CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 18TH, 1880.
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, E.C.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 18th, 1880, and following days,
Including certain cases committed to this Court under order in Council, pursuant to the Spring Assizes Act of 1879,
BEFORE The Hon. GEORGE DENMAN , one of the Justices of the Common Pleas Division of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir CHARLES SYNGE BOWEN, Knt., one of the Justices of the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., M.P., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., and Sir CHARLES WHETHAM, Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JAMES FIGGINS , Esq, HENRY EDMUND KNIGHT , Esq., EDGAR BREFFIT, Esq., and REGINALD HANSON , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
TRUSCOTT, MAYOR. TWELFTH 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, October 18th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
538. THOMAS EDWARD ALLEN (19) to stealing Whilst employed in the Post-office, two letters, one containing a 5l. note, and one containing a bill of quantities.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
539. CHARLES CARTER (38) to stealing three orders for the payment of 37l., 36l., and 35l., of Henry Vyse and others, his masters.— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment. And [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.]
540. GEORGE BOND (18) to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Edward Newman, and stealing a watch and 10l., his property, having been previously convicted of felony.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and WILLES Prosecuted.
PHILIP SHRIVES (Detective Sergeant E). On 13th September, about 8.30 p.m., I was in Neale Street, Long Acre, with Sergeant Gregory—in consequence of information I went into the Two Spies public-house, I saw the prisoner sitting down there—I told him to get up, I was going to search him—I did so, and found in his left-hand jacket pocket, right down in the corner, a small packet containing four florins which I produce—they were done up in a slip of paper and a piece of paper between each coin—I then searched further and found in the inside breast pocket of his coat a brown-paper parcel containing 17 half-crowns, 14 florins, and a shilling, done up in packets with a slip of paper between each coin—I told him they were bad—he said nothing—I took him into custody.
ALBERT GREGORY (Policeman E 155). I went into the public-house with Shrives and assisted in taking the prisoner to the station—I found on him 12s. 6d. in silver, good money, and 5 1/2 d. in bronze; I have since found that one of the pennies is bad.
coins are bad—this penny is made of copper, which is cheaper than bronze.
Prisoner's Defence. I had the packets given me at the public-house by a gentleman named Tyler to mind for him for half an hour, and before he returned I was taken into custody, and when I saw it was bad money I was quite surprised and did not know what to say at the moment.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
ALBERT GREGORY (Policeman E 155). On 11th September, about 8 p.m., I was outside the Two Spies and saw the prisoner there; I saw him go up to several men who were standing there and give them something, which he appeared to take from his pocket—he then went towards Castle Street; I followed and stopped him with another man named Wilson—I told the prisoner I should search him, as I suspected him of having some counterfeit coin in his possession—I found in his right-hand coat pocket a packet done up in brown paper, which contained 16 counterfeit florins, with a piece of paper between each—he said a man named Williams had given them to him.
HENRY JUPE (Police Sergeant L). I was with Gregory—I saw the prisoner, in company with Wilson, in and out of the Two Spies, with others—I saw the prisoner pass something to other persons—when the coins were found on him he said a man named Williams gave them to him—he was asked who Williams was—he said he did not know, and did not know where he lived.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am guilty; Wilson is innocent."
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that the parcel was given to him by Williams to take to Regent Circus, where he was to meet him and pay him for his trouble.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment
543. GEORGE SMITH (24) and GEORGE NORMAN (25) , Feloniously wounding James Diamond with intent to disable him. Second Count, to do him grievous bodily harm. Third Count, to resist and prevent the apprehension of Smith.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. LEVY Defended.
JAMES DIAMOND (Policeman BR 18). On Sunday morning, 22nd August, about 12 o'clock or a little after, I was in Leader Street, Chelsea—I heard screams coming from the neighbourhood of Oakham Street—I went to the corner of Wickham Place and saw a crowd of people—there was a Mrs. O'Brien there—she made a complaint to me; in consequence of not seeing any signs of violence upon her I refused to take the charge—she then flew at her husband; I separated them and endeavoured to disperse the crowd—I then saw the two prisoners with two females, one standing in front of Smith—I saw Smith with his arm back as though to strike a blow at the female with his clenched fist—I got in between them, put one hand on Smith and one hand on the female, and said "Don't strike the woman"—I don't know what Smith
said at firsts he made some remark, but as soon as he got into the road he said "God strike me bleeding blind you don't go alive out of this street to-night"—Norman said "You have got none of your bleeding pals with you here to-night; we have got you here now and we will settle you"—Smith tried to get at me, but the female kept him back—he said "Let me go and I will smash his bleeding brains out"—I said "I don't wish to have anything to say to you, go quietly away, it will be all the better for you"—upon that they walked a little way down the street—the woman whom Smith was about to strike rushed out at her door, and calling to the prisoners to come back, said she would fight either of them—I went and put her back and closed the door after her—I waited outside the door two or three minutes; I then looked down the street, I could not see the prisoners, and I thought they had gone out of the street altogether—I went a little way down and saw the prisoners on the dark side, underneath a wall—Smith rushed across the road and said "I have got you now," and struck me a terrific blow just over the left eye—as soon as I could recover myself I closed with him and got him by the scarf—as soon as he found I had hold of him he gave me a tremendous kick just on the inside of the right leg, above the ankle—I directly felt my leg give way, it would not support my weight—Norman rushed up to me, and between the two they forced me down on my back on the ground; I still had hold of Smith by my left hand—Norman got me by the throat and held me till I was very nearly strangled—I put back my hand to try and get my truncheon out, but it was gone—I then got hold of Norman by the scarf—I then had them both—a crowd rushed round me and got hold of the two prisoners and dragged them off me—I was dragged up with them—I was seized from behind and was pulled back ana the prisoners were pulled back with me, and we all fell down together—my leg got twisted underneath me in going down, and I called out "My leg is broken"—I was dragged up again—I still had hold of the two prisoners, one in each hand—some one struck me across the hand—I was thrown on the ground again, and when I was down both prisoners beat me about the head most unmercifully—I said "Do you intend to kill me?"—they both said "We will do you if yon don't let us go"—they repeated that several times—I said "I will never let you go as long as I live"—we had a desperate struggle after that—I was rolled over and dragged along the street—I still kept hold of the prisoners; I never left them—I succeeded in holding them until the arrival of 131 B, and they were taken into custody—I said to the constable "For Heaven's sake try and hold them, my leg is broke and I am done"—I was taken to St. George's Hospital—I have suffered great pain in my back since, and my head and leg, and am unfit for duty—after I had handed the prisoners over to the constable I found they were getting too strong for him, and I dragged myself on my back and got hold of Smith—some one in the crowd brought me my truncheon and put it into my hand—he struggled so violently I could hardly hold him—I struck him over my shoulder, and I think I cut him across the head—the prisoners were total strangers to me, I never saw them before.
Cross-examined. There were several people round Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien, not a very great number—I did not see the prisoners among them—When I first saw Smith he had his hand up to strike the woman—his
statement "God strike me blind you shall not go out of the street alive" was not made to the woman, but to me—the woman was not there then; she had gone indoors—up to that time the prisoners had not done anything to me—I often hear idle expressions without noticing them—when I saw the prisoners under the wall I did not see anybody else there—I believe there was one more person, but I did not see her; it was the female who was in company with them—it was then the attack was made upon me—after I succeeded in freeing myself a rush was made upon me by a crowd of people, and I was seized behind, and dragged backwards—both the prisoners said "I will do for you"—they used exactly the same words—there were several people there all the time; the night Was dark—I am quite sure the prisoners are the men—I never let go of them.
Re-examined. I have no doubt some of the people would have helped me, but they were afraid—it is a very rough neighbourhood.
JAMES MAY (Policeman B 131). On 22nd August, about 12.30, I heard a shouting in Oakham Street—I went up, and found a large crowd—I worked my way through them, and found the two prisoners struggling with Diamond on the ground, he holding one in each hand—he saw "For Heaven's sake try and secure them both, my leg is smashed;" I caught old of both by the throat, and held them down for some considerable time—they became very obstreperous, but I held them till assistance came, and they were taken to the station—they were sober, but had no doubt been drinking.
Cross-examined. There was a large crowd of people, I should think over 200.
FREDERICK CHARLES FISHER . I am a M.R.O.S. and house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—I was called to see Diamond; he was suffering from a double fracture of the large bone of the right leg;, and a single fracture of the small bone of the same leg, above the ankle joint—the upper fracture was probably done by a kick, and the under fracture by the foot being twisted underneath by the force of the crowd—he is unfit for duty, and will certainly not be fit for six months, and his ankle will be permanently injured—he is an out-patient at present—I cannot speak to any bruises about the body, on account of my attention being drawn entirely to his leg; it was a dangerous injury, and required a great deal of attention.
JOSEPH ROYAL . On Sunday morning, 22nd of August, about 12.40, I was going along Leader Street; a woman ran out of Oakham Street, and said "For God's sake there is a policeman being murdered up Oakham Street"—I ran up, and saw Diamond struggling with the prisoners—he asked me to go for assistance, and I went back and got Police-constable Wilby, and I then went on to the station, and gave information there—I went with Diamond to the hospital.
HENRY FULLER . I live at 87, Marlboro' Street—I was in Leader Street—hearing a woman calling out "Police" and "Murder" I went into Oakham Street, and saw Diamond on the ground—he had Norman down with him, and Smith was standing up—I saw Smith give one kick—I did not see Norman do anything—Wilby came up, and the prisoners were taken to the station.
Cross-examined. Diamond had hold of Smith as well as Norman by the throttle—I did not take hold of either; I was no good—I went with Diamond to the hospital.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Imprisonment each.
The JURY. stated: "We desire unanimously to express our sense of the brave conduct of the constable Diamond, and trust that the authorities will duly acknowledge them." The RECORDER expressed his entire concurrence, and ordered a reward of 10l. to be paid to Diamond.
HAMILTON PLEADED GUILTY .
JOHN O'CONNER (Policeman N 150). On 14th September, at 4 a.m., I was on duty in Aberdeen Park—I saw the prisoners standing together in the shadow of a high wall—I went towards them—I was in uniform—as I went towards them they walked away quickly—I ran to overtake them, and they also ran—I followed Cox, and on passing Christ Church I saw him throw a white parcel over the hedge into the churchyard—I followed him, and he was stopped by Police-constable Newport—I did not lose right of him, only while he went round the corner—I apprehended Hamilton, and took him to the station—I found on Cox a gardener's knife, and on Hamilton, among other things, two brushes and a suit of clothes belonging to the prosecutor.
ALFRED NEWPORT (Policeman N 225). On 14th September, at 4 o'clock in the morning, I was on duty in Highbury Grove—I saw the two prisoners running towards me—when they were within about 20 yards I called on them to stop—Cox then threw a white parcel over the church-yard—I saw it go over the hedge, and I heard it jingle—I stopped Cox—he said "What do you want me for? I have done nothing"—O'Connor came up and took Hamilton; I handed Cox over to another constable, and afterwards went to the churchyard, and there found a white bundle where I had seen it go over; it contained five silver spoons, a pair of sugar tongs, a salt spoon, and a bunch of keys—the prisoners were taken to the station.
FRANK HUDSON . I am a member of the Common Council, and reside at 34, Highbury Grove—on 14th September, about 5 o'clock in the morning, I was called up by some constables—I examined my premises, and found that an entrance had been made at the back by the scullery window—an iron bar had been removed, and the stone in which it was set Was cut away—the house is enclosed by a garden wall, about 8 or 10 feet high—access could be had from the scullery into the basement—I identify the articles produced as mine—they were all taken from the basement, and are worth from 12l. to 15l.
Cods Defence. On 13th September I went to see some friends, and returning home I laid down and went to sleep; about 3.30 I woke up. I did not know exactly where I was. I wanted to go to Highbury station. I met Hamilton, and asked him the way. He said he wanted to go the same way. I had a half-pint of rum in my pocket, which I gave him. We went along the road; he asked me to lend him 5s. I had only 4s. He said he would give me security, and he gave me these things. We saw a policeman coming along, and Hamilton said, "You had better throw them away, or you may get into trouble" and I threw them away, and the policeman took me into custody.
COX— GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction for housebreaking at this Court in December, 1878, in the name of Sidney Smith.— Seven years' Penal Servitude.
HAMILTON also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction, having been then before convicted at this Court, and sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and he teas now on ticket-of-leave.— Seven Tears' Penal Servitude, to comment after serving the term of his last sentence.
MR. HUDSON stated that great credit was due to the police for their conduct in the case.
MESSRS COWIE and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted.
ARTHUR HOPWOOD . I am a waiter at Loveridge's dining-rooms, 83, High Holborn—on Monday, 13th September, about 1.10, the prisoner came there—she asked me if the other waiter had gone away—I said "Yes"—she inquired where he had gone to—I said I did not know—she said she was in the habit of cashing post-office orders there once a month—she said she wanted some dinner, and she had no money to pay for it unless I would cash the order—she produced this order for 3l. 1s.—the prisoner wrote the address on the back, "E. Price, 22, Mitcham Villas, West Drayton"—I took it to Mr. Loveridge, and told him something.
JOHN LOVERIDGE . I am proprietor of the dining-rooms—Hopwood brought me this order—I noticed that the figures were very clumsily made, and "I went to the West Central District Post-office, and saw Inspector Dassett—I showed him the order, and he came back with me.
WILLIAM DASSETT . I am Inspector of the West-Central District Post-office—on the afternoon of 13th September Mr. Loveridge came and handed me this order—I went with him to his dining-rooms, and there saw the prisoner—I asked her if she had presented that order to Mr. Loveridge; she said "I did"—I said "Do you wish him to cash it?"—she said "Yes"—I said "How do you wish to be paid?"—she said "I am not particular; half gold and half silver"—I said "There is something wrong about this order; will you come with me to the secretary's office at the General Post-office?"—she said "I have no objection"—we then went downstairs, and in the passage she said "How dare you detain me, I have done nothing wrong?"—I said "The money order, which appears to have been tampered with, has been found in your possession, and it will be my duty to take you to the secretary's office"—she said "I shall not go"—I said "If you do not go I shall call a police constable and give you into his custody"—she still refused, but asked me if I would go to her solicitor, Mr. Gordon, of 51, Lincoln's Inn Fields, who would vouch that she was a respectable woman—I assented, and crossed down Holborn to Gate Street—as we passed along I said to her "You will understand that whatever Mr. Gordon may say it will be my duty as an officer of the Post-office to take you to the secretary's office"—she said "Will you not take Mr. Gordon's word as to my respectability?"—I said "No"—she then consented to go with me to the secretary's—I called a cab and we got in—on the way to the office she told me that the order had been sent to her by Miss Read—I asked where Miss Read lived—she said "In the High Road, Mitcham"—on arriving at the secretary's office she told me she had another money-order for 1s. 6d.—I said "Who sent you that?"—she said "My washerwoman, Mrs. Connell,
in payment of some money that she borrowed of me"—I said "Where does Mrs. Connell live?"—she said "At Spithead"—I said "That is rather a long way for your washerwoman to live"—she said "I mean over Bermondsey way, Dockhead."
EMMA DAVIS . I am assistant to the post-office receiver at Offord Road, Walthamstow—I remember the prisoner coming to the office on 11th. September—she asked for a money-order for 1s.—she brought the requisition order in her hand—she gave the name of Mary Brown; the name of the person to whom it was to be sent was Eliza Wood, payable at the chief office—I made out this order—there was then no figure in the pounds column, only the horizontal dash—I also made out this advice-note and sent it in the ordinary way—no alteration was made in the order by my authority or with my knowledge—when I gave it to the prisoner it was an order for 1s. only—the name of Emma Price is put as the payee, and it is endorsed "E. Price, 22, Mitcham Villa, West Drayton."
GEORGE HENRY FRY . I am a police officer attached to the General Post-office—on 13th September I saw the prisoner there—she had a basket with her; I found in it this post-office order for 1s. 6d. issued at Dockhead, also a post-card addressed to Mrs. E. Dear, and a letter addressed to Mrs. E. Dear, Mrs. Linsoll, 19, Clarkson Road, Walthamstow, from Mr. Gordon, 51, Lincoln's Inn Fields—there were also two receipts and a withdrawal form on the Post-office Savings Bank—she said that she had her letters addressed to E. Dear, 19, Clarkson Road, Wood Street, Walthamstow, but she lived at No. 13—the name of the remitter on the requisition paper is Mary Brown, 22, Eden Road, Walthamstow—I went there; I found no Mary Brown and no No. 22; the highest number is 18.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am innocent of altering the figures, but I am guilty of signing the orders. I have done it before. I thought I was forging if I signed another person's name, and therefore I signed my own."
The prisoner in her defence stated that the got the orders from Miss Bead.
GUILTY of uttering.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 18, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
CHARLOTTE CHAPMAN . I am barmaid at the Columbia Market public-house—on 27th September the prisoners came in—Burdett asked for a pint of ale, and paid with a sixpence, which I put in the till, and gave him 4d. in copper—they both drank of the beer—Burdett then asked for another pint and a half ounce of tobacco, and paid with another sixpence—I put it into the till and gave him 2d. change—he then called for another pint and another half ounce of tobacco—they both drank of the
beer, and Burdett paid with another sixpence—I gave him 2d. change—he than called for another pint, and a half ounce of tobacco, and paid me with another sixpence—I put it in the till and gave him 2d. change—this took about an hour and a half—I was quite alone in the bar—after the landlady came in Burdett called for another pint, but no tobacco; that was the fifth time—he gave me a sixpence; I bent it with my teeth—my mistress came into the bar, and I made a communication to her—she brought me four sixpences, and I sent the potman privately for a policeman—I do not recollect receiving a sixpence from any other customer while the prisoners were there—I handed the five sixpences to the constable.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. Many people came in and went out while they were there—I did not swear before the Magistrate that half an ounce of tobacco was called for the fifth time. (It appeared by the depositions that the witness had done so.) I had been serving in the bar all day—the till had been cleared before I cleared it at 4 o'clock—I did not take the money away; I put it at the back of the bar—I do not remember what coins the other customers paid—the bar was never full—Holborn never spoke to me.
KITE BEASLEY . I keep the Columbia public-house—on 27th September I cleared the till about 2 o'clock, and again when I came home, at a little before 9 p.m., and shortly afterwards the barmaid called my attention to a sixpence which she had received—it was bent—I then examined the silver I had taken from the till, and found four bad sixpences and no other sixpences—they were handed to the constable—a bad sixpence was brought to me the next evening by a customer who said that he got it in change at my house—it was the same sort and date as these.
Cross-examined. I did not leave any small change in the till when I went out, but I did at the back, and the barmaid could take a sixpence from there to give change.
JAMES STUBBINGS (Policeman H 135.) On 27th September I went with H 97 to the Columbia public-house, and the barmaid gave the prisoners in custody with these five bad sixpences (produced)—they each said "We have no bad money"—I searched them at the station, and found on Burdett 2s. 6d. in good silver and 10d. in bronze, and on Holborn 4d. in bronze.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. Burdett gave me his correct name and Address—I know nothing against him.
Cross-examined by Holborn. You went quietly with me.
Burdett's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have no idea of having any bad money. I only changed two sixpences, and did not get the change for one of them. If I had had any money I should not have Wanted to have stayed there."
Holborn's Defence. Burdett only changed two sixpences while I was in his Company.
BURDETT— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
HOLBORN— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 19th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
548. PERCIVAL INGRAM (64) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing whilst employed in the Post-office two post letters containing two sovereigns and eight postage stamps, having been before convicted of felony in 1873.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. J.P. GRAIN Prosecuted; MESSES; MONTAGU WILLIAMS and STEWART WHITE Defended.
JAMES THOMAS MCDOUGAL . I carry on business with my brothers as millers at 10, Mark Lane—on May 6,1878, the prisoner entered our service as traveller, and this agreement was entered into between us (read)—I subseqnently received from him this letter of May 18, 1878, agreeing to all the terms and conditions—his duty was to take orders and send them up to us, and we should send the goods and invoices—it was also his duty to collect accounts, and either to hand them to us when he came to the office, or else pay them in to our credit at the head office of the London and County Bank, or to any branch of the same, promptly, either the same day or not later than the day following—cheques made payable to bearer he was to deal with in the same way as cash—cheques to order he would either hand to us at the office or post them to us for our endorsement—he had no authority to endorse cheques for us by procuration or in any way—from 1878 up to July this year he pursued that practice so far as we were aware—the endorsements on these two cheques of 17th July for 39l. of Mr. Packer's, and this of August 7th for 35l. of Mr. Rayner's, are in the prisoner's writing—he had no authority to endorse them—we were not aware until he was dismissed that he had received those moneys—we have never received the money—in consequence of other matters he was given into custody—these lists are in his writing; they were left at our office by some one representing the prisoner, after his dismissal.
Cross-examined. He was to be paid by a commission ranging from 6d. to 1s. a sack when we received cash for payment of the flour; he had no salary—we were to decide whether the commission was to be 6d. or 1s.; it was determined by the price at which the flour was sold; that fluctuates very much—in taking orders from customers he would agree to a certain price within our limits; it was at our option to accept or not—we always supplied the flour as agreed upon—he has not complained that we did not—he did not make any claim for commission subsequent to his discharge—an accountant did not come on his behalf and go through our books—I can't say whether an accountant came for that purpose; I did not see him; I never heard of any one calling to look at our accounts; I heard of some one calling to leave these lists of moneys which the prisoner said he had received on our account; I believe they include the sums in this indictment—we knew that he travelled on commission for Mr. Enever—his is a seed business—I do not know that he was in the habit of supplying the same customers with our flour and Mr. Enever's seed, or that he was paid for both in one cheque—I think this amount of 35l. is included in a charge for embezzlement—he was originally committed
for embezzlement; we did not know all the facts when before the Magistrate; we had not seen the cheques then; we did not know of the endorsements—from the lists sent to us we believed he had received the money, but we did not know it was a forgery—we received security for 500l. according to the agreement—the prisoner came to the office about three weeks before he was given into custody, and I then said to him "Can you explain to me how it is that after advising us that you have received payment from several customers you have not paid those in directly to the London and County Bank to our credit, but we have reason to believe that you paid them to your own credit or that of a relative of yours at a bank the name of which we do not remember?"—I did not know that he had paid cheques in; I thought he had paid some cash in—there was some delay in our receiving the money he had received, and I wanted his explanation of the delay—the prisoner said in answer, "I thought it would expedite the payment of the money to your credit," and I said "Such a thing must not occur again"—he said it should not—we did not discharge him then—we gave him into custody on 2nd September;. we found out more irregularities—these lists were left after we gave him into custody—I won't be certain; I think it was three or four days before he was arrested—when he came to us he said that he had been in a firm of millers on his own account—it is not a fact that most of the customers he brought to us were his own customers—some said they were and some not.
Re-examined. When I had this conversation with him I said "Tell me plainly, are you holding back a single penny of our money? Be certain now and tell me the truth," and he replied "On my hot four I am not withholding a farthing"—his commission was overpaid.
MARK PACKER . I am a baker at Chatham—the prisoner called on me for orders—I was supplied with flour from McDougal Brothers—I paid the prisoner this cheque on 17th July, in payment of an account of McDougal Brothers, and produce the receipt—the cheque has been paid.
BENJAMIN NUTT RAYNER . I am a grocer at Sittingbourne, and am a customer of the prosecutor—prior to 7th August I received flour from them, for which £35 was due—I gave this cheque to the prisoner—it has been paid.
JOHN HAMPDEN SAMPSON . I am cashier at the London and Provincial Bank, "Woolwich branch—the prisoner has an account there, not in his own name—he has been in the habit of paying cheques in to the account of Sheffield and Co., and he had authority to sign cheques and operate on the account—these two cheques were passed through our bank and credited to the account of Sheffield.
HERBERT LOTT . I am cashier to the prosecutor—I receive moneys and cheques sent up to the firm by the travellers—neither of these cheques have come to me from the prisoner—the endorsements are his writing.
Cross-examined. I have not been present at the London and County Bank when the prisoner has paid in cheques; I cannot recollect an instance, I may have, as I go there every morning, and sometimes twice a day—I have not seen him endorse cheques—I have not seen any cheques paid in with his endorsement on them per procuration.
Cross-examined. The only remark he made was that he should prove Mr. McDougal owed him more money than he had kept back.
MR. MCDOUGAL (Re-examined.) There are no accounts between us—I have our books here.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
550. WILLIAM HENRY BILLING (24) , Fraudulently converting to his own use two 5l. notes and other property of Mariana Hankin, of Which he was a bailee. Second Count, for stealing 11l. 14s. 10d., her money.
MESSES. COWIE and TORR Prosecuted.
JOSEPH RIDLEY . I am a cashier at the Union Bank, in Princes Street—Mrs. Hankin is a customer of our bank—on 22nd September I cashed this 15l. cheque of hers, and gave for it three 5l. Bank of England notes, Nos. 02009, '10, '11, dated 19th February—these (produced) are two of those notes.
MARIANA HANKIN . I reside at 30, Queen's Road, Upton Park, Essex—on 22nd September last I changed a cheque at the Union Bank, Princes Street, and received for it three 5l. Bank of England notes—I paid one of them away on the following Saturday to a wine merchant in Aldgate—on 29th September, soon after 10 a.m., I went to the post-office receiving house at Upton Park, which is kept by Dr. Budgett—the prisoner was not there at first, he came in soon after—I said to him "I wish to send 11l. 14s. 10d. to Deal, I think I shall require two post-office orders, one for 10l. and the other for 1l. 14s. 10d.—the prisoner left the shop for a few minutes and then returned and said "You are right, Mrs. Hankin, will you have the kindness to sit down a few minutes? Mr. Ansell will be in"—Mr. Ansell is the station-master—he did not come, and after waiting a short time the prisoner took a small box from a shelf and said "We often send small boxes of this kind in different directions, and they always arrive safely; you have only to pay 2d. for registration"—at first I rather objected, but he reassured me, he said there would not be the slightest difficulty, that boxes were often sent, and always arrived safely so long as they were registered—I paid him 2d. for registration—I then put the two 5l. notes on the counter, with a sovereign, a half-sovereign, and 4s. 6d—the notes were two of those I had received. from the Union Bank—I wrote down on a piece of paper my address and that of Mr. Lush, Alfred College, Deal, to whom they were to be sent—the prisoner then said "I will take the numbers of the notes"—I replied "If you will give me a pen I will do it"—however, he looked at the notes and wrote something down, which I concluded was the numbers of the notes—he then took up the notes and folded them both into this small box, he then put the sovereign and half-sovereign in, and was proceeding to add the small change, when two persons came in in a great hurry and wanted something immediately—the prisoner went to the bottles and seemed to be in a great hurry to mix something for them—it is a chemist's shop—he said "Mrs. Hankin, will you oblige me by calling in this evening for the receipt?"—I said I would, and left—I called again in the evening; I found the prisoner was very busy in the shop—he looked up and said "It is all right, Mrs. Hankin, will you oblige by stepping in in the morning?"—he did not ask me for any money for postage—I sent a letter of advice to Mr. Lush the same day, but did not post it at that office—next morning, Thursday, I was not
able to go to the post-office—I went in the evening, the prisoner was then very busy counting out money, and there were several people in the shop when he saw me he looked up anxiously and said "Oh, Mrs. Hankin, I am very sorry, will you oblige by coming in the morning for the receipt—I did not like the delay, but I had no objection, and left, rather un willingly—I called again next morning, 1st October, saw the prisoner, and asked for the receipt—he said "I am very sorry, but to tell yon the truth, I forgot to register the box"—I said "You forgot I that is not business please to give me a receipt, you know I paid 2d. for a registration"—he said "I will give you back the 2d."—I refused to accept it, and demanded a receipt—he laid he could not give me a regular receipt, but he would give me a receipt, so he accordingly gave me this receipt (produced)—it was not in the state it is now when he gave it me, there was no signature to it, nor was the amount of the money written on it—I wrote the amount, 11l. 14s. 10d. and then demanded his signature—there was no stamp on it, it was affixed afterwards—the signature now is "E.H. Billing, pro G. Williams," but Mr. Williams was not there, he had left; he was in the same position as the prisoner, an assistant to Dr. Budgett—before I left the shop I asked the prisoner to give me the numbers of the notes he had written down—he said he had lost the paper—I noticed on the counter the sheet of paper on which my address and that of Mr. Lush was written, and I lifted it, thinking he had perhaps put the numbers on the other side, but he put his hand On it and said u The numbers are not there"—I said "It is of no importance, I can get the numbers at my bankers"—I then left, and never saw him afterwards—I went straight to the telegraph-office at Plaistow and telegraphed to Mr. Lush, and received a reply—I then went to Dr. Budgett the same day and represented the case to him, and next day I went to the Bank and stopped the notes, and then went to St. Martin's-le-Grand and represented the case to the secretary—the prisoner did not say to me "As you have not the numbers of the notes, for safety I will change them," nor did I say to him "You can do as you wish"—I did not desire him to change the notes, for the evident reason, had he changed them the box would not have contained the money, it was too small; besides, it would have made the box heavier.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I came in first you did not say that you were not acquainted with post-office duties—you. could not give me an answer as to the post-office orders, and you left the shop, I concluded, to consult Mr. Ansell—I saw you were very busy when I called on the Friday—I did not say to you, "I wonder how you get on, having so much to do"—I do not remember your affixing a stamp on the receipt, and saying that would be sufficient to show that the money had been paid in the office, nor do I remember your saying that you were not a post-office official, and that that was the reason you signed Mr. Williams's name.
Re-examined. There is a post-office stamp on the receipt—that was given me on the Friday.
WILLIAM HAMPTON . I was shop boy to Dr. Budgett—I remember Mrs. Hankin calling on Wednesday, 29th September—only Mrs. Hankin, I and the prisoner were then in the shop—I cleared the letter-box that day at 12.15; the prisoner told me to do so—I put the letters on the counter and he looked over them—I did not notice a large pill-box amongst them
or anything unusual—the letter-carrier came from Plaistow for the letters at 12.15—the previous collection had been at 9.30 that morning.
Cross-examined. I remember your having a box of this description in your hand and putting something into it; I did not see what it was—there was some cotton-wool; that was when Mrs. Hankin was there On the wednesday afternoon, 29th September; I think it was after she had been—I have not said that I saw you put notes or money in it; I said so but I did not mean it; I did not see it—this box was not among the letters that I put on the counter at 12.15—I did not finish clearing out the letters when the postman was there—I emptied the box—I have some times found something left behind on the side of the letter-box where the papers are kept—it often occurs that the letters are left till the last moment when we see the postman coming in at the door—you tie them up; sometimes the postman does it himself while you are writing out the blue bill—I heard Dr. Budgett abuse you on the Friday night—he called you a liar, a rogue, and a blackguard, and showed you out—I have seen you once at the post-office since you left—you came hack, that evening and asked if everything was right as regards the money—I saw you when you came on the Monday—you asked, if Mr. Williams had heard any news about the money, and you paid me some money—you owe me 1s. 10d. now.
Re-examined. I have nothing to do with the letters except clearing them out of the box and putting them on the counter—I am 11 years of not notice what the prisoner wrapped up in the wool, whether it was 5l. notes or money; I don't know that it was either.
