CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 23RD,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.
SESSIONS I. TO VI.
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, November 22nd, 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 RIGHT HON. WILLIAM MCARTHUR, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. GEORGE DENMAN , one of the Justices of the Common Pleas Division of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of the Exchequer Division of the High Court of Justice; WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., and Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE , Esq., JOHN STAPLES , 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 Over and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
MCARTHUR, MAYOR. FIRST 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.
Wednesday, November 24th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended. HENRY JAMES MESSENGER. I live at 41, Edward Square, Islington, and am a wood turner—the prisoner is the husband of my late wife's eldest sister—his home was at Footscray, in Australia—he arrived in this country on 16th March—he stayed at my house from 18th March to the 16th August, five months all but three days—on 16th August the prisoner, my wife, and her brother left my house, not together, but within a quarter of an hour of one another; my wife had not my permission to go—I saw her again on 8th October—I did not know where she was living between 16th August and 8th October—on 8th October she came to the place where I worked, 69, Southampton Street, Pentonville—on the 11th I saw the prisoner; he came to my work in the morning; I told him if he waited till dinner-time I would fetch his letters, and give them to him—I did so, and he gave me an acknowledgment—I asked him if he had seen my wife; he said he could take his Bible oath that he had seen nothing of her since 16th August, when they left my place—since that time I have had no conversation with him—on 21st October my wife returned to my home; she only slept there on that night—on Friday morning, the 22nd, I went to my work—I returned home at dinner-time; my wife was not there then—she did not sleep at home on the night of the 22nd—on the 23rd I went to the Great Northern Hospital, between 10 and 11 in the morning; I there saw the dead body of my wife, Jane Messenger—her brothers name is Samuel Bernard Anstace.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before he left England—I did not see him till 18th March; I never knew his name before that—he told me that he had been 28 years out of England—I knew that he
had married my wife's elder sister, and that he had a grown-up family out in Australia, sons and daughters; he told me so, I did not know it otherwise; I did not know it from my wife, not before he came—he said that he used to do slipper-making in Australia, and his wife kept a dairy, and that he came home, leaving her there—I do not know how he had got the money to come home; I do not know at all what his means were, whether he was in a state of poverty there, or that he had a difficulty in getting the money to come home—my wife's brother was not stopping at my house when the prisoner came home; he did not come there till 2nd August; he arrived on Bank Holiday from Canada; he came to stop in the house, and stayed there till the 16th—we used all to be together; we had our meals together—the prisoner came to England to try to get an estate for the brother, Samuel Anstace, and for his wife, for the family; he thought the wife's brother Sam was dead when he came over, and he came to lay claim to the estate for his wife—I don't know exactly the date when he first knew that the brother was not dead; it was not soon after he came back, it was some time after—he was under the impression that the estate he had come home to claim was of enormous value—as far as I know, he believed that his wife's family were entitled to it; it was the constant subject of conversation on his part; it is an estate called the Stock well Park Estate; he used to say the value of it was close on 175,000l. a veer—he was a great deal with the brother; they were always together, talking on this subject—he was not in a feeble state of health when he came home; once or twice he said he had got a bad cold; he was not attended by a doctor indoors, he went to a doctor—he was not very unwell for weeks, that I am aware of; I know he went once or twice to the doctor, he might have gone when I did not know—I only noticed his trembling once, that was when he had the first letter from his wife—I did not take much notice of him myself, I was not much indoors with him—I did not know of the state of his health being considered dangerous, or of his having been advised to leave where he was—he never said to me that the scenes he had witnessed were too much for him—I heard my wife say once that she could not stand my treatment—I think that was about a week before she left home—I think it was said to an old lady who used to live with us—her brother has not spoken to me about my treatment of her—I am not aware that she was attended by Dr. Chalmers for injuries that she had received—she was attended by Dr. Chalmers, he was our family doctor; I don't know what for, only when she was confined; not for injuries that she had received that I am aware of—I heard after she went away that she had sought the protection of a Magistrate, but she told me when she came back that it was nothing of the kind—I do not know that it was her own brother who took her away; he and her went away together while I was at my work—I don't know that she left by the persuasion of the neighbours—I sought to find her—she came to see me on 8th October—I did not try to find out where he was that same night; I asked her, but she would not tell me where she was living, she would not even tell me the station she had to get out at—I did not prevent her going back again, because I wanted her to bring the child back with her—she had taken the child with her, and when she came back to me she brought the child—I did not like to prevent her going away then, because I wanted the things she had taken away with her, as well as wanting the child—I had no idea
where she was that night—I saw her brother the day of the funeral, not since—I saw him before that, and I asked him and he said he had not seen her—I believe he told me that more than once—I heard of her death on the Friday, about half-past 3 in the day—I did not leave off my work and go and see where she was; I was told where she was, it was not a stone's throw from me, and I thought I would go when I left off work, but I went next morning instead; I had to stop and make my book up and finish the work I had in hand, or I should not have got my money—I was too much upset to go that night; I went next morning—the prisoner did not do any work while he was at my house—at the time he left my house he was not in a very weak and feeble state that I am aware of.
SARAH DE BOO . I am a widow and live at 45, Stonefish Street, Notting Hill—on 8th August a friend of mine brought the prisoner and Mrs. Messenger, and her brother to my house; they wanted two rooms—I had but one to let—they came again on 16th August, together, about 3 o'clock in the day, and they continued to live at my house for seven or eight weeks—they had one common room, and Mrs. Messenger slept in my parlour—she had a child with her, and the child slept with her—they took their meals together in the common room—there was a bed in that room—the prisoner and the brother Sam slept in that bed—in the day time they were all together upstairs—Sam went out sometimes—the prisoner and the deceased were sometimes left alone in the upstairs room—I can't say exactly how long Sam stayed there; it might have been four or five weeks, be then left—after he left the prisoner and the deceased continued to occupy the upstairs room during the day time, she continuing to sleep downstairs with the child as before;—the child was between three and four years of age—I used my parlour in the day time, and I used to sleep there as well as the deceased and her child—the other rooms were occupied—in the morning the deceased used to go upstairs to the room where the prisoner was, when she had dressed herself—the prisoner left my house a week before Mrs. Messenger; he left on the Saturday morning as she left on the Thursday evening following, 21st October—between the Saturday and the Thursday the prisoner used to come to see her every day—she told me where she had taken a room for him—I never saw her again alive after she left on the Thursday evening—when I last saw them together they appeared to be on good terms, I never saw them any other way but on good terms.
Cross-examined. The deceased woman was brought to me by Mrs. Pegler, a cousin of the prisoner—the deceased's brother was there with her—I was told that the prisoner had come from Australia for some property—I was told a few days after that Mrs. Messenger had left her husband—she told me that he ill-treated her—she used to sleep in the same room as I did—I frequently spoke to her—she used to tell me that she had a very comfortable home—when they first came they wanted two rooms, I had not got them—Mrs. Messenger slept in my parlour—they were always upstairs together—the child was always with her—they talked a great, deal about the property—the prisoner went to work while he was at my place—he used to leave early in the morning, it might have been at seven—I think he returned in the evening sometimes about 9 o'clock—he might be getting on for 10—that did not continue up to the time he left the house, I think it was about a fortnight before he left he had
nothing to do—I did not notice the state of health he was in—he did not seem to be in a desponding state; I did not see much of him; I only thought he was strange, that was all; he would creep about the house so, come downstairs without his shoes, and I thought it was funny for a man to do that, I thought it might be because he should not make a noise—there was nothing else that I noticed strange about him—Mrs. Messenger told me one day that she had found a bottle of laudanum in his pocket, and she told me she threw it under the grate—no scene took place about it—she said when she told the prisoner of it that he said "Eh, what?"—she told me that she accused him of intending to poison her—they had been there some weeks when she told me this—I may have used the expression "he was in a terrible way," because she told me that he spoke in that style "Eh, what?"—I don't know whether that bottle of laudanam was destroyed, I did not see it—I only heard of its being destroyed; there was another one found a day or two before the deceased left—it was not shown to me—Mrs. Messenger told me she had found another bottle—she did not give it me, she told me where it was, and left it there, and I got it—she asked me whether she should throw it away or whether I would accept it—during the time they were there I never heard the slightest sign of quarrelling—when they first came the one thing that seemed to occupy the prisoner's mind was the claim to the property, but not so much at the latter part, after the brother left—I understood that when he left he went to one of his sisters, I am speaking of Sam—when the prisoner left he went to live at a milk shop dose handy, I can't think of the name of the street—I knew the deceased was going to leave, I think the next day after she had seen her husband, I knew it then for the first time.
Re-examined. When the prisoner came down without his shoes he did not go into the parlour—he went out to the back—the closet was at the back—sometimes it would be in the morning, sometimes in the evening—Mrs. Messenger told me that she had found this laudanum in the prisoner's pocket, and that she had accused him of buying it for her—she did not say why—I can't say for certain how soon that was before he left—I did not pay any attention to it at the time.
JOHN BRADLEY . I live at 25, Chatterton Street, Finsbury Park—I am agent to a railway company—on Friday, 22nd October, about 12.30 in the day, I was entering Finsbury Park from the Blackstock Road—I saw the prisoner there with a lady; they were entering by the same gate walking side by side—they took the path to the north of the inner circle of the park—I lost sight of them for a short time—I saw them again in from 10 to 15 minutes—they were then sitting on one of the seats opposite the lake—they were in conversation—I then made my way out to the park, it commenced raining—as I was going along I heard a report of a pistol—that was about four or five minutes after I had seen the prisoner and the lady sitting on the seat—I at once turned round and saw the lady running away from the prisoner towards me; he was running after her trying to catch hold of her—I ran towards them, and saw the prisoner fire at her breast—I saw the revolver; he had hold of the woman's shawl with his left hand and fired with his right—she fell on her knees, held her hands up, and appeared to implore the prisoner to spare her, and looked at him in the face—he fired at her again, he aimed at her breast; he was not more than three feet from her when he fired that shot—I was about 20 yards off—she then fell forward on her face—the prisoner then
threw his overcoat on one side with his left hand and put the revolver to his breast with his right hand and pulled the trigger and fired, he reeled for a short distance and fell on his side—two or three gentlemen came up—the prisoner got up again with the revolver in his hand and walked in front of the deceased and it fell out of his hand—she had fallen down and he stood in front of her, and walked backwards and forwards—a gentleman picked up the revolver and I took it from him just as the prisoner was making a rush to get it; he said, "Let me have it"—I sent for the police; a policeman came and I gave him the revolver—the prisoner was taken to the station—I went to the woman, she was still lying down, I saw that she was bleeding from the breast—when she was lifted up I saw a bullet, it appeared to come from her stays—I took it from the stays myself, just about the left breast, and I gave it to the constable—a doctor came and examined the woman, and she was assisted away to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I went into the park to walk about, I was not well at the time—from the time I saw them first till I heard the first shot was from 15 to 20 minutes—I did not hear what they said, but I could have done if I had paid attention; there was nothing to prevent my hearing if I had wished—there were very few people about—when he fired the third shot he was within 3 feet of her, and I was about 20 yards off, not more—he moved his coat aside and fired at his heart with very great coolness and deliberation; after he had shot himself the revolver dropped from his hand, he made an attempt to get it—it was not a struggle, he made a rush—the woman never spoke in my hearing.
JOHN ALLCOCK . I live at 2 Finsbury Park Villas—I am an attendant on an invalid gentleman—on Friday, the 22nd October, about half-past 12, I was in Finsbury Park, I heard the report of a pistol—I at once turned round and saw the prisoner firing at the woman, I saw him fire two shots at her with a pistol after hearing the report—he appeared to be close to her when he fired; after that he opened his coat, pointed the revolver at himself, and fired; he then dropped the revolver by his left-hand side, I picked it up with my left hand and gave it to Mr. Bradley—I saw the woman on the ground—I unpinned her shawl—her clothes were on fire—I extinguished the flame—I saw the bullet taken from the stays.
Cross-examined. I did not hear the prisoner make any statement, only ask me for the pistol; no expression of regret.
SAMUEL TAYLOR (Policeman Y.) At half-past 12 on 22nd October I was called to Finsbury Park—I there saw the deceased woman on the grass, apparently dying, the prisoner was standing by—from what was said to me I took him into custody—I told him "I shall take you to the station, where no doubt you will be charged with shooting that woman," he said "I shan't try to run away, as I have shot myself, and I am fast bleeding to death; "he pulled open his coat and pointed to a burnt mark in his waistcoat—Mr. Bradley handed me the revolver and also the bullet; shortly after, on the way to the park-gates, the prisoner tried to get the pistol out of my hand; he said "Give me that, so that I can finish the job"—a cab was called, and while I was handing the prisoner into it he took this knife (produced) from his breast coat pocket—it is a common butcher's knife, it had the appearance of having been lately sharpened—he threw it out of the opposite cab window—it was immediately picked up by a boy and handed to me—I did not lose sight of it—on the way to
the station he took from his pocket this box of cartridges (produced)—he said "I don't want to hide anything from you now;" I produce the revolver—the prisoner was taken to the station and thence removed to the hospital—after leaving the station, on the way to the hospital, as we were coming dawn the Caledonian Road, he said "Is that woman dead?"—I said "I don't know"—a little farther on, going down Southampton Street, he pointed out a house to me, and said "That is where her husband works"—I subsequently handed over the bullet, the cartridges, and the knife to my inspector, Mr. Macfadden—I was present when the revolver was examined at the station; in it were found four cartridge cases and two complete cartridges; it was a six barrelled revolver, two barrels were still loaded with cartridges, and four were discharged—the box purported to contain 50 cartridges, and six were gone—I remained on duty at the hospital while the prisoner was confined there as a patient; until he was discharged—on 23rd October, about 1.30 in the day, he made a statement to his cousin Mrs. Reed in my presence; I took it down; I have it here and produce it—he said "There was a certain object I had in view. I wanted to speak to her about it, and I took a tramcar to Finsbury Park for that purpose, with the full intention of doing what I have done if the interview with her was not satisfactory to me; the reason of my doing so no one on this living earth shall know."
Cross-examined. When he asked me if she was dead he did not say he hoped she was—he did not say that he had intended to shoot at his heart but unfortunately the ball had gone too low—I found out afterwards that the place he pointed out was the place where the husband worked—I did not hear him say at the hospital that he had killed the best friend he ever had in the world; I believe it was said—he was asked at the station where he lived; he described the street and the house, but did not know the name of the street or the name of the people with whom he was living—the place was afterwards found out—I don't know whether there is any one here from there.
JOHN MACFADDEN (Police Inspector Y.) I received from the last witness the articles mentioned by him, and also a pocket-book—at the station I asked some persons in the prisoner's presence who the deceased woman was, and the prisoner replied "She is Mrs. Messenger, and lives at No. 41, Edward Square, Caledonian Road"—the doctor in attendance re-marked in the prisoner's presence that the revolver was a new one, and the prisoner replied "Yes, I bought it this morning"—on 25th October I made inquiries about the revolver at Messrs. Bland and Son's, gunmakers, 106, Strand—a photograph and a pocket-book were found in the prisoner's greatcoat pocket at the hospital, and they were handed to me by Constable Taylor; it is the photograph of a woman—I produce two bullets, one handed to me by Mr. Wharry, the doctor, and the other by the constable Taylor.
Cross-examined. I found some letters at the prisoner's lodging,. 133, Walmer Road, Notting Hill—I found put the place in consequence of his description; he told me it was close to a Wesleyan chapel—a registered letter was received while he was at the hospital; it was from his wife, posted in Australia; there was an enclosure in it addressed to the deceased—the pocket-book has a number of things written in it, and addresses of lawyers and counsel; I have inquired of nearly all of them—in
the pocket-book there is this entry: "If anything happens to me, my address is William Herbert, Mrs. Pegler's, 91, Portobello Road, Netting Hill;" he never lived there, he had his letters addressed there.
MARK PARTRIDGE . I am manager to Messrs. Bland and Sons, gunmakers, 106, Strand—I remember on Monday, 25th October, Inspector Macfadden making some inquiries at our shop—a few days before that, I can't swear to the date, the prisoner came to the shop rather early in the morning; he said he wanted a revolver; he asked the price; I said we had none of our own make under two guineas; he said "That is much too dear for me, I want a much cheaper one;" he said that he was going to Australia, going into the bush., that he had been there before, that he did not want one for use, only as a matter of show, that he never had any occasion to use one, he wanted it to lay in his portmanteau in case of necessity, he might want to use it, he hoped he never should—I showed him a very common one, of a foreign make, and told him the price was 10s. 6d.; he said that would suit him—I sold him the revolver and a box of cartridges—I cannot identify this revolver; it was very much like this, and these cartridges would be the size for this revolver—they are similar to what I sold him—he paid for them, and took them away with him.
THOMAS COCHRANE . I live in Finsbury Park; I am the superintendent there—on Friday, 22nd October, I saw the woman lying there, and after the doctor had examined her I took her in a cart to the Great Northern Hospital; she died shortly after starting.
JOHN MACFADDEN (Re-examined by MR. GILL). I did not ascertain that the prisoner had been suffering from illness recently, I never heard it alleged until to-day—I did not make inquiries of Dr. Chalmers as to whether he had been attending him—I have said that from inquiries I had made. I believed that the address in the pocket-book was written some six weeks before, when he stated that he was a little ill; that was what the persons referred to said—I have said that I heard to-day for the first time of his suffering from illness; I meant illness to the extent of being attended by a medical man.
ARTHUR JAMES WHARRY . I am house surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—on 22nd October, at 1.30 in the day, I saw the deceased woman, Jane Messenger, at the hospital; she was dressed—I examined her; on the right side of the body, in front of the chest, she was burnt; the dress was also burnt, the body and part of the stays; I think my hand would cover the space that was burnt; there was a corresponding indentation on the steel of the stays, and a bruise on the chest corresponding to that indentation; on the left side of the body I found holes in the dress and bodice, and a circular wound between the third and fourth ribs, about an inch inside the nipple—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination—I found that a bullet had passed through the chest, injuring the left auricle of the heart and the right part of the left lung, and become buried in the sixth rib. two inches from the spine; death was caused by the bullet injuring the heart and lung—I handed the bullet to the Coroner, and the Coroner handed it to Inspector Macfadden—the deceased appeared to be about 35 years of age, as far as I could judge.
Cross-examined. I have not studied the subject of insanity at all—I did so for the purpose of my examination, but I have not given my attention to it, nothing more than simply to pass my examination—I know
that there is a form of that disease known as melancholia, well recognised in the profession—a man may suffer from that for some time without showing any outward sign of positive madness—a suicidal tendency is an evidence of melancholia—I should not think that a homicidal tendency was so much so as a suicidal—I can't say that a suicidal tendency is a common result with a person suffering from that sort of insanity—disappointment may to a great extent produce melancholia, and different internal diseases will cause it.
Q. Are there many cases of persons suffering from melancholia where it has never been suspected that they were labouring under it until they have committed some act, such as an attempt at suicide?—A. I don't know that; I really cannot answer that; it is a subject to which I have not given much attention since my examination.
Re-examined. Melancholia is excessive low spirits, that is what it is.
FREDERICK JAMES GANT . I reside at 16, Connaught Square, and am senior surgeon to the Royal Free Hospital—on 22nd October, about 2 in the day, I examined the prisoner at the hospital—he was gasping for breath—I found a small triangular penetrating wound, two inches in a vertical line below the left nipple; blood was still trickling from it; there was a corresponding aperture in his jersey—the ball had traversed the chest, and has lodged there very deep—there was no second aperture; the ball was never extracted; it is lodged in his chest now—he remained under my care until he was removed, about three weeks after his admission—I believe he was removed on the morning of the day that he went to the police-court.
Cross-examined. His life was in danger when he came in—he had inflammation of the lungs and pleura on that side—I saw him within 10 minutes of his being admitted; it was my visiting day at the hospital—he did not tell me that he had killed the best friend he had in the world—I did not hear that statement—I am no authority whatever on the subject of insanity—I have practised surgery purely all my life—I have not given my attention to insanity at any time—I have had no such experience at all; not much even in reading; I really do not know anything of it; I practised purely as a hospital surgeon.
Cross-examined. About 10 years ago I heard of my wife's sister desiring her to go out and join her in Australia—I have heard of it recently, from the prisoner since he has been in custody, a desire on the part of the sister that she should join her there—I heard the prisoner say that he would never take the brother with him—I know that the prisoner used to write letters to his wife while he was at my house—I don't know whether he posted them or not.
JOHN MACFADDEN (Re-examined.) I see here a letter of 23rd August; the address on it is, "William Herbert, Esq., care of Mr. Messenger, 41, Edward Square, Caledonian Road, London, England"—it appears to have gone through the post; it has the postmark of Footscray, Victoria, August 24, and the London postmark of 2nd October—there is a letter contained in that envelope addressed to "My dear husband," and signed, "Your loving wife, Elizabeth Ann Herbert." (This being read stated:" I received your welcome letter together with the portrait, which I am very pleased to accept; Jane takes the shine out of me; I shall have mine taken again. I do not like it after hers, &c") I also produce
an envelope addressed in the same way, with the postmark of Footscray of 2nd September, and the London postmark of 14th October—it appears to have gone through the post, and is marked "registered"—it contains a letter, dated August 31, from the wife to the prisoner, with this passage in it: "When Sam arrives get him to send his likeness, and ask Jane if she has got another of hers, and to let me have it if she can spare it. Annie and Willie are going to have theirs taken and sent home."
FREDERICK JAMES GANT (Re-examined by MR. GILL). I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons—I saw a good deal of the prisoner in the hospital; he was my patient there—apart from the wound he appeared to be suffering from very great depression—he several times alluded to the attempt on his life—the second or third day after his admission he said that he was tired of his life; that it was no use my showing him the attention I did, to endeavour to restore him, he was tired of his life—that was the state of his mind during all the time he was there.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
JOHN SHEPHERD . I am a house decorator, of Herbert Villa, Cooper Road, Acton—the prisoner worked for me—on 22nd October my family consisted of myself, my wife, my daughter Ada, and four other children, the youngest was a baby—Ada was 10 years of age; she would have been 11 on 10th December next—on 22nd October I and my wife went out at 11.30, taking the baby with us, and leaving the other children at home—before we left I asked the prisoner to have an eye to the place, to wait with the children till we came home, and to light the gas—he said he would do so—I am not certain whether we went out by the front door; we generally go out the back way—the side door was open—we returned about 6.30 at night—there was no light in the house—we went in at the front door; I let myself in by a latch key—I proceeded to the kitchen, and called for the prisoner and for the children—I got no answer—I then went to the kitchen door; I found it locked—the key was on the outside—I turned the key, and opened the door—when I got into the kitchen I found my child Ada lying on her back before the fireplace dead, with a handkerchief over her face—I went over the way to Mr. Lessingham's, a friend of mine, and got some matches, and came back and lit the gas—I then found my child lying perfectly straight, with the handkerchief over her face; the legs were towards the door, straight out; her arms by her side, and her throat cut—the police were sent for—nothing was moved out of its place till the police came—I found that the side door was fastened on the inside with a bolt, and the back door the same—I went over the house directly I had lighted the gas—I found the door of the back bedroom on the first floor forced; I had left it locked, and my wife had taken the key—there was a box there unlocked, and there was a till inside the box; the till had been forced by a screwdriver of mine—I had sold a house shortly before this, and had received 150l. for it—I had told my wife that fact in the prisoner's presence; he knew all
about it—I had not the money in the house; I took it with me—I had had it in the house before I went out, but I changed it—I had had the cheque in the house the day previous, but on the 22nd I took it with me when I went out—I don't know that I had mentioned the fact of having the cheque to any other person but the prisoner, only to my wife—on she 21st October, when I came home at 5.40, the prisoner was stopping in the workshop at work, and he ought to have left his work at 5 o'clock—I said "Hallo, Pavey, you have not gone home yet!"—he said "No, I thought I would stop and chop some wood"—he was then chopping wood—he said "You have got back all right; you have got it settled"—I said "Yes, and I have got a cheque for the money"—the prisoner knew all the rooms of the house well—I did not show him the cheque, only told him of it—when I went out with my wife on the 22nd I left Ada at home; the other three children were at school—they leave school about 12 o'clock—when I returned I found the younger children at Mrs. Wallis's in Milton Road—the prisoner was an ordinary journeyman in my employment, doing ordinary journeyman's work—he was painting the steps and ladders then; I kept him on—among other things I had a pair of boots on the premises prior to the 22nd—some days after I missed them—these (produced) are them—I took them off on the 22nd, and put others on, and left the boots in the kitchen when I went out.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been in my employment about six months—during the time he was in my house he conducted himself well—he had never been left with the children before—I do not remember mentioning to any one except my wife that I was going out for the day, or that I was going to carry the cheque with me to Norwood—I did not carry it with me, I changed it and carried the money—the side door of my house was generally open—the bedroom door was a strong door, it appeared to have been broken with considerable force; I know that the lock did not go in far, after we came to examine it—I know that the prisoner is paralysed on one side—he is not a weakly man, he is as strong as any other man that I had working for me—I lost a glaziers diamond—I was asked before the Magistrate if I knew any one answering the description of "a man, apparently a working man, no moustache, only beard, black coat, waistcoat and trousers pepper-and-salt tweed, and hard felt hat;" I believe they have some one outside answering that description, but I did not know any one at that time.
Re-examined. I changed the cheque in the morning before I started for Norwood—I changed it at the South-Western Bank at Acton before I left home—I came buck to the house after changing it, and afterwards started for Norwood—the lock of the bedroom door was not broken at all, only the fastening that holds the lock, it only went about a quarter of an inch into the wood.
JESSE SMITH (Police Inspector X.)About 7 o'clock on Friday evening, 22nd October, I went to Mr. Shepherd's—I went into the kitchen and saw the body of the child Ada lying on the hearth rug with a handkerchief over her face, it was handed to me by the father—under the table I saw a napkin that appeared to have marks of blood upon it, I took it off the floor myself—I raised the left hand of the little girl from the floor and found under it a farthing, a thimble, and three nuts; the hand was partly closed—I saw some nut shells about the floor—this table knife (produced) was handed to me by constable Miller, it was found previous to my
arrival—I saw stains on it apparently of blood, dry—I took it to the station and gave it to Inspector Savage—I went over the house—I have heard Mr. Shepherd's description of the bedroom—I have here the drawers that the girl was wearing.
WILLIAM GEORGE MILLER (Policeman X 242). On 22nd October, about 20 minutes to seven, I went to Herbert Villa—I went into the kitchen and saw the child on the ground—I found this table knife lying on the dresser by the fireplace covered with a white tablecloth—I took it up and looked at it—it appeared to have been recently sharpened on some rough substance, and had stains on the blade apparently of blood, quite dry—there were two small stains, apparently of blood, on the wood of he dresser, underneath where the knife had been—the handle of the knife is made of bone—I gave it to Inspector Smith.
Cross-examined. I went upstairs—the bedroom door was fairly strong not massive—I have said it would require some force to break it us was, not considerable force.
CLEMENT FREDERICK FENN MURRELL . I am a surgeon, of Haviland Villas, Acton—about 20 minutes to seven on Friday, 22nd October, went to Mr. Shepherd's house—I went into the kitchen and found the little girl Ada lying on the hearth rug on her back—I examined her, she was dead—I found a wound on the left side of the throat, apparently a stab, it appeared to go through to the right side, and penetrate slightly—that wound produced death—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted with a stab of this knife; it cut the arteries—the loss of blood from that wound, in my judgment, caused almost instantaneous death—there were two small cuts on the left side of the chin, probably unimportant, they were such as might have been done with a knife—the face was swollen all over, the forehead was contused, the face was slightly livid, more especially at the forehead, and the forehead was bruised—in my opinion severe pressure over the forehead and eyes would account for the swollen appearance—I examined her person and discovered that she had been recently violated—the back of her thighs were slightly bruised, and her back—in my judgment she had been dead between three and four hours; the extremities were all cold, and the body partially so—it is extremely difficult to tell within half an hour or an hour, but I should say she had been dead about three hours and a half—there was a great deal of blood on the floor on the left-hand side of the body.
Cross-examined. The blood on the drawers had mixed with the urine and so had been absorbed into the drawers—she appeared to have lost a great deal of blood from the throat.
FREDERICK SAVAGE (Police Inspector X). After visiting the prosecutor's house I went to 31, Manchester Street, Notting Dale, where the prisoner lived—I did not find him at home—I remained there till one in the morning, he had not returned then—on Sunday, 24th October, at 11 at night, I was at the Paddington Police-station when the prisoner was brought in—I showed him the handkerchief produced by Inspector Smith, and said, "This handkerchief was found on the face of the murdered child;" he said, "Yes, it is my handkerchief; I put it there"—I then showed him the knife; he said, "I know nothing about that"—the charge was read to him, and he said, "Yes, very well"—I then stripped him of his clothes—on the neck of his shirt, near the collar button, there were two spots of blood on one side and one on the other, immediately below the
about it—I had not the money in the house; I took it with me—I had had it in the house before I went out, but I changed it—I had had the cheque in the house the day previous, but on the 22nd I took it with me when I went out—I don't know that I had mentioned the fact of having the cheque to any other person but the prisoner, only to my wife—on the 21st October, when I came home at 5.40, the prisoner was stopping in the workshop at work, and he ought to have left his work at 5 o'clock—I said "Hallo, Pavey, you have not gone home yet!"—he said "No, I thought I would stop and chop some wood"—he was then chopping wood—he said "You have got back all right; you have got it settled"—I said "Yes, and I have got a cheque for the money"—the prisoner knew all the rooms of the house well—I did not show him the cheque, only told him of it—when I went out with my wife on the 22nd I left Ada at home; the other three children were at school—they leave school about 12 o'clock—when I returned I found the younger children at Mrs. Wallis's in Milton Road—the prisoner was an ordinary journeyman in my employment, doing ordinary journeyman's work—he was painting the steps and ladders then; I kept him on—among other things I had a pair of boots on the premises prior to the 22nd—some days after I missed them—these (produced) are them—I took them off on the 22nd, and put others on, and left the boots in the kitchen when I went out.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been in my employment about six months—during the time he was in my house he conducted himself well—he had never been left with the children before—I do not remember mentioning to any one except my wife that I was going out for the day, or that I was going to carry the cheque with me to Norwood—I did not carry it with me, I changed it and carried the money—the side door of my house was generally open—the bedroom door was a strong door, it appeared to have been broken with considerable force; I found that the lock did not go in far, after we came to examine it—I know that the prisoner is paralyzed on one side—he is not a weakly man, he is as strong as any other man that I had working for me—I lost a glazier's diamond—I was asked before the Magistrate if I knew any one answering the description of "a man, apparently a working man, no moustache, only beard, black coat, waistcoat and trousers pepper-and-salt tweed, and hard felt hat;" I believe they have some one outside answering that description, but I did not know any one at that time.
Re-examined. I changed the cheque in the morning before I started for Norwood—I changed it at the South-Western Bank at Acton before I left home—I came back to the house after changing it, and afterwards started for Norwood—the lock of the bedroom door was not broken at all, only the fastening that holds the lock, it only went about a quarter of an inch into the wood.
JESSE SMITH (Police Inspector X.)About 7 o'clock on Friday evening, 22nd October, I went to Mr. Shepherd's—I went into the kitchen and saw the body of the child Ada lying on the hearth rug with a handkerchief over her face, it was handed to me by the father—under the table I saw a napkin that appeared to have marks of blood upon it, I took it off the floor myself—I raised the left hand of the little girl from the floor and found under it a farthing, a thimble, and three nuts; the hand was partly closed—I saw some nut shells about the floor—this table knife (produced) was handed to me by constable Miller, it was found previous to my
collar—there were no other marks on the shirt—on the trousers I saw marks that I believed to be blood—there was a mark on each leg of the trousers near the bottom, which I thought was blood, they were red smears, which I took to be blood, and on the right knee there were two small spots—on the coat there was a red smear on the right elbow, and on the lining inside the collar on the right side there was a red mark—I called his attention to the marks on the shirt and trousers, and said, "You see the marks of spots of blood on your shirt and trousers, they will be used in evidence against you;" he said, "Yes"—I took the clothes to Mr. Bond in a bundle, for the purpose of his analysing the spots, and I afterwards took the knife to him.
THOMAS BOND . I live at 17, Delahay Street, Westminster—I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and Lecturer on Forensic Medicine at the Westminster Hospital—on 29th October the last witness brought me some clothes sealed up in a parcel, and on 1st November a knife—I have made a careful examination of the clothes and applied the usual and microscopical tests to ascertain whether they were marks of blood—on the shirt I found two spots of blood on one side and one on the other, in the position spoken of by the inspector—on the collar of the waistcoat I found a small clot of blood, which I examined—on the trousers I found red marks on the lower part of the legs, and two or three spots about the upper part of the legs—I examined all those spots and found that none of them were caused by blood—they were very large red stains; I think they were paint, a crystalline substance—those on the shirt were undoubtedly blood, and the clot on the waistcoat—I examined a smear which the inspector pointed out to me at the back of the coat, it was a very faint smear; that was not blood as far as I could make out; I think it was a stain caused by perspiration—there was no blood on the coat; I may say that I did not notice the stain spoken of on the elbow, so I did not examine that—the marks on the shirt and waistcoat were such as might have been caused by the spurting of an artery—all I can say is that they had all the characteristics of human blood, but that is common to animals, to mammals—those were all the marks of blood I found—they were recent marks; it is impossible to say to a week or two how recent; they were undoubtedly not old stains, it was recent blood, quite consistent with having been there a week—I examined the knife; on each side of the blade there were stains of blood about 2 inches from the point, and also a smear near the handle, but no blood on the handle; that was recent blood—it might have been caused by the knife having been plunged into the throat, or it might have been placed on; it was quite consistent with its having been plunged into the throat.
Cross-examined. The size of the mark on the collar of the shirt was about the size of a three penny bit, the two splashes on one side were not quite so large; the one on the other side was larger, about the size of a sixpence—it is quite possible they may have been caused by the prisoner's nose having bled—I cannot even say that it was human blood, all I can say is that it was the blood of a mammal.
By the COURT. The blood on the shirt was in a part that would be exposed if a man wore a waistcoat, on each side of the necktie; it was hardly the spot where you would expect to find blood from a man's nose, still he might have had his shirt unbuttoned.
Road, Acton—I had known the deceased little girl for about two years before her death—on Friday, 22nd October, about 2 o'clock, she came to my shop with her two little sisters, and I served her with a sugar stik and gave her a farthing change.
STEPHEN STANDING . I am a greengrocer at 39, Churchfield Road, Acton—I knew the little girl Ada Shepherd—on Friday, 22nd October, she came to my shop at 2.10 and bought a halfpennyworth of nuts—she was alone; I served her myself—she paid for the nuts and took them away—I thought she had come for my little child to take to school, that is how I fix the time.
EMMA PERRY . I keep a school at 2, Churchfield Villas, Acton—the little sisters of Ada Shepherd came to my school—on 22nd October Adabrought them to school and left them at the gate about 1.50 or 1.45—they remained until 4 o'clock.
WILLIAM POLE . I live at 4, Billington Place, Acton, and am a baker in the employment of Mr. Clifton—I used to serve Mr. Shepherd with bread—on Friday, 22nd October, I went to Mr. Shepherd's, at Herbert Villa, about 2.50 or 2.55—I knocked at the front door twice, but got no answer—I listened at the door; I did not hear anybody inside—I noticed the side door, it was open—I did not go down to the side door; there is a dog there—finding I could get no answer I got up in my cart and cameaway—I went to leave my bread.
Cross-examined. I do not always get to Mr. Shepherd's at one time, but this day I was about an hour sooner than general—my attention was first directed to what occurred on that day, at night when I went to book my bread—I think I was first asked to give evidence a fortnight afterwards; I did not take notice what day Mr. Savage came to me—he asked if I remembered the 22nd October, and I said I did—I do not remember at what time I got to that portion of my round on the 21st October, or at what time I got there every day for a fortnight afterwards; it is not very often that I take any notice—I am quite sure it was not after 3 o'clock on this day—I only know by judging the time how long it took me to get there—sometimes there may be a difference of half an hour in the time at which I arrive at certain places—this was on a Friday—I am not indebted to the inspector for the day—I heard of the murder that night.
Re-examined. I know that it was on that day that I knocked at the door and got no answer; that was the only day that I knocked at the door without getting an answer.
GEORGE TRINDER . I am a builder, of 7, Arthur Terrace, Acton—I keep a china shop as well—on 22nd October, at a quarter to 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I went to the prosecutor's side door—it was bolted—I could not get in at that door—I then went round to the front door—I knocked twice, but got no answer, and left—I heard no sound inside the house.
WILLIAM TOWNSEND . I am a milkman—I live at 8, Churchfield Road, Acton—on Friday, 22nd October, between 10 minutes and a quarter past 3 o'clock, I went to Mr. Shepherd's and knocked at the door twice—I got no answer—I looked through the letter-box—I never go to the side door—I did not see or hear anything inside the house—finding I could make no one hear, I left.
Road, Acton—on the 22nd October I was working at the house next door but two to the prosecutor's, on the same side of the way—I was outside the house on a scaffold—I know the prisoner by sight—I saw him that afternoon come out of the prosecutor's house at 3.15—he had no coat on—he was in his shirt sleeves—I did not notice which door he came out at—I saw him come out of the house, not out of the passage—I saw him come out in front of the house—I did not see what became of him—he turned round and saw me, and then walked away from me—I did not notice whether he entered the house again, or whether he went down the road—I saw Trinder at a quarter to 3 o'clock knocking at the door.
Cross-examined. I did not see the milkman call—I was engaged in attending to my own business—I did not notice particularly who came to the house.
Re-examined. I saw the milkman on the other side of the road—I did not see him call at the house.
WILLIAM HENRY SHEPHERD . I live at 10, Cheltenham Place, Acton—I am in the service of Mr. Green, who keeps an oil shop there—I have known the prisoner about two months by sight—on Friday, the 22nd October, about 20 minutes past 3 o'clock, I was in the Birkbeck Road and saw the prisoner coming towards the Uxbridge Road—that would be from the direction of Herbert Villa, and three or four minutes' walk from Mr. Shepherd's—he walked on in the direction of the Uxbridge Road, and I lost sight of him—he had on a pair of cord trousers and a velvet jacket, dressed as usual.
HENRY CROSS . I am assistant to Mr. Thompson, pawnbroker, 38, Nor land Road, Notting Hill—on Friday, the 22nd October, a pair of boots was pledged at our shop, I believe by the prisoner—these are the boots produced—they were pledged for 7s.—I gave a duplicate for them—he had not been in the habit of pledging at our place—he gave the name of J. Pavey, of 31, Manchester Street, Notting Hill—I asked him if they were his own boots, and he said they were, and he had paid 25s. for them—he was in the shop about 10 minutes altogether—I next saw him at the Hammersmith Police-court with several others, and I picked him out as the man who had pledged the boots—I do not think I have any doubt in my mind about him.
JOHN FISHER . I am a wire-worker, of 31, Manchester Street, Notting Hill—the prisoner and his wife lodged with me; they had a child about 11 months old—they left on Friday, 22nd October, and if they had stayed till the next Tuesday they would have been there three weeks—on that Friday, at 8.30 a.m., the prisoner went to his work as usual, and never came back—I then heard that he was in custody—his wife and child slept at home that night—I knew no reason for his being absent.
SAMUEL CROW (Police Inspector S). On Sunday, 24th October, about 7.15 p.m., I went to Hendon workhouse, and saw the prisoner in the casual ward—I asked his name; he said "George Pavey"—I said "I shall take you in custody for committing a murder, the particulars of which I don't know at present"—he said "Very well"—I took him to Edgware station, searched him, and found eight pawn-tickets, one of which is for a Geneva watch, pawned by A. Pavey—Inspector Savage showed him the handkerchief, and he said "It is my handkerchief, I placed it there."
took the prisoner in a cab from the Paddington Police-station to Hammersmith Police-court; when we got to High Street, Notting Hill, I e said "This is the way I went on Friday afternoon when I left the house; I walked through into the Uxbridge Road, through Shepherd's Bush, Bayswater Road, and the Seven Dials, where I reached about 6 o'clock; I lodged that night at the Princes's lodging-house; the next day I walked about and read an account of the murder in the newspaper, and saw the description given did not answer to me; I lodged that night at Redding's lodging-house in Westminster; the next day, Sunday, I walked to Hendon"—he then began making a further statement which I thought most material concerning the murder—I said "What you say will be used in evidence against you; I cannot remember the exact words you use unless I write it down"—he said "I wish you to write it down, and tell the Magistrate what I say"—I then wrote this from his dictation: "About 2 o'clock the girl had gone with her sisters to school, when a man came to the side door and asked if my name was Pavey, and said 'The governor wants to see you at the Uxbridge Railway Station at once;' I told him the governor said he had gone to Norwood; he said 'He is not, he is waiting at the station to see you;' I went directly to the station and hurried back, and then I saw what had taken place, the girl lying on the floor dead; I covered the handkerchief over her face; before I put the handkerchief over her face I saw blood flowing; I came out of the house; I did not know which way to go; I could see that it looked so black against me that I was afraid to stop, knowing at the same time that I had been convicted of a similar offence before; I was frightened to say anything about it, as they would think I had done it, and I then went away; I was away from the house three-quarters of an hour going to the station and returning; I went away about half-past 2 and returned about 3 p.m.; that is all I have to say"—I asked him if he wished to sign the statement—he said "Yes"—I read it over to him and he signed it—he completed in Hammersmith Police-station the statement which he commenced in the cab.
Cross-examined. It is very indistinct because it was written as the cab was going—it was said in the usual tone with the usual stoppages in a conversation—when he said that he was away three-quarters of an hour I did not understand that he was away from the house twice—he said that at 2.15 a person asked him to come to Uxbridge Railway Station, and he told me what occurred when he returned—he said that he left the house about 2.15 and returned at 3, the only time—trains are constantly going between the Priory, Acton Vale, and Uxbridge Road Stations—the distance is 2 1/2 miles as near as can be.
GEORGE GREENHAM . I am one of the Chief Inspectors of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard—I understand surveying, and have been in the habit of making plans—I made the plans which have been produced to-day—they are made to a scale of 12 inches to the mile—I have marked Cooper's Road, Herbert Villa, and the houses adjoining, and Mr. Eckford's shop, Mr. Standing's shop, and the school—they are all within two or three minutes' walk of each other—they are all correctly marked—I have marked Birkbeck Road, which leads from Church field Road into Uxbridge Road; that is only two or three minutes' walk from Herbert Villa—it is 2 1/4 miles from Herbert Villa to the station by Churchfield Road and Birkbeck Road—Thompson's, the
pawnbroker's, is close to the station; I have marked it—I carry on the plan to the place where the prisoner lives—all those things are accurately marked.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
OLD COURT.—Monday, November 22nd, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. FILLAN Defended.
JOHN LAMOND HEMMING . I live at 9, Woburn Place, Russell Square—I am a member of the College of Physicians—I married the prisoner's stepdaughter—in 1878 I started a business in Lombard Street called the Metropolitan and Provincial Discount Association—the prisoner was then in my employment as manager of that business—this bill for 135l., dated 12th June, 1879, drawn at three months, by the prisoner, purports to be accepted by J. Lamond Hemming—it is not my signature—to the best of my belief it is the prisoner's handwriting—I never gave him authority to accept it—the first time I saw it was at the latter end of January, 1880—in October, 1879, I received a letter from the solicitors to Messrs. Barkers' the bankers, in consequence of which I came up to town, and was on my way to Barkers' when I met the prisoner—I told him I was going to Messrs. Wordsworth, Blake, and Harris, on account of a letter I had received demanding payment of a dishonoured acceptance of mine for 134l.—he said "Oh, give me the letter, it is my affair, I will set that all right; how stupid of them to make this mistake"—upon that I gave him the letter, and took no further steps in the matter two days after he told me that the thing was perfectly arranged and was all right—in January this year an execution was put into my house by the Sheriff under this bill for 135l.—I made application to stay the execution, on the ground that the bill was a forgery—execution was stayed, and the action was abandoned, and I got the costs—the signature to this bill for 111l. 1s. 6d. Is my handwriting—there are marks in pencil over the signature—that is the only bill I ever gave the prisoner—I was sued in the Divorce Court in the name of Hawkins.
Cross-examined. Mr. Wise was the gentleman that brought the action against me in the Divorce Court—he was no friend of mine, I never saw him in my life—he cited me as a co-respondent as having committed adultery with his wife—the Judge considered that he had proved the statement—I did not appear—I then went by the name of Hawkins I did not describe myself as a medical practitioner then—I believe the entry was as a commercial traveller—I never had been a commercial traveller—I have been a medical practitioner since I qualified in 1877—I have kept dogs and have sold and bought
dogs—I employed the prisoner to bet on the turf for me on one occasion—I was not a bookmaker—I had no bother with a lunatic asylum at Fulham—there were proceedings against me in Chancery for a dissolution of partnership—I gave a cheque for 300l. to the parties, which cheque I stopped within an hour, on the advice of my solicitor, but the money has since been paid—I did not go into a patent medicine business—there were some negotiations about it—the business in Lombard Street was started long before that, in connection with the prisoner—he was not a partner, he was the manager—I paid the rent—the premises were taken in the prisoner's name and mine as joint tenants—he brought no money into the concern; he was to work the business, I had to find the capital—he found the brains and I the money—he had no salary, he was to nave a share of the profits; he was not my partner; I did not look on it in that light—he had not the power of drawing what money he liked for himself—he took bills in his own name and sued on them—the rent was paid from the business; he paid it, but not out of his own money—I had nothing whatever to do with the business; I found the money, he conducted the business—the bill for 118l. was not a bill for his accommodation—I accepted it—that was in 1877, the business in Lombard Street was not started till August, 1878—the 118l. bill was for my accommodation; he got it discounted at Barker's for me; it was not for the purposes of business—I will swear that other bills were not done in the same way, and that I never gave him authority to sign my name as acceptor—that was the only bill he ever drew for my accommodation—I did not state before the Magistrate that I gave the bill in November, 1877, lor Mr. Johnson's accommodation; if I did it was a mistake—I did not, on 4th November, 1877, accept a bill for 111l. 1s. 6d., or on 17th June, 1877, a bill for 108l. 10s. 9d., or on 25th November a bill for 133l. 6s. 3d.—I never paid those bills—no application was ever made to me for any of these bills—this cheque of 28th June, 1877 was not the proceeds of those bills—they were for advances on Peruvian shares—I first beard of this forgery at the latter end of January, 1880, when the execution was put into my house; I had never seen the bill; I had a letter about it from Messrs. Wordsworth, demanding payment of this bill in October—I have not got the letter, I gave it to the prisoner—I did not answer that, I was going to see Messrs. Barker when I met the prisoner—I will swear that I never told him that when he wanted money he might accept for me, if so, why attempt to imitate my signature—in December I accused him of embezzlement—I wrote him this letter of 20th December, 1879—I was not annoyed at his commencing a business on his own account—he did not come to my place and give me a thrashing; he assaulted me—I instructed my solicitor in January to take criminal proceedings, and a warrant was taken out at once, but he was not taken till July, he could not be found—I did not know that he was in the City all that time—I was in communication with his wife; I borrowed 2l. of her—I have not paid it back—I never gave instructions to my solicitor to sell some reversionary interest of my wife's—there was 350l. in trust in Chancery, out of which my wife was to receive 100l.
Re-examined. In December, 1878, I forbade the prisoner to take any more money out of the business—I said at the police-court that the prisoner always asked me for money; when he wanted money for disbursements he applied to me for it—I have since ascertained that the
prisoner instructed his solicitor to enter an appearance on my behalf; that was without my authority.
CLIFFORD CLARK . I live in South Street, Romford, and am clerk to Barker and Co, bankers, of Mark Lane—this bill of exchange for 135l. was discounted by our firm and the amount credited to the prisoner—he was then a customer—the signature of the drawer and endorser I should pass as his genuine signature.
Cross-examined. To the best of my belief we discounted this other bill for 111l. 1s. 6d.—I believe we have discounted two or three others drawn by Johnson and accepted by Hemming—we had one on 18th March, 1878. Re-examined. I can't say that Johnson met those bills—the first conversation I ever had with Mr. Hemming was in reference to the 135l. bill—whether the signatures to the bills were Hemming's or not I can't say—Johnson had credit for the money obtained on these bills.
CHARLES CHABOT . I am an expert in handwriting, and have been so for many years—I have seen a number of Mr. Hemming's signatures—I have never seen him write—four months ago I saw a bundle of cheques said to bear his signature—I can't say that these (produced) are the same. (Mr. Hurrell, managing clerk to Messrs. Parker and Co., solicitors to the prosecution, proved that these were the cheques shown to Mr. Chabot, and Mr. Hemming stated that the signatures to them were his.) On comparing these with the signature to the 135l. bill, in my opinion they are not in the same handwriting.
Cross-examined. I was not called at the police-court—I have often given evidence, very rarely for the defence—I don't know that my charges are too high for prisoners; they have paid me, and they have not regretted it.
HENRY HOARE . I am ledger-keeper to the Capital and Counties Bank in Threadneedle Street—Mr. Hemming has kept an account there—I am acquainted with his signature—I should say that the signature to this bill is not his; if it had been presented to me I should have marked it "Signature differs," and returned it to the person who presented it.
HILTON BARKER . I am a partner in the firm of Barker and Co., of Mark Lane—I know the prisoner—he had an account at our bank—I recognise his handwriting to the drawing on this blue bill—the endorsement is also his writing—my firm discounted this bill.
Cross-examined. We have discounted several other bills drawn by Johnson and accepted by Hemming—they were all paid.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective Sergeant.) I received a warrant for the prisoner's apprehension dated 20th January last on 8th July, from the station sergeant—at 3 o'clock that morning I went to 26, Gordon street, Gordon Square, and saw the prisoner there in bed—I told him I was a detective sergeant, and held a warrant for his arrest for forging a bill of acceptance—I read the warrant to him—he said "All right, I will go with you quietly"—I searched the place, and among a number of other papers I found this bill marked B—it is in the same state as I found it—I took the prisoner to the station, and charged him—he made no reply to the charge.
