CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EIGHTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 8TH, 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, June 8th, 1874, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ANDREW LUSK, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Right Hon. Sir FITZROY KELLY , Knt., Lord Chief Baron of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir COLIN BLACKBURN , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., Sir BENJAMIN SAMUEL PHILLIPS , Knt., WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right' Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; DAVID HENRY STONE , Esq., THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Esq., Sir JAMES WYATT TRUSCOTT,. Knt., JOHN WHITTKER ELLIS, Esq., JOHN PATERSON , Esq., 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 Sheriff's Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer, and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CHARLES WHETHAM, Esq., Alderman.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
LUSK, MAYOR. EIGHTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, June, 8th, 1874.
Before, Mr. Recorder.
382. HENRY OSBORNE O'HAGAN (21), and JOHN SAUNDERS MUIR (45), were indicted for unlawfully obtaining by means of false pretences from John Wright certain valuable securities for the payment of 30,000l., with intent to defraud.
No evidence was offered on the part of the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM GREEK (City Detective Sergeant). I was in Ironmonger Lane on the 18th May—there was a great crowd there—I saw the two prisoners and another man not in custody—I saw Jones place himself on the right hand side of a gentleman, who I know now to be Mr. Windsor—Sayers stood behind him, and the other man stood behind Sayers—Jones placed his left arm across Mr. Windsor's breast and his right hand under his own left arm, and he took hold of Mr. Windsor's chain—I saw his hand leave Mr. Windsor's waistcoat and go behind him—I then saw Sayers' hand take hold of Jones's hand—I seized Sayers' hand, and took from it this watch and chain—I then took Sayers into custody, telling him I was an officer, and I called to Mr. Windsor, and Jones was taken.
Cross-examined by Sayers. You had a knife—I did not rush at you—you did not pick the watch up from the ground—your nose got struck in the struggle and was bleeding.
HENRY WILLIAM WINDSOR . I am a solicitor's clerk in the Old Jewry—on 18th May, about 12 o'clock, I was in Ironmonger Lane—there was a crowd there—I saw Jones at my right side pushing me rather closely, and I felt his hand pass across my chest—I caught hold of him and gave him into custody—my watch was afterwards given to me by the detective—I had left the office about 12 o'clock, and was in Ironmonger Lane about three or four minutes past—my watch was safe when I left the office.
Cross-examined by Jones. I did not feel you tug at the watch.
Cross-examined by Sayers. I saw the watch in your hand when the detective caught you.
Jones's Defence. I am innocent.
Sayers' Defence. This man is a stranger to me. I have known Mr. Green there twelve years, and he saw me there and took me.
JONES also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in June, 1872**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
SAYERS also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in July, 1872**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
MARY CHALLIS . I live at 16, Paradise Walk, Chelsea—the prisoner is my husband—on the evening of the 25th May I came home from work about 11.15—I found my husband at home sitting in a chair against the fireplace—he was drunk—he would not have done it if he bad not been a little drunk—we had a few words, and he up with the knife and he came to the room door, and he touched me with the knife—he did not throw the knife—he struck me in the neck with the knife in his hand—I don't think he intended to do it—I called out "Police!" and a constable came in directly—I lost some blood—I was quite sober.
Cross-examined. He was very drunk—I could not say that he staggered—he was the worse for liquor, and I was angry with him for being so.
WILLIAM CARR . I am a surgeon, and live in St. George's Road—I was called to attend the last witness on the morning of the 26th May—I found her saturated with blood and suffering from an incised wound in the left side of neck over the sterno mastoid muscle behind the angle of the lower jaw—it had bled considerably, but the bleeding had ceased when I saw her—it was over a dangerous region—as far as I could explore the wound with safety it was about half-an-inch in depth downwards and inwards, and and about three-quarters of an inch in length.
EDWARD BARRY (Policeman B 332). I heard cries of "Murder?" and "Police!" and went to the house where the prisoner and his wife lodged—I found her at the door bleeding fearfully from a wound on the left side of the neck—I asked her what was the matter—she said she had been stabbed by her husband—I produce the knife—she had it in her left hand—I went into the front parlour and found the prisoner sitting down—I told him I should take him into custody—he said "All right; I threw the knife, but I did not mean it"—he was very much the worse for liquor—his wife was sober.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not do it with the intention of doing her any harm—I had a drop of drink—I did not stab her, I threw the knife."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — Twelve Months Imprisonment.
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution; MR. WEATHERBY the Defence.
was standing at the corner of Princes Street, about 10 o'clock—there were several people there, and I saw the prisoner amongst them—he was watching ladies as they were passing by—there was a great crush to get round the corner to look at the illuminations in front of the Mansion House—the prisoner followed Mrs. Cooksey behind, and put his arm underneath her's, and felt where ladies carry their watches—he fell back, and placed himself by her side, and put his hand between the folds of her dress, he instantly withdrew it, and passed something from the left hand to the right, and put it into his right hand coat pocket—I spoke to Mrs. Cooksey, and from what she said to me, I communicated with Kenniston, another officer—I then took hold of the prisoner, dragged him out of the crowd, and put my hand in his right hand coat pocket, and took out this knife, which was afterwards identified by Mrs. Cooksey, and I took him to the station, and I found on him two other knives and a latch key.
Cross-examined. I had been watching him four or five minutes on that occasion—I had seen him previously, but I had lost him—there was a large crowd.
EMILY COOKSEY . I am the wife of John Cooksey, and live at 68, Balls Pond Road—on the night of the 29th of April I was in Princes Street, near the Mansion House, about 10 o'clock—I was looking at the illuminations—I did not feel anyone's hand in my pocket—I felt someone put their hands round my waist, but I could not say that it was the prisoner—I requested them to remove their hands—I could not see who it was, the crowd was too great—the constable spoke to me afterwards, and I put my hand in my pocket, and missed my knife—I had seen it safe at 6 o'clock in the evening—this is my knife—I did not see it taken from the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I know it is my knife—one reason is that it is darker on one side than on the other—there is no other mark—I had not my watch on at that time—my handkerchief was in my pocket—I had my purse in my hand—I had removed that from my pocket for safety—there was a great crowd.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in October, 1873— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. CHARLES MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
FRANK ENGLAND ALDOUS . I am a pawnbroker, at 67, Berwick Street—on the 17th of May, about 8.30 in the morning, I heard somebody on the landing outside the bedroom door—I called out, but got no answer—I got out of bed and went to the door, and I heard the stairs creak all the way down to the parlour—I called the young man who slept in the house up-stairs—I heard the parlour shutters on the ground floor opened and the window thrown up, and then I. ran to the bedroom window and saw the man had missed his footing and had fallen into the area—I went to the street door to prevent him getting up—I waited in the street till one of the young men went for the police, they came, and took him out of the area—we went over the premises and found the kitchen window open and the shutters forced—I had seen them fastened about 11 o'clock the previous night when I went to bed—when I looked out of my bedroom window and saw the prisoner looking up from the area, he had his boots off, and I saw his white
socks—when the police came he had his boots on—a person could get to the kitchen window by climbing over the area railings—the area is covered with wire to prevent the cats getting in, but getting out he fell, and took the wire work with him.
Cross-examined. I heard the footsteps distinctly as far as the parlour—the prisoner's foot was sprained—he did not appear as if he had been drinking at all—I heard him give the constable an address, and state who he was—he could not walk up from the area, and they took him to the station, I believe, and to the hospital.
ALFRED STEVENS (Sergeant C 2). I was called to the house of the last witness about 3.30, and saw the prisoner in the area—he had his boots on at the time—the parlour window was open, and also the window in the area—the prisoner said he had fallen into the area in running away from a police constable—I took him into the kitchen, and asked him what he had got about him, at first he said nothing—he subsequently said that he had a knife—he seemed to be in pain about his foot, and I took him to the hospital before going to the station—I searched him subsequently again, and found this knife (produced) open—he said it was his—the kitchen window had been opened by a knife being passed in and the catch thrown back, and the shutter bar had been lifted in the same way—that could be done by such a knife as that—the area railings are about 5 feet high, and the area is 10 feet below the level of the footway.
Cross-examined. Nothing was disturbed in the house.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in November, 1871**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.,
CHARLES HEMMING . I live at 19, Sidney Street, York Road, King's Cross, and am a carman, in the employ of Mr. Frederick Roots, who is a potatoe salesman—on the 4th of May, about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the prisoner stopped me at the Holborn end of Hatton Garden—I was driving a horse and van laden with bags of potatoes to the Borough Market—the prisoner asked me whether my name was Charley—I said yes—he said Mr. Roots wanted me at Farringdon Station—I pulled on one side, and put the chain on the wheel—he said he would stop and mind it if I was not too long—I went to Farringdon Station, leaving him at St. Andrew's Street with ', the horse and van—I did not see Mr. Roots when I got to the station, and in about ten minutes I returned to the place where I had left the van—I found it gone and the prisoner too—I spoke to the police, and afterwards I saw the prisoner coming out of Fetter Lane into Holborn, leading the horse by the reins—the constable took him into custody—I did not know the prisoner at all, he was a stranger to me.
Cross-examined. When I saw the prisoner I took the van and the horse against St. Andrew's Church, and I put the chain on the wheel there—the place I met him afterwards was not fifty yards from where I had left him—I had left him near the Holborn end of Shoe Lane, and I met him afterwards coming out of Fetter Lane into Holborn.
JAMES AMBROSE (City Policeman 260). About 2.30 on the 4th May I was at the corner of Little New Street, Shoe Lane—I saw the prisoner go up. Little New Street leading a horse attached to a van loaded with potatoes—
shortly after that Hemming spoke to me, and I went with him to Fetter Lane, where we saw the prisoner going towards Holborn with the same horse and van—I went after him and stopped him in Holborn Circus—I asked him where he was going to—he said he was going to take it back to Shoe Lane—Hemming charged him with stealing it from Shoe Lane—he said he only took it round, he was going to bring it to the same place again—I took the prisoner to the station—he was quite sober.
Cross-examined. It was a four-wheeled van, and had got the owner's name on it—the potatoes were all safe.
NOT GUILTY .
389. WILLIAM FLOCKHART (35) , to three indictments for embezzling and stealing various sums of money of Frederick Barclay and others— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
390. JOHN FREDERICKS (17) , to two indictments for burglary in the dwelling-house of David Smith, and stealing ninety-two pounds of beef, and stealing seven tablecloths and other articles the properties of William Flack — Nine Months' Imprisonment. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
391. EDWARD MORRIS (25) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Robert Brown with intent to steal, having before been convicted in April, 1864**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 8th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
HENRY MOORE . I keep the White Horse, High Street, Poplar—on 19th May I served the prisoner with 3d. worth of brandy; she gave me a bad half-crown—my wife came forward and said "This woman gave me a bad half-crown a few weeks back"—I then looked at the half-crown and found it was bad—I said "This is a bad one''—she said "I have never been in your place before," and gave me a good one—when she was in the shop four or five weeks before she gave me a bad half-crown, which the constable has; she succeeded then in getting away.
Cross-examined. I do a very large business—the first occasion was on a Saturday night, when we are usually more busy than on other nights—I said before the magistrate my wife said in the prisoner's presence, "You know you are the woman who changed the bad half-crown two or three weeks ago," and the prisoner said, "I have never been here before; I am a respectable woman—my wife is not here—it was she who really called my attention to the prisoner.
EDWARD STONEHAM (Policeman k 559). I took the prisoner and asked her where she lived; she said "In the East India Road;" but at the station she said she had no home—she said that a sailor gave her two half crowns, and one of them must have been bad.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "A sailor gave me 5s. I was never convicted, my sister was; it is a mistake.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CRAUFUBD conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH HOW . I am a fishmonger, of 19, Earl's Court, Kensington—on 22nd May, about 11.30 p.m., the prisoners came in, and Crazzy asked for 2d. worth of fish; he gave me a florin—I put it in the till where there was no other florin, and gave him his change—they ate the fish and left together—Tyson came back in two or three minutes and asked for a pennyworth of fish; he gave me a shilling—I told him it was bad, and he had better break it and throw the pieces away—he broke it and gave me a good one—I afterwards got one of the pieces—three or four minutes after he left I found a bad florin in the till, the only one there—I gave information, and after wards saw the prisoners in custody at the station—I told them they had given me a bad florin—Cazzy said "I did not give it to you"—I gave the florin and the pieces of that shilling to the constable.
Cazzy. Q. Do you know me? A. I have seen you backwards and forwards—I said to you "I have given you a shilling, a sixpence, a threepenny piece, and a penny"—I said that because I was given to understand that you were near sighted.
JOHN BULLOCK (Policeman T R 27). On 22nd May, in consequence of what I heard from Joseph How, I searched and found the prisoners drinking in the Civet Cat—they came outside, and I saw Cazzy pass something to Tyson, who put it in his left hand trousers pocket—I went and got another constable—we went into the Civet Cat, and the prisoners had returned there—I told them the charge; they made no reply—on the way to the station Cazzy had a packet in his hand, which he attempted to put down an area; he afterwards threw it on to the roof of a stable—I saw another constable go up a ladder and get it—it was opened at the station, and contained thirteen florins and thirteen shillings in separate packets, eights florins in tissue paper, another packet with five florins and one shilling, and another packet of ten shillings, also two shillings tied up in the corner of a handkerchief—I found in Tyson's left pocket one half-crown, two shillings, five sixpences, a threepennypiece, and elevenpence halfpenny in bronze, all good—I produce the bad money, also this bad florin and piece of a bad shilling, which I received from Mr. How.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are all bad, and so is this fragment of a shilling, and these eleven shillings found on Cazzy are bad, and from the same mould as that uttered by Tyson—these thirteen florins are bad, and from the same mould as that uttered by Cazzy.
Cazzy's Defence. I picked up the money, met Tyson, and asked him to have some fish. I put down the florin, I did not know it was bad.
Tyson's Defence. This man met me and asked me to have some fish. He afterwards said "Will you have a bit more fish?" I said "Yes." He gave rue a shilling, and when I offered it they said it was bad.
GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Imprisonment each.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
JANE COX . My husband keeps the Three Horse Shoes, Milford Lane, Strand—on Saturday night, 9th of May, about 9.30, I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, he put down a shilling, and I gave him 10 1/2 d. change—I kept the shilling in my hand, and as he went out another man came in for a glass of ale, and put down a bad shilling—I told him it was bad, and did not take it, when he gave me 1 1/2 d., and took it back—I then found that the prisoner's shilling was bad—I went to the door and told the prisoner his shilling was bad, he took out his money to show me, and said "I have no bad money"—I heard some money fall in the road, and returned into the bar, the other man had gone quite away when I heard the money fall.
Prisoner. Had not I plenty of time to go away before you came out? A. It seemed to me that you was waiting for the second-man—I was alone. Re-examined. I did not put the bad shilling into the till.
GEORGE LE SAGE . I am 14 years old, and live at 4, Greyhound Court, Strand—I was in Essex Street on 9th of May, and saw the prisoner just outside the Three Horse Shoes talking to Mrs. Cox—I heard a shilling fall in the road just by the prisoner—I picked it up, took it into the public-house, and gave it to Mr. Morgan.
ROBERT VENABLES (Policeman E 373). I took the prisoner, he was searched at the house, but nothing but good money was found upon him—while I was searching him I heard the boy say that he had found a shilling outside—Mr. Morgan gave it to me—the prisoner could hear what was going on, he made no observation—I received a shilling from Mrs. Cox.
Prisoner's Defence. I have a good trade, and have never been accused, is it likely that I should throw away my liberty for the sake of a paltry shilling, and go into the house with two bad shillings on me.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH the Defence.
ELIZABETH SIMMONDS . I keep the Butler's Head, Telegraph Street—on 8th May about 7.30 the prisoner came in for 3d. worth of brandy, and tendered a half-sovereign—I took it up, and found it was bad—he said that he worked at a butcher's, and could pay with other money if I did not like it—I said that I should not return it, and should lock him up—he immediately went out of the house—I went to the station and gave the half-sovereign to the Inspector—I was sent for next morning, saw the prisoner, and gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. He was brought out by himself—I heard that a man had been charged with passing bad money, and I said that I ought to go and relate my case—I asked if they had got a man in custody, and they said that they had let him go—when I saw him the next morning he was not put with other people—I had described him as a little man, with a peaky cap like a midshipman and a blue coat.
ANNIE OVERTON . My husband keeps the Swan's Nest, Moorgate Street, close by the Butler's Head—on 8th May the prisoner came in for 2d. worth of shrub—my daughter served him—he put down a half-sovereign, which she handed to me—I broke it in half, and said this is a bad
half-sovereign—he said that he had other money—I handed him over to a constable, but did not give him in charge, as my husband was not at home—the constable took the prisoner away, and I handed him the pieces of the half-sovereign, but I could not leave my shop.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner before that day, but he had been in that afternoon and had some shrub, which he paid for with coppers—he said that he received the money from his brother, who was a butcher; he did not attempt to run away, we had men in the bar.
CHARLES HATCHER (City-Policeman 171). On 8th May about 9.30 I was called to the Swan's Nest and took the prisoner—I only found a penknife on him—I asked him how he accounted for the half-sovereign, he said that his brother of 25, Grafton street, Soho, for whom he worked, gave it to him—he was discharged by the Inspector but the coin was detained—A few minutes after that Mrs. Simmonds came to the station, and in consequence of what she said I went in search of the prisoner—she said that it was a young lad dressed in a short jacket—I found the prisoner at Grafton-street, at his brother's house next morning and told him he must go with me to the station, and he would be charged with uttering a bad half-sovereign to Mrs. Butler of 6, Telegraph-street—he said "I have no recollection; I only had one half-sovereign and that was given to me by my brother last night"—I searched him at the station and found two shillings, three sixpences, and a shilling in coppers—Mr. Simmonds came to the station the same morning and identified the prisoner; he said "I have no recollection of you whatever.
Cross-examined.—I have made enquiries and find that he is in his brother's service in Grafton-street—his father and brother are master butchers—I saw no mark on the half-sovereign Mrs. Simmonds gave me when she came to the station—I told her that a man had been charged with passing bad money, but I did not describe him—I afterwards sent for her to identify him—it is not always the custom to put other persons with a person to be identified—I cannot assign any reason for not doing so—I did not think it, necessary—I brought him out and she said "That is him."
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: I am not guilty of the offence, I did not know if they were good or bad.
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution
FRANK SAWYER . I keep the Hampshire Hog at Hammersmith—on 17th April, about 10 a.m., I served the prisoner with half-a-pint of beer and a 1/2 d. worth of tobacco—my wife spoke to me behind and the prisoner put first 1d. then a half-crown—I did not examine it but put it into an empty bowl in the till and gave the prisoner her change and she left—half-an-hour afterwards my wife called my attention to the half-crown and I found it was bad—I had been out for a time but had left my wife there—she is not here, she is ill—I put the half-crown in the fire and it melted very soon—on the 2nd May the prisoner came again and I recognized her, she called for half-a-pint of beer and gave me a bad shilling, the bar was very full so I gave her the change and put it by the side of the bowl, where it could not be mixed—on the next Wednesday I saw the prisoner in the street, she came in called for a glass of ale and gave me a bad shilling—I said "This is the third
time you have had me and now I will have you"—she ran away, I ran after her and brought her back, she went on her knees and begged for mercy as she had got so many orphans—I had said to my wife "The woman is coming, now I shall have her—she at first took a shilling out of her purse which appeared to be good, I held out my hand for it and she gave me the bad one—she afterwards said that that was the shilling she had given me, I said how can that be when I have it in my fingers—I gave her in charge with the two bad shillings.
Prisoner's defence.—I am innocent—I never gave him a shilling—I was not in the house.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury — Six Month's imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
MARY ANN BLAZEY . I am barmaid at the Golden Cross, Duncannon Street—on 35th April about 10.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with a glass of ale; he gave me a shilling, it bent easily, I told him it was bad and he gave me a good one and left—he came again about 11.30 for 2d. worth of gin and bitter and put down a florin, I bent it and found it was bad—I had given him 1s., 10d. change and he was leaving the counter when I said "This is a bad one," he put the change down, took the coin out of my fingers and tried to go away but was stopped and given in custody—on the Monday morning I saw a bad florin picked up outside our door—I could not swear to it but it was bent like the one he snatched out of my hand—I gave it to the constable.
THOMAS CRANFIELD (Policeman E 188). The prisoner was given into my custody—he said that he would rather break into a house than try to pass bad coin—I found 1s. 9 1/2 d. good money on him—he was taken before a Magistrate, remanded till 4th May and then discharged.
Prisoner. Q. Did I give my address, and where I worked? A. Yes.
EMILY NICHOLLS . I am barmaid at the Salutation, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden—on 16th May I served the prisoner with a glass of ale—he gave me a florin—I broke it in two, and my mistress sent for a policeman and gave him in charge—he said that he took it in his wages, and afterwards that he took it in a public-house.
JOHN SMITH (Policeman E 288). I took the prisoner—he gave his name John Kean, then John King, and then William Smith, and said that he had worked for Mr. Brooks in the market for a number of years as odd man—he said that he took the coin in his wages—I found no money on him—Emily Nicholls gave me this coin (produced).
Prisoner's Defence. A cabman pulled up with a fare and asked me if I had got change for a florin, I gave it to him. I tendered the florin in the Golden Cross, and they said it was bad; I was not allowed to go to the door to call the cabman. She does not swear to the coin picked up, and it would be impossible in this dry weather for it to have lain in the street for two nights and a day.
He was further charged with a previous conviction of felony at Clerkenwell,
to which he
PLEADED GUILTY,** and stated that he should now have to sera the remaining eighteen months of his unexpired sentence— Nine Months Imprisonment.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MATTHEWS the Defence.
ELIZABETH BUIST . I am the wife of Alexander Buist, of 3, Julia Street, Kentish Town—on 19th or 20th February I served the prisoner with some sugar, mustard, and other articles—she gave me a half-crown, and I gave her 2s. 3d. change—I saw it was bad, but did not tell her so—I placed it on the side of the desk, and my husband took possession of it in the evening—on 7th May my assistant Arney called me into the shop and gave me a bad florin—the prisoner was there, and I said to her., "Are you aware this is a bad two-shilling piece"—she said "If it is, my husband gave it to me"—I said "You are the person who passed a bad half-crown on the 19th or 20th February, and gave her in custody with the florin and half-crown.
Cross-examined. Although I knew the half crown was bad I gave her the full change, making no remark, though she remained ten minutes talking about the cat, which I thought was to draw off my attention—I am not quite sure that I saw her in my shop before February 19th, but I am certain I have seen her face either in the shop or in the neighbourhood—I did not see her between February and May—I think it was light when she came on 7th May—there was no gas alight.
Re-examined. I did not tell her it was bad, because we had taken bad money before, and my husband told me if anybody gave me bad money to put it on one side and enter into conversation with them and try to find out who it was—the assistant had just left the shop, but he came in directly afterwards.
ARTHUR MONTAGUE ARNET . I am assistant to Mr. Buist—on 7th May I was alone in the shop—the prisoner came in for one ounce of tea and 1d. worth of blacking, which came to 2 1/2 d.—she handed me a bad florin, and I called Mr. Buist's attention to it, who was in the parlour—I knew the prisoner's face about the neighbourhood, but cannot say whether I had seen her in the shop before—Mr. Buist asked her if she was aware that it was bad—she said that if it was her husband had given it to her—Mr. Buist said that she passed a half-crown before—I had broken the florin, and the prisoner wanted to have the pieces—I saw them given to the constable.
Cross-examined. I was not called before the magistrate, but I was there.,
ALEXANDER BUIST . I am the husband of the first witness—I received a half-crown from her in February, which I wrapped up in paper and put it in a desk to which no one else but she and I had access—I give it to the policeman.
The Prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, June 9th, 1874.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. BESLEY and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; MR. WARITER SLEIGH defended George, and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Wiggins.
EDWARD DARBY . I am manager to my father, a master cooper, in Cherry tree Passage, Whitechapel—On 12th May, Wiggins came to our premises, and ordered a quarter vine cask—he said "Will you oblige Mr. George with a sherry quarter cask"—we supplied him with one—on the same evening, he came with another man and took the cask away—I was afterwards shown a quarter cask at the Queen's warehouse, and identified it as the cask I had sold to Wiggins—it was not sold to Wiggins; it was supplied to George—it was not paid for.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I was not examined before the Magistrate—this is the first time I have given evidence—the cask was charged to George.
THOMAS POTTER . I am an out-door officer of Customs, at the Red Lion and Three Cranes, bonded wharf—on Thursday morning, 14th May, about 7.45, I saw a man coming down Three Cranes Lane, which leads from Thames Street to the wharf—he had a cask on his back or left shoulder, it appeared like a sherry cask—he laid it down by the vault door, and left—I did not ascertain whether there was anything in the cask, I should imagine from the way in which he carried it, that it was empty—the proper hours for opening the bonded warehouse is, 8 o'clock in the summer time; that is the time we usually open at Red Lion Wharf, there being a great number of locks to take off, we generally start before 8 o'clock, so as to get done by 8 o'clock—the place where the cask was put down, is called the Bridge Vaults—there are two storeys to those vaults, the basement and the first floor, the Crown has one lock on the door and the Customs another—I believe wine was, stored in the basement, inside a kind of cage—and on the first floor there were two compartments, one containing wine and the other spirits, there is an iron door separating them, with a Crown lock and a wharfingers lock on it; there is a door leading into another compartjment where there is a large hole and crane for the delivery of goods—I saw Mr. George in the lane at the time the man brought the cask down—did not notice whether he spoke to the man, I was some distance off—George asked me if I would unlock the door against which the cask was standing—I did so, and he unlocked the Company's lock, and put the cask inside—I may have passed the remark "a racking operation I suppose," and he replied, "Yes"—I don't know whether he said it was a racking operation or whether I did—he then requested me to take the lock off the iron door up stairs—I did so, and left him there—about 4 o'clock that same afternoon, I saw George again by the entrance to the Three Cranes Vaults, on the other side of the lane—he asked me what time I was coming the following morning—I said at 6 o'clock—the builders were at work there at that time, and they commenced work at 6 o'clock, and it was necessary for me to be there to attend to the locks—George said he should be there early, about 6.30 o'clock—I have been on duty at this wharf, two years—I have never known George come there before at 6.30, not round that side, his usual time was shortly after 8 o'clock—next morning, the 15th, I saw George shortly after 7.30, he came into my office and asked me to take the lock off the wine floor, so that he could get in the Bridge Wine Vaults; he said that he had reported to Mr. Brown that he had
found a cask, and he really had not looked for it the evening before, and he wanted to get in as soon as he could before Mr. Brown came round, so that he should not be found out in a lie—I did not open the lock at that time, I did when the wharfinger's-constable came, about 7.45, and George went inside—he then asked me to open the door of the brandy vaults, the iron door on the first floor; I did so, and he went inside, I left him there—I afterwards asked him if he had found the cask he was looking for—he said the first cask that he had got his eye upon—at noon that same day Wiggins came to my office—Mr. Cockerell, another locker, was present—Wiggins wanted a lock taken off the spirit place—Cockerell went with him to unlock it—about four o'clock that afternoon I examined the the spirit floor with a lantern—I began at this time to have a suspicion with regard to the cask that it was not right—on examination I found nothing in the shape of a cask in the spirit place—I locked the iron doors, and went into the wine place, and there found it stowed among the tier of wines—I called Cockerell, and pointed it out to him—we ascertained by smell that the cask contained brandy, and was apparently full—I put my initials on it—on Saturday the 16th I reported to Mr. Hughes, the Surveyor of Customs, and after about 1 o'clock, I kept a watch from the warehouse opposite the vaults for half or three-quarters of an hour, I then saw George come to the door leading to the vaults, the same door that the empty cask went in—he took the company's lock off and stood by the side of the door—I then lost sight of him for a few minutes—I then saw Wiggins go in at that door with Pechell, one of the labourers—I then saw a van drive down and George standing by the tail of the van, apparently speaking to Wedge, the driver—the van then went lower down the lane and came round under the loop-hole—Wedge went on to the floor, and came down and said to George that the lock was on—George said "Go for the locker"—Wiggins left, and came back again with Cockerell—they went in at the door—about a minute or two afterwards I saw Wiggins rolling the cask along to the loophole under the crane, and Pechell with him, the hooks were then hooked on to it, and then it was lowered into the van—George was standing by the van at the time—I could not catch the words that passed, but apparently he was hurrying them along just as he would on an ordinary occasion—he apparently spoke to the men at the loop-hole—I had given Cockerell instructions to call, the surveyor when he took the lock off—I went down into the lane, the van was just about starting—I stopped it, and spoke to Wedge, he produced this paper to me—it is not usual to remove brandy without an order from the Customs—Mr. Hughes, the surveyor, was then present—I seized the cask—Mr. Major was sent for, the cask was examined, and was found to contain brandy—someone, Mr. Brown, I think, asked me what it was all about—I told him to ask Mr. George, he knew all about it, he had just delivered it—I then gave George into custody for the illegal delivery without payment of duty—I told Wiggins that I gave him in custody for assisting in the illegal delivery of a cask of brandy; and Pechell being there, I said "And you too"—Pechell said "I am only a labourer acting under orders"—I don't think Wiggins made any reply, but wanted to go and get his coat, he said to Pechell "Don't go"—the four were taken to the station, and the cask to the Queen's warehouse, and was pointed out to Darby.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. I have been an officer of Customs twenty-two years—I have known George holding a responsible position there for two
years, when I joined the station, I have heard he has been there a considerable number of years—what he was given into custody for was smuggling—I had not the slightest idea of any theft—I am not a practical guager, but I know the general system of guaging and sampling, I suppose the consignnees are satisfied if they have the average which the pipes yield—in sampling there are remnants left—they would not amount to a considerable quantity in the course of a month or six months—I never heard of those remnants being considered perquisites—this paper is not a Customs order—I have never delivered anything out on such an order—it is not usual as a rule to remove brandy in wine casks.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I always understood that George held a superior position, a kind of foreman—I should suppose the labourers would be under his orders—I believe Wiggins was a ganger and Pechell a labourer—I don't know what their wages were—Pechell was taken before the Magistrate, and discharged.
Re-examined. I never heard of 25l. worth of brandy as a perquisite.
JOHN ROBERTSON COCKERELL . I am a Customs officer, stationed at this wharf—on Friday, the 15th, Potter showed me a cask on the wine floor—I saw him put his initials on it, it was full—next day about noon, Wiggins came to me at the office, and wanted me to open the door leading into the vaults, I did so—George was there, and he said "Be quick," or "You are very slow"—George was in the street close by the van.
SAMUEL JOHN FAYLE . I am a carman in College Street, Doctor's Commons—on 16th May, about 12.30, Wiggins came to me; he said that there was a quarter cask going down to Parkin's, at Limehouse, and how much would I charge for taking it down—I said 3s.—he said "All right, be as quick as you can, because it has to be away by 1 o'clock"—I directed Wedge to go with the van—and I afterwards went down myself—I saw George at the top of the lane, and he said the cask was for him, and he would go down to the Three Cranes, and hurry it off as he had other goods going to the dock, he said the order was down at the Three Cranes, and it was all clear for delivery—I am quite sure he said that.
Gross-examnied by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The prosecutors are in the habit almost daily of hiring my carts for their own use.
WILLIAM WEDGE . I am carman to Mr. Fayle—I went with the van to take a quarter cask—George gave me this paper as a direction where to take it (read "Nixon & Co., Crown and Anchor, Brook Street, Radcliff, please receive one quarter for bottling, and lay up for J. S. Smith") I afterwards gave that to Mr. Potter.
GEORGE THOMAS BROWN . I am superintendent of the prosecutors vaults—I have the whole control of the vaults—George was foreman cooper under me, his wages were 36s. a week—Wiggins was a labourer, his wages were 18s. a week lately; he had 1l. some little time ago, but he got drunk, and I struck 2s. off; he was what we term, a front headman, he had three or four labourers under him, Pechell, would be obliged to obey his directions—I first employed Wiggins for one day, in November, 1869, and I have known him since that time—to the best of my belief, this paper is Wiggin's writing—I have some of his writing in my pocket—George had no authority from the firm to order an empty cask, he would have no authority to receive a cask, if he saw a man with an empty cask, he would send him to the proper man, at the reguaging-place, in Thames Street, it would not be right to take it to the door of the Bridge Vaults, before going to Thames
Street, we had no orders for racking at that time, at that place—he would have no authority to deliver brandy in any case—there was no such order as this for Nixon, of Brook Street, Ratcliff.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. I never heard of perquisites such as have been suggested—I never knew of casks being made up by remnants taken from sampling—This brandy is identified as having come from packages in which we discovered loss—We suspected that the brandy in the quarter cask was a mixture.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Wiggins was a front head man, or ganger and had three or four men under his charge—Pechell's wages were 3s. each day he was wanted—Wiggins was a permanent man, always employed.
THOMAS NEEDHAM . I am delivery foreman at this wharf—According to the practice a delivery order marked "clear of customs" should be brought to me when anything is going out, and I should enter it in a book—All the delivery orders are sent into the general office every evening—I am not aware that racking operations are allowed without an order; that is the general rule—I did not receive any delivery order on the. 16th May for racking a quarter cask of brandy—Neither of the prisoners had authority from me to deliver any wines or spirits on that Saturday.
CHARLES MESSENGER MAJOR . I am one of the prosecutors—This paper is not a delivery order—I knew nothing of Nixon and Co., until this trial—There was no authority for the delivery of brandy in a wine cask in this way.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. I think I can identify this brandy, I think it is a mixture of brandies—We have no such brandy in any one cask, but we have in five or six which have been compared by the Customs—we found deficiencies in several casks that would not arise from guaging or sampling, we did not know the extent of the deficiencies till the Customs went through the stock.
GEORGE THOMAS BROWN (He-examined). Directly the prisoners were given in charge I went into the vaults and noticed that bungs had been taken out of several casks, I put a mark on those casks directly, since then stock has been taken by the Custom House Officers and there is an extra deficiency beyond the Crown allowance in those particular casks of rather more than 27 gallons—This brandy has been tasted and tested by two gentlemen in the trade specially called in—I know a little about brandy, I tasted the samples after they had been drawn and I have no doubt at all it is the same brandy.
Cross-examined. I don't know that I could swear to it.
THOMAS SMITH . I am an Examining Officer of Customs—I was present when the cask of brandy was seized and the prisoners given into custody—I have since guaged the brandy in that cask, there is 27 gallons and fourtenths—The duty is 10s. 5d. a gallon, the value duty paid would be about £1 a gallon—The cask is now in the Queen's warehouse, I have a sample.
JOHN NIXON . I keep the Crown and Anchor, Brook-street. Ratcliff, in conjunction with Joseph Longhurst—I did not send an empty quarter cask to the prosecutor's wharf on 14th May, or any other day, I don't give directions to have brandy delivered at the Crown and Anchor—this paper is not my writing, I have never seen it before.
ISAAC RIDLEY . I am a wine and spirit tester and a wine and spirit merchant—I have tested the samples submitted to me by Mr. Brown, as having been taken from four or five casks at the wharf and compared it with a sample from the sherry cask, and I say that the two things are identical.
Cross-examined by MR. W. SLEIGH. Mr. Brown supplied me with particulars of the extra deficiencies on certain casks of brandy—I then made up a sample in proportions from those casks and compared that with the sample taken from the sherry cask—I found not only that the quality corresponded but I also tested it by the hydrometer—I found the strength the same.
WIGGINS— NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE— GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in November, 1866.— Eighteen Months Imprisonment.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution; MR. GOODMAN the Defence. After the case had commenced, the prisoner stated he would
PLEAD GUILTY—the Jury accordingly found him
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
ELIZABETH CULVERHOUSE . I am married, and live in Atwell Yard, Uxbridge—on the afternoon of 5th May I went out into my back yard, I saw two militia men in' the next yard—the prisoner was one of them—they were firing up in the air—I said you are enough to frighten anyone to death; you know you could get reported for this—they said nothing—the prisoner did something to his gun which I did not take notice of, I stooped down to wring out some clothes, and he pointed his gun through some palings and fired at me—they were lath palings, I could not see over them—I could see through them; they were a distance apart—he put his rifle through; I could see about half of it—I was hit in the side of the neck and ace—I bled very much—it did not knock me down—I did not know where I was for some minutes—I went in doors and sent for a doctor.
Cross-examined. It was two or three minutes after I said they might be reported that I was shot—I was standing close to my door when I first spoke to them, I then walked a few steps further on, and then stooped down—here are no flowers or creepers up the palings—the other man went in doors when he had fired off his rifle; he fired his off up in the air—they had been out to drill just before—they had been billeted there about two months—I only knew the prisoner by his speaking to me, and my not answering him—they had fired off their rifle once before—there was no shot—there are fields at the back.
JOHN SPENCER PERRIS , M.R.C.S. I was called in on 5th May to attend the prosecutor—I found her bleeding from the side of the face and neck—found pellets of powder embedded, not in separate grains—they went into he skin; some are remaining there now—it was not a dangerous injury.
Cross-examined. It was a blank cartridge—the pellets are blown to pieces.
and the spot, she pointed out where she stood, it was a distance of 10 feet—the fence is 6 feet high—the bars are 4 inches apart—I could see through easily.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent—I did not see the woman when I shot, and I did not put the gun through the railings."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — One Months' Imprisonment.
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY DAWSON (Detective C). I knew Paul Stone—he was examined as a witness before the Magistrate—I was present—the prisoner was there, and had an opportunity of cross-examining him—I saw him dead last Thursday—I saw the prisoner write at Marlborough Street Station, and, to the best of my belief, these four documents are in the same writing—one is a cheque for 50l. of James Ashbury, another for 25l., with the same signature, and an I. 0. U. for 35l., and a letter.
The deposition of Paul Stone was read as follows: "I live at 2, the Mews, York Terrace, Regent Park, I am a cab-driver—on Friday, 1st May, the prisoner hired my cab about six o'clock at night to drive to Knightsbridge and other places—he went to an eating-house and remained a short time—when he came out he showed me the paper produced, and said "The landlord won't change this cheque; have you got any silver?"—I said "I have only 2s. "—he said "I want 3s. "—I said "I have no more"—I lent him the 2s.—he ordered me to the Alhambra, and I drove him to the Hotel Provence, Leicester Square—he went in and remained about a quarter of an hour—he came out and said "Take this to Coutts' Bank in the Strand, and get it cashed;" and I was to take it to the Grosvenor Hotel and give it to Miss Barnes—I left him—next morning I took the cheque to Messrs. Coutts', and they kept it—the prisoner never paid me."
By THE COURT. I saw the prisoner write the morning before going before the Magistrate—he asked me for paper so that he might write down his defence to refresh his memory—I gave it him, and he was writing nearly three-quarters of an hour at the table—I was sitting at the table and saw him writing—I did not look over him rudely, and saw the writing afterwards—I am able to speak positively to his writing from what I saw there.
THOMAS NICHOLLS . I am head porter at the Grosvenor Hotel—there was no lady named Barnes stopping there about 1st or 2nd May—we never had anyone in our employ of that name—this lady was supposed to be in the office—I have not got our book with me—I have seen the prisoner at the hotel, twice I think—he said things were coming for him—things did come, but we did not take them in.
THOMAS NEALE . I am secretary to Mr. Ashbury—he resides at 6, Eastern Terrace, Brighton—I have looked at the signature to those two pieces of paper, they are not his handwriting—I received a letter from Mr. Ashbury, which I handed to Mr. Mullens—it is not true that I promised the prisoner any money.
indebted to me to the extent of about 30l., and on that day he handed me this piece of paper (read: "Eastern Terrace, March 12th, 1872. Please to pay to Mr. J. Worcester the sum of 50l. London and County Bank. James Ashbury ")—he asked me to take care of the cheque whilst he went into the country—he said "I want some money on it," and I lent him 3l. 19s. 6d.—he came to me on the following day and asked for money on the cheque, and I then lent him 3s. 8d., and after that I also lent him some further small sums—he said that Mr. Ashbury had given the cheque to him—he said I was not to present the cheque at all, but I was to keep it until he returned from the country—while he was away I received a letter from him containing this I O U (read: Brighton, April 2nd, 1874. I O U the sum of 35l. 6s. value received and cash. Thomas Worcester, 69, Middle Street, Brighton")—I parted with my money to him because he said he wished to pay for his lodgings; his landlady would not let him leave without—I believed the cheque to be genuine, and that Mr. Ashbury had given it to him.
WILLIAM OAKLEY . I live at Taunton—I am acquainted with the prisoner's handwriting—I have examined these documents, and I have no doubt that they are in the prisoner's handwriting. (A letter, dated House of Detention, 15th May, 1874, from the prisoner to James Ashbury, Esq., was put in and read. It requested that Mr. Ashbury would take a favourable view of the case, and stated that he had been put to some trouble and expense on his behalf at the Brighton election, for which he had not received a penny, and asking that something might be done for him now.)
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that when he gave the cheque to Mrs. Crook he told her to put it in her cash box, as he believed it was worthless, that she wrote him a letter saying that if he did not return she should present the cheque, and he then sent her the I O U for that he did not gain a penny on the cheque, and had no recollection of signing it.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in August, 1871, at Somerset**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 9th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
406. WILLIAM JOHNSON (15), and JOHN CLARK (17) , to stealing two shoes, the goods of Thomas Riddington. JOHNSON*— One Month, and Three Years in a Reformatory. CLARK**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
WALTER KELLY also PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a cheque for 50l. with intent to defraud. CLINTON— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. KELLY— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PLATT conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM MOON (Policeman R 281). On 30th April I saw Romer, the prosecutor, come out of the Bremen Flag in St. George's Street—the prisoner followed him out, and made a stroke at his right side—I had not seen Romer do anything to him—he went down on his hands and knees,
and as he was getting up the prisoner struck him again, and he called out "I am stabbed"—I saw him bleeding from his left side—I laid hold of the prisoner, who said "I done it, and I will do it again; here is the knife I done it with," handing me this knife (produced) from his pocket—I took him to the station, he had been drinking, but was not drunk.
Prisoner. Did you see the knife in my hand? A. No; several people were round, but I was very close to you.
SAMUEL WREFORD . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—Romer was brought in on 30th April, and I found an incised wound on the left side of his abdomen three-quarters of an inch long, but not very deep, and a slight scratch on his left shoulder—I did not probe the wound, but I think it penetrated the abdominal cavity—it might have been very dangerous, and he will have to wear a belt for some time—this knife would inflict it—he was twenty days in the hospital.
The Prosecutor did not appear, having gone to sea.
Prisoner's Defence. He won a little money of me and wanted me to lend him some more. I said I had not got any. One word brought on another, and he wanted me to fight and pulled his jacket off. I tried to go out the back way, but could not; and when I came back he was standing at the door with the knife in his hand. As I was taking it away from him we both fell, and that is how he got cut. When I struck him on the arm there was no knife in my hand.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BRINDLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
ROBERT SHEARMAN . I am warehouseman to Edmund Burn, of Nichol Square, Cripplegate—I have seen a truck which stands in Mr. Bruce's yard, Red Cross Street—I saw it on 9th May opposite the prisoner's door in Red Lion Market empty; one wheel was broken, and part of the wheel was missing.
Cross-examined. Mr. Bruce, the builder's yard was three minutes' walk from Mr. Burns', but not in the same street—I had seen the truck safe three days before—it had our name on the side of it—there are houses on each side of the prisoner's, or a wall, I will not swear which—his house is right in the corner—I know it is his, because I have seen his wife and children there and spoke to his wife—the truck was not as much opposite the next house as opposite the prosecutor's—it was in the corner touching the prisoner's house; it had been driven past the door into the corner.