JOHN GEORGE RUSSELL . I am a letter-carrier at Plaistow—I have been in the habit of calling at Upton Park Post-office to take the letters—on Wednesday, 29th September, I called for the morning delivery at 12.16—I received the letters from the prisoner—they were tied up before I got there; they should be—the prisoner made out a letter bill as usual, and handed it to me—this is it, with my signature attached to it—there it a space in the left-hand corner for registered letters; the word "Nil" is written there, with the initials "W.H.B."—I do not count the letter after I leave the office—they average about this number, 23; that would be a moderate collection for that hour—I have no knowledge of a parcel the, size of this box—if there had been it would not be tied up with the letters; it would not be counted as a letter; it would not be put down in the bill unless it was registered.
Cross-examined. It may sometimes occur that the mail is not made up till I appear at the door—I have no recollection of saying to you, "Come, this won't do, young man; you are as bad as Mr. Williams; I shall have to make a report of this"—no account is set forth of boxes, or papers—I have never tied up the letters for you—when people cannot put boxes or papers in the outside letter-box they bring them in and put them on the letter-box—they could not be taken away without your seeing them, not while you were in the shop; they would be trespassing if they did because there is a space.
DR. JOHN ALFRED HENRY BUDGETT . I reside at the Grove, Stratford—I set as post-office receiver at Upton Park, Plaistow, which is a chemist's and druggist's, and is about a mile and three-quarters from my house—I have a private wire from one place to the other—on 29th September and from than till the beginning of October, the prisoner was in my
service at Upton Park—it was part of his duty to attend to the post-office business, to issue money orders, to register letters, and to give receipts for them—he had the control of the whole of the post-office money, as well as the money taken in the shop—on 29th September there was about 30l. in money—he would be able to give gold for two 5l. notes—I was there between 7 and 8 in the evening—he made no communication to me about any application for a money order or a registered letter—I was there again on the 30th; he made no such communication to me then—on 1st October Mrs. Hankin called on me at my private house, and in consequence of what she said I went to the receiving house and saw the prisoner—I asked him how it was that he, having received money for a registered letter, had not registered such letter and sent its contents by post, and how it was that Mrs. Hankin, having applied for two post-office orders, he had not given them to her at her request—with reference to the post-office orders he would not give me any answer, but with reference to the other he said he had sent them for safety, and he had sent them off—he said it was all right, that if anything was wrong with reference to the money it must have occurred at the other end and not here, as he had sent the notes and the gold in a box, but he omitted to register it; he knew it was wrong to do so.
Cross-examined. If I come over any days I come on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays—the business requires the assistant most in the morning before 12.30 and in the evening after 6 till 8.30 or 9, but the place has only just been opened; there is no business yet—I received a good reference with you from Mr. Watson, of the Civil Service Supply Association, or I should not have taken you—I told you you would nave to sign a declaration; you did not sign it, you had not the opportunity—I asked you for security for 50/.; you said you could get it—after ask—I ng you some questions about this affair I told you that you were no longer fit for my service and must go immediately, and I put you out—I no doubt called you a liar, a rogue, and a blackguard.
JAKES ROBERT LUSH . I am a Justice of the Peace for the Cinque Ports, and am Principal of Alfred College, Deal—I know Mrs. Hankin—I was expecting some money from her at the end of September—I have not received any letter or package from her since 29th September containing 11l. 14s. 10d. or any sum—I received a telegram from her with regard to it, and I replied that I had not received it—on 4th October I received this telegram from W.H. Billing, "Have you received a box yet from Upton Park? Please wire reply. I duly sent it, and have witness of the enclosure"—I replied to that, but sent it to Mrs. Hankin, as I was under the impression that she had sent it.
EMMA KEMP . I am married—I live at 6, Queen Square, Upton Park, right opposite Dr. Budgett's shop—I knew the prisoner as assistant there—on Wednesday morning, 29th September, between 11 and 12, he came and asked if I could change a 5l. note—he gave it me—this is it (No 02010)—I gave him the change—I afterwards paid it to Mr. Morris in business.
ERNEST WILLIAM FOLKARD . I am a draper at Upton Park—on Wednesday morning, 29th September, the prisoner came and asked me to change a 5l. Bank of England note for him—I did so—I did not make my entry of the number—I paid it away in the course of business—I hive no means of tracing to whom I paid it.
Cross-examined. I saw you with a box in your hand when you came in—I could not say what was in it—you said you were going to send it stay from the post-office—I don't remember your saying to whom.
CHARLES JAMES STEVENS . I am travelling clerk attached to the missing letter branch of the General Poet Office—on 11th October I was in the Waterloo Road shortly before 10, and saw the prisoner there—I was on the look-out for him—I stopped him and said, "Mr. Billing, I believe "—he said "Yes"—I was accompanied by Police-constable Lord—I said, "We belong to the Post-office; I wish you to accompany us there with reference to a registered letter irregularity which occurred at the Upton Park receiving-house on the 29th of last month"—he was put into a cab and taken to the General Post Office, and saw him in a private room there—I said, "Mrs. Hankin, of Queen's Road, Upton Park, has stated that she came to your office on the 29th and wished to take out two money orders for 11l. 14s. 10d., and you advised her to send the money in a registered letter"—he said, "Yes, I did; I enclosed the money in a small box, packed it up with brown paper, and addressed it to J. Lush, Sty, Alfred College, Deal, but I omitted to register it"—I said, "Did you enclose the two 5l. notes in the box which Mrs. Hankin gave you?"—he said, "No; I said to Mrs. Hankin, 'As you have not the numbers of the notes, for safety I had better change them;' Mrs. Hankin replied, 'Yon can do as you please,' or something to that effect. However, it was by her desire I changed them. I afterwards went out and changed one at Kemp's, the oilman, and the other at Folkard's, the draper's, and came back and made up the box, put the money in the box, and sent it my with the 12.30 collection"—I said, "Do you wish me to believe Rich an incredible statement, for you had the numbers of the notes before you, and could have taken them at the time?"—he replied, "Well, I must confess it don't appear feasible, but what I have stated about dunging the notes is quite correct"—I said, "I shall have to make one further inquiry, and shall charge you with stealing the money, the property of Mrs. Hankin"—he said, "Don't do that; I know what the law is as well as you do; I know I am liable, for I took the money, and what I shall have to do will be to make it good, of course"—I had this note with me, and I put it down before him and said, "This is one of the notes which Mrs. Hankin gave you"—he said, "Yes, I think it is by the number, but it wan not like that when I changed it," pointing to the cancelling—I said, "I shall charge you with stealing the money, consisting of two 5l. notes, and the rest in cash, the property of Mrs. Hankin—he said, "Very well"—he said he had sent it away without being registered, and he had endeavoured to trace it.
Cross-examined. You did not want any pressing to answer my questions; you answered me very freely.
WILLIAM LORD. I am an officer attached to the Post-office—I took the prisoner into custody—I was with Mr. Stevens.
Cross-examined. I found on you a testimonial dated October, 1877. the Prisoner, in his defence, stated that having numerous duties to perform he had omitted to register the letter, but that h put the money in the box and sent it off in the usual way.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 19th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and MORICE prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended.
ELIZABETH HAYDON . My husband is a cooper, of 2, Brodier Road, Stoke Newington—on 20th September, between 4 and 5 o'clock, the prisoner bought a musical box of me for 30s.—I had not known him before—he gave me 10s. in good money, and 10 bad florins—I put them into my pocket, and sent my little girl out twice the same evening, first with two florins and afterwards with a third—that was between 7 and 8 o'clock—she brought back the third florin—I took the eight florins to the station, and saw the inspector mark them all: two of them the little girl did not bring back.
Cross-examined. The prisoner called first on Sunday, but I had not the musical box at home then, and he came again on Monday—he knew that I had it from my husband, who is in Holloway Prison.
ELIZABETH HAYDON , Junior. I am 9 years old—I am the daughter of the last witness—she sent me out three times on the evening of 20th September on errands, and I took a florin to each place—on the third occasion I went to the Rochester Arms, handed the florin to the barmaid, who gave it back to me bent, and I gave it to my mother.
Cross-examined. I bought some bread and some tea with the first two florins, and they were taken.
Cross-examined. I did not give her in custody.
GEORGE CHAPMAN (Police Sergeant N). On 22nd September I received these eight florins from the inspector and some information—on 1st October I went to the Caledonian Road Police-station and saw the prisoner; I said, "I shall take you in custody for uttering 10 counterfeit florins on 20th September to Mrs. Haydon"—he said, "I took them in change for a sovereign in a public-house bar in Seven Dials"—I said, "You know the name of the house?"—he said, "No, but I can find it"—I took him by train to Dalston, and was waiting there for a cab when he escaped from me down Hobart Street—he got over a wall and dropped down about 17 feet on to the North London Railway—I went after him and he ran along the line towards Hackney; got up an embankment and I lost him—that was a mile from where he escaped from me; I had had him in custody about half an hour—I saw him again five or six hours afterwards in Southgate Road, a mile and a half from where I lost him, and took him—his whiskers had then been shaved off—on the road to the station he said, "I am very sorry I got away."
Cross-examined. An appointment had been made with him to come to
the Caledonian Road Station, and I found him there—no one knew him, bet some one asked him to come to the station after I had traced him—I found on him a police supervision paper—persons uuder supervision have to report themselves periodically at the nearest police-station they hare to give their place of abode and not change it without giving notice within 48 hours—the penalty for neglect is 12 months' imprisonment with hard labour.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I admit I gave the coins to Mrs. Hay don, but I did not know they were bad."
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in August, 1869.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. HORACE AVORY prosecuted.
FREDERICK DOWNS (City Detective.) On 2nd October, about 7.30 p.m. I saw the prisoner jn Aldersgate Street with two other men, one of whom was Thompson (See next case); Hayes took something from his pocket and gave it to Thompson, who went to the Manchester Cigar Stores, remained a minute or two, and came out and joined Hayes and the other man—I went into the shop and communicated with the assistant—they all three went along Barbican to the corner of Bed Cross Street, where Haves took something from his pocket and gave it to Thompson, who went into the Barbican dairy and threw a half-crown on the counter he received change and came out and joined Hayes and the other men—I feat into the dairy, saw the half-crown, and marked it—they then went up Golden Lane, where Thompson went into a public-house, and they all came back to Bed Cross Street, where Hayes took something from his pocket and gave it to Thompson, who went into the Barbican beer-house, and came out and joined the others—they went on to Chiswell Street, There Hayes gave Thompson something, who went into a pork butcher's, came out and joined the others, and they stopped at the end of Milton Street, where Hayes took something from his pocket, and I saw a paper parcel in his hand; he took something from it, rubbed it at the back of his head on his hair, and then gave it to Thompson; they went into Aldermanbury, and Thompson went into the Weaver's Arms—I obtained assistance; he came out and joined the others, who were waiting on the other side of the road—I sent Rollings into the Weavers Anna, and when he came out I seized Thompson; Hayes ducked under my arm and ran down Fore Street, and as he ran he dived his hand into his right trousers pocket, I called to Boilings to seize his hand—I took Thompson to the station, and when Hayes was brought in I searched him and found be good shillings, four sixpences, 1s. 4 1/4 d. in bronze, two packets of tabacco, a cigar, and some eggs smashed, in his coat pocket—he said, "I live somewhere in the Commercial Road"—the cooking clerk said, "Where?"—he said, "I don't know, because we only removed there this morning"—Thompson and Hayes were then charged together—Hayes said, "I know nothing of the packet, and I never saw Thompson before in my life"—I said, "The tobacco which Thompson purchased was found on you"—he said, "Oh! you will say anything"—Crump then brought
in a packet containing five half-crowns, which I marked—I also received a half-crown from the Weaver's Arms, and another from Sergeant Taylor; here are eight altogether.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you take the tobacco from Thompson—several packets of tobacco were found on you, but this one bears the address of the shop I saw Thompson go into.
ALEXANDER MCPHEE (City Policeman 198). I heard a cry of "Stop thief" in Fore Street, and saw Hayes running; I stopped him and we both fell; he had a paper packet in his hand which he dropped in the struggle, and which was afterwards brought to the station; he said there that he had never seen it.
WILLIAM ROLLINGS (City Policeman 577). I was in Fore Street in plain clothes; I saw a struggle about 15 yards from the corner of Aldermanbury and saw a small paper packet leave Hayes's hand as he went over, and fall to the ground five or six yards from him; a bystander picked it up, and I told him to bring it to the station—there was a small crowd round—I had my eye on it during the interval, this is it—I assisted McPhee to take Hayes to the station—I received this half-crown at the Weaver's Arms and marked it.
Cross-examined. I did not see a letter in your hand as you rose from the ground, I took your right hand and McPhee your left—that was after the packet fell—I could not reach it, and you were struggling to get away.
GEORGE CRUMP . I am a clerk in the General Post-office—on 2nd October, about 8.45 p.m., I was in Fore Street, heard a cry of "Stop thief," and saw a man who I do not identify, as it was dark, struggling with a policeman—I heard something fall at my feet, picked it up, tore it, and found it was money wrapped in a piece of newspaper—this is it—it fell before the struggle; when the man was seized he threw it away about fifteen yards.
Cross-examined. I saw your arm move and heard the packet fall, but did not see it pass through the air, as it was very dark—I was about 20 yards from the struggle, and it fell at my feet.
WILLIAM GRAY . I am assistant to Herbert Montague, tobacconist, of 139, Aldersgate Street—on 2nd October, about 7.30 p.m., Thompson came in, bought a packet of tobacco, and gave me a half-crown, and I gave him 2s. 4d. change—I then found it was bad, returned it to him, and he paid me with good money—this is the packet of tobacco, it has the name on it.
Cross-examined. You did not come in, it was Thompson—you did not buy half an ounce of cut cavendish.
ELIZABETH SEITHEN . My husband keeps a dairy at 32, Barbican—on Saturday night, 2nd October, a man who I cannot identify, came in, purchased a cake, and gave me a half-crown; I gave him 2s. 5d. change-an officer came in in three or four minutes; I took the half-crown from my pocket and found it was bad, I marked it and put it in my pocket again; I had no other half-crown there—I afterwards gave it to Downs—this is it, here is my cross on it.
ALICE WEASER . I am barmaid at the Weaver's Arms, London Road—on Saturday evening, 2nd October, I served Thompson with a glass ale; he gave me a half-crown, I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change, and he left—Rollings came in directly, and I took the half-crown from the till and found it was bad—I marked it, this is it.
HORACE TAYLOR (Police Sergeant). On Sunday morning, 3rd October, about 7.15 p.m., I was on duty in Fore Street and picked up this half-crown at the corner of Aldermanbury—I marked it and took it to the station.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These five coins thrown away by Hayes are bad, they are dated 1817, 1874, 1875, and two of 1876, which are from the same mould—they had paper between them—the one picked up next morning is of 1875, and is from the same mould as the other—these two others are bad, one is of 1817, from the same mould as one thrown away by Hayes, and the other of 1876, from the same mould as the other three of that date.
Prisoner's Defence. It is impossible for a man struggling on the ground to throw anything away. I had this letter (produced) in my hand, and I spoke to several people asking for the address on it, 18, Cross Street—I went up to Thompson and asked him if he could direct me there, I had never seen him before in my life; they might have seen me pull that from my pocket, but nothing else. Nothing but good money was found on me. I swear I bought that packet for 2d.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of feloniously having counterfeit coin in his possession. (See next case.)
FREDERICK DOWNS . The evidence of this witness in the last ease was read over to him from the shorthand notes, to which he added: I said to Thompson "I shall take you in custody for uttering counterfeit coin;" he said "I know nothing about it"—he refused his address, saying that his friends were very respectable, and he did not wish them to know—I found on him a good florin and 6 1/2 d. in bronze—he was by Hayes's side when Hayes rubbed the coin on the back of his head; he could see what was done on every occasion.
Cross-examined by Thompson. I saw Hayes give you something five times; I think they were half-crowns—I knew better than to apprehend you then.
Thompson's Defence. I tendered a good half-crown for a glass of ale, and when I came out this man asked me the way to Fore Street, and the policeman charged me. If Hayes kept giving me things why should I have nothing found on me?
GUILTY .—HAYES— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
THOMPSON— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and W. G. SMYTHIES prosecuted.
WILLIAM SHIPPEY . I was 12 years old last August, and live at 1, Little Clarendon Street, St. Pancras—on 26th September I was going on an errand, and saw Lake, whom I knew—he asked me to go and get some corned beef and some bread, and he would give me a penny—he
gave me a florin, and I went to Mr. Auban's shop, 42, Clarendon Road, who served me with a loaf—I gave him the florin; he bent it, and gave it me back—I took it to Lake, and told him it was bad; he put it in his pocket—I went home, and when I came out again I saw Lake at the corner of the street, straightening the florin between two pennies with his teeth—I had seen Wing about 10 that morning; that was the only time I saw him that day—I did not tell the Magistrate that I saw Lake meet Wing about 6 o'clock; I said that I heard that he met him. (The COURT cautioned the witness that he might be sent to prison if he did not tell the truth.) I remember now that I saw Wing go into Mrs. Gilder's shop and bring out the half of a fourpenny cake and 1s. 10d—he siid to Lake "Shall I go in and change it for you at Mrs. Gilder's?"—that was about 6 p.m.—I did not remember that when you asked me before—I am sure Wing was not there when Lake straightened the florin—Wing brought out the cake and the change, and gave it to Lake, who gave Wing 3d., and said "Come up to the beershop and I will give you a pot of beer;" that was between four of them; I was not to go—I was about three yards from them, and heard the conversation—it is not true that I first spoke to Lake and said "Give it to me, and I will get some corned beef and some bread with it"—he spoke to me first.
Cross-examined by Lake.) You did not say "I have picked up 2s.; I don't know what it is, but you can go and get a loaf"—you were not trying to break it in two with a stone; you had no stone—Wing did not snatch it out of your hand; he said "Give it to me, and I will try and change it."
CHARLES AUBAN . On Sunday evening, 26th September, about 5.45, Shippey came into my shop for a quarter of a pound of beef and a half-quartern loaf—he gave me a florin; I bent it with my teeth, gave it back to him, and took back the beef and bread.
LETITIA GILDER . I keep a sweet stuff shop, 37, Johnson Street, St. Pancras—on 26th September Wing came in for half of a fourpenny cake and gave me a florin—I tried it with my teeth, put it in my pocket, and gave him 1s. 10d. change—I said "Is your money good?" he said "Good, yes"—about an hour and a half afterwards I found it was bad, and gave it to Todd, who marked it—I had no other florin.
WILLIAM TODD (Policeman Y 300). On 30th September I took Lake near the Midland Railway Station, and told him the charge—he said "I will tell you all about it; I found the two-shilling piece, and was going to throw it away again when the boy Shippey said 'Let me have it and I will get some corned beef and bread with it;' I gave it to him, and he went into a shop in Little Clarendon Street, came out again, and said that he could not pass it. Wing snatched it out of my hand, and said 'I will soon pass it,' and went into Mrs. Gilder's and bought half a fourpenny cake, and gave me part of the cake and half the money"—I took him to the station.
ALFRED NORTH (Policeman Y 380). On 26th September I took Wing in Euston Road, and told him the charge—he said "I did tender it, but Lake gave it to me, and I knew when I took it there that it was base."
Wing's Defence.) I am guilty of changing it, but I did not know it was bad; I took it from Lake's hand.
Lake's Defence.) I did not know it was bad.
WING.†— GUILTY Six Months' Imprisonment.
LAKE **— GUILTY — Eight Months' Imprisonment.
GODDARD PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PURCELL prosecuted; MR. BESLEY defended Faden.
WILLIAM HENRY TRAFFORD (City Detective). In consequence of information I watched the premises of Leach and Co., Newcastle Street, Farringdon Street on 16th September, about 11.30 a.m., and saw Goddard take a cartload of type to the prosecutor's other shop in Lincoln's Inn Fields—he then took the empty cart to the Illustrated London News office, from where he took a number of electrotype plates—this is one of the largest, and this one of the smallest (produced)—he then drove to Shoreditch Church, where he left the boy who was with him, and went to 6, Margaret Place, Bethnal Green, a private house; there is nothing on the door to indicate a business—he got there about 1 o'clock—he drove direct to the door, went in for a few minutes, and came out and carried in the plates a few at a time—I left Inspector Wells at the top of the turning, and as I was entering the door I met Goddard, and pushed him back into the house, and said in Faden's hearing "I am a policeofficer, where is that type?" he made no reply, but Faden said "It is the first I have bought"—I said "Where is it?"—she pointed across the room, the door of which was open, and said "There it is by the window; I have just taken it off the scale"—I Said "Is that all he has brought that I see lying there?" she said "Yes"—I said "Are you the proprietress of the place?" she said "Yes"—I said "Have you a husband?" she said "Yes, but he is out"—I said "When do you expect him in?" she said "I cannot tell how long he will be, but I expect him in soon"—I asked Goddard "Have you any instructions to bring the type here?" he laid "No"—I asked to whom it belonged; he said "To Leach and Co."—Faden then said "I have not paid for it yet, I was going to borrow the money of a neighbour to pay for it: I was going to give him 10s. 6d. a cwt"—I said "How much does it weigh?" she said "2cwt. 3qrs. less a few pounds"—they were both taken to the station with the plates—I then went back and searched the house, and found three half pecks of dross in the yard, which was strewn with tin: a melting pot was on the other side of the yard—the parlour had tin shavings all over the floor, and there were tin shavings in other rooms.
Cross-examined. I only took away the stereotype plates—I do not think I asked Faden how much they weighed; I will not swear I did not—I waited till her husband came home; his wife was then in the house—he told me later on that he was in the habit of clearing out tin factories and selling tin scraps—she appeared rather stout, as if near her confinement—I did not lock her husband up; he was there when the charge was read over—I found about 2l. on Goddard, but nothing relating to the charge.
WILLIAM HENRY GODFREY . I am manager to Leach and Co.—their carting is done by Mr. Harriott, and Goddard was the foreman—the firm supplies the Illustrated London News with plates—this is a stereo plate, and this an electro plate—they are valuable metal—we receive them
back after they are done with—I had an idea that more plates went out than came back; my suspicion was aroused—Strahan made a communication to my employers, and after 28th August a watch was kept—the prisoner Goddard had to bring plates to Milford Lane every week—the metal of these plates is worth about 3l. 10s.
RICHARD STRAHAN . I am a printer in the prosecutor's service at Little Queen Street—on 21st August I met Goddard in a public-house in Ton-bridge Street, Euston Road—I had a conversation with him, which I repeated to my employers.
Faden received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
GODDARD— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 19th, 1880.
Before Robert Malcolm Eerr, Esq.
556. LANCELOT POOLE (20) PLEADED GUILTY to six indictments for stealing a portmanteau and other goods, the property of the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company; a portmanteau and other goods, the property of the London and North-Western Railway Company; forging and uttering orders for the payment of 500l., 400l., and 20l., and a request for the delivery of a cheque-book, the value of 8s. 4d.; also to a conviction for felony at the Middlesex Sessions in March, 1880.— Two Years' Imprisonment. )
MILES** also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony in April, 1880, at Marlborough Street Police-court, in the name of Alfred Humphreys.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Six Months' Imprisonment. BAINBRIDGE— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited. )
558. JAMES GRANT (23), THOMAS WILLIAMS (20), and ANNIE HOLLAND (19) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Edward Salisbury, and stealing 9l. 10s., five pounds of cigars, and other his goods. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.]
GRANT also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction for felony in October, 1879, at this Court.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
WILLIAMS—Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
HOLLAND— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. )
559. HARRY BUCKLAND (18) to stealing in the dwelling-house of John Ruffle Mott, a chain, a pair of opera-glasses, and other goods, also receiving; and to two other similar indictments.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Imprisonment. ) And
560. WILLIAM MCKAY** (32) to stealing a coat, the goods of Thomas Gould, and to a conviction for felony in June last at Marlborough Street Police-court.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
JAMES COOLEY . I live at 17, Minories, and am a billiard-marker—the public-house is kept by Jane Lewis—the prisoner came in at 9 p.m. on 23rd September—she was too drunk to be served—I turned her out—she came in a second time a little before 11 p.m.—I heard the report of the window being broken about two minutes afterwards—I went outside—I saw the prisoner—I gave her into custody.
JEREMIAH SULLIVAN . I am a labourer, of 1, Avon Square—about 10.45 p.m. on 23rd September I was in Mrs. Lewis's public-house—the prisoner came in and threw a pint pot at the window—I went out after her and stopped her—the window was broken in pieces.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. ADDISON, Q.C., Defended.
CHARLES COWELL (Policeman L 18). I apprehended the prisoner on the warrant produced on the 4th inst. at the instance of Isabella Vickery, a witness in this case—I told him I should take him into custody—he said "She knew I was a married man when I married her"—I produce a certified copy of the certificate of a marriage in the parish church, East Teignmouth, Devonshire, between William Fulford Good and Esther Ann Samuda, on 2nd January, 1860.
ISABELLA VICKERY . I lived at 5, Vale Street, Stepney, when the prisoner was remanded—I had been in his service two years in Devonshire—I was married to him in August, 1876, at St. George's, Bloomsbury—I lived with him at Peckham, Hoxton, and Broadwell as his wife—I heard he had a wife two years ago—I was living with him then—I told him I had heard he had a wife—he said he did not think he had done wrong in marrying me, in the sight of God, he might have in the sight of man—before I was married to him I had been living with him as his wife at 129, Stamford Street—I had then no knowledge of his wife—that was in 1875.
NOT GUILTY .
For case tried in the Old Court, on Wednesday, see Surrey Cases..
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 20th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Bowen.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS prosecuted.
WILLIAM AUSTIN (Policeman E 73). On Sunday, 29th August, at 3.30 p.m., I was on duty in Chenies Street, Tottenham Court Road, and saw the prisoner sitting on a doorstep with a female child in her lap; it had its arm up—it looked half starved—I asked her where she lived—she said "Not far from here"—I said "Where?"—she said "Draper's place"—I said "What number?"—she said "10"—I told her to get up and take the child home—she got up, walked a few yards, and fell in the gutter—she was drunk—I took her and the child to the station and charged her with being drunk and incapable of taking care of the child—the surgeon was sent for, and the child was removed to the workhouse at once—the prisoner was charged at Bow Street next morning, remanded for a week, and discharged on promising not to drink again—the child's clothes were very dirty and wet—I was present at the inquest on the child and heard the prisoner give her evidence, which was read over to her and she signed it—this is her deposition (produced.)
By the COURT. After she was charged I went to 10, Draper Street; her husband, who is a birdcage maker, was living there; they only occupied one room, and seemed in a very poor way—he works when he can get it to do—the only food I saw was some pieces of very dry bread in a cupboard—there was no furniture in the room—he had work going on at that time—the prisoner had a bottle of milk in her hand when I went up to her and a bottle of medicine—she was pouring the milk into the child's mouth—I left the bottle at the station.
The Prisoner's deposition was here read as follows: "EMMA ELIZABETH ALEXANDER. I reside at 10, Drapers Place, Euston Road. I am mother of deceased and wife to John Thomas Alexander, a birdcage maker. The deceased child was three months and two weeks old. I suckled the child for three weeks. When it was three weeks old it was taken into the University College Hospital as it was ill, and remained there three weeks. When the child came out of the hospital I had no breast milk, and then fed it with cow's milk. The child did not improve, and I took her to Middlesex Hospital. After I left the hospital with the child I sat down on a doorstep to feed the child, and a policeman told me to take it home. I got up, and the policeman then took me to the station, where I was charged with being drunk. The child was taken away from me and I was locked up. On the following day, Monday, I was taken before a Magistrate, and remanded for a week to the House of Detention, and was then brought up again before the Magistrate and was discharged. When I was let out I went to St. Giles's Workhouse three or four times to see the child. I had fed the deceased on milk and water, bread and milk, and arrowroot. The doctor at both hospitals told me to feed deceased with milk and water, as bread was too heavy for the child. I only fed it with bread and milk once after the doctor said I was to give it milk and water. I have had ten living children; seven have died. The body seen by the Jurors is that of my child, Rebecca Catherine Alexander."
ELIZA STAINSBURY . I am a laundress and a widow—I have lived about twelve months at 10, Draper's Place—the prisoner lived there with her husband, a birdcage maker, in one front room on the second floor—they came there about three months after me—they had five children, including the baby—one was about 18 years old—her husband used to go out to work—I remember this baby being born on 29th May; I saw it about five minutes afterwards, and from time to time afterwards—I waited on her for a fortnight—she said that she had no milk, and that appeared to be correct—I used to feed the child on gruel—it was a beautiful baby—the prisoner got on very well, and was able to get about in fifteen or sixteen days—she is not a sober woman—about the second day after she came down the baby looked very ill, and I persuaded her to take it to the University College Hospital, and it was away some time—when she got it back it had improved wonderfully—she always took it with her when she went out, but I never entered her room—she told me that she took it to Middlesex Hospital; that was about a week before she was taken in custody—I did not see her feed it from time to time.
WILLIAM HENRY COPLEY , M.R.C.S. On 29th June I was house physician at University College Hospital when the prisoner brought a child and complained that it had fallen away, and I think she said it had diarrhoea and a slight cough—it was scarcely a month old—it was small
and somewhat emaciated about its extremities, but not about its face—the bony prominences were more marked than usual, and it was extremely dirty—it appeared to be suffering from loss of flesh, and as it looked ill, and we had one or two empty beds, I took it in and took charge of it till 16th July, when tie mother fetched it—it improved very rapidly—it was then comparatively fat and quite healthy; the wrinkles had disappeared from the skin, but it was still a small child—I formed the opinion when it was brought in that the emaciation arose either from no food or from an excess of improper food—there was no disease; it improved the very first day; In fact it improved at once after washing—when the prisoner fetched it away I told her to bring it once or twice a week that I might see that it was kept clean and did not lose flesh, and she promised to do so—I directed her to feed it on milk with a certain portion of water—she stated that she had given it the breast up to the time she brought it in—I did not weigh it—the average weight of a child three months old is I think 10lb. or 121b.—a child has been born weighing 14lb., but the average is 6 1/2 lb.; female children are a little less—the child had no diarrhoea or cough in the hospital.
MARY ANN TRINSELL . I am nurse at St. Giles's Workhouse—the deceased was brought there on 29th August, about 4 p.m.—it was dirty, and wet through from neglect, and it had lice about it—it was quite a skeleton—I attended to it at once, and sent for Dr. Lloyd—I weighed it four or five hours afterwards; it weighed 4 lb. 2 oz.—I weighed it again it the end of the week, and it weighed 5 lb. 2 oz.—it died on 15th September, about 5 a.m.—I weighed it when it was dead, and it weighed 61b. 2 oz.—Dr. Lloyd went away on the 2nd, and Dr. Staines attended to it—it improved—I gave it milk diluted with one-third of water—there was no diarrhosa or cough, and, as far as I can judge, there was nothing the matter with it but want—the mother came and saw it once, but she was in custody for a week—she could hot have brought the child there without the relieving officer's order; he would give her one if it was a proper case.