MR. HEMMING (Re-examined by MR. FILLAN). I produce my pass-book—I
will swear that the entry "Johnson, NOV. 3, 1877, 111l. 1s. 6d."was not for a bill drawn by Johnson and accepted by me—you will find many other "Johnsons "there—I have not got the cheque—it it three years ago—I destroy my cheques and counterfoils and all my old papers at the end of the year—you are talking of Nov., 1877; there was no business then—I mean seriously to say that I do not know what that sum of 111l. 1s. 6d. was for—at that time the prisoner was in an utterly impecunious position, and I had to keep him and his wife—I believe this 80l. cheque on 22nd Nov., 1877, was for money advanced by me on stock; it could be for no other purpose—this 100l. was for advances that he got for me from Barker's, his bankers—I am now a bankrupt—I brought an action against Mr. Chatterton, of Drury Lane Theatre—I charged him with fraud—he won the action—I have not paid his costs yet; it was on that debt I was made a bankrupt, and the reason for not gaining the action was that Johnson had absconded, and we could not find him—the transaction was with Johnson—my account with the London Joint Stock Bank was closed in November, 1878.
CLIFFOED CLARK (Re-examined by Mr. FILLAN). On 4th November, 1877, I find in my book an entry of a bill for 111l, 1s. 6d. due, drawn by Johnson and accepted by Hemming—I believe it was paid by the London Joint Stock Bank, Hemming's bankers, but their clerk can prove that better than I can—this (produced) is a list of bills that we have had, drawn by Johnson and accepted by Hemming.
NOT GUILTY .
ABRAHAM BAKER WHITEHOUSE . I am a cab proprietor, of 46, Great College Street, Camden Town—on 15th September about 2 o'clock I rode in one of my cabs to Aldridge's—William Vardy drove me—we both went into Aldridge's, leaving the horse and cab outside—I stayed there about 8 or 10 minutes—when I came out the horse and cab were gone—I value them at about 60l. or 70l.—I saw them again that same night at the police-station at Shadwell.
WILLIAM VARDY . I am a driver in Mr. Whitehouse's employ—on 15th September I drove him in one of his cabs to Aldridge's—I went in after him, leaving the horse and cab outside in charge of the prisoner—he was at the horse's head, and I said "Give an eye, old man"—he said "All right"—I came out in 8 or 10 minutes, and the cab and horse and prisoner were gone—I saw the horse and cab again that same night at the police-station—this is my rug, which I left on the cab.
HENRY WORRALL . I am a farrier, of 8, Leading Street, Lower Shadwell—on 15th September the prisoner drove down the hill facing my shop with another young man in the cab smoking a cigar; I could not swear to the other young man—the prisoner was drivings—he asked me to put a shoe on the horse, and he held the shoe in his hand—I put in on and charged 1s. for it—he said he had no money, and he went to pawn the rug, leaving the other man in charge; then three more young men came—I kept charge of the horse and cab till the policeman came, at a quarter to five—the prisoner did not come back till a quarter to seven, when the policeman took him into custody—the other men went away before the policeman came.
GEORGE MURRELL (Police Sergeant H.) In consequence of information I went to Mr. Worrall's on the evening of 15th September, and there found the horse and cab detained by him—I was about to take it to the station when the prisoner came up and claimed it; he said, "What's up, old man?"—I was in plain clothes—I asked him if it was his horse and cab—he said it was, he then said it was his uncle's, and then his grandfather's—I asked him where his badge was; he said he had left it at home—I asked where, he said in Spitalfields; I am not sure whether he said Church Street or Thrawl Street—I said I should take him into custody; he said God b him, nobody should take him, nobody should drive the horse and cab but him, it was his—he unbuckled the reins and became very violent—at Marlborough Street he said he had plenty of witnesses to prove that he was elsewhere at the time.
Prisoner's Defence. I was on Waterloo Bridge at the time—my father and brother and Thomas Lane are my witnesses (They were called but did not answer)—I met a man named Murphy who worked for my father, he had the cab and asked me to go for a ride—when we got down the highway he asked me if I had any money—I said no, and he gave me the rug to pawn and told me to give the name of Henry Davis, and he would be in the dolly shop.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in December 1878 in the name of Joseph Cunningham.**— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
5. EDWIN FRANCIS (34) PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for forging and uttering orders for 14l., 16l., and 20l. 16s. 8d., also to stealing 5l. 3s. of Arthur Pye Smith and others, his masters,— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 22nd, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and COOKE Prosecuted.
JOHN CONQUEST (Police Sergeant E.)On 27th October, about 6.30 p.m., I saw Price, and a man not in custody, at Charing Cross Railway Station, and in consequence of what I observed I spoke to Read, a railway labourer—they were together nearly an hour, and a bad half-crown was passed at the bookstall there about that time—on 29th October, about 5.50, I saw the two prisoners there with the same man—M'Coig left then, and I asked Read to follow him—I saw M'Coig go to Herbert's teastall and obtain a parcel there from Akers, he then joined Price and gave her something—I caught hold of her and Read took him—she immediately dropped this parcel containing eight bad florins separately wrapped up, and I found a bad florin in her right hand—I found a packet of sugar candy on her—we took the two prisoners away in a cab, on the floor of which we afterwards found a bad half-crown and florin—Price had in her other hand this purse containing a florin, 1s. 6d, and three pence, all good—M'Coig said, "She asked me to come out with her, it is the first
time; she only gave me one piece"—I received this bad florin and half-crown from Akers.
BENJAMIN AKERS . I assist at Herbert's tea stall, Charing Cross Station—on 29th October, about 5 p.m., Conquest spoke to me, and soon afterwards a man passed this bad half-crown for some tea—I gave him a florin change and he went away—I marked the coin and gave it to Conquest—on the same evening about 5.20 M'Coig came to the stall for a half-pound of candy, which came to three pence; he gave me a bad florin—I gave him the change and supplied the candy in this bag with "Herbert & Co." on it—I gave the florin to Conquest.
JOSEPH JAMES READ . I am a labourer at Charing Gross Station—Conquest spoke to me and I watched the man not in custody—he went towards the stall at which a bad florin was afterwards found to have been passed—on 29th October, about 6 o'clock, Conquest pointed out the two prisoners with the same man—I took M'Coig and saw Conquest take Price, who dropped some florins, which I picked up—we all went in a cab to the station—I saw some money at the bottom of the cab, which Conquest picked up, and I picked up a piece of velvet.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this is a bad half-crown of 1875, and this a had florin of 1873, uttered by M'Coig—these eight florins dropped by Price are bad, and three of them are from the same mould as the one uttered by M'Coig—the florin and half-crown found in the cab are bad, this half-crown found in Price's hand is bad.
M'Coig's Defence. I met the man who is not in custody, and he said he would give me 6d. if I would go and change the florin for him, I did so, and gave him the change; he said, "Wait there till I come back"—I waited five minutes and the constable took me.
Price's Defence. I met the man not in custody, and asked him to treat me; he said, "I will if you come as far as the station with me;" I did so, and he told me to wait outside the refreshment bar, and he would treat me; he had previously given me this parcel and some candy. I dropped the parcel when they took hold of me. I deny being there on Thursday night.
M'COIG— NOT GUILTY .
PRICE— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS LLOYD and COOKE Prosecuted.
SARAH ANN BANKS . My husband keeps the Crown, Green Street, Leicester Square—about 7 p.m. I served the prisoner with a pint of ale; he gave me a half-crown, I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change, and then told him it was bad—I gave it to my husband.
RICHARD BANKS . On 7th October my wife showed me a bad half-crown—I said to the prisoner, "Where did you get this from?" he said "I have been doing a moving job down at the corner;" I said, "What corner?" he said "In Oxford Street" (Green Street is two doors out of Leicester Square, not running towards Oxford Street, and over half, a mile from it)—he then said, "I will take it to the carman"—I gave him in custody with the coin.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I understood you to say that you had done the moving job round the corner, not that you had left the carman round the corner—you offered to go with me to the carman, and when the constable came he asked you, and yon said that you had been doing the job in Oxford Street.
CHARLES LLOYD (Policeman C 235). On 7th October, about 7 p.m., I was called to the Crown, and saw the bent coin—the prisoner said that he received it from a carman for doing a moving job round the corner—I said "What corner?"—he said "Near Oxford Street"—I said "What part of Oxford Street?"—he said "I don't know; it is a turning? leading out of it"—I said "Do you know the carman's name?"—he said "No"—I searched him, and found 1d. in his trousers pocket, and 2s. 1d. in his coat pocket, which was the change he had received—I took him to the station, and he was remanded, and discharged.
JOHN LUCAS . I am a tobacconist at 98, Strand—the prisoner came in on 17th October for half an ounce of tobacco, and gave me a bad shilling—I made a cross on it, and gave him in custody—he said he got it at the Cross Keys, Blackfriars Road.
Prisoner's Defence. I got the shilling in change for a half-crown, and the half-crown I got from a woman for doing a moving job in Oxford Street.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. LLOTD and COOKE Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
ALBERT CUEIO . I am a general dealer, of 39, Leather Lane—on 6th November, about 10.30, I sold the prisoner a feather bed for 17s.; he said he wanted change for a sovereign, and gave me this coin—I was going to put it into the till, but found it was light—I threw it on the counter, and said "This is not a sovereign"—he picked it up, and said "Not a sovereign; what do you mean?"—I said "It is a duffer"—he said "Oh indeed, if it is a duffer my sister gave it to me"—I said "Who is your sister?"—he said "Mrs. Perry; don't you know her? she lives in Castle street"—I said "No, I don't know her"—he said "Well, it is a great shame she has given it to me"—I said "Have not you any more money about you?"—he said "Yes, I have got another sovereign, and if that is a bad one this must be a bad one," and produced another, but I did not handle it—he walked out—I followed him, and gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. This was at 10.30 p.m. when we were very busy—he was sober—he was to pay on delivery.
JOHN OAKE (Policeman G 305). The prisoner was given into my charge-—I said "Where is the money?"—the prisoner said "Here it is," and handed me a Hanoverian medal—I asked him if he had any more, and he handed me another—I found 6d. and 3d. on him—he said "I got it from a post-office in Holborn"—I said "I do not think the post-office would give you bad money"—he said "I have got another shilling there now"—I found a post-office book on him, which I gave him back—he gave his address, 2, Tennis Court, Holborn.
markers, but then they do not have the knerled edges which make them more like a sovereign—two of these might be worth a farthing.
Cross-examined. They very much resemble a sovereign, but are a trifle smaller and thinner, and the knerling is closer together.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. LLOYD and COOKE Prosecuted.
ALICE CLARK . I am barmaid at the Star and Garter, Kew Bridge—on 7th October, about 3.45, I served the prisoner with two pennyworth of gin; he gave me a florin; I gave him 1s. 10d. change, and he left—he returned in five minutes, asked for a cigar, and gave me a bad florin—I went to the till, and found that the first florin was bad—I told him I should give him in custody, and he ran away—Kipping, who is in my employ, went after him, and brought him back, and took him to the station—I gave the florins to the police.
HENRY LOUGHLIN (Policeman J 448). On 7th October about 4.20, I Was on duty in Old Brentford, and saw Kipping holding the prisoner—I took him, searched him at the station, and found a good florin, 1d., a half-farthing, and a tobacco-box—he said that he did not know the florin was bad, but ran away because the barmaid said she would have him locked up.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 23rd.
Before Mr. Reorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS, MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GILL Defended.
JOHN DELVES . I keep the Newcastle Arms, Cubitt Town, Poplar—I have a deposit account with the Richard Green Permanent Building Society; I have here my deposit-book, which was supplied to me on opening the account—on 1st July, 1878, I paid 50l. to the prisoner at my own house; he was clerk and cashier to the society; I knew him for years—I had paid money to the society many times before-—I had always been in the habit of taking the money to the society, but knowing the prisoner so long, and the society as well, and living close to me, he came in one day, and said "Any time when you have any money to send to the society, t will call on you overnight, if you will let me know, to save you going up to the society"—when I paid money at the office I always signed the counter-book—there was nothing signed at this time—I paid the prisoner the 50l.; this was signed afterwards when the book was sent in to be made up—I know the prisoner's writing—this entry of 1st July, 1878, is his—on 2nd September, in the same year, I paid him 100l. at my
house; this is his signature against it—on 1st May, 1879, I paid him 140l.; the entry of it is signed by him.
Cross-examined. The society is a building society; you pay in deposits and get interest on the amounts—I think I commenced paying in about 1872—I believe it is a very large and wealthy society—I paid the 50l. in gold, and the 100l. also—Mr. Mayes was the manager of the society—the directors have lately resigned, and fresh directors have been appointed; Mr. Mayes still holds his position—I was present at one meeting; the finishing meeting, at the Cannon Street Hotel—I was not aware that Mr. Mayes had put 1,100l. of the company's money into the business of the prisoner's father, or that he had withdrawn several thousands from the society, and put it in a building speculation of his own, without the society's knowledge; I know nothing about it—I have still got money in the society; I wish it was in my pocket instead.
SAMUEL MAYES . I live at 139, East India Road, Poplar—I am the manager of the Richard Green Permanent Building Society, and have been since its formation—the society carries on business at 95 and 96, Fenchurch Street—I produce the certificate of incorporation; it was established in July, 1866; it receives money on deposit at interest and advances money on mortgage—the prisoner was originally a clerk in the society, and has been there about 11 years; during the last two years he has been chief clerk and cashier—the usual custom is when money is paid in to enter it in the deposit book, and the person who receives it signs for it—those entries are made and signed by the prisoner—it was the custom for the person paying in money to sign the counter book, which was kept at the office—I produce the counter books for July, September, and May—I have looked through them, and there is no entry of the receipt of these sums—there was a till book, which it was the prisoner's duty to keep; that ought to contain an entry of the aggregate amount received during the day—I have examined the till book for these three days, and there is no entry of the receipt of either of these sums—it would be the prisoner's duty to enter in the deposit journal the money received from a customer—these three sums of Mr. Delves's are not entered there—it would be the prisoner's duty to post or cause to be posted from the deposit journal into the depositor's ledger, so as to credit each particular customer with the amount paid—I find in the ledger an entry on 1st July of 50l. under the heading of "Mr. Delves's account" in the prisoner's writing, with a reference to folio 356 in the deposit journal, from which it purports to be posted—there is no such entry in the deposit journal—I find 100l. entered on 30th August; there is no entry of it on 2nd September, that is the only 100l. entered about that date; it is in the handwriting of Lucas, who was a clerk under the prisoner at that time—there is a reference to folio 357—there is no such entry in the deposit journal—on 4th July, 1879, I find an entry of 140l. by the prisoner, with a reference to folio 388; I have referred to that, and find no such entry—the till book, the deposit journal, and the counter book would be the books in which the prisoner would be called upon to account to the society—if a customer came and wanted money, I should turn to the depositors' ledger to see what was standing to his credit.
Cross-examined. Lucas was a clerk in the same position as the prisoner, he was under him; he was in the employ of the society—the prisoner was paid 150l. a year, and Lucas 50l.—the prisoner's duty was first of all
to enter the sums received in the counter book, then they would be carried into the deposit journal, and from there posted into the ledger—the till book would show the amount that was supposed to be in the counter book—the prisoner would make the entry in the counter book, to save the depositor the trouble, but the party would sign it; it was supposed to be filled up by the person who paid the money; it would not be initialled by any person; it is simply the entry of the customer himself, nothing else—it was the prisoner's duty to keep that book—the till book would be made up from the total which had been signed for by the persons who had paid during the day—there would not be an entry of each sum; it would show the aggregate of the day's takings—the deposit journal would be the next book, the prisoner kept that; that ought to contain an entry corresponding with the entry in the counter book; then there is the ledger, the prisoner kept that—those are all the books relating to members' accounts—in these two cases there is no entry till you come to the deposit journal—there would be the entry in the depositors own book—the depositor's book would come to the society from time to time to be looked at and made up—if that had been compared with the counter book the fraud would be at once discovered—the entries in the journal would not always be in Lucas's writing, nearly always—the entries in the deposit ledger would be principally by the prisoner, sometimes by Lucas—the manager's duties, according to rule, are "to attend punctually all meetings of the society, and assist in receiving subscriptions and all other moneys due to the society, and shall keep all books and papers belonging to the society, and shall at such meetings enter into a minute-book an account of the business transacted, and the names of the persons forming such meeting; he shall also keep the account-books, in a proper manner, and shall have the entire management of the society's affairs, under the control of the board of directors"—I had the entire management—the society had a right to lend me money in my private capacity if they thought proper, and they did, 19,000l. odd—each loan I had from the society was duly proposed at a meeting of the board of directors; they were quite aware of it—the proposals were generally put before the board in writing—the board consisted of eight directors—the minute-book would show my proposals to borrow—it is here—it was kept by the manager, myself—the entries would be in my writing, confirmed by the board—the 19,000l. was borrowed for a building speculation of mine at Bromley-by-Bow—I did not put 1,100l. of the society's money in the prisoner's father's business; none of it, that I swear; the 19,000l. was all for the building speculation—this is the entry of 28th December, 1876: "Mr. Mayes having submitted a proposal to borrow 225l. per house on 24 houses to be erected in Blair Street, Bromley, etc., it was moved by Mr. Jones, seconded by Mr. Meredith, and carried, that the sum of 225l. per house be advanced at the rate of six per cent., repayable in three years, the interest to be payable quarterly, subject to the sample house being approved of by the surveying committee"—there may be a subsequent entry to that—the next entry is of 100l. on account of the manager's salary—I should suppose my salary would be about 550l.; it was not fixed, I was paid by a commission of 2s. per share on every share existing and subscribed for during the year—I was only a shareholder as a borrower; I was a shareholder—I don't think I held any scrip at that time—the directors present at that meeting are not directors now;
they retried in August I think, not when this advance was made to me, nothing connected with me; a loss of money had been sustained, and the question was as to the best way of meeting the difficulty, whether to wind up the society, or to adopt some other plan; there was no question about the directors retiring at that moment; the directors recommended the winding up, and I protested against it, believing it would be a most injudicious thing to do; the shareholders were not disposed to wind up, and the directors consequently retired, because their management was not satisfactory, in consequence of the loss that had been sustained while I was manager—there was an inquiry as to my conduct in the matter after" the new directors had been appointed—that appears in the minute book (This stated that the detectives employed had called attention to the fact that certain Bank of England notes given in cashing some of the society cheques had been paid in to Mr. Mayes's private banking account; that Mr. Mayes was called upon to give an explanation, which he immediately did, to the entire satisfaction of the committee.) That is in my handwriting—I did not word that minute, the original was written by Mr. Watts, the chairman—when depositors wanted to withdraw sums of money, they had to send in a notice of withdrawal—I believe the prisoner is charged with making fictitious notices of withdrawal, and keeping the money, all of which I was quite ignorant of—I knew nothing of the misappropriation of the deposits, or of the fictitious notices of withdrawal—I do not know that the sums alleged to be embezzled went to meet the withdrawal of sums which had been already embezzled; I was quite ignorant of it—the accounts were gone through by Cooper Brothers at the request of the directors—I believe it appears that on 18th September Mr. Watts lodged a notice of with drawal, and that a cheque was drawn avowedly for the payment of Mr. Watts, but that the proceeds of that cheque was never paid to him—it is quite possible that a 500l. note, the proceeds of that cheque, was paid in to my bank; I have heard so—I have no reason to doubt that a 50l. note, the proceeds of that cheque, was also paid in to my account on that same day—the finance sheets will show the sum that Mr. Watts was alleged to have withdrawn on that date—(Referring) it is 204l, 11s.—a cheque for that amount was drawn by the prisoner, and signed by two directors, and countersigned by myself—I presume it was an open cheque; this is it—cheques were never made to order unless there was some special request for it—on the same day a cheque was drawn for 200l. 5s. in favour of four parties, Hawkins, Amor, Cave, and Newman, and another for 162l. 12s.—it is quite likely that 558l. of those three cheques found their way into my banking account, but I knew nothing of any fraud—on 17th October I find that a cheque for 205l. was drawn—I believe Mr. Watts was paid that amount—there is also an entry of 700l. on that same day, also 215l., 196l. 12s. 6d., 110l. 7s., and 205l.—I do not think that the greater portion of those are alleged to have been fraudulent withdrawals; some of them, I should think, were—it is quite likely that a 10l. note, a 200l. note, and two 500l, notes, the proceeds of those cheques, found their way into my tanking account—on 10th July, 1879, I find a notice of withdrawal of 200l., alleged to be a fictitious withdrawal—I have no entry of 204l. 7s.—I have 257l. 7s., and 92l. 3s. 7d.,—I can't answer whether a 500l. note, a 40l. note, two 20l. notes, and one 5l. note, the proceeds of those cheques, found their way into my banking account, but it is quite likely they did—I don't know whether those are
the sums upon which the prisoner was committed for haying stolen; I have nothing here to guide me—to my knowledge there was no proposal to charge me with receiving the proceeds of those defalcations—I do not know that an information was sworn at the Mansion House—I know nothing about it—I was simply questioned as to whether I could give information with reference to certain notes having gone into my account, and I said "Yes, go back to the office with me, and I can give you all the information you want"—I knew nothing of any proposal to give me into custody—an application was made for a postponement till the following day; I don't know for what—I don't know that it was to consider whether I should be given into custody—I did not know that that was the intention—it was about giving somebody into custody—I had a doubt that I was the person; I could not tell who it was.
Re-examined. I have repaid the society 16,000l. odd out of the 19,000l., and I paid the interest at 6 per cent., and gave proper security, as an ordinary customer of the society—there is good security for the remaining 3,000l.; upon discovering the prisoner's defalcations, I asked him, on his return from his holiday, if it was so, and he said it was; I was very angry, and called him a whited sepulchre—one of the matters investigated by the committee was as to the bank notes that had gone into my account—I gave that explanation—at that time the prisoner was in custody—I have never misappropriated a copper of the society's money—the cheques were very seldom cashed by me—I do not think I cashed the particular cheques that have been mentioned—the prisoner would have the opportunity of cashing them; they were open cheques on the City Back—I presume that I got the 500l. note, the two 40l. and the 5l. from the prisoner, I don't remember—I have an account in my private pocket book of 629l. 15s.—the meaning of that is that those were sundry sums of money which were handed over to me by the prisoner, having received them on my account—I believe that entry is on 7th July 1879, that is the top entry, but it does not follow that these subsequent entries were not made about two or three days afterwards, so that the total would be 629l. 15s., probably paid in on the 10th or 11th—it was sundry rents that were due to me, and which had been handed to the prisoner, including 600l. portion of the amount that was advanced to me by the society—I received that money from the prisoner, it was properly due to me—I presume the prisoner had cashed the 000/. cheque, brought the notes, and entered the amount in his own handwriting—it does not happen to be dated, but it forms part of that 600l.—I was not aware when I received that money from the prisoner that any portion of it had been obtained improperly, by the cashing of Mr. Watt's cheque or any of the other cheques—I have no means of knowing how the 600l. notes, the two 40l. and the 6l. were paid into the bank—I have a note of September 22nd, of 1,517l. 15s. 6d. being paid in, consisting of sundry rents received on account of property—it would come to me in the ordinary way through the prisoner—the ordinary course was for the prisoner to have charge of all moneys which came to me during the week, my own personal moneys; if they were paid to me, I handed them over to the prisoner, and he kept the money in the till till he made up my private bank book, once a week, when he then handed over to me the amount due to me, or any other sums that might have been received; he would keep them in the cash box in the safe—the till would be taken out every night and put into
the safe—the till would contain all moneys received—I have no means of knowing whether there was a 500l. or 60l. note amongst it—I had not the slightest knowledge that any of the money I received from the prisoner came from the cashing of the cheque of Mr. Watts, and the other two cheques—on 16th or 17th October I have an entry of 1,218l. 13s. 2d., that may have consisted of two 500l. notes, a 200l. note, and a 10l. note—I certainly did not know that any of that money had been improperly obtained by the prisoner, by cashing any of the cheques of the society—those were matters that I was called upon to explain to the finance committee—I produced my books to them and explained the whole thing—it was after that that this resolution was come to; amongst that 1,200l. there was a loan of 700l. to me from the society, it formed part of the 19,000l.—the cheques of the society were always payable to bearer; now they are drawn to order, not crossed, because that would be inconvenient—Messrs. Cooper Brothers were called in to investigate the books, about January 1st—their chief clerk is here.
By MR. WILLIAMS. No one was present at the conversation between me and the prisoner when I called him a whited sepulchre, but his father—the 700l. that was advanced to me was by cheque; it might very likely be given to me; I should send the prisoner to the bank to get it cashed—he had to account to me for so much money—I say that a portion of that money was paid to me by the prisoner as rents and other moneys collected for me, and part of it the proceeds of cheques advanced to me by the company—all moneys received by the prisoner would be kept by him in the till and locked up in the safe at night—the loans to me would be by cheques payable to bearer, and they would be cashed by the prisoner.
By the COURT. The ordinary course would be to pay in the cheques to my account, but I very seldom adopted that course—I invariably paid in notes and gold, very seldom cheques—I don't think of the 19,000l., I paid two cheques in; I used to cash the cheques and pay in the proceeds.
JOHN CROUCH LUCAS . I was Mr. Mayes's clerk, not clerk to the society—Mr. Mayes used to pay me 1l. a week, 52l. a year—I see in the depositors' ledger of 30th August 1878 a credit to Delves's account by cash 100l., folio 357—that is in my handwriting—I can only assume that it was dictated to me, if there is no corresponding entry in the journal to agree with this—I mean it could not have been the emanation of my own brain—I cannot remember who told me to make the entry—sometimes I made the entries alone, sometimes the prisoner and I worked together; sometimes I would call out and he would post, sometimes he would call out from the journal, and I would post—I never knowingly made a false entry in the ledger.
Cross-examined. I was not in the service of the society—I was not employed under the prisoner—Mr. Mayes was my master—I assume that the entry of 100l. was made from somebody's dictation—I would not say that Mr. Mayes did not tell me to make the entry; I may explain that these things are so long ago that I cannot remember now exactly—I generally used to attend to the counter work, you will find most of the entries in the counter book, in my handwriting—I should think there are close upon 2,000 open accounts in this society—each customer would have his deposit book—he would send it to be made up from time to time, or he would make the deposit, and bring his book at another time, to be compared with the society's books—Mr. Mayes was the manager of
the books—I knew of these advances by the society to Mr. Mayes—the ustom was generally to draw a cheque, especially for advances made on mortgage—I should take it that the cheque would be made payable to Mr. Mayes—there was nothing to prevent the cheque being paid at once into his account at his bank.
HOWARD CHILDS PARKES . I am a clerk in the service of Cooper Brothers, accountants, 14, George Street, Mansion House—I was directed to make an investigation of the books of this society—I was first employed in January this year—I made out a list of certain entries, and afterwards went through it with the prisoner—I think the first time I met him was on 11th May, but I believe he met us again on the following day—I have the list here, it is a list of what appeared to be defalcations—we went through it at Messrs. Cooper's office—I went through item by item and asked the prisoner to explain each item—I had all the books that I considered necessary—I did not refer to them for every item, but when it was necessary to refer—among others I called his attention to Delves's account—this is my entry, I read it to the prisoner—he looked over my papers and was with me all the time; on 1st July, 1878, an amount is credited in the ledger, but it has not been entered in the journal, for 60l. on 30th August 1878, a similar entry of 100l., and on 4th July, 1879, 140l.; he could give no explanation of those items—I cannot say whether in these individual cases he admitted having taken the particular sums, but he could give no explanation—he admitted that the entries in the depositors' book, the pass book, were his own—I went through a large number of cases—I told him that the total was a little over 9,000l.—he expressed great surprise, he denied having had so much—he gave certain information which he said would embrace the whole of the amount he had had, amounting altogether to between 4,000l. and 5,000l.—among other items I called his attention to there was one of Mr. Watts, as to withdrawals—one item is on 10th July, 1879, 200l.—I can't say that he gave any definite explanation about that particular item—the other two items were 200l. and 204l. 11s.—he gave no explanation of those.
Cross-examined. The total amount of the defalcations is 9,072l. 15s. 3d. on our report—our complete examination commenced on 1st July—the defalcations extended over about two years or two and a half at the utmost, consisting of embezzlement of deposits, misappropriation, fictitious withdrawing, and also moneys intercepted—they were not deposits which had been payments on account of shares—I have not stated all that the prisoner said to me when I asked him to explain—a great deal of conversation took place—he mentioned Mr. Mayes's name several times—I did not understand him to say that he had done all he had done under Mr. Mayes's orders, nothing of the kind—there was no conversation of that kind with me; all that I understood from the conversation was that the cash had not been kept except in rather a loose way, and beyond that Mr. Mayes's name did not come into the investigation between Mr. Allen and myself—I believe he did not tell me that the proceeds could be traced to Mr. Mayes; I have no recollection of it—a solicitor on behalf of Mr. Mayes did not seek an interview with me, nor with Mr. Cooper that I know of—Mr. Cooper is not here—I had the whole management of this matter—I believe Mr. Cooper saw the prisoner with me at the first meeting—I don't know that the prisoner told Mr. Cooper that the money could be traced to Mr. Mayes—I was at the Mansion House—I
have no knowledge that a remand was applied for for the purpose of seeing who should be given into custody—I heard nothing said; I was simply sitting in Court as a witness—I heard next morning that something had occurred after I had left the Court, but I did not even know what it was.
JOHN STOCKWELL WATTS . I live at 11, Bow Road, Bow, Middlesex—I am now the chairman of this society—I was appointed some day in October last, when the case against the prisoner was undergoing investigation at the Mansion House—from something that occurred I saw Mr. Mayes, and I required an explanation from him in the Justice-room—I was afterwards assisted by a committee, some of the present directors—he produced his books immediately, and gave an explanation that I was thoroughly satisfied with, and after the inquiry I drew this report—he is still the manager of the society.
MR. MAYES (Re-examined). A gentleman named Marsh was solicitor to the company—the cheques for the advances to me from the company were payable to my order—they were first handed to me, and I handed them to Mr. Marsh, and he invariably handed them back again—I had to endorse them all before I could get the money—it was the usage of the office to hand to Mr. Marsh first all cheques relating to mortgages—I presume the directors knew that my private account was mixed up with the general funds of the society.
GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude. (See Vol. 91 page 339.)
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOHEGAN
JOHN CAMERON . I am a baker, of 81, Hammersmith Road—on the night of 7th October Harcourt came into my shop—he said "I am assistant to Dr. Walker, and am sent by him to change this cheque; a patient has called to pay an account, and he requires change, but the doctor has no change, and knowing you, he asks you to change the cheque for him"—Dr. Walker is a customer of mine. (The cheque was dated October 6 on the South Western Bank for 7l. 10s. in favour of Dr. Walker, signed John Richards, and endorsed Dr. Walker, 4, The Cedars.) His manner excited my suspicion, and my wife's also, and she followed him out of the shop—I followed behind at a short distance—in the North End Road I found the two prisoners in a cab, which was detained by my wife—Harcourt had the 7l. 10s. in his hand—he said "Take the money and let me off," and he asked for the cheque—I said I had left it at home—I took the money, but I did not let him off—two constables came up, and I asked them to detain the prisoners while I went to Dr. Walker's, and when I came back the prisoners were taken to the police-station.
MARGARET CAMERON . I am the wife of the last witness—I followed Harcourt out of my shop door down the road to Munden Street—I saw him meet Cave, and the two walked together—I heard them talk—Har-court shook the money in his hand, and seemed quite pleased—they turned down Munden Street—I followed them—they ran off as hard as they could—there was a cab standing there, and they jumped into it—I looked in to see if it was them, and then jumped in front of the cab and
said "Stop" to the cabman—I prevented it being driven off, and said "Give me back the money you have got from my husband"—Harcourt said "I have got no money; you have made a mistake"—he afterwards offered me the money—I refused it, and my husband came up.
WILLIAM STROUD (Police Sergeant T). On the night of 7tn October I saw a crowd in the North End Road—I went there, and found the two prisoners there—they were taken to Mr. Cameron's shop—I then said to Harcourt "l am a police-officer; where did you get this cheque from?"—he said "A man I met in the Hand and Flower public-house gave it to me, and said if I went to Mr. Cameron's, the baker's, in Hammersmith Road, he would change it for me"—I said to Cave "Do you know this man?" referring to Harcourt—he said "I have seen him once or twice, but he has nothing to do with me"—I accompanied Mr. Cameron to Mr. Walker's and made some inquiry, and the prisoners were given into custody—before I went Harcourt said "Understand, I don't know Dr. Walker, I have never seen him; Mr. Cameron has got his money back, what is he going to charge me with? I will go with you"—I found on him 3l. 10s. in gold, 7s. in silver, and 1s. 0¾d. in bronze, and a small bottle containing some fluid; also a railway ticket, and a ticket for a bag left at the Aldgate Railway Station—I went there with it and got the bag, in which I found this soft felt hat.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOHEGAN. I made a note of this conversation—he said the man who gave him the cheque said that he was Dr. Walker.
WILLIAM HALL (Policeman). I was called to the prisoners, who were in a cab—I said "Are you confederates?"—Harcourt said "I know nothing of him, he is merely a friend I have picked up to-day—I found on Cave this cheque-book of the London and South-Western Bank, Limited, Clapham branch, from which this cheque came—I also found on him 27 loose cheques, 24 of which are blank forms of the Alliance Bank; one of them is already signed "H. Baker"—Harcourt said to me "I will give you 2l., or as much as you like, and you and your chum can go and have a liquor together, and say no more about it."
Cross-examined. I was with another constable, who is not here—Har-court held out two sovereigns in his hand when he said this, and some silver besides.
HORACE WALKER . I live at-4, The Cedars, Hammersmith Road—on the evening of 7th October Mr. Cameron and the policeman came to make inquiry—I had not sent any person to Mr. Cameron that evening with a cheque—this cheque is not my writing, I know nothing whatever of it—anybody could see my name on my door, but I have not the the title of Doctor, I am merely Mr. Walker, I know nothing of either of the prisoners.
GEORGE THOMAS SPOWART . I am a clerk in the Clapham branch of the London and South-Western Bank—this appears to be a cheque on one of our forms—we have no customer named John Richards—this cheque has come out of a book issued to a customer whose account had been closed some time.
GUILTY .—HARCOURT also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in the name of William Wadley in January last.
CAVE— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
HARCOURT**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT—Tuesday, November 23rd, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and MORICE Prosecuted.
RICHARD GUNNY SCOTCHER . I keep the Gunmakers' Arms, Canal Road, Mile End—on 15th October, at midnight, I served the prisoner with a pint of ale; she gave me a shilling, good, and I gave her the change—another woman was with her—two men then came in and said to the prisoner "Are you going to stand anything?"—she then called for another pint, and tendered a good sixpence—I gave her three-pence change each time—another woman then came in and asked for three pennyworth of rum hot, and tendered a half-crown—I gave her 2s. 3d. change—they all five drank together—the lost woman went out first, and as the prisoner called for a quartern of rum in a bottle the men left—the prisoner gave me a half-crown, and I said "This is a bad one"—she said "Oh, it is all right"—I then went to the till and found the other half-crown was bad also—I gave them to the police and charged the prisoner.
EDWARD WALLINGTON (Policeman L 407). I took the prisoner—she said she did not know the coin was bad; she was unfortunate, und a gentleman gave it to her—I also took another woman, who was remanded and discharged—Mr. Scotcher gave me these two half-crowns, and no charge was made in reference to the first.
HENRY WILSON . I am in the employ of J. W. Dowell, cowkeeper, of 20, Globe Road, Mile End—on 18th November, about 8.30. I served the prisoner with a loaf—she gave me a florin, and I gave her 1s. 9d. change—I then bent it in the trier and gave it to my master—she ran out and I ran after her—my master fetched her back.
Cross-examined. I did not put the money in the till—the trier is between the two bowls of the till.
JOSHUA WILLIAM DOWLE . On 18th November my boy called me into the shop as loud as he could, and I went after the prisoner—I called "Stop"—she saw me running and stopped by the Globe public-house, about 20 shops off, and said "What is it you want?"—a man who was with her stopped too—I paid "This is a bad two-shilling piece"—she said "I did not know it, take your loaf and your money back"—I said "No, I want you to come back with me"—she did so, but the man only followed half way—my boy gave me a bad florin, bent—she said that she got it by paying for some sprats—I gave it to the constable.
Cross-examined. The man was with you, and he was going to shove his umbrella in my eyes, but I jumped into the road.
JABEZ SMITH (Policeman H 399). The prisoner was given into my custody with this florin; she said "I did not know it was bad; I came down from Brick Lane and saw a man in the street selling sprats; I gave him half-a-crown for some, and he gave me the florin in exchange."
the prisoner and found three good sixpences in her boot and sixpennyworth of coppers in her hand.
WILLIAM WEBSTAR . These two half-crowns and florin are bad. Prisoner's Defence. I am unfortunate; a gentleman gate me the half-crown; I bought some sprats with it and got the money in change—I did not know it was bad.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. J. P. GRAIN and MORICE Prosecuted;
MESSRS MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GEOHEGAN Defended.
JOHN THOMAS BARTER . I am a salesman in the Central Meat Market—on 16th January, between 4 and 6 p.m., a man came there and made a purchase which he paid for—he then asked for a cheque for 2l. 5s., Which my clerk gave him, and he paid 2l. 5s. 1d. for it—this is the cheque; it has been altered to 657l.; that was not done by me or by my authority—I recognise it by the counterfoil, there is a serial number to it, and it bears my signature—all that is genuine now is my signature—the date has been altered from 16th January to the 19th.
Cross-examined. I do not recognise the prisoner—I have said that the man was much stouter built than the prisoner and not so dark—I was talking with him twenty minutes or half an hour.
THOMAS FLOWER GOULD . I am Mr. Barter's clerk—this (produced) was the cheque-book which was in use by the firm on 16th January—I find here the counterfoil of cheque 22327, "A. Hunt, exchange, 2l. 5s."—this produced is the cheque which answers to it—I drew it on 16th January by Mr. Barter's directions, and handed it to somebody who gave me 2l. 5s. 1d., the penny being for the stamp—it was then for 2l. 5s., both in the body and the figures—the alteration to 657l. and of the date is not mine, it is a forgery—there is none of my writing left except the word "January."
JAMES CHARLES BOOSEY . I live at 70, Temple Street, Strood, near Rochester—on or about 14th January I advertised in the Christian World for a situation, and received this letter in reply, dated 16th January; also these two dated 19th and 20th January—I went to the address given in the letter, 11, Portland Road, Notting Hill, and saw the prisoner—he asked me to let him look at the first letter, and said it was written by his nephew, and that they were a branch establishment for a Birmingham house in the ironmongery line—I noticed his face—he had high cheek bones, sallow complexion, dark, he stooped a little about the shoulders, and wore blue glasses—I was to be clerk and traveller—he gave his name Alfred Huntley, and the name of the firm was to be "Huntley Brothers"—we began on 19th or 20th January; I met him at Waterloo Junction by appointment by letter, at 12 o'clock—he drove about the City a bit in a brougham and stopped at a bank, and then we drove to the Inns of Court Hotel—I wrote a few letters for him there, and was sent on an errand to Horncastle's, in Billiter Street—I was then sent to the post-office with a cheque or bank note, I cannot say which, to get some stamps; they could not change it, and he said" Never mind, bring that with you when you come to-morrow"—I received instructions to meet him next day at the Inns of Court—(I went to the Imperial Hotel on the Friday I think it was; I am
positive it was on the day I was apprehended)—on the day I was to meet him at the Inns of Court, I received a letter by post in the morning telling me to meet him at the Cathedral Hotel—I met him there and walked with him to the Imperial Hotel—he got some note paper and I wrote a letter at his dictation, and took it to Mr. Potter's, Queen Victoria Street; I also took one to Mr. Smith, Lincoln's Inn Fields, which the prisoner wrote at the Imperial Hotel and gave me—I did not see him write it, but there was no one in the room but him—I saw some one at Mr. Smith's and received an answer, which. I took to the prisoner at the corner of Newgate Street—he opened it, read it, and said "I shall want you at 2.30, and it is rather late, here is a shilling for you, you had better go and get some refreshment and meet me at the Horse Shoe Hotel"—I met him there about 2.30, and he pave me a note and told me to take a cab and take it as quick as I could to Mr. Smith, in Lincoln's Inn Fields—I was to take the answer to him at the Stock Exchange, and inquire for Huntley, senior—he said that he was well known there—I got a verbal reply from Mr. Smith and went to the Stock Exchange, but did not find the prisoner—I did not see him again till he was at Bow Street—I was arrested the same afternoon, about 5 o'clock—I was charged at Bow Street, remanded for a week, and discharged—I recognise Mrs. Henten; I saw her as the housekeeper at Portland Road, Notting Hill, where I saw the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I was with the prisoner two days and a half—I only saw him once without his blue glasses, they came round at the side—he was dressed much more genteel than he is now, and he had no beard—I should not like to swear whether he had a moustache.
HENRY SMITH . I am a solicitor, of 35, Lincoln's Inn Fields—I know Mr. Seale of the Sunday Times—on 2nd January the prisoner called on me with an introduction from Mr. Seale—he said that he wanted a debt collected, which was due to his late father's estate—I asked him whether his father had left a will, or whether he had administered to his estate—he said that he had, but he had no papers with him to show it—he said that there would be no dispute about the debt, and if it was written for, it would be paid at once, and that he wanted the money to complete a purchase which he was negotiating—I was to apply to Mr. Barter of the meat market and Hill Place, Richmond—I wrote the letter to Mr. Barter at Richmond (Stating that Mr. Huntley could not meet the entire debt and offering to pay 657l., for which a cheque was enclosed, and to give a bill for the balance of 200l.)—he gave me his card' 'S. Huntley"—he called again about 10.15 on the 21st—I handed him the letter and he read it, and a discussion ensued as to the advisability of accepting the offer contained in the letter—he decided to accept it, and I handed him the cheque, and was preparing a receipt, when he exclaimed "How very awkward this is"—I understood him to mean the crossing of the cheque, and suggested that I should pay it to my bank—he said "I wish you would do so"—a day was named when I thought the cheque would be cleared, and I could give him the cash for it—he said if he could not come himself he would send his clerk for it, and would I give him an open cheque—I said that I did not care to give an open cheque to a messenger, and if he did not come himself he must send a letter—he wrote this endorsement "Alfred Huntley" in my presence, and I sent the cheque to my bankers, Praeds, to be specially presented—it was brought back about 2 o'clock the same day, the
21st—I then took some steps, and next morning received this letter, headed 11, Portland Road—I took no notice of it, and the prisoner did not call again—when Boosey called on 22nd or 23rd, he brought this letter "January 23rd, 11 Portland Road—Dear Sir,—I hereby acknowledge yours per first post this morning—please hand bearer Mr. Boosey your open cheque as arranged—I will see you on Monday relative to the other letter, and will bring it with me." I wrote an answer to that, and in the afternoon Boosey brought me this letter: "Dear Sir,—I note contents of your favour to hand; please hand bearer your cheque for 657l. Please say what time it will be convenient to give me an interview on Monday, &c., A. HUNTLEY"—I did not send a cheque and did not see him again.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is the man—I went into Newgate, and first pointed out a man named Walters, a notorious forger; I believed he was the man—my impression is that the man had a beard, moustaches, and whisker when he came to me, and he was dark.
Re-examined. I picked the prisoner out at Bow Street among a row of people, and have no doubt he is the person who called on me; he then had large dark glasses, I never saw him without them—when I saw Walters in Newgate he had no glasses, but he had whiskers, beard, and moustache.
MARTHA HENTEN . I was landlady of 11, Portland Road, Notting Hill—about the middle of January, a person took my apartments and gave the name of Huntley—he wore blue spectacles—while he was there Boosey called.
Cross-examined. I cannot swear that the prisoner is the man.
MARY ROWBOTHAM . In January last I lived at 1, Hill Place, Richmond, Surrey—about 17th January, a very sallow man who wore blue spectacles engaged my rooms in the name of Barter, and the day afterwards a letter arrived which Mr. Barter fetched, but he did not come to live there—another letter came which I handed up to Hancock.
Cross-examined. I won't pledge my oath that the prisoner is the man; he had a beard, and a moustache, and whiskers.
WILLIAM WHITHAM (Detective Sergeant). I have known the prisoner for some time by the name of Thomas Skanes—about the end of January, or the beginning of February, I received instructions regarding him from Scotland Yard, but did not see him till 3rd November, though I had frequently seen him previously—on 3rd November, between 11 and 12 in the day, I was at the Agricultural Hall and saw him coming towards me—he stopped to look in at a window, and I touched him on the shoulder and said, "Halloa, Tom;" he said, "Halloa, Whitham;" I said, "I am going to take you in custody for forgery, I have received instructions from Inspectors Shaw and Dodd to apprehend you;" he said, "My God, let us go and see him"—Sergeant Clifford caught hold of his arm—on the way to the station he said, "Forgery! you have known me a good many years, Whitham, and you know that that is not my game"—I received instructions to take him to Bow Street, and on the way there he said, "Don't you think you have made a mistake, is it not my brother you want instead of me?" I said, "No, it can't be, because your brother has been dead nearly two years, and this only happened at the commencement of this year"—Smith picked him out at Bow Street from several other men—he gave his name George Andrews and said that he had no fixed home—the charge was read over to him, and he said, "I deny it in toto; I know nothing about it."
EDMUND SEALE . I am in connection with the Sunday Times, and am a client and an acquaintance of Mr. Smith, of Lincoln's Inn Fields—I never introduced the prisoner to Mr. Smith—I know nothing at all of him.
GUILTY of uttering. He then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in September, 1867.— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, November 23rd, 1880.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
19. GEORGE WILTON (28) to stealing a watch from Vine Chevalier Griffiths, from his person, and to a conviction for felony in August, 1872, at the Middlesex Sessions in the name of George Prior.—And Judgment Respited. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WAITE Prosecuted.
JOSEPH SAMMERS (Police Sergeant E). I went to East Street, Queen's Square, on Saturday sight—I saw the prisoner in the front kitchen—I said I was a sergeant of police, and asked him if his name was Draper—he said "Yes"—I took him into custody and charged him with breaking into a house at 5, New Street, Bloomsbury, on November 9th—he said "I was not there"—I searched the room—I found 2lb. of tea in the box produced, with a name written on it—I took the prisoner to the station—on the way he said "I suppose I shall see the other man there"—I said "Not as I am aware of"—he said "I suppose he has been getting drunk and has rounded on me"—on Sunday morning I went to the prisoner's lodgings, where I found a tablecloth, a towel, and a pair of earrings—I also found a bunch of keys on the prisoner—one key he says is the key of the street door where he lives, but it fits the prosecutor's door—the earrings have been identified.
HENRY SYCHELMORE . I am a grocer, at 5, New Street, Bloomsbury—the box produced is mine; I have no doubt about it—I missed a lot of things at the same time that I missed this box—I close my premises about 10 p.m., and lock up the place entirely about 12 p.m.—when I came down in the morning the doors were open, the gas alight, and the back parlour window open.
WILLIAM AUSTINS (Policeman E 73). I was on duty last Tuesday morning in Harper Street—the prisoner crossed the road—he said "Good morning"—he had this box (produced and a basket, which I identified at the police-court—I didn't see where he went.
Saturday evening I received a basket from the prisoner's wife about 6.30—it contained a little old coat and a bottle, or something like it—I did not take it out to see—I have known the prisoner and his wife as customers.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "On the 9th November I had cause to go to the New Meat Market. I met a man who worked for me on two occasions; he had a small parcel with him, a piece of bacon, which I bought for 6d. As he owed me 5s. he promised to bring me something for it the following day. He had not mentioned what it was, but on account of its being dark I could not see him. On Wednesday night I went to receive some money from a customer of mine, and when I got home my wife went out on an errand. While she was out I had occasion to go to the area. I saw the basket with a long string to it. I took it into my room In the basket there was a painter's smock. I considered the man had left it I had bought the bacon of, as I had lent him that smock a few months before That is all I can say to account for the things being in my possession."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WAITE Prosecuted.
JOHN WILLIAM TAYLOR . I am a bootmaker, of 4, Russia Lane, Bow—on the 29th October I was awoke by hearing a noise downstairs—I went down—I found prisoner standing at the foot of the stairs—I asked him how he came there—he said he didn't know—when I went to bed I closed and bolted the house—the back kitchen window was closed—I found that opened in the morning—no furniture was disturbed, only a stool knocked over.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The back kitchen window was not fastened, it was shut up.
HARRY PEERLESS (Policeman K 228). On the morning of 29th October I was called to the prosecutor's house—the prisoner was standing in the passage—I asked him how he accounted for being there—he said he did not know—I left him in the passage in charge of the prosecutor's two sons and went to the back—on returning I heard the prisoner say to the two sons "What are you going to charge me for? it would pay you better to give me a d—d good hiding and let me go than to lock me up."
Prisoner's Defence. I had been at work and was going home. I heard a man and woman quarrelling, and the woman was shouting for the police. I asked him what he was knocking her about for, and he pitched into me till I had no sense at all. I must have been knocked through the door by that man. I am no thief, and have never been convicted. I cannot account for being there only by being knocked about by the man I interfered with. I had no intentions of committing a robbery. I paid 3l. 15s. to a solicitor for my defence, who had me in a little box and brought the depositions to me. He said it was all right. I don't know who he was.
some one trying to move about as easily as he could—the door was fastened when I came down—I had to unbolt it to fetch a constable—the window had no fastening—there was no disturbance outside.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. WAITE Prosecuted.
ALEXANDER TOZER . I keep a public-house at 10, Swan Street, Minories—on the afternoon of Saturday, 13th November, the prisoner came into my house with four or five companions; I would not serve him—I said to them "You had better take him away, I don't want a bother, get him away quietly; I shall serve none of you any more"—they went out—a quarter of an hour afterwards two bricks came through Che window, breaking two panes of plate glass worth about 26l., the glass, including the door, having cost me 36l.
GEORGE MORGAN (City Policeman 732). The prisoner was given into my custody—I charged him with breaking two glass panes of a window—two bricks were handed to me over the counter at the same time—the prisoner said "I did not do it"—he pretended to be drunk—on the way to the station he broke loose, but after a chase for a quarter of an hour we caught him again.