JOHN BURK . My father is a coke hawker, of 44, Golden Lane—on 4th May, about 7 p.m., I was driving his cart in Golden Lane and saw the prisoner with a broken truck with some iron in it—he asked me to bring the truck round to Red Lion Market, and I did so, and left the prisoner with it and the iron it—they were taken out of my van there.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner before, but am not an acquaintance of his—two strangers were present at the conversation—I never asked him where he got the truck and the iron, I thought he dealt in iron, and that it was his own, as I have seen him jobbing about with old iron before; carrying it on his shoulder—I did not speak to him then—that was two
months before; and that was the only time I have seen him carrying iron—the prisoner and some chaps assisted in taking the iron out of my van at the market.
MARTIN MCDONNOUGH . I am a wheelwright, of 10, Red Lion Market, Upper White Cross Street—the prisoner lives there in the corner—on 4th May, about 7.15, I saw the prisoner in Red Lion Market with the van, in which he had a broken-down truck—he asked me if I would buy it—I asked him how much he wanted for it—he said "10s. "—I went in and got the money, and when I came out again he had got it out of the van—he said that he bought it at a sale—the side was very dirty—I rubbed the dirt off, and saw Mr. Burn's name on it, and gave information—I told the prisoner so, and he said "It belongs to me; I can sell it in the market and get 1l. for it."
Cross-examined. Burk was present at the conversation—these things are sold at sales when they get worn out—it very much wanted repair, and was just the kind of thing that would be sold, as it was of no use to the owners—I knew him about the market, and thought he had come by it honestly.
THOMAS USHER . I am an iron merchant, of 258, Old Street, St. Luke's—on Monday evening, 4th May, the prisoner came to my house with the truck, and about 5 cwt. of iron—I bought the iron of him at 3s. 6d. per owt.—this (produced) is a portion of it.
Cross-examined. I bought it as old iron, and it is old iron—it is sold in great quantities at sales and auctions.
WM. NICHOLSON . I am an iron dealer, of 3, Nag's Head Court—on 4th May the prisoner came to my place with 4 3/4 cwt. of old iron, which I bought for 14s.—I have bought of him before—there was a piece of an iron grating among it, which I gave up to the police.
Cross-examined. He is in the habit of attending sales, and buying there.
WILLIAM BRUCE . I am a builder, of 52, Red Cross Street—three of Mr. Burn's trucks stood in my yard—the iron and the truck were both in my yard on Thursday morning, 4th May, at 11 o'clock—on the Tuesday I missed about 15 cwt. of iron, value about 12l.—I did not go to the yard on Monday, but it was missed that day—I identify this iron column and grating.
Cross-examined. I saw the truck at 8 o'clock in the morning, and again at 11 o'clock—I don't know that there were three that morning but there generally are three—I saw one with a broken handle safe—that is the one in question—the iron was kept 30 or 40 yards from the trucks, and it was on Monday morning—from 5 to 7 cwt. were left—I lost an iron column three months ago, since when I have looked after it very carefully.
CHARLES BROWN (Detective Officer). On 5th May, after the prisoner was in custody, I went to his house, and at the back of it I found part of a wheel and the tyre; I have compared it with the wheel, and it fits.
Cross-examined. It was in a yard at the back of the house where his wife was, and he gave his address there.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I plead guilty to it."
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. AUSTIN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY DURELL . I am a bus maker, in my father's employ, at 4 and 5, Church Row, Aldgate—I have known the prisoner two years, as a labourer—on 30th May I went to the workshop at about 6.45 a.m., and the prisoner came to the door and said, "Will you take care of a sack for me?"—I said "Yes"—I went out, and saw the sack in the passage of the next house—Mr. Goldsmith's premises are about 100 yards off—I fetched the sack into our workshop—a detective spoke to me, and I was taken in custody and afterwards discharged.
JACOB KREMM . I am a tailor, of 4, Church Row—on 30th May, about 5.30 a.m., I was looking out at my window, and saw a man going in at a door with a bag on his shoulder—I could not see his face—the prisoner followed him into the passage—I went down, and looked at what was in the bag—he said "It is a nice morning"—I said "Yes"—I did not see him touch the sack afterwards—it was a stout man who carried the sack; a bigger man than Durell—I don't know the man—the prisoner was 3 or 4 yards from him.
Prisoner. I spoke to him and cleaned the place down. I had a broom in my hand, and swept it by the governor's orders.
JOHN MITCHEL (City Detective). On 30th May, at a little after 6 o'clock, I was on duty in Church Row, Aldgate, and saw a sack lying in the passage of No. 4—I watched it about an hour, and saw Durell go into the passage, take the sack by the neck, and pull it into a room on the ground floor, which is used as a workshop—in consequence of something he said, I went to Mr. Thiers, the prisoner's master, and found the prisoner there—I told him I should apprehend him for stealing a sack of oats, and that Durell said that he had met him that morning, and told him he would find a sack of oats in the passage, and would he take care of it for him—he said that he knew nothing at all about it—I took him to the station, where Durell was in custody—he said "That is the man who told me to take care of the oats"—Durell was discharged the same morning, and made evidence of.
Prisoner. I told the detective that I knew nothing about it; I had not been out of the yard.
LAMBERT GOLDSMITH . I am a master carman—my premises are at Mr. Thiers' yard—I recognise this sack; it was kept in my loft—I saw it on the Friday evening, and this was on Saturday—the prisoner works opposite me—my loft was fastened up the night before—I gave no one authority to move the sack—it was full of oats.
COURT. Q. What is the prisoner's character? A. I have known him ever since I was a child, and always thought him an honest upright man; he was coachman to Mr. Solomons, the Common Councilman.
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing about it. Mr. Goldsmith has known me from a boy, and I have never been locked up in my life.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH defended Buncher.
FREDERICK DOWNS (City Detective). On Saturday night, 30th May, about 10.30, I was with Halse and Mitchell, two detectives, in front of Broad Street railway-station, and saw the three prisoners there following a lady—
they then went together to Moorgate Street station, where they followed a gentleman, and at the corner of Circus Place, Underwood got in front of the gentleman—Buncher was about 10 yards ahead of him, and Mackay a short distance behind him—a policeman on the beat then came round, and they all went to Moorgate Street railway-station a second time—it was then 10.45 or 10.50—they followed a gentleman in a similar manner, and then went up Moorgate Street and remained there till about 11.40—I saw the prosecutor and a lady come out of the station—the three prisoners followed them—Underwood ran ahead, and went to the corner of Great Bell Alley—Buncher went through a court, and got to the other end of the alley by Coleman Street—Mackay followed the lady and gentleman behind, and when they were at the corner of Great Bell Alley, Buncher whistled, and Underwood went to the corner of the next turning, 12 or 14 yards further on, and immediately the gentleman got to the turning, Underwood sprang at his breast, but I could not see what he did—the gentleman placed his hand on his breast, and one of the officers knocked Underwood down—I saw Mackay go over to the other side of the road—I took him in custody.
Cross-examined. Buncher gave me a correct address—I did not see him do anything to the gentleman—all I say is that he was in company with the others, and he whistled just before Underwood sprang at the gentleman—he neither assaulted or interfered with the gentleman in any way—the robbery was not committed.
DANIEL HALSE (City Detective). I was with Downs—I have heard his evidence—he has given a correct account—we followed the prisoners from 10.30 till 11.45, when they were in Moorgate Street, following a lady and gentleman—Buncher went in front, and Underwood went and stood at the corner of King's Arms Yard—I heard a whistle from Bell Alley, and Underwood made a snatch at the gentleman's watch chain—I pushed him down, and said "Give me that watch"—he said "I have not got it"—I said "You will be charged with two others with attempting to steal a watch and chain"—he said "I have not been with any men, but some man pushed me up against a gentleman; I have been by myself since I left home"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I saw Buncher go into Bell Alley, and heard a whistle from Bell Alley—I did not see Buncher at the time of the whistle.
WILLIAM MITCHELL (City Detective). On Saturday night, 30th May, I was with Downs and Halse—I have heard Downs' evidence; it is correct—I saw Buncher come out of the court and give three whistles—Underwood then sprang at the gentleman's breast—I took Buncher 10 or 15 yards from the spot, and told him that the other two were in custody—he said "I know nothing of them."
JOHN SALTEE . I am a coppersmith, of 40, Bell and Anchor Cottages, Victoria Docks—on 30th May, about 11.45 at night, I left Moorgate Street station with my niece—Underwood came up to me in Moorgate Street, gave me a push, snatched at my chain, and broke it—I put up my hand, and saved my watch—the officers collared Underwood immediately.
Underwood's Defence. I had no intention of stealing his watch. My hand caught the man's chain, and broke it.
Mackay's Defence. The police did not see me touch the gentleman. I was across the road, and had nothing to do with it.
GUILTY . UNDERWOOOD** and BUNCHER**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment each. MACKAY— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. BESLEY and MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
WILLIAM HENRY MESSER . I am Registrar of Marriages for the district of Islington—I produce a notice signed by the prisoner in my presence and attested by me—I received the information from the prisoner, who said that the marriage was to be solemnized by license. (This was dated 21st April, giving notice to the Registrar that a marriage was intended to be held by license within three months, between the defendant, W. S. Midwinter, bachelor, aged twenty-six, and Laura Tomlin, spinster, of 5, Campbell Terrace, aged seventeen years; and it stated:" I hereby solemnly declare that I believe there is no impediment or hindrance of kindred or alliance or other lawful hindrance to the said marriage; and I further declare that the consent of Emma Tomlin, whose consent to this marriage is required by law, has been duly given and obtained thereto.") I posted that notice to the Superintendent Registrar, and on that a license to marry would issue—this is the license (produced)—an appointment was made for the 23rd—I went to the Superintendent Registrar's office, and the defendant did not attend, but he came to my office that day and explained that the lady was ill, and the wedding could not take place—he asked me how long the notice would run; I told him three months, and he went away—I saw him again on 23rd July, when he gave me a fresh notice, which was filled up by my deputy in my presence, and the prisoner read it over and signed it, and said that he wished the marriage to take place two days afterwards, on the 25th—I sent off to the Superintendent Registrar, and was there on the 25th; the young lady was there, and the marriage was solemnised by me—this is the register (produced)—it is the original entry of the marriage, filled up by me, and signed by the defendant. (This certified the marriage of the prisoner and Laura Tomlin, on 25th July, 1872, and was signed by the parties in the presence of Catherine Hicks and Jane Goodwin.) Catherine Hicks is the daughter of the Registrar, and Jane Goodwin is his servant—they brought no witnesses with them—it is signed by me and by the Superintendent—a printed caution relating to marriages is hung up in the office—I saw the prisoner write on three occasions—these two letters, dated 7th August and 28th September, 1873, are in his writing.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I knew nothing of the parties—the filling up of the first declaration in April is in my writing—I asked the ordinary questions—I understood by the word "guardian "anybody who was a trustee or any person appointed guardian—I do not know that you can only appoint a guardian to an infant by petitioning the Court of Chancery—he said that she was trustee under the will, and he explained that she was the step-mother—I took it from the prisoner's lips that she was the guardian—I knew that the father was dead—the second notice was not copied word for word from the first, for the first was sent away, and was in the Registrar's custody—it follows the printed form exactly, putting in Emma Tomlin—I do not see Mrs. Midwinter in court; I can see her sister sitting by a gentleman—Mrs. Midwinter is not sitting by her sister.
Re-examined. I saw that the young lady was under age—the prisoner gave me the name of her guardian for me to fill in.
took place on 25th July, in my office—my daughter and servant were the witnesses—when the prisoner brought me the second notice he asked me whether the fees would have to be paid over again, I asked him why the marriage had not come off: he said that it was through the illness of the young lady and that he must pay the stamp.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I made them happy without, a double fee.
EDWARD COX . I am a law stationer of 102, Chancery Lane—I knew the late William Tomlin and his two daughters, Mrs. Bennett and the young lady Laura—his second wife was Emma Tomlin—he died July, 1866 and left a will by which I am one of the trustees—after his death there was a suit in Chancery to administer the estate—I was one of the plaintiffs, but it was a suit for other purposes—the proceedings were commenced by bill—I produce the probate which says "I appoint my dear wife Emma Tomlin to be guardian of my daughter Laura Tomlin"—the estate is a large one, Laura has from 850l. to 900l. a year and Mrs. Tomlin as her guardian had charge of her and had 300l. a year for her maintenance as arranged by ourselves and supplemented by this order of the Court of Chancery (produced)—she used to go to school—I first heard of her marriage early last October—her sister's husband Mr. Bennett is one of the parties to the suit—I was not at all aware until I heard of this marriage that any such marriage was contemplated—Laura had I believe bad health—when the marriage was discovered it was communicated to the Court of Chancery.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY.—I was an intimate friend of Mr. Tomlin—In the event of Laura dying without issue and unmarried, the whole of her property would go to her sister Mrs. Bennett—it would not benefit Mrs. Tomlin in any way—Mrs. Bennett has not been more active than I have in opposing the prisoner—I did not in September serve a notice on the prisoner—I very likely frightened him away to Jersey—I endorse Mrs. Bennett's acts; I approve of them—I know that Mrs. Bennett was opposed to her sister's marriage.
Q. Did you say that Laura is in bad health? A. I have not had an opportunity of seeing her to day, but now that I do see her she is very much flushed and does not look well—I approve of Mr. Bennett's wish to deprive the prisoner of the tenancy by courtesey—I am not aware that the prisoner and Laura ever lived in Jersey except that he was captured there—I am told that his wife came back when he was captured, I have no knowledge of the fact—I do not know anything about the proceedings in Chancery depriving the prisoner of his tenancy by courtesy, all I know is that the Master of the Rolls has directed that such proceedings shall be taken, but the time has not come yet—I have nothing to do with the Master of the Rolls sending him up to Holloway for a few weeks: but as trustee I felt it my duty to call the attention of the Court to the marriage—I do not want to transfer him to Newgate, I should prefer his being in Holloway as a preferable place of retirement—I never saw him till he was in custody—I know by repute that he was a constant visitor at Mrs. Tomlin's for about a couple of years—I do not believe Mrs. Tomlin has said that they knew one another from the time the girl was 19 months old; she may have said two years or two years and a half—I have never been present at any discussion between Mrs. Tomlin and Mrs. Bennett—I did know of the prisoner's visits to the house and about a week before I knew of the marriage I knew that permission had been given to him to write to
her but not to visit her—I do not recollect getting season tickets for the Crystal Palace for Mr. and Mrs. Midwinter; nothing specific has been called to my attention—I am agent for tickets for the Palace.
EMMA TOMLIN . I live at 5, Campbell Terrace, Bow—ray husband died in July, 1866—I was left the guardian of Laura, under his will, and she continued to live with me—her age was 17 in May, 1873—she went to school at Kensington, and came home for the vacation in April—she after wards went back to school, and came home again on 19th July—I was away from home on the 14th and 25th July—I left her at home when I went away and found her there when I returned—she continued to live with me till she went back to school—she went to the seaside with me for a month—I first heard that she was married from Mr. Cox in the commencement of October last—I was not at all aware that she was about to be married in April or in July—I had not given my consent to the prisoner marrying her, but I gave my consent to the correspondence—these two letters (produced) are in the prisoner's writing—Laura left home to go to her sister; and I afterwards heard from Mrs. Bennett that she had gone to Jersey—my family and Midwinter were on very good terms—I have talked to the prisoner of the affairs in Chancery, and of the administration of the estate—Laura was in good health in April, and better still in July, the older she got.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I have known the defendant two or three years, and for a very long time he was a constant visitor at my house—we all liked him very much; and he used to come frequently—he only stayed there at party times—we were all on very intimate terms with him, and though I never gave arty precise consent to their marriage, I consented to their corresponding—I have said before Laura that I thought he would make a good husband—I looked upon him as if he would make a good son-in-law, if I had been her natural mother, and have expressed myself so more than once.
Q. Have you discussed the matter with her by correspondence from time to time you are not the one to divide two fond hearts; you would eventually have consented to the matter? A. Yes—I consider Mr. Midwinter quite equal to the lady he has married—I think Mrs. Bennett would have liked her sister to have waited a little longer; she does not like it—I do not know exactly that the prisoner has 200l. a year of his own from his mother.
MR. LEGG. I am one of the trustees under the will—I was first aware of Laura's marriage about 10 o'clock at night on 30th September. I was consulted on the subject, and the matter was reported to the Court of Chancery.
JAMES WALLACE BUTCHER . This warrant for the prisoner's arrest (produced) was placed in my hands on 19th April—I went to Jersey on 9th May, and found him there—his wife was living with him—I read the warrant to him—he said that he did not think he could be touched in Jersey, and intended to come to England presently and answer to the charge, and no doubt he should plead guilty to it, but he should consult his solicitor.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Midwinter came over with her husband—I did not explain the difference between his being attached and sent to the Court of Chancery, and being sent to Holloway Goal.
ESTHER ELIZABETH BENNETT . I am a daughter of William Tomlin—I am married to Mr. Bennet—Laura is my sister—I first heard of her marriage on 28th September, 1873—this letter was brought to me in the morning, and from something that occurred I told her that I had it—I thought it right to open it in her presence by her permission—she was living in her
maiden name up to that time—the envelope was addressed in her maiden name to my house—it was in the prisoner's writing—I gave it to my husband, who is one of the trustees.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I married in my father's life time after his second marriage—my father in his life time allowed my husband 400l. a year—I was under age when I married—I got property under the will quite equal to my sister Laura, independent of getting her share if she had died unmarried and without issue—the letter was brought to my bedroom—I did not take it from my sister's box—I mean to say it was not brought to me open after my sister had read it; I opened it by her permission—I would not have opened it without; I had it in my pocket—it arrived by the 8 a.m. post—my husband came up to say good-bye to me, and I told him that there was a letter—he said it was my business to give it to the "trustees or to open it myself—there had been a good deal of trouble, and there had been a meeting the night before, and my mamma wished to give up the guardianship—Midwinter was suspected of loving my sister, and she was suspected of loving him—mamma called a meeting as Laura was so young and so delicate—I have not spoken to my sister to-day.
Re-examined. I took the letter out of my pocket and said "Laura, here is a letter, shall I open it or give it to the trustees?—she said "Open it after dinner," and I opened it, and she read it over my shoulder—I gave it to the trustees—(Read; "August 7th, 1873. My dear Mrs. Tomlin, I cannot help writing to thank you for telling Laura you would do all in your power to further our wishes. I think it extremely kind of you, and I for one shall never forget it. With regard to my position I can explain it both to you and Mr. Winn's satisfaction. I have not asked to marry Laura, and I must say that I consider all this fuss premature, for as you know we are both young and can afford to wait, but I can explain all this better when I see you. Again thanking you for your kindness, believe me, yours faithfully, W. J. Midwinter.") The second letter was dated 28th September, 1873. It commenced "My darling wife," and was signed "Your darling and devoted husband, Walter." It stated "Darling, why do you blame me for marrying you? when I had a chance, could I help it? Perhaps it would have been better to have waited, but I did not think so then, neither do I now, and I am sorry that you should think so"—"I do not think, darling, that you will have to wait until you are twenty-one. I feel certain I shall be able to succeed in obtaining your guardians' consent before that, unless they are opposed in every way, & co. If you show that you really care for me they will give in"
COURT. You knew that the defendant had been intimate with your family for years? A. Yes—my sister would not allow us to have any peace whatever, she was very much attached to the defendant—some of the family thought it might end in a marriage soon—I opened the letter, but it was a letter from a young man who had permission to correspond with her; we had a meeting and discussed the question of the courtship; mamma wanted to know where she had been all day, we had had no idea there was anything of the sort going on—the intimacy between them ended in their falling in love, and wanting to get married, and mamma did not like it—having no father, and being much older than she is, I felt deeply interested in her.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT, Tuesday, June 9th, 1874.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. M. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.
REV. SAMUEL SMITH . I am a clerk in Holy Orders, and chaplain and secretary of the Deaf and Dumb Association, in Oxford Street—I am in the habit as secretary of receiving letters containing postage stamps, and small sums as contributions to the charity, addressed to me at the church, and from time to time I have missed certain of them—I communicated with the post-office, but they failed to find the delinquent, and I employed a detective—on Monday evening, 27th May, I took 5s. worth of postage stamps and did them up in three letters—there were thirty in one, eighteen in another, and twelve in another—I saw the letters addressed and I posted them myself—I did not receive those letters in the usual course, on the Tuesday morning—they were missing—in the course of Tuesday, in consequence of something the detective said, I went to the post-office, in South Audley Street, and I saw there the stamps which I had posted myself the night before—in consequence of that I have taken these proceedings.
Cross-examined. A young woman at South Audley Street, showed me the stamps—I asked her if any stamps had been sold, and she showed me those particular stamps—I had not marked them—I had made a memorandum of the letters on the corners of the stamps, but I did not put any mark on by which I could positively identify them.
Re-examined. The letters corresponded, and the three bundles together corresponded with the number I had posted.
GEORGE URBEN (Detective A). I was employed to watch the prisoner—on the morning of Tuesday, the 28th May, I was watching the church, and I saw the postman deliver some letters to the prisoner—he took them into the church, and remained about 20 minutes, he came out and put them into the letter box, and left the church—I followed him—he went in the direction of South Audley Street—I missed him and I returned to the church—I then went to the South Audley Street post-office, and was shown certain stamps—I afterwards took the prisoner into custody, he said he knew nothing about it, he had not sold any—I found on him half-a-crown, a shilling, sixpence, and 4 1/2 d.
Cross-examined. I don't know whether the letters the prisoner put into the box were the same that were delivered to him—I did not find any letters or torn envelopes in his pocket.
ELIZABETH TIPPER . I am clerk in charge of the post office in South Audley Street—on Tuesday 28th May, between 9 and 10 o'clock, the prisoner came there and sold me 5s. worth of stamps—they were made up in three different parcels—subsequently Mr. Smith and detective came to the post office and I showed them the stamps—they were the only ones I had purchased that morning—I am quite certain the prisoner is the man who sold those stamps.
Cross-examined. I identified him at the Marlboro' Street Police Court—I did not express any doubt—I said "Am I right" when I picked him out—when I said that I meant to ask Mr. Smith was he the right person whom he had accused—had I not been certain of his identity, I should not have said he was the man—I was not crying at the Court—I was somewhat
affected, it was the first time I had ever been called upon to do such a thing.
NOT GUILTY .
414. SAMUEL HARRISON(52), MARY ANN HARRISON(28), GEORGE MUNNS(43) , Stealing 21 pounds of tea, 15 pots of extract of meat and other goods of the Civil Service Co-operative Society, Limited, the masters of Samuel Harrison. Second Count Receiving the same.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. CHARLES MATTHEWS and AUSTIN METCALFE defended Samuel and Mary Ann Harrison, and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Munns.
RICHARD PARKER , (Detective L). At 9 o'clock on the night of the 15th May, I was with Detective Dales at Hercules Buildings, Lambeth—I saw the two Harrisons there, each carrying a brown paper parcel—Harrison the man, at that time was not in the uniform of the Corps of Commissionaires, he had the uniform on but he had a coat over it—I followed them some distance up Hercules Buildings and the female prisoner took her parcel into the prisoner Munn's shop—it is a chandler's shop—I saw her go in—I was opposite—she placed the parcel on the counter and immediately Munns took it off the counter and placed it underneath—she came out—she was not in the shop half a minute—Harrison was sitting on the pavement on his parcel when the woman went into the shop—she joined him when she came out and saw us at the same time—I went over and asked Harrison what he had there—he said "Mind your own business, what is that to do with you"—I said "The female has taken something into the shop, come and see what it is"—I went into the shop and in the presence of the two Harrisons asked Munns what the female had brought in—he said "Nothing"—I said "I saw her place a parcel on the counter and you put it underneath," he lifted the parcel up and said "Yes, she brought a parcel and asked me to take care of it for a short time"—this is the parcel that was delivered to Munns and this is the one upon which Harrison sat (produced)—they have been opened since—the one upon which Harrison sat contained twenty-four pounds of mustard—the other contained two pounds of tea, fifteen pots of extract of meat and four pots of lobster—I asked Harrison what account he had to give of the goods and where he bought them from—he said he bought them for Munns—Munns made no answer—I told him his answer was not satisfactory and I should take him to the Police Station, which I did, and the two parcels—I went back for Munns afterwards, and when at the station Harrison said he was at the Union Flag public house drinking with Munns and he asked him and his wife to take the parcels over to his shop—Munns said "About eight or nine days previously Harrison came to me and told me he was in difficulties and he had brokers in his house and wanted me to lend him some money, he said he could buy me some goods much cheaper than I could get them myself"—I afterwards went back and searched Munns' house—I found fourteen packets of sperm candles, nine boxes of cigars, three packets of extract of beef, eighteen tins of mustard, twelve tins of swiss milk, and a packet of tea weighing fourteen pounds, done up exactly the same as the one in that parcel—I took those things to" the station and asked Munns if he could account for them in any way, he said he bought the things of people and sometimes he cleared shops, sometimes he had invoices and sometimes he had not—I found no invoices in his shop, nor upon him when I searched him.
Cross-examined by Mr. Metcalfe. It was about 9 o'clock in the evening when
the female prisoner went into Munns; it was not light—it was light inside the shop—I have no doubt about the two prisoners because I knew them before—I saw the parcel lifted off the counter and placed underneath by Munns—it is a small chandler's shop—there are some goods in the window, cheese and bacon, and that kind of thing.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. He sells groceries and that kind of thing—I did not see a file for invoices at all—I only searched in the shop—whether there were any invoices upstairs I can't tell—the parcel that Harrison sat upon never went into the shop at all—the other one was put first on the counter and then underneath—I could see all that passed.
SOLOMON DALES (Detective L). I know the Harrison's well, and had been watching them with Parker—I saw them come out of the Union Flag—I saw the woman go to Munns's shop and put the goods on the counter, and they were put underneath the counter by Munns—I took Munns to the station—he said "Damn the fellow, I wish I had never seen him; I tried to do him a good turn and get myself into trouble"—Harrison came a short time back and told him that he had got the broker's in the house, and he had lent 5l., and he had received the goods for it—that was said on the way to the station—when Parker asked him to produce the parcel, at first he said the woman had not brought anything in.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Afterwards he said the woman asked him to take care of the parcel for a short time—I saw everything that passed—Parker was walking 7 or 8 yards behind as I took Munns to the station—I don't think he heard what Munns said.
GEORGE MAPHAM . I am a cab-driver—on 13th May, between 1 and half-past in the day I was in the Haymarket on the rank—Harrison, the commissionaire, called me, and said "Take this parcel to the Union Flag; they will pay you"—I said "Where is it?"—he said "You know Oakley Buildings? "—I said "I drove you once before; is it there?"—he said "No; it was down below that, on the right, the Union Flag, you will think of that?"—I took the parcel there—it was a little bit bigger than that—I left the parcel there, and was paid from the bar—I received 1s. 6d.—on the 14th May I was on the rank again between 1 and 1.30—he called me off, and said "Take these to the same place that you did yesterday"—he gave me two parcels and a note—one was rather small—I was to have something to drink and receive the money from behind the bar—I should not know the note again—I did not look at it—I put it under the cushion so as not to lose it—I gave up the parcels at the Union Flag, and was paid in the same way—I could not say who paid me the fare, the young lady or the landlord—I was paid over the bar.
GEORGE CARRINGTON . I am a cabman—on 15th May about 1.30 in the day, I was on the Haymarket cab rank—Harrison, the commissionaire, called me off the rank, and put two parcels into my cab and gave me a note, and told me to go to the Union Flag with them—he said it was right down the Westminster Road—I believe those are the two parcels.
MARGARET MATTHEWS . I am barmaid to Mr. Honey church the landlord of the Union Flag, Union Place, Lambeth, and on the 11th May a cabman brought two parcels there with a note—I can't swear that that is the note—it was folded in that way, but there is no date to either of the notes—it was one of these—the parcels were left by the cabman and I paid him the fare—the parcels were fetched away about 2.30 by the two Harrisons—that happened on the 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th—parcels were brought
in the same way by a cab and were taken away by the Harrisons—they were both present on each occasion—three notes came altogether—I have only got one, the Harrisons had the others when they fetched the things—they were given to them with the parcels—this is the one I retained—(Read): "May, 1874—Sir. Will you kindly receive this parcel as usual until this evening and I will call for it; give the cabman his fare if you please, I remain, yours truly, L. F. Harrison."
EDWARD HONEYCHURCH . I am landlord of the Union Flag—I know all three of the prisoners—I have known the woman Harrison about twelve months and the man Harrison about sis months—I have known Munns ever since I have lived in the house, that is nearly two years—I have seen him in the company of the Harrisons five or six times in my house—I have heard of parcels coming on four days but I did not see Munns on either of those days—on the 15th May I was in the bar about dinner time when two parcels were brought which I have seen since in the possession of the police—Munns was not there that day at all—I am quite sure of that—I can't say when was the last time I had seen him drinking with the Harrisons before that—he was there on one of the four days.
Cross-examined by MR. MATTHEWS. I don't know Harrison's hand-writing.
Re-examined. This note was brought with the last two parcels—"May 1874. With your usual kindness will you give the cabman 1s. 6d. till I call this evening (signed), Harrison, commissionaire."
DAVID HALL . I am buyer in the grocery department of the Civil Service Stores in the Haymarket—I have been shown the good but I can't swear to any of them—they resemble goods sold at our establishment—they are the same name and manufacture—I can't speak to the packing at all—Harrison was a commissionaire employed there—I should think he had been there about three years to the best of my knowledge—it was his duty to open the door for ladies and to open the carriage doors—occasionally he had to take parcels to cabs—he would not have any right to take goods upon his own account—I can't swear to his handwriting—I think those notes are in his writing—I don't know Munns at all.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. The goods I have seen are the same as are sold by ordinary tradesmen—there is Colman's mustard, that is sold at the stores and by the ordinary dealers besides—there is nothing to show that the goods found upon Munns's premises were not come by legitimately.
Cross-examined by MR. MATTHEWS. It was Harrison's duty to call cabs, and he would be under the counterman's directions if the counterman wished a cab called—there was a counterman named Smith there—he is no longer there—he was there when Harrison was taken—he was discharged since—I don't know Smith's handwriting at all—I can't say whether the writing of the note resembles his writing—I think it was last Thursday or Friday he was discharged, after the examination of the prisoners before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. It would not be' possible for the commissionaire to pack" the goods-himself and take them out; he could not do that without someone assisting him.
GEORGE RICHARD MOORE . I am general inspector at the stores in the Haymarket—I have seen Harrison's handwriting—I believe the signature to these notes to be his handwriting—the other writing I can't swear to—I
think it is in a different handwriting—I don't know Smith's writing Harrison had no authority to send out goods at all.
MUNNS received a good character— GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
SAMUEL HARRISON— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MARY ANN HARRISON— NOT GUILTY .
MR. CHARLES MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM WESTLEY . I am a waiter—on 2nd May I was in Aldgate High Street, looking at some Volunteers that were passing—in consequence of something that was said to me I went up to the prisoner and said, "You have got my watch"—he said "I have not"—I laid hold of him, and said "Well, I will soon see whether you have got it or not," and walked on with him as far as the Minories—he made a little resistance, but he found I was determined—I called out "Police!" and he said "Hold your row, you fool; I will give you your watch"—I said "If you give me the watch I will let you go"—he said "Come down here, and I will give you the watch"—I said "Very well"—we went down Jewin Street, and I said "Now, if you don't give me the watch I will give you in charge "previously to that a policeman came up and asked me if I wanted him—I said "No," thinking I should get my watch back by him saying he would give it me if I let him go—I said "Now, if you don't give me the watch I will give you in charge "—he called out "Bill, give him his watch"—the watch was passed into his right hand, and he dropped it with the bow off into my left—the policeman must have been following a little way behind, and he said "What is the matter?"—I said "He has stolen my watch"—he said "You had better give him in charge"—the prisoner ran off, and we followed—I was tripped up several times—the detective caught him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you standing in front of me—you had just moved off, and were 10 or 12 yards away.
JOHN ROCK . I am a tailor, and live at 19, Union Street—on the night of 2nd May I was in Aldgate High Street—I saw the prisoner push against Westley, and cut off the watch—I spoke to Westley, and pointed the prisoner out to him—I was present when the watch was given back—somebody gave it to him in his right hand, and he dropped it into Mr. Westley's left hand.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I saw the prosecutor I was standing close to him by the butchers' shops—I saw you cut off the chain.
DAVID RICHARDS (City Detective 765). I saw the prisoner running from Cooper's Row to Trinity Square, with several people following him—I afterwards caught him in the Mint—I asked him why he was running—he said "I don't know; it is not me, it is someone else"—the prosecutor came up and said "That's him; he has stolen my watch"—the prisoner said "I did not steal your watch; I know nothing about it"—I produce the watch; the bow is off.
Prisoner's Defence. I hope you will take into consideration the evidence; the man does not know what he is saying.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in Jannary, 1868.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT, Wednesday, June 10th, 1874.
Before Lord Chief Baron Kelly.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
MARGARET JANE SOUTHEY . I live at 4, Pierpoint Terrace, Upper Street, Islington—I did live at 6, Wood-Street—I left there about three months ago; I can't say exactly how long it is, I should think about six weeks—I was living there at the time I was examined before the Magistrate—I am single, and an unfortunate woman—I know the prisoners—I went to live with them, at No. 3, Sermon Lane, Islington, last October twelve months I think; before that, I had lived with them in St. George's Road, Holloway—up to 12th February, 1873, I was living with them in Sermon Lane, until I went to the hospital, on Wednesday morning, 12th February, 1873—I did not know them before I went to live with them—I was in the family way when to the hospital on Wednesday morning, 12th February, 1873—I passed as Mr. and Mrs. Alexander—it was a house of ill-fame—the hospital I went to was St. Saviour's, Upper Holloway—I had made inquires, three or four weeks before I went there, whether I could be taken in—the two prisoners took me there in a cab, and I was confined there the same day, early in the morning-—the female prisoner came there to see me on the ninth day, and brought me a bottle of port wine—she came again, and brought me some little refreshment, such as cakes, or something like that, and some cooked ham, and she brought some linen to the sister for me—I took with me some baby's clothing of my own when I went in—I took what was necessary for the child, a change of clothes—I took all the things necessary to put on an infant, I had bought that myself—I remember a letter coming to the hospital from Alexander, on 27th February, the day before I left—I afterwards saw Alexander destroy that letter; it was addressed to me by the name of Jessie Smart—I entered the hospital in that name—it was the prisoners' proposal that I should change my name—Alexander did not sign. any name to the letter. only "Your brother"—before I went into the hospital, I had been going by the name of Miss Edwards—the sister in charge first read the letter to me, and I read it afterwards—he said in the letter that he would take me to Manchester—I know Alexander's writing, that letter, was written by him—next day he came, alone—he saw sister Elizabeth—I was prepared to go away with him, with my child, I came down into the waiting-room to see him, he asked me if I was willing to go, and I said "Yes," I dressed the child that morning, it had on a little calico night dress, with a frill of the same round the neck, a shirt trimmed round the sleeves with white lace, a white flannel petticoat, a white flannel roller, two or three times round the stomach, and a white cotton band—it was rather a delicate child, a girl; it had sore eyes, they were red, and very much inflamed—the nurse, Cotton, used to sponge it, and attend to it—it
had a birth mark over the right eye, it was not very large, I suppose about half an inch—the child was christened before it was taken away, but not entered into the Church of England, it was christened by a gentleman named Fleming, the chaplain of the hospital—Miss Cotton stood. as godmother, and Alexander stood as sponsor—it was called, Ada Mary Smart, I suggested the name—both the sister and Miss Cotton asked me to call and see them again when it was convenient, they should like to know how I was getting on, they all wished me well—I left the hospital with Alexander, between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon; we walked away—I carried the baby—there was a wrap put on it, a shawl that Alexander brought with him—it was a grey and black shawl, a mixture, with a reddish looking border—I should know it again—I had seen it before in the prisoner's house—Clifford has worn it several times, and I afterwards saw Alexander wearing it, after I had parted with the child, three or four different times—the sister at the hospital placed the shawl round the child, and I carried it away with the shawl on, it was a cold night—we went together as far as the Nag's Head, at the comer of Seven Sisters Road and Holloway Road, that is about ten minutes' walk from the hospital—we met Clifford outside—she appeared to be waiting—she asked how I felt, was I better in health—we went into the Nag's Head together, into the coffee-room, and had some refreshment—Clifford took the child from me in the coffee-room—we stopped there about half-an-hour—the child continued to have the shawl on—Clifford took off the hood that they had given me' at the hospital, and put on a scarlet hood which she brought with her—I saw her take it out of a parcel, and she placed a piece of brown linsey on the baby underneath the shawl; she brought that with her—she had it doubled four times and placed it round the child—no other alteration was made in its dress—I should know the linsey again—we all three left the Nag's Head together, Clifford carrying the child—we went up the Camden Road, and up a turning opposite the Brecknock tavern, to a small public-house, on the left, the Copenhagen Arms—we only remained there a few minutes—we had some refreshment there—we all three left together, Clifford carried the child—we then went to the Commercial coffee-shop in the Hampstead Road; that was about a quarter-of-an-bour or twenty minutes' walk from the Copenhagen Arms—Alexander and I went in there—Clifford, was asked if she would come in—she said no, she did not feel hungry, and she did not come in, and I and Alexander went in without her—Clifford still had the child—Alexander called for some refreshment and immediately left me—I remained there about half-an-hour—he returned alone—I have never seen the child from that day to this—I should think it was between 5.30 and 6 o'clock when I was at the coffee-house—when Alexander returned I asked him where my child was—he said it was all right, and that Lizzie, meaning Clifford, would meet us at the Victoria public-house at King's Cross—he usually called her Lizzie—I did not know that she was going to take my child away—I expected to see her with it at the Victoria, that is about half-an-hour's walk from the coffee-house—I went with Alexander to the Victoria—it was then getting dark—it must have been between 6 and 7 o'clock—we went into the Victoria and remained there about a quarter or half-an-hour—I did not see anything of Clifford or the baby—I asked Alexander where she was—he said he would go out and look for her—he went out and came back and said he could not find her, and I also looked about myself, but could not see her, and I then asked him if he would take me home in a cab—I felt very fatigued and tired—he took me
home in a cab to 3, Sermon Lane, where they were living—Clifford was not at home—she came in in about an hour and a half without the baby—I asked her where my baby was—she said it was in good hands, she had placed it out to nurse, and she said I had to pay them seven shillings weekly for it—Alexander was present the whole time—she did not tell me where the woman lived—they never would tell me—they never told me any name—they told me afterwards that she lived twenty miles away in the country—they said I was not to worry, it was in safe hands—I asked them many times where the child was, and they told me it was all right and they would take me to see it—that was some time afterwards—I paid seven shillings the third week after I came out of the hospital—I paid it to Clifford—I paid it to both in the presence of both—I continued paying the seven shillings a week to them from time to time until about four or five months ago—I paid them altogether for about twelve months—I made them some payments after I went. to live at Wood Street, in December—I can't tell when I left the prisoners—I have my rent book here which will show—it was some months before Christmas—I continued to pay the 7s. a week all the time I was living with them and also after I went to Wood Street—it was about two or three months after the child was taken away that they said it was twenty miles in the country—I asked them several times if they would give me the address where the child lived—they said if they gave me the address where the people lived that had my child it would be making them out story tellers, because they had told them it was their own child—I never had the address—I asked them again afterwards where the child was, and they said it was about twenty miles in the country, and if I saved up 3l. they would take me to see it—the 3l. was to pay my fare there—they were always both present when these conversations took place—"the third time I paid the 7s. they asked if I would give them some extra money for clothes for my baby—they did not say how much, as much as I could afford—and on several occasions I gave them 10s., instead of 7s. to go towards the clothes—they never told me whether they had purchased clothes—when I was living in Wood Street Alexander came to me several times for money—he used to say that he had come for the payment for the child—on one occasion I pledged my waterproof cloak to get some money to pay them the 7s.—I sent Bertha Colvin to pledge it—she was a lodger in the same house in Wood Street—it was not a house of the same description as the prisoner's—it was said to be a respectable house, it was not a house of ill fame—Colvin pledged the cloak and brought me back 5s.—I gave part of it to Alexander, I had some, and I took part of that to make up the difference—I paid the prisoners 5s. a week for my lodging in Sermon Lane and 6d. extra for clean linen—when I first went to them I paid Is. a day for my board, afterwards I paid 10s. 6d. a week, 18d. a day—I did not pay them anything else only the 7s. for the baby—besides this I was paying 5s. a week for the support. of a former child which was born in 1871—that child was being nursed by a Mr. and Mrs. Masters, at 99, Grove Street, Park Street, Mother Red Cap—I sent the prisoners to Masters while I was in the hospital to pay 5s. for me—Mr. Masters came to me in Sermon Lane the Sunday after I got out of the hospital—I don't remember whether I paid him any money then—I sometimes took the 5s. myself to the Masters, and sometimes sent it by post office order—I generally paid it myself—they had the child until last Friday—I paid them the 5s. a week regularly until then
—I took it then because they had no one to leave it with while I was here—when I sent the post office orders I got Alexander to write me a note, because I thought he could word it better than I could—this (produced) 1s. the pawn ticket for the waterproof cloak; it is dated 29th January this year—at the end of March this year I was living in Wood Street, Cromer Street—Alexander fetched me out of a night some times; I have often gone out with him of a night—we have often had words about my child; I have asked him where it was, and he has refused to tell me—that has occurred on several occasions—I had a disturbance with him at the end of March about 12.30 at night, or in the morning—he came up to me in Upper Street, Islington, and asked what I meant by telling my landlady and a lodger in the house about him and my child—I said that was my business—he up with his hand to strike me; then I spoke in a loud voice, and asked him what he had done with my child; I asked him to produce it, and I asked him whether he had murdered it or not, or what had he done with it—I repeated that over several times, until I was dragged away by one of the lodgers of my old landlady, who I am living with at the present time—I had got very much excited, and a great crowd assembled—Alexander did not make any answer to my charges, that I know of, but he came across to the house where they took me to and told the landlady that he was going to the police station to bring two policemen to give me in charge—he did not say for what—that was all that took place that night—next day he came to Wood Street and left this letter (produced) it is his writing—it is directed to Mrs. Glendale—she was one of the lodgers there—she read it, and showed it to me, and I read it. (This was dated 31st April, 1874, and professed to give a history of the transaction; it stated that after leaving the home the prisoner told him (Alexander) that she had left her baby with a woman, as she had previously arranged; but that three weeks after she said she had left it upon a step in the Hampstead Road—that from motives of compassion he had abstained from mentioning it, but as she now persisted in accusing him of having murdered the child, he was determined to have the whole matter settled; and as it was in the hands of Kelly, the detective, he should advise her to get out of the way for a long lime to come.)—Mrs. Young was my landlady in Wood Street—I saw Clifford the next morning after the row with Alexander—I went to her apartments at 5l., Pierpoint terrace—I first sent Bertha Colvin to ask her to come over to the public-house, where I was—she did not come; and I and Colvin went to her—I asked her what she had done with my baby—she said that was her business—I said "If you will tell me where it is I will bother you no further"—and Colvin said "I should think you are sorry you spoke; you spoke out of your turn"—Clifford again said that was her business—we tnen left—this (produced) is the shawl my baby was wrapped in when she was taken from the hospital, which I have seen both the prisoners wearing; but it has been altered since—I saw it round the prisoner Clifford's shoulders' that very same night about an hour and a half after I had parted with my child when she came home—I did not see it again after that till the last cold weather, about four or five months ago, because it was pledged—I then saw it around Alexander's shoulders at the Victoria public-house, Kings Cross—that was before the row in Upper Street—we had some rows before that, but nothing to speak of—Clifford told me that the shawl was pledged the morning after I saw it round her shoulders, the morning after I came home from my confinement; they said they were short of money—this is the
piece of linsey that I saw wrapped round my child at the Nag's Head, and which was round it when I last saw it; I never saw it again till it was produced at the police court—that is the waterproof cloak that was pledged on 29th January.
