to me—the last time I saw him was on the Friday, as this happened on the Sunday, but not to speak to him—I watched him the length of my two windows, and I thought he was very despondent then—he seemed to walk in such a despondent way, with his arms hanging by his side—his appearance struck me as being very much different to what it had been in former years—I had been very intimate with him when his wife died, and until he got into work—I used to go backwards and forwards, and he used to come in to me, and the tears used to stand in his eyes when he came to see the child—I said "Why
don't you come more to see her? and he said "I don't care about coming, Mrs. Clegg"—because he did not give me anything for maintaining the child—he thought he ought to give me something, and he was out of work at the time—that was before I gave the child up—it was in June—I have often noticed him with his children—his conduct was very kind indeed to them, especially to the eldest one, the little cripple.
DR. MORRISON. I attend the sick club at Mr. Knight's works—the prisoner was on the club for nearly three weeks at the beginning of October—I only saw him occasionally for a short time—he was not seriously ill; he had a rheumatic affection of the ankle—at the end of the time he got better of that—I met him at his own door one Saturday evening, and he said he was better and was going in to his work on the Monday, and he would not trouble me to call again—I believe he was then fit for work.
Q. I believe you did not see enough of him to be able to give any opinion as to the state of his mind? A. My visits were very short.
COURT. Q. Was he rational, or otherwise? A. He always answered rationally to any question put to him—I asked what was the matter with him, how he felt, and so on, in the ordinary way, as a medical man speaks to his patients, and he answered me rationally—I had not much opportunity of judging whether he was sane or not.
REV. ROBERT LINKLATER . I am a clergyman of the Church of England, and reside at St. Peter's Clergy House, London Docks—I have known the prisoner about ten months; I knew him in the lifetime of his wife—I attended her during her last illness—he had two children—after his wife's death I offered to put his little crippled boy into a Home, but he would not part with the child—this was immediately after his wife's death; she died on 14th April, 1873—for two months, I suppose, I was at his house every day—from my observation of him I should say he was a remarkably kind husband and an affectionate father, noticed by everybody in the neighbourhood—the boy was noticeably a cripple, and the little girl was also deformed.
GUILTY.—Unanimously and strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the great depression of spirits he must have endured from the loss of his wife and other troubles. DEATH.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, January 14th, 1874.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. OPPENHEIM conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES APPLEBY . I am parcels porter at the Shepperton station of the London and South-Western Railway, and have been so nine years—I produce the receipt-book, in which here is an entry on 28th October in my"' writing—it is signed "F. Faulkner, for Mrs. F."—the prisoner signed that in my presence—this other signature on 5th November, "F. Faulkner, for Mrs. F.," was also made by the prisoner in my presence, and so was this signature, "F. F., for Mrs. F.," on 14th November, and this "F. F., for Mrs. F.," on 22nd November.
WILLIAM WEBB . I am clerk to Messrs. Wylde, Barber, and Brown, of Ironmonger Lane, the attorneys for the prosecution—Messrs. Shoolbred delivered these letters to me—I believe them to be in the same writing as the signatures to this parcels book—about 3.30 yesterday afternoon I gave
the prisoner notice to produce certain letters to-day—he said "It is impossible for me to produce the letters."
Prisoner. Q. Was not the remark I made that if I had the letters it would not be possible for me to produce them at that short notice? A. No; you said "I can't possibly produce the letters," or "It is impossible for me to produce them." (THE COURT having consulted MR. JUSTICE HONYMAN considered that the notice given to the prisoner was too late; as he could not have the letters with him in prison, everything being taken from him when he was taken in custody, and that Mr. Oppenheim had better direct his attention to the question of the prisoner obtaining the goods by false pretences from the Railway Company, not from Messrs. Shoolbred.)
JOHN GREAVES . I am buyer and manager to James Shoolbred & Co., of 156, Tottenham Court Road—I superintend the mantle and fur department—I received these letters marked "A," "B," and "C,"—(These requested some carpets and a sealskin coat to be sent to Mrs. Eliza Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford)—I then selected some sealskin coats, and sent them to a man called Harrison, or "Bruce," to be packed, and also these furs—I next saw them at the pawnbroker's—they would be entered by Snowden, the entering clerk—Harding keeps the stock-book, Harrison executes the order, he puts them in boxes, and they are taken to the packing-room—Harrison gives them down, and Snowden enters them—these are the coats I selected, and this is the box, which is made for the purpose of containing sealskin coats, it has on it "From James Shoolbred & Co., Tottenham Court Road, London."
ALFRED HARRISON . I am an apprentice to Messrs. Shoolbred—I assist Mr. Greaves; he gave me some goods to pack in November, with directions—I put them in boxes, tied the boxes together, and put them into the packing-room—I wrote on a ticket "Mrs. Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford"—I cannot swear to these articles, but no other articles of this description were given to me in November.
WILLIAM THOMAS . I am a packer at Messrs. Shoolbred's—I packed some boxes in papers, and saw them addressed "Mrs. Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford, Shepperton Station"—I signed this ticket (produced) at the time, and put it with the boxes—the goods were brought to me by the salesman with this ticket on them, and I packed them and handed them, with the ticket, to Harrison to address them—he is called "Bruce."
Prisoner. Q. How many boxes were there? A. Three—I did not direct them, and I don't know the contents.
ALFRED SKINNER . I am a carman, employed by Mr. Kingston, of Fitzroy Square—on 21st November, I received a lot of parcels at Messrs. Shoolbred's, and among them one addressed to Faulkner, of Shepperton—I took it to our office and copied the address off it on to our bill—I also signed for it in Shoolbred's book—this is the entry—I have signed for nineteen parcels, one of which is "Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford, near Shepperton."
CHARLES LUNN . I am in the parcels office at the passenger's station at Waterloo—I produce a delivery-sheet, which shows that on 21st November I received a parcel from Kingston the carrier—the entry on the sheet is Faulkner, Shepperton"—I forwarded that parcel to the Shepperton Station, by the London and North-Western Railway.
JAMES APPLEBY (re-examined). In October or November last the prisoner called on me and told me he expected some parcels down which would be addressed to Mrs. Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford, but that the lady had made a mistake in the address, and there was no such place, and he would, call for them—I afterwards received some parcels with that address, and should have sent them on unless I had had those instructions—referring to my book I find that on 22nd November a parcel arrived, addressed Mrs. Faulkner, Grove House, Halliford—the prisoner called for it, signed for it, and took it away—here are four entries here, all signed by the prisoner.
Prisoner. Q. Had I had parcels before? A. Only one in the name of Jackson—you signed Jackson for it—I had known you coming there several times, but did not know you in the name of Jackson—I only knew that by your signing for one parcel—you signed "F. F. for Mrs. F." for this parcel.
COURT. Q. How came you, if you knew him as Jackson, to give him a parcel addressed to Mrs. Faulkner? A. Because he gave notice that he would call for them, there being no such address, and on the strength of that we gave them up, which we should not otherwise have done.
Prisoner. Q. Did I receive one or two letters? A. Yes, but very seldom—you owed me money, and said you would pay me as soon as you got it—your wife was ill, and the doctor ordered her change of air, in my presence—you paid me 6l. 6s. 4d., and promised to pay the rest before Christmas—you lived much worse than I do, and I am a poor woman—I never saw you the worse for drink—you were, I believe, too kind to your wife.
GEORGE CHALCROFT . I am post-office messenger at Mr. Champion's, the post-master at Halliford—I know Halliford; there is no Grove House there, that I know of—I know the prisoner, he called at Champion's for letters in the name of Faulkner, and took one in that name away with him.