JOSEPH HARRISON . I live at 112, Old Montagu Street, Whitechapel—I was in this public-house on 13th November—when I came out the prisoner was looking towards me, which caused me to look at him—I saw either two bricks or two stones in his hand—that was about 5.80 p.m—I went in the house again, and had not been there more than three or four minutes before two bricks came through the window—I ran out—I saw the prisoner going a few paces away, and the boy who is here said "That is the man who has done it"—I ran and got hold of the prisoner.
GEORGE COLLINS . I live at 5, Somerset Court, Mansell Street—I saw the prisoner standing outside this public-house on 13th November—he pulled two bricks from under his coat that he had under his arm and dashed them through the window—he then ran away—when Harrison came out I said "There goes the man," and he ran and caught hold of him.
Prisoner's Defence. I could not tell what happened, I was drunk. It was all through the drink. When they shoved me out of the public-house I became excited, and I suppose broke the window.
GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment.
MR. WAITE Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE defended Casey.
JOHN BELLERBEY . I am an Inspector of Her Majesty's Customs, and live at 26, College Avenue, Lower Clapton—on Saturday evening, 16th October, I went to a urinal on Tower Hill—I had a silver watch and a gold chain—as I was adjusting my dress, holding my umbrella in my left hand, I felt a tug at my watch, and in less than a moment it was gone—I exclaimed "You wretch"—I saw Casey and Garrett in the urinal, but I do not identify Flewitt—Garrett was taller and lighter than
Casey—I saw Casey take the watch and chain—the prisoners ran away—I was stopped by some one else running out of the urinal who said "What's the matter, governor"—I pushed him aside to give chase to the other two—I was taken to Seething Lane on 20th October, where I pointed out Casey from among eight men as the man who took my watch and chain—I have not recovered them.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. It was about 4.15 p.m.—the urinal is at Sparrow Corner—my umbrella was not open—I was using it as a walking-stick, it was not raining—I gave information to the police about 5 o'clock—I did not point any one out but Casey—Flewitt was there, I believe—Garrett was subsequently apprehended—the inspector did not call my attention to any one—I was there about twenty minutes—I waited in an adjoining room while the men were selected.
Cross-examined by Garrett. I had a doubt about you at the police-court, but now I have no doubt.
WALTER FISHER . I live at 8, Vine Street, Minories—on Saturday, 16th October, I was standing near the urinal at Sparrow Corner, on Tower Hill—I saw Garrett running with a chain in his hand—I saw Flewitt speak to the prosecutor—he said "What's the matter, governor"—he stopped about two minutes and then walked down Rosemary Lane—I heard Flewitt addressed by name—it seemed like "Fluent."
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I was there about a quarter of an hour—I saw it all—I did not see the prosecutor come out of the urinal—no policeman came up—I heard the prosecutor's account to the people who collected—I was taken to the station to identify the prisoners twice, once the night Flewitt was "copped."
Cross-examined by Flewitt. I never told a young woman named White that a detective had given me 6d. to pick you out—I have said I would put you away for the first thing done on Tower Hill—I saw no one go with you down Rosemary Lane—I said at the Mansion House, that I saw another man with Garrett—I do not know who he was—he had a bobtail coat, straight-down waistcoat, and a silk handkerchief.
Re-examined. Two detectives came to me and a boy named O'Connell; Flewitt said "I'll smash you, O'Connell;" I said "Don't you care, Chicks"—that is what we always call O'Connell—Flewitt said "Shut up your row; "I said "I shan't," and he cheeked me, and I cheeked Flewitt and said "Now, the first thing done on Tower Hill I'll lag on you"—I meant the first thing any one did there that I would blame it on to Flewitt.
JOHN STEPHENS (Policeman H.) I took Casey and Flewitt into custody on Wednesday, 20th of October—I told them I should take them into custody for stealing a watch and chain from a gentleman on the 16th—both of them said they knew nothing about it—on the way to the station Flewitt said "I was gambling"—they were identified by Mr. Bellerbey—on 22nd October I apprehended Garrett at the Bed Lion public-house, St. George's Street—I said "You will be charged with being concerned with others in custody in stealing a watch"—he said" All right, I will go with you"—he was identified by Fisher.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I had nothing to do in placing the men for identification, the inspector did that—they were not all policemen—two or three were—there were eight altogether—two of them were fetched from the street—the prosecutor picked out Casey, no one else—he said there was another man very much like the man Le saw in the urinal—that man was a detective, I believe, but I never saw him in uniform.
FREDERICK JOHN WALSH . I live at 6, Evelyn Street, Commercial Road—I am a Custom House messenger—on Saturday, 16th October, about 4.15 p.m., I was walking through Royal Mint Street—I heard some one running behind me—Casey and Flewitt passed me—I happened to turn round, when I saw Flewitt turn up Little Prescott Street—turning round again I saw Casey coming in the direction of the Minories—he dapped his hands and looked pleased—he ran up a court—two or three minutes after I saw the prosecutor with some boys round him, coming towards Little Prescott Street—I gave a description of prisoner to the police the same night.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MICHAEL CASEY . I am a labourer of Great Evelyn Street—I am no relation of the prisoner Casey—I am stevedore on the river—I heard Casey was taken into custody a few days afterwards, from his mother—I remember the Saturday previous to his mother speaking to me on the Tuesday—I was on the Hermitage stairs waiting for a boat—Casey was there at 2 o'clock, and I left him at 5—I had my watch in my pocket and knew the time—I went home at 5 to get my tea.
Cross-examined. I didn't see Casey on the Thursday—I can swear positively to the time; I went to my dinner, and Casey was there when I came back at 2 o'clock—I have known his mother five or six years—I will not say the conversation with his mother did not take place on Tuesday or Wednesday.
Re-examined. I am sure it was on the previous Saturday Casey was on the Hermitage stairs when I was waiting for the Livonia.
Cross-examined. We were on the Tower stairs till we were disturbed, when we went to the iron gates—that is about 300 yards from the urinal. Flewitt. Fisher said he would put me away for the first thing done on Tower Hill, and this happened to be the first thing, and he has stuck to his word. The prosecutor said he had seen Casey with a watch in his hand, while Fisher said he saw Garrett running away with it.
BRIDGET GARRETT . I am the prisoner Garrett's mother—I recollect the Saturday, 16th October; he went out in the morning to look for work, came home about 2 p.m., and remained till about 5.20 p.m., when I got tea ready—his father asked him to go out and have a drop of beer—it must have been then 6 o'clock, if it was not more—I saw no more of him till 10 o'clock at night—I never knew my son do anything like this.
Cross-examined. It was 2 o'clock when my son came home—I said "Have you done any work?"—he said "No, mother, it is very wet"—that is why I asked the question, because I knew it was after 5 o'clock when my son went out and my husband came home—he does not always come home at 5 o'clock—I am sure it was 5 o'clock, if not more—I said to my husband "Joe, you are rather late"—I have not said I did not know the time when my son went out—I didn't know it till I asked my husband.
CATHERINE ONIONS . On 16th of last month I was cleaning the doorstep, when Joseph Garrett came by—I said "What is about the time?"—he said "About 4 o'clock"—I saw no more of him till I saw him with his father about 5.20.
Cross-examined. His mother told me about the case on the Saturday
after that he was taken into custody—she said "Mrs. Onions, my poor Joe is locked up"—I said "Locked up! what for?"—she said "I do not know, he is taken on suspicion"—I says "My gracious, have you got any one to go up with you?"—she said "No"—I said "I will go up with you for company"—I have known Garrett a good many years, and Mrs. Garrett ever since she has been a wife, which is 22 years—we have no clock—my husband comes home at 5 o'clock.
Garret's Defence. This is the first time I have been in custody. On the 22nd October I was haying a glass of beer, when I was taken. When the Magistrate asked how they would recognise me, the witness paid "By a pair of moleskin trousers and a down cloth cap;" but it is not a fair thing that I should be convicted on that.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 24th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KEMP,.Q.C., and MR. BESLEY. Prosecuted; MR. WILLIS. Defended HENRY ALFRED STACEY. I am Superintendent of Records in the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of F. W. Luscher, of 72, Mark Lane, and 18, Avenue Road, Clapham, warehouseman—the petitioning creditor is W. Dennis Oacroft, of Nottingham, for 94l.—the petition, though dated 28th January, was only filed on 2nd February—the adjudication was on 22nd April—Mr. Pannell was appointed trustee on 26th May, 1880, at the adjourned meeting of creditors—the bankrupt's statement of affairs was filed on 9th July, the indebtedness is 1,484l. 1s. 4d., and the assets are two debts only, which are estimated to produce 332l. 18s. 10d—the book debts give the names of seven firms only, and he returns as good 220l. 8s. 10d.—that consists of two firms, Pueg and Co.'s debt, and another for 1l. 17s. 3d—he returns a firm in Barcelona as a good debt, and a Rotterdam debt of 180l. is estimated to produce 90l.—three debts are carried out as worth nothing, and with regard to two of them no address is given—he discloses "Furniture 25l.;" that is a furnished bedroom at Leytonstone, and 15l. for office furniture—there is no cash in hand, and no assets in trade."
Cross-examined. The debtor summons is dated 31st December, 1879—the particulars of demand are affixed, and the date of the last item which Mr. Oscroft claims is 25th September, 1879.
THOMAS EDWIN LARKING . I am London agent for Mr. Oscroft and others, of Nottingham, lace and net manufacturers—I carry on business in Milton Street, Watling Street—on 26th August, 1879, I got a letter from my principals, written by the prisoner, and dated 23rd August (This was from F. W. Luscher and Co. asking for quotations for 1,000 yards each of net similar to patterns enclosed) I went to 72, Mark Lane, saw the prisoner, and showed him some patterns of rice net—he said that they were not up to the quality of the pattern, and he would send to Germany and let me know whether they would suit or not—he said that he was buying for a very good firm in Germany, and gave me as references Newnham and Co., of Union Court, Broad Street, and some one at Leeds—I
received this order two days afterwards from him (for six pieces of ne at 8 1/2 d. and six pieces at 9 1/2 d.)—we supplied that, and on 28th September, in consequence of something said to me, I called at Messrs. Graham and Keeling's, Lower Thames Street—they are brokers, I believe—I saw these two pieces of net not numbered, but they were the two pieces delivered to the defendant—I said to the defendant "Are you selling our nets in London?" he said "No, I do not know anything about them," and suggested the names of several good houses which might be selling them—I told him that I had seen them—he did not say where he had sent the net which I had supplied—the value of it was 33l., and payment was to be made a month after delivery, but it was not—I then went back to Graham and Keeling's, and while I was there the prisoner came in and saw me; he coloured up and ran down stairs again—he also gave me a verbal order about 3rd September for 100 pieces of net value 64l., which I sent to Nottingham—he said that all the nets in both orders had been sent to Germany—I saw the prisoner several times, and tried to get payment, but could not, and I put it into Mr. Kent's hands—I tried to find Newnham and Co., but could only see the porter and some empty cases.
Cross-examined. I had not known the prisoner before—the only portion of the goods I saw was two sample pieces, which I saw at a customer's who was offered them at a lower price—I identify them by the number 60; that is the only number for these nets—I supply the same class of goods to other customers—I saw them at Moore and Nelson's first; they were the same pieces; I identified them from two pieces which I saw at another customer's—they went to the prisoner's first, and then to Graham and Keeling's—I did not ask the prisoner to go there with me—I saw the goods on 28th September, after seeing the prisoner at Graham and Keeling's—the prisoner has paid 20l. on account of thin debt; he was to pay so many instalments, and on account of the instalments failing they proceeded with the bankruptcy for the whole amount.
Re-examined. I made him a bankrupt; I was proxy for Messrs. Oscroft—I went first to Moore and Nelson, and they found this net; it was from them that I heard the name of Keeling—the net I saw at Moore and Nelson's was similar to what I had supplied to the prisoner in all respects—I had supplied them with some net at 11d., but not this—I do not know what has become of Keeling, but I believe he is in business under the name of Pearson and Co.
CHARLES POTTS . I am a packer, of 30, London Wall, under the name of Swan and Co.—in October, 1879, the prisoner asked me to receive some goods on his account, and sent me 61 pieces of netting—I afterwards saw him, and he told me to take them out of the papers, re-paper them, and put fresh tickets on them—that would very materially conceal from whom they came—he supplied me with tickets to put on them, but I cannot tell you what was on them—if they had been packed for Germany we should have put them in a different case and sent them there—there is a packing for foreign trade, and a packing for home trade—I received no instructions as to their going to Germany.
Cross-examined. They came from his office—it is customary for me to repack goods sent to me, and it is not unusual to take off the tickets and put on others; a man buys goods wholesale, and has the name taken off and his own ticket put on.
Re-examined. They were not packed in the ordinary way for shipping.
BENJAMIN LEE SNELLING . I am buyer to Mead, Brown, and Co., of Wood Street—I knew the prisoner as Crauford and Co., of John Street, Minories; I did not know the name of Luscher till these proceedings were taken—on 26th October, 1879, he came and offered me some rice nets, saying he was agent for a German house, and the goods were not approved of and sent back to him for the best price he could get—I received this invoice from him dated 27th October, and I saw him a day or two before that and bought them—they are described as Nos. 40 and 60, but I never saw them—they are marked "6 1/2 d." and "8 1/2 d.," with a discount of 25 off—15 percent, is the usual allowance to make, but they are goods which are used in summer more than in winter, and I told him they were of no use to me, as I should have to keep them till the spring before I could sell them.
Cross-examined. They were cheap, because I might have to keep them six months.
RICHARD JAMES HARDY . I am a lace manufacturer, of Story Street, Nottingham—I received these three letters (Mr. Larking stated that these were in the prisoner's writing. The first was dated 28th June, ordering two pieces of 48 and two of 45 net; the next 28th July, acknowledging the receipt of samples, and ordering 10 pieces of 45 and 10 pieces of 35 net, and the third enclosed the names of references, all signed F. Luscher and Co.)—in consequence of that I sent him goods amounting to 34l. 1l. 7d—I have never been paid—I did not know that I was dealing with a bankrupt named Luscher.
ROBERT HENDERSON . I am agent, to Foster and Co., of Lineoln—about 14th October, 1879, inconsequence of a letter from them, I called on the prisoner, who said "I have an order for a portable steam engine for Hamburg, what are your terms?" I said "The price is 210l., less 15 percent, and 2 1/2 for cash"—I communicated with my principals, and agreed to supply the engine, which was shipped at Grimsby on 16th or 17th February in pursuance of the defendant's instructions—I handed the prisoner the bill of lading, and received this receipt: "Received from R. Henderson one steam engine for Hamburg, for which I will hand him Mr. Sherenberg's acceptance at three months as soon as received"—he had told me that Mr. Sherenberg was his customer at Hamburg, and I believe he exists—I never received the acceptance—on or about 18th March this bill of exchange was left at my place; I received it myself.
(This was for 210l., dated 18th March, 1880, at three months, endorsed by the prisoner, and accepted by Robert Sarner.) That has never been paid—I have found out that Sarner is a man of means.
Cross-examined. I may have seen the prisoner after I received that acceptance—I believe I asked him why it was I did not have Sherenberg's acceptance, and I believe he said that Sherenberg could not take the engine, and that he had found another customer for it and had sold it—I afterwards got an acceptance from the prisoner for the amount.
Re-examined. I had two acceptances; it was arranged that I was to have his acceptance as well, as collateral security—he never consulted me as to whether I would receive somebody else's bill—I did not trust hit customer, I trusted him, but I agreed to take Sherenberg's acceptance.
ROBERT OUTRAM . (City Detective Sergeant). On 9th August I saw the prisoner in a cell at Moor Lane Police-station, and told him I was about to take him to Guildhall—he had a letter in his hand—I said "What is
that?" he said "A letter I want to post?" I looked at it and said "This is written in German, I cannot allow it to be posted till I know its contents;" he said "Then give it back to me, and I will tear it up"—I kept it and gave it to the solicitor—this is it (produced).
WILLIAM HUTT . (City Detective). I took the prisoner in custody—he had a bag, which I took charge of, and found in it a number of invoices and cards similar to these produced. (The invoices were headed, "Mem. from F. Lester and Co., 2, Fountain Street, Leeds;" the cards were "F. Letter and Co., 2, Upper Fountain Street, Leeds.")
WILLIAM HENEY PANNELL . I am an accountant, and have been carrying on business in the City 18 or 19 years—I was appointed trustee of the defendant's estate on 26th May this year—I do not know him as trading in the name of Crauford, or of Lester, of Leeds—I have not received a penny of the book debts; even the good debt of 1l. 17s. 3d. has not proved to be good—the prisoner did not discover to me the matters with regard to the net, Mr. Oscroft's transaction, or what became of the property, or of the money if the property had been sold, nor did he disclose any transaction of lard purchased of Whitworths or of a portable machine from Mr. Henderson—he never gave up to me any money—he did not disclose to me the net had from Hardy, Beardsley, and Co. in the name of Lester—I did not know of his being possessed of 50l., 300l., and 100l. on 12th, 14th, and 23rd February, entrusted to him by Mr. Merton, of Billiter Square—he has not explained to me an expenditure of 460l. since February this year—I should like to explain that my partner has had the management of this estate, though I am trustee—I believe no books have been given up—I wrote to him on 23rd June, reminding him of the public examination, and that he had not furnished me with any accounts, and on the same day he called at my office and said that if I would prepare his statement of affairs for him he would pay for it—I declined, and referred him to a respectable accountant who would no doubt do it for 2l. 2s., and I would write to him, but I understand he never did go—I wrote to him on 6th July, and asked him to come and see me on the 6th, as I wanted information—he did not come; he came on the 27th, but I did not see him, and I did not see him again till he was charged.
Cross-examined. He did not call and ask me to prepare his statement in consequence of my letter, because he would hardly have received it—he came on the day that I wrote it—he was supposed to prepare his own statement; that is not a charge on the bankruptcy—no proceedings have been taken to recover the debts; we could not find the people—the letters have been returned marked, "Gone away, no address," or we have received no answer—I have never inquired of the prisoner about them; I have never seen him—I do not know whether Whitworth or Oscroft received any money—I have heard that Hardy's transaction took place after the bankruptcy, but I do not know it—I was not present at the bankrupt's examination of 23rd July—I got nothing from the roomfull of furniture or from the office furniture—I went into possession of some furniture, and got about 16l., but the office furniture I could not get possession of, as there was rent due.
By MR. KEMP. I did not take the furniture; it was claimed under a bill of sale—I retained possession till I had paid more than the value out of my own pocket.
SAMUEL CARTWRIGHT . I am one of the firm of Pannell and Co., and the partner of the last witness—he is the trustee, but I acted more in the management of the estate than he did—I have taken the control and conduct of the estate—the prisoner did not bring me any books, nor has he given me any information except that contained in his statement of affairs—I have only received 19s. 7d. of the assets, and that was not from a debtor; it was the bank balance which was not disclosed in the statement.
Cross-examined. I went to the prisoner's office on 9th August and seized some books; he did not deliver them—it was his duty to deliver them up to me without my asking for them—I was not present at hit examination on 23rd July, and cannot tell you whether he had his books there—I never asked him for information as to the estate—I might have asked him if he had filed his statement—he saw my partner the same day—I did not look through the proofs; Mr. Kent, my solicitor, did, and I believe questions were asked him on 26th May—I cannot say whether Whitworth or Henderson had proved them—I expect the statement a bankrupt hands in to be the statement of affairs at the time the proceedings are instituted—if he hat property he is bound to disclose it under the Act.
EDWARD LITCHFIELD . I am warehouseman to Edwin Whitworth, provision merchant, of 5, Thomas's Buildings, Liverpool—my first delivery of goods to the prisoner was 20 half-barrels of lard at 6d. or 7d. per pound on 21st January—I got this receipt from the Midland Railway Company for them—the direction was W. S. Luscher and Co., 72, Mark Lane—the weight was 1121b. net—the next was 60 halfbarrels on 26th January—this is the railway receipt, and the direction it just the same—on 6th February I delivered 100 half-barrels; the direction is just the same; this is the receipt—on 11th February 200 half-barrels of lard, and on the 18th 12 barrels of bladder lard from the warehouse, and 22 barrelsfrom the ship, and on the 20th 120 half barrels.
Cross-examined. I did not receive any money from the prisoner—I think I saw him once.
EDWARD AMBROSE CAREY . I am clerk to Samuel Page, of 16, Water Lane, Tower Street—on 26th January the prisoner deposited with us a delivery order for 20 half-barrels of lard, and on 28th January one for 60 half-barrels—they are 1 cwt. each, or nearly so—on 6th February we had a delivery order for 100 half-barrels, and on 12th February for 200 barrels—we advanced him altogether 430l.
Cross-examined. The firm are sworn brokers—the goods were consigned to us for the purpose of sale—the goods are really pledged for security; they are deposited for sale, and an advance is made.
Re-examined. We sold them for 670l.—Mr. Whitworth put an attachment on the last amount we had on 26th February, and we paid it into Court—we were authorised to sell by the prisoner.
EDWIN WHITWORTH . I executed the orders represented by these receipts—the total amount is 1,059l. 9s. 2d. received by me on account—I only received a very small amount from Luscher and Co., 43l. 3s. 2d., on 21st January, and 103l. 17d. 11d. on 24th January—that only covered
the invoices of those dates—all the rest were obtained on credit, and have not been paid for—I endeavoured to recover some of my goods; I found them in the hands of Page—I only saw the prisoner once; that was, I think, on 10th or 17th February; it was when he brought the large parcel of goods—he did not state that a petition in bankruptcy had. been filed against him, or that proceedings were pending—the brokers who introduced him said that he was highly respectable, and had plenty of means.
Cross-examined. I sold the goods partly through the brokers who introduced him, Gardner and Campbell, and partly myself—I had five transactions with him, the two first of which were paid for, but no others—I did not receive 117l. 14s. 3d. from him on 17th February, or anything—Mr. Scott is my cashier; he is not here—if he had received money on my behalf he would hand me the receipt—I have received about 450l. on account of 1,059l. 9s., but only 145l. from Luscher; I got something under the attachment—I got no goods back—Mr. Scott has been with me 20 years.
Re-examined. I never doubted his honesty—the attachment was against Page and Son; that was not paid by Luscher—600l. is due to me.
JOHN WILLIAM DOTTERIDGE . I am one of the firm of Taylor and Dotteridge, provision merchants, Topping's Wharf, Tooley Street—I ordered some lard from the prisoner, and got it about 21st February—railway vans brought it—I do not know the quantity, but I gave him 100l. in advance on the following Monday—he might have received the goods by paying me the 100l.—I gave him no more—he gave me instructions to sell the goods at 2l. 2s. 6d. per cwt.—I had an offer of 2l. 1s., which I submitted to him, and he agreed—the contract was made out, and Mr. Whit worth's clerk came before the goods were delivered, and stopped the sale, and I delivered them to him—on the following Friday the prisoner came for the balance, which would hive been 350l., and I told him they belonged to Mr. Whitworth, and were handed back to him.—he became very violent, and threatened me with proceedings—I said, "If you go at me you go at Mr. Whitworth"—he went away, leaving me with the idea that I should be proceeded against, but I heard nothing about it till last Saturday—he threatened an action—I did not know that a petition in bankruptcy was filed against him on 2nd February.
Cross-examined. This is the first time I have given evidence.
SELINA FENN . I was in the prisoner's service at 46, Osborne Road—his wife was living then—on 8th June, about 10 p.m., their furniture was begun to be removed to Park Grove Road, Leytonstone—a van came each night; they began on Tuesday night, and ended the following Monday night, but did nothing on Sunday—I did not see the vans—the police came on Saturday night, 7th August, and I loft a day or two afterwards.
Cross-examined. I have said that the furniture was removed on 15th May, but I called it back to my mind that it was June 8 when I was before the Grand Jury—a gentleman cross-examined me—when I signed my deposition it was read over to me, but I made no correction about the date—I have not been talking to anybody about it—I called it back to my mind because I remembered how long it was after I went into the prisoner's service—no one had suggested that May 15 was not the right date—I know Mrs. Wilkie; I have not talked it over with her—I took
tea at her house, but it was only said that Mr. Luscher was in prison—Mr. Kent's clerk subpoened me, and wrote my evidence down—he said' nothing about Mrs. Wilkie—I gave him the date May 15—the prisoner was at home when the furniture was removed, and helped to pack it—I do not know that it belonged to him.
Re-examined. He lived in the house, and acted as the master—I was there about two months before the furniture was removed—there were seven rooms in the house—the furniture was tidy.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
GEOEGE FREEMAN . I am a sailor on board the Victor, of Tynemouth, lying by the Tower—on Sunday last, November 21, about 11.10 p.m., I passed the prisoners in St. George's Street—they wished me good-night, and Neil asked me to stand a pot of ale—I said that I had no money—they pushed me into the middle of the street, and said, "Let us have that pot of beer"—I turned down Pennington Street, and they ran after me, rushed on me, and one seized me by my throat and jammed me against some shutters—Neil put his hand in my left pocket, and Harnett' in my right—I told them if they would leave me alone I would freely give them what I had got—they said, "Let us see what he has got"—I pulled 2d. out, and Neil snatched it, and Harriett took 6d. from me—they knocked me down three times, and the people from a house came out—I said that if they did not leave me alone I would call for help—they both kicked me when I was down, on the side of my head and the side of my nose, and on my lip and about my loins—Bardell came to my assistance, and they knocked him down—I went to his assistance, and they knocked me down a third time—a policeman came up and caught Neil on top of me, and Harnett was caught running away—they were both taken to the station—the policeman showed me my knife And a box of matches, which were safe in my pocket when I was assaulted.
Cross-examined by Harnett. You stole the 6d. out of my hand.
PHOEBE BARDELL . I am the wife of James Bardell, of 97, Pennington Street, St. George's-in-the-East—about 11.15 last Sunday night I heard somebody banging against my shutters, and heard a voice say, "Give me some money"—another said, "I have no money"—the other said, "Give me 2d".—he said, "I will give you 24. if you will let me go"—another voice said, "Give me 6d".—I opened the door, and saw them holding a young man—one had his hand in his pocket, but I could not see which it was—they pushed him inside my street door—I said, "Go away, and leave the poor man alone; what do you want to rob him for?"—they said nothing, but tried to get something out of his pocket—my husband was in bed, but he came out and said, "Go away, and leave the poor man alone," and one of them struck him and knocked him down, and the other kicked him on the face after he was down—the prisoners then set on Freeman again, and knocked him down in the road and kicked him about the body—a female called "Police," and a constable ran and caught one of the prisoners close to the prosecutor—I did not see what became of the other.
JAMES BARDELL . I am the husband of the last witness—I have heard What she has said—it is true Neil knocked me down, and I got a kick on my right leg and have the mark now—I saw the policeman take them.
JOHN REED . (Policeman H R 16). I heard a disturbance, and saw Neil on top of the prosecutor punching him on the back of his head—he said, "Hold him tight, that man has robbed me, and that is another one," pointing to Harnett—another policeman came, and they were both taken—I afterwards searched the place, and found the knife and box which the prosecutor identifies—he and Bardell were both bleeding from their mouths—I found another knife on Harnett.
Harnett's Defence. He says that he put his hand in my pocket to give me 6d. He assaulted me first, and then I assaulted him.
Neil Defence. He turned round to me and said, "There is another one." I never saw anything of it at all, I was never in prison in my life.
HARNETT— GUILTY . He was further charged with a conviction in February, 1869, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.**—. Seven Years' Penal Servitude and . Twelve Strokes with the Cat
NEIL— GUILTY .†— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment and . Twelve Strokes with the Cat
MR. HURRELL. Prosecuted.
MARY MURPHY . I am the wife of Joseph Murphy, of Wells Cottage, Ieleworth—on Sunday morning, 17th October, I left home with my husband—we returned on Monday night, and found the garden gate open and a flower pot removed from outside the window, which was broken and wide open—my husband unlocked the door, and I went in and missed the clock, and a guernsey and shirt of my husband's, and two coins which were inside the clock—this is the clock (produced)—it was on the mantelpiece when we left home—I saw the three prisoners near the house when I left on Sunday.
Cross-examined by Smout. I saw you passing my cottage about 10 o'clock, and we left at 10.45.
JOHN BRACKENBURY . (Policeman T 133). I took Smout on 22nd Oct., and told her the charge—she said that she knew nothing about it—she after wards said "The other girl," meaning Gates, "it at bad as me, she pledged the clock and tore the ticket"—I had said nothing about another girl—I said that she would be charged with a man in custody—I took Gates on the 23rd, at 9 a.m., and told her the charge—she denied it at first, and then said "Walsh brought the clock to me and gave it to me to go and pledge it, and he put on the guernsey and hat and I was to pledge the clock at Mr. Newman's, the pawnbroker's, at Hounslow"—I went there and found it.
WALSH— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
SMOUT and GATES— NOT GUILTY .
28. THOMAS HAMLIN (30) PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Balph White and stealing six coats and other articles, his property.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, November 24th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
31. JOHN STEEL (24) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Henry Thomas, and stealing a watch, chain, and a bottle, his property.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
32. GEORGE TAKE WOOD BIGHAM (24) to receiving certain earrings, spoons, and other articles, the property of James Henry Waggett— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Imprisonment. And
He received an excellent character.—Three Months' Imprisonment.
MR. J. P. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .—The details of this case were unfit for publication.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, November 26th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MESSRS. BESLEY and BOULTER Prosecuted; and MR. EDWARD OLARKE, Q.C., with MR. SWINFEW EADY Defended.
HERBERT NEWOOMB . I am an advertising agent, and reside at South View, Hampton—on 24th July last I was on the river in a pair-oared outrigger, with my wife, Mr. and Mrs. Baliard, and two children of theirs, one about nine months old, and the other three years—I hare been more or less accustomed to the Thames ever since I was 10 years old—I am now 35—I have lived in my present house about six years—my wife is one of the most accomplished oarswomen on the Thames, and has had great experience—we have been up to Oxford a dozen times, and she has always steered when I was rowing; and she am row as well as I can—on the day in question we started from my own place at 2.45 for Staines—we proceeded on our journey there in a perfectly satisfactory manner—we expected to meet Mr. Ballard's father there, and as we did not meet him we had some tea at the Angel, and started for home at 8.45—the first lock we came to was at Penton Hook, which we passed at 9.15—we arrived at Cherteey about half an hour later; not quite so late as 9.45; I have not the time but at Staines Mr. Baliard looked at his watch to make the time correct by the church clock, and also the clock at the hotel—in Chertsey Lock we asked a launch to tow us up—on leaving Chertsey we kept down the middle of the stream, to get the benefit of it, and a little over to the jurrey shore, nearly mid-stream—my wife remarked
that she saw a light, and said she had better steer into the Surrey shore—I turned round over my right shoulder and said, "Quite right," and she did so, slightly—I turned round and looked a few seconds afterwards, and the light was much closer to us—she still continued to steer to clear the light—at the time I first turned round, when she spoke to me, I judged the light to be about 200 yards off; I now think it was 100 yards—the second time I looked round it was much closer, about half the distance, perhaps 50 yards off, as I should estimate then—my wife was steering entirely herself—she still continued steering near the Surrey shore, when soon after something made me start up, and I saw the launch coming in to us at an angle of about 45—thinking it was a very small craft I got up with the intention of staving it off with my hands, but the launch immediately struck us on the port bow, and I was thrown violently into the water—my idea was that the launch striking like that chucked me out—in my opinion I was jerked out by the launch striking the boat—I appeared to be under the water some considerable time, as when I came to the top I could see nothing but the launch, as near at I could judge about 100 yards off, up the river, above me; of course I floated down—I called out to them, but got no answer—I then tried to swim back, but could not make any headway at all against the stream, and, feeling exhausted, I struck out for the Middlesex shore, where a policeman gave me a hand out—soon after Mr. Desvignes came back with the launch to where I was, perhaps in about five minutes, and my own boat floated down past me in the river, moderately close to the shore—when Mr. Desvignes came back he pressed me to go on to the boiler and warm myself, and after some persuasion I did so—soon after the lock-keeper from Shepperton came down—the launch remained stationary for a very considerable time—the lock-keeper said, "Ah, Mr. Desvignes, I told you what would happen"—I asked him for his explanation, but he said he was not in a position to give it me; he would not tell me—I am not sure whether that was in Mr. Desvignes's presence; I think not—I complained to Mr. Desvignes about the light being a very insignificant one, and quite unfitted for a boat of such dimensions—while he was warming us in the place he said, two or three times, "Don't make it too hot for me"—Mr. Ballard replied to him rather sharply, I don't recollect the words—after that he took us back in the launch to Shepperton Lock, and we were dressed by the look-keeper, and afterwards went home in a cab—the spot where I rose to the surface was about 200 yards from Docket's Point—I can't tell how long I was under water; it was about 100 yards from Docket's Point that the collision happened, and I was about 100 yards from Docket's Point when I came to the surface—the collision occurred at 9.57; I knew that from Mr. Ballard's watch, which stopped—I saw the watch—the launch was too far off for me to say whether she was in motion when I rose to the surface—I heard a whistle, perhaps two minutes before the collision—I heard no more; no whistle anywhere nearer within the time when we saw the light—I heard a whistle previously—I don't know to whom it belonged; I could not tell whether it was from a launch going down stream or anything else—I only heard one whistle—I could not hear the engines of the launch; they are perfectly silent; they make about the same noise as a sewing-machine would—at the time of the collision she must have been going at least 12 miles an hour or more—nobody on board the launch took any notice of the boat
before the collision—I heard no shout; she did not alter her course at all; it was too rapid for that—I saw her three times altogether—from the way the boat struck, and from Mr. Desvignes's own eyidence, I imagine he turned her into us at the last second—I saw the light twice before she struck us—she was keeping on in the same line; we were trying to clear her—I did not see the launch till it was close on to us—I say she must have turned in just before striking us—I did not know that it was a steam-launch coming on to us till she was within a few feet of us—the second time I turned round I knew it was a steam-launch by the pace she had travelled; I knew it was not a barge, a sailing-boat, or a rowingboat, it came too quickly—I was present at the inquest—it was an inquest on the deceased person—Mr. Desvignes made a statement there—he said that he himself was steering the launch and driving, but it required Dagwell, the stoker, to reverse the engines, Dagwell was attending to the stoke-hole and reversing the engines—I have since seen and examined the steam-launch—it is about 60 feet long, within two or three inches, steel-plated, about 18 inches out of the water, with only two large compartments to sit people down, but no accommodation whatever in the shape of awning or covering—there was a small stoke-hole, about three feet deep, a very short funnel, with a boiler-plate about five inches above the stem—I think she drew about 10 inches on one side and About 18 on the other—there was a place on the funnel where a light could have been hooked to; when I saw it afterwards it was on the boiler-plate—I can't tell whether it had been there before; it could be moved at pleasure.
Cross-examined. We expected to meet Mr. Ballard'e father at Staines—he was not going to join us in the boat; we should most likely have come home by train, or by a dog-cart—it was at the option of the ladies whether they liked to go home by boat or not; we had not formed any opinion; it would have been a matter entirely for afterthought; they would probably have come home by the dog-cart—my wife was steering between Staines and Ghertsey—I can't say whether the children were asleep after we left Chertsey—one of them was not lying down in the bottom of the boat; one was in Mrs. Ballard's arms and the other between them, I believe, but I was rowing, and have not a very definite recollection—when I was first examined before the Coroner I said that the launch was 300 yards off when I first saw it, but that was a lapsus lingua, and I corrected it—I say the launch was going 12 miles an hour from the rapidity with which the light came on me—I could not have said before the Magistrate that one of my reasons for arriving at the rate of speed was that Mr. Desvignes was unable to save any one of those in the boat, because he saved Mr. Ballard—the two reasons I gave were the rapidity with which the launch came on us, and the distance she had gone when I came to the surface—the accident took place about 200 yards above Docket Point—when I came to the surface I was about 100 yards from the launch, as near as I could guess; I was then about 100 yards above Docket Point—the launch was not standing over the place where the accident happened; she must have gone beyond that, she had travelled 60 or 70 yards from, the point of the accident, I could not tell whether she was moving or not when I came to the surface, I saw her black hull, nothing else; I did not see her light—she was probably still pointing up stream, I don't know; I could see nothing but a black mass—when
I say I gathered the pace from the rapidity with which she came on us, I don't mean her speed at the actual moment of the accident, I mean her speed up to the time when I jumped up—she came too quickly for me to say whether she had slowed—I can't say whether she had stopped at all or not; I was barely on my feet before I was in the water—I can't say whether the stem of the launch struck us or not, but I should imagine not—I had a very severe injury to my throat and one of my knees, but I should not think the launch struck me, I think I must have come across something, I don't attribute it to the launch; it would have cut me in halves—I am a trifle short-sighted—when I first saw the light it was coming round the bend, I should think nearer the Middlesex shore—I saw it over my right shoulder when I turned round—I was not steering, I only glanced round and saw it, and we steered close to the Surrey shore—I had perfect confidence in the steering—I looked round again after two strokes, and still we had not cleared it—seeing the light across there we kept steering to get away from it—it appeared nearly in the same direction as it was at first, only much closer—I don't recollect noticing the other shore at all, it was all too sudden—I noticed our own shore, the Surrey shore, that we were on—I made no observation of the course which the light was travelling with relation to the shore of the river; we only wanted to get out of the way of it—I saw Burgoyne's launch at Ohertsey lock—I judged it to be his—I have often seen it on the river—we left Chertsey lock together, at the same time—I forget whether he got away first—we asked him to give us a tow; he said he was very late—I am perfectly certain that I only heard one whistle before the accident happened—no one in the boat called attention to the fact of a whistle having been sounded—I did not think about its being a steam launch whistle—we simply looked round again, and looked and steered to get out of the way of any light, which was the correct thing to do—when I saw it afterwards I supposed it to have been Burgoyne's whistle, but there was nothing at the time to mark it on my memory—I dare say we all heard it, but there was nothing to guard against—I did not know what the light was—I should always steer away from a light, because you cannot tell whether it is a steam launch or anything else—an inquest was held on three days, and Mr. Desvignes was examined, and gave his account of the transaction—Sir George Nares was there—I don't know who he represented—I heard the verdict of the Jury on the third day—I have never laid the matter before the Public Prosecutor—I took out a summons in this case, I suppose about the middle of October, I really forget; you must ask my solicitor—it is very likely that my solicitor has issued a writ against Mr. Desvignes within the last fortnight—he would not act without my instructions—I have instructed him to do it, at his option.
Re-examined. I consulted Mr. Galmoye in this matter from the first time, at the inquest—I have left it entirely to his discretion—if Mr. Desvignes had offered me any expression of sympathy I should not have taken it—I heard the sound of a whistle long before anybody in the boat sighted the light—I think there was an interval of about two minutes between the whistle and the sight of the light; it might be a minute; as I have said, there was nothing to fix it—my suggestion is that when I rose to the surface I was 60 yards from the spot where the accident occurred—my recollection is not distinct—when I came to the surface I only saw the black hull of the launch—I wanted to save anybody's life,
and when I found I could not do that I naturally looked after my own—it was about nine or ten seconds from the first sighting of the light and my standing to my feet—after saying before the Coroner that it was 300 yards off when the light was sighted I corrected myself directly—I spoke to Mr. Galmoye about it—I don't recollect whether the notes of my evidence were read to me before the Coroner, I was very ill at the time—I now desire to correct it to 100 yards, because I thought it was a launch light, the ordinary proper light, and of course that would look very different to a light little bigger than a policeman's bull's-eye—it was a feebler light than the ordinary, which is quite a blaze of light—very possibly the position of the light had something to do with my inaccuracy of estimate, I can't say—it may have been shifted, or I may not have seen it—it may have been covered by the boiler part at the time—I formed the conclusion that it was a steam launch the second time X looked round, by the rapidity the light had travelled—at that time we were about one and a half or two boats' lengths from her.
By the COURT. My boat is 25 feet long all but a few inches—I had double sculls—I was in the front of the boat, in the centre of the thwarts—I know the river well at that part—there is always a good stream there—I should think it was running about one and a half or two miles an hour—it would not be setting off on to, the Surrey side, the other way, towards the Middlesex shore—it was very slack that day, certainly not more than two miles an hour—I could feel from the pace our boat travelled—we went up almost as fast as we came back, so I put the very extreme on it.
WILLIAM HEURY BALLARD . On 24th July I went in a skiff up the river with my wife and two children, and Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb, starting from Hampton and going to Staines; Mrs. Newcomb steered; we started from Staines on the return journey about 8.45—I compared my watch with the church clock at Staines, you can see it from the bridge, and it coincided—I am a jeweller by business and understand watches—I can't say that I noticed the time in coming from Staines at either of the locks before the accident—I cannot tell what the time was at Penton Hook or Chertsey—Mrs. Newcomb steered the whole of the way; my wife was sitting on Mrs. Newcombe's left hand, one of the children was in my wife's arms, and the other was between them on the seat—I was pulling a pair of sculls, rowing stroke—after we left Chertsey we were nearer the Surrey than the Middlesex side—I noticed Mr. Burgoyne's launch in the last lock we passed through, and we asked them if they would tow us down—I have been in Manchester eight years, and consequently have not had much chance of being on the river, but I have been on it every summer I dare say—I cannot tell the exact point at which the accident happened—my attention was first attracted by a remark from the ladies that there was something coming—I think we both turned round and looked, and I think Mr. Newcomb remarked, "It's all right, but you had better keep a little nearer the Surrey side"—Mrs. Newcomb acted upon that and turned the nose slightly towards the Surrey shore—I turned over my right shoulder and saw the light; we never heard anything—I don't think I saw the light again before the accident; I saw the launch, but I could not say that I saw the light—the next thing was a frightened remark from one of the Indies, "They are coming into us," or words to that effect, and in a very short space of time I was
in the water; I turned round and just had time to see that the launch was coming, and the next moment we were struck and I was in the water—I felt the keel of the launch; it seemed to draw me to it, as I suppose it naturally would, till it passed over me, and when I came to the surface I was some distance astern of the launch—I don't think I could swim a dozen yards; when I came to the surface I picked up an oar, and then a life-buoy and a rope were thrown to me from the launch, and L was taken on board—the launch then went to the Middlesex shore, I think, where Mr. Newcomb was with the horse-patrol—Mr. Desvignes was on the launch when I was picked up; he asked me how many there were in the boat, and I told him—I don't think much occurred before we got to the bank—I think the launch was backed into the Middlesex side, but I did not notice; we landed near a small farmhouse there, a few yards above it, I think it is called Docket's farm; somebody came out of the house to us—I got off the launch and then got on again—the lock-keeper had not come up at that time, he came up soon after—I don't remember whether Mr. Desvignes went on to the bank before the lock-keeper came, or not; I fancy he was on board the launch when the lock-keeper came up—the launch was close to the bank then; the lock-keeper was standing on the tow-path, close to the launch; he said to Mr. Desvignes, "I told you what would happen;" he was very excited—Mr. Desvignes could hear him; he did not make any answer that I am aware of—when I went on board the launch again Mr. Desvignes said to me, "Don't make it hard for me;" he said that several times to me personally; at one time Mr. Newcomb was present—I said I thought it was very unmanly to make use of such an expression as that; he seemed to think only of himself—we wore taken back to Shepperton that night—the launch was coming quick when the accident occurred; as to giving the number of miles an hour, I don't think I could, because it would require some experience to judge of the speed—nothing was called out to us, or any alarm given from the launch; we never heard anything from the launch at all—I saw the position of the light after I was on board the launch; it was on the top, about three inches above the deck, above the edge of the boat, above the gunwale, in the centre, at the bottom of the funnel, in front of it, not on the bow; not fastened at all, but just simply placed there.
Cross-examined. It was a lantern placed directly in front of the funnel, about three inches above the stem of the boat—I think I have said that when I first saw the light it was about 80 or 100 yards off; it is very difficult to tell, but that was the distance I put it at—I would not like to swear that it may not have been 300 yards off, because it is always difficult to judge the distance, particularly on a dark night; I may have said before the Magistrate 100 to 150 yards—Mrs. Newcomb steered the whole way; when the remark was made that we were to go to the Surrey side she had the tiller ropes in her hands, because she steered the boat that way—I did not see anybody else take hold of the ropes—I did not see the body of Mrs. Ballard directly it was taken out of the water, I saw it a little time after, and the ropes were round both her arms, very far up, by the shoulders—these were separate ropes; they were wound round and round both her arms; you might almost imagine they had been put round; the top part of the rudder had come unshipped, and was attached to them—when I saw Mrs. Newcomb steering I cannot be quite certain whether she had the lines under her arms or over her shoulders.—my wife had been on the water before, but she had no practical knowledge
of working a boat—when Mr. Newcomb turned round and saw the light he said, "It's all right, but you had better keep a little nearer the Surrey side"—I understood by that that there was something coming, what we could not tell—we saw the light; I should take it that it was a light belonging to some vessel; that it was a moving light—I am not well acquainted with the river now, because I have been away from it for a good number of year—it was a moonlight night, only there were some clouds about occasionally, but there were times when we could see across the river; the moon was nearly full—I put it down that the light belonged to something, and that there was a possibility that it was coming our way; we were not sure, but for safety we steered for the Surrey side; I was not in charge of the boat; Mr. Newcomb knew the river, and I did not; I thought Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb were better judges than I—I did not stand up in the boat at the moment of the collision; Mr. New-comb stood up, that was all—the ladies had rugs wrapped round them, over their knees—I believe those rugs were afterwards picked up out of the water—there was a reticule in the boat; I know my wife had one—I believe there were loose cushions, which they were sitting on—there were no books loose; there was one in a drawer, I believe—I don't remember seeing the boat floating down the river after the accident; when I came to the surface I had been carried down stream some distance—I think I was about 30 yards from the launch when I came to the surface—I was asked at the inquest whether Mr. Desvignes did not do everything possible to save life, and I said, "Yes, he certainly threw me a life-buoy and a rope from the launch, and they did all in their power to save me"—I said that I personally had no charge whatever to make against Mr. Desvignes—I saw a steam-launch leaving Ohertsey Look; I knew afterwards that it was Mr. Burgoyne's; I was not aware of it at the time—I heard a whistle before the accident; I might have heard two—that was some little time before we saw the light for the first time, some considerable time, I think, before; it is rather difficult to fix a time; there was nothing to impress it on my memory—before we saw the light Mr. Burgoyne's boat had disappeared round Docket's Point; we lost sight of his launch very soon after leaving the lock—I did not look round when I heard the whistle.
Re-examined. Mrs. Ballard's body was recovered about 10 next morning; I drove over from Hampton; the body was being brought on shore after I had been there, I think it was actually recovered while I was there—I did not see it landed, not till it was put where the bodies were laid—I believe this (produced) is the top of the rudder with the lines that were found—I did not notice very particularly how the lines were round my wife's body; there are other people who have noticed it, they can give it you very much better. Mrs. Newcomb's body was recovered before my wife's—my watch stopped at 9.57.
By the COURT. I am a pretty good sculler—I can scull a pair—Mr. Newcombe is a very good sculler, he is fully qualified in every respect—I should think we were going through the water five or fix miles an hour with the stream—she is not a heavy boat, it is just the sort of skiff you would take to go from Oxford—we remarked just previously how easily she was riding—we should go four miles an hour against the stream and I should think eight with the stream—I should judge that we were going
about six miles an hour through the water—there was no wind to interfere with the steering; there was no labour, one arm worked as easy as the other—the fact of the boat riding easy proved that the steering was right—I seemed to be a long time under water—I was exhausted when I came up—I cannot swim, but with the help of an oar I picked up I managed to keep myself afloat till I had the life-buoy—I was perhaps under the water the best part of a minute—a very little time elapsed between my rising to the surface and getting the life-buoy—I was picked up within a minute and a half; they were some time getting me up the side, because I could not help myself—I did not notice whether the launch was still pointing head against stream or whether she had got across the river at all; but from the fact of our going back to Shepperton, and we did not turn round afterwards, I think it must have turned round; he could not have turned round in the time, before I was picked up—I think we went to the bank almost directly I was picked up; they said, "Who have you got there?" and they said "A man;" we went to the bank to see who was saved—I had no idea that my wife and children were lost—I saw the boat next morning at Shepperton, not at that time.
DANIEL PHILLIPS . I am lock-keeper at Molesey—on the evening of 24th July, I remember Mr. Desvignes's launch passing through the lock at 8. 40—it might have been a minute or two later, that was while he was in the lock—there was no light on the launch at that time—I compute the distance from Molesey to Sunbury Lock at three miles.
Cross-examined. It does not take more than three minutes to fill my lock—it takes a little longer to fill Sunbury Lock; it may be five minutes—from Sunbury to where the accident happened, I should think was four and a half miles—it would be seven miles and a half to get to the scene of the accident—so that he would be an hour and 17 minutes going that seven and half miles, through three locks—he would be three minutes and a half in my lock—I generally book them when I get them in the lock—I think he would be in Shepperton Lock about four minutes, or it may be three.
HENRY JOYCE . I am lock-keeper at Sunbury—I remember on the 24th July last Mr. Desvignes's launch passing through my lock in the evening—it was 9 o'clock when he. arrived at the lock, and five minutes past nine when he left it—the launch had no light on it—I lent him one; this is it (produced)—the launch was not detained any time before the gates were opened—I was waiting for him—I had two rowing boats going up, and seeing the launch I waited to receive it—it would take five minutes to get through—I believe it is rather over three miles from Molesey to my lock—I am positive that my watch was quite correct.