Cross-examined. When Clifford took the child away this linsey was wrapped round its body and this shawl was also wrapped round it and within an hour and a half of my return to Sermon Lane I saw the female prisoner wearing that same shawl—I wore it before I went to the hospital—it is Clifford's shawl—she lent it to me to wear from time to time before I went to the Home to be confined—I know a Mrs. Field—I did not ask Clifford to lend me the shawl before I went to the Home in order that Mrs. Field might not detect that I was in the family way—I asked her to lend it me to keep me warm—it was not because I had not one of my own, I had one of my own, I did not wear it because it was of too bright a color—that was my only reason—I believed the story they told me that night that my child had been put out to nurse—I asked where it had gone to—they said it was all right; that was all I asked about it that night—I made no remark about the shawl—it was about three or four months after that I heard the child was twenty miles in the country—I did not ask where it was till then—I had often asked them where it was, I used to ask them every time I paid the money and that was every week and they always told me it was all right and well cared for—I did not understand you when I said I did not ask for three or four months—their answer did not quite satisfy me—I asked for the address where the child was, they said if they gave the address it would be making them out story tellers—that conversation did not take place at the time they said it was twenty miles off, it was before that—it did not satisfy me—I did not ask them any further questions upon that, I asked them each week where the child was—I asked them who took it into the country, they said the woman they had left it with—they did not say where they had left it with the woman—I did not ask them—I did not ask whether Clifford had taken it down into the country that night to the woman—I asked where the woman lived, not that same night I did not, I asked them the night they said it was twenty miles away—I asked the name of the place—they said it was only about twenty miles away—they said the 3l. was to pay their fare; I believed that to take us three twenty miles into the country—on the night of the row in Islington with Alexander, he did not to my knowledge make any answer to what I said—he did not call a policeman, to my knowledge—I said before the Magistrate "I don't know what answer he made, I was so excited, I repeated it several times and he called for a policeman"—he did call for a policeman—I don't know whether the policeman came, I was dragged away—I did see a policeman but I don't know whether they were coming for me or not—I saw two sergeants coming down the street—I did not see whether he spoke to them or not—I could see that they were police sergeants by the stripes on their arms—I had not an opportunity of seeing whether he spoke to them or not, for I saw them coming down the street before I had any row with him at all—I heard that he went to the station with them—it is correct that I went to Clifford's apartment the next evening—there is no mistake about that—it was between ten and twelve—it was not the same night—I said before the Magistrate" the night I called out to Alexander in the street I went to No. 5. Pierpoint Terrace and saw Clifford"—It was in the morning that I went, it was the same day—it was between twelve and one when
I had the row with Alexander and it was the same evening that I went to Clifford's—the following day—I have not seen Mrs. Glendale here to-day—the landlady of the house in Wood Street does not know that anything improper is carried on there—Mrs. Glendale lives there—she does not take home men to my knowledge—Bertha Colvin lives there; she does not take home men—I did; not very often—I lived there just upon six months—Alexander has visited me there—he has slept there with me once; not long before this row happened; about a fortnight before, I think—I had a few words with Clifford before I left Sermon Lane—it was not about Alexander—she has sometimes spoken to me about him—she never complained of his familiarities with me; she hinted it to me, but never spoke openly—she did not leave the house in consequence of me—she did leave the house, and stayed away for a night—she as much as said that there was someone in the house who took too many familiarities with him; I thought she referred to me—I know she did not leave the house on my account—she has told me that I should leave the house—I slept with him in Sermon Lane—I laid on the outside of the bed that be laid in—I swear that I only slept once with him in Sermon Lane; that was on the occasion on which I lay outside the bed—in the bad sense of the word I never did sleep with him in Sermon Lane; I did not sleep with him in an improper sense there—I have had connexion with him in Sermon Lane—I had left Sermon Lane when I slept outside the bed—I have slept in the same bed with both the prisoners in Sermon Lane for two or three months—they slept with me through necessity—when I said I had only slept with him on one occasion, I meant for nothing improper—the night I came from the Home I slept in my own room with the two prisoners—I first became acquainted with Clifford the week before I went to live with them—I was then living at 27, Albert Street, with Mrs. Brown, in the name of Miss Edwards—I was carrying on the same calling—in June, 1871, I was a witness in this Court on a charge against my two uncles, Walter Tregellas and his brother, for attempting to procure abortion by administering drugs to me—they were charged before a Magistrate before they came here for trial, and I gave evidence on that occasion—when before the Magistrate I did not decline to say who was the father of my child; I said The father was dead; I said who he was, John Thoms—I was examined here as a witness—I don't remember being asked if either of my uncles was the father of my child, and replying in the negative—they were men well to do in the world—it was my uncle, Harry Tregellas, who found me in America before that—he was not one of those who were tried—he found me leading an immoral life in America—I don't remember in what month I left America, or whether it was in September—my uncles took me to live with them in Cornwall—I subsequently came up to London, and the trial was in June—after the trial I lived at Mrs. Field's—during the time I was in Cornwall my uncles treated me with the greatest possible kindness up to the time of the trial; they made a home for me—after the trial my uncle Walter Tregellas did not take me back again to Cornwall, because I had disgraced the family—he paid my board and lodging at Mrs. Field's for just upon fifteen months—I lived a respectable life at Mrs. Field's—my uncle did not continue the allowance because he failed in business—I applied to my other uncles—the allowance at Mrs. Field's was not stopped because I insisted upon leading the same course of life that I had been leading—I am not sure it was for fifteen months; I can't tell how long it was—when I
met Clifford I was carrying on my business as a prostitute at Islington—in September, 1872, when I told Clifford that I was in the family way with this child, I also told her that I was suffering from a bad disorder, and that I did not wish the other girls who were plying their calling in the neighbourhood to know it—I went to Gray's Inn Hospital for the purpose of being cured of that disorder—I was not an inmate; I attended there for about a month or six weeks—Dr. De Merrick attended me there—I did not cease to attend there because some of the other girls of the neighbourhood had seen me there, and I did not wish it to be known—I never told Clifford that that was the cause—I went to the Holloway Dispensary about once—I was not attended there under the name of Mrs. Gordon—I don't remember that I ever attended Holloway Dispensary, not while I was with the prisoners—I was not carrying on my calling while I was at the hospital with this disorder—I was suffering in that way for about a month, not more—I supported myself during that time—I had thirty shillings saved up in the savings bank towards my confinement, and I saved more afterwards—I paid twenty-one shillings for admission to St. Saviour's Home the night I went in—I did not pay that out of the thirty shillings—I had the thirty shillings saved up at the time I was afflicted with this disorder—I did not have it at all at Sermon Lane—it was when I first lived with them at Holloway—I was cured before I went to Sermon Lane—Alexander advised me to go to Gray's Inn Hospital; that was whilst they lived in the Holloway Road—I was attended at that hospital about a month—it was about eight months after I first went to reside with the prisoners that I went to the Home; I only fell in the family way-a month before I went to them—I went to live with them in Holloway in November, and was there two or three months with them—I paid them their rent regularly—I was in their debt when I came back from being confined, not before that—it increased afterwards—I owed them four shillings when I left Sermon Lane—I owed a bill of 1l. 6s. 8d. at a tally shop, which I gave Alexander the money to pay after I left Sermon Lane—I went to them at Holloway in October—I don't know what month it was that I went to Sermon Lane—before I became an inmate of the Home, I went there and enquired upon what terms I could be admitted to be confined—Clifford went with me—a few nights after that I was taken very ill, and they both persuaded me to take a cab to the Home, because they thought labour was coming on—I paid 1l. I 1s. to go in—it was all composed of my own money—I entered in the name of Jessie Smart—I had not said anything to Clifford before I went to the Home about my fear that the child would suffer from the same disorder that I had while I was in the family-way, not that I remember—I think I did say so—I had already had a child named Lilly—that child was not suffering from scrofula—that was the child that the trial was about—it was born in June, 1871, after the trial—it was affiicted with a touch of the bad disorder which I had suffered from before its birth—I remember a conversation with Clifford, in which I mentioned to her that Lilly was suffering from the remnants of the" had disorder, and I think I then expressed my fears that my second child would be affected in the same way—I said I did not wish the girls in the neighbourhood to know it, if the child was born in that state—Clifford came to the Home to see me before this letter was received from Alexander—she saw the child—she came about three times and saw it on each occasion—I don't know whether the child was suffering from the same kind of symptoms as Lilly had been suffering—it had sore eyes—I think I said something about
it to Clifford—I did not express my fear that it was diseased—I said I should not like the girls to know that it was born with sore eyes for fear they should think it was that—I was not astonished at receiving this letter from Alexander in which he passes himself off as my brother—I knew he was coming—I wanted to leave the Home—Clifford knew that before I went there, and I told her when she came there that I wanted to get out as quickly as I could, and it was arranged between us that Alexander should write this letter—it was not arranged between me and the prisoners, that the child being born in that state, it should be given out that it was dead; I could swear that: I never did—I never did arrange or consent that it should be given out that the child was dead, not for that or any reason, nothing of the kind—I have never myself said that the child was dead—I know a woman named Bustin and another named Orton—I have never said to either of them that my child was dead, or mentioned my child to them—I saw them at the prisoners' house the same night I came from the Home—I did not say in their presence what a lucky thing it was for me that the child was dead—I did not mention my child to them at all—they lived in the same house, they knew I had gone to the Home, and what for—they never asked me what had become of the child till latterly—all they said was that they were glad to hear that I had got over my trouble so well—they did not ask me whether the child was alive or dead, and I never said anything to them about it—I never told them about the child being taken away by Clifford—about Christmas, 1873, Clifford and I did not have any disturbance about a-waterproof—she did not charge me with pawning a waterproof of her's, it was a macintosh coat—she charged me with illegally pawning it, about Christmas, 1873—the ticket was destroyed—it was pawned by a Mrs. Corfield for me—I destroyed the ticket—I made an affidavit of it before the magistrate at Clerkenwell, and got another ticket, and got it out—Clifford sent me a message that if it was not taken out she would give me into custody—it was long before that, that I made the accusation against them with regard to the child—I sent the waterproof home to Alexander; it was his property—on the morning I left their house they turned me out without any breakfast, I had stopped with them over-night, and I had no money; so I took that—she saw me take it—I pawned it—I never saw her to speak to her about it—I was not lodging with them at that time, I had left them some months—that was the night I slept with Alexander—Clifford brought me home that night; I was rather the worse for drink, and she made the bed, and told me to lie down on the bed, and when I woke up in the morning I found Alexander there with me—Clifford had left the house—we had a disturbance in the morning; a very serious one; I was not violent; she threatened to strike me—that was about a month or six weeks before the row with Alexander, in Upper Street—I did not say at the time the waterproof was sent down that I could give her in charge for something, and I hoped I should get her two years; I swear that—I said nothing about giving her in charge—the prisoners took my eldest child, Lilly, to live with them after I left them—she lived with them about six weeks, in 1873; that was because Mrs. Master's daughter was ill—it was before the disturbance about the waterproof—Clifford came to me one night and said that the child was out in the street—that was the very night I took her away from the house—I had connexion with Alexander at St. George's Road—that was not before I went to Sermon Lane; I never had
connexion with him before I left Holloway; I never had connexion with him at St. George's Road; I said yes, because I thought you meant after I left them; they went back there again—I thought you meant the last time he lived there—I had connexion with him in St. George's Road—after the disturbance in the street he came to my place one night intoxicated, but he did not sleep with me—he did not have connexion with me—he never had, after that disturbance, I am sure of that—he came late at night and remained there till about 7 o'clock in the morning; he was there when I got home at nearly 2 o'clock—I had only one room there—I remained in the room with him the whole night till he left; nobody else was in the room.
Re-examined. It was on the doctor's information that the charge was made against my uncles—I had nothing to do with the information—I only gave evidence—it was about three weeks after the row with Alexander that he came and slept at my room—I am prepared to swear that no connexion took place between us that night—he was intoxicated and lying on my bed and there he lay all night—I did not attempt to get him out; he went home in the morning—I said that the two prisoners slept with me of necessity, because they had not a bed of their own—it was my bed they slept, in in the room that I rented of them.
ELIZABETH AMELIA JONES . I am the sister in charge of St. Saviour's Hospital, Upper Holloway—I was so in February last year—in that month the last witness Jessie Smart came to the hospital, and made enquiry as to her admission for the purpose of her confinement—I gave her the information and she came in on the night of the 12th February, some female came with her who I could not swear to—she was confined within an hour of her entrance, of a female child—she continued in the hospital until the 28th—the day before she left a letter came, and on the following day, the 28th, I saw the male prisoner, he said he was her brother, that she had been forsaken by all her friends except himself, and he was the only one to befriend her—he took her away—the child was baptised before they left, he was the godfather and someone in the hospital was godmother—he did not see the prosecutrix many minutes before they left—I saw them go out—I gave her a-hood, I don't recollect what sort—the child was well dressed—she had brought the clothing with her, proper baby clothing—the male prisoner paid the expenses—it was some time between three and four or between three and five when they left—the expenses were a shilling a day and ten shillings expenses for the lying-in ward—the whole of the expenses were paid by the male prisoner when she left; no money had been paid on admission.
Cross-examined. I do not think that any money was paid on her admission, I don't recollect any—the male prisoner paid the money when she left—the hospital charges are 1s. a day, and I believe that was what he paid, and the 10s. extra—all that was due, was paid by him.
Re-examined. I have an entry of it at the hospital.
MARY ELLEN COTTON . I am nurse midwife at St. Saviour's Hospital, Upper Holloway—the girl Jessie Smart was received by me on the afternoon of 12th February, 1873—I took her up to my ward and about five in the, morning she was confined of a female child—I attended her during the whole fortnight that she was in the hospital—on the 28th the prisoner Alexander came and fetched her away—I noticed that the child's eyes were very sore, I used to have to wash them with a lotion that the doctor ordered—they were still sore when it was taken away—I do not remember
any mark on its face—I was the godmother—I asked for their address when the child was taken away—I heard that they were going to Manchester and I did not ask for any particulars—I expressed a wish to see the child again—Alexander said that he was very sorry to find her in such a place, and he meant to take her home with him and take care of her.
Cross-examined. If I remember right, it was the girl who said she was going to Manchester.
MARY WHITE . In February last year I was an inmate at St. Saviour's Hospital awaiting my confinement—I knew Jessie Smart—I remember her being confined on the 12th, I saw the child—I noticed that it had a mark on the forehead and it had weak eyes; they were very weak and sore—the mark on the forehead was a little red mark just above the right eye; it was a small mark not half as large as one of my nails—I saw her leave the hospital on 28th February with a young man, I don't know him—she took the baby with her—I did not notice how it was wrapped up—I did not notice any of the articles—I don't remember a shawl.
Cross-examined. She told me that the man was her brother.
THOMAS JOHN DAVEY . I am a window cleaner, and live in Little Exmouth Street, Hampstead Road—on 28th February, I had been working all day in Tolmer Square, Hampstead Road, I left work between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening—I went down a passage at the back of the house where I had been working, when there I heard a child cry; I had to come through the passage, up the back steps at the far end of the passage—and hearing a child cry, I stood still for a moment and listened—I then went up the passage towards Tolmer Square, and saw the child, it was lying on the pavement at the end of the passage near the street, as near as I can tell, it would be from 6.30 to 6.45 o'clock—I merely took the brown linsey that it had on its head off its face, to see that it was a child—I did not lift up the child or move it—I went and fetched a policeman, I had a very short distance to go, to the corner of the Hampstead Road, I was not absent from where the child was, five minutes, I brought the policeman with me to the passage, and gave the child into his charge, and he took it away—I should not be able to recognize the linsey again, it was dark, it was something of this kind.
Cross-examined. I was working about seven or eight yards from the place where I found the child; it was in that part of the passage which is nearest the main street.
ROBERT FRENCH (Policeman S. R. 33). On the evening of 28th February, about 7.30 o'clock, I was on duty in the Hampstead Road—the last witness came and spoke to me—from what he said I went with him to the passage, and at the corner saw a child on the pavement, wrapped up in a piece of brown linsey, I believe this to be it—the child was dressed—it was crying, I felt it, it was very cold—I took it up and carried it to the police-station, in Albany Street, Mrs. Pickles, the female searcher, took charge of it—I went with her and the child to St. Pancras workhouse, where it was taken charge of—it was a very cold night—the linsey was left at the workhouse with the child.
Cross-examined. The child was entirely covered when I found it.
ELIZABETH PIOKLES . I am the female searcher at the Albany Street police-station—I remember French bringing a child there on the night of 28th February, 1873—it was wrapped in this piece of linsey, and a little red shawl round its head, a very small shawl, under this—the linsey did not
completely cover the child, it was rather more round the head, the feet were not covered—the child was very cold indeed, it was a female—I undressed it and warmed it by the fire—the legs were drawn up by the cold, it had on a white calico bed gown, a new flannel, a calico shirt with lace round the sleeves, a flannel bellyband and calico roller, and a new unbleached napkin, no shoes or stockings—after warning it I took it with all its things on to the infirmary of the workhouse, under a shawl, and gave it to Mrs. Swinscoe, the superintendent of the receiving-ward.
ELIZABETH SWINSCOE . I am the superintendent of the receiving-ward, at St. Pancras workhouse—on 28th February, 1873, I remember a child being brought there at nearly 9 o'clock at night, it was delivered to me—it was dressed—I took charge of the clothing—besides the clothes it had on it was wrapped in this piece of linsey that I kept—the other clothing we do not keep beyond a twelve month—it had the usual baby's clothes—it had lace on the calico shirt, on the sleeves I think, I am not quite sure whether it had it anywhere else; I am sure it had it on the sleeves, I sent the child to the children's sick ward a few minutes after it came to me—I did not see it again—it was a female child, it appeared in a very weak condition, a child that I thought required attention at once—its eyes were weak, bloodshot, and red, it had a very bad cold—and it had a mark between its eyes, on the forehead, it was like a birth mark, a red mark, I can't say for certain which eye it was over, it was over one of the eyes, about the size of a 3d. bit, a very small red mark—I kept the linsey ever since, till I gave it to the detective.
ANNIE TAAPFE . I am a nurse at the St. Pancras Infirmary—I received a female child on the night of 28th February, 1873, about 9 o'clock—the name of Mary Albany was given to it in the workhouse, from the place where she was found, Albany Street—it was dressed in the usual baby clothing, and this piece of brown linsey, a piece of scarlet flannel, the usual baby wrapper, skirt, and all that—the child was very ill—I gave it a bath, and applied poultices to the chest and back, and it was handed over to the doctor—I wrapped up the clothing, and sent it to the superintendent of' the receiving ward—I nursed the child from time to time, until it died on 12th March, at 8.45 p.m.
JOSEPH HILL . I am surgeon and medical officer to St. Pancras Workhouse, and am a M.R.C.S.—on the night of 28th February last year, shortly after 9 o'clock, I saw a female child at the workhouse—it had great difficulty of breathing; it seemed in an exhausted condition; it was also suffering from opthalmia, inflammation of the lining membrane of the eyelids, what would be properly called sore eyes; and it was a thin, delicate child—there was nothing specially to indicate that the opthalmia arose from any syphilitic complaint; it would not be unlikely—I did not consider it with that view; it frequently arises simply from cold—the child appeared to be about ten days or a fortnight old—it was suffering from congestion of the lungs; that became worse, and passed on into inflammation of the lungs and bronchial tubes—the congestion had evidently not existed long; it was in the first stage of inflammation; it might only have been an hour, or a few hours; it comes on very quickly in children—I saw the child from day to day—it died on the evening of 12th March—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—the cause of death was congestion and inflammation of the lungs—exposure to the cold in the way described would be a very likely cause of that—the brain and other organs were all fairly healthy;
they were small and weak, but there was no special disease—it weighed 3 1/2 lbs. at the time of death—it was known in the workhouse as Mary Albany.
Cross-examined. It would not be an uncommon or unlikely thing if a woman, during the period of gestation, suffered from syphilis, that the child should be born with eyes in that state—the congestion of the lungs was evidently in the first stage; therefore I conclude that it could not have lasted long, not more than a few hours—it is caused by different things besides exposure to the cold; it is liable to come on from other causes.
Re-examined. If it comes on before exposure, the cold would increase it and make it worse.
ROBERT MASTERS . I now live at 99, Grove Street, Camden Town—in February, 1873, I was living at 6, Howland Mews West, Tottenham Court Road—I know the prosecutrix—my wife took charge of a child for her, called Lilly, somewhere about a year and nine months ago—we received 5s. per week for its keep—I knew the prosecutrix as Miss Edwards—we sometimes received the money by a post-office order, and sometimes Miss Edwards used to call and pay my wife the money—there was generally a letter accompanying the post-office order—Inspector Taylor has some of them—they were always signed "George Alexander"—these (produced) are the letters—two or three times, on a Sunday morning, I have taken the child to see its mother when she lodged at Alexander's in Sermon Lane and sometimes, previous to that, in St. George's Road, Holloway—I never had any conversation with Alexander about these letters, or who sent the post-office orders—I saw both the prisoners on a Thursday in February, 1873; I should think it would be about the Thursday week before I received this letter dated the 24th. (The prosecutrix slated this letter to be in Clifford's writing, and the others in Alexander's.) They came to my place where I worked, 44, Cleveland Street, Fitzroy Square, a timber yard—Alexander said "I have come respecting Miss Edwards. I have received a letter from her this morning; she has gone down to some friends in Cornwall to be confined. You know what things are in this world; you must have noticed that she was in the family way, though I believe it was always her wish that she should never let it be known to Mrs. Masters"—we went over to a public-house, and had a glass of ale together, and in the course of conversation at the bar he said the child was dead—he paid me 5s. for one week's keep of the other child, and asked me to give him a receipt for it, which I did—Clifford was at the bar with him when this took place—they then went down to my place to see my wife, and I went back to my work, and when I went home to dinner at 1 o'clock, they were just about going away; I saw them at the door—after receiving this letter of 24th February, I went and called on the prisoners in Sermon Lane; I think about a fortnight after—I believe I received the letter on the Tuesday, and on the following Sunday week I went to see them—I saw Miss Edwards there—some time after this, one of my daughters was ill, and the child Lilly was sent to the prisoners' to be taken care of. (The letter of 24th February, 1873, was from Alexander to the witness, stating that he had received a letter from Miss Edwards informing him of her satisfactory recovery, and to expect her home on the Friday or Saturday, and requesting the witness to call on the Sunday.)
Cross-examined. The 5s. paid to mo by Alexander on the 19th February was on account of Lilly's board—that was in the absence of the prosecutrix
—the prosecutrix told us she was a machinist, and I believed she was getting an honest living up to the time the second child was born.
FRANCES MASTERS . I am the wife of the last witness—I have had charge of the child Lilly since September, 1872—she was then about fifteen months old—she was put under my charge by Miss Edwards—I agreed to take her at 5s. a week—she told me that she was a machinist—in August, 1873, my daughter was ill for about ten days, and died—at that time Lilly went away from us for six weeks—I wrote to the mother to fetch her home—I fetched her back some time in December last year—with that exception she has been with me until she was taken away last Friday, and I have received 5s. a week for the care of her—sometimes the mother paid me, and sometimes I was paid by post-office orders sent by Mr. Alexander—in February, 1873, I remember seeing the prisoners; I think it was the 14th or 15th; it was nine or ten days before this letter came—they had seen my husband first, and then came to me together—Alexander said he had come from Miss Edwards or Miss Southey, and that he had paid my husband 5s. that was due, that Miss Edwards was confined, that she had gone into the country; he did not tell me what part—I said how shocking it was, and was it a girl or a boy—he said "A girl"—I asked if she had a father to provide for it—he said "No, the child is dead"—the female prisoner was present when that was said.
Cross-examined. It was the same day that my husband received the 5s.—up to the time of hearing of her being confined I believed her to be a machinist, and that she had only had the misfortune of having one illegitimate child.
BERTHA COLVIN . I live at 6, Wood Street, Cromer Street—I have known Miss Southey between five and six months, when she was living at 6, Wood Street—I have seen Alexander come to the house repeatedly, to see her, and they used sometimes to go out together—I have seen her give him money on two or three occasions—on one occasion she sent me to pawn a waterproof mantle, which I did, for 5s., and gave her the money—this is the ticket—I knew her by the name of Eliza Parker—at the end of March last I was with her in the Star and Garter public-house, Islington—she sent me to ask for Mrs. Alexander at No. 5 in some street opposite the Star and Garter—I think this was about the 31st March, and between 11 and 12 o'clock in the morning—I saw the female prisoner, and said she was wanted at the Star and Garter—she said who wanted her was to come to her—I went back and told the prosecutrix, and we both went across to the female prisoner—I asked her what she had done with the girl's child—she said that was her business and not mine—I said "Perhaps you will be sorry you spoke"—I asked her again what she had done with the child, and she gave me the same reply—the mother stamped her foot and said "Have you murdered it?" and she again replied that was her business.
Cross-examined. The prosecutrix was very excited—I don't know for what purpose the money was given to Alexander—the prosecutrix did not tell me that she had a tally bill which he was paying for her, or that she had left the house in his debt—he came several times to Wood Street—I have seen him there once or twice in a week, at all hours; sometimes between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening, at other times in the morning—I believe he stayed there one night on one occasion—he was very tipsy—it was rather late when he came—he remained there all night, and I saw him go away at 7 o'clock in the morning—the landlady of the house is not here
—the prosecutrix does not live there now; she has left these six weeks nearly—another young person named Glendale was living there.
GEORGE DUDLEY (Detective Officer). On the morning of 31st March I was in Upper Street, between 11 and 12 o'clock, and saw Alexander and the girl Southey and two or three persons standing round them—I heard Southey say in a very loud voice "Alexander, produce the child you took away from me last February twelve months, produce it. Have you murdered it?"—a young woman, who is now dead, laid hold of her arm, and took her across the road—two policemen came up and spoke to Alexander, but I did not hear him say anything—he went across the road to 4, Pierpoint Terrace; he then went to the station, and I followed him, and heard him make a complaint about a female annoying him in the street—I afterwards went with Taylor when he apprehended Clifford—I took Alexander on 7th May, about 12 o'clock—I said to Alexander "I am going to take you for being concerned with a woman you are living with in detaining a female child of Jane Southey"—he said "Very well"—he afterwards turned round to two prostitutes who were with him and said "I am going to be taken for that child of Jennies"—he was then conveyed to the station.
Cross-examined. He said "I shall go to the station and complain of the constable, because he would not go across and take her in charge without I told him what it was for"—two constables were present; not sergeants with white stripes on their arms; constables wear no stripes—he did not at first say at the station that, a female had been asking him for her child—I did not hear all that passed—I did not go near the window.
JAMES TAYLOR (Police Inspector). On the morning of 31st March, about 1 o'clock, I was at Islington Police Station, when Alexander came in, and said "I have called to complain of being annoyed by a female in the street"—Dudley at that time stated to me, in Alexander's presence, that a female had been asking him for her child—I said to Alexander "Do you know anything about it?"—he said "A woman named Alice Parker, of 6, Wood Street, Cromer Street, was confined of a female child in February, 1873, at St. Saviour's Home, Upper Holloway, in the name of Smart," and that she had told him that she had deserted it, about the latter end of the same month, in the Hampstead Road—I said "Why did you not give information at the time?"—he said "I know I am wrong there"—I caused enquiries to be made—that was all that took place, and he left the station—On 6th May, about 9 p.m., I saw Clifford in upper Street, Islington—I told her I was an inspector of police, and was going to take her in custody for being concerned with a man named Alexander in obtaining possession of a child from a young woman named Smart—she said "Yes; am I to go to the station?"—I said "Certainly"—she then said "I did not go to the hospital, it was Mr. Alexander"—she was taken in custody—Dudley was with the person who made the plans.
GUILTY of Manslaughter — Twenty Years each in Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, June 10th, 1874.
Before Mr. Justice Blackburn.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Straight the Defence.
HENRIETTA SCRIVENER . I live at 4, Lordship Place, Chelsea, and am the wife of Joseph Scrivener—I had the child, Ernest Scrivener, aged twelve months—the prisoner is my mother, she has lived with me two years, ever since I have been married—on Monday morning, 27th April, I said that me and my husband were going away, and she said that we should stay, and she would go instantly—my husband was not present—we had had no other conversation before the Monday about this—on the following day, I was at home, and saw the child up to 5 o'clock in the afternoon—it was well and was in the front room up stairs—I missed it about 5.30 o'clock—and did not know what had become of it, I could not find the prisoner—I had seen her last about 5 o'clock, but nothing passed between us then—she was sober—I heard nothing of the child that night or next day, till my husband received this letter on Wednesday, the 29th, the day after) about 7 o'clock in the evening, and showed it to me, it came by post—-read:" Mr. Scrivener, 4, Lordship Place, Chelsea—Joe, I have just left Mrs. Sparville. If you or your wife had done what I told you, you would have found your child—it is the only thing that I can do to make your heart ache, as you have made mine for so long you b----s; and the dear boy will be no more. We are in the water at this moment We took the address with us. I hope you will never forget me, Fanny Stewart")—that is in the prisoner's ordinary writing—when I saw the letter I went to Mrs. Sparville, in Spencer Road, about half an hour's walk off—I got some information there about the prisoner, and afterwards went to the police station and made a communication—I did not see the prisoner again till Friday, May 1st, when she was in custody—in the the meantime I had seen nothing of my child—on Friday, 8th May, I was taken by Inspector Sherlock, to the Poplar dead house, and saw my child dead—the clothes are in Court, which it was wearing on the Tuesday—this other letter and envelope, addressed to Miss Stewart, are in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. My mother has lived with me since my marriage, and has always been most affectionate towards my child—she used to nurse it, and fondle it a good deal—we received this letter by the 7 o'clock post—since she has been committed for trial I have been into the prison to see her—she merely said that she had done it—she told me that she was on the Albert Bridge, and that she had been walking with the child all day and all night, and that there were no seats on the bridge and she could not sit down, and that she was excited and tired and had leaned up to rest against one of the rails of the bridge, and the child slipped from her. (The Court considered that what the prisoner said in prison was not evidence, and MR. STRAIGHT did not press it further.)
JOSEPH SCRIVENER . I am a carpenter and live with my wife at 4, Lordship Lane—the prisoner lived with us two years—about a fortnight before 28th April, we had a few words, we could not live comfortably together—the only thing was about the chickens in the yard, and my mother-in-law went and broke the door open—we were going to leave, and on Monday morning, the 27th, the prisoner came and said "What am I to do about this?"—I said "You must do what you like, you will either have to leave or else I shall have to leave"—she used to take a little too much to drink but she was not a bad woman in her manner of speaking; nothing was right and we could not do right for her—I did not say that to her but I had said it before—when I said that I must leave or she must leave, nothing
passed, but on the Tuesday morning she said "I shall be away before night"—nothing had passed between us, nothing else occurred, she only came down to see me—I was out all day and got back at 5.30—that was my usual time for coming home—when I got home the prisoner and child and my wife were not there—I heard nothing of the prisoner or the child till the Wednesday evening about 7 o'clock, when I received this letter from the postman—I never saw the child alive again—on the Friday I heard of the prisoner being in custody and went to the station and saw her—I did not speak to her but she said "Here is my heart and here is yours"—she said nothing else and I did not know what had become of the child till the following Friday, May 8th, when I heard that the body had been found.
CHARLOTTE SPARVILLE . I am single and live at 23, Spencer Road, Sands End, Fulham—on Tuesday night, 28th April, about 12 o'clock, when I had gone to bed, the prisoner knocked at the door, a lodger opened the door and let her in, and I opened the parlour door—she had a baby with her which I knew as Mrs. Scrivener's—she asked to be allowed to lie down in ray empty room and I agreed—I asked her why she brought the baby out—she said because she loved it—I asked her why she came, she said that something unpleasant had happened at home—I laid a blanket down in the back room and she and the child slept there that night and she took breakfast with me the next morning—the child was still with her and she seemed very fond of it—about 12 or 1 o'clock, I cannot say positively, I asked her if she was going home—she said she had not made her mind up—nothing further passed but she left, taking the child with her—she did not write any letter at my house—she did not say anything about Mr. Scrivener—I did not see her again until she was in custody.
Cross-examined. She did not say when she came at 12 o'clock that she had no money, she never mentioned money to me, she merely said that she thought she should have had a cup of tea.
ANN IRELAND . I am a widow, of 20, Lawrence Street, Chelsea, half-an-hour's walk from Sparville's—on Wednesday, 29th April, about 8.15 p.m., I was in Fulham Road on my way home from work, and saw the prisoner with her grandchild in her arms—I knew who she was, and said "It is a cold night"—she said "Yes"—I said "What a pity you have brought the baby out such a cold night as this"—she kissed the baby and said he is all right—we walked along as far as my place, close to her own home, and she asked me if she might come in and sit down for awhile (I mean close to Mr. and Mrs. Scrivener's house; I live a few doors off)—she came in and talked, but nothing particular was said—I went out to get a pint of ale for my supper, and asked her if she could drink a glass of ale—she said "Yes ", and when I went out I met Mrs. Scrivener, and made a statement to her—when I got back I gave the prisoner a glass of ale and a bit of bread and cheese; and I said "Mrs. Stewart, I hear you have not been home all night; get up and leave my place, and take the child home to his mother"—she said "The boy is all right, bless his heart, he loves his granny, and his granny loves him"—when I mentioned her not being home all night she made no remark except that she knew that, and she had been over at Fulham—it was between 9 and 10 o'clock when she left my house—she did not finish the bread and cheese, but she drank the beer, and took the child with her—I did not see her again till she was in custody.
Lincoln's Inn Fields—the prisoner is my mother—I am Mrs. Scrivener's sister—on Friday, 1st May, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, my mother came to the hotel—I did not speak to her, but went and got a constable and gave her in charge for stealing the child—(I had heard from my sister previously)—I went some way towards the station with her, and she said she had thrown a letter down the area—I went back to the hotel, and the cook gave me this letter in this envelope—I opened it and read it—it is in my mother's writing—(Read: "Miss Stewart." Wait for an answer. May 1st, 1874. Dear Carry, come out at once as I have done murder, and I want you to give me in the hands of justice. I have killed the dear boy. Come now. From your mother, Frances Stewart. Tour father died on 30th August, 1870, in Mount Street, and was buried in Hanwell"—that is correct; my father died on that date—Mount Street is the workhouse of Hanwell—he died at Mount Street Workhouse.
HENRY DENT (Policeman E R 7). On Friday, 1st May, I was on duty at Bow Street station—the last witness came to me, and in consequence of what she said, I went to Bacon's Hotel and saw the prisoner in front of the hotel—I said "I have come to take you in custody for stealing a child from 4, Lordship Place, Chelsea"—she said "That is quite right, I did take the child," and she said "All right, I know the police are after me"—I asked her if she was Mrs. Stewart—she said "Yes"—I took her in custody, and on the way to the station she asked if her daughter had received a letter which she had thrown down the area—I said "I don't know"—Miss Stewart then went back and brought the letter to the station—the prisoner was perfectly sober—she was then told that she would be taken to Chelsea, and there charged with stealing the child—she said "Very well; I tied a handkerchief round the arm with a card attached"—she left off there, and said that what she had to say she would say at the proper time and place—I took her to Chelsea—Inspector Sherlock was there, who had some conversation with her—I was present before the Magistrate when she was brought up the first time—she refused to answer question.
JAMES SHERLOCK (Police Inspector T). On Friday night, 1st May, the prisoner was brought to Chelsea station in custody by Dent—while I was investigating the charge, a letter which had been thrown down the area of Bacon's hotel, was produced, and in the prisoner's presence I asked Miss Stewart if she knew her mother's writing—she said that she did, and that letter was in her writing—the prisoner said "Yes, I bought it at a stationers shop in Queen Street, Drury Lane, and wrote it in a coffee-house opposite"—I said "Look at the letter, see what it contains, and say if you still adhere to your statement"—she took the letter, looked at it, and said "Yes, I wrote it"—that was all that passed then—she was charged with stealing the child, and I took the charge—The letter was read to her, and the previous letter sent by post, she said that she wrote the letter—she declined to make any statement, but said that at the proper time she would say all—that was all that passed—she was taken next day to Westminster Police Court—some of the witnesses were examined, and I heard the prisoner make a statement—the clerk from the Police Court is here—she was remanded till the following Friday, the 8th—the body had not then been found, and I asked for a further remand—I afterwards heard that the body had been found, and took Mrs. Scrivener to the dead house at Poplar, and showed her the body of the child, which she identified.
Deptford—On Thursday, 7th May, about 12.30 in the day, I was opposite the Millwall Dock and saw something floating in the river—I took hold of it, made it fast to my boat, towed it to the King's Arms Stairs, Poplar, and found it was the body of a child—I gave information to the police, and Inspector Newnham took charge of it—I left it with him at the public-house.
JAMES NEWNHAM (Thames Police Inspector.) On Friday, 7th May, about 1.30, in consequence of information, I went to King's Arms Stairs, saw the body of a child, and took it to the dead-house—I saw it stripped, and took charge of the clothing, which was shown to Mrs. Scrivener—I saw the child taken to the dead-house; it was the only body there.
WILLIAM GILES , M.R.C.S. I live at 51, East India Road—at the request of the Coroner's officer, I went to the dead-house, Poplar, and saw the body of a child—there was only one—on Tuesday, the 12th, I made a post-mortem examination—it was a very large male child—there were no external marks of violence; the head was so much decomposed that I could make nothing out from it—no decomposition had taken place inside or outside the body—all the internal organs were quite healthy, both sides of the heart were empty, and the whole of the blood in the body was quite fluid—the stomach was full of indigested food, which appeared to me to be ginger bread—the intestines were empty, and there was a small quantity of urine in the bladder—there were four front teeth in the lower jaw and two in the upper, which convinced me that it was a twelve months' old child, and it appeared older—from the fact of the cavities of the heart being empty, and the blood being fluid, I came to the conclusion that the child died from asphixya, from drowning—the weather was very cool, and a certain amount of gas forms in the body which kept the body covered and the head exposed—I should say that the child had been in the water six or seven days—the weather was very temperate—I can speak with a degree of certainty, because we have a very large number of bodies our way, being near the water, and I have a good deal of experience.
HENRY RICHARDSON . I am clerk at Westminster Police Court—I was present when the prisoner was brought up on a charge of stealing the child on Saturday, May 2nd—Mrs. Scrivener, Miss Stewart, Dent, Sparville, Mrs. Ireland, and Sherlock were examined, after which the prisoner made a statement, and' she was remanded for that day—the evidence not being completed, she was not cautioned on that occasion—it was only a remand; the evidence had not all been given, but the Magistrate asked her if she wished to say anything, and then she made this statement—I took it down in writing to a particular point, and then the Magistrate said "You have said nothing about the child"—she then made a further statement, which I took down in writing—it was after that she was remanded on the charge of stealing the child till the following Friday—I have got my note-book here.
THE COURT considered that it was very doubtful whether this statement was admissible, but MR. STRAIGHT stated that he should prefer it being before the Jury. (Read: "I met Mrs. Ireland in the Fulham Road; we walked to her house, and she went for some bread and ale. She didn't know I'd not been home. I told her I was tired, and asked to be let sit down awhile. When I came back she said 'For gracious sake, go back with the child; I've met Mrs. Scrivener, and she's got a letter, and is going to put it in the hands of the police.' Before she went out, I said 'Don't let them know I'm here.' I decline saying anything' about the child. Me and my son
had some words, and I took the child away. I told him at the station I'd taken it away to make his heart ache as he'd made mine ache.")
MR. STRAIGHT to MRS. IRELAND. Q. When you met Mrs. Scrivener in the street after the prisoner had come to your house, did you tell her that her mother would be sure to be home? A. She told me she was going home with the child, and I told Mrs. Scrivener so.
COURT to MRS. SCRIVENER. Q. Was there any name by which the prisoner was in the habit of calling herself when speaking of the child? A. Only "Granny"—I have seen the letter where there is something difficult to read—I do not know what that is. (The words supposed to be b----s----.)
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of her age and the mental excitement she was under at the time she committed the deed. — DEATH .
MESSRS. F. H. LEWIS and SOULEST conducted tile Prosecution; and MR. COOPER. The Defence.'
Cross-examined. It is made to a scale of about 19 feet to one-eighth of an inch.
GEORE ANDREW MOSSE . I live at Cowley Hall, Uxbridge, and have a lease of the property—the prisoner is a labourer and occupies a cottage in the vicinity of my rabbit warren—I know him perfectly well—he has been in my employ but was not so on 24th May—I had had occasion to Speak to him more than once about losses in the rabbit warren—I did so on. Saturday evening, 23rd May, about 8 o'clock and he said "They have been in your rabbit warren all the while you have been away"—I said "I am now determined to catch you and prosecute you"—on 24th May at a little after 4 a.m., I was in bed and heard shooting on the grounds—I arose and took a loaded gun, a revolver, and a dog, got into my boat and rowed down to the bottom of the long water, which is close to the plantation—the warren is all over the place—I went through some bushes 8 or 9 feet high till I. could see the wall at the bottom of Fox's garden—I then fired off my gun in the air with both triggers—I usually do that in going my rounds—I then saw Fox look over his garden wall at me—his garden is just on the other side of the wall and he was standing in his garden—I saw his face and run to the wall, climbed up the 7 feet wall and Fox's cottage door was open and Fox was there—it is a brick wall and is a continuation of all the cottages, there are six cottages and a garden wall at the back of them—the centre of the wall is where the water closets are, and he put his head up—"' the 6 feet wall is between the gardens and the plantation, and in the middle of that wall there is a water closet, at which I saw the man's head looking over—I walked along the side of the wall, put my foot in a hole in the wall and in that way climbed it, rested my hands on it and saw Fox's cottage door and Fox in his every day clothes; these are his Sunday clothes—a man named Weatherley was standing by Fox—he looked at me and I let one: barrel of the revolver off to show that I was not un-armed—I then went.
along by the side of the garden wall and had just passed the end of the wall when I heard a dog howling—I then went towards another wall running parallel to the cottages and went about 27 feet through the bushes to an open space, and had just stepped into the open when I saw Fox with his gun covering me—he fired instantly and then looked at me, I thought to see whether he had hit me, and I saw his face as plainly as I see it now—I was shot—I have since measured the distance between the spot where I saw Fox, and the spot where I was, and find it is 27 paces, which is about 27 yards—I was shot from the calves of the legs up to this cheek, and this arm and in my stomach and shoulder and in thirty or forty different places—the shot were of different sizes—I should think four sizes—the use of different sized shot would scatter the shot as they were scattered over my body—I felt no pain and did not discover that I was shot till my face was streaming with blood—I then went to my boat, washed my face, ordered my carriage, and went to my doctor, who probed the wounds, and on the Monday morning I told the police—I have not the most distant doubt about the identity of the man who fired the gun.
Cross-examined. I have a good constitution—I was shot in Bulldog Lane, in the plantation and the prisoner was in Bulldog Lane—there were trees there and a good many shrubs and underwood, which formed the plantation—it is principally ash, 8 feet high—a wall divides Bulldog Lane from my plantation, and also divides the plantation and the prisoner's garden—the person who shot me did not shoot me from that wall; he stood probably 50 yards from that wall—it was about 60 odd yards from his own front door that he shot me—anybody could get from Cowley into that road, from the road which leads to Drayton—I have been very kind to the prisoner and his family, and he has often expressed it—his son robbed me, and I gave him a half-sovereign to enlist in the Army—the prisoner has gone fishing for me, and he has poached—I was not very anxious to preserve the rabbits, but I like to see them running about—they never run into the prisoner's garden, because there is a high wall—the prisoner has resided in the parish ever since I have been there—he is not at all a staid man—he has a family—I do not know anyone named Duce—my dog is a large retriever—the system of throwing over dogs is a ruse—after I was shot, my dog worried another dog, and as it was dying, I shot it to make sure—I do not know the owner of the dog—I don't know that Duce is the owner—the police have tried to find out the owner, and cannot.