WILLIAM OLIVER . I am manager to Robert Attenborough, pawnbroker, of Duke Street, Manchester Square—I produce a sealskin coat, with sable trimmings, pledged on 25th November, by the prisoner, in the name of Bycroft, for 20l.
HENR YARTHUR ATTENBOROUGH . I am manager to George Attenborough and Son, of 93, Fleet Street—I produce a sealskin coat, a set of sable trimmings, and 2 yards of sable trimming, pledged on 25th November, for 20l., by the prisoner, in the name of Frank Williams, Wyon Lodge, near Wimbledon—he said they were his wife's property, and had been bought of Swan and Edgar—I will not say whether he said that her uncle had given the money for the purchase, or was responsible for it, but he said they would have to be redeemed before the first week in January, as the uncle would then be in town, and she would have to wear them.
to Sandrock House, Petersfield Road, Midhurst—I got assistance, and rang the bell at the front gate, the prisoner came to the gate, and I asked him if his name was Jackson—he said "Yes"—I said "I want to speak to you"—he turned round and ran towards the house—I jumped over the gate, and was met by a black retriever dog, which pinned me by the coat for some minutes, and the prisoner got into the house and shut the door; the superintendent released me, and we burst the door open and found the prisoner sitting in a room with his wife—we were in plain clothes—I read the warrant, and asked him if his name was Jackson alias Faulkner—he said "Yes"—I told him I must search the house—I went up stairs with the wife and found this sealskin jacket (produced)—I found in an outhouse this box, on the lid of which is "From J. Shoolbred & Co., Tottenham Court Road, London"—I showed it to the prisoner—he made no answer, but called his wife, and told her not to answer any questions—she put her arms round his neck, and he said "This is my affair, not yours"—I brought him to town, and before going into the Police Court, I said something about the property, and he said "Do you think they will confine me or remit me to bail?—I said "It is very unusual"—he repeated the question, and I said "I don't know"—I afterwards spoke to him again, and he said that he would rather see somebody from Shoolbred's.
Prisoner. Q. When I answered the gate, did not the superintendent reach over his arm and try to take hold of me? A. I did not see him because he ran round the corner, and it was 9 o'clock, and a very dark night indeed—the warrant was in the name of Faulkner only, but I asked you if your name was Jackson—I only mentioned the carpet when I read the warrant—I did not come to your cell and say "I should strongly advise you to give all the information you can."
JOHN GREAVES (re-examined). As the prisoner was coming out of Court at Bow Street, he spoke to me, and said he had seen a great deal of trouble, and was in great distress, and requiring money, he pawned the goods—I asked him if he had the tickets—he said "No; but I will write to you tomorrow, and give you information where the goods are"—two days afterwards I received this letter and envelope.
Prisoner. Q. Did I give you that letter? A. No; but it was taken into the office—you had leave to write on the 13 th.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you say at the Police Court that you could not identify it? A. I said that I could not identify the signature of "Faulkner.".
COURT. Q. Was that letter shown to you? A. I am not sure whether it was or not—I was asked if I could identify these pink letters, and I said "No"—but at that time I had not seen the signature of Jackson—I swear that these two signatures of Jackson are identical.
Prisoner to James Appleby. Q. Do you swear you saw me sign that book? A. Yes; in the name of Jackson—it was not signed in the pre-sence of a youth only—we have not a great many signatures in a day. (The Court considered that the letter had better not be read.)
Prisoner's Defence. Some time ago I made myself liable for the debts of another person, who afterwards failed, and I had to pay a considerable sum.
Being unable to do so, and fearing I should be arrested, I took a lodging in the name of Faulkner. I ordered only one jacket for my wife, which was found among her clothes, and I thought Messrs. Shoolbred would give me credit for that. The doctor ordered my wife change of air, but being in arrears for my lodgings I could not leave. I did not ask the prosecutors to send me this quantity of goods; and being placed in possession, of them at such a critical time, I was induced to pawn them to pay my rent and give my wife the change which she required. I only expected to get one jacket, and having them suddenly put into my possession tempted me to do this. I should have returned them if I had been allowed more time, but my being taken in custody prevented my getting the loan. Of course, it was not proper; but one does not act so calmly and conscientiously when placed in difficulties. My wife is seriously ill, and I have a young family dependant upon me. Guilty.
Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his life and family.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, January 14th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
125. JAMES WALLACE (19) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing six rings and one piece of paper, the property of John Alexander, in his dwelling-house; and also to uttering two forged cheques, with intent to defraud.— Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutors.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
126. SAMUEL PHILIP BARNES (33), and WILLIAM WRIGHT (56) , Unlawfully obtaining from John Searle Masters a quantity of cheese and bacon, by falsely pretending that Barnes was carrying on a good business, and was a person of means, credit, and responsibility, with intent to defraud. Second Count—Conspiracy to defraud.
Barnes, and MR. W. SLEIGH defended Wright.
ELIZA WOOLLEY . I live at Crouch End, Hornsey, and used to keep a public-house there—on 19th June last, by virtue of this agreement (produced), I let a house called "Alexandra House, Crouch End," to Barnes—he said that he desired to open it as a grocer's and provision dealer's—after he had possession I saw the words "Grocer and Provision Dealer "painted over the front of the shop—I went for my rent after the Michaelmas quarter—I found the windows all smeared over with whitening, so that you could not see through—there was a small portion of bacon and some lard in the shop, but no groceries to be seen—I did not see anything sold—he never paid me a farthing for the rent—there were some canisters in the shop, which belonged to me; the prisoner Barnes had the use of them by the agreement.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. It had been a provision merchant's shop before, but it had been closed since the October previous—it was first opened the Christmas twelvemonth before, by a person of the name of Clisby. I could not say whether "Provision Dealer and General Merchant" was over the door when Clisby had it—I won't say that it was not—I know Mr. Masters, and knew that he was a wholesale provision merchant in Chiswell Street—I don't know that Clisby dealt with him—I never saw Wright, that I know of, until I saw him at Highgate Police Court—I don't know a Mr. Nicholls—I know a Mr. Noble, of Hornsey—I really don't know
what he is—I can't say whether the windows were whitened over before, when Clisby had the shop; they were not when he left, and the house was empty after that till Barnes took it.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. They were large windows and the whitening was painted over them—Clisby took my house at Christmas, and he remained till the twelvemonth following—Barnes took it for three years, the rent increasing every year—he was to pay me 5l. a year for the use of the fixtures, if he did not purchase them—he was to have them for 50l.
GEORGE HUDSON . I am house-agent for Mr. William Elder, of Hornsey, and live at 2, New Road, Hornsey—in March last year Barnes came to me, and said he was to take the house No. 11, New Road, and I agreed to let it him—I think there was a letter passed between us—I had subsequently to put in a distress for rent—this is the distress warrant. (This was dated 11th September, 1873, for 7l. 10s. rent; levy, 3s.; man, 2s. 6d.: 7l. 15s. 6d.) He did not pay the distress out—he subsequently left—we allowed him to take his furniture on condition that he gave up possession—I know Alexandra House well; it is a shop, and the upper part is a dwelling—I never saw the shop opened.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. There was only one quarter's rent due when we put in the distress.
