CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SECOND SESSION, HELD DECEMBER 11TH, 1876.
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
COUNTIES OF MIDDLESEX, BERKSHIRE, ESSEX, HERTFORDSHIRE, KENT, SURREY, AND SUSSEX, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Pursuant to an Order in Council of 23rd October, 1876, issued under the Winter Assize Act.
Held on Monday, December 11th, 1876, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR THOMAS WHITE , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir CHARLES EDWARD POLLOCK , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; THOMAS SIDNEY , Esq., Sir WILLIAM ANDERSON ROSE , Knt., WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir CHARLES WHETHAM, Knt., JAMES FIGGINS , Esq., HENRY EDMUND KNIGHT , Esq., and GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS ,. Knt. Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., 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.
WILLIAM QUARTERMAINE EAST, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WHITE, MAYOR. SECOND 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, December 11th, 1876.
Before Mr. Recorder.
106. DEMETRIUS MAVROCORDATO (16), was indicted for stealing, whilst—employed under the Post-Office, a post-letter, containing a silk stocking and a sheet of paper, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.
MR. METCALFE, Q.C., and MR. SLIDE conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD MARTIN . I am overseer of the sorters in the newspaper branch of the General Post-Office—on 18th of last month I was on duty at the Midland sorting division—the prisoner was on duty there as a collector; his duty was to collect newspapers and book packets from the general sorting, and convey them to the dispatch by the Midland mails—about 7 p.m. I observed the prisoner go to the mis-sort letter boxes, which he had no right to do, take a packet 'from a shelf, and convey it to the Midland division, which he had to collect for—he placed it on the Midland table, and I saw him looking at it; he left it there—I examined it, and placed it in the mis-sort box attached to that division—it was his duty then to clear his mis-sorted newspapers and book packets to the blind division—he brought the same packet back again with another collection from the general sorting—I saw him examining the packet there—he then subsequently, on his way to the urinal, which was just in the rear of the Midland division, placed the packet in his left breast coat pocket—I waited for some few minutes, knowing that his collection was getting in arrear—I followed him into the urinal; he was in the further partition—I placed myself in the next compartment to him—I there, heard the rustling of paper—I looked over the side of the partition, and distinctly saw him breaking the packet open—I took him by the arm, turned him round sharply, and told him to return to the office and get on with his duty—he then dropped the packet at my feet, put his hands together, and exclaimed "For God's sake, sir, don't take any notice of it"—I then asked him what it was he had dropped at his feet—he said "A packet"—I told him to pick it up, and as I was in duty bound, I took him to the superintendent's room to explain what he was going to do with the packet—he picked it up and took it with him—I sent for the superintendent, and upon his asking him what he was going to do
with the packet he admitted that he had stolen it—the superintendent asked him whether he had stolen it, and he said he had—the address that had been on the packet was afterwards found in the urinal and brought in by a boy—it was addressed to Mrs. Thompson, of Dumfries, and it has the post-mark of St. Leonard's-on-Sea—this (produced) is it; it corresponds with the other portion of the wrapper of the packet—this is the same packet I had seen before on the table in the Midland division—it contains a magenta silk stocking and a letter—there appears to have been another address written on the inner cover, and it had been sent through the Post-Office again with another wrapper over it—the post-mark is the 18th; if it had been posted on the 18th it would have been in the office that day in time to be despatched by the night mail—the prisoner was given into custody—he asked for forgiveness—he said to the constable who took him in charge "For God's sake forgive me."
HENRY RUMBOLD . I am a constable attached to the Post-Office—I was called in on 18th by the superintendent—I there saw the prisoner and the packet—as soon as I got in I told him he would be charged with stealing the packet—he went on his knees directly, and said "Do forgive me, do forgive me" several times.
Prisoner's Defence. I am not guilty of having stolen the packet. I took it out of the blind box intending to deliver it at the sorting table, but from necessity I went to the urinal, and there the packet broke. I am guilty of a careless fault, and that is all I did not intend to steal it or take it out of the Post-Office.
GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT—Monday, December 11th, 1875.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.
EMMA GOODHAM . My brother keeps the Queen's Arms beerhouse, 1, Mile End Road, and I assist him—on 23rd October, about 11 p.m., I served the prisoner Cohen with a glass of ale, which came to 1 1/2 d.—she gave me ft half-crown—I bent it, and told her it was bad—she paid me with a good half-crown, and went away.
EDWARD DILLON (Police-Sergeant K 19). On 23rd October, about 11 o'clock, I stopped Cohen in the Mile End Road, and said "I am told you have been passing a bad half-crown"—she said "Yes," and I took it out of her hand and took her back to the Queen's Arms—she gave her name Anne Cohen, 34-, Grove Street, Commercial Road—they refused to charge her—this is the half-crown.
CHARLOTTE TURNER . I live at 1, Star Court, St. George's, and help my grandmother at the Ship and Bell, Prinsom Street—on 17th November, between 8 and 9 p.m., the prisoners came in, and I saw Mrs. Moyes serve them with-a pint of ale—Cohen paid with a shilling—I put it in the till, and gave her the change—they then had another pint of ale, which came
to 4d., and Cohen gave me a second shilling—I put it in the till with the other shilling, and gave her 8d.—there was no other shilling there—I went home, and came back and found my grandmother looking at a shilling—the prisoners had gone.
CHARLOTTE MOYES . I am the grandmother of the last witness, and keep the Bell public-house—on 17th November I served Cohen with a pint of half and half—she gave me a shilling; I put it in my pocket, and gave her 6d. change—my granddaughter then served them again, and they left—they then came in again, and I served them-with a pint of ale, and received another shilling from Dixon, for which I gave him the change and then told him I thought that it was bad—he said I was not to suppose that he gave it to me, and Cohen said that she was sure he gave me a good one—I was sure it was the same because I had not put it in the till—I gave it back to him, and he gave me a good half-crown—all this took place while my granddaughter was away—the prisoners left, and I then examined the till, and found two bad shillings which my granddaughter had taken—there were no other shillings there—I also found a bad shilling in my pocket—there were other shillings there—my son came in, and I gave him the three bad shillings.
Cross-examined by Dixon. The shilling you gave me was not good, and I kid it on the shelf.
GEORGE TURNER . I am a son of the last witness—I was not in the house the whole time the prisoners were there—I went home to my supper at the same time as my men did, and when I came back the prisoners had gone—my mother gave me three bad shillings, "which I gave to Mr. Smith.
WILLIAM BRISTOW (Policeman K 286). I took the prisoners on 17th, after 11 p.m., and charged them with uttering counterfeit coin—they made no reply—I took the prisoners to the station, and found these shillings (produced) lying on a dish there—I searched Dixon, and found on him a florin three sixpences, 10 1/2 d. in bronze, and a fourpenny piece, and I received from the female searcher a shilling, two sixpences, four pence, and a purse.
ROBERT SMITH (Police Sergeant K 47). I was at the station when the prisoners were brought in; Dixon took two keys out of his pocket and handed them to me—he gave his address 34, George Street, St. George's-in-the-East—I went there, and found that the large key unlocked the front—door and the small one the back parlour door—I searched the room and found a double mould for making shillings of 1876 and 1871, and under the carpet under the bed a piece of paper containing six bad shillings of 1876 and 1871—in a cupboard I found this melting pot with a little metal in the bottom of it, this bottle of acid, and from 1/2 lb. to 1lb. of Plaister of Paris, and two pieces of glass—on the following Monday I made a further search, and in a table drawer found another shilling of 1866 and a file—I charged the two prisoners with having these things in their possession; Dixon made no reply, and Cohen said "I am much obliged to you"—I had kept the keys in my possession till I went again, and the door was locked.
WILLIAM GUNKEL . I live at 34, Grove Street, and am a cabinet-maker—the prisoners occupied my back parlour for five weeks—I showed the room to Sergeant Smith on the 18th November—the room was quite empty when the prisoners took it.
—this is a double mould, for a shilling of 1866 and one of 1871—these seven shillings found in the house are all bad, three are of 1866 and four of 1871, and they are all from this mould—it has been much used—they are very badly made coins, made to utter on dark nights—the mould is used for coining in a small way, from hand to mouth.
Dixon, in his defence, stated that Cohen handed him the coins in the public house, and that he did not know they were bad, and did not know that Cohen had the mould.
Cohen's Defence. A young man asked me to mind the things for him, and I took them home and put them away, so that Dixon should not see them.
DIXON— Two Years' Imprisonment.
COHEN— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; MR. RIBTON the Defence.
HENRY WILLIAM CALL . I am a baker of 289, City Road—on Sunday, 26th November, about 2.48 I went out, after securing my house—I returned home about 10.45, opened the parlour door, and had no sooner lit the gas than two men rushed by me—I caught hold of them both; one of them made a blow with some instrument, and I let go of him and held the other till a policeman came—he said "It is all a mistake"—a young woman named Soper, who had accompanied me home, was at the private door.
Cross-examined. I had left nobody in the house—it was my father's house; he had sold the business, and I had removed my family on the Saturday—I was keeping company with the young woman, and she was with me when I left in the afternoon—only some clothes and a few odds and ends were left in the house—we were away eight hours—I did not find the shop door open when I returned; I opened it with my key; I found it just as I left it—the shop is on the ground floor; there are altogether four windows on that floor.
HANNAH SOPER . I am engaged to the last witness—I went to the house. with him and remained at the street door while he opened it with a key—I saw two gentlemen by the parlour door; Call caught hold of them both; one went to hit him with something, and then came past me and hit me with his hand on the side of the face—Call held the other man till a policeman came—I heard something drop which sounded like iron, and directly afterwards a boy picked up this crowbar (produced) and gave it to me; I gave it to the policeman.
Cross-examined. The boy was standing outside in the crowd, he never went in; he is not here, he ran away—he found the instrument outside the door, I did not see him find it, but I heard it fall—I had left the house with Call that afternoon; we left in a hurry; I was going home.
EDWARD FURNESS (Policeman G 218). I was called and took the prisoner—Soper gave me this crowbar and said in the prisoner's hearing that the man had dropped it while struggling with her young man—the prisoner said that it was a mistake—I found a mark on the doorpost just by the lock, exactly the size of this crowbar.
Cross-examined. When I arrived Call had got the prisoner by the arm—he was trying to get away; they were outside the house on the pavement just by the door.
MR. RIBTON contended that there was no evidence of a breaking by the prisoner, as the house might have been broken into by somebody eke between 3 and 11 o'clock; also that there was no proof that the house belonged to William Henry Call; and that it was not then a dwelling-house.
W. H. CALL (re-examined). The house belongs to my father, Henry Call—I had slept there the night before, and was going to sleep there that night.
GUILTY of entering the house with intent to commit felony — Six Months' Imprisonment.
109. ALFRED AVANT (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the counting-house of James Francis Wallace, and stealing therein a coat, a. pipe, and other articles, his property; also to breaking and entering the counting-house of Arthur Caseley, and stealing therein a coat and other articles, having been before convicted of felony, in October, 1861— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
110. JAMES SAMUEL FIELDING (19) , to two indictments for stealing the sum of 124l. 3s. 4d. and other sums of Elizabeth Bowerbank and another, his employers— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
111. EDWARD FITZHUGH CHARLES IRVING (28) , to four indictments for uttering forged requests for the delivery of gold pencils, gold paper, and other goods, with intent to defraud; also to embezzling 10l. 6s., the money of Herbert May and another, his masters— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
112. HENRY BEAUMONT (35) , to feloniously forging and uttering a certificate of his character, with intent to defraud— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor, having already been two months in prison — To enter into his own recognisances to appear and receive judgment when called upon. And
113. HENRY HALSON (47), WALTER WHITE (31), ARTHUR WILLIAM BAINES (21), and HENRY DESBOROUGH (17), to a conspiracy to steal the goods of John Venables May; and Barnes,. White, and Desborough. to stealing 19 1/4 yards of serge of the said John Venables May; and Barnes, Halson, and Desborough to stealing other goods of the same person; the said Arthur William Barnes to stealing 45 yards of holland and other goods of the said John Venables May, his master; the said Henry Halson to stealing silk and velvet of John Venables May, his master; and the said Walter White to two other indictments for stealing 79 yards of silk, twenty-three bunches of artificial flowers, and other articles of the said John Venables May, his master.— >[Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, December 12th, 1876.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRIAGHT the Defence.
EDWARD ANDREW ARMAND . I live at 37, Swinbourne Road, Peterborough Road—in October I was in the employ of the proprietor of the "Chelsea News," Mr. Richard Russell—I know the defendant by seeing him at the office in King's Road, Chelsea—I was acting as the manager of the paper; it is published twice a week—on 9th October the defendant came, he produced this pamphlet, and asked me to read it; I glanced carelessly through it—lie then, asked me to insert it in the "Chelsea News"—he went away and called again in a quarter of an hour with a letter; this is the envelope
(produced); he gave it to me for the editor—he went away again returned almost immediately and said he had forgotten to enclose the pamphlet; he gave me a copy and told me to give it to the editor with the note—he said that he and Mr. Baum were well known to each other and that there was a difference of 3l. 10s. between them—he asked me if I had seen the pamphlet before—I said that I had not—he said he was the author and expressed his surprise, saying that he and a friend had 10,000 printed and circulated in Chelsea with a view of closing the gardens—he said his name and address were enclosed in the envelope and we might make what use of it we liked—I gave the pamphlet and the envelope to the editor, Mr. Russell—the defendant called on Wednesday for a copy of the paper—I told him he could have one, but his pamphlet was not inserted; he seemed disappointed at that—he said he wished the gardens closed, and that all that he had stated in the pamphlet was true—he left seven or eight copies, I think, at the office.
Cross-examined. I was connected with the "Chelsea News" about three months—I left on the 14th October—I did not see the enclosure at the time.
RICHARD RUSSELL . I am the editor of the "Chelsea News"—this envelope with the contents was handed to me by Armour on 9th October; the date of the letter—I opened it and read it—a pamphlet accompanied the letter, which was enclosed in the envelope—that is the letter. (Read: "Dear sir, Will you kindly insert the enclosed lines in your paper, and oblige, yours &c., John Robert Gornall.") The pamphlet was headed "The Trial of John Fox, or Fox John, or the Horrors of C*e**rne," and consisted of some hundred stanzas, alleging immoralities at the gardens—there was no printer's name to it—after reading it through, I had no doubt to whom it referred—I believed it referred to Mr. Baum, and judging from the nature of it I thought it was not fit to be inserted in any respectable paper; I did not insert it.
Cross-examined. I have been seven months editor of the "Chelsea News"—I was not editor when the agitation took place about closing the gardens—I know there was a party strongly opposed to it in a certain way.
Re-examined. There was also a very strong party in its favour.
JOHN BAUM . I am lessee and manager of the Cremorne Gardens—I have known the gardens for many years as a place of public entertainment—when I took them they had music, dancing, dramatic, and spirit licences—I went into possession in 1869—I have a lease for twenty-one years, and pay a rent of 3,000l. a year—I have laid out a large sum of money in improving the gardens; roughly, from 12,000l.—in 1873 there was an opposition to the music and dancing licences, and they we both refused—in 1874 a music licence was granted to me, and in 1875 the full licences were restored to me, as they were when I originally took the gardens—in 1874 and 1875 there was an opposition and the matter was discussed at the Sessions—no petition has been presented against my licences this year—the music and dancing licences were granted to me without any opposition—I have seen this pamphlet and read it—it was left at my private house by the prisoner—it applies undoubtedly to the Cremorne Gardens and to myself—I had to compound with my creditors during the last year—the suspension of my licences in 1874 had a very injurious effect upon the gardens, and cost me serious loss—the statements with regard to my looking with glee upon persons misfortunes are not at all true—I have never been convicted of any
offence before I took the gardens—the admission to the gardens is 1s. and of course extra charges for the different entertainments, theatre, and so on—they are open at 3 o'clock in the day during the summer season, and the ordinary time of closing is about 12.30 by the Act of Parliament—we have an entertainment of fireworksat 10.30 now—during the last season nearly 300,000 persons have been in the gardens—all classess frequent them; especially the middle class—the police have charge of the grounds—I applied to the commissioners for the police to keep order in the ground, so as to regulate the traffic, and they do so.
Cross-examined. The middle class attend the gardens; husbands and wives and their families, and stay till 12.30—I seriously say this—there is a large platform, with an orchestra in the centre, upon which people dance—the band consists of forty-two performers, and is very skilful—the dancing generally commences about 7 o'clock and goes on, at intervals, till the close—the largest number of admissions to the gardens are not between 10.30 and 12.30—of course some loose women come between those hours, naturally; but to prevent any increase, I have increased the price—I charge 2s. after 10 o'clock, to keep it very respectable—I swear that I do not know if hundreds of the women of the town come into the gardens between 10.30 and 12.30—I am-walking about the gardens and observing the women and the way in which they are dressed—there may be some loose women, but you might see a great many more at the Crystal Palace—there are refreshment bars, in various parts of the gardens, at which spirits and liquors are sold—there are also supper rooms—I generally remain on the premises till the close—I have been at the entrance, facing down the embankment where the cabs stand, and I swear I have not seen hundreds of women going away in the company of men—they, come and go certainly in the company of men—I should know some women of the town if I saw them there, but not all—in 1873 there was a very small attendance of Magistrates upon the bench on the day my licences were refused—in a pecuniary point of view the garden were more prosperous when I obtained my licences again—now and then I give free admissions to the persons who exhibit boards and distribute bills; not perpetually.
Re-examined. The boards are exhibited outside the shops—we give the people tickets from time to time—we do not pay them for doing this service, we generally expend a few orders—there was no opposition to my licences this year—when the opposition arose we had a firework entertainment and a representation of the bombardment of Strasbourg, which made a noise by firing—after that we gave a more peaceful representation with with less noise—persons who conduct themselves well are admitted; in fact I do not think I have the power to refuse anyone who does so—when the licences were renewed it was the largest number of Magistrates ever known to be present on the bench, and witnesses were called, and counsel on both sides heard.
By THE COURT. I did not know Gornall at all—I cannot tell whether he has been employed in the gardens—I have employed over 400 persons, from time to time.
GUILTY — One Months' Imprisonment.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY FRANCIS BURHOLT . On 12th October, I kept the Crown and Sceptre, Ware Street, City, I have left since—I saw my house properly closed and secured that night—about 5.30 a.m. I was awakened by the police, went downstairs and missed the iron safe, which was all right the night before—there was between 80l. and 85l. in gold and silver in it, and one Spanish Bond, No. 29,690; three bills of exchange, which had not reached maturity, and eighty-seven returned checks—a button was knocked off the fanlight over the front door, and the glass was broken—the opening was quite large enough for a person to enter; I got information from a Mrs. Sixpence, where my money was gone—this (produced) is the cash-box that was in the safe, but there is none of the money there—the safe is at the police-station—I identified it as mine.
MARGARET SIXPENCE . I lived at 10, Ware Street, with my husband, at the time of the robbery—that house faces the public-house—on the morning of 12th October, after 3 o'clock, I was awakened by knockings at the street door—the prisoner with his wife occupied the back parlour—I saw him help to carry a safe in with another man, "whom I could not swear to; the front door was shut after they carried it in—about half an hour afterwards, as near as I can say I heard a noise in the room; the door was closed—I still kept on the stairs thinking whatever they were doing at that time in the morning—in about half an hour I saw them come out of the room and go down the kitchen stairs—there is a back-door to the house, and a way out into a place called Dirty Lane—I then went to bed and know nothing more, but I heard footsteps on the stairs—the safe looked quite black; it was dark—I did not speak to the prisoner's wife—I hallooed as I went upstairs "You are a lot of thieves in this house."
By THE COURT. There is only the landlady in the front parlour; the prisoner and his wife in the back, and a man and boy downstairs—I saw the prisoner's wife with a small lamp in her hand, and I saw her sweep down the stairs and lay the lamp down.
EDWARD UPFLEMAN . I am carman to Mr. Burholt—on the night before the robbery the prisoner was in the Crown and Sceptre, he came in and out for about two hours—since that night he has never been in the house—he was in the habit of using the house before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You have not frequently used the house since the robbery—your wife has been there, but not you.
RICHARD REVELL (Detective Officer M). I examined No. 10, Ware Square, early on the morning of 12th October—there is a back entrance to the house, and the safe was found lying about 20 yards from the prisoner's back door, in Dirty Lane, broken open; and these two pieces of iron and this screw were trodden in the mud—I compared them with the safe which is at the police-station—one piece was in the doorway of the back door of the premises where Margaret Sixpence and the prisoner e—I took the prisoner on the morning of 14th November—I had been on the look out for him since the robbery—I found him in bed at 10, Ware Street, in the back parlour.
Cross-examined. I found the screw actually in the premises.
JOHN PIGEON (Police Sergeant N 64). About 4.30 a.m., on 12th October I was in the King's Head, its common name is Dirty Lane—I found an iron safe broken open, about 20 yards from the entrance of No. 10—I have seen the pieces that Keret compared with the safe, and they correspond; I also found a cash box in Dirty Lane, about 12 yards off—the prosecutor indentified them at the station.
The Prisoner. That woman Sixpence is always drunk and fighting, and is the terror of the whole street She threatened to have us all transported if she could.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SIMS the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
117. ALEXANDER RALPH (34), and EMILE LECOMTE (54) , Unlawfully obtaining from John Peter Robinson 50 yards of silk, from John Kendall & Co., twenty-six hams, and from Frederick Baker, two guns; and unlawfully and fradulently incurring liabilities for the goods. LECOMTE was further charged with unlawfully receiving the goods, and with conspiring with Ralph to defraud.
MR. J. P. GRAIN conducted the Prosecution.
CHARLES EDWARD GOULLEE . I am manager in the order department of John Peter Robinson, Oxford Street—in consequence of this order (produced), which I received in an envelope on 26th September, I ordered 50 yards of silk to be made up into a parcel, and directed to Ralph, Victor, & Co., and gave instructions to our porter, Hawkins, to deliver it.
JOHN HAWKINS . I am an assistant to John Peter Robinson, silk merchant—on 28th September, I received a parcel of 50 yards of silk from Mr. Goullee, and in consequence of what he told me, I took it to 3, Westmoreland Buildings, Aldersgate Street—I saw the name of Ralph, Victor, & Co., on the ground-floor—I went into the office, and saw Lecomte—nobody else was there—I told Lecomte I had brought the silk from John Peter Robinson's, and wished to receive a cheque—he gave me this cheque (produced)—it is drawn on the London and County Bank, Aldersgate Street, for 12l. 10s., and is dated 28/10/76, by Ralph, Victor, & Co., in favour of John Peter Robinson, or order—I did not notice, when I received it, that it was dated 28th October—I gave Lecomte a receipt for it—if I had noticed the date of it, I should not have left the goods—we afterwards received the cheque back from the bank, and I went again the following day to Messrs. Ralph, Victor, & Co.—I saw Lecomte there, and told him I wished to receive another cheque for the one dated before-hand—he said Mr. Ralph was in Paris, and would not be home before the following week—I had the original cheque with me, and I showed it to him, and took it back to Mr. Robinson's.
ALFRED WELLS . I am manager to Messrs. Kendall & Co., of Charter-house Street—on 11th September the prisoner Ralph came with a card, "Ralph, Victor, & Co., Westmoreland Buildings, Aldersgate Street," and gave me an order for twenty smoked hams and six pale barns, to be sent to 3, Westmoreland Buildings, the following morning, to be paid for on delivery—I directed my porter to take them there the next morning, but Ralph called the next day before we had sent them away and said that he wished them sent up immediately, as he had left a cheque at home with his clerk to pay for them—on 12th I sent the hams by my porter Davis, and he brought me back this cheque for 12l. 12s., dated 26th September—I passed it through my bankers, and it was returned to me—I then discovered that
it was post dated—I parted with my hams simply on Ralph's assurance that they were to be paid for on delivery.
WILLIAM DAVIS . I am porter to Kendall & Co., provision merchants—on 12th September I received instructions and some hams—I went to West-moreland Buildings, Aldersgate Street—I saw on the door the name "Ralph, Victor, & Co."—it was more of a warehouse than anything—I saw no stock there, simply one barrel—I saw Lecomte there—I gave him the hams and told him I brought them from Messrs. Kendall & Co., and I was to take a cheque back; he took the hams, counted them, and gave me this cheque (produced)—it was already drawn—I did not notice at the time that it was dated 26th September, or I should not have delivered the hams—I took the cheque to my employers.
CHARLES BUTLER . I am salesman to Mr. Baker, a gun merchant, of 88, Fleet Street—I have seen both the prisoners—I saw Ralph first—he called at our place and asked to look at some guns—he produced this card, and ultimately he selected two guns and some cartridges, the amount of which was 19l. 17s. 6d.—he said "Send them by 4 o'clock to-day"—I said "I suppose you will be there"—he said "A cheque will be given"—I went on 22nd September to Westmoreland Buildings, and saw Lecomte—various things were lying about, but it did not look like a merchant's warehouse—I told Lecomte I had brought the goods from Mr. Baker—he said that Mr. Ralph had ordered them, and asked me for the bill—I gave it to him, and he gave me a cheque—this was in the office—he was at a desk, and he had a pen in his hands, and the cheque before him—I cannot say whether he was filling something-into the cheque, but it gave me that impression—I gave a receipt, and put the cheque in my pocket without looking at it—this is it—he also gave me a sixpence—if I had noticed it was post dated I should not have left the guns—it ought to have been a ready money payment—the moment I got back I found out that the cheque was post dated—I immediately returned to Westmoreland Buildings—it was about 4.30—when I got there the office was closed and I could not see Lecomte—I went again next day and waited some time, but nobody appeared—I went again on 25th, Monday—I then saw Lecomte—I asked him the meaning of the cheque being post dated—he said that he did not know anything about it; he had merely to fill in the amount, and that Mr. Ralph was in Paris, and if I paid the cheque in it would be all right—when the time came we paid it in, and it was returned to us marked "N.S."
WILLIAM LAWSON . I am shopwalker in the employ of Messrs. Allison & Co., of Regent Street, silk merchants—on 19th October Lecomte brought me this letter and an order—there was a cheque inside the letter—I took the order and the cheque to Mr. Oldroyd, our chief clerk, and in consequence of what he said I refused to execute the order—I gave Lecomte a letter written by our chief clerk, and I said that was the answer to his—I had never seen him before.