Cross-examined. This is a double wicked lamp which I lent him—it throws a light which you can see for quite two miles, in a clear reach—it is a deal better than many boats use on the river—it is better than many single lights—it was a suitable light for Mr. Desvignes to carry, or I would not have lent it to him—to the best of my belief it was placed on the port side of the funnel, on the top of the boiler case—I cannot say for certain whether the funnel is amidships; I think it is rather forward—the boiler case would be between the funnel and the stem—the lamp would throw a light straight over the stem of the boat, and on both sides, and better than when the light is carried so high, because
in running between the bushes, if you get close on the land, the boat will obstruct the light; and that is how I am afraid a great many mistakes are made with craft running alongside of the river with lights too high—I did not advise him where to place the light—I simply left it to his discretion—I think it was placed in the proper place—I should hate placed it there if I had been in the same position—I have seen the rowing boat in question—I have been nearly 13 years the lock-keeper of Sunbury, previous to that time I was at sea—I should think from the condition of the boat after the accident, the launch must have been going at a very slow rate of speed indeed—if she had been going a very heavy rate of speed, the boat, being a small one, would have been completely smashed up—the amount of injury done to the boat indicates, to my mind, that the launch could not have been going at a very great pace—I do not think she would have cut through her, she was bound to have gone clean over her.
Re-examined. That would of course depend upon the exact angle at which the blow was struck, and also whether the boat gave way on being struck—I have seen rowing boats row into one another, and I have seen considerably more damage done than this—I never lent my lamp to anybody before this, and never shall again—I hate no other lamp to lend—I have frequently seen Mr. Desvignes travelling at night before this—he has always carried his side lights previous to this—I mean red and green lights—the stoke-hole is behind the chimney—I cannot say where the steering wheel is—I am not quite sure whether it is before or abaft the funnel—I have not driven a steam launch by night in this part of the river—I have in the lower part, but not by Teddington Lock—I have no experience of that.
By MR. CLARKS. Mr. Desvignes usually carried two lights when I have seen him late at night before; but it is so very seldom he is late at night—there are a good many steam launches upon the upper Thames—very frequently there are 25 or 26 through my look in one day—I think some of them carried a single light previous to the accident, and some of them none at all, but since the accident they are all getting the side lights—we now have a notice of the obedience or disobedience of the Conservancy rules—the order came out in the forepart of the season, that if boats have no lights at all we have power to detain them—I should have detained Mr. Desvignes that night if he had not asked me for a light—he did ask me to let him have a light—it was a bright white light—so far he was complying with the rules—he told me that in starting away for the Kingston Regatta in the moraine they were rather late, and through the neglect of some of his men they omitted to put the lights on board, and at Molesey Lock the Maria Wood was coming down, and they were detained for 20 or 25 minutes—he gave me that as his reason for being without lights.
JAMES NEWBALL . I am lock-keeper in the service of the Thames Conservancy at Shepperton Lock—that is 8 miles and 7 furlongs above Sunbury—Mr. Desvignes's launch entered my lock at about 10 minutes to 10 o'clock on this night—I can fill my lock in about two minutes and a half—on this night it took me about three minutes—we had to empty it to let a boat down, and Mr. Desvignes had to wait outside—I kept him waiting as far as I could judge about three minutes—that would be the ordinary time—I saw the police patrol pass on the towing path; I stood
talking to him—I do not know how long he had passed by before Mr. Desvignes passed out of my lock—I remember saying to Mr. Desvignes "Be careful, sir, for I fear there is a plant on to-night"—I heard Mr. Burgoyne's launch whistle that night for the lock—I kept my eyes open for him—I saw him pass Docket's Point just about the spot where he would pass Mr. Desvignes—from the time of Mr. Desvignes's launch coming out the lock was not closed again until Mr. Burffoyne's launch came into it—Docket's Point is about half a mile from the lock—I passed Mr. Burgoyne's launch, the Formosa, through my lock before I heard of the accident—the next thing I saw was the police officer on horseback, he galloped past my place, and he gave me instructions to go up there, as a dreadful accident had occurred—I went to the spot as soon as I possibly could—he got there before me—I had to walk about half a mile before I got to the place—I found Mr. Desvignes's launch lying close to the bank—I did not see Mr. Desvignes for some time; I could not say exactly how long, it might have been two minutes after I reached the spot—Mr. Ballard and Mr. Newcomb were lying on what is said to be the casing of the boiler on board of the launch—the bow of the launch was then pointing down stream, I think—I can hardly be positive of that now—when I first saw Mr. Desvignes he appeared to me to be walking from the cottage to where the steam launch was lying—I said to him "Oh, Mr. Desvignes, how did this happen?"—I did not say "Ah, Mr. Desvignes, I told you this would happen"—I am quite sure of that; nor "I told you what would happen;" nothing of the kind—I remember using the expression that it was a singular thing that it was only this afternoon that I should have made a remark that we should soon have another Princess Alice disaster if steam launches would go on like that—I said that just as I was leaving the steam launch, to some gentleman on the bank—he was referring to some steam launch that came through the locks in the afternoon with a party of gentlemen on board, I was letting four boats out of my lock, and a steam launch was waiting, I saw them start full speed ahead to come in the look, and I held up both my hands and sang out at the top of my voice, with the aid of my assistant, "There are four boats coming out," they paid no attention, but rushed in the lock when the four boats were coming out—it was then I made the remark—I said to my assistant "If they go on like this we shall have a serious accident"—after this accident happened I was in the, kitchen, Mr. Ballard and Mr. Newcomb were there, in and out, and my wife also, as well as Mr. Desvignes and several young gentlemen who were camping outside—I heard Mr. Desvignes say "Speak the truth, or it will go hard for me"—he was addressing Mr. Newcomb—I could not say what observation of Mr. Newcomb's called for that expression, I was finding the clothes for them.
Cross-examined. The launch came into my lock, as far as I can judge, about 10 minutes to 10 o'clock—I booked it at 10 minutes to 10 o'clock——that was about the time of his coming in, I should think—I might have said before the Magistrate that I recollected his passing out at 10 minutes to 10 o'clock—if half a dozen boats come in at one time I do not put down the time afterwards, I should not put it down before they went out—I should clear them through the lock first—I do not book all at the same time—sometimes we have to make a little allowance—we keep them in regular rotation—I have tried to make a difference between
them to the best of my ability, we cannot always do it—we know how long it will take to enter—Mr. Desvignes's launch came through before the Formosa—there was one boat coming out; that was why I had to detain Mr. Desvignes outside—I had not to fill the look again, the look was ready—when I let the boat out Mr. Desvigues came in—it would take about two minutes to fill the lock and get it away again—there was nothing else in after Mr. Desvignes's—from the Lock House I can see Docket's Point—the Formosa whistled before I could see her—she had not then turned Docket's Point—at that time Mr. Desvignes's launch had got out of my lock and was going up stream—the next thing I heard was a whistle to tell me that a steam launch was coming round Docket's Point, and then I saw it was the Formosa—the patrol left my lock house shortly before Mr. Desvignes's launch started—I was filling my lock, and had just shut the gate when the patrol spoke to me and went on—he was very little ahead of Mr. Desvignes's launch—I could not see the launch after it left my lock—the patrol was going on along the towing path.
Re-examined. It was a cloudy moonlight night—it was a clear atmosphere, but there were dark clouds which obstructed the moon at times—the Formosa had her port and starboard lights, red and green, and a white masthead light.
By the COURT. I did not look at my watch, but I have two things to go by in taking the time; when the Formosa was in the lock the look was being emptied, as three church clocks struck 10 o'clock, she stopped in the lode, and after it was emptied, for 10 minutes; then I looked at the time, and then I knew it must be just about 10 minutes to 10 o'clock when Mr. Desvignes was there—it is only a guess, I did not see the time—I saw some light—it really was not, in my humble judgment, sufficient, but there are plenty worse than that considerably—it ought to have been a little brighter, but you could see it at a long distance—I should think it would hardly be sufficient on a dark hazy night—on a dark hazy night like that I should think you could see it for about two miles—Docket's Point is half a mile from my look, and the accident was 200 yards farther than Docket's Point—I could not form any opinion as to the rate the stream was running, but on that particular day the water was lower than in any part of the summer, and that would have a tendency to reduce the stream—the look is constantly at work—when there is not much water in the river that does not make the stream go faster—I do not know at what rate the stream was running at the place where the accident happened—I do not think more than three miles an hour, it might be a little more or less—it might be going more than two—it is a question I can hardly speak distinctly upon—I should think it would be between two and three miles—I think that would be very reasonable.
GEORGE EDWARDS . I am one of the mounted police—on the evening of 24th July I was on duty, doing my ordinary patrol beat on horseback—I have been a patrol for some time; I have had the same horse for five years—I have timed the pace of my horse between stations when I have been going with despatches; the utmost he does he four miles an hour, that is walking; in fact, it is more than he is able to do—on this night I remember being at Shepperton Lock on my beat—after leaving there I rode up the towing-path on the Middlesex side—I saw Mr. Desvignes's launch—it might be about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after leaving Shepperton Look, I could not say exactly; I had ridden
about half a mile; I had got up to Docket's Point—the launch overtook me; I suppose it was going about 3 1/2 miles an hour—my horse was keeping pace with it for about 100 yards—I saw the Formosa before that 100 yards had been covered, they both rounded the point together; I heard a whistle—I saw them pass each other—Mr. Desvignes passed on the Middlesex side, and Mr. Burgoyne on the Surrey side—after my going the 100 yards side by side with Mr. Desvignes's launch she steamed away from me, wont faster—the next thing that attracted my attention was a crash and some screams; that might have been three minutes after the launch had steamed away, or not so much—I galloped up to the spot where the occurrence took place, still going up stream; I had to gallop about 200 yards—I dismounted and took off my clothes, and was in the act of jumping in when I heard the screams, I thought there was somebody in the water—I saw Mr. Newcomb in shore, and I helped to pull him out; he complained of his knees being hurt—I saw Mr. Desvignes's launch then about mid-stream, still, and I saw Mr. Desvignes working to and fro with his boat-hook—I asked him how many he had saved; he said one gentleman only; he said there were more people in the river—then I ran down some distance and got into a boat close to Docket's Point, and rowed about to see if I could find any bodies floating; I could find none—I don't remember seeing Mr. Newcomb's boat—I came ashore again, and galloped down to the lock-house—the launch had come to the bank before I left—I came back with several young gentlemen who were camping there—I got back before the lock-keeper; I think Mr. Newcombe and Mr. Ballard were then on the launch, and Mr. Desvignes also—the lock-keeper afterwards came up, and several young gentlemen with him—I heard some conversation, but I was busy taking the particulars of the accident, getting the names and addresses of both parties—I took notes, and have them here; I did not take any notes of the conversation, only what I did myself; Mr. Desvignes said nothing to me—when the steam launch was going alongside of me I noticed the lamp, this is the lamp—the atmosphere was cloudy, the moon was clouded every five or ten minutes—I could see the lamp of the launch quite plain—when the Formosa whistled the other launch answered with his whistle when they passed.
Cross-examined. I had ridden from the lock up stream, and then Mr. Desvignes's launch caught me up at Docket's Point—I had heard the Formosa's whistle just before; the vessels passed each other just as they were rounding the bend; each whistled just before rounding; the corner—I first heard the Formosa's whistle, and then Mr. Desvignes's—the light Mr. Desvignes's launch carried was a bright white light; it could be seen more than 400 yards in a straight line—I could see the rays from the lamp across the river, it was a good strong light, throwing it out on each side—I should say after she left the point she was going nearly double as fast as when she was by my side—I saw the rowboat afterwards at the lock, I don't remember seeing it floating down; when I did see it it still had in it the bag and the loose cushions; there was not much water in her—I saw Mrs. Ballard's body at the inquest; I did not see it found.
WILLIAM BURGOYNE . I am a builder of steam launches—I am not an owner—the Formosa belongs to my brother—I know Mr. Desvignes's steam launch; there is no other steam launch on the Thames exactly like it, but after the same line—on the night of 24th July I was on board
the Formosa, coming down stream—I first saw Mr. Desvignes's lauuch just as we were rounding Docket's Point—I knew it was a steam launch because he whistled; I whistled, not in reply to him, but for the lock-keeper; he whistled first—after that I passed him; I saw his light before I passed him; it was a sufficient light, according to the laws of the Conservancy above the look, but it was not a sufficient light—in a straight course I could see it for a mile, if there was nothing to interrupt the view—after the whistling we passed on—nothing attracted my attention—the atmosphere was cloudy; it was a full moon, but the clouds kept on passing.
Cross-examined. At the time Mr. Desvignes's launch passed us she was going about six miles an hour altogether through the air; the stream would be pretty nearly four miles an hour at that point, 3 1/2 or four—I have since seen the boat—looking at its condition, I should say it was struck more at right angles than anything else, between that and 45 degrees—if the launch had been going at considerable speed when it met the boat it must have produced more damage than it has done—if it kept at the speed that I saw it I think it would have cut it in halves, cut it right down—I have seen accidents with steamers and with rowing boots, and can form a judgment as to the sort of injury that would he done to a boat by a violent collision.
Re-examined. It would entirely depend upon the angle of the collision; if it struck at right angles I think it would either have out through or sunk the boat.
By the COURT. Supposing it struck at an angle of 45, at six miles an hour, it would have cut the boat in halves—I think it must have got slower before it struck—I should think the launch would come to a stop in two or three lengths, something about 120 feet—she is a very light boat, easy to stop—if she had been going 12 miles an hour I should think it would take six or seven lengths to get her to stop.
CHARLES BURGOYNE . I am brother of the last witness—I am the owner of four steam launches, and am in the habit of using them myself—none of them are at all like Mr. Desvignes's—on the evening in question I was not in the Formosa, I was in the Amazon, another steamer—my brother was in the Formosa—she was above the lock, and I was below—By the COURT. I saw the light I should think 200 yards off—I was uncertain what it was, because there was a very deep grove of trees, and a bend at the same time,—and I was really not taking any notice.
The following Witness were called for the Defence:—HENRY DAGWELL. I am a stoker in the employ of the defendant—on. the 24th July I was on board his launch with him—we were returning from Kingston—after we left Shepperton look we met another steam launch just below Docket's Point—she was 80 or 100 yards oil' when I first saw her—I blew the whistle, and then proceeded to Docket's Point, and I blew the whistle again on going round the Point—we always make it a rule to blow it on going round the Point—after we had rounded the Point about 100 yards, I saw a small row boat—it appeared to be about. 80 or 90 yards off, perhaps it might be more or it might be less, I can't say for certain—it was coming down on the Middlesex side—we kept him
the middle of the river, the course we always take—I did not keep my eye on the row boat the whole of the time—when I saw it again it was about 30 yards off, or from that to 40—the launch was going then about 4 miles an hour perhaps, it might be 5, at the outside—'the rows boat kept coming down till she got within 10 or 15 yards of us, then she suddenly shot right across under our bows by some means—I had orders from Mr. Desvignes to reverse the engines—he was steering and driving also—I reversed the engines—Mr. Desvignes picked up the boat hook, and picked up a shawl—we came into collision with the boat, it might be a second or two after I was told to reverse the engines—I saw the defendant leave the wheel and take a boat hook, and he picked a rug out of the water—he never stirred from the place where he was—we came to a standstill immediately after the collision—I saw Mr. Ballard in the water—I threw life buoy to him, he took hold of it, and we brought him on to the launch—I did not see any one else in the water—after pulling Mr. Ballard out, we stopped there for some minutes, searching about at the scene of the accident—I saw the small boat almost immediately after the accident wing round on our starboard side, the Middlesex side—it floated down the stream—we then went in to shore—when it passed me the boat was up in its proper way, there was nothing the matter with it—we had not altered our course before the boat shot across us; we then turned towards the Surrey side—they were shooting across towards the Surrey tide—if the row-boat had not altered its course there would have been sufficient room for them to have passed.
Cross-examined. I have been stoker for Mr. Desvignes about six years—the same steam launch was not used during that time; this one came into use in June this year—the steering wheel is behind the funnel and behind the stoke-hole—the person standing to steer is on a higher level than I am in stoking—Mr. Desvignes was standing higher than I was;. he was supposed to keep the look-out—the only light on board the launch that night was about 6 inches above the gunwale—the stoke-hole is between 3 and 4 feet below the gunwale; I could see the light from where I was, it would be on a level with my eye—I saw the row-boat at a distance of about 80 or 900 yards ahead, it may be more, it may be less—we were about in the middle of the stream, bearing towards the Surrey shore if anything—we whistled on passing the Formosa, before the accident, and we whistled again between passing the Formosa and the accident—the row-boat was more than 80 or 90 yards from us when we first whistled—we whistled round Docket's Point, I had not seen the row-boat then—we did not whistle when it was 80 or 90 yards off—I have said the speed of the launch at the time was not more than four miles an hour—the stream is very strong at that point, three or four miles an hour I should say—I had the control of the engines; I did not reverse them till I had orders from Mr. Desvignes—the row-boat was very close to us then; I should not say 20 yards, or anything like; I could not say how close within a yard or so, it would be impossible to say—I am not accustomed to row at all, I cannot scull—it is not the rule in going up against stream to avoid the current to go on whichever shore there is the least current, particularly round a point; we go the proper course for a steam lauuch—it was not unusually late for us to be out at night—Mr. Desvignes does not very often go out on the Thames so late; there are steamboats that go on much later; it was late for us—the launch is
usually put up at Chertsey at night—we have been out a great deal later—sometimes we are earlier, sometimes later—we had not been delayed that night in our course up the river, only at Molesey look, we had to stop out there a little while, waiting for the lock, that was all—we did not carry three lights this night—red, green, and white; we have done so on other occasions—I think the current at this point is stronger on the Surrey side—the launch was turned a little towards the Surrey shore—I noticed that the Formosa had three lights; they were coming round the point as we were going up the reach—I did not see it just then at a greater distance than 100 yards, because they were coming round the point—it could be seen at a great deal farther distance off.
Re-examined. The course we took is the best course for a steam launch—the water was not very low at this time, there was plenty of water there—we determine the course as it is the regular channel for steam-boats or barges, because there is more water in that course—the launch draws about 3 feet, or 3 feet 6 inches—she would draw about 2 feet 6 inches that night I should think, perhaps not quite to much—she draws more aft than forward—she drew about 2 feet 6 inches at the deepest that night, I should think.
By MR. CLARKE. I had nothing to do with the steering—if the row-boat had held its course the vessels would have passed safely, in my judgment—at the moment the boat was seen crossing our bows Mr. Desvignes did the best thing possible to prevent an accident—a charge was made against me before the Magistrate as well as against Mr. Desvignes, but the charge against me was dismissed.
JESSE WOOD . (Policeman T 443). On Sunday, 25th July, I was at Shepperton, and found the body of Mrs. Ballard—I found the steering lines wound three times round the right arm, and twice round the left—I got the body out with the drags, with the assistance of some more men that were in the punt—it was about mid-stream between Shepperton lock and Docket's Point, below Docket's Point—the body was lying on the back, the yoke was hanging behind the body, and the lines were twisted above the elbows, something like that (Describing the position on his own arms)—I did not notice whether the strings were equal in length between the arms and the yoke, or one longer than the other; the two knobs were hanging down from the arms—I believe these are the rudder lines I found.
Cross-examined. I have not sat down in the boat to see whether with the ropes round the arms the head of the rudder could possibly be on it.
(The witness was directed to try this the boat being in the Courtyard.)
By the COURT. I have now made the observation—if she had the strings round her arms in the way I found them, the top of the rudder could have reached the rudder, because her clothes were thinner than my arm, which would make it longer—it would be just about the distance—if she had been steering with the strings round her sholders that would account exactly for all I found.
By MR. BESLBY. Mrs. Ballard's was the only body I found—it was, I suppose, half a mile from Shepperton look—there is an island in the river there, and it was just at the far end of the island, from the lock—there was nothing in the hands; they were advanced and drawn up—I did not find her infant—I was present when Mrs. Newcomb's body was found, about 50 yards this side of Docket's Point, about 200 yards from where I found Mrs. Ballard.
By the JURY. Her elbows were tight to her body when found.
HERBERT CARR . I am a ferryman, and live at Shepperton—on Saturday, 24th July, I heard from the patrol that an accident had occurred—I went to look for the boat; I saw it coming down the stream about 10 o'clock, almost immediately after the collision—I secured it and took it to shore—there were some things in it, a carpet, pads, cushion, coats, boat-hook, tow line, and mast—there was not 3 inches of water in her.
Cross-examined. The cushions were not tied on, they were loose on the seat; no rugs, a small black bag on the floor, two little cloths, and some knives—the bag was underneath the seat—I am accustomed to this part of the Thames—I row occasionally—the stream at a point 200 yards above Docket's Point sets strong on the Middlesex shore coming round the point—from Chertsey lock all the way down to the point, it is Surrey shore stream, till you get down to Dunsey Dip—at this particular point it seta on the Middlesex side—the water runs very slow there, not above two miles an hour I should think.
JOHN PARSONS . I am a solicitor—during the summer months I reside at Shepperton—my house is on the river bank below Docket's Point—I am on the river almost daily during the season, and have for many years been accustomed to the river—I did not hear of the accident till the next morning, Sunday—on the Saturday night I heard Mr. Desvignes whistle from his launch; I heard two whistles, first one and then the other, almost together—I had just come in with my own launch, and was fastening her up—the first whistle was from the Formosa, and the second was Mr. Desvignes's, immediately after—I know his whistle, it has a very peculiar sound—I have seen the damaged boat—from its appearance I should think if the speed of the launch had been even six miles an hour it would have cut through her at that point.
Cross-examined. That would, of course, depend on the point of contact. By the COURT. If you observe the board at the point at which it was struck, you will see that it is cut at least au eighth of an inch at a direct right angle, as straight as anything can be, as if it was cut with a saw—there is no angle whatever on it, the gunwale of the boat shows it—it is directly at right angles; moreover, the bow of the steamer certainly never reached the other side of the boat—it struck at the end of the thwart, and the thwart pushed the other side out—that is at obvious as possible.
FRANCIS STEPNEY GULSON . I am the captain of the london Bowing Club—I have been on the river constantly for the last 20 years—I know this part of the river fairly well—I have seen the injured boat—in my judgment it is certainly not a safe boat to have ladies in on the river at night—I have examined the injury that was done to it—I should say it was struck at right angles; that is clear to me from the nature of the injury—to have done so slight damage the launch might have been going four knots an hour—she must have had very little headway; if she had been going at any considerable speed she must have smashed the boat to pieces.
Cross-examined. That all depends upon whether she was struck at right angles—she did not capsize—I think the people tumbled out of her—I don't think they were thrown out—they must have stood up; I should say the men must, or one would be sufficient to throw all out, if he got on the side of the boat—I have had experience of steam launches—I
steered one for a great many years at the Oxford and Cambridge practice—it depends upon where the channel whether steam launches keep the shore where there is less stream—there is plenty of room between Dosket's point and Chertsey Lock for a boat drawing two feet six to pass—the steam is on the Surrey side—all round the Send it would set on the Middlesex side, till you come to this point (Reffering to the map)—there it would set towards the Surrey side—the strength of the stream would be just on the Surrey side of midstream—down to that point from Chertsey it would be slightly Middlesex—I have driven to launch at night—below "bridge, as a rule, we carry three lights—I have never driven a steam, launch over the part of the river the boat is buoyant enough for experienced people, if net steered by an inexperienced person—I assume that a woman steered—I don't know whether it was Mrs. ballard—I think very few ladies are capable of steering on the Thames—I object both to the boat and the inexperience of the person in the boat—I should think there was plenty of room on the stern seat for two ladies—I say the boat was not good enough even in the hands of experienced persons—below bridge the regulation of the Conservancy if to carry, three lights—coming down to reach above Docket's Point an oarsman would keep for two-thirds of the way on the Middlesex side, to get the advantage of the stream, and them cross over to get the stream round Docket's point on the Surrey side—at that time of year, there, would be sufficient water over any part of that portion of the river for such a steam launch as this—my answer applies to a state of things when the water is very low—In driving a steam launch you generally go along a regular course in order to get the best of the water—there is a recognised barge, track at certain points where there are shallows—a steam launch Would keep. that course? even if there was sufficient water at other parts of the river—this boat was not safe to take ladies and children in at night—I thought it would easily capsize.
GBORGE HUMPHREYS . In July last I was living at Shepperton, and was stoker to Mr. Parsons—about 10 o'clock on Saturday, 24th July, I was fastening up Mr. Parsons's steam launch just opposite his house;I saw the defendant come along with his steam launch the wolverine—as near as I could judge he was going from three to four miles per hour—that was between Shepperton lock and docket's Point—I heard him whistle twice—I know his whistle well—I saw a light on board burning brightly.
Cross-examined. I do not know the whistle of the Formosa not to know it—I did not hear it whistle. I saw the Formosa going down after she had passed the Wolverine—she was then between 500 and 900 yards from me, I should say—I can't say?—I cant say that I heard any whistle from the Formosa for the opening of the lock or when she passed the wolverine—I heard Mr. desvignes's whistle, and then I saw the Formosa coming down; they had passed then from the time I heard the first whittle from the Welverins till I heard the second I should I say was as much as between three and four minutes, or it might be more; I did not notice the time—where she was when the second whistle was sounded I can't tell, but I should say between Dockets Point and Mr. Hatch's.
JOHN TOMKINS . I live at walston-on-thames, and am a lighterman and bargeman—I have been engaged on the river all my life—I am very well aquainted with this part of the river; the barge-course above Docket's Point is a little more on the Surrey side than the Middlesex;
that would be the usual and proper course for a steam launch to take—I have looked at the boat—she was struck on the port side, at an angle of about 45, as nigh as I can tell; she must have gone right across the steam launch; she must have shot across the launch's head—I should not think the launch was going at the rate of four miles from what I have seen of the boat; if she had been going at any considerable pace she must have made two of her, gone right through.
Cross-examined. I am speaking of my experience as working a barge; the barges are towed by steam and by horse—the barge track at Docket's Point is not the Surrey side; if steaming up with a barge it is higher the Surrey side than the Middlesex—the force of the stream is on the Middlesex side, but the water is shallower on the Middlesex side than on the Surrey at the point where the accident happened.
FRANK WILLIAM WHITE . I live at Weybridge; I have been accustomed to the river all my life, both fishing and swimming—I have seen the row-boat; from its condition I should say the launch did not approach it at a greater speed than from three to four miles an hour—I have seen previous accidents with a launch and boat, and barges and other craft on the river, and I take it if the launch had been going six or seven miles an hour that not only the port side but the starboard side of the boat would have been struck out completely, for the reason that the row-boat was coming down with the stream, and the launch was going against it—I should say the boat was struck at an angle of from 80 to 85 degrees, or nearly a right angle.
Cross-examined. I mean that the launch was going over the water against stream—I put the actual motive power at three or four miles an hour—that is, a mile in a quarter of an hour.
The examination of Mr. Desvignes Before the Coroner was put in and read.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, November 5th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
36. In the case of JOSEPH HANROYD BOND (38) , indicted for felloniously cutting and wounding Frederick Francis Stone, the JURY,.upon the evidence of Mr. William Guest Carpenter, Surgeon to Clerkenwell Prison, found the prisoner of unsound mind and unable to plead.— Ordered to be detained till Her Majestys pleasure be known.
MR. POLAND. Prosecuted.
THOMAS HARRALL . I am a cabdriver—I made the prisoner's acquaintance a little over seven years ago—she was then walking St. James's Street—we have lived together nearly six years, in two different places—I continued cabdriving, and brought her home the money to maintain her—I had separated from her for 13 months, but saw her several times in the meantime—on Thursday night, 7th October, at a little after 8, I met her outside the Aquarium—I was still on friendly terms with her—I went with her to 14, Ohurton Place, Pimlico, where she was living, took off my jacket in her bedroom, and laid down on the bed and went to sleep—she was not on the bed—I awoke in about half an hour—I was
going away—we had had no words—as I was lounging with my elbow on the bed, not lying on it, I saw her with something in a beer-glass, and asked her what she had got there—I understoood her to say it was something which she drank—I said, "It looks very funny sort of drink," and was in the act of rifling to take hold of it when she threw it in my face and said, "Yes. that is what it is"—I caught her hand, and only received part of it on my face and head—it went into my left eye, and gave me very great pain—I said, "Why, this is vitriol;" she said, "Yes, it is"—I said "Well, help me to put my coats on, and get me to the hospital"—she said, "No, I shall do nothing of the short" I said, "Thank God I have saved one eye" I saw her picking up the glass again, with about so much in the bottom-—I don't know whether she was going to throw it or not, but I caught hold of her hand, and it went on her and on the floor—she helped me on with my jacket, and I found the door locked-—I asked her to unlock it; she said, "No, I shall not"—I kicked it and called out, and then she put the key in and I unlocked myself and got out, and saw a woman on the stairs-as I left the room the prisoner said, "You caused me to do this; I have done it, now you we go"—I went downstairs, got a cab, and went to st. George's Hospital—I was an in-patient till yesterday week, and am still an out-patient—by causing her to do it, I suppose she meant my leaving her—I left her 13 or 14 months ago, but she had not threatened me the meantime—she had asked me some time previously to return and live with her, but I said "No".
By the COURT. Her mother was the cause of my leaving her—she partly maintained her mother, who lived with us, and was a very great invalid—her expenses were so very great that it cost 5s. 6d., and I have known it 7s, a week, for laudanum; and I wanted her to go to the infirmary—she did go, but came back in three days—the prisoner told me that her mother had gone to the infirmary, and asked if I would go back, and I went back-her mother returned on Saturday afternoon, and then I left again on Sunday—I had told the prisoner that she was to choose between the two—she was fond of her mother, but she said frequently that she really hated her mother because I was going—I had gone to bed with been for me she was affectionately attached to her mother, but she told me she hated her mother because I was going-—I had gone to bed with her on this night, but not to stop all night—I thought she appeared fond of me all this time-—I think the only cause of anger was her wanting me to go back—the only money she had of her own was what she had from her gentleman friend, who she used to go to see while I was living with her—she asked me several times to go back to her—she asked me her and this occurring I had gone to theatres with her—she asked me to remove her things, and I went with my cab but refused to go upstairs to remove her things and I went with my cab, but refused to go upstairs to her room—she said, "well, never mind; I will not move my things to-night," and gave me 2s., and I drove away—she never threatened me, and I had no reason to suspect that she had any spite or animosity against me—she never showed it; it always seemed the reverse—she used to write to her gentleman friend for money—she let me know all about her former life.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. you paid for going to the theatres and for the cab; that was the way you got me to go—I did not live upon. what you got in your mode of life-you told me you had seen your friend, and told him the truth about your being with me. you had seen your friend, and told him the truth about your being with me, and for that reason he gave you great deal more money. 10l. at one time. and you showed me a great deal of the money; that was just before this occured.
HARRIET ORAM . I live at churton place, where the prisoner has lodged since july—on 7th october I saw Harrall coming out of the room after 10p. m. that was the first time I had seen him there—after he left I went into the room and saw my sheet with a lot of stuff on it, and a tumble there.
WILLIAM SMITH . (Police man B 266). on friday morning,8th october, at 1.15 the prisoner came to Rochestar Row police station—she seemed in a very exhausted condition—I said, "what is the matter?"—she said "I have thrown some vitriol over my husband"—I asked his name—she said, "joseph harall," and that he had gone to the hospital with another woman, and she thought she had blinded him in the left eye, and wished to give herself in custody—she was sober.
JOHN FENNESSY (Policeman B 2.) On 8th october, about 12.45 a.m I went to St. georges Hospital and saw Harall—Ithen went to the prisoner's lodging, and she was out—I went to the glass tumbler, with a small qantity of stuff in it which smelt like vitriol—the bed clothes were saturated, and the sheet burnt by vitriol—I went to the station and found her custody—after the charge was read over she said, "How is he?"
ARTHUR MARMADUKE SHIELD . I am house-surgeon at St. George's Hospital—I saw Harral there on 7th October, about 11.15, suffering intense agony—he was shrieking and crying out—the flesh of his face was white and sodden and burnt, as it some corrosive substance had been thrown on it—that is the appearance of vitriol—he has entirely lost the sight of his left eye, and his shoulder is burnt—he was an in-patient for a considerable time, and is still suffering, besides which he has heart-disease.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
GUILTY of an indecent assault— Twelve months Imprisonment.
MESSERS POLAND and WILLIAMS prosecuted;MR. GILL Defended.
ALEXANDER OGILVY . I am a sailor staying at the sailors' Home, Whitechapel—I was an able-bodied seaman on board the peru, a Dundee ship from hongkong to London, sailing under the British flag—the prisoner was cook and steward—I had a quarrel with him a few days before 29th september, and threw some scandling tea in his face, and then threw the cup at him and cut his face—on 29th September, about 8. 10 a. m. I went to the gallery door and gave the prisoner my pot for some coffee—as he was giving me the office—I saw a revolves in his right
hand behind his back—I said "I will go and ask the captain. if you are allowed to carry a revolver"—he made no answer—I went to the captain, who told me to go the mate—I went to the mate and he and the second mate went to the galley—I followed, and when mate asked the prisoner where the revolver was, he had a knife in his hand which he showed and said "This is what I had in my hand."—I called him a liar, he drew a revolve, pointed it at the mate's face, and fired, but it snapped—I ran away and then heard the report of a revolver, and the ball grazed my back—I ran to the valley and tried to lay hold of him—he drew another revolver and fired again from the one which he first had and shot me in my neck—he had a revolver in each hand and was two or three feet from me—I said "You cowardly son of a bitch, you have shot me"—I put my finger into the hole in my neck—I went forward and was taking off my shirt to see what kind of a wound it was, when he came out of the gallery door with a revolver in each hand—I then heard another report oil the poop and all hands were called aft to lake the revolvers from him—I went aft and ran him down the lazarette with a revolver in each hand—when he saw me he said "I won't give them up while that man is there"—I went to the cabin and as I was standing there he saw to me, "I am sorry for it, my son, but t can't help it." I heard him tell the captain that there was a plot on the ship to take his life—the captain and the mate cut the bullet out of my wound.
Cross examined. I never heard him say that the mate had fired at him—as far as I know there Was no plot against him—I had not been talking to any sailors about rushing on him with a razor—I never heard of poison being put in his food or into the tinned salmon—I do not know of his taking some of the food and trying it on some of the fowls or on a pig—there was a pig on board—he used to talk to it when giving it its food, and it followed him about the deck, and came when he called it—it generally got the name of Murphy—it had a cold several times posing the voyage—I have seen the prisoner take his food out of the cabin into the galley—the first time he fired at the mate's head, not at me—I never knew that he wore armour till the police took it off.
WILLIAM BEATON ORE . I am mate of the Peru—on 29th September Ogilvy came to me, and I went and said to the prisoner "cook, where is that revolver?"—I have heard Ogilvy's evidence—it is quite correct—after he was shot in the throat, I went to the prisoner in the lazarette and said "I want those revolvers"—he refused to give them up, and said that there was a plot on the ship to kill him—I said "I will warrant there shall be no violence used on you if you give the revolvers up"—he said that it would be a very risky business for them whoever had to take the revolvers away—I told him I Should have to try and take them from. him, but would use persuasion before violence, and he gave them up—they were both loaded—he was then secured—the captain was lying ill on the deck at the time, and he died on the voyage home—Moncrieff brought me these two bullets—I made an entry in the log on the same day, and after tile captain died read it over to the prisoner—he asked me to hash it up and he would pay me for it—I said "It is impossible because it is down in the log book"—he said "You can easily throw the log book over into the sea"—I saw Ogilvy's wound; the bullet had gone entirely through, and the other mate and I cut it out—he bled a great
deal both before and after—he got all right, and commenced duty before the end of the voyage—we arrived in London on 2nd November.
Cross-examined. I am certain he said that there was a plot against him—he asked to be taken to the captain, but the captain was too ill—I was neither bad friend or good friend with the prisoner; quite indifferent—there was no ill will between us.
Cross-examined. I never incited Ogilvy to make an attack on him.
JOHN MONORIEFF . I was an able seaman on board the Peru on the voyage home—after the prisoner was put below I picked a bullet out of the scuppers outside the galley, where it was sticking, flattened—I found another in the combings of the fore hatch, which I gave to the mate.
Cross-examined. I know nothing of some of the crew talking about the prisoner outside where he slept, and how he should be killed, or waitlng for an opportunity to murder him.
WILLIAM ROBERTSON . (Thames Police Inspector). On the arrival of the Peru, on 10th November, in the London Docks, I went on board, and the second mate took me into the sail-room, where the prisoner was locked up—I said to him, "You are charged with shooting one of the crew"—he said, "One tale is good until the other is told"—Ogilvy followed us to the station, and the prisoner said, "That man has been put on to me. He washed me in my blood a few days before this"—I searched him at the station, and found under his shirt, next to his flesh, the fore part of his body covered with tin, forming a kind of tin breastplate—it was made of biscuit-tins—I asked him the reason for that—he said that he did not know what might happen among such a lot—I touched him behind and asked him why he had not thought of the back part—he said that it did not matter about that—I received two revolvers from the mate; four chambers of one and one chamber of the other were loaded.
Cross-examined. A piece of carpet held the tin in its place. (The ship's register, dated September, 1876 was here put in.)
Witnesses for the Defence,
JOHN ROWLAND GIBSON . I am medical officer of H.M. Gaol of Newgate—the prisoner has been confined there since November 11th—I have seen him daily, and examined him—he is suffering from very strong delusions, and has a very firm belief in them—I have discussed with him the idea that there was a plot on the ship to destroy his life, and he is under the belief that lie has been fired at—he told me that he had taken a tin box containing some papers relating to some property in Carolina, and had covered it with carpet to protect him, and had thrown the papers overboard to that the crew should not get them, and flattened the box and placed it on his abdomen to protect him—he likewise stated that there was an attempt to poison him, for one day when he took something into the cabin he saw something glitter, but he was too wideawake to take it—he also said that the fowls and the pigs had poison given to them—he said that he heard the men come and whisper, and they peeped into the galley where he was, and he put out the lights so that they should not see—he also said that he was quite sure he had been fired at some days before he fired—he implicitly believes
in these delusions, and he no doubt thoroughly believes in his own sanity.
Cross-examined. I noticed the delusions the first day—I am satisfied that they are really genuine, and not put on—I have heard the evidence—I think he was under the delusion that he was likely to be attacked, and that it was necessary to use his revolver for his own protection, absolutely for self-defence—we spoke of Ogilvy, and he expressed no. ill-will towards him—he said that the had no ill-will to any of them, but that eighteen men on board the ship had conspired together against him.
Cross-examined. I noticed the delusions—my first impression was that he was labouring under the delusion that the whole crew were against him, and I think he considered it necessary to use his revolver to protect himself from what he believed to be an impending attack—he was under my care about a week, and when he was committed for trial I lost sight of him.
NOT GUILTY being insane.— . To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 25th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(He received a good character.)— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS MR. WILLIAMS. and. GILL. Prosecuted; and MR. FILLAN. Defended.
JAMES OLIVER OOOPEB . I am managing clerk to Mr. Richard Giraud, solicitor, of 7, Furnival's Inn—I saw we prisoner in December, 1877, at the office—he introduced himself as John Dunn—he came for the purpose of selling some stock to raise 100l.—he came again on 5th December, when he required an advance of 50l. which was granted to him—I do not think I was present—he came again on 12th December, and produced a conveyance relating to some property at South Moulton, and executed this memorandum of deposit (produced)—I witnessed his signature to it—I believed then that he was Mr. John Dunn, as he described himself, of South Moulton—I produce a further charge on this property, dated 10th April, 1878, signed "John Dunn"—he paid no interest, and some proceedings were taken against him—I last saw him on 17th April, 1880, when I served him with a writ—I had not seen him between times to my knowledge—he told me his name was John Dunn Gordon, and that he took that name through his mother—I communicated with Messrs. Rickards.
Cross-examined. He did not always have his negotiations with Mr. Giraud—I do not know what representations he made to him—Mr. Giraud is not here—I am not aware that Mr. John Dunn lives at King Street, South Moulton I know he lives at Wandsworth Road, Clapham—he
never told me not to communicate with him at South Moulton—when I saw him the second time he asked for Mr. Giruad—Mr. Giraud was always present when any money transaction took place—I do not really know a John Dunn who lived, at Wands Worth—the prisoner told me he lived there.
WILLIAM. MILLER (Detective D). On 26th August last I went with Detective Haydon to a mews in Stanstead Road, Forest Hill, and saw the prisoner; I told him I belonged to the Police, and had come to apprehend him on a warrant for forging a deed—I read the warrant to him—he said, "This is my old uncle's doings"—I said it was a person named Dunn who applied for the warrant—he said, "Yes, that is my uncle; I can explain everything; he gave me the deeds on my marriage settlement"—I said, "It is not 'deeds,' it is a deed that you forged and obtained 300l. upon at Furnival's Inn"—he said he did sign a deed in the name of either James Dunn or John Dunn, as he thought he had a right to do, as his mother's maiden name Was Dunn—he said he wanted the money—I told him he would have to go to London—I asked him what he meant by the "deeds," and he said the deeds that he had at home—I asked him where they were, and he said, Captain Harding, his father-in-law and one of his trustees, had some, and his solicitors down in Devonshire had the others—he asked me to allow him to go round to his house and wash himself—we went round and I saw his mother-in-law, Mrs. Harding—she was in the passage when I went in first—afterwards his wife came in—the prisoner cleaned himself—I told him I should have to take all his papers, and ht said, "The other deeds are upstairs," and Mrs. Harding went upstairs and brought them down and gave them to him—I took them from him at the station—these are all the papers—he also gave me this white Chapel (produced)—since this occurred I have been ill from breaking my arm.
Cross-examined. I understood that Mrs. Harding was his mother-in-law—she said, "You had better wait till my daughter comes in; she is out, so as to not frighter her"—I am not aware that that prisoner married a Miss Jennings—Captain Harding was his father-in-law and one of his trustees—he gave me that explanation frankly—I told Mrs. Harding I should have to search the place.
JOHN DTOH . I live at 8, King's Street, South Moulton, Devonshire—I own some land at Little Deptford in Devonshire—on 20th March 1877 I received the deed relating to that property from my solicitors, Messrs. Rickards—this is it—I put it with other deeds in an old-fashioned trunk and locked it, and put the bunch of keys in an writing-desk, which I always keep looked—I never allowed any one to go near it—at the beginning of 1877 the prisoner was staying at my house and I allowed him to stay there a few weeks—he left, I think, is August—my late sister left him an annuity of 26l., which I had paid him ever since—about March this year I looked in my box, missed the deeds belonging to the freehold—I never authorised the prison to pass in my name, or to sign any document on my behalf—the signature to this document looks like mine—it is a very good imitation, but I never thought of having it prepared.
Cross-examined. I bought the property; my aunt left me some, and my ancestors left me some—it was not altogether from the family—I am sorry to say that I am the prisoner's uncle—my sister brought him, up from child, in my father's house: I had nothing to do with him—my
father died in 1863, when I Wrap master of the house—I kept my sister—I never hated his father—I hated drunkenness—his father was a great drunkard—I may have written to aim, "Old cab. next door said the moon would shine all the year round now; Moon man told him the stars would shine also"—Moon is a tenant of mine—when my sister was ill I did not ask some medicine-man or conjuror to do anything—my sister used to, encourage the prisoner in everything—I never interfered—I may have written to my nephew of his father, "He owes me 19 years' rout at Little Deptford," etc., "I never had a shilling for it to the Year 1846 His wife's funeral he never paid for"—it is true he owed 19 years' rent—I was not angry with the prisoner because I thought he was holding communication with hit father—I wrote this letter in September 1877: "I am given to understand that your dear father has visited you. I dare say you are very friendly"—I do not know whether I wrote, "I understand your mother was much blessed with her father-in-law, which must be beautiful and heavenly in the extreme"—his father's solicitor threatened me with a chancery suit—he never accused me of embezzling—he might have said I had embezzledd his deeds—I am not aware that a chancery suit is being commented against me by the prisoner's father—think the prisoner married in August, 1877—I heard he had made a settlement on his wife—I never saw the settlement—I heard he sent it to ay solicitor—my solicitor did not tell me what was in the marriage settlement—I did not know to whom to pay the annuity—he did art tell me that that deed of gift was part of the marriage settlement—I never wrote to him in this letter of October 11th, 1877, the words, "So you can get some cash on my deeds in my name"—it is a very good imitation of my writing, but that line seems to be inserted—the letter is mine—I never thought of such a thing; it is quite monstrous to suppose such a thing—wrote this letter, "My late father gave your mother 200l. to help buy the Red Lion," etc.—I missed the deeds in 1877—I never gave them to the prisoner to raise money on, and I did not say, "Now, James, whatever you do return those deeds"—Mr. Rickards said they had lost the deeds of the freehold of the house which my lather purchased, but it appeared it was a Mistake—I was examined at the police-court, when the present Mr. Rickard's clerk said that it was not missing—I do not know that the prisoner by his marriage settlement conveyed to his trustees the annuity for the benefit of his wife—I am not aware that Captain Harding has sued me for the annuity—Mr. Rickards paid it—I have nothing to do with it—I was not in arrears—that signature to the deed of gut looks like my writing, but I never prepared such a thing—I remember James Smyth; I think he was clerk to Mr. Chaplin, solicitor, at South Moulton—I do not know whether Smyth is alive—I need to ask my sister what he came to me house about, and she said it was about a patent—he was always taking out patents for inventions—I do not know when I saw him last.
Re-examined. I never made that deed of gift—if I had done so I should have done it through my own solicitor.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted; and. MR. FRITH Defended.
JAMES O'DWYER . I am a farrier, of 1, Spring Mows, Crawford Street—about 12.30 on Saturday, 23rd October, I met the prisoners in Wyndham Place with another man—Ryan knocked me down—She a came up with the other man and placed one hand on my mouth and the other on my throat—I was unable to call for assistance until I got the other man's finger in my mouth—I pressed my teeth on it, and he called out that his finger was being bitten off—Ryan was trying my trousers pockets—I had a little over 30s. in my coat pocket—when I got his hand off I called "Police"—some one came to my assistance; they all ran away—I gave chase and apprehended Shea—in about two minutes I saw the other at the police-station afterwards.
Cross-examined. I had not known the prisoners before—I had been in their company about 10 minutes—I had some coffee with them—I know Cushion; he had never been with me before that night—I met him in my employer's shop once before I saw him here—he was not called at the police-court—he was not with me when this happened, I swear—I was not drunk; I had had something—I have been in the police force; I left it at my own request eight years ago—no complaint was made—there was a charge against me of being asleep on duty three or four years before I left; I was fined 10s.—I was not discharged for robbing a drunken man—I don't know whether Wyndham Place is near Croydon Street—Cushion did not say "If quarrelling is your game, I am going to leave you"—I saw Fitz at the coffee stall—he never tossed for the coffee or offered to do it—I paid for it—I did not lose a toss and say "I won't pay for the coffee"—no one said "If you will not pay for it, I will"—I should not believe it if five or six came to say so—I did not say I would knock their b—heads off—I did not take my coat off to fight—I did not see Ellen Donaldson there or Mr. Hansbury—I saw him at the police station, not at the police-court.
JOSEPH KRUNZ . I am a professional musician, of 11, Croydon Street—at the time in question I heard a noise outside, and went out and saw Shea on the top of the prosecutor—I cannot swear to the other man because it was too dark—I saw Shea in the light of a lamp—one of the two kicked him—I heard two kicks—I jumped over the prosecutor and chased Shea down Seymour Place—they stopped in Seymour Place and parted—Shea went into a place with iron gates at the bottom of Seymour Street and got the better of me—I chased him down to Bryanston Square, and a policeman came up and we chased him into Wyndham Place, where he was caught—I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined. I saw a struggle—that is all I know.
THOMAS SHORT . (Policeman D 268) I was in Bryanston Square, and heard cries of "Police" and "Stop thief"—I turned back and saw Shea running—I ran after him, and chased him and caught him against the iron gates in Wyndham Place and took him back to the prosecutor, who recognised him—I took him to the station and charged him—the prosecutor said he was the man who tripped him up—Ryan was brought in by another constable—Shea said at the station in answer to the charge, "Didn't I stop and give myself up to you?"
Cross-examined. The prosecutor had been drinking, but was not drunk.
Re-examined. He knew what he was about—his face was very much swollen.
heard ones of "Police"—I saw them in Short's custody—I saw Ryan in John Street about 6 minutes after Shea was taken to the station—I said I should take him in custody on suspicion for an assault with intent to rob—he said "All right, sir, I will go with you"—another man present said "If you go I will go," and walked in to the station, but the prosecutor failed to identify him—he identified Ryan, who was then charged, and he said they had all been fighting together in Freshwater Place.
The Prisoner's' Statement's before the Magistrate. Shea says: "At the police-station the prosecutor said we did toss for coffee, and now he says we did not." Ryan toy: "I went to the station with another man of my own accord, and the constable asked me to go on to see if I knew anything about it"
Witnesses for the Defence.
EDWARD CUSHION . I am a farrier, of 18, Monmouth Street—I have known the prisoner six or seven weeks, and was with him on this occasion—we were standing at the corner of Chapel Street, Edgware Road, when the prisoners came up and asked us over to the coffee stall to have some coffee—I had seen them once or twice before—I had never seen them in the prosecutor's company before—we went to the coffee-stall and they proposed to toss for the coffee, and the prosecutor lost—one of the prisoners said to him "Won't you pay for the coffee after losing it?"—he said "No, I would rather knock your two b—heads off before I would pay for it"—he did not pay for it, but said, "Hold my coat"—I said, "I won't hold your coat," so I left him and saw no more.
Cross-examined. I left them at the coffee-stall.
THOMAS FITZ . I am a newsvendor of 11, Luton Street, lisson Grove—I saw the prosecutor and the prisoners at the coffee-stall—they tossed forthcoffee and the prosecutor lost—he would not pay—they had an argument, and he said he would knock their b—heads off with two punches, and he took his coat off and save it to his friend, who said he would not hold it if he was going on like that, but would go home—a policeman came and they went away—they were going to fight—I did not see any more of it—the prosecutor was drunk and quarrelsome—I did not see any kicking.