JOHN SEARLE MASTERS . I am a provision merchant, carrying on business at 26, Chiswell Street—I have known Wright a number of years—on 24th September he came to my warehouse with Barnes—he said "I have brought a friend of mine with me, he wants some very good goods, he has a dairy at Alexandra House, Crouch End, and he is going to open a provision ware-house; he wants something very choice, I thought I might recommend him to you"—I said "Good morning" to Mr. Barnes, and he selected his goods—he was very particular about the quality, because he had such fine families to serve—he selected a quantity of goods—I said "I thought it would be too much"—he said "Well, I will leave it to you," and I said "I think you had better have a less quantity"—he selected goods to the amount of 25l. but I shortened them, and eventually the amount was 15l. 10s.—he then asked me my terms—I said "Cash for the first transaction, if it was for the Prince of Wales"—I said "You will see better what you require, and we can come to terms afterwards"—he put his hand in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a few coins which looked like sovereigns, and said "I have not got enough money to pay you now, send them up and I will send you the money back"—I have never received any money for the goods—they were sent by my own cart to the address given by Barnes, "Alexandra House, Park Road, Crouch End"—I was induced to part with the goods having known Wright so long—I considered it was a respectable transaction, although I did not feel pleased with the money not coming, yet I said "Well, I dare say it will be all right."
The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that the case was not made out, as the false pretences alleged in the indictment were not proved, and that the evidence of conspiracy was not sufficient.
NOT GUILTY .
127. SAMUEL PHILIP BARNES was again indicted, with JAMES CAMPBELL (30) , for unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, as alleged in the former indictment, from Victor Dordet and another, thirty-six bottles of brandy and three wooden cases. Second Count—Conspiracy.
ROBERT GRAHAM FARMER . I am manager to Victor Dordet and Norgues, of Upper Thames Street—on 19th December last Campbell came and gave an order for six cases of brandy, to be sent to Messrs. Samuel Barnes & Co., Alexandra House, Crouch End—he said that Barnes was a provision dealer there, and that the brandy was for his own private use—the brandy was sent on the day it was ordered, and the invoice was sent by post afterwards—I arranged with Campbell that I was to take off the discount and a cheque would be returned—the brandy has never been paid for—I went to Hornsey about a week afterwards and sought out Alexandra House—I found the shop closed—in consequence of some inquiries I went to 11, New Road; I saw a woman there, but the house was to let; the bill was in the window.
The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that in this case also the false pretences, as alleged, were not made out by the evidence; that the breaking of a promise did not justify an indictment for false pretences, it must be a false pretence of an existing fact, and that there was no evidence of conspiracy.
NOT GUILTY .
ELIZA WOOLLEY . On 19th June I let Alexandra House to the prisoner on the terms of the agreement which has been produced—amongst the fixtures were four pairs of scales—I saw them last when possession was given to him of the house—I took possession again twenty-one days after the Michaelmas Quarter, and in going over the inventory three pairs of scales were missing—I called the attention of Mr. Barnes's agent to it, and he said "Think yourself lucky you have got what there is"—I could not tell the value of the scales.
Cross-examined. I was there when the inventory was given up to Mr. Barnes, and I saw the scales then—I found everything right afterwards, except the scales—I took possession, according to the arrangement in the agreement, twenty-one days after 29th September, after one quarter's rent became due—I wrote this letter, and asked Mr. Barnes about the three pairs of scales that were found deficient.
The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that there was no evidence that the prisoner had stolen the scales.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. GRIFFITHS and SIMS conducted the Prosecution; MR. WARNER SLEIGH
defended Gibson and Blore, and MR. HARRIS defended Gagan.
EDWARD HAVILAND . I am a porter, and live at 198, Gray's Inn Road—on Sunday morning, 7th December, about 12.30, I was in Holborn, going home—I wanted a pie for my supper, and was standing by a pie-shop, near Weston's Music Hall—I had a watch in my pocket at that time—I saw Blore standing by the door of the pie-shop—I did not go in—Gibson came up and asked me if I had got a light—I said I had not—he put his fist in
my face—I put my head back to save the blow, and some one caught me by the throat and put an arm round my neck—Gagan and a man who is not here came up—my watch and chain were stolen from me by Gibson—he put his hand down to his right side, between the man and Gagan—directly the watch was taken Gagan closed her arms round Gibson and said "Come away, George, come away," and turning to me, she said "You shan't fight with my husband"—I seized hold of Gibson and he threw me down—I called "Police!" when Blore turned round and struck me at the side of the face—the constable ran up—I had hold of Gibson—I had got up from the ground then—I still held him—I gave him into custody—he began blackguarding me, saying that I was swearing falsely, and he had not taken the watch, and I was told to go down to the station by the constable—I went—I had been there about a minute when Gibson was brought into the yard, Blore followed, and began blackguarding me in the passage—two policemen came out and I gave him into custody—he said that I was swearing false against Gibson—I had seen Gagan once before, and I have no doubt that she was there—I saw her ten days afterwards at the top of Drury Lane—I walked up alongside of her to be sure she was the woman—I looked her full in the face, and went away again—I followed her into Holborn, and the first policeman I came to I gave her into custody—he asked me what I charged her with, I said for being concerned in highway robbery in Holborn, with Thomas Gibson and Blore—she said "Oh, you have only got spite against me," and she turned round to somebody alongside of me, and she said "You know I was along with you up to 12 o'clock on last Saturday night"—I don't know her sister at all.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. It was a silver watch—T am not at work at the present time—I was at work at 16, Russell Court for ten or twelve months—I had never seen Gibson and Blore before—I mean to swear that—I was not at work that day—I had been up to my mother's place, and I had been to Weston's Music Hall in the evening—I was there from about 8.30 until 12 o'clock—I did not have a disturbance there or anywhere else—I have never been in trouble, only for being tipsy once—I have never been convicted, I have always had the penalty of a fine put upon me, which I have paid—I did not know that was a conviction—I had been at Weston's three and a half hours, and had been taking moderate drink—I had about four glasses of ale, no spirits—this affair took place in front of a pie-shop—there were not a great many came out of Weston's at the time, they were all gone—I had been talking to some friends for half an hour after 12 o'clock, outside Weston's—there had not been a quarrel between me and anyone as the crowd was coming out—the pie-shop is two or three minutes' walk from Weston's—there is a narrow passage there—I did not strike Gibson—when he asked me for a light I told him I had not got one, I did not say anything else—my coat was buttoned when I came out of Weston's—I had undone it as I walked up to the pie-shop window—anybody could see that I had a chain—I last saw my watch about 12.20, when I looked at the time last—I swore at the Police Court that I saw Gibson take it—I mean to swear now that he tore it from me—he was the only man there who could take it; the chain was in his hand, and the watch was attached to it, and I took the chain out of his hand—the chain was in his hand, and the watch must have been there—I did not see who he gave it to, it was passed between the man and the woman—I said at the Police Court that he gave it either to the man or the woman—the chain was torn from me, and I
got it back from Gibson—there were a dozen or two dozen people there, per haps—there was not a very terrible struggle going on—Blore struck me after the robbery—he turned round and said "Leave go"—he said nothing about his friend—Gibson was given into custody outside the pie-shop—I did not see the woman then—I did not see Blore on the way to the station—I did not see him until I got inside the police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I said before the Magistrate that Gagan used the word "husband"—she threw her shawl on Gibson and said "Don't fight, come away," and turning to me "You shan't fight with my husband"—I don't think she was there when the police came up—she must have gone away, because I did not see her—I did not see her go—there were not a great many people passing and re-passing; there were a few—I had no ill-feeling at all against Gagan—I had left my friends about ten minutes before the row—I was coming along Holborn, and thought I would turn into the pie-shop.
HENRY WILSON (Policeman E 311). I assisted in taking Gibson to the station—the prosecutor had gone on in front towards the station—Blore came up and said he asked the prosecutor to have a box of lights, and that it was false swearing giving his friend into custody about the watch—the prosecutor saw Blore in the passage at the station, and he said "That is the man who struck me," and he gave him into custody—Blore said "I only asked him if he would have a bos of lights."