JOHN PHILIP OLDROYD . I am chief clerk to Allison & Co., of Regent Street—on 19th October the last witness brought me the order produced, with a check and this letter—I made a communication to Mr. Lawson—I read the letter at the time; it was to the effect that we could not supply any goods excepting for cash; if they would present us an open cheque we would tender it, and if paid we would send the goods—the cheque was dated 19th November, on the London and County Bank, Aldersgate Street branch, signed Ralph, Victor, & Co., and crossed.
THOMAS MILCHAM . I am now at the Brentwood branch of the London and County Bank—on 7th November I was at the Aldersgate Street branch—Ralph called upon me at the bank and said that he wished to open an account—I informed him that it was not the custom of the bank to open any accounts without getting a reference—he said he was in the provision" trade, and mentioned the names of several houses with whom he did business in the City—I said "Can you refer me to them"—he said "Oh, no; I only-sell to them"—he said "I have some money with me, and I can pay it in, and you can make your inquiries after"—I said "I cannot do that; I must have some reference"—he gave me a name in Paris, and he then gave me the name of Mr. Leech—I told him I would inquire, and if he called in the afternoon I would give him an answer—I then inquired, and in the afternoon he called again and tendered me 15l.—I told him it was a very small amount—he said he was going to Birmingham, and would remit me from there 300l. or 400l.—the result of it all was that he paid in 15l.—I gave him a cheque book for 50 forms—this is our pass-book, which is a copy of the ledger—refreshing my memory from that I find that the only sum paid in afterwards was 5l., on 16th September, so that altogether there was 20l. paid in to the account—on the 8th, 4l. and 1l. 10s. were drawn out; on the 11th, 2l.; on the 12th, 3l.; on the 13th, 2l. 10s.; on the 20th, 3l. 5s.; on the 23rd, 2l.; on October 2nd, 15s.; on the 25th, he was debited with the cheques 4s. 2d., and that left a balance of 15s. 10d.—he signed his name in the signature book in my presence, in the ordinary course—the signatures to these cheques produced are all Ralph's, we had no other—in two cases I should say the body of the cheque was' filled in by Ralph, but in one case not—that is Mr. Baker's order for 17l. 19s. 6d., that is hot, in my belief, written by Ralph—the others, I have no doubt, were in Ralph's writing—on 19th October this cheque for Us. was presented, I believe by the prisoner Lecomte, several cheques having been previously returned—the cashier directed my attention to the signature—I walked forward and said either "I wish to have a word with you," or "Will you step this way," and immediately I said so the person who presented the cheque ran out at the door—I recollect clearly the occurrence—he had his hat on, as an ordinary customer—he decamped.
JOSEPH LEECH . I am the owner of No. 3, Westmoreland Buildings, Aldersgate Street—in March or April this year I was brought into communication with Ralph through Debenham & Tewson, the auctioneers—Ralph wanted to take the warehouse—he said that he was an importer of French preserved produce and an exporter of English produce, that his father was in a large way of business in France—he said nothing about how he was going to trade or whether he was in partnership or not—he gave me two references which were fair and satisfactory, and took possession on 5th May—I first became acquainted with Lecomte by seeing him in the warehouse with Ralph shortly after that—it was generally Ralph with whom I conversed, heacted as the principal—he did not say anything about Lecomte—when Ralph was away Lecomte always acted for him; Lecomte did not say what position he held there—Ralph always spoke of his partner as a Mr. Victor—an execution was put in, which I paid, and locked the place up after receiving the keys from Lecomte—two days afterwards I heard to my astonishment that the warehouse was opened—I went round and found Lecomte and a Jew in possession of the premises—I said to Lecom to "How is this?"—he said "Tomorrow is quarter-day and I had no business to have given you the
keys"—I said "You gave me possession," but knowing the next day was quarter day I could do nothing but leave them in possession—the last time I saw Lecomte was on the Saturday following in the street—I asked him where Ralph was—he said that he was in Paris and would be back shortly and it would be all right—afterwards he said that he had not seen him for some time, that was three or four or five weeks afterwards—I never got my rent.
JOHN WILLIAM GRAYBOURNE . I am a general agent, of 1, Bull and Mouth Street—I know both the prisoners; Ralph from about the middle of May this year—I became acquainted with Leconte from his apparent business connectional at Westmoreland Buildings; he was there when I saw Ralph—I had two transactions—Lecomte was not there during the actual purchase of the goods—I sold some goods to Ralph on 15th May—I only saw Lecomte when they could not pay—I wanted Lecomte to give me some goods instead of money—he said that certain goods which were coming to England should be given in payment of our account—he did not actually say that he was one of the firm—when I did not see Ralph I saw Lecomte and he assumed authority—on one occasion he produced a letter and said that he could not hand over the goods until they had actually arrived—as far as I am concerned, they never did arrive; if they did we never got them—Ralph bought from me in the name of Victor & Co.
CLEMENCE HOWELL . I first became acquainted with the prisoners about two years ago; they had an office in Burleigh Street, Covent Garden, and another in Crutched Friars—they were carrying on a commission business under the name of Lecomte & Co.—I sold to them in both places—I was introduced to Ralph as Leconte by a friend in the first instance—he represented himself as a member of the firm—I have always known Ralph as Lecomte and Lecomte as his brother—I have met them frequently in business—they were entered in the Business Directory at both addresses—this was in the month of August, 1874—the last date I knew anything of them was February, 1875, but not in Burleigh Street; they had given up that—I lost sight of them in Crutched Friars.
SAMUEL LYITHELL (City Detective Sergeant). I received a warrant on 3rd November, for the apprehension of both prisoners, and on 10th November they were brought to the Snow Hill station—I said to Ralph "Mr. Ralph?"—he said "That is my name"—I then said to Lecomte "Mr. Victor"—he said "No, my name is Lecomte"—the warrant was read to them and they made no reply to the charge—they were afterwards seen by Hawkins, who identified them—I then said to Lecomte "This is the young man from Peter Robinson's, he is the person who gave you the goods, and you gave him a check"—he said that the check was given by the direction of Mr. Victor—I found nothing on them relating to the charge.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, December 12th, 1876.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
118. WILLIAM KING (20) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to stealing eight coats, the goods of George Musgrove, having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell, in June, 1874. There were altogether eleven convictions against him,.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. REED the Defence.
FRANK DAVIS (City Policeman). On 9th October, I was instructed to write a letter to the prisoner, and I did so—I have given him notice to produce it—I kept a copy of it, this is it. (This was from the witness to the prisoner enclosing 2l. and requesting him to send some pictures similar to some which he had supplied to another person.) I enclosed in that letter—a stamped envelope—I received no reply, and on 12th October, I called at the prisoner's house, 34, Bridgewater Gardens—it is a printer's shop—I saw the prisoners' wife there, but not himself—I afterwards received this letter in the stamped envelope which I had sent. (This requested the witness to meet the prisoner at Edgware Road Station.) On Saturday 14th, I went to the Edgware Road Station, according to the letter, and the prisoner came up to me and pushed me by the arm, and said "Well, George"—I said "How do you know my name is George?"—he said "Well, Corbett, what might your Dame be?"—I said "Old friend Bill"—he asked me what I wanted, I said that I wanted some books, I did not want gems, I wanted something better, I had seen them and had got rid of them, and I wanted Sir Henry Lovell, or something like that—I had never seen one of those books—he said "I suppose you are all right"—I said "Oh, yes, I am all right"—he said "I know the police are after me, and if they get me I know I shall get two—years, some "of them got two years for it, a little while ago, and if I thought anyone was selling me I would rip' their guts out, and the police too if they came there; I am one of the oldest left now, and you will get a good hiding if you come there"—he then asked me for the money—I told him I could not afford to give him the money—he had not said how much it was, but afterwards he said "Will you give me 2l."—I said "No, I cannot afford that, I might not get it"—I afterwards gave him 1l.—it was not. arranged what books he was to get, but. he was to get two—I was to see him again on Monday—I was dressed in knee breeches and gaiters as a coachman—I saw him on the Monday at his house, and he produced these two books "Fanny Hill," and "The f——Countess"—I have examined them; they are very obscene—I paid him 3l. on Monday, making 4l., altogether—on 24th October, I went to his house again and asked for some cards—he showed me some; they were not finished, they required colouring and I would not have them—the price was half a crown each; I asked for a dozen and gave him 5s. on account—he showed me a picture of a woman; a very disgusting thing, and said that he was going to take some sketches of it—I saw him again before he finished the—cards, and paid him 2s. more—he afterwards brought these cards (produced) to me at Burlington Mews, Westbourne Park, and I paid him 15s. more for them, making in all 22s.—on 13th November, I gave him an order for a dozen cards, rather better than those—on 20th November, I obtained two warrants at Guildhall, one for a search, and one for his arrest, and on 22nd November, I went to his shop—Sergeant Webb and another officer remained Outside—he produced the cards I have in my hand for which I had arranged to pay him 22s., he wanted 25s., at that point Sergeant Webb came in and read the warrant—I was with him when the search was made, and produce a list of the articles found, among them were these three manuscript books which are very disgusting, also "Injured Innocence, or the Rape of Sarah Wood-cock," that is printed, and it is very obscene—we also found this "Catalogue of scarce books."
Cross-examined. I was instructed by Detective Sergeant Webb to put
myself in communication with the prisoner; I had never seen him before—I wrote two letters, which he answered, and then met him outside the Edg ware Road Station—I got nothing from him at that meeting, but I paid him 1l. in advance—on the Monday I obtained from him the two books I had asked for in the front part of his shop at the right hand side of the door as you go in—the door was pushed to—nobody else was there; his wife went upstairs—I am certain the doors were not locked—they were pushed to, but not fastened—he particularly asked me if I wanted one particular book, one which is so disgusting that I have not mentioned it—he told me that I could have some slides if I wanted them, and he brought them tome to the stable one evening—I called several times at the prisoner's house, but not always in the same costume—I bad a workman's dress on several occasions, a stable suit—no one else was present when he brought the slides to the stable—the stable door was closed—we afterwards had something to drink; I proposed it—I always like to keep friends with people—he had several glasses—he did not seem to feel the effects of it a great deal—I refused to have some slides because they were in black pencil and were not coloured—he said "I will colour them for you, and you shall have them to-morrow night—I wanted them for myself; I very likely said that I wanted them for somebody else, and possibly I used some name—I bought the cards in the prisoner's front shop, but there is a small room behind, where the printing machine is—I got the cards from the prisoner's hand, and said "How much have I to pay you for these extra"—he said "1l.; I have not been able to do them all, my hand has been bad, but here are eight; the others will be ready in a day or two"—Sergeant Webb then walked in.
Re-examined. He asked me if I should like a book on—I said "No"—he was quite sober when I bought the books at his house and when he was taken in custody—he said "I will colour the cards, and you can have them to-morrow night"—when I made the search I found this box of colours and hair brushes (produced).
HENRY WEBB (City Detective Sergeant). On 22nd November I went to the prisoner's shop in Bridgewater Gardens with Davis—I sent him on and followed—when I went in I saw the prisoner in the shop with Davis and a constable named Holt—"I said "Mr. Stirling, I am an officer, and hold a warrant for your apprehension for selling indecent and obscene books"—he said "All right, I am in it, and must get out of it in the best way I can; I admit I sold books to this man," pointing to Davis—a search was made by the constables, and I saw these books and other things found.
Cross-examined. No resistance was made to the search.
GUILTY — Two Years' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD conducted the Prosecution.
The prisoner having in the hearing of the Jury stated that he wished to with draw his plea and
PLEAD GUILTY, the Jury found him
GUILTY . He had previously been sentenced to two years' imprisonment for a like, offence in 1873— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COLE the Defence. JOHN GEORGE BARTON (Policeman N 381). On 2nd November, about 1 a.m.,
I saw the prisoner come out of the front garden of Arthur Cottage, Park Street, Hackney Wick, and go up Horner Road—I noticed that the ground floor window was wide open; it slides up—I went after the prisoner, and asked him where he lived—he said "Hackney Wick"—I asked him if I did not see him come out of a house in Park Street a few minutes before—he said no, but I might have seen him talking to a female there—I said that be would have to go back with me—I went to take hold of him, and he threw his arms up—I do not know whether he touched my heels or whether I overbalanced myself, but I fell backward and cut my head, and he got away; I ran after him a little way, but he got over the rails into Victoria Park—on 23rd November, about 5.30 p.m, I followed some one to a public-house in Prince Edward Road—I got another constable and stood at the door, and the prisoner came out with two females, but as soon as he saw me he stepped in again, but came out in half a minute or a minute—I told him I was a constable, and wanted him for committing a burglary at Arthur Cottage, Hackney Wick, on the 2nd of the month, at 1 a.m.—he. said that it was a mistake—when I went back to Arthur Cottage, I kicked up against this clock by the gate where the prisoner had come out, and picked it up—I then called up the prosecutor, who missed the clock.
Cross-examined. I was in plain clothes at the public-house, my brother officer was in uniform—the two women came out—when I took him in charge I think he said "You are mistaken"—I do not remember saying before the Magistrate "He said we had made a mistake."
GEORGE NEALE . I am a jeweller, living at Arthur Cottage, Park Street, Hackney—on 1st November I went to bed about 11 a.m.—the doors and windows were all closed—there were lots of clocks in the window, and this was one of them—I was called up about 1.20 by the constable and found the window open as far as it could be—I missed this clock and a ring with two stones deficient, a brooch, and other things which have not been found.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a previous conviction in 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, December 12th, 1876.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
GRANT PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON defended Nelson.
JOHN PARSONS . I live at No. 24, Goswell Road, and am a tailor; but my shop is at No. 9, Barley-Mow Passage—on the 23rd November last I left my shop securely fastened by a lock and padlock; there is an inner door—I went there next morning about 9 o'clock and found the door open and the padlock put on the sill inside the door, and the shop clear—I
called the prisoner Grant down—as far as my memory goes I missed several pairs of trousers, a velvet cap, velvet collars, silk, and braid, and black linings—I have since seen some of them—those trimmings, &c, are my property and were amongst the things saved—Grant lived in the house.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I have known Grant about five or six months—his mother occupies the upper part of the house—I rent only the shop—the Grants have a right of way through my shop to fetch coke—I saw some of my goods at the station—I know the cap by the ribbon, by the quilting and the way it is made; they are made for the gentlemen of the Charter House—I have worn that cap myself—I do not sell caps for new after wearing them.
ALFRED HENRY JACOBS . I live at No. 81, Britannia Street, City Road, and work in Barley Mow Passage, next door to Mr. Parson's shop, at No. 48, and am an assistant to a barber—I know Nelson—on Thursday, 23rd November, I was standing at the bottom of Barley Mow Passage at about 8.15; I saw a cab come up and Nelson get out; he came up the court, hid round a corner a little time, and then Grant went and spoke to him—seeing me he said "Don't you say a b———word and I'll give you a few half-pence," and he ran in the house—I said "A few halfpence!"—he then came out with a bundle and placed it in a cab—I do not know whether he opened the door of the house or how he got in—Grant was standing at the door of the house, and another young man was there who gave me a two-shilling piece and went into the shop and got out another bundle—the two men jumped into the cab and drove away; Grant got on the top.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I swear it was Nelson who got out of the cab.
ROBERT CHILD (City Detective). About 1 o'clock on Saturday afternoon, the 25th November, I went to Grant's house and took him into custody—on receiving a message I went next morning to the station, when Grant made a statement to me, in consequence of which I went to our offices in Goswell Street, when Gilbert, another officer, brought Nelson to me—I told him the charge, and he said "This is got up for me"—I then went to Nelson's house with Gilbert and searched—underneath the bed I found eight velvet collars, two pieces of braid, and a velvet cap—I took them to the station and Nelson said "All right, I suppose they are part of the bust"—that means burglary.
Cross-examined. There are other persons living in Nelson's house; the house is let out to lodgers—there are six or eight rooms—there was a woman there; I cannot say if she is his wife—the prosecutor gave me a list and description of what he thought he had lost on Saturday—he could hardly tell what he had lost on the Friday morning—Nelson occupied the second floor—I found the things in a box under his bed.
ISAAC GILBERT (City Policeman 552). I took Nelson into custody at No. 22—he was reading Lloyd's newspaper—I made inquiries about a room and in consequence went with Childs to search, and found those things—when Nelson was at the station he said "This is a bad job, Gilbert, I shall get five years for this."
Cross-examined. I was not examined before the Magistrate—I was subpœnaed to-day—I told Mr. Martin at the Guildhall what I have told here—there was no attorney.
MR. MATHEWS proposing to call the prisoner Grant as a witness, MR. RIBTON objected, Grant having been present while the witnesses had given evidence. In
reply to the inquiry of THE COURT, MR. RIBTON was not prepared with any authority for such an objection, except the invariable practice for the prosecution to give notice of their intention to make, a witness of the prisoner and to have him removed whilst the other witnesses were examined. THE COURT considered the evidence admissible, the circumstances under which it was given being matter of comment only.
DAVID GRANT (the Prisoner). On the Tuesday before Mr. Parson's shop was broken into I met Nelson and another chap, who asked me where I was lining; I told him in the same place, over a barber's and a tailor's shop—he said "Couldn't we get into the tailor's shop?"—I said I did not like to do it, because they knew that I had been to the school—he said "Never mind, all you have to do is to open the door;" and I opened it—I saw them bring the things out—I went in the cab with Nelson to 22, Allen Street, and we left the things on the floor in the back room—I know the things; I have seen them in Mr. Parson's shop before.
Cross-examined. We live on the first floor—I know the boy Jacobs—I have never been engaged with him in a robbery.
NELSON**— GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
GRANT*— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. PURCELL conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.
MARGARET CALLAGHAN . I live at No. 3, St. Andrew's Court, Westminster—I am an unfortunate—on the 17th of November I was coming home in a cab from Knightsbridge—after paying for the cab three men followed me to Queen's Place—I had had a glass, but I knew what I was doing—I went to pay my landlady 7s. 6d. which I owed for rent, when three ruffians attacked me—the prisoner had hold of my throat—he took the purse out of my left hand and held my right—my landlady then came and said "If you have got her money do not kill her"—they called her beastly names—I am not certain of the names of the other two men, but I know this man—there was 1l. 14s. 8d. in the purse; 1l. in gold.
Cross-examined. I do not know if one man's-name was Cornelius—this is the man that robbed me—the inspector asked me if the two brothers: were in it, and I said I believed they were—I was excited, because they held me by the throat—I made a mistake in charging the brother.
Re-examined. I said I could not swear to the brother, and on that account he was discharged.
ELIZABETH YARNTON . I live at No. 5, Queen's Place, Great Peter Street, and am the wife of Thomas Yarnton—I was standing at the corner of Queen's Place on the night of this occurrence—the' prosecutrix came up followed by three young men and 'a' policeman—I said "She does not live here"—the policeman went away—at 12.45 a.m., prosecutrix came again and said "I want to pay what I owe you"—I said "You have been drinking, pay me in the morning"—Sullivan and the other two men would not leave her—I said "Why don't you leave her alone?"—he said "You b——, I know who she is"—"Well," I said "You know where she lives"—when I found they only gave me saucy answers, I looked for a policeman, and then I saw three of them struggling—I said "Oh, my God, do not murder her"—I knew the prisoner, and one of the other men by sight, but not by name—the prosecutrix said "They have got it"—I said "Got what?"—
she said "My money"—the prisoner said "You b——so-and-so, I'll hit you in your b——eye."
Cross-examined. The prosecutrix had lived with me—I could not then let her have her things, and said "You had better come when sober"—I did not see the purse.
REBECCA RIDGER . I live at No. 1, Queen Ann's Place—on the Saturday morning I was with Mrs. Yarnton—the prosecutrix came to pay her rent—Mrs. Yarnton asked her to pay in the morning—after that I saw scuffling of Sullivan and two other men with the prosecutrix—they were trying to take her money—Sullivan had hold of her by the throat, and was trying to throttle her—I did not see the purse—Mrs. Yarnton said "Do not kill her if you have taken her money"—the prosecutrix said "They have got my money."
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner take the money—I heard the men say "We have come to take her home."
KATE CRESSWELL . I live at 35 New Peter Street, Westminster—on this night, I was speaking with Mrs. Yarnton and two other women, when I saw the prosecutrix come up with a purse in her hand, and the prisoner and two other men with her; I then went to the bottom of the court and sat down a few minutes—I saw the prisoner with his left hand round the prosecutrix, and holding her throat; I did not see anything in his hand—she said "For God's sake, they have robbed me"—I did not hear the prisoner say anything.
Cross-examined. I was there when the police-constable came; he said there was not sufficient evidence for him to take the men into custody—I heard the men ask to be searched; I did not hear prisoner say it.
JEFFREY CHANDLER (Policeman B 315). On the night of the 17th, the prosecutrix complained to me, and I took Sullivan into custody—I charged him at the station, but he made no reply—I searched him, and found 2s. and 1/2 d. on him.
Cross-examined. He did not say he knew nothing about it till he got to the station—the prisoner's brother followed to the station, and the prosecutrix charged him—the prisoner's brother was taken into custody, and taken before the Magistrate, but discharged.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MILLWOOD conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY TAYLOR . I am a boot-maker, and live at No. 2, Charlotte Street, Whitechapel; I closed my shop on Saturday night at 12 o'clock, before going to bed—it was all safe—I was disturbed between 2 and 3 o'clock on the following morning by seeing the reflection of a light in the shop—the light disappeared, and I heard a match struck; I jumped out of bed, and called to the lodgers upstairs that there were thieves in the house—then a man ran through the front shop, unbolted the street door, took the chain off got into the street, crossed Charlotte Street, and ran up Gloucester Street—I saw the prisoner turn into Gloucester Street.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The man I saw had dark clothes and a billycock hat—I never saw you before—I said at the station that the man bad dark clothes and a billycock hat, and at the police-court before the Magistrate on the 13th—I saw two men outside my house when you came back I do not know them.
JOHN DEVONOLD (Policeman H 149). On the morning of the 12th November, about 2.30, I heard the cry of "Police!"—I met the prisoner running up Gloucester Street from Charlotte Street—something fell on the footway—I said "Stop!"—he said "What have I to do with you?"—I said "I will see," and I took him back to Charlotte Street—he tried to get away—I sprang my rattle first—a female told me some one had broken into No. 2—I took the prisoner there and saw the prosecutor—I then took him to the station and charged him—he was covered with whitewash down to his knees—the prisoner ran about 100 yards—I found some matches in his pocket and in the shop, which correspond—I also found a candle.
Cross-examined. I did not ask the men I saw when we got back what they wanted, nor charge them—I found marks on the window.
WALTER GASTON (Policeman H 200). About 2.30 on the morning of 12th November I was in Gloucester Street and heard a policeman's rattle—I saw the prisoner in custody of last witness—I searched the prisoner at the station and found a gimlet, apiece of pipe, the string produced, and some matches—there were marks on the window sill of the shop, and I found a piece of candle outside.
Cross-examined. The gimlet might have fallen from a workman's basket—I saw two men walk up to the shop and stop.
Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor cannot swear I am the man. He never saw me in his life previous to ray being in charge. He makes a different statement on 13th November to what he does on the 20th and he never says anything about the black hat-till the 20th. Constable Devonold says he heard something drop but he did not look for it Two other men were about and it is as likely to be them as me. I had been engaged moving goods till late and that is how I came dirty with whitewash. When the prosecutor was asked if I was the man he said "I don't know." "Never mind," said the constable, "You charge him." I am innocent.
GUILTY **— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, December 13th and 13th, 1876.
Before Mr. Baron Pollock.
(For the case of Isaac Marks, tried on these days, see Surrey Cases.)
THIRD COURT—Wednesday, December 13th, 1876.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. J. P. GRAIN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. THORNE COLE the Defence.
HARRIS JACOBS . I am a general dealer, and carry on business' at Cutler Street, Houndsditch—McCarthy had been in my employ about five months before the 5th of November—his duties were to take parcels out—he never sold; my wife and I sold—on the 5th November, in consequence of my suspicions, I went to Bishopsgate Street police-station, and in the presence of Thomas Roper marked fourteen sovereigns, fifteen half-sovereigns, six half-crowns, and some smaller silver—I placed them in my cashbox in my bed-room—I left the cashbox unlocked; also the door of the bedroom—this was about 9.45 in the morning—I went into my bedroom about 12.15, and
on looking into my cashbox I missed one of the marked sovereigns and one of the marked half-crowns—I went for a police-constable and gave McCarthy into custody at my other shop—I have two shops—that (produced) is the sovereign and the half-sovereign—in the evening I was sent for to the police-station by a constable—I went there, and saw McCarthy in the cell—he said to me "If you don't go hard against me, I'll tell you where some of your property is"—I said "It is a thing I cannot promise and I must not promise; I might be placed in the same position that you are"—he said "You have been a very good master to me, and I am very sorry. You'll find some of your property at Howe's, Gravel Lane, the coal shed; there is four sheets and four tablecloths; I sold them two or three days ago for 2s., and the man said 'Get as many as you can'"—I then went with the constable to No. 117, Gravel Lane; he knocked at the door—Howe looked out of the window; he said to Roper "Is that you, Barney?"—the constable answered "Yes"—Howe came down and opened the door—there were two constables—I believe the constable said "Davy, I have come here; you have bought some goods of chap named Dennis McCarthy"—Howe said "I have not"—I then asked leave to go upstairs—he said "Yes, you may go upstairs"—we went up—directly I got into the room I went over to the bed—I found two sheets belonging to me, with my private mark upon them—the private mark is the cost price—Howe was present—Roper said "Have you got any tablecloths?"—Howe replied "We havn't got any such thing in the place"—Roper found a cupboard, and asked for the keys—he there found five or six more of my sheets—they then proceeded to search generally and found some tablecloths, pillow cases, toilet covers, a table cover, pillow slips, and jacket—I have seen them all at the police-station—they all have my private mark on them—they are all my property—I have been missing things for the last four or five months, both money and goods—none of those goods had been sold by me—McCarthy had no authority to sell at all—they were taken from 25, Cutler Street—that is about four minutes' wait from Gravel Lane—the value of the lot was about 6l., cost price—I have sold no linen sheets for the last four months—after all this property had been found, Howe said "My late wife bought the sheets seven, eight, or ten years back"—he said nothing with reference to the other property.