ELLEN DONALDSON . I am a tailoress, of 14 Harrow Street—I was drinking with the prisoners on this night—I first saw the prosecutor at the coffee-stall at the corner of Chapel Street and Edgware Road—the prisoners asked him to give them a cup of coffee—he said "Yes, we will toss for some," and they tossed, and he refused to pay—there was a row, and they went into the road to fight—a policeman came up, and they went down a by-street into Croydon Street—one of the prisoners took off his coat to fight, and he said "No, I can fight you with my b—coat on"—he then struck one of the prisoners and knocked his hat off—some one called out "Police," and the other picked it up, and to avoid being taken they ran away—I don't know that anybody was kicked; only a few people were present—I did not know the prisoners before—I was subpoened to come here—I was not before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. Somebody called "Police" or "Murder," but not the prosecutor—I had known the prisoners 10 or 12 months—I never had much conversation with them—I had never been drinking with them before, they proposed to treat me, when I met them outside the Green Man between 9 and 10—we had two or three pots between the three of us, and
another friend came in who I did mot know—we stopped there till closing time—I went home after the fight occurred—saw the prisoners run away—I went away too.
Re-examined. I saw no Attempt to rob the prosecutor—it was a street fight—I am in respectable employment—the prosecutor was not under them on the ground.
THOMAS HANSBURY . I am a bricklayer, of 18, Molyneux Street—I met Ryan on the night of the 23rd October—he made a statement to me, and we went to John Street Police-station—I saw no constable take Ryan—I saw them in the dock—I was put in the dock, but the prosecutor could not identify me—he charged another man, I believe—he was drunk when I saw him—if Blackwell says he saw shea in custody of short and he took Ryan, that is not true—I met Ryan, and he said to me, "shea is locked up; will you come down?"
SHEA received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROUMIEU. Prosecuted.
HENRY GILCHRIST . I am a printer, of 7, Axe Place, Hackney Road—on the 23rd October I was in the Pox and French Horn about 5.30—I came out a few minutes before six, when the prisoner caught hold of my arm and pulled me back, and another man came round in front and put his hands over my mouth and eyes, and another man put his Lands in my trousers pockets and took 18s. of the 19s. I had—then the men who had my money ran away—I ran after him and I caught him, and the prisoner and the other man came over, and I was struggling with, the three—the prisoner kicked me on the leg three times, and I fell to the ground, clinging hold of his legs, which threw him down—I climbed up to his hands to prevent his hitting me, and when I had my hands to his chin I tried to catch hold of his coat—he bit my wrist, and I still have the scars—a policeman came up—I charged him with robbery, and then he struck me in the eye with his fist, which knocked me down—he was then takes—I was quite sober—I did not know the prisoner before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't know the man, who robbed me; I was not in his company—when I caught him I asked for my money, but he would not give it me—he lisped rather—I had not been in the Metropolitan Tavern with him—I went into the Fox and French Horn with Oliver, a shopmate—I did not say to the man behind the counter, "Don't serve this man, he has got my money"—I do not know whether I bit your nose when on the ground—I was so exhausted and frightened—I earn 13s. per week—I did not assault anybody in the Metropolitan Tavern—I left off work at 2.30, and at three o'clock I went to John Street, where I stayed two hours—I then went up to the Fox and French Horn Tavern to have some beer—I swear I was not in company with the man who took my money—he had a kind of plaid suit on—the robbery took place outside the Fox and French Horn—I came out to go home; Mr. Oliver came out previously—I ran about 30 yards after the man with the money—I do not know where he went to—I had a shilling in my pocket when this was over.
ALFRED BARNES (Policeman GR 18). I was in Trenwell Street a few minutes past 6 on this evening, and saw a crowd outside the Fox and French Horn—I heard somebody call out, "They are robbing that man;" I ran up and saw the prisoner and prosecutor struggling on the ground—the prosecutor was on the top of the prisoner—I pulled him off and asked him what was the matter—he said, "That man and two others have robbed me of 18s.; I will charge him with highway robbery"—in the meantime the prisoner got up—I had hold of the prosecutor's arm when the prisoner deliberately struck him in the face with his feet and knocked him down—I then told him he would have to come to the station with me—he said, "All right, I will go quiet"—I searched him at the station and found 9d. on him.
Cross-examined. I took hold of you first; I had hold of the prosecutor as well—you knocked him down.
JOHN BLENOOE (Policeman G 167). I was walking with Barnes along Trenwell Street on the evening of the 23rd October; somebody passing along side, "You are wanted; somebody is being robbed;" I went to the spot and saw the prisoner and prosecutor on the ground, the prosecutor being on the top of the prisoner—there was a mob there—Barnes caught hold of the prosecutor by the collar and lifted him up, and then caught hold of the prisoner on the left hand side of this collar, and I caught hold of him by the right; when we had got them up the prisoner hit the prosecutor in the eye—we took him to the station—the prosecutor had the marks of a bite on his wrist—it was bleeding.
Cross-examined. You were bleeding on the upper lip; you said the prosecutor had done it—you did not say he had bitten you—I am not the first constable who took hold of you.
The prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The prosecutor was in company with me and man named Oliver, and Mrs. Murphy, and they went into the Metropolitan Tavern together, and there the prosecutor called for a quartern of Hollands gin, and the landlord asked why he wanted such strong liquor. The prosecutor said, 'I can show you how to make people drunk, and show you how I can rob them.' He called for more beer, and after coming from that side proceeded to the Fox and French Horn public-house, and on the way the prosecutor turned to a man, and asked him to stand some beer. The man said, 'If you are broke I will pay for some.' The prosecutor said, 'I have no money. I am broke!' The man said, 'I will give you 1s. for all the money you have upon you.' The prosecutor said, 'You shall have it,' and he gave him 1s. and searched him. The man took the prosecutor's money and ran into the Fox and French Horn. The prosecutor followed him, and said to the man behind the count, 'Don't serve him, for he has got my money.' The man ran out and the prosecutor followed after him. I ran out after and saw the two fighting. That accounts for the 1s. found on the prosecutor."
The prisoner in his defence said that he was lame, and could not run or kick, that in the mob he got knocked down, and the prosecutor also, who bit his nose, and that when they got up he knocked the prosecutor down for it, and that the only truth in the case against him was giving the prosecutor the blow.
GUILTY .**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, November 25th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND, MONTAGU WILLIAMS, and MEAD, Prosecuted;
EMILY SMITH . I am the wife of Charles Smith, a scavenger, of 2, Crawford Passage, Clarkenwell—at 11 o'clock on Saturday, 13th November, I was with my husband in Bay Street—I met the prisoner—he struck me a violent blow on the left side of my head and knocked me on the ground—I was carrying a jug to fetch a pint of beer for our suppers—it was broken in the fall—the result of the blow was my senses were gone—when I came to I saw my husband and a police-constable struggling with the prisoner in the road—they secured the prisoner.
Cross-examined. My husband was walking in front of me—I left home at about 10.55 p.m.—the jug was empty—we had not been to the public—we were going for beer—we were walking quickly, so was the prisoner—I have not been well ever since, being pregnant at the time.
CHARLES SMITH . I was with my wife in Ray Street—she was walking two or three feet behind me—I heard a thud—I turned round and saw my wife on the ground and the prisoner running away—I ran up to him and held him by the collar—he put his hand in is pocket and pulled out this pistol and pointed it at my breast—he said something which I could not understand—I struggled with him and knocked it out of his hand—I called out "Murder! Police!"—a policeman came and took him—I picked up the pistol and handed it to the constable—the prisoner seemed drunk, but he struggled hard with me—I was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. I wanted to keep him to ask for an explanation—he is a perfect stranger to me and to my wife—the pistol was not cooked, I know, because the policeman said the hammers were down—I am not teetotaller, but I was never drunk in my life.
JAMES COBB (Policeman G 191) On Saturday, 13th November, about 11 p.m., I was in Bay Street—I heard a noise, and a call out of murder and police—I looked round—I saw the prisoner struggling with the last witness; Mrs. Smith was lying on the ground—I saw the pistol in the prisoner's hand; when I took hold of his arm it dropped into the road—, the prosecutor picked it up and gave it to me; both the hammers were down—I gave it to Inspector Geary—the prisoner had been drinking.
Cross-examined. I was present at the station when the charge was taken—I could not understand what the prisoner said—I did not see his wife.
SAMUEL GEARY . (Police Inspector G.)About 11.30 p.m. on Saturday the prisoner was brought to the King's Cross Police-station—the last witness handed me a double-barrelled pistol—I saw the caps on the nipples—the barrels were drawn in my presence on Monday morning—they were loaded with paper, steel points, and wadding on the top in each barrel—on the charge being interpreted to him, he said he had no reply to make, except that he had been drinking—he answered the questions rationally.
Cross-examined. He was not drunk.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was very drunk, and have never been in such a place as this before."
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARGARAT DEBERNARDY . (Interpreted). I live at 9, Bay street—I have known the prisoner by sight in the neighbourhood for about three months—on this Saturday night he was at my door—he was so drunk that he hardly knew what he was about—he gave the woman a knock with his shoulder as she was passing rather quickly, and she went on the ground—I was very close; about three steps from them—they were going in opposite directions—it was accidental—I cannot say which shoulder it was—the prisoner turned round to look and the prosecutor began to screa.
Cross-examined. I saw no pistol in the prisoner's hand—I swear he did not present a pistol at the man—I did not see the pistol drop on the pavement—the prisoner held up his hand—I did not tee him strike the woman on the side of the head—the prisoner had not long gone out of our house—he had been there about half an hour drinking—I sell pianos—I had given the prisoner one or two glasses of wine—he was drunk before I gave it him—I was not called before the Magistrate—I did not know the prisoner was locked-up till his wife's mother came to tell me.
Re-examined. I remained at the door till the woman got up—I did not see the policeman come up—after the woman screamed I shut the door.
By. MR. WILLIAMS. I did not help the woman—I did not leave my own door.
GEORGE DEBERNARDY . (Interpreted). I live at 9, Bay Street—I have known the prisoner since he was married, about three years ago—he has always been quiet and respectable, and is a hard-working man—when this disturbance occurred I was coming from the workshop—I had shut up a few minutes before—the prisoner came in my house with his brother—he was a little drunk, and he drank a glass of wine in our house—he said good night—he was walking backwards, and danced a little, and knocked his shoulder against the woman, who was coming along the pavement the other way, and she fell down—I put the board up at the door and fixed the screw behind, and after I opened the door the policeman was in the middle of the street.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not push against the man, only the woman—I did not see what the man aid—no blow was struck, and no push, except by the man walking backwards—the prisoner is my, friend—the last witness is his sister—we all know each other—I never saw the prisoner point a pistol at the man—I saw the policeman take, hold of the prisoner—I was then about six steps off—I did not hear the pistol fall because I was putting up and screwing my shutter—I did not lunch just now with my sister—I told her to go home.
Re-examined. I lunched with another Italian.
GUILTY of a Common Assault.— . Nine Months' Imprisonment.
Mr. F. H. LEWIS Prosecuted.
the Distillers Arms beer-house, Paradise Street, Lambeth—I was shown a hamper, and on examining it I found it contained 69 wine-glasses—about 3.30 the same day I saw the prisoner at Mr. Green's, his employers—I asked him how he came to leave the hamper at the Distillers Arms—he said "I bought them of a man in the Farringdon Road, and gave 5s. for them"—he said he did not know the man—I heard the prisoner charged about an hour afterwards—he then said the glasses came from Messrs. Maw and Thompson, and somebody must have put them In hit van by mistake—at Moor Lane Station he said he must have put then in his van by mistake—this is the hamper (produced).
RICHARD PAYNE . I am landlord of the Distillers' Arms, Paradise Street, Lambeth—I know the prisoner as a customer—he left a hamper on my premises—the day following I gave it up to a policeman—I knew the basket contained glasses—I asked him if they were for sale—he said they were 2s. 9d. per dozen—he said he did not know how many there were, tome had been taken out—he said he would fetch the hamper.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I came to you to know if they were for sale, and to ask the price, as a man had seen them behind the counter—they were at my place all Friday evening.
EDWARD SOLOMON . I am the prosecutor's manager in Aldersgate street—I know the prisoner as a carman in Messrs. Green's service—he was in the habit of fetching away empties from our premises—he then had access to any part of the premises—the hamper produced is my employer's property—I have missed 99 glasses of the kind of which there are 61 in the hamper.
Prisoner's Defence. I had no intention to make away with them, or I should not have taken them to a public bar, where customers were. My intention was to take them to Maw's, where I had taken them in mistake for empties. On the Saturday morning Mr. Payne called me up and asked I would tell the glasses cheap; I said "What do you call cheap?" he said "I dont know, I will leave it to you"—I said "They are cheap at 2s. 9d. or they are cheap at nothing at all"—he told me to call) at 9.30 in the morning for the money—I could have sold them, but I did not want to sell them.
EDWARD SOLOMON . (Recalled). The basket of glasses would be worth 30s. The cost would be 5s. a dozen to the manufacturer—we missed this very basket of glasses—the price would be 7s. a dozen to the trade.
GUILTY of receiving.— Judgment Respited.
OLD COURT.—Friday, November 26th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. POLAND,for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the Inquisition, The grand, Jury had ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
For other cases tried in the Old Court this day and Saturday, see Surrey Cases.
NEW COURT.—Friday, November 26th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ATHERLY JONES Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
After the commencement of the case, the Counsel on both sides having consuited together,
MR. BESLEY consented to a verdict of GUILTY , and to a withdrawal of the plea of justification, if the Prosecutor would not enforce his claim to costs.
GUILTY.— To enter iuto recognisances to appear for judgment when called upon.
MR. BARNARD Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
JOES LAIRD . I live at 53, Gloucester Street, Bloomsbury—on 7th November, at 11.15 p.m., I came from a refreshment-house in Fox Court, Holborn—some women were quarrelling—I stopped to look on—the prisoner came in front of me, struck me on my head, and knocked me down—my head went against the Wall, and I was insensible—when I came to I missed 3s. 10 1/2 d. and a penknife—this is the knife (produced).
Cross-examined. I went on a visit to my uncle about 3.30, and left at 10.30—we had some beer at 4 o'clock; that was all we drank—when I heard this noise I was not in a public-house, but in a sweet-shop—Fox Court is not well lit; there was a crowd; I did not see the prisoner till he knocked me down, and yet I can swear to him.
Re-examined. The court was lighted enough for me to see who knocked me down—I was sober—I am lame.
JANE DYNES . I am a widow, and live at 9, Green Street, Paddington—on 7th November, at 11.15, I was waiting in a house in Fox Court and heard a great noise—after it was over I saw a lot of men and women, who had been quarrelling—I saw the prisoner knock Laird down, and his head came in contact with a window—one of the men fell on him, and the prisoner knelt down and put one hand over his mouth and the other in his trousers pocket—I heard money rattle and ran for a policeman, who took the prisoner, and took the money out of his left hand.
Cross-examined. The court is dark—the prisoner came from the crowd—I did not see him till he knocked Laird down—I could not say whether the prisoner knocked him down with his fist or simply cannoned against him—it was another man who got on him—he was on the left, the prisoner on the right; they were together—there was a light in the Window, and he was knocked under the window—I was not far off—I did not go out of the court to find a policeman.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (Policeman G 48). On 7th November, at 11.30, I met Mrs. Dynes in the passage leading to Fox Court; I went there with her and saw the prisoner in the act of getting up off the prosecutor; he ran away; I ran and caught him; he had something in his left hand which he tried to pass; I caught hold of his hand and he dropped some money and this knife—3s. 10 1/2 d. was picked up.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I came out of the shop
and was pushed over the presecutor, and t he fellow who was kneeling on the prosecutor stole his money; I did not knock him down."
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.
ANNIE MAY . I am a barmaid; on 13th October, at 11 p.m., I was standing at the corner of Great Cumberland Place, and saw the prisoner—he said, "Where are you going?" I walked away and took no notice—he followed me and pulled a handkerchief from my pocket with a shilling and two sixpences tied in the corner of it; he took: a penny which was in my pocket; he knocked me down, and made a peculiar noise with his mouth, and two others came from a doorway and held me down while he got away, and then one kicked me—I knew the prisoner from seeing him at the public-house, but I never served him—I shouted "Police," and an hour after I was behind the door of the Quebec public-house when the prisoner called for ale and put down sixpence—I said to a man, "That's the man who robbed me", and the prisoner took his change and ran out, and never stopped to drink the ale—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not promise me a shilling, nor did we go to the park together—two men came out of the Quebec after you, and you said you would give them some pence if they would not give you in charge—I did not see a man knock you down; you ran against a gentle-man and fell backwards—I went with a man and watched you into the Quebec, and we wont in on purpose to give you in charge.
JULIA LUKERS . I am the wife of Albert Lukers, of 54, Crawford Street—I was with the prosecutrix on 13th October, and saw the prisoner go up to her—they were speaking when I went up, and I saw him take a handkerchief from her side pocket—he made a particular noise with his mouth, and two other boys came—the shortest of them kicked her on her side and ran in at the park gates—I saw the prisoner go into the public-house and change the sixpence—he ran out when he saw us—two gentlemen caught him and a policeman took him—I am certain he is the man.
Cross-examined. It was just upon 12 o'clock when you first came into the public-house—it was about 11 o'clock by the Marble Arch clock when I first saw you—you ran against a gentleman and knocked yourself down—I believe seven or eight of your friends came to my place to ask us not to come against you—I called out "Police!" you held your hand over my mouth.
EDWARD RAY . I am a butler, and live at 24, George Street—on the night of 13th October I was in the Quebec when the prisoner called for a pint of ale, and put down sixpence; he picked up the change and drank about half of the beer, and when the young girl said, "That is the chap that robbed me," he dropped the pot and ran away—I ran after him—he threatened my life, but I held him on the ground till a policeman came up.
Cross-examined. I caught you in Oxford Street when you fell against a gentleman; you pretended to be in a fit, but I would not let you go—I did not see a man strike you and knock you down.
Cross-examined. You did not say, "That is the man who struck me," pointing to a man with a black moustache—your mouth was not bleeding when you got to the station.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I met her the same night she charged me, and me and her went into the park together, and it was there she lost her handkerchief. I went an hour afterwards to a public-house, and saw her speaking to a man. I walked out, and the man came out and struck me and knocked me down. I got up and held him, and the other man hit me again, and said, 'You have stolen this girl's money;' I said, 'I have not' They held me till a policeman came."
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, November 26th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
CAMPBELL and SCOTT PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; and MR. KEITH FRITH defended Wickham and Gurner.
JOHN WOOD . I am one of the warders of Newgate—the writing in the corner of this letter (produced) is Mr. Smith's, the Governor's, and these are his initials in the other corner—the, letter went out of Newgate—it was written by the prisoner Wickham—it was detained.
JOHN NEATE . I am a picture-frame and window-blind maker, and live at Mr. Fisher's, 118, Strand, with my wife and family—we occupy the basement, and my wife acts as housekeeper—Mr. Fisher does not live on the premises—Mr. Stennett, Mr. Fishers foreman, his wife and family, occupy the fourth floor—the first floor is used by Mr. Fisher as a show-room, and the second and third floors are let as offices to Mr. Cooper, an engineer—the access to those floors is by a private door in Arundel Street—inside the shop there is a staircase, leading up through the show-room to Mr. Stennett's apartments on the fourth floor—there is no door out of the show-room on to the staircase leading up to the second and third floors—the entranoe in Arundel Street communicates with the shop as well as the private part of the house, but has no communication with the show-room—Stennett closes the shop at night—about last January Campbell came into my rooms to take possession as a broker's man under a bill of sale—he was paid out on the 12th or 13th January—I saw him two or three times in the street between then and October last—on the 18th October I was at home and received a message, in oonsequenoe of which I went out and saw Cambell standing in Arundel Street, and we went into a public-house in Arundel Street, where I saw Wickham and Scott, whom I had not seen before—Campbell asked me about some picture-frames—he then said, "If I were living in that place I would not be short of 10l. with all that stuff about"—I don't know that the others could hear—they were about three yards off, and he spoke in an undextone—he asked me as to the means of getting into the show-room, and
where the property was kept—I had some further conversation with him, and he made an appointment to meet him at the Artichoke public-house, Clare Street, Glare Market, at 8 p.m. on the 20th—I went out, leaving the three there—I had been there about three-quarters of an hour—I subsequently told my wife, and the next day I told my brother, and on Wednesday, 20th October, I told Mr. Fisher, and by his directions I went to Bow Street and saw Inspector O'Calliaghan, and received instructions from him—from that time I acted entirely under the direction of the police—on the 20th I went to the Artichoke public-house, where I saw Campbell with a strange man, who I have not seen since—he then took me to the Grapes public-house, Whitehorse Yard, Drury Lane, and had some conversation—he then took me to the Bird-in-Hand public-house, Long Acre; while there, Campbell's wife came in and spoke to him—we then all went to the George, Stanhope Street, Clare Market—Campbell left his wife there, and took me back to the Bird-in-Hand—while we were there, Scott and Wickham came in—I recognised them as the men I had seen in the public-house in Arundel Street on the 18th—Campbell spoke to them aside—he then called me, and said he had told them the plans—he said "They are friends of mine," referring to Wickham and Scott, and that I had agreed to let them in—there was some conversation which I did not hear—I said I would agree to it if I was kept out of trouble—Wickham was the principal speaker—he asked me "Is there any means of getting into the shop from the private door?"—I told him "No, unless you go through the foreman's room at the top of the house"—we then went to the Lamb and Flag public-house in Rose Street, near Debenham and Storr's auction rooms—Wickham then asked me what kind of goods there were there—I told him I did not know, but I thought they were very valuable—we then, after ordinary conversation, went to a public-house in New Street—he again asked me if there was any possible means of getting through by the private door—I said, "No"—he then asked me if there was any money kept on the premises—I told him I did not know, but I should think there was the money taken during the day—he said, "Yes; I should think there was; I should think we could get 200l. or 300l. worth"—I said, "I should think so, or more than that"—then an appointment was made to meet on the 21st October, at the Bird-in-Hand, between 8 and 9 o'clock, and we parted—Campbell only followed up what the others said—on the 21st October I went to the Bird-in-Hand, as arranged, and saw Campbell, Scott, and Wickham—Campbell asked me if I could get him an impression of the street-door key—I told him no, because my wife kept it in her pocket—he then said, "Can't you get up in the night and take the key out of your wife's pocket and get an impression?"—I told him I did not know, but I would try—Wickham then said, "If we have the key we can go in when we like"—Wickham then asked Campbell if he had got "that," and he said, "No; I will go and get it"—Scott and Campbell went away, and in a short time Wickham was called out, and they were away for some time, and I went away a short time and came back and found all three prisoners there—Wickham then said to Campbell, "Have you got it?"—he said, "Yes," and gave him a gimlet—Wickham said, "That will do"—they then had some conversation together, and I heard Wickham ask Campbell if he could manage to go over the premises—Campbell then asked me if I would let him go over
the premises to see which was the best way of getting into Mr. Fisher's shop—I told him I did not know; I would try and take him over—I asked Wickham, "What are you going to do with the gimlet?"—he said, "It saves a lot of trouble and time"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "We bore a hole in the doors or shutters, and then place a waxed end through the hole and tie it to the lock or bolts"—we then left the Bird-in-Hand and went towards the Strand—Wickham and Campbell together told me they were going to do a job in the Strand—I saw them across the Strand towards the Lyceum Theatre—I reported all this to the police the same night—the next Friday I went to the Howard Arms, in Arundel Street, and met Campbell—I left him at the Howard Arms—I then went down to Fisher's and let Campbell in, and sent my wife out a few minutes after—we had some conversation about picture frames—I then took him up to the second floor and showed him the partition dividing off the show-room—after a short time he went out, after making an appointment to meet me at the corner of Newcastle Street—at the time I was showing him the partition there were two constables, Scandrett and Chamberlain, concealed—I then went out and met Campbell at the Spotted Dog, at the corner of Newcastle Street—we then went to Theobald's Road—we went from there to the Bird-in-Hand, Long Acre—we waited outside a short time—Wickham and Scott came up, and Campbell told them he had been over the place, and he explained the premises to them—while this was going on Scandrett passed us and went into the public-house—he was in plain clothes—we all four went into the public-house and had some beer—they were suspicious of Scandrett, and Wickham said to Scott, "Follow him and see what he is; I don't like the looks of him"—Scott went out, and shortly after returned, and called out Wickham—Wickham went out, and was gone about five minutes, and returned and said they did not think he was anything, meaning the police, he did not look like one of them, and I told them that if they thought it was a policeman I had better get away—they said, "No, it is all right"—I told them I felt very fidgety, and thought I would go home—after Campbell explained to Wickham, Wickham said, "Can you get us the impression or the room-door key, if you cannot, the street-door key?"—I told him I did not know, but would try—Wickham then said, "We trust you in everything, and if you put us away, what benefit would it be to you? you will ruin me, as I have been away before; I have been convicted in the name of Wilson"—I told him I should not put him away—he said if I did it would be the death of him—Wickham said, "I have been had up on suspicion of stealing Captain Bonham's jewels, about 10,000l. worth, and I knew nothing about them; we done a job some time ago at Stevens's, in the Strand, in the same line as Fisher, and there was 20l. reward offered for that, and they never found us out"—Campbell asked Wickham if he had any money to pay for a drop of beer, and he said, "No, but I will go and get a drop of beer, though," and he went into the Bird-in-Hand and got a quart of beer on credit—Wickham said, "We must do that house in Garrick Street, as we must have some money somehow or other; we are depending upon that for our Sunday dinner"—I made an appointment with Campbell to meet him at Garrick Street on Saturday at 12 o'clock, to give him an impression of the key, if I could get it—on Saturday I went to the Bird-in-Hand with Campbell, and met Scott there—Wickham
came in afterwards and asked me if I had got the impression of the key—I told him no, but I thought I could get it by night—he asked me what time, and I told him not before 9 o'clock, during the time my wife was cleaning—on Saturday night I met Scott at the corner of Rose Street, and we went to Garrick Street—Wickham and Campbell came' up and asked me if I had got the impression of the key—I said "Yes," and I gave it to Wickham, and he gave it to Campbell—Campbell said, "It will do first-class." (At this stage of the proceedings Wickham pleaded guilty as an accessory before the fact.) I had several conversations and meetings with Campbell, Scott, and Wickham before the premises were attempted to be broken into—during some of these conversations a man named Jingle was mentioned—he is the prisoner Gurner—I saw Gurner on Monday morning, the 25th, at about 12 o'clock, at the Bird-in-Hand—the landlord said to Gurner, "How are you getting on, Jingle?"—shortly after Scott came in and spoke to Gurner; shortly after him came Campbell—then I heard Campbell tell Gurner that "Joe" wanted to see him—Gurner said, "I thought he would be here"—he then went away—on Monday night I saw Gurner at the Bird-in-Hand with Campbell and Scott—I was introduced by Campbell to Gurner—Campbell said, "This is a friend of ours, he is all right"—Gurner said, "That is all right as long as I know who is present"—Gurner then said, "Do you Know if the job will go off straight?"—I said, to the best of my knowledge I thought it would—Gurner then said, "I hope it will, as I have done lots of jobs for 'Joe' before, and do not wish to get myself into trouble"—I told him I thought it would be all right—on Tuesday, the 26th, at about 12.30, I went to the Bird-in-Hand again, and saw all the prisoners—Gurner said to Wickham, "Do you know when you will want me?"—Wickham then said, "Meet me here between 6 and 7 o'clock without fail to-night"—Gurner then left—we met again about 4 o'clock at the Drury public-house in Catherine Street—Jingle did not come in—I saw Jingle again on Wednesday, about 6.10 a.m., at the corner of Wych Street—he was with his Hansom cab; they just came out of the public-house as I got there—Campbell and Scott were then in the custody of the officers inside our premises—I said, "Make haste, they are waiting at the door for you"—Wickham then said, "What the d—and hell are you out here for?"—I said that they were getting anxious—Gurner then said, "Have they got the things ready?"—I said, "Yes"—Wickham then said to me, "Go on indoors"—I then went indoors and took up a bag that had been prepared before by the police inside, and I placed it in the cab which had followed me down Arundel Street, two doors past ours—Gurner was driving his cab—I put the bag in, and Wickham went and rapped at the private door, and said, "Come out, you b—fools"—Scandrett and Gregory then ran up and secured them—directly I put the bag in the cab Gurner drove off towards the Embankment—Wickham said, in the presence of the other prisoners, the stuff would be divided—Wickham said if I got into trouble he would engage Mr. Keith Frith to defend me—during this time I was daily in communication with the police.
Cross-examined. During the preparation of this scheme Gurner was never present until the Monday to my knowledge—I do not know that
Gurner used the Bird-in-Hand public-house—I do not remember being in the house until I went with Campbell.
JAMES SCANDRETT (Policeman E). On the 20th October Inspector O'Callaghan gave me directions, in consequence of which I watched Mr. Fisher's house—a constable assisted me the first night—I also watched Neate, to see where he went—on the Thursday I saw him with the prisoners—I first saw Gurner on Thursday, the 25th—on that day I went to the Bird-in-Hand, where I saw Neate, Campbell, and Scott—about half an hour afterwards Gurner came in—I heard him talk to the prisoners, but I did not hear what they said—on Friday, the 22nd, I saw Neate and Campbell together in Mr. Fisher's house—I heard the conversation between them; Campbell went upstairs and examined the place and came down again, and I heard some further conversation—I saw Campbell in the evening in the Bird-in-Hand, when Wickham, Scott, and Neate were present—on Saturday, the 23rd, about 11 or 12 a.m., I saw Campbell and Gurner go to the Bird-in-Hand—I went into another compartment—I did not hear what they were conversing about—on Monday, the 25th, about 11 a.m., I saw Gurner in Long Acre and followed him—he joined Wickham, and they went together to the Bird-in-Hand—I remained outside; Wickham and Gurner went in—on Tuesday evening Chamberlain, Gregory, and myself concealed ourselves in Mr. Fisher's house—about 9 o'clock we heard a tremrndous crashing of wood; we were on the first floor—about 9.20 we saw a light shining in one of the show-rooms—the light came nearer, and then I saw Campbell carrying this lamp (produced)—I at once closed with him and secured him—I was struck on the forehead with this screwdriver (produced). which made me bleed—Gregory secured Scott—he struck Gregory with a chisel, which drew blood—we kept them in custody there the rest of the night—we examined the premises, and found a panel of the partition out right through—we remained quietly all night, and on the following morning about 10.30 I spoke to Neate, and he took a bag and went with the bag to the door—I heard somebody tapping at the door in Arundel Street, and I heard Wickham outside say "Come out, you b—fools; it is all right"—I at once went out and caught hold of him, and told him that I should take him into custody for being concerned with others in breaking into Mr. Fisher's house—he said "All right, you have got it up very nicely for me, and I will do something for you yet"—afterwards Gurner was stopped and taken into custody—on Wickham I found an apron and on Campbell some matches—this is the bag I gave to Neate to put in the cab (produced).
Cross-examined. I have seen cabmen at the Bird-in-Hand—I have seen Gurner in Long Acre.
JOHN ALLISON (Police Sergeant). I, with two other police sergeants, kept observation on Mr. Fisher's house on the night of the 26th October—at 5.10 a.m. on the 27th I saw Gurner on St. Clement's cab-rank with a hansom, No. 8037—I said to him, "Drive me to Shoreditch Church"—he said, "Take the first cab"—I said, "There is no hansom there"—he said, "I don't want a job"—on leaving him, I saw Wickham coming round by the churchyard on the west side of the church—I watched him and saw him go up to Gurner—Gurner got down from the cab, and they stood in conversation for about ten minutes—I then saw Wickham go round the churchyard on the north of Mr. Fisher's house—he returned some
time afterwards to Gurner, and they went to a public-house at the corner of Wych Street, leaving the cab behind—they remained talking some time outside—Wickham crossed the street, and Gurner went back to his cab—some time after I saw Wickham come out of Arundel Street and cross the road to the churchyard—shortly after he came back in company with Gurner, who was on his cab, talking to each other as they crossed the road—I went to the corner of Arundel street—Wickham said to Gurner, "Come on—come on"—I saw Gurner drive down a little below Mr. Fisher's private door, as far as the Temple Club—I then saw Neate run down with a portmanteau and throw it in the cab on the footboard—when he was running back towards the door I caught hold of him—he said, "Let me go, I am the housekeeper"—the cab went towards the Embankment with the bag—I called him to stop, but he did not stop till Gregory stopped him—I went up and took the portmanteau off the footboard, and told Gurner to get down, and that I was a police officer—when he got down I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with others in breaking into Mr. Fisher's house—he said, "You have made a great mistake, I was called to the club"—at the station I saw Wickham sitting on a seat, and I said to Gurner, "Do you know him?"—he said, "I have never seen him before in my life"—I said, "I could prove that you were in his company for three-quarters of an hour"—he said, "I may have seen him, but I do not recognise him."
ROBERT EDWARD FISHER . I am a dressing-case maker of 188, Strand—Neate and his wife live in the basement of my house, and the foreman, Stennett, at the top—about the 18th October Neate communicated to me some proposition which had been made to him, and I sent him to the police-station at Bow Street, and he from time to time informed me what was going on—in the shop is the most valuable property—there are dressing-cases there of the value of £70 to £80, the value consisting in the gold and silver fittings—on the 26th October I was with the police, and saw the place where the panel was cut out—the shop communicated, so that a person could get to the show-room from the first-floor—the tools found do not belong to me.
Witness for the Defence.
JOHN CAMPBELL —[The Prisoner]. I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—I know Gurner by being at public-houses with him in the evening—the cabmen from one end of Lone; Acre to the other go to the Bird—I n-Hand—I never told Gurner that I wanted to carry away stolen property from Mr. Fisher's house—I engaged him to take some luggage to the Bail way Station—he asked me when—I told him "Late in the evening or early in the morning"—arrangements were made for him to be on the rank about 6 a.m.—I did not mention the station—he said he would take the luggage, and I said I would let him know when—he was to be at the hotel in Arundel Street directly after 6 o'clock, but he did not know what for—he was only there as a hired man, as an ordinary cabman would be—on Monday night I introduced him to Neate, and told him he was a friend of ours—he said "How is this job going on—are you going to have me straight or not?" I said "Yes, of course we will engage you," and he asked me when it would be—I told him it would be at six o'clock in the morning, when we arranged to take our things away—he was never present at any interview when the burglary was arranged—on my oath he did not know anything about it, nor was he promised any share of the proceeds.
Cross-examined. I was living at Holly Street, Clare Market—I am a brass moulder—I have known Gurner for some years, but personally for this last 12 or 15 months; I knew where he lived—we were going to try and bring a little property out—it would not have done to have carried it through the streets in our hands, so we had a cab from the hotel entrance—I was not going to take the property to my place—I decline to say where we were going to take it—the property was to be taken in boxes and portmanteaus.
Re-examined. The mail train starts about that time.
By the JURY. Gurner was not paid any fare.
SCOTT and WICKHAM also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted, Scott in June, 1879, and Wickham in May, 1871.
CAMPBELL— Two Years' Imprisonment.
SCOTT and WICKHAM— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
GURNER— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CARNABY . I am a gas apparatus maker, of 13, Broad Street, Bloomsbury, trading as Carnaby and Co.—the prisoner was a traveller for me till he was taken into custody on the 2nd October—I entrusted him with three gas regulators to show my customers—I did not authorise him to pledge or dispose of them—their value is 7l. 10s.
WILLIAM EDWARD JONES . I am assistant to Joseph Jones, pawnbroker, of 31, Church Street, Spitalfields—this gas regulator was pawned there by the prisoner on the 24th August, in the name of Robert Williams—I did not know his proper name—I advanced him 4s. on it, and gave him this duplicate for it.
GEORGE GALE . I am assistant to George Fish, pawnbroker, of 539, Commercial Road East—I produce this gas regulator, pawned by the prisoner in the name of Robert Williams for 2s. 6d.—we have not a very ready sale for such articles.
EDWIN LAW . I am assistant to Edwin Brown, pawnbroker of 4, Ryder's Court, Leicester Square—I produce this gas-regulator, pawned there by the prisoner on the 29th September, in the name of Robert Williams, for 3s.—I produce the duplicate—they are not saleable.
RICHARD TALBOT (Detective Sergeant H). I apprehended the prisoner on the 2nd November, on another charge, at Bow Street—I searched him, and found on him the three duplicates produced, relating to the gas apparatus.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that the gas regulators were given him as samples in the ordinary way: that he was changing his lodgings at the time, and having no safe place of keeping, he temporarily pawned them for the sake of warehousing them, and that the small turns for which he pawned them showed it was not to make money on them.
NOT GUILTY .
agent in our employ, paid by commission—on the 13th August last he called at 82, Southwark Street, and presented this order, purporting to be signed by Mr. E. Wilson, manager to Messrs. Mann, Crossman, and Paulin, telling us he had received it from that firm—the order is for a 2-inch regulator, price 11l.—I believed the order to be genuine—he pleaded poverty, and said he should be very much obliged if I would pay him the commission on that order at once—the commission was 25s.—10s. I had advanced him on a cheque which he asked me to cash, and which I refused to do—that left 15s. to be paid to him on that order—I paid him the 15s. and hold the receipt. (Read: "Received from Henry Mobbs, engineer, 1l. 5s., as first half commission. E. Pritchard." The total commission was 50s., and had the order been genuine and completed, and the regulator fixed, he would be entitled to the remainder.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never said when you were apprehended that I would teach these commission-agents a lesson—the balance of the 15s. was paid to you—you had received little petty advances from me and my son privately, on the understanding that they should be deducted from your commission.
RICHARD WILSON . I live at Snaresbrook, and am manager to Messrs. Mann, Crossman, and Paulin, brewers—I have often seen the prisoner soliciting orders for regulators—I have never given him an order—the signature to the order produced is not mine, nor is it written with my authority—no such transaction took place.
The prisoner in his defence said the signature to the order was not his, that he nearly always used lead pencil, and that Mr. Barron had perjured himself in saying that he saw him on the occasion he referred to.
SAMUEL BARRON (Re-examined). We should not accept an order unless we believed it to be signed by the identical party himself—in order to test the traveller's truth it is our custom to send a printed form to the party, saying, "We beg to acknowledge the receipt of your order for 2-inch gas regulator,'1 and it was sending this form that opened out the whole affair.
GUILTY of uttering.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment, and to pay the costs of the prosecution. There was another indictment against the prisoner.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
JAMES ENRIGHT (Policeman H 293). At about 11.30 p.m. on the 18th November I was on duty in plain clothes in the Commercial Road when I saw Chambers with another man, who is not apprehended, and a woman, standing round a sailor, who seemed to have been drinking—they were outside the St. George public-house—they all went in, and remained there half an hour, when Chambers and the missing man came out with the sailor, and they went into the Commercial Road—I followed them; they went into the Bedford Arms—I passed Chambers very closely as I crossed the street—he had his left hand in the left-hand trousers pocket of the sailor—they came into Bedford Street, and they met Smith, and they all three went into the Bedford Arms with the sailor, and remained till 12.30, when they came out together—I was concealed in a doorway on the opposite side of the street—I saw Chambers and Smith and the man not in custody bring the sailor along from the Bedford Arms towards the Commercial Road, when the sailor was
knocked down by one of them; there was a constable in uniform close by—I went to him and picked up the sailor—the other constable took Smith into custody—Chambers and the other man not in custody ran away—I followed Chambers into the Commercial Road—I took him into custody and charged him with assaulting and attempting to rob the sailor—he said "It is not me," and on the way to the station he said "There were three of us in it; you ought to have Cooper as well."
Cross-examined by Chambers. You were not 10 yards on the other side when I said "I want you for robbing this man"—I did not say to you at the station "Who was it who knocked that man down?"—you did not say "I believe the man fell down"—I did not say "Who was that standing outside the Bedford Arms?" and you did not say you did not know any of them.
Re-examined. I am sure the sailor was knocked down—I saw one of them give the blow, but cannot swear who.
THOMAS BLETCHLEY (Policeman H 317). I was on duty at the time in question, and saw the other constable—I waited until they came out of the Bedford Arms—there were the prisoners and another man and the sailor—I did not see anything which had happened before—after they came out they came upon the same side that I was standing, and when they got half way between the Bedford Arms public-house and the Commercial Road, in a dark corner, they all three kept very closely round the sailor, and all at once I heard the sailor fall—it could only be about twenty-five yards from where I was standing—I ran up, and when I got up I saw Chambers run across the road, and the missing man ran away then through Bedford Road—Smith had got hold of the sailor and the sailor of him, and he could not get away—I took Smith into custody, and asked what was the matter—the sailor said, "See what they have done after treating them all the evening; they have knocked me down and robbed me"—his left-hand trousers pocket was torn down half way across the front—I said to Smith I should take him into custody for assaulting and attempting to rob the sailor, and he said to the sailor, "So help me God! are you going to lock me up after being with you all the evening?"—the sailor did not say anything—in reply to the charge Smith said, "I did not have anything to do with robbing him, I was only helping him along.
Chambers's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was in the St. George public-house at 12 o'clock. I saw the prosecutor inside, and had a drink with him and another man. We came outside and went into the Bedford Arms. We had two drinks, and I paid for one and the prosecutor paid for the other, all but a halfpenny, which he borrowed of this man. He then fell down a few yards off, and this man said, 'I will pick him up.' I said, 'Don't; you may get yourself into trouble.' I went over the other side and stood ten yards away, and saw a constable come up. I was going across the road to see what this man was to be locked up for, and the constable came across the road and said, 'I want you for robbing this man.' I said, 'You have made a mistake.' On going to the station he said, 'Who knocked that man down?' I said, 'I believe he fell down.' The prosecutor, when at the station, said he had lost 2s. The next day he said he changed a 5l. note at 11 o'clock, and lost the rest of that, and the Magistrate asked him whether me or this man robbed him, and he shook his head, and said, 'I don't know.'"
Smith's Statement. "I am innocent."
SMITH also PLEADED GUILTY to hoving been convicted of felony in March, 1880.
CHAMBERS.— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
SMITH.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, November 26th, 1880.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
55. HENRY MERSH (36), MARY ANN FOX (34), and ELIZA CLARKE (29) , Unlawfully obtaining 16l. 1s. by false pretences. Second Count, Unlawfully conspiring to defraud the Prudential Assurance Company of their moneys.
MESSRS. PURUELL and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. LEVY Defended Mersh.
EDWIN ARNOLD . I am an assistant superintendent of agents to the Prudential Assurance Company—I had a policy in my district on the life of James Burgess—I received information of his death—a claim was made by Susan Walker as cousin of the deceased—the policy was dated the 10th December, 1879—this is it (produced)—it is for 16l. 1s., payable to the next of kin, the weekly premium being 3d.—in const quence of the receipt of the claim I went on the 5th of October to 4, Joseph Street, Capel Street—I saw Mersh, Eliza Clarke, and Mrs. Walker—I said to Mrs. Walker, "I am come for the necessary particulars to fill up the form of claim"—she gave me the particulars, and after filling up the form I asked Mrs. Walker to sign it—she put her cross—Mersh put his name as attesting witness—I told Clarke that although she cohabited with the deceased she was not entitled to it—she said she knew that Walker was entitled to it, and that she would pay the funeral expenses—in consequence of instructions I received from the office I took the money on the 7th to the same house—I saw Clarke coming in from the street as I entered the yard which leads to the house—I said, "You can turn back now, I have got the claim"—she turned round—I followed her to the house—I said, "Is Mrs. Walker in?"—she said, "Yes"—she took me into the room, and I mistook Fox for Walker—Mersh's wife was also present—I think Clarke's words were. "Here is the agent"—I said to Fox, "I am pleased to tell you you will get the whole amount"—there was some question as to whether she was entitled to it all, but it is the practice of of our office to pay in case of an accident—I was not previously in a position to say so—I told them the deceased was not in benefit, yet on account of accident they would pay the whole—Fox seemed pleased, but did not reply—I then produced the necessary receipt and asked her to sign it—this is the receipt (produced)—she said she could not write—I said, "I recollect you could not write; the other day you made a cross"—so she made a cross after the words "Susan Walker—Clarke and Mersh were also present—prior to that I said, "I want some one to witness it; a respectable person from the street can be called in"—they demurred, but eventually called in Mersh—I said, "I merely want you to witness this claim for 16l. 1s."—he had signed the paper on a former occasion—he signed the paper after the cross—it is the usual form indemnifying the company against any further claim—I counted the money out to Fox, thinking she was Mrs. Walker—I then endeavoured to canvass her—she made some excuse about distress, and I went away—on
the same day, in consequence of what my wife told me, I went and found the prisoners—I saw Fox in the deceased's house—I said, "It is a serious thing your obtaining this money"—she was intoxicated—she said she had as much right to the money as the Walkers, and more, at she was as much Mrs. Walker as she was herself—she said her brother had it, and it would be all right; the money would be right enough—she made several attempts to take me into public-houses, stating that her brother or her sister were there—I did not find them—when I saw Susan Walker she was perfectly sober—I did not see her on the 9th when she came to my house to see my wife—I saw her the next morning at 7 o'clock, she was then perfectly sober, and the husband too.
Cross-examined by MR. LEVY. I received a letter from the brother of Clarke, telling me she was the proper person to receive the amount—I did not induce Walker to behave generously with Clarke, she said it of her own accord—I said no doubt she would arrange things, and she said, "Oh yes, quite right," and that she had no claim on them for the amount—Walker said, after bearing all expenses, she would see Clarke righted—this was about 12 o'clock on 5th—Mersh was simply called upstairs as a witness—he was not present at the previous interview—both interviews were about the middle of the day—the first visit took place in Walkers part of the house, the second in Mersh's—Mersh was only present as an attesting witness—Clarke did not introduce Fox as Mrs. Walker, but she heard me address her as Mr. Walker—Clarke said, "Here is the agent," and I said, "Good-morning, Mrs. Walker"—when I asked if Mrs. Walker was in they said "Yes," and I concluded it was Mrs. Walker—I do not do any rounds, I am not a collector—I should not have waited long for Mrs. Walker; I should have called again.
Cross-examined by Fox. I met your sister in the yard—I did not hear her say, "Mrs. Walker it out"—I did not say, "Where is your sister gone? how tiresome it is she is not here"—I cannot recollect all that passed—I cannot recollect your calling her in; to the best of my recollection she was not in the house more than ten minutes—you represented yourself as Mrs. Walker.
Cross-examined by Clarke. You did not say, "Susan is not in"—I did not say, "Come, Eliza, put your name on this paper"—I should not address you as Eliza—you were absent about ten minutes.
SUSAN WALKER . I live at 4, Joseph Street, St. George's—James Burgess was my cousin—he died on the 29th September last—I made a claim for 16l. 1s. from the Prudential Assurance Company—on the 5th October Arnold called at my house—Clarke came in at the time—Arnold produced a claim-form—I put my mark to it, and Arnold put something underneath—Mersh came in afterwards and put his mark—Arnold asked him if he knew my cousin was dead—he said, "Yes"—he then asked if he would sign the paper, and he did—he is my landlord—Arnold said Eliza Clarke could not claim the money, and that I was the claimant—Clarke said she was quite satisfied and knew that—Arnold then told me in the presence of Clarke and Mersh that I should have the paper on Wednesday night—I was at home all that day—on the night of the 7th, in consequence of what I heard, I went to Mr. Arnold—I had seen Clarke when I came home about 3.30, and I stayed in till nearly 7 o'clock—they were down stairs in Mersh's place—they did not mention about the
claim—I next saw Fox in custody—she said, "Susan, I will give up the money if you will let me go; the money is all right"—I was quite sober—Fox came and asked us to have a drink, and they had a pot of beer among themselves—neither of the women gave me the 16l.—I have not had it.
Cross-examined by MR. LEVY. My husband asked on the 7th if any one had come from the Insurance Company.
Cross-examined by Fox. I was not intoxicated the night previous—you were in Mrs. Mersh's room—I had locked my door and had got my key—I sent for you—I was out on the Thursday when Arnold brought the money—I came in about 3.30—I was not drunk then—I went upstairs—you went out with your sister—my sister came in the evening—you did not say "Susan, I want you," and call me down—I asked you to go with me to the milliner's in the evening—I had nothing to drink then—I had some four-half in Capel Street—I did not see you drink any—you said, "Susan, I want you to come home"—then we went to the milliner's and tried the bonnets on.
Cross-examined by Clark. I did not ask you to clean my place—you did not go up—I was not intoxicated, you mean yourself—I did not go to a public-house in Capel Street, then to the milliner's, and then to another public-house—no such thing.
HERBERT SMITH (City Policeman 346). I apprehended Fox on the 8th October—I told her I should take her into custody for taking money from Mr. Arnold—she said "I put my cross to it"—at the station she said, "I know where the money is, and afterwards "I don't know where it is, I went to my brother's last night, and he has got it"—I apprehended Mersh about twenty minutes afterwards—in answer to the charge he said, "I saw both the women put their names"—at the station he said, "I saw Mrs. Fox receive the money, if you had paid the money last night it would have been all right" Fox said "I should, if she had been sober"—on the 14th October I apprehended Clarke at Walham Green, Fulham—I told her I should take her into custody, for being concerned with Fox and Mersh in obtaining a sum of money—she said "I did not have one penny, neither do I believe my sister did"—when the charge was read at the station she said, "I put my name to it, but I did not receive one penny."
EDWIN ARNOLD (Recalled). I wrote Fox's name opposite her cross. Clarke and Fox, in defence, put in long written statements—Fox to the effect that the money was put in a bag, and she did not know what became of it; and Clarke, that she paid the premiums for the deceased.
EDWIN ARNOLD (Re-examined). I used to look to Clarke for the cash—she paid me on two occasions—Fox bore a more ruddy appearance than she does now, and I had only seen her once previously; besides, we see to many people we cannot always remember them.
NOT GUILTY .
The said prisoners were also indicted for forging the said Susan Walker's signature to the receipt for 16l. 1s, upon which no evidence was offered.
WALTER MORGAN . I am a letter-carrier, of 29, Middle Street, Burton Crescent—in October, 1875, I went to Sambrook Court, in consequence of seeing an advertisement, to a place with "Beaumont and Co." on the door—I saw the prisoner and his brother—they engaged me as office-boy—I was there about a month or six weeks—no business was done—another brother dame to see them every morning—they spent the time principally in singing and dancing—I never saw any customers come—some skins were brought in a truck by a man—a Mr. Cunningham called—I did not hear what passed—I heard the skins were going to Birmingham—they were taken away—I stalled with 6s. a week salary, and 1s. a week rise—the last week they did not turn up, and I never got it.