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLIGH. Gibson was in custody when I got up—Blore followed us to the station—he was not speaking to the prosecutor going along—he abused the prosecutor to me, and said it was all a wrong charge.
JOHN DOUGHTY (Policeman E 317). On the night of 7th December, I heard shouts of "Police!" in High Holborn, and ran up—I saw the prosecutor and Gibson tussling together—the prosecutor gave Gibson into custody—he said "I know nothing of this, I have not stolen the watch, I know nothing about it"—nothing had been said about the watch when he made that answer—the prosecutor said "I give him into custody for stealing my watch"—Gibson began swearing at him, and I told the prosecutor to go on to the station—Blore came up after that with some boxes of lights in his hand—he said "This man has not stole the watch, the man who has given him into custody is swearing false against him"—Blore went down to the station, and he was given into custody—I noticed Gagan standing in the front of the pie-shop—I did not see her until I had Gibson in custody—she was standing 5 or 6 yards away then—there were some other women there, but I can't say that they were in her company—I don't know whether Gibson is her husband—I was on duty in Holborn on the 16th December; the prosecutor came up to me and I stopped Gagan—he said "I charge her with being concerned with Thomas Gibson and Thomas Blore with assaulting me and stealing my watch on the Nth"—I took her into custody—turning to a woman who was with her, she said "You know I was with you last Saturday week at 12.30; I know nothing about the watch, I remember seeing a man being locked up, but I did not know what it was for."
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLIGH. I took hold of Gibson because he was on the top—I thought it might have been a fight when I came up first, and I went to separate them—Haviland said he was standing looking in the shop, Gibson came up to him and asked him for a light, he said he had
not a light, Gibson then put up his fist to strike him, he bobbed his head back to miss the blow, and some one from behind put their arm round his neck; Gibson then took his watch from him, and he got hold of the chain and struggled with him, the chain was detached from the watch, and the prosecutor had that in his hand—he said that another man struck him a blow at the side of the face, that there was a woman there with a red and black shawl on, she threw her shawl round Gibson, and said "Come away, George," and to the prosecutor she said "You shan't fight with my husband"—that is what the prosecutor told me—the whole of that statement was made outside the pie-shop—there were about a dozen people there, men and women.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I took Gagan ten days afterwards—Haviland had gone on to the station when I saw her—I can't say whether she was there when I came up or not.
Re-examined. She had a black and red shawl on, like the one she has on now.
GIBSON* and BLORE** GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
GAGAN— NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.
ECCLES GOLDING (Police Sergeant K 29). About 1.45 on the morning of 6th January I was in Butcher's Row, Ratcliffe, and was passing Mr. Steam's coffee-shop, I saw a piece of paper up against the shop window, which was broken, about 3 feet from the pavement, and saw the paper move, and went up and found the prisoner standing on a form inside fixing the paper and a board up to the broken pane—I said "What are you doing there?—he said "I live here"—I said "I don't think you do"—he said "Oh, yes, I do"—I said "How long have you lived here?—he said "Three years"—I said "Are you the landlord?"—he said "Yes"—I asked him how the window was broken—he said in a fight on the previous night—Moon, 281, came up, and I asked him if he knew the man inside—he said "No"—I directed him to go round to the side door, to see if he could call the landlord up—as soon as Moon turned the corner, the prisoner broke about 3 inches of the glass and jumped out of the window—I seized him and detained him—the landlord came down when he heard the glass break, and the prisoner was given in charge—I went inside and found the shutter, which is partly a screen inside, had been broken away, and the glass was strewed over the floor inside.
WILLIAM STEARN . My father keeps this coffee-shop in Ratcliffe—I went to bed about 1.15, leaving everything safe—at 1.45 I heard a noise and ran down stairs, and found a man in the shop, near the window—just as I got into the shop he bolted out of the window into the policeman's arms—I know nothing about the prisoner—I undid the door and let the sergeant in.
Prisoner's Defence. I have not been in England many weeks—I met a fellow-countryman, and he took me round about London, and he took me to several public-houses and gave me some beer, which I have not been accustomed to, and I got rather more than I ought to have had, not being accustomed to English beer—I remained at his house until about 1 o'clock
in the morning, and then he told me to go as straight as I could go and I should get right to the London Docks—I did not know what I was about, and thinking this was an empty house, I did what I did, and went in there and the police saw me there.
Prisoner. I was not drunk but I felt so bad in my head from the effects of the beer, which I had not been accustomed to drink.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution.
Prisoner. I was never in the shop but twice before. Witness. I have known you some time on and off coming to the shop, and I recognised you there on 2nd January.
The prisoner produced a written defence stating that the parcel was thrown down by a youth in a state of great excitement, who ran away; that she picked it up and being in great need, pawned it.
MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution.
JOSIAH TURNER . On the evening of 2nd January, at 6 o'clock, I was outside Mr. Tharp's shop, and saw the prisoner come out at the side door and drop these two pieces of cloth in a dark corner—I picked them up and followed her into the shop by the other door—she had one piece in her hand—I said "What account have you to give of these two pieces of cloth you have just dropped as you came out of the door?—she said "I know nothing about them; I never saw them before"—I told her I should take her in custody for the unlawful possession of them—on the way to the station she said "I will tell you the truth; as I was coming out of the street leading to Thomas Street, I saw a young man running away with the cloth, and several people following him—he dropped it, and I picked it up, and the remainder of it you will find at my house, under the bed"—I went" to the house she gave, and found 15 1/2 yards of cloth on this board under the bed—these pawn tickets (produced) were found on her, some of which relate to carpenters' tools and sheets and blankets, which have been taken from her furnished lodgings.
EDWARD PICKERING . I am assistant to George Robinson", a draper, of Hare Street, Woolwich—these three pieces of blue cloth are his property—I missed them from the door on 2nd January, about 5 o'clock—I know them by this mark in my own writing—they are worth 6l. 6s.—I heard no cry or calling out.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
ALFRED SHELLEY (Policeman P 145). On Sunday morning, 21st December, at a few minutes before 3 o'clock, I was in College Street, Camberwell, near Mr. Brutton's house, and heard a noise at the rear, as of forcing open a door—shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner come from the rear of the house to the front, and in attempting to get over the fence he fell, and I ran and caught hold of him—I asked him what he had been doing there—he said that he had been home with the two sons, who were friends of his; he did not say that they were the sons of the owner of the house—I said "What noise was that I heard at the back of the house?"—he said they were very nearly all drunk, and were making a row—I said "You must go back, that I may see whether that is correct"—when we got to the back door the prosecutor was just outside it, in his night shirt, with a candle in his hand—I asked him if he had any sons—he said "No; bring him here; somebody has just broken open my door; I will show you"—the prisoner said "I have been to the closet; I came home with the sons, and one is named Fred."—he was given into my custody—I searched him at the station, and found on him these two gimlets and this spanner, which is to screw nuts with—he was quite sober—I went back, and found P 388 examining the place—there were marks on the door which corresponded with the spanner—I have not the least doubt about that.
Cross-examined. I have been eight years in the Police—the fence was about 3 feet high—there is a little garden in front of the house—I have made inquiries, and find that the prisoner has been in Mr. Midhurst's service between fifteen and sixteen years, who discharged him for getting drunk—I also found that he has been in Mr. Roche's service three years—Mr. Roche did not say that he would take him back directly.