LOVELACE SWATTON (Detective Officer). On Sunday morning, 24th May, I received information from the prosecutor, and went to the prisoner's house, but did not find him—I took him at 11.45 on Monday night, about 100 yards from his house, and said "I want you to go to the station with me"—he said "On what charge?—I said "You will be charged with shooting Mr. Mosse"—he said "I expected as much"—I went to his house, and found this gun, and shot and powder—it was not loaded—when the prisoner was charged, he said that the gun had been discharged that day in the morning—the shot are of three or four different sizes.
Cross-examined. I don't know that mixed shot is commonly sold in grocers' shops—the prisoner did not tell me that he had shot the gun off to frighten small birds; he did not say what he fired it for, and I did not ask him—it is a very old single barrel—the whole house is on the ground floor, and I found the gun in the right-hand room—I asked for it, and the wife brought it, and the shot and shot bag also—I know Weatherly he is
a labourer—he docs not lodge with the prisoner—I know Duce—I never saw him go after rabbits—he lives in Cowley, not far from the prisoner, and works in the mat factory—I do not know that the prisoner works for Mr. Piggott, the manager of the West Drayton brickfield.
Re-examined. Duce is drawn for the Militia now, but I believe he was working there on 24th May.
JOHN HOUSEMAN MCNAMARA . I am a surgeon, of Uxbridge—I examined Mr. Mosse on 24th May, and found that he had been shot in thirty-eight or forty places—I extracted one from his finger, and the other thirty-seven are still in his body—some of the holes were larger than others, and I have a notion that the shot were of two or three sizes—they were scattered all over his body—they would have made a dangerous wound if they had all been in one place—they were all in to a considerable depth.
Cross-examined. I have been a country surgeon some years—I never heard that mixed shot is very common in the country. Witnesses for the Defence.
JOSEPH WEATHEBLY . I have known the prisoner upwards of twenty years, and sometimes assist him in cultivating some garden ground he has—on Whit Sunday I was sleeping in the middle room at his cottage, and he and his wife were in the room beyond—I had never slept there before—about 4.30 a.m. the report of a gun in the plantation awoke me, and I hallooed out to the prisoner, "George, are you going to get up?"—he said "No, I ain't particular this morning for an hour, as I have nothing particular to do. Have you heard anything? what is the matter?"—I said "I don't know; the report woke me"—he got up, and came and opened the back door, and did not go a yard from it—he had nothing on but His shirt—I said "I will go up the lane, and see if I can see anyone"—he said "You stop here, you b----fool;" but I went, and when I had got. 20 yards I met Mr. Duce, who spoke to me, and when I went back the prisoner dressed himself to go to work—it was then nearly 5 o'clock, and we went up the towing path, but it rained so hard that we went back home, and put the kettle on and got breakfast—I did not see him use a gun or mount a wall—he bears a good character, and is a kind hearted man; I don't believe he would hurt a worm if he could get out of the way of it—he has been working twenty years with Mr. Piggott, the brickmaker.
Cross-examined by Mr. Lewis. I do not know that he has been accused of taking Mr. Mosse's fish and rabbits, he never told me so and I never heard it—there is no bed in the room in which I slept—it was between 11 and 12 o'clock when I got home—I did not undress the whole night and I was prepared to go out at any time—I wanted to assist him next morning—I live three-quarters of a mile off—I did not sleep at my own house because it was not worth while for me to go down there and come back—I have been in the habit of coining to assist him in gardening at 4 or 5 o'clock on Sunday mornings—he asked me to do so over night, while we were at a little beer shop on the bridge—I am married, my wife and children were at home my wife knew that I was not coming home, she met me at Uxbridge, between 5 and 6 o'clock, and I told her I did not think I should come home—I know the place well where somebody is supposed to have shot Mr. Mosse, the wall is between eight and nine feet high and the person who shot could not do it alone, but nobody could stand underneath him while he fired—I heard nine reports altogether before I called the prisoner—I heard no firing after I called him—when I went out I went up the lane—the prisoner
came down in his shirt to know what the shooting was about—I knew that the shooting was going on in the plantation, as there was no where else where it could go on—I was assisting the prisoner in his garden, we went out just a little before 5 o'clock, but I never looked at any clock—I did not help anybody to look over the wall, I am quite certain of that.
MR. COOPER. Q. Did you lend him your back or shoulders to mount? A. No! my wife was marketing and I went as far as Cowley with her.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
ALICE O'DONNELL . I live at 1, Chapel Court, St. Clement's Lane, Strand—the prisoner married my sister, they live at 7, Wilson Street, Drury Lane—on 23rd May, between 5 and 6 o'clock the prisoner came and asked me if I had seen his wife, I said no, I had only just come in from work—he asked me where my mother was, I said that I had not seen her, and then he asked me to go to his lodging—I went there, but found nobody there, and the chairs and tables were broken up and the place was in great confusion—I said to the prisoner that he was very foolish to break up the home I would have settled the matter differently to that—he offered me his marriage certificate and said' "Here take this"—I then went home and found my sister in my bed with my mother, it was then past 6 o'clock—I sat up and it was past 11 o'clock when the prisoner came up stairs, he said to his wife "Oh you are here are you," he then asked her to get up and go home but she did not answer—a few words then arose between them, and my mother told her to get up and dress herself and go home—the prisoner then asked her again if she would go home—she said that she had no place to go to—the prisoner said that if she remained there for a month he would remain with her; my mother said that he was as welcome there as she was—he then went to lie down alongside of her on the bed, he kneeled on the bed and my sister cried out "Oh Alice, I am stabbed"—I did not see the prisoner's hand strike her because my back was turned, but I turned round and saw his hand raised and then he struck several times, but did not say anything—I clung to his hand and saw something in it—I at last succeeded in getting him away from my sister—he dropped his cap in the room and while he was looking for it my sister succeeded in escaping from the room—I went to him and begged him to listen to reason, and he said no, he would have her out of the house—they had been married a fortnight or three weeks but I heard him say that had he had her twelve years and he would not have her another twelve: I believe he had been living with her before—I found her down stairs in one of the front rooms, she was undressed and she was saturated with blood and very much excited, I went with her part of the way to the hospital and some friends took her the rest of the way—I got a policeman and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Prisoner. I can contradict her—I did not do it at all—I only came here on Saturday, and have not had time to prepare my defence—I have got my wife's letters.
CAROLINE O'DONNELL . I am the wife of James O'Donnell, of 1, Chapel Court—the prisoner's wife is my daughter—she was at my house on this Saturday night in bed with me—she was tipsy—I hardly remember the
prisoner coming in, but I saw him in the room—he asked her to get up and go home—I told her to arise and dress herself and go home—he said that if she stopped for a month he would stop too, and I said ho was as welcome there as she was—he laid down beside her, and I believe he knelt down and then he stabbed her—I saw him lift his hand and strike her on the breast, but whether he had anything in his hand I do not know—he did that more than once, and my daughter got her out of the room, leaving the prisoner with me, and I said to him that if I had such a life as that I would sell boxes of matches.
GEORGE WHARTON (Policeman E 131). I received information, went up stairs to to the room, and saw Catherine O'Donnell standing in front of the prisoner—she said "He has stabbed me"—I said "What did you do it with?"—he pulled a knife out of his pocket and said "This is what I did it with"—I said "What made you do it?"—he said "I came here after my wife and she picked up the poker to me," meaning that the mother did; "and I did it"—he said that he was quite prepared to be hung for the b----y old bitch, they had been living in misery for the last twelve years, he might as well be in hell as living with her"—he meant his wife then, I suppose—he was very excited, and I told him to be quiet—I took him to the station, the charge was read over to him, and he said nothing—he seemed very calm there and perfectly sober.
Prisoner. Q. When I gave you the chisel did I say that is the chisel that I did it with? A. Yes, there was no blood on it—there was no bed in your room, only some hay and a chair or two—the room is very small, three or four yards square—there was no light in the room—you and Catherine O'Donnell and the baby, I think, were in the room—no one had hold of you, no one else was there.
MARY ANN TURBELL . I am the prisoner's wife—on the night in question I went to my mother's house, and went to bed with her—I consider it was all my own fault, because the prisoner came and asked me to go home—I remember his coming into the room while I was in bed—he asked me to go home with him, and I refused to do so—I don't know whether he said anything when I refused—I don't remember how it was done at all, because I had been drinking—nothing was the matter with my chest or body when I went to bed—I did not notice whether my husband was beside me when I was in bed—I was too tipsy to know what was done—my sister did not take me out of the room—I went out of the room because my husband was in a great passion—I do not know whether anything was the matter with my chest then—I remember being in the hospital; I was there because I had some very slight cuts on me, a few on my arms and on my breast—I do not know how those cuts came—I remember nothing about it—I did not remember anything about it when I was before the Magistrate.
Prisoner. Tour mother said that I might lie there—I had a chisel in my pocket, and when I went to lie down, by the side of you, your mother seized it and stuck you; did I stick you or did your mother stick you? A. I don't know.
HARRY ARCHIBALD DELATOUR . I am house surgeon at King's College Hospital—on 23rd May, between 11 and 12 o'clock at night, the last witness was brought there, and I found thirteen stabs on different parts of body body and arms—there were five small punctured wounds by her left breast and below it over the region of the heart, three in her left arm pit, two on her left shoulder, two on her left fore arm, and one on her left elbow—they were
all precisely the same size and shape, about one-third of an inch each, the depth was very superficial, but it was impossible to tell at the time whether they penetrated or not because of their small size—this chisel might have inflicted the wounds.
COURT. Q. Do you say that they were superficial? A. They were one-third of an inch deep, those in the soft tissues, but those in the chest I did not examine; my opinion is that they did not penetrate the chest; they were more on the ribs and the hard parts, and were not deeper than the others—she lost a great deal of blood, from which she was in danger—the wounds were in dangerous localities—she was in the hospital seven days, but has not been near me since she left, though she was discharged as an out-patient—if this was the instrument which infilcted the wounds, only the point went in—it was not stopped by the bones, but the blows had not force enough to wound deeper.
Prisoner's Defence. The mother said that I might lay down there, and I did so, and then I felt the chisel in my pocket. I do not know whether her mother thought I was going to stab her, but she seized the chisel. I don't know whether she was going to stab me, but she stabbed Mary Ann, and Mary Ann wrenched the chisel out of her mother's hand and stabbed her. I took the chisel and put it in my pocket, and when the officer came I gave it to him.
GUILTY on the Second Count — Five Years' Penal Servitude. There was another indictment against the prisoner for wounding Mrs. O'Donnell.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, june 10th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BESLEY and CROOME conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
GEORGE BASHAM . I am a clerk in the employ of the East and West India Dock Company—the prisoner was also a clerk employed there under my superintendence—Mr. Beck was the cashier for the Western Dock previous to May, the prisoner had the right to" make requisitions upon Mr. Beck, for the payment of the labourers' wages, during the week—in case any mechanics and labourers had to be paid before the proper pay day, he would draw money from Mr. Beck to pay them, or if he was instructed by me he would draw any money that he was told—there are labourers employed at the docks by the hour, and if the men so employed leave after a day, or a day and a half, they must be paid before the proper day—the prisoner would have authority to make requisitions without my knowledge to pay those men, it would be done in this way, if the men had to be paid off, the foreman would instruct the time-keeper, who would send in their time, and the prisoner would draw the money to pay them the amount would vary very much—we employ as many as 300 men sometimes—on a general average, he would require 10l. or 12l. a week, but sometimes much less—I have known occasions when no money at all was required to be drawn on account, in other words, that no labourers had been paid off—I did not give the prisoner any authority on May 2nd, to request an advance of 20l. from Mr. Beck—the prisoner did not speak to me about paying Bruce before that—if Bruce wanted money he came to me himself—Bruce is a stonemason, working piece work—Bruce had not made any request at
all to be paid 20l., nor had the prisoner mentioned Brace's name in connection with the 20l. in any way—he we would not have authority to draw 20l. to pay Bruce in that way—May 9th, was Saturday, which was pay day,; I was going to pay the men myself, and consequently I went through the accounts with the prisoner—he produced his book showing the amount drawn on account during the week, and what he had paid—on the debit side, beside two small sums of 2l., he debited himself with a sum of 20l., in one amount received from Mr. Bruce, on 2nd May—and on the other side he discharged himself by entering "Bruce, 10l." and a second time on the same page, "Bruce, 10l. "—I did not speak to him about it at that time, but on the Tuesday or Wednesday following, I sent for him and told him in Bruce's presence, that I had discovered that the receipts he had given were not genuine, and that the money had not been paid to Bruce—he had produced two receipts purporting to be signed "Edward Brace"—he turned to Bruce and said "I had your authority to sign those receipts," Brace said that it was no such thing—I told him that having discovered Bruce had not received the money, it made a deficiency of 20l. in his accounts, and by the Saturday following he must make the balance up, and if the money was not returned by that time I must inform my principals—he said it was a bad job, but he must endeavour to get the money—that was all that took place at that time—I saw the prisoner of course daily, but not to speak about this—I reported to my superior on the Wednesday following—I was obliged to allow a Saturday to pass, my principal being in Manchester, on the Company's business—I had no accounting with the prisoner on Saturday, 16th May, the whole matter was then in my hands, and I waited for the return of my principal to report him, the money not having been returned—I asked him on Wednesday, the 20th, if he had got the money a few minutes before I spoke to my principal, he made no remark, and I said "I must now tell my principal"—this (produced) is his book in his own writing—I struck through the two payments of 10l. to Bruce myself—I left the 20l. on the debit side standing to be accounted for to the cashier—these are the two receipts which he produced to me—they are printed forms from the office—the month is" filled in, but not the day—when I was discussing it with the prisoner on 9th May, he said one 10l. was paid on Saturday, 2nd May, and the other 10l. on Friday, 8th May—this little book is in his writing. (This contained the draft of a letter to a Mr. Webb, stating that he had lent a friend 20l. out of the money belonging to the Company, which he had not been able to pay back, and that he was now suddenly called upon to refund it, and asking Mr. Webb to advance him the money or any part of it.
Cross-examined. After I discovered the deficiency he was at his work daily up till the time he was arrested—I have always found him an honest and trustworthy servant up to this time, and I have no doubt that induced me to give him time to refund the money; I did not believe him to be bad—he had no knowledge of Brace's work at all, and would not know without asking me or Bruce, what was due to Bruce—he never asked me how much was due to Bruce—the prisoner was what is railed prime cost clerk in the engineer's office, and Brace was in the habit of working for that office upon contract—it was the prisoner's duty to make out the costs of the jobs performed by the labouring staff, and to return the cost of work done; but Bruce's work was done without reference to the prisoner—if he liked to take the trouble he could
estimate the cost of Bruce's work, but it was not part of his duty—he told me in Brace's presence that Brace told him he might sign those receipts—he said before the Magistrate "I have got two witnesses who can prove it"—I don't recollect him making that statement at the time you speak of—I am not sure that he did not, but I have no recollection of it—the prisoner would have to pay out about 370l. a week on an average, sometimes less, sometimes more—I gave those figures at the police court—he has mentioned once or twice to me that he has been short in the money, and on one occasion he handed me back some money which I had overpaid—there were two or three sums I think on that occasion—I am not surprised at his getting into difficulties occasionally with his money in consequence of the large amounts he had to pay, and undoubtedly it might happen without any intention to defraud the company—I checked the accounts on 9th May, because I was going to pay the men, and I was obliged to see the amount of money drawn and paid—I could not check the pay lists at that time because the men were not paid—I considered the prisoner's book a sufficient voucher at the moment that Bruce had received the two 10l.—that was sufficient debit to to account for the 20l. paid out, and I should have thought so if Bruce had had the money—the prisoner had paid Brace, of course, a number of amounts upon prior occasions, upon instructions—his explanation of the whole matter from the beginning to end was that this 20l. had been received by Brace's authority—that was what he told me—I have since heard that they were on friendly terms—I have had to pay money myself when I could not get the accounts exactly square—if a man comes up to you and disputes an item, it is very often forgotten at the time, and very often I have had to pay money myself—in the course of the fourteen months in which the prisoner has been in the employment he has paid out about 25,000l. or 30,000l.
Re-examined. He has had pay sheets to pay by—the greatest error I have made was under 2l., and it has generally been a few shillings—I did not know at the time the prisoner produced the receipts that they were not Bruce's writing—he brought me one receipt first, and said "That is for the 10l. that I paid Bruce last Saturday, and he wanted some more money last night, and I gave him 10l. then"—or words to that effect—on the following Wednesday he said that Brace had authorised him to sign the receipts, and Bruce denied it.
THOMAS BECK . I am chief clerk and receiver of the West India Dock Company—it was my duty to pay sums of money to the prisoner during the course of the week on his producing to me papers for the amounts he required—these are the forms upon which the prisoner would apply to me for the current accounts—they are addressed to me—there are three here—two of the 2nd May, one for 20l. and the other for 2l., and one on the 5th for 2l.—those three papers were presented to me by the prisoner, and in the usual course I advanced the sums that are asked for in those papers on the days that they bear date—I should not have advanced the money without the papers being produced and signed by him.
Cross-examined. I don't know as a matter of fact that 20l. was due to Brace at that time—that has nothing to do with my department.
GEORGE WILLIAM WEBB . I reside at 77, Portland Road—I have been a fellow pupil of the prisoner's—I have been shown this draft letter—I received a letter from the prisoner, of which that is the draft—I have not got it—I have destroyed it—I believe I received it on the Thursday before
he was apprehended—it was addressed to my mother—I opened it and read it for her, and answered it.
Cross-examined. The draft was shown to me yesterday—it was not a face simile of the letter—I have known Slade about six years—I can answer for his character while he was a fellow pupil in the same office as me at Reading—I believe his employer from Reading is here to give him a character—we were in an architect's office, Mr. Dodd of Reading—while he was in the office he bore the character of an honest highly honourable young man, and to my knowledge that was the character he bore in Reading.
Re-examined. The letter differed from the draft in this way, in the draft he says he lent a friend 20l., but he did not say so in the letter we received—he said he had overpaid the men, and had lent money to friends that had not been repaid; he was called upon suddenly to make it up and it amounted to 23l.
Cross-examined. I have been in the prisoner's company occasionally—I was on intimate terms with him up to the time of his arrest—I am not aware that he slept at my house the night before he was arrested; I can't recollect—I will swear he did, not pay me 3s. for sleeping in my house—he never paid me money for that—he was not in the habit of paying me 2s. and 3s. at a time: never—I am sure of that—I did not directly or indirectly give him permission to receive my 20l—that I swear—I know Charles and Edward Weston—I heard them called at the Police Court—I have never heard them say that I gave the prisoner authority to receive the 20l.—he did not to my recollection sleep at my house after the matter of the receipts was discussed between Mr. Basham, myself, and the prisoner—he slept at my house after the accusation against him of receiving the money wrongfully, but I had not seen the receipts at that time—I saw the receipts when he was given into custody—he told me he was deficient with the Company—he might have told me it was 20l.—he asked me to help him to make up the deficiency—I told the prisoner if my son got the money from the Company, knowing him to be hard up and a respectable man, that I would help him over it if I could—I said "If I can get my money from the Company I will oblige you with assistance"—he told me he did not want to borrow so much of me as 20l.—he thought he knew where to get 10l., and I went with him to a man named Durrant to borrow that 10l., and I had a word or two with Durrant because he would not lend him the 10l.—Durrant had promised to lend him the 10l. before that—I sent my son to the Company to draw my money, and Mr. Basham sent him back to tell me they would measure my work—I said if I got the money I would lend it, and I sent my son up for the purpose of getting it,. to lend Mr. Slade—I don't recollect Slade telling me in Basham's presence that I had said he might have the money—I don't recollect him turning round and saying "You said I might have the money"—the writing on the receipts is not at all like mine.
Re-examined. It was Friday, 8th May, when we went to Durrant about lending the money—I was not aware at that time that he had made a payment in his book to me on 2nd May for 10l., and made a receipt in my name—I did not know that he had signed two receipts in my name at the time I was endeavouring to help him through—he had not told me he had done that
—he said he was deficient in the company's money—he did not know how it was he had made a mistake—he said he had lent about 4l. to his brother-in-law—when he slept at my house I was unaware of the receipts having been signed in my name.
NOT GUILTY —There were three other Indictments against the prisoner, for forging the two receipts and stealing the sum of 20l., upon which no evidence was offered.
MR. DOUSLAS conducted the Prosecution. The evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
LOUISA TANNERVITZ (Interpreted). I live at 13, Plummer's Row, and am the wife of Johan Tannervitz, a dyer—the prisoner lodged with me on Monday, 30th March—about 3.30 on the afternoon of that day I was making his bed with Catherine Furness—the prisoner was in the room, and his things were packed up—he said that he wanted to go away—and I said "You had better wait till my husband comes home"—I said "Where shall I get my rent from"—he said "I know perfectly well where Plummer's Row is, and where No. 13 is, and I will send the rent"—I said that I was not satisfied, that I could not run after him in London"—then he took his boots underneath his arm, and a little box in his right hand—I took it from him and went towards the bed—I received three stabs with a knife on the chin and each side of the cheek—I fell on the bed, got up, and ran down stairs—the prisoner followed, and, before I left the room, he stabbed me in the left breast—I got out of the room, and down the stairs, but before I came to the street door he had stabbed me seven times in the back—I got outside into the street, and ran into the arms of another woman—I returned to the street door, and fell down, and I don't know any more about it—when I recovered consciousness I was in the hospital, and was there seven weeks—I saw that the prisoner had a dagger in his hand when I was stabbed.
CATHERINE FORNESS . I am the prosecutrix's servant—on Monday, 30th March, I was making the bed with her, and the prisoner was in the room—I heard him say that he intended to go away—my mistress told him he had better wait till her husband came home—he took his stick down from the wall, and struck her with it on the back and head, and the handle fell off—she screamed, and went down stairs—he ran after her, took a white handled knife out of his pocket, and struck her, on the stairs, once in the back and once in the breast—I followed her out in the street—she ran into a woman's arms and fainted—the prisoner ran after me, and one of the neighbours pulled me in—the prisoner followed my mistress to the door—I remained in the neighbour's house five minutes, and my mistress was taken to the hospital.
GEORGE PARSONS (Policeman H 159). I took the prisoner—I found him at a baker's shop in Cross Street, about 3.45, on Monday, 30th March—he had these two pieces of stick and the blade in his hand—there was some blood on the end of the blade—he was sober.
JOSEPH MITOHINSON . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—I examined the prosecutrix, and found thirteen punctured wounds at the back and front of her chest, the right side of the root of her neck, and too
left side of her face—they were punctured wounds, with clean cut edges—one had evidently penetrated the lungs—I considered her life in danger from those wounds for at least a month—she was under my care forty-nine days—the wounds could have been inflicted by an instrument of this sort—they might have been caused by a long narrow-bladed knife.'
Prisoner. I have nothing to say, and have no witnesses to call.
GUILTY — Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. W. SLEIGH, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HARMSWORTH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
GEORGE ALFRED ROUQUETTE . I am a merchant's clerk, and reside at Walthamstow—on 24th April, about 11.20, I was near the Mansion House—there was a great crowd there, and which ever way I turned I saw the prisoner before me, pushing heavily against my chest—I then felt someone's hand in my pocket, and turning sharply round, I saw the prisoner's hand leaving my right-hand trowsers pocket—my purse., containing 1l., was in my pocket at that time, and when I put my hand in again, it was gone—my watch-chain was hanging from my waistcoat, minus the watch—I immediately followed the prisoner, and caught him; he struggled a great deal, and I was hustled at the same time by several others, and was obliged to leave go—I went after him again, and caught him by the back of his coat, and the piece came out in my hand—I then raised a cry of "Stop thief!" and followed him as well as I was able, and I saw him taken by a constable—this is my purse—I saw it next at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined. It was the evening of the illuminations, and there were some at the Mansion House, but I did not go to see them—there was. a considerable crowd—the prisoner appeared to be pushed against me, and held there—I said before he was 'flung on to me by some other men—I have not seen my watch since.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Policeman 775). On 29th April I was on duty at the Mansion House at 11 o'clock—I saw Rouquette there and the prisoner—about 11.20 I heard Rouquette call out "Hold him!"—I looked into the crowd, and I saw the prisoner, bent double, making his way from the crowd with his coat torn—I immediately jumped into the crowd, and caught hold of him by the sleeve—the cloth came away in my hand, and he went through the crowd—another constable came up, and we caught him, and Rouquette came up and said "That is the man who had my watch and purse"—he made no answer—I found this silver knife on him.
JOSEPH BRADNER (City Policeman 105). I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and followed Wright—we started from the European, and when we got by the front door of the Equitable Life Office, Wright had hold of the prisoner—he struggled very violently, and lost the sleeve of his coat in the struggle—other constables came up, and he was taken to the station—this purse was picked up where the struggle took place, and it contained stamps bearing Rouquette's employer's name—I showed it to Rouquette, and he identified it.
Cross-examined. The purse could have fallen from anyone there, and
from the prisoner—there were a lot of roughs by the Mansion House that day.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted in December, 1868.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, June 10th, 1874.
Before, Mr. Recorder.
MR. MILLWOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MEAD the Defence. George Davis. I am a bookbinder at 7, York Place, Hoxton—On the 25th March last, in the afternoon, I was in a public-house in Quicksand Street—between 4 and 5 o'clock the prisoners and three or four other men were there, and a sailor—I didn't notice them particularly—they were ordered out of the house—I went out afterwards and watched them out of the street—they were ordered out because they were trying to pick the sailor's pocket—I followed them into Finch Street—they saw me watching them, and they came up and hustled against me—I was struck by Moss on the mouth and fell to the ground, and while on the ground I was kicked; I cannot say by whom—there were more than the four men—I went to the hospital, and when I came to, I saw the constable, who asked me if I had lost a purse, and I said yes, and I then identified it as my own—this (produced) is my purse—nothing was in it when I lost it, except a key and a ring.
Cross-examined. It was holiday time when this occurred—it was Whitsun Monday—I had been in the public-house about five minutes—I had had drink during the day—not such a great deal—I was not to say drunk, but comfortable—I did not speak to either of these four men in the public-house—I did not to my knowledge say, "Leave that sailor alone"—I was ahead of them when I followed them—I did not speak to them at all—Smith was not drunk.
Re-examined. I didn't interfere with them at all till I was injured. By the Court. When they saw me watching them there was a man with them who jostled up against me—I. mean one of the four, and then I was struck by him first, and afterwards by Moss.
BENJAMIN ADSTEAD . I am a bookbinder, living at 38, Quicksand Street—on the afternoon of 21th May, between 4 and 5 o'clock, I was in this public house—I saw the prisoners there, there were about five altogether—I noticed the two prisoners, they had got a man in the corner, he looked like a seafaring man—they were trying to rob him, for which they were ordered out of the house—I went out and watched them go down the street—I saw they had got hold of this sailor, arm in arm, I watched them turn Finch Street, and I looked for a constable, but could not see one—I saw Davis walking along, ahead of the prisoners—I went for a policeman, on returning I saw Davis had got his nose all cut and smothered in blood—I went to the station and identified the two men.
Cross-examined. There was a great noise in the house—it was pretty full—there was no quarrelling—me and Davis were drinking together.
bleeding very much from the mouth and nose, and the two prisoners were in a stooping position—I distinctly saw one of their hands coming out of his pocket—I was 50 yards off—I will not swear whose hand it was—as soon as they saw me they ran away to Prospect Place—I ran after them and caught Moss in Prospect Place, and Smith ran to the end of the court—as soon as Smith saw me lay hold of Moss, he ran back again, using very bad expressions, and said "God blind me, Jim, don't you go with him"—I took Moss into custody, and charged him with assaulting and robbing a man that was lying on the ground, in Finch Street, he said nothing, except that be would go quietly—Smith followed on until such time as other constables came up, and I had him taken in charge, took Moss to the station, and went back to look after the prosecutor, and found he had been to the hospital, where also I went and found he had had his nose and mouth dressed, and on my way back I overtook the prosecutor, and took him to the station, when he identified the two prisoners as being the men—Moss did not resist in any way, he went quietly to the station.
Cross-examined. There was not a large crowd—there was only the two prisoners and the prosecutor on the ground—no one else was in the street.
WILLIAM KLEINHORST . I live at 2, Prospect Place, Whitechapel—On this afternoon 25th May, I saw a man run into our court—he laid a purse on our window-ledge a key, and a ring, and ran back—I picked the purse up and gave it to my mother, who gave it to the policeman—this (produced) is the purse I found.
(Police Constable H. 135). On the 25th May last—I gave Moss in charge of another constable, and I followed with Smith—Smith never said anything when he was taken—he was rather the worse for drink.
MATILDA MACKIN . I live at 3, King Street, Brick Lane—On this afternoon I saw the prisoners and two or three other men, walking towards my house—the prosecutor was the last, and two of them walked down Prospect Place, and the remaining two were left with the prosecutor—Moss struck the prosecutor on the nose with his right hand and then again with the left, I walked away, Smith was doing something with the prosecutor's pocket—the prosecutor was on the ground—I could not see what Smith did with, his pocket—I called out "Oh you have killed the man," the constable came up and they ran away.
Cross-examined. The reason. I did not appear at the police-court was, because I was not ordered to do so.
MOSS **— Seven years' Penal Servitude.
SMITH.*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MEAD the Defence.
After the case had commenced the prisoner expressed a wish to plead
The Jury upon hearing that statement, found a verdict of
He received a good character and was recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor; who, however, stated that he had embezzled a large number of small sums while in his employ.—Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.
RICHARD TARRANT BROOME . I am a salesman in the Metropolitan Meat Market—I have known the prisoner three or four years—he has consigned pigs to me for sale, and I have paid him for them at the time—I had never lent him money previous to 20th April—on that day, he came to my place about 10 o'clock in the morning—after a little conversation ho said "By the bye, Broome, I have bought two horses, and I have not enough to pay for them with me, will you lend me 50l. till I get home?"—I said "Yes, I don't mind, if you send me the money as soon as you get back?"—he said "The fact is I am buying a third horse, and if I buy that I shall want more, and I will lot you know how much in an hour or two"—it was distinctly understood that he was to send me the money as soon as he got home—he went away, and returned about one o'clock in the day—he then said he had bought the third horse, and had not enough to pay for it by 95l., would I lend him that—I said "Upon condition that the money comes back;" to which he consented—he said he was going to send the horses to Belfast—I drew this (produced) cheque for 95l., which has been returned to me by my bankers—this is his endorsement on the back—when he got the cheque he went away—I wrote for and obtained his I 0 U for the amount—he said "There is no necessity for that, you will have the money as soon as I get home"—I said "Well, accidents may happen on the way home, and then your wife would not know you had ever had the money"—he then gave me this I 0 U (produced)—my knowledge of him in business, and what he said, induced me to lend him the money—I should not, have lent him the money as a mere loan, it was his statement about the horses caused me to do so—the next communication I had from him was this circular notice (produced) to creditors—in conesquence of a letter I received I sent over Mr. Gore to Belfast, and, on his return to London, Mr. Gore applied for a warrant on my behalf.
Cross-examined. There may have been forty or fifty transactions in the way of consignment of pigs between the prisoner and myself, during the three years—on the advance of this money there was no mention of pigs being sent over for it—he was asking how the trade was, and said he was surprised there were none, for he had written to his people at Belfast to send over some—I never enquired what he was to pay for the horses, nor their value—I made no further enquiries about the horses—when he came back the second time and spoke of the third horse, he did not say he was about buying some horses, and wanted money to pay for them; he said he had bought—I sent Mr. Gore over to see whether it was not a case that would justify me in applying for a warrant—I think a week had expired before I made application for the money—I did not look upon that loan of money as a loan to a customer on his I 0 U—of course I should not lend £95 to a total stranger.
Re-examined. I should not have lent it to him upon his bare request—if he said, I have not enough capital to carry on my business I would not. By the Court. If he had said he was going to buy some horses, and had not enough to pay for them, I should not have lent him the money to pay for the whole amount of the horses—if he had told me he was in treaty for three horses, and had not enough to pay for them by £95, I should have said, "Oh, get it settled first; you don't know whether you want the money."
CHRISTOPHER ROBINSON . I am Mr. Broome's clerk—I. was present on this 20th April—I heard the prisoner say he had bought two horses, would Mr. Broome lend him,£45 or £50 to pay for them—he said, "I am about
buying a third horse, and will come back and let you know the amount"—I was not present when he came back—I know the prisoner's writing—these three cheques (produced) are signed by him—I have had placed in my hands the paying in slips of Alexander Bailie, dated 13th February, 1874, and have also looked through the cheques and seen them right.
Cross-examined. I do business at Mr. Broome's office—I have Been the prisoner's letters—I have never for certain noticed him write—I did not hear whether he said he was buying the horses—I am sure he said he had bought two horses.
WILLIAM JAMES TWIGG . I am a salesman in the Metropolitan Meat Market—I saw the prisoner on 20th April, between 9 and 12 o'clock in the morning—he said he had bought two horses, one at, Epsom and one at, Tattersall's—he wrote a cheque in my presence, I think for 210l.—he asked me to give him cash for it, as he wanted to pay for his horses—I declined.
Cross-examined. He showed me a list of horses for sale—I don't remember where they were up for sale, I believe at Tattersall's—I told him I believed I could get the cheque cashed in five or six days by passing it through the bank in Belfast—I troubled myself no more about it.
WILLIAM BOWYER . I am a salesman in the Metropolitan MeatMarket—on the 20th April, between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning, the prisoner came to me—we went to a public-house and had refreshment—he took some cash from his pocket—he said he had bought two horses, and did not think he had cash sufficient to pay for them, and would I let him have 45l. to pay for them—he said they were going to Ireland—I did not say whether I would lend him the money or not—and he said I might as well make it 50l., as he hardly knew what expenses there might be—I did not lend him any money.
Cross-examined. I had known him for some time as trading in pigs; and I felt it was on the ground of being a customer to me that he had asked me for the money, and because he knew me better than others in the market—he said he had bought those horses, and was going to enter them in a Steeple-Chase in Ireland; and that the expenses might be more than he thought, and therefore the 50l. would, perhaps, be wanted.
HENRY THOMAS TYLER . I am a clerk in the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury—Mr. Broome has an account there—this cheque (produced) was presented, I don't know by whom, and I paid it in four 20l. notes and three 5l. notes.
SAMUEL GORE . I am managing clerk to Mr. Wells, solicitor, of 80, Great Portland Street—Mr. Broome gave me this letter (produced) which came from Belfast, with directions to go to Mr. Bailie's Office, Belfast, to be present on 6th February, at a meeting of creditors at Mr. Leed's office, where the meeting was held—the prisoner and eight or ten creditors were present—there was a statement put in in his hearing of the gross amount of his debts—his liabilities amounted to 816l.—he made an offer of 2s. in the pound—I asked him in the confusion if he had paid the money he had obtained from Mr. Broome for the horses—he said he had not bought any horses—I asked him why he didn't return the money to Mr. Broome—he said when he came home he got drunk, and, having the money in his pocket, was robbed of 700l.—he said it was on the night of the 21st, in Belfast—I understood, him on the night of the 21st.
Cross-examined. I do not recollect that I asked him whether he could try and pay the money back to Mr. Broome—I did not go to Belfast for the
purpose of getting the money for Mr. Broome—I went to ascertain whether he had bought the horses, and what he had done with them, and to attend the meeting of creditors—I did not say was there no way he could cover Mr. Broome, or to compromise the matter—he did not say "not at present "—the creditors put questions, being very dissatisfied—I do not know as a fact that an advertisement was put in one or more of the Belfast papers, by way of enquiry after this money, I suggested the warrant's being issued as the best way of vindicating justice; not as a means of getting the money.
MR. BROOME (re-called). I did not authorize any one to make any proposal, or offer of compromise in order to get back my money.
WILLIAM GREEN (City Detective Sergeant). I went to Belfast with the warrant on the 11th May—on the 12th May, I found the prisoner in Little Patrick Street, Belfast—told him who I was, that I held a warrant to apprehend him for obtaining the 95l.—he said "I borrowed it from Mr. Broome, and he has my I 0 U for it"—I found this memorandum book (produced) on him, a letter, and a telegram. (An extract was read from the book stating that he borrowed the 95l. for the purpose of buying a horse or two, if they were going at a fair price, if not, to buy only one, that he went back to the office of Mr. Broome, at 4 o'clock, to pay the money, but no one was there to receive it.
CHRISTOPHER ROBINSON (re-examined). I attend to the business in Mr. Broome's absence—on the 20th April, we should be leaving about 4 or 5 o'clock—we go out sometimes; but are within call, I am rather inclined to think we left later on this 20th April—sometimes the counting-house is not closed till 11 o'clock at night—it is never closed before 8 o'clock.
MR. BROOME (re-called). My brother is at my office till 8 o'clock, he is sometimes away earlier—of course he goes out sometimes.
MICHAEL RYAN . I am a constable in Belfast—know Bailie well—I saw him on the evening of the 22nd April—he was in the detective office about 6 o'clock—ha said he was robbed of 700l. on the previous evening, the 21st—I wrote his statement in this book (produced) to the effect that he was robbed on the previous night, that he met two policemen, whose names he could not give, that he drove up to his house, when his wife searched him and found no money upon him, that the carman's name who drove him was Shone—it would take eighteen or twenty hours to reach Belfast from London—Mr. Jeffrey's, the manager of the Northern Bank was with him, when he made the statement—I made inquiries, and saw Bailie, when I told him we had made every possible inquiry, and that he could not trace the money—he said the money he lost was all in Irish 1l. notes.
Cross-examined. I am sure he said 1l. notes—they are numbered—if he left Euston at 9 o'clock, he would reach Belfast at 2 o'clock I think, the next day—he said he was drunk when he lost the money—he did not make any statement about his clothes being disarranged—the train by this route is due at 1.30.
By THE COURT. He must have been there before banking hours, because his money as I understand, was obtained from the bank on the 21st—he must have had money to have been robbed of it.
GUILTY— Judgment Respited.
MR. GBIFFTH'S conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MEAD the Defence. HERMAN OED. I am a sugar baker, living at 16, Lower Chapman Street, St. Georges-in-the-East—I remember at midnight one Saturday being in Cable Street—I had been drinking—I ran up against a woman, who began to quarrel with me, the prisoner came up and struck me twice on my eye and mouth—when he went away I saw my watch and chain gone—I am sure he is the man who struck me—I gave information to the police on Sunday afternoon.
Cross-examined. The reason I didn't speak to the police before then was, because I didn't know anything of the prisoner It was very dark the nigh t I was robbed—the prisoner struck me and then went away, and others knocked me about after he was gone.
LOUISA BLANKING . I live at 9, Philip Street—I am single—I was in Cable Street this Saturday night—I saw prosecutor come out of a grocer's shop, he knocked up against a drunken woman who began to row with him when the prisoner came up and caught hold of him with his left hand, put his hand to his trowser pocket and struck him in the eye and the mouth—he turned round and I saw no more of him—I am sure prisoner is the man who did this.
Cross-examined. It was dark, the prisoner wore a soft dented in hat—it was light enough for me to see that he was the man—it was little before 12 o'clock—the grocer's shop was open, and this occurred just against the door.
WREN MCGLASSON (Detective Officer H). From information I received I went to Tower Stairs, and took the prisoner—I charged him with stealing the watch on 16th May, in Cable Street—he denied the charge—he was taken to the station and the prosecutor sent, for, but he didn't identify the prisoner; in fact, didn't see him till he was in the dock at the Police Court—Louisa Blanking identified him amongst eight other men; she had no difficulty in picking him out.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ANN D. WESTBROOK . I am grandmother to the prisoner—he has lived with me for twelve months at 12, Little Somerset Street—I recollect his being taken for this on a Tuesday—he was at home on the Saturday night at 12 o'clock; I am quite sure of that—he went to-bed there and then directly.
Cross-examined. It is not a mile from Cable Street to Little Somerset Street; it would be about ten minutes walk—I will not say for certain whether he got home at 12 o'clock or 12.30—I have not got a, clock, but a public-house I go by had not closed when he reached home.
ANNE HICKLING . I live at 5, Crawford's Court—I have known the prisoner three years—I do not recollect his being taken into custody on Tuesday—I saw him this Saturday night in Royal Mint Street, which is near Cable Street, near where he lives—he lives in Ansell. Street—I met him between 11 and 12 o'clock—I took him home to his grandmother's door between 11 and 12 o'clock—I don't know what happened after that.
Cross-examined. I am a tailoress—I work for Mr. Lyons—I am not a good deal with Westbrook—he was by himself on this occasion.
GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. BESLEY and MEAD conducted the Prosecution; MR. KELLY defended Turner and Dodd, and MR. WETHERFIELD defended Williams and Roxby.
F. W. LEWIS. I produce the documents connected with the incorporation of Pawson & Co., Limited.
GEORGE WESTWOOD (City Policeman 707). I know Roxby, Dodd, and Turner—I knew them a week previous to their apprehension—I had seen them together on more than one occasion—on 1st May I saw an Old Ford omnibus come up to the Royal Exchange—Dodd and Williams were outside—the two females inside—they all four got out—I watched them—they held a conversation—after which they went away, Roxby in the centre, Dodd behind Williams, and Turner in front—Dodd was carrying a small parcel—they went into St. Paul's Churchyard—they passed through Queen Victoria Street straight on—Williams and Turner went into Messrs. Pawson's, Dodd was on the opposite side walking up and down, Roxby stood a few yards below the house on the same side as Pawson's—I never saw Williams after, until I apprehended him in the Hackney Road—I saw Turner come out, not Williams—I think she came out about ten minutes after—she appeared very weighty and bulky in the fore part of her dress—she was holding up her dress—she passed Dodd in front of St. Paul's, and went into a public-house in Cannon Alley—she passed Dodd within two yards—Dodd was watching Pawson's apparently—he followed her into the public-house—Roxby was at that time standing close to the door of Pawson's—Dodd was carrying the parcel up to the time of going into the public-house, and just before going in he untied the string of the parcel and threw the paper away, and the string on the ground, both of which I picked up—they remained about ten minutes in the public-house—Dodd came out first carrying a long parcel of silk in this bag under his arm—the female followed a few yards after him—they went in the direction of Cheapside—I spoke to a constable in uniform—I then took Dodd into custody—He said "What do you want with me?"—I told him, and he said "I know nothing of that woman"—I had not said anything about the woman to him—He was confused—the constable took the woman within a few yards of Dodd—I said "You will be charged with stealing that parcel"—he said "I know nothing of that woman, it is all wrong, it is all a mistake"—I then took him to the station—I did not know then what was in the parcel—they were put in the dock together—I heard Dodd say "I know nothing about her, I know nothing about this lady"—the woman said "Who charges me with stealing this, nobody saw me stealing, I know nothing about this man," meaning Dodd—on the same day I went with Lythell, Simmonds, and Randall, three detectives, to the Hackney Road—I saw Roxby and Williams together in the Hackney Road—we took them to the station—the charge was read out to them—Williams said "I was in Pawson's, but what I got I paid for"—at the time he was apprehended this piece of silk was in his hands—he said "I know nothing about that female (Roxby), we were standing drinking together, I know nothing of her, we had had a glass together."
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. I had seen Dodd and Turner together in conversation that morning—I had not seen Dodd and Turner quite together until they went into the public-house—they did not quite enter together—
when Turner came out of Pawson's she appeared bulky—I saw nothing of this parcel then.
Cross-examined by MR. WETHERFIELD. Roxby walked alone—I did not see her go into Pawson's at all—She was waiting outside—she didn't go into the public-house in Cannon Alley that I know of.