SAMUEL LLOYD , M.R.C.S. I am medical officer to St. Giles's infirmary—I saw the child shortly after its admission; it was extremly thin; its skin seemed too large, as if the fat had been absorbed—it was wrinkled, and had the appearance of premature age—it weighed 4 lb. 2 oz.—we could not make out any disease—I directed the nurse to feed it carefully, and it mended at once—I went away on 2nd September for a holiday, and Mr. Staines did duty for me—I came back on 10th September; it was them lively and cheerful, and very much stouter—I saw it from day today, and it died on 15th September—I had seen it on the 14th; it had faintings for a day or two before—I made a post-mortem examination, and found no disease, but the mesenteric glands were enlarged, that was the direct cause of death—I came to the conclusion that it had been improperly fed, which had irritated the intestines, and enlargement of the glands was the consequence—I mean food upon which it ought not to have been fed, and which had not nourished it properly—I agree with Mr. Copley as to the weight.
By the COURT. I think it had had food, but of an improper kind—meat would be bad, and so would bread—there were signs that it had been fed on food which was too strong for it—it was not starved to death, but improperly fed as far as I can judge.
JOHN FRANCIS STAINES . I am a licentiate of the College of Physicians—when Mr. Lloyd went for his holiday I took his place—I saw the child the first day of its admittance; it was in a most emaciated condition; it presented a very old appearance about the face, and weighed 4 lb 2 oz.—there was no disease or diarrhoea or cough to account for its condition—it continued to improve, and when Dr. Lloyd came back it weighed 1 lb. more than when he left—I was present at the post-mortem, and consider that death arose from inanition, and it may have been accelerated by improper nursing, but more likely by improper feeding—a child fed on improper food would continue to get worse from day to day.
By the COURT. The relieving officer would make inquiries to see if the woman was in a destitute condition, and if she was he would admit her and her child at once—if she did not want to go to the workhouse she could have brought the child, and I should have been compelled to order food for it, but she could not leave it there without the relieving officer making inquiries to know if they were destitute.
SAMUEL STRIPLING . I am the Coroner's officer—after the child's death I went to 10, Draper's Place, and found the prisoner and her husband—I never saw a place so destitute in my life—there was only one child in the room, a boy between 10 and 11—the prisoner was sober.
Prisoner's Defence. I only gave the milk I was ordered, and arrowroot, and if she did not eat the one I gave her the other.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
566. WILLIAM READ was charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with feloniously killing and slaying George Edward Kennett. The Grand Jury having ignored the Bill, MR. T. COLE offered no evidence on the Inquisition.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. WOOLF and FREEMAN prosecuted; MR. FRITH defended the
ARTHUR RONALDSON . On 13th July I received instructions from Mr. J.H. Abel to issue a policy in respect of the premises 21, Great Cambridge Street, Hackney Road—I sent particulars to the office, and received this policy on 28th July—I forwarded it to J. H. Abel on 31st August.
J. H. ABEL. I received this policy about a week or a fortnight before I gave it to the prisoner—I had it about a week or a fortnight in my safe in the office, and sent it to him a day or two before the fire—he had asked me to insure him.
Cross examined. I have known him seven or eight years; he has always borne the character of an honourable and respectable man—I know his life; she drinks a great deal, which is the cause of their being on bad terms—I have heard her threaten to do for him, and get him into trouble.
Re-examined. I was insured in the office, and had a fire—my claim of 13l. 10s. was paid, and about a few days afterwards I was applied to to take out a policy for the prisoner—he lives with his wife.
EMILY CARMICHAEL . My father is the leaseholder of these premises, and occupies the top shop; he is a horsehair weaver—the prisoner rents the remainder of the premises—on Friday, 10th September, about 9.15 p.m., after leaving the premises I returned to call Jane Young, one of the young women employed—you get to our workshop by going down the gateway, and up the staircase—the prisoner stopped me in the middle of the gateway, and I said I wanted Jane Young—he said that he would call her—I told him not to trouble, I would call her myself—it was too dark to go up, and I called at the bottom of the stairs; the prisoner stood by my side, so that I could not see into the part of the building he occupied—I satisfied myself that no one was on our part of the premises, and he told me they had been gone half an hour—a man was doing something to the cistern; it appeared as if it was being emptied.
Cross-examined. I am not in the habit of going there in the evening unless I want one of the workpeople.
DANIEL SOUTHGATE (Policeman G 662). On 10th September, about 11.10, I heard cries of "Fire"—I went to 21, Great Cambridge Street, and saw the prisoner's wife at the door of the house—there is another door leading to the street, a large gateway; that was closed, and locked up with two locks—I went into the house by the front door, and down a long passage to another door, which was locked—I broke off the lock, entered the prisoner's warehouse, and saw a pile of crates filled with paper and straw, and saturated with paraffin oil; that was all alight, and the ceiling was burnt—I put out the fire with water—Spanton was with me—there were two fires, one on the left side of the warehouse and one on the right under the stairs, where this basket was placed with this candle in it alight, and about eight other baskets of straw and paper on the top of it—the paper was wet with paraffin oil, but the smell has gone off now—Spanton extinguished the lights—I sent for the inspector, but before he came the prisoner came in—he told the inspector that he was not insured, or he did not think he was, and he had no policy—I took him to the station—he was searched, and this policy was found in his outside jacket pocket, and this key of the door at the foot of the steps—before I unfolded it he said, "That is my policy"—I have not tried the key, but both doors were locked—he was charged with setting fire to the house, but made no answer.
Cross-examined. When asked if he was insured he did not say, "I don't think I am; I have no policy yet"—he said afterwards, "I don't think I am; I have paid my premiums, but I have received no policy."
one must have been trying to do me a treat"—I said, "Are you insured?"—he said "No" paused, and said, "I don't think I am"—I said, "Surely you must know whether you are insured or not; where is your policy?"—he said, "I have no policy; I paid 15s. premium, but I have not received the policy yet"—I siad, "How long had you left the warehouse when you heard of the fire?"—he said, "Three-quarters of an hour; I was in the Wellington public-house," that is 100 yards off, "when a little girl came and told me about it"—I said, "It is evident you must know about the fire, and I shall take you in custody"—I ordered the constable to take him—I cautioned him at the station, and he said, "I am quite certain I have not received the policy; I paid 15s. premium to Mr. J. Thomas, 41, Vivian Road, Old Ford, in June or July last, and have not seen him since. There is a mistake about leaving the warehouse three-quarters of an hour before, as I told you; I left the warehouse about 10 o'clock as near as I can recollect"—I ordered him to be searched, and as the constable was pulling the policy from his pocket he said, "That is my policy"—he made no reply to the charge—I have made inquiry at 41, Vivian Road, Old Ford.
Cross-examined. The policy was folded up, but not fastened up—it did not show any printing on the outside.
ISAAC ROACH . I carry on business at 7, Queen Victoria Street, and am assessor and surveyor to several insurance offices—I went to these premises on 12th September, and found evidences of a fire having occurred—the outside value of the things in the warehouse was 25l., or taking an extreme value, 30l.—there was no salvage—there were traces of crates burnt, but nothing of any value.
JOHN CATER . I am the prisoner's son, and live at 21, Great Cambridge Street—I worked with him on 10th September till 4 o'clock, and then went down and had my tea and stayed in the sitting-room till my father came in about 8 o'clock—he asked me what I had been doing all day, and I showed him in the shed—he asked me if I would have half a pint of beer; I said "Yes," and we went next door and had it—I don't know the sign, but it is not the Wellington—he left me there and said, "I shan't be long"—he did not come back, and about 9 o'clock I went indoors and asked if he was at home—he was not, and I came out again.
Cross-examined.) My father and mother are on very bad terms—my mother drinks a good deal, and she is then very dangerous and mischievous, and does very violent things—I have heard her threaten to injure my father and get him into trouble—she did not, to my knowledge, know where the key of the warehouse was kept—I never knew it to be left about the house—I never had it—I do not know that my father has discharged any men lately—the warehouse has been broken into and plundered two or three times—the last time was about eight months ago.
Re-examined.) I do not know that my father complained to the police about it, but I have heard him speak of it—I was living at home a month or five weeks before 11th September, but not now—I do not know what mischievous things my mother has done, but I know what she has said.
By MR. FRITH. I have seen her strike him.
EMMA CATER . I am the prisoner's daughter—I got home about 6.30 that evening, and he was at home; he left home about 9 o'clock, and I did not see him again till he was fetched after the fire—he went to the
warehouse just before he went out—I did not see another man go out—I saw a gentleman go into the warehouse by himself in the evening; my father was downstairs then—I did not mention that to my father—when my father came from the warehouse he took a lamp with him, but I don't know whether he left it there—I do not remember seeing it again.
Cross-examined. Father used to leave his pocket-book downstairs when he went to bed—I was up first in the morning and took in all letters and papers, and if he was not up when I left the house I used to put them in his pocket-book or his coat pocket, and I remember two mornings before taking in a large paper—I do not know what it was, but it was very much like this policy—I doubled it in half, not as it is now, but doubled it again—I have known my mother strike my father, and she used to smash the things up and break up the furniture.
Re-examined. His pocket-book was in the kitchen, on a little shelf near the window—it had an elastic band—this was the morning before, on two mornings before—I put it in his pocket-book as I always used to do of a morning—I did not mention to him that I had done it; I never used to tell him unless I ran up to him.
By the COURT. I used often to open his letters if they were from any-body I knew, and sometimes when I did not know from whom they came—if it was any business letter I used to open it—I do not know whether this came in an envelope or with a piece of paper round it—it was in the letter-box—I last saw my father about 9 o'clock, we were then sitting in the kitchen—my mother was there—I was not home till 8.30—I was at my work when I came home, artificial flowers, and I was telling my mother that I was very queer—I had not been well—she did not get me anything—she was doing nothing—when I came in, my father and mother were downstairs together—they had been quarrelling all the week, but they were not quarrelling then—she had been drinking all the week—she was not drunk then, but she had had enough—she is not here.
DANIEL SOUTHGATE (Re-examined). I took the policy out of the pocket; there was no pocket-book there—it was loose as it is now, but folded up—he had a small pocket-book full of papers in, I believe, his trousers pocket—I have not got it.
By MR. FRITH. The wife was one of the persons calling out "Fire!"—she did not appear very anxious to give all the information she could—she did not tell a good deal to me, I was too busily engaged—she was very excited; she was afraid for the children in the room above.
By the COURT. The fire was not visible from the street, it was too far back—there is a little window in the kitchen where she could see the flames in the warehouse.
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt.— , Eighteen Months Imprisonment.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. RAVEN Defended.
EDWARD WINTER . I am a labourer, of Victoria Place, St. Pancras—the prisoner occupied two parlours in my house for a week—he had lodged with me before, and I took him in out of kindness on account of his wife and children—his wife was in the hospital ill—on 15th September I went home to dinner about 12.30—my wife made a communication to me and I went up and knocked at the prisoner's door—he opened it and said "You old b—, I mean to do for you before I go"—he stabbed me several times, and said that every time—he gave me one stab behind my left ear and cut my chin—my wife came up and tried to take away the knife, but could not, and she was stabbed three times on her left breast over my shoulder—I fainted from loss of blood, and afterwards found myself in the hospital—I am still very weak and bad—I had had no quarrel with the prisoner—he is a shoemaker—he attacked me suddenly the moment I entered.
Cross-examined.) He had been in the house a week this time, but before for two or three months on and off, going and coming—he had some children there; he has eight altogether—I went to his room to know the reason he was threatening our lives in the morning—that is what my wife said—when he opened the door I did not see his children—I did not see the table; he did not give me time—I won't swear that there was nothing to eat on the table—I spoke first—I said "What have you been kicking up a row with my wife for?" and he immediately struck me—I did not lay hands on him first, or on his clothes, or take him by his throat and ask him what he meant by talking to my wife in the morning—I do not know whether they were having dinner, or whether his daughter Rhoda was in the room—I did not go in, but I was pulled in—I did not go down to quarrel with him, but I wanted to tell him that he had said something to my wife in the morning—there had never been any quarrels between any of us before—I got three stabs.
ELIZABETH ANN WINTER . I am the wife of the last witness—on 15th September, about 8.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner at the foot of the stairs; he called my child an ugly animal—that was the first time I had seen him that morning—I asked him if it was my child he spoke to—he said "Yes, you d—old villain"—I asked him if he could make a pair of shoes before breakfast, and said "If you don't mind, standing there insulting me, I shall give you twelve months"—he said "I will give you two years looking through the bars"—his daughter told him to go and wash his mouth out—he went out with his children and I saw no more of him—my husband returned at 12 o'clock, and when he had eaten part of his dinner I told him the same as I have told you—he went and knocked at the door of the prisoner's room—I was on the first floor—I did not hear the words, but I heard a struggle, went down, and the prisoner had got my husband in front of him—I took my husband by the shoulders, took him away, and gave the prisoner notice to go on Saturday—I then found blood on my hands and laid hold of the prisoner, and he put the point of the knife through my fingers—finding I did not let go he made at my left breast two or three times—my husband was very faint; two men led him out, and at the top of the gate he dropped, and was taken in a cab to University Hospital—a woman told the prisoner to put the knife down, and after some minutes he put it down on his board—we had no quarrel before.
Cross-examined. He was in the house two months the first time, and nearly three months on and off—there are eight children—he did his work in the house, but sometimes I did not see him for two or three days together—my child used his broom in the yard and he told her to put it down and called her an ugly animal—I told him she did not hurt the broom—I do not remember calling him any names—I do not habit myself to using bad words—I do not know whether he was giving his children their dinner—they never had any regular dinner time; they had a piece of bread in their hands, but there was nothing to eat on the table—the children were all in the room.
PERCY EDWARD SHEABMAN . I was house surgeon at University College Hospital when Winter was brought in; he was in a state of collapse and had lost a little blood externally—he had three wounds, a stab perforating his chest below the nipple and near his heart—one cut had gone under the skin and glanced off, not perforating the wall of the chest—the stab was dangerous—he was unconscious—I attended him a month and he has quite recovered—this knife would inflict the wounds.
Cross-examined. There were three wounds between 1 and 2 inches apart—I think they were deliberate wounds, and not done by the struggle; some amount of force was necessary.
GEORGE SERJEANT (Policeman E 404). I took the prisoner after Winter was taken to the hospital—he was standing at his door, and as I advanced he came to meet me and said "I will give myself up, policeman, for I have done it in self-defence"—I said "What did you do it with? come back to the house and show it to me"—we went to his room and he searched and produced this knife with blood on it.
Witnesses for the Defence.
RHODA MOSS . I am the prisoner's daughter; he is a theatrical shoemaker—this is the only knife he uses—he was on very bad terms with Mr. and Mrs. Winter—Mrs. Winter has had words with him before because he would not pay his rent until it was due—I only heard that once—I heard nothing about a broom—I was sent for that day from my business; I did not come back till 5 o'clock—none of my sisters are here—my father has not been odd in his manner lately.
JOHN ROWLAND GIBSON , F.R.C.S. (Examined by the COURT). I am surgeon of Newgate—I have seen the prisoner in gaol ever since the 13th of this month—he did not ask to see me, I saw him as a matter of course, and have seen him every day since—he is in very good physical health, but no is under the belief that he has been followed and watched, and that there is a conspiracy to injure him with the parochial authorities—I think he is not in sound mental health; I think all these are delusions—I do not mean that he does not understand what he is doing, but he is under very powerful delusions which I think are very dangerous—I think he understands what he does—it is difficult for me to form an opinion as to what state he was in on 15th September; he was very excited, and knowing what I do as to the delusion under which he suffered, I believe he might believe that he committed the assault in selfdefence—he believes that every one is injuring him—he knew what he was doing, but he might think he was doing what was right, it is difficult to say.
By MR. RIBTON. I think he knows perfectly well what he is doing
except when under the influence of that particular delusion—I think he knew what he was doing when he pleaded to this indictment, otherwise I should have interposed.
GUILTY on the Second Count .— Judgment Respited.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 20th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
570. ROBERT CUMMINGS (37) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing and receiving a watch, 70l., and three studs value 5l., the goods of Andrew Hay, in his dwelling-house; also to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of the Earl of Bective, and stealing and receiving a necklace value 2,500l., and other goods of the value of 3,070l., and 6l. 10s., his goods.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
JANE KING . I am the wife of Walter King—he keeps the Sportsman beerhouse, in Richard Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on 1st October the prisoner and another man came into the bar about 10.30 p.m.—I served them with a pint of ale—the prisoner had a black leather bag—one of them went to the back as if to go into the yard, the other remained talking to the customers at the bar—I next heard a noise in my parlour, and went to the window—I saw the prisoner, and then went into the parlour—I saw the window open leading to the pot-house—the prisoner was stooping to get out into the yard from the pot-house—there is a further door at the end of the pot-house—I immediately called "Quick!" to my husband and a friend—I missed tea and sugar and some other articles from the parlour—the window had been left shut, but not fastened—the sash was thrown up as wide as it could be.
WALTER KING . I was called about 10.30 on this night—I went to the back in the yard—I saw a man in the pot-house—the door was partly shut—when I opened the door I saw the prisoner leaning against the wall—I asked him what he was doing there—he said "Nothing"—I caught hold of him and said "What business have you to open my parlour window and to go in there?"—he caught me by the throat—I called for assistance—two or three constables came and took him into custody—I saw him searched at the station—some tea, coffee, and sugar were found in his bag, and tea and coffee in his pockets—the window was let down but not fastened—the tea and sugar were in a bundle on my sofa.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I told the Magistrate that you seized me by the throat—you said "I will knock you down"—I then struck you in self-defence—you were sober.
JOHN DONN (Policeman H 309). On 1st October I saw the prisoner and another man in the Commercial Road—he carried a black bag—he turned down Richard Street and entered the Sportsman beerhouse—I went in there some little time afterwards—he was then given into my custody—he was struggling with the last witness—I took him to the station—he was then charged with being in the washhouse for an unlawful purpose—he was searched, and some tea and sugar and a cup found
on him—I Went back to the Sportsman, and found in an outhouse 141b. of moist sugar—I examined the wall and found marks—I went into the parlour and found a mark of a boot on the sofa, of lime, which corresponded with the lime on the boot, the heel mark of the boot being towards the window—a black hand-bag had been taken down from the wall close to the sofa—60l. in gold was in the safe when it was opened.
Cross-examined. You were perfectly sober—you gave your right name, but you had not this bag in your possession when you left home.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Me and this young man had been out all day together, and had had several drinks together. I do not remember going into this place till some one hit me on the eye and on the ear."
Prisoner's Defence. I am a bricklayer. I was out of work, and had been to Petticoat Lane, where I go to buy and sell when I have nothing to do. I do not remember any more. I do not remember who hit me in the eye and ear. I have four children, and have always borne a good character. I was discharged from the army two years ago, and have been at work at Tooting and at Islington.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
HENRY PERCY MICHEL . I am a clerk at Coutts's bank, in the Strand—the Earl of Caithness has kept an account at our bank for some years—on the 17th August this paper was presented at the bank—I believed it to be genuine, and gave to the person who brought it this cheque-book produced—the cheques produced for 100l. and 365l. are on forms out of the book—I cannot call to mind the person who brought the cheque—several other cheques are missing out of the book.
JAMES ALLAN . I am a cashier at Messrs. Coutts's bank—this cheque dated 22nd September "Pay to Webber or bearer 100l.," signed "Caithness," was presented to me on 23rd September across the counter by a messenger from Bailey's Hotel—I cashed it in twenty 5l. notes, believing it to be genuine—this cheque dated 27th September for 365l. payable to lady Fanny Sinclair, was presented on the day it bears date by the female prisoner—I handed it over to another clerk to pay, as I was going to luncheon.
CHARLES TURNER . I am a cashier at Messrs. Coutts's bank—on the 27th September this cheque was given to me by Mr. Allan to cash—I gave the woman on the other side of the counter thirty 10l. Bank of England notes, Nos. 121 to 150 inclusive, dated 20th March, 1880, and No. 19751, dated 2nd March; also five 5l. Bank of England notes, Nos. from 21496 to 21500 inclusive, dated 19th February, 1880; five other 5l. notes, Nos. 59501 to 59505 of the same date, and 15l. in gold.
SAMUEL WEBBER . I reside at 14, Ashburn Mews, South Kensington—I am manager and partner of Bailey's Hotel—on the 22nd of September I received this cheque for 100l. from the male prisoner in payment for a chestnut mare, 80 guineas—the next evening I gave him 16l. change.
ALFRED WILLIAMS . I reside at 12, St. George's Terrace, Gloucester Road—I am the secretary at Bailey's Hotel—this cheque for 100l. was given to me by Mr. Webber—I sent it to be cashed by a porter named Perratt—he brought back twenty 5l. notes, and I gave Mr. Webber 16l.
to give change—both the prisoners came to the hotel on the 18th September—they passed as Mr. and Mrs. McMahon—they stayed till the 21st September—for reasons I do not state I turned them out.
GEORGE PERRATT . I am a porter at Bailey's Hotel—on the 23rd September the last witness gave me this cheque for 100l. to take to Coutts's—I took it, and it was cashed over the counter—I brought back twenty Bank of England notes, and gave them to Mr. Williams.
JOHN BEER . I am a night porter at the South Kensington Hotel, which is about three minutes' walk from Bailey's—the male prisoner came on Wednesday, the 29th September—he brought a portmanteau and two bags at 12.45 a.m.—he gave no name—he said he wanted a bedroom—I carried his things to No. 44 bedroom—he occupied that room till he was taken into custody—the woman came the next morning—she made inquiries for a man with a snuffy-coloured suit of clothes, which described the male prisoner—I told her he was out—she went away—she gave no name, nor did the male prisoner—when Inspector Butcher came I showed him No. 44 room—he searched the prisoner's portmanteau and bags, and other things.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner Maine.) I don't know that you were asked your name—no woman resided with you at the hotel to my knowledge.
JOHN WALLACE BUTCHER (Police Inspector). On the 30th September, about 3 p.m., I saw Maine in the Brompton Road in a Hansom's cab, making a great noise—a woman was with him, not the female prisoner—I got behind the cab and gave the driver some directions—I signalled to a constable—the cab stopped opposite 27, Brompton Road—I got on the off-side of the cab so that the prisoner could hear what I said—I then said to the constable, "I am going to arrest this man on a charge of forgery to a large amount; I am told he is dangerous and has a revolver with him"—I saw something in his right hand and seized it while he was sitting in the cab—I said, "I believe it is here," it turned out to be the revolver—the prisoner said, "Yes, and I mean to use it"—we had a struggle—I succeeded in getting it—it was a six-chamber revolver enclosed in a purse, three chambers out of the six were loaded—I then caused the cabman to drive to Waltham Street Police-station, where the prisoner was charged—I asked him his name—he said "John Maine"—I said, "You will be charged with forging and uttering cheques for 770l. at Coutts's bank on the Earl of Caithness, and you are particularly charged with forging one of 100l., payable to Mr. Webber"—he said, "Very well"—I searched him—I found in the same purse the 5l. note, No. 59504, dated February 19th—as he had very little money I then proceeded in search of the female prisoner—about 5 p.m. I saw her inside a restaurant at Knightsbridge Green; I said, "Are you waiting for Mr. Maine?"—she said, "Yes, I am"—I said, "Are you Mrs. Maine?"—she said, "No, I am not; my name is Jane Smith"—I said, "I am an inspector of police, and shall take you into custody for knowingly uttering a forged cheque for 365l., at Messrs. Coutts's bank in the Strand"—she said, "I did do so, he compelled me to do it, I handed him the money. I have not known him long, he picked me up at King's Cross about six weeks since, and I have been living with him since. Since I handed him the money he has used me very badly"—I said, "But you signed the name 'Fanny Sinclair' on the back of the cheque, and you know that is not
your name"—she said, "He compelled me to do it, he stood over me with a loaded pistol and threatened to shoot me; he has several times threatened to shoot me"—I took her to the police-station, and from thence to Bow Street; the same evening I went to the South Kensington Hotel—I was shown the bedroom, No. 44—I found two black bags and a portmanteau in the room—this is one in which I found 29 10l. Bank of England notes, Nos. 00122 to 00150 inclusive, dated 20th Maroh, 1880; four 5l. Bank of England notes, Nos. 21497 to 21500 inclusive, dated 19th February, 1880, those with the 5l. note I found on him making 315l. in notes—in the same bag I found a blotting pad—I found this chequebook in the same state in which it now is—it was inside the pad—34 entire cheques are left in it, one of those is partly filled up in the name of Caithness, and with "One Hundred" in words, but no figures—I also found this piece of paper with four sums upon it—on the blotting pad were impressions of "Caithness," similar to the signatures on the cheques, in many instances I can trace the word very distinctly—I can also make out portions of the order for the cheque book, almost the entire document, also nearly the whole of the writing of the cheque for 365l. payable to Lady Fanny Sinclair—in a pocket-book in the same bag were the two letters produced, dated June, 1874, and with a printed heading of "46, Portland Place," on them, and signed "Caithness"—when the prisoners were brought up for examination the next morning, the woman when she saw the man said, "That is the man who has caused me all this trouble, that is the man to whom I handed the money, he called himself the Earl of Caithness"—I afterwards found in another bag in the same bedroom and on the prisoner some new jewellery, which I knew to be valuable articles, and in one of his pockets several pawn tickets relating to Irish pawnbrokers.
Cross-examined by Maine. you had three more loose cartridges and a box containing about 100 in the bag—the revolver has since been discharged—it was not discharged at me.
PETER KEITH . I am Justice of the Peace for the County of Caithness, and agent for the Earl of Caithness—I have been his agent 20 years—Maine was in his service for six years up to July, 1874—he was discharged; the Earl was then living at 46, Portland Place—12 months ago he went to Hill Street—I know his Lordship's writing—I have examined the request for the cheque-book and the cheques for 100l. and 365l.—they are not the Earl of Caithness's signature; I believe they are Maine's writing—I have seen him write a great many times—I have a book here with his writing in—Lady Fanny Sinclair is the Earl's daughter—the prisoner being in the Earl's service would know her—I know her writing—the endorsement on this cheque is not at all like it—the two letters produced are written on the paper the Earl used at Portland Place and are signed by him—last August the Earl was in Scotland.
JAMES SINCLAIR, EARL OF CAITHNESS . I now live at 34, Hill Street, Berkeley Square—these two cheques for 100l. and 365l. and the request for the cheque-book are not my writing—this is not my daughter's endorsement on the 365l. cheque—these two letters of 1874 are my writing.
Maine's Defence. I brought three horses from Dublin to sell, two on commission, and one was my own—I became acquainted with a Mr. McDonnell on the boat, who said he was agent for a firm of stockbrokers
in Dane Street, Dublin—we spent much time and drank together—when two of the horses died I was upset and desperate. I and McDonnell drank too much brandy—I sold the remaining and the best horse for 100l.—I did not know what to do for a living—I did not write the cheques, but got McDonnell to do it, and he received a portion of the moneys—he can be found in Dane Street, Dublin. I bought the revolver of Attenborough's for a few shillings, because it was a curious thing when I saw it in the window; I thought it was a purse, had I felt disposed to shoot the officer I could have easily shot him—the woman knows whether I threatened her.
Smith's Defence. He has two or three times threatened to shoot me.
MAINE— GUILTY .
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in May, 1876, at Clerkenwell.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
SMITH— GUILTY under extenuating circumstances. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. DIXON Prosecuted.
JACOB NEWPORT . I am a licensed victualler, of 82, Euston Street—in the early morning of the 7th October I was in High Street, Camden Town walking home—a man spoke to me opposite the Britannia public-house,—I went in and treated him to a glass of ale—the prisoner and another young man followed—I attempted to go out—the prisoner stood against the door to prevent me—when I got out the prisoner and the other two men followed me about ten yards, took hold of me, and one of them put his hand in my pocket, and took my purse containing 18s. and 1 1/2 d. or 2d.—I took hold of his hand, but he swung round and got away—the prisoner was brought back by the constable two minutes afterwards—I had not seen him before I saw him at the Britannia.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not treat you, you wanted me to—I had had a drop, but was not drunk.
THOMAS FORD (Policeman S 89). Early on 7th October, about 12.15 a.m., I went to the Britannia public-house, High Street, Camden Town—I saw the prisoner and two men with the last witness come out of the Britannia—Newport was under the influence of drink—I watched them 150 yards—I saw a scuffle and the men run from the prosecutor—I pursued them 300 or 400 yards, and overtook the prisoner—as soon as I came up he said "I know nothing about the man's purse"—I said "You will have to come back with me"—I took him to the prosecutor, who said "That is one of the men that has been stealing my purse"—I found a purse containing 6s. 9d. on the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say "This is one of the men"—you were the last of the three men running—you did not call out "Stop thief."
HENRY LANCASTER (Policeman S 125). I saw the prisoner and two other men walking in front of the Black Cap public-house—the prisoner said "Look out, we don't want to be locked up"—at the moment I came up to the other constable, and they all ran away.
Prisoner's Defence. I was walking from the Britannia to the Black Cap, when I saw two men running from the prosecutor, who stumbled—I jumped forward to catch him under the arm. He mumbled out, intoxicated as he was, "I have lost my purse." I ran after the men, when the
constable caught me, and I said "I know nothing of the purse myself." I had 6s. 9d. in my pocket, and was trying to do good to my Queen and country. It is not feasible that I should want to rob him. I have had a hawker's licence for five years, and bear an unblemished character.
The Prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
JOSIAS STEPHENS . I am a builder, of 56, Lidford Road, Harrow Road—I owed Messrs. Perry and Maitland 44l,—I became acquainted with the prisoner about four months ago as a handy man who could write, as I am not much of a scholar—he helped me occasionally to fill up cheques and other things—he had no authority to sign my name—on 4th September I was in a public-house with Foskett and Mr. Breeze, talking about the debt to Perry and Co., who had sued me—Foskett said the money must be paid at once; he wanted 44l.—I said 42l. was ample; he said "It is no good my taking that, I must have 44l."—I drew a cheque for 42l., which was destroyed, and he filled up another cheque for 44l. by my directions; he promised to pay the money—I signed the cheque; it was payable to the order of Messrs. Peckham, Maitland, and Peckham, the solicitors—this is it—I never gave the prisoner instructions to endorse or cash it—the next thing was the brokers being put in my house—I had received no receipt, as the correspondence was carried on between Messrs. Peckham and the prisoner—if I said I had a receipt at the police-court it is a mistake—I believe the endorsement on the cheque is the prisoner's—I saw him on the following Saturday, after I had returned from the City about this affair—I said "What have you been doing? you ought to be ashamed of yourself for forging the name of Peckham and Co. on my cheque;" he said "It is all nonsense, everything is settled"—I gave him no authority to deduct 2l. 5s.—he was impertinent, and I went to the police-station with him.
Cross-examined. I was not in difficulties—the prisoner did not arrange anything—I employed him to settle matters, but he did not do it—he attended to other business, and did as badly by it as in this—I had out-standing bills, and had to get them renewed—he paid 41l. to Peckham—he arranged for the renewal of a bill for 84l.—I do not know that it was at the same time—interest would be charged if the bill was renewed—the prisoner would not have to pay it, but the interest would be added on to the renewed bill—the debt to Peckham and Co. was 36l. odd, the rest was for costs—the prisoner has signed my name to letters, but not with my authority—people might have answered him, but it was kept from me—I gave him 2l. 10s. to pay a debt with, and he kept it—I know Ratcliffe—I never went to him in my life—the prisoner did not arrange matters with Ratcliffe for me—I know Massiter—I have had to pay 140l. through this affair—the prisoner has not arranged matters for me with Massiter, nor Nash, nor Odell—I never did business with Odell in my life—the prisoner did not tell me that he should be obliged to take cash to the solicitors, as they would not receive a cheque, it not being a legal tender—he never said to me that he could get no money from me, nor that he had lost four months over my business.