Cross-examined. McCarthy has never been commissioned to sell either from me or my wife—I only gave him 18s. a week, besides his perquisites, that is if he got 6d. or 1s. given to him—I don't know whether he can read or write; I never employed him to write anything for me—my private mark is a little mark of red lead—I have sold things with this mark on them—I do not rub out the mark when I sell things—I deal in bedding articles and have been in business about twenty years altogether in these two shops—during these twenty years I have dealt with all kinds of things in the bedding line—I sell both wholesale and retail; I sell to dealers; I do not purchase from small dealers, I buy entirely of wholesale houses—I have dealt for the last twenty years in sheets—I make purchases at the salerooms, at Debenham's, at the public auctions—I do not save the catalogues—I do not keep any books, I cannot write; my wife cannot write—I went right up to the bed, saw the sheets, and identified them at once—my wife came down to Guildhall to identify the property; I recollect her going into the witness-box and being sworn before she saw a single article; after she had been sworn she was then taken to another part of the bench where all the articles were shown to her for her identification—I know perfectly well if the man is convicted that this property which I claim will pass into my possession.
Re-examined. I bought some of this property at Debenham's and some at other sales.
FANNY JACOBS . I am the wife of Harris Jacobs—I assist him in his business—McCarthy never sold articles from our place—I have seen all the articles and identified them as the property of my husband; I have seen ray husband's private mark upon them them—I think it is about five or six weeks ago that I missed the tablecover—I spoke to him; I said to him "I don't know what has become of this tablecover"—he said nothing to that—I never sold that tablecover—it is about three months since I sold any linen sheets, I cannot tell exactly.
Cross-examined. When I went to Guildhall and looked at the sheets I do not recollect saying "I cannot say whether any have been sold," of course I cannot say whether any of those sheets had been sold—that table cover" was for sale; we sell large quantities of table covers; we deal in everything; the value of the table cover is about 10s., I would give 10s. for it—I recollect being sworn at the Guildhall before I had seen a single article—we do not keep any books in our place; I cannot read or write—no one gave McCarthy instructions to sell anything on Sunday morning—he never sold anything for us.
Re-examined. I mean that he never had authority from me to sell.
WILLIAM MINORD (City Policeman 797). About 12.20 on the 5th November Mr. Jacobs spoke to me—I followed him, and McCarthy was given into my custody—he was charged with stealing a sovereign and a half-crown—he said "I will go quietly"—I took him to the station and searched him—I found a marked half-crown in his pocket and the sovereign in the leg of his trowsers—I found a watch and chain on him—he said he had received: the money in change.
THOMAS ROPER (City Detective). On 5th November last I marked in the presence of Mr. Jacobs fourteen sovereigns, fifteen half-sovereigns, and some half-crowns; I gave them back to Mr. Jacobs; this sovereign and half-crown. are part of those I marked—after McCarthy had been brought to the station he said he wished to see Mr. Jacobs—I went for him, he came to the station—McCarthy said he wished to tell Mr. Jacobs something about some of the things on condition, that he would, not go hard against him—Me Jacobs said he could not promise any such thing, if he liked to tell him he might—McCarthy said "I will tell you all about it, I have taken some tablecloths and some sheets of yours, four tablecloths and four sheets, and have sold them for 2s. to Howe in Gravel Lane, and he told me to bring as many more as I could"—I then went in company with Mr. Jacobs to Howe's house; he is a coal, coke, and charcoal dealer—I knocked at the door—Howe looked out of the window—he said "Is that you, Barney," or something like that—I said "Yes"—he came down and let me in—we went upstairs into his. bedroom—I searched the place—on the bed we found two cotton sheets, underneath the bed four more sheets, five tablecovers, eight pillow cases, an antimacassar, and a napkin belonging to Mr. Jacobs—Howe said his wife had bought them eight or nine years ago, he did not interfere with these matters, and he did not know how she bought them—he said there were a lot of bills hanging up—I said "There is no good my looking at them, if you have anything relating to these things show it"—he said he had not.
Cross-examined. He said I might look over the bills he had there; it would take me a week or so to do that—when asked about the matter he said "So help me God, I bought nothing"—he told me when I asked him
that I could go anywhere I liked—Wright and I looked at the sheets, we found them all marked, more or less, either with a "D H" or a "H," but there were other marks upon them besides with only pencil marks.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective). About 7.30 on the evening of 5th November, I went with Roper to Howe's house in Gravel Lone—I found six woollen comforters, four under shirts, and one smock, thirty-one pairs of stockings, and a variety of other articles, twenty-eight nightcaps, two under vests, a number of china plates and dishes, basins, saucers, &c.—I asked Howe if he could account for possession of any of these goods, referring to the sheets—he said he did not recollect where they came from—he could not account for them—I asked him if he had any bills or invoices relating to them—he said "No"—he could give no account of the mufflers—he said his brother-in-law had brought the stockings home from America shortly the American war—I said "That is twelve or thirteen years ago"—he said "Yes"—I told him he would be charged with receiving the whole of the property, well knowing it to be stolen—he made no answer to the charge.
Cross-examined. I recollect being at the Guildhall—the case of the china was not gone into there at all—the other cases were thoroughly gone into—Messrs. Defries were not at the Guildhall at the last examination, but they were on the previous one—I did not hear you say there that in fair play to the man they should go into the case—I was in Court at the time—I heard your application to the Bench.
Re-examined. It was stated in Court that Howe would be indicted for the china at this Session.
MARK COHEN . I am a general dealer, carrying on business at White Street, Cutler Street—I recognise this smock as my property—I missed it, with other things, within the last three or four months—these six woolen mufflers were in my house nine months ago.
Cross-examined. The mufflers were bought last year—they were a job lot from Messrs. Bell, of Houndsditch—I do not know whether they are damaged Government property—I bought a great many more than what is here—I bought about 2l. 10s. worth—I cannot read or write—I do not keep books—I bought upon a previous occasion of Mr. Bell a lot of mufflers and Cardigan jackets of a similar character to these—I have dealt with Mr. Bell for ten or twelve years—I buy and sell everything, secondhand and new, in the way of clothing, stockings, mufflers, shirts, &c.
EDWIN BELL . I am a wholesale clothier, at 8, Houndsditch—I identify twenty-two pairs of light stockings and nine pairs of blue—I have been missing them at intervals during the whole year—I have had three boys found with the goods on them, but did not bring them to Guildhall—the dark blue are imperfect—I always have them repaired before I send them out—I bought the dark ones at Deptford Dockyard, at the Government sale—this smock was sold to Mr. Cohen in a lot of odd soiled goods thrown out of stock—I do not remember how long ago.
Cross-examined. I am not in a very large way of business—I have two partners—I have four indoor assistants, and I daresay as many as fifty people outdoor—I purchased some 5,000 pairs of the light blue stockings at Pimlico—Messrs. Cooke purchased about 5,000 more—these purchases were made in October, 1875—I bought the dark blues at Deptford—they were sold by the Government auctioneer—I have not got the catalogue of the sales at that time—I have been in the habit of buying for myself for the last three years personally and ten years previously in conjunction with
my father—I cannot say exactly—in my examination at the police-court I said I could not swear that I had purchased these particular stockings for the last year.
McCarthy. Let me see all the goods and I will show you what I stole and what I didn't. (The goods were handed to the Prisoner, who sorted them into two haps.) These (pointing to the larger heap of the two) I never stole at—when I made confession to Mr. Jacobs I did not know that all these goods were in Mr. Howe's house—these (pointing to the other heap) I have picked out are all I have sold.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence:
JOHN HOWE . I am son of the prisoner Howe—I live with him; I have lived in the same house for some considerable time—I have seen the different articles that have been produced to-day and also at the police-court—the name of my uncle, my mother's brother, was Patrick Foley—I recollect his coming. home from America on more than one occasion; I remember his coming three times—the last time he came home was about four years next summer—he used to deal in all kinds of articles; not one article in particular—I recollect seeing sheets, blankets, pillow cases, boots, stockings, comforters; all kinds of other articles in the drapery line which he used to take over to America—about four years ago he took some stockings, comforters, sheets, blankets, pillow cases, and other articles—I saw these things packed up—he is dead now—he has not been over since that time—I have seen the sheets which were produced here to-day; they are marked with my father's name—I recognise those sheets as being in daily use in our house for the past three or four years—my father's name is in full upon some and his initials on others—the different articles, including the light and dark blue stockings, I have seen there about four years; since my uncle went away—my mother is dead now; she assisted my uncle in making purchases, to my knowledge—I never saw my uncle buy anything, as I used to stay at home—I have seen them brought home—I have seen the prisoner McCarthy in our house—there is a lad named Driscoll connected with my father, and I know that McCarthy and he were keeping company together—he was a friend of McCarthy's.
Cross-examined. The last time I saw McCarthy at my father's house was—he brought nothing with him—I have never known him bring anything to my father's house—I swear that—it was generally in the afternoon about evening when he came—he never came to see my father—I knew that my during the Jews' holidays; I can't say exactly; about two or three months ago father had some china in his house; it came from Defines; my uncle bought it—my uncle and my mother went to the sale about twelve years ago—I know they went, because I was in when they returned—I shall be twenty-one next September—when the china was bought I was about nine—it was brought in in baskets; I—was in the house when it came—I swear that the stockings were in my father's possession about four years ago—my mother bought some of them down Whitechapel Road, (stockings produced). I identify them—I can swear to them.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective). I have known the prisoner Howeforsome years; I recollect his brother-in-law coming from America on one occasion—I recollect him particularly, because he was taken to the station for making a disturbance; I never saw him in the possession of any property at any time—I do not recollect any bundles at all; I do not recollect seeing him one evening with some bundles; I do not recollect stopping him to see how he
came by them. (The witness here asked leave to make a statement, which, was granted by the Court). On Thursday last, Howe came to my house, and said "Davis, of course, you have known me for years?"—I said "I have"—he said "I want you to do something for me"—I said "What is that?"—he said "I want you to go and say that my brother-in-law came home four years ago from South America, and that you stopped him with three bundles which were on the top of a cab, and that these bundles, when you stopped him, contained stockings, guernseys, scarves, and other things"—I said "Well, I don't see how I can say that"—he said "Very well, you will, perhaps, consider of it, and I will see you again"—on Sunday night last he came to my place about 9 o'clock; I live at 27, Red Cross Street, Cripplegate—he then said "If you will only say what I said to you the other night it will get me out of this trouble, and I'll make you a present of 5l." which he offered to me in a purse—I said "No; perhaps, you had better see me another time"—he said "Where will you make the appointment? anywhere you like?"—I said "Of course, I am not going to do anything to get myself into trouble to save you, but if you like, you can meet me at 10.30 to morrow in front of the Mansion House; he met me there, and asked me to go to the European public-house; he again offered me the purse—I communicated the circumstances to Mr. Carter, my inspector—yesterday afternoon Howe saw me again—he said "I wish you would come, those b——b——when they searched my place wasn't clever enough; I've got a stocking at home which they left behind when they were searching"—I then said "Will you wait a moment; I want to go to the back"—he followed me out, and again offered me this purse (producing purse)—I said "No, I won't take it"—we went into the bar again—he then said "You can get me out of trouble; this is a purse containing 5l. "and he asked me to try this gold ring on (producing ring)—"That fits you very nice," he said, "You can keep it till I ask you for it, and that will be a long time; wait a minute, and I will go and fetch the other things"—he brought back a stocking, and said "take this stocking"—I said "What is this for?"—he said "So as you will be able to swear to the other things"—I said "I suppose you want to get me into trouble, and get me five years for perjury"—he said "If you will get me out of this trouble, I will give you 10l. more."—I thought it was my duty to make this statement.
McCARTHY— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
HOWE— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GILL the Defence.
JONATHAN GEORGE DOLPHIN . I live in Charlton Street, Somer's Town—I was passing along the Thames Embankment on the night of the 23rd of November, between 11 and 12 o'clock—I had come from the Canterbury Music Hall; I came over the bridge on to the Embankment—on my way home, I met Vary and two females; they came up to me; one of the girls asked me if I would go home with her—I told her that I did not want to go home with her, I wanted to go to my own place—I told her to go away from me, or the first constable I came to I would give her in charge; she came up to me a second time—I told her again to go away or I should give her in charge; Vary came behind rue and knocked me down—when I was down I had a kick in the head; I was stunned—Vary kicked me—I remember
the constable coming up; my eyes were blinded; I could just see it was a constable—I said "Take him in charge"—I walked to the police-station as well as I could—I asked for my cane, which was lost—I had a watch with me; my chain, I found, was hanging, and my watch gone—when I came to my senses, the chain was broken just on the crook—I did not have any words with Vary; I did not strike him—I said something to the girl, because I would not go home with her, and that was the commencement of the row.
Cross-examined. I was coming from the Canterbury, I came over Westminster Bridge, and then along the Embankment—I was going to my place in Charlton Street, that is the nearest way; I know it was between 11 and 12 o'clock—I did not speak to any woman before I went across the bridge—I was not in the Blackfriars Road, that night at all—I was at the Canterbury, by myself—I came across the bridge without speaking to anybody—the, girl that spoke to me in the Embankment, was not speaking to me before—I bad got down the Embankment, about half-way before I was spoken to—the girls were walking steadily along with Vary—they were all three very close together; I did not notice them before they spoke to me—I passed them; one of the girls came behind and touched me on the shoulder—in the course of a few yards they came up again, I told them I would give them in charge; one of the girls came up alone; she continued speaking for some minutes—when I stopped Vary and the other girl came up alongside—it was when the three came up together that the altercation took place—my cane was worth a 1l.; I did not strike Vary with it—I did not know he was behind me—when I was knocked down it was whisked away from me—. I lay senseless when a constable and a gentleman came—when I came to my senses I saw Vary and the girl standing by—I do not know what became of the other woman—as-soon as I came to my senses I cried out for! my cane—I charged Vary with assaulting, me, and throwing my Malacca cane away.
Re-examined. I fainted away at the police-station, for about an hour, or an hour and a quarter—there were two women and Vary—the woman that spoke to me had been in Vary's company before he came up to me—I saw both the women it his company before he came up to me.
HENRY HODGSON (Policeman 243). I was on duty on the Thames Embankment, on the night of the 23rd of November, I heard the sound of a disturbance—I proceeded quickly; saw the prosecutor lying on the pavement with his face downwards, and the prisoner standing over him—I seized Vary; Dolphin got up with a little help—I found his face was severely bruised and battered about—he charged Vary with knocking him down, kicking him, and taking his stick from him—I took Vary into custody and told Dolphin to come to the station;—I saw one woman with Vary, she followed to the station, but did not come in—when the charge was being taken the inspector asked for this woman, and when I went outside she was gone—while I was away Dolphin missed his watch.
Cross-examined. I saw no blow struck—when I first came up Dolphin was lying down; Vary was standing up—I saw only one woman—Dolphin charged Vary with assaulting him, and throwing his Malacca cane away—Vary remained there until I took him into custody—after I got up he had no means of making away with the cane or watch.
scuffle; went up towards it; before I got up to them Dolphin rose and ran about the length of this court—Vary went up and knocked him down again—I did not see the first knock-down—Vary was kicking Dolphin so violently that it made me interfere—I helped to pull Vary off; another person came up; I do not know who he was; together we pulled him off—I only saw one woman.
Cross-examined. There was something said about a second woman—I did not see the beginning of it—I saw Dolphin on the ground—I saw him run the length of this court—I saw the prisoner run after him; he then struck Dolphin—there was one woman there the second time Dolphin was down—I saw no cane—the second time he was down I was closer to him.
JONATHAN GEORGE DOLPHIN (re-called). I should know the girl again who was standing by me—that is the one who touched me on the shoulder (pointing to Alice Mitchell, who was next called for the defence).
ALICE MITCHELL . I live at 17, Barnes Place, Waterloo Road—on the night of the 25th November I was with Vary—I see the prosecutor here—he was in the Blackfriars Road, when I first saw him on that night—he had a lady with him—he was asking her to go into a coffee-shop to have a cup of tea—she would not go in; she said she had not got time; she had to go to Charing Cross to catch the last train for Lewisham—I heard her ask Vary to take Dolphin away from her—that was when he was trying to persuade her to go into the coffee-shop—Vary said "Have you anything to do with her?"—Dolphin replied "Yes; she is my wife"—the lady said "I have nothing to do with you; I only live in the same house that you are lodging at"—she asked me to show her the way to Charing Cross Railway Station—by that time we got on to the Embankment—Dolphin kept telling Vary to fight—Dolphin had a stick in his hand; he struck Vary in the face with it—they both then commenced fighting—I saw Vary taken into custody—I went up to the station—I could not see what became of the cane—the other woman went to show the lady the way to the Charing Cross Railway Station—when Dolphin was knocked down he fell on the kerb.
Cross-examined. There were two of us with Vary—the other woman went to show the lady the way to the Charing Cross Railway Station—she did not come back—I saw her on the Saturday after Vary was taken—I never saw her since—I asked her if she would come to give evidence—she said she would be sure to come—I am an unfortunate—I live in Barnes Place—I met Vary outside a coffee shop in the Blackfriars Road—we followed Dolphin because we could see there would be a fight—the lady asked Vary to show her the way to Charing Cross—me and my friend followed behind—Vary came to show her the way to Charing Cross—we came over Blackfriars Bridge—we got "as far as the Temple Station; the fight took place there—my friend was a young woman that I have only seen once since—I did not ask Dolphin to go anywhere with me—I did not see Dolphin get up and run along the Embankment—Vary did not knock him down a second time.
Re-examined. I asked the girl to come up and give evidence; that was to go to Bow Street—she was there the first Friday, but did not appear the next.
By THE COURT. Vary is not a friend of mine—he was a stranger to me when I met him on Blackfriars Bridge.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. J. P. GRAIN the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, December 13th 1876.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
The particulars of this case were unfit for publication.
GUILTY— Judgment respited.
MESSRS. RIBTON and GILL conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE CLEMENTS . I am a boat-builder, of 17, Love Lane—the prisoner was a lodger in my house—I remember his coming home last Saturday night, at about 8 o'clock, the worse for drink—he came into the kitchen, and began abusing his wife—he threatened her, and wanted her to go upstairs, and made a kick at her—I asked him to go upstairs to bed, and followed him—he said to his wife "I will let your b——y guts out; you have put somebody on to me; I will set the b——y house on fire," and he took the lamp, which was burning, off the table and smashed it into the fireplace—the oil flew all about the place, and lighted directly the lamp was broke—I went into the room to put it out, and he up with the shovel and said "I will dash your b——y brains out if you don't go out of my room"—I went for a policeman, and brought him upstairs, and we extinguished the fire—prisoner was in the act of trying to put it out or beat it out with something in his hand (I am not sure whether it was his cap or what it was) when the policeman came into the room.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Nobody was in the room besides you and myself—the person you refer to, named Tebbs, was called as a witness.
By THE COURT. He has a daughter about eighteen, who is blind and paralysed. Prisoner. She came out. Witness. She is not able to get up, only on her hands and knees.
GEORGE GREEN (Policeman K 659). At about 2 o'clock on Saturday morning I was called to the house in question, where I saw the prisoner—the hearthrug was on fire—I took him into custody—I told him the charge, and he said he had broken the lamp into the fire.
Prisoner's Defence. I never opened my mouth to you. I have one child blind and paralysed. There is a person who sleeps with her. I own I had a little drop to drink, but had no intention of setting the place on fire. I took the lamp off the table to put it on the mantel-piece. My wife wouldn't come up, and this woman who sleeps with my daughter came up and struck me in the mouth and said "You don't pay for my drink," and knocked the lamp out of my hand. I cannot say whether accidentally. I never said "I will set the b——y house on fire."
GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday 13th, and Thursday 14th December, 1876.
Before Mr. Justice Field.
The Grand Jury having ignored the Bill, MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY for the Prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
135. MICHAEL CONWAY, a soldier, (20), ROBERT KENDRICK (26), HENRY COGAN (25), EDWARD COOK (23), and JOHN COSGROVE (21), Feloniously cutting and wounding Edward Lambert, a police-constable, in the execution of his duty, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm. Other Counts—To prevent the lawful apprehension of the said Michael Conway.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; MR. M. WILLIAM appeared for Conway and Cogan; MR. RIBTON for Kendrick; MESSRS. COLE and PURCELL for Cook; and MR. COOPER for Cosgrove.
EDWARD LAMBERT (Police-Sergeant Y). On Saturday night, 21st October, I was on duty with Kew in the Holloway Road, near the Derby Arms; we were both in uniform—12 o'clock is the closing hour, and a number of people turned out—about 12.5 a woman spoke to me, in consequence of which I went to a crowd of from thirty to fifty people, outside the Derby Arms, which was mostly composed of men; they were quarrelling and swearing as if they were going to commence a fight—I said "Now, my lads, clear away, it is Sunday morning"—one of the men in the crowd said "You cannot take two"—I said "I don't want to take any, clear away, it is Sunday morning," and the prisoner Conway, who was in the centre of the crowd, struck me a violent blow on my left cheek with his clenched fist, saying "You b——take that"—he had his soldier's grey coat on, and a Scotch cap on his head—he was in the act of striking me again when I seized hold of him, and Kew caught hold of him at the same time—he kicked, and turning to the crowd, said "Let the s—'s have it," and I was struck three violent blows on the helmet with something heavy, which broke my helmet, and I fell with Conway while still holding him—I saw Kew struck, and I believe it was by Cogan and Kendrick—we had a very severe struggle on the ground, and Kew was wrested away from us—I got up and was thrown a number of times by Conway, and when I got up the last time I saw Kew in the act of falling on his back in the road—soon afterwards and before I got up I saw Cogan coming towards me with Kew's truncheon in his hand—I had previously heard Kew holloa out "For God's sake have mercy, don't kick me"—Kew shouted out "Look out, they have got my stick"—I drew my truncheon, and Cogan came towards me—I said to him "You scamp" or scoundrel "give me that," and he threw it at his head; it caught against the front of the public-house and rebounded into the road, and as I stooped to pick it up, Conway wrestled himself from my grasp—I picked it up and followed him, he was crossing the road, and as I rushed to get hold of him two men tried to prevent me; I pushed them away and caught hold of him again; he caught hold of Kew's broken truncheon and took it out of my hand, struck me two violent blows on the head with it, felled me to
the ground, and cut my helmet in two—this is my helmet, and this is the the truncheon (produced) it was split like this when I was struck with it, which made it sharp—my helmet was very tight on my head, but it fell off—it was afterwards brought to the station—while I was on the ground Conway kicked me twice on my mouth, saying "Kick the b——s—;" I could tell it was him by his long coat; and I was kicked all. over my body and on my face—three of my teeth were broken off, and my lip was cut in two places and was bleeding—others kicked me—Conway stood in front of me and the others around me—I received a kick on my cheek from Conway which cut it open slightly, but I had put my arms round my head after being kicked on the mouth, which prevented the violence of the blows—I was assisted from the ground by somebody in the crowd; I drew my truncheon and struck Conway on the centre of the head as hard as I could and he fell—I had not used my truncheon before that—Cook stepped up immediately and struck me two violent blows under the left ear with his clenched fist, saying "You b——, take that," and I rushed at him and pushed him over—a man came up on the right and struck me—the crowd formed round me and several men caught hold of me and held me—some one shouted out "Run, soldier, run"—I got away from the men who were holding me and went after Conway, who had run down St. George's Road, which leads out of the Holloway Road, nearly opposite the Derby Arms—I saw Bailey, 448 Y, and said "I have lost my prisoner, a soldier"—he and Heasnan joined me and we followed them down St. George's Road and found Conway standing in an iron gateway with a woman—I caught hold of him and Heasman or Bailey said "You will 'have to go the station with us, you had better come quietly"—he said "No, you s——s, I will kill you first"—a very large crowd of violent roughs came up, headed by Cogan and Kendrick; they seemed to be led by them—they surrounded us, and Cogan said "Don't let them take him away"—I said "No, he will go with us, you had better go quietly"—Cogan used a number of threats and said that we should never take him—a number of bricks and stones were thrown at us by the crowd, some of them surrounded us and kicked and struck us whereever they could—we all had our truncheons out—I saw Kendrick throw half a brick—Cogan, who was close to me, said "Knife the b——s," and I received a blow in the back, I do not know from whom, but my coat seemed to be pulled off my back by the blow, it pulled me downwards, but not on to the ground—we were all holding Conway—Cogan went up to Bailey and said "Leave go, I will strangle you," and caught him round the neck—the crowd came rushing in and kicked and struck us wherever they could—constables in plain clothes and uniform came up and I saw Sergeant Gould and Escott—this is my coat (produced), it appears to have a cut behind—we carried Conway face downwards to the Caledonian Road "station; he was very violent all the way—two working men said "You look done up, governor, we will assist you"—they did so, and when I got to the station I fell down in a sort of fainting fit and was attended to by the doctor, and sent home in a cab—I saw Cosgrove in the crowd; I did not remember him at the police-court, I remembered him when I had given my evidence, and before the charge was over; I remembered when it was called to my mind by one of the witnesses, my being kicked, and I turned round and said "You had better not kick me again;" I remember his face as being the one who was behind me when I turned round after being kicked; he was the nearest to me, he seemed to be in the act of kicking me again, and I threatened him,
with my truncheon—when I recovered at 1.30 I saw Conway and Kendrick at the station; I don't know how Kendrick came there—I have been attended by a surgeon ever since—I was in bed nineteen days and have been suffering ever since from severe pain down the centre of my back and from injury inside; I am unable to do my duty and was unable to attend one of the examinations—I did not know Conway or Cogan before; I knew Kendrick by name and by sight—I had known Cook a long time by sight previously and I think I had seen Cosgrove, but I will not be sure—I have heard that Conway and Cogan are brothers—on 11th November Cook was brought to my house by Lewis, a detective, who said "Look at this man"—I said "Yes, that is right, he is the man who struck me twice in the Holloway Road"—Cook put his hands together and said "For God's sake, don't say that, governor, I was at Blackwall"—Lewis said "Do you feel sure?"—I said "I am quite sure, I have no doubt about it," and he took him away.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The crowd was not outside the public-house which had just closed, but at a beer-shop 20 or 30 yards off; they were quarrelling and swearing—I think it was Cogan who said "You can't take two," but I will not swear it—I have not been asked that before, and I did not say so when Cogan was before the Magistrate—Conway struck me a violent blow in the face without any provocation whatever; that was the commencement of it—he had not been struck then—I saw Cogan before his brother was on the ground—I first saw Cogan when Conway appealed to the crowd, and said "Give it to the s——s; let the s——s have it"—that was after I had caught hold of Conway—I did not hear Cogan say "Let my brother go away," but later on, in St. George's Road, he said "Let me take my brother away"—I did not say "Stand back;" that was not said at ail—Kew did not use his staff at all in my sight, but I used mine; we all used our staves to keep the crowd off—I saw staves used, and felt them—three of us drew our staves in St. George's Road; myself, Eveland, mi Bailey—this coat was produced before the Magistrate with the cut in it—I did not see the face of the person who kicked me in the mouth, but I saw his legs, and the red stripe down his trousers, and his great coat—I know that Conway belongs to the 77th Regiment—the man who said "You cannot take two," had a white billycock on, and that is my reason for thinking it was Cogan—when I saw him afterwards he was stripped and had turned up his shirt sleeves; he had no hat, coat, or waistcoat on then—I never saw Cogan with anything on his head after the commencement of the affair.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I saw Kendrick in the crowd directly I got up, and before Conway was in custody, but he did not do anything till I had got hold of Conway—I am not able to say that Kendrick struck me—I saw him in the crowd of thirty or forty people, and afterwards in St. George's Road—I was knocked down by Conway, and could not get up; I was kicked immediately I fell, and did not retain my hold of Conway; the blow seemed to take all power from me—somebody, I cannot say who, assisted me up; I then recaptured Conway, and after that, from fifty to 100 roughs came up, led by Cogan and Kendrick—they followed me down St. George's Road immediately—Cogan and Kendrick seemed to be inviting them to come on—some one in the crowd said "He is by himself; we will give it him now"—I think it was half a brick which was thrown in St. George's Road, it looked like it; I saw it come from Kendrick's hand; he was 5, 7, or 10 yards from me, and I saw his face close under a lamp—I was struck on the head by a number of stones or bricks, that was when we had caught hold of the soldier, and a number of threats had been used.