Re-examined. Turner had hold of her mantle and her dress in this way (describing), as if there was a great weight in it—there was nothing visible at all.
SAMUEL LYTHELL (City Detective). I have known the prisoners about two months, prior to day their apprehension—I have seen them repeatedly together in Hackney, and the city too; say four times a week, at all events, and more than that sometimes—I was at the Royal Exchange on 1st May; I saw the two male prisoners outside, and the two females inside an Old Ford omnibus—they got out and walked away together—they walked as far as the Royal Exchange, conversed together, and then went down Queen Victoria Street, and at the Mansion House I left, in consequence of something that occurred—I subsequently saw Dodd and Turner in custody at the Bow Lane station—Dodd said he didn't know that lady, and she said, in return, she didn't know him—they refused to give their addresses—I went with three officers to Goldsmith's Row, Hackney Road—I met Roxby and Williams walking together—Williams carried this parcel—we followed them as far as the Nag's Head public-house—they met another man and woman, and went in—when they came out I spoke to Roxby, and told her the charge; she made no reply—I then went to 7, Blanchard Street, London Fields—I went into the back parlor where Turner and Dodd reside, searched the room, and found certain property there, valuable articles, quite new—I showed them to Dodd at the station-and told him the circumstances of my finding them; he said, "My room! I don't live there," or something to that effect; "I know nothing about them; I never saw them before"—I showed them to Turner; she said, "My lodgings 1" I said, "Yes, and this is what I found in your room;" she said, "I know nothing whatever about them"—on the 14th April I saw the two women and Dodd together, in Friday Street, City—they went into Messrs. Boyd's warehouse.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. I cannot say if Turner was dressed the day I saw her at the Mansion House the same as now—This (produced) looks like her waterproof she had on that day.
Cross-examined by MR. WETHERFIELD. I do not know that Williams had paid Pawson's for the silk.
HENRY-RANDALL (City Detective). I was with Lythell when Williams was taken into custody in the Hackney Road—I helped to search the lodgings, 7, Blanchard Street.
WILLIAM SIMMONDS (City Detective). I assisted in searching Dodd—I found upon him a 5l. note and 4l. in gold—Dodd said he could give a good account of the silk; that he had bought it that morning at a sale in St. Martin's Lane—I asked him if he had got a receipt, or a catalogue of the sale—he said No, he had bought it before the sale commenced, and that he gave 3s. 2d. a yard for it—I afterwards took Williams into custody, and found upon him a pocket-book containing this receipt for 6 1/4 yards of silk, purchased at Pawson's on this day—I know all their addresses—I know Turner and Dodd, but cannot say anything of Williams and Roxby.
Cross-examined by MR. WETHERFIELD. I found these four small patterns of silk on Williams.
SARAH ADDISON . I am the wife of John Addison, dock labourer, and live at 7, Blanchard Street—Turner and Dodd had lodgings at my house—they came about five weeks before the things were taken there—they lived there in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins.
WALTER SMITH . I am warehouseman in the silk department of Pawson & Co., Limited—on this 1st May, Williams and Turner came to where I was serving; they asked to see some lutestrings—I do not recollect which spoke; they were both together—some of the lutestrings had particular marks on them—the two near the prisoners were marked with the figure "9"—that is the buyer's mark on the wrapper—they also purchased a short hank of silk—there was nothing at the time that excited my suspicion—after they had gone I missed nothing—I know this is the length I sold; it would correspond with the invoice, 7s. 8 1/2 d.—I find a mark on this larger parcel of silk, No. 9, the buyer's mark; that was not sold by me.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. I am not able to tell when this larger piece was in the place—it was near the prisoners while they were in the place—there were three pieces, and I showed them two pieces like this—it is silk of the same kind.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. The mark is en the brown paper, not the silk—I will not swear to the silk itself.
Re-examined. The writing on the wrapper is mine—as a matter of fact I know the silk to be the property of the firm—one of the three pieces that were in Pawson's on the 1st of May is missing—we only missed it when the police brought it back, not before—I will not say between that period that there was not one of those three pieces sold, because one of the pieces might be sold and not be entered in the entering room.
WALTER BRYANT ROBINSON . I am a warehouseman in Pawson's—I marked the piece of silk (produced) with my initials—the agent required it for the purpose of its identity; and to ensure that he got it back, I marked it—I don't know how many pieces there were—that is one of them—I cannot tell exactly when it was in stock; some time this year—I cannot say whether it was in my stock or not, or when I last saw it—it is lutestring silk.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. It is like the silk marked with my initials—I don't know how it got out of our place, or whether it was sold.
SARAH JOHNSON . I am female searcher at Bow Lane Police Station—I searched Turner—her cloak was made of cloth—this is the cloak—these pockets are not usually worn in waterproofs. (The pieces of silk alleged to have been stolen was here produced.) This pocket would not be of any use to carry it in, only to hold it in, to rest it—the only use of the cloak would be to hide it, but it could not be put in the pocket.
DODD, WILLIAMS, and ROXBY,
NOT GUILTY .
Former convictions were proved against DODD and ROXBY.
DODD and ROXBY.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
WILLIAMS.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June, 11th, 1874.
Before Lord Chief Baron Kelly.
MESSRS. BESLEY and SIMS conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS.
MONTAGU WILLIAMS and CHARLES MATTHEWS the Defence.
GEOFFREY LEE BENNETT . I am a surveyor, and reside at 9, Malcolm Road, Dalston—I have been to 13, Homer Road, and have made plans of the premises—these plans (produced) are correct; they are drawn, to a scale of an inch-and-a-half to one foot—all the measurements on it are correct.
JOHN BALL I live at 13, Homer Road, South Hackney, and am a sealskin dresser—the deceased Margaret Ball was my wife; she was twenty-seven years of age—we occupied the front parlour on the ground floor, and the back bed room on the first floor—the prisoner lived in the same house, with his mother, two sisters, and three brothers—they occupied the back room downstairs and the front room upstairs—the house is only one floor high; it is a four-roomed house—on Tuesday, 5th May, I left home to go to Messrs. Collins to work, in Earl Street, Finsbury—I remained there all night—I did not see my wife on the Tuesday before leaving; I saw her on the Monday—she made no complaint to me; she was quite cheerful, as well as I ever saw her—on the Wednesday morning, while I was at my masters', my wife came to me, as near upon 11 o'clock as possible—I went with her to the White Hart, at the corner of Earl Street, and remained there with her nearly half-an-hour—she had brought something with her to eat, and asked me to take it; I said I did not want it—we had two pints of ale together while we were talking—I don't suppose she drank as much I did—there was no one with her; she was cheerful—we had no words or any quarrel of any kind—I left her as near 11.30 as possible; she said she was going home; that Mrs. Coulson was out doing a day's washing, and she must make haste home to give the children some dinner when they came home from school; they were my two children, one is seven and the other four—they lived in the house with us, but went to a day school, and came him e to dinner about. 12 o'clock—I was aware that my wife was in the familyway—when she left me she was not at all affected by the drink she had, not the slightest—I never saw her again alive—I did not see anything of the prisoner—my wife left me against the door of the public-house, and I went back to my work—she would have about two miles or two miles and a half to go home—I did not see the rope that was found round my wife's neck until I saw it at Worship Street police-court—I did not know it; I don't know that I had ever seen it before—my wife was wearing a very small pair of earrings when I parted from her—these (produced) are them; I can swear to them.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner from 18 months to 2 years—I believe my wife and he had always been on good terms—they lived in the same house—there was no quarrel of any kind between them, to my knowledge—there is no relationship between us, by marriage or otherwise—she was not the prisoner's aunt or any relation to him.
Re-examined. The prisoner's brothers and sisters commonly called her aunt, only by knowing her.
GEOFFREY LEE BENNETT , Re-examined. The rope was fastened to the banisters, not to the hand-rail—there was a chest of drawers or washing-stand on the landing—I think a person intending to commit suicide, if they stood on the fourth stair, could have fastened the rope to the banister.
ELIZA LANE . I am the wife of James Lane, of 31, Homer Road, Hackney Wick, nearly opposite the house where the prisoner and deceased lived—on Wednesday morning, 6th May, at 9 o'clock, I met the deceased with the prisoner in the Cassland Road, about a minute's walk from her house, on the way from there to Earl Street—I spoke to her—she said she was going to her husband's firm—I saw her again that day at 2.40 in the afternoon in the Cassland Road, a little further on from where I had met them in the morning—the prisoner was with her—they were going towards home—she said she had been to her husband and was going home—she appeared to be in her usual health and spirits—she did not appear at all affected by drink—I went home—it was about 3 o'clock when I got home—I had only been indoors a few minutes when the prisoner came over and knocked at my door—it was open, and he walked up the passage where I was—he said "Mrs. Lane, excuse me, I have a message for you to tell my mother"—I said "What is it?"—he said "Will you tell my mother she will never see me again in London?"—I said "Why not?"—he said "I have done a murder, I have hung Moggie"—I said "Go along with you, George"—he said "I have, if you don't believe me, come over and look"—I went across the road with him, he pushed open the door and went just inside, I stood on the step of the door outside—he said "There she is, now will you believe me"—I saw the deceased sitting on the bottom step, with the rope round her neck; she was in a sitting position on the bottom stair with the rope round her neck—(referring to the plan)—I stood outside the street-door—the stairs are right opposite the street-door—the rope was tied to one of the banisters on the landing—the prisoner came out of the house and went in the direction of Cassland Road—I went to a neighbour and gave the alarm—after that I looked after the deceased's children—a constable came up and I gave information to him—the prisoner's mother had gone out to work about 9.15 that morning and she had not returned when I went to the house—the children were at school—there was no one in the house when I went there.
Cross-examined. I had known both the prisoner and the deceased for some time—they were always on very good terms—the deceased was not very stout—she was a woman of tolerable bodily strength.
JOHN LLOYD . I lived in Wick Road, South Hackney at the time in question—I have moved now—I am a hawker—on Wednesday, 5th May, at 3.30, I met the prisoner in the Cassland Road—I knew him by his cleaning boots under the railway arch—I was acquainted with him a little—I have talked to him now and then—I said to him "Hollo Bill, where are you going?"—he turned round and touched me on the shoulder and said "I have been and done a murder, I have been and hung my aunt, if you don't like to believe me go and bust the door open and you will see her hanging; I have just pawned her earrings for 1s. 6d., here is 1s. 5 1/2 d., and a halfpenny ticket is 1s. 6d. "—he showed me the 1s. 5 1/2 d.—he did not show me the ticket, it was torn up, he tore it up just before he got to me—he said "There is the ticket on the ground"—he picked up a bit with "13 "on it and said "There is the bit with the 13 on," and he throwed it down again and said "So long, I am off to see my other friends," and he went up the road
—I saw Mr. Davis, the greengrocer, and had some conversation with him—I did not pick up the fragments of the ticket—I went there with the detective that night, and he and I picked them up.
ELIZA LANE (re-examined). She was in a sitting posture—I said before the Magistrate "If she had been straight she would have been resting against the ground"—I did not say that, but she would have been resting against the ground if she had been standing straight—I mean if she had been standing upright her feet would have touched the ground—I did not go into the passage—I stood on the step; there was light from the staircase window—her feet did touch the ground—her right hand was on her right knee, and her left hand was hanging down the left leg; the toes of the left foot did not touch the ground—the rope by which she was hanging was quite straight down—if she could have risen from the sitting position on the stairs and stood upright she-would have stood upright on the ground below the stairs, and then the rope would have been loose—I am quite sure of that; the rope would have been slack if she had been standing up.
THOMAS HARRIS (Policeman If 390). On 6th May, about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I was on duty in Hackney Wick—from information I received I went to 13, Homer Road, and there found the deceased hanging by this cord (produced)—one end of the cord was round the neck, and the other end was fastened to the balustrade, the upright rail that goes from the ground to the handrail—this end was round the neck, with a running noose, and this part was fastened two or three times round the rail, and then one end through the handrail was mortised into the floor—this is the rail she was suspended by (producing it), and here is the mark where the rope went—after it had been fastened round the balustrade, it passed over the front of the landing and hung down—I cut the rope just above her neck, and cut the woman down, leaving the noose still round the neck—I undid it afterwards—she was hanging with her face towards the street door, and her knees were very slightly bent—she was not in a sitting posture; she was almost as upright as I am at the present time—her legs were slightly bent forward at the knee, as my leg is now (describing it)—her feet were on the step, and immediately below the step was the floor of the passage—both her feet were on the step, and both knees were bent—the running knot of the rope was on the left-hand side of her neck, close by the left ear—the rope now shows where the noose was, and where I cut it—I don't know the length of the rope—before I out it, it was straight up, perpendicular with the weight of the deceased—it was straight up from the neck to where it was attached to the balustrade above—it went two or three times round the balustrade, and there was a small piece at the end, about 18 inches.
ELIZA LANE (re-examined). I was there when the policeman came; I was outside the street-door—there was a great mob of people—I did not remain there from the time I first saw the body until the policeman came; I ran to the school to fetch one of the children—the street-door was shut—it requires a good hard push to open it—it was not double locked; it was catched.
GEORGE CHAPMAN (Policeman N). About 4.45 on 6th May I went to 13, Homer Road, and from information I there received I went with Crisp and Hoys, two other officers, in pursuit of the prisoner, and at 6.45 the following morning I found him sitting on a seat in Victoria Park, asleep—I knew him by sight—I went and sat alongside of him—I awoke him, and asked if he knew me—he said "Yes, I know you"—I told
him I should take him into custody for murdering a woman at 13, Homer Road, the previous afternoon—he said "Very well; we had a struggle, and I settled her; if not, she would me. I will go quietly with you, as I did the last time "(I had had him in custody before), "and what I have got to say I will say before the Magistrate"—I took him to the station, and then to Worship Street Police Court—while waiting in the passage of the Court he asked me whether he should plead guilty—I said I did not know what he had better do—he then said "I don't care what they do to me if they do but settle it to-day."
ARTHUR HOYS (Policeman N). I picked up about a dozen pieces of a pawn-ticket in Cassland Road, on the spot which the witness Lloyd pointed out—I have put them together, and pasted them, and they are attached to the deposition (produced)—I can read the whole of it; it is, "6th May, 1874. Earrings, 1s. 6d. George Coulson, 13, Homer----"—the piece with the word "Road "on is deficient—the figures "13" are here—I was present when the prisoner was taken into custody.
FREDERICK JOHN MANTELL . I am in the service of Mr. Perry, a pawnbroker of Springfield Place—these ear-rings were pawned with me on 6th May by the prisoner, about 3.30 in the afternoon—this is the ticket I gave him.
Cross-examined. I had known him before by coming to the shop—he had pawned these ear-rings before, three or four times—the last time about a week before 6th May—I think his mother redeemed them—the first time was only a month or five weeks before.
JOHN WATERFIELD (Police Inspector N). On Thursday morning, 7th May, I was on duty at the Hackney station, when the prisoner was placed in the dock—I said to him "You have been arrested for wilfully and maliciously murdering Margaret Ball, at 13, Homer Road"—he said "Yes, that is right"—I said "You will be further charged with stealing a pair of gold ear-rings from her person—he replied "No, I did not steal them, she gave them to me just before"—I then entered the charge, and read it over to him—he said "I have nothing more to say, what I have to say I will say before the Magistrate"—on the day before this from information I received, I went to 13, Homer Road, and in the front parlour there I saw the dead body of the deceased—I examined her face, neck, and breast, and found no marks of violence, except an indentation round the neck, apparently caused by something being tied tightly round—I examined her hands, but I found no indication, of any struggle having taken place; they were perfectly clear—her dress was in no way disturbed or disordered—the furniture in the parlour appeared in its usual way, as would be expected, nothing disturbed—there were no signs of any struggle there—on the first floor landing between the door leading into the front bedroom and the banisters, there was a washstand, which was within a' few inches of the banisters, where the rope had been fixed, and had not been, disturbed; there was an accumulation of dust round the legs of it, and also on the top of the landing, near the banisters, which must have been moved, or swept off, or disturbed if there had been any struggle on that spot—the constable had taken down the cord at that time.
Cross-examined. There was such a collection of dust on the landing that if there had been any struggle, or the woman's dress had passed over it, it must have been disturbed—in my opinion it was physically impossible that she could have bean thrown over the banisters without her weight breaking
the cord or the banister rail giving way—a woman of the deceased's build by standing either on the fourth or fifth stair, could, with ease, have tied the rope to the rail above herself.
Re-examined. It would not have been necessary for her to walk down two or three stairs to get the rope tight; by pushing off the fourth and fifth step it would ease her into the rope, and so strangle her.
CHARLES CALTHORPE MATCHINSON . I am a surgeon, I was called to 13, Homer Road, about 430 o'clook, on this day—Harris, the constable, was there at that time—I saw the body lying in the entrance passage at the bottom of the stairs, between the staircase and the door—the rope had been removed from the body and also from the banisters, the body was warm—I could only judge from my previous experience how long she had been dead, I could not say within half an hour; it is possible she may have been dead half an hour, or an hour—heat will remain in some bodies longer than in others—I should say she could not have been dead more than an hour—the dress was slightly disfigured about the neck, it opened in front, and two three, or it might be four hooks were open; that might have been the way in which it was worn, there was no sign of either of the hooks having been forced, or of the dress having been torn; there was no indication of any violence having been used to open it—there was a bruise round the neck, such as might have arisen from pressure by hanging—I saw nothing more on that examination; afterwards when the clothes were removed, I saw some marks—the bruise on the neck from the compression of the rope would not be produced upon a body hanged when insensible, where there is pressure on the windpipe of that nature insensibility will take place instantaneously—when a man is hanged a bruise may he produced by the pressure of the rope—as long as animal heat exists in the body, I believe a bruise can be produced—in this case animal heat existed for half an hour, and possibly an hour—I believe during that time, a bruise might be produced-upon making a post mortem examination on the 7th, I found three bruises on the left side just over the hip joint, two were very indistinet, one was very distinct indeed, and seemed of recent date, I should say within twenty-four hours; the others might have been caused a week before—the recent one was the worst, they were in row horizontal, or oblique rather, that mark may have been produced either by pressure or a blow—there, were some marks on the inner part of the thigh and leg which might have been ercohy-mosis, or they might have been some old standing disease of the skin—I think that was all that I noticed externally—I then made an internal examination I opened the head—I found the brain healthy—there was about half an ounce of fluid between the bone and the membranes of the brain—the membranes were gorged with blood—that would probably be caused by pressure on the two vessels at the side of the neck, in fact from hanging—they are indications of strangulation—the lungs were healthy, but gorged with blood, that is another indication of strangulation—the stomach showed that some very unsubstantial food had been taken, within a few hours, it was only an indication of partially digested biscuit or something of that sort—the left verticle of the heart, the muscular portion was hypertrified, there was thickening of the walls; I mean by that, diseased—the liver was fairly healthy—the uterus contained a foetus of about seven months—the other organs were, healthy—some severe pressure had. Been put upon the windpipe, causing some of the rings to he partially broken through—the woman unquestionably died from strangulation, and my
opinion is that it was from continued pressure, not instantaneously as by a jerk from the footing being removed, but as if done by a bowstring—I should say there was no doubt that the injury to the windpipe was from the pressure of the rope—I did not measure the height of the body at the time, I did afterwards, but I can only give my opinion about it, because bodies lying after death will sometimes elongate—I should say when living she was about 5 feet 4 inches, or something of that sort, and her weight about 10 stone, that is allowing for her pregnancy.
CHARLES TAYLOR AVELING . I am a surgeon, of 12, Portland Place, Clapton—I was called in to see the body of the deceased on 6th May—I found the mark of a cord, applied in such a direction that it came round the front part of the neck and obliquely up behind the ear, the back part of the neck was free from any mark, the whole of the front and sides of the neck was marked by the cord, but it was not absolutely circularly round the neck—there were no other marks of violence whatever; the general aspect of the countenance was compatible with that of a person who had been hanged—that was the only thing I noticed—I was not at the post-mortem—I can, therefore, only speak from the external appearances—the cause of death was suffocation from hanging—I think there is a distinction to be drawn, not between suffocation and strangulation, but between strangulation and hanging; if a person wants to kill another by suffocation that would be strangulation, but there was no mark of that—I think she died by hanging and not by strangulation.
Cross-examined. I observed no marks or abrasions to denote a struggle—in my opinion the symptoms were perfectly consistent with her having hanged herself, and I think they were incompatible with anyone else having done it against her will—I think there would have been evidence of struggle and of far more violence—I saw the prisoner and I saw the build of the woman—in the event of any struggle I think she would have been a match for the prisoner; she was a muscularly-developed woman.
Re-examined. When I used the term, "against her will," I, of course, assumed that she was able to exercise her will—I do not think the appearances were consistent with her being rendered insensible suddenly by pressure of the rope round the neck—that is just the point I was insisting upon, had the rope been tightly tied round the neck it would not have been in an oblique direction, but horizontal—I formed my opinion upon the mark of the bruise round the neck—I do not mean to say that insensibility may not be produced by sudden pressure on the wind-pipe without leaving a mark—I say that strangulation could not, in my opinion, have been exercised, otherwise the marks would have been different.
By THE COURT. Suffocation is a general term; I should" call it death from deprivation of oxygen—strangulation is that form in which, by a constricting band passing round the throat horizontally, a person is deprived of oxygen, like a person strangled by a bow string—in both cases they are deprived of oxygen, but there are hundreds of cases of suffocation to one of strangulation—one form of strangulation is by a ligature like a bow string, another is by hanging, which is not by a ligature horizontally round the neck but obliquely, and another is by throttling—those are all distinct things my opinion is entirely dependent upon the mark round the neck.
G. L. BENNETT (re-examined). The height from the place where the rope was attached to the bottom passage is 8 feet 7 3/4—the height from where anyone could fasten that rope to the stair on which they would stand would be about 6 feet.
CHARLES TAYLOR AVELING (Re-examined) I stood on the fourth step to try whether I could tie the rope where it was found—I did that the morning after the occurrence, and I tied my own handkerchief round the bottom of the particular banister that has been brought here—I believe I am 5 feet 7, the deceased was 5 feet 3 or 4—I twisted my hands round the banisters so as to give it a good tug, I had to reach forward a little to put it round.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 11th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
431. THOMAS WILLIAM KING (20), ELIZABETH HILDITCH (39), and ELIZA CLIVE (17) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling house of Joseph Holyoak, and stealing forty-six pairs of boots two shirts, and other articles his property.
MR. FRANK SAFFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.
JOSEPH HOLYOAK . I live at 24, Maidstone Street, Haggerstone—I am a boot finisher—on Saturday, 16th May, I left my house about 8 o'clock in the evening—I had then forty-six pairs of boots, some in the front bedroom and some in the work shop—they were boots that had been given to me to finish for my masters—I left the house quite safe—my wife was at home when I went out, and she joined me about 10 o'clock—I returned home about 12.30—the door was shut then—I opened the door and saw a candle burning on the stairs, we found the back-door unbolted, and then we went upstairs and found the goods all gone—I believe these are some of the goods that I see here—I went to the police-station, and a constable came to the house the next morning—I went with him on Sunday evening to the prisoner Hilditch's house, and the boots and linen (produced) were found and I identified them—I did not hear what was said to Hilditch—I remained outside till they called me in—I then saw nine pairs of boots produced from different parts of the house—Hilditch is a marine store dealer I believe—I examined the back-door of my own house—there was a pane broken, and we had put paper over it, the paper was broken when we came back and anyone could open the door—by putting their, arm through the hole they could reach the bolt and undo it—it was unbolted when I came back—my wife is not here.
JOHN ATKINS . I am a boot finisher,. I live in the same house as the last witness—about 10.30 on Saturday night, I saw the prisoner King and a man named Mackey outside the house—they shook hands and parted. King went towards Dove Row, and Mackey went into his own house which is next door to me—I got a key from Alice Mackey the sister of Mackey, and I went indoors and changed my clothes—I did not notice anything then—I came out again about 10.45 to 11 o'clock, and closed the front door after me—there was no candle on the stairs then—the front door could not be opened without a key—I returned at 12.30 with Mr. Holyoak—we went upstairs and missed the boots—next day, about 6.15, I saw King in Dove Row with another man, King was carrying this bundle—he took it to Hilditch's house—I went and gave information at the station.
Cross-examined. The man who was with King carried the bundle as far as the top of Dove Row—King took it from him, and took it into No. 2, Dove Row—I can't say that that was the bundle—it was about the same size.
went to Hilditch's house, 2, Dove Row—I knocked at the door, and Hilditch and Clive came to it—I said I wanted to see a bundle that had been brought there about an hour before by a young man, containing boots and linen—Hilditch said no bundle had been brought there that afternoon or that day—she said "We have got no boots here"—I asked Clive if she had seen a bundle of that description—she said "No; there has been none here"—I then said I was positive that a bundle had been brought there containing boots and linen, and I was determined to see it—Hilditch said to Clive "You had better go and fetch them boots"—Clive went to a back room, and went to an old tub that was full of old things and took out two pairs of men's boots—they were new boots—I said "That is two pair, I want some more"—Clive said "That is all we have got; they were brought by a young man, I don't know who he was, he said he was a boot finisher"—I said to Hilditch "There are some more boots here somewhere"—she said "We have got no more boots here"—I said "There is some linen stolen, I want that" she said "I know nothing about it; I have not got it"—I said I should take them both for receiving boots; I should search the place—we then went upstairs for the purpose of searching the top of the house first—Hilditch said to Clive "You had better get them the others"—and then Clive went to a box and took out three pairs more—that was in the bedroom upstairs—I said I wanted some more yet—I looked under the bed and saw two pairs amongst some dirty linen, and I found two pairs more in the mattrass—that made nine pairs—I then said that I would look for the linen, and I asked Clive to pull the dirty linen from under the bed—she did; and a bundle was opened, and I found in it two shirts, some child's pinafores, and several other things—they are here, and have been identified by the prosecutor—I took Hilditch and Clive to the station, and King came in about 9 o'clock—we put him in the dock, and Clive said "That is the man that brought them."
Cross-examined. Clive obeyed Mrs. Hilditch's orders; when she ordered her to bring the things, she brought them—she was living there with Mrs. Hilditch—I don't know whether she was servant or not.
Cross-examined. I have been told that Clive is Mrs. Hilditch's servant I think she is, but I don't know it myself.
The prisoner's statements before the magistrate, King says: "Last Saturday night week, about 10 o'clock at night, I went to a beer shop to have a pint of half-and-half, and Mr. Mackey called me outside and said, "Do you want any money?"—I said, "I could do with 2s.;" and he said, "Come with me and I'll get it," and we went along Dove Row, and Mackey said, "Stop a minute; here comes a boy that lives where I am going," and he said, "You will see the boy shove the door, and then go to my house for the key"—the boy goes to Mackey's and got the key, and opens the door—Mackey said, "You stand at the bottom, I'll stand at my door and watch him come out"—he stood at his door 10 minutes, and then said to me, "Come on, he has just gone out, and gone across by the Anchor—Mackey then pulls the key out of his door, and then goes to the door of 24, Maidstone Street and opens the door, and said to me, "Come on in"—I said, "No, I shall not"—he said, "Stop outside, and if you hear any noise holloa out, and go away"—he went in and shut the street door, and I heard him bolt it—he
was in there about 10 minutes, and came out with a bundle on his shoulder, and said to me, "Come on," and we went together to Whiteman's, and he got over a fence and went into an empty swimming-bath there, and in about 5 minutes he came to me with these boots and linen, and said, "Get them minded"—I said "Where can I take them?" and he said, "Take them to Mrs. Hilditch, and tell her it is your work," and I left him and went to Mrs. Hilditch, and she was in the shop, and Eliza Clive was cleaning the kitchen—and I said, "Mrs. Hilditch, I have had a row with my brother-in-law"—and I asked her to mind my work till Monday, and she said, "You can leave it here if you like"—and Eliza came to the door to see who it was, and Mrs. Hilditch said to her, "Make haste with that room; you will be all night"—I then left and went to the beer shop in Dove Row, saw Mackey, and said, "What have you done with the other boots"—he said, "They are all right; you meet me to-morrow at 5.30, at the corner of Great Cambridge Street"—I met him there, and he had a bundle with the rest of the boots on his shoulder, and we went to a beer shop called the Bells, near Spitalfield Church, and he said, "Wait here till I come back"—he was gone half-an-hour, and he said, "I have not got paid yet, I have only 4s.; I have to go to-morrow for the rest"—we came down together, and he met his young woman and left with her, he promised to meet me at 11 o'clock Monday morning, at the corner of Great Cambridge Street.
Hilditch says: I did not know but what it was his own work when he brought it to me; the girl knows nothing about it; she was not there when I took the things in.
KING— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
HILDITCH— GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
CLIVE— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. BESLEY and Croome conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLRIGH the Defence.
ROBERT WALTON FEIST . I am an auctioneer, at 71, Coleman Street—on 13th March the prisoner called upon me, and asked me to advance him 120l. on the security of his stock-in-trade, household furniture, and effects—he is a grocer, at 72, Praed-Street, Paddington—I told him I would do so, provided there was sufficient value, and he had full title, and the goods were free and unencumbered, and he had no bill of sale or claim—I told him he would have to make a declaration—he said, "All right; send up and see "when I asked him about encumberances he said he only owed 8l. to Barrett on a bill of sale, of which I knew—I sent up my clerk, William Gillingham, that evening to Praed Street, and he brought back an inventory which he had taken there—I had arranged with Mr. Jeffreys that if it was all right he was to come down on the Monday morning, and he came on Monday morning the 16th—at that time I had the inventory my clerk had brought—on that day I made an advance to the prisoner, but before that I gave the papers out to be filled up by my clerk—I told the prisoner I should pay Barrett the 8l., deducting it from the amount—he said, "Oh, no, let me do it, and I shall get something off"—he then made this declaration (produced)—I then handed him a cheque—I said, "Now
there is no claim whatever on these goods, Jeffreys?"—he said, "Is it likely, except the 8l. that I owe Barrett"—I said, "Is there any?" and he said, "No"—he then executed the bill of sale, which I produce, and I handed him 100l., deducting 20l. for expenses—that included stamps and everything—on the following Monday he made a payment of 12l. 10s. 6d., off that bill of sale—that was the first instalment, according to the terms of the bill of sale—on the following Monday he paid 2l. on account of the second instalment; that was about 30th March—he did not make any farther payment after that—on the 2nd April I sent my clerk to the premises in Praed Street, to take possession, and he returned to me and made a statement—I went up on the Saturday morning and saw the prisoner—the shop was shut up, but I found him there—I asked him what he meant by this, having given a bill of sale a day or two before ours—he said he was very sorry, but he could not help it—he said, "I may as well tell you there is another one," and he mentioned Mr. Wood—I was served with a notice to withdraw by the other holder—that was for 63l.
Cross-examined. I believed Jeffreys was all right and that he was a respectable man—he seemed to be doing very well—I had 20l. for expenses, including the stamps—the stamps were 3s. 9d. and the declaration 1s. 6d., and there would have been the expense of filing only the office was shut—he had to pay 12l. 10s. 6d. for four weeks, and as the amount of capital was reduced on the bill of sale so the interest was reduced—he only paid back 14l.—he would have had to pay back about 125l.—I made an information before I got the summons—I said then I inquired of him if the said household furniture and stock in trade was his own and unencumbered and he said it was, and I say so now—I did not say anything about Barrett's bill of sale for 8l.—I don't complain of that—if did not affect the security in any way—I told the prisoner, when I agreed to lend him the money, that he would have to make a declaration, and he was perfectly agreeable to it—I should not have parted with my money if I had known there had been three people before me—I don't know whether there was a forced sale; I came out of possession directly I was served with the notice to withdraw, and I have not interfered in the matter since—I think he had a flourishing business in Praed-Street—I went over the premises for Mr. Barrett, on the prior bill of sale, to see if there was security for 120l.—that was for Mr. Barrett's 120/.—the valuation was about 150l. or 160l—I have not got that valuation here, and when I sent my clerk up he went to see that the goods were the same as when I valued them—I have heard that 140l. has been paid into Court for whoever is entitled to it, and I have been told that that was the proceeds of a forced sale—I don't know it of my own knowledge—I never saw his lease, and I don't know that he has forfeited his lease by reason of a sale on the premises—his assets were put down at 250l. when he filed his petition in liquidation, and his debts, 4,000l.
WILLIAM GILLINGHAM . I was clerk to Mr. Feist in March last—I remember Mr. Jeffreys coming to his place of business in Coleman Street on 13th March, and I went the same evening, by my master's instructions, to his place of business in Praed Street—I took an inventory with me and checked the goods on the premises with it—I took it back to my master—on the following Monday, the 16th, Mr. Jeffreys came again to Coleman Street, and he executed this bill of sale and declaration in my presence—I took him to the Commissioner, Mr. Denny, to make the declaration, and I saw him make it—he took it up after I had written it and said, "I suppose
it is the same as Barrett's"—I said, "Well, you had better read it," and he took it up—he looked at both the papers.
Cross-examined. I am sure that he took it up to read it—that was before we went to the Commissioner—I was not present at the forced sale, nor did I hear of it—I know there was a sale on the premises, and that is all I know—I have heard that there is 140l. in Court.
JOHN BERNARD BANKS . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Tilley and Liggins, 2, South Wharf, Paddington, Solicitors—I know Jeffreys—on 12th March last he came to my masters' office to sign a bill of sale—I produce it—it is dated 12th March, and is for 213l. 10s. 6d., and 75l. 14s. 1d., making altogether 286l. 4s. 7d.—he executed that at Mr. Tilley's office on that day in my presence—I also produce an agreement of 26th February, signed by him to execute the bill of sale—on 2nd April I caused possession to be taken of the property at 72, Praed Street under that bill of sale—the 286l. was not advanced to him on the 26th February when the agreement was signed—200l. was previously advanced by a Mr. Turner, and 65l. 14s. 1d. was due to Noakes and Shaw for goods—but they advanced 10l. each to pay out an execution, that was the consideration at the time upon that he signed the agreement—the 20l. was not paid to him.
Cross-examined. 20l. was advanced out of the 285l.—I can't tell you when the first advance was—I don't think it extended a year—it was a short period—I did not know the prisoner till February last—I believe he has borne the character in the neighbourhood of Paddington of an honest upright man, for Mr. Turner lent him 210l. without any interest and without any security—that was afterwards included in the bill of sale—he had a right to look upon Mr. Turner as a friend.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER WOOD . I am manager to Mr. Hunter, a money-lender at 8, Eastcheap—I produce a bill of sale, dated 18th February, and a renewal, dated 11th March, for 63l. 10s. by the prisoner to Mr. Hunter—I also produce a declaration, which contains an inventory of the goods at Praed Street—the money on that bill of sale is still due to me.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about twelve months—he bears the character of a highly respectable man—if there had been no other bill of sale we should not have pressed him—I think it was great pressure by his creditors that caused him to do it, and he did it rashly—there was a good stock-in-trade, and I should imagine the goodwill of such a business was of great value.
Re-examined. I think my bill of sale was the first.
JAMES BAIRD . I live at 396, City Road, and in the early part of this year I used to lend money—I produce a bill of sale, dated-11th March from Jeffreys to myself on his furniture at 72, Praed Street, Paddington, for 44l. 13s. 4d.—that was a renewal of a bill of sale I granted him on the 9th January—22l. 6s. 8d. is due now, one instalment—on 13th March 44l. 13s. 4d. was due.
Cross-examined. He has always behaved with strict honesty and propriety to me—I believe him to be honest—he paid me regularly and satisfactorily—I have no complaint whatever to make against him.
GUILTY — Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DR MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence
MARY ELLIOTT . I am the mother of the deceased Laurinia Elizabeth Elliott—she lived at 13, Milton Grove—she was seventeen years old, and was a domestic servant—her father was William Elliott, a carpenter—she had been in service, but she was living at home on the 11th April—I can't recollect whether she went out on that day, but on Wednesday, 29th April, she complained of a headache—she went out on Thursday afternoon for two or three hours, and she still complained of her headache—she was rather sick on that day—on Friday morning, 1st May, she got up, and at 10 o'clock she laid down partly dressed,—she complained of her headache, and on the same day, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, she died—I sent for a doctor, but it was too late—she had not complained to me of anything that had happened to her a fortnight before—she did not complain of her head at any other time except the times I have mentioned—I never knew her to complain of headache before the 29th April, or to be poorly.
Cross-examined. There was a dispute between my daughter and another girl—that was in January, I think—I did not know of her fighting a week or so before her death—it was a month after Christmas she and another young girl slapped one another's faces; they did not have a good sharp fight—the girl insulted my daughter by calling her "gravy eyes."
Re-examined. There was no blow given in that quarrel which could have caused death—it was about a month after Christmas.
GEORGE DUTHWAITE SPENCER . I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons—I was called on Friday, 1st May, about 6 o'clock in the evening, to Mrs. Elliott's house—I saw the deceased girl lying dead upon the bed—I think she was nearly dressed—I made a postmortem examination the next day—externally there were no marks of violence, internally the body was well nourished—there was a little bronchitis in the lungs, to a very alight degree; not much more than a common cold—the chest was healthy—there was no sign of injury in the trunk that would cause death—I examined the head and found a quantity of serum or pus, or something between serum and pus into and under the membranes of the brain on the right hemisphere from front to back, over the whole convexity—death was due to inflammation of the brain, of which those were the indications—those indications were consistent with a blow or fall—they might be consistent with disease of the bones of the ear; I am not aware of any other cause—there was no disease of the bones of the ear.
Cross-examined. She died from inflammation of the brain—that might be caused in various ways, independently of any blow—I do not mean such inflammation of the brain as I saw; it was limited to one side—I only know of that other cause; that is disease of the bones of the ear, which was not present in this case—I speak both from my experience and reading—I have not heard of such inflammation being caused by anything else but a blow—it might or might not be a severe blow—I have known a slight blow on the side of the load produce such appearances as I saw—I never saw such a case resulting from a slap—I should not think a good hard slap on the side of the head with the open hand would produce what I saw—a blow which resulted in death would cause headache after it was given—sometimes it would cause sickness, and sometimes not; that is a symptom that varies—the headache would not necessarily be continuous—a person would be able to go out and attend to their duties, and so on—it is quite possible that the person might not have suffering for three weeks after the
blow was given; it might be a month; from that to three weeks—different cases would have different symptoms—it is possible) that a blow that would cause death would remain three weeks in abeyance, as it were, then burst out, and kill the individual in three days—I don't know of a case of that sort, but I have read of such in the writings of a French surgeon—I don't think I have read it in English writings; I may have done so—it would certainly be more probable that a person who died under those circumstances would have received the blow much more recently than three weeks—if I was asked, I would not pledge myself to any number of days that the blow was given before death.
Re-examined. It is not inconsistent with a blow given three weeks before—it is not possible that a slap on the face about Christmas would cause it—if there had been a blow or a fall which had the effect of bringing on the inflammation and the death, I should expect to find some external mark of it within a week—I found no signs of a bruiser—that would show that it had not been inflicted so recently—with regard to Trench surgeons, they stand very high indeed.
ELLEN WELSH . I live at 40, Mitford Road, Upper Holloway—I knew the deceased girl, Elliott—I lived as domestic servant at Bedford Terrace when she came to work there on the Monday and; Tuesday as she died on the Friday—she was-sent to sweep some stairs—she told me she had a bad elbow, and could not do them—she made a complaint to me, and mentioned somebody—she also complained of a very bad headache.
ALICE MACKEY , I live at 86,. Cottenham Road, Grove Road, Upper Holloway—on 11th April: I saw Laurinia-Elliott on: Highgate-Hill, between: 11.50 and 12.10—I was on the opposite side of the way—I can't tell. exactly the distance, but it is not a broad road—she was with two young men and a young woman—the prisoner was one of the young men—I saw, him strike her three times with his closed fist on the head—she fell on the ground from the result of the blows; quite down—they were standing-still—she fell near the railings—I did not see whether her head struck the railings or not—I am sure the prisoner was the person who struck hex—he seemed to be rather cross at the time—the girl fell three times;. She fell at each blow, the same way each, time, near the railings—there was a little bit of pavement, about the width of this; the kerb stone—I saw Harriet Miller there.
Cross-examined. I did not see Harriet Miller afterwards—she is not the girl I call his sweetheart—I don't know Sarah Clark—I saw Sam's young woman afterwards—I said "His sweetheart came to me on Thursday, and I told her I had seen him strike the deceased on Saturday"—I told that to a person named Emma—she is not here to-day—it was close to the Roman. Catholic Chapel on Highgate Hill—I was on one side of the rood and they were on the other—it was 12 o'clock at night—there are trees there—it is a shady place, and it was dark—I can't say that he hit her each time as hard as he could—they seemed to be hard blows, and each time she went to the ground—I only saw Harriet Miller that once—she was there when the girl was knocked down, and. Richard Jones was there and George Childs—they did not do anything when he knocked her down, to prevent him doing it again—they simply stood there—I walked away after the third blow—I should have gone over, but as there was a female there, I did not think it was necessary—I had been out with my young man and had just left him—we had been for a walk down Highgate—it was 11.50 or 12:10—
I am not often out as late as that—I don't know that Harriet Miller is—I only saw her that once, and I saw her afterwards once.
By THE COURT. I had spoken to the prisoner twice before that, so that I recognised him when I saw him—I knew Dick the dark one—I had spoken to him once—I recognised him as one of them—I had seen Childs before, and he was there—there are always lamps about there, and it was a very nice could see what I say I saw.
Cross-examined. I live at 14, Milton Road, and am a laundress—I know Goldthorpe and Richard Jones and George Childs—I was with the deceased on the night of 11th April—she was a friend of mine—we met Richard Jones, George Childs, and the prisoner on Highgate Hill—we stopped and talked near the Roman Catholic Schools—we shook hands all round; we all knew one another—there was no ill-feeling amongst any of us, from the time we met till we parted that I am aware of—there was no quarrel of any kind between us—I should have been aware of any quarrel if it had taken place—there was no quarrel—when we parted we shook hands and wished them "Good night"—I should think the road was about a dozen yards wide there—I could not tell exactly—I did not see anybody on the other side of the road while we were talking—I did not see Mackey there—Goldthorpe did not strike anybody while we were there that night together.
By MR. DE MICHELE. I mean to say I did not see Alice Mackey there, I can't say she was not there, I did not see her—there was light enough to see, we were just under the lamp—anybody from the other side of the road could have seen us, it was light enough.
MR. HARRIS. Q. Did the deceased make any complaint to you about having been struck by anybody before her death? A. Only her mother, her mother struck her in my presence—that was three weeks before she died—it was on Sunday morning I can't tell the date—I was standing at her door—she hit her with her fist on the back, and her mother shut the door in my face, and as I went across the road I heard the girl crying—I can't tell whereabouts she struck her on the back, it happened all in a moment, she said "Oh don't mother," and asked her mother not to hit her.
By MR. DE MICHELE. I don't know the date when this striking by the mother happened, it was on a Sunday morning, I know, three weeks before she died—when we met the prisoner and his friends the girl did make a slip, but she caught hold of Samuel Goldthorpe's arm—she did not go quite down—I don't know how she slipped—I should not think she slipped sufficiently to go down on her elbow—I was talking to Richard Jones at the time, and the prisoner was talking to the deceased—we were all standing together, and she was laughing and talking to all of them when she slipped—I did not see the prisoner do anything to her.