Re-examined. These two cheques for 7l. are payable to Foskett, and they have been paid by my bankers.
GEORGE BREEZE . I live at 63, Warlock Road, St. Peter's Park, and am a traveller—on 4th September I was in the Skiddaw public-house with the prisoner and Mr. Stephens—Stephens asked Foskett to fill up a cheque for Perry and Co.'s debt—a cheque was filled up, which was not for the right amount, and another was drawn for about 44l., which Mr. Stephens signed; I could not swear positively to the amount—another cheque was written by Foskett for 2l. 10s., and signed by Stephens—this, I believe, was payable to Foskett.
Cross-examined. I never heard Mr. Stephens ask Foskett to send in his account—I live close to the prosecutor, and am on intimate terms with him—I have been in Foskett and the prosecutor's company often—I have not seen any money paid to Foskett for what he has done—I never advised Foskett to send in his bill—I never heard Foskett ask Stephens for an account of how they stood—I heard Stephens say he did not want to go on with this case for the sake of Foskett's wife and family—the Magistrate said the case had better go on.
WILLIAM WARE . I live at 34, Lynn Road, Stoke Newington—I am managing common-law clerk to Messrs. Maitland and Go.—my principals are solicitors to Perry and Co.—Mr. Stephens's debt was 38l. 13s. 11d., and the costs amounted to 7l. 6s. 4d.—I was authorised to receive 46l. 0s. 3d. from Mr. Stephens—on 6th September the prisoner called at 11.20 a.m.—he saw Mr. Maitland, who referred him to me—I told him the amount—he expressed his surprise at the amount of the costs, and said he had not sufficient to pay it—he said he would pay the debt and three guineas on account of costs—he gave me three 10l. notes, numbers 44H, 30622 and consecutive numbers, dated 21st February, 1880, a 5l. note, number 47H, 00992, dated 19th January, 1880, and 5l. in gold—I put down 1s., but as he had not the 7d. change and I had not the 5d. I retained the 1s., but gave him a receipt for 41l. 19s. 7d.—he said he would bring the balance in a day or two—he did not bring it—on 22nd I wrote to Mr. Stephens—the amount was not paid, and I put in an execution for the balance—I did not communicate with Mr. Stephens personally—the cheque produced is not signed by any person authorised by Messrs. Maitland—Mr. Maitland signs and endorses all cheques—the elder Mr. Peckham is dead, and his son is never at the office—I have never seen Foskett write.
Cross-examined. The endorsement on the cheque is not similar to Mr. Maitland's writing—Foskett had called on one previous occasion when I saw him—Foskett did not tell me he had other business to do—we should not have refused the cheque had it been presented—I wrote to Mr. Stephens, telling him we should put in an execution two days before the execution was put in—the. letter has not been returned—I addressed it to Mr. J. Stephens, 56, Lidford Road, St. Peter's Park, Harrow Road.
Re-examined. I wrote to Foskett on the day on which he called later in the day.
HENRY CARPENTER . I am a clerk in the London and Provincial Bank, Edgware Road—Mr. Stephens has an account there—this cheque was produced at our bank on the morning of 6th September, and paid and stamped by me, by one 5l. note, No. 00992, dated 19th January, 1880, and three 10l. notes, Nos. 30622, 3, and '4, and 9l. in gold—I do not know who presented the cheque—it was paid upon this endorsement—I
believed it was signed by the person who purports to sign it—these other cheques I believe to be Mr. Stephens's writing—they were paid, one on 19th July, the other on 18th August.
Cross-examined. I am accustomed to see signatures—the word "Peckham" on this cheque is in the same writing as the body of the other cheque.
JAMES FIDDIS (Policeman X 443). I was called on 5th September, and took the prisoner—he said "All right"—the charge was read to him at the station by the inspector, and then the prisoner said to the prosecutor "I did it with your consent."
Cross-examined. The prosecutor made no answer to that remark—he said "I had no such intention."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty; I had no such intention."
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, October 20th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
CHARLES TURNER . I am a cooper, of 29, Kinnerton Street, Pimlico—I have known the prisoner about three months—I had lent him! 0s., and on 20th August upon my return to my place of business I found him waiting for me—he said he wished to pay me, and said "I have not sufficient change in my pocket, but I have a cheque from Mr. Watkins, who is a very large tradesman in Battersea Park Road"—the cheque was for 3l. 15s. 6d.—I said "I have not sufficient cash; I have only about 2l."—he said "That is not sufficient, as I am leaving here for Brighton to-morrow morning with my wife and two children"—I said that I could do no better—he waited some time, and asked if I could get a friend to cash it—I took him to Mr. Coles, who cashed it—I handed the money over with the exception of the 10s.—the cheque was on the West London Commercial Bank, Sloane Square, by J.W. Watkins, in favour of Henry James, and dated 20th August—it was already endorsed—it was brought back to me next morning by Mr. Coles, and we went to look for the prisoner at 22, Park Walk, Chelsea, at the address he had given—we did not find him there, but I previously saw him in Kinnerton Street talking to Mrs. Hubbard—I beckoned, and he held up his hand and said, "I am coming"—I turned round, and when I turned back he was gone, and I did not see him again till he was in custody—after that somebody called and wanted me to make it all right—he gave no name—Mr. Coles kept the cheque.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I lent you the 10s. at two different times—I saw you several times before I cashed the cheque—a portion of the 10s. was lent on the occasion of our going to the House of Commons—I gave you 3l. 5s. 6d. out of the cheque—Mrs. Hubbard said you ran down the street, and I ran after you directly—I did not see you run away—I asked you for a receipt when you gave me the cheque—I believe the receipt was written at the same time.
ELLIOTT COLES . I am a wine and beer retailer, of 18, Leet Street, Sloane Square—on 20th August I cashed a crossed cheque for 3l. 15s. 6d., and gave the money to Mr. Turner, who handed some over to the prisoner—I took it to the Sloane Square Bank the following morning, and the manager wrote on it "No account"—I then went back to Mr. Turner, and we went to look for the prisoner—we passed from Kinnerton Street through a mews into Motcomb Street—we saw the prisoner standing at Mrs. Hubbard's door; we went towards him, and he beckoned with his hand—we went on a little to the right, and we turned back behind two cabs at the corner of a public-house, and when we got in sight of the door he was gone—I did not see him again till he was in custody—on Monday, the 30th, Mr. Hubbard and another man called on me—the man who was with him gave me 3l. 15s. 6d., and I handed the cheque to Mr. Hubbard—I have never seen it since—it was drawn in favour of Henry James by W. Watkins and indorsed by the prisoner—it was endorsed when he handed it to me; it was also endorsed by Charles Turner—it was dated 20th August, 1880.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. This is the party I handed the cheque over to at my house (Charles Hubbard).
ALFRED SHEPPARD . I am a cashier at the West London Commercial Bank, Sloane Square—this cheque was handed to me by Mr. Coles on 21st August for 3l. 15s. 6d., drawn by W. Watkins in favour of Henry James—we had not a customer of the name of Watkins then—we had several years ago, but not of those initials—the form of the cheque was from a book we had issued to Mr. Hubbard, a customer; it was marked in my presence a No account"—Mr. Hubbard had no account there on 20th August; he has ceased to be a customer about a year.
CHARLES CLINCH (Detective B). On 7th September I apprehended the prisoner on a warrant at Cottage Road Police-station; it was read to him; he made no reply—he was charged and went before the Magistrate the next morning—he said at the police-court "I had the cheque from Mr. Hubbard."
CHARLES HUBBARD . I live at 37, Kinnerton Street, Pimlico, and am a boot manufacturer—I did not give the prisoner the cheque in question—I had no account at the West London Commercial Bank at that time; I had about two years ago—I do not know what became of my old chequebook; I had it about a year after the account was closed, and kept it locked up in my box some time—the prisoner never lived in my house—I do not think he could have taken the forms from me—I knew Mr. Turner by sight and Mr. Coles; I called on the latter about seven weeks ago with another party; I think I called twice; on the second occasion I did not give Mr. Coles 3l. 15s. 6d., nor did anybody in my presence—the cheque was passed by me to the other person; I did not see him afterwards—I next saw the prisoner at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I did not give you the cheque on the morning I went
away to the Derby—my wife did not write to me at the Derby and say that one of my cheques had gone wrong—I admit I went to Mr. Coles—I did not give him the cheque—I have never been convicted; I have been to Holloway for debt for 28 days.
The Prisoner in his defence stated that Charles Hubbard had given him the cheque, and he came to take it up to save himself.
GUILTY of uttering.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at Clerkenwell in September, 1879.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. J.P. GRAIN Prosecuted.
JOHN RICHARDSON . I am a builder, of 73, Charlton Street, Euston Road—about 12.30 on a.m. on the 6th October I was in Tottenham Court Road; I was sober; I had had something to drink during the day—the prisoners came behind me; Moore went on my right side and put his foot behind the calf of my leg and forced me back, and Conway struck me with his right arm under my chin—I was thrown down, and Moore kicked me and knelt on my right thigh; I have the bruise still—I called for the police, when Moore advanced away from me, and Conway, who I had got by his collar, put his hand into my trousers pocket, but there was nothing for him to take—a policeman came up and he was taken—I was hurt at the time, and I had an embrocation and bathed the injured place when I got home.
Cross-examined by Conway. I was on the right side of Tottenham Court Road—I had had a glass of ale and twopenny worth of gin when I left a friend—I was not drunk; I was excited from being knocked down—I never saw you until you were on each side of me—I did not fall up against you; you did not say "See where you are falling to"—I did not turn round and bawl out "Police!"—I held you till the police came—the policeman said "What are you going to charge him with?" I said "For knocking me down, an attempt"—at the police-station they had other business to attend to and did not take the charge for some time—the inspector did not say "If you mess about like this I shall have to lock you up too"—I had not got my spectacles in my pocket, and I did not attempt to write—the inspector wrote my name for me and I put my cross.
JOSEPH LAMBOURN (Policeman E 24). About 12.40 a.m. on 6th October I heard cries of "Police!" in Tottenham Court Road—I ran across the road and went to the place, and saw Richardson struggling with Conway—he gave him into my custody for attempting to rob him and assaulting him—Moore was standing by—I went towards the station and Moore followed—Richardson told me that Conway's accomplice was walking on behind, and I took him in custody at the station—Richardson was under the influence of drink—he could walk, but staggered, and spoke father muddled—I said at the police-court he was drunk—he was not incapable—possibly a great deal of excitement attached to it—they were charged at the station—Richardson said he should charge them with assaulting him and attempting to rob him, and that Conway placed his hand in his left-hand trousers pocket—nothing was said by the inspector about locking the prosecutor up; he was not so drunk as to require it—they
asked the inspector if the prosecutor was sober, and the inspector made no answer—the prisoners made no answer to the charge.
By the COURT. When I saw first Richardson he was rising from the ground, and he had hold of Conway by the coat and hands—Conway was standing and seemed to be resisting him—Moore was standing alongside and not a yard away.
Cross-examined by Conway. I did not hear the inspector caution the prosecutor—about half a dozen people were standing there, but no one ran to the prosecutor's assistance when I got up.
By the COURT. I do not know either of the prisoners.
Moore's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was walking behind the prisoner down Tottenham Court Road to the station. When I got to the station they charged me. I did not interfere in any way."
Moore's Defence. I walked to the police-station without knowing what it was; to see what was the matter. When I got there they took me. The policeman knows he did not see me do anything. The prosecutor. was drunk. He made two or three different statements. This is the first time in my life I have ever been locked up. I am a hard-working chap, and am quite innocent; God above knows that. I do not get my living by robbing people.
Conway's Defence. I was walking along Tottenham Court Road when the prosecutor came out of a mews and bobbed up against me as I was crossing. I asked him to mind where he was bobbing to and to mind he did not fall down, and he turned round and took me by the collar and bawled out "Police," and two or three persons stopped and the police came up and said, "What is the matter?" He said, "I want to charge this fellow." He said, "What for?" The prosecutor said, "He tried to put his hand in my pocket," which I never did. The policeman said, "Have you lost anything? I see he is drunk," and he took me to the station, and Moore followed and they took him, what for I don't know. The prosecutor said, "I want to charge that man there." The inspector said, "Which man? there are two," and he turned round and saw two, thinking there was only one. The inspector said, "Mind what you are about, or we shall have to put you inside." He could not sign the charge sheet, and they locked us up. Why did not the prosecutor charge Moore at the time he charged me? He was drunk, and he wanted to charge somebody. Nobody interfered with him, I assure you.
MOORE— NOT GUILTY .
CONWAY— GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in March, 1879, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MARTIN LANE . I am a sawyer of 10, Ironmonger Row, St. Lukes—between 12 and 1 a.m., 7th October, I was in Old Street Road, coming from the police-station, where I had been to identify a woman—I saw the prisoner and three or four others on the pavement—I was immediately pounced upon and knocked down and kicked by the prisoner and others—the prisoner kicked me on my cheek—he put his hand in between my waistcoat and shirt—I had only a few halfpence in my trousers pocket and had no watch or anything else—the man ran away and some people
in the road called "Stop thief"—I was not able to get up without help—I saw the prisoner in custody about 10 minutes afterwards.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was perfectly sober; I had no bottle with me.
CHRISTOPHER BREW . I am a general dealer of 10, Ironmonger Row, St. Luke's—I was with the prosecutor, but about 100 yards behind him—we were coming from the police-station, and when I got up to the prosecutor I found him on the—ground—I saw nobody about and I heard no cries—he was bleeding and I picked him up and made a rush towards two or three people in the road—I was struck a blow and knocked into the road; I cannot swear to anybody who struck me—I followed to the station as soon as I recovered myself.
CHARLES BRADLEY (Policeman G 55). I was on duty about 12.45 in Golden Lane, St. Luke's—I heard a cry of "Stop thief" and I saw the prisoner running towards me—I ran and stopped him and said, "What is the matter?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "What are you running for?"—he made no reply—I took him into Old Street, where I saw Lane, which was about 200 yards distant—he said, "That is the man who has assaulted me"—Lane's face was covered with mud and was bleeding—the prisoner said, "I know nothing about it"—Lane was sober—I did not see that he had any bottle.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not attempt to rob."
GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 21st, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and DE MICHELE Prosecuted; MESSRS. GILL and RAVEN Defended.
FREDERICK YOUNG . I am a Justice of the Peace for the county of Middlesex, and live at No. 5, Queensborough Place, Cromwell Road, Kensington—in 1877 I banked at the London Joint Stock Bank—in August that year I purposed travelling on the Continent, and applied to the bank for 10 100l. circular notes, which I received; to the best of my belief these (produced) are eight of those notes—I received at the same time a letter of indication from the bank—at that time my name was in the body of the notes, where the name of Edward Austin now appears—they were then dated 13th August, 1877; they now appear to be dated 5th February, 1878—they then had the No. 16391 corresponding with the number of my letter of indication; they now have the No. 16615—there was no endorsement on them when I last saw them—this (produced) is the letter of indication that I received; it contains my own signature with the No. 16,391 at the top, dated 13th August, 1877; it has my name, Frederick Young, in the body, and my own signature also—on 15th August, 1877, I crossed from Folkestone to Boulogne—I put the notes in a pocket-book in one pocket, and the letter of indication in a separate pocket—I missed my pocket-book containing the notes when I was at Boulogne; I did not lose the letter of indication—I went on to Paris, and from there telegraphed to the bank and received fresh notes—I
never authorised any one to sign Edward Austin on any of these notes nor did I instruct anybody to cash them—as far as I recollect I last saw my pocket-book safe about five or 10 minutes before the vessel reached Boulogne; I had occasion to take it out of my pocket to get a boat coupon, which I tore off and put in the pocket-book—I was a witness here when Cherwood was tried in May, 1878. (See Sessions Paper, Vol. 88, Page 1.)
Cross-examined. I had the notes in my inside pocket—as was leaving the boat my attention was attracted by a man who stood in front of me, who should have had his back to me—I said that Cherwood looked like the man; I did not swear to him, because at his trial he had altered—these gentlemen disguise themselves so much it is not easy to identify them—on subsequent consideration I could trace a likeness between more than one person to another, therefore I altogether decline to commit myself as to who it was—I remember a person pressing against me—I said that Cherwood resembled the person—the dates that have been altered are written in full, not in figures.
Re-examined. I thought Cherwood resembled the person who faced me as I was leaving the vessel, but the prisoner also resembles the person—I seem to fancy there is some resemblance between the two, but I would not swear that either was or was not the man.
PYTHAGORAS QUARREY . I am a clerk in the London Joint Stock Bank—in August, 1877, I issued 10 circular notes for Mr. Young—these produced are eight of them—I also issued this letter of indication; it is in the same state as when issued—I heard of Mr. Young's loss in August—I did not see these circular notes again till 9th February, 1878, when they came into the bank from abroad through the Metropolitan Bank.
JOSHUA REYNOLDS . I am head cashier of the Southwark branch of the London Joint Stock Bank—I know the prisoner by the name of John Watson—on 31st January, 1878, he opened an account in that name at our branch—he was a stranger; he gave a respectable reference—he described himself as a diamond dealer, of 71, Clapham Road—I produce the signature book which he signed on opening the account—he opened it by a cheque for 20l., and on 1st February he paid in 300l., on the 4th 80l. twice, and on 8th 20l.—on the debit side there is 4s. 2d. for a stamped cheque-book containing 50 cheques, on the 4th February, Critchley 129l.; on the 6th, circular notes, 100l.; on 12th, Murray 150l.; on 19th, Hugal 70l.; that was the last debit; that was paid in the ordinary way—the account was closed by a debit to some solicitors—there was a cheque for 51l. on 23rd February in favour of Charles Cherwood, and endorsed Charles Cherwood—that would, if paid, have overdrawn the account 4s. 2d., the amount of the stamped cheque-book, but I returned it—it came from Mr. Kino through our head office—I paw the prisoner from time to time—on 4th February he applied to me for 10 circular notes of 10l. each, as he was going on the Continent—I applied to the head office for them, as we did not issue them—I got them, and also a letter of indication—I have no means of identifying these produced; they are 10 circular notes in favour of John Watson for 10l. each, No. 16615, dated 6th February, 1878—the prisoner's endorsement "John Watson" is on each of them—the letter of indication I gave him corresponded with the circular notes; it would be in the same form as Mr. Young's, and would have on it the number that was on the notes, 16615—I afterwards received this letter
from the prisoner, dated 6th February, 71, Clapham Road, acknowledging the receipt of the notes—I afterwards heard of the letter of indication haying been improperly used, and I wrote a letter to the prisoner, asking him to call at the bank—I received this answer. (Read: "Paris, Monday 13th, 1878. Dear Sir,—Your communication left with my wife reached me to-day. Business of moment calls me to Marseilles, and I leave here this p.m. I wish to certify you at the same time that I have had the misfortune to lose my pocket-book containing your letter of indication. I believe it to have been stolen from me; therefore I shall call on you immediately on my return to London. Yours truly, John Watson.") The envelope to that letter had the Paris post-mark on it—he was afterwards written to again, but we got no answer—on 20th February he returned, through the post, the 40 unused cheques—I believe they came from Paris—as we did not pay the 51l. cheque the balance was left at our bank until Cherwood's trial—Watson has never had it, or ever applied for it—we never saw or heard anything more of him until July last, when I saw him in custody at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined. We should not open an account without a reference; £20 was rather a small sum to open an account with—his reference was Mr. Arthur Hewitt, the solicitor—after 6th February there was a balance to his account of about 270l.—it was about 10th or 11th February that we heard there was something wrong about the letter of indication; I did not go to the address that he had given, we wrote to him, and the letter was left by one of our clerks, not sent through the post—I did not hear that the clerk saw the prisoner's wife.
CHARLES CHERWOOD (A Prisoner). I am now undergoing a sentence of 10 years' penal servitude—I was tried in this Court in May 1878, for altering a banker's cheque, and also for forging one of these 10l. circular notes—I was convicted upon both indictments—I first became acquainted with the prisoner about the middle of January 1878—I knew him by the name of Hugh Murray—I was introduced to him in Regent Street in the Cafe Royal—some time after he spoke to me about some circular notes—I was not doing anything for a living at that time, it was somewhere about from the 20th to the 25th January; he said "Can you use some circular notes? if so, they will help to pay our expenses"—he said he got them as the passengers were leaving the steamer at Boulogne—I said I could do so it I had a letter of indication—he said he would obtain one for me—he said "You must allow me 30l. for the 100l., for the 10 notes of 10l., each"—I agreed to that—I think he showed me the notes either that day or within a day or so; these produced are notes of the same amount—the name of Edward Austin was written on the face of them when he first showed them to me—in a day or so I had some further conversation with him about the notes—he said "I am unable to obtain the letter of indication where I expected to, and therefore I shall be obliged to open an account myself at the bank, and get some circular notes, and the same letter of indication will do for both; but in that case I must be allowed 50l. instead of 30 for the notes, on account of the extra trouble and risk, and so on, for money employed to open an account"—I agreed to that also—he afterwards told me "I have made a large deposit at the London Joint Stock Bank, and I will obtain the circular notes and letter of indication as soon as I can safely do so"—about 5th or 6th February I learnt from him that he had done so—I went with him one day to the bank in South-wark—I
remained outside, I did not go in—I don't think he told me what he was going in for—ho afterwards told me that ho had got the 10 circular notes and the letter of indication; I did not see them in London—we arranged to go to the Continent together, and he was to change the notes at the first place where there was a correspondent of the bank, and let me have the letter of indication for the purpose of altering the name, so that I could use it for the other 10 notes—we arranged to go to the Grand Hotel in Paris, and I was to be Edward Austin—I directed an envelope to the Grand Hotel, and it was understood between us that he was to send a telegram to the manager stating that his brother Edward Austin would arrive at the Grand Hotel on the day following from Nice, and requesting him to show him any favour that laid in his power—he told me that he had sent the telegram, and when I arrived there I found that it had been sent—I went to Cannon Street Station and I and the prisoner left London together; I think that was on the Wednesday, 6th February, 1878—the prisoner had the ten notes and the letter of indication in his possession, I had nothing at all in my possession—we went over to Boulogne by the morning mail—I suppose the prisoner cashed the 10 circular notes there—he left me for that purpose, and when he returned he told me that he had done so—I don't know that he said anything about the letter of indication at that particular time—we went on by the train to Paris and went to the Grand Hotel, he gave me the letter of indication on the way there; it then had on it the name of John Watson, and at the hotel I took out the name of John Watson and inserted that of Edward Austin instead—I did that with chemicals—the prisoner was not present when I did it, I saw him shortly afterwards—he asked if it was ready, I said that it was not dry—he afterwards gave mo two of the circular notes in the name of Edward Austin and he showed me where the cashier's office was at the Grand Hotel, and told me I could get them cashed there—I noticed that there was some discrepancy between the number on the notes and the number on the letter of indication, but what it was I cannot remember, it is so long ago—I took the two notes down to the cashier and obtained the money for them—I showed the letter of indication—I could not tell which of the notes I changed, they were like these—I gave the money to the prisoner—after cashing those I cashed two more, the prisoner gave them to me—I cashed those at the Louvre, and gave the money to the prisoner—I then cashed six more at the Grand, I got those from the prisoner and gave him the money; these eight are all endorsed by me in the name of Edward Austin—I endorsed them before I cashed them—I said something to the prisoner about the discrepancy in the numbers, I don't remember now what I said—I don't think airy of the notes bore the sumo number as the letter of indcation, I noticed that in Paris—all I did was to alter the name in the letter of indication from John Watson to Edward Austin; the notes I cashed were in the same state as when I received them from the prisoner—I cannot say how much money was given to me in Paris, it was a small amount—I paid my bill and left the hotel; I cashed the last note at 10 o'clock at night, and left the hotel next morning; at least I slept at the Louvre that night—the prisoner and I came away from Paris together and went to Brussels—I left him on the Continent, either at Antwerp or Brussels, I am not certain which; about 11th or 12th February; we were together part of the time abroad, not all the time—I came back to London about 13th or 14th February—I saw
the prisoner again on the Saturday following, the 16th, at a cafe at the West End, by appointment—he said "I have received a letter from the bank authorities which shows they have some suspicion of me," or something to that effect—there were other people there, mutual friends of ours; and one of them advised him to send a letter to the bank authorities purporting to come from Paris, to send it to Paris and have it mailed, saying that he had lost his letter of indication—I advised him to go to the bank and see them, and have a talk with them, the same as any business man would do—he did not seem inclined to do so, he agreed to follow the other advice; I did not see the letter he wrote—I saw him again on the following Wednesday, when I wanted him to pay me the money that was due to me—he did not pay me—I don't know what he said—I saw him again on Saturday, 23rd February; he then gave me some money, I don't remember how much—it was a small sum, and he then also gave me this cheque for 5l.—I saw him write it; he said that he had still a large amount of money in this bank, I think he said?270, and that I ought to assist him in getting it out—I objected to receiving any cheque; I told him that I did not give him any cheque, and that I did not like to take one from him, I wanted the money—after some time he persuaded me to take the cheque, and I finally did so; it was an open cheque on his bank in my favour—I gave it to Kino, a tailor in the Borough Road, where I bought some clothes—I did not get the change for it; I left it with him to cash, and I was to get the change at some future time—I afterwards sent for it, and the cheque was brought back to me marked N. S.; payment had been refused—I had endorsed it when I gave it to Kino—I kept it in my pocket, and when I was arrested on 2nd March I gave it to the officer who arrested me—I never saw the prisoner afterwards; I don't know what became of him—I had not seen him at all between 23rd February and 2nd March—I saw him on 24th February; I said nothing to him that I know of having any bearing on this case—I destroyed the letter of indication that I had altered after the last note was cashed—I have been to the prisoner's house, 71, Clapham Road; it was a private house—I don't know that he has a wife; a woman was there living with him.
Cross-examined. I came to England about 13th January, 1878, and went to live at 89, St. Mark's Road, Kensington; I had been here some years before—I have frequently been to the Dorset Arms public-house, and met the prisoner there several times in January and February—when I was tried here I was also tried on a charge of altering a cheque for 5l. 11s. 8d. to 500l. 11s. 8d.—I was arrrested as I. was leaving Mr. Kino's on a charge connected with the circular notes; I was searched, and they found on me a 100l. note, six 10l. notes, and a quantity of gold and silver—that was part of the proceeds of the cheque I was convicted of forging—the evidence was that I then took from my pocket two small bottles and dashed them on the floor to destry them, but that is a mistake—I said that they contained medicine—that was either a mistake or a lie, either will do for that, because it might be used for medicine—I saw Sergeant Moss produce on my trial a camel's hair brush, a piece of sponge, some liquid in a glass, a seven barrel revolver, and a box of cartridges, found at my lodging—it was sworn by Dr. Saunders that the stuff which I say might be useful as medicine, would be also useful to erase ink—he said that he had tried it, and it would do so; I decline to say whether I had tried it—while I was awaiting my trial I made a proposal
to the Governor of Newgate; I do not think it was to go into partnership with me—it was in writing. (MR. GRAIN here read the letter from the Sessions Paper, vol. 88, p, 6). I remember writing that letter—I also made the same liberal offers to the solicitors for the prosecution, Messrs, Abrahams, in this letter (produced)—I think my assisting the prosecution may get me off a few years of my imprisonment—I should like to assist public justice and myself at the same time—since my examination before the Magistrate I have not stated that a good deal of what I have said is not true—I have not made a different statement since I have been in prison, nor a written statement desiring to alter my evidence—I first made the prisoner's acquaintance about the middle of January, within a day or so of my coming to England—he made the proposition about the circular notes coming from him—I had none of the bonds or the stuff in my possession when I made my statement—I met him first at the Cafe Royal, and he told me within a few days that he had got circular notes—I had not told him that I was a forger; I told him what I came to England for, but I decline to say what I told him—I did not say that I came to assist the Government—he consulted me about the circular notes, because he wanted some one to lay them down for him, I suppose—I do not know why he could not alter the letter of indication; it could not be uttered unless it was altered—I had been in Paris last in 1874, I think—I had not been there during 1878, till 7th or 8th February, if that was the day the notes were cashed—there is no mistake about that as far as I am concerned—I cannot fix the place where I saw the prisoner's circular notes, I only saw them casually—I examined them, but did not take them all one by one in my hands, one or two I did, but I don't know which—that was in England decidedly—I looked at them and returned them to him—that was some time in January; I saw the name—I saw the numbers in London, but did not take notice of them till I was in Paris, when it was necessary to compare the two, and then I noticed the discrepancy—I did not notice the date on them—I swore before the Magistrate that I went with him once to the bank; I do not think I said I went with him when he opened the account, because I did not know whether he opened an account or drew money, or for what purpose he went—on one occasion I went with them to the Southwark branch of the London Joint Stock Bank; the two sentences you are reading about (in the depositions) do not necessarily belong together—I do not think he said on that occasion, "I have opened quite a large account by paying money in, and I have made application for some circular notes," I think that was said on another occasion—it was some time in January, I think, that he told me he was going to open an account there; I do not know when it was opened, or whether we left England the next day—it was arranged that a letter should be written, but no letter was written, an envelope was addressed by me to me as Edward Austin—Mr. Chabot was called on the trial to prove that it was in my writing—I have said, "It had been arranged between us that the prisoner should send a registered letter to Edward Austin, Grand Hotel, Paris"—we were in company when I wrote the envelope at his request, and he took it with the understanding that he was to send it—I found it at Paris when I got there in the envelope which was produced at my trial, and sworn to be in my writing—I only stayed half or three-quarters of an hour at Boulogne, I went on by the train which is in connection with the
boat—the prisoner went with me—that was the day on which I cashed the note, I don't know the day—he remained in my company till the 11th or 12th, or 13th or 14th; we were in Paris all that time—we got there the morning after the notes were cashed—we left together the following morning and went to Brussels, and I went by myself to the Hotel de Flandre—I think I arrived in Brussels on Friday night, and left on the following Monday or Tuesday—we then went to Antwerp together, and remained there together two nights, and I left him there—when at Paris I took rooms at the Grand Hotel and at the Louvre the same night, a bedroom at each place—Watson gave me the letter of introduction either in the train between Boulogne and Paris, or in the cab going from the Paris station to the Grand Hotel—when I went to my room I had some bottles in my possession and I proceeded to take out the name of John Watson and to write in the name of Edward Austin, but just as I had erased his name he came in and asked me if it was ready yet—I told him it had not yet had time to dry—that was not when the two circular notes were handed to me; it was some time afterwards; it was after the name had been filled in in the letter of indication—when it had dried I wrote the name in, and it was then that I got the two circular notes—I then noticed a difference in the letters on the circular notes—I do not remember why I did not alter it, but I suppose there was not time to do so—it was late in the evening, and it would take time to alter the numbers; the cashier's office would be closed, and it would be too late to cash the notes—it was between 9 and 10 at night, I think, when I cashed the two first notes—I went to the Louvre that night and changed notes there immediately after changing the notes at the Grand between 9 and 10 o'clock—I did not take the room at the Louvre then, not till 12 or 1 o'clock—I changed the notes before I took the room—I slept there that night—I had no luggage there of any kind; it was at the Grand; it was nothing but a small bandbox—I changed the other six notes after 10 o'clock; it was not 12 o'clock, and I don't think it was 11—I had no luggage at the Louvre—I went back to the Grand next day for my luggage—I did not leave a portmanteau there full of bricks, nor at the Louvre—I had seen the name of Edward Austin a great many times, but not within a month or so—I changed the notes into gold—I was to have 50l. out of the 100l.—I did not keep my share because I did not like to carry it with me when I was going to change other notes; suppose I had been arrested—I got gold and French notes at the Grand—I did not say I had nothing but gold; I said I got gold, and so I did; I did not say anything about notes till you put it to me now—I decline to say whether I had any other circular notes in my possession—I went to the Louvre between 12 and 1 I thought it was; I don't know what time it was—I went there a second time; I slept there—I saw the night clerk, not the cashier, that gentleman (pointing to a person in Court)—at 12 or 1 I had cashed the 10 notes—I did not ask him to cash some notes for me when I went up in the lift with him; I swear that—he did not decline and say I must come the following morning—he asked to see the letter of indication, and I showed it to him—he said he found he had done something irregular in cashing the two notes for me before without seeing the letter of indication—he was not the regular cashier, and he said he merely did this to accommodate a gentleman, so when I came back between 12 and 1 he asked to see the letter of indication, and I showed it to him—I did not ask him to
cash any others—I might have said, "Can you cash some more for me?"—I don't know whether I did or not—I know I did not ask him to cash any notes for me that night—I did not go between 10 and 11 in the morning and cash four notes—I think I left Paris between 10 and 11—I decline to answer whether I cashed four notes that morning before I left—I decline on the ground that it may bring me into trouble—I decline to say whether those four notes were endorsed in the name of Austin—I did not cash circular notes in Paris a fortnight before 7th February—I decline to answer whether the endorsement on these circular notes on the Alliance Bank (produced) is my writing—I most decidedly did not change one of them a fortnight before at the Louvre—I decline to answer any question as to what I did with the notes; I will say what I did not do with them—I decline to answer any question as to what is my writing; I will answer what is not—I did not return to Paris after I left it on the morning of the 8th; I have never been there since—I still adhere to the statement that I had not been in Paris from 1874 till I changed these notes—I did not go to any hotel but the Louvre and the Grand—we did not divide the gold next day because it had been used for other purposes—I destroyed the letter of indication, and I told the prisoner so when he asked me for it at the Dorset Arms on 23rd February—he had told me about a week previously that the Bank had been making inquiries about it—when he gave me the cheque there he said that he had 270l. at the bank—I do not know whether I have said that before to-day—when he said that he was not satisfied I did not offer to present the cheque for 50l., or tell him that there was nothing he need be afraid of, or that I would take it and go to the bank and draw it out.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Detective) On 20th July, 1880, in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner and another man at the Bodega, Glasshouse Street, Regent Street, on the first floor; another man joined them—I waited till he left the house with the two men, one of whom left—I then went up to him, and said "Mr. Murray, I wish to speak to you"—he left the other man, and we walked down the street a led yards—I said "My name is Taylor, I am an officer of the City of London police, your name is Hugh Murray, a warrant is in existence for your arrest for forging circular letters of the London Joint Stock Bunk in 1878;" he said "I don't know anything of you or of what you are talking about"—I said "You will have to come to the City with me;" he said "I want to go to the Blanchard Restaurant to see my wife, she is there"—I went there with him; he inquired of several waiters in the ladies' room, and after walking round several times and not finding her, I said "We had better go on to the City, do not make a scone here"—he said "Just stand here a moment, I will take another turn round;" I said "No, now I have you I must stick to you"—he endeavored to leave the place, and we had a struggle, but with a gentleman's assistance I got him into a cab, in which we had another struggle by the Times office, and I held him till we got to the Old Jewry, whore I showed him the warrant—he made no answer to it—he was taken to Upper Thames Street Station, where he asked for the warrant to be
read to him—he was asked if his name was John Johnson or Hugh Murray; he said "I decline to answer any questions"—he was taken to Seething Lane Police-station, as we had no accommodation—he said to me there "It all lies in a nutshell;" I said "I don't want to hear any statement of yours, I may have to use it in my evidence"—when in the cab going to the Mansion House he said "It all lies in a nutshell; the Yank asked me to do him a favour eight or ten days after he arrived in this country, and I lent him my letter, and when I asked him for it he told-me that he had burnt it, and I shall plead guilty to the charge; my brother-in-law advised me to go to the Bank and see the manager, but I was afraid to do so for fear of being arrested"—the warrant, dated March, 1878, was handed to me on 20th July by Inspector M. Willan, after the death of another sergeant, and it was kept at the Old Jewry—I have been on the look-out for the prisoner ever since.