Re-examined. I afterwards saw a white billycock in Cogan's possession at the station—I have no doubt about Cogan being the man who said "You' can't take two"—I feel sure in my own mind, but I have not sworn so.
JAMES KEW (Policeman Y 196). On Saturday night, 21st October, I was with Lambert in the Holloway Road, in uniform—a woman spoke to us, and from what she said I went to the Derby Arms—the Pied Bull is on the left of the Holloway Road coming from the Archway, and is nearer London—St. George's Road is on the opposite side of the road, opposite the Derby Arms—it was then about 12 o'clock, and the Pied Bull was shut up—about forty or fifty people seemed to be arguing together, and swearing, and causing a disturbance, and Lambert said "Now, my lads, see about clearing away here"—some one in the crowd said "You can't take two, you b——"—Lambert said "We don't want to take any of you; we want you to clear away home"—Conway then struck Lambert in the face with his fist, saying "Take that, you b——"—we then made an attempt to take him into custody, and be struck me a violent blow with his fist under the right cheekbone, which made it swell, and it was very painful—I then received a kick on the bottom part of my body from Cogan; I saw him do it, and he kicked me from the footway into the road—I kept hold of Conway; I pulled him and Lambert with me into the road by the force of the kick—I then received a very heavy kick from Kendrick on the left hip bone, which caused great pain, and caused me to walk lame for over a week afterwards—I was then kicked by Cogan in the middle of my stomach, and cried out "For God's sake don't kick me again; let me get up"—Conway, Lambert, and I, were then on the ground; we were kicked there—I got on my knees, and tried to pull Conway off of Sergeant Lambert, but Cogan took hold of me, with one hand in my belt and the other in my throat, and with several other men I was dragged on to the tram road; they threw me down, and I received a kick in the middle of my stomach from Kendrick, who then ran away with Cogan to where Lambert was, 10 or 15 yards off—I got up, and two more men came at me—I threw them down into the road as fast as they came at me, and Cogan and several other men then came at me, and we had a desperate struggle for my truncheon—I had not drawn it; it was still in the case—Cogan at last got it out, and one of the leathers of my belt was broken in the struggle—I received three stabs, and on looking at my belt there are three cuts in it—I was then thrown down into the tram road, and Cogan came at me with my truncheon in his hand, and gave me a running kick in the pit of my stomach, which kicked the breath very nearly out of my body, and I had to struggle to get my breath again—he said "Kill the b——; kill the s——s"—I got up as well as I could, and saw him going across to where Lambert was, and said "Look out, for God's sake; he has got the stick," meaning the truncheon, and pulled my rattle out and went towards him—Cogan then came to me with the truncheon in his hade and made a blow at me; I placed the rattle up, and he knocked it out of my hand, breaking the tongue of it and bending the pin—I picked it up and went at him again with it, and he came at me again with the truncheon and gave me a tremendous blow on the head, breaking the truncheon in two and splitting a piece off it, as it appears now—my head was cut open, the blood. spurted out, and I became insensible—I was not wearing my helmet the n; I hardly know where it was; I saw it afterwards at the station—I came to my recollection in the Pied Bull, where the divisional surgeon attended 'me after my head was sewn up I was taken to the station, where I saw Conway
and Kendrick in custody—I was taken home in a cab and attended by a surgeon—I was seriously ruptured—I was unable to leave my bed for three days, and was unable to give evidence till November 13th—I am still unfit for duty—I believe it was the last kick from Cogan in the pit of my stomach which ruptured me—I did not see Cooke or Cosgrove there—I have known Kendrick about two years.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I could not see the man who said "You can't take two"—I was then standing next to Lambert, so that we both had the same opportunity of seeing—the first time I saw Cogan was when he came behind me and kicked me—that was after Lambert had got hold of Conway, not a minute I should think after Conway had struck the first blow—I was sideways to Cogan when he kicked me—a good many people were round us then, and the crowd was very violent independent of these people; they all seemed as if they wanted to take a part in it—I did not hear Cogan say "Let my brother go."
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. All I say about Kendrick, is that I received a kick from him on the left hip; I was on the ground then, and several of the others were round me—I did not know any of them, but I knew Kendrick—I mean to say that I can tell the person who kicked me when I was lying down—that is all I saw of Kendrich.
Re-examined. Kendrick kicked me twice, the second time was on my stomach affer I was thrown down.
JAMES BAILEY (Policeman Y 448). I was on duty in the Hollo way Road, about 12.30, and a woman strike to me—I saw Lambert there—I then went up St. George's Road, and saw Conway turn into, a gateway—I went up to him, caught hold of his collar and said "You must come with me to the station, you have been assaulting Sergeant Lambert"—he then kicked me violently on the legs and hips—Easman came up directly afterwards, and I saw him stoop by Conway's side; I did not see what he picked up, but I afterwards saw a broken staff in his hands—Cogan then came up and said "That is my brother, leave go of him"—I said "I shall not leave go of him"—he then clasped me round my neck with both hands, and said "You b——, if you don't let me go I'll strangle you"—I let go of Conway, he threatened me very much and I struck him across the shoulder with my truncheon—Cogan then let go of me and stepped back among the crowd and said "You b——if you come anywhere near me again I'll stab you"—he drew a knife from his pocket and came up towards me; it was open—I turned my head and saw Escott coming up and cried out to him "Sam, Sam, come and help me, they are going to kill me"—Escott came up and hit Cogan with his staff, I believe; I cannot say where, but the blow felled him to the ground—Escott was in plain clothes; I did not see any more of Cogan till I apprehended him—I then went to Conway and helped to take him to the station—I received two more kicks from him as I went along, and it was with great difficulty we got him to the station—I went with Witham at 4 o'clock, and took Cogan in the Essex Road; I recognised him, as the man who drew the knife, immediately I saw him—I was injured on my right knee which was very painful for two days—I could hardly move my leg—I was in uniform.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. When I called out to Escott, 200 or 300 people were round me—I did not say at the hospital "I know nothing about Cogan"—after Escott said "He is the man;" I said "He is man is the man right enough"—Witham and a nurse were also present—
I said going from Cogan's house to the station "That is the man, I know enough against him;" not "I knew nothing against him.
Re-examined. I knew then that he was the man, and he was taken to the hospital where Escott was.
SAMUEL EASTMAN (Policeman Y R 19). On Sunday morning, 22nd October, I was on duty in uniform, near St. George's Road; some people spoke to me, and I saw Sergeant Lambert in the Holloway Road, with a large crowd following him—he said "Catch that soldier"—I could not see a soldier then, but I went up St. George's Road, and saw Conway standing in a gateway—Bailey caught hold of him and said that he would have to go to the station for assaulting a police-sergeant—Conway at that time dropped something behind him, and I stooped and picked up this broken truncheon—Bailey and I then took hold of Conway, and as we were taking him to the station he threw himself down and commenced kicking and fighting, and trying very hard to get away—Cogan was standing in the road with a large crowd of persons, who threw themselves on us and tried to get him away—the crowd threw a large number of stones at us, and Cogan came up to us and said "That is my brother, you b——s, if you use him foul I will knife you"—other persons with him called out "Knife the b——s"—one of the stones struck me a very heavy blow on the head; I was very nearly stunned by it—Escott came up in plain clothes and Gould in uniform, and Taylor and two or three other constables, who assisted us, as Lambert and Bailey were exhausted—I afterwards saw Escott being helped to the station—I can only speak to Cogan and Conway as doing anything.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. Cogan did not come up under the archway, but in the road—a great many other people came up with him, shouting out "Let him go."
EDWIN GOULD (Police-sergeant Y). I was at the station when two broken helmets were brought in, and in consequence of what I heard I went to St. George's Road, where I saw Conway in the custody of Lambert and Eastman, and another, struggling very violently and without a hat—I did not see Cogan then, but while assisting in keeping the crowd off the officers who had Conway in custody, I received a sharp blow on the back of my head from somebody, and found blood running down my neck, and immediately afterwards I saw Cogan standing in the crowd without a coat or a hat, and with his shirt sleeves turned up—the blow cut my helmet through and cut my head—he then came towards me, and I saw a knife in his left hand; that was directly after I was cut—he changed the knife from his left to his right hand—I receded from him, but he still followed me, saying "You b——, I will give you this," holding the knife out in a threatening attitude—I drew my truncheon and struck him on the head—immediately after that I was thrown to the ground by the crowd, and while on the ground I was kicked—when I got up Taylor, who was struggling with Kendrick, said "This is the man who struck you on the head with a stone, sergeant"—Kendrick said nothing to that—I took one side of him, and we got him. to the station—there were 150 to 200 people about—I did not see either of the other prisoners.
Cross-examined by MR. COOPER. I had not known Kendrick before—I was on the ground, and numbers were round me—I was not incensed, but I did not like the treatment—I had been ill-treated before that, by' being struck on the head with a stone—I heard Taylor speak distinctly;
he was standing over Kendrick, who was on the ground—there was a lamp 20 yards off on one of the cottages.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. When Cogan said "I will give you this," he changed the knife to his right hand, and held it up in this position, but he did not strike me a distinct blow—I am certain I saw the blade of a knife projecting 3 inches from his right hand, and also from his left.
Re-examined. Kendrick was taken in custody directly—Lambert had hold of him, and he was taken to the station.
ROBERT TAYLOR (Policeman Y 376). On Sunday morning, 22nd October, about 12.20,1 went, in uniform, from the station to St. George's Road—Escott was with me, in plain clothes, and two other constables—there was a large crowd throwing brickbats and stones, and shouting out "Knife the b——s"—I was struck with a brick on the back of my head—we all drew our truncheons at the same time, and kept the mob back with them—I saw Kendrick there, and three other chaps; Kendrick picked up a stone, stepped in front, and threw it with great force, saying "Take that, you b——;" the stone struck Sergeant Gould, who was 15 yards from him on the head or the helmet—I seized Kendrick, and told him I should take him into custody for throwing a stone at Sergeant Gould, and as soon as I took hold of him he became very violent, threw himself on the ground, and called on the mob to get him away—Sergeant Gould came up, and I said "This is the man that threw the stone"—I and Gould then took him to the station—we got there before Conway.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I did not say before the Magistrate that Kendrick stooped down and took up a stone and threw it with great force, it passed my memory; it is not an addition of my own, drawing on my imagination.
Re-examined. I saw Gould's head cut and bleeding—I mentioned that to the Magistrate.
SAMUEL ESCOTT . I went up to the mob at 12.30; I was in plain clothes—I saw Cogan in St. George's Road, and a sergeant and constable near him—I saw Cogan's left hand inside Bailey's collar, and an open knife in his right hand, which was close to Bailey's chest—I spoke to Cogan and said "Let go of Bailey, for I am a constable, if you do not let go of him, I shall take you in custody for trying to rescue the prisoner"—he said "You b——, if you do not go away, I will stab you before the night is out"—I asked him a second time to leave go and he repeated what he said before—I then drew my truncheon and struck him across the knee and he fell to the ground and I lost sight of him for ten minutes—I then saw him throw two pieces of brick in Eden Grove—I not only saw the knife, but I was stabbed. (This was the subject of another indictment.) Cogan wore a light billycock hat, both times that I saw him, a soft hat.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. I was within a yard when I saw Cogan's hand in Bailey's collar—nothing was said—I saw Cogan step back a little way, he drew his leg back—I don't remember hearing him say to Bailey "If you come any way near me again or touch me again I will put this into you"—I am sure I am not mistaken about his having his hand in Bailey's collar, I swear it, if I was to die this minute.
JAMES FIELD . I am assistant to a cheesemonger, of 204, Holloway Road—soon after 12 o'clock on this night I went into St. George's Road and saw Lambert there and a soldier, who I do not recognise—Cosgrove was standing close to me and to Lambert as well—he had something attached to a
piece of string, and I saw him strike Lambert on the head with it and kick him as well; I could not see what the thing was, or how long the string was, but as his hand came down it came down with it—Lambert was in a stooping position, holding the soldier, and Cosgrove kicked him in the back—a great many people were there—I went to the station for assistance and returned to St. George's Road—I did not hurry back, and the road was quieter then—I dare say it was a quarter of an hour before I returned—I did not see the soldier then, but I saw Cosgrove standing in St. George's Road with two females, showing them something which he had in his hand, I cannot say what it was, but there was a string which went from one hand to the other; he had it in one hand and what he used was in the other hand—he said to the women that he had given the b——s some, and he would give them some more before he went in doors—that was all I heard.
Cross-examined by MR. COOPER. I did not write it down—I have been fourteen years in my present place—I knew Cosgrove by sight; I have seen him in the Holloway Road, it is near his home—I could not swear to the females if I saw them again, although I saw them by the same light as Cosgrove, but I had seen him before on various occasions and can swear to him—I have not been talking to Lambert, or Gould, or Kew—Cosgrove stood next me—Lambert was at my feet, as it might be, I was not helping him; I did not consider it was my duty to interfere to help the police—I am sure Cosgrove was not playing at cat's cradle with the women with the piece of string.
Re-examined. I went to the station and got assistance—I have no doubt whatever about Cosgrove, something had happened to make me notice him before this.
WALTER MORLEY . I am manager to Mr. Terry, a grocer, of the Holloway Road—on this Sunday morning, a few minutes after 12 o'clock, I saw Cogan. take a staff away from the constable, Kew—I did not see him strike with it at the time, as I went back into the shop—I afterwards came out again and saw the constables regain their feet—I saw Kew trying to regain his staff from Cogan; he rushed at him with his arm up, and Cogan struck him on his arm and on the back of his head with the staff—I heard a sound like the breaking of a pane of glass, and it appears to have been the breaking of the staff—Kew staggered and the landlord of the Pied Bull immediately took him in.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. I said at the police-court that I would not swear to Cogan, but to the best of my belief he was the man; but I think if I had seen him with his hat on, which he had at the time, I should have sworn to him—I do not swear to him in consequence of what I have heard since; I do not go by his clothes, I go by his features.
THOMAS BLAKE . I was errand-boy to Mr. Terry, a grocer, of the Holloway Road, in October—about 12—o'clock on this Saturday night I saw a crowd near the Pied Bull and saw Sergeant Lambert, and Kew—I saw Cogan take away a staff from Kew, who was on the ground; he got up a few minutes afterwards and tried to get his staff again, and Cogan ran at him and knocked down his arm, and hit him on the head with it—I went to the shop and there was no one in; I just put my head in and came back again and they were in St. George's Road, trying to carry the soldier—I got knocked down the last time—when I saw Cogan the first time he. Was wearing a white Billy cock—I saw it when he was before the Magistrate; he shewed it me when I was giving my evidence.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I saw a white hat in Cosgrove's hand at the police-court, which was the same as he had in the crowd.
GEORGE TARR (Policeman Y 416). On Sunday morning, 22nd October, I was on duty with Browning in Hornsey Road, about 1.30, and saw Cook 200 or 250 yards from the Pied Bull—I knew him before, and knew his name as Cook—Browning spoke to me about him—I have no doubt whatever that he is the man I saw—I heard of this disturbance; it was on that night.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. This is the first time I have given evidence.
TOM BROWNING (Policeman Y 405). On this Sunday night, 22nd October, I was on duty in the Holloway Road—I did not see the disturbance, but I heard of it—I saw Tarr about 12 o'clock, and after that about 12.30—I saw Cook, who I knew by the name of Moody, going in the direction of Queensland Road—I do not know where he lives; I spoke to Tarr about him.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I have given my evidence to-day for the first time.
WILLIAM WITHAM (Detective Officer Y). On Sunday morning, 22nd October, I went to 27, Broad Street, Essex Road—I saw a light in the parlour, and the shadow of a man—I knocked at the door several times, and asked for admission, and called out "Police;" we then forced the door and found nothing in the room but a light; we then went into another room and found Cogan in bed, with his head bandaged up—I said "I want a person named Cogan;" he said "Yes, I am Cogan"—I asked him what was the matter with his head; he said that he had been to Holloway and had got into a row, and had been struck with a staff by the sergeant—I told him to dress himself and I should take him in custody for stabbing a policeman—after he had dressed himself I said "There is no doubt you will be charged with attempted murder"—he said "Oh, if that is it, good-bye all"—on the way to the station he said "I never used a knife, for I never had a knife in my pocket"—I took him to the station, and from there to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where Escott was lying in bed, and before I got within a dozen yards of him Escott said "That is the man."
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Cogans head was bound up in such a way as if it was done by a surgeon.
DAVID LEWIS (Detective Officer Y). On 11th November, I took Cook at 27, Queensland Road, Holloway, which is a common lodging-house—he is a cattle drover; I knew him before—I told him I should take him in custody on a warrant for assault, and asked him to come outside—when we were outside, I told him he would be charged with being concerned with Conway and others in assaulting Sergeant Lambert in Holloway Road, he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, and from there to Sergeant Lambert's house—I said "Sergeant Lambert, look up and see if there is any one here you know"—he said "Yes, that man there; he struck me on the head with his fist"—I said "Have you any doubt about it?"—he said "No, none whatever"—Cook put his hands together like this, and said "You have made a mistake, I was not there; I was at Blackwall Railway Station"—I took him to the Caledonian Road station, where the charge was read over to him, and he said he was not there; that was at 9.45—I took Cosgrove previous to that on the same night, at the Coach and Horses, Holloway Road—I knew him before by the name of Burke—I went into
the bar, and said "Burke, I wish to speak to you"—he said "All right"—I said "I want to speak to you outside"—he said "I sha'nt come out"—I pulled him out, and told him I should take him for being concerned with Conway and others with assaulting Lambert in St. George's Road, on the morning of the riot; he made no reply—I took him to the Caledonian Road Station, where he was detained until the witness Field came, he was then placed with three or four others, and I asked Field if he saw any one there to go up and put his hand upon him; he put his hand on Cosgrove, and said "That is the man I saw strike and kick Sergeant Lambert in St. George's Road; I have known him about seven months"—Cosgrove said "What name do you want me by?".—I told him that he could give what name he liked—he said "My name is Cosgrove"—that is all that passed.
Cross-examined by MR. COOPER. I have known him three years—I did not know where he lived at the time, but I do now—I have not been to his house; I did not want to search for anything—I had not spoken to Field about him—Field did not describe him to me; Burke is a man who if you see once you will not mistake him a second time—I had no conversation with Field going along, he was not with me—Cook was one of the men Field had to select from, and there were two others about his own height; they were not policemen, they were prisoners about 5 feet 3 inches high—Cosgrove is about 5 feet 2 inches.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I arrested Cook at the lodging-house three weeks after the assault, and before the first hearing at the police court—I asked him what his name was, and he said "Cook"—I took him to the sergeant's house the same night—he was not in his bed-room, he was in the front parlour; there were five or six policemen with me, but we were all in plain clothes; Lambert knew all the policemen—I do not know that Cook worked regularly on Saturdays to trans-ship the cattle from the steamers at Blackwall up to the cattle layers at the Caledonian Road.
GEORGE WRIGHT , B.M. I am surgeon to the Y division, and live at 408, Liverpool Road—on Sunday morning, 22nd October, about 12.30 or 1 a.m., I went to the Caledonian Road police-station and saw Sergeant Lambert—he was in a very faint condition, covered with a cold, clammy sweat, and gasping for breath—he was only able to speak in a whisper—his face was grazed on the cheek bone; the skin was broken; his eyes were blackened and three or four of his front teeth knocked out; I thought he would have died at the station from the concussion to his spine and head; his life was certainly in danger—he said "Let me go home," and he was Sent home at once—I visited him at his home two hours afterwards, he was still very ill, but he had recovered—I attended him about three weeks, but he' is on the sofa still, and unable to do duty; he is not out of danger yet, he has symptoms of paralysis in his leg and in his bladder—a violent blow on the head would account for the injuries I saw; he was hacked all over his body; he was sore all over, there was hardly an inch clear—he had great tenderness and bruises all over, more particularly at the bottom of his spine—his condition arises from shock from the violent ill-usage he received—I also saw Kew that morning, who was ruptured, and he also had a scalp wound—I saw Sergeant Gould at the station, who also had a scalp wound at the back of his head—I also saw Escott who was suffering from a stab in the stomach.
Thursday, December 17th, 1876.
The following witnesses were called for Cook.
SARAH WILKIKSON . I am the wife of William Wilkinson, of 27, Queensland Road, Hornsey Road—Cook has lodged at our house nine or ten months—I first heard of this assault on the Sunday morning, and Cook came home on the Saturday night at little after 6 o'clock; he asked me to sew some buttons on his trousers—he had his tea and went up to bed about 8 o'clock, and put his trousers outside the door; I fetched them about ten minutes afterwards and put them in my front parlour—he sleeps on the first floor—I then locked my parlour door, put the key in any pocket, and went out marketing—I returned about 10.45, and his trousers were where I had left them—I did something else first and then sewed the buttons on them and put them on a chair in the front parlour, and went to bed; I slept in that room and they were still there when I got up at a little after 5 o'clock; but I was up all night nearly because my baby was very ill—the prisoner has never had more than one pair of trousers since I knew him at about 5.5 I saw my husband take Cook's trousers up to him, and about 5.15 or 5.20 I heard Cook come down stairs; I did not see him, I only heard him, but I spoke to him as he was going out and told him to shut the doer quietly because my baby had just gone to sleep—Cook lodged at our house up to the time of his arrest, but he never sleeps at home on Sunday nights—I saw him next at a little after 5 o'clock on Monday afternoon, when he came home from work and had his tea as usual—he sometimes goes away on Tuesday and sometimes on Friday—I do not know what he does—some times when he does not go to work he is in bed all day.
Cross-examined by MR. BEASLEY. He was with us up to the time he was apprehended—I was present when he was apprehended—I had heard of this affair on the Sunday morning—I saw the constable at our house-Cook did not speak to me before he went away with Lewis, nor to anyone in the house—Rose Cook, his sister, also lodges with us, and I believe he asked her to find his hat before he went away—he was not told the charge in our house; he asked Lewis what he was being charged for, and they would not tell him; they said that he was to be apprehended on a warrant for having a quarrel with Mrs. Biggs, a person who lives in our neighbour hood, and with that I told him to go quietly—he did not say anything, he put on his hat and off he went, saying "All right, I'll go"—I told him to go quietly, because I thought he would not like to go, and because I thought it would be the best for him—nothing was said in my hearing about any assault on the police, and I was present the whole time—Lewis did not tell Cook in my presence that he held a warrant against him for assaulting Lambert; on my oath he did not; nor did Cook say in my hearing "I know nothing about it," or any words of that kind, and I was there all the time—he did not mention Holloway Road in my hearing—I did not know that he was taken away on a charge of assaulting the police; I had not the smallest idea that it had anything to do with the Sunday morning at the time when Lewis took him away—I believed he was taken on a charge of assaulting Mrs. Biggs; I had heard that they had had a quarrel, but no more; he did not tell me that, his daughter told me—the quarrel was on the Wednesday as he was locked up on Saturday night—the assault on the police took place on 21st October, and I heard of it on Sunday morning, the 22nd; I heard the neighbours talking about it; I
cannot give you their names; it was nobody who lodges in our house—I heard of it when I was taking my dinner to the bake-house—Cook's sister has lodged with us three years, and she was in the house on the night when this affair of the trowsers was going on; she minds the house when I go out; she is my servant and I give her wages—she is not here—she was out that evening; she was in and out—she sleeps in the back parlour; she slept there that night—she goes in and out of my parlour where I and my baby were—I know Kendrick by seeing him in the neighbourhood; I have known him by sight two years I should say—I do not know what he is—I never saw him with Cook—five other men slept in the same room with Cook; there are six altogether; they were all six at home that night—one mail is named Clark, he went to bed about 11.40—I remember that because I know the time he came in—I noticed the time he went to bed; I always do so to see what time he shuts the house up—he is not my husband—my husband shuts the house up—I remember the time Clark went to bed because my husband asked me the time two or three minutes before—all the other five men who slept in that room have not come here; Arthur Clark and Alfred Cyrett have—Alfred Clark is the one I have spoken of—Cyrett went to bed after Clark, but I cannot say what time—nobody else is here but my husband—Alfred Cole was also there, and William Buckland; I do not know at what time they went to bed—Clark has been living with us about ten weeks; I believe he has got two pairs of trowsers—Cyrett has only one pair, I believe; I never saw him with more than one pair—I am sometimes engaged in putting buttons on their trowsers; I mend and wash for them all—Cook went to bed on this Saturday night at a little after 8 o'clock, and about the same time on the Saturday night before; that was about his regular bed hour on Saturday nights, but not for the the others—I cannot tell at what time Clark went to bed on the previous Saturday, but he never went in much before 12 o'clock.
Re-examined. My baby was awake, and I was up almost all night—I also remember that on that night, about 6.30 or 7 o'clock, Cook asked me to buy him a new shirt, and because I was a long time gone my husband got quarrelsome with me and told me to let the lodgers buy their own shirts.