JOSEPH MARSHALL BRUTTON . I live at Sidney Cottage, Camberwell—on 20th December I fastened up my house, locked the back door, and went to bed—I heard a noise at the back of the house between 2 and 3 o'clock; I took a carving knife, went down, and found the back door wide open—it was burst in three places, the two bolts and the lock—I saw a short man on the staircase inside the house, who ran away when he saw me with the carving knife—I did not lose sight of him till he got over the fence and fell down—I saw the policeman at that time—I was then within 6 yards of him, and the policeman brought the prisoner to me—I have no sons and no relative named Fred.—the prisoner said that he had been to the closet—this iron bar (produced) does not belong to me—this spade is mine—these two catches for the latch and the bolt were forced off the door—my house is in the parish of St. Giles, Camberwell.
Cross-examined. I ran after him 6 yards, and the policeman brought him to me—I was standing at the gate in my night shirt.
JAMES ELLIOTT (Policeman P 388). On Sunday morning, December 21st, about 3.40, I examined Mr. Brutton's back door, and found it had been forced open—there were several marks on it of a new spanner, which I saw afterwards—the door had also been cut with this spade; I saw
marks of it—I found this iron instrument in a corner by the door, and the sill was broken away.
Cross-examined. There were no nuts on the door which required removing—this is a three-quarter spanner, which is used for turning any nuts—the door was burst open by means of the shovel, the spanner, and this bar—what caused more noise than usual was that there were two wooden supporters—it is a wooden house.
Re-examined. It was defended by some woodwork.
Witnesses for the Defence.
—HARBURD. I live at 55, Eagle Street, Holborn—on the Saturday before Christmas the prisoner came to my house to put a knocker on my door—he brought two gimlets and this spanner—he remained there from 7.20 till 11.45, when I left him in the Albany. Tavern, at the corner of the Albany Road, about 20 yards from the prosecutor's house—we had a good deal to drink, and the pair of us had had pretty well enough—I said to him "If I don't come back in a few minutes, or in the course of half-an-hour, don't you wait"—he had nothing like this iron bar in his possession—I have known him sixteen years; he is an honest, respectable mechanic—there never was a charge against him, that I know of.
Cross-examined. My friend, Mr. Edwards, seeing that I was a little the worse, saw me into a cab—the prisoner is a turner and fitter, of Tower Street, Seven Dials—he makes templets for me; iron things, which we run our picture frame moulding with—I asked him to go to Camberwell with me as a companion—he came to put my knocker on at 7 o'clock, or 7.15—he used the gimlet to bore a hole in the street door, and the spanner to put the nuts on—we drank gin and "beer in my shop from 8 o'clock to 10.30, and then I invited him to go over to Camberwell, where I had business—I was not drunk then—I had property worth 10l. on me—I don't know the prosecutor's house.
William Roche, of Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, gave the prisoner a good character, and agreed to take him into Ids employment.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.
SAMUEL SHORRICKS . I am a smith, of 41, East Street, Kennington Road—on 6th December I was in the Union public-house, Lambeth, between 4 and 5 o'clock, and saw the prisoner there—he was a stranger to me—I was taking a splint to get a light for my pipe, and dropped it, one of them trod on it, and I said "You might look out where you are treading" the prisoner insulted me, but it had nothing to do with him—he abused me and began shoving me—we then went outside, and he challenged me to fight—I went out with the intention of fighting, and was going to take my coat off, but before I could do so somebody knocked me down, and my head went against a cart wheel—I got up and got the best of him with my fists, but was knocked down again—when I got up I took my coat off, and we had a fight—I warded a blow off my head, and a knife went into my loft side—I did not see it in his hand, and I did not see it go in, but I saw
it drawn out—I was taken to St. Thomas's Hospital, and remained there about a fortnight—I am an out-patient now—I had had a glass or two, but I knew what I was doing on.
Cross-examined. I did not tread on the prisoner's fingers—I had not drunk a good deal.
ROBERT CUPLAND . I am potman at the Union Flag public-house—on Saturday, 6th December, about 4.20 p.m., I saw the prisoner in front of the private bar—there were three people there altogether—I did not see the commencement of it—I heard Shorricks say he was one by himself, and did not want to fight, and that he had a family of children; with that the prisoner shoved him three times, and Shorricks said "Come outside and see what I can do"—he went outside, and I followed—the prisoner came out and seized Shorricks, and struck his head against a cart wheel, and he fell, and the prisoner kicked him three times in the head, I believe, but I am not certain—Shorricks got up and they had a fight, and he got the best of the prisoner—with that the prisoner seized Peploe, and pulled out a knife and struck Shorricks in the left breast—Shorricks began to jump, and said that he was stabbed; he fell, and then the prisoner went into the school-yard—I ran after him, caught him, and threw him down—he tried to put the knife down a sink in the corner of the lane, but I caught hold of it and held it till I saw a constable—this is the knife (produced).
WILLIAM PEPLOE . I am a sawyer, and live at 1, Ashmole Cottages, Kennington—on 6th December, between 4.30 and 5 o'clock, I was passing the Union Flag public-house and saw two men roll out, the prisoner is one of them—I saw one of them get up and saw blood on his collar—I then rushed at the prisoner, we had a struggle, and he stabbed me on my head and got away.
OWEN POINTING . I am a French polisher, of 10, Catherine Street, Vauxhall—I was near the Union Flag, and saw the prisoner and Shorricks fall out of a crowd—I saw them get up, and saw a knife in the prisoner's hand, and saw him strike Shorricks with it on his left side—he then ran away—I ran after him, seized him by the wrist, and the potman seized him by the throat, took the knife away, and afterwards gave it to the policeman—the prisoner then fainted away, and we carried him away from Carlisle Lane, back to the boy's school, and then they resumed fighting again, and it was a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes before a policeman arrived.
WILLIAM FRIEND (Policeman L 74). I was called to Hercules Buildings about 4.30, and when I got there the prosecutor had been taken to the hospital—I ran to the end of North Street, saw the prisoner in a crowd, and took him in custody—Peploe gave him in charge for stabbing him.
Cross-examined. He had been drinking, but he seemed to know what he was about—he was excited.
HENRY WALTER VERDON . I was house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on Saturday, 6th September, about 5.30, I examined Shorricks—he had a wound in his belly, and its contents were protruding from the wound—he was in a very low condition from the shock—it was an incised wound, and this knife would inflict it—his life was very much in danger for three or four days—a good deal of force must have been used—he is out of danger now, but he is injured for life—he will always have a rupture at that spot, and at any time it may become strangulated—he has to wear an apparatus.
Cross-examined. It is not more than an ordinary hernia—extra exertion might cause strangulation, there is always danger of the truss slipping.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN SUSSEX . I am a coppersmith, of Nine Elms—I was in the Union Flag, and saw the prisoner and Shorricks come out to fight, and before the prisoner could get his coat off Shorricks struck him—they had two or three rounds, and both fell by the side of a cart wheel—when they got up Shorricks took off his waistcoat—the mob was very great, and I got pushed away, and some one in the crowd halloaed out that he was stabbed, and I saw the prisoner running, calling out "Not for Annie"—that is his wife.
THOMAS LOVE . I am the prisoner's brother—I went into the house with him—he and Shorricks were quarrelling, and Shorricks said that he could stand it no longer, and struck at my brother, they went out and fell against a van—somebody knocked me over into the entrance of a school next to the public-house—I was kicked, and the others told me to go home—I know nothing of the stabbing, but Shorricks struck my brother first, inside the public-house.
WILLIAM GRIMWOOD . I am a grainer—I was within 200 yards of the Union Flag, and saw the prisoner and Shorricks come reeling out at the door—they sparred up to one another, and embraced and fell against a cart wheel—they then began fighting again, and both fell—they got up again, and Shorricks took off his waistcoat, his coat was off; they closed, and both fell—Shorricks got up and made three kicks on the prisoner's chest, but I think they were meant for his face—I did not see any more—I was seven or eight yards off.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; and MS. SIMS the Defence.