JOHN MATTHEW VOSS . I live at 10, Compton Terrace, Islington—I am thoroughly acquainted with the French language—I made the translations of these two forms in the letter of indication; they are correct.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ARTHUR HEWITT . I am a solicitor in the City, and have been in practice 32 years—in 1869 the prisoner purchased a freehold house on an estate at Clapham, for which I act as trustee, in his true name, Hugh Murray; I knew him as Hugh Murray—in 1871 he sold the same house, having resided there until that time—on 18th May, 1876, he bought a house at Brighton in the name of John Watson; he paid 635l. for it—after this length of time I cannot speak positively as to the explanation he gave me for using the name of Watson, but I am sure he must have explained it to me, because I should have asked him, in purchasing a freehold—I think he said something about having put his name to some bills or about some bankruptcy; the explanation he gave me at the time was perfectly satisfactory, or else I should not have allowed him to put his name to a freehold document; that ended my business transactions with him—I gave a reference for him to Mr. Barnard, a broker, on one occasion; he had some stock to sell, and asked me to recommend him a broker, and I did, I also gave him a letter of introduction to the bank on his opening the account—I should not have done so if I had not been satisfied of his respectability.
Cross-examined. I did not know that since he adopted the name of John Watson in 1876 ho changed it back again to Hugh Murray—I have never seen anything of him since but once, about some trouble that he had with his tenant at Brighton—I knew of his living at 71, Clapham Road in the name of John Watson—I did not know that after he left that place he was living at Inverness Terrace at Hugh Murray—my connection with him ceased when I gave him the letter of introduction to the bank; I have never seen him since—I never heard of his going by the name of Henry Naylor—I understood his true name was Murray.
He-examined. The explanation he gave about the bills he was liable for in 1876 was mostly given as the reason for the alteration of name.
JAMES HATELEY . I am a merchant—I have a place of business at 14 to 16, Satchwell Street, Bethnal Green, and at the Grand Music-hall, Portsmouth—I know a William Walker, he was an agent of mine; he attends a lot of races and makes bets with persons in a large way of business—among other races he attended the Grand Prix, at Paris, in
1876; I was there—I knew the prisoner before that, about six years—moneys had passed between us—Walker acted as an agent for me in speculating on the turf—I have bought diamonds of the prisoner to the amount of some thousands—he has often credited me—there was a betting transaction to the amount of 80l. between Walker and the prisoner at the Grand Prix, in June, 1877; I was there, and was present when the transaction took place—I lent two notes to Mr. Murray; he was at the races; he owed me money—in February, 1878 I was at Boulogne, and saw him coming off the boat from Folkestone—I said "How do you do, Murray? I want to see you"—he said "All right, I have got some cash for you; wait here, I will take a cab and come back to you"—he went away in a cab and returned in about a quarter of an hour and paid me, and I got into the train to go to Paris—he gave me 2,000 franc notes, that would be 80l. in English money—I asked him how lone he was going to stay—he said he was looking for a school for his children, and was going to Brussels—I know he had some family—I have seen his wife—Cherwood was not with me at this time at Boulogne, I never saw him till I saw him here.
Cross-examined. I am a merchant in goods of every description—I have warehouses, my own property, which I built myself, and shops likewise—I am not the licensed proprietor of the Grand Music-hall at Portsmouth, I am connected with Mr. Hughes there, to a certain extent in partnership with him—Walker is my betting agent; I make a bet the same as other gentlemen—Walker was not in my service, he lived at Stamford Hill—I saw him here the first thing this morning—I went to the Grand Prix in June, 1877, to make bets, and other business likewise—I do not have a regular book—the prisoner did not go with me, I met him on the course—I always knew him as John Watson—I never knew him as Hugh Murray; he was the same in June, 1877, as he always was, a dealer in diamonds; he backed horses the same as other people; I can't say that he made a book—I met him there accidentally—that was where I lent him the money, he had just come over from England—I believe his place of business was in Clap ham Road; I had met him hundreds of times before—I did not back any horses with him at the Grand Prix that day—I lent him the money on the course—Walker was present; he said "How are you off for cash?"—I said I had got some—he said "Have you got a couple of notes?"—I said "Yes, you can have two or three, mille," and I gave it him; if he had asked me for five or six he would have had it—I gave him two French notes—I got them in my business, I had them changed over there—I had considerably more than that, I got them changed over there, I think at the Hotel Folkestone, at Paris, where I was staying; no, from the Grand Hotel, the Hotel Folkestone is at Boulogne—I gave English gold for the notes, I can't say how much; I think I had over 100l., because you always gain by changing gold there—I took it as a mercantile speculation, to make a profit—I did not take an I O U from the prisoner for the 80l., I did not require it, he has trusted me over 300l. in diamonds; this was a loan without security—I never applied to him for the money, I did not see him again till February, 1878, when I accidentally met him at Boulogne—I hid come there the day previous—I bought some stones there—I saw him coming off the boat, and then I asked him for the 80l., and he said he would take a cab and get it, and he came back and paid it me—I went on by the boat-train to Paris; he saw me in the train—I went to
the Grand Hotel at Paris—I stayed there a couple of days I think, I had some food professionals over there; I then came back to London—I bought the stones at Boulogne, before the prisoner arrived—I have a bill here for some goods that I bought (produced)—I saw the prisoner game time after my return to London, at the Criterion—I think that was about nine months ago—I have not seen him repeatedly lately, he has been detained here too long—I did not know him living at Inverness Terrace; I might have known him when he was living there—I did not know that he had recently taken the name of Hugh Murray, I only knew him as John Watson.
Re-examined. This bill was written on 7th February, 1878—that was the day of the actual receipt of the money from the prisoner; that fixes the date—I arrived in Paris on the night of 7th February, and went to the Grand Hotel and came away on the 9th—the prisoner was not there with me—I was betting for myself at the Grand Prix—Walker sometimes lays out 100l. for me on a good horse—I employ him as any other bookmaker—you can bet at the Grand Prix without having French money if there are any London bookmakers there—the money I took over was required for business and pleasure and betting—it is very usual for a man to borrow money at the Grand Prix.
GEORGE GRIFFIN . I am a manufacturer and live at I, Crescent, Clapham Common—I married the prisoner's wife's sister—he has usually been known as Murray—I know that he used the name of Watson in certain business transactions, I believe owing to some bankruptcy—to my knowledge he has never gone by any other name than Murray in his family—after he was in custody I believe his wife was searching for papers to assist in his defence—a paper was brought to me which she had just found; she was staying at my house at the time—he was then in Newgate—this (produced) is the paper she gave me—I did not see it found, but I knew she was searching for it—I know that she received letters from the prisoner while he was in Newgate.
Cross-examined. I knew that lie was living at 71, Clapham Road, in 1878, as John Watson—I don't know when he dropped that name—I did not know of it before he was arrested on this charge—I don't know when he was living at Inverness Terrace, or where he was living when he was taken on this charge; I thought he was at the Isle of Wight—I don't know where he was living in July last.
Re-examined. I have not been on friendly terms with him, and his name has seldom been mentioned in my house—since he has been in custody my wife has allowed her sister to live at our house.
EMILY FOUCHOIS . I am the daughter of Madame Fouchois Grace—this is a paper that she wrote and issued at our hotel at Boulogne; it was the Royal Hotel Durande—she now keeps the Bedford—my mother kept that hotel in February, 1878—I was at school then, but I used to come home to dinner—my mother is too ill to travel—I produce the book from which this bill was made out, with the original entries in may mother's writing—this bill was made out to Mr. Watson.
GEORGE VOGHT . I am an interpreter at the Grand Hotel, Brussels—I was there in 1878, but the hotel has since that changed management three times—this is the arrival and departure book for 1878; it is not in my writing, but I had access to it every day—it is a proper record of persons coming there; but there is another, because a stranger coming to
Brussels has to be booked at the Town Hall, and I used to take the book there—I find here an entry of John Watson, arriving on 9th February, 1878, and his departure is recorded on the 14th—he was the first arrival on 9th February—the train from Boulogne comes in at 6 a.m.—I also produce the ledger, in which I find chamber No. 54 entered to John Watson every day between the 9th and the 14th.
Cross-examined. It takes six hours and a half to get from Paris to Brussels by train—there are two express trains a day, and one in the evening, but only two in the summer time—the first train comes in at 5.30 a.m., the next at 1.58, and the next at 5.30, and the next at 10.20—it takes about six hours from Calais or Boulogne to Brussels—this entry seems all to be by one hand, but it is impossible that it was all written at one time—the book does not appear to be a fair copy of the arrivals that day; you can see perfectly well that these are two different writings—these three entries to John Watson are room, service, and candle—nothing else is entered here, but he might have gone to the restaurant; you are obliged to pay there—the only entries on the 10th are room, service, and a bath—I have no recollection of John Watson—I do not know what time he came or whether anybody was with him or visited him—it takes 58 minutes to get from Brussels to Antwerp.
He-examined. It the guest took his meals in the restaurant he would pay there at that time, but it is different now—if Mr. Watson took his meals in the restaurant I should not find it here—he is supposed to be the first person who arrived that morning—five names are entered, and then there is another handwriting—in February there was a train in from Paris at 5.35 a.m., which left Paris at 8.15 the night before—one Boulogne train arrives at the Nord station and the other at the Midi station—the Boulogne train does not come through Calais, but they, join at St. Omer—that comes in at 6.5—there is always a train at 5.35, but it is not so fast as the others, and the mail train comes in at 1.35 all the year through—it is impossible for a person to get up and go to Paris and sleep there one night and get back, because leaving Brussels at 9 o'clock he would be in Paris at 4 o'clock, and he would be obliged to leave there at 5.30 to get back.
By MR. POLAND. I saw him again when he came with his family in July, 1878—February was the first time I saw him when I came home from school; I was at my dinner and saw him in the restaurant of the hotel; I did not speak to him—I cannot tell the day—I did not know his name then—we do not have much people in the winter—when I saw the man in July I remembered seeing him in the dining-room in February—the dining-room is downstairs—I was not managing the hotel in July; I was at school—mamma told me his name in February, John Watson—I only saw him in February and July, 1878; the next time was in Court to-day—I came over from Boulogne last Monday with some friends.
By MR. BESLEY. I saw him again in June or July, 1878, when he bad two bedrooms, and had his wife and three children there and a French servant—this entry, "Mr. Watson," on 4th June, on the top of the page, is my mother's writing—I thought it was in July
but I am mistaken—he was there three weeks from 4th Jane—he if the same person who came on 7th February, but he came alone then—I find an entry here in my mother's writing in February of the charge made for the dinner, which I remember his partaking of.
HARRY ABRAHAMS . I am a son of Michael Abrahams, a solicitor, whose firm was formerly Abrahams and Roffey—he has a French connection and an office in Paris; he was on gagged with reference to the original Edward, Austin, whose circular notes I produce; here are five of 20l. and four of 10l. each—they are letters of credit on the Alliance Bank given to Edward Austin and endorsed in that name—they are all dated 9th January, 1878.
CUSSE. I am cashier at the Hotel de Louvre, Paris—I know the convict Cherwood very well, and he knows me—this piece of paper bears the stamp of my office or the signature of my directory, by which I am able to say that they were cashed at my place after the signature Edward Austin had been put at the back and money given in exchange for them—we do not put the date—we exchanged them afterwards—Cherwood came to the hotel on 7th February at 10 p.m.; he had a bundle of circular notes with him, and asked me whether I would cash them; the manager said "We cannot cash all those; we have not sufficient money;" I said "I can only cash 20l., and to-morrow morning the cashier will give you some more"—he said "I will come again; I am going to see some friends, and I shall come back and take a room"—he came back at a quarter to 1 a.m. and asked me for a room, which I gave him, and then he asked me if I could cash some more circular notes—I said "I have not sufficient money, but in the morning you may come to the cash office and they will take them from you"—I sent him to the luggage lift because the other was closed, but did not go up with him as I could not leave the office—they took him to his room—he showed me his letter of indication at the time; I told him it was a matter of business—I did not change any more notes for him personally, nor was I there when they were cashed—I have looked at the circular notes and find that they were cashed at the hotel—directly a note is cashed at our office the name of some one is put on it and it is sent to the cashier of the Magasin do Louvre—we send all the English notes we receive to him, and here is his signature—this is the receipt from the Hotel du Louvre—I never saw Cherwood at the time Watson was there; he came alone.
Cross-examined. The cashier of the Magazin du Louvre only receives notes which we get—he does not take credit notes from the persons because he does not know them and we do—I cashed this note for a man coming to the hotel for the first time because I thought the manager knew him—the Magazin do Louvre would not do the same because it is a rule not to do so—I was then clerk on night duty—I cashed notes for 20l., but cannot say whether it was two notes of 10l. each; it may have been—as he had taken a room at the hotel I cashed them without his showing me the letter of indication, but when I gave him his room I asked him to show it to me, and he did so—these two notes bear the stamp of my office and the name of the cashier, Testie, but I cannot say that they are the two which I cashed—I never saw him again after he went up to bed.
Re-examined. The Alliance circular notes are countersigned in the same way—they represent 60l. and 40l.—the entire loss of the hotel is 80l.—I
was not a clerk in the cashier's office then, but I was a clerk in the establishment—the whole of these notes bear the name of the cashier, and I can also prove it by the account.
MR. BESLEY submitted that there was no evidence of any forgery by the prisoner in this country; the circumstance of the name being altered to Austin resting only on the uncorroborated evidence of the accomplice. (See Reg. v. Carr, Sessions Paper, vol. lxxxvii. p. 46, and Reg. v. Thornley, Sessions Paper, vol. lxxx. p. 501.) MR. POLAND submitted that the evidence was for the consideration of the Jury, and the COURT so ruled.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 22rd, and Saturday, October 23rd, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. RIBTON and FULTON Prosecuted; MESSES BESLEY and GRAIN
RICHARD JONES . I live at 7, Monmouth Road, Westbourne Grove—I am at present a billiard marker in the employment of Mr. Copping—acting under his directions I purchased these copies of the Bayswater Chronicle at Waters's, the publishers, in Westbourne Grove, on 15th March, 5th April, 17th, 24th, and 31st May, 1879, 24th January and 3rd April, 1880.
Cross-examined. I have been employed by Mr. Copping as billiard marker two years—I bought one copy of Truth for Mr. Copping, the one with the article headed "Dissipated Bayswater"—I also bought two copies of the Bayswater Chronicle of 10th May, 1879, and 25th June, 1879—I never remained at the Monmouth Club all night—I used to go away on Sunday morning between 10 and 11—there was no billiard-playing going on then—it is untrue that there was billiard-playing on Sunday mornings up to the time of people going to church; I swear that; I never saw it—I had no duties on Sunday morning—I went to bed on Saturday nights at all times—I got up at 9 on Sunday morning—there was no billiard-playing or card-playing between 9 and 12—I first went there in October, 1878—lam in Mr. Copping's service now—I am 19 years of age.
By the COURT. The club was open as usual on Saturday night—the company generally left and the place closed between 1 and 2, very seldom later, sometimes it might have been; it might be 3 or 3.30, I don't remember its being later—it was my option as to going to bed or staying up; the governor told me to go to bed if I chose—the usual amusements were going on while it was open—sometimes the governor could not get them out; he used to have to turn the gas out; they would not go; that was about 3 in the morning.
DAVID JOHN COPPING . I reside at 7, Monmouth Road, and am now the proprietor of a licensed billiard-room there—up to the end of March this year it was carried on as a limited company, duly registered in pursuance of the Joint Stock Companies Acts—the club was formed in March, 1877—they were large premises—it was closed when I took it; it had never been opened; I believe it was built for a public-house—I was the manager of the institution during the time it continued a limited
company—I was the holder of 35 10l. shares, 30 in the first place and five afterwards, fully paid up—I furnished the money and laid it out for fitting up the club, for and on behalf of the company; the capital was not sufficient—I expended in the first instance 700l. or 800l., altogether over 1,000l., as the thing went on and the requirements became more—my attention was called to an article in the Bayswater Chronicle of 15th March, 1879, commencing, "But there are one or two so-called clubs in Bayswater of the very worst kind;" it refers to my club—my attention was also called to further numbers of 5th April, 17th May, 24th May, and 31st May, 1879; also to 24th January and 3rd April, 1880—in my opinion those articles refer to me and to the management of the club. (These articles in general terms described the club as a gambling hell, where play was carried on to a late hour and also on Sundays, and that it was an institution most pernicious to the neighbourhood.) The club was closed on 31st March; the effect of these articles was such that members ceased to come—in the previous two years, up to 15th March, the club was going on favourably, and I believe it would ultimately have been a paying concern, but from March, 1879, new members became fewer and old members fell off—I attribute that to these articles, damaging myself and the place generally.
Cross-examined. I have known Mr. Rice some years, perhaps 10 or 12—he is clerk to Mr. Johnson the solicitor—he witnessed the signatures when the club was started—before going into this speculation I did not inquire whether a licence had been refused; I did not consult Mr. Johnson then, I did Mr. Rice; I had heard that a licence had been refused, but I did not know anything of the facts—I have sometimes been in the habit of attending races and betting; that was not my occupation up to the formation of this company—I never made a book at that time—I had money; I had previously been in business, but I had no occupation at that time; I lived private—the persons forming the company were myself; my brother Albert Copping, who had 10 shares; Richard Cutler, of Barnes, a gentleman, one share; Henry Batten, a gentleman living privately, two shares; William Ellison, gentleman, 42, Park Road, one share; George Henry Bacchus, one share; and Charles Barnett, 41, High Street, one share—that was all the company; seven, holding 51 shares—there were never any more—there was no banking account, not collectively; I had one—I kept a receipt and counterfoil book—there were subscribers as distinguished from shareholders—this is one of the books; this is only this year's; there was another which was filled up—I don't know what has become of that; the place was closed, and it was mislaid—this is the only one I have—I did not take any dividend on my 350l.—I did not pay any dividend—the original subscription was intended to be a guinea—I afterwards reduced it to 10s. 6d. on 7th March, 1878—it was not brought down to 5s. for the purpose of getting Whitley's shop boys in—the article of 15th March is not distinctly personal to myself, nor that of 5th April—ecarte was played at the club; bets were made on the players—I have seen gold on the table—I could not say that I have seen notes—play has been carried on all night, a few times—there was a fine for late hours—I have not gone round with a plate called "Kitty" at 2 o'clock in the morning requesting contributions, more from winners than losers—I have said "Gentlemen, the time is getting late, you will have to pay the fine for late hours," with a view of inducing them to go—they went on playing after paying the
fine—drinks were sold—I don't know that the plate was called "Kitty"—I did not call it so—I have heard them say "Here comes Kitty"—after that contribution I served drinks, and charged for them; very little champagne, beer and claret; not much grog, principally beer—the profits from the drinks were applied to the purposes of the club generally, rent and other purposes—my salary as secretary and manager was 150l. a year—I took that out of the takings; I had to live, with my wife and six children—my wife assisted me in the business—I make no complaint of the article on 10th May; it is untrue in a great measure; I don't mean totally untrue—there was billiard playing on Sundays for a few weeks; I could not say up to what hour—when they came in on Saturday night they did not stop the game as they would do now the place is licensed; they would beg to go on playing—I don't think they would play up to 11 o'clock on Sundays; we did not open till between 11 and 3 o'clock—ecarte and Nap was not played on Sunday nights—I strictly forbade it; I believe it was done on one or two occasions upstairs, not with my sanction—I don't know whether they played for money—I believe Nap was played for money—there were two billiard matches, and I believe the stakes were 25l.; it was between a gentleman belonging to the club and a member of another club; that was the only time I knew; it was a set match, quite a sensational affair—we had a rule that no game of chance was to be allowed—the directors were the committee of management—there was no screen put up to prevent people looking in—the windows were high, and the shutters shut on Sundays; I believe the entire article of the 17th May is copied from Truth, and also that of the 24th—I had no money to proceed against Truth, or else I very likely should have done the same as I have in this case; I took counsel with my friends, and they said "Let it be, it will only be a nine days' wonder; it won't injure you in any way," and that was how we allowed it to go on; no doubt Mr. Labouchere could pay any damages; ho is a very rich man, they tell me—the paragraph headed "Dissipated Bayswater" on 31st May is a very unfair thing; they have cut out all the favourable parts and put in the worst—I never gave any champagne to any sergeant of police—the police were never supplied with drinks gratis, either by me or to my knowledge—the account of the fracas is false; a dispute did occur, but nothing was said about cheating—it is true that on 21st May, 1879, at 4.20 a.m., Herman Qpponheim and Frederick Milray were charged with stealing a 5l. note from the person of Richard Hutchinson at the club; but the man was not turned upside down, it was merely a dispute at the curd table; they were all three members of the club—I did not give Hutchinson 10l. or 5l. to settle it, nor any money, or know of it being given him; the man was drunk, they were all more or less the worse for drink, they had been in town, and I begged the people not to play with him; he was a quarrelsome man—I took no stops to prevent the charge being heard before the Magistrate—I did not stop one of Mr. White ley's young man as he was going to the Court to give evidence, and tell him that I had given Hutchinson 5l. to stop the row, it is untrue—I never said that it was worth my while to give the money, as it would probably avoid having the club shut up—I don't know that Oppenheim did or did not give bills for card losses in the club, I have made one or two bets and sometimes played at ecarte and billiards with the members if no one else was there to play with them—I did not allow friends of members to order drink, prior to the first of these articles, we were very
particular in that matter, there is a rule referring to it; there was a notice up from the commencement that members only were to pay—no apprentices of Mr. Whiteley's came to the club that I know of; salesmen, about 30 I should think—5s. was not taken from them for membership, I gave them a receipt when they paid their subscription—I did not know any one coming to the club who had the name of Barnacle, there was a man named Shelstone who was a member only for a few days, who committed suicide, he never lost 30l. or 24l. or 24s.—that is one of the libels we hare omitted to charge, there are several that we have omitted—I have had several disputes with a man named Barker; he is not a betting man, he kept a mantle warehouse—I did not employ Mr. Rice to settle with him—there was an account between us, a balance was struck, and I paid him 18l. in full of all demands—I said at the police-court, "My complaint is that the articles reflect on the committee of management, not on myself personally," that was to some of the articles, but I think that was qualified—I never spoke to Mr. Walker but once, on a matter of business, with reference to an advertisement about the opening of the club—since this case has been sent for trial, and since the plea of justification, I may have said, "Bother the case, I wish I had never taken it on," on account of the worry and bother and anxiety—I said, "It is out of my hands, I am not finding the money for it"—since the committal the club has been fined 5l. by the Magistrate, and there was nothing to pay the 5l. with; I do not think it has been paid to this day—I was fined 9l. last Saturday, as manager and director; I have not paid it—I have no money, through these articles ruining me; I had a good balance since 1877, but now I am out of means—I do not sue Mr. Labouchere, I wish I had money to have a go at him.
Re-examined. The proceedings of last Saturday had nothing to do with these libels, it was for not sending a return to Somerset House, it was a vindictive summons—I never was a bookmaker—the promoters of the club were respectable men, some of them are here—we had regular printed rules, and as far as I could I took every means to enforce their fulfilment—the first subscription was a guinea; 107 members were elected under that subscription, a great many more were elected, but 107 paid their entrance fee and were elected, being regularly proposed and seconded by members, and I was satisfied of their respectability; they were tradesmen and people living in the neighbourhood—they used to come in at 11 or 12 in the morning to read the papers, and had whist parties in the evening, commencing about 6 or 7 o'clock, and a lot came in for social conversation, they had refreshments and smoked their cigars—about half the article in Truth headed "Dissipated Bays water" is omitted in the Bayswater Chronicle—I should think Truth circulates very little in Bayswater; the Bayswater Chronicle is much more extensively circulated in the immediate locality—there is not one word of truth in the insinuation that I have bribed a police sergeant or given him champagne, or done anything to induce him to give false testimony—the sergeant came to the club on one occasion shortly after it was opened, to see how it was conducted—I have never given any of the police champagne or any other refreshment as a bribe, that I swear—they could always have admission when they pleased, to see how the place was conducted, and they did come after wards in consequence of these libels and anonymous letters being circulated—I never heard of any complaint against me by the police—I believe
Oppenheim has gone abroad, I don't know where Hutchinson is; there is no truth in saying that I gave 5l. to him—I believe Shelton committed suicide from something connected with a lady—I said before the Magistrate, "The whole of the articles refer to the club, and were calculated to, and did injure me in my business as manager of the club," that is true—there were some members of the Jewish persuasion, and some foreigners; they desired to play billiards on Sunday, that was how it originated; it continued for about six weeks and was then put a stop to—the usual hour for closing was about 1 o'clock, or between 1 and 2 o'clock, not particular, sometimes I could not get them out—I have never seen as much as 50l. on the table, I never heard of it—no one has ever complained to me of losing a large sum of money or of cheating.
By MR. BESLEY. No police-officer has ever complained to me of gambling at the club—Inspector Morgan did not call on me and say that parents in the neighbourhood were complaining of their sons' attending the club, and that the club was becoming a perfect nuisance to the neighbours—there were no complaints by the neighbours—I told Morgan I would make him a free member, to come in when he liked; he said he was much obliged and would perhaps look in.
By MR. RIBTON. I can't fix the date when Morgan called, it was about 1 o'clock in the day—he said he had been instructed to come and See me relative to some anonymous letters that had been sent to the station—I believe he is here.
By the COURT. The largest number of members we ever had was in March, 1878, 189—some of those were tradespeople, the owners of shops in the neighbourhood—there were very few shopmen; the 30 from "Whiteley's were nearly all—there were very few members under 24 or 25, perhaps about one-third of the whole were young men; I should not have taken any member if I had thought he was under age—the police had no right to come in, only by ringing the bell; I was entitled to exclude them unless they came with proper authority to search, but I thought it more fair and open to offer them admission, to guard against any abuse that might exist—the 30 from Whiteley's were buyers and men of good position in the counting-house.
JOSEPH JOHN SWINBORN . I reside at 81, Westbourne Grove, and am assistant to Mr. Waters, the nominal publisher of the Bayswater Chronicle—I know the handwriting of Mr. Walker, the proprietor of that journal—to the best of my belief this letter is in his handwriting. (Read:" Bayswater Chronicle, November 26th. Sir,—As the proprietor and writer of this journal, in reply to yours of the 25th instant, I must at once and emphatically deny that the paragraph of which Mr. Copping complains unmistakably points to the Monmouth Club. I could not, therefore, expose the writer to what I deem unfair risk, and shall have to refer to my solicitor.—Yours, Henry Walker." Addressed to Thomas Johnson, Esq.)