By THE JURY. Being a drover he does not go to work on Saturday nights—he generally came home about that time, but sometimes a little later—he went to work on Sundays at a little after 5 o'clock—I think I have sewn buttons on this pair of trowsers three or four different times and I have washed them twice; he was in bed while I washed them; he sometimes gets wet and then he lies in bed while I dry them; there is not another pair for him to put on, he has only got what be stands up in; he has not a pair of trowsers to put on on Sunday, I never saw him with another pair.
By THE COURT. I did not generally mend the trowsers on Saturday night, bat on any night when he asked me; on this Saturday night I sewed three buttons on them.
FREDERICK WILKINSON . I am the husband of the last witness, and am a plaisterer's labourer—I first heard of this assault on the Sunday morning at 10 o'clock; some chaps came and told me—Cook had come in about 6 o'clock on the Saturday and he said to my wife "Sally, would you mind putting some buttons on my trowsers to-night?" he calls her Sally—she said "Yes, when you are ready for them"—he then sat down and had his tea and stopped in the kitchen till 8 o'clock, or it may be a little after, and then went upstairs to bed.
SARAH WILKINSON (re-examined by THE COURT). I never heard Cook go out during the night, and he could not have gone out without any trowsers; I am able to say positively that after he went to bed at 8 o'clock he did not go out of the house before 5 o'clock in the morning; I feel sure about that.
FREDERICK WILKINSON (continued). Cook hallooed out at his bed-room door "Here are my trowsers," and my mistress went up and he gave her the trowsers; she brought them down stairs and put them in the parlour and locked the door, put on her bonnet and shawl and went marketing, and I went with her—the whole house belongs to me—we did not lock the street door, only the parlour—we came back at 11 o'clock, or a little after, and had a bit of supper, and I reminded my wife about putting the buttons on; I said "You had better put the buttons on the chap's trowsers"; she would have forgotten all about them if I had not told her—she went out, of the parlour and took the lamp and fetched the trowsers; I think she put them in the back parlour; she put the trowsers back on the chair in the parlour, and there they remained till next morning—I was indoors all night and was up almost all night with the baby; my wife undressed the baby and put it to bed, but she had to get up again, because it was ill—Cook had told me to call him if I was awake, and I took his trowsers up to him at; 5.30 next morning and said "Here are your trowsers"—he asked me the time and I told him it was 5.30 and then I came downstairs again, and Cook got up and put his trowsers on and went to work, and he never returned till the Monday at 3 o'clock—from the time I went out marketing with my wife Cook was in bed; I saw him in bed at 12.15 when I—went up to see that my lodgers were all right, and I spoke to him—he and Clark and Cyrett had three beds together, and he laid in the middle bed of the three; they were talking and I took my lamp up in my hand and said "Now, if you chaps are going to get up in the morning you had better go to sleep," and I blew the light out, and went down and bolted the front door, that is what I call closing my house—I did not go to bed for five or ten minutes, and then I had to get up again; I got up in about an hour and a half afterwards, because the baby was so bad, and was up nearly all night—there is no key to the front door; it bolts—I am able to say on my oath that Cook was in the house all that time, from 8 o'clock to 5.30—he never had another pair of trowsers in my house—I do not know how long he has had that pair, they seem pretty good, I should think he had had them five or six months—he has been in my house nine months, ten months now—he had a pair of cord trowsers when he came, and he gave them to his sister to make a pair for her little boy; when he bought these, four or five months back, he gave them to his sister, Rose Cook, but she took them to her married sister—Rose is the single one—I do not know whether Rose did so, but I never saw the old trowsers again, only when they were on the boy, and they were not in the same shape then—the other trowsers were bran new when they were bought—Cook is a cattle drover, he works at Blackwall every Saturday and returns home about 6 o'clock—he takes cattle on board ships, but I never was there—his trowsers are generally in a muddy state when he comes home; they have pretty good trowsers in that trade, they are made strong, and they pay 3s. or 4s. extra for them—he goes away on Sunday mornings—if he comes home with his trowsers wet and dirty he takes them upstairs with him—I do not know whether the buttons often come off; I am not aware that my wife has sewn
buttons on them before, not on these trowsers—I should know if I saw her do it—I never saw her put buttons on these trowsers before.
Cross-examined by MR. BEASLEY. He generally came home on Saturday nights at the same time, to the best of my knowledge, and he went to bed about the same time, or a little later; he was never much after 9 or 10 o'clock at the latest—it was 10 o'clock the night they took him—I was present when he was apprehended, in my front parlour—Lewis apprehended him, and I heard him ask him his name—I was not in the same room; I was in the front room; not in the same room—I could not hear where I was what passed between Lewis and him, but I came out and saw Lewis taking him out, and I asked Cook what he was being taken for—I do not know what he said; they went off—I don't think Lewis told him what he was taken for till he got outside, but he asked him his name, and he said "Cook"—Lewis said "Come on; we don't want to fill everybody's mouth; come outside," and I followed them out, but I. did not go any farther than the door—my wife was present; we were all there; we all came out of the parlour, but she never heard Lewis say that—she heard me ask him what he was being taken for, and she heard Cook say "I do not know;" but she is very hard of hearing for the last six months; I have spoken to her myself, and she has not heard me—when I spoke to Cook I dare say she was as far off as I am from that gentleman (pointing)—she might have heard, but I don't know whether she did or not—I did not hear Lewis say anything to my wife at any part of the time—I was in the front parlour and I came out into the passage—Lewis did not go right into the back room, Cook came out to him into the back passage—if Lewis had spoken to my wife I could have heard him—I don't believe he did speak to her—well, I believe he did—I don't think he did, and yet I do think he did; there were so many of us in the passage—I do not know what he said to her; I only remember what he said outside—I will swear before these gentlemen that this man had only one pair of trowsers at that time—the only other pair I remember was the pair he gave away—I will swear that he only had one pair—the other men have one pair each, bar Clark, who has two pair, and bis Sunday trowsers are put fin my room downstairs in a box—I have not been in trouble—I was in trouble ten years ago, or it may be more—I had four months—it was for felony; stealing from inside a shop—I do not know what year it was in—it was at Clerkenwell police-court—it might be in 1868; it is a long while ago; I was a lad at the time—I am now twenty-five—I was charged again at Clerkenwell Police-court in 1869—I have only had four months—the felony at the shop was at Queensland Road—I was never charged with committing felony in Wickham Terrace; I was taken up because my hat was chucked into a shop; me and some lads were larking and my hat was chucked in, and I went in and got it, and the man thought I was after stealing his herrings, and said he would have me locked up—I was taken before a Magistrate, and discharged—I do not know how long that was after Queensland Road—I do not remember being up again at Clerkenwell police-court in 1871, on a charge of assault; it was about 1874, I think; it is two or three years ago—that was not a charge of assaulting Mrs. Elizabeth Rose, in the Holloway Road—it was an insult upon Mr. Hobbs and his wife—that was in the Holloway Road—I was bound over to keep the peace for three months—I mean to say that I know nothing of the charge of assaulting Mrs. Elizabeth Rose, nor was I fined 20s. or fourteen days for it—I know Mr. and Mrs. Rose, she keeps a poulterer's
shop, but that never happened—it was my brother Henry who was fine 20s. or fourteen days, and I can bring him up to prove it—I have known all the prisoners all my life—I know the Derby Arms beer-house—I have been there—I never saw any of the prisoners there; yes, I have seen Kendrick there, but none of the others—I have seen Cogan, Kendrick, and Cosgrove together, but not often, and I never saw Cook with them—I have not seen Cogan for some time—when I have seen them together they were having a glass at different public-houses in the Holloway Road.
Re-examined by MR. COLE. They all live about that neighbourhood—I never saw Cook in their company—he is not a companion of theirs; I swear positively that I had nothing to do with the assault in 1871; it was my brother Henry—the only imprisonment was when I was a boy, and had four months—in the assault in which I was bound over; I had two or three words with a man and his wife—I went to fetch my wife away and they gave me a smack in the face, and we had a fight and the wife summonsed me, and I was bound over to keep the peace towards them—they were not bound over to keep the peace towards me; I did not summons them—when Lewis came to arrest Cook, four or five other lodgers were present; Davey and Lovett, and Rose Cook, and I think Cole was there—this was on the ground floor—the constable was only there five or ten minutes, and those people were there during that time—no conversation went on while the constable was there.
By A JUROR. I reside about half a mile from the cattle market—I never saw Cook driving cattle, but that is his trade—I do not think he is known to the police, or whether they would have an opportunity of observing him driving cattle—when my wife repairs trowsers for the lodgers we do not generally lock them up in our room all night, but we did not care about doing them just then, because we were going out marketing—if Cook was taken ill in the night he would have had to go downstairs in his shirt—we do not generally keep trowsers all night, this was an exceptional case—I get up on Sunday mornings, about 7 or 8 o'clock; I do not care about turning out so soon on Sunday, but the baby kept me up on this night—there is do knocker on my front door, and there is no key—there are two bolts—they have no latch keys, they have to knock before they come in, and they cannot go in and out—the door is open all day long up to the time I bolt it.
By THE COURT. We always lock the parlour door when we go out, and we kept it locked at night, because of the baby being ill—we always lock it when we go to bed, because it is where we sleep.
ARTHUR CLARK . I sell fish and poultry with a cart, and lodge in Wilkinson's house—I heard of this assault on the next day Sunday, between 1 and 2 o'clock at the Queen's Arms public-house—I came home on the night in question at 12.20 and went to the room where Cook was, where I sleep—Cook was then in bed—this may be the door, my bed is here, Cook's is the next, and here is the next, there are three on one side and three on the other—Cook has a pair of cord trowsers; I never saw more than one pair—I was talking to Cook till very nearly 1 o'clock in the morning, because I had sold my pony on that day—I then went to sleep and awoke again when the landlord came in next morning with a pair of trowsers on his arm—that was a little after 5 o'clock, about half-past.
Cross-examined by MR. BEASLEY. The landlord came up at 12.30 to see if we were all in bed, and he blowed the candle out—I am my own master
I buy fish and poultry and re-sell it—I serve gentlemen's houses—Cook was Dot asleep when I went up—I will swear that he only had one pair of trowsers—I also know Cosgrave and Kendrick, but I never saw Conway or Cogan before—I know the Derby Arms beer house well—I do not go there sometimes—I know it by living in the neighbourhood so many years, but I never go into it—six of us slept in this room, but they were not all in when. I went in—they were all in when the landlord came up at 12.30, but they were not all awake—I don't know which were asleep—they were all there when the landlord blew the candle out—they were not all interested in the story of the pony, because one was in the corner asleep—the one who took an interest in the story of the pony was a chap they call Natty—he has not a wooden leg—he is there still.
By A JUROR. I do not associate with Cook—I do not know whether he had his supper there—I do not go into the kitchen; I am only a lodger—I do not know whether he is a teetotaller, but he has had a drop of spruce or shrub with me.
By MR. COLE. I said at the police-court "Cook is not a companion of theirs as far as I know."
ALFRED CYRETT . I sell fish—Clark brings it to us; he finds the money to buy it—I lodge in this house—I first heard of this assault on the Sunday between 2 and 3 o'clock at a beershop—I come home on the Saturday night at 11.45; my business keeps me out as late as that; I stand at a stall—I went straight to bed, and saw the mistress going into her parlour, I don't know what for—when I got into the room Clark and Cook were there—Cook was in bed, and Clark was sitting on the bed—I undressed and got. into bed, but remained awake about an hour—me and Clark and Cook were talking about selling his pony—nothing else happened before I got up in the morning at 6.30—I went to sleep close upon 1 o'clock, and did not wake up before 5.30, when Mr. Wilkinson came up and brought a pair of trowsers up for Cook—I was asleep at that time, and he awoke me.
Cross-examined by MR. BEASLEY. When I went into the room nobody was there but Clark and Cook; the other three came in two or three minutes after—I know Cook, Kendrick, and Cosgrove—I heard of this assault next day in the Fountain beer-shop—Clark and Cook were talking about a pony that night—I remember Mr. Wilkinson putting out the light—Cook was not asleep then; he was talking to Clark—I did not hear him ask Wilkinson to wake him up.
DAVID LEWIS (re-called by MR. BEASLEY). When I took Cook he did not ask me, in Wilkinson's presence, what he was charged with, nor did he ask me at all—I did not say that he would be apprehended on a warrant for having a quarrel with Mary Biggs, nor did Cook say in Mrs. Wilkinson's presence "All right, I will go," or anything to that effect—I heard nothing about any quarrel with Mary Biggs before. I took Cook in custody, and then I heard it from Cook's sister at that time, after I had told him the charge—I did not charge him with that at all; there is no pretence for saying that I was going to take him for that—I did not read the warrant to him—Wilkinson and his wife were in the front room; it would be impossible for them to hear what was said, for there were six constables in the passage—Wilkinson did not ask Cook in my presence what he was being taken for, for did Cook say "I don't know"—he never spoke.
By A JUROR. I did not read the warrant to the man when I apprehended him; it was not asked for; nor did I read it in the street—I told him the
charge—I asked him if his name was Cook—he said "Yes," and I told him the charge—I have not got the warrant here: it is at the police-court.
CONWAY, KENDRICK, COGAN, and COSGROVE—
GUILTY — Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude each. Kendrick and Cosgrove had both been previously convicted of a like offence.
COOK— NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against Cook, which was postponed to the next Session.
The following case has been omitted from the New Court, Monday.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PURCELL conducted the Prosecution.
ALFRED HALE . I am a fruiterer, of 294, Pentonville Road—on 17th October, at 9.30 p.m., I closed my house safely and went upstairs—I heard a noise about 10.30, and in a minute or two another noise—I went down and found the prisoner at the bottom of the stairs in the passage—I asked him what he was doing; he said that he was looking for a friend—I seized him and called "Police"—the shop counter had been moved—there were several marks on the street door, which was unfastened but put to—no one was in the shop when I closed it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was a light in the passage, but not in the shop—I sell apples—there are nine children in the house.
JOHN BOOKER (Policeman Y 446). Hale called me and gave the prisoner into my charge, who told me he was looking for a friend—I found this chisel in the waisthand of his trowsers—the door post is not strong, it is not a fixture; it is taken down in the day, and it is loose; it could be shifted back with the chisel so as to release the lock.
Prisoner's Defence. This is a fruit shop, and anybody seeing the door open might go in. I missed my friend, and thinking he had gone in to buy some fruit I went in. I did not try to run away.
GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. C. E. JONES conducted the Prosecution.
DANIEL BLYTH . I am a draper, of Colchester—on Saturday, 11th November, the prisoner came to my shop about 11 o'clock, and asked if I could give her change for a cheque; she wanted a few things—the cheque was signed Mussett—I said "Mussett, of Murton?"—she said "No, Mussett, of Colne"—I kept her waiting a few minutes—when my boy came in, I sent the cheque to the bank—the head clerk afterwards came and said that there were no effects—I saw the prisoner at the station, and told her; she said "My master, Mr. Mussett, of Colne, gave it me for my wages, and told me I could get it cashed at any shop or bank," but that he had gone to North America—she said she had been a year or two in Mr. Mussett's service.
GEORGE BURN . I am a police-sergeant, of Colchester—I saw the prisoner in custody at the station-house, on 11th November—I told her she was charged with passing a forged, cheque at Mr. Blyth's, a draper, of High Street, Colchester—she said "I did not know but that it was a good one; my master, Mr. Mussett, of Butt Road, Colne, gave it me the week before last as part of my wages; he gave me 1l. a month and 3s. 6d. besides; he is gone away to North America"—she gave me the name of Smith, and afterwards of Elizabeth Stebbing—the nest day she sent for me to go to her cell; I went with the gaoler—she said "I have a statement I wish to make to you; I have been thinking over it, and shall be glad to get it off my mind"—I cautioned her, and said "You need not say anything, but what you say I shall take down in writing, and it may be given in evidence, against you;' she then made this statement; she also said when charged that she had lived with Mr. Mussett three or four years; (Read: Elizabeth Stebbings states:—"The week before last, I believe it was Wednesday or Thursday week, a young man come to see me at. my mother's house, and asked me to go out for a walk with him. I told him I could not go then. He then went out, and I went out about an hour after, and went up the Colne Road and met Mr. Frederick Mussett, of Earl's Colne, near the George Inn. He said to me 'Good evening, Jane, can I see you home?' I said 'Oh, no, I do not want anyone to see me home.' I afterwards went into the George public-house with him, and we had a glass of ale. We then left, and he said he would see me safe home. We then went on the road about a mile. He then wanted to have connection with me, I said 'No, I should not think of such a thing.' He said ho would before he went much further. He afterwards had connection with me. It was about 5.30 in the evening. He then offered me a sovereign. I refused to take it. He then said I have not got any more change only 3s. 6d., but I have got a bank note, which he took out of his purse and gave it to me, and I took it, also the 3s. 6d. I said to him 'What am I to do with it.' He said 'You can change it at any shop; you know where I live, at the red brick house, up the Butt Road, and if anyone asks you how you came by it, tell them you have lived with me three or four years, and that is some of your wages. I then went about half a mile further with him, and then left him. It was near Chappell Railway Station. I did not know but what it was a good note. I kept it till I came to Colchester, and changed it yesterday at a shop in the High Street, and bought a pair of slippers, some wool, and some cotton. Elizabeth Stebbings, November 12th, 1876." Elizabeth Stebbings further states:—"On Monday, the 30th October, 1876, about 12 o'clock, I went into Mrs. Cloughton's, who kept a public-house, at Wake's Colne, and in the tap-room I saw Frederick Mussett. I went and sat down by the side of him, and we had some porter. He took out his pocket-book and asked me if I could write, I told him yes. He had a pen and ink in his pocket which he gave me, and asked me to write his name. I did so. He then gave me two cheques, and asked me to write on them, which I did, but I cannot remember what it was I wrote on one of them, only the one I changed in Colchester. He gave me one of them, and that I changed at Sudbury the same day. I saw Mr. Mussett in Sudbury about 4 o'clock. My young man went with me to Sunbury, but he stayed in a public-house, since the time I went and changed it. After I changed it, I saw Mr. Mussett near Mr. Hills, and he asked me if I had changed that cheque, I said 'Yes.' He asked me to let him have two sovereigns, which
I gave him. I did not see any more of him that day. It was on the Wednesday or Thursday afterwards I saw him again, and what took place then I told you before, and that is when he gave me the other cheque Elizabeth Stebbings, November 20th, 1876."
GEORGE MERCER . I am a police-constable, living at Colchester—in consequence of the prisoner's statement, I went to East Colne, on the 16th—I could not find such a place as the Butt Road, Colne, nor any man of the name of Mussett.
Prisoner. I adhere to my statement; I have nothing to add.
MR. DIXON conducted the Prosecution.
MARY GANT . I am the wife of George Gant, a labourer, and live at 60, (Croydon House), Barking Road, Trenton—I left my house on the 11th of June and went into the country—I left safe in the house a shawl, a mole-skin waistcoat, and a pair of water-tight boots—the boots were very much like what my husband has now on his feet—I came back on the 6th and the things were gone—the prisoner lodged there—he did not tell me he was going—he had not a change of clothes.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your mother told me you had nothing but a bed rolled up against the wall—you used to dress in a light jacket, a a pair of trousers, and a cheesecutter hat; you had no water-tight boots—I never saw you dressed otherwise.
MARY ANN LING . I live at 3, Star Street, Trenton—my house is opposite where the prisoner lived—on Whit-Monday afternoon I was at my window about 3 o'clock; my landlady was at the door talking to her friend—when she shut her door a young man came of Mrs. Gant's house with a large sack; he dragged it by his side into Church Street.
Cross-examined. I am sure it was not 10 o'clock in the morning, but 3 o'clock in the afternoon as I was going out for a walk to West Ham Park, and did not go because it came over dull.
ECCLES GOLDING (Policeman K 29). I live at Plaistow—I apprehended the prisoner on 27th November—I charged him with stealing a quantity of wearing apparel from No. 3, Star Street, Barking New Road—he said that he knew nothing about it—on the way to the station he said that he took a sack, but not the other things—he said he took it to put his shirt in.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not say I took a sack to put my shirt in. I lived with my parents in the house, but could not obtain work and left there to go to Primrose Hill, where I heard there was work. I doubled the sack up under my arm after putting in it a few things of my own. John Blake charged me with stealing a coat, but neither he nor the coat is here.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.
ESTHER CARTER . I am a barmaid at the Clarence Arms, Plumstead—on 16th November Warren came there about 5.40, and asked for half a pint of 6d. ale; I served him: he gave me a shilling in payment—the ale came to 1 1/2 d.; I gave him the change; I put the shilling into the till; there were other shillings there—he went away—in about twenty minutes he came back and called for a glass of 6d. ale; I served him, he tendered a shilling in payment; I gave him the change and he went away—I put that shilling on the shelf at the back of the bar; there was no other there, my master had taken the other silver away from the shelf—we had no till for silver at that end of the bar—a short time after that the female prisoner came in and asked for half a pint of 6d. ale and tendered a shilling in payment; I gave her 10 1/2 d. change—I put that shilling on the back shelf with the other, and she went out—then the male prisoner came in again and called for a glass of bitter ale; he gave me a shilling, I put it on the shelf with the others and gave him 10d. change; he left—he came in again and had half a pint of 6d. ale and gave a shilling in payment; I put that on the same shelf with the others, gave him 10 1/2 d. change, and he went away—t he female prisoner then came in and had half a pint of 6d. ale; she tendered a shilling in payment—that last shilling I tried it with my teeth and said to her "This is a bad one;" she made no reply—I called my master and he told me to detain her while he fetched a policeman—while I was speaking to my master I saw the male prisoner looking in at the door—I said "There is the man," and my master went out and detained him till a policeman was fetched—I gave the coins to my master.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner Warren. I am sure you gave me more than one shilling—you did not pay with half-pence.
JOHN BAILEY . I keep the Clarence Arms, at Plumstead—on 16th November the last witness spoke to me and showed me a coin in the presence of the female prisoner—she said "Here is a shilling I have taken of the female standing here, and it is a bad one"—on examining it I found it was very bad—she then went to the shelf at the back of the bar and fetched four others; they were all bad—I told the female prisoner that she had been passing these bad coins and I should detain her while a policeman was fetched—the barmaid was standing behind me and said "There is the man looking in at the door"—I went out and took him by the collar and detained him till the policeman came—I gave the coins to the policeman at the Arsenal gates, opposite my house.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner Warren. You had no opportunity to run away, I was too quick upon you.
RICHARD NORTHAM (Policeman 93, Dockyard Division). On the evening of 16th November I was sent for to the Clarence Arms, and the landlord gave the two prisoners into my custody—he gave me the coins which I produce—I searched the male prisoner and found on him 3s. 9d. in silver, and 4s. 9 1/2 d. in bronze, all good money; and on the female prisoner was found 3s. in silver and 1s. 6d. in bronze—when they were charged they made no reply.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Warren, says: "I only gave the young woman one shilling and she put it into the till; I afterwards
paid 2d. for a glass of 6d. ale, and 1 1/2 d. for a glass of beer." Ennerton says: "I don't want to say anything."
Warren's Defence. I had been out hawking herrings all day long, and that was how I got the money. I went to this public-house and gave the young woman a shilling; that was all the silver I gave; I gave her coppers for the other drink I had.
WARREN*— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
ENNERTON— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Baron Pollock.
MESSRS. CRISPE and HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSES. STRAIGHT and SMALLMAN SMITH the Defence.
ALEXANDER BAIRD . I am eleven years of age—on the evening of 24th October, about 7 o'clock, I was in Penton Place, Southwark—I heard a pistol shot, and saw a man falling—I saw another man; he was in the middle of the road; he fired again—he fired three times; he then threw the pistol down and ran away—I had not seen the two men together before—I cannot say who the man was who ran away—I should not know him again.
ELLEN PARKER . I am twelve years old—I live in Penton Place, Southwark—on the evening of 24th October I was outside the house—I heard a pistol go off—I had not seen anybody before I heard it—I then heard two more shots—directly after I saw a man walking in the road in a brown coat very fast—I did not see his face at all—I afterwards went into the road and picked up a pistol and a black leather bag—I gave them to Sergeant Underwood—I saw a man lying in the road at the time I picked them up.
Cross-examined. The pistol shots did not come quickly one after the other; there was first one, and then another after an interval of about two seconds, and then two seconds between the next.
HENRY SOUCH . I am a greengrocer, of 14, Penton Place—on the evening of 24th October, about 7 o'clock, I was in my shop parlour—the door was open—I heard a report of firearms, and the lower pane of my window was broken—I went to the shop door, and saw a man running away, a little to the left, towards Newington Butts—I ran down Penton Place towards the Butts and saw a man lying alongside of the kerb; that took my attention from the man who was running away, and I lost sight of him—I stopped and looked at the man; I saw blood oozing from his mouth—I went for a policeman, and saw Sergeant Underwood, and gave him information of what I had sen—I noticed a little boy and girl in the road; I saw the little girl give the pistol to a gentleman, who gave it to Underwood—I heard three reports.
JOHN UNDERWOOD (Police Sergeant L 11). On 24th October, a little before 7 in the evening, in consequence of information, I went to Penton Place—I there found a man lying in the road on the kerb stone—he was quite
motionless—I immediately sent for a doctor—the doctor washed his face, and I then recognised who he was, and told the doctor his name; it was Frederick Barnard, an umbrella maker, of Newington Butts—I obtained assistance, and removed him to the mortuary—I then loosened his clothes from the upper part of his person, and discovered three wounds; the bullet I now produce was extracted from the breast at my request—I then went to Kennington Lane police-station—I received the revolver from Kimber and a black bag from Parker—on examining the bag at the station it contained only blank paper roughly folded together—I produce it—Sergeant Brannan asked me in the prisoner's presence if I had possession of the revolver—I said "Yes," and the prisoner replied "Be careful, as there are two or three chambers loaded, and in-raising the hammer it may go off"—it is a six-chamber revolver; four had been, discharged,. and two remained—I could distinctly see that three had been discharged; the hammer was on the fourth and I could not see, but on examination it proved to be empty—there were four blank cartridges left behind in the revolver—I then searched the prisoner, and among the papers found in his breast pocket, I found this certificate written in Hebrew characters—the prisoner asked me if the deceased man was dead—I said "Yes"—he said "Then I have sacrificed. my own life for him"—I then charged him with the wilful murder of Frederick Barnard in Penton Place, Newington Butts, in the pariah of St. Mary, Newington—I then said to the prisoner "I am going to put a question;" you need not answer it unless you please; this bag was found on the spot; can you say if it belongs to you or the deceased man?"—he replied "I recognise the bag as my property."