AUGUSTUS ROSS . I am a manufacturer of fancy leather goods in Northampton Square—a Mr. Estraker brought me some samples of skin in November, 1875—I bought about 80 dozen for 140l. or 150l.—he said they were French merchants, "Beaumont and Co."—I afterwards sold them to Mr. Layland, whom he brought to me, for about 100l.—they did not turn out according to sample—I believe I was paid in full money; there was no bill—the 140l. I paid was half in cash and half goods—purses and cigar cases.
Cross-examined. There were two men; one was a Jew—my traveller introduced them.
(This case was adjourned for the attendance of George Cunningham, who did not appear on being called on his recognisances.)
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE WESTWOOD (City Policeman 707). On the 9th November I was in Queen Street, Cheapside—I saw the prisoners and two others—the prisoners were facing a gentleman, the others not in custody were hustling him behind—the gentleman struggled to release himself; the prisoners made a movement, upon which I took them into custody—Crewe's right hand was between the gentleman's waistcoat and coat—I called the gentleman back; he said he had lost his chain—he is here—there was a great crush—it was just after the Lord Mayor's procession had passed.
CHARLES HARWOOD . I live at 62, Bow Road—I was in Queen Street on the 9th November about 4.45 p.m.—I was hustled about—as the procession passed my hat was knocked off twice—I felt some one's hand in my pocket—the constable came up—I went back to a quiet place—I found I had lost my chain.
Cross-examined by Crewe. I do not identify any of you.
Re-examined. I could not turn round to see who Dulled my chain—I felt a knock in my eyes—I said I had not lost it; then I saw a little piece on the ground.
Lord's Mayor's Day about five yards from Westwood—I saw the prisoners and two others hustling the prosecutor—directly afterwards he said "I have lost my chain"—the constable caught hold of the prisoners—I assisted him in taking them to the station.
Cross-examined by Williams. I was not on the opposite side of the road.
Crewe's Defence. I have a good character, and had no reason to do anything improper—I produce my character—I was discharged for unsuitability.
Williams's Defence. I am innocent—I was in the crowd, and carried away with the others—if I had been guilty I could have got away, but being innocent I went with the policeman.
CREWE†— GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
WILLIAMS*— GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony at Clerkenwell in January, 1879, in the name of John Heath.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, November 27th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SIMS Prosecuted; MR. POLAND Defended.
It appearing by MR. SIMS'S opening that no misrepresentation was made by the female prisoner when alone, and as she was the wife of the other prisoner, the COURT in her case directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
BENJAMIN BLYBERG . I am a money-lender, of 8, Store Street, Tottenham Court Road—in August last Mr. Burns, the prisoner, applied to me to lend him 160l.—I said that I should like to see his furniture, as that was to be the sole security for the advance—I went to Sabella Row, Clapham, and saw both the prisoners—Burns told me that the furniture was his absolute property—I said, "Have you any marriage settlement?"—he said, "Go upstairs and get me that settlement"—she went up and brought it down, and gave it to me—it was dated 7th January, 1880, I believe—it was dated before the settlement of 22nd March, 1880—I looked through it; there was no reference whatever to furniture, and I believed his statement about it being his absolute property—I asked him particularly if there was any settlement on that property, and he said, "No"—I was proposing to take a bill of sale, and a declaration before a Commissioner by Mr. and Mrs. Burns was made out, which states that "no part of the furniture is settled, charged, or encumbered, and it is free and clear from settlement, mortgage, or encumbrance"—I believed that, and advanced the 160l. for two years, for which I was to receive 90l., which is 25 per cent.—I afterwards received information, and went down to Kennington—he had made default in his payments, which gave me the right to seize—I saw Mrs. Burns and another woman, and found that part of the furniture had been removed—I afterwards saw Mr. Burns, and said, "You have obtained money from me on furniture which does not belong to you"—Mrs. Burns had told me that—he said, "I will see you to-morrow about it"—I then went to Ely Place and saw Mr. James, a solicitor—I did not see Burns again, but a day or two afterwards I was served with a writ in an action of Edward Atkins and George Solomon
Bell against me, claiming an injunction to restrain me from letting any of the furniture.
Cross-examined. I have been a money-lender about eighteen months—the business has been established thirty years, but the office has been there twelve months—we carry on the "West of England Loan and Discount Company," which has offices all over England, and the name is in our window—we have offices at Cardift Newport, Portsmouth, and other places—we are all connected—"we" means my father and myself—he is still alive; he is not the sole proprietor of the business, I am one, and there are others who I am not going to mention—my father is not here because he has nothing to do with my office, he carries on the business at Cardiff—Mr. Eyles is our manager at Reading—we do sot advertise there in the same name as in London, because in every town we are bound to give the manager's name when people come to the office: they ask for the name which they see advertised—my name is Benjamin; my father's name is Solomon Benjamin, and he advertises in that name in Cardiff—this advertisement (produced) says, "Apply to B. Blyberg, 8, Store Street. Established 50 years"—my brother may have, put that in—his name is Joseph, and this is "B"—each party advertises. when they are of age, but Joseph is only eighteen—he may have put in the advertisement in my name—we turn over, I dare say, 200,000l. a year; but if that turn-over was on the same terms as the bill of sale, we should have nothing left, because it would all go—our terms are from, 10 per cent, up to 30, and we have only charged 25—I am in the habit, of taking the wife's signature when I lend money to a married man—I mean that I take a statutory declaration by husband and wife occasionally—I did so in this case because there were two children there aged 8 and 9, and Mrs. Burns said that she had only lately been married—I thought there, was some doubt about the marriage, so we took both—I saw the marriage settlement—I had a doubt whether they were lawfully married, and other doubts—I doubted whether he was the householder or she—they produced no rent receipts—I might have had a doubt to which of them the furniture belonged if they were not married, so I thought I would have a joint declaration and a joint bill of sale—I included Mr. Burns's business address simply because a bill of sale is a registered deed, and we are bound to give a full description. (The bill of sale also included the stock-in-trade and furniture at 13, Paternoster Row.) If I had found a couple of hundred pounds' worth of stock at Paternoster Bow I should not have seized it without consulting my solicitor, but I should have if he advised me to do so—Mr. Burns was to begin with an instalment of 4l. on 23rd September—I did not see him on that day or at all until I found that the goods did not belong to him—I found that he had removed his furniture, but did not see him till after he had made default; that was about four days after the second instalment was due—I have no recollection of seeing him on 25th September—he paid the first instalment when it was due, and when the second was due on 23rd October he did not pay it, nor on the 26th, and I told the clerk to go and see why he had not paid it—I swear he never tendered me the second instalment—when I saw him he said that he would come and see me in the morning, but he did not say with the instalment—I would not have taken it after I found that out, if he had offered it—I did not offer to take the instalment if he gave me other security—I did not say a word about further security to Mr. or Mrs. Burns—they
said that Mrs. Burns's father knew all about the bill of sale, and was coming to see me about it—I gave them a 120l. cheque and 20l. in gold—this is the cheque (produced)—you will see "cash" written on it—it is payable to Burns and James—that is the name over the office in Paternoster Row—I said, "Here, I want you, Mr. James, to come up with me and draw the bill up"—that was a promissory note admitting the amount, and I made out the cheque to Messrs. Burns and James—I have the promissory note; it is made by Mr. and Mrs. Burns and Mr. James; I will sell it to you for 5l.—I took Mr. James's security in addition to theirs, and still hold it—I did not say a word about that at the police-court, because I was not asked; I was going to tell you about it and you stopped me—I had taken a mortgage on all there might be in the house, and on all that there was at Paternoster Row—I did not require Mr. James, the partner, to become security for the loan—when Burns took me there I saw "Burns and James" over the door, and I said, "You tell Mr. James I shall require him also"—it was not because I had a doubt as to whom the furniture belonged that I required Mr. James to join in the matter—I would have lent him the money whether James's name was given or no—I did not say, "I will not advance the money till I have James's name"—he came to the office with James and a man named Wollelt, who got a commission out of it—he is not a friend of mine—he introduced these parties to me—it was a commission business, and if I carried it out I gave him a commission—I did not put Mr. James's name in for safety, but for protection—besides the crossed cheque I gave them 20l. in gold; they may have handed that back again, but not a halfpenny more—I charged 1l. 1s. for going down to his house three times—I gave them the cash because it was after banking hours, and they wanted some cash that evening—they did not ask for money which I refused—they even came back next morning and begged for more cash—I swear that they did not give me back 6l. 6s., or 6l., or 5l. only 1l. 1s.—I keep books and enter every transaction—I have not entered the guinea I received back because that is what I was out of pocket—I swear to the best of my knowledge that they did not return me six guineas; it did not exceed a guinea—I said at the police-court, "I advanced my money solely on the assertions made to me by them, and the statement in the declaration"—it was only upon that.
Re-examined. I agreed to lend the money before I knew of James—the Paternoster Row goods were not worth more than 30s. or £2—I had no reason to believe that goods worth £160 were coming there—it was ouly au office, not a warehouse—the only security I hud was the furniture at Clapham.
By MR. GRAIN. I do not remember having a transaction previously through Woollett—I swear I have not had cozens and scores through him—we took our office of the Central Loan and Discount Company, manager S. Fogg, but that had nothing to do with me—we had no connection with that office—my father and I bought the business of Fogg—not the business but the futures—our business had existed 50 years iu Cardiff—Messrs. Waterlow and Son were our London agents, but not to lend money, we had no London office to lend money—they are our agents and stamp bills of sale and register them, which business we now do for ourselves—we had no money-lending business in London till my brother Joseph started it 18 months ago; he was 18 when he opened it—he traded in my name till I came to London.
CHARLES JAMES . I am clerk to James and James, 23, Ely Place, solicitors for Mrs. Burns and Mr. Kirk, not for Mr. Burns—I produce a settlement made on 22nd March, 1880, which settles the furniture and chattels at 13, Sabella Road, Clapham, on two trustees for the benefit of Mrs. Burns, and the issue of her marriage, if any—there is a schedule of the furniture supposed to be on the premises, and if it is not there it ought to be, but a portion has been removed, and another portion has been sold under the settlement.
Cross-examined. Mr. Burns is not a party to the deed in any shape or form, nor is Mrs. Burns—the marriage took place in January, 1879, and the deed is dated 22nd March, 1880, to the best of my belief there was no settlement between those dates.
WILLIAM KIRK . I am the father of Mrs. Burns—I am a retired tradesman and live at Hull—I made the settlement of this furniture, just proved, for my daughter's benefit and that of any issue of the marriage—the house, 13, Sabella Road, is not included—it is my house—I bought the furniture and put it on the premises—that was after the marriage—I had a conversation with my daughter about the settlement before it was made, and Mr. Burns knew of it—he knew that it was made, for he pointed to thirteen drawings, and said, "Are those in the settlement?"—that was after it had been made—I said, "I do not know, but I will see when I get home"—when they made the marriage settlement, the furniture was not bought, but it was all to be included in the marriage settlement—Mr. Burns urged me to make the settlement—before they got married I had promised Mr. and Mrs. Burns that I would buy furniture and settle it on them—I bought a house for them and furnished it—it was chosen by my daughter—the furniture now at Avondale Square, Old Kent Road, is a portion of that which was at Kennington.
Cross-examined. The house 13, Sabella Road is mine—I bought it after they were married—I have the leasehold—I allowed them to live in it rent free, but did not give it to them—when I purchased the furniture, from time to time, I sent it to 13, Sabella Road—I intended to settle it on my daughter when I got it complete—I think some furniture went in after 1879—I wanted to settle it on her so that no creditors of his should be able to sieze it—it was my furniture; they were to have the joint enjoyment of it.
GUILTY . Some of the Jury considered that he intended to keep up the payments, and thought if he had been dealt more leniently with he might have paid off the debt. Four Months' Imprisonment.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, November 27th, 1880.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. CROOME Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE defended Jones.
DAVID JOSEPHS . I am a tailor, living at 8, Fashion Street, Spitalfields—on 12th of October I went to bed between 11 and 12 p.m.—my house, including the front first-floor window, was safely fastened up—I left 26 coats hanging in the workshop in the first-floor; 15 were finished off—their value would be about 17l.—on the following morning I was awoke by three men knocking at the door about 5.30—on getting up I found, the coats were gone—the window downstairs was right open—I gave, information to the police the flame morning—I saw a ladder opposite my, house in a coal shop.
Cross-examined By MR. COLE. Jones was identified, I believe, on a Saturday—there were about 10 or 11 men in a row.
ANN CADWELL . I am the wife of Michael John Cadwell—I was with him on 13th October at Flower and Dean Street, Shoreditch—on 13th I rose at 5 a.m., according to my custom—I had occasion to go into the yard to empty my slops about 5 minutes past 5 o'clock—I could not do it because the yard was so full of coats—three men were loading and one was carrying away—one man had a sack—there was a large tater basket with two handles—I went back and spoke to my husband and then went into the yard again—three of the men had their heads down, but Jones said "It is all right, mother, you can empty them now"—I was standing with the pail in my hands waiting for him to take the coats away—there was no room to get past—Jones threw the coats out of the cleset on to a dusthole to make room for me to empty the slops—the yard was nearly full of coats scattered about—it is a small yard—I could not discern the other men because their heads, were down—Jones stood in the middle of four—he spoke to me with a stammering in his-voice—a few minutes afterwards they heard a policeman talking and they left—I west to the police-station on the 27th; I saw 10 or 11 men—I said "I do not know any one besides this one"—that was Jones—I did not know his name, I was a stranger to the place—I went to the police-station on the 13th—I was not wanted then.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The sergeant took me to the station—he took me in a back room—it was the first time I was ever in a police-station—three men were standing in a row—Shaw was outside the other two—Jones. was the first I swore to—my husband was fetched, and my little, girl as well—some policemen were there also—the inspector told me to touch the prisoner—he said "Look at them"—I said "That man there"—he said "Take another look"—I pointed him out—then he said "Go and touch him"—he did not point to the man, I pointed to him—I did not say "Oh yes, so it is"—I said I thought it was—I don't know that the man's name whom I picked out by mistake is Early, or that he was a chance passer by.
Re-examined. I first communicated with the police five days after the burglary—I went to the station first, and did not identify anybody.
MICHAHL JOHN CADWELL I was living on 13th October last in Flower and Dean Street, with my wife and my daughter Elizabeth—my wife woke me up about 4.40 a.m.—I went into the back yard—I saw some poor men and a pile of coats on the dust-hole, and one pile in front of the closet door—two men had their heads down, one was stooping over a basket—Jones held his head up and looked—I was in the yard about three minutes—the men did not do anything—I went into the house, and
looked out of the window into the yard—I also saw Shaw putting a white cloth over a two-handled basket—after washing myself I continued looking out at the window—I was at the window two or three times—five days afterwards a detective came and I went to station and I picked out Jones from eight or nine other men—I have not the slightest doubt about him—I went again to the station with my wife—that was when somebody broke my door open—I picked out Shaw as the man I had seen with the clothes—I think it was the 13th of this month—there were 10 or 11 other men there—I have no doubt he is the man I watched from my window.
Cross-examined by Shaw. I first picked out the man who broke my door open—then the inspector asked if I knew any one else, and I picked you out as being the man concerned in the robbery and you said that I knew you at Smith's lodging-house, which I never did.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. It was five days after the robbary I went to the police-station—my wife and daughter went—the police took us—I had given no information to the police till they came to inquire—men I gave a description of the men—my wife went first to identify—I saw the Inspector—my wife was not standing by me at the time—Jones was not the end man, he was the second from the iron rails.
ELIZABETH CADWELL . I am the laughter of the two last witnesses, and live with them—I was awoke on the morning of the 13th October—I and my father looked out at the window—I saw a lot of coats and four men—one man was basting some stitches in—they were stacking them in a great big basket—Shaw is one of the men, he was putting the coats in the basket, and he packed them right opposite our window—I spoke to my father—we live on the first-floor back—I sleep in the same room as my parents—the first floor is level with the ground—I saw a man pass with some "coats—I had seen him in Smith's lodging-house—I went with my parents to the police-station—I saw 11 men standing up in a row—I pointed out Shaw as the one I had seen that morning—the dust-hole is opposite the back door, about 4 yards off.
Cross-examimd by shaw. I got on the bedstead and watched through the back window—there Are two windows, one looks into the back, the other into the front—the other men were loading the baskets.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I went into the yard and stood close to the men—the police came on a Thursday or Friday I think—I went with them to the station the same day—I went upon another occasion—I was not a minute looking at the men—I picked out a young man that I thought had come to our door to borrow a sack, but I would not swear to him—that man had been called in by the police—my mother said when I pointed him out, "Oh yes, so it is"—all the men were strangars to me.
GEORGE WRIGHT (Police Sergeant H). I took Jones into custody on the 27th October—I received information five days after the robbary—I saw Mr. and Mrs. Cadwell, and they gave me description of the four men—I said to Jones, "I want you for being concerned with others in breaking into No. 8, Fashion Street. Spitalfields, on the morning of the 13th"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station—Mr. and Mrs. Cadwell and the little girl were fetched—Jones was placed with 11 others—Mrs. Cadwell walked directly up, and pointed Jones out—she said "That is the man who was loading the clothes in the sack," the husband also identified Jones momentarily—the daughter pointed to a
man named Early, who was called in from the street—she said "That looks like the man who came to borrow the sack"—the mother said "Yes, it does look like one"—Jones said "I can account for where I was on the 12th or 13th"—I do not think that is in the depositions—on the 13th November the three Cadwells came again—Shaw was placed with about 10 others—Mr. Cadwell pointed out a man who burst his door open—I said "You had better summons him"—he then walked up to Shaw and said, "This is the man I saw with the coats"—Shaw made a remark which I could not catch—there was no likeness between Early and Shaw—the Cadwells have been subjected to great annoyance since the occurrence.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. Jones was the only other person charged with the robbery, besides Shaw—I took a man named Meddings for stealing a watch—he was put in this row—he was not charged with stealing the coats—a man named Jenkins was charged with stealing the coats—he was put in the row, the witnesses failed to pick him out—three or four constables were in the row—the inspector did not say "Look at the man," but after the woman looked he said "Touch the man," and she touched him—I do not remember his saying "Now look again"—I know Early well—seven persons were called in from the street—there was a fat man without a cap—he was not picked out, he came to identify a man who took his watch—Shaw was picked out on the second occasion.
GEORGE ABLE (Police Inspector). I was present on the 27th October when Mr. and Mrs. Cadwell came and identified Jones from nine or ten men—when the daughter came in, she went to a man named Early, and said "This looks like the man that tried to borrow a sack"—Mrs. Cadwell said "Yes, it does look like the man."
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I was not present when Shaw was picked out—Jenkins, Jones, and Meddings were in the row when Jones was picked out—I do not remember saying "Look again"—I might, because two were brought in on suspicion.
WILLIAM THICK (Detective H). I was at Commercial Street Station on Saturday, the 13th November—I saw Shaw in custody on the charge of burglary at 8, Fashion Street—Mrs. Cadwell came in and picked him out; then her husband picked him out—Shaw said "Yes, he Knows me living in the lodging-house"—I was also present on the Sunday morning when the little girl came—Shaw was one of six men—she picked him out—he said "Oh yes, she knows me, as they lived in the same lodging-house"—I asked Shaw if he had any witness he wished me to call at the Court on Monday—he said "No, I have not; there were 26 coats got and thrown into the yard; the people who stole them had 22, the two witnesses who are coming against me had the other four to square them"—Cadwell's house is about five yards from the house in Fashion Street, the yards meet each other—they are in different parishes—I believe there are two rooms downstairs in Cadwell's house; there, is a low wall leading to Fashion Court, and a passage leads into the yard—the low wall separates Cadwell's house from the court—the passage is at right angles to and leads to the rear of the house.
ANN CADWELL (Examined). When the man came to borrow the sack I said I had no sack to lend, and dashed the door to because I was frightened they would murder me—it was when I was emptying the slops the second time.
Shaw's Defence. The little girl knew, me at the lodging-house—I
heard the detective say about 22 coats being left in the yard when the witness went out and I was told by three or four people that they took four coats and put under the bed.
SHAW also PLEADED GUILTY**† to a convicton of felony in February, 1878, at the Guildhall, Westminster, and JONES**† to a conviction of felony in February, 1879, at Clerkenwell.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
FOURTH COURT.—Saturday, November 27th, 1880.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSES. KEITH FRITH
and FILLAN Defended.
EDWARD MCORE . I am a fruiterer and greengrocer, of 153, Cleveland Street, Fitzroy Square—I left my place on Monday morning, the 2nd November, at about 7.30—I occupy the first floor—I returned at 2 o'clock on Tuesday morning—when I left home everything was safely locked up in drawers and two cash boxes—there was about 4l. 11s. in silver, and 4l. 13s. worth of penny postage-stamps, and a quantity of jewellery, including 16 or 17 rings, 16 or 17 brooches, earrings, and other articles—when I went into my room it was dark, and I fell over my clothes, which were thrown across the room, and the window was open—I went down and called a policeman, who came up; I got a light and found all my property gone; six drawers had been broken open—I found a chisel and a knife on the table—the prisoner had previously worked for me—I went to the station and gave information, and went to Clark's house the next morning, where I saw him and two young women—I said to dark "I was robbed of a double set of harness last night; you were round there last night, do you know anything about them?" he says "No;" I said "Who last was round there?" he said "I don't know;" I said "Yes you do, you were in the fish shop at 12 o'clock, you know;" he said "My brother was round there, and Wiggins and Sadler;" I said "We will go and see Mr. Wiggins, where can we find him?" he said "I don't know, we might find him in the bread shop"—I went there in a cab and found Wiggins and one of my men in the shop—"I looked Wiggins up, and Clark and I went away in the cab to a place in the Theobald's Road, his brother's—his brother was in bed—he says to his brother "Here is Mr. Moore wants to see you"—he woke up and says "What have you brought him here for?" Clark says "I don't know, he wanted to see you, and I brought him here," and I said to his brother "You ought to be ashamed of yourself to do what you have done for me; you turned my place over last night while I was away; I have locked Wiggins up, and he has rounded on you in the station-house; you may as well tell me all about it and where my stuff is, and I won't turn a policeman on you"—I stayed there for a considerable time, and had a cup of tea with them—up came Bullock, and I said "Sadler?" and he said "No"—I said "You turned my place over while I was away last night;" he says "How do you know I did?" I said I had locked Wiggins up, "he has turned round on you and told me you done it, or else how should I
know where to find you?"—he said "We will take you where your stuff is;" I said "That is all I want"—they took me to a public-house in the Strand—Sadler says "I will go and see if I can see the man"—I said "I will wait here a quarter of an hour"—he went away for half an kour and I followed him—he went to a place in the Strand, and I went to the place, and they said he was not at home—I said I would wait for him, and waited for an hour—I then came back to the same public-house, where I afterwards saw Sadler and Clark—Sadler said Bullock was not in, but he would be back in half an hour or an hour—I waited there for a little while and Bullock came in—they spoke to him quietly, and he came in to me and said "Yon have acted like a man; you don't mean to tell the police; you ought to hate had this stuff back, but it cost me 16l., you cannot expect me to be 16l. out for you;" I said "Certainly not, this stuff belongs to my relatives, and I value it more than anything; I will give you 16l. or 20l. out of my own pocket"—I put down 16l.; he took it up and put it in his pocket, and went away for an hour—he said "Who will come for it?" I said "I will;" he said "No, you cannot;" I said "The boy (Clark) will go," and he went away and brought me some stuff back—he turned round and said "You have got 100l. worth of stuff there, don't grumble;" I said "All right, I don't grumble, wait till I see it"—he went round to another public-house and sits down, in the back parlour and opened it and looted at it, and seeing it was not what I wanted, I said to Bullock "I want a large gold watch, a diamond ring set with three diamonds, and a nugget pin and another nag set with three emeralds"—he said "You cannot have them unless I have another 8l.;" I said "I am not going to be made a fool of and be messed about by you, I shall turn a policeman on you;" and I jumped into a cab and gave information to the police—I saw Bullock again when I was jumping out of a cab the game night at 12 o'clock—I went back to the public-house the same night; when I get outside the public-house I saw Bullock and two or three often in a cab; he jumped out of one sitter, and the sergeant laid hold of him and brought him into the public—Clark came in and said "Do not do anything wrong; here is your stuff," and he pulled out my watch and diamond ring—Bullock was taken to the station and dark was let off—I kept him in my employ for a few days—I told him he had better have some supper and go home, and see me to morrow morning—he came, and he was taken into custody—I did not give him into custody—I should never hare got this stolen property except for him—I do not believe he had anything to do with it.
Cross-examined. I was very much upset at the police-court, and cannot swear that I laid ail that I have here; it was such a shock to me—I was convicted of stealing a piece of beef 15 years ago—I was led into bad company—I gave up my bad company then; I have never been charged with felony since—I have several ponies, and I have been a little elated, and have left my pony—I have not been charged with lead stealing—I came into an estate worth 20,000l. only three weeks ago—the rings have been left me by my relatives; Mrs. Mackie was one, from the Castle, Camberwell; she is dead—she did not leave me the things by will; I was second skin (next of kin)—she kept a large public-house—I do not know where she got them from—her son is here from New Zealand, and can swear to three parts of the property—I knew Clark by his working for me—I did not know Sadler—Clark knew I had the rings; he was up
at my place a fortnight before, and I put two or three rings on my fingers and said "How do you like the look of them?"—he was my clerk, with 60 women shelling peas—I paid him up every morning—I gave him a glass of port wine; that was three weeks before he saw the rings—I had not lost a double set of harness when I went to Clark and told him so—if I had told him I had been robbed of this property perhaps I should not have got any clue—I have not given evidence for the police—I told Clark that I had lost the jewellery, when I had locked Wiggins up—I was down in his room about an hour, and when Bullock came in I thought he was Sadler, and I said "I have locked Wiggins up; he has rounded on you at the station-house"—he said "We will rip him up with a b—knife"—I heard Clark give his statement of how it occurred—he said that his brother and Sadler and Wiggins were determined to rob me, and that Wiggins said "We will rollick old Moore up to-night"—they knew me; I did not know Wiggins—I have seen him in the shop with a trustworthy man employed there—I had known Clark's parents for years—I did not suspect that his brother had anything to do with it until they told me all about it, and I said "Take me to where the stuff is, and let me have it"—I told his brother "I do not want to hurt you, but let me have my stuff and I won't turn a policeman on you"—Sadler did not say at a public-house in Seven Dials "Stop, and I will go and fetch your stuff"—he said "I will go and see the man who has got your stuff," and he left the public-house and I followed him into a place in the Strand—I offered 20l., if they would fetch my stuff back—I did not say to Clark and Sadler that I would give them 20l.; I told Bullock so—I had not offered him any reward before he said he would get the stuff back—Bullock said "The stuff cost me 16l."—Bullock did not say that 16l. had been given for it, and that I could not have the gold watch, that was smashed up.
Re-examined. I turned the things on the floor and said there was nothing there of mine—I have never been charged since my conviction except for being drunk.
ALFRED BROWN (Policeman E). I went on the 2nd November to the prosecutor's house, 153, Cleveland Street, and from inquiries I made I Went to a public-house in Castle Street with the prosecutor and Sergeant Salmon, where I saw Bullock in company with three other men in a cab—one of them was Sadler—two of them jumped out and ran away—I asked Bullock to get out of the cab, and as soon as he got out the prosecutor said, "I give him into custody for stealing my jewellery; I gave you 8l. to get this back; now you see I have turned copper"—Bullock went into the public-house before I got hold of him, and there I saw dark—he attempted to hand the prosecutor this gold watch and diamond ring—I took mem from him and said, "Where did you got this from?"—he said, "From a strange man in the street"—I then took him to the Tottenham Court Road Police-station—I searched him and found five contract notes, a diamond ring, 1l. 10s. in gold, 1l. 2s. in silver, some coppers, and a Bank of Engraving note on him—he said nothing in answer to the charge—I have since tried to find Sadler, but have not been able—Clark was taken to the police-station at that time, but not charged—subsequently the case was handed over to the Public Prosecutor, and I received certain directions, and I took Clark in custody outside the Green Man in Euston Road—I told him I should take him into custody
for being concerned with others in stealing jewellery from Mr. Moore in Cleyeland Street—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station—at the police-court Clark said, "This watch and ring were given to me by Bullock."
Cross-examined. That was before going before the Magistrate—I do not know at that time whether he had gone to Moore's house—Bullock remained in the cab when the other two ran away—I have not got all the stolen jewellery; there is about 100l. worth missing, and a large gold watch—the contract notes found on Bullock had nothing to do with the stolen property—I had known Bullock before—I did not hear that Clark's brother had stolen some of the things—I did not look for him.
EMILY WALKER . I am a widow, of 28, Bolsover Street, and housekeeper to Mr. Moore—I had the key of the door of the front room, and on the 1st November I was at his house from 12 until 2.30 p.m., and left everything safe—I took the key away with me when I left, having locked the door.
Clark, in his Statement before the Magistrate, denied any participation in the robbery, and alleged that the only part he took in the matter was to assist the prosecutor in recovering hit property.
CLARK— NOT GUILTY .
BULLOCK**— GUILTY of receiving.—Judgment Respited.
OLD COURT.—Monday, Nov. 29th and Tuesday, Nov. 30th, 1880.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
Mr. WADDY, Q.C., with MR. GORST, Q.C., and MR.O'BRIEN, Prosecuted; MR. MALONEY Defended.
ALEXANDER MARTIN SULLIVAN . I am Member of Parliament for the county of Meath—I have lived in London for four years past, and practise as a barrister at the English bar—I was formely the proprietor of several newspapers in Dublin, among others the Nation and the Weekly News—I edited the Nation—I was proprietor of the Weekly News, not the editor—in 1875 I practically ceased to have any connection with journalism; but absolutely and legally I entirely severed my connection with journalism in 1876, and I have had nothing to do with it from that day to this—that was the year when I was called to the Irish bar, and it was because of that I thought it right to cease to have anything to do with political journalism—I first became a member of the British Parliament in March, 1874—I was then elected for the county of Louth, in Ireland—Mr. Philip Callan, the defendant, was on that occasion elected as my colleague—he had at the same election been elected for Dundalk, the capital town of that county—he elected to sit for Dundalk, and I had another colleague elected, Mr. George Harley Kirk, and we sat together as members for the county of Louth during the remainder of that Parliament—I was called to the English bar in 1877, to the Irish bar in 1876—from the time when I was called to the English bar I have resided in London, and practised as an English barrister—when Parliament was dissolved in the spring of the present year I was made aware of the fact
that a resolution was come to by the Home Rule Executive Committee as to the course they should adopt in the elections—I am not a member of that Committee—after the dissolution of Parliament was announced, I received a very strong request from the Executive Committee that I should give all the influence which they thought I could exercise to assist them in certain places in organising the Irish voters—in reply to that request I undertook to do so, expressly in certain places which were named, and which I think I made a pencil note of at the time, and added that upon actual application from other places I would see what I could do, but would not bind myself—Devonport was not one of the places mentioned, either to me or by me on that occasion—I had never heard of Devonport all my life in connection with Irish politics—the borough of Devonport was never mentioned to me during the election, in fact I heard nothing about it until alter these proceedings commenced—at the general election last March I was a candidate for my old constituency of Louth with my colleague Mr. Kirk, we agreed to stand or fall together—my opponent at the last moment was Mr. Callan—he had been canvassing for a year before, but he publicly announced his candidature on Easter Sunday evening; that was before he was defeated for Dundalk, before any election had taken place—after Mr. Callan had become a candidate in opposition to myself and Mr. Kirk I made a public declaration with reference to what I would do if Mr. Callan were returned; I stated that I would not sit if Mr. Kirk were sacrificed, under the circumstances I then named—I am quite ready to explain my reasons for that declaration if I am asked—on 9th April I was elected member for Louth with Mr. Callan as my colleague, Mr. Callan being at the head of the poll by about sixty or seventy votes, and Mr. Kirk some hundreds of votes below, at the bottom—the moment the result reached me (I had crossed over to London while the counting of the votes was going on) I immediately placed my application for the Chiltern Hundreds in the hands of my committee in Louth, in fulfilment of my word; that application was sent in by my committee I think towards the end of May—that was after I had become a candidate for Meath—after the general election was over one of the seats at Meath became vacant; I was publicly invited to accept the seat, and after some interchange of views I consented, and I was elected without opposition—it was while I was a candidate for the representation of Meath that I saw the article in the Irishman on Saturday evening, 8th May—at that time I had been publicly announced as a candidate for Meath; a committee had been formed in the county, and were prosecuting the matter there—this is the article, beginning "Who is the culprit?" (The alleged libel was put in and read; in substance it stated that Mr. Sullivan had received pecuniary assistance from a Conservative member of the Carlton in order to secure is election for Louth,) I read that article on the very day that it was nominally published—I was then in London, at my residence at Clapham—as soon as I read it I instantly telegraphed to Dublin to my brother to state that there was not a shadow of foundation for this, and that by post I would send instructions to commence a criminal prosecution—Mr. Richard Piggott, the proprietor and publisher of the Irishman, was the gentleman against whom the proceedings were to be taken—criminal proceedings were taken against him on my motion, and he ultimately appeared on 27th May at the Police-court, Dublin, to answer my summons—those proceedings
were published in all the Irish papers, and in most of the London papers—Mr. Piggott on that occasion made an ample apology and paid my costs—I told my counsel that I insisted on presenting myself for cross-examination in the witness-box in order that the whole matter might be "tilted; I went into the box and offered myself for cross-examination, and denied on oath that there was a shadow of foundation for the statement Which had been made—in consequence of what took place on that occasion Mr. Piggott handed me the original telegram from which his article had been concocted, what we call the post-office flimsy—this is it (produced)—this was handed to me as the MS. from which the article had been printed—this flimsy does not disclose the name of the author—I applied to the Post-office in London for a sight of the original message sent by the author of the telegram, and I was granted it, on receiving an authorisation from Mr. Piggott—this is it (produced)—I am perfectly familiar with the handwriting of this telegram—I recognised it immediately, without looking at the back—the whole of it is in the defendant's handwriting—on the back are two signatures in the defendant's handwriting, "M. Brennan, 12, Claverton Street, St. George's Street, London"—that is rubbed out and over it is Mr. Philip Callan's signature in his own handwriting—it was on 9th june that I saw this telegram, and on that same day I applied for a summons—it was not granted then, the Magistrate required the production of the telegram, and on 16th June he granted the summons—up to the 9th June which I saw the telegram at the Post-office I did not know who was the author of the libel—the case was ultimately heard at Bow Street on 2nd July—on that occasion Mr. Callan said that he was anxious and eager to justify what he had said; he said he longed for the hour—his Counsel said it certainly, and I rather think lie said it himself, but I am not sure; I beg pardon, Ms solicitor said that—he himself undertook to admit that he sent the telegram, so as to save the necessity of proving it, and he made some observation, I really should not like positively to say what, but the impression on my mind was that he said something corroborating what his solicitor said—I have through my wife a connection with New Orleans, in America; in 1879 I had a large sum of money lying to my credit in a bank at New Orleans in the hands of our agent there, stated By himself to have been collected by him and held for us, quite private property—I am acquainted in the House of Commons with Mr. Puleston, the member for Devonport—I am happy to say that persons on the opposite sides of the House have personal friendships, and I hope it will be always so—Mr. Puleston is a Conservative, but a private friend—I made an application to Mr. Puleston with reference to this money of mine at New Orleans, because I was informed that the banking house of Puleston, Brown, and Co., which is an American banking house, had a branch in New Orleans, and I thought that what I required to have done could only be effectually done through a house having an actual branch there—Mr. Puleston has resided for a considerable part of his life in America, and has been a banker there; he is the head of the firm—my application to him was that I wanted to draw on this money; I wanted to lodge an order of ten or twenty days after sight, I forget which, on my agent, who is a member of our family—perhaps it is desirable that I should state that at New Orleans we had joint securities, in which the agent's share was charged to us for any indebtedness to the
estate—the ultimate arrangement was this,. Mr. Puleston said, "You are under a mistake, our house has no branch there, but if you do not want a large sum we may manage it for you here readily; how much do you want?"—I said "200l. or 300l."—he said "Oh, pooh, pooh, never mind your sight order, or your securities; send us up, or "send me up, your own note of hand for what you want; our manager shall put it to your credit;, if you get the money when, it cornea due well and good; if it is inconvenient let me know"—that, was how he put it, and that was how it was done—this conversation, took place at, the end of May, 1878—about eight or ten days after I did as, Mr. Puleston said; I sent him my note—I have it here; he put it to my credit in his banking house, and it was paid immediately at maturity at my own private bank on 10th October, 1879—250l. was the amount of the bill—owing to a circumstance which I believe I can, explain there was only a sum of 200l. put to my credit—Mr. Puleston put the sum to my credit less the discount en 200l.—it was a purely business transaction on my part, and I believe on his—we never exchanged a word about the Irish vote in Devonport in any shape or form, except that since these proceedings commenced he chaffed me, and told me he believed that there were not more than a dozen Irishmen there—I am perfectly ready to give any explanation on the various matters alleged in the plea—there is not a shadow of truth in the insinuation in the libel that there was any kind of understanding between myself and Mr. Puleston respecting the Devonport election; and until after these proceedings had commenced, and I heard Mr. Puleston named at the police-court, I was-not even able to imagine who the Conservative member could be who was alluded to in the libel.
Cross-examined. I have not had similar business transactions with, other Conservative members—there may be other Conservative members, connected with the bank, I really do not recollect; I am certain. I had not last spring—I really cannot recollect that I ever had another bill transaction with a Conservative member; when I read in the libel that a Conservative member had supplied the money which carried my election in Louth on a corrupt understanding, I could not imagine to whom it referred, for there was no such person in existence—I have not said that I never had any other bill transaction with a Conservative member, but I have said, and I say it now, that I really do not remember; I may have had, but I am very certain that I had none last spring—when I was asked at the police-court if there was any transaction to which I could possibly imagine this referred, I answered "No"—the thing was finished and done with on 10th October 12 months, and I was not iron that date to the present, nor ever before, under an obligation, of a penny or a penny's worth to Mr. Puleeton, consequently I could not imagine to whom it referred—I was in business in Dublin for two years since my election in 1874, and unless there was some Conservative connected with a banking house. I have not been under any pecuniary obligation to any Conservative M.P., or any Liberal-Conservative; of course, I have had bill transactions, with banking houses; not with any Liberal-Conservative in his private and individual capacity since 1874; I really cannot, recollect—(looking at a paper) I have not had a bill transaction with this gentleman; I think the gentleman's name should be mentioned, Sir Joseph McKenna—I did not recognise him as a Conservative or a Tory—I practically ceased any connection with journalism in 1876—since
that time I have not been connected with the Press Association—I have performed for Mr. Saunders, of the Central News, a personal friend of mine of many years' standing, certain duties from time to time, not altogether literary—I did not send any despatches in connection with the Louth election, or the Cork election, to the Freeman's Journal in any shape or form—I began my connection with journalism in 1853; I was connected with the Nation in 1854 as a contributor, and in 1855 up to 1876 as either part or whole proprietor of the Nation and several other publications, the Weekly News and the Morning News—those are said to be National papers in Ireland—before I became connected with the press I was engaged as an artist on illustrated newspapers—while engaged on the Great Exhibition of 1853 in Dublin as artist for the Illustrated Expositor. I made the acquaintance of some gentlemen, men of fortune, who knew my father when he was better off than he was then; they took me by the hand, and they told me if an opening ever occurred whereby capital could advance me, not to hesitate, and they would assist me, and they did; a share in the Nation newspaper became vacant soon after; I had, meantime, been contributing to some London journals, one directed by the late Charles Dickens, and others; and assisted by that capital, those friends have ever since been my best and dearest friends—in 1862 a company was unfortunately got up in connection with the Morning News—I don't recollect that I wrote a letter inviting Mr. Callan to join; it is likely I did—this letter is my writing (This was a request to Mr. Callan to have his name put on the directors' list)—that company was wound up, I think, two or three years afterwards; they never succeeded in raising enough capital—I did not obtain pecuniary assistance from Mr. Callan soon after that—this letter is my writing. (This stated: "Might I ask you to put my acceptance through your bank for personal convenience and obligation to myself, which I will acknowledge as cash?") This is a matter which I am bound to explain; that application related to this transaction; the registration of the company occupied some time, the secretary informed me that Mr. Callan had undertaken to take some shares to a certain amount, and to forward the money at once; I wrote to him that owing to the legal delays which had supervened would he on the part of the proprietors let me send him my acceptance for the amount which he undertook to take in shares, and it would be allowed to him as cash in the formation of the company—Mr. Callan became member for Dundalk in 1868—I believe his father died a year or two before and left him some property in Louth county—I believe his family had been connected with Louth a long time—this letter is my writing (This was marked "Private," and merely dated Thursday, and referred to a meeting to arrange matters, and to a temporary advame of 300l. on lodging the writer's acceptance in his (defendant's) bank)—at this time my newspapers circulated pretty extensively in Louth County and in Dundalk—most people think that the Nation and the Weekly News have considerable influence on the electoral body—the Government occasionally honour those papers by a little looking after; it is bound to do so—up to 1874 I did all I possibly could for Mr. Callan in every way—I spoke in public, and I believed it implicitly, in commendation of his manly and patriotic course in Parliamentary affairs. Q. In 1870 you induced Mr. Callan, did you not, to guarantee you in the National Bank for 500l.?—A. That is the transaction referred to in
the last letter, and which I took in the shape of a guarantee from him; I required some capital for a new business enterprise which we were then entering into; that guarantee I required for two or three years, but thought it better to have it renewable within shorter periods, and it was so renewed by Mr. Callan for shorter periods; in 1874 it was current, and circumstances having come to my knowledge which caused me to alter my opinion of Mr. Callan, I felt it would be unworthy of me to allow the guarantee to remain in force; I accordingly went to the bank and stated that I would pay it up, and I paid off the guarantee, tore it up, and threw it into my waste-paper basket—I think it had been renewed two or three times, once every 12 months, I thought it was oftener, he all the while being member for Dundalk; I believe he had great influence there, and in the county of Louth in 1873—he did not introduce me to the county; he was very anxious that I should stand for the county—I do not come from that county, but I do not need an introduction to any one of the 32 counties in Ireland—I went there in 1874 to oppose Mr. Chichester Fortescue, a Government official—I do not produce the letters from Mr. Callan to me in reference to the 1874 election—I have not brought anything but what I thought was germain to this inquiry—I never quarrelled with Mr. Callan until quite recently—this letter (produced) is my writing; I state in this, "If any Government official seeks election in Louth, if I see no better man to be found I will enter the field"—Mr. Chichester Fortescue was then sitting for the county, and was about to contest it again—I never asked Mr. Callan to obtain a Government berth for a friend of mine from Mr. Fortescue—this is my telegram. Produced and read; "Sept. 15, 1870. Vacant by death of Gerald Gray; I am working my best for Gallagher, of the Freeman; will you, like a good fellow, help him, all you can? in the gift of Chi.") "Chi" is Chichester Fortescue—I will explain this; I was a member of the Corporation at the time; the district auctioneers in Dublin are quasi-municipal officers; the Corporation appoint some, they think they ought to appoint all, but the Government, or rather the Chief Secretary, has something to do with the appointment of one, independent of what the Corporation might have done; the Corporation were very anxious that Mr. Gallagher should get it, and accordingly that telegram was sent; I had quite forgotten it; that is my explanation of it; it only shows that when a man tries to be good-natured he had better have a good memory—the value of the office was about 200l. or 300l. a year—I cannot recollect authorizing a letter to be sent that same day asking that influence should be used for another person; I am sure I did not—in 1874 Mr. Callan contested Dundalk with Mr. Charles Russell; in 1880 be again contested Dundalk with Mr. Charles Russell—Mr. Cullan lrmt his election on the last occasion; it took place on 2nd April—before 1874 I had urged Mr. Callan to give up the corrupt borough of Dundalk, inasmuch as he had told me he had nearly beggared himself in. bribing the voters to get into Parliament; I urged him to go to his native county; that was before the election of 1874, and I said I would help him all I could—having been beaten for Dundalk in 1880 he immediately started for his native county; I then stated, "I declare before Heaven I will not sit with him if Mr. Kirk is sacrificed under these circumstances"—a good deal had happened before I said that, in the course of the election, and I am ready to state why I said it—I accused Mr. Callan publicly of treachery under these circumstances
and with this explanation; I made certain statements, and selected the most fair and straightforward and responsible mode I could invent for saying so, so that he should hold me accountable for wrong, and so that I might make the amender to him if he denied them and if I was mistaken—what I said in the heat of an election meeting in defending my seat I can't say—subsequent to the election I wrote this letter to my committee, placing my application for the Chiltern Hundreds in their hands. (Read: "If the high honor of a seat in Parliament were an object of great anxiety to me the result might well call for the expression of thanks and gratification on my part; nor would it be otherwise if the gentleman offered to me as a colleague, whatever his politics were, was a reputable public character. In the present case, however, by putting such a man as Mr. George Harley Kirk at the foot of the poll, and such a man at Mr. Philip Callan at the head of it, a section of the constituency has succeeded in bringing black disgrace on your gallant county. Before 24 hours a shout of shame will resound all over Ireland. Throughout the recent contest I flung aside all considerations for my own seat, and my every effort was directed to averting the foul and unmanly blow leveled at Mr. Kirk.") I wrote that letter, and I felt that the statement I had to make was one not to be lightly made, and that I ought to put it forward in such a way as would compel him to take notice of it if there were not grounds for it, and that I ought to sign my name like a man to the letter, and take the consequences—a petition was lodged against Mr. Callan's return for the county, not at my instigation—I assisted in the petition, and would have done anything to enable my friend, Mr. Kirk, to recover his seat—there were grounds for my doing so, which I am ready to state at any time—during the fortnight or three weeks, that elapsed after the election, a correspondence went on in the public press in which I took part, with Sir Joseph McKenna, in reference to a statement I had made—it is likely that I wrote on 3rd May accusing Mr. Cellan of "a guilty and secret intrigue to stab another Home Ruler in the back, if the Goverment would provide the funds," and for this reason, a fact having been brought to my knowledge which I felt it to be my duty to put candidly before Mr. Callan; I stated that he had applied to a member of the Government secretly to give him the means of thrusting me out of Louth, and I characterised it then, as I do now, as a secret and guilty intrigue—I thought the honest way was to put it forward publicly in print in the Freeman's Journal with my name to it, thinking that Mr. Callan would deny it if it were not true—that appeared in the Freeman of 4th May—the libel of which I complain appeared in the Irishman on 8th May, anonymously—rumours of a dissolution began immediately the Ministry was formed, there had been rumours of it for three or four years; nobody seemed to attach great weight to them—I have not sees Mr. Puleston to-day, I should think he is about the Court, for I heard he was to be subpœnaed; I had intended to subpoena him myself—I told Mr. Waddy that Mr. Puleston was a friend of mine, I have not dined at his house—I met him at dinner at a mutual friend's house—I had not a slight acquaintance with him in 1879—if it was merely a friendship matter I should not have called on him, but being a business matter I did—I am proud to say that some of my dearest friends are Conservatives—this is the first I have heard of Mr. Puleston acting with the support of the Conservative party—we will not call that a purely business transaction—it
was not impurely—it was in the House of Commons that I first named this loan matter to Mr. Puleston, I asked him to look at the securities and put two of them in his hands, they were titled certificates—they had not been mortgaged—he never said he would not touch them, he returned them to me, saying, "Pooh, pooh, send me your note of hand"—they were titled certificates of real estates in America, with joint names of the agents which was stated on the face of them—that was one of the interests, and he said the estate was charged for the indebtedness, and he had an interest in those estates, they were charged to us to cover any advance of money—he came to me a day after and said, "You are under a mistake; if it is not much you want I can manage it"—I knew the name of Mr. Puleston's firm Puleston and Brown—I knew after the bill was paid that the name on the back of it was not that of Mr. Puleston's firm, but not before—I never dreamt that when I accepted the bill—there was no signature, I accepted it first and sent it to him—the name of the firm was not then on it, nor any other name; I put it in an envelope, addressed it, and sent it to him—I understood Puleston, Brown, and Co. to be bankers—it was a blank acceptance—I saw the name on the book some time after the bill was paid—I said I would lodge it with the agent in New Orleans for him to pay 10 or 12 days after sight if he would immediately put the amount to my credit here, I being responsible to him in the interval—that was a bill at four months—I discovered some time afterwards that that was not discounted by the firm—the bankers are the South-Western Banking Company, and were then—I did not see the bill for a good while afterwards—I saw Mr. Lever's name on the bill with astonishment—it seems that it was paid away to Mr. Lever and paid by him to Hammond and Co., and finally it seems to Tuttle, Banbury, and Co., but it was a perfect surprise to me—all the transactions were settled in October; there was a balance of 50l. to my credit, and I drew it on 3rd or 4th January this year—as to any balance of 2s. 6d. to my credit I thought I had drawn it all out—in the beginning of this year I asked Mr. Puleston for accommodation, but not of that kind, I asked him to do what he said he would do at a future time—I never applied to him in the House of Commons—either the last week in December or the first week in January I called his attention to an error on his part in the fact that the bill was drawn for 250l., and only 197l. was placed by his manager to my credit—I wrote to him to say "There is that error, so you ought to have something to my credit at the end of the year. I may require a hundred or two more"—Mr. Puleston answered that from America, and said "All right, I will be at home at Christmas"—at the end of the year I wrote to remind him of what I had said, and by that time, in looking up my bank vouchers and bills, I found this bill, and, to my astonishment, on the back of it the names, which showed me that it had not been paid, as the manager's letter had led me to believe, to my credit, but it had been paid away to others—I wrote to Mr. Puleston, and he said that he should be soon home from America, he could not do it then, but at a future time he would; I connected that with the fact that my bill had been paid away to others, and then I determined that I never would apply again or avail myself of his kind offer, and I never did—I wrote to him in January, asking him for accommodation in the sense that I have now narrated—I wrote to tell him that he had 50l. or 55l. of mine owing to this misapprehension. I can give you the date when Mr. Puleston refused
this; this is his letter, written on his arrival from America. (This stated, "I have placed 49l. 4s. 2d. to your credit; having been absent so long I cannot do the new bill, but I hope to serve you again.") I did not know that the old bill had been done by Mr. Lever; it was paid away by the gentleman himself to Mr. Lever—I do not know that he went to Mr. Lever to discount it, or to get a second bill done, I never had a shadow of suspicion of it—I gave up my connection with the Nation and the Weekly News practically in 1875 or 1876; they are in my brothers' hands—one brother is proprietor and the other has an office of responsibility in the Nation and the Weekly News—those papers circulate among Irish electors in England—I have brought an action for libel before; I laid my damages at 3,000l. and got sixpence—this paper (produced) must be a leaf or a couple of leaves taken out of the volume of the newspaper of 1858. (MR. WADDY contended that this was inadmissible, but lest it should be said that the witness had kept anything back, waived his objection; passages in the document were then marked and handed to the Court). In 1868 I was convicted in Dublin of malicious libel, and underwent imprisonment for it—I criticized the candidate for Long ford in the election of 1870—I am responsible for an article on that election in a newspaper on 1st January, 1870, whoever wrote it—if there is an article which says "Who is the other candidate, his father's son?" I am responsible for it, but it is very unlikely that I wrote it—this is a copy of the Nation of 8th July, 1876, but I never saw this list or any list like it—I never heard of a branch of the Home Rule Confederation at Devonport—I do not know that this is in the writing of Mr. Oliver, the late secretary—I was not applied to to use my influence in reference to the last election; Mr. Barry called on me, and I took down a few places on an odd scrap of paper—I did not go to Sheffield, though I was asked—I did go there to organise Irish matters; I went to York also; I was at Liverpool the other day at Lord Ramsay's election, and I have been there several times; I never took part in the organisation of Irish matters at Liverpool—upon the invitation of the committee I went there to address public meetings; it was all about Irish matters—I spoke at Southwark about the election of candidates; I hit out as hard as I could all round—I did not go to Devonport during the election—since 1879 I have not written anything in reference to the Devonport election, or exchanged a line with anybody in or about Devonport; it is a place with which I never was concerned—I have been concerned in elections in twelve or fifteen different parts of England.