Cross-examined. Mr. Waters is also indicted for this same matter—I was at the police-court on two occasions—Mr. Waters has nothing to do with the literary part of the matter—I have known Mr. Walker six years; he is highly esteemed in the neighbourhood, his character is unimpeachable—I never went to this club—there were rumours in the locality about the gambling and other irregularities of the club generally—I read the articles on the club in Truth—I have passed the club and
seen the persons who were going in and out; my impression was that they were tradesmen and all sorts and all ages—I know that tradesmen were members—I can't say that I made any systematic observation; it was only occasionally of an evening that I might have passed.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HERBERT WINGROVE . I am at present in Pentonville undergoing a sentence of five years' penal servitude, in reference to Mr. Whiteley, my master—I am 25 years of age—I first knew anything of the Monmouth Club at the latter end of 1877; I was then 23—I was an assistant at Mr. Whiteley's, behind the counter—I was introduced to the club by a man named Ingram—he was employed at Whiteley's; he gave evidence against me on my trial—I heard Ingram invite others at Whiteley's to join the club; on every occasion he tried to get members, but on one particular occasion I think 20 or 25 members joined in one night—some were younger than myself, some older; that was not in 1877—Ingraim canvassed for members—I did not pay any thing—I began to go there at the end of 1877; I became a member in 1878—before I was a member I did not pay for drinks; I went with Ingram generally, and he paid for them—when I became a member Ingram gave me a ticket—the entrance fee was supposed to be 10s. or 10s. 6d.; that was not paid for me—from the time I became a member I was there nearly every night till I was taken into custody last May—sometimes I got there at 7, sometimes at 8; as a rule I generally got there about 8 or 9 o'clock—I slept on the premises at Mr. Whiteley's part of the time—we were required to be in at 11 o'clock, except on one night in the week, at 12 o'clock—I could have leave of absence on Sundays if I wished—I have stayed at the club sometimes till 12 or 2 o'clock, and up to 8 or 9 o'clock in the morning—my employers would not know but I had been sleeping on the premises—I have seen games of chance played; ecarte and Nap were the principal games, sometimes whist—I have seen money change hands—ecarte is played by two persons, others standing round and betting; that was the way it was carried on—the bets were nearly always put on the table, not in every instance—I have seen 25l. on the table two or three times—I don't know in what position the parties were who were betting; I thought they were members of the club; I only knew them by seeing them there—some of them were Whiteley's men; not the actual players—they were young men—I had to be in business at 8 o'clock in the morning when I slept in the house, and at 8.30 when I slept out—I have many times gone without a night's rest, spending it at this club—the proceedings I have described have been going on all night—I have been present when billiards were played—I never saw any money staked on the billiards, and very seldom any betting—I have never seen money staked on horse-racing—betting used to take place on races—I remember the fracas on 21st May, 1879—Hutchinson was about 35; I only knew him by seeing him there—Milray was about my age; Oppenheim was about 23 or 24—Hutchinson was sober that night; he was rather excited; he had drink there—he won the whole time he played till the row commenced; he went on till he won about 26l.; they finished by staking 5l. at a time; they played at ecarte—he played with different persons—Oppenheim was the last—he won what money Oppenheim had, and to have his revenge Oppenheim played him again with borrowed money, and won all Hutchinson's money until it came to the last 5l. note—Oppenheim
won that, and Hutchinson said Oppenheim had played a wrong card—they played again, with the same result—there was a bit of a row, and Hutchinson lost the 5l. note—Milray held him, and some one took the 5l. note out of his pocket—Copping was present; that was about 4 or half-past in the morning—he served drinks and took moneys—Hutchinson stood drinks round when he won—Davenport, Chraplin, Wilhelm, Jacobs, and Forsyth were present—they had what they liked to drink; I think there were one or two bottles of champagne—Hutchinson went out and returned with two constables, and gave Oppenheim into custody, and Milray was charged at the station—several of us went to the station—the two men were locked up—we were to go before the Magistrate at 10.30—as I was going I met Copping coming back, and he said the case had not come off; Hutchinson withdrew it and apologised, and he said he was obliged to square it with Hutchinson because it would not do to allow such a thing to appear in the papers after certain articles had appeared in some of the papers—he said he had given him 5l. to square it—I said "In that case you ought to see Jacobs, as they all had the 5l., and they ought at least to give half;" he said "They would not give me a penny, they are Jews"—I have seen Oppenheim lose perhaps 6l. there—he told me he gave a bill—Davenport was a very good billiard player; I don't know what he was; he was always there—I think I nave seen his brother there once—I have seen Kennedy there several times; he was a regular frequenter till he left Bays water, and got a situation at the West-end; he was about 22—I have seen him backing, but never saw him playing—I did not know of any company—I have seen persons who were not members paying for drinks—I nave taken in friends who were not members, and they have paid for drinks—I remember the Forsyths there; one was about 26, and the other about 32—I don't know what they were—the elder one was there always; he used to be sponging, as we called it, on anybody; I have lent him money he never seemed to have any himself—we used to call them the Bayswater Captains—I remember a man who went by the name of Barnacles—I have seen him there a great number of times, principally in 1879, perhaps for two or three months—he was not employed at Whiteley's, to my knowledge—the night he committed suicide he was at the club playing ecarte; I understood that he lost—I have seen Kitty go round about half-past 1; Mr. Copping, as a rule, passed it round, and you put in your shilling or sixpence, it all depended upon whether you had been winning or not; if he got enough by the collection the game would go on, and the betting and drinking too—I have been there on Sundays; I think the latest time I have stayed there on Sunday would be about 3 o'clock in the morning—I have left persons there then, card-playing, betting, and drinking—I have been there about half-past 11 on Sunday morning, just to have a liquor and come out again—I have played billiards—the 30 from Whiteley's paid 5s. subscription, that was termed "Whiteley's price" on that particular night; the majority of those were young fellows like myself—as far as I know, there was no precaution taken to exclude strangers—a man named Cox frequented the club, he was a cashier at Whiteley's; I don't know where he is now, I have heard that he is abroad—Dauncey was another from Whiteley's; he left, I don't know where he went—Mayhew was at Whiteley's; he did not pay for his ticket; I don't know what has become of him; a man named Campbell
was always there; I believe he had a little money; he lost it all—alter Oppenheim and Milray were taken into custody the number of persons frequenting the club fell off very much—I knew two young men there named Fuller and Hatton; I think they were medical students—I have seen them win and lose money—I knew Forteseue, Littlewood, and Wilson, they were at Whiteley's; they Were convicted at the same time I was—I did not know Snooks; I hare heard the name—I knew Jacobus—I might know Marsden by sight, not by name.
Cross-examined. Before I went to Whiteley's I was with Goode and Gainsford in the Borough, nearly four years; then I went to Whiteley's in February, 1875—I did not join this club till 1877—I had 100l. a year in salary and premiums, with board and lodging—before I joined the club I used to spend my evenings principally in the neighbourhood of Bayswater—I used to go into public-houses with friends, but never spent the whole evening there—I very seldom went to music-halls—I did very little betting, not the first part of the time. I was at Whiteley's; I think at the Derby of 1877 was the first time, that was 5s.; I lost it—I know George Harrow, a bookmaker; I betted with him to the extent of a sovereign in 1878—after I joined club I made several bets at various places, not at the club, but meeting bookmakers at the club I became acquainted with others outside—perhaps I have lost 200l. by betting in the last three or font years: those bets were on horse races—I paid those bets by robbing my employer—I was charged with conspiring with others to do so—Ingram introduced me to the club; I could not say whether he paid for me—I have played ecarte there; I never saw the game before—I have lost between 4l. and 5l. in one night there; that was the most I have lost at one time; the most I ever won was 11l. one night; I did not play every night—I left Whiteley's in 1878—I had lost 10l. or 12l. on races before I joined the club—no one was present when I had the conversation with Copping about squaring Hutchinson with 5l.—I made that statement to a gentleman who came to see me; he told me I might be brought here as a witness—the payments to Kitty were not as a fine for late hours; Mr. Copping would say "Now, gentlemen, Kitty, the time is so and so, I am not going to stop up all night for you fellows playing"—there were several Jewish members, and foreigners—I could not say for how long the club was kept open on Sundays; it was much longer than five or six weeks; it was only shut while the public-houses were closed—I never heard that it was the Jews and foreigners who desired to have it open on Sundays for play, in that ease they mast all have been of the same persuasion—it was open for card-playing and billiards, if you chose to play, after 6 o'clock, up to the time I was arrested; I have played billiards on Sunday—I pleaded guilty to the charge of robbing Mr. Whiteley—I did not attribute it to having lost money on horse-racing, I attributed it to being led away, principally by Ingram; he was the first man that induced me to rob Mr. Whiteley; it was solely through him; he suggested it to me; he told me that he had got his money by robbing Mr. Whiteley—I said nothing about Ingram or the club at the time I was convicted—I did not say anything about betting on horse-racing; I said I was led away by bad company and late hours—I did not rob my master before I joined the club.
Re-examined. Mr. Rice was a member of the club—he was a regular attendant, one of the fixtures, a friend of Mr. Copping's—after I left
Whiteley's I lived at Kensington in a situation four months—I was out of a situation all the rest of the time, from April, 1878, till September, and again from January, 1879, till I was arrested—Winship was the name of one of the bookmakers, Bear was another, and there was another whose name I forget—he forgot to pay his losses, and did not turn up again—we used to have Press Association telegrams of the results of the principal races when the club was first established.
WILLIAM BURRINGTON . I am now a convict in chelmsford Prison—my time will be out on 23rd of next month, I shall then have had six month, for robbing Mr. Whiteley, my employer—I first knew of the Monmouth Club on the Derby Day, 1878—Ingram introduced me, I did not become a member—I am now 22 years of age—I saw ecarte and Nap played, and betting going; on—there were three tables, and betting round each—I have seen 20l. staked—I had 20l. a year salary at that time—I became a member of the club about March, 1879; the subscription was 5s.—I did not pay it, I had a ticket presented to me by Mr. Copping—he was generally there when ecarte was going on and drinking—the play was kept up all night—I have been there till 5 o'clock—I used to get back to Whiteley's through the housekeeper—I have seen billiards played at the club on Sundays, not card playing—I used to go in nearly every Sunday morning till 1 o'clock—I used to play billiards—I knew Samuels, a jeweller, a gentleman used to come with him; they used to bet, I think largely—I went to Sandown Park races with Ingram, in 1878 I think—I met Copping's brother there—I won some money there by betting with strangers—I knew Oppenheim, I have seen him win and lose—I knew Hatton, he used to bet on ecarte—I have seen Kitty brought round, sometimes by Mr. Copping, sometimes by the boy; I believe it was for the use of cards; any one contributed who chose—it was brought round two or three times, between midnight and 4 o'clock in the morning—he would simply bring the plate round and call "Kitty," both winners and losers paid, and then the play was allowed to go on, and the drinking and betting—bets were made there on horse-racing, I know that.
Cross-examined. I made bets with bookmakers that I met in the street, not to a very large extent, 5l. would be the outside—altogether my losses to bookmakers would be about 50l.—that was part of the cause of my robbing my employer—Harrow was one of the men; I first saw him at the club—I made one bet with him there, I used to see him in the morn—I ng by the Royal Oak—I know Mr. Harris, I think I have seen him at the club once or twice—I never saw him bet.
By the COURT. I went to Whiteley's in 1872, I was then 14—I was apprenticed—I left in January last of my own accord—I was articled for four years, I remained seven—I began to rob in 1879—I owed money for bets, and therefore stole the money—I was taken into custody at Cheltenham, where I had got a situation—I was tried with the others, five of us together.
CECIL FORTESCUE . I am a prisoner in Cold Bath Fields—I was convicted of conspiracy to cheat Mr. Whiteley, my master, and sentenced to 14 calendar months—I am allowed to come in my present dress today on request—I am 21 years old—I entered Mr. Whiteley's service in August, 1878 or 1879, and four or five months afterwards I went with a friend one evening to the Monmouth Club—up to that time I had never
been guilty of any dishonesty in my life—after that I went there twice a week with friends, but I was never a member—I should not like to give you the friends' names—I went there when a billiard handicap was going on—I saw card-playing and betting on the game, such as you might hear in an ordinary billiard-room—Mr. Copping has been to see me and asked me if I was going to give evidence, and if I was coming here on Friday—he asked me how often I had been—first of all Mr. Copping's solicitor, Mr. Rice, asked me if I knew that gentleman sitting at the head of the table, Mr. Copping, but I did not know him—this was at the House of Correction last Tuesday—having seen me here on Monday, they came to see me on Tuesday—I did not tell Mr. Greenfield that a man once offered to bet 30l.; I knew that a man had bet 10l., but it was at Mr. Whiteley's counting-house, not at the club—I may have mentioned ecarte—I think ecarte was being played one night when I went to the club—I believe I saw a man named Cox at the club—I don't think I bet on billiards—when Walters absconded from Mr. Whiteley's employment I said that I had heard what sort of a place the club was, and it ought to be shut up—Walters is undergoing a sentence of 12 months—I do not think I said that was a silver hell.
Cross-examined. I was at the club three or four times at the utmost—I saw billiards and cards and drinking and betting—I went to see a match between two men who were in Mr. Whiteley's counting-house—there were bets on each of them, as there would be in an ordinary billiard-room—I did not see a place there for writing letters—I am not a member of the club—I never played—I did not know who Mr. Greenfield was—I cannot recollect whether—the words "silver hell" were used; I do not know whether I used them, but if I did not Mr. Greenfield did not; I may have used them or I may not, because I heard a great deal of the club after I left—if. I did say so it was from what I heard; it was the common talk in Whiteley's counting-house.
By the COURT. I went into the service in 1879, and left in March, 1880—I was not taken in custody then—I began robbing my employers in March, a week before I left—I did not steal anything myself, but I conspired with the others—I was arrested in April—I got 15l. of the produce of the theft—I was in want of money, as I had a very small salary, 20l.—it had nothing to do with any losses in betting—I have never bet more than a few shillings in my life.
GEORGE WALTERS . I am an inmate of Cold Bath Fields Prison, on a conviction for robbing Mr. Whiteley—I was taken in custody on 18th February—my sentence is 12 months—Mr. Rice came to see me in Cold Bath Fields last Tuesday—I had previously given my statement to Mr. Greenfield—I first went to the Monmouth Club in March, 1879; Mr. Ingram introduced me—I believe I paid him 5s., I won't be positive—I frequented the club the last four months nightly every spare night, but previously only periodically—I saw the plate Kitty go round when the small hours came—I do not remember whether Copping brought it—what I have spoken to both parties is the truth—I played at Nap for money—ecarte was played there and there was betting on it—I have seen 5s. or 10s. at a time, staked on the ecarte table and played for—I Know Davenport; his brother came back from the Cape—I have only seen him there once or twice—I went home at all hours from 10 o'clock to 1 or 2 am,—I have never been there later than 2 o'clock—I have
never seen any great difference in the numbers there after the public-houses closed—I mentioned to Mr. Greenfield that it was a fascinating place to which young men would be tempted to go like other billiard-rooms—I saw betting there and card-playing—Cox was a frequenter; I cannot say whether he was a member or not; he was at Whiteley's—I have seen 15 or 20 persons from Whiteley's there—I do not know what the collection was made for, but it was 1d. or 2d. each—Mr. Rice did not know that—I do not recollect Mr. Copping coming round with Kitty, the boy came round with it at the termination of the game at all hours.
Cross-examined. I spent a very pleasant time there occasionally; I very rarely read the newspapers there—I have made bets on horseracing there with bookmakers, but I betted very little there—I went there the same as I should go to any billiard-room—I met people I knew there; we did not talk politics—before the club was opened I spent my evenings at public-houses and theatres—I found this more attractive than a public-house; anybody can go to a public-house, but nobody could go to the club without being introduced—I met with this misfortune before the club was shut up—my berth was worth 130l. a year, but the salary paid me by Mr. Whiteley was only 30l., the difference was made up by assistance—I did not spend all that on my own wants—stealing my master's money had nothing to do with my bets on horse racing or any bets at the club or elsewhere—many years ago I have betted at public-houses but not recently—I did not know Mr. Greenfield when he called upon me—the club always appeared well conducted and very quiet and orderly—I heard of the row with Hutchinson; I never received a blow there—I have heard Copping persuading men to leave as it was getting late, and have seen him put the lights out.
Re-examined. I could not get drink in a public-house after 12.30 or on Sundays—I have drunk at the club after 12.30—I know no public-house where they play at ecarte or bet on cards.
FREDERICK WILSON . I was convicted in April of robbing Mr. Whiteley—I was here on Monday and was seen by Rice and Mr. Copping on Tuesday—they came to know what my evidence would be; they did not suggest that they would call me—I first went to the Monmouth Club about the end of November, 1879—I entered Mr. Whiteley's service in February, 1879—I was introduced to the club by Ingram, but did not become a member—I have played at cards there, and have made 30s. in a night when I was lucky—I have not paid for drink; a supposed member has generally ordered it, to whom I handed the money, and it was taken by Copping or his wife—I have been there a dozen times or rather more—the refreshments were very dear, and the members got the best of it, I should say; I was never asked if I was a member—Ingram arranged the billiard handicap—I have seen betting going on over the billiards—I have seen ecarte played at by two and Napoleon by four—I cannot say that I have seen persons betting on the play, only the players themselves—I have stayed there till 3 a.m.—I absconded from Mr. Whiteley's service on 1st March; I had been at the club till then—I have seen the plate go round when it was getting late, but have not heard Copping say, "Now, gentlemen, it is late, I am not going to stay up"—when Kitty was over, the betting went on as before—I never paid any subscription.
Cross-examined. I was not a member; I always went in with some one
who said he was a member—I played at cards, hut nearer lost or won more than 30s.; I did lose a little—I was in the habit of betting on horseracing a little; I lost 40l. or 60l. at that, but that, had nothing to do with the Monmouth Club—my losses were from bad company and betting and late hours; that is what I attribute my stealing. Mr. Whiteley's money to—I pleaded guilty—he employs more than 300 men; a very small portion of them have honoured the Monmouth Club.
Re-examined. I was not able to sit drinking till 4 a.m. at any place except the Monmouth Club—I never heard betting on horse racing there.
By the COURT. The first time I was dishonest towards Mr. Whiteley was about August, 1879, not quite nine months before I absconded—I was convicted of embezzling 350l.—I was in great want of that money; I was in debt, principally for tailors' bills—I had not frequented public-houses before, only to get a glass of beer—my sentence is 12 months'—I have never been in trouble or guilty of dishonesty before—others were concerned in what I did, but they were not charged in the same indictment; I was not called as a witness against them, but I wrote a statement—the young men called to-day were all members of or visitors at the club—I went there about 9 o'clock, and when I stayed till 3 o'clock it cost me quite 2l. or 3l. for refreshments and playing at cards—I got into expensive habits in connection with women to some extent.
THOMAS LITTLEWOOD . I was here on Monday; I had previously made a statement to Mr. Greenfield, and on Tuesday Mr. Rice and Mr. Copping came to Coldbath Fields to see me—I was convicted in May of conspiring to rob Mr. Whiteley, and am undergoing a sentence of fourteen months—I am 25 years old—I cannot say who first took me to the Monmouth Club, but I first went there in October, 1879; I was not a member; I went there eight or nine times; the latest time I stayed there was 2 o'clock—I have been there on Sunday afternoons, but not billiard or card playing—when I stayed till 2 o'clock ecarte and Napoleon were played—I cannot say anything about the betting—drink was supplied and the money for it was usually paid to a boy—I have paid—I have seen the boy come round at the end of a game for a collection, I cannot say with a plate; I suppose it was for the use of the cards—I have not heard Mr. Copping say that he was not going to stay up out of his bed unless the Kitty was satisfactory—I know Reece and Blake; Reece was a cigarette manufacturer in King's Road, Brompton; the last I heard of him he was travelling for Vennings—I have no idea where Blake is; he was a mantle manufacturer in Westbourne Grove Terrace, but he has removed, I do not know where to; he had not a shop, only rooms—I have not seen betting at the club.
Cross-examined. I do not know that Reece and Blake are bookmakers or whether they bet on races—Rice and Copping visited me under an order from the Secretary of State (produced)—they did not suggest to me to say anything that was untrue.
REV. THOMAS JAMES ROWSELL , M.A. I am Vicar of St. Stephen's, Westbourne Park; I was Chaplain to Her Majesty, and on the resignation of Canon Lightfoot I received the appointment of Deputy Clerk of the Closet—I have paid attention to the facts given in evidence since
10.30 this morning—I did not know the details of the inner life at the Monmouth Club till to-day—I am well acquainted with the locality, and consider the club most prejudicial to the morality of the neighbourhood—I have read the Bayswater Chronicle and the extracts purporting to be from Truth, and have no reason to believe any of the comments in the Chronicle upon the place to be untrue—I have known Mr. Walker seven or eight years; his position as proprietor of the paper is well known to me—he is well esteemed in the neighbourhood, and regarded with great friendship by myself.
Cross-examined. He is an able writer—I consider. he has done what is right.
DR. JOHN H. GLADSTONE , F.R.C.P. I am a Doctor of Philosophy and F.R.S. Valerian Professor, at the Royal Institution, and a member of the School Board—I live at 17, Pembridge Square, Bayswater—I know Mr. Walker; he is a man of literary attainments and great culture—assuming that the articles in the Bayswater Chronicle, both original and copied from Truth, are true, the Monmouth Club was an institution decidedly unfavourable to the morality of the neighbourhood.
REV. JOHN CLIFFORD . I am pastor of Westbourne Park Chapel—Mr. Waters is a colleague of mine; I have known him eight years, and he enjoys the esteem of the neighbourhood in relation to the paper—when I saw the citation in the paper I appraised him much more for the courage he displayed—all respectable people in the neighbourbourhood will rejoice in the extinction of the club.
Cross-examined. I form my opinion from what I have read in the Chronicle and from what I have heard to-day, which I assume to be true.
By the COURT. A good many of the young men there belonged to my congregation.
RICHARD JONES (Police Inspector B.) On the morning of 21st May, 1879, I was on duty at Paddington Police-station when Oppenheim and Milray were brought in—Mr. Hutchinson charged them with robbing him of 5l.—I produce the charge-sheet—I have known Mr. Copping about 12 years; when I first knew him he lived as a private person in Notting Hill, and I knew him next at the club as the manager, but never in any other business.
Cross-examined. I have know the club since its formation, but hare never been inside it—I have met Mr. Copping, and spoken to him; he always appeared respectable to me—my attention was called to the club bg anonymous letters being sent to the station, but I did not see Mr. Copping in consequence of them, or tell him—I kept observation on the place, but saw nothing to justify my interference—I do not know a person who went by the name of Barnacles—I heard about him—he has committed suicide; there was a bill of sale, and something about a woman—I t was a love affair—a letter was read in Court, but I cannot give the contents from memory.
Re-examined. The place was not licensed, and I could not see in.
DANIEL MORGAN (Police Inspector.) I bolong to the Criminal Investigation Department, the head of which is Mr. Vincent, who gave me instructions to make inquiries about this club, as we had received three or four complaints, two or three of which I believe were anonymous, and in one a name and address was given—I had rather not mention the
name; I went to the place in consequence, and saw Mr. Copping; I told him who I was, and asked him if there was any truth in what was stated in the newspapers and the letters—he said that it was not true—I said that he had his remedy; I knew the police had not been bribed, and I should like to see a stop put to it; I had heard that gambling had been carried on there, and that they stopped there late at night, or rather till early in the morning, and it was said that some young men had been ruined through the club; he said that it was not true—I said that the police were in an awkward position, being a club we could not go in to see what was being done, but something must be done—he said that he would make me an honorary member, and I might visit the house when I thought fit—I said that I could not be a member, but I would visit the house, but if so he must make arrangements for me not to have to ring the bell, because if they had 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour's notice I might as well stop away—he said "The door is unfastened, you can walk in"—I went in two or three times; I went once at 1 or 1.30, I find on referring to my diary—I saw sometimes 8 or 10, and sometimes 15 or 20 persons playing at cards and ecarte, and I think thy played at Napoleon and whist and cribbage; I made a report.
Cross-examined. I cannot show you the report; I will read it if you wish me—I saw no cause of complaint against the club—I took Sergeant Smith with mo; we were both in plain clothes—I never rang the bell; I walked in; no one knew I was going there, not even the superintendent—I saw no coppers on the table—I saw several tradesmen there who I knew in the neighbourhood, two or three of whom are here now—I mean employers on their own account, not shopmen—they were not beardless youths, many were older than me, but some were younger; I called there twice at 1 or 1.30—I gave a general report summing up the results of my observation—I saw no one answering the description of loafers, billiard sharps, or shop boys—I never saw more than one person there who I objected to; he was a bookmaker or betting-man—I had the management of the prosecution against Mr. Whiteley's young men, and they never mentioned a word to me having a tendency to impute their defalcations to the Monmouth Club—I questioned them, and they told me they got into trouble through betting, bad company, and women—I saw no women at the club—the words "horse racing" were not used—I do not know whether betting meant on races or on billiards—they said that their bets were made in the neighbourhood of the Royal Oak public-house and Edgware Road; they did not mention any house in particular.
DAVID JOHNSON . I am in the employ of Mr. Waters, the other defendant—I knew the Monmouth Club from about two months after it was started—I became a member, and constantly saw Mr. Copping there—I knew Mr. Oppenheim—Jabloniski frequented the club, and I believe he was a member—I know Barker; he kept a mantle warehouse and made books; he frequented the club—I have heard Mr. Copping laying the odds on horse races at the club, and have seen bets taken in the club from Barker and Copping frequently during race times—once when I was in the club with Mr. Jabloniski I saw one of the police who I knew, in plain clothes—Mr. Copping was there at the time sitting beside him at a table—there was a bottle of champagne and glasses on the table—I was standing at the bar—Jabloniski made a remark to me about what was on the table—the member of the police went away—Mr.
Copping came to the bar, and Jabloniski said "What have you been giving that fellow champagne for?"—Copping said "A bottle of champagne is not thrown away on him," or words to that effect—I have seen constables ring the bell, and Mr. Copping has taken them beer out.
Cross-examined. I am a bookseller's manager, at Westbourne Grove—the Bayswater Chronicle is published at our place—the club did not do me any damage—I am rather astonished to hear that they have put me in as one of the persons. who have become quite demoralised by the club—the officer in plain clothes with whom the affair of the champagne occurred, if I am obliged to say, was Superintendent Eccles; that is the man (pointing to Eccles)—that is the only occasion I saw him there; he was there when I went—I knew him before by sight, and knew his name—I saw a man named Samuels there, but never saw him betting or playing; he smoked cigars and talked—I was once there till daylight—I don't think that demoralised me—that was merely an adjournment from a supper party with four more respectable tradesmen in the neighbourhood—we were not playing, merely sitting there drinking healths on the occasion of a birthday—Mr. Copping was there all the time; he said nothing to us about our late hours—only our party was there; the rest had all gone—I saw no play whatever that night—I cannot play—I should be very much astonished to hear that I won and lost on divers occasions 20l.—I have known Mr. Copping a considerable time as a respectable man—I don't think I have been to the club since January, 1879; not since the libels commenced—it was about six months after the club opened that I saw Eccles there; that was the only occasion—I did not speak to him—I saw some betting-cards—telegrams were usual every night.
MR. RIBTON submitted that some of the counts were not supported by the indictment, and that if any one plea was pleaded which was not supported by evidence in justification the defendant was entitled to a verdict upon the whole, and MR. FULTON contended that the only pleas upon which there was evidence were those upon which the convicts had been called, and not one of the persons named in the pleas as winning money had been called. (See Lambri v. Labouchere.) and further that it was decided in Reg. v. O'Connell that the Jury could not return a general verdict on all the counts MR. GRAIN contended that if 50 false pretences' were charged and one was proved that was enough, and stated that every plea could be proved by calling the persons named. The COURT considered that the case was identical with Lambri v. Labouchere, and that the Jury might return a general verdict as in that case.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY HARRIS . I am of the Jewish persuasion—I am a retired tradesman, and live opposite the Monmouth Club—I was a member of the club up to its closing; I generally went there in the evening, at 6 or 7 o'clock, and stayed till 11 o'clock—I found it well supplied with newspapers, and I met my friends there—I played at whist there sometimes for about an hour, but not more than half a dozen times, and for 1s. a game—my partners were respectable tradesmen in the neighbourhood—there are materials there for members to write letters, and I believe some members have letters addressed there; I am not a member of any other club—I have played at billiards there in the evening—I saw no cheating at cards or anything improper; I considered the persons who went there respectable—I was a member—in my opinion there were no persons
there who could be designated as blacklegs, swindlers, or presenters of forged cheques—I live opposite, and if there was any row I should hare heard it.
Cross-examined. The reading room is downstairs in the same room where ecarte is played with a group round—I paid 3d. but I have always been away before 11 o'clock—I know nothing of bookmakers or anything going on wrong.
By the COURT. Some of the visitors were young men of 25 or 26—I knew a small number of them; I knew some who were tradesmen in the neighbourhood.
HUGH ECCLES (Police Superintendent X). I have been 30 years in the police, and 16 years superintendent of the X Division—I have never drunk champagne with the prosecutor, nor was any ever offered to me—I only went to the club once, and that was officially to obtain a copy of the rules.
FRANCIS JABLONISKI . I am a furrier and a member of this club; I know Johnson—he never said to Copping in my presence, "What are you giving that fellow champagne for?" nor did Copping reply, "A bottle of champagne is not thrown away"—all I can say is that I do not remember it, it is so long ago—the club was respectably conducted so far as I know; I never saw Eccles before—I cannot swear that I ever saw Eccles and Copping together.
Cross-examined. I have been at the club from 8 o'clock to 5 a.m.—sympathising speeches went on from 1 to 5 o'clock—after we had had champagne we left the empty bottles on the table—I am positive I never saw Eccles drink champagne there.
D.J. COOPING (Re-examined). I know Johnson, I have heard what he has stated about champagne being given to Eccles, there is not the slightest; truth in it—on no occasion have I drunk with Eccles or he with me—I know Jabloniski; he never said to me, "What were you giving that fellow champagne for?"—I swear positively that I did not say to him, "That bottle of champagne is not thrown away"—I swear I have never given champagne to any constable—I heard the convicts examined yesterday; their general statement is altogether incorrect—I did not know them and they did not know me; one said that he had only been there once—it is not true that I refused them admittance after I found out who they were.
Cross-examined. I know Mr. Harris; he is living on his means—I will not swear that he does not lend money, I tried him and he did not refuse.
By MR. RIBTON. I heard Harris give his evidence yesterday—he was not asked whether he was a moneylender—he is a respectable gentleman, no man more so.
WILLIAM JOHNSON . I was a member of the club from its commencement, I used to go there three or four times a week—I have been there as late as 2 o'clock, but I generally left at 11 or 11.30—I used to play at whist for nominal stakes, 1s. a game—I met no one there answering the description of beardless youths or shop boys, or blacklegs or swindlers; I met my fellow-tradesmen—I did not see any particularly young men, some were 20 or 25; as far as I saw the club was carried on in a respectable way—I have never seen money played for to any extent—I have not been requested to go when I stayed late—I do not know of
persons losing 30l. or 40l.—I have no complaints to make of the clup.
Cross-examined. I am married and have a family—I should not object to my sons going there, but I do not know any place I should like them to go to after 1 a.m.—I have not seen bets made there on horse races, I have seen them bet on cards and billiards—I did not associate with the young men, that was not because they played too high for me—I know Mr. Barker, I have not heard him make bets—I do not know what has become of him, he has left his place of business—I read in the paper about Oppenheim's pocket being turned out, I still went on playing at whist with my fellow-tradesmen; I did not associate with Oppenheim—this is all one room, a reading-room with a bar at one end, and papers and smoking accommodation, the same as in a club—I saw no card playing on Sundays, but for a few weeks there was billiard playing—tissues were sent, the same as to every club in London.