GEORGE KITSON . I live at Lambeth, and am in the betting profession—on 30th November, at 12.10, I was in the Strand, speaking to a female friend, the prisoner came up and struck her with an umbrella—she screamed "Murder!"—I said "Jack, you have done that for nothing"—he said "I will do similar to you"—we had some words and fought one or two rounds—we used nothing but our fists then—we all three went then across Waterloo Bridge—we all got snagging on the bridge—a policeman said "You had better go that way, and let them go this way"—they were soon out of my sight, and I was going home quietly, but when I got across the bridge the prisoner and four or five more sang out "Here he is! I am going to do him!"—he stabbed me in the chest, and was going to stab me again, but I moved my head and got it in the shoulder—I said "If you want to fight, fight fair; you have a knife"—he said "Yes, I will have your guts out"—I went to the toll-house and said "Let me sit down, I feel sick," but the toll-man ordered me out; when I got outside I staggered down on my side, as I felt sick, and I then felt the knife go into my side three times—I saw the prisoner there, and said "Jack, you are doing wrong"—he said "Are you going to pinch me?"—I said "No, I am not going to pinch you; I shall do something else when I am well"—I was taken to the hospital by strangers.
Cross-examined. I come from Sheffield—I am known as Sheffield Kitson—I understand the noble art of self defence—I can't say whether I made the prisoner's nose bleed in the Strand, but he tried to make mine bleed,
and I tried to make his bleed—I was talking to Kate Keefe, the girl he lives with—I suppose he is engaged to her—she was present on Waterloo Bridge when I was struck—it happened at the first parapet—she was not called before the Magistrate—it was in Waterloo Road I was struck with the knife, after we had gone over the bridge—one man who was present has got six weeks, and there were three more—I should know them again—several other persons said that they would pitch into me, and one of them has got six weeks for the same assault—I had not got my fist up when I ith the knife—there were no blows except with the knife—I was struck twice with the knife before I went to the toll-house—I was struck five times with the knife altogether—I had not seen a knife in the prisoner's hand before that; it was a white handle knife—I have seen a white handle knife since, and was told it belonged to the prisoner—I was not on bad terms with the prisoner—I lent him 23s. to get out of the militia—I remember running after him in the Borough Road when he had to go to his mother's for protection—he then got a carving-knife, and I went into a shop and took up a weight and said "Let him use the knife and I will use this"—I may have said something about dashing his brains out.
Re-examined. The other person got six weeks for punishing me, but not for stabbing me.
ALRERT JACKSON . I am a shoemaker, of Lambeth—on 30th November, between 12.15 and 12.30 I was coming over Waterloo Bridge—I saw a mob on the Surrey side—I crossed the road and saw Kitson rising from the ground—he entered the toll-house for protection—the toll-keeper pushed him out, and he took off his coat and said "I am stabbed, and I want to go to St. Thomas's Hospital"—I then saw he was bleeding from his right side.
Cross-examined. I saw him plainly the whole time till I took him to the hospital, and I can be on my oath that no blows were struck while I was there.
COURT. Q. Did you see him come out of the toll-house? A. Yes; I can't say whether he was on the ground after he came out of the toll-house, because there were twenty or thirty people round him, but I saw no blow.
VICTOR AURELIUS MAYBERRY . I was house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—I did not see Kitson till the Monday morning, he was then suffering from three punctured wounds on the right side of his chest, two slighter ones at the back, and one in the front—there was a slight injury to his lungs, but under treatment and care he has become quite well—one wound was just below the collar-bone, which was dangerous for a week.
Cross-examined. It was dangerous if something had set in which did not set in.
RICHARD HOOPER (Policeman L 142). On Sunday morning, 13th November, I went to 12, Frances Place; the sergeant placed himself at the roar of the house, and the prisoner went to couceal himself in the closet, he saw he was detected and tried to escape by the first floor window, but I caught him—on his way to the station, he said that he had a fight with the prosecutor, but never used a knife—this is the prosecutor's coat—there are holes in it.
THOMAS DAVIDSON . I am toll-keeper of Waterloo Bridge, Surrey side—I remember this scuffle—there were seven or eight persons on the opposite side, and the prosecutor rushed across to my toll house—I put him out again—I did not see he was wounded—he came in again and pulled off
his coat and waistcoat, and then he called a Hansom cab, and he and two others drove off—I saw no knife used—I knew nothing more till 5 o'clock next morning—had I known he was wounded, I should have protected him, but I had a great deal of money there.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.—The Jury stated that they considered that the prisoner was greatly aggravated. — Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
SUSAN JANE DYE .—My husband is a licensed vitualler, at 26, West Street, Southwark—on Christmas Day the prisoner came about 9.30 or 10 o'clock for a glass of cooper and a half-quartern of gin which came to 4d.—he paid with a half-crown—I threw it in the till—there were only two sixpences there at that time—about two minutes afterwards, I went to the end of the counter, and I heard the prisoner call for 6d. worth of hot gin—I came up while he was being served—I saw the prisoner give my husband a half-crown—I heard him ask the prisoner how many more he had like that, and he opened the till and took out the one that I had put in, and we found they were both bad—I had given the prisoner 2s. 2d. change.
JAMES EDWARD DYE . I was serving in the bar with my wife—I saw the prisoner there with a soldier—I saw my wife serve him, and after that he called for a quartern of hot gin, which was 5d.—I served him—he laid down a half-crown on the counter—I found it was bad, and asked him if he had any more like it—I held it in my hand, and he attempted to take it away—I pulled my hand back, he threw a half-crown on the counter, and asked me if that was a good one—I did not take it, but it appeared to be a good one—I called to my wife and asked her what money she had taken from him, and she told me a half-crown—I had opened the till before that, and I then took out a half-crown—there was only one there, no other large money—I held the prisoner; he made some excuse to get away to the soldier—he broke away from me—some of the parties in the house shut the door and bolted it till the constable came, and he was given into custody—I gave the inspector the two half-crowns at the station, and they were marked in my presence and given to the constable—these are them (produced).
PHILIP PARDY (Policeman M 172). I took the prisoner—he said he did not know they were bad—I asked him if he had more about him, and he put his hand in his pocket, and drew out some silver and copper—I examined the coins, they were all good—he was rather violent on the way to the station, it took five of us to carry him—I heard some money drop from his pocket on the way to the station—I searched him and found a half-crown, two florins, four shillings, two sixpences, three pennies, and three half-pence.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had taken the money in change for a sovereign on Christmas Eve, and he did not know they were bad— Guilty. He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in April, 1868, of a like offence, when he was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude. He had been fourteen times in prison— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
Park Street—on Monday, 15th December, about 8 o'clock in the evening, the prisoner find Smith (see next case) came in with a female—Smith asked for a pot of half-and-half, which came to 4d., which he paid for—Amos treated a woman to 2d. worth of shrub, which he paid for with two penny pieces—they all went out together—Smith had a white slop under a black coat—Smith and Amos afterwards came in together, and Smith called for a pint of mild and bitter, which was 3d.—I served him with a measure and two glasses, and they both drank—Smith took a handful of money out of his pocket, and picked out a half-sovereign which he put on the counter—I asked my father for change, and he gave me two florins, four shillings, and four sixpences—I changed one sixpence, and gave Smith the change minus 3d.—I heard Smith say he was going outside—my father said to Amos "Where is your friend? "and he said he had gone outside—my father went out, and Amos followed—my father afterwards came in again with Amos—he was detained—I went for a constable, and he was given into custody—Smith was taken about 11.45.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in front of the counter, and the door was open—my father went to the gas to look at the half-sovereign, but that was after Smith had gone out—I had given the change to Smith.