Cross-examined. Penton Place is about 500 or 600 yards from the Kennington Lane police-station—there are no shops in Penton Place, they are all private houses; it leads out of a very busy thoroughfare called Newington Butts; it leads towards Carter Street and Westmoreland Square—it is a thoroughfare—I don't know how long the prisoner had been at the policestation when I got there—I had received information before I removed the deceased that a man had given himself up for the crime—I had received that information probably half an hour before I got to the station—he was sitting down in the inspector's office—I can't say positively whether there was a fire there; I rather think not—he was not sitting near the fireplace, rather in a corner of the room by himself; not with his head buried in his hands; he was sitting perfectly erect—I believe I have stated all that he said to me—he answered readily; he volunteered all the information that I have given—he submitted readily to my searching him—I found on him a number of pawnbrokers' duplicates, representing property pledged to the amount of 40l., and 6s. 10 1/2 d. was found on his person—the bag contained various kinds of paper, some newspapers, and some tissue paper—the bag was open, not locked—the certificate was in his breast pocket.
JOHN WHELAN (Police. Inspector L). On 24th October, I was at Kennington Lane police-station, about 7 o'clock—I saw the prisoner there—"he had previously seen Pride, a constable, and made a statement to him—being informed of the occurrence by the sergeant, I said to the prisoner "I understand you have given yourself up for some offence"—he said "Yes," and after a slight pause he said "I am the man that shot at Frederick Barnard, I don't know whether he is dead or alive, I should be glad to know if you will be kind enough to tell me; I am a Russian subject and wish to give information to the Russian embassy, and if they choose to attend, then I will make
a statement and give my name and particulars"—he was then charged in the usual manner—I read over this statement to him, and he said it was quite correct—I was present next morning when the contents of the revolver were extracted by a gunsmith, it contained four empty cartridge cases and two full cartridges—I have seen the bullet produced by the sergeant; I com-pared it with the revolver, and the gunsmith also compared it; it corresponded.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner a few minutes after his arrival at the station.—I was not sent for, I have a duty to perform there of an evening and I dropped in in the ordinary way—the conversation I had with him was in the inspector's room—he was very calm, very quiet, and very cool—he was sitting holding in his hand a felt hat, which he had been wearing—he was not under my observation that evening more than forty minutes, I should think, it might be a little more; he did not remain in the room forty minutes, he was taken out in the presence of the witnesses when they arrived, he was perfectly calm and quiet during that time.
JAMES PRIDE (Police Sergeant L 5). On 24th October I was on duty at the Kennington Lane police-station—about 6.50 the prisoner came there and gave himself up—when he came in I asked him what he wanted—he said "I have shot Frederick Barnard"—I said "What?"—he said "I am the man that shot Frederick Barnard, and I am come to give myself up"—I said "Where?"—he said "In one of the back turnings, I don't know the name, I don't know if he is killed"—I said "What did you shoot him with?"—he said "With a pistol"—"Where is it?"—"On the spot where I left him"—I then sent police-constable 64l. to see if he could hear anything of it, and drew the attention of Inspector Whelan to the case.
Cross-examined. He walked into the station and made the communication to me as if he was stating the most ordinary thing; he was slightly flurried when he came in, as if he had been running; he made the communication to me in a very calm and quiet way.
CHARLES MCCOMBIE . I work for Mr. Smith in Newington Butts—on the evening of 24th October, about 7 o'clock, I was outside the shop and saw the prisoner passing by with Mr. Barnard, I knew him; they were going towards Penton Place, walking side by side—I did not hear whether they were talking—I had not seen them together I daresay for eighteen months or a year and nine months.
GEORGE ST. HILL BADCOCK . I am a surgeon, and live at 87, Newington Park Road—on 24th October, in the evening, I was fetched by a policeman—I went to Penton Place and there found a man lying on the path; he was in an unconscious state; he was lying slightly on his right side, more on his back, in the roadway—I bad some brandy fetched, but he was unable to swallow it; he died in a few minutes—I made a superficial examination then; afterwards I made a more careful one, on Thursday, 26th—at the mortuary I extracted a bullet which I gave to Sergeant Underwood at his request—there were noticed on the surface of the body seven wounds; the first was a contused wound over the left eyebrow, that extended to the bone; the second was a graze over the bridge of the nose, I took those wounds to be caused by the fall, they were front wounds; the third wound was a circular one, one-third of an inch in diameter at the back of the neck, about 4 inches below the base of the skull, it was a punched out wound, slightly lacerated—I should judge that was produced by a bullet, I am speaking of the wound where the bullet went in, it was a little to the right of the middle
line of the body, its edges were lacerated, and it extended beneath the muscles of the neck down to the side of the spine; the right particular pro-ceases of the third and fourth cervical vertebrae were fractured, and a fragment of lead was driven into the spinal column; the wound was then' traced towards to the angle of the jaw; about an inch below this was a fourth wound, which was a small incised wound, that arose from a piece of the lead broken off the bullet about half an inch long, probably caused by the escape of apiece of lead; I extracted that bullet, I extracted all three, and I produce them—I think that wound was probably inflicted while the man was standing—the wound which, in my opinion, caused the death was a wound which was found on the left side of the back of the chest, nearly opposite the eighth rib; that was a circular lacerated wound, divided in two by a narrow band of skin; that wound extended to the eighth rib, which it fractured close by the spine; it then extended upwards and forwards through both lobes of the left lung, through the first rib on the left side, fracturing that, and ended in a superficial wound below the collar bone—the passing of the bullet through the lung was fatal—all the bullets entered at the back—I have no doubt that the bullet was the cause of death—I was assisted at the post-mortem examination by Dr. Swallow, Dr. Holt, and, Dr. Lees—the condition of the body was that of a well-nourished man.
ALEXANDER. DUNLOP . I am in the employment of Mr. Mason; a gunmaker, of Wigmore Street—on 20th October the prisoner came and asked to see some revolvers; I showed him some; he said he wanted, to buy a lot on commission—he eventually bought one; he paid for it and took it away with him; this (produced) is it—he also purchased a box of fifty cartridges—the Ballet produced is a similar sized bullet to those in the cartridges that he purchased—he gave the name of Marks, but no address.
Cross-examined. He was some little time with me—he said he wanted to buy a lot on commission, and he thought he could manage about 100; he asked the price of 100; I could not tell him then, my employer was not there—there would of course have been a reduction made in the lot—the price of the single one was 3l. 10s., and the cartridges 3s. 6d. the box; we do not sell less than fifty.
By THE COURT. After the purchase he wanted a receipt, and I asked his name—he said "Marks," that was to enable me to make out the receipt.
ADELAIDE BARNARD . I am the sister of the late Frederick Barnard, and live at 91, Newington Butts—I know the circumstances under which the prisoner became acquainted with our family; it was in 1874, I don't recollect in what part of the year; we were at Ramsgate, about the end of August, or the beginning of September—on our return to Newington Butts, the prisoner visited at our house; he made my sister an offer of marriage, and an engagement resulted—the prisoner was then living in Newman Street, Oxford Street, he was a carver and gilder, and dealer in works of art; he had a shop there, and also lived there—I recollect a fire taking place at his premises early in 1875—he came to my father's about 1 o'clock in the morning of the tire, and he stayed at our house for about a fortnight—my brother Frederick assisted him with regard to his claim on the insurance company—after the fire I noticed a difference in the prisoner's behavior to my brother, he had promised to lend him 40l.; I was present and heard him promise—after that he seemed to slight my sister—he got 350l.—I think from the insurance office, I don't know what office it was—after he had got his money I noticed a great difference between him and my
brother—he did not fulfill his promise of lending ray brother the 40l., they were friendly till after the fire—when he received his money they had a a few words together—nothing more was said at that time about the loan of 40l.; he promised to give my brother 5l., which my brother refused; he said he did not wish any money; then he said "I will make you a present of two little mirrors that I have in my shop"—he did not do so—there were some paintings on my father's premises which the prisoner claimed; they came a few days after the fire; they were given to my sister as a present on the engagement—there was a dispute about those paintings, and the prisoner instituted proceedings against my father at the police-court; I was a witness—an order was made to give back one of the pictures—there were Subsequent proceedings instituted by the prisoner with regard to the other paintings at the County Court, Bloomsbury, I was a witness there—there was no result, the Jury were discharged—the engagement with my sister was broken off, in March, 1875, after the summons to the police-court; the proceedings at the Bloomsbury County Court, were sometime after that—in May, 1875, my sister brought an action against the prisoner for breach of promise of marriage—after that the prisoner became bankrupt—on 24th October, this year, I was at 13, Newington Butts, my father's premises—the prisoner called; I had not seen him for sometime past—he asked me if Fred was in—I said "No, he has gone to a funeral"—he asked me who was dead, whose funeral it was—it was my aunt's—he asked if he knew her—I said "No;" he had a black bag with him—I told him I thought my brother would be back at 4.30—he went away and said he would call again—he did call again about 4.50—he still had the black bag with him—he asked if my brother had returned—I said "Yes"—he said "I want him to do me a favour, and I will repay him for it"—I told him my brother had gone to his own house, 142, Lower Kennington Lane, and he had better go there—he then left; nothing further was said.
Cross-examined. I had lost sight of the prisoner from May, 1875, until October, this year; quite eighteen mouths; he never came to the house at all—my brother resided about five minutes walk from us, and kept an umbrella shop—the prisoner knew where he lived; I told him he had gone home to tea—my sister's engagement lasted nine months, from September, 1874, to March, 1875—I forget when he got his money from the insurance office; it could not have been more than a few weeks after the fire took place—he was with us in the house for a fortnight—my brother was carrying on business at that time; not living in the house—I do not know what part the prisoner came from; I know he is a foreigner—I never saw his brother—the damages against him in my sister's action was 50l.; I forget when it was tried—there were four oil paintings presented to my sister by him; they were figure paintings; he brought them about two or three days after the fire—my brother was not a witness on the trial of the breach of promise.
Re-examined. He was there ready to be examined if wanted, but was not called-my mother died since the engagement, and according to the Jewish law there can be no marriage between the parties for twelve months—our family is Jewish.
JOHN HYAMS . I am a rag merchant of 13, Lancashire Court, New Bond Street—I know the prisoner—I knew the deceased Frederick Barnard—I knew of the prisoner being engaged to Barnard's sister, and I knew of the engagement being broken off—about March, this year, I was passing through Blandford Street, Manchester Square, and saw the prisoner's name overs
shop door, and the prisoner in the shop—I had a conversation with him—h told me that Frederick Barnard had interceded for him with the fire insurance company to get his claim settled—I don't know what company it was—he said that he had promised to lend Frederick Barnard some money, and when he received his money Frederick Barnard had asked him for it, and that he said "If I am engaged to your sister, I don't want to marry the whole family, if you like to give me security for it you can have it;" that Barnard offered him a bill as security, and he said "If you get it backed by anybody, or by your father, I will lend you the money," and Barnard would not do it, so the transaction fell through; then there was litigation, suits for breach of promise, and summonses, and that sort of thing—he said that when, he would not lend Fred the money, Fred had either written or sent to the fire insurance company to tell them that he had deliberately set his place on fire—I said "I can't believe it; I don't think Fred would be capable of doing such an action; are you sure that he did so?"—he said "Yes"—I said "I can't believe it, and won't hear anything more on the subject until I see Barnard"—then he said "What do you think of a man that would do that; he did not mind transporting me"—I said "I can't believe it of Barnard, and 1 will not hear any more against him until I have asked him if it is true"—I can't exactly remember all the words that passed, it was something to that effect—there may have been a few more words, I can't remember all—I saw the prisoner again on the Saturday before the murder, at my house; ray wife was then present—he walked in and sat down on the corner of the sofa in our parlour—I said "Halloo, Marks, what, brings you here"—he said "I was in the neighbourhood; I have been to look after a shop"—I said "I thought you told me that you had an agreement on your shop for two years"—he said "So I did, but I was doing no business there, and I have given the landlord 10l. to go out"—my wife said "I was playing cards with your old girl the girl you were engaged to"—he said "I suppose she is spending my money"—my wife said "Have you settled with her"—I said to my wife "What has that to do with you, you don't want to know anything about her business; you had better come out, Marks, and have a drink," so me and my brother-in-law went out of the shop—the prisoner lingered behind a few seconds to speak to my wife, and then followed us, and we all three went into a public-house—I don't know what took place when he remained behind; some words passed which I did not hear; I was in the shop and he was in the parlour with my wife.
Cross-examined. The business he was carrying on in Blandford Street was an antiquarium, a curiosity business—I had known him from a few weeks after he was engaged to Miss Barnard—I had not known him before that—I am no relation of the Barnard's, but a very intimate friend; it was through them that I knew the prisoner; the first time I met him was with Miss Barnard, at my sister's house, at a party—I know as a fact that Frederick Barnard did write to the fire office; I asked him and he said he did do so—I saw Marks after that, and told him what Barnard had told me, and Mark's said "What would you do in the affair—when I saw him on the 21st October he did not say where the shop was that he had been looking after; it was in my neighbourhood.
SOPHIA HYAMS . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember the prisoner being at our house on Saturday, 21st October—we had some conversation about Miss Barnard—my husband, went away, and the prisoner remained behind with me for a short time—he asked me whether I had
seen any of the Barnard family—I said I had seen his intended that was—he said "I suppose she is enjoying herself with my money"—I said "What money?"—my husband then came in from the shop, and said "She don't want to know your affairs"—he said "Well, it is no secret, every one will know in time"—he then went out into the shop, came back, and said "Good-bye, I don't suppose I shall see you again," and I saw no more of him.
NATHAN JOB DAVID ZIMMER . I live at 28, Holland Road, Brixton—I am an importer of foreign goods—I understand Hebrew—this document (the certificate) was brought to my notice—I translated it—this is the translation; it is correct, except that the date ought to be the 24th instead of the 23rd. (Read: "We affix hereby our seal, and give witness of one of our native city, named Mordecai Isaac, son of Arria Petrowoki, of blessed memory, who travelled from here, this our native city, in the days of his youth, very poor, to another land, and he is now about thirty years old, and he found now rest or dwelling-place in the great metropolis of London, in Great Britain, he is living there, and he is going under the name of Isaac Marks; we give hereby witness of this man that he left single his native land, and that he has no wife in this land, also his family is very honourable in our midst. This shall be as a true witness or certificate for this man. This day, Thursday, 23rd day of—, Anno Mundi, 5628, 1868." Signed by three persons of Seray.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was read as follows:—" My intention was to call witnesses, but as I have no means of paying witnesses, I had better reserve my defence. My intention was to make as statement which was the outline of my defence, but as I have no witnesses to prove it, I shall adjourn it. I have no confession to make, because I made a confession at first, and I repeated it in this Court. I intended to give the outline of my defence if I had the power to call witnesses to prove it. Why I applied to the Russian Consul was through the Russian press to take notice of my case, on account of my relatives. I have witnesses, but I am like a sheep tied ready for slaughter, and am only surprised at so much interest having been taken in the case, having given myself up to justice, but I suppose there must be some black patches in the case."
The Following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
ISIDORE SIMON . I am the minister of the Southampton Hebrew Congregation—our last new year began about September—the Feast of Tabernacles comes after the new year; it is considered the most solemn feast in our church—the Jew's taliph is something with four corners and a fringe—a Jew is supposed to put it on every morning—there is no particular age at which it is worn—some boys put them on when they are six or seven; they are put on when they go into a place of worship—it is regarded by a Jew with very great sanctity and respect—I knew Samuel Hyams, the prisoner's brother; I also knew his father—Samuel was not of sound mind; that may be about twelve years ago, but I knew him before that, when he was of sound mind—the father was not quite of sound mind, at least, I can't say exactly; he had some peculiarities, the same as some old men will have; he was very peculiar—I did not know the prisoner at home—I know Mr. Solomon Jacob, of Manchester.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner's father in my native town, Seray—I know nothing of the certificate that has been read—I have been out of Court—I am considered a good Hebrew scholar—the word Seray is mentioned
at the bottom of this certificate; that is my native town—it was there I knew the prisoner's father and brother—I can't remember how old I was then—I am now about twenty-seven; if you reckon twelve or thirteen years ago, you will soon find that out; I was a mere boy at the time—the father might have been over sixty when I knew him, or very likely more; he was considered a very old man—I can imagine what second childhood is—very likely his peculiarities might have been attributable to that, I should not say against that—he was a Pole, I only knew his Hebrew name, that was Arria—I have read this certificate—the prisoner is named as Isaac Mordecai, the son of Arria—that is not a Christian name, but a termination, like the son of Peter—we always call ourselves by our own name and the Dame of our fathers—there are three names at the end of this certificate which I recognise, I know the people very well—the date, according to the Hebrew, would be about eleven years ago; but if I have mistaken the letter "s" for "a," it would be five or eight—I did not know the prisoner at all; I know he is the brother of Samuel Hyams, from seeing in the daily papers that a man of the name of Marks had committed a murder, and that he had resided in Newman Street, and was a carver and gilder, therefore I knew it must be the same man—I knew the prisoner in London, but not in Seray, because he went away when I was a child—I knew him by the name of Isaac Marks in London—I was introduced to him about five years ago by a commercial traveller, and the prisoner told me about his family, and I knew his family; that was how I came to know him—I identified him as the brother of Samuel Hyams, according to his own evidence, because he told me so—I asked him who was his father and' mother, and he told me so and so—Samuel Hyams is dead—I knew him for a number of years; not in London, but in Poland—I was a boy then, he was a man—the translation of his Hebrew name would be Samuel Hyams—the prisoner's name is not Hyams—I may say for certain that the two men were brothers, because the prisoner told me all about his family years ago, about his father, mother, and brothers, and I knew directly that it was the same—I did not ask him why his name was Marks and not Hyams, I give you the Hebrew name; my brother has a different name to mine; we name a child two names, because we name the children generally after a former generation—if a man has two uncles or two grandfathers, he will give the name after the two, and they are both not surnames but real names—you may have the name of Hyams and Marks in the same family in Hebrew—I never saw Samuel Hyams and the prisoner together—I say I know the names on this certificate; I am only seven years from Poland—I was about eleven when I knew Samuel Hyams, or more; I knew him a number of years—I don't know that he was at school with me; he was much older than me—he was in business; he had a shop—I began to knew him when I was about ten or eleven, and I knew him a number of years; I ceased' to know him when I left Poland, seven years ago—he was of unsound mind then, I know that—shall I give you what his insanity was?—his wife died and left him with four children in a very wretched position, his uncle was a very rich man; and he took it into his head that his uncle's daughter, a girl of fourteen or fifteen, fell in love with him, and he went about and said "There is the girl, standing waiting for me," when she was not there, and his frenzy went on; all the town thought him mad—that was why I thought him of unsound mind.
Re-examined. He didn't die in a lunatic asylum in Warsaw; he died I London, I think—I heard that he died in the London Hospital, I don't know
it personally; I heard by letter that he came to London—the persons the prisoner referred to in his conversation with me five years ago are the persons mentioned in this certificate—I have not the least doubt that Samuel Hyams was his brother.
SOLOMON JACOB . I am proprietor of an hotel, 5 and 7, New Bridge Street Manchester—I did live at Seray, in Russian Poland—I can't say that I know the prisoner by seeing him now; it is seventeen years since I left Seray—I knew all his family very well; I knew him and his father and two brothers—I was a teacher of Hebrew, and I taught the prisoner Hebrew two and a half years—I left him a, child when I came away—the father was Arria Petrowski, and the son's name was Marks Isaac—there were three brothers, one was Samuel Hyams, one was Ashur, and one was Isaac Marks—when I began to teach him he was ten and a half years old and I taught him till he was thirteen—his father was not right and proper himself, nor his brothers; his mother was very clever, and when she gave him to me to teach him, she cried and begged me to take care of him very much, because he was not right in hit mind; that was what she told me—one day I was told that he had run away; I went after him and found him in the river, nearly an English mile from the town, and his clothes on, to drown himself, and I fetched him out and took him home—he came back to school after that—during the time he was under me as a boy he was very strange at times; he never had proper senses like I have—I knew nothing at all about Samuel.
Cross-examined. I taught the boy till he was thirteen years of age; I don't know his age now, but thirteen and seventeen are thirty—I have not seen anything of him for seventeen years—I never came across Samuel Hyams in London; I never was in London, always in Manchester—it was through the newspapers that I recognised the prisoner to be the boy I knew in Poland—I heard the name—Petrowski is his name—I don't know whether Marks is an uncommon name in London—I saw in the papers that he was from Poland—I knew the father, the brothers, and every one—I don't know that Samuel Hyams came to London—the father was about fifty when I knew him—the boy's clothes were all on when he was in the water; it is a river by Seray, it is not a steep bank, it is the place where we go to wash ourselves in the summer time; not a bathing place proper, it is a washing place—there were twelve boys at my school—I never had an accident with any of them falling into the water; I have not known such a thing in my school.
MARK LEVINE . I live at 4, Meeting House Yard, Houndsditch—I do not know the prisoner much; I have seen him two or three times—I first knew him about five years ago—I come from Russian Poland—I did not know the prisoner there; I knew his family—I knew his father and one sister—I was not present at her death—I heard that she died in a lunatic asylum at Warsaw—I never saw her—I knew his brother; he was a little mad as well.
SIMON LICHENSTEIN . I am a traveller and dealer, of 21, Little Scarborough Street, Goodman's Fields—I have known the prisoner six or seven years—I knew him when he was carrying on business at Newman Street, Oxford Street,—he has often visited at my house—I have observed something peculiar about him; about six or seven months ago he came to my father-in-law's, where I was, and said he had a new plan in his head, and would make his fortune by it—my father-in-law asked him what was it—he said he had made up his mind to go to Poland to buy some furniture of the farmers, not from the rich farmers, but from the poor farmers—my father in-law asked him "Do you mean new furniture?"—he said "No; I mean old broken-up furniture,
some kinds of chairs, benches; they will be curiosity things, antique things, for England, and I am sure to make a fortune by it"—of course we laughed at him, and when he left my father-in-law said the man must be out of his mind—he appeared to be strange; he came out with this in such a quiet manner—prior to that he would sometimes sit at my place for half an hour or an hour and not speak one word; he used to sit with his hands like that (to his head) thinking, and when I talked to him he did not answer—that has happened on many occasions—I have not noticed any forgetfulness—the day before our New Year he came after me and knocked me on the shoulder and said "I want to bring you to-day my taliphs and prayer books; I want you to buy them"—I said "You must be mad, you are ridiculous; you must recollect that every Jew has to buy to-day some taliphs and prayer-books if he has not got them, and you want to sell"—he would want to buy them for the New Year, a solemn occasion—he said; "Don't ask me no questions," and with that he went off—he looked to me very strange at that time as if he must have something in his head—I did not know his brother or sister.
Cross-examined. He looked worried—I deal in furs—I never saw the prisoner's curiosities and antiquities—I knew he was a carver and gilder—I heard of his being subsequently in the old curiosity way.
By THE COURT. I was born in Poland—I know the district of which he spoke where he would buy those things—the farmers there have no furniture worth anything, only common wood, not even polished; that was why I thought it so absurd; they have no old cabinets or things of that sort; they make their own, they don't go to a shop, and buy; they take a piece of wood and make for themselves.
JAMES RICHARD DURNFORD . I am a saddler and harness maker, and live at 3, Blandford Street, Manchester Square—I occupied half of the shop with the prisoner at one time; he occupied the other half since last Christmas till the time of the murder—I have noticed that at times he was. very strange in his manner; sometimes he was very desponding, at other times very violent—I have seen him standing outside his shop on many occasions in a sort of mute state, and if persons spoke to him he did not answer them; he would stand outside in a sort of desponding state, and when persons spoke to him he did not seem to notice them, and they would walk away; and at other times he would walk in and bang the door in their face—I have known him leave business many times in the middle of the day and not come back; he would sometimes shut up his portion of the shop all day—he has sometimes almost insulted his customers, and he has complained of his business being so bad—he was almost under my sight all day—I have not known him to remain all day without food—I have known him to be asleep in his chair when people have entered his shop, or appear to be asleep; he has not noticed them—he slept in the shop in a chair. bedstead—he frequently used the same coffee-house that I did, and I have seen him sit with the newspaper before him, upside down, for half an hour, with his head on his hands—he once remarked to me that there was nothing left for him but the water, or something to that effect—that was about six weeks or two months ago, or perhaps a little longer—on one occasion I saw him walking up and down the shop rather in a desponding state, and I think he went upstairs and down stairs and turned the taps on and let all the water out of the cisterns, without giving any cause to me—I have seen him violently slam the door in the faces of persons I believe to have been customers, after but a few words—I did not hear what was
said; they were gentlemen and tradesmen the neighbourhood, and also dealers—we had a common landlord—he rented one half the shop and I the other—I did not sleep there, I have a private residence.
LEONARD ADENOVRA . I am a tailor of 3, Blandford Street—I hare known the prisoner about six or seven months—I occupied the first floor—during that time I had been constantly associated with him—on Monday night, 23rd October, we went out together, and when we came back he asked me to come into his shop and have a little bit of conversation—we were talking together and all of a sadden he said "I have got a revolver to sell, don't you know a customer for it, as I want the money"—I don't whether he had another pistol in the shop at that time—I had seen a dagger before in the window, and he told me it had come from Germany—when he came into our room he often sat in the chair for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour with his face in his hands, thinking, and all at once he would commence to talk again; and sometimes when we were talking he would leave off and sit down with his face in his hands again, thinking about something or other, and then he would commence afresh again—I have several times heard him mention suicide—he was telling me about his sweetheart, that he had lost his money and he had got regularly ruined through her, and had gone bankrupt, and the only thing left for him was the water—he said that several times.
By THE COURT. He told me that on the Monday before the murder, and he said it several times before—I did not make any answer to that—I said something—I said "I expect you will get up like all the rest of us"—I did not take any steps to prevent him; I thought he would get up again when his spirits were better.
KATE SUPPCROPP . I am the wife of Charles Suppcropp, a tailor, of 3, Blandford Street—we occupied the first floor—I remember the prisoner there; he came and saw us daily—I have observed that he has been very strange in his ways for some time—he got worse during the last month—he complained of his head—when he was in conversation he would break off; he would sit for a long time still, with his head on his hands, and then start up and begin again—I have offered him food, but he would not take it; that has been at supper time when he was up in our room, when we were going to have our supper, and he declined—I thought many times that he needed the food, but he would not take it—the night before this occurrence he was up in our room; his conduct was unusually strange—he has spoken of suicide; he said there was nothing left for him but the water; I think that was said the night before; I am not quite sure; he was talking about his poverty, losing his property—he said he had been very much attached to the young lady—I have not noticed him shut the door in the face of his customers—I should not be downstairs.