Re-examined. The bets were for small amounts, a few shillings, I never saw a large amount betted—I should not object to any of my sons going to any club after 1 o'clock.
By the COURT. They live with me—I did not introduce them to the club—I heard no complaint of the club from the tradesmen, only the remarks in the papers.
RONALD RIVERS CAMPBELL . I am a private gentleman, of 5, Gloucester Terrace, Kensington—I joined the Monmouth Club in January, 1879, and visited it four or six times a week—I played at whist and billiards—I know most of the members; they are tradesmen in the neighbourhood—I played at whist with them—the stakes were 1s. a game—I left at all times; the latest was 2.30, or later occasionally when I had been out to parties—I never saw piles of gold on the table, or gambling for high stakes—I have often heard Mr. Copping ask the members to leave at 12 or 1 a.m., and after a great deal of persuasion they have left, but very often they have stopped in spite of what he said; we were all to blame, I think, by stopping—the club was well conducted, as far as I saw, most decidedly.
Cross-examined. I was a member of the Wanderers' Club and the Junior Athenseum, but left because I went abroad with my wife—I don't think I took my name off the books, as I thought of becoming a country member—I don't think it was taken off for me. but I am speaking of 10 years ago; I won't swear it was not—I was never turned out of any club—I was not posted for my subscription—I am nothing; I live on my means, and not upon my wife—I do not think I ever lost a penny at the Monmouth Club—I backed myself or anybody else at a game of cards—I never betted on horseracing—I have staked 1s. on the cards, but never 5l., not more than 2s. 6d. or 5s.—I think I saw Barker there, but not constantly—I have not heard him betting there, or Copping—I have never been in any profession—I never heard any complaints of the club.
FREDERICK ALBERT COPPING . I am the prosecutor's brother, and one of the original members of the club—I was there two or three, or four or five days a week—I left about 1 or 2 a.m. or later; I left when the other members left—I have not seen beardless youths there at those hours, nor young men of 20—I saw no gambling going on, nor any piles of gold on the tables—I do not think I have made any bets there—I continued a member till it closed—I heard of letters being written about it, and I
know that some of the publicans complained of customers being taken away from them—I was sometimes there on a Sunday—billiard-playing only went on on Sundays, for four or five weeks; it was discontinued at once; I objected to it myself—it was allowed in consequence of the attendance of some members of the Hebrew persuasion, whose Sabbath it was not—when it was complained of it was stopped—it only lasted one week; I only saw it once—I know Samuels very well; he is a jeweller—he did not make heavy bets; he used to read the papers and converse—some members had their letters addressed there—I do not know Mr. Walker; I was not aware before this that he was the editor, and I think the libels are entirely incorrect—I had not heard of the anonymous letters before I read the libels.
Cross-examined. I was not in Court when my brother swore that the billiard-playing on Sundays lasted four or five weeks—I only saw it once—we take in Truth, and I read the article.
HENRY LAMBERT . I am a bookseller, of Westbourne Grove, and a member of the Monmouth Club up to the time it closed—I joined it six months after it started—I went there three nights in succession, and then kept away for three months—I have stayed till 3 or 4 a.m., but that was an exceptional case—I never played a game there—I served the club with newspapers, but I read my paper at home—I have seen ecarte played in the club; 10l. is the highest sum I have seen on the table at one time, and that would be between 15 or 16 people—I have staked a few shillings in backing the game, or it may be as high as a sovereign—I never gambled for money—nearly all the persons there were members of the club; they were very respectable people, mostly tradesmen, persons aged 25 to 40—I have no reason to complain of the club—the young fellows who have been examined here would not come in until after they were turned out of the public-houses at 11 o'clock—I never saw any harm at the club, but these young fellows abused the place.
The JURY here interposed, stating that they had heard enough of this sort of evidence. MR. RIBTON insisted on calling other witnesses, but as they were in the habit of leaving the club early, the Jury stated that their evidence would not assist them.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 22nd, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
YARRANTON PLEADED GUILTY .
WILLIAM HUTT (City Detective). I received instructions from Sergeant Davis, and went with Detective Potts on 23rd September and watched Mr. Hill's counting-house, 47, Aldgate High Street—he has a stable almost opposite in Black Horse Yard used for washing bottles—Durell is
a packing-case maker, and has premises in Gunn Square, Houndsditch—I saw Yarranton, whose description I had received, leave the counting-house and cross to Black Horse Yard in his shirt-sleeves and a leather apron which reached from his chin to his knees; he remained at the stable a quarter of an hour, came out, went round Middlesex Street, and I followed him into Houndsditch, where Potts was waiting—he followed them and I remained there—Yarranton walked as if he had something in his pockets; he came out from Gun Square a few minutes afterwards, and in about a quarter of an hour Durell came out and looked up and down—next day I saw Yarranton leave the premises about 12 o'clock, go across to the stables, and remain about the same time; he left and I followed him to Houndsditch; he appeared from his walk to have some something in his pockets—I went into Gun Square and saw him go into Durell's office and put his hand in his trousers pocket, take something out, and hand it to Durell; he then moved farther into the office and remained about two minutes, and when he came out he put his hand into his left trousers pocket—I followed him to Houndsditch and made a communication to Davis—I then went to Durell's office, saw him, and said "I am a detective officer; you had a cellarman in here just now?"—he said "Yes"—I said "He brought you some spirits; where are they?"—he said "Yes, he brought me two pints of brandy"—I said "He was here yesterday; he brought you something yesterday; where is that?"—he said "He brought me a pint of brandy and a pint of whisky yesterday"—I said "Where is it?"—he unlocked a cupboard under his sofa and handed me the four bottles—Davis said "Durell, you will be charged with receiving spirits well knowing them to be stolen"—he said "No, I did not know they were stolen; the man told me they were his perquisites, and I paid him 3s. for the two bottles"—he was taken to the station, and I brought the other prisoner and they were charged—these are the bottles; the numbers have been put on them since.
Cross-examined. It was about 12.20 when he went into Durell's on the 24th—only these four bottles were in the cupboard; he took them out and locked it again—I searched his private house in Mile End Road about an hour afterwards; I only found two small bottles of this kind—I did not look at his file to see if there were any receipts for brandy, wine, or whisky—it was not I who searched the house in Gun Square—this (produced) is a fair plan of the premises—the counting-house is just inside the door, not upstairs; it is so close that it did not require any great effort of my eyes to see what was going on.
WILLIAM POTTS (City Detective). On 22nd September I was watching in Houndsditch—Yarranton had been described to me, and I went into Gun Square and saw him go into Durell's premises; he stayed there two or three minutes; I did not see him come out; I missed him as I was looking after Hutt—on the 23rd I was again watching in Houndsditch at a little past 12 and saw Yarranton; I followed him, got behind a cart, and saw him go into Durell's; he went up the workshop out of my view, but in two minutes he came back with Durell, who carried something into the counting-house which he put on his desk—Yarranton then came out into the square putting something into his trousers pocket—I watched again on the 24th, about 12.20, and saw Yarranton come along Gravel Lane and turn into Gun Square; I
did not see him go into Durell's, but I saw him come out and go to Gravel Lane, where Davis spoke to him and we took him.
Cross-examined. As you go in the counting-house is on the right, near the door—Yarranton came forward from the warehouse into the office.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective). On 10th September the prosecutor came to the office and made a statement to me, and on 24th December, at noon, I went to Houndsditch, and saw Yarranton coming down Gravel Lane; I saw he was bulky in front of his apron—he went to Durell's premises; when he came out the bulky appearance had gone—I followed him to Aldgate, arrested him, and he made a statement—I afterwards went with Hutt to Durell's place and said "You know me, Durell; you have had a cellarman of Hill's here to-day, and he says he brought you spirits"—he said "Yes, here are two bottles"—that was the brandy—I said "He also brought you some yesterday"—he said "Yes," and took them out—Hutt took them, and I said "I shall take you in custody and charge you with receiving these well knowing them to be stolen"—he said "No, I did not know they were stolen, he told me they were his perquisites"—I said "What did you give for them?"—he said "3s."—I said "I am surprised at a man in your position doing a thing like that"—he said "Don't look me up, for the sate of my wife and family"—I took him to the station and they were both charged together—when they were in the dock I said "Yarranton, Mr. Durell says he gave you 3s. for the two bottles of spirits;" Yarranton said "No you did not, you only gave me a two shilling piece; "Durell said "No, I gave you a two shilling piece and a shilling for the two bottles"—Yarranton also said "Durell, you know it is nine months ago since you advised me to rob my master, and you know well that if it was not for you I should not be in this trouble"—Durell made no reply—Yarranton said "When I get before the Magistrate I will tell him all about it"—Durell said "You remember my bringing a bottle of rum to your place"—Yarranton said "Yes, I do, and that was the time you suggested that I should rob my master"—I think Durell said "No it was not."
Cross-examined. I think Durell said that he did know they were stolen.
CHRISTOPHER HILL . I am a wine and spirit merchant of 47, Aldgate High Street, and have premises at Black Horse Yard—Yarranton was in my employ as porter and bottle washer—I did not know Durell—Yarranton had no right to take spirits from my premises—these bottles are not perquisites; they are worth 12s., and the-two which Durell gave 3s., for are worth 6s. 6d. retail without the bottles—Yarranton was taken On 24th September and brought to my premises; he said something to the, in consequence of which I tested the brandy in the cask with that in the bottles, and they were almost identical.
Cross-examined. It is good brandy, of which a very considerable quantity is imported into London—I had done nothing to give it a special flavour—the wholesale price would be less, and if sold in bond it is cheaper—the first sample taken does not pay duty, the others do—I cannot swear to the brandy or the bottles, but it is identical in strength.
HENRY WILLIAMSON . I am a packing-case maker, of Bermondsey—I went into Durell's employ about June, 1879, and was with him about three months—I then left him for a short time and went back again—Yarranton used to come there two or three times a week and bring bottles of stuff which. I gave to Mr. Durell—that continued during the whole
time I was in the employment—he had a lone coat and took them from his coat pocket at times, and from under a leather apron—I subsequently gave some information.
Cross-examined. This was about six weeks ago—this went on about the last seven months I was in the employment—I saw it goon from nine months ago—I was absent from 19th May till October, 1879—I was with them from October till about ten weeks ago, with the exception of nine days—Yarranton came into the office with the bottles, no one was there at the time but Durell—I was at the bench, there was a door which is blooked up now, but anybody can see into the office—I could see if I was looking, there was nothing to prevent my seeing—a man named Canap also saw it, he called my attention to it first—I could see that they were not bottles of ink—I did not leave Durell willingly, we had a few words—he did not discharge me the last time, he did the first time, through slackness of business, but he sent for me back twice—it was two minutes past two after dinner, and he said that would not do for him—he did not tell me that he did not like my ways, and I must leave—when I came back at 2.2, with a man named Bright, he said "You will have to look for another job"—I said "You can suit yourself, I will go now," and he told the man to put my tools out into the street—he had not several times censured me for being intemperate—Bright was not turned away—I pot employment afterwards for five weeks—the prosecutor has not supplied me with means and clothes—I have been in six employments since I was apprenticed—I did not break my apprenticeship—I was up at the Mansion House on a complaint of my master, Mr. Jenkins—I did not serve my time out—I suppose he dismissed me on account of my behaviour, I was rather saucy—I was at the refuse for boys at Commercial Street,. Whitechapel, about two months—my rather sent me there because I would not go to school.
Re-examined. My master found fault with me for impertinence, that is all that was against me—the Magistrate dismissed the charge.
CHARLES YARRANTON (The Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to stealing these four bottles of spirits—I am going on for 22—I was in Mr. Hill's employ 16 or 17 months—I became acquainted with Durell about nine months ago, he nodded tome in Black Horse Yard, and I nodded back to him—I saw him next day in Mr. Hill's shop, and a few minutes afterwards I went across to fetch some bottles, and he followed me to the corner of Black Horse Yard and said "Can't you get me anything?"—I said "I don't know what you mean"—he said "Can't you bring anything round to my place?"—I said "I don't know what you mean"—he said "Brandy, or whisky, or anything you can get; you know my place"—I said "No"—he said "You know Gun Square?"—I said "Yes"—he said "You will see my name over the door, 'Durell, packing-case maker'"—I said "Very well, I will come round," and I went round the next day and took him half a pint of brandy, which he gave me 6d. for, and next day a pint, to the best of my recollection, of spirits drawn from two or three casks—I went about twice a week; sometimes I took one bottle, and sometimes two, but when I took two or three pints he said "Can't you bring me larger bottles?"—I said "No, I don't think I can, as they are in bins, and they will be missed"—I drawed the stuff from the casks in the cellar—he said "No, I don't think it will, because they don't book them, do they?" meaning what would be
sold over the counter—I said "No, they don't" and I took him a winebottle of sherry next day from the bin—I continued that for about three weeks, and then left off—I then met him, and he said "How is it you have not brought me anything round?"—I said "I have not been able to, I have been out with the horse and van"—he said "Well, come round to-morrow or the next day and bring what you can, anything, it don't matter what it is"—I took him a bottle of sherry, and continued then for about three months, and then I left off for about 10 weeks—I then met him and he asked me to go and have something to drink, and we went to a public-house in Petticoat Lane, and as we left he said "Why have not you brought me anything round?"—I said "I don't think I can any more, as I think the governor has been watching the bins"—he said "No, I don't think he has, I don't think he is a man of that sort to watch anybody"—next day I took him a bottle of whisky and a bottle of sherry, for which he gave me 1s. 6d. each, and for the next fortnight I kept taking him all sorts of wine and spirits, about three a week, and then left off—on 21st September I met him in Black Horse Yard, and he asked why I had not brought him anything round—I said "I have not been able to"—he said "Can you get me a bottle of tent and a bottle of brandy, because I have the diarrhoea?"—I said "I don't think I can;" but I took them on the 22nd, and on the 23rd a pint of whisky and a pint of brandy, and on the 24th two pints of brandy, for which he paid me 1s. a pint.
Cross-examined. The first interval when I left it off was about 10 weeks, that was seven or eight months ago; after that I continued supplying him for three months, and then I gave it up for about 10 weeks to the best of my recollection—I think I once took some to his private house—I was not in the habit of taking spirits to any other person—I left my employment at 9 o'clock two weeks, and at 8 o'clock one week—I can't fix any time when I was at his house; I live at 61, Tothil Street, Old Ford—I forget my landlord's name—I never took him anything or gave him anything, nor has any one in my presence—he had nothing from Mr. Hill's with my knowledge—Durell's son has seen me there, and he has taken the stuff of me which I have left; he saw me plenty of times—I cannot fix the time, because it has been so often—I won't be sure, but I believe the son was there when I left the brandy and tent—I once saw Durell between Houndsditch and Aldgate pump when I was going to the West India Docks—he was alone, and I was alone; he took good care no one should be with him—I went alone with him to a public-house at the corner of the fourth turning on the left; I don't know the name of the house—we had never spoken, when he opened the conversation by saying "Can you get me anything?"—the police wrote to me, I think, last Thursday week, but I had made up my mind ever so long to tell this story—I won't swear whether I made my statement to the police before or after I was committed for trial, because I saw them both before and after—I was in Newgate when Mr. Hutt wrote out my statement—I made one statement about a week after the other—I have never seen either of those statements since—these are them (produced)—I made no copy—I may have thought over my conversation with Durell once or twice—I never said to him that I had a good master, and how could he suggest to me to rob him—it never occurred to me—I was 15 or 18 months in my master's employ—my wages were 22s. a week; I am single.
MR. SEYMOUR submitted that there was no proof of the identity of the property, except the uncorroborated evidence of the accomplice, Mr. Hill only stating that he had similar bottles and similar brandy. MR. WILLIAMS contended that the accomplice was corroborated in every particular and that Durell had admitted purchasing the goods of him. The COURT left the case to the Jury.
DURELL received a good character— GUILTY Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— . Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. YARRANTON (who was recom-mended to mercy by the prosecutor).— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
585. JOHN DAVIS (44) and HENRY JAMES (28) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Charles Norman, and stealing a bracelet and other goods to the value of 14l. 10s.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
Charles Pearce was awarded 2l., and Ann Elizabeth Wills 1l. for their conduct in the matter.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
587. WILLIAM CAWTE, Feloniously setting fire to certain paper and gunpowder in the dwelling-house of John Hunter Rankin, he and other persons being therein. Second Count, feloniously setting fire to certain matters and things in the said dwelling-house, under such circumstances that if the house had been Bet fire to he would have beet guilty of felony.
MESSRS. FILLAN and VENNELL Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
FANNY WOODYARD . I reside with my husband at Addlestone, Surrey—on the evening of 22nd September, about 10 minutes to 9 o'clock, I left my house to go to the Holly Tree public-house, which is a few yards from my house—as I approached the front entrance of the Holly Tree I observed a man came from the front door of the Holly Tree and go round to the tap-room door at the side of the house, which leads out into the road, the same as the front door—I recognise the prisoner as the man—I did not know his name, only as "The bargeman," which my husband called him; I had seen him several times pass my house of a morning—when he was at the tap-room door he stooped down and put a light to something, what it was I could not say; he put it inside the door—I was in the street, four or five yards away from him; he was not inside the door, he was outside the door—he put the something inside; he opened the door and put the light in, down below; he stooped down to put it in; he then closed the door and walked away towards the front railing—then something went up and the room was full of smoke; it went "puff, and a few sparks and smoke; I did not observe any noise—Mrs. Aplin
was with me—we turned our backs to go round to the tap-room door again, and the prisoner went into the bar through the front door—he came through the bar into the tap-room just as Mr. Rankin came in, when the place was full of smoke—when I first saw the prisoner I made a communication to Mrs. Aplin; we went round from the front to the tap-room to see what it was, and found the room full of smoke—the prisoner and Rankin and several others came in—I did not observe any smell—I did not observe the prisoner speaking, or any one else; I was outside the door—I saw him again, two or three hours afterwards, when the policeman brought him to us.
Cross-examined. I was not going to the public-house, I was going to see if my husband was there; he was not there—he is a carpenter—I do not know a man named Bolton a carpenter. (Bolton was here called in.) I know that man; he lodges next door to me, at Mrs. Aplin's—I saw him in the bar that night—we did not go in the bar, we only stood against the door—I saw him from the front door; we stood at the front of the house—I did not go into the house at all on this night—some people came into the tap-room after the smoke was there; I did not notice who came in first—I did not hear any noise—I was four or five yards away from the tap-room door; I was walking towards the tap-room door—I did not stop at all, not till we saw the prisoner coming; we stopped when we saw him coming—we were standing out in the road so that anybody could see us—I did not see anybody else in the road at the time we stopped; I did not look round—the person that we saw could have seen us, there was nothing to prevent it—the person who stooped down walked away a few yards to the fence, and stood there a minute or two—I did not observe him run; he did not run—I did not speak to the landlord that night; I did not know the landlord then—Mr. Lemon, the butcher, came and talked to us, that same night, a few minutes afterwards—I talked the matter over with Mrs. Aplin; I spoke to her about it—I have stated that I recognised this man by his peculiar cough—I recognised him by his manner and his walk—I said at Chertsey that I knew he was the man by the cough he had; it is true that I recognised him by his cough—I said at Chertsey that I did not hear him cough that night—all I said was, "He has a peculiar cough, a bark, but I did not hear it that night"—I said he had a peculiar cough, like a dog; I had heard him several times as he passed my house—I did not say anything more about his cough—I heard him cough after the policeman brought him to me, going down the road; that was the cough I recognised him by—I did not hear him cough when he stooped down—there was a light in the tap-room—I saw Mr. Lemon about 10 minutes afterwards, when he came across.
Re-examined. I recognised the prisoner when he came out of the public-house, by his dress and his manner and his features—it was moonlight; I saw him distinctly, quite plainly—I am quite sure he is the man I saw coming out of the tap-room door; I have no doubt about it.
By the COURT. After I saw him stoop he went towards the fence leading towards the bar door—I did not see anybody else near——I did not see him go into the bar; we went round again to the front, and then I saw him standing in the bar—I did not lose sight of him between the time I saw him standing at the fence and the time I saw him again at the bar; we only just turned our backs, and
he was nearly at the bar door—I did not see him go into the bar; I saw him in there after he was there—there was about a moment between the time I saw him standing at the fence and the time I saw him in the bar, a very short time indeed—there was not time for him to have gone away and some one else to have gone in; he conld not have got off without our noticing him.
MARY APLIN . I am the wife of Henry Aplin, a coachman—on the night of 22nd September I went to the Holly Tree with the last witness—we did not go in, we went towards it; it was about 10 minutes to 9 o'clock when we started from our house—I believe it was a fine night; it did not rain, I know—we were coming down to see for her husband—while we were there we saw a man come out of the front room door; he came round by the tap-room door, and I saw him push the door a little and stoop down and light something, and something went off like gunpowder; I don't know that it was gunpowder; he then came away from the door, and went and stood against the rails by the front door, not close by the front door; he stood there a little while, and then we saw him walk into the front door again—I did not see his features, I noticed his clothes—the man the policeman afterwards brought was dressed the same as the man I saw at the tap-room door—the prisoner is not dressed exactly the same now as he was when I saw him—he is about the height of the man I saw with the policeman—I can't swear to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I am not certain that the prisoner is the man that was brought by the policeman; I don't know his features; I had never seen the man before—I said before the Magistrate "I did not see his features, I did not take particular notice;" his dress was all I knew him by—I am quite sure that the man I saw walked towards the railings; I saw him come out of the house, and walk partly round—I know Mrs. Wood-yard's husband quite well, he lives next door to us—when I saw the man coming out I said to Mrs. Woodyard "That is your husband," and she said "It is the bargeman," and I asked her who the bargeman was—I only saw the man coming along; I saw him plainer afterwards—I know Mr. Lemon by sight; he came and talked to us afterwards—after it was done we went round by the tap-room door, and he came and spoke to us; that was about 10 minutes afterwards—I had seen him three or four minutes before, going across after his supper beer; that was while we stood there, after this had occurred—I did not notice how many men there were in the bar that night or in the tap-room.
Re-examined. I was not inside the tap-room, we never went inside the house at all—I should say I was about four or five yards from the taproom door when I saw the man.
By the COURT. I saw enough of the man to say it was not Woodyard, he was not dressed like him—I can't say chat the prisoner is the man who the policeman afterwards brought, because he was not dressed as he is now; I noticed that he had a white shirt front and a black tie; that was all I noticed, he had a kind of dress coat on, I think, a long coat—I know Bolton, he has been lodging at our house; I am quite sure it was not him—I saw him standing against the bar, he was not dressed like this man was—I can swear it was not Bolton or Woodyard or Lemon, but I can't swear it was the prisoner.
of 22nd September, a little before 9 o'clock, I came out of my door—as I opened the front door I saw a bright light across by Mr. Rankings house, at the tap-room door—I shut the door and went out into the road, and I saw this young gentleman run from the window—the smoke was rolling out at the door in clouds—I knew him before, I have seen him a good many times, he has been in my slaughter-house once before while I was killing, he spoke to me, that was all, to pass the time of day at times—I am sure he is the man I saw run away from the window—I went across the road and ran through the tap-room; the door into the bar was shut—I opened the door and said, "Good God, the house is on fire"—some of the men in there said "It comes down the chimney"—I looked round and said, "No, it does not"—the prisoner walked in at the bar door in front—Mr. Rankin came out before the prisoner came in and said, "Whatever is the matter?" the prisoner was present then—Mr. Rankin walked into the tap-room by the gas meter, which was in a box just by the tap-room door; the door was open and the smoke was rolling out of it, and Mr. Rankin pulled a burning newspaper out from under the gas meter and it was smouldering then, it was the biggest part of a sheet of newspaper; it is in the hands of the police now—there was a black train from the door post up to the meter, it might have been 1 1/2 or 2 feet in length—Mr. Rankin said, "It looks like powder"—I said, "It does," and I put my finger on it and tasted it with, my tongue, and it tasted like saltpetre, and it smelt very much of gunpowder—the room was so full of smoke when I went in I could not see clearly across to the other part; the prisoner came into the tap-room behind Mr. Rankin, and he knelt down on his knees and wanted to strike a light to see if there was any more in there—Mr. Rankin said, "No, there has been light enough"—we were talking about it and could not make out who had done it, and the prisoner said, "Say it's the bargeman, say it's the bargeman," he said that to Mrs. Rankin—nobody before that had said anything about its being his doing; Mrs. Rankin said, "Some one has done it"—I got my pot of beer and went outside and saw Mrs. Woodyard and Mrs. Aplin; they made a communication to me—I was with them a few hours afterwards when the police came with the prisoner—Mr. Rankin asked me to find a policeman, but I could not see him.
Cross-examined. I am not aware that I took a very active interest in this case, I thought I was doing my duty—I have never had any disagreement with the prisoner, I will swear it—I had no argument with him in the house about half a crown, no unpleasantness at all; Mrs. Rankin is here to day—what I saw was when I came out to fetch my supper beer; I did not come out for my beer three or four minutes after it had occurred—I did not see the two women in the road when I went for the beer, when I came from the house I did; I saw them standing just outside the door, I could not say whether they spoke to me or I to them—we both passed the evening; we had a conversation—the man I saw was not walking, it was a run; I will swear he was running when I saw him, running from the window, from the light that I saw—I believe I was the first person in the tap-room; there was no one in there when I went through—the prisoner came into the tap-room from the bar a few minutes after Mr. Rankin; that I swear—they did not come in both together—I did not stay in the tap-room before I went into the bar; I talked straight through and opened the door into the bar, and I looked
round the door when some one said the smoke came down the chimney—I remained in the bar a few seconds, I then went back into the tap-room with Mr. Rankin—I could not say how long I remained there altogether—I will swear that the prisoner was not in the bar when I walked through the tap-room; he walked through the door just afterwards—it was during the few seconds I was there that he came in—I could not say how many people there were in the bar, there might have been seven, or more or less—I did not hear any joking about this—I could not tell whether what was said about the smoke coming down the chimney was said in a joke—when the prisoner said, "Say it's the bargeman," it was after we had all come out of the tap-room, when Mrs. Rankin said, "Some one has done it"—I don't know how long the prisoner stayed there that night, I stayed a very little while—I was with the policeman when the prisoner was arrested—from 9 o'clock till 12 o'clock I was in doors with my wife, the biggest part of the time—I should say I was not more than ten minutes with Mrs. Woodyard and Mrs. Aplin, the first time I saw them—I saw them again when the prisoner was arrested—I gave information to the police first, Mrs. Rankin asked me; I went just down the street, I then went back to my house and the policeman was outside—I don't know Bolton by name, I know him by sight—he was in the bar that night—I did not examine the meter—I was not there when it was examined by the gas people—I don't know that it was examined.
JOHN RANKIN . I am the landlord of the Holly Tree—on the evening of 22nd September, about 9 o'clock, I was in the bar parlour—I heard some one exclaim that there was a smell of smoke in the house; I afterwards heard the word "meter" used, and on hearing that I ran from the bar parlour, through the bar into the tap-room, where I saw the room full of smoke—I went forward to the door which leads into the street and I found the door of the box in which the meter was contained forced open; it was in the corner of the room, about a foot from the ground, and the meter was fitted inside—I found a piece of smoking paper inside the box—I put my hand inside the box and felt all round the meter to see if I could find any more paper burning, and I found some consumed fragments of paper—I afterwards saw a black mark on the floor leading from the tap-room door to the place where the meter was—the witness Lemon wetted his finger and put it down and pronounced it to be gunpowder—it looked like the sort of mark that gunpowder would make—I have known the prisoner for some time; he was once a lodger in my house; about the end of July or the beginning of August there was a small balance outstanding for board and lodging—he had been in and out of the house on this day since 2 o'clock in the afternoon at various times—I did not see him shortly before this happened, I was not in the bar—I did not see him in the tap-room that afternoon; he followed me into the taproom after I had examined the meter; he had been in the bar in the afternoon—when I went into the tap-room he followed me; I found him at my back as I was rising up from examining the meter to see if there was any more lighted paper, and he had a lighted paper in his hand and said "I will see if there is any," and stooped down—I pushed him back and said "No, no, there has been plenty of light here already"—afterwards, from some communication made to me, I gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. The accounts were kept by my wife, and I believe
the prisoner disputes some of the items; I believe the whole is a question of 12s.—I don't think I observed the prisoner as I passed through the bar to the tap-room, in fact I did not look to see any one—I said before the Magistrate "At the time of the occurrence the prisoner was standing in the bar, about 6 feet from the door of the tap-room; when I went into the tap-room he followed me with a lighted paper"—that must have been so—I had not been so long as two or three minutes in the tap-room before he followed me in—he used my house in common with other people working about there; he was employed in the neighbourhood—I should think there were about 15 or 16 men in the bar about 9 o'clock—my wife had appeared against some lads that day at Chertsey for doing some damage to my property, and they were fined—there were four of them, about 20 or 25 years of age—I heard no noise or explosion on this occasion—the meter has been examined by the gas company's people; it was slightly scorched in front—I know Bolton as a customer, but did not know his name—I won't be sure whether he was in the bar, I did not notice him.
ELIZA RANKIN . I am the wife of the last witness—on the night of 22nd September I was in the bar—about 9 o'clock I saw the prisoner there in front of the bar; he had been in and out all the evening; he did not have drink each time—I refused serving him as early as 6.30 or 7—he talked to the customers and walked in and out from 2 o'clock in the day—about 9 o'clock I was in the bar parlour speaking to my husband, when the witness Lemon opened the tap-room door, and the smoke was so dense I could only see his face—the smell was so strong of gunpowder, it almost took my breath away—he said "What is the matter, is the house on fire?"—I don't know whether the prisoner was in the bar then—I said "Does the smoke come down the chimney?"—he turned round and looked and said "No, it is coming from the meter"—my husband went out immediately, went to the meter and opened the door and took out a piece of newspaper partly burnt, and it smelt very strong of gunpowder—I did not hear the prisoner say anything respecting the meter.
Cross-examined. Lemon opened the tap-room door and came into the bar—at that time the prisoner was standing at the bar, he had been out previously, ten minutes before—he was in and out so much that I should not like to swear that he was in the bar at the time Lemon came in—I could not not say either way—my husband had prosecuted some young men that day, and they had been fined; that was for injuring our property on the Saturday night; they had turned the gas out and thrown over a table and smashed a quantity of glass and broken the piano.
By the COURT. My reason for refusing to serve the prisoner was because he annoyed me so in my business, talking and jeering, and passing all sorts of remarks—it was not at all connected with the trouble I had had with the young man—he was not tipsy—it was not about the disputed account; I can't say exactly what it was; it was in many little ways—he had been a lodger in our house, and he annoyed us in that way, and for that reason we refused to let him remain there—he made a great noise after we had gone to bed, throwing things about, and this evening he was jeering at me, and annoyed me when I was serving the customers, passing all sorts of disagreeable remarks, chaff, and
foolishness, and I said to my husband that I would not serve as long as he was there, and my husband told him he had better leave, as he was annoying me so—he came in again after that and went into the bagatelleroom—the latest time before 9 o'clock that I remember seeing him was only two or three minutes, perhaps five minutes—he had been in the bar then—I could not say to five minutes, he was in and out so much.