EDWARD SMITH . I am landlord of the Smith's Arms—about 10 o'clock on Monday night 15th December, I saw Amos and Smith at the bar—my son served them, and I saw Smith tender a half-sovereign on the counter—my son brought me the half-sovereign, and I gave him change—as soon as I had the half-sovereign in my hand I went to the light and saw it was bad, and saw Smith going out at the door—I said to Amos "Where is your friend?"—he said "He has gone out to make water"—I went out and saw Smith in a door-way across the road—Amos followed me out, and he waved his hand twice and gave a shrill whistle—Smith then ran away, I ran after him, but could not catch him—I returned again and found Amos standing outside the door—I said "I shall want your name and address, likewise your friend's name and address"—he said he had no friend, he was no friend of his—I sent my son for a policeman and gave him into custody—he was very violent, and said he was no friend of his, and he knew nothing at all about it—he was taken to the station—I marked the half-sovereign, and gave it to the constable—the same night I was with my son near the Blue Pump; we saw Smith there and gave him into custody.
WILLIAM BATCHELOR (Policeman M 31). I was fetched to the Smith's Arms and took Amos—this half-sovereign was given to me—Amos was very violent on the way to the station—he gave a correct name and address—I took Smith about 11.45 the same night, and they were charged together—there was no recognition of any sort between them.
RICHARD BARRATT . I am a glass-blower, and live at 5, Moss Alley, Bankside—on 15th December I was in the Smith's Arms, and saw the two prisoners there, and a female—they all left together—Smith and Amos came in again about 10 o'clock—I heard Smith call for a pint of ale, and he paid with a half-sovereign—the boy took it to his father, and Smith afterwards went out of the front door.
Cross-examined. When they were in the first time Smith handed me a glass of beer—the second time Smith poured out one glass and drank it, and left Amos and went out—I did not see the female the second time.
AMOS— NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND offered no evidence against AMOS— NOT GUILTY .
The witnesses in the last case repeated their former evidence.
Prisoner's Defence. I am guilty of changing the half-sovereign, not knowing it was bad. It does not stand to reason that I should go into a house close to where I have lived twenty-five years, and where I am always in the habit of going backwards and forwards every day.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted of felony in November, 1866.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution,; and MR. SIMS the Defence.
JOSEPH WHITE (Policeman P 401). On 5th January, shortly after 1 o'clock in the morning, I saw the prisoner opposite Denmark Hill Church—I asked him what he was doing there—he said "Nothing"—I asked him to go away—he turned round, and asked me if I remembered a job happening in July last, pointing over to the prosecutor's house, Mr. Thompson's—I said I did—he told me the articles which were stolen: a pair of boots, hat, umbrella, and coat, about 7l. 10s., in gold, and 1l. in silver, and like-wise the refreshment that he took on the premises—he said he took part of a piece of mutton and a rhubarb pie—I took him to the station, and he made a statement, which Sergeant Pearman took down—this blade of a knife was found upon him.
JOHN PEARMAN (Police Sergeant P 50). I was at the Camberwell police-station when the prisoner was brought in by White—White said "This man has given himself up for committing a burglary in Denmark Hill last July"—the prisoner said "Oh yes, I did"—he then made a statement—I asked him his name, and he said "John Steadman"—I asked him his address, and he said "I have no home"—I asked his trade or profession—he said "I am a shoemaker by trade"—this (produced) is the statement, in my writing, which was taken down at the time and signed by him—(This admitted the burglary, the details of which were given with great particularity, his excuse for the offence being that he was starving at the time; it also stated that he had been since convicted for an attempted burglary, and suffered Three Months' Imprisonment)—I asked the prisoner his native place, and he said Birmingham.
Prisoner. Q. Did you notice while I was making that statement any appearance as if I was intoxicated? A. No, I did not.
JOHN THOMPSON . I am a grocer, at 6, Denmark Hill—on the night of 20th July last I went home about 12 o'clock, and shut up the house about half-past—I went to bed, and was awoke about 3 o'clock in the morning by the police knocking at the door—when I came down I found the officer standing at the door, which was open—the parlour door was open and the gas alight—I looked in the parlour and in the shop, and found the tills open, and about 11l. taken from the tills—from the sitting-room I missed a coat, hat, pair of boots, and an umbrella—the coat was taken from the hall
—I found a ham under the table—I then went down into the kitchen, and found that a joint of meat had been taken out and a rhubarb pie, part of it eaten, and the remainder lying on the mantel-piece—there was a young dog in the house—this umbrella (produced) is mine, and was in the house that night—I had left the back kitchen window open about three inches, not enough for a person to get in—they did not get in by that sash, but by the bottom one.
JOHN HEWETT . I am assistant to Messrs. Best and Boyce, pawnbrokers, Theobald's Road—I don't know the prisoner—this umbrella was pawned at our shop on the 21st July, by a man giving the name of John Steadman—a coat was also pawned at the same time, but that has been redeemed on 6th December; I don't know by whom.
Prisoner's Defence. I wish to say my statement is untrue.
GUILTY .*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution.
The evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
AMELIA ADA FRANCES HILL . I am a dressmaker, and live at 247, Waterloo Road—I have known the prisoner about three weeks—on Monday evening, 5th January, I met him at the corner of Wellington Street—he asked to accompany me home—he did so—he sent for something to drink, and I felt ill—I am in the habit of suffering from fits—I had a box in the room which I had opened, and showed the prisoner the things I had bought for my little girl, and then I locked it up again and put the key in the satchel—when I recovered from the fit the box had been opened and the articles were gone: a little waterproof coat, a pair of shoes, a pair of stockings, one little muff and victorine, and one satchell—they were worth about 30s. or 35s.—I went out the next evening about 10 o'clock with my landlady, to look for the prisoner—I saw him in a restaurant in Richmond Street—I told him he had stolen the things from my box—he said "Yes, he had," but he said if I would go with him to his room he would give them back to me—I told him "No, I did not want to have anything more to do with him, but if he would give them back I did not wish to do anything to him—I told him if he had pledged them to give me the ticket—he said he had not pledged them, they were in his room—I eventually gave him into custody.
Prisoner. Q. Did you take my watch? Witness. A. No, you gave it
to me to pawn, and I pawned it and gave him the money and the ticket directly I came out of the pawn, shop.
ABEL DICKENS (Policeman C R 17). I took the prisoner into custody—he was the worse for liquor—I told him what he was charged with through the people in the house—he said he was quite willing to go to the Magistrate—I received a pawn ticket from a witness who is outside.
MARY ANN WINCH . I live at 247, Waterloo Road—the prosecutrix lives with me—I have seen the prisoner about half-a-dozen times—he has visited the prosecutrix there—I saw them together on Monday evening, 5th January—the prosecutrix had a fit, and I attended to her—I did not see the things taken away, but I saw them in the evening—I saw them put in the box and locked up when she was showing them, when the prisoner was there—that was about 10 o'clock—I left the prisoner and prosecutrix alone, he left at 1 o'clock—she was asleep—when I left them the prisoner said he would remain there a little time, and I said "Very well"—the things were safe then, and at 5 o'clock in the morning she came into my room and said the things were gone—I looked at the box and the things were gone.
CHARLES SHAPLAND . I am manager to Robert Attenborough, Charles Street, Fitzroy Square—I produce a bag, a muff, a collar, boots, and a cloak pawned on 6th January for 16s., by an elderly woman, who gave the name of Elizabeth Brinton, 55, Goodge Street; the same woman I saw at the Southwark Police Court.