Cross-examined. I am a Christian—I know that the Jews do not eat certain food with Christians.
WILLIAM POULTON . I live at 24, South Street, Marylebone—I know the prisoner as a tenant—I collect the rents of the house—I have had difficulty in collecting the rent from the prisoner—I had to put the broker in on one occasion; that was the second quarter, last Christmas—he paid it subsequenty—I have noticed him strange in conduct—prior to my putting the broker into the shop he required another room to sleep in; I got it ready for him and took him the key, and told him the room was ready for him, and he took the key out of my hand and flung it on to ray feet and called me a
scoundrel—I picked up the key and came away; he followed me down to my shop and said he was very sorry that he had called me such a name—he was a very violent man, a very nasty tempered man—I have not seen much of him for the last few months—he sut up his shop entirely, shut himself in, and used to sleep in the empty shop—he has never to me threatened to destroy himself.
Cross-examined. He was not so particularly angry when I put the brokers in as when I took him the key—of course he did not like it—he did not seem harrassed about his affairs—I thought he had got money to pay his rent—the greatest indication of violence was when he called me a scoundrel—he never slammed the door in my face—I did not know that he was in embarrassed circumstances—I put in the broker because I thought he could pay.
Re-examined. He was' more violent when I delivered him the key than when the brokers were put in, the key being given to him in pursuance of his request; that was about last March."
WILLIAM PHILLIPS . I live at 81 1/2, Greenfield Street, Commercial Road—I am a tailor—I am nineteen years of age—I reside with my father—Marks has visited at my father's house as long as I can remember; he wanted to court my sister, but my father would not allow it—this is about 6 years ago—my sister said that he was very strange in his ways—he was very strange at that time; I do not remember his wanting to marry my aunt, her name is Amelia Cohen, I remember Marks giving some pictures to my mother, after that he went away, and we did not see him for sometime, we received a likeness from Russia; my mother showed it to him, and he gave her a frame for it—she said she would pay for it; he would not take it—next week my sister was engaged, and when the prisoner came again my mother said "This is my daughter's intended"—he said "Oh," and next week he sent a County Court summons for the frame.
By THE COURT. At that time he had been denied as to my sister; he was told he would not be allowed to court her; he went by the name of Isaac Marks—he had no nick name at our house; I did not know him by any nickname.
EPHRAIM LAWTON . I am a photographer, and live at Southend, I never saw the prisoner until the 14th March last; I then saw him at Blandford Street, I went there on private business—I first saw him at the window, and I felt so alarmed at his appearance that I hesitated, to go in; he was in his shop looking out of the window—he looked liked a madman, there was a wildness in his appearance; he was standing with his hands in his pockets, and when I went in he scarcely recognised that I was there—I commenced telling him my private business—I told him I came from a gentleman that would wish to recommend a young lady to him—his reply was "Say nothing to me about ladies, I have had quite enough already"—I asked what he meant—he said "Don't worry me, I have had enough of one or two already"—I asked what he meant—he said "One is trying to ruin me, by "borrowing money of me and not returning it, likewise wanting to borrow again, but I have not lent it"—I told him I did not want to go into that business, but that of my own that I came about—he walked up and down the place in a desponding manner and repeated frequently that he was nearly ruined—I asked him his position, I went for that purpose—my name did not transpire at all—when I asked him his-position he said he was worth 200l.—I asked him if a young lady was proposed to him whether he could
produce satisfaction to that amount—he said he could get credit for 10,000)' if he liked; that he formerly had a place in New man Street, or Berne's Street, I forget which, and had a very excellent connection—I was with him for about half an hour—his conversation was so rambling and his manner so peculiar that I felt satisfied my mission could have no avail, in consequence of his desponding manner, not being in his right mind—in the Jewish community marriages are generally arranged in this way, in nine cases out of ten—I am of the Jewish persuasion—it is very common; no doubt there are gentleman in this place who have done the same.
JOHN RITTER . I am a licensed hawker, and lodge at Camperdown House, Great Alie Street; it is an hotel, I have known the prisoner about two years—there is a coffee-room attached to that house, and the prisoner used to come there occasionally to take his meals; I knew him well—some of the people there used call to him "Breach of promise," and others called him "Mad Marks"—they called him that to his face—he would sometimes sit down by the fireplace, take up the newspaper upside down and read it—I saw him once and called the attention of persons to it—he would do that perhaps for an hour at a time—he had the newspaper in his hands, not really reading it; I noticed him once for nearly an hour—I told him "You are reading the paper upside down," and he said "I know better than ever you knew how to read"—on a Sunday night, in September last, I found him there sitting by the fire—I said "Good evening Mr. Marks," and he nodded at me—I sat down in a chair beside him and asked how business was going on with him—he said "Very bad, I have done nothing for a month"—I said "There is no need to despair"—he said nothing, we were conversing quietly on different matters, and he jumped up suddenly, put his hand in his pocket, took out a knife and opened it, and took a step towards me like that (describing); with the knife open in his hand as if it was a dagger; I drew back, he was apparently going to stab me, that was my opinion at the time; Mr. Saunders, the landlord, and two or three other gentlemen who were in the house at the time caught hold of him and put it out—on the following Sunday, I saw him there again and I asked him what he meant by drawing the knife at me—he asked me what I was talking about; he said he never remembered anything at all about a knife, he swore he never did such a thing in his life; he appeared to believe what he was saying—I told him "You ought to be in a madhouse, not here"—I read the account of this case in the paper when I was at Luton, and came here voluntarily to give my evidence—I used to see the prisoner it the coffee-room very nearly every week at meals, it is a large table, not in boxes—I have seen him sit at the table with his head on his hands; he always used to sit down like that, he would sometimes sit so for three or four hours; I am always in the house when in London, on Sundays especially—Sunday was the day that I saw most of him; I never took any particular notice of his eyes, but he seemed to have very strange peculiar ways about him.
Cross-examined. It was an ordinary pocket knife that he had; I never same him take it out before—I never called him Mad Marks, I would not do such a thing.
NATHAN SAUNDERS . I keep the Camperdown Hotel—the prisoner has been in the habit of frequenting my house—I noticed a great difference in him the last six months; he would sometimes sit quiet and say not a word and sometimes in conversation he would get excited—I have seen him
sitting by the fireplace with a pipe in his mouth and say nothing—I was present when he made the assault upon Ritter; there was some conversation between them, what it was I don't know, and I saw him take a knife' from his pocket and I pulled him back from Ritter; we could not make out what was the matter with him—the people always said he was not in his right senses—he was called "Breach of promise" and "Mad Marks."
Cross-examined. Some people who came to my house called him so—I never took much notice of him, because I had not much time to attend to him; he was sometimes very angry when they called him "Breach of promise," he did not like it.
By THE COURT. He was called "Breach of promise" since be came to my house, the last eighteen months I have called him so; I called him so up to the last—he once drew a knife upon some other person, I can't recollect who it was—we did not speak much to him only when he came in for refreshments—we did not call him much by that name, we did sometimes, sometimes he minded it, and sometimes he did not—a good many persons frequent my coffee-house, sometimes between thirty and forty dine there, they are regular frequenters—I have cautioned my customers to take care of him—I saw him twice with a knife, once the last time, and once a few weeks before, he did just the same then, he had a conversation with a man and he took out a knife and said "If you come near me I will serve you."
NATHAN ROSENSTEIN (interpreted). I live at 2, Half Moon Passage, Great Alie Street—I know the prisoner as using the Camperdown coffee-house for a year and a half—I noticed that he was very strange—one Sunday I came in when he was taking his supper—there were about a dozen persons in the room, a conversation took place about a contribution for a widow with some children; everybody was asked to contribute something and I asked Marks—he asked whether she was a Polish woman—I said "Yes, with four children," upon which he said for a Pole he would not give anything—I said "What are you then?"—he said "I am a Russian"—I said "That is worse, because you are from Lithuania," upon which he immediately took up the knife that he had used for his meal, intending to stab me with it, or wanting to stab me with it—he looked altogether like a madman, his hair standing upright, so that I was quite frightened—the landlord was not there at the time, he was upstairs, this happened downstairs—some persons advised me to knock him over with ray umbrella or to strike him on the head—I said I would not do so, and at last I went away—I have heard him called a madman, "Mad Marks."
JOSEPH JEFFRIES . I am a carver and gilder, of 31, Paddington Street—I remember hearing of this affair on 24th October—about three weeks before that I called on Marks to buy some china—I had known him by sight for years, when he was in Newman Street, but not to have any business with him—I had a customer who wanted 'some blue china, and passing down Blandford Street I saw the very thing that would suit in Marks' shop, and went in and asked what he wanted for them—he said "2l. 15s."—I said "I am in the trade, I will give you 2l. 10s."—he said "No, I am not going to sell to you, I am not going to lose my valuable time selling my china to—you"—I thought the man was mad, he treated me with great brusqueness and rudeness—2l. 10s. was a high price for the trade; of course, a dealer' expects to get things a little cheaper, that is well known and allowed in the trade—he said he was not going to lose his valuable time going to sales, he would not deal with me, and he shut the door; he as good as turned me
away from the door, and I said to my friend who was with me "The man is mad"—I said it quite loud enough for the prisoner to hear—he said nothing to it, he walked inside.
MARLEY SMITH . I reside at 29, Manchester Street—I have seen the prisoner occasionally at sales—I am independent and reside in my own house—I am a collector of curiosities—I had no transaction with the prisoners until about four months since, I was looking in at his window and he asked me to go in and see a picture which he called a "Moreland"—I went in and said "What do you want for it?"—he said "Something like 400l. or 500l", it was a rubbishing painting, worth about 4d., in my estimation—I said it was ridiculous to ask such a price; with that he got in a rage and said that I knew nothing at all, and to get out of his shop, or he would kick me out, and so on; he was in a fury, in a perfect rage, and I went out of the stop in case he should assault me; I had never spoken to him before—I did not wait to see whether he shut the door, I was afraid of him in fact—that was the only occasion on which I went into his shop, but I frequently passed the shop and I have seen him walking up and down in a seemingly demented state, as if he was not right in his head, and everybody who was about, and the man next door, who was an artist, said that he was mad—I saw that frequently, almost daily—I had seen him at sales, but did not pay any attention to him till I went into his shop.
Cross-examined. He was more than angry with me when I told Mm his Moreland was not genuine, he was fierce; it was not worth 1s., it was not a Moreland. or anything like it; if a man was a connoisseur I don't consider he could make such a mistake; if it had been genuine it might have been worth more or less than 400l.; it is a matter of opinion.
Re-examined. It was such a daub that any one who knew anything about pictures could detect it.
Thursday, December 14th.
JACOB DAVIS . I am a glass merchant, and live at 31, Osborn Street, Whitechapel—I have known the prisoner something like twenty years; for some years he has appeared very strange in his manner—he has dealt with me and bought things of me a good many times-about eighteen months ago he bought an article of me on which he paid 3l. deposit, and when it was delivered three days afterwards he had forgotten all about it; he had frequently in former instances given me orders and forgotten it.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell how old he was when I first knew him; he was a young man grown up, not a boy—twenty years ago he was a young man grown up.
Re-examined. I did not know him in Seray—I got to know him a few months after he came over to England—I can't say what time it was.
By THE COURT. I knew him first by his coming to deal with me—I then lived in Bedford Street, Commercial Street—I have been twenty-seven years in England—I can't say for certain that it is twenty years ago that I first knew him; eighteen I am sure of—the total amount of the purchase on which he paid 3l. deposit was 7l. 15s.; he had 4l. 15s. to pay—when I first knew him he was not in business; he used to go out glazing, taking out glass for mending windows—he then lived right opposite where I lived for a few mouths.
AARON FRAGARTNER . I am a jeweller, of 23, Princes Square—I have known the prisoner for about twelve months—I have seen him frequently—he appeared to me to be strange in his manner—I used to see him every
Sunday by taking my dinner at the same hotel he used the Camperdown coffee-house—occasionally he used to remark on the meat we got saying that it was not meat that ought to be brought in any place but I never heard since I came into the place that any person complained about such a thing—I did not see any reason for complaint—during the last six or seven I always used to see him his eyes flying about in a rushing way and he used to be sitting at the fire and talking to the fire almost—there was that about him that attracted my attention—I did not know him by any nickname—it have heard him called mad marks sometimes at the coffee-house people spoke of him as such, and also in his presence they would call him such.
Cross-examined. I have not heard him called "Breach of promise"—I have seen him sitting by the fire talking to himself—I do not Know what affected mind—I did not hear what he said but his eyes were throwing about and words coming out of his mouth—that has occurred several times from time to time—he was talking over the fire in that way six months ago—they had a fire there then.
Re-examined. They cook downstairs not in the coffee-room—I am quite positive that I have seen him sitting over the fire and talking to it Joseph Levender. I am a cigarette maker, and live at 3 Lenton Street. Goodman's Fields—I have know the prisoner some twelve months as one of the persons frequenting the camperdown Hotel—I dine there on Sundays—during the time I have know him I have observed that he has been strange in his manner—I never spoke to him in the street—I have played dominoes with him, and in the middle-of the game he threw away his bones and stood up and went out without any reason and walked out of the house—he used to sit for an hour together with his head in his hands and an empty pipe in his mouth thinking to himself; he did not move—I have spoken to him many times and he did not give me any answer.
MARK CROOK (interpreted) I live at 2, Dorset-street, Spitalfields—I have known the prisenen for years—he came to England eighteen years ago—I knew his brother by sight—I don't know whether his name was Samnel—I knew the brother that died in the London Hospital I was not there—during the time I knew the prisoner he was very strange in his manner—he was called "The Madman"—that applies to all the time I knew him except six orseven years when I did not see him—three years ago he returned to see me and asked me to write him a letter when his brother died to send home to his family—for nine years after be came to London he came to see me then for a few years he did not come; then about six or seven years ago he asked me to write home to the Rabbi to ask his certificate that he, the prisoner, was not married in his own country before he was married here I did so and he afterwards showed me that certificate—this is it (the one produced)
ISIDORE SALTZBERG . I am watchmaker at 132, Hampstead Road, and 7, park Road Wood Green—I have known the prisoner for the last five years—he generally appeared strange in his manner—he employed me as a Kind of witness in the marriage affair or the engagement with his sweet-heart—he took me to the house serveral times as a witness to the marriage affair, which I thought rather strange—he asked me to go; I knew of his engagement to Miss Barnard—he took me as a witness that they meant to give him the daughter and afterwards he subpœnead me on the branch of promise—he meant that I should belive that he wanted to marry her although he gave her up—he subpœnaed me for that, to show that he wanted
to marry her; that it was not his doing that it was broken off—his general behaviour was strange; he would pass my shop ten or fifteen times without coming in, although I was a friend—I thought it was a loss of memory his subpœnaing me as a witness to the breach of promise, because he told me that he wanted to marry the party—I bought a looking glass of him, which he valued at 7l.; that was what I was to pay him for it—I sent a van to fetch it, and he refused to let it come in the van, and seat it in a barrow, and it was smashed to pieces—it was a large glass.
Cross-examined. I attended at the action for the breach of promise under my-subpoena, but I was not called.
JACOB NEWSTEAD . I am a traveller, and live at 16, James Street, Cannon Street Road—the first time I knew the prisoner was five years ago—from that time I have seen him often—I use the Camperdown coffee-house—I was present when he took the knife out to Ritter; and I assisted to put him out—on that occasion he appeared very strauge in his manner, and he has been more so lately—they called him Mad Marks behind his beak—they have several times passed the remark that Marks must be mad by all his ways—I have not heard them call him so in his presences—I have see him sitting before the fire, with his hands under his for head thinking and thinking, and moaning like.
Cross-examined. I never heard him eafled "Breach of Promise"—I go to the Camperdown most every Sunday, and sometimes during the week for the lost two years—I never heard anything about the breach of promise proceedings—I did not know that it was common talk in the Camperdown to call him "Breach of promise."
Mr. Crispe proposing to call-rebutting evidence. Mr. Straight objected', the only evidence the prosecution would he likely-to produce Would be that of the surgeons of the gaols in which the prisoner has been recently confined since the commission of the offence; and as no medical or scientific evidence had been called on the part of the prisoner, he submitted that it was not competion for the prosecution to give evidence of that character in reply, MR. BARON POLLOCK" The objection is new;—I do not myself recollect a case of this kind, in which no medical evidence at all has been called on the part of the prisoner but the issue before the jury is whether, at the time the prisoner committed this act, he was sane or insane. That is an issue which they are bound to find affirmatively or negatively in so many words, apart from the commission of the crime that being so, the means of proof affecting that issue may consist of a variety of things of facts proved by those who have known the prisoner for years, or of' evidence of those who have seen him recently, of those who have seen him in the ordinary relations of life, or those who have seen him with a special or scientific view anything that can throw light upon the issue, and is receivable in evidence, I am bound to lay before the jury."
The following witnesses were then examined in reply
THOMAS HENRY WATEKWORTH . I am surgeon of Horsemonger Lane Gaol—I am not quite sure of the date at which the prisoner was received there; it was immediately after the act was committed, about the 25th or 26th of October—I saw him while he was in the gaol, several times; repeatedly—he was there for about three weeks, until he was sent here—I conversed with him at times—I did not do so with a view of discovering his state of mind, I was not at that time aware of the probability of that question arising—I saw nothing of unsoundness about him—I have been present during the trial. (MR. AVORY proposed to ask 'the witness whether anything
in the evidence that had been given had induced him to alter his opinion MR. STRAIGHT objected, as it was asking the witness to do that which the Jury had to decide. MR. AVORY referred to the opinions of the Judges in McNaughten I case; he did nor propose to ask the witness whether in his opinion the evidena green on behalf of the prisoner was consistent with sanity or unsanity but whether his opinion as to the prisoner's state of mind when in goal had been altered by it. In that from MR. BARON POLLOCK considered he was entitled to put it) I have been present during the whole of this trial bitcherto, the evidence I have heard has in no way altered my opinion.
Cross-examined. I mean seriously to say that what I have heard does not alter my opinion; it is a serious question—I can't say how many times I saw him to speak to, serveral times—the conversations were not very long—I did not probe him as to the question of insanity especially I had not that question present to my mind at the time—I saw him in the ordinary discharge of my duty as prison surgeon to see whether he was in health or not and whether he wanted any attendance; I had no occasion to tread him medically.
JOHN ROWLAND GHOSON . I am surgeon to Newgate—the prisoner was received into the gaol on 14th November—I have seen him every day since that time—I have conversed with him daily—the first two or three days he would not enter into any conversation with are land the questions I pad to him he thought had rather a legal bearing them one relating to my particular department? he said if his religious adviser was present he should submit to an examination so Dr. Asocher the rabbi who visits our goal met me and I made a very searching examination which embraced tow hours I think——that was within two or three days of his coming in about the 17th November—there was also a medical gentleman present who came with Dr. Ascher he was likewise a Dr. Asher but the names are spelt differently Dr. Ascher. the rabbr, apells his name with a "c" "Ascher" the other is "Asher"—the examination had reference to the state of the prisoner's mind; I went thoroughly into the circumstances which led to the commission of the act with which the prisoner is charged; it was a very long examination as near two hours as possible and both those gentlemen were with me at the time—on that examination I could decent no delusions leading up to the commission of the act—I do not mean anterior in point of the time—my reason for forming that opinion was, the rational mode in which he conducted himself at that examination, the consistent consistent, connected account he gave me of the whole transaction which led to it—I have seen him every day subsequently; nothing has occurred to alter my opinion—I have been present during this trial—I cannot say that the opinion I formed in Newgage has been alfered by the evidence that has been given I think want I have heard might be explained either one way or the other—I don't give a positive opinion I say what is alleged that he did or said might be explained on the ground of sanity or insanity.
Cross-examined. The boundaries of sanity and insanity are very ill defined—it is a most difficult task to express a scientific opinion as to the state of a man's brain.
The Jury stated that they believed him to be of sound mind at the time the act was committed.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND conducted the prosecution.
MARIAN EMMA LEWIS . I am barmaid at the Crapes public-house, in High Street, Borough—on Thursday night, 16th November, about. 9 o'clock, I was serving in the bar—the prisoner came in and asked for half a. pint of 4d. ale and 1d. worth of tobacco, and gave me half a crown in payment—It tested" it, and found it bent; I broke it; while-1 was doing it the prisoner said "What is the matter, give me the half-crown back and I will give you copper"—he said "I will go. and speak to my: bloke about it"—I told him to wait a minute, instead of doing so he ran away—he had given me 1d. to pay for what he had, and drank his beer—Wynn followed him out and he was afterwards, brought hack—I had not given him any, change—I showed the half-crown to another barmaid after I bad broken it—this is it (produced).
HENRY ALBERT. WYNN . I am in the employ of the landlord of the. Gripes—on 16th. November I saw the prisoner, there I went out after him and said "Come back, please, they want you"—he said "No, will go and fetch my mato"—he went away, I followed, him about 12 yards, behind him he told me, to go back and said I was a naughty boy to follow him"—he then went on again—I still followed him—I saw Mr. Mussard there—when we got to the Borough Market, two boys came and caught hold of me. and threw me on the ground I got away, from, them and called, out "Stop him"—I lost sight of him, and Mr. Mussard and shortly afterwards saw him in custody—he said he was the loser of the half-crown.
GEORGE MASSARD I am smith and live at 14, Redcross Street Southwark—I was at my door and saw the prisoner, and the little boy Wynn following him—from what the boy said to me I followed the prisoner some distance—he asked me to get him away from the boy he did not want to be collared and he would square me—I made no remark, but passed, on by his side; two or three boys were following and when we got opposite the Yorkshire Grey public-house two lads Came up and told him to slip down the turning on the left and they would hold the boy while he got away—I saw the two lads rash in the, middle of the road and lay hold of wynn—the prisoner set to running I ran after him and as we entered the Borough Market ha stopped and was taken into custody—he turned round tome and said "I thought you was square one and not one to get me into this trouble"
JAMES HAYWARD (Policeman, M 192). I took the prisoner, into custody—I told him he would have to go back to the Grapes public-house for uttering a half-crown—he, said "All right, I have been to look for my mate that gave me the bad half-crown, he said it was given to him for helping a man to shift some furniture from George, Street,. Spitalfields"—he gave the name of John Crawley, 26, George Street, Spitalfields—I wept, there, and there is no such number—I searched him at the Grapes and found 2d. in his right hand trowsers pocket, and in his waistcoat pocket 1s., two sixpences,' and 3s. 4d. in copper.
Prisoner's Defence. I worked hard for the money and did not know it was bad till the young woman broke it.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution; MR. STRAIGHT defended Blackhead; and MR. FULTO.V defended Roland.
SARAH, HARDING : I am the wife of David Harding a greengrocer,48 Prince's Row, Lambeth—on the morning of 13th November Blackshaw came for 3 lbs. of potatoes, which came to 2d. and gave me a bad 1s. in payment—I bent it almost double—I told her it was bad—she said she did not know it—I gave it her back and she gave me a good one, and I gave her the change and she left—I had seen her before in the beginning of June, and to the best of my belief she then bought some greens or two cabbages and paid me with a 5s. piece—I gave her change and put the 5s. piece with my other silver, there was no other 5s., piece there—on the Tuesday morning I found it was bad; I kept it ever since and gave it to the constable in this case—I have no doubt that Blackshaw is the woman who gave it me.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I was before the Magistrate on 14th and 29th November—on 14th I was not asked about Blackshaw's visit in June, I don't think it was mentioned till the 29th, I told the policeman when she came on 13th November I told her it made me very cautious in taking money, because I had taken a bad 5s. piece before; I did not say from her, but from some person—she quite ignored what I was saying and went on talking about the 1s.
LUCY EMILY BARRETT . I live at 30 Lambeth Walk—my father keeps a baker's shop—on the morning of 14th November I saw the prisoners there together—Blackshaw asked for four loaves, I served her, she gave me 1s. in payment, I put it in the till and gave her 1d. change, and they left—there was no other 1s. in the till—after they had left Mr. Harding came in, and from what he said my brother took the 1s. out of the till and it was bad—I saw the prisoner in custody shortly afterwards.
DAVID HARDING . I am the husband of the first witness—on the morning of 14th November I saw the two prisoners in Lambeth Walk—I watched them—I saw them go into Mr. Barrett's—I went in at the same time—I saw them leave together—I Spoke to Miss Barrett and she took out the 1s. from the till; I looked at it and found it was bad—her brother took possession of it and went out, and I followed, and shortly saw the prisoners in custody—my wife had made a communication to me on the Monday evening.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Miss Barrett took the 1s. out of the till and handed it to me, and she called her brother and he took it—their shop is 150 or 200 yards from mine.
EDWIN BARRETT . I am the brother of Lucy Barrett—I was in the shop when Mr. Harding was there—he showed me the 1s. it was bad—from what was said I went out after the prisoners; I found them about 20 yards from the shop, both together, they were taken into custody—I gave the 1s. to the policeman.
JOSEPH PAWSEY (Policeman LR 27). I took Roland—she said she knew nothing of the other prisoner and I had better let her go—I had seen then together that morning—I have made inquiries about them they are related.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. She gave the name of Roland, that is her name—I did not know who she was at the time I took her.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON I found a pawn ticket on Roland, the constable has it (produced), it is a pledge for 5s.
GEORGE HOWELL . I live at 693, Old Kent Road, and am an agent and stationer—I collect the rents for Mrs. Cole—on 27th April, 1875, I received Some rent from Blackshaw as tenant—I received the money from Roland, who is Blackshaw's daughter; there was a bad florin amongst it; I showed it to the police, I did not part with it, I kept it some time and then destroyed it—on 31st May I received the rent from Roland and a bad florin amongst it, I destroyed that with the other—in July, 1875, I received from Black shaw a counterfeit 1s. among other money, which I also destroyed four or five months ago.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I did not communicate anything to Roland about having received those bad coins—I had taken coins before and Twished to know where it came from—I showed it to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. The first that I was positive of was on 27th April—I had taken money before—I can't say whether Roland was married at that time or not; she lived with her mother Blackshaw, at 7 Britannia Place, Old Kent Road—she paid the rent on behalf of her mother—I gave information to the police on each occasion—the prisoner continued to live in the house up to November,1875.
NOT GUILTY .