By THE COURT. I did not know Alice Mackey—I was examined before the Coroner, but not before the Magistrate—the case has not been before the Magistrate—I heard of the girl's death the same evening she died—the inquest was on the Monday evening that she was brought home from the Chapel of Ease—she was at home when she died, but they took her away—I heard on the Saturday morning there was to be an inquest—I have known the prisoner about twelve months—I stated before that the girl slipped, but she did not go right down—I did not hear Alice Mackey examined before the Coroner—I went up for the prisoner—
Mrs. Elliott said I was to come—I did not know there was any charge against the prisoner at that time, but I went up to speak the truth—Mrs. Elliott asked me who hit her, and I said "No one did not hit her in my presence"—that was the first I had heard of Goldthorpe having hit her—we were not standing together more than five minutes—we were talking to one another, how we were and where we had been to, and conversation of that kind; and we parted as friendly as we met—it is not true that Goldthorpe struck her—there are some railings there to the school, and I think there is a kerb-stone—it is not true that the prisoner seemed rather cross—the girl did not fall three times, one to each of the blows—that is all untrue.
MARY ELLIOTT (re-examined). I did not have any quarrel with my daughter three weeks before she died, nor did I strike her—I shut the door in the face of the last witness on a Sunday, but I had not struck my daughter before, and she did not go in and cry—I did not strike her at all—I had a reason for shutting the door.
Cross-examined. I might have struck her occasionally in my life, I can't say any particular time—I never struck to hurt her—I don't know that the other girl hit her under the ear when they had the quarrel—I did not tell my daughter if she did not fight the girl I would lather her.
By THE COURT. I shut the door in Miller's face because she kept late hours, and we objected to my daughter going out with her, and Mr. Elliott said "Don't come here for my daughter for she shan't come out"—she said "I am as good as you are"—and I said "You saucy hussey, go from my door"—she likewise said she saw Samuel Goldthorpe strike my daughter, and when she saw my daughter lying dead she-said when he struck her and knocked her down, he tried to raise up her clothes—I had heard from somebody that the prisoner had struck her, and I said to Milter "Why did Goldthorpe strike her?"—and she said "I will tell you the truth, Mrs. Elliott, I think her done it for an improper purpose, to throw up her clothes"—she said "If I am wanted I will come"—and I said "You will be bound to come, Harriet Miller."
HARRIET MILLER (re-examined). It is not true that I ever said to Mrs. Elliott that Goldthorpe had struck the girl—I did not say that he did it for an improper purpose—that it is entirely untrue—what I have said to day is the truth—I had been in the habit of going out with the girl, and we were outlate sometimes, because I had not done work tillpast 11 o'clock—Mrs. Elliott did not complain to me about it—I met the girl, and sometimes we went for a walk.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner, Harriet Miller, and George Childs—I was with Goldthorpe and Childs on Highgate Hill, near the Roman Catholic Schools, on the night of 11th April, about 12.30 or 12.45—we met the deceased and Harriet Miller—we stopped and spoke, knowing them—there was not any ill-feeling amongst us—it is not true that Goldthorpe struck the deceased three times during that interview—he pushed her with his hand on her stomach, just below her chest, and she caught hold of him—there was no ill-feeling; we parted good friends—she did not fall that night, and there was no blow struck—I did not see anybody on the opposite side of the road when we were there together; if there had been anybody I think I should have seen them—I have seen Alice Mackey twice; once before the 11th April—I saw her next at the Coroner's Inquest.
By MR. DE MICHELE. The deceased reeled towards the road when the
prisoner pushed her, and she caught hold of the arm of his coat—I did not see him attempt to do anything to her—I did not hear her say that she did not like having liberties taken with her; I heard nothing of the kind—I have known Harriet Miller about three months—I did not know she was in the habit of going out late at night—I don't know her and Mrs. Elliott—I have-not been in the habit of meeting Harriet Miller—I should think the road is about 12 yards wide in that part.
Cross-examined. On the night of 11th April I was with the prisoner and Richard Jones, going up Highgate Hill—near the Roman Catholic Schools we met the deceased and Harriet Miller, coming down—we stopped for about five minutes—we were all friendly; we shook hands when we met and when we parted—there was no ill-feeling on the part of anybody—it is not true that Goldthorpe struck the deceased at any time during that night—I saw the deceased slip—she did not go down on the ground; she caught his arm—the prisoner has been a quiet, well-conducted young man when I have been out with him.
By MR. DE MICIIELE. I don't know that she went on her elbow—as she went down she caught his arm—she never touched the ground—I have known the prisoner about eighteen months; ever since I worked for Mr. Southcote—I have been out with him, but I have not been in the habit of doing so—I know Harriet Miller by seeing her pass backwards and forwards—I have spoken to her—I know Jones intimately; he lives opposite to me.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution. No evidence was offered against
JAMES WILLIAM POLLAIN— NOT GUILTY .
ELIZABETH COLEMAN . I live at 32, Dartmouth Park Road, and am single—last September twelvemonth I had a child born—it was a very weakly child—last September, when it was twelve months old, I entrusted it to Mrs. Pollain, to take care of for me, and I agreed to pay her 4s. a week—the child had something the matter with both its legs—I took it to Dr. O'Connor, and he said that it had no muscles—I took it to Mrs. Pollain because my mother was too old to take charge of it, and it had been rather neglected—up to that time it had been properly fed—the last time I saw the child was about three months before I saw it at Worship Street—I paid the 4s. a week, monthly—I only went to see the child twice, but I have seen it five times since the prisoner has had charge of it—I saw it at her mother's house one Sunday evening; it seemed about the same then, but was not looking very well, and the prisoner said it would, not be better till it had done cutting the teeth—I saw no signs of neglect at all—it was very clean always when I saw it—that is the only child I have had—I have not had much experience about taking care of them—I put it out after three months—it was about a fortnight or three weeks ago that I saw it at Worship Street—before that I had not seen it for three months.
ANN BRYAN . I live at 3, Union Street, Bethnal Green, and am the wife of Benjamin Bryan, who is a carpenter—the prisoner lodged in my house—she had a child there to nurse—she brought it to our house about a fort-night
before Christmas—she used to leave it various times, every day more or less—she went out at different times, and sometimes she was away six hours; sometimes eight hours, sometimes ten hours and twelve hours, and frequently all night on Friday night—that happened every week—she would go out like that every day more or less—when she went out the child was locked in the parlour where they lived, by itself, except when "the husband was at home—he was at home on Saturday night and Sunday—it was dark in the room sometimes—I never knew of any provision being made for the child's nourishment, from the time the prisoner went away till she came back—I never saw any one come to her during those times—the prisoner's mother came once, that was about three months ago—I could not go in to see to it, because the door was always locked'—I have heard it cry in the night, and the daytime, too—she left it once a week, on Friday's, all night, locked (in the parlour—I suppose there was a bed, but I never saw inside the room—I have often spoken to her, three or four times about the child—I told her I wished they would go away, or stop a little more with the child, and she has greatly abused me—the last time I spoke to her was on Good Friday—she had been out all night, and had just come home—I said that we wished them to go away and take the baby, or give more attention to it, she said she would go when she liked and when it suited her—I went up to the Police Court, to know what I had better do—I did not know anything about the condition of the child then—the doctor came afterwards—the man was out all the week, and when he was at home on the Sunday, the child was properly taken care of—I don't know what took the woman out—she was out all hours of the day—her husband came home Saturday night—she was out then sometimes.
SARAH GREEN . I am married, and live at 3, Union Street, with my mother, the last witness—the Pollain's had a parlour there—I recollect the child being brought there, but I did not see it till Christmas Day—it looked very thin and ill then—they came about a fortnight or three weeks before Christmas—the prisoner treated the child what I consider very badly—she used to beat it occasionally—I have heard her beat it very hard for a child so young, and have spoken to her about it—I knocked at the door and said "You wretch for treating the baby," she said "What for"—I said "for slapping the baby in that manner you are slapping it"—she had the baby in her lap, and it had nothing on but its little chemise—she went out that afternoon—sometimes she went out in the morning, and left it for twelve and fourteen hours together—she used to lock the door, but once I heard the child crying in the morning, and I thought it was like going into a fit, and I found the door open and the baby was lying outside on the bed, and the cat was lying on its chest—I saw nothing for it to eat at all—at that tune the prisoner went out soon after dinner, and came back about five or six in the evening—it was on a Saturday—it was a usual thing for her to go out all day, and leave the child locked up.
Prisoner. This person goes out to work in the morning. Witness. I came home from work at 1 o'clock on Saturday, and other nights I came home at 7.30—I was at home from the 6th March to the 21st, and that was when I spoke to her about beating the child—we could hear her getting the breakfast ready, but what she left the child to eat I don't know.
ANN BRYAN (re-called). I recollect the 16th May when the policeman came—the prisoner went out that day at 8.15 in the morning, and she came back about 9.15 at night—the child was locked in the room till about 7.30, when the policeman came.
WILLIAM CHAPMAN (Detective K). I went to the prisoner's house on the 16th May, about 6.15 in the evening—the parlour door was locked—I had no key and went away—I returned about 8 o'clock—the husband came home, and he had a key—I went in, and found the child tied into a chair, with a cord right round its body—its legs were hanging down—it was sitting in the chair—everything was very neat—I did not see any food—there was a cat in the room, and that appeared to be in want of food—I saw the female prisoner at the station afterwards—I called the doctor—I took the man to the station, and the child to the Bethnal Green Workhouse.
DAVID HEBBELTHWAITE (Detective K). I went with Chapman on the 16th May, about 1 o'clock, to the room where the prisoner lodged—she came back about 9.15—I told her I should take her into custody for neglecting to provide nourishment for the child—she said "What?"—I said "And being away from it fourteen hours"—she said "I have been to a funeral; I was at home to my dinner, and I gave it something to eat at dinner time"—I told her that the landlady said she had been out all day—I took her in custody—at the Police Court she said she had been to the Crystal Palace to see the Duke of Edinburgh—I showed the child to Dr. Adams the same night.
EDWARD JOHN ADAMS . I am a medical officer to the Bethnal Green Workhouse Infirmary—I was shown the child on Saturday, 16th May—it weighed 12 1/2 lbs. without clothes—I formed an opinion that it was about fourteen months old—I have heard since it is twenty-one months—if it was fourteen months it ought to have weighed two or three pounds more—I found the child had some bruises on the right cheek, and on the left ear, and it was very much bruised behind the left ear—it appeared to have been pinched with the finger and thumb—the child could not have done that itself—the nose was flattened, and apparently broken, and the hair was worn off the back of the head, that was from the friction of the head against the back of the chair—there were little ulcers about the size of split peas on the child's seat—that would be from sitting in one posture too long, and with the wet—I came to the conclusion that it had not been properly nourished—there was no disease—the right knee was stiffened, and the left knee was" less so—it is very much better now—the ulcers are nearly cured, and it has gained half a pound in weight, and but for being vaccinated would have gained more—when the child was admitted its life was in danger, and therefore its health was—I am of opinion that the danger was occasioned by want of proper nourishment—I could detect no disease; and from its rapid improvement I think it was badly nourished.
Prisoner. The bruise on the nose was caused by it falling on the fender—it was sitting in a chair, and it fell on the fender, and the nose poured with blood.
Witness. It might have fallen on the fender and broke its nose—it is quite possible the child might have been a a delicate child—it had muscles in its legs when I saw it.
Witness for the Defence.
ELIZA HANSELL . The prisoner is my daughter—the child was born in my house, and I was the first to take care of it from its birth—it has always been delicate, indeed, when it was born you could put it in a quart pot—I tended it myself until it was two months old—I have seen it since my daughter has had it—she and her husband have brought it to my house on a Sunday, and always seemed to treat it very kindly—it was taken to Dr. O'Connor, in Gray's Inn Lane, and he said the child never would walk, for
it had no muscles—I was not aware that it was left for six, eight, ten, or twelve hours—that would not be proper treatment for a child of that age, certainly—I should not consider it right that she should be tied in a chair for that time.
GUILTY — Six Months' Imprisonment, without hard labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, June 11th, 1874.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
EDWARD VICKERS . I am a carman, residing at Hermitage Street, Wapping, I was in the Whitechapel Road on the night of the 25th May, somewhere after 8 o'clock—I was walking along with my wife and children and my brother and his wife—we stopped opposite the East London Theatre to bid them good night—I and my wife and family were going to walk to London—there were five or six men standing on the pavement, I said "Stand aside, allow me to pass," the prisoner said "All right" so he stands aside and leaves room enough for me to squeeze through, at that moment four or five more men came pushing round to my right and squeezed by my left hand, the prisoner stood opposite me, and some one behind me says "Have you got it Joe," and he says "All right" and at that moment I missed my watch, I collars hold of him and says "You have got my watch you vagabond," he says "No I have not" and drops his hands, I said to my wife "Look after the children I've got the man," he said "Are you going to let me go "I said "No, not till a policeman comes," and he said "I have not got your watch my good man," I said "If you have not got it, you did have it"—I held him by the collar, a struggle ensued, and we were dragged about the road, and some one said "Joe, kick the b----and get away from him"—I said "Let Joe kick, I can bear it"—I was knocked down again and again, and kicked about the head—101H came up—I was on my back and the prisoner on the top of me—I gave him into custody, whereupon he said "It is not me, he has been kicking and knocking mo about"—I said "No, this man on the the top has stole my watch"—the policeman held him until 40 H came up—I went across the road to see after my family, when I got into Church Lane I was again attacked and ran in front of the police, when one of the prisoner's comrades struck 40 and knocked him down, and the prisoner commenced kicking 101—I collared hold of him again while 101 got up, and I helped to take him to the station while 40 was trying to get hold of one of the others—the others escaped—I am sure the prisoner is the man siwho was in front of me when I felt the snatch.
Cross-examined. There were I should say, a dozen men there—perhaps more—they were all crowding up the thoroughfare—the prisoner was only 3 inches from me when I felt the snatch—when we were struggling he was sometimes on the top, and me underneath, and vice versa—I didn't give him a chance to escape.
CHARLES MARTIN . I am a cigar maker, living at 17, Charlotte Street, Stepney—I was in the Whitechapel Road on this night—saw the prosecutor and prisoner about 10.30—the prosecutor asked to pass through the crowd—the prisoner said, "All right, plenty of room"—I heard a voice say, from behind, "Have you got it, Joe?" and prisoner said, "All right"—I saw the chain in his right hand, and the watch in his left—he was facing the prosecutor
when I saw him—I saw the prisoner kick the prosecutor in the leg, and hit him several times.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell why the Magistrate's clerk should not have put in my depositions the statement I made, that I saw the chain in one hand and the watch in the other—he must have omitted it, but I stated it, I am sure—it was read over to me before I signed it—I signed this deposition—there is nothing written down there about my having said I saw the watch in one hand and the chain in the other—I cannot account for that—I told the clerk so after he had read it over to me—I was not amongst the crowd—I was not quite three yards off—there were three in front of him, and the rest behind him—he passed the watch to his left hand, and put it under the end of his coat—he dropped both hands—there was a man by the left side of him—I could not see whether he passed the watch to that man or not—I should not have seen him hand the watch over, because his hand was hanging down.
ROBERT HILL (Policeman H 101). I came up on this evening and found the prisoner and prosecutor struggling—I took the prisoner off him—the prosecutor said, "The prisoner has my watch," and he shouted out, "I have not got it now"—he tried to slip his coat on the way to the station in Church Lane—I was knocked down.
Cross-examined. I have not said before that I was knocked down—the Magistrate did not allow me time to give my evidence—it was done so quick—it did not concern the prisoner my being knocked down.
GUILTY .**—He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and 25 lashes with the cat.
MR. AUSTEN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution.
SAMUEL BAENETT . I am a pawnbroker, and carry on business at 10, St. George's Circus, Southwark—I know the prisoner by sight—I had never seen him before 22nd May—on that day he came into my shop and offered this watch (produced)—I had received a list of articles from the police which I was not to take in pledge—I compared the watch with that description—I asked him where he had got it; he said he had had it seven years, he had had it in India—I pointed out to him that it corresponded with the number on my list and gave him into custody.
SAMUEL ROBINSON (Detective M). I received the prisoner into custody with this watch—I asked him how he came in possession of it; he said, "I bought it in the East Indies five years ago; if you say it is untrue you will say a rum thing"—at the station he made the same statement—his brother came to see him at the station, and asked him how he came possessed of it, he had better speak the truth—the prisoner said, "I received it from a prostitute in the borough and this is the chain"—he said he could not give any description of her, her name, nor address—he said he was very sorry he had made a false statement before the police magistrate.
BARTHOLOMEW COLWAY . I am a merchant, carrying on business at 8, Bennett's Place, Gracechurch Street—this is my watch, not the chain—I lost the watch the day the Czar visited the City—there was a great crowd—my coat was buttoned up; when I got out of the crowd the watch was gone and the chain hanging down—I gave a description of it to the police.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I told an untruth yesterday; from the position I was placed in I didn't want them at home to know I was in such company; but I met a female on Wednesday evening, was with her a short time; I met her afterwards and she asked me if I would do a kindness for her, and that was to pledge the watch; she told me to pledge it at Mr. Barnett's, she said she had pledged it there before."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY and MR. CROOME, conducted the Prosecution; and MR. POCOCK the Defence.
JOHN LANGFORD HUGHES . I keep the Post-Office, 43, Curzon Street, Mayfair—I had known the prisoner seventeen years—he came to my shop on the 30th April, and offered me this cheque to change for 30l.—it is drawn by Edward Wilson, on the Birkbeck Bank, and is payable to James Wilding or order—it is indorsed "James Wilding," which was on it when he gave it to me—he asked me if I would change a cheque for Mr. Warren—I said "I have not sufficient to give change," and somebody came in at this time and said "Oh, I am going to have a post-office order" in the prisoner's presence—the prisoner said "Mr. Warren wants it very particular, somebody is waiting for the money"—the stranger who was present had got the money all down, but seemed to have a pound or two short—the prisoner kept saying "Oh, do give us change"—the stranger put down 20l., and I gave that sum and 10l. more to the prisoner for his cheque—I gave the stranger two money orders of 10l. each for his 20l.—the prisoner saw me do this—they were made payable to Mary Hay wood, Hartford Street—the prisoner then left my shop—I paid the cheque into my bank, on the 1st May—it was returned on the Monday following, marked "N. E"—I saw the prisoner afterwards at Mr. Lewis's—he said "I have come to pay the money"—I said "That's all right, come in doors, for we are all here "—he went into Mr. Lewis's—he said he had got a friend, who he would go down and see, who would give me the money, and he would pay at 6 o'clock in the evening.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner in company with the stranger after this Thursday—I said to him in Lewis's office, "Who is that man that had those two money orders"—he said "That was Wilson"—I saw him again on the Monday, at Lewis's—there were a lot of us together there—there was something said about getting a warrant for Wilson—I spoke to prisoner about the cheque—I said I am coming to consult you—I speak generally—he said he would came and pay us the money, at 6 o'clock—I think he said he had a friend in a travellers' club—Mr. Lewis said do not take any proceedings, it will give him a chance of getting the money—he had been in my shop five or ten minutes before the other man came in—I had known Mr. Warren for years—I had changed cheques before for Mr. Warren—the reason I didn't ask prisoner to go back and get Mr. Warren's endorsement to the cheque, was because I had looked at the cheque to see whose endorsement was on it—I should not think a man I had known for seventeen years had come to do us any harm—I often change cheques without looking at drawer's name—I have been in the post-office twelve or thirteen years—I should not have parted with the money, had not the stranger some in with the 20l.—I should have had time to attend to it.
CORNELIUS O'CONNOR . I am manager for Mr. Walmersth, of Curzon Street—I have known prisoner a great many years in the neighbourhood—on the 30th April he came to the shop—he said he came from Mr. Warren to ask me to change a cheque for him—this is the cheque, dated 30th April, 1874, drawn upon the Birkbeck Bank by Edward Wilson. "Pay Mr. Wilding the sum of 18l. "—I saw it was payable to order and asked him to write his name on the back, which he did—I paid it into the bank the next day with other money, and it was returned the following Monday marked "N. S."—I have frequently changed cheques for Mr. Warren—I went round to Mr. Warren's to acquaint him of the fact—I tapped prisoner on the shoulder and said "I want 18l. for this cheque"—he looked at me and said "I don't know anything about it at all"—I showed him his writing on the back and he said "That is not my handwriting"—I told him I would give him in charge for swindling, which I did.
Cross-examined. It was my employer's money—have known Mr. Warren fourteen or fifteen years—my shop is not far from his—I have changed cheques for prisoner before for Mr. Warren, never for prisoner—the reason I didn't get Mr. Warren's own endorsement was because I was satisfied Mr. Warren had sent him, or I should not have done it—I went to Mr. Warren's public-house—he said "I didn't send this man to you for the money."
JOHN JAMES RADCLIFFE . I live at 6, Hertford Street, May Fair—I am a butcher—I have known Wilding fifteen or sixteen years—he came to me, I believe it was the 30th April, with this cheque for 25l. from Miss Hawlidge: "30th April, 1874, Birkbeck Bank. Pay Mr. Wilding the sum of 25l., Edward Wilson." Endorsed, "James Wilding"—I paid it into my account and it was returned marked "N. S."—I saw the prisoner on the Saturday afterwards—he called in and said there was a little bother about a cheque, was it all right?—I said it was quite right, believing at the time it had reference to a cheque that I had received from the Hon. Henry Yorke that was endorsed, and believing the prisoner was still in his employ—the cheque had not been returned at this time.
Cross-examined. I had frequently changed cheques for him—I never had any bother about the cheques before.
Cross-examined. Have known him about six years—I have changed cheques before for him, none of which have come back.
JAMES STREET . I am ledger clerk at the Birkbeck Bank—I produce this leaf, taken out of the ledger account, 28th March, 1873. Balance 5l. 4s. 6d.—on the 29th 5l. was drawn out, leaving 4s. 6d.—Do further sum was paid in after that date—these cheques were tendered to me at the bank.
Cross-examined. I am not pay clerk, I am ledger clerk—the "N. S." is not in my handwriting.
JANE THORLEY . I am housekeeper to Lord Chief Justice Cockburn—I know the defendant fourteen years; I know his wife also—I saw Wilson at their house—the prisoner was in at the time—I saw Wilson with a cheque-book—I did not notice what he was doing—he said to the prisoner, "Two fifteen and a ten"—I took no particular notice; it was not my business—
Wilson gave me a cheque for 18l. on the same day, and asked me if I could get it changed—I took it to Mr. Devereux, who did not give me the money for it, as he changed two before—I handed the cheque back to Wilson in the presence of Mr. Devereux, and said, "I will have nothing to do with it"—I told Wilson, "I don't know whether your cheques are good or not; you might be all right, but I don't understand any cheques but his Lordship's."
Cross-examined. I have been in my present service seventeen years—the prisoner is a respectable man.
By THE COURT. This cheque for 18l. was made payable to me—it was not given to me in the prisoner's presence.
MR. CHANNON. I am a letter receiver at Brompton—it is part of my duty to pay post-office orders at the post-office there—I know Miss Edwards of Grove Place—I paid her two post-office orders, of 10l. each, at this office on the 1st May, I think—I don't know where Wilson lives.
THOMAS DEVEREUX . I live at 5, Chapel Street, May Fair and am a poulterer—I have known Wilding sixteen years—I remember his coming to my shop either on the 28th or 30th April—he brought a cheque each time—on the 28th the cheque was for 10l.—I saw my sister hand him the money—it was returned from my bankers marked N.S.—on the Saturday following he called at my shop door, and asked if the cheques had been paid—I said, "I don't know, I will send to the bank to inquire."
Cross-examined. I have changed cheques for him before—I know nothing against him.
Cross-examined. The prisoner might have said "I don't know what I was doing," but I don't recollect—he said "Had it been let stand over till to-morrow, I should have got the money or a portion of it"—it was 5 o'clock when I took him into custody—he had been drinking—I found 1l. 16s. 8d. on him—he had been taken to Vine Street at the instigation of Mr. O'Connor by a sergeant.
JOHN WYATT . I keep the Marquis of Granby public-house, 17, Brick Street, Piccadily—I remember the prisoner bringing me a cheque to change—it was returned from my bankers—I have not seen prisoner since go tell him of the fact—I have been paid the money by a female since—she said if the cheques came back and I called at her residence, the money would be paid, and I went in the evening and got it.
Cross-examined. If I had heard Wilding spoken against, I should not have changed the cheque.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY — Two years' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT, Thursday, June 11th, and
OLD COURT, Friday, June 12th, 1874.
Before Mr. Justice Blackburn.
438. HENRY WILLIAM HAMMOND (29), ROBERT STANLEY HARRIS (25), ALFRED BALDWIN (30), HENRY HOLMAN (35), and HENRY HALIFAX WELLS (24) , Unlawfully conspiring to prevent Emily Easterby from appearing as a witness, and thereby obtaining the acquittal John Diprose and others, to which
HOLMAN PLEADED GUILTY , and sated that what he did he did under the advice and solicitations of the Defendants Harris and Wells.
MESSRS. POLAND AND BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS appeared for Hammond, MR. STRAIGHT for Harris, MR. BESLEY for Baldurin, and MR. SERGEANT PARRY and MR. TURNER for Wells.
HENRY AVORY . I am the clerk of this Court—I produce the recognizances of Emily Easterby, taken on 8th April, 1873,. at Highgate, to prosecute Courtney Thomas Diprose, Courtney John. Diprose, Peter Jermyn, and Henry William Hammond for conspiracy, and another recognizance of the same date to prosecute Courtney John Diprose for larceny, and another to prosecute the same four Defendants for endeavouring by false pretences to induce her to place her signature on a paper, in order that it might be. Dealt with as a bill of sale—I also produce the recognizances of those four defendants to appear at the May Sessions of this Court, Monday, May 5—I have before me a book containing the proceedings of the Court, and at that Session bills of indictment were preferred against those four Defendants, and five true bills were found—one was against. Courtney Thomas Diprose for inducing Mrs. Easterby to put her name to a paper that it could be dealt with as a valuable security—her name and Mr. Harris's appear on the back of the bill, and bear against them the initials of the foreman of the Grand Jury, the Act, 19 and 20 Victoria, c. 24, requiring that the witnesses examined by the Grand Jury shall be initialled by the foreman—I produce another indictment against Courtney John Diprose and Jermyn for a similar offence, and Mrs. Easterby's name and Harris's both appear on the back of it in the same way—I also produce a third indictment against Courtney John Diprose and Peter Jermyn for larceny of the goods of Emily Easterby—Harris's name is on the back of that bill both as attorney and witness, and is initialled, and so is Mrs. Easterby's—I produce another indictment against the same four Defendants, the name of Mrs. Easterby is on it, not initialled, and the name of Mr. Harris is on it, but the foreman's initials are placed in such a way that I cannot say whether they apply to that name or that of the next witness—I have another against Courtney John Diprose and Jermyn, for forcible entry into Mrs. Easterby's house; Harris's name appears upon that with "Atty." after it—true bills were found in all those indictments at the May Sessions, and on Thursday, 8th May, Serjeant Ballantine' applied for the postponement of the trial, and it was ordered to be postponed till the first day of the next session, and the recognizances were enlarged upon all the indictments and the Defendants admitted to bail on the same bail as before on renewed recognizances—the next Session began on Monday June 9, and the case appeared on the paper on the first day of that Session—I know that it was postponed to the following Thursday, but it being only a postponement from one day of the same Session to another there is no entry in the book—on Thursday, 12th June, on the application of Counsel for the prosecution, the trial was put off till the next Session, and the recognizances of all parties respited till then—at the next Session, 7th July, there was another postponement and the recognizances of all parties were enlarged, except Mrs. Easterby's, which were ordered to be estreated, but the process suspended till further order—bail was renewed for the Defendants—on Monday, 18th August, on the application of Counsel for the prosecution and on reading affidavits, the trial was further postponed and the recognizances enlarged, till Wednesday, 20th August, to afford opportunity to Mr. Harris, the attorney, to answer the matters in an affidavit, and on 20th August this affidavit (produced) of Mr. Harris was filed—the trial was further postponed till the next Session, and the recognizances
of all parties, except Mrs. Easterby, renewed, and the bail was renewed—on Monday, 22nd September, on the application of the Counsel for the prosecution, the trial was postponed to the next Session, the recognizances being enlarged and the defendants admitted to fresh bail—at the Session which begun on Monday, 27th October, the Defendants all appeared and surrendered; Mrs. Easterby did not appear, no evidence was offered, and the Defendants were acquitted—I recollect that there was on that occasion an application for a further postponement by the Counsel for the prosecution—here is an information of Robert Stanley Harris attached to the depositions against, the then four Defendants, it is dated 31st March, 1873—I also produce another information of the same date sworn to by Harris.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I was in Court when the defendants were acquitted—the learned Common Serjeant was the Judge presiding on that occasion.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. There was only one charge of felony against the Diproses—a set of depositions was returned, taken in the presence of Courtney John Diprose also, who was charged with stealing a mahogany sideboard of Emily Easterby—as far as I recollect there was only one transaction, and that would arise, as I understood, on the same charge as the charge of misdemeanour.
BLANCHARD ALLEN WONTNER . I am an attorney, carrying on business at 3, Cloak Lane, City—we act as agents to the solicitor to the Treasury on occasions—on or about 20th May, 1873, I received instructions to take charge of the prosecution which was pending against the two Diproses, Hammond, and Jermyn—I produce a letter dated 15th May, signed by the defendant Harris, but the letter is not in his writing—I have the original (This was an application addressed to the Secretary of State, by Harris, stating the whole circumstances of the case and praying far funds, as strenuous efforts were being made to arrange the matter and defeat: the ends of justice by tiring the prosecution out.) Mr. Harris afterwards called, and saw my brother, who is my partner; and on 2nd June, he called and saw me—I had a long conversation with him about the case—he told me he had been put to very great expense in the matter, and had had a very great deal of trouble, and he thought it very hard that the prosecution should be taken away from him at that time—I explained to him that the Treasury had only taken the usual course.; that we always acted for them as their agents in cases which they did not do themselves; that they never left private solicitors to do a case; they always sent to us—he then asked me if there was no chance of the Treasury paying his costs—I said that, as far as my experience went, they did not pay costs incurred before they took a case; but that as he had been put to considerable trouble, if he liked, When the case was over, to make an appeal to the Treasury, if my recommendation was of any service to him, I should be very happy to recommend the Treasury to pay him—he had not got the papers with him, and said that he would call next day and bring them, which he did; and as he handed them over to me he said, "Well, I rely upon you that you will assist me ail in your power to get my costs"—I said "Yes," and he gave me some further information—I went through the papers, and prepared the case for trial—Mr. Harris, the Counsel, had a brief, and the usual Counsel for the Treasury—I saw Mrs. Easterby I had nothing to do with finding the bills—I was present at the Sessions on Monday, 9th June—I. had seen Mrs. Easterby, I think, on—the previous
Tuesday, and I directed her to attend here at 9.45—Harris, besides being the attorney, was a witness in the case—I also wrote to Mrs. Easterby and the other witnesses, telling them to be there—I knew that the case would stand first in the list—she did not appear, and the matter stood over till 12th June—in the meantime I received a letter from Mr. Harris and wrote to him—this is it; it is in his writing. (This was addressed to Messrs. Wontner and Sons, and signed R. S. Harris, stating that it would be impossible for him to call on them, they having already trespassed upon his time to a great extent. Dated 11th June.) On Thursday, the 12th, the case was postponed again, and in the meantime I endeavoured to find Mrs. Easterby—in the August Session I received some information from Mrs. Harper, Mrs. Easterby's sister and the mother of the little boy who is a witness—she handed me these letters and envelopes—to the best of my belief, the signature to this affidavit of Harris is her writing, and I think the whole document is; I speak to the signature particularly. (This stated that he had read the affidavit of Rachael Harper, and also two letters, and that he did not persuade Mrs. Easterby to leave her home, or tell her that her sister Rachael had received 10l. The letters were dated 25th and 28th July, 1873, from Mrs. Easterby to her sister Rachael, stating that it was her solicitor's fault that she was taken away, and mentioning "Wentworth V.")—"Wentworth V" is Wentworth Villa—the trial was then postponed to September and then to October, but we were not able to find Mrs. Easterby, and in her absence, at the October Session, the case came to an end; the Common Serjeant would not postpone it any longer—I heard nothing more of the matter till the little boy made a statement to me, early in February, and two days after that, Mrs. Easterby came to my office—I reported the matter to head quarters, and was requested to prosecute the persons who had got her out of the way—these informations attached to the depositions are signed by Mr. Harris—I produce some letters signed by. Harris, relating to Mr. Martin. (These were dated 21th February, 25th March, 27th March, and 23rd April, 1873, one of which acknowledged the receipt of a cheque for 51., and another requested the witness to put an eye on Mrs. Easterby, lest she should be tampered with.) Mr. Martin lives at Finchley, and is a witness in the case—I also produce two applications for post-office orders in Harris's writing. (Each of these was for 51., made payable at the Poste Restante, Paris, to Cecil Fortescue, from Charles Kidman of Barnet, and dated July 8th and July 11th, 1873.)—I also produce two post-office orders corresponding with those applications; they appear to have been cashed—they purport to be signed by Cecil Fortescue—I know Holman's writing, and believe them to be signed by him; one is dated 8th July and the other the 11th.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I think there were five or six examinations at Highgate when Mr. Harris had charge of the case, but I don't know—it was on 3rd June that he brought me the papers—he had a lengthened conversation with me, both on the 2nd and 3rd—he told me he had been put to considerable expense, and I told him I thought very likely he would get part of it, but not the whole, but I had no authority to say that—I tried to convey to him that he would get some of his expenses, and when he left me he seemed satisfied.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I have had the conduct of the present prosecution from the beginning—we took out a warrant against a person named Hyde, otherwise Fell—we thought that Hyde was Fell—he lived at Finchley, and answered to the description—I do not think
he was in any business; he is the son of the steward of the man or—he has gone to the Cape of rood Hope—I don't know when he went, the only information I can give you is derived from a conversation with his father—I have never seen him—the officer has got the warrant—I do not think Mrs. Easterby or the boy Harper ever saw Hyde—I made full inquiries about Hyde, and in justice to him, we have every reason to believe that we were wrong in regard to him.
Re-examined. I saw his father, who gave me the fullest information—he is a gentleman of the highest respectability, living at Finchley.