Prisoner's Defence. I never had the intention of taking anything. The articles were bought with my money, the produce of my watch, which she pawned. She got cross with me, and we fell out. I intended to bring back the things. I never intended to steal them.
HENRI SEYMOUR (re-called). The prosecutrix told me that she had taken the prisoner's watch, and bought these things with the money—she was crying at the time—she did not say the prisoner had given her the watch to pawn—the prisoner was with her at the time—she said that they went home in a cab together—I am a hairdresser in Broad Street, Haymarket—I have known the prisoner ten years—he is a necktie manufacturer, and deals in ladies' articles.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
AMY MEAD . I am a widow, and live at 59, Blackfriars Road—I am a saleswoman—on Saturday night, 20th December, I had been drinking, and I was afterwards locked up in a cell in Tower Street police-station—after I had been there some little time the two prisoners were locked up in the same cell—I had a piece of bacon with me when I went into the cell, wrapped up in a cloth—I don't remember what I did with it; it was there I know—the women were quiet at first, but after a little while one commenced dancing about and singing, and they wanted me to join them,
because I would not do so they attacked me, and bit my ear, and after that I don't remember what happened—they bit my ear, my lip, and my cheek—when I came to my senses afterwards, the doctor sewed the piece of my car up, and put some strapping on it—my upper lip was very painful at first and was very much bitten—there was a piece right out and there is now—my cheek was very much bitten—there were teeth marks, and I had a black eye for a week after—I think it was the one that made the most noise who bit me, but I don't know which that was—I don't know what the other did—they stood on my stomach, and my legs were discoloured, and I suffered great internal pain for some time—I had some money, but I can't say whether I lost it or not.
Pountney. I am very sorry—I did not know anything of it.
Daniels. It is false, saying she was jumped on. Witness. I am sure I was, because I suffered so much, and I am still under medical treatment; there were the muddy footmarks on my dress which I wore at the time.
WILLIAM PEACOCK (Police Inspector L). At 9.30 on Saturday, 20th December, Daniels was charged with being drunk, and was looked up—at 10.50 the prosecutrix was brought in—she was in the same state, and was placed in the same cell—at 11.40 Pountney was brought in in the same state, and placed in the same cell—it is the practice to place two or three women in the same cell—at 12 o'clock I visited the cell—at that time the prisoners were dancing about, and the prosecutrix was sitting down—she spoke to me, and said she was all right—about 12.45 I repeated my visit—the prisoners were then sitting on the bench at the side of the cell, and the prosecutrix was crouched up in the right-hand corner—I asked if she was all right; I received no reply—I raised her head, and her face was covered with blood—she was wiping her mouth with an old towel that she had—I found that she had been bitten at the ear—it looked as if a dog had seized hold of it and torn it to pieces—I also found that a portion of her lip had been bitten clean out—there was a mark of teeth on her cheek, under the eye—no doubt they were disturbed by my approaching visit—I asked who did it; she did not speak, but pointed to the prisoners—I examined Pountney with my lamp; her lips were covered with blood, and there were portions like flesh sticking between her teeth; there was a sort of shred between the teeth—the backs of her hands were also covered with blood, and her finger nails—I asked them why they did it—they said they did not know anything about it—there was no one else in the cell—I removed the prosecutrix, and sent for a doctor—the cells are dark, but there are lights in front; you can see when you are in the cell, but not when you are standing outside—there was a man on duty right in front of the cell, but nothing was heard of any cry—the prosecutrix said she was unable to cry out in consequence of being held down by the prisoners—they are visited every half hour—the prisoners had been very noisy and riotous, but the prosecutrix was very quiet—the constable supplied them with water between 12 o'clock and 2.15—the prisoners perfectly well knew what they were about.
PATRICK SCULLY (Policeman L 163). I was gaolor on Saturday night at the Tower Street Station—during the night the prisoner and prosecutrix were brought in the worse for liquor—I went to the cell with Mr. Peacock at 12 o'clock, and saw the prosecutrix sitting in front of the door—I served them twice with water—the last time at 12.40—the prosecutrix was then in the same position as when I left her—at 1.15 I visited the cell again and
she was then lying at the right hand corner, with her head covered up—the prisoners were sitting quite close to her head—she was bleeding—I saw her state and the state of Pountney's mouth, and I agree with what Mr. Peacock has stated.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate.—Pountney says: "I am very sorry for what I have done; I did not know what I was about." Daniels says:" I must have thought the bacon belonged to me."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.
POUNTNEY.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
DANIELS.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MARGARET GREEN . I am the prisoner's wife and live at 26, Currie Street, Nine Elms—the prisoner is a labourer in an iron foundry—on Saturday, 29th November, in consequence of an arrangement between us, I sent my daughter to him for some money—after some time she came back and I went out to look for the prisoner—I found him in a public-house—I said he ought to be ashamed of himself, keeping the child so long—it was a very wet night—I stopped some time in the public-house because there was somebody wanted my husband to go back to a stable, and I said he should not go back—my husband went out and I afterwards went next door to my home—when I got to my own door I received a blow, but I don't think it was meant for me—I put my hand to my forehead and sat down—I did not see what he struck me with—I saw a poker afterwards in the fire-place, when I returned from the hospital—he did not mean it—he was not right then; he had been drinking, it might be accidental—I did not throw anything at him.
EDWARD CRESSWELL HAYDON . I am medical officer of the Wandsworth Infirmary—the prosecutrix was admitted on Thursday, 4th December—she had a large lacerated wound in the centre of the forehead, and erysipelas over the face and forehead—it was such a wound as would be caused by a poker—the wound is not well yet.
JAMES LEACH (Policeman W 162). I was called on 29th November, and saw the prosecutrix bleeding from a severe wound in the forehead—I took her to St. Thomas's Hospital, and had it dressed—I saw the prisoner afterwards, and accused him of the assault on his wife, and he said "Yes; I done it"—the wife gave me this poker.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were in bed when I came.
Prisoner's defence. My wife is a very aggravating woman. We had some words, and she got hold of a gallon jar of water, and heaving the water at me, the jar slipped out of her hand and caught me on the cheek bone. I got out to catch my wife, and she caught her forehead up against the door as it was open She shut the door, and I tried to prize it open with the poker, and it struck her on the forehead, and she said "There you are; new you have done it again." I did not hit her.
NOT GUILTY .
EDWARD DOVE THOMPSETT . I am a builder, at 24, Wellington Road, Stock well—on 8th September, I employed George Milbrow, the brother of the prisoners to point some houses in the Wandsworth Road—on Saturday, 20th September, I paid him 4l. 10s., he had received 7s. 6d., during the week—I was in a public-house with George Milbrow and the two prisoners—I called them on one side into the tap-room, and said "George, what do you want this week? "He said "I want 6l."—I said "There is no 6l. worth of work done, I will let you have 4l. 10s."—the prisoners heard what I said—they said "If you don't let George have what money he wants, you shall not go out of this house until you do"—I persuaded George to go on the opposite side of the road to talk it over quietly—I gave him 4l. 10s., he went to his two brothers and showed them the 4l. 10s., and they came across the road—Thomas seized me by the neck, and the other wrenched my hand out of my pocket—I had 5l. in my pocket, and they took 3l.—they had been drinking.
NOT GUILTY .
146. CHARLES CUTHBERT (28) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Ellen Gillespie, and stealing a knife, six gowns, and other articles.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Justice Honyman.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
MR. BESLEY staled that he was unable to prove the age of the girl, and therefore offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 2ND FEBRUARY, 1874.