145. HANNAH LAKE (28) , PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for stealing, on 1st November, one watch and other goods of William Berkeley Cosham in his dwelling-house, also on 29th October, three sheets and a pillow case of Ann Judson, and on 29th, October, one pair of earrings and other goods of Thomas Moberley, her master— Twelve Months' Imprisonment
MR. GILL conducted the prosecution.
JOHN HOLLY (Policeman M 41). On the morning of 22nd November I took the prisoner into custody at a coffee house in Salisbury Street, Bermondsey—he was in bed—I charged him with felously assaulting his wife—I said she was still at the hospital—he said "I know nothing about it; if a woman falls I can't help it"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot say that I heard a bolt drawn when I went to arrest you—the door was shut.
HENRY MITCHELL . (Policeman MR 19). On the night of the 21st November I went to the prisoner's house, 6, Foxlow Street, where I found his wife very near insensible, bleeding very fast, and lying oh the bed—the doctor was attending her there, and he ordered her to be removed to the hospital at once—the room was in great confusion; there was a bed but very little furniture—there was blood all over the floor.
Cross-examined. I asked her who assaulted her and she said her husband, that you kicked her—she did not say while lying on the ground or sitting up—she was lying outside the bed—she did not tell me—you had gone looking for her mother—I heard the evidence at the police-court.
MARY HALEY . I am the prison's wife and live at 3, Alfred Place, Salisbury Street; Bermondsey—I remember going home on the night of the 21st November, at about 9 o'clock, and met my husband coming out—we went in together—he went to hit me and I took something up to hit him
with I cannot say what it was it was something on the table—we both struggled for some time and then fell together—I was hurt—I don't know what became of the thing I took up—he had nothing in his hands—I became insensible afterwards—I cannot say whether he tried to get any-thing out of my hands—I got up first and he after—I went to go out and call somebody in, and he told me to stay in—I was bleeding—he—told me he would go out and bring mother, and he came back and said he could not see her, and he went out and I did not see him any more—I was taken to the hospital on Tuesday, where I stopped till Saturday—there were two children in the room lying on the bed when we had the struggle.
Cross-examined. You met me at the corner of Foxlow Street on the night in question, and we both went indoors together—I don't remember your sitting down in a chair—I remember you went to hit me and I took something up to hit you with—I remember I told you there were no bed. clothes that night, and that I and the children were going to my mother's to sleep, and you were to go to your mother's—there was a pint pot in the room, but I cannot say whether that was the thing I took to hit you with—you did not get up out of the chair and take what I had out of my hands; you tried to—I shoved you down and you went backwards and I fell too—I fell on you—I got up first—I don't know whether I fell again—you told me you would go round to my mother and that you were out ten minutes—I did not like to tell anyone there was anything the matter with me then—I showed you the blood coming from me after my getting up-off the floor; you asked me where it came from, but I did not tell you—you said you were you were going to bring Somebody in—I did not let you take what I had out of my hand—I cannot say whether I fell on the toe of your boots—you did not get up and kick me while I was lying down of while I was standing up—I didn't see nothing in your hand at all—I didn't tell the constable nothing that night, because I don't remember seeing him at all.
Re-examined. When he first went out after I was sitting on the bed he returned and told me he could not find my mother—I was going out and he stopped me and said he would send somebody—there were no knives on the table—he closed with me—I felt my hurt directly I got up—I was on the floor about four or five minutes, I cannot say—the blood was coming from the lower part.
HERBERT SMITH . I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I was not there at the time the prosecutrix was brought in; I examined her early next morning—she had been examined that night; there was a small wound in the front passage, the posterior par—I should call it lacerated, but I could. not make out very correctly what it was in that position; she was not bleeding from it when I saw her—there had been a good deal of blood from it—it was about half an inch deep; there was no contusion externally; I thought it was certainly not caused by a kick—it was my impression that it had been caused by some instrument, giving that term a broad meaning—perhaps a broken piece of stick—it might have been either sharp or blunt, but it was my impression, it must have been something penetrating—such a wound could not be caused by a fall unless there were something projecting, well penetrating the passage; I did not see the room—it is not probable that it was caused by a boot—she stoppod at the hospital till the following Saturday.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said at the police-court, that I asked
your wife at the hospital if she had a wire or bone in her. dress. that would cause it, and she said "No," that you kicked her while standing in front of her, but used no other violence—a piece of iron striking up in the fender would be likely to cause the wound if she fell on it—I said in cross-examination at the police court that I could just conceive it possible that a toecap of a boot, or nail sticking out would cause the wound; I think anything projecting might.
MARY HALEY (re-examined). There. was a stool in the room close by where we fell—it was turned upside down it was a little 2d. wooden stool with four legs—I cannot say whether I fell before I gat to it—I had no crinoline to my dress the stool was a law stool form a child to sit in.
HERBERT SMITH (re-examined) The leg of the stool would be a reasonable thing, or anything projecting not to big to enter the passage—there was no contusion externally but a little internally—no other injury—the clothes were not penetrated in any way—a kick would not have penetrated the clothes in that position.
Prisoner's Defence. The woman states she fell down she must have fallen on the pint pot or the stool she startes that my hands did not touch her.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PLATE conducted the prosecution.
GEORGE HAMMOND . I keep the, Duke's Head Red Cross Street Borough—the prisoner; was my potman I discharged him him six pr seven weeks ago—he was only there, temporarily,. while another man was laid up—on 13th November, I heard, a. noise down-stairs, I listened, but not hearing it again I did not go down till 6.30, when I missed a till from the back of a drawer—it was a small drawer which we kept cheques in, and it was empty—I found that the back premises had been broken into—a perforated zinc cupboard had been cut and two holes made and about 10l. worth of coppers removed which, were, done up, in 5s. packets—the person had got over a water tank at the back of the premises,; broken open the back shutters on the ground floor and entered by the window—I found afterwards that my loss was 15l. or 16l., all in copper: 4l. 10s. which was at a distance from the hole was left behind as it could not be reached this knife (produced) had been used to cut a ham and was left in the bar it was not notched then as it is now—I am sure I left the window safe and, the shutter up—the door from the taproom was fastened when I went to bed but I found it unfastened in the morning—I gave information and the prisoner was taken I charged him—he said nothing.
GEORGE UPSON (Detective Officer M) On 15th November between 9 and 10 am I took the prisoner at a common lodging-house Queen Street Borough, close to the prosecutor's house—I told him I should take him for breaking and entering, the Duke's Head public-house and stealing about 10 in copper in, 5s. parcels, he said I don't know anything about it—I noticed a scratch on his left arm, and asked him how it took place—he said "It was done from the scratch of a, pin in my trowsers—I said "It could not be that it is scratched all round your arm;" I had seen the prosecutor scratch his arm in the same way by putting it through the hole—the prisoner was in bed—I had noticed before that that his clothes were very
shabby—I said "You have got a new suit of clothes, and you have got new boots within the last day or two where did you get the money from?"—he said I bought the clothes at a shop in the New Cut I gave 19s. for the clothes and I gave 8s. 6d. For the boots in Cheapside"—I took him to the New Cut, and was told in his presence that he paid for the goods with half-pence, he said nothing to that—I asked him how hw accounted for the half-pence—he said "I was at work for the firm of Mowlem Burt and Freeman last week driving a cart, and on Saturday, I received 19s. and 4s. in silver making 23s., which was paid for my week's work."
PRESCILLA COLLINS I live at 44, Lower Marsh—about a month ago the prisoner came there and purchased a coat and trousers—he paid me 19s. in copper in 5s. brown paper packets—he was afterwards brought back wearing the clothes which I had sold him.
BROWN I am in the service of Mowlem Burt, and Freeman—the prisoner was never in their service—it is not true that he received this copper there.
He was further charged with a previous conviction at Maidstone, in July, 1873, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
148. SAMUEL DUKE (41), WILLIAM SMITH (24), and THOMAS MANNING (45) , Stealing twenty-one reams of paper, the property of the Great Northern Railway Company. MANNING was also charged with feloniously receiving the same.
MESSRS. COOPER and STRAIGHT conducted the prosecution MESSRS BESLEY. and GRAIN appeared for Duke and MR. A. MERCALFE for manning
JOHN SALTER . I am a carter in the service of the Great Northern Railway, Farringdon Street station—on 6th July, I checked a wagon from Glossop by this invoice (produced) that is the course of business when we have got the invoice; I find by this invoice that 145 bundles of paper were consigned to W. Davis & Son, from Oliver & Partington, of Glossop, and seven bales by the same from to Crescents Robinson & Co. Borough Road—they weighed about I get each—I loaded them all into van No. 331, and entered the number of the van on the invoice in blue pencil—in the course of business the invoice was passed on into the office for the delivery sheet to be made out; the carman berings it to me and I sign it—this is the delivery sheet (produced) which I signed I gave it to the carman and he takes it with him and they sign when it is delivered—I saw the van sheet oven; it was too late for delivery that evening and was placed in the yard for delivery next morning—some days afterwards a communication was made to me with reference to the non delivery of seven bags and I caused inquiries to be made.
THOMAS GLAZIER . I am a carman in the service of the Great Northern Railway and am employed in the Borough receiving office Farringdon street—I received instructions from a porter with this delivery sheet—I took the van to Davis & Son New Weston Street Bermondsey—I acted on verbal instructions and his not look at the delivery sheet—I delivered all that was in the van—I do not recognise the man who received the bales as they went up in a large box which was pulled up to a trap door where the men work at a great height they only send the chain down—the bales were of different sizes and I had to send for help with some of the heavier ones but nobody came and I had to gat them up myself—that was about dinner time—I afterwards went up-stairs to Davis, and he
hallooed up to some man to ask how many bales there were—I then received a ticket and was told to go and get a pint of beer, and that when I came back it would be all right—I went away and came back in half an hour, when Mr. Davis gave me the delivery note—a day or two afterwards I received a communication respecting seven bundles, and went to Mr. Davis, but did did not get them—I only went once.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I found the van at Farringdon Street—I was sent there in consequence of their being slack at the other place—I got there about 8.30 or 8.45—I did not look over the goods in the van they were sheeted up, which they generally do in the 'night—you drive into a court yard at Davis' and back out—we commenced unloading about 12 o'clock—after the bales were delivered I took the sheet, to Mr. Davis for his signature—I heard a man call out "a hundred and" something, I did not take notice of the number—Mr. Davis said "He has called out wrong take that ticket and get yourself a drop of beer and come back, and by that time it will be all right"—the men ought to have gone to dinner at 1 o'clock but they had to unload the van and stopped till 1.45—Davis called the man at the top of the building a fool or a stupid for calling out the wrong number—New Weston Street is near the Bermondsey Station, half a mile from the Borough Road—I didnot know that I had to go to two places not being in the habit of delivering I did not look at the paper.
Cross-examined by Smith. I do not know how many sorts of paper delivered, I thought they were all for Davis and I took no notice—the bundles were taken up, but I cannot say what was Inside them—I did not notice whether they had thick wrappers round them.
Cross-examined by MR.A. METCALFE. My attention was first called to the circumstance about ten weeks afterwards or it might be more.
GEORGE DAVIS I am manager of the warehouse of Davis & Son, 24 New Weston Street, Southwark—Duke was our time-keeper and has been with us twenty years—he had charge of the paper floor where Smith was also employed—Duke was provided with a book in which deliveries of paper had to be entered—paper brought to our premises is raised from the van by crane which works at a loop hole on the paper floor—Manning was in the employ of Billing & Sons, printers, who print for us—they have access to our premises—I remember Glazier arriving with his van and delivering paper—this is my signature to this delivery note of 7th July—the firm were expecting a consignment from Glossop—I remember seeing a portion of the bundles hoisted up—I should wait to sign the delivery paper until I had received the whole of the paper—I recollect asking Duke the number of bundles; at that time I had the delivery sheet by myside—he called out some number, I don't remember what, but it did not correspond with what was on the sheet—I made some observation and gave the carman a beer ticket—I asked Duke to recount them and he gave me the number 145—I then signed the delivery note—enquiries were made of me some time after, and I and my brother then made enquiries but we were unable to obtain any information—I produce Duke's book I find here an entry of 145 bundles on 7th July—ours is buff coloured paper; silver paper is a thing we do not use at all—we did not expect any, and I do not know of any arriving—if there had been any it would not have been delivered without an entry in our books to that effect.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. The number of reams which are tied in at bundle is not fixed; it is according to the convenience of the parties—I
work on the first floor generally, where the counting-house is the carmen come there to me for my signature—the lift where the paper is carried to is on the next floor—when I asked Duke to call out the number of bundles I cannot say whether he called out 152 or whether he called out less than 145—I called him a fool or something of the kind and told him to go and re-count them, but I did not go up to see that he did so—he would take a copy off of the reams of what they consisted of he does not see the invoice—this 67-12-20 means 67 reams 12-20 quires—I believe he has put that down for the odd quires—he occasionally opens the Bundles and counts the sheets but I cannot tell what he did in this instance—I should say that this means that there were twelve reams with twenty quires—this is not copied from something else he cannot get it anywhere else that I know of—he would not open the bundles at the time—he puts down here "63.4-20" because he finds one Smaller than the others and he opens it to see what it contains but I did not see that done—the man came back from his beer in about twenty minutes—when inquiries were made of me I certainly stated that 145 bundles only had been delivered.
Cross-examined by Smith. I do not know whether you counted the paper on that occasion—you did not give me an account of it—you were very ill when the paper came in; you were laid up for three months—it would be your place to send the paper down if you were told to do so—I do not know that you have been sent to the sea side since this paper came in.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE I have known Manning coming to the place for some years taking paper and I have heard nothing again him.
Re-examined by MR. A. METCALFE paper does not come in every day—seven cwt. of paper would occupy a considerable space—a ticket is generally put on each bundle to show the quantity in it and from that the checker would take the amount in the bundle—the figures were in Dukes book on the paper floor, but it was from what he told me only, that I said that only 145 had been received—Smith was at work on 7th July and afterwards taking his wages.
WILLAM MORRIS . I was in the service of Davis & Son in July and assisted Smith on the upper floor—I remember Glasier delivering a lot of of paper in July and am sure that Smith was there—Lucy and Appleton were at the crane and I do not recollect the others—some of the bundles were very much heavier than the others Smith and I could carry them between us, but not alone they weighed about I cwt each—the heavy ones were placed in front of the others which were in the middle of the floor.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I was not employed on the paper floor, but I have often assisted in taking in paper—I was first asked to give information last Wednesday—I recollect that Lucy and Appleton were up stairs because they were sent up for the purpose—I had done it before—Duke was not on the upper floor—Smith was superintending the storeage of the paper—all I know is that last bundles were heavier than the first—I don't know what the colour was.
Cross-examined by Smith. It was between 12 and I o'clock in the day—we finished unloading about 1.30 or 1.45—I believe the parcels had wrappers on them; nobody opened them that I saw—only you and I were on the floor, I believe—I believe there were three different sorts—I do not know whether there were labels on them; you told me where to put them or I should not have known.
same floor, and the paper floor is above—I remember some one coming from the Great Northern Railway, and after that Mr. Davis said to Duke "There has been some paper from the Great Northern"—I do not know what answer Duke made; that was in July—I heard Smith say openly in the warehouse that he had got some silver paper to dispose of—he did not address anybody—I know nothing of any silver paper at that time, but some days afterwards I saw some bundles of paper on Duke's bench; I spoke to Green, who went to Duke's bench and tore a piece out of one of the bundles and showed it to me—I saw him write something on it—this is it (produced)—before speaking to Green I saw Duke, Smith, and Manning in the warehouse—Green called me to the window, and I looked out and saw Manning leaving the premises with a truck and some bundles of paper on it, similar to those I had seen on Duke's bench—I said nothing about it at the time, but when Mr. Davis spoke to me I made a communication to him—I remember a quarrel between Green and Duke, and Green said to me that he had put Kimberly on to him for striking him—I told that to Green.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Duke and Green used to have an upset now and then—it was so often that I did not take notice of it—I have had words with him as well, at different times—after the people came from the Great Northern making inquiries, it was the common talk that there was paper there—I have more than fifty or sixty fellow-servants—it was before the Great Northern man came that I saw the bundles of paper on Duke's bench—I never heard that the paper was lost, and I do not remember the men saying "If we find any paper we will sell it"—I knew that there was something wrong, but I did not know it was my duty to mention it to Mr. Davis and I never did so till he spoke to me—I have had charges made against me—I have been in the service seven years as carpenter—I had not much to do with the paper department—I heard Mr. Davis telling Duke that they had been from the Great Northern about some paper, and Duke said that he was quite certain it was not there, and he did not know anything about it—Duke was not a carpenter; he was superintendent—his, bench is where his work has to be brought.
Cross-examined by Smith. I saw you three together at Duke's bench, but I do not know what you were doing—it a common thing for anybody to stand there—I did not see you carry any paper to Duke's bench, but I heard you say that you were going to dispose of some paper.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. There may have been other men looking on besides Green, when I saw Manning take some paper away in a truck—I did not see some boys helping Manning to load the truck—Green gave me the piece of paper which was torn off, and I hid it in my box—we both had it, and I don't remember which of us showed it when inquiry was made.
Re-examined. I have two boxes with locks and keys—there was nothing unusual in Manning wheeling a truck across the yard—I did not see any body going down with the paper—I have been twice charged with poaching; nineteen and twenty-two years ago; but for nineteen years I have had no charge made against me—I did not write anything on the paper.
WILLIAM GREEN . I am in the service of Davis & Sons, emery and black lead manufacturers—in July last I was aware that some paper had been. left wrong; a carman came and made a complaint, and I heard George Davis speak to Duke, who produced his book—Mr. Davis saw it, and said that the paper had been left by mistake, and they kept making complaints about it Duke said that it had not been delivered—Duke was the timekeeper and
Smith was a glass paper printer—it was Duke's duty to see that all the paper was received; the paper received should be put into the paper room—Smith and Duke were in charge of the paper room—Manning was in the service of some printer who prints for my master—Matthews, the carpenter, made a communication to me between 10 and 11 o'clock; I was then on the first floor; the paper room is on the second floor—I happened to get to Duke's bench and saw about 4 reams of paper; and I tore the wrapper on one Side and rent off this piece of paper, upon which I made a note on the same day—I afterwards saw Manning and two lads take those 4 reams of paper out of the warehouse and down-stairs—I went to the window with the carpenter and saw them draw a track out which got into the gutter and three of the reams fell off—there were twenty bundles altogether on the truck 20 reams—it went along Weston Street towards Bermondsey Street, and I lost sight of it—after that I had a quarrel with Duke in August and I struck him—Watkins afterwards spoke to me and I spoke to Duke—I produced this piece of paper, and said that I heard he was going to put Kimber on to me; Kimber is a policeman—I said "Mind I do not put Kimber on to you, and showed him this piece of paper—he said "I thought you had better sense; don't you listens to what other people tell you"—after that. I heard nothing of the assault; birth I made a communication to Mr. Davis.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I did not mention anything about the four reams of-paper on-Duke's bench, from the time I saw it till 13th November, when Mr. Davis spoke to me; I kept it to myself at that time—it-was in the middle of August, that I had the disagreement with duke, and struck him—I have been at work there since July—stock taking begins in July, and lasts more than a week—Davis attends to the partner who takes the stock—I was there on 24th August and 24th september, if it was not Sunday—Watkins saw me write on this paper; that was not after the quarrel; I was on perfectly good terms with Duke then—I did not trust myself to keep it I gave it to Watkins three or Tour days afterwards—I showed it to Duke when I said "I hear from Watkins you are going to put Kimber on me"—Watkins had given it to me the same morning—it was then consigned back to the box and never thought about till 13th November.
Cross-examined by SMITH. you and Morris and Appleton, and one or two others unloaded it between 12 and 2 o'clock—the account was given in before. 2 o'clock—I had the key of the front gate and could let anything out before anybody came—I never let any wood out; I do not remember Seeing you take out a truck with paper—you gave paper to the boys to carry down, and I saw by tearing the wrapper that it was silver paper—it is a common thing for people to stand at Duke's bench and talk to him—I have done it myself.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. I saw the paper removed from Duke's bench—I kept the paper, which I tore off, in my pocket for four days.
RICHARD HERRING . I represent Herring, Brown & Co., wholesale stationers—they have transactions with Billing & Son, and I know Manning as there foreman—in August last, Manning showed me a sample of paper very like this, it was silvered on one side, and said that he had a quantity for sale; I promised to find him a price and let him know—I offered him 10s. a ream, and afterwards received this post-card from him. "Sir, you can have the tin foil at 10s. 6d."—the post-mark is August 16th—I sent my truck for it, and it was brought to my premises—I ultimately paid two men
10l. 15s. for twenty-one reams of it at 10s. 6d. less 5s. 6d. discount, and saw one of them sigu for it—I don't know whether that is the usual price as it is a paper I don't deal in, but it was the highest price I could get for it.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. I was calling on the firm in the way of business, and Manning was the man I had to see—he did not say to whom the paper belonged, merely that it had been entrusted to him to sell—this was about the beginning of August, I don't think it was in July.
JAMES DRINKWATER . I am employed by Oliver & Partington, paper makers, of Glossop—on 5th July, I packed twenty-one reams, ten quires of paper—I think there was some silver paper for Crescents, Robinson & Co, it was sold by weight at 8d. per pound as near as I know—that would being it to 28l. 15s.; it was done up in seven bundles and weighed about 7 out—I produce a piece of a similar description.
Cross-examined by MR. A. METCALFE. I cannot say positively whether this is our make or not, but it is something similar, and this is a sample sheet which we kept; I will swear that it is the same quality, but it has been damp, which will alter the colour; I can tell that by the feel—silver paper is packed three reams in a bundle, but we do not always put the same amount in; we cover them with brown wrappers, so that you Cannot see what is inside; there are no boards.
WILLIAM CLEMENTS . I am in the employ of Billings & Son, where Manning was employed—I recollect a quantity of silver paper being on the premises for about a fortnight—Manning said that Mr. duke had bought some paper and asked him to try and sell it for him and that that was the paper in about a quarter of an hour he came in and said that Mr. herring had brought the paper, and about a day or two afterwards a van came and took it away.
Cross-examined by Smith. You never carried any paper downstairs and gave it to me, or put any into my truck, or helped me to take any out of my truck—two of our lads generally help to carry the paper down and put it in my truck—it is very rarely that I see you.
Cross-examined by MR. A METCALFE. There was no concealment about it—anyone who came into the office could see at the sides that it was silver paper—Manning remained in the employment up to Last Saturday—he has been there thirty-seven years, I believe—I have been there nine years.
ROBERT PETTER (Detective Officer M. I took Duke and Smith in custody about 5 o'clock on the evening of the 11th—I told them that they would be charged with other men not in custody with stealing 7 cwt of silver paper, the property of the Great Northern Railway Company—Duke said that he knew nothing of the transaction; Smith said that he was not at work at the time, he was sick at the Dispensary and could prove where he was—I took Manning about 8 o'clock the same, evening—he said that he knew nothing of the transaction.
MR. BESLEY, with MR. A. METCALFE, submitted that there was no proof of the non-deliverly of the paper to Crescens & Robinson, and that no witness, had been called to prove that the railway company had not received it, and further that the prisoners were not indicted for stealing the property of Davis & Son, but that of the railway company. THE COURT considered that the goods were rightly laid as the property of the railway company, they being the bailees, and that it was for the Jury to say whether Crescens & Robinson had had the goods, or whether they were delivered somewhere else.
Smith's Defence. It is very hard. I have worked three sixteen years It has been proved that I have taken nothing and did not take a truck out.
Duke and Manning received good characters.
DUKE— GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by the Jury believing that he yielded to the great temptation put before him, by the great negligence with which the great Northern Railway Company delivered the goods — Four Months Imprisonment.
SMITH and MANNING— NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcom kerr, Esq.
149. CHARLES GOWER (21), and CHARLES MALLES (27), were indicted for that they together with other persons unkown on the night of 30th November, being armed with a bludgeon and other offensive weapons, did unlawfully enter a certain close of land in the occupation of Richard jepps for the purpose of taking and destroying rabbits.
SAMUEL SHARMAN . I am gamekeeper to Richard Jepps, of East Wolds, Oldham—about midnight on 30th September I heard the noise of two dogs—I went out and crossed meadow and along a field—I saw three men in the hedgerow and two dogs; one of the men had a guano bag, which appeared to have something heavy in it; one had the stick produced—I ran after them and one struck me over the head and on the arm—they all ran away—Males' hat came off—I had-no rest for two nights from the effects of the blow which knocked me down—I shot one dog to save myself from being torn—it was a clear night—I knew the prisoners very well—I examined the place next morning; it had been all netted for about 60 yards up the hedge, as I saw the peg holes—I did not see any ferret; one was picked up last Tuesday by a man who goes hedging.
Cross-examined. My home is about 200 yards from the fence—the prisoners knew me as gamekeeper—they were "squatted" in the middle of the hedge, which was much broken—I was only 5 yard's from them when I first saw them—I have known Gower three or four years—one dog was a brown colour and the other a white liver coloured one—all ran away directly I saw them—I do not use the stick produced for beating hedges—I did not see nets set—there are sticks of this-kind missed from the hedge rows about there.
Re-examined. I have no doubt the prisoners had the stick when I first saw them—I got it out of Males hand.
JOHN REYNOLDS . I am an inspector of police, at Stevenage—I apprehended Males on Friday, 1st December—I charged him with poaching and assaulting the keeper on the 30th November—he said, he was not there, and that he had slept in his father's privy all night—I also apprehended the other prisoner who said he was at home in bed at 9 0'clock.
THE COURT. "The question arises whether they entered armed. If the Jury only find they were armed, it will not be enough for the purpose. Supposing the Jury find that seeing the gamekeeper come up, Males picked up this stick for
his own protection and ran away with it, then the indictment would fail is for the Jury to form an opinion of the use made of it; whether it answer the purpose of a bludgeon or offensive weapon, and then when was this stick picked up. Did Males, with the consent of the two others, pick it up to be used in the event of an attack, or when he found that the gamekeeper was upon the within 5 yards of them, did he then pick it up and run away with it. The stick picked up by impulse, the two other men looking on so as to make them all parties to it, in anticipation that the gamekeeper might come up, and that they might use it offensively; or when the gamekeeper came upon them suddenly did they run off with it, and, only use it suddenly?"
THE JURY. "We are of opinion that seeing the gamekeeper upon them, one man took up the stick and used it suddenly."
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JANUARY 8 TH 1877.