----TYRRELL (Policeman). From information I received on the night of 22nd September I took the prisoner into custody at 11 o'clock—when I went to the house he was in bed—I called him up, and told him I wanted to see him—the two witnesses were outside, and I took him to them and asked if that was the man they saw—they said "Yes," and I told him I should take him in custody for trying to set fire to the Holly Tree public-house—he said "I know nothing about it"—he was the worse for drink—I was talking to him for about half an hour before I apprehended him, outside the public-house—he was standing in company with two more men about 10.30, and he asked me for a light—I told him he did not want any light, he had better go home, as he had had quite enough, and he went away home—the charge was read over to him at the station—he said nothing about it.
Cross-examined. When I first spoke to him he said he knew nothing about it—it was about 10.30 when he was on his way home—he lodged about 200 yards from the public-house—he asked me for a light for his pipe—I don't know at what time he left the public-house.
Witness for the Defence.
WILLIAM BOLTON . I am a carpenter, and live at 20, Gerard Street, Lewisham—on the night of this occurrence I was in the bar of the Holly Tree between 10 minutes and a quarter to nine o'clock—I remember some one coming to the tap-room door and complaining of the smoke—I don't know who it was; there were several there—I saw Lemon in the bar; I saw lots there—I don't know whether Lemon was the man that came; he might be—at that time the prisoner was in the bar with me, drinking with me—I spoke to him about his work, that was all—we had been speaking together I should think about a quarter of an hour—he never left me at all during that time.
Cross-examined. I had been at the bar from about 10 minutes or a quarter to 9 o'clock—I had been there before and had a glass of beer when I left off work; not in company with the prisoner—I can't say how many men were in the bar just before 9 o'clock; I dare say seven or eight—I was a stranger among them; I did not know any of them—I was talking to the prisoner—I am prepared to say that he did not leave me from the time I went into the bar till the time there was the alarm of this smoke—I was close to him, drinking with him—I had a pint to myself, and he was drinking with me; he had not one to himself—there were some more persons at the bar.
By the COURT. We were talking about the work; I don't know that there was anything particular said—he is a carpenter; I don't know the man—he was on the same job that I was—my job was fencing—I was at work about five minutes from the public-house—I only went there on Monday and came away on Wednesday—I only saw him to pass the time of day—I don't know what he is; I am a carpenter; he was labouring
on the job, I suppose—I don't know what part of the work he was doing—I don't know whether all the workmen from the job went to this public-house—I have generally gone in there and had my pint; it was the nearest—I was working for Mr. Cole at park-paling fence—I don't know what work the prisoner was doing: I saw him with a shovel in his hand—we were talking together this evening for about 10 minutes—I really can't tell what I said to him or he to me; it was something about the work—I don't know that there were any other men there who were on the same job; I did not go before the Magistrate, I was away—I heard of the prisoner being taken—I had a bed at Mrs. Aplin's; I heard them talking about this affair; I told Mrs. Aplin that I was with the prisoner at the time, and told her to be very careful what she said, as she might be putting away the young man—I said I thought he could not be the man, because I had been with him so long; I said that the same night—I understood that she thought he was the man—I did not go before the Magistrate as a witness because I went away from there on the Monday, and went to work at Bromley for Mr. Cole; I did not think there was anything very important about it—I did not know what he was charged with—I don't suppose I had half a dozen words with Mrs. Aplin all the time I was stopping there—I did not know the case was so serious as it has turned out to be; if I had been sent for I should have gone, but I had a letter from my employer to go to Bromley to work—I had reason to think the woman might be doing him an injustice by fixing him with a serious charge, but my business called me away—I could only give evidence that the man was with me at the bar at the time; of course, that made me doubt if the woman's evidence was correct—for two or three days after this fire I was employed at Chertsey, about five minutes' walk from the Holly Tree; I don't know how far it was from where the Magistrate was sitting.
MARY APLIN (Re-examined by the COURT). I remember Bolton telling me that I must be very careful, for that he was with the prisoner at the bar—Bolton lodged at my house; he came home at 10 o'clock that night, I can't remember whether that was before or after the policeman came—when he came home he began talking to us about it, and I told him this was the man, and he said the prisoner had been drinking with him—he did not say how long; he said I must take care what I said, or I should get the man into it, or get him away for a long time.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have no statement to make, but will call witnesses. I have nothing to say now."
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
588. CHARLES AMOR (18) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for a registered letter, also to stealing a post letter containing a sovereign and a half whilst employed in the Post-office.
He received a good character.—Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
CHARLOTTE SCOTT . I am single, and live at 14, Gurney Street, New Kent Road—on Wednesday, 29th September, about 8.30 p.m., I went to the pillar box at the corner of Gurney Street to post a letter—I saw the prisoner moving a wire in the pillar box with his left hand—I was about three yards from him—I saw two letters in his hand—as I approached he moved away to the lamp-post—he held a letter up to the lamp—I could see it; no stamp was on it; this is it—I then went to put my letter in the box, but I saw this wire (produced), and did not post it—Mr. Tucker passed, and I called him; he stopped the prisoner, a policeman came, and he was taken into custody.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You stepped aside for me to come up; you were going away up the Kent Road. (The letter was addressed to Mr. Witt, tobacconist, 293, Hackney Road, dated "Holborn, 25th September, 1880, and signed "Dixon and Co.," and was a request to take in letters.) I observed you about five minutes.
SAMUEL TUCKER . I am in the employ of Messrs. Kelly, publishers, of 49; Pollock Road, Old Kent Road—on the evening of 29th September I was going home, and saw the prisoner about three yards from the pillar box, towards the Elephant and Castle; the lamp-post was about three yards the other side—Miss Scott said loud enough for the prisoner to hear "This man has been moving this wire up and down"—the end of the wire was then protruding from the aperture in the box—the prisoner replied "I was going to post a letter"—as he had no letter in his hand I said "Where is the letter?" he then took two letters from his inside coat pocket; one was addressed to Mr. Witt, tobacconist, Hackney Road, the other was opened, and was to Mr. J. Berry, 59, Hackney Road—this is it—I asked if he had any more, and he took from the same pocket four or five more, all addressed to himself, and, I believe, opened—I asked him his name, and he said it was Mr. Berry, residing at 59, Hackney Road—I said "You will have to stop till a policeman comes"—I detained him about 10 minutes, till a policeman, who was sent for, came—he was taken into custody—I handed the letters to the inspector.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not twelve feet off when the girl spoke, but only about two yards—I did not say "What are you doing?"—you had your face towards the Elephant and Castle.
Re-examined. I was close to the prisoner and heard distinctly what the girl said; she spoke so loud I have no doubt the prisoner heard.
THOMAS SHIRRETT (Policeman M 268). On 29th September, about 9 p.m. I was called to Gurney Street—I found this wire rod in the pillarbox—I took the prisoner and said "What are you doing with that wire?"—he said "Nothing, I know nothing at all about it"—he was taken to the station and searched—the last witness gave me these two letters with some more—all these letters produced were found on him—one is addressed to Mr. Allen, the rest to himself—I have examined them all; they were marked next morning—no money or postage stamps were found on him—when the prisoner was told the charge he said "I am innocent; I am a tool-maker, and that letter addressed to Mr. Witt is mine, and I wrote it and was going to post it"—after the remand I saw
Mr. Witt, who opened the letter in my presence—I made inquiries in Holborn for Dixon and Co., but was unable to find them.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You may have been in my shop—I cannot call to memory when it was.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I take in a great many newspapers—I never knew you to associate with anybody—you worked for your brother as a tool-maker—I never saw you drink beer.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The marks on the letter were made by the police at the station, as it had never been in the box. I am quite innocent."
Prisoner's Defence. I was going home, and went to post a letter, when I was struck in the face by something I could not see, as I am near-sighted. I tried to move it. When the witness came up I stood aside to allow her to post her letter. I went to the lamp to see if the letter was stamped, and then I recollected it was too late, and the police were called. I did not attempt to get the letters away at all. I had no knowledge of the wire. I am perfectly innocent.
The Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
591. THOMAS EDWARDS (17) to burglary in the dwelling-house of David Buck Miller, and stealing 12l. 6s. 9d., after a conviction of felony at Croydon in January, 1880.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
MARY ANN CLARK . My husband keeps a bookseller's shop, 55, Church Street, Camberwell—on October 1st, about 7 o'clock, the prisoner brought in a book marked 6d. which had been outside on the stall—he did not speak, but gave me a florin; I put it to my teeth and found it was bad—I said "You have given me a bad florin; you gave me one on 20th September; I believe you are like the man"—I was showing it to a lady and he took it from me, but I took it from him again and sent for a policeman—he then said that he got it from a tobacconist—he offered me a good half-crown, but I would not take it—he said that he got the florin from a boy outside, and would go outside and fetch him, but I took him by the collar and said "You shall not leave till the policeman comes"—he twisted my hand and got away—I went outside, saw him running, called "Stop thief!" and Preston brought him back, and I gave him in charge with the florin.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not give the florin to an old lady,
nor did she give it to you, nor did you give it back to me—you did not say that you would take the coin back to the public-house where you took it.
Re-examined. I am sure I gave the same florin to the constable.
GEORGE THOMAS PRESTON . I am a leather case maker, of 10, Benhill Road, Camberwell—on the evening of 1st October I was passing Mrs. Clark's shop, and she called me in and said, "This man has passed a bad two-shilling piece, will you be kind enough to see if you can see a constable?"—I went down the street about 200 yards, and then heard a cry of "Stop thief," turned round, and saw the same man running whom I had seen in the shop—when he got close to me I went to lay hold of him, but missed my aim, and he turned up Grove Lane, which is no thoroughfare—I went after him; he turned round: and faced me; I laid hold of him, and took him back to the shop and handed him over to a constable—I recognised him as the man I had seen in the shop.
HENRY TEASEY (Policeman P 360). The prisoner was given into my custody with this bad florin—he said, "I did not know it was bad"—I said, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "At a public-house at Croydon"—I got a good half-crown and penny from him at the station.
The Prisoner, in his Statement before the Magistrate, and in his Defence, said that Mrs. Clark put the money in her pocket and went out of his sight for two or three minutes, and then returned and said that it was bad, and gave it to an old lady to look at.
MARY ANN CLARK . I never left my shop, and I had not another florin in my house—it never went out of my hand till you took it, and then I got it back again, and then it never left my hand till I gave it to the policeman.
By the Prisoner. I did not go behind a stack of books—I detected you because you are so like a man who gave me a bad florin before.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
SARAH BENNETT . My husband keeps the Castle public-house, Hall Street, St. George's Road—on 5th September, about 5.30 p.m., McPherson came with another man and asked for half an ounce of tobacco—he gave me a half-crown—I put it by the side of the till apart from other money—I then found it was bad, caught hold of him, and called the policeman, who detained him, and I gave him in custody with the half-crown—he was remanded, and then discharged—I don't know what became of the other man.
Cross-examined by McPherson. The constable charged another man because he had seen him with you in the afternoon—he was discharged by the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by McPherson. When I came into the bar Mrs. Bennett was holding you—the man who was discharged came in with two more—they called for some beer, and Mrs. Bennett refused to serve them.
JOHN READER (Policeman L 144). McPherson was given into my custody at the Castle with this bad half-crown—I said, "Have you got any more about you?"—he said, "No, and I am quite innocent of this"—I searched him, but only found 1 1/2 d.—I afterwards took Bean, whom I had seen with the prisoner before I was called—he and McPherson were remanded by the Magistrate and discharged.
CHARLES GOLDSTONE . I keep the Jolly Gardeners, Broad Street, Lambeth—about 9.30 p.m. on September 9 the prisoners were drinking there with two females and two young men—McPherson asked me for a pot of ale, and gave me a shilling—I tried it, and found it was bad—I had to go three yards to the tester—I went back and said, "This is a bad shilling"—McPherson said, "If it is I must have taken it on the premises," and tendered a good florin—Ward then ran away, but my son detained the two females, and I gave McPherson in custody with the shilling—I saw Ward in custody before the Magistrate two days afterwards waiting for his hearing, and recognised him—I knew him before, and have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined by McPherson. I had seen you drinking with Ward before—I did not charge the females, but they were taken to the station—I heard you say at the station that you took the shilling at a fish shop in Tyne Street—that is at the side of my house.
TOM UPWARD (Policeman L 185). McPherson was given into my custody for uttering a bad shilling—he said, "I must have got it in the house"—he said at the station, "I must have got it at the fish shop in Tyne Street."
Cross-examined by McPherson. I did not go to the fish shop to inquire.
ALFRED JOHN BEAR . I keep the Feathers, Lambeth Walk—on 5th October, about midnight, Ward came in and asked my barman, Clarke, for half a quartern of whisky—I saw him give Clarke something which he tried with his teeth, and gave to me; it was a bad half-crown—I gave him in custody—he said that he got it at the Crown public-house, Kennington Oval, in change for a half sovereign—I knew him as a customer, and I thought him a very respectable man.
Cross-examined by Ward. You said from the Crown Baths.
WALTER ROACH (Policeman L 78). I was called, and Ward was given into my custody—he said, "I got it in change for a half-sovereign at the Crown Baths, Kennington Oval, on Saturday morning"—I found it on him.
Cross-examined by Ward. I made inquiries at the baths, but they knew nothing about it.
Ward's Statement before the Magistate. "I do not know the other man only by seeing him. I think it hard that I should be implicated with him."
Witnesses for Ward's Defence.
JAMES RICHARD STRETT . On Thursday night, 30th September, I met Ward at Vauxhall, and he asked me to go for a walk with him—when we got to Lile Street we met a young fellow, and Ward asked him to have something to drink—we went into the Jolly Gardeners and had
some drink, and came outside and stood at the corner by the public-house, on the other side of the road, and when we had been there two minutes we saw the public-house door close, and a policeman was fetched, and we saw a man and woman brought out of the house—I said, "It is for a row, nothing to do with us, let us get down where we were going," and we went away to the Olive Branch—on Saturday morning, 2nd October, we went to the Albert Baths, Kennington Oval, and had a washing bath—Ward paid with a half-sovereign, and gave the man a penny for some soap.
Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. I am a costermonger, of 3, Herbert Street, Waterloo Road—Ward is a friend of mine; he is a painter out of work—we met casually, about 7.30, and I went drinking with him till between 10.30 and 11, and then left him in Westminster Bridge Road—I was with Ward at the Jolly Gardeners, about 9.30—he did not run away, we both walked out of the house, and next morning we went there again—we paid sixpence each at the baths, and Ward paid for me; where he got the half-sovereign from is more than I can tell.
Cross-examined by McPherson. Ward was outside the Jolly Gardeners with me, and I saw a man and woman given in custody between 9 and 10, but I did not know what for—I should not know the man again, I took no notice—I was in the public-house, but came out two or three minutes before.
By MR. POLAND. I do not know McPherson—I do not know that he was the man who was charged at the Jolly Gardeners with passing a bad shilling.
McPherson's Defence. On the night of the 5th I was in Mr. Goldstone's house drinking. I left, and went to a fish bar in Tyne Street, round the corner, and tendered a florin. Do you think I should have done so if I had just changed a bad shilling? If the policeman had made inquiries there the man would have come and identified me. I then went back, and called for a pot of ale, and Mr. Goldstone said that the money was bad. I thought at first that I had changed it there, but remembered afterwards that, it was at the fish bar.
Ward's Defence. I have been 32 years in Lambeth, and my character will bear investigation. I paid for two baths with a half-sovereign, and got 9s. change. The Magistrate directed the constable to make inquiries, and he never came forward to implicate me.
MCPHERSON— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
WARD— GUILTY on the third and fourth counts.—Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
FRANK RENSBERRY . I am a draper, of 115, Waterloo Road—on 31st July, at 10.30 p.m., I was at my door, and the prisoner came up and asked me for a pocket-handkerchief marked 6¾d. which was at the door—I took the bundle down, took it inside, and he came in, and put a half-crown on the counter—I took it up, and said "This is bad," and then broke it in the tester, and said "Have you any more about you?"—he said "No, I have only 1d."—I said "Where did you get this?"—he said "From Waterloo Station; I have just taken it in change"—I said "Do you know the booking-office you took it from?"—he paid "Yes"—I said
"Do you know the man who gave you the change?"—he said "No"—I sent for a policeman, who said "If he has taken it in change he must have more silver about him"—he then said "I received it for carrying a parcel from the Custom House to the Waterloo Railway Station"—that is 100 or 150 yards off—he was given in custody with the half-crown.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A young woman was behind the counter, but she did not send me to fetch the handkerchiefs in, nor did I put them on the counter, and go outside again—you did not give her the half-crown, nor did she say that she did not like the look of it, and call me in.
HENRY GIBBS (Police Sergeant L 17). I was called, and found the prisoner in the shop, and Mr. Rensberry between him and the door, who said "This man has offered me a bad half-crown for a poekethandkerchief, he says he received it in change at Waterloo Railway Station"—the prisoner said "No"—I told him he must have given a larger coin, a half-sovereign or a sovereign, to get that in change, and he had only 1d, on him—he said "No, I received it from a gentleman for carrying a parcel from the Custom House to the railway station—I took him to the station; he gave his address 26, James Street, and I found he did live there.
Prisoner's Defence. I said I got it at Waterloo Station, but I said nothing about the booking-office. I have been waiting 11 weeks for my trial, and it is very hard being falsely accused.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin in December, 1875.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM FOY . I am a grocer, of 38, North Street, Lambeth—about 6.30 a.m. on 18th September I went into my shop—a pane of glass and part of the sash were broken in the back door—I had seen it safe over night—the till was gone—about 5l. was in it—I also found these things produced: a bunch of thread, a piece of comb, a necktie, a yard measure, and a piece of paper with this direction on it, "Mrs. Barbary, 22, Three Ways Road, Nunhead," which were not there the previous night—I went to bed about 11.30—I never saw the prisoner before—the back door had been left open.
GEORGE HOLDOCK (Detective N). About 9.30 a.m. on 9th October I saw the prisoner in Union Road, Borough—I asked him if he remembered taking some furniture to Nunhead a few weeks previously to the address on this paper—he said "That is the piece of paper the lady gave me"—I then showed him the necktie, and asked him if he knew anything of that—he said he had one similar to that some, time back—I showed him the tape measure—he said he had a tape measure also, and that he had lost them, but he did not know where and when—I told him
where they were found, and if he did not answer me I should have to take him in custody—I mentioned the street in Lambeth—he said he did not know where it was, and then that he had not been there for many months.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TORR Prosecuted.
JOHN EDWIN AUSTIN . I am a grocer, of Clarence Street, Kingston-on-Thames—on 12th August I went to bed at 11.15 p.m.—I previously went round the premises to see that all was safe—the iron gate had no fastening, but I put a case of biscuits in front of it, which was sufficient to prevent any one getting in—the doors and windows were properly fastened—the window through which an entrance had been made had a few parcels in front of it—I left it shut—I found it open—I was awoke next morning by the police about 5.30—I looked over the premises with them—I found the yard door open, also the window of the store room—I missed two coats, two pairs of boots, nine cambric handkerchiefs, one silk handkerchief, 10 cigars, two cases, a thimble, some postage-stamps, and 5s. 5 1/2 d. in bronze—5 1/2 d. was in the till, and a packet of five shillings' worth of coppers was on the sideboard in the sitting-room—I have identified the whole of the property as mine—this spoon and fork also were in the sitting-room cupboard—I have occasionally employed Wright; he would know the premises—they were entered by climbing over the wall, removing the yard gates, and entering the store-room window, which I found open—a person would then reach the other rooms—I found the lid of a water-butt in my yard removed to the other side of the yard, as if it had been used for getting over the wall—the lid was on the butt the night before.
Cross-examined by Wright. The box I put against the door was not empty, but full of biscuits—it was a tin.
ARTHUR CHARLES (Policeman T 187). I was on duty in the parish of Teddington about 1.30—I heard the prisoners coming; I went to meet them—I asked Wright where he had come from—he said from Kingston—I asked where he was going—he said to Twickenham to see his sister—I asked him why he was going home at that time in the morning—he said she was in service, and he wanted to go to London—he said he had been working at Kingston at different places—I was not satisfied, and followed him—I afterwards searched him—I found this knife in his side pocket—I unbuttoned his coat, and found some boots, one inside his trousers—I felt in his coat pocket, and found some handkerchiefs—I found all the property produced on him—I afterwards examined Mr. Austin's house—I found the back gate and a window open.
Clark's Defence. I am sorry for what I have done.
Wright's Defence. I hope the Jury will recommend me to mercy.
GUILTY .** WRIGHT then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony at Marylebone Police Court, in June, 1879, in the name of Henry Anderson.— Two Years' Imprisonment each.
MR. WILLIS Prosecuted.
JOSEPH KITCHING . I am agent to the London and South-Western Railway at Farnham—I reside dose by Farnham Railway Station—on Monday, 6th September, I closed the house and went to bed about 10.30 p.m., and left hanging up in the passage a new overcoat, a felt hat, a child's jacket, and a child's Ulster—this property is mine—I did not notice the scullery window, but I believe it was closed; the fastening had been broken a day or two before—at 7 a.m. the next morning the servant told me the househad been robbed—I then saw the scullery window; it was open—I gave information to the police.
JOSEPH HIBBERT . I am Superintendent of the Surrey Constabulary, at Farningham—in consequenceof Mr. Kitching's statement to me on 7th Sept. I went to his house near the railway station—I examined his house and garden—I found the coat and hat produced in the garden, also some footprints leading across the garden—I covered them up—on 8th Sept. the prisoner was brought in in the evening—he was shown the coat and hat produced—he said that they were his—his boots were taken off, and I accompanied the constable on the next morning to compare the footmarks with his boots—they resembled the prints in every particular, especially one of the soles, which shows the packing or strips of leather.
ANDREW COOK . I am a police constable stationed at Farnham, Surrey—from information I received I went to some hop-gardens at Red Hill, Farnham—I charged the prisoner with being in Mr. Kitching's house—he made no answer—I searched the barracks—I found these articles (produced), a boy's pilot jacket, mackintosh, and hat—the prisoner said they belonged to him—on the way to the station he said he did not go there for those things, he went for money, but he could not get the b—safe open—I said "There is another coat missing"—he said "Yes, I sold that to a man at the Prince of Wales, in Farnham, on the 7th, for 6s.;" and he said "The little Ulster I have laid on the shelf in the barracks"—I went there and found it concealed in a copper in the barracks—the following morning I went to the Prince of Wales, where I received the coat produced from the landlady—it was left there by another man—I went with the last witness to compare the footprints—I got the boots for comparison off the prisoner's feet, he was wearing them when I apprehended him—they corresponded exactly with the prints—he asked me if I had found the Ulster, and I said "Yes."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The superintendent had covered the footprints up—it had been raining the night before—they were very plain.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. BESLEY and TORR Prosecuted.
GEORGE PRINCE . I am a timber merchant—I was trustee in liquidation of the effects of a Mr. Herbert Henry Lamb in August, 1876—the bankruptcy proceedings took some time, but at the end of 1879 the majority of the creditors were paid, a few outstanding amounts being left—Mr. Chatterton was the solicitor; the prisoner was his clerk—I had
known Mr. Chatterson for some time—on 13th September, 1879, the prisoner came to my office to me and arranged to pay another Mr. Chatterton, an advertising agent, the final dividend—I thought he came from the office and gave him 1l. 1s. 3d. to pay to Mr. Chatterton—on 27th September he came again and asked me for a small sum to pay other outstanding dividends—I do not remember any reference being made to the previous occasion—the amount was 4l. 6s. 8d. to pay Mr. Kish—he said he had met Mr. Kish at one of the police-courts, and that he had told Mr. Kish he had some money for him, which Mr. Kish was glad of, and I gave him the money for that purpose, believing his statement—on 30th September I gave him a cheque for 1l. 10s. 11d., the balance which was at the bank to settle up with the outstanding creditors—on 27th, 28th, and 29th November he came again—he asked me to lend him 2l. on the last occasion—I do not recollect the dates, but these two receipts were written in my office—when he asked for the 2l. he told me his wages were not due at Mr. Chatterton's office till the following Monday, he was paid monthly, and he was pressed for cash—I was under the impression that he was in Mr. Chatterton's employment or I should not have lent him the 2l.—I eventually heard that he had left Mr. Chatterton's employment; then inquiries were made; in the result I received this letter dated 21st December, 1879. (Stating that he had received Mr. Prince's letter of the 19th, which had been forwarded to him at 4, Draycott Terrace, Shane Street; that he had been unwell or would have seen Mr. Ind before, but would see him on Tuesday and produce Mr. Kish's receipt, so that Mr. Prince should not be a loser, and would write with appointment.) I had written to his office believing he was there—on 29th December, Mr. Ind, one of Mr. Chatterton's clerks, and I saw the prisoner at the Monster public-house—I there told him I had discovered the amounts had not been paid—he admitted he had not paid the smaller amounts, but stated he had paid Mr. Kish, and the receipt would be found in the bank book in his desk at Mr. Chatterton's office—I have not seen the prisoner again till recently.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The money was not Mr. Chatterton's, except as my solicitor—I was anxious to get the outstanding matters cleared up, and I might have said I would give you something—you have come to me in the evening after office hours—Mr. Chatterton has paid no dividends—I have always paid the creditors—I gave you a cheque for 1l. 10s. 3d.—I do not remember telling you to keep 1l. of it; I would not say I did not—I did not consider you were working for me independently of the office, but as Mr. Chatterton's clerk—I have said I had nothing for my trouble as trustee, nor did I—I did not complain that I should be out of pocket by the transactions, except in loss of time, not in money—I said I had not been paid even for postage stamps—you suggested you should should hold Pyman's account till applied for—he had gone away—I never suggested that you should give a receipt for it as no one would claim it—I did not tell Mr. Ind so at the Monster that I remember—I might have mentioned other bankruptcy matters to you in conversation—I do not know that you mentioned Mr. Chatterton's name when you came—you did not tell me you had met with an accident at football, but that your salary was not due till Wednesday, and I lent you 2l.—you said at the Monster you were sorry for behaving so badly to me—very likely you promised to refund the
money—I always addressed my letters to Mr. Holt, at Chatterton's, because you had the matter in hand—I went to Draycott Terrare and left word, and you came to the Monster by appointment—I cannot tell you why proceedings were not taken against yon earlier—Mr. Chatterton has refused to acknowledge your acts as his clerk unless you took these proceedings—I claimed the dividends from Chatterton—I do not know when—I did not know where you were—Chatterton did not know.
Re-examined. The prisoner was apprehended under a warrant some time after its date—there was another reason for his absences—there is no truth in the suggestion that I ever agreed to divide the dividends with the prisoner.
THOMAS EDWARD IND . I am one of Mr. Chatterton's clerks; Holt was under Pearce and me; I was cashier in November, 1879—I supplied the clerks with money and required them to keep an account in a small book in which they entered moneys their received, and the payments opposite—Pearce first had charge of Lamb's bankruptcy, and then it was transferred to me and was in my hands in November, 1879, for the purpose of making up the accounts—a first dividend had been paid to nearly the whole of the creditors—there was a second dividend to pay; Mr. Prince paid them—Holt came in January, 1879—we prepared a draft account and I asked Holt to see Mr. Prince for the purpose of proving it—he had no authority to receive any money from Mr. Prince—if Mr. Prince paid him any it was his duty to enter it in his cash book, and then it would have been entered into the journal to show the payments—no account was rendered to me of the receipts of moneys from Mr. Prince—I have looked through the journal and there are no entries—the prisoner never told me he had received those moneys—there is no such entry in his cash book—Mr. Chatterton did not personally attend to the matter, he scarcely knew of the transactions—I remember the interview at the Monster between Prince, Holt, and myself—Mr. Prince there asked Holt why he bad not paid the dividends, and he admitted having received them with the exception of Mr. Kish's, which he stated had been paid, and the receipt was in the pass-book in his desk at the office, and he asked me if I would meet him at 9 o'clock at the office and he would give it me—he did not come—the pass-book was not found at the office; this is the passbook—Mr. Kish's receipt is not in it—the prisoner was paid a weekly salary, not monthly—no salary was due to him on Wednesday, 29th November—by the books it appears he was paid up to 22nd November—on the following Tuesday he was discharged for being absent on the Monday; he came at 11.55 on the Tuesday—he had been cautioned—no meeting was afterwards effected between me and the prisoner.
Cross-examined. All creditors in Lamb's estate were referred to Mr. Prince—I never instructed you to receive moneys from Mr. Prince—he complained of lose of time and delay; he said he should lose by you—I am not aware that you offered to repay him, you expressed your sorrow—I do not remember his saying, "I expect to be paid"—some mention was made of payment on account, but not the whole of the debt—I cannot say why proceedings were not taken earlier—the defalcations were not found out till December or January—I cannot say whether proceedings were taken in consequence of something you said against Mr. Chatterton—I believe they were taken before Mr. Chatterton knew anything of your statement about his private affairs—Mr. Chatterton has
complained about your statement, but only quite lately that I know of; I am not aware that you had 14 days' imprisonment for bigamy—the police sergeant was instructed to take you on a warrant.
Re-examined. The warrant was taken out three or four months ago—the prisoner was only apprehended within the last month.
Cross-examined. I expected to receive the dividend from Mr. Chatterton, my solicitor in the matter; also in other matters—I do not know whether I received any dividends in Lamb's estate; I did not from you.
JAMES SANCTUARY (Policeman M 15). I arrested Holt at 9.30 p.m., on 1st October—I saw him in the King's Road, Chelsea—the warrant is dated 10th July—I had charge of the warrant part of the time—I came to Newgate in July, and then went to Wandsworth, but found the prisoner had gone—I made every effort, but could not find him till October—he made no reply when I told him I had a warrant—in answer to the question, "Shall I make a statement now?" he was told to please himself—he said he would make it before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not go to 4, Draycott Terrace, the sergeant went there.
The Prisoner's Defence. This money was due from Prince, and is a matter of account between him and me. It has nothing to do with Chatterton, to whom I was clerk. Prince promised to remunerate me for what I did, as it was done for him and not for Chatterton; the understanding between Prince and me about Pyman's dividend, was that I was to put in the receipts and pass them through, and we were to divide the money between us, as Pyman had gone abroad. When I borrowed 2l. of Prince I was out of Chatterton's employ, and I did not tell Prince that I was in it. I advised Prince as a friend, with reference to several estates, but I never mentioned Chatterton's name, and none of the moneys were received from him, and I never signed the receipts per, pro, or otherwise, for Chatterton. Prince complained to me, and I said I was sorry for the way I had used him, but would pay him back. These proceedings have been taken against me because I said something about Chatterton's private affairs, and my report of it was sent to his office. (Mr. Ind here stated he had teen a report at Mr. Chatterton's office in the prisoner's writing about a week ago, but he did not know when it came. Mr. Pearce stated it was received about two days before the prisoner's arrest.) When I was brought before the Magistrate no evidence was offered, and I was discharged on my own recognisances to appear on the following Tuesday. (James Sanctuary here stated that this was the case, and that the prisoner appeared on hit recognisances.) When I appeared on the Tuesday I was charged with embezzling these and other moneys. The charges are all brought against me through spite. I dealt with Prince irrespective of Chatterton altogether.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY. offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO THURSDAY, DECEMBER 2ND, 1880.