Re-examined. I was tried in 1868 for an article in a paper of which I was not the editor, at a time of terrible public excitement; I never heard the articles and never read them till I was at the police-court, but I felt that I was bound to suffer for them, and I never raised the plea, but I had no more to do with writing them than a child unborn—I did not choose directly or indirectly the places to which I went or the objects of the Home Rule Confederation; I stated the reasons why I declined to go anywhere except on the express request of the parties, or to interfere or meddle in any way unless called upon to do so—it was in 1874 that the facts occurred which made me withdraw from Mr. Callan's friendship—I avoided any conflict; I simply retired—the first thing I heard in 1880 with regard to Mr. Callan's interference with me was the appearance in the Freeman's Journal of a telegram from Drogheda, saying that Mr.
Callan had passed through that night, and that he intended to attack the seats of Louth with money to be sent to him from England—I do no know whether Mr. Callan is an elector for Meath.
FRANCES SUSAN BLONT . I am engaged in the telegraph office in Charles Street, Haymarket—I produce a telegram which was sent to the Irishman newspaper last May; it is "From one unknown"—it is Customary to ask the sender to write his name on the back when anonymous telegrams are sent.
Cross-examined. It was sent at the press rate; I took it in myself.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
WILLIAM JOHN OLLIVER . I was secretary last year to the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain—I resigned about the end of January or the beginning of February, but I did the duties some time" afterwards, and ceased just on the eve of the general election—there is a branch of the confederation at Devonport—I know Plymouth and Devonport very well; they adjoin like London and South Wark—Mr. Callan asked me for a list, which I supplied to him; this is it—it is in my writing while I was secretary. (The Court considered that the list was not evidence.)
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. Mr. Frank Bum is the present secretary; he became secretary on my ceasing to do the duties, which was, I think, about the middle of March—Mr. Callan had a motion in the House of Commons with reference to the appointment of Catholic chaplains in prisons, and he wanted to obtain some information from different towns as to the treatment of Catholic chaplains in prisons, and as to the number of prisoners, and I supplied him with the list for that purpose—there Was no necessity for me to recognize him as a Home Ruler at all, but of Course I understood him to be one—he is one of the Irish Home Rule Members—I remember a discussion about Mr. Sullivan arriving to oppose the Conservative candidate—I was a member of the Home Rule executive at the time, and was doing the duty of secretary as well.
JOHN HENRY DOYLS . I have been 14 yean principal Parliamentary political correspondent of the Irish Times, and have been 36 years Parliamentary representative of one of the London papers—this (produced) is a copy of the Irish Times of May 4.—(MR. WADDY objected to the reading of a paragraph in the paper, and it was not proceeded with.) There are proceedings now going on against the Irish Times, and there has been a threat of criminal proceedings against me—Mr. Callan did not supply the information for that paragraph, nor do I think I had seen him immediately previous to it—I think he had only just returned a few days before for his own election—I saw him after the paragraph on the Tuesday and again on the Wednesday—no communication passed between us in reference to that paragraph or to that transaction.
Cross-examined. I respectfully decline to answer whether the information contained in the paragraph came from me, subject to your Lordship's ruling—there are proceedings under which 10,000l. damages are laid, and I make the objection and respectfully decline to answer whether I was the author, the writer, or the sender of the paragraph in question—there are criminal proceedings threatened against me—the manager of the Irish Times and the
solictor to the defendant in a civil action brought by Mr. Sullivan informed me that an action was directed against the Irish Times, and that I might be prepared for criminal proceedings—I received that information by word of mouth and by manuscript—I ceased my connection with the Irish Times on 31st July—I should not think the manuscript is still existing—I decline to answer who sent it—there was a name in the corner; I can't tell you more than that—if you had newspaper experience and had 40 or 50 communications coming in to you, many anonymously, you would be aware of the difficulty of answering—two communications came to me in the Irish Times office which led up to this matter—one was signed in the name of Colquhoun—I have no personal knowledge of or acquaintance with the persons who sent those two particular paragraphs—I do not know from whom they came; I only know that they came in the ordinary course of newspaper business with the names of recognized contributors attached to them.
JOHN JOSEPH NEY . I manage the works for Mr. Lever—I called at Mr. Callan's house on Tuesday evening, 4th May, this year—I had seen a good deal of correspondence in reference to the Louth election and the charges brought by Mr. Sullivan against Mr. Callan—I made a communication to Mr. Callan with reference to this bill transaction—Sir Joseph McKenna was there; I think he came in immediately after I arrived.
JOHN ORRIN LEVER . I am Member of Parliament for Galway—I believe I am a Liberal-Conservative; some people call me a stinking old Tory—I was not in the last Parliament—I sat for Galway in two Parliaments prior to that, and would have been elected a third time if I had spent 500l., but I would not pay a penny—I recollect discounting this bill of exchange for 250l.; it is dated 12th June, 1879, payable on 30th September; it was paid on 3rd October, the usual three days' grace—I saw Mr. Puleston about it—I did not see Mr. Callan about it or Mr. Sullivan—I discounted it some time in June—I afterwards parted with it to Hammond and Co., wine merchants and refreshment contractors.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 29th, 1880.
Before Mr. Recorder.
63. JAMES GRADDON was again indicted (See page 73) for feloniously forging And uttering an undertaking for payment of 200l., also stealing a title deed, and to forging and uttering the same. No evidence was offered,
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and PURCELL prosecuted.
JANE STOKES . I live at 17, Sale Street, Paddington—on 23rd September the prisoner engaged a room at my house for the night—her husband and she slept there—the next morning they took it for a week—she brought a child on the Thursday after she had taken the room—I saw the child on the Saturday—it looked very ill—it had a placid look, it could not move—the prisoner was then downstairs—when she came up I said. It ought to have beef-tea"—she said it would not take it, and that
she fed it on milk and eggs—I gave it a biscuit—it could not hold it—it dropped and remained on its chest—later the same evening she came and said the child was dying—it was laid out in front of a large fire—I said, "What makes you think it is dying?"—she said, "Because its feet and legs are swollen"—I said, "Its legs are not larger than a child's ought to look; you had better call in the doctor"—it was lying on the carpet on a bundle of straw in front of the fire—she said it was not any use to call in the doctor—I said, "Oh yes, call in the doctor. Then you must have money to pay him"—Oh yes,"she said, "he has plenty of money at the yard"—I said, "If you are not able to pay you had better take the child to Dr. Waller in Sholdham Street"—she took the child, away and came back tipsy, and said, "The doctor says, like all other doctors, that it may live for a year, or may live six months, or a week, or it may die in an hour"—I said, "What medicine has he given you?"—she said, "Oh, he made a bottle of medicine up, but I was not going to pay eightpence for it"—she said she would take it to the doctor on the Sunday morning, but she never went out till the afternoon—I saw her about 11 o'clock on the Saturday evening—she was tipsy—she had some halfpence to get some beer—she said it was for her husband, but she. drank it herself—she was in my room, standing by the door—she took the child out about the middle of the day on Sunday, when she name home tipsy at night—she was tipsy every day from the Saturday till she was taken in charge—I heard the child cry several times—I heard her heating it and calling it, "Dear, darling Meggie," yet still beating it—the cry was a very unnatural sort of shriek—on the Monday morning I saw her with the child laid upon her shoulder, the way she always carried, it—she said she took it to the doctor and brought back some medicine—I never saw her feed the child—I am surd she never gave it any beef-tea—she said it would not take it on the Wednesday afternoon I saw a soldier come into the house with the prisoner—she was drunk—the child was lying on the little sideboard by the side of the fireplace—there is a recess on each side—the next time I saw the child it was dead—the following day, Thursday, the prisoner was out in the afternoon—the child was locked up in the room for two hours—when she came back she was drunk and very excitable—about 6.30 I heard the child scream, that unnatural sort of noise, and I heard her talking to it—I never heard it after wards—about 7 o'clock I had to go on to the leads—I looked through the window and saw her dressing her hair—she went out—I saw her husband come in—when the door opened I saw the child—a caudle was spoke to the husband—he sent for a doctor—when the room was searched I found the biscuit, which I had given to the child on the Saturday, with some pieces of bread and bacon, and a lot of dry bread and things of that sort—the man slept there the whole time—he worked up to Sunday evening driving a 'bus, and he would go out about 10 o'clock and come back between 12 and 1 o'clock at night—he had no work on the Monday.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You cleaned two small rooms for me, for which I paid you—you did not attend on me on the Saturday—the biscuit I gave the child was not hard, but a nice milk biscuit—you paid 1s. 6d. for the night, and 6s. for the week's lodgings—I went into your room—you
called me in—I could not help seeing into your room when the door was open, and I had only to look round to see the child as it lay behind the door—I told you as you had no fire if you had anything to cook you could cook it at mine—I could not help seeing you going in and out—you were always quarrelling with your husband.
HERBERT JAMES CAPON SAY, M.D . I live at 159, Edgware Road—I was called in by the police to 17, Sale Street, Padding ton, about 9 p.m. on Thursday, 30th September—I found the dead body of a female child about 14 months old—it was warm—it had apparently been dead about an hour—it was on top of a small cupboard or chest of drawers in a recess, and about four feet from the floor—it was laid out and covered with an apron—a bottle of medicine was subsequently handed to me by a policeman—it was a mixture that would be used for diarrhoea—it was about two-thirds full—when given from a dispensary, bottles are not always full—I saw the prisoner—she was intoxicated—by the Coroner's order I made A post-mortem examination on 3rd October, assisted by Mr. Botley—the child's length was 2 ft. 3 in., its weight 8 lb. 1/2 oz.—a child's weight at its birth is about 7 lb. or 8 lb.—this child ought to have been heavier—its abdomen was green from commencing putrefaction—some lice were on the stomach, and some flea bites about the abdomen—the body generally was extremely emaciated; it seemed simply to be bones—there were do marks of external violence—there was no fat whatever under the skin—that would show that the child had been suffering for some time either from some disease of a wasting character, or from neglect as regards food: that it had been starved gradually—on opening the scalp it was blood-lese—on opening the skull, 2 oz. of serum escaped—the stomach was contracted and empty as regards nutrition, but there was about half a tablespoonful of grumous fluid usually found in all stomachs—the intestines were empty from beginning to end, except a small portion of mucous matter in the large bowel as it descends on the left side—I should expect to find traces of solid food if given within two days, and of fluid food within twenty-four hours—I found none whatever—the right lung was contracted and adherent to the chest wall—I should say the cause of death was exhaustion while the child was suffering from inflammation of the lungs and pleurisy, accelerated by neglect and starvation—I mean neglect both as to cleanliness and proper nourishment—there was not the slightest sign of anything in the bowels that would prevent the child taking food.
MATILDA CALCOTT . I am the wife of William Calcutta, a postman, of 24, Burn Street, Marylebone—the prisoner took a back room unfurnished on 23rd August on the same floor as ourselves—she made herself a straw bed; she had the child with her, and continued to occupy that room till 7th September, when I heard her slap the child in the morning—the landlord came between 4 and 5 in the afternoon—she was then tipsy and very much excited; she threw the child on the floor, and said that she was a free woman, and he was to mind the infant, and she would see his superior officer in Scotland Yard—he is a policeman—I took the child into my room and fed it; it fed very ravenously; it was about 15 months old—I afterwards, with a policeman, carried it to Marylebone Workhouse, and it was admitted—the prisoner told me she received 10s. a week from her husband; he used to call and pay it to her—I heard her beat the child two or three or it may be four times while she was there—when she went out at the door with two policemen she was
very excitable and danced in the street, and said that she was a free woman—the child seemed to vomit when I fed her, but she kept the food down.
Cross-examined. I did not see you throw the child on the floor, but I heard you, and went into your room and saw it on the floor; I did not see you beat it, but I repeatedly heard you slap it—I was only in your room once; that was when you called me in, and said that the child was dying.
By the JURY. I live on the same floor, and her door was open as well as mine when I heard the child thrown down—the bed was only straw; the child did not fall on the straw, I found it on the bare floor—there was no bundle there to drop.
THOMAS MCGWYRE (Policeman D 275). I am the landlord of 25, Burn Street—on 23rd August I let the first-floor back to the prisoner—she said "My husband is a 'bus driver, and I come from Liverpool"—I saw her drunk two or three times during the fortnight she was there—I said to her "The child looks very bad, and it seems to me that it wants drink"—I said that from it smacking its lips and looking at me—she said "It is no use giving it anything; I cannot get it to eat or drink anything except eggs and wine"—I asked her again to give it some drink, and she got some water in a teacup, and gave it some in a teaspoon, and it drank several teaspoonfuls—on the afternoon of the 7th I was sent for and found her very drunk in her room, and in the course of conversation she threw the child out of her arms on to the bare floor—I was standing by her; she said, as she went downstairs, that she was a free woman; the child was in my care, and I was to look after it—she was taken in custody that day, and the child was taken first to the station, where the doctor saw it and made an order, and I accompanied it to the workhouse.
Cross-examined. You did not say "If you will not give me satisfaction about the iron bed I shall go to Scotland Yard," but you accused me of stealing a bed—two policemen came, but I cannot say whether you brought them; I believe they brought you—I was not there when you were taken.
MARTHA FORD . I am the superintendent of nurses at Marylebone workhouse—the deceased child was brought there on 27th September, about 8.15—it was moderately clean; the hair was dirty and had vermin in it, and I had it cut—the skin was clean but very much fevered—it was very weak and very hungry—I sent for Dr. Fuller, who gave me some port wine for it, and I gave it some with water, sugar, and arrowroot, which it ate very ravenously and retained it—it remained under my charge till Saturday, the 11th, but the last few days it did not take its food so ravenously—the prisoner took it out on the 11th—it gained strength and flesh under my care—Dr. Fuller gave it no medicine, but. plenty of nourishing food—I have been twenty-five years a nurse, eighteen of them in America, but I never saw a child so thin and miserable—on the same night that she took it out, the 11th, both she and the child were admitted again until the 18th, when they were both discharged—from the 11th to the 18th it continued to improve as before, and the mother took charge of it—on the night of the 19th it was brought again by the police and remained till the 22nd, when the mother took it out again—it was able to take its food during the whole time—Dr. Fuller is too ill to attend here.
Cross-examined. You said that you would suckle it, but you were ordered not—the doctor forbade its having eggs.
GEORGE BURGE (Policeman D 226). On 19th September, about 10.20, I found the prisoner drunk in Jacob's Well Mews, with the child in her arms—I requested her to go away, and she threw it on a dunghill, and behaved in such a violent way that I took her to the station and took the child to the workhouse.
Cross-examined. A bundle of straw was not just where your husband lodges, but there is a heap of stable manure there—you did not say that you were going to clean your dress—you were fined 5s. for being drunk.
JAMES MOORE . I am a pawnbroker's assistant, at 11, Upper George Street—this pawn-ticket is partly torn, but I believe it to be ours—on 29th September a blanket was pledged with me for 2s. 6d. by the prisoner, and I produce the duplicate.
GEORGE CLARK (Police Inspector D). I took the prisoner and told her the charge—she asked me if any communication had been made to Liverpool, as she had been an inmate there four months, where the child had been under a doctor, and also under Drs. O'Connor and Anderson, and it had been given up for dead four times—I said, "That is a long time ago; that has no reference to the present time"—she said, "It has been killed by being taken from the mother and the breast when taken to the workhouse while in London"—I told her she had better not say anything else; what else she had to say she had better say to. the Magistrate.
The prisoner stated that she wished the Liverpool witnesses to be called.
Dr. PATRICK O'CONNOR. I am surgeon to the workhouse at Walton, Liverpool—in April this year I attended the prisoner's child—it was suffering at first from a feverish cold, and it had some bronchitis—I saw it occasionally in the workhouse for three or four months; it recovered from the cold, but it was a, very weak child.
Cross-examined. It was never paralysed—I said that I should have to examine it again, because its legs were weak, and I feared there was something the matter with its spine—I examined it and there was nothing the matter—it had the best of food in the workhouse.
Re-examined. I told the nurse that it was a weak child, and the prisoner may have heard it—a weak child would require more care than a strong one.
MARY MONORIEFF . I am a nurse at Walton Workhouse, Liverpool—the prisoner came there with her child in April, 1880, and about the end of the month she was transferred to the nursery and came under my charge—it was a small, delicate child, and the doctor attended it—the prisoner suckled it—I said that I should mention it to the doctor; she said "It is no use speaking to the doctor, as I have lost other children in the same way; I think it is the teeth."
Cross-examined. It was a very delicate small child, you were never allowed to feed it yourself, one of the aged women fed it.
ISABELLA THOMAS . I am a warder in the goal at Liverpool—I saw the prisoner and her child on 18th June, 1879, it was then a week old and very small—I cannot say that it was a delicate child, it was never under medical treatment, it was six months under my observation.
Cross-examined. I never saw you unkind to it or do any harm to it.
The prisoner in her Statement before the Magistrate, and also in a paper which she handed to the Court, said that she walked from Liverpool to London with her child, to find her husband, an omnibus driver, and got his address at Scotland Yard, and found that he was living with another woman; that he agreed to allow her 10s. a week, but she could not get a furnished room under 6s. a week, and that she did her best to maintain her child, and that 5s. was taken from her room in her absence.
GUILTY Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— . Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
ROBERT FIELDER . I keep the Ordnance Arms, Barking Road, West Ham—on 26th October my postman, Chandler, said, "This young man" (the prisoner, who was in front of the bar) "has tendered this bad coin," showing it to me; I said, "Where did you get this florin from?"—he said, "I got it in change for a half-sovereign in the neighborhoods"—I said, "Where is the remainder of the change?" he seemed confused, and tendered a good shilling, saying, "I beg, your pardon, I had it given to me; I know it is bad; you may as well let me go, it will do you no good to lock me up"—he tried to get to the door twice, but I stopped him.
Cross-examined. I went round the counter and got between you and the door—you tendered a good shilling before the constable came, and I kept it.
CHARLES CHANTDLER . I am barman at the Ordnance Arms—I served the prisoner with two pennyworth of rum; he put down a bad florin—I bent it and showed it to my master, who asked him where he got it; he said that he got it in change of a half-sovereign—he was sober—he was given in custody.
ALFRED DOYLE (Policeman K 303). I was called and took the prisoner—he said, "You have got me, but it will take you all your b—time to catch my b—pal; you can only remand me till Saturday; and then you will have to let me go, as you will find nothing on me"—this was on Tuesday—I took him to the station—he pretended to be drunk as he neared the station—he was sober when I took him, but he swallowed some tobacco, to make him appear drunk, I suppose—his trousers pockets were unstitched, so that anything would fall through—I found on him his address in Queen Street, Seven Dials—I went there, and it was false.
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent of knowing it to be bad; I said, "It is no good your locking me up; you may be placed in the same position as I am."
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. KELLY Prosecuted.
WALTER GOODWIN . I was at Dutch's place, Leytonstone—I am a greengrocer—I was standing outside the Two Brewers, near Dutch's place, Leytonstone, on a Tuesday night in October—I saw the prisoner take up a hamper and get another man to help him—I did not take any notice of the other man—the hamper was under Mr. Dutch's window—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man who took up the hamper.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was about 8.30 or 8.45—there were two or three other little things outside the window; I cannot mention them—the man was coming by who helped you—you went round the corner—I was not far away from you—I was at the corner near the Two Brewers and the harness-maker's—I did not take much notice of the man who helped you Re-examined. I was about ten yards off when the prisoner picked up the hamper and took it round the corner—he asked another man to help him—it was sufficiently light to see what took place.
FRANK DUTOH . I am a grocer in the High Road, Leytonstone—I can not remember the date of this Tuesday evening, but it was the early part of October—there was a hamper on the pavement in front of my shop—I t was put there shortly before 8.30 p.m. by my caiman—I saw it on the van at the door when the caiman was engaged in unloading—the hamper contained drugs and other articles—I missed it about 8.45; I have not seen it since—in consequence of information I received I communicated with the police—I did not know the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I never saw you before I saw you at the police-court—I never employed you.
FREDERICK SLATER (Policeman 423 M.) I am stationed at Leytonstone—I received information that something was missed from Mr. Dutch's shop on 5th October—I got a description of a person, in consequence of which I stopped the prisoner on 12th October in the Harrow Road, Leytonstone—I said "You will have to go to the station with me"—I took him into custody and charged him with stealing drugs—he said nothing, but came with me to the station, and I fetched the witness Good win—I told the prisoner Goodwin had seen him take the hamper—Goodwin identified the prisoner—he was with seven others—he pointed him out at once—he touched him on the shoulder and said "That is the man I saw take the hamper"—the prisoner made no reply—Mr. Dutch was then fetched—he made the charge in the prisoner's presence—the prisoner said not a word in answer.
Crow-examined. I could not see that you were drank—I did not tell you the next morning that you were a little drunk—I had known you in Leytonstone about two or three years—you were pot man at one time of the Plough and Harrow—I do not know what your character was—I cannot say that I have seen you mixed up with thieves.
Re-examined. The prisoner gave me an address at the station—I could find out nothing about him there.
Prisoner's Defence. I have a witness to prove that I was not near Leytonstone on the night of the robbery, and that I was white-washing and paperhanging, and did not leave till 9 o'clock on the Saturday—her lame is Matilda Hoy. (Matilda Hoy being called did not answer.)
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. DE MICHELE and ROBERTSON Prosecuted; MR. GEOHEGHAN
WILLIAM BEARNE . I live at Fairlock Road, Leytonstone—on Tuesday, 9th November, I was in the Fairlock Road, by the Railway Station, about 11 o'clock, standing by the palings—I saw a cab about twenty yards off, and a man standing by it—I could not swear to him—he came from the cab and took my watch out of my pocket and my chain off, and ran and jumped on the cab, and the cab drove down the road as fast as he could—I was not in time to catch the horse's head—the man who took the watch was on the box of the cab, and no one else—I complained to the police on the Friday evening—on the Saturday evening, between 6 and 7 o'clock, Banks, an officer, and the prisoner drove to my lodging—Banks spoke to me, and I went away with him in the cab which the prisoner was driving, to Mr. Writher’s, a pawnbroker, at West Ham, Stratford—I went into the shop with the detective—the prisoner remained outside—he got off the cab—I saw my watch and chain—I said, when I got outside, "I give this man in charge for stealing my watch and chain"—he said that I could please myself but he did not do it—he wan perfectly sober—he drove away to the station at Plaistow, the detective riding on the box with, him—it was a four-wheeler—the prisoner stopped the cab on the road, jumped off the box, and opened the cab door—he looked round, and said to me, "For God's sake do not say anything more about it for the sake of my poor wife and child"—I said, "It is in the policeman's hands; I will go through with it now"—the detective, who was still on the box, said, "Come, jump on your box, and drive on"—the prisoner drove off again—he put his head right in the cab to say that—he said it pretty loud—afterwards he opened the front window of the cab, put his head through the window, and said the same words—I said, "If you had said that to me when on the box, I would have looked it over if you had owned to it, but now it is in the policeman's hands"—that was after the last public-house that we had stopped at—we had stopped at another public-house between the first and second conversation.
Cross-examined. The watch had been given to me; its value was about 23s. or 25s. with the chain—I have not received 10s. 6d. from the prisoner nor from his father—I am quite sure that I have received no money at all; it is not true that I had a sovereign given to me—I did not give half of that sovereign to the detective; there is no truth what soever in that—my landlord is called Bissling—the prisoner came to my lodgings; I still persist in saying that I had not the sovereign—we went into a public-house after the prisoner was in custody—I do not know that the detective had any drink—it was not at my option that I went—I do not know whether the prisoner or the landlord paid for the drink—I was not drunk when I lost the watch; I had had a drop of beer—I could not say how many public-houses we had been in—I was waiting at the railway station for my mate—I do not know Mr. Harmer—I do not remember going to a railway porter, and saying "You know all about the theft of my watch"—I said "Do you know that cabman driving about the railway station? I believe you railway porters know something about it"—I only know the porter by sight—the prisoner said he had bought the watch of a tramp, who was a man in light clothes; that was when we were going to the pawnbrokers—he
said that the man was working his way down to Colchester—I lost my watch on the Tuesday—I did not go to the police-station till Friday evening about 7 o'clock—the first inspector hesitated to take the charge; no one made me give the prisoner into custody—my mate said "I should go and see the police about it"—alter I had made inquiries the prisoner said he would own to it—T did not say to him "If you will own to it I will let the matter drop"—I do not know the Essex Arms—we went into a public-house after we had come from the pawnbroker's and one before I had seen my watch—I did not know that I went to three public-houses with the prisoner—the prisoner was not present when his father came to my lodgings; Mr. Bissling was—I do not remember Bissling saying it must be squared—we drove off to the railway station at Leytonstone in Platten's cab—a lodger named Joe Stevens was with me; no one else—I cannot tell you why I went; it was not to withdraw the charge—the father came to me on the Saturday and said "I would not have this happen for 50l."—I went to the station because I was sorry for his father—I did not intend to withdraw the charge—I thought I would try to do what I could for the father by getting the son off—I say I never received any money and never gave any tobacco—I saw the father put some money on the table.
Re-examined. The prisoner said, "If you will forgive me I will own to it"—he was outside the cab—Mr. Bissling was with me in the cab—this is my watch; the chain has not been recovered.
By MR. GEOHEGHAN. I do not know the number of the watch—I know it by the dent in it, and by the long hands.
By the COURT. I do not know the initials on it—it was given to me—a person came from the prisoner's cab, walked straight up to me, and then ran away—I had previously lost the bar of the chain—I have part of the chain here.
GEORGE BANKS (Detective Officer N.) I am stationed at Lea Bridge Road, Leytonstone—on 13th November, at 6 p.m., I was at Leytonstone Station—I saw the prisoner—I said, "Were you on the 'Philbrick Estate on Tuesday night, about 11 o'clock?"—that estate is close to the station—he said, "I was not"—I said, "I will see you on Monday," and left him—I went on towards Leyton Railway Station, about a mile and a half—he passed me on his cab, 20 or 30 yards; no one was in it—he then turned round—he said, "I do not understand what you mean by being on Tuesday night on the Philbrick Estate, what is it about?"—I said, "I am not going to tell you"—he said, "Is it about a watch?"—I said, "I did not speak to you about a watch, but my inquiry was about a watch"—he said, "I bought one on Wednesday morning of a tramp at the Leyton Station, dressed in light clothes"—I said, "Do you know him?" he said, "No"—he said, "The watch I pledged at Mr. Withers's on "Wednesday"—I said, "I should like to see the watch"—he said, "All right; I will drive you"—we drove to the prosecutor's house, and drove the prosecutor to the pawnbroker's—I was on the box with the prisoner; the prosecutor was inside the cab—Mr. Bissling was beside him; I believe he is the prosecutor's landlord—when we got to the pawnbroker's he produced the watch—the prosecutor said it was his Property—we then came outside—the prosecutes said it was his I said to the prosecutor, "What are you going to do?"—the prisoner was tending by—the prosecutor said, "I will charge him with stealing
my watch; I knew it was a cabman took it, but I did not know who"—I took the prisoner in charge, and we drove to the station—on the way the prisoner said, "Let me see if I cannot square this matter up with them"—he let down the front window of the cab, put his head in the cab, and said something, I do not know what—we stopped at a public-house on the way to the station—the prosecutor, Bissling, and the prisoner went in—the prisoner also told me he bought the watch from a tramp, who was dressed in light clothes, and that he wanted some money to pay the old man's account.
Cross examined. I have been in the detective force two or three years, and in the police about fifteen years—I know the rule about writing down conversation—I did write down a portion on this—I have not the book with me—I did not write all the conversation down—the prisoner said "Let me square it with them, it will be such a disgrace to me and the old people"—we went to two public-houses, the Black Bird and the Essex Arms—we stopped outside the Lord Henneker—we remained there about two minutes—I did not go in, and if the prosecutor said I did it is a mistake—the prisoner gave me all the information and assistance he could—I searched the prisoner's house—I did not find the chain—he said it was in his coat pocket—he told me at the police-station he had put it there—I mentioned that to the inspector afterwards—that was before I was examined—I did not hear the Magistrate ask about the chain—I did not mention it at the police-court—I made the statement on the Saturday when the prisoner was charged—I did not see the prisoner's father there—I have not received any money from Bissling nor the prosecutor—I did not go into any public-house—I do not question cabmen as to the people they drive.
ALEXANDER BISSLING . I live at St. Martin's Terrace, Leyton Road, Leytonstone—I am the prisoner's landlord—I went on the 13th November with the prosecutor and the prisoner to a pawnbroker's at Stratford—I rode with the prosecutor inside the cab—on tie way back the prisoner stopped the cab and let down the window and said "For God's sake do not lock me up, for the sake of my wife and child," he let down the window and repeated it—the prosecutor said "I should have forgiven you if you had owned it before you went to the pawnbroker's"—the prisoner was on the box when he made the statement the second time—the first time he stopped the cab and opened the cab door—the prosecutor also said on the second occasion "I have given it into the hands of the police, and I will let it take its course" a few minutes elapsed between the statements—we stopped at two or three public-houses—I had something to drink—no conversation took place in my hearing—the prisoner was not in the second public-house we stopped at.
Cross-examined. We all went in the first public-house together—that was before we got to the pawnbroker's—I do not recollect the names of the public-houses we called at—the prisoner's father came to my house on the night of the 13th—Banks was not there—I saw some money put on the table—I could not say what it was—I did not see the prosecutor take it up—I do not know that Banks had 10s. out of a sovereign paid to the prosecutor—I could not say what the money was for—nothing was said in my presence about an I O U—I left the room when the money was put on the table—the prosecutor, Platten, and a fellow-workmen of Platten's were present—his name is Stephens—when I left the room I went into
the kitchen—I know old Platten—he is deaf—I heard the prosecutor's answers, but I did not hear distinctly what Platten said—the prosecutor said he would compromise the matter—I did not hear him say he knew the son was innocent.
Re-examined. The prisoner's father put the money on the table—I did not see him take it up—I left him in the room with the prosecutor, and the money on the table.
Cross-examined. I am an inspector of the N Division—I took the charge made by the prosecutor on the Friday night—I did not take it at once—the prosecutor said he was drunk.
The Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. RIBTON and RAVEN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM PERRETT . I am under gardener to Mr. Spicer, of Woodford, Essex—on 19th October, at 5 o'clock, I shut up the hot-house and locked the door; there were grapes then growing there—the hot-house is under a garden wall, 11 feet high—the garden gate was locked—I left about 6 o'clock, and came back at 6 next morning; I went into the hot-house about 7, and found the door broken open and the grapes all gone but one small bunch—I saw some grapes in Kelly's possession on Friday, the 22nd, they seemed the same sort, black Ham burgs, and the same colour, but I cannot say that they were the same—I was there when they were compared with the cuts, but my eyes did not enable me to see—there were 22 bunches, valued at 4l.—I do not know the prisoner—a ladder had been used, but it was put back in the same place—it was wet, and I had left it indoors in an outhouse.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. They are very common grapes indeed.
DENNIS KELLY (Police Inspector N.) I am stationed at Woodford—in consequence of information I went to Mr. Tilley's, a pawnbroker's shop, 26, Forest Gate, and he produced two bunches of black Hamburg grapes—I took them to Mr. Spicer's, went into the hothouse with him, and found two corresponding parts where they had been cut—I compared the stalk of the cluster with the stalk of the vine—I have both here (produced)—one is most remarkable—I have not recovered any more—the pawnbroker's is about three miles from Mr. Spicer's.
Cross-examined. There is a ticket outside the station) but I do not know whether Mr. Spicer has offered 20l. reward.
JOHN CAVANAGH (Detective Officer.) I went to the prisoner's house in Leytonstone Road, and told him I should take him for stealing a quantity of grapes from Mr. Spicer's; he said "All right, I thought you wanted me for something else"—I took him to Wood ford Station, and he was charged, and said that he had bought the grapes—I found a basket at his house—there was no greengrocery at his shop, only sweetstuff—I was present when the branches of the vine were compared with the bunches, and they corresponded exactly.
Cross-examined. You asked to be served with something the first time I went, and then I said "I am a policeman;" you said "Well, what of it?"—you asked me into your private parlous while you put on your coat, and then you went with me without any trouble.
THOMAS DARVILL . I am head gardener to Mr. Spicer—on Friday, 22nd October, Inspector Kelly showed me these grapes—I compared them with the stems carefully, and am prepared to say that they came from Mr. Spicer's vinery by the peculiar cut; any one can see it; if you cut 1,000 bunches you would not get them to fit like this—they are cut slanting.
Cross-examined. You are a perfect stranger to me—I swear to them by their fitting together—they are extensively grown—it took a little manipulating to match one stalk to another; I could not do it with a knife—they have been cut, not dragged off.
Re-examined. I have not manipulated them—these bunches exactly correspond with every branch left behind, and I have not the least doubt about them; it is a grape which you cannot grow outside—if they had been cut with scissors I could not have matched them.
WILLIAM TILLET . I am a pawnbroker, of Forest Gate—on, I think, 20th October, the prisoner brought this hamper of grapes into the shop; it was half full; he asked me 1s. 6d. a pound; I bought a pound, and he took the rest away—I gave them to the inspector on the Friday following.
Cross-examined. I have bought rabbits of you, and once last year I bought some grapes—I had no reason to believe these grapes were stolen; you said you had just had them sent by train—I do not know you as a licensed game dealer—you came last year with a horse and cart—I thought the grapes were dear, and offered you 1s. for them—I thought they were common grapes.
Prisoner's Defence. I am licensed to deal in game and poultry, and I deal in anything I can buy. I went to market, and bought 20lb. of these grapes; there were some white ones among them. I gave a sovereign for them. Nurserymen come. at the market and bring their goods to sell. If I could have got out on bail I might have produced the man I bought them of. I do my business openly, and do not thieve. I stand outside Forest Gate Station, and sell poultry, game, and fish to the public You can go and cut grapes for yourself at 1s. 6d. a pound. I sold them openly, and if Mr. Spicer had asked me for one or two pounds I should have sold them to him. I do not see what there is to connect me with them. Nobody but themselves was there when the police matched the grapes. Instead of being taken before a Magistrate, was taken before one of Mr. Spicer's intimate friends and neighbours, and 'not allowed to say a word, and he said that instead of being prosecuted I ought to be acquitted. The Magistrate said that it was for a Jury to decide, and I said I thought so too. As to matching grapes, people come from all parts of the country with them, and who can say that they have not been tampered with. I hope you will consider my explanation a truthful one, and that I shall leave this Court without a stain upon my character. A reward of 20l. has been offered; lots of people think the police do not get the reward; they do not get it directly, but they get it indirectly.
NOT GUILTY .
69. GEORGE FOWLER (18), ELLEN MOORE (20), WILLIAM SPENCER alias SIMES (23), and SAMUEL PEPPERELL (19) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Robins, and stealing a coat, a concertina, and other articles, his property.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. LEVY defended Pepperell.
THOMAS ROBINS . I am a grocer, of 4, Market Place, Park Road, Leyton—on Friday night, 15th October, I locked up my premises at 11 o'clock, and fastened the parlour window with a catch, and went to bed—I heard nothing during the night, next morning I went down about 7.45 and found the parlour all in an uproar, the things all over the place, and the window closed, but the catch unfastened—that could be done with a knife or thin instrument—I found the key of the parlour in the washhouse—I missed a concertina, a black-handled table knife, two shirts, and 3l. in copper money, among which were 50 or 60 farthings or more—these are the shirts and table knife (produced)—I have never seen the coat since—I do not know the prisoners.
WILLIAM THICK (Policeman M 11). I am stationed in Commercial Street, Whitechapel—on Saturday morning, 16th October, about 10.30, I was in plain clothes, and saw Fowler, Spencer, and Pepperell together in Brushfield Street, Spitalfields—I knew them all three—Fowler had something in a white handkerchief—I followed them to Church Street, where they stopped outside a pawnbroker's—Fowler went in with his bundle—I went up; Spencer and Pepperell saw me and ran away—I went in and found Fowler with the white handkerchief and the concertina in it—I asked him where he got it—after some hesitation he said, "Oh, I just bought it in the Lane"—I asked him how much he gave for it—he said, "Half-a-crown, and the two men outside were with me"—I had not said anything about them—he afterwards said that he has nothing to do with it—I took him in custody with the concertina, and charged him with the unlawful possession of it, not knowing of the burglary at the time—he was taken before a Magistrate at Worship Street, remanded till 25th October, when the charge of unlawful possession was withdrawn, and he was charged with stealing the concertina—on 18th October I went to. 7, Irish Alley, Whitechapel; that is not the proper name of the court—I saw Spencer, Pepperell, and Moore there in the same room—there was a bed there—I recognized Spencer and Pepperell as the two men who were outside the shop on the 16th, and told them they would be taken in custody for being with Fowler and possessing a concertina—Spencer said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "I saw you in Brushtield Street also outside a public-house with Fowler"—Pepperell said, "Yes, that is quite right, we were there, we met Fowler in Brushfield Street; he asked us to go to the pawnshop with him and he would stand some beer"—I watched the door while Jen man searched the place that night, and saw him find these galoshes in a chair; a number of farthings were found in a little box under the bed—Spencer and Pepperell were taken to the station—one of these shirts was taken from Pepperell, and the other from Fowler; a card-case was found on Pepperell; I saw these boots (produced) taken from Spencer.
Cross-examined by MR. LEVY. Pepperell knew me very well—his face was towards me, and I was only 10 yards from him; he must have seen me—he ran away after seeing me as fast as he could—there was a table in the room as well as a bed, but no signs of food—it was about 2 p.m.—Fowler said, after the others had been charged with burglary, that they had nothing to do with it, and I will not be sure that he did not say so before.
WILLIAM JENMAN (Police Sergeant.) I went with Thick to Irish Alley, searched the room, and found a silver chain and a knife; I found 52 farthings under the bed, and a pencil-case on the mantelpiece—Spencer was
wearing a pair of boots and one of these shirts; he told me first ha bought the shirt of a man in the Lane for 1s. 3d, and afterwards that he bought it of Fowler for 9d.—I found Fowler in custody on the 23rd, wearing the other shirt and the boots.
WILLIAM GEORGE MOUNTAIN . I live at 6, Arundel Villas, Leyton—on 16th October I went to bed about 11 p.m.,' leaving the doors and windows all safe—I came down on the 17th at 7 am, and found the back door and parlour window open—some clothes and things were left there which did not belong to me, and a knife on the window-sill which would push the catch back—I missed a gold watch and chain which I hare not seen since, this pencil-case and pair of boots (produced), and 4l. 10s. in money from my wife's drawers, which has not been recovered.
ANNIE RAVEN HOPWOOD . I am the wife of Joseph Hopwood, of Chob-ham Road, Stratford—on 12th October I went to bed at 11 p.m., leaving the place safe—at 5 next morning I missed these boots (worn by Fowler), and a gold ring and a handkerchief, which I have not seen since.
WILLIAM DOUDING . I keep a shop at Leyton—on Wednesday night, October 5th, I went to bed, leaving the place secure—I came down next morning about 6.15 and found the house had been broken into, and missed this chain, card-case, pair of socks, knife, and purse—Spencer was in my employ twelve months ago—I also missed 1l. or 8l. in old-fashioned gold and silver coins.
Cross-examinated by Spencer. The socks were stolen out of my window—I found a lot of socks and stockings in my yard—these are the same kind of goods; they are not marked, but I can swear to them.
Cross-examined by MS. LEVY. Heaps of these cases may be found in stationers' shops—I had it in my shop for sale; it is the only one I had—I did not recognize it at first at the station because I had not missed it.
GEORGE BANKS (Detective Officers.) I took Moore on 19th October in Whitechapel Road—I said "Is your name Spencer?"—she said "That is the name I go by; my proper name is Moore"—I charged her with being concerned with three others in custody for burglary at Leyton, near Walthamstow—she took this purse from her jacket pocket and handed it to another female who was with her; that was Price, who was taken and discharged—I took it from her hand and told her it was a portion of the property stolen from Mr. Douding at Leyton; the made no reply, but afterwards she said "They brought it home," and that she did not know it was stolen—I asked who she meant by "they"—she said "Spencer and Fowler"—she was taken and charged with the others—there was 2l. 17s. 8 1/2 d. in the purse in gold, silver, and bronze.
THOMAS GLISS . On 24th October, after Moore was remanded, I saw her in the office of Stafford Police-court—I told her she was not obliged to say anything, but what she said might be used against her; she said "I wish to tell the truth about what I have seen; I have known Spencer about eight weeks, Pepperell about three weeks, and Fowler about ten months; I have lived with Spencer as his wife since I have known him at No. 7, Irish Alley; Fowler used to come to our house every day, some times in the afternoon and sometimes in the morning; Pepperell used to come to our house also, same as Fowler; Spencer and Fowler used to go out together, and Pepperell used to go by himself; they did not some back any more, very often not until 9, and sometimes not till 10 next
morning; I have seen coats, a pair of light trousers Fowler had on, some Spoons and forks, and a cruet-stand in the shape of a donkey brought to our house; Pepperell took the cruet-stand Out and sold it; there are a lot of coats pawned at Jones's, Telford's, and Fryatt's, the pawnbrokers a gold watch was also pawned at Fryatt's; most of the things are pawned in the names of Isaacs, Clark, Smith, and Fowler; Fowler pledged most of the things; some of the plated spoons were sold in Dog Row; the sheets were brought home by Spencer and Fowler; they both had one each; Fowler had a pair of Wellington boots and a pair of goloshes when he came home one day last week; there was an umbrella also brought home, but I burnt it; Fowler had some old-fashioned money the other week; Spencer gave me the purse you found on me; he also gave me three sovereigns on Monday morning before he was arrested; Spencer and Fowler pawned a concertina with a lot of keys at Fryatt's, got it out again, and when, they offered it at another pawnbroker's it was stopped; there was a blue serge jacket pledged at Fryatt's, and another at a pawnshop in Union Street, Spitalfields; I also saw a waterproof with long stitches down the front, brought home the same morning as the spoons and forks were; I don't know what was done with them; Flower used to wear a hat with a piece of newspaper inside the lining, and he had a new hat on the same morning he brought the waterproof home; I saw Spencer, with the pencil-case I have been shown; he had it in his hand one day last week"—I took that down in writing.
Cross-examined by MR. LEVY. I mentioned that at the police-court, but it was not taken down—I cannot say why I did not correct my deposition when it was read over to me.
Pepperell's Statement before the Magistrate was that he had known the other prisoners ten days; that Fowler asked him to go with him to pawn the concertina, which he did, and waited outside five minutes with Spencer, and saw Fowler led out in custody; that he then went with Spencer to 7, Irisk Alley, where he saw a cruet-stand in the shape of a donkey and that Spencer asked Moore to take it down stairs.
Cross-examined by. MR. LEVY. The policemen and detectives were there, and eight or nine people—there was no confusion, they were all listening—I said before the Magistrate that Pepperell said "I took the card-case out of your window"—I understood him to say "That card-case came out of your window," but I cannot swear which he said—the police who have been called to-day were all present.
Witnesses for Pepperell.
MARY ANN PHPPERELL . I am the prisoner's mother—I live at 20, Coventry Street, Bethnal Green—he works at Billingsgate, and when there is no work there he goes to the Docks—he lives with me, and allows me 10s. a week for his board, washings, and lodging—he is the only one out of six I have to bring me anything—he comes home and goes to bed at 10 o'clock or a little after—he sleeps in the next room to me, and passes the foot of my bed to go to his room—about 15th October he was at home two nights very tired, because he had such bad feet—his father works very hard at walking-sticks.
CATHERINE MYERS . The last witness is my landlady—I sleep downstafrs in the front room against the door—I go to bed at 10 o'clock or a little after—Pepperell is always at home by 10 o'clock or a little after, and I always open the door for him—my rest was not disturbed on 15th October.
Cross-examined by. MR. POLAND. I do not leave the door on the latch, I bolt it, and you have to ring—it can only be opened inside—my room is close to the door—I do not get up to let the lodgers in, because they never come in later than 10, or it may be 11—his father gives him till 11 on Sunday nights.
Cross-examined. The card-case he bought had a bit of red paint on it he bought it for 4d. at a stall in the street—I believe now that this is it, because of these two marks (Red stains)—it was an old one, and I believe this is it—I was not before the Magistrate—I have known Pepperell five years; he is a friend of mine.
Fowler's Defence. I am innocent of the two charges; I was in custody when they were done.
Spencer's Defence. The goods found in my possession I bought, but I did not know they were stolen property.
Pepperel received a good character. FOWLER and SPENCER— GUILTY . They were further charged with previous convietions, Fowler in July, 1877, at Clerkemell, and Spencer in April, 1879, at Ohelmsford, to which they
PLEADED GUILTY. FLOWER— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment. SPENCER**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
PEPPERELL and MOORE— NOT GUILTY .
70. SAMUEL PEPPERELL and ELLEN MOORE were again indicated for a burglary in the dwelling-house of William Douding, and stealing a watch and other articles; also for three other burglaries, upon all which MR. POLAND offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WAITE Prosecuted.
RICHARD ROGERS . I live at Stratford—on 13th July the prisoner came to my shop and headed me this request(produced)—he looked at several rugs and chose an Axminster rug—he said, "That will do"—he chose the larger one of two—I know Mr. S. Olapp—I have done business with him—he is in the same line as myself—I believed this request to be in his writing, it was in consequence of my belief that I let the prisoner have the rug—the Value is about 1l.—I have not seen it since.
request is not in my writing—I gave him no permission to obtain the rug for me; I never authorised any one to sign this receipt.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether you saw me write or not. (The request was: "Stratford Bridge, 13th July, 1880. Sir,—Can you oblige me by giving my carpet planner an Axminster rug to match pattern, or he will Know what will suit my customer at Leyton; about 20s. or 25s., and oblige, yours respectfully, S. CLAPP," and on the back, "James Green, 231, Edgware Road, London.")
Prisoner's Defence. I have not been in Stratford for the last six months. I have worked for Mr. Green. Nearly all the people in Stratford must know my face from passing backwards and forwards. It is the first time in my life I have had a key turned on me. I am not the person at all; I am quite innocent. Rogers is mistaken entirely. I went on a pleasure party to Epping Forest at the time, so that I could not be there; and I was working for Mr. Gates in the Kirton Road sending furniture off in the country.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WATTE Prosecuted.
FRANCIS JOHNSON . I keep the Yorkshire Grey public-house—I know the prisoner—he called on me on Friday, 5th, showing me this postoffice order produced for 6l. 1s., and asked me if I would oblige him with the cash—Mr. Clapp is my neighbour—I said I could not cash it, but if he could get Mr. Clapp to come over I would oblige him—I gave it him back and he went away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know if I have served you with beer—my premises are nearly opposite Mr. Clapp's.
Re-examined. I identified the prisoner from about five to six.
SAMUEL CLAPP . I am an upholsterer in High Street, Stratford—my house is near the Yorkshire Gray—the prisoner was in my employ about September last about a week—it is not my signature to this post-office order—I gave no authority to any one to sign it—I have not seen the prisoner since he left my employ till I saw him in custody.
MINNIE GRIFFITHS . I am employed at the Post Office, Green Lanes, Stoke Newington—I issued this order to the prisoner for 1s.,. the 6l. has been added, and the signature—I produce the advice—the colour of the ink is blue, the original was black.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you in the Court previous to identifying you.
GEORGE MELLISH (Detective Sergeant K). I am stationed at West Ham—on Sunday afternoon I took the prisoner in custody at 32, Haberdasher Street, Hoxton, for obtaining two pairs of boots on a forged order—he said, "I have not been in Stratford for the last four months"—I searched his clothes carefully as I gave them to him to dress—as he took his hat off I saw a pocket-book—in it was the post-office order produced; I said "That is the order I was looking for;" he said, "It is not mine, I picked it up at the corner of Old Street coming home in the evening about 8 o'clock;" I said, "You must consider yourself in
custody"—his wife said, "What is it, James?"—he said, "Well, I never drew it, but I know who did"—I found this piece of blotting paper (produced). with the impressions of the blue ink shown on the order—the ink in the prisoner's room was also blue.