EMILY EASTERBY . I am a widow—I formerly lived at Wentworth Villas, Finchley—I kept a school next to the post-office for twelve months, and then went to Wentworth Villa—I was living there at the end of 1872 and the beginning of 1873—at the end of 1872 I was in pecuniary difficulties, and in consequence of an advertisement I applied to a loan office at 3, Kingsland Road, to borrow 10l., which I received some time in January, 1872, and signed some paper—on Saturday, February 1st, I borrowed 5l. at 82, Blackman Street, and signed a paper with reference to that which was brought to me at Wentworth Villa by Peter Jermyn, one of the defendants in the other case—I had seen Thomas Diprose at Kingsland road—on Monday, 3rd February, about 6 p.m. I was at home, and a man came first about 25l., and then seven or ten men came; C. T. Diprose, senior, was one and Jermyn was another—there was a van outside, and they proceeded to clear away my furniture—they put everything into the van, even the stores in the cupboards, wearing apparel, books, coals, and the keys of my desk—I had no bed or mattress left—it was about 9.40 when the things were finally taken away—I was alone and had to go out into the snow which was on the ground—on the Tuesday morning I consulted the defendant Harris, an attorney of White House, Hadley, Barnet—.1 paid him 10s.—his fee was 6s. 8d. but he had no change—I instructed him to get back-the worth of the furniture, and he undertook my case—I know Mr. Martin, a gentleman living at Finchley—I know that subscriptions were made for the purpose of paying of my law expenses, as I had. no money—a charge was afterwards made at the Police Court, Highgate, and a warrant was obtained against C. J. Diprose, senior—I went with Baweu, the officer, and Mr. Fortescue (who I also know as Holman), and Mr. Harris went with us—I identified the person who was arrested—after wards at tie Highgate Police Court, Peter Jermyn and Hammond were charged—there were several examinations, Harris acting for me as my attorney, and he instructed Mr. Richard Harris as my Counsel—the defendants were represented by Sergeant Ballantine, and were held to bail to answer the charge at the May Sessions, and I was bound over to give evidence—at the May Sessions I was in Court ready to give evidence, but the matter went over to the June Sessions—between the two Sessions Mr. Blanchard Wontner wrote to me—I saw him, and he took charge of the case—I knew that the trial was to come on on Monday, 9th June, and twice in the week before that the defendant Harris came to my house, and he came again on the Monday evening after I had seen Mr. Wontner—that was before 9th June—he had some conversations with me on those occasions—I cannot be certain, whether he said "Square it up" or "Make it up"—I forget what the first word was, but I have told you before, if you will give Meahint of it—I said "I shall have nothing to do with it, don't bring these men here, for they will do me more harm' than they did at first, do as
you please"—this was in the week before 9th June—he said that he would call and see me again in a few evenings—one evening after that I was standing at my window and saw two gentlemen talking, I recognised Harris—a knock came, and Harris said "Mrs. Easterby this is a friend of mine—this was on a day in the week before 9th June—I asked them in and we had a long conversation—I asked the gentleman his name, he said "Fell"—I asked him if he lived there, he said "Not exactly"—I said what are you, Sir—he said I am a solicitor, and I am a great friend of Mr. Harris—Fell is the first gentleman there (In the dock) looking towards me—Harris said "Mrs. Easterby, it will pay me better for you to go away, for you are in ill health and in a nervous state, and it will do you good"—Fell then said that he should like to go to Paris if he had a chance, and he said "Go away Mrs. Easterby, go to Paris for six months"—I said that I should not go away, and Fell said "Look here Mrs. Easterby, will 300l. pay you for your losses"—I said "Yes"—he said "Suppose' you have 250l., and 50l. for your pocket-money"—we had a long argument about it, and he said that he and Mr. Harris would call again in a day or so, or the next afternoon—Harris said that I must not proceed in the matter, and he said "What would it profit you to punish these men, will the public keep you it will pay you better to go away"—I should have mentioned that before, it was when he came in and said "Good evening"—Fell said that he would call again tomorrow which was Saturday—Barnett had called on me a week before that at my house, I did not know him then, he said "Will you open the door Ma'am and speak to me"—I said "No, I can't open the door," and I opened the window, and he said "Oh, have mercy upon these men"—I said "You must go to the Judge, and everything that is proper to do will come"—he said "Put a price upon what you have lost, and if it is a 1000l. I will bring it in less than two hours"—I said "Don't come here again I don't live here," and shut the window—I did not know who he was then, I had never seen him, and he gave me no name—Fell called again on the Saturday afternoon, that was the Saturday before the Sessions—I had written a letter that morning and gave it to my little nephew at 7.30 to take to him—he took it out and came back without it. (Robert Helton, clerk to Messrs. Wontner proved serving a notice on the prisoners and on their solicitors, to produce the letter, but it was not produced.) I said in the letter, that I was surprised and astonished, and asked him to give me a call that afternoon Saturday, if he was walking out—Mr. Fell called, and said that he had not brought his cheque-book, but he hoped I should be ready, and he would come on Sunday morning before church time—I said that I had written to Mr. Harris, to decline going; he said "But it is the Session, and you must not be out of the way"—I said "Why can I not have 50l. and go to my friends?"—he said "No, they would fetch you, and make you speak"—he mentioned his cheque book, because I asked him how I was to have the money—I meant the 300l., and he said that he would bring his cheque book and give me some of the money—I declined going, and said "Where am I going?" he said "Go for six months and you will have everything fit for a lady," I said "I am not going," he said that he would come at church time, and wished me good evening, that was all that passed—next day, June 8th, I was standing at my door, and the little boy who was upstairs at the window, said something, and I came in and shut the door—I had not seen anybody—there was then a ring, I opened the door, I saw Mr. Fell and Mr. Barnett—Fell spoke first, he said "Good evening," and came
in, and we had a long conversation, I asked where I was going to, and, he said "We will go to-an hotel in London to-night, and go into the country in the morning"—I said "Well, if I go for this Session I shall be home for the next"—I asked Barnett who he was and what he wanted, he said "Well, I am the same as Bowell"—I said "What, a detective" he said "Something of the sort"—I don't think they said anything about the money they had previously mentioned—I agreed to go, and left the house that night without the money—I beg pardon, I understood that Harris held the money, Fell said that he had not brought his cheque book, and could not get the money, but Mr. Harris would see to that—I put my bonnet on, and put my things together, Barnett got a Hansom's cab, and carried my box to it at the top of the road—it was then past 9 o'clock, I and the little boy who is turned ten, and Barnett got into the cab—Fell said "It is no use quarrelling here any more, I will come back again," but he did not—we stopped and had some refreshment somewhere in the Holloway Road, and then changed into a four-wheeled cab, and got to Islington about 9.30 o'clock—my box was taken off the cab and put on the pavement, and Barnett asked me if I would mind waiting a little, while he went to a friend—he went away and returned with Hammond, who I knew as the defendant against whom I had given evidence—he said "How do you do, Mrs. Easterby?" and put his hand out to shake hands, saying "I don't owe you any ill feeling"—Barnett and Hammond carried the luggage, and the little boy and I followed behind—we went to 14, Chadwell Street, Myddelton Square'—we went inside and I saw a lady there, he said "That is my sister," we went into a sitting-room up stairs and had some tea—Barnett brought me some paper in the course of the evening, and I wrote two letters and gave them to him, because I did not know the addresses; they were open, I did not see whether he read them—I gave them to him to put the stamps on—one was to the post-master at Finchley, for all letters to be left till called for, and the other was to my sister, Mrs. Harper—I did not put any address on the letters, because I did not know it—Barnett brought 5l. that evening, and I signed a receipt for it—I saw Hammond there that night—I do not know what, became of Barnett—they wished me good night, and Miss Hammond showed us to our bedroom—Barnett said that we were going to the country the next day, and we were to be ready by 7.30 in the morning—we breakfasted with Miss Hammond the next morning, and after breakfast I saw Barnett—I saw Hammond as I went out—he wished me good morning, and said he was going to the Sessions—a cab was a little way off, not at the door—the little boy and I and Barnett and Miss Hammond got into it and went to Gower Street Station (I had left my box at Chadwell Street)—we went to Victoria Station by the Underground Railway, and on the way Barnett said that I must not travel in the name of. Mrs. Easterby—I said that I would take the name of McKenzie—that is my maiden name, but I did not tell Barnett so—when we got to the station we changed from the Metropolitan part to the Brighton part—Miss Hammond gave me two tickets and a half, and we got into the train—Barnett then said "Good morning, Mrs. McKenzie, my name is not Barnett, it is Baldwin, give my love to my wife, and she will treat you very kindly"—Miss Hammond and the little boy travelled down to Southsea with me—we went to Brighton first and then changed—when we got to Portsmouth we went to Pelham Cottage, where I was introduced to Mrs. Baldwin—we stayed there until the following Sunday, 15th June—Baldwin came down in the middle of the week, and so did Hammond, but they did not tell me
what had occurred in London—Hammond went away and came back again—while he was there he said that he thought I had better be pilotted over to France—I said "I will pilot myself home, I will not go to France, my letters have not been attended to, I will go home"—that was on Saturday, the 14th—I think Hammond remained at Baldwin's that night—I saw him on the Sunday—I left Southsea on the Sunday, asking Mrs. Baldwin to take care of the little boy, and I and Miss Hammond came up to London—Miss Hammond took the tickets—I did not see Hammond when we started, but when we got to London he was at the station—I told him I would go to my sister, and if she was not at home I should go to Finohley—he said "Where is it?"—I said that I had forgot the number, but I would get it at the Burlington in Regent Street—he got a cab, and we went there and found' my sister's place in Regent Street—I saw her, but she would have nothing to do with me—Hammond then went with me to his house, 14, Chad well Street and paid for the cab—Miss Hammond showed me the same bedroom that I and my nephew had, and I slept there—next day, Monday, Hammond asked me if I was in the same mind, if I would take a trip with his sister to Hastings—I said "No, I came up purposely to go to Finchley"—he said "I know what you are after, you are going to prosecute me"—I asked him if he would take care of my luggage—he said "No," it should not stop—I got a cab and took my box and went to Wentworth Villa—I got there about 12.35 on 16th June, and found some letters there—I wrote three letters, and in the evening called on Harris at Finchley—he asked me how I was, and then said "I have not had a mouth full to eat all day, can you wait a little, I have a lady "waiting for me?"—he went away and came back and said "How is it you have come home, have you not been kindly treated?"—I said "Yes, very kindly treated, but I have business at home"—he then went back again, brought in a decanter, and said "Take a little wine"—I asked him where his 300l. was to come from—he said "Don't trouble about it, I will do all that is just and right"—I remained there some time, and Mr. Fell came in and said "Won't you shake hands?"—I said "No"—he said that he had a pony-chaise—I said "I am not going into the pony-chaise, I am going home"—Harris said "You will be taken"—I said "I must be taken then, I must go home"—I told him my letter had not been attended to, and I had been home on business—he said "We will all go together, and he and Fell went outside the gate, and I said "I must go home Mr. Harris—he said "Well you can get out at the Church end, but if you go to Church End you will be taken"—I don't know whether he meant by detectives or what—we went to Tollington Park station—Harris took the tickets, and I got into the train there with him and Fell—we rode in the same first-class carriage to Bang's Cross, and had some conversation on the way about my letters and purse—he said, "If you will give me the key I will promise to put all your letters together, and attend to everything, and you shall have them"—I gave him the key of the front door of Wentworth Villa, and he sent it back next day—it was 11.55 when I got to Chadwell Street; Harris was on one side of me and Fell on the other—he said "We must go in on this side, because some one is watching"—we went by some roundabout way to 14, Chadwell Street, and when Fell knocked at the door Harris was gone—Fell went in with me, and my nephew, who I had left at Southsea, was there—I asked Fell why I was brought there, and said "There is no train for Finchley; I shan't stop here"—he said "Now, look here, Mrs. Easterby; I
have not 5l., but if you will take this ring I will bring you 3l. in the morning—I said, "No; if you will give me your word that you will bring the key in the morning, I will stay here"—he said, "Is that the little boy?" I said, "Yes"—Fell wished me good-night and left, and my nephew and I went to the same bedroom—I saw the same Miss Hammond there, and stayed there till Wednesday, 18th—Fell did not bring me the key—Hammond came about 6 o'clock on the Wednesday afternoon, and said that Mr. Harris was at Ludgate Hill, and wanted to see me—he had a gentleman with him to whom he said, "Here, Harry, will you go with Mrs. Easterby?"—I went with him to a cab at the corner of the street, leaving my nephew behind—we went to Ludgate Hill station—I did not pay the cab—I saw five men there, Mr. Fortescue, Mr. Harris, Mr. Fell, Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Hammond's friend—I knew Mr. Fortesoue again quite well, as being at the Court at Highgate—he came up, and I said, "Who are you, what are you, and what is your name?"—he said, "It is all nonsense about your going away; it will do you good"—I said, "I have nothing; I have not even a pocket handkerchief," and he went and got me a handkerchief and some eau de cologne—he said, "Where is the boy? Would not you like the boy?"—I said, "Yes;" and then they all left me—after that Hammond said, "I never had such a lecture in my life; I will bo off"—I had given him the lecture—I asked him to come away from them, and said, "If you don't give me the keys I shall walk to King's Cross; you first send me to Chadwell Street, and the second time you take me yourself—he said, "Why, woman, you went by yourself"—he snatched off-my shawl, and in a moment I was in the train—I had sat half-an-hour by myself before the train started—Hammond took me to the train; my shawl was on his arm, and the boy was in the carriage with Mr. Fortescue—we went away in the train, and my shawl was left with Hammond—we went to Dover, and on the way Fortescue told me that he was a doctor, and an intimate friend of Harris's—he said, "You must not travel in the name of Easterby; you must take Jones"—I said, "I will take McKenzie"—that is my maiden name—we went to Adamson's Hotel, Dover, and stayed there till 2nd July—Fortescue stayed the whole of the time, and Hammond came down and brought me some things which I had made a list of when I left Wentworth Villa, but he did not bring the key—I received 2l. 2s. 0d. from Fortescue at Dover, and bought some things with it—I did not write to Harris, but I sent messages to Fortescue and saw him write—a lady and gentleman, friends of Fortescue's, were staying at the same hotel; they crossed with us to Calais—Hammond had dined with us that day—he knew I was going to Calais—I proposed going home but I had no key, and Fortescue said that it was for my own safety—we went to Calais by the night boat, to the Hotel Meurice, and after staying one night Fortescue went to Paris with his friends—he did not return—the bill was owing—I wrote to Harris about it to his office, and I believe I enclosed the bill—I did not write for my shawl because Fortescue wrote and said, get another—I said "Send the means then"—this is his letter (produced)—he afterwards came with Hammond, and I think Fortescue said that they had both come from London—Hammond only stayed a day—their letters came in the middle of the week, and they came on Sunday about 1 o'clock, and then we moved to Boulogne with the boy to the Hotel de Londres—while I was
there I wrote this letter, dated 28th July (produced), to my sister, and this is the envelope of it—Fortescue and Hammond went away the same day that they took the apartments—I think they told Madame Shaw they would be back in a few days, but they did not come for a fortnight—Fortescue then came, settled the bill, and stayed some days or a week; he said "It is so hot we will go into the country," and we went to Neufchatel, 10 or 12 miles from Boulogne—we stayed there about three weeks at what you would call in England a little inn, which belonged to the proprietor of the boarding house—we went there on the Sunday, and Fortescue left us there on Wednesday, and caught the Boulogne train—I asked him why we were to be left in that outlandish place, he said, "I am only paid up to Wednesday, but I will send Hammond down"—I still went in the name of McKenzie—Hammond came down and stayed two or three days, the weather was bad and he said we were to go on to Paris—I said nothing about my house, I gave all the instructions to Fortescne to write to Harris—at Paris we went to the Grand Hotel Anglo Americaine, Rue St. Lazarre, where I lived in the name of Fortescue—I did not take that name but I was in the cab—I stayed there with the boy—I wrote to Hammond from there very frequently about many things—I said that I was in exile, a prisoner, and could not he send for me home, and I wrote to Harris and said that I did not want any guide over me, I could return to England with my little boy if he would send means—he said that I could go with a friend—I asked him if it was Mr. Fortescue, he said, no, it was Mr. Seymour—(Hammond had come back to Paris and said that they were dismissed)—Fortescue, his friend and I, and the little boy left Paris together in November, went to Dover, and straight up to London—Hammond asked me at Dover if I should like to go to Hastings for a trip; I said no, I wished to go to London to see Mr. Harris—we got to London on 15th November, and went to Angus's Temperance Hotel, Bridge Street, Blackfriars—Hammond said on the Monday that he was doing all he was doing by Harris's directions, and he said, "Harris says you must not go to London by yourself, it will lead to discovery"—Harris did not come, and on Wednesday, 18th November, I went with Hammond and Mr. Seymour, who came from Paris with us, to Gravesend—I found that apartments had been taken for us at Miss Fowler's, 129, Windmill Street—I said, "How have you taken these apartments?"—he said, "18s. a week and I have paid a week in advance," also that he had taken them for four months—he then had only ten minutes to the train, and I wished him good night—I received 2l. 5s., or 2l. 10s. from Hammond by Post Office Order—I was still in the name of Mrs. McKenzie—I remained at Graves-end nearly thirteen weeks—I left on 14th February, 1874—the rent was not paid up regularly, and I continually wrote to Harris and told him that if he would send me 10l. to pay the apartments 1 would give up my nephew to his friends—I came away with the little boy on the 14th. February, and Miss Fowler kept my luggage—I went to Mr. Harris's office at Barnet but he was not in—I stayed two hours, and went to his private house and stayed an hour, and then I saw him—I said that I did not understand what it meant—I said, "Do you remember giving me the key?" and he said, "Yes"—I said, "Am I speaking truthfully to you;" he said, "Yes"—I said, "You will have to pay us some money or we shall have to go into the Union tonight "—he said, "Everyone takes my word but you, if you will take my word you shall have a large sum"—I said, "No"—he said that if I would come to his office on Monday he would see me—I did so, but nothing was
said about the money that had been talked about—I went to Chadwell Street and saw Mr. Hammond, told him all that had taken place in Gravesend, and asked him if he meant to pay the apartments—he said that he had been out of a situation since Christmas—I asked him why he gave the name of McKenzie, he said, "You sanctioned it;" I said "I never knew it"—he brought me two half-crowns; I said, "I am sorry to stoop thus, but for the sake of the child I will take it"—on the Monday I went to Finchley to Mr. Harris's office, but he was not there—I called till Wednesday but did not see him again till he was at the Mansion House—I returned the child to his mother on 16th February, and afterwards went to Mr. Wontner to give myself up as I could bear it no longer—I had been always told that the things I had left at Wentworth Villa were warehoused, and when I came up from Gravesend I asked Hammond where they were; he told me that one part was at Thomas Diprose's, and the other at Mr. Garrard's, the auctioneer of Hackney Road—my sister got them; they were the same things that I had left at Wentworth Villa—I told Hammond I was going to Mr. Wontner's, and he said that I should be huffed—if I am huffed in playing at draughts I am taken—I went to Mr. Wontner's and made a full statement of my travels.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I think I went to live at Finchley in 1868,1 have been conducting the school all that time—it is for children of preparatory schools—I do not know whether the paper I signed in December, for the 10l. loan was a bill of sale of the furniture in Wentworth Villa, but it was said to be—I obtained another advance in January, 1873—the people who made—that advance did not come and look over my furniture, I told the man I had none to offer—I did not in December 1873 represent the value of my furniture to be 150/.—they were worth more than 20l. I should think—I wrote to my sister Mrs. Rolf in July, I did not say "My poor things are worth 20l.," that is a mistake, I said "Your things would not fetch more than 20l"—I meant her boxes and things—I have taught the child reading and writing, and I took him with me because he is my only companion—I knew that his mother wanted him, and did not I come home from Southsea, and was not I stolen away?—I was going by the name of McKenzie in Dover, and I wrote a letter in that name, that is my name, my name is McKenzie Easterby—Holman did not complain while I was away with him, that I took a good deal to drink—he was very kind—he was not obliged to be kind to me, because I was laid up from drink; we came home to do justice and to speak truth—I am defending myself—bother me as much as you like with the truth—the last time I saw Mr. Harris before Monday 8th June, was on the Friday night with Mr. Fell—I saw him on the Monday and again on the Friday in the same week—that was the Friday before the Session—at the time I saw him on the Monday I had seen Mr. Wontner—I made a note of it.
Cross-examined by MR. SERGEANT PARRY. I saw Mr. Fell twice in the week before it came on, on 9th June—I had never seen him before—I also saw him on Saturday afternoon 7th June, between 5 and 6 o'clock—I am quite positive of that—I was taken to Wells office by Inspector Clarke, it may have been on 9th May, 1874—Wells came out and asked me, whether I knew him, I said "I don't know you," he said "I thought you would not Maam," but his voice struck me—he did not reply "Nor do I know you Maam"—he had glasses on his eyes suspended from his neck—I asked him to take them off, I did not then say "It is not the man nor the voice"—I said "It is Mr. Fell
by the voice"—I said on the stairs "It is Mr. Fell"—he was not taken in custody—I did not say at the Mansion House that I never noticed a moustache on Mr. Fell—I was out of Court when Mr. Poland spoke this morning—I did not describe Fells whiskers as long ones meeting under his chin, I said that he had whiskers all round, but I could not say that he had a moustache—I said that his whiskers were short round, bushy round—I have said that I recognise him by the upper part of his face—I never saw him without his hat, till I saw him at the Mansion House—ho was with me about twenty minutes on 7th June—I never went to Wells chambers with my nephew—when I went there I looked steadily at him for some time after he had taken off his glasses, and then said that I did not know him—I did not ask him to turn round—he was so frightened that he nearly fell, and he frightened me, because he seemed so agitated—I have not endeavoured to make my nephew say that Mr. Wells is Fell—I have never seen my nephew for five weeks, the child might have been dead—I think my nephew was in the little front garden when Fell first came to see me—he was also present the second time, and he was present at Chadwell Street when I expected him to be at Southsea—I saw him with his mother at the Mansion House—I remember the day when the defendants were committed for trial—I did not then point out Wells to my nephew and say "That is Mr. Fell"—his mother did not point Wells out to ham in my presence, and say "That is Mr. Fell," she could not know him—I pointed Wells out to a lady and said "That is Mr. Fell"—he said on one occasion, that he had got his ponychaise outside and wanted me to go in it, and as we went to the station where his pony-chaise was, he said that it bad broken down and he had put it up.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I saw Baldwin at my house, and I saw him at Southsea, never afterwards—I left Southsea on 15th June—I saw him twice at Southsea—his wife did not let lodgings, it was a private house—I went there on the 9th and returned on the 15th—when I wished to return, I came to London—the first time I spoke to Baldwin was at the window, and he told me his name was Baraett, the little boystood in the room, the conversation lasted five or six minutes—I saw him on the Sunday I left my place, other persons were with him—if I am right about speaking to him out of the window, about four times are all the times I saw him—I never saw him after the Sunday night.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The first loan office I applied to was at Kingaland, that was for a loan of 20l.—when I applied, I produced the receipt for my last payment of rent up to 29th September—I left that receipt with them—the loan I applied for in. Blackman Street, Borough, was 30l., and I produced a copy in pencil Mr. C. J. Diprose asked me for a receipt, and I said I have only paid ray rent to September, it is under repair—the copy had no receipt stamp upon it.
Re-examined. I had charge of some of my sister's things at Wentworth Villa—mine were insured for 100l., but that did not relate to here—I saw no pony chaise on that Monday night—Fell has not so much whisker now, and I had never seen him in glasses, till I saw him at the office—and I asked him to take them off, the change was in the cutting of his whiskers—I hare no doubt about him; that is Mr. Fell.
SIDNEY HERBERT HARPER . I was ten years old, on 8th October—Mrs. Rachael Harris is my mother, and Mrs. Eastorby is my aunt—I went to stay with her at Fiuchley last year, in the Easter holidays—I know Hammond, the
next prisoner is Harris, the third one is Barnet, and the next one Mr. Fell—I also know Mr. Fortescue who I saw at the Mansion House—I saw Mr. Harris at Finchley, but I don't know what he talked about—on Sunday, 8th June, I saw Baldwin at my aunt's—I had not seen him before that—on the Saturday before that Sunday, I saw Fell in the front parlour; nobody was with him—he saw my aunt—I did not hear what they talked about—I did not know who Fell or Barnett were at that time—on Sunday evening, 8th June Baldwin and Fell came together, and my aunt and I went out with them—I had not heard either of them say where we" were going—the boxes were packed, and Baldwin carried them—we all three got into a Hansom's cab, and Fell went away—on the way we changed into a four-wheeler—Baldwin said we were to do that, that we might not be traced—we then went on to the Angel, at Islington, where the luggage was taken off the cab, and Baldwin said "Will you wait a few minutes here, Mrs. Easterby"—he went away and we waited with the luggage—shortly afterwards he returned with Hammond—Baldwin paid the cab; and said "Shoulder arms;" Hammond then took up one box and Baldwin the other, and we went to 14, Chadwell Street; we got there at 10.30 o'clock, and had tea—I Saw my aunt make out a receipt for 5l., and give it to Baldwin, who gave her the money for it—she also wrote a letter, I do not know who to, and gave it to Baldwin—I saw Miss Hammond there, we stayed there all night—I saw Hammond and Baldwin next morning, and Hammond left, saying that he was going to the Court—I went in a cab with Baldwin, Miss Hammond, and my aunt to Gower Street, and thence to Victoria Station—we did not take our boxes with us—we then changed over to the Brighton line, tickets were obtained, and we all three went off by the train—Baldwin, who was on the platform, said "Good-bye, Mrs. Mekenzie, and give my love to my wife"—we went to Portsmouth to Pelham Cottage and stayed there—I saw Mrs. Baldwin—there was a servant there—I saw Hammond there, but he did not remain; he came back at the end of the week, and I saw him on the Saturday and Sunday—my aunt went away on Sunday, and Miss Hammond, who had been there all the week, went with her—I stayed behind—I don't know what became of Hammond—Miss Hammond came down and fetched me on the Monday and took me up to Chiswell Street—we got there about 10 o'clock—my aunt was not there, but she came in soon after me—we continued there till the Wednesday, when my aunt went out and I stayed behind—Mr. Hammond afterwards fetched me and took me in a cab to Ludgate Hill Railway Station, where I saw my aunt, and Fortescue, Harris, Fell, and a Mr. George, who I did not know—I did not know Fortescue then, but he afterwards said that he was a doctor in the Army—he and my aunt and I got into the train—I saw my aunt's shawl on Harris' arm, and I never saw it afterwards—we went to Dover to Adamson's Royal Hotel, and stayed there with Fortescue a fortnight—I saw Hammond there—Fortescue's sister and brother-in-law were with him, Mr. and Mrs. Harding—they stayed at Adam's for a day or two, and we all went over to Calais by the night boat to the Hotel Meurice—I cannot tell you the date—I saw Hammond at Dover before we started—Fortescue went to Paris with his brother and sister, and after a fortnight or three weeks he returned with Hammond—from Calais, Fortescue took us to Boulogne to the Hotel de Londres, where Hammond came to us, and we after wards went with Mr. Fortescue to Neufohatel—we went there because Forteacue told my aunt that we must pack up, because he had had a letter
from somebody—he stayed at Neufchatel from Saturday till Wednesday—he said that he was only paid till Wednesday, and he should not stop any longer—Hammond afterwards came and took us to Paris, and we went to the Hotel Anglo-Americaine—he left us there for some time, and afterwards returned with Mr. Seymour, and I and Mr. Seymour and my aunt returned to England—I heard him tell my aunt that they had all been discharged, and she had better come home—we came home by way of Dover to London and went to an hotel in the Blackfriars Road, where I saw Hammond and Seymour—we afterwards went to Gravesend to Mrs. Forteseue's lodgings, where we remained nine weeks—at Gravesend, Dover, Calais, and Neufchatel my aunt went by the name of McKenzie—I knew her as Mrs. Fortescue at Neufchatel and Paris—we left Gravesend in February and went to Mr. Harris's at Barnet—we did not see him at his office, and went to his private house—he said that he could do nothing for her, she was pounds in his debt—we left and called at Mr. Hammond's, 14, Chad well Street, and saw him—he said that he had been discharged by Mr. Diprose—we did not stop there that night, we went down to Mrs. Armstrong, who is a friend of my aunt's, and stayed there, and my mother came there and took me away, and afterwards took me to Mr. Wontner's, and I told him what had occurred.
Cross-examined by MR. SERGEANT PARRY. I was examined at the Mansion House—I remember going with Inspector Clarke to Wells' office—my mother was with me—after Mr. Clarke had been with Wells some little time my mother and I were fetched up to see Wells—I then looked at him and Clarke said "Do you know who that gentleman is?"—I said "I do not, I don't know him at all"—I was present when Wells was before the Lord Mayor, but Mr. Poland never asked me whether Fell was the man I knew—to-day is the first time I have been asked that question—my mother did not point out Wells to me as Fell, but my aunt did once—she said "There is Mr. Fell, look at him"—I did not think it was Fell even then—I did not have a good look at him, because it was in a dark corner of the room—that was not at the Mansion House, it was when he came to my aunt's—that is not a reason for knowing him—I am not quite certain now that that gentleman is the person I saw at my aunt's.
Court. Q. I understood you to say that this is Mr. Fell; do you say that this is the person you saw at your aunt's A. No, I do not remember him.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I mentioned at the Mansion House that my aunt wrote a receipt for 5l.—I don't know who gave Baldwin the money for it; it was not given in my presence—my aunt wrote the receipt; I mean that she wrote a form of receipt for Baldwin to sign and give to Hammond—I think Baldwin and my aunt both signed it—I don't know what it was for; it was not to pay for the living, it was for my aunt's pocket-money.
HENRY HOLMAN (the Prisoner). I live at Hampton Wick—my family live at Hadley, Barnet—I was a chemist and druggist—in February this year I sold my business—I have known Harris nearly ten years; he is a solicitor—he had offices close to me at Finchley—I have known Wells three or four years; he is a solicitor at Finchley and in Paternoster Row—I know that he and Harris were acquainted with each other—I heard what had occurred to Mrs. Easterby last year, the seizure of the furniture at her house—I had some conversation with Harris about it; he related the particulars
of the case, and said that he wanted the Christian name of Diprose—I had a paper in my possession with his signature, which I showed him—that paper had been lent to me to arrange, by somebody else—Harris asked me if I would bring it to Highgate, and show it to his Counsel—I went to Highgate Police Court, and saw one of the warrants executed; that was the arrest of the elder Diprose—Mrs. Easterby and Harris were with me—Harris said that I might as well see the fun out, and we all went together—I made Mrs. Easterby's acquaintance on that occasion—I chatted with her going along, and in the Court, Harris asked me to bring my papers a second time to show Mr. Harris—I had heard Harris conduct cases at the County Court frequently; in fact, he lived with me some time at my house—Hammond was one of the defendants at Highgate—I remember the fact that they were committed for trial—I was present here in May when the case was postponed; I heard Serjeant Ballantirie apply for a postponement, and it went over to the June Session—I did not know Baldwin until this case; I just saw him when he came to Bow Lane station—on Wednesday, 18th June, I was at the Ludgate Hill railway-station—Hammond, Harris, Wells, and Mrs. Easterby were there—after the adjournment of the Diprose case, Harris and I had different conversations about it—he told me it was necessary that Mrs. Easterby should be sent away—he told me so on the second occasion, and he said he thought it was advisable to send her abroad—I think that was on the Saturday previous to the 18th June, and he asked me, as I knew the Continent, if I would, undertake to take her—I said of course I could not leave my business without some consideration; but if there was no danger likely to emanate from it, I was willing to—he said "There will be no trouble accrue to you from it, because there is no charge of felony against them, as my Counsel, Mr. Harris, says that the charge of felony must be abandoned when they come to trial, and it would only be compounding a misdemeanour, which there is no harm in"—I said I would talk it over with my wife, and think about it, and let him know—I don't think I saw him again till the following Wednesday, when he said that he would see me righted, that it would be liberal pay, and my expenses would be paid—he also said that his costs were to be paid by the other side, as he had got nothing out of Mrs. Easterby—I think he said that his claim was 200l., and that they had agreed to give him 150l.; half was to be paid down, and the remainder if Mrs. Easterby did not appear, so that they were acquitted—he did not tell me whether he was to have all the money, or whether anybody else was to have a part, but I understood him that he had to pay some portion of that to Counsel—he and Hammond came together on Wednesday, 18th June, after Barnet County Court, and saw me in my private office—the same thing was proposed about my going away with Mrs. Easterby—I said I was quite willing, but I did not want to burn my fingers over it—Wells said "You can't do that; for we are dealing only with Hammond, and he is not charged with felony. Mr. Harris says that the charge of felony cannot be sustained, and therefore no harm can come of it," or some remark of that kind—I then consented to go, and he told me to put a lew things together—it was first arranged that I was to go to Paris, to take Mrs. Easterby to some address that was to be furnished to me afterwards, and first of all they wanted me to stay away six months—I said if I went to Paris I should certainly extend my tour a little, and see the Continent again, as it was some years since I had seen it—I declined to go for six months, but said I would not mind being away a fortnight or three
weeks, and I was to have 20l., I think it was, for that, and my expense paid—they told me to get a few things packed together in a bag, and they would call for me at a certain time—I was not told at that interview where Mrs. Easterby was; I had it previously that she was in London, at Hammond's house, from Harris or Wells; they were the only two that I had any conversation with—Harris had previously told me that he had got Wells to attend to the matter for him, as he must not be seen in it more than he could help—he told me that the defendants had offered him terms to compromise the matter—they promised to see me righted—they were to have made terms for me with Hammond, and in talking about it at Ludgate Hill, I think Wells said "Mind, Mr. Hammond, this is to be quite distinct from the 20l. that I am to receive"—I don't remember anything else said on the subject of money so far as Wells was concerned—he had received the money on account of Harris—I am almost certain it was Harris who told me that: that Wells received half of the 150l. for him—I think this conversation on the 18th, at Barnet, took place when they adjourned from the County Court for refreshment early in the afternoon—I put my things together, and I and Wells and Harris met at the Barnet Station, or at my house, and went from Barnet together—when we got to King's Cross, Harris left us to make a call somewhere, and arranged to meet us at Ludgate, which he did—Wells and I went to Ludgate in a cab—I did not know Wells then by any other name—I first heard of that, I think, when I was at Dover, from Mrs. Easterby—I then heard the name of Fell—she spoke a great many times about Mr. Fell—from what she said, I recognised the person as Wells—I did not speak to Mrs. Easterby at first when I got to Ludgate; after some time I did—she hesitated a good deal at first about going away, saying that she had no change of apparel, not even a pocket handkerchief—I said "Oh, I will soon procure you that," and I went out and bought her three, I think, and a bottle of lavender water—I had some conversation with her for some time—I suggested her going to Dover, as she objected to going abroad—she said she should like it very much; she had been there on her wedding tour, or on some occasion with her husband, and she should like her little boy with her, he went every where with her—I went and told the others; I can't say who I told, but Wells and Hammond called a cab, and went, off to fetch the little boy—I waited, talking to Mrs. Easterby—Hammond was gone a very little time, I was surprised at his going so quickly; he brought the little boy back—I can't say whether I saw the cab arrive—Wells was there—I can't say who got the tickets; they were given to me when I came back from getting the handkerchiefs—it was just on the time of starting—they were second-class tickets for Dover—Mrs. Easterby and her nephew got into the train; I got in last—Harris and Wells were on the platform—Mrs. Easterby had a red pattern shawl, I think, while she was sitting down waiting, and by some means, I can't say how, that disappeared—I heard her complain at Dover that she had lost it—I was introduced to her as Mr. Fortescue—Harris suggested that name—I did not tell her who I was, or what my profession was—she had an accident at Dover, and said she should like to have a doctor; and I said "I don't think there is any occasion for that, I am half a doctor, I will see to it"—we stayed at Adamson's Hotel at Dover—she went by the name of Mrs. McKenzie—Wells told me that as we went to Ludgate—he was talking of her being at Hammond's house, and having coming back after being away some where,
and they did not like her being here in town for fear of her being discovered—I said I thought she was very likely to be in the name of Easterby, and he said, "She is not going by that name; she is going by the name of McKenzie"—while we were at Dover Hammond came down—on one occasion he brought a number of parcels of Mrs. Easterby's things—he did not say where he got them—we reproved him very much for bringing so many useless things, and he had to take them nearly all back again—no doubt we had some conversation about the case at Dover—he brought some money down and gave it to me; he did not say where he got it—I furnished Mrs. Easterby with some money at Dover; when she wanted pocket money she applied to me for it, and had it—she bought some things at Dover, and Hammond bought a box for her—a Mr. and Mrs. Harding, friends of mine, came and joined us—it was afterwards arranged that we should go to Calais; that was about the end of June or the beginning of July—I proposed to her going on to Calais as she was tired of Dover; she objected, but when Hammond came down he talked to her, and she consented, and we were to take the earliest opportunity of going—before we started, Hammond brought me some money; he never told me where he received money—nothing was said by Hammond about any of the other persons; probably in talking about the trial a name might have been mentioned, but I had no interest in the names, so I asked nothing about them—before we left for Calais a letter was dictated to Mrs. Easterby by Hammond; at least, after dinner they went into a private sitting room and. had writing materials, and a letter was submitted—it was written to Messrs. Wontner—I can't say whether it was dictated or not—Hammond showed it to me—I am not certain that I saw the letter; I think I saw a copy of it—I could not swear that this (produced) was it; I should know the subject of it—Hammond went away soon after that; he stayed a night—we went by the night boat to Calais the first calm day, and went to the Hotel Meurice—I and my friends started off to Paris, and left Mrs. Easterby and the little boy at the hotel at Calais—she had money when we went over by the boat; I can't tell how much—I had given her different sums, altogether 1l. or 8l. I should think—she bought things for herself and, I believe, for the boy, and she had a dressmaker's bill to pay, and one or two little matters—I remember her coming to me for money for it—I think it was on 2nd July that we crossed to Calais—before leaving Dover I paid the hotel bills, altogether about 18l.—while I was in Paris I received two post-office orders addressed to the Hotel de Londres de Milan; they were on the Paris chief office I signed the name of Cecil Fortescue for them—these (produced) are the orders, and this is my signature—when I went to cash the last one they had not received the advice, so, as I was coming away, I left it with the hotel proprietor in part payment of the bill—one was sent to me in the name of Robert S. Harris, and the other in the name of Charles or Charlie Kidman—I received a letter from Harris at the same time, informing me that he had remitted it to me in that manner—the orders were each for 5l.—I had not known him by the name of Kidman; that was the first time I heard that name—I stayed at Paris a fortnight—I received these post-office orders there while Mrs. Easterby was at Calais—I had written to Harris for money—I went direct from Paris to London; we got into London at 5 o'clock on Sunday morning, and I went to my friend's house—I received 10l. in a letter from Wells before I came away—I don't know that I could swear to Wells writing; I don't think I could—I have destroyed the letter
—I kept none of the papers—except by the letter, I don't know from whom that money came—Borne few days after I got to London I saw Wells and Harris—I was seeing Harris constantly at his office or my house, and I used to call on Wells, at his office in Paternoster Row—I can't tell you the subject of our conversation; it was merely to render an account of my stewardship, what I had been doing, and where I had left Mrs. Easterby—I speak French slightly—when I was in London I wrote this letter (produced) and posted it to Mrs. Easterby at Calais, at the Hotel Meurice—I had seen Hammond, and he had shown me some letters which she had written, rather scolding him because no one had been near her while I had been in Paris—I had left her with the understanding, that some one would come and stay with her, and I wrote this letter as a means of pacifying her. (Read:" Mr. Cecil Fortescue has been unexpectedly called back to town, but will be in Calais in the course of a few days, probably on Saturday or Sunday next, accompanied by H., and will then make all arrangements at the hotel for Mrs. McKenzie's comfort, so that for the next day or two she may make her mind quite easy.") I then went to Calais accompanied by H, that is Hammond—I had not made arrangements with any of the defendants about my future movements—I don't know whether I received any money from Hammond on that occasion—we arrived at Calais on Saturday night, and did not see Mrs. Easterby till Sunday—I paid the bill on the Monday and we started for Boulogne, because she wished to leave Calais—we went to the Hotel de Londres—Hammond went away for two or three days—I believe he returned at times—I believe he and I came away together to London—I made arrangements to board Mrs. Easterby at so much per week at the Hotel de Londres—I can't say how long I stayed in London—I went back to Boulogne, I think with Hammond—we left Boulogne towards the end of July, in consequence of a letter which we found at the hotel, addressed to Mrs. Easterby from Messrs. Wontner—I gave it to her, she opened and read it, and was somewhat alarmed—I said I had better go to town, but I did not—she suggested that she had better leave the hotel and we left and went to Neufchatel—we stayed at a small country inn there, I forget the name of it, it is next door to the English boarding house, opposite the Church—I stayed there till the following Wednesday, that was in August—I then came to town—I paid the bill at Boulogne and at Neufchatel up to the time I left, and when I got to London I had only a few shillings left—I went to Hammond's house, he was not at home, but the servants came running after me—I went back again and then went to Mr. Wells' office in Paternoster Row—I saw him there and told him what had occurred, and that I had left because I had only made arrangements to be away a week—I considered that 15l. was due to me and it was paid me, it was sent to me in the name of Thomas Ward—I afterwards saw Hammond—I told him what had occurred, and that Mrs. Easterby was very anxious and uncomfortable—I gave him the address at Neufchatel, and as far as I know he left—I saw Harris and Wells from time to time after that, and had conversation with them continually about Mrs. Easterby—Harris talked a good deal about one of the trials, where he had to make an affidavit—he merely mentioned the annoyance it was to him, that he had been charged with certain things and had to make an affidavit to clear himself—Wells and I met sometimes at my house and sometimes at his—I heard about the acquittal of Hammond and the Diproses—I was not told for a long time afterwards by either of the Defendants what had become of Mrs. Easterby, but afterwards Harris
showed me a letter from Gravesend, and said that he could not bother any more about it, that she had paid him nothing and he was no longer acting as her solicitor—I was taken into custody on 12th April at my house at Hampton—I gave my name Henry Holman and stated who I was, and. consulted Mr. Lewis the solicitor.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Harris has acted as my solicitor on many occasions—he took instructions about a mortgage for me about that time—I have lent him money on different occasions—he owed me about 7l. at the time I went to Paris—it was more than 5l.—at the time I received this post-office order, I had received one before in the name of Harris on account, and he was still in my debt when I received the second one.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I made my statement to the solicitor two or three weeks ago—I was not then informed that I should be called as a witness—no hopes were held out to me that I should be called as a witness, I swear that—I was not sent for to the Treasury, and I never went—no statement was ever taken down; except between myself and my solicitor—I did not know that my solicitor was communicating with the Treasury—I don't know whether he is here, I saw him this morning—his clerk took down the details—no hopes whatever have been held out to me of becoming a witness, that I swear—I know now that Mr. Lewis laid my statement before Mr. Wontner—he may have told me that a fortnight or three weeks ago—he did not say that he was going to lay it before Mr. Wontner, in the hope of my being a witness—that is perfectly true on my solemn oath—I was advised to plead guilty by Mr. Lewis, because it might alter ray sentence, but I had no idea that I should be called as a witness;—he said that it would benefit me—I was perfectly astonished when I was called up just now—I did not know why I was ordered out of Court, I thought it was because I had pleaded guilty, and was to await sentence—I have been out on bail—I have seen Mr. Lewis three or four times.
Re-examined. I did not obtain bail at first—Mr. Lewis acted all through as my solicitor, and appeared before the Lord Mayor—I signed in the presence of his clerk, the statement I made at his office, for the purpose of giving him the facts for his guidance—I have had no communication personally with Mr. Wontner; I have done what Mr. Lewis advised me to do.
RACHAEL HARPER . I am a widow, and formerly lived at 164, Regent Street—Sidney Harper is my son, and Mrs. Easterby is my sister—I heard from her of the Diprose prosecution and of its adjournment from the May to the June Session—during that interval Baldwin called on me several times—he came up to me between 11 and 12 o'clock one night as I was getting out of an omnibus in Regent Street—I had never seen him before—he said "I believe you are Mrs. Harper?"—I said I had not the pleasure of knowing him"—he said "I come to speak to you about the Diprose case to ask you to use your influence with your sister"—ho said that I could have a sum of money for doing so, and my sister could have several hundred pounds and a house at the sea-side for six months—no particular sum was mentioned—I told him I had nothing to with the matter, nor did I wish to have—he asked me if my name would have any influence with my sister if he went down to her—I said "Certainly not"—he called again next morning and asked me the same question—I told him he must not come there to me again as it was very inconvenient for me to receive visitors in a house of business—he said that he was then going to my sister at Finchley—he called again twice or three times after the' business was closed and
said the same things again—I was not able to attend here at the Juno Session, but I had not the least idea that my sister had gone away—after the Session was over, Baldwin called on me again and brought me a note from my sister—I have not got it—I burnt it—I said "I dare say you have seen the contents of it?"—he said "Yes," and asked me to give him a note to take to my sister—I said "No; what communication I have with my sister I shall prefer sending through the post"—the letter stated that my little boy "was safe, but it contained no address; she said that she dared not say where she was, and that it was entirely through Mr. Harris that she left—I think I asked Baldwin where my sister was, and he said "That you will know by-and-bye"—he said would I give him a note to take to my sister—I said No, I preferred communicating with her through the post—he said that would make no difference whatever, for he could waylay the postman and open the letter if he chose—I said "I don't think you could, you are punishable for so doing"—I said "How did you take away my child without even his greatcoat?" for I had his great coat in my possession—he said "He was "well taken care of; he "was wrapped up in a shawl"—he also said "I have a box of valuable things of yours, you shall have them all again"—he came again the following week or the week before the Session—I gave him the great coat to take to my little boy, and tried to find out where he was—I remember Baldwin calling in my brother-in-law's presence, William Rolf, who turned him out directly—I had told him that if he called again I should have somebody to put a stop to his calling—that was the last time he came—on the following Sunday evening my sister called and proposed to remain with me, but I refused to take her in—I did not learn from her where she had been—In July I received two letters from her from Bauilogne, upon which I communicated with Messrs. Wontner—I did not know that my sister had been out of England—I had not the least idea where she was—I attended here in August, September, and October—I saw Harris once when I gave the letters into Court—Hammond was there—I saw Holman at the October Sessions—he asked me if I had recovered my little boy—some boxes of mine had been left at my sister's house at the time of the seizure, and after applying to a Magistrate to know how to get them I received them from a Mr. Garrard, of Hackney Road—some of them were hers as well as mine.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. My little boy was with me on Whit Monday, and I had seen Baldwin, I think, the week previous—I saw him four or five times before the June Sessions—I saw him three times in one week—my brother-in-law was there on the Thursday.
GEORGE ADAMSON . I am proprietor of Adamson's Royal Hotel, Dover—I know Kolman, he came to my hotel as Fortescue on 18th June, with Mrs. McKenzie and the boy Harper—they left by the night boat for Calais—Fortescue engaged the rooms at my hotel for them—Holman did not remain there the whole time, he went away and came back—Mr. and Mrs. Harding, friends or relatives of his, came down before they started for Calais, also a lawyer, who was to the best of my belief Hammond—he came down and went back again—the others all went away to Calais by the night boat.
CAROLINE BUXTON . I am a waitress at Angus' Temperance Hotel, Black-friars, and was so last November—on Sunday morning, 16th November, Mrs. Easterby came there with the little boy—two gentlemen had engaged the rooms before—they remained till the following Tuesday, and left in the evening—Hammond is one of the gentlemen who engaged the rooms.
MARY ANN G. FOWLER . I live at 129, Windmill Street, Gravesend—about 14th November, Hammond and another person came for apartments for a widow lady and her nephew—he engaged a bed room and sitting room and told me her name was McKenzie, and said that she would want them for a month or two—on Tuesday, the 18th, Mrs. Easterby and little Harper came—the other gentleman was with her—he was a dark gentleman—Mrs. Easterby and the boy stayed at my house three months and three days, and left me on the fourth, day—when they came, Hammond paid one week in advance, and said that he would come" and pay me the rent every week, or see that it was paid, but he has never put in an appearance to this hour—he paid one week and Mrs. Easterby paid three—she showed a good disposition to pay when she had it—I gave her notice three times but found it was useless—she had no money for food, and I am sorry to say that at times I kept her from starving—she left of her own accord some time in February, leaving her luggage there.
WILLIAM BOYLE (Detective Sergeant E). I was one of the constables in charge of the case against the two Diproses and Jermyn—Harris and Hoiman went with me to execute the warrant against C. J. Diprose, and Mrs. Easterby went to identify him—it was executed at 81 and 82, Blftckman Street, Borough—I did not know who Holman was at that time—I afterwards saw him at Highgate Police Court and also at this Court—Hammond was then a prisoner on bail—I saw Baldwin in the neighbourhood of this Court when the case was postponed from time to time—I have seen Harris and Holman together at these Sessions in the case of Diprose.
JAMES GRANGER (Police Sergeant 37 S). I am stationed at Fmchley—I assisted Boyle in the Diprose case—in consequence of something which occurred I watched Wentworth Villa—on 28th June I saw some goods being removed in boxes into a cart at the door—I saw Thomas Diprose there—he was not one of the Defendants—I followed the cart to 18, Union Street," Somers Town—Thomas Diprose was there—the things were taken into the house, and I made a report to the office—I was here at six successive Sessions from May to October, and saw Holman on several occasions—I have known Wells at Finchley for the last two years, he is a solicitor I believe—I think his office is in Paternoster Row—I know that he practised in Barnet—he used to wear long straggling whiskers and a beard, but I see a difference now—I saw him here at some of the Sessions but not with anyone—I have seen Wells and Harris together at Finchley but not in the Court.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I was not before', the Magistrate at Highgate—this case was before the Magistrate about two months before it came here—during the whole of that time Hammond has been in custody I believe.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. I have known Wells two years—sometimes he wore more hair sometimes less—I knew him to live at Finchley—there is no Court there—he has borne a very high character.
Re-examined. His beard and whiskers being taken off made a great alteration in his appearance—I have been in cases in which he has been concerned, but not lately—I saw him almost daily.
CHARLES TAYLOR (Policeman Y 10). At the end of June and the beginning of July last year, I lived at 18, Union Street, Somers Town—Thomas Diprose, the brother of the other Diprose, lodged there—on Saturday, 28th June, some boxes and some furniture came there, and Thomas Diprose removed one of the boxes—I followed him to Ludgate Hill station, and left
him there—on 3rd July he took away some more of the boxes, and I gave 'directions to Taylor, another constable.
JOHN TAYLOR (Policeman y 457). In consequence of directions I received, on 3rd July I watched No. 18, Union Street, Somers Town—I saw some boxes put in a cart in the daytime—I followed it to Mr. Garrard's sale room, 195, Hackney Road; the boxes were taken into the sale room.
GEORGE GARRARD . I am an auctioneer, of 195, Hackney Road—I know the eldest son of Diprose—I don't know his Christian name—I used to sell goods for him—I had some boxes to take care of for him, which I gave up to Mrs. Harper on March 4th; she gave me her receipt for them.
DANIEL LARTER (Policeman S 15). I have known Wells about two years, living at Rose Cottage, North Finchley—he is a solicitor—the last time I saw him was on 11th February, at the general election for Middlesex, engaged in the polling booth—he then had well-kept full whiskers, coming towards his cheeks—I do not think he had any moustache particularly—the difference in his appearance now, is that his whiskers are cut off; they are cut back—it does not make much difference—I see no other change in him.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. He has borne a very high character.
MARTIN. I live at Finchley—I heard, in February, of the prosecution against the Diproses, and took an interest in the matter, and got up a subscription—I raised 12l. altogether, 10l. of which I gave to Mr. Harris—I saw Harris from time to time about the case, and these letters were written by him from time to time about the case—I know Wells, but never had any conversation with him about the case.
JOHN MOSS (City Detective Sergeant). On 12th April I had a warrant to apprehend Hammond, which I executed at, I believe, his father's house in Halliday Street, Essex Road, Islington—I read it over—he made no reply at first, but two or three minutes afterwards he asked me if I could tell him who laid the information—I said I believed Mrs. Easterby and Inspector Clark—I took him to Bow Street station, searched him, and found this telegram and two hotel bills. (The telegram was dated 3rd April, 1874 from A. Baldwin, Southsea, to H. Hammond—"Waterloo at 3 o'clock, If I don't see you call at office about 5 o'clock Try and meet me. Important news." One hotel bill was for seven francs, in the name of Madame Fortescue, at the Grande Hotel Anglo-Americaine. The other bill had no date or name.)
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I don't know that Hammond was clerk to the Diproses, but I believe so.
WILLIAM SMITH (City Detective Sergeant). On 12th April I went to 4, Pelham Cottages, Southsea, and found Baldwin there—I had a warrant for his apprehension, signed by the Lord Mayor—I read it to him, and said, "Do you know the names mentioned in this warrant?"—he said, "No; it is a very vindictive prosecution; what does it all mean?"—I said, "It is stated that Mrs. Easterby resided with you"—he said, "Yes, she did"—I said, "I have seen you at the Old Bailey, during the trial of the Diproses "—he said, "Yes, I was there"—I then took him in custody—I searched his place, and took possession of a number of papers and addressed envelopes (produced)—on the way to London, he said, "Can I see Mr. Wontner?"—I said, "I dare say you can"—he said, "You tell him I should like to see him, for it would be better to make me a witness for the prosecution than prosecute me, for it would fall, as far as I am concerned"—I understood
him to say "fall," not "fail"—he also said, "Why I became engaged in the case is this; the prosecution had engaged the whole of the detectives, and I was employed as a private detective, to ascertain the characters of the witnesses for the prosecution"—I said, "I have seen you with Mr. Harris at Stephens's, in Coleman Street"—he said, "Who do you mean, young Bob?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Well, I have once or so been with him"—I have seen him with Harris many a time—when I asked him if he knew the names of the other persons mentioned in the warrant, he said, "No"—I saw him here more than once when the Diprose trial was expected to come on; I had cases here at the same time. (Five envelopes, addressed Mr. V. J. Diprose, 82, Blackman Street, Borough, and a letter signed C. J. Diprose, and commencing "Dear Baldwin," were here, put in.)
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I knew of no warrant against the Diproses.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Stephens's is a refreshment bar, at the end of Mason's Avenue—I cannot fix the date when I saw Harris there with Baldwin, but it was several times—I know Harris very well—they were standing at the bar taking refreshment together.
GEORGE CLARK . I am chief inspector of the Metropolitan Police—on 12th April, I went to Harris's house, at Finchley, I did not find him there, but I met him, and told him I had a warrant, which I gave him to read, and brought him to town in custody—I took Wells on 12th May, on two warrants—I found him at the Police Office, Old Jewry—one warrant was for not appearing as a witness in this case—Mrs. Easterby was re-called, and he was sent with the other defendants to answer the charge.
Cross-examined by MR. TURNER. I understand that Wells went to the Mansion House first, and then to Bow Lane—he came there voluntarily—I had been to his office on two occasions previously, once with the lad Harper at the end of April, or early in May—I had a warrant for the arrest of a person named Fell—I went with Mrs. Easterby a few days afterwards, to still with the warrant, and had a conversation with him in her presence—I did not say to her "That is Mr. Fell"; I asked her whether she knew him—we were then in the lobby of his office, he then went into his office with Wells—I said "Mr. Wells, the lad does not recognize you, and Mrs. Easterby does not recognize you, and there is an end of the case"—I most probably shook hands with him—before Wells surrendered, I received a communication from Holman, and it was after that that Mrs. Easterby was examined for the first time, at the Mansion House, as to Wells.
Re-examined. She was examined for the first time, as soon as Wells was there—he came out on the landing at his house, and I said to Mrs. Easterby "Do you know this gentleman" she said "No, I don't think I do, put on your glasses," or "take off your glasses," as the case might be, and then she said "No, I don't think I know you"—I am not sure whether he spoke—I had not told her that she was to go there and see Fell, I merely took her there to see somebody—she made a statement to me going down stairs.
(THE COURT considered that this statement would not be evidence).
HARRIS received a good character.
THE COURT directed the Jury that Holman and Mrs. Easterby were both witnesses, whose evidence required confirmation
and that unless they were confirmed as to the identity of Wells with Fell, they must acquit Wells, even though they might believe him to be guilty.
HAMMOND GUILTY — Four Month's Imprisonment.
HARRIS GUILTY — Fifteen Month' Imprisonment.
BALDWIN GUILTY — Six Months' Imprisonment.
WELLS NOT GUILTY .
HOLMAN to enter into recognizances in 100l. to appear and receive judgment if called upon.
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 12th, 1871
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; MESSRS. BESLEY and A. B. KELLY the Defence.
ELIZA CARTER . I am a widow living at 60, Princes Road, Notting Hill—I had a child named Edward Moss to nurse—Emma Moss the mother brought it—I had it seven weeks, and I gave it up a fortnight yesterday—it was about eight months old—the prisoner came on the Sunday evening as I had it on the Saturday—he said the child was his, and he agreed to pay me 6s. a week—I had five weeks money; the prisoner brought it every week—on the 9th May he brought me the weeks money and a tin of milk—he said "Here is a tin of milk for the baby"—I undid the paper that the tin was wrapped in, and I said that it was opened at the wrong end—he said that was all right—I opened the lid and noticed some white powder at the top—I said "What funny looking milk"—I stood at the table and he sat on the chair—he said it was the English condensed and we had used the Swiss—he said "You will see how the child gets on with that"—he paid me the 6s. that night, and said he would come again the next Saturday night between 8 and 9 o'clock—I showed the tin of milk to father when the prisoner had gone, and then I put it on the sideboard—I had no occasion to use any of it till Sunday at dinner time—my little boy asked me to give him some of the baby's milk over the boiled rice—it was just in the same state as when I placed it on the sideboard—it had not been touched—I took it off the top with a spoon—the powder was mixed with the milk at the top—it was not dry—I gave my child about two tea spoonsful over his rice—he eat it all—he is eight years old—before he had eaten it I gave some to my father, about half a table spoonful as near as I can say—I gave it him with his boiled rice—we all had boiled rice—I gave my little girl who is about six years old the spoon to clean—she licked the spoon and cleaned it—she did not eat any rice when she licked the spoon out, she said "Oh mother, how nasty," and she was sick in a few minutes afterwards—she was sick twice—I laid her on the bed and she was there all the afternoon—she said she felt sick—my father was ill about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after he had eaten his rice—he said'" How queer I feel"—he reached very much and complained of a burning sensation in the throat—he was ill all Sunday afternoon and all day Monday—the boy said there was pepper in the milk it burnt his throat so—he was ill all day Sunday and all day on Monday—I took the tin of milk to the Kensington Vestry on the Monday at dinner time—I left it there—on the Monday I had a letter without any name and address on it to know how the child was—I believe it was the mother's handwriting—she is not here—the
prisoner came on Tuesday between 10 and 11 o'clock at night—he said "What is the matter"—I said "A great deal is the matter—you and Emma have given me false addresses—he said "Is the child ill or is it dead "—I said it was neither ill nor yet dead, and I did not know what was the matter with the milk, as it had made father and my two children very ill—he asked me to give him the milk back again, and he would take it away—I said it was where he nor I could touch it—he said "You won't want me till Saturday night when I bring the money"—I said no, I should not, and he shook hands and went away—my father was ill for more than a week afterwards, but he was very ill for two days, the boy was ill Sunday and Monday and Tuesday, and the girl was only poorly Sunday afternoon.
Cross-examined: I am a widow—I know Mrs. Gill, she lives close by—I did not know the baby when Mrs. Gill had the care of it—the mother told me she was going to take it from Mrs. Gill—I don't think I ever spoke to Mrs. Gill before I had the child—I am a charwoman—the mother was very fond of the child and so was the father—they told me the reason they were not married was because he had an aged mother living with him, and they intended to get married as soon as things went a little different—he said he was waiting for an opportunity to get married—Emma Moss told me she had married the prisoner since this charge has been made against him—I had not asked him to bring me a tin of milk before 9th May—I am certain I did not—we used Swiss milk, because the child had always been fed on Swiss milk, and when, the prisoner brought this he said it was English condensed milk and I saw that it was—I put it on the sideboard and no one touched it—when my father was ill he took two seidlitz powders at night, and he took some castor oil on Monday night—he is sixty-six—he had bacon and greens for dinner on Sunday—on the Saturday night when the prisoner brought the milk I said it looked funny, it was different in appearance from the Swiss milk—I never had any Aylesbury milk but that once—I have not looked at any since—usually on a Saturday when the prisoner came we had a glass of ale together—I did not that Saturday because I was sitting having something to eat—we did not go to the public house—I had the beer in the house when he came, and I asked him if he would have a drop—he said that the child, was getting on very well indeed, and he was very pleased to see it—the first week I had the child I said it was naughty at nights—its nipple had been ruptured, and I said I should know what to do with it, and I spoke to the mother about it when she came to see me—I spoke to a woman at the top of the court and said I wanted to find out where the prisoner lived—the woman told me her husband worked at the same shop with him—that was on the Tuesday afternoon, and he came the same night—he said at once, "What is the matter?"—I mentioned about the false addresses at the police court—the mother said she lived at Tavi-stock Street, Tottenham Court Road, and she was living at Notting Hill—I had got the prisoner's address 229, Great College Street, Camden-town—I went there and there was no such person there—I don't know that he lived at 269—when he asked for the milk he said, "Give it to me and I will take it away"—he did not say, "I will take it back to the grocer"—the powder was in little lumps on the milk'—I never saw condensed milk with lumps when there was no powder—being opened at the wrong end the bottom became the top; the reading was upside-down.
Re-examined. The powder was not mixed to the bottom—it seemed smoother underneath than it was at the top—I might have put the spoon
half way down—the prisoner had never brought any milk before and I did not ask him—I gave the tin of milk to Mr. Rudman.
RICHARD CHARLES RUDMAN . I am Sanitary Inspector of the Kensington Vestry—on 11th May I received a tin of condensed milk from the last witness and I gave it to Mr. Langman in the same state as I received it—I just examined the condition of it and closed it up again, and put it In my desk.
Cross-examined. There is a difference in colour between Swiss and English condensed milk, but I have never had much to do with any except the Swiss milk.
Cross-examined. I have been making inquiries at different chemists' shops about the sale of white precipitate—I find it is very commonly sold—I don't know for what purpose—I know that the prisoner's masters have been his bail, and have been finding the funds for his defence.
WILLIAM HARDWICKE . I am public analyst for Paddington—I received from Jonas Hall a tin of English condensed milk which had been opened at the bottom instead of the top, and about a quarter of it had been taken out—there were some slight specks of a white powder scattered about on the sides, and a few on the surface—the milk being sticky they stuck to the sides—I picked them out, and placed them on a watch glass, and found that they were an insoluble white precipitate—I thought at first it might be arsenic, but upon analysis I found—it was not—white precipitate is a poison—I picked out the particles from the surface of the milk—I did not observe any in the bulk of milk—white precipitate is sold by chemists in 5 pennyworths and mixed for vermin—I am not aware that it is ever used internally for children—the effect of administering a very small quantity would produce a burning sensation about the mouth, and throat—even a grain or two would produce some sensation—it would take a larger quantity than two or three grains to kill a child eight months old; I should say ten or fifteen, but it would depend upon whether the sickness threw it up again—it was a very small quantity indeed that I took out of the tin—it is a thing easily detected—half a grain can be detected very readily, or less than that.
Cross-examined. The evidence of the small quantity was so distinct that I did not analyse the bulk—I did not take out all the specks, but I took sufficient for analysis—all that were there were visible—it was not all mixed with the milk; it stuck on the surface and sides—I don't think the whole of the specks would amount to two or three grains—it was on the surface and sides alone that I found the specks—it did not sink down—full three-quarters of the contents of the tin were still there—it could have been stirred up-with the milk, but that was not so in this case—I think possibly it might have been dropped, or spilt, or fallen in, or in some manner have come upon the surface.
Re-examined. I have heard the evidence with reference to the illness of the two children and the father—the symptoms that I have heard described are consistent with the poisoning by white precipitate.
HENRY FULLER . I am a labourer and live at 60, Princes Road—Mrs. Carter is my daughter—I was present when the prisoner came on the Saturday and brought the tin—my daughter undid the paper and said "Whoever opened this has opened it at the wrong end," and the prisoner said it did not matter—he said "That is the English condensed milk, and you are using the Swiss"—as he went out' of the room he said "You will see how the child gets on with that next week"—I eat some on my rice—the first sensation I had after it was a burning in my throat, and then I was sick two or three times, and my stomach was bad with a pinching pain that lasted all Sunday night—I went to my work on the Monday morning, "but I was too ill and was obliged to return—I had pain in my stomach then—I suffered several days and by degrees it left me.
Cross-examined. I had bacon and greens for dinner on Sunday and two seidlitz powders—I had castor oil on the Monday—there was a little Swiss condensed milk in the house on Saturday evening and Sunday morning—there was no other milk in the house at the time this was used—the children did not have some of it for breakfast—I was there—I went to church at 11 o'clock and the children went to school about 10 o'clock—they came back first—I was up on Sunday morning about 6.30 and the children at 7.30—I was down in the sitting-room before I went to church—on Saturday evening the prisoner came about 6 or 7 o'clock—I did not go out that evening—I went to bed about 9 o'clock and slept in the room where the milk was—Mrs. Carter went to bed the same time as I did.
ARTHUR HEARD . I am assistant to Mr. Jones, grocer, of 149, Kentish Town Road—we sell English condensed milk—I have seen the tin produced here—I believe that came from our shop—it is such as we sell—I have known the prisoner to have been to our shop for the last eighteen months—I have served him about twelve months—I recollect him buying a tin of condensed milk—I think it was on the 9th May—I believe I opened it for him—it presented the usual appearance of English condensed milk—I handed it in that state to the prisoner—there was nothing put in it before I handed it to him—we open them at either end—it is a daily occurrence to open them at the wrong end.
Cross-examined. I cut it all round, except just a little bit—that would easily be torn off—I knew the prisoner well by serving him constantly.
DAVID WOOLFORD (Detective X). On 20th May I went to 25, Richmond Street, Bath Street, St. Luke's—I found the prisoner there and told him I had a warrant for his apprehension for attempting to poison the child—he said "All right I will go with, you, let me put on my coat; so help me God I am innocent"—on the way to the station he said "How did you find me out?"—I said "There is no trouble to find anyone out when you know where they are"—he asked me at the Police Court if I had found out anything about him—I said "No"—he said "I did not think you would"—he told me he bought the tin of milk at a corner shop in Castle Street, Kentish Town, but he did not know the number.
WILLIAM HARDWICKE (re-examined). There are some dried portions of the milk now in the tin, which might be taken for specks of white precipitate, but I can see a few specks of the powder, very few pieces indeed, not exceeding half a dozen, I see also some dried portions of the milk itself, which might have fallen from the top.
poison at all—the knife which I opened the tin with, had not been used for anything else.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY ;— Seven Years Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, June 12th, 1874.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MR. CHARLES MATTHEWS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. FRITH the Defence.
ANN CLEVES . I live at No. 1, Newman Place, and am a widow—on Monday, 2nd March, I was living with the prisoner at 24, Cardigan Road, for a few days to take care of her while she was ill—on the second morning I gave her her breakfast in bed, she complained very much indeed, and I advised her to keep quite, she said she would, providing I would lay along side of her, for a time—she kept saying all the morning about her sufferings, and said death was preferable to her sufferings—she was my adopted daughter, I brought her up from seven years of age to twenty-one—she is now forty—I laid down by the side of her and fell off in a doze—she was restless—I got off the bed suddenly, and took a knife from her side—I went and sat in a chair—she suddenly attacked me—she said "You shan't leave me"—she rushed on to me and tore my jacket, I held on as well as I could, opened the window and cried out "Murder"—she took me by the hair of my head, and beat my head on the bars of the-grate, saying all the time "You shan't leave me"—froth was coming from her mouth, I recovered myself by her night dress and the iron bedstead—I took up the chair and I knocked the knife out of her hand, and she broke the wash hand basin across my head—when I came to myself she had again got the knife—she had cut my throat first, then she was going to cut her own throat, and I took hold of her,—she drew the knife through my hand, and chopped me on the other, and I fell helpless to the ground—I had been crying out "Murder!" all the time—she made another attempt on her throat—I was nearly insensible—during-the whole of that time she was repeating "Death, death, that is preferable to my sufferings"—when I laid down at the; side of her she put her arm around my neck and kissed me, and said what a good mother I had been.
Cross-examined. I had been sent for to take care of her, because her head was bad—her husband came and said she was very ill, and he must put her in an asylum, as something was very wrong—she has been married thirteen years—I have always treated her as a daughter, and she me as a mother—I don't believe she knew what she was doing at the time—I don't believe she would harm me—she said she was so sorry she was afflicted, as she would be my good friend in my old days—the doctor said. "Keep knives and things from her"—she once nearly set her bedroom on fire—she would beat her head about—she was tearing her hair and running hair pins in her poor head—I told Mr. Kneller I was afraid to stop, and did not like ray position at all—this was the change of life, women who have had no children at the change of life, their symptoms are worse than those that have had children—the blood flies upwards on the brain—this night she was thoroughly wild, like a maniac.
2nd March last—the prisoner was admitted that afternoon—she was suffering from a wound in the throat, and fracture of the left knee cap—there were several bruises about her—the prosecutrix was suffering from a superficial wound on the leftside of the throat—she had two ribs fractured, also on the left side, and superficial wounds about her face-the prisoner remained in the hospital sixty-six days; the prosecutrix for twenty-five days—Cleves had some wounds on her hands—this knife (produced) would have caused those rounds—I have had many opportunities of watching the prisoner, and my opinion is she is not sound of mind—about forty is the age when change of life takes place; it is a kind of transitory mental derangement—a Woman can pass through the process without it—it may afterwards disappear.
Cross-examined. All these circumstances spoken of by the prosecutrix are incident to this period of life—when women have no children, the symptoms may be more aggravated—after the evidence I have heard, I am of opinion that she is of unsound mind.
WILLIAM ROBERT FREDERICK LANE . I, am a surgeon—previously to the 27th February last, I had been attending the prisoner for about a month—during that time she was' suffering from great mental disturbance, and what she came to me for was accompanied by a good deal of melancholy and depression of mind, so much so, I put her family on their guard against her—I saw her husband at my surgery—I advised him to get her into a hospital, because they were not in a position to pay—she was suffering from change of life.
Cross-examined. I agree with Dr. Mitcheson in his conclusions—I think her so out of her mind as only to be fit for an asylum.
JAMES JALLAGHAR (Police Constable K 9) I was called to 24, Cadogan Road, 2nd March last, at 2.30—on the chest of drawers, in the back room, I found this knife, with some wet blood and hair on it—prisoner was nearly naked, and her throat cut; she was very weak at the time—I took her into custody at the hospital, on 7th May.
NOT GUILTY, on the ground of insanity:. — Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, June 10th 1874
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GOODMAN" conducted the Prosecution.
MARY JANE BRADSTOCK . I am the wife of Robert Bradstock landlord of the White Hart inn—the prisoner was domestic servant—on 20th March I dismissed her—I had spoken several times to her about some missing property—she denied having it in her possession—these goods, except the aprons (produced) are mine—I never gave them to her—the value of the goods is about 1l.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not wear them while in my service—you never asked me whether I ever accused another girl of stealing them—you did not have them twelve months before you entered my service.
By THE COURT. They are not marked—I missed the brooch a long time before the prisoner began to wear it—I never lent it to her.
CHARLES BARTON . I am an assistant to Mr. Withers, pawnbroker, at West Ham—on 31st March the prisoner and Mrs. Dowse came to my shop—Mrs. Dowse pledged a petticoat, chemise, drawers, and a ring for 4s.—I am sure the prisoner was with her.
Prisoner. These things were pawned with you twelve months before I went into the service.
Witness. They were pawned 31st March, 1874.
MARY ANNE DOWSE . On the 31st March prisoner lodged at my house—I accompanied her to Mr. Withers' shop for the purpose of pawning a flannel petticoat, chemise, drawers, and a remnant—the prisoner was in the shop at the time the things were pledged—she told me the things were her's—she said Mrs. Bradstock did not give them to her, but she took them—I said she will miss them, whereupon she said "No, she has got too many"—I said "I should be very sorry to stand in your shoes"—she had the money obtained on the goods, and she bought a pair of boots with it.
ROBERT HARRIS (Detective k). I apprehended the prisoner—I told her who I was, and that I should take her into custody for stealing a lot of wearing apparel belonging to Mrs. Bradstock—she said she had not got the things—I told her I had traced them to the pawnbroker's, and she said "I know who has been telling all about it."
MRS. DOWSE (recalled.) I do not know where the brooch is—I do not know anything about the ring—I never saw it.
The Prisoner. The pawnbroker's books have been searched and the things found long before I went to live with Mrs. Bradstock—they must have been pawned by somebody else.
CHARLES BARTON (re-examined.) I know nothing of these things having been previously pledged—the prisoner's father had said that there was, on the 31st December, 1872, a petticoat and other things pledged for 2s. in the name of White, but whether they were the same as these in question I cannot say; they had been pledged and taken out in thirteen months, that is in January, 1873—the things fit a grown-up person.
GUILTY — Six Months Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MILLWOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.
REGINALD OUSELEY . I am a colonel in the Bengal Staff Corps, and reside at Pimlico—on 20th May last I was at Woolwich, and during the afternoon I was outside the Ansenal Railway Station—there was a large crowd and a good deal of pushing going on, the doors of the station were closed waiting for the Emperor's special train to start—after standing in the crowd for some time I felt a jerk at this chain—I turned round and I suspected a man who was standing near me, and whilst I was speaking to him a gentleman said something to me—I missed my watch directly—this is it (produced)
Cross-examined. When I missed it I seized on the person near—the constable did not search him; he turned out his pockets and he had no watch on him—I saw the prisoner on the 26th or 28th, and I then said he was a perfect stranger to me—I had not seen him before.
the afternoon of 20th May I was outside the Arsenal Railway Station—there was a great crowd there after the review—I saw the prisoner there loitering about in rather a suspicious manner and I watched him nearly half-an-hour—I saw him place himself in front of a gentleman and put his hands in the gentleman's pocket—I could not say that I saw the watch in his hand, but I was satisfied he had it—he placed his hand in his pocket and ran out of the crowd—I told detective Morgan to take him into custody for stealing a watch from a gentleman—the crowd made a move and I saw the gentleman open his coat and heard him say he had lost his watch.
Cross-examined. I had been to the review—I am the son of a late inspector of police—I knew Morgan as a friend—he was in plain clothes—I have given evidence upon several occasions—I have not been about with detectives—I went into the crowd and followed the prisoner wherever he went—I never lost sight of him all the half-hour—I went wherever he went.
WILLIAM MORGAN (Policeman R 155.) On the afternoon of 20th May I was on detective duty outside the Arsenal Station—the prisoner was pointed out to me by the last witness, and I followed him into a beershop—he appeared to be looking for somebody—he walked out without taking anything, I followed him some distance and then he turned back as if he was going towards the Arsenal Station—I stopped him and told him I wanted the watch he had stolen from a gentleman opposite the station a few minutes ago—he said "I have no watch"—I said "I know you have, I intend searching you"—I searched him and in his right hand trousers pocket I found the watch produced with, the bow broken off—he said "If I have got a watch somebody must have "put it my pocket."
Cross-examined. He gave his brother's address—he refused his own address—I do not know that he has been a builder—I have known Alfred Crouch about five years—I was not present when the pockets of another man were turned out.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
443. EDWARD GRANT (29) , PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling house of William Purton, and stealing therein, one coat, one shawl, and other articles his property.— -Seven Years Penal Servitude.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
WILLIAM LANE (Policeman). On 10th May, about 12.30 at night, I was in Bear Lane, Gravel Lane—I saw the prisoner, who I had known before, with three others, dragging a drunken woman along the pavement—I crossed the road and turned my light on, and said, "Where are you going with this woman?"—the woman said, "Oh, do policeman take me away from these fellows; I live in Union Place, Edward Street"—I said "Let go of the woman," and they dropped her on the pavement—I lifted her up and put her against a house—one of the men said "A policeman gave her to us and we were taking her home"—I said, "It is my place to look after
drunken people, not yours"—we got round the next turning, into Church Street, and a constable came up—I said "Did you give this woman to those fellows to take home"—he said "No, I did not"—I then said to the prisoner and the others "Get away out of the street"—I stepped off the kerb on to the road to follow one of the men—the prisoner walked behind, within two or three yards of me—when I got about seven or eight yards up Bear Lane, I received a blow on the right hand side of the face from behind—my hat was knocked off at the same time—I looked round to the left, and saw the prisoner spring past me—I said "Halloo, my lad, I know you"—at that time I came over giddy—he did not say a word—they all four went off as if there was a signal—there was no one else but the prisoner near enough to strike me—I am certain he is the man—I have known him five or six years, and I could pick him out of 5,000—it was a heavy blow in the face, and almost knocked me down; I thought it might be a life-preserver, it came with such force—it was a weapon—I was not aware I was cut till I got to the station—I made" my way to the pavement and recovered myself—I picked up my hat and went back to the constable, who had remained with the woman in Church Street—I went to the station with him, and the surgeon came and dressed my wound—I have got my great coat here which I wore that night; it was cut through the collar and through the brass plate which fastens the number to the collar—I bled all the way to the station, and till the surgeon arrived—I am under the care of the doctor now—I was confined to my bed a week—I saw Fuller and Knowles in custody at the police-court, but I would not say that they were there at the time—I declined to identify them—the prisoner I am sure about.
Cross-examined. I did not actually see the blow struck—it was not dark—a lamp stood about eight yards from the corner where it happened—the blow came very suddenly indeed, and my helmet fell off—the prisoner did not stand by whilst I picked it up; the four ran away as if there was a signal given—Knowles was taken into custody on account of what the prisoner stated—Knowles did not appear like the prisoner to me, for I knew the prisoner so well; he might appear so to a stranger—the prisoner was the only one that I should identify—I knew his name and all about him—I don't know that the fourth man was named Watson, and that he was tried and convicted yesterday—three of them described themselves as militiamen.
THOMAS STOCKER (Policeman M 220). On the morning of the 10th May, about 12.20, I saw the prisoner with three other men in Southwark Street, under the railway arch—they had a woman—she was very drunk—I walked up and asked them what was the matter—they told me the woman was drunk and they were going to take her home—I asked the woman where she lived, and she told me Union Place, Edward Street—I asked her if she could walk and she could not—I said to the man "If you don't take her away I shall," and they walked away towards Bear Lane with her, and I next saw them with Lane in Church Street—I never saw them after—they went round the corner with Lane, and about two minutes after he came back to me and I saw his face was bleeding—Knowles and Fuller were two of the men—I said so before the magistrate—I have not seen the fourth man since—I did not know any of them before.
DAVID JOHN LEWARN (Detective M). In consequence of information I went to the Militia Barracks at Kingston on the 20th May, and apprehended the prisoner—I told him I should take him into custody for stabbing Constable
Lane on the 10th May in Bear Lane—he said "I was, not there"—coming from the barracks to the railway station, he said "I shan't suffer for what others have done"—the same day, before we went before the magistrate, he said "I will tell you who the two are that did it, that is Fuller and Knowles; they are both now at the militia at Kingston, and if you search Knowles' clothes you will find a white-handled knife that I saw him stab the policeman with; if it is not in his private clothes you will find it in his uniform; he wetted the knife with his tongue and stabbed the policeman"—I went back to Kingston and apprehended Knowles and Fuller, and brought them to the Southwark Police Court, and in the prisoner's presence they said they were there but they saw nothing of the constable being stabbed; they went away when they were told to go—they were remanded, and discharged as there was no evidence—I did not find any knife in Knowles' clothes—there was a knife taken down to Kingston by Fuller.
Cross-examined. It was given to the militia sergeant by Fuller—the sergeant is not here—I have the knife here—it was given to a brother officer of mine by the sergeant at Kingston.
THOMAS EVANS . I am divisional surgeon—about 1 o'clock on the morning of 10th May I saw Lane at the station—he was suffering from an incised wound in the right cheek, about 2 inches long and nearly half an inch deep—it was a severe wound, such as this knife would have inflicted—the coat had been cut in the same direction as the wound, as if the knife had glanced off the cheek on to the coat—it must have seen a blow given with considerable violence—the man is still under my care—he had lost a considerable quantity of blood—no doubt the blow was given from behind.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:" I am innocent. I charge the man Knowles with doing it. I saw Knowles wiping the blood from the knife with his mouth. I said 'You have not stabbed him?' he said 'Yes, I have;' I said 'He is sure to have me, because I'm the only one be knows.' Toddy, who is in Newington Gaol, heard him say so."
Witnesses for the Defence.
FREDERICK WATSON . I have been tried and convicted yesterday for uttering counterfeit coin—I was assisting to get this drunken woman home on this evening—she was lying down on the ground, drunk; she could not stand—a constable asked us if we knew the woman—we said "No;" but there was another woman standing there; she said she knew she lived in Gravel Lane, and we said we would assist in taking her to Gravel Lane—in assisting her, she fell under a lamp—then the policeman who was stabbed came round, and he said "Go away;" with that, he kicked me and shoved me in the road, and served Fuller the same way—we walked away, and that man (the prisoner) with us, and stood on the pavement underneath the lamp, and something started, and we all ran together: and when we got out into Gravel Lane there was something said about stabbing a policeman—which one did it I could not say—I don't think it was the prisoner—after we stopped running, I asked what we were running for, and the prisoner said there was a policeman stabbed Knowles was there.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner before, but that night was the first time I. was in his company—I could not say who stabbed the policeman—the prisoner was standing with me under the lamp when it was done.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been, before convicted in September, 1872— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
ELIZABETH HENDY . I am a widow—I keep the Duke of Cambridge public-house, Upper Kennington Lane—between 3 and 4 o'clock in the morning of 8th May I was awoke by hearing a noise, and came down to see what was the matter—I found a constable there and the prisoner in custody—the prisoner said he was a stranger in London, and I asked him if he was a stranger, how he knew I was Mrs. Hendy—he had got through the back kitchen window, which had been fastened the previous, night—they are usually locked up safe—the drawers had all been opened and turned over in disorder—the opera glass and spoon were taken out—they are worth about 1l.—they were safe when I went to bed—there had' been an attempt to break open the door of the bar-parlour—there was an iron instrument, a poker, a bar broken in two and a domince.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My children might not have taken the glasses out of the drawers before going to bed—they had been out to a party—I could not Say whether you could open the window without using violence.
Prisoner. I am guilty of opening the window, but not of forcing it—I never saw a bolt.
LEONARD DUNFORD . I am potman to the last witness—when I went to bed this night the back kitchen window and the doors were properly fastened, the premises secured, the shutters closed and fastened—I found the back kitchen window open when I went down stairs.
DAVID SPALL (Policeman L 96.) On the morning 8th May, about 2.45 I was passing the Duke of Cambridge—I heard a noise inside, stopped, listened, thought there was something wrong, went round to the back kitchen window and saw it open—I got assistance, called up the inmates and saw the prisoner in the parlour—I asked him what he had done, he said nothing, I took him from his hiding-place, I said "What are you up to there"—he made no reply—I found this knife behind him which would go between the frame of a window to put the fastner back—this lantern and articles were found—the drawers had been ransacked and the things shifted about—the lantern was found in the passage near the bar-parlour—he had got the doors sufficiently far open for you to get your fingers in—he had broken the hammer.
Prisoner's Defence. Is it credible that I should only take one spoon out of a basket full?—The doors were not opened when the constable apprehended me.
GUILTY .—He further PLEADED GUILTY to a former conviction of felony.— Seven years Penal Servitude.
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE SCARLETT . I am assistant manager of the Butchers' Department of Spiers and Pond, Water Lane—Bumstead had been carman in their service for two years, Cooke had been in their employ for nine years—it
was Bumstead's duty to deliver meat to the Mansion House—I saw the meat delivered to him—I afterwards saw apiece of surloin of beef at the station—Bumstead ought not to have had it—it was worth 28s., and weighed 28 lbs.—Bumstead in my presence admitted when he was first in custody that he took the meat, and disposed of it to Cooke—when he was brought to the shop he said that when he got to the Mansion House he found that he had got an extra loin of beef, and didn't like to bring it back to the shop for fear of making a disturbance, he therefore disposed of it.
By THE COURT. I did not see the meat, which was handed over to Bumstead before he was stopped at the Mansion House—I did not see it compared with the ticket—I cannot say whether there was a piece too much or not.
Bumstead. I did not use the word "disposed," I said I "gave" the meat.
HENTRY HILL . I am a sort of odd man, occasionally employed at Spiers and Pond's—on the 18th May I received a parcel tied up in brown paper from Cooke, wrapped up in a white apron, and he asked me to take it to his house, for which he gave me 2d. for a pint of beer, in the stable yard—I did not know what it contained—I was going in towards his house when a constable stopped me and took away the parcel—I don't know whether Cooke keeps a lodging house for men to dine—I know he lodges one or two men, I have heard so in the yard.
GEORGE UPSOM (Detective Officer A). I stopped Hill with a parcel, and took him to the station—from what he said, I afterwards went to Cooke, told him I was an officer, and had stopped Hill, who was in custody for stealing the meat; that Hill said he gave him 2d. to take it to Cookys house—Cooke said "I know nothing about it"—I said "Then what Hill says is untrue?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You must come to the station" with me: you will see Hill there, and hear what he says"—I took Cooke, and he said at the station, "I did give Hill a piece of beef to take to my house, and I gave him a pint of beer to take it there"—he said a carman named Bumstead brought the beef into the yard that evening, and asked Cooke whether he could do with it; Cooke answered Bumstead "Yes, I believe I can," and received it from him—next morning I saw Bumstead at Spiers Pond's, at 9 o'clock—I told him who I was, and that I should take him in custody for being concerned with Cooke and Hill in stealing this beef—he hesitated for a moment, and said "What meat?"—I said "The piece you gave to Cooke last night"—he then said "Let us go to the butchers' shop"—we did so—he went and spoke to the manager and assistant manager—I heard him tell them that he took the piece of beef with other meat to the Mansion House, and that the meat was weighed at the Mansion House, and that it was correct, and that he had only one loin of beef on his bill, but took two from the shop.
BUMSTEAD and COOKE— GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Twelve Month' Imprisonment.
MR. TICKELL conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE PERCIVAL . I live in Nelson's Fields, Merton—I remember Sunday, 17th May—at 10.30 I went to bed—the door was shut and locked—the shutters w ere up, but no screw in—I got up in the morning at 6.30—
I missed the bacon and found the door unfastened—the window was broken—I missed a quantity of sweets, tobacco, And a few cigars—I identify these articles as mine—I do not know the prisoner—in consequence of information I went to the door of the next house but one to me—the prisoner was there—he fetched the things out of a cupboard—he said he found them under my windows at 5 o'clock—I may have sold prisoner some things on Sunday morning—I can swear I did not sell these things to him.
Prisoner. I bought the loaf of bread and the cigars which he claimed.
Witness. No you did not—I might have served you with a loaf of bread and some eggs, but with no cigars or bacon.
Prisoner. The woman in the shop sold me the bacon and cigars—I bought the bacon in the morning—the man who picked up a plate on this morning and took it into the prosecutor's house went into the shop with me to buy bacon and eggs.
Witness. A plate was picked up and brought into my place—I am positive I did not sell him the bacon.
BETSEY SHADBOLT . I am wife of George Shadbolt, labourer, of Merton—on Sunday night, 17th May, I was standing outside my door at 12 o'clock, the prisoner was walking up and down—he asked me what time it was—I said "12"—he said "You are waiting up for your husband"—I said "Yes," and shut the door—ten minutes afterwards I opened the door and heard a jump as from the prosecutor's wall and saw the prisoner standing outside—I went in and shut the door.
Prisoner. What she says is altogether false—I know nothing whatever about the woman.
GEORGE SHADBOLT . I am a labourer and live next door to the prosecutor on this Monday, about 12.20, I saw the prisoner standing against the prosecutor's shutters—he followed round the house to see whose house I went in.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I can swear you are the man, because you followed me round.
JOHN DAY (Policeman E 122). From information I received on Monday, 18th May, at 9 a.m., I went to the prosecutor's house—I was shown a window broken sufficient to admit a man, and took a description of the things said by the prosecutor to have been stolen—at about 6.30, while I was being shown about the house, I saw two small packets on the window ledge of the next cottage, and obtained some keys, but they did not fit—the prisoner came up; I said, "Do you live here" he hesitated for a moment, and said, "Yes, I have got a lot of things I picked up last night; there was a lot of men breaking glass last night"—I said "Open the door," and he did so, and on the mantle-shelf were those two packets—I said "Have you any bacon?"—he said "Yes," and handed that down out of the cupboard—I said "Have you any biscuits, tobacco, and sweets?" and he handed them down one at a time—I said "Have you any cigars?" he said "Yes, in my coat pocket," which was hanging on the bedroom door—I said "How do you account for having those in your working suit?" he said "Oh, I wore these things all last night;" I then took him into custody—he said, "I never stole them, I picked them up"—there was not a particle of furniture in the house.
EMMA DUSTER . I am the wife of Isaac Duster, a carpenter, of High Street, Merton—on Sunday, 17th May, between 8 and 9 o'clock, he came and asked me to let him have the keys of this cottage—I let him have them—he came back, but did not return them.
Prisoners Defence. I picked the things up in the street; I thought somebody had got drunk and lost them. I am not guilty.
GUILTY —He was further charged with a previous conviction at Clerkenwell, in 1866, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY— Ten Years Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. FRITH conducted the prosecution; and MR. METOALFE, Q.C. and MR. STRAIGHT the defence.
The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. O'COMRELL and DOUGLAS conducted the prosecution.
BENJAMIN SPINES . I am barman to Charles Punchard, of the Castle public-house, Kent Street, Borough—on 30th May, about 3.30, the prisoner came in and asked for change for a shilling—I broke it with my teeth, and told him it was bad; this is it (produced)—I went to show it to my master—the prisoner ran out; I ran after him, but didn't catch him—I saw him next day in custody.
Prisoner. I was not there that day. Witness. You were there all" the morning; I know you as well as any other regular customers—I do not know that you were there in the evening having beer—I was away from 7 o'clock to 9.25.
MARY ANN WILLIAMS . My brother keeps a coffee-shop in Church Street, Borough—on 14th May, about 12.15,1 served the prisoner and another man with two cups of coffee and some bread and butter, which came to 4d.—the prisoner gave me a florin, and I gave him 1s. 8d. change—they saw me try the florin and give it to Margaret Howard to try—they ran out, and I went after the prisoner, brought him back, and gave him in charge—I did not serve any other persons in the shop—my sister served them.
Prisoner. Did not I give you 1s., and did not you say "I have not got 6d., will halfpence do?" A. "No."
MARGARET HOWARD . I am employed at the Shakespeare coffee house—on 14th of May I saw the-prisoner and another man there—I saw the last witness hand a florin to her sister, who handed it to me, and I took it over the road to her brother's, and brought it back without losing sight of it—I gave it to Mrs. Williams, and she gave it to a constable.
FREDERICK SMITH (Policeman M 139). I saw the prisoner come out of the coffee-shop—he walked towards me—Mrs. Williams stopped him, and he was given into my charge, with the florin—he said "I did not give her any money at all—I received this shilling from Spines—I found on the prisoner 8d. in bronze.
Prisoner's Defence. When the woman brought me my coffee I gave her Is., that was every farthing I was possessed of—she gave me 7d. change, saying "Do you mind taking halfpence"—two other persons were there, but I don't know who they were—I did not give Mr. Spines a bad shilling the day before.
He was further charged with a previous conviction of stealing hay, in April, 1871, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.*†— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PLAIT conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM WHEATLEY . I am an inmate of St. Saviour's Union—Daniel Dorman was also an inmate—he was seventy-one years old—I am sixty-three—on the 11th May, about 3 o'clock, we were both pulling a truck along the Blackfriars Road—he was on one side of the handle and I on the other—going towards the Surrey Theatre—we were on the nearside—about 8 or 10 feet from the footway with one wheel on the tramway—the prisoner was going in the direction of Blackfriars Bridge, in the opposite direction to me—he was behind a bus, and his off wheel caught my off "wheel, which turned the truck round and Dorman fell partly underneath the truck and the wheel of the van which went over his leg—the truck struck me in the back—prisoner tried to get between the bus and the truck, and that is how the accident occurred—I did hear the prisoner call out.
Cross-examined. Dorman was not an infirm ma p—he was rather tender footed, but a strong man—it was a very light load, we had to draw 200 bundles of wood, averaging a pound each—the road where the accident happened had been newly stoned—we did not sway backwards and forwards in consequence of the stones—the prisoner was going at a gentle trot—we were meeting the omnibus—Dorman was not deaf.
JOHN ROGERS .—I am a labourer, living at Orange Street and am a stranger to all parties—on this day, about 2.45 o'clock, I was walking up the Black-friars Road, towards the Surrey Theatre—I saw the old men pulling a truck towards the theatre—about 8 or 9 feet from the kerb—I saw the prisoner coming with a timber carriage loaded, behind an omnibus going towards Blackfriars Bridge—the omnibus was about 6 feet away from the truck—the bus was not in a line with the truck—in my opinion, there was not room for the prisoner, if he tried to get between the bus and the truck there was only one horse to the van—he was going at the rate of four or five miles an hour—I did not hear him call out to the old men—his fore wheel caught the wheel of the truck, which sent the old man under the prisoner's hind wheel, and it went over his leg—I picked him up and took him to Dr. Smith's—the prisoner drove on fully 30 yards—he might have stopped—he was told he had run over the man, he said "Very well, I will see all righted."
Cross-examined. The prisoner's cart was heavily loaded with timber—he was sitting on the top of the timber, something like 10 feet from the ground—he might have run against the houses and not have known it—when he was told he said he was not aware that he had run over anybody—he had been drinking, he was not sober—the old men went along straight enough—the truck was meeting the omnibus—the omnibus did not slacken its pace—it was going slowly—I should think he could see the truck—three or four persons assisted me to take the old man to the doctor's—the prisoner was staggering about outside the doctor's shop—he was tipsy—he was excited—the Coroner's Jury returned a verdict of accidental death.
ALBERT WALLACE . I am an wholesale frame maker in Blackfriars Road—I saw the accident happen opposite my door—the old men were going towards the obelisk, partly on the tramway and partly on the stones—the prisoner was coming in an opposite direction—I saw him 50 or 60 yards off—he pulled from the near side of the road and passed between the omnibus and the truck—the omnibus was going the same way as the truck—I think there
was barely room to allow him to pass—I should think he must have seen the old men—I heard the old man call out plain enough—I think the I prisoner might have heard him also—the wheel of his van caught the handle of the truck, and the deceased went under the wheel of his van—I called to him to stop four or five times, so that he might have heard it—he heard me call, decidedly, but he went along a trifle faster—a gentleman tried to stop him—his language was not of a regretful tone—he was not sober. I have no doubt of that, by the way he went on—he jumped down and begun to abuse the gentleman who had stopped him.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not say he didn't know he had done any harm when before the Magistrate—my evidence was taken down at the police-court—I never said the prisoner said he didn't know he had done any harm—the depositions being read contained that statement—it was not in my statement, it was taken down in mistake, I 'didn't hear him say so—road there was very rough, it had been newly stoned and there was a steam-roller—the prisoner's van made the usual noise that vans do going over stones—the truck was going the same way as the omnibus—the prisoner was going" the opposite way—the van was not going behind the omnibus—there was only one bus—his right side would be the left side of the bus—the prisoner went on the off side.
THOMAS ARDILL (Policeman M 150.) I knew the deceased who died in the hospital—that statement was made in my presence—he was sworn by the Magistrate's clerk—he signed his deposition—I was on duly about 10.13—I heard some cries and saw a gentleman holding prisoner's horse—he was drunk no doubt about it—I told him—he had run over a man a little lower down—he said he did not know he had—he said at the station "This is the first time I have been here, make it as easy as you can."
Cross-examined, I made inquiries about the prisoner at Mr. Ross'—they told me during the time he had been there that there was nothing against him—he is still in the employ of Mr. Ross.
EDWIN DAVIS —I am house surgeon at St. Thomas Hospital—Dorman was brought in suffering from fracture of the leg—I attended him until he died—I was present when the leg "was taken off, which I considered was rendered necessary by the injuries sustained by him—he must have died even if the operation had not been performed—it kept him alive in a measure—he died on the 18th from exhausted sloughing of the wound, caused by the injury and the necessary operation.
Cross-examined. I should think he was a strong man for his age—when before the coroner prisoner stated that, "I was not furiously driving, only going at walking pace; as I was passing the bus slackened its pace and caused me to go on to the off side."
The Prisoner received a good character— GUILTY — Three Months Imprisonment.
Before Lord Chief Baron Kelly.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 13TH JULY, 1874.