Prisoner's Defence. I found the pocket-book. I looked in the papers to see if it was advertised for. Mr. Johnson is mistaken entirely. I dined at his house when I worked in the neighbourhood. It is not likely I should do such a thing 15 yards from his door. I should like the Jury to see my character for 29 years. (The prisoner handed in a written character).
GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WAITE Prosecuted; MR. AUSTIN METCALFE defended Noddin.
ROBERT WOODS . I am the landlord of the Sydney Arms public-house—on Monday last, November 8th, I had occasion to go out about 2 o'clock in the afternoon; I returned at 6.30 p.m.—I missed two necklets, two lockets, some earrings, and a brooch, from two separate bedrooms—I saw Carney at the police-station; he said he went upstairs, but he did not touch anything—he said he asked permission of Mrs. Woods to go up and play at bagatelle—that room is private except on club nights, but at this time no one had any right to go into it—I have identified the lockets and earrings.
MARY ANN WOODS . I am the wife of the last witness—on Monday afternoon, 8th November, Carney was in our bar—I afterwards saw him on the stairs—I asked him what he was doing—he said "Have you a bagatelle board?" I said "No, I have not"—he was coming downstairs and I was in the bar—our stairs come down into the bar—upon going upstairs shortly after Carney left I missed some jewellery—that was about 1 o'clock—I have identified some of the articles—I have never seen the two prisoners together.
Cross-examined by Carney. I asked you what you were doing on the stairs before you asked for the bagatelle board—you were not in the house very long, about half an hour—you did not stand in the bar after coming downstairs—you only had one quart of beer—you went out very quickly after you came downstairs.
Cross-examined by. MR. METCALFE. A man named M'Carthy was also given into custody—I recognised him as one of the persons who was with Carney—he was discharged.
Re-examined. Two other persons were with Carney.
FREDERICK BESANT . I am assistant at Mrs. Child's, pawnbroker's, 216, High Street, Shadwell—the locket and earrings produced were pawned by Noddin for 1l. 18s. 6d.—they were redeemed and pledged a second time by Noddin in the name of Andrews—a young woman was with him the second time—I have known him for the last two years—he has been known to our establishment the last seven years as a customer—he made no statement as to the ownership of the property.
Cross-examined by. MR. METCALFE. I only knew him as a customer—I knew his name and address—I do not know the woman Andrews, I believe she works in the same shop as Noddin—she gave the same address.
JOHN ROBERTS (Thames Policeman). I took Carney into custody about 8.30 on Wednesday, the 10th—I told him that he would be charged with two other man for stealing a quantity of jewellery from a public-house at West Ham—he said "I know I was there yesterday"—I also arrested Noddin—he was a little obstreperous, but I got him to the station—he made no statement on the way in reference to the properly.
Carney's Defence. Is not it unreasonable for any person to ask what business I had up there? I knew the woman seven or eight years ago. and why should I go and tell my name and represent myself to her as I did if I wanted to steal.
GUILTY.—NODDIN also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
CARNEY.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Recorder.
He received a good character.—Four Months' Imprisonment.
76. JOSEPH DELANEY (19) to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Cleeve, and stealing a watch; also to stealing a coat and other articles of Henry Hainees, having been before convicted.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Imprisonment. And
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
80. JOHN RAWLINS (31) to obtaining by false pretences from James Biggs and others a quantity of cigars and various sums amounting to 138l. 0s.9d.; also an order for the payment of 24l. 10s. 6d. and other sums with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HEWICK Prosecuted.
JAMES WORSELL . I am sexton of St. Bartholomew's Church, Sydenham—I have to look after the church and the property inside—on 13th September I missed a prayer-book, and found that a box had been broken open—week or two afterwards Detective Stemp brought the prayer-book to me and asked me if I could swear to it—this is it (produced)—this alms box was placed on the south side of the entrance of the church it had been, pulled away from the wall—I do not know positively whether there was anything in it.
THOMAS STEMP (Detective P). I am stationed at Sydenhamon—on 15th September I apprehended the prisoner on another charge as being concerned with two others—I searched his box and found this prayer-book, three bradawls, and a tuning-frok, which have been identified as belonging to another brush, and a book entitled "The Lives and Exploits of English Highwaymen"—I have compared the bradawls with the marks on the box.
and they exactly correspond—I told him I should take him in custody; he denied the charge.
GUILTY . He then. PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in March, 1877, at Greenwich.— Seven Days' Imprisonment, and . to be sent back to a Reformatory
MARY TALERY . I am the landlady of the Crown beerhouse East Street, Charlton—I am the wife of John Taleby—on Friday, 29th October about 9.30 a.m., the prisoner came in—I and my husband counted the money about 2 o'clock; there was 23s. 6d.—I took 2s. at the bar—when my husband went out there was 25s, 6d.—about 20 minutes to 2 o'clock the prisoner asked me to fetch a pennyworth, of pickles—he was alone in the bar—he remained in the house till 3.20—I was away about five minutes—he gave me 6d. to change—I went to the till; all the silver was gone—it is a drawer till with a handle; it was not locked—the money is dropped through a hole in the top—the prisoner was in the taproom when we counted the money—a person can see from the taproom what is going on in the bar—I spoke to my son, who had just come in with a shilling's worth of coppers—I sent him for a constable—while he was gone my husband returned—I stood at the door to prevent the prisoner going out—two other men had come in with the prisoner—they had stopped in the taproom—they came and said "What's up?"—my husband put his hand on the prisoner to prevent his going out—he tore his way out—I went to assist my husband—the prisoner gave me a violent blow on the chest and I fell back on the ground—the prisoner kicked me on the side; I feel the effects of it now—when the policeman came the other two men went away—the prisoner was taken into custody.
JOHN TALEBY . I am the husband of the last witness, and landlord of the Crown—I remember the Friday in question—I counted the silver before I went out, and left my house about 2.30—there was 1l. 3d. 6d. in the till—the prisoner was in the tap-room at the time; anything that is going on in the bar can be seen from the tap-room—my wife can see from the kitchen right to the tap-room door, but not in the tap-room—when I returned, about 3.30, the prisoner was disputing with my wife in the front bar about leaving—I told him that he should not go away till a policeman came—two men were sitting there, who told me I might search them—I kept hold of the prisoner till he got outside; he then hit my wife in the chest, and knocked her flat on her back—I saw him kick her when she was down—he had a shovel in his hand—I closed with him, and tried to get the shovel—he tried to throw me—he got the shovel in an attitude to strike me, but I stuck to him, and got the shovel from him—as I tried to throw the shovel to some people he made off—I followed, and kept him in eight—he had had the shovel with him before all the time—he talked and drank with the other men.
ARTHUR TALEBY . I am the son of the last witness—on the 29th my mother sent me to get some coppers; I returned about 3 o'clock—when my father came home I went for a constable—I had told the prisoner that as there was a little unpleasantness I should like him to stop till it was
settled—he wanted to know what for, and would not be detained—when I went for a constable I left my father in the house—the prisoner was very violent when he ran away from my father; I followed him, and he took off his belt and threatened to cut my head open if I followed him any farther.
GEORGE SHELTOV (Policeman RD. 24). I took the prisoner into custody about 100 yards from the Crown beerhouse on 29th October—I took him to Woolwich Police-station—he was detained by a young man—he refused to let me search him before I took him—I did search him at the station; I found 27s. in silver, 1s. 1 1/2 d. in bronze, and five old coins, farthings and halfpence—I asked him on the way to the station what money he had on him—he said what money he had his employer gave him in the morning for his work.
HENRY LEMARE . I am foreman at the works where the prisoner was employed; I engaged him—he had been employed two days previous to this affair—his pay was 6d. an hour—I had paid him 5s. that morning, and 2s. the day before.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I deny the felony."
The Prisoner's Defence. There were 14 of us who had been working together. I had a pennyworth of pickles, and gave them all some. I am innocent, and have a wife and family.
GUILTY .** He also. PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony in January, 1879.— Two Years* Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. POLAND. for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the Inquisition. The Grand Jury had ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
RICHARD BAKER . I am barman at the Foresters' Arms, Blackman Street, Borough—on Saturday, 16th October, about 10.30 p.m., the prisoners came in, and Smith called for a pint of ale and tendered a florin, which I found was bad—I said "This is bad"—he said "Go on, it in all right"—Fisher said nothing—I marked the coin and gave it to Mr. Mussell, who fetched a constable and gave the prisoners in custody.
Cross-examined by Fisher. You had time to get out of the house, but a constable in uniform was placed at the door—he took a third man in mistake, but he was liberated at the station—you two came in together—there was no gas at the door to light a pipe at, only in the window.
Re-examined. I spoke to Cox privately, and he placed a constable outside the front door, and Fisher walked to the door and remained there looking at the constable.
Montague Street, and spoke to a constable who stood at the door, and I went in, saw the prisoners, and said to Smith "Where did you get this from?"—I had the coin with me—he said "I got it from the King Lud, at the bottom of Ludeate Hill"—Fisher said nothing—I said "Are these two together?"—Baker said "They came in together"—I took them to the station opposite—Smith said "I got it next door to the Surrey Theatre in change of a half-crown for a pint of beer and a pennyworth of tobacco"—I found 2d. on Fisher—he said "That 2d. has nothing to do. with the change of the half-crown"—Mr. Mussell gave me this florin, and Mr. Maggs this broken florin and half-crown.
Cross-examined by Fisher. You were not at the door, but leaning on the counter about a yard from Smith.
PHILIP JOHN MAGGS . I manage the City of Rochester restaurant, 1, Denman Street, London Bridge—on 7th October Fisher and another man came in—I do not recognise Smith—Fisher asked for two cups of coffee and four slices of bread-and-butter and tendered a florin; I put it in the tester, broke it, and told him it was bad—they looked at one another, and Fisher paid me a penny, which I think he took from the other man—they then sat down and had the coffee and bread-and-butter and walked out—I went out at another door and watched them; I saw them round a corner looking at some money; they went to the tobacco shop and changed hats, and then went down the Borough—I gave the florin to the detective; this is it—Mr. Clifford gave me this other florin, and I gave it to Cox.
Cross-examined by Fisher. I identified you a week afterwards, and am certain you are the man.
ANNIE GILBERT . I am barmaid at the Borough Hotel—on 13th or 14th October I served Smith with half a pint of ale and half an ounce of tobacco; he tendered this bad half-crown—I said "What do you call this?"—he said "Half-a-crown"—I said "I do not"—I broke it in the tester and showed it to the housekeeper, and Smith ran off—I afterwards identified him at the police-court.
FRANK CLIFFORD . I keep the Borough Hotel, London Bridge—about 13th or 14th October, my barmaid gave me a bad half-crown—I placed it among a lot of florins and shillings, and afterwards gave it to Maggs with ten bad florins—I cannot exactly say whether this is it.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two florins and half-crown are bad. Smith's Statement before the Magistrate. "On Friday, the 15th, I was working at Fresh Wharf, and got 4s. on Saturday night. I changed a half-crown next door to the Surrey Theatre, they gave me a florin and some copper. I went to the Lord Hill and had some ale, and then to the Foresters' Arms, and they told me the florin was bad."
Fisher's Defence. I met Smith, who asked me to go and drink with him, but I did not know what he was going to put down to pay for it. As to the other case, I know nothing about it, it is a case of mistaken identity.
GUILTY . They then. PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions of uttering counterfeit coin, Smith in August, 1879, and Fisher in March, 1880.
FISHER.— Two Years' Imprisonment.
SMITH.*— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
GEORGE DAY . I keep the John of Groats, Gray Street, Blackfriars Road—on 5th November, about midday, I served the prisoner with half a pint of ale; he put down this coin (produced)—I said "What is it?"—he said "A sovereign"—it was a Hanoverian medal—I said "Get away off my premises; where did you get it from?"—he said "My master paid it to me for my wages this morning"—he paid me with a good sixpence and I gave him the medal back—I watched him down the road and spoke to a constable, who took him—ha said that his master was Mr. Wilson, of Clapham, but that he paid him on this side of the water.
Cross-examined. Yon said you had done 40 hours' work, and Mr. Wilson had given you a sovereign and a sixpence.
PATRICK SHANAHAN (Policeman M. 62). I took the prisoner—he pulled this coin out of the pocket, and said "This is what I thought was a sovereign, which I received from my master with a sixpence, and if it is bad my master will give me a good one instead"—I said "Who is your master?"—he said "Mr. Wilson"—I said "Where does he live?"—he said "I cannot tell where he lives, as I am no scholar, but I can take you to his house."—I said "Have you any more of this kind of money?"—he said "Yes, five more," which he produced from his left waistcoat pocket—they are five Hanover medals, the same as the other—he said that he received them from a mate at Newhaven twelve months ago.
WILLIAM WILSON . I am a contractor, of 12, Webb Street, Walworth—the prisoner was in my service up to 4th November—I did not pay him any money on 4th or 5th November, and I never paid him the Hanover medal for a sovereign at any time.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These are six Hanover medals; some are smaller than sovereigns; here are two sizes, the small ones are a better colour than the others; they are made of brass, and are worth less than a farthing—here is the word "Victoria" on the upper side, and on the other "To Hanever."
The prisoner handed in a paper, which he was unable to road. It stated that having had the medals in his pocket for twelve months' he gave one of them in mistake, and when he found out what he had done he paid with good money.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.
WILLIAM JONES . I am barman at the Railway Tavern, High Street, Clapham—on 6th October I served the prisoner with some rum—he gave me a half-crown—I put it in the till, where there were no other large coins, and gave him two shillings and three penny pieces change—he then called for a pint of ale, and remained—I went to supper, but was called back—the till had then been cleared—the half-crown was placed on a shelf, and the prisoner was in the hands of the police—I took the coin to the station, and a constable marked it.
Cross-examined. It was not a shilling you gave me, nor did I give you
a sixpence and 3d. in charge; it was a half-crown—before the Magistrate that it was a florin.
EDWIN ELLIS . I keep the Railway Tavern—on 6th October, after my barman went out, I was in the bar, and the prisoner called for half an ounce of tobacco, which came to 2d.; he tendered me a bad half-crown—I said, "Have you any more like this"?—he said, "What do you mean?"—I said, "This is bad"—he said, "Oh if it is bad I have plenty more"—I said, "I shall send for a constable"—he had two woman and a man with him; he spoke to them and went outside—I went after him and brought him back; he was walking very fast—the others were still in the house—the potman had gone for a policeman; Savage came, and I gave him in custody with the half-crown—I had cleared the till shortly before, and there was only one half-crown there; I put that on a shelf, and Jones overtook us with it before we got to the station—I did not notice it when I took it out of the till.
Cross-examined. I suspected you when you came in, so I steed at my wife's side—I was not a yard from her when you tendered her the half-crown—she handed it to me immediately—I brought you back twice; you asked me to let you go back, and you were not away two minutes.
WILLIAM SAVAGE (Policeman W R 30). I went to the Railway Tavern and found the prisoner detained there—he said, "I acknowledge giving the half-crown to the mistress, and I hare got the change"—I searched him, but found only 3d. in one pocket and 1d. in another—the barman brought the other half-crown (produced) to the station.
Cross-examined. Another man was with you, and you said that you gave him 2d. to pay for a pint of ale.
The Prisoner. What I said was that I gave the landlady the half-crown, but received no change.
ELIZABETH CULLIS . My husband keeps the Cross Keys, Clapham—on 5th October two men came in for a pot of ale, and tendered a half-crown—I put it in the till, and gave them 2s. 2d. change—there were florins there, but no other half-crowns—a third man came in and drank some of the beer—I left them there and went upstairs—I do not recognise the prisoner; he did not come inside—I afterwards saw my husband take the half-crown out of the till.
JAMES CULLIS . On 5th October my wife served two men with beer—I was in a small room taking my tea, and had a full view of them—I saw them give her a coin—a third man then came, and they carried the pot to the door, and the prisoner drank out of it outside—they then left, and I went out at another door and followed them, and saw them divide some money—I have known the prisoner and the two others eight or ten years—I went back and found only one half-crown in the till, which I marked, and went out again and followed the other three men, but not the prisoner.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was not at the Cross Keys the night they say."
Prisoner's Defence. I own I gave the lady the half-crown, but I did not know it was bad.
GUILTY .— Twelve Month's imprisonments.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
HENRY KING . I live at Randon Terrace, Balham—I have had a shed in the Ramsden Road, Balham, six years—it was built of brick, tiles, and timber—on 27th October it was burnt down—I first heard of it in my dinner hour, between 12 and 1 o'clock—I went out, and it was one mass of fire—some shavings, benches, and wood were in it—it was a workshop; men's tools were there—it was burnt down in about half an hour—its value was from 70l. to 100l.—the bricks extended right to the roof—I noticed the lock was on the post—I am certain it was locked, and I had the key in my pocket.
Cross-examined. There was glass in the door—there was an entrance because some of the brickwork of the chimney had fallen out.
WILLIAM LOVETT (Policeman 330 W). I saw the shed after it was burnt down at 2.30, and about 5 p.m. I saw Hales about half a mile from the shed—I told him I should take him in custody for setting fire to a shed belonging to Mr. King, in the Ramsden Road, Balham—he said he knew nothing about it, he was not there—I said I had evidence to prove that he was running away at the time the fire was burning—he said that Webb made a heap of shavings in the place, and he set fire to fire them, and as soon as they began to burn they ran away—I took him to the station; I took Webber about a quarter of an hour after, and told him it was for being concerned with another boy in setting fire to a shed at Balham—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I took down a note of what Hales said—I did not tell him I should take a note till after I had asked him about it.
ALBANY HALLETT (Police Inspector). When Webb and Hales were brought in I said to them "You will be charged with setting fire to a shed in the Ramsden Road, Streatham, and upon that charge you will be taken before a Magistrate"—Webb said "I was with him when he struck a match."
Cross-examined. The boys were not warned when they were charged.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
MARY ELIZABETH EDWARDS . I am a widow, living at 4, Spencer Road, Dulwich Road, Herne Hill—I let apartments—the prisoner was my servant—she came into my service on the 27th July last, and remained till Thursday,
14th of October—on that morning I was in the kitchen; she was then, it was about 10 o'clock—we had had our breakfast; I had had coffee and toast—I poured out our coffee in two cups; we had drunk the first two cups; the second cups were poured out—I left part of my coffee, and went away to get breakfast for my lodger—I left the prisoner to finish her breakfast; I said "I cannot finish mine now, I will finish it presently—I returned in about two minutes—I went away a second time, and returned in about 20 minutes—the prisoner was filling the coal-scuttle—I took up my coffee to finish it; I put a small piece of toast in it; I tasted it a second time; it was disagreeable—I put it to my nose, and smelt it—at that time the prisoner came into the kitchen; I said "What have you been doing, Harriet, to my coffee; what is it?" she said "A little dirty water out of the jug;" I said "It is no dirty water out of a jug, what is it you have been doing?" she said "It is washings out of a dirty bottle;" I said "It is something more than the washings out of a dirty bottle that you have been doing to my coffee; I am going out, I will put into a bottle, and I will know what you have been doing to it"—I washed out an empty bottle, and put the contents of the cup into it—I took it to Mr. Anderson first; he smelt it, and returned it to me—I took it to Dr. Sutcliffs, at Spencer House; I left the bottle there, and came away; he was not at home then—in the evening, about 7 o'clock, in consequence of hearing something, I went to Dr. Sutcliff; I took the prisoner—the doctor asked her where she got the stuff from to put into my coffee; then she said it was given to her by a girl at Holloway's—it was a twopenny bottle which the girl had given her for the toothache—Dr. Sutcliff said "If Mrs. Edwards had taken it she would have been a dead woman, you have given her enough to kill half a dozen people"—he said it was not safe for her to remain in the house that night—I said I would freely forgive her if she would tell me what she had done with several articles—she said she had not seen them—after a long time she confused to having taken two tablecloths and sheets, and pawned them for 6s. in the name of Edwards—I said "Now you may go;" as it was getting late, I told her to come the next morning for her box—she came about 7 on the next (Friday) evening—I said "Before you take your box you must go with me and get my things out of pledge, they are of more value to me than 6s.;" afterwards I allowed her to take her box away—I had asked her at Dr. Sutcliff's what she had done with the twopenny bottle; she said she had thrown it in the scullery or dusthole—I found it among the coals in the cellar when some of the coals had been used—this is the bottle (produced)—I gave it to the detective—I have always treated my servant kindly—I wish the girl to understand that I was obliged to give evidence at the police-court—I did not give her in charge, but Mr. Powell, the clergyman at Herne Hill, gave information about the case—he is rector of St. Paul's.
Cross-examined. The cup was in the window; not where I filled it—we had had no words—she has not complained of toothache—I said at the police-court that she had picked her teeth, and said "Oh, my teeth!"
WILLIAM GREENWOOD SUTCLIFF, M.D . I live at Dulwich House, Spencer Road—on the 14th of October I received this bottle—I examined the contents—there were about four ounces of liquid in it; it was two-thirds full or more—from smelling and tasting it I concluded it was laudanum—Mrs. Edwards come in the evening—I sent her back for the servant—I asked the servant in Mrs. Edwarda's presence what she had been putting into the coffee—she
Would not answer for a Considerable time—I told her it was batter for her to let me know where she got it, I Was sure it Was something very improper—she said she got it from Holloway's in Dulwich Road.
Cross-examined. It is very strong, even the most ignorant person would have known the smell of it—they might have swallowed it, but the first taste would have shown at once what it was.
GEORGE FERRIS (Detective Sergeant W). I got this bottle from Dr. Sutcliff—at the police-court, on the 19th, the prisoner said "I did not intend to poison Mrs. Edwards; I had twopennyworth in a bottle; I bought it at Mortiboy's three weeks ago"—that was when the case was waiting to be investigated in Court—I had been waiting with her about 10 minutes—I did not hear her speak to anyone previous to making that statement—if there had been any conversation I should have heard it.
JOHN MILLER (Policeman W 215). From information that reached me I took the prisoner into custody—I told her I should take her into custody for administering poison to Elizabeth Edwards, her mistress—she made no reply—I took her to the station.
HAROLD SENIOR . I am a chemist, of 5, Norwood Terrace, Tulse Hill—I received the larger of these bottles from Mr. Sutcliff on the 21st of October—it was sealed—there was four ounces of liquid in it—I applied chemical tests, and found it to consist principally of coffee, and one-eighth to onefourth part of tincture of opium and syrup of squills, or over half an ounce of laudanum—that Was quite sufficient to destroy life—the small bottle also contains laudanum—it is usually sold at 6d). an ounce, but you may possibly get half an ounce for 2d). in some districts—that might account for the quantity there was.
Prisoner's Defence. I put it in the cup in the window-sill to take it away with the breakfast things. I went on with my work ad usual, and in the evening my mistress took me to Dr. Suteliff, who asked me something, and I do not know how I answered him. After I had left Mrs. Edwards a policeman in private clothes asked me to go to the station. I was charged, and taken the next morning to Lambeth. There was nothing in the cup but grounds and one or two bits of bread. I did not know what I was doing, I Was worried so, and did it in mistake, and the breakfast things had to be washed up. I did hot intend to do any harm whatever.
NOT GUILTY .
The witnesses in the former case repeated their evidence. The prisoner said she had nothing to add.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WAITE Prosecuted).
THOMAS SHIELD . I work for Henry George, butcher, of 160, New Cross Road—on Saturday night, at 10.30, I was in the yard—when I got in the shop I heard a noise—I Went out, and flaw a sheep rolling off the shafts of the cart—I saw the prisoner standing there—he said he was a detective, and some one told him a man was stealing a sheep—I said I should detain him—a
struggle took place, lasting twenty-five minutes—he struck me and kicked me—he pretended to be drunk.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner). You struck me with a stick twice before I attempted to get hold of you.
HENRY GEORGE . I am a butcher, of 160, New Cross Road, Deptford—about 10.35 on Saturday night, 13th, I was called into the yard, and met the prisoner—he Said "Mr. George, have you lost a sheep out of your slaughterhouse?"—I said "No"—he said "That is funny; I saw a man come out of the gates who dropped it; I am a detective"—I said "If you are a detective, I Want to know Something more about it"—I closed the gates—a tremendous scuffle took place—the value of the sheep is 76s).—it had been taken out of the slaughterhouse.
JOHN JABEZ ODEN . I live at 160, New Cross Road—on 13th October my neighbour called me in to go to the bottom of his yard—I am an oil and colourman—I went, but found no one there—coming back I heard a seuffle—I looked over the fence—I heard the prisoner say he was a detective—I saw a severe struggle between him and George—I went round to Mr. George's shop to stop the prisoner if he got away—I took a stick from him; I also took his hand from the prisoner's throat.
ALFRED ATTREE (Policeman R 318). I took the prisoner—he said he knew nothing about the sheep—on the way to the station he kicked me on the leg and threw me down—I fell heavily—I kept hold of him, and pulled him down on the—I captured him.
Cross-examined. I did not tell the Magistrate that you kicked me in the arm. (Deposition read:)"he kicked me and tripped me up; I thought my arm was broken.")
Prisoner's Defence. I went to meet my young woman. She left me a few minutes. A chap came up and said "Did you see that bloke)collar a sheep in front of the butcher's shop?" I said "No" I went to Mr. George and asked him if he had lost one. He said "Why?" I said "Because I am a detective," and the reason I aid that was because Inspector Francis said to me two or three times if I looked out for him he would give me something for it. I said it more for talk than anything.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to conviction of felony in November.
1878, at the Surrey Sessions.— Two year's Imprisonment.
MR. TROKELL Prosecuned;Mr. Stewart White Defended.
THOMAS WHITE . I am barman at the Feathers, Lambeth Walk—on 3rd November, between 5 and 6 o'clock, I saw the prisoner and two others in the bar—no one else was in that compartment—there was an empty rum cask there; it had no hole in it; it was put there as a table—this (produced)is the top of it—when the prisoner came in he had gloves on; he had some beer, and had of three-quarters of an hour afterwards he leaned over the cask and got a light from the gas jet, which was about a yard off—he was not smoking—he had no gloves on then—in about five minutes I heard a kind of hissing noise, and saw
the prisoner and two others run out, and the cask exploded with fire and a bang, which blew all the staves out, knocked the ceiling down, and blew the window out, the woodwork falling all over the bar—this hole was not in the top of the cask before that I am aware of—he cut it while he was there, but I did not see him; I did not see anything in his hand—he had never spoken to me before this.
Cross-examined. He got a light, but not to smoke—they were drinking—I did not see what he did with the light.
ALFRED JOHN BEER . I keep the Feathers—about 6 o'clock I heard the sound and went and saw the cask on fire—this hole was not in it before; it is not a hole which I should expect to find in a rum puncheon; it is not an ordinary bunghole—three men ran out of the house, and I believe the prisoner is one of them—one day, when he was drunk, I would not serve him, and he said that he would do for me and burn the house down—I had not spoken to him on this day, but I saw him there—his words were that he would set the house on fire.
CHARLES BARTLETT . I took the prisoner in the Feathers public-house on 3rd November, shortly after 6 p.m.—I said that I should take him in custody for wilfully setting fire to a rum puncheon—he said "All right, I will go quietly"—on the way to the station he said "I know all about it"—he told the inspector that he put the light though the hole into the inspector that he put the light though cask.
By the COURT. I believe he said that it was an ordinary pipe light, a sort of splint—he used the expression "pipe light," I am sure—he did not use the word "match"—if I have said "He said to the inspector 'I put the match in the hole at the top of the cask,'" I cannot swear that that is correct; he said that he got a light from the jet with an ordinary pipe light, but he did not use those words—he said that he got the light from the little jet—I told the Magistrate he said "I put the match through the hole in the cask," that was after lighting his pipehe told the inspector that he got the light from the jet and placed it through the hole in the cask.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
GEORGE WOOD . I am a tailor of 26, Tiverton Street, Newington Causeway—I occupy the back room upstairs—the prisoner and his wife lived in the house; they have a chandler's shop, and a small back parlour and bedroom on the first floor front—my little boy, between 7 and 8 years old, slept with me in the back room—on 6th November I was in my room up to 12.30, when I came down to go out; as I went out I saw the deceased sitting asleep in a chair in the back parlour—the room was in a very confused state; the hearthrug was up and the fender was up, as if she made an attempt to clean the room—her age was 61 or 63—she appeared as if she was under the influence of liquor——she was habitually given to drinking—I said "Old lady, old lady, you are wrong, wrong again," but she did not answer—she was alone—I came back in about a quarter of an hour, and found her in the same state and still alone—the prisoner came to me about 6 or 6.30; I had not
seen him before that day; I was in my back room at work; he said "Here is a pretty sight to come home to," alluding to his wife—I said "Yes, it is heart-breaking for a man"—two or three minutes before he came up I had heard a sort of quarrel in his room; I heard him speaking to her, but I could not catch the words—after he came up I paid him my rent, and he took a light—half an hour after that I heard him use a foul expression towards his wife—to the best of my recollection he called her a b—drunken bitch; she made a faint reply which I could not hear—I heard him use something of the same expression to her several times during the evening, and he said several times "Get up, get up;" I did not hear any reply—between 8 and 9 I heard him slap her similar to this (Clapping his hands)—I heard that frequently; I also heard noises of quarrelling, numbers of times—I went out about 10.30; I had to go through the back parlour, and I saw the old lady lying down in front of the fireplace; I heard her breathing very heavily; the prisoner was sitting in a chair by her side, and I think he was smoking a pipe—he said "Here is a pretty scene"—I said "It is heart-breaking for a man," and passed out—she was dressed in her ordinary clothes to the best of my knowledge—I went about a quarter to 12 o'clock and found the shop shut and the place in darkness—I let myself in and went up to my own room; being quite dark I could not tell whether anybody was in the parlour—I heard nothing and saw nothing—in about half an hour I heard the prisoner call out "Are you coming up? are you coming up? I will leave the door open for you"—I heard no reply; I was in bed—I heard nothing more that night—next morning about 10 o'clock I went down to go into the yard, and when I got in the parlour I saw the deceased lying in front of the fireplace a little more towards the partition of the shop, on her stomach, and with her face on the floor and her legs straight out—she was dressed as she had been over night to the beet of my knowledge, and she was to all appearance asleep—I saw the prisoner on the stairs about 12.30; I think he stepped over the stair that I was cleaning; that was the first time I had seen him that morning—I could see the woman lying in the same position—he went up to her and said "Are you going to get up now?"—she made no reply—he went towards her, turned her over, and said "Good God, George, my wife is dead; what shall I do? I will go for a doctor immediately," and he went out apparently for that purpose; he returned in five or ten minutes and said that the doctor was out—I said "You had better go to the police-station"—he went out and came back with a constable—Dr. Tanner came in a few minutes and went upstairs—I saw him several times later in the day, and went to the undertaker's with him—he said on the road that he could not understand how it had happened, but he supposed she must have had a fit—that was after the doctor had been—I had lived there about six or seven weeks, but had never seen any indication of a fit about her—she was very possibly that night under the influence of drink, which was very often—prisoner has more than once told me not to allow my children to get any drink for her—I had not seen her on the Saturday before I saw her lying drunk.
Cross-examined The prisoner was not in the house on Saturday morning—he did not come home to my knowledge until 6 o'clock—I heard no more in the room below, between a quarter to 12 and 6 o'clock—I said before the Magistrate "between 12 and 6.30 I heard noises downstairs
to lead me to believe the woman was still drunk"—I heard falling about, and when he came in I heard him call out to her as if he wanted to know he where she was—when he came up to me he asked me for the rent, but did not tell me the place below was all in darkness—the slaps sounded like open-handed slaps—I heard sounds of falling a number of times during the evening, as if a person was trying to get up and falling down again—there did not appear to be a struggle, there were no broken sounds—it seemed as if somebody fell down—I did not take sufficient notice in the evening, nor went down to see what the chairs and tables were knocked about for—the prisoner and she were on very good terms when she was sober—I have heard that some time ago he left her in consequence of her drunken habits—I do not know that he came back at her request—he is a tanner and leather-dresser—his shop is inside a private house—he was perfectly sober—he has always borne the character of a peaceable, sober man—I have seen him a little fresh when he has been to a dinner, and do not call him a thoroughly sober man.
EDWARD JOHN WOOD . I am getting on for eight years old, and live with my father upstairs in this house—on the Saturday before the deceased was found dead I went into the parlour at the back of the shop about 5 p.m. to get some oil for our lamp, the deceased was sitting down against the fire—I asked her for a pint of oil; she said "I have not got any"—she did not get up from the chair—she appeared to be drunk—I went up to our room and came down again about 6 o'clock, and the prisoner was there—he lit the gas in the shop where he was serving, and I saw Mrs. Walker in front of the hearthrug on her side, and I saw her try to get up, but she fell down again on her face—the prisoner said "Get up;" she said "All right, I will get up presently;" he said "Is your time up?" she said "All right," and laid down on her face again—I then saw the prisoner kick her on the side and slap her face—she said "Don't, matey; "he said "Do you call me matey?"—I did not see him do anything more, but the last time I saw him he was leaning against the table in the parlour—he kicked her twice—they were hard kicks; he had his boots on—he kicked her here(on the hip)—I did not come down any more.
Cross-examined. The shop was all in darkness the first time I went down—I was standing in the middle of the parlour, when I saw him kick her—)her clothes were not raised, that I could see—it was not a push with his knee or a shove that he gave her, it was a kick—he was between me and her—there was no light in the parlour, only in the shop.
ARTHUR VARNDELL . I live with my mother at 40, Tiverton Street, and am 15 years old—the prisoner lives at No. 26; I have known him and his wife for 10 years—on the 6th November, between 6 and 7 p.m. I was passing his house; the shop was open and I saw him inside the back parlour—there was a light in the shop, but none in the back parlour—I heard the deceased say, "John, do leave off"—I think she was in a leaning position, standing up against the table, and the prisoner was half a yard from her—he raised his fist and (knocked her down in front of the fireplace—he said two or three times, "Are you going to get up?"
Cross-examined. I was outside the shop and there was no light in the back parlour; but I saw him put out his arm in this way—his back was towards me. Re-examined). I stopped outside the shop door about seven minutes
looking in all the time—I did not see on what part of her body he struck her—I heard her fall.
MARY ANN WILLIS . I am the wife of James willis, a coachman, of 25, Tiverton Street—I know the prisoner and his wife—on 6th November, about seven or a quarter past, I went to their shop to pay for some bread, and Mrs. Walker was sitting in a chair in a leaning position against the wooden partition—the prisoner was behind the counter; he was very much confused, and said, "Is she not a disgrace to her sex?" he said that several times—I said "Then, is the drunk?" he said, "Drunk! I have given her enough this time; I do not think she will want any more for some time"—he gave me my bread—he took the money and went in to get change—I was a regular customer there, and knew that the deceased used to get drunk—he brought the change out in an apron pocket, such as women wear under their aprons.
Cross-examined. This was 7 o'clock or a little after—I was summoned before the Coroner, but was not required—I gave my evidence first at the second meeting—the prisoner had not got two bottles of rum in his hand when I first saw him—he was behind the counter.
CAROLINE WADE. I am 12 years old, and live with my parents at 24, Tiverton Street—on the day before I heard of Mrs. Walker's death I was outside the prisoner's shop at 10.15 p.m.; he was standing at his door, and said to my mother, "Will you come in and see Mrs. Walker?"
she said, "No;" the prisoner then asked her if she would let me fetch him a pint of beer; she said, "Yes;" he gave me three halfpence; I fetched it and took it into the shop—Mr. and Mrs. Walker were in the back parlour—Mrs. Walker was lying by the fire on the floor, and the prisoner was standing by her side when I was him kick her—it was a hard kick, he had his boots on—I cannot say where he kicked her; she said nothing; I did not see her move—I was standing just by the counter in the shop—there was a light in the shop—he came into the shop, I gave him the beer and went home.
Cross-examined. There was a light in the parlour—the prisoner was not standing between me and Mrs. Walker; he was by her side.
JAMES EDGWARE. I live at 36, Tiverton Street—on Saturday, 7th November, or rather at 12.45 on Sunday morning, the 7th, I was on my way home, and as I passed the prisoner's house I heard him say "Bleeding old cow," and I directly heard a great fall—the shop door was shut—I used to serve the prisoner with cakes, and knew his voice.
RACHAEL GREENWOOD. I am the wife of John Greenwood, of 51, Tiverton Street, next door to the prisoner—I was in and out on Saturday night, and did not hear anything of this occurrence—on Sunday at a few minutes after 12 o'clock Mrs. Wade came to me—I went to the prisoner's house, and found the deceased lying on her face in front of the fireplace—she had had on a lightish skirt tucked up round her, and an old crinoline petticoat, and chemise, and pair of stockings and a black jacket—she was lying flat on her face, quite straight and dead—her face was very much busied, and blood was oozing from her nose and mouth—her lip was cut inside, her chin swollen and black, and her ears and eyes likewise—my husband had hold of the prisoner by the arm, and looked at him and said "Walker, Walker, what have you done? your wife is dead"—he said "Let her alone, I know she is; don't you touch her?"—I said "I think,
Walker, you have touched her too much, for you have killed her"—he said "Let her alone; I know she is dead"—my daughter went for a constable—the doctor came, and I showed him the bruises—I gave information at Stone's End Police-office—the doctor said "Where is the husband?"—the prisoner stood by her feet and said "I am her husband"—he said "How was this done?"—the prisoner said "I do not know; I think she must have had a fit"—the doctor said "I do not know anything about that, but I think 'fists' have been at use; 'fists' have done it"—he said "I do not know anything about it"—the doctor said "But it will have to be known"—I had seen her between 11 and 12 on Saturday morning—she appeared all right—I saw no bruises about her—there was nothing the matter then.
Cross-examined. I told the Magistrate what is on the deposition—I told the Coroner and Magistrate all that I have said to-day, and heard my deposition read over before the Magistrate, and at the Inquest I heard the Magistrate's or Coroner's Clerk read over the words "I think you have touched her too much, for you have killed her"—I did not say so to Wood—I helped my friend wash the deceased and to lay her out.
JOHN GREENWOOD . I am a wood chopper, of 51, Tiverton Street, next door to the prisoner—on this Saturday night I heard quarrelling and tumbling about and screaming, and heard the deceased call out, "Don't, John I don't, John, you will kill me"—there was silence for some time, and then there was a great noise and quarrelling again, but I could not pick the words up—there is a little chandler's shop, the door of which was not closed—I looked there, and saw the prisoner and his wife in the parlour—there was no light in the parlour, but the light in the shop threw a reflection in—she was sitting in a chair by the door, and he was in the action of kicking her on the legs; he called her an old cow, and one thing or another—about 12.30 on the Sunday Mrs. Wade came to me; my master went in, and I followed him, and saw deceased lying on her stomach on the ground; the prisoner was there, and I said "What is this, Walker?"he said "Don't touch her, she is dead"—I said "She must be touched," and I turned her over—he said "Don't touch her, I know she is dead;" I said" This is no more than I expected; this is part of it from last night, when I heard the screaming"—he made no reply—I went indoors, and was not there when the doctor came—I noticed that she was very badly bruised about the head and ears, and her eyes could hardly be seen, and her chin was bruised most frightfully—the sounds that I heard on the Saturday night came from their parlour.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about seven years, and was always on good terms with him—Mr. Wood was not in the room; I saw him come downstairs and go into the yard while I was there—the prisoner was not given into custody when the deceased was found, not until the matter came before the Coroner.
JAMES BLAKE (Police Sergeant M R) I attended the Inquest on 11th November—after some witnesses had been examined I toot the prisoner into custody there by the Coroner's directions, and told him the charge—he said "She has been a drunken woman; I have got into debt through her."
Cross-examined. He was at the Inquest with the other witnesses—I did not hear him offer to give evidence—I was there the whole time.
Street, to the parlour at the back of the shop, and saw a woman lying with her face on the floor near the fireplace; her hair was rough and disordered, she was dead and cold, and her body was rigid—she had, in my judgment, been dead from eight to ten hours perhaps more—her clothes had been tucked in so that she was not disordered—I saw blood and saliva coming from her mouth on the floor—I Examined her all over—a constable was present—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—her face was bruised—her eyelids were filled with blood and serum, what you would call very black eyes and very much swollen, so that we could only see the eyes with great difficulty—I was obliged to place my finger under the lids and draw them over the eye to be able to see the eyes—the forehead was much bruised, the ears were very much bruised and dark and very much blackened—the scalp appeared very boggy on the top where the hair grows—boggy means swollen and distended—there were several bruises on the back and on the arms, particularly on each elbow, and there were immense bruises on each hip and several bruibes on the legs and on the external portions of each knee—I found all the internal organs were healthy, out the left kidney was very large, and the right was very small, but they were healthy—her lungs and liver were all healthy—I found on the scalp a large quantity of effused blood corresponding with the external marks which I have described as "boggy"—there were several ounces of blood there altogether—that was produced, in my opinion, by external violence—that would be the cause of death, and also extravasation inside the brain—there was a large quantity of blood extravasated between the membranes of the brain—the mark I found and the appearance of the brain would produce insensibility—the external violence would produce what I found in the brain, and would produce coma, and death would supervene—death was caused by the injury to the head, and it was death by coma—the skin wan not broken anywhere, nor were the bones fractured, nor was there any fracture of the skull—the marks on the face and head were such as must have been inflicted by blows from fists or by kicks—very great violence must have been used—the marks on the hips might nave been caused by kicks—the marks of violence were not all recent, but the great majority were—the injuries to the head and the hips had been done within the last 24 hours—many blows must have been given to produce injuries to the head, face, and eyes—I do not think they could have been caused by her being drunk and falling down—I doubt whether the marks on the elbows and knees could have been caused by a drunken woman trying to raise herself, and falling down on her elbows—she was well nourished—she had not a drunkard's liver, so if she had taken to drink it must have been recently—Dr. Barber assisted me in the post-mortem examination.
Cross-examined. The policeman told me he had sent for me—the bruises on the elbows might have been produced if she stood on a chair and fell from it, the injury to the head would not have been produced to that extent by her falling against the edge of a table—the hands were not clenched, one was partially closed and one open, blood and saliva was coming from her mouth, and her lips were not cut inside—if a person had died in an epileptic fit and I saw her some ten hours after death I should most likely find blood and saliva coming from her mouth; if she died in a fit of epilepsy, most likely the hands would be clenched, and the feet drawn, to
some extent, the toes—the hands were not clenched, nor were the feet drawn—the clenched hands and the drawing of the toes might remain for hours after death—I should expect to find it eight or ten hours afterwards—the prisoner stated that she was constantly having fits, and that she no doubt died in one—I had attended her about sixteen years ago, but not for a. fit, and the neighbours said she never had fits—the prisoner suggested to me that she died in a fit, so that my attention was called to the matter on the spot—a person fairly nourished would be more easily bruised than a thin, spare person; falling about would leave more marks.
Re-examined. She had no fits when I knew her some years ago, but epilepsy does not come on so late in life as 61 or 63 without an injury to the head—at that age it is generally apoplexy.
JAMBS BARBER . I am a registered medical practitioner in Newington Causeway—I was present at the post-mortem, and saw the state of the body—I agree with the cause of death as injury to the head—there must have been many blows given, and very great violence used—I noticed the pulpy appearance at the top of the head, that caused the injury to the brain—those injuries could not have been caused by a drunken woman falling about.
Cross-examined. I do not think they could have been caused by a drunken woman falling against a chair or table or fender numbers of times—I observed no symptoms of epilepsy—I only attended the post-mortem.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of manslaughter only. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.—
Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS, DIGBY SEYMOUR, Q.C., and KEITH FAITH Prosecuted.
MESSRS. BESLEY and HORACE AVORT Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictement against the prisoner for indecent assault, which was postponed to the next Session.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. W A. BURNE Prosecuted.
ARTHUR JOHN ANDREWS . I am manager of the Aldershot branch of the Capital and Counties Bank—the prisoner was a customer of ours until October, 1879, when, I believe, he went into liquidation—in September, 1879, he obtained a cheque-book from the bank; the numbers of the cheques ran from 7621 to 7650; this is it(produced)—Mr. William Knell was a customer of ours; this cheque(produced) purports to be drawn and signed by him; it was presented to us for payment by Knight and Co., bankers, of Farnham—I sent out word that it must be a forgery—I know the prisoner's writing, and this is undoubtedly his.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I can prove you had the cheque-book, because I have cheques drawn by you before you went into liquidation—I have met you in the street, and you have nodded to me.
Cross-examined. The "K" is a good deal like my signature, and the "W" is like it, but it is not quite my handwriting—Mr. Andrews has some cheques of mine—this is my own signature(Referring to a cheque).
By the COURT. I have heard the prisoner's name, but had never seen him before—I do not know that he had any opportunity of seeing my writing—I am a private gentleman.
WILLIAM YOUNG (Detective, Hants County Constabulary).I am stationed at Aldershot—on the evening of Thursday, 4th November, from information I received, I went with two constables in uniform to Grosvenor Road, Aldershot—I placed the constables in position, and went to No. 5, St. James's Terrace—as I entered the front I saw the prisoner run out of the back way with a coat on his arm and without a hat; he ran into an archway leading into Grosvenor Road and into the arms of one of the constables I had previously placed—I came up to him at the same time and caught him by the left arm, and said to him, "You are making a very great mistake in trying to run away from me, for I should have caught you before you got many yards up the road had this man not been here"—I then took him back into his house, and allowed him to dress, and charged him—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I then took him to the county police-station, Aldershot, and searched him—in his possession I found the cheque-book now produced, containing 11 cheques on the Capital and Counties Bank, Aldershot branch, and six complete counterfoils, and the counterfoil to cheque 37630 missing, and others torn out—the following morning I handed him over to the Surrey police.
SAMUEL BYE . I am a nurseryman, of Guildford Road, Farnham—I have known the prisoner for some years—on Thursday, 7th September last, I was in Farnham Market, when he came to me and asked if I could oblige him by cashing a small cheque, as he was too late to get it cashed at the bank—I said I would do so to oblige him, and I cashed this cheque—I asked him whose cheque it was—he said it was drawn by Mr. Knell in favour of Messrs. Oopenham and Lacey, a firm in Aldershot—I took the cheque home, and amongst others I placed it with my bankers, Knight and Co.—it was returned to me by them on Monday, marked "Forgery."
The prisoner in his defence said that Mr. Andrews could not swear positively to his receiving the cheque-book. As a rule, he paid for his chequebooks over the counter; that he did not see Mr. Andrews, and never spoke to him in his life before he answered his questions; that he never saw him before he appeared as a witness against him on this charge; that he did not know Mr. Knell had an account at the Capital and Counties Bank, Alder-shot, and had never seen him in his life; and that Mr. Knell said it was not an imitation of his writing.
GUILTY . A police officer from Aldershot spoke of the prisoner having formerly borne a good character in that neighbourhood as a very respectable tradesman, but had become a bankrupt, and had gone on badly ever since.
Six Months' Imprisonment.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
97. WILLIAM BBOUGHTON (47) , Inciting John Alfred Soans, Thomas James Moad, and Frederick Leader, to steal the property of the Lands Securities Company, Limited, their matters. Second Count for unlawfully attempting to steal a bag of pepper of the same Company.
MESSRS. BESLEY and ADKINS Prosecuted; MR. M. WILLIAMS Defended.
JOHN ALFRED SONES . I am now employed at St. John's Wharf, Wapping, as colonial sampler—I went in May, 1880—I had been at Butler's wharf from 1875 to that time—the prisoner was employed there as delivery foreman in the Colonial department—soon after I joined the service the prisoner asked me on several occasions whether I could make up packages of goods for him to dispose of for our benefit; any stuff I was working in the Colonial department he would be able to dispose of if I got it ready for him—I did not take any property from Butler's wharf—these overtures were made almost up to the time I left Butler's wharf—I think between 12 months and two years before I left Butler's Wharf I met the prisoner on the stairs; he showed me one or two sovereigns and asked me whether I should like them—I said they would do very well—he said "You can very soon earn them;" I said "What about the other side of the question?"—the subject then dropped—up to the time I left the service I gave him no answer to these overtures, nor did I act upon them in any way—after I had gone to St. John's Wharf the prisoner came over to the wharf on one occasion—it was about three miles from Butler's Wharf—he came about the time we were closing, and and it would be early in June, I should think—he was waiting for me outside the wharf—he asked me if I could spare a few minutes, and we walked down Wapping Wall together—he asked me what we were working on at St. John's Wharf—I told him we were doing coffee—he asked me if I would consent to make up some packages to get rid of from St. John's Wharf—I said "No"—I suppose we were together five minutes—the next time I saw him was in Bermondsey Street—my brother-in-law had gone to Croydon in a trap, and I went over there to meet him, when business was over—I walked along the road, and on the road I met the prisoner; it was some time before August—he asked me what we were working on, I told him we were still working on coffee, and he asked me whether I would consent to make up some packages—I then said to him, "Broughton, you have been a long time punching this into me; to what extent would you wish me to go in this matter? do you want to go to 1, 2, 3, 6 or 12 bags?" he said, "Use your own discretion, creep as you go," or "creep and go," I cannot exactly say; he asked me then whether I consented to do it, and I said"No;" he then said if I would do so he was going away in the course of two or three weeks, and if I arranged to do it we might both go away together—I think the subject dropped then—he came over to my house one Sunday after that; I was in the back garden and did not see him—he made four suggestions to me to rob St. John's Wharf—I stated at the police-court that he had made 30 to 40 suggestions to rob Butler's Wharf—I do not wish to correct that—on the 18th August my wife gave me this letter marked "A"—it is in the prisoner's handwriting—I then communicated with the manager of St. John's Wharf. (Letter read: "18-8-80. Friend Sones,—As I have not seen you as promised, I thought of taking a week's holiday next week, and should like something to back it up with Let me know if there is any prospect this week.—Yours truly, W. B.")
Cross-examined. He first tempted me to rob soon after I joined the service at Butler's Wharf in 1885—I cannot give you any date in 1875 when he asked me to rob my masters—I refused to do so—I left Butler's Wharf in May this year—his suggestions continued through 1877, 1878,
and 1879; I did not tell my master or the foreman of the firm—I was always unwilling, but still he kept on—we were friendly as regards business at the wharf—there were some sweepings sold at St. John's Wharf; I believe it was the custom to sell sweepings, and that they were properly sold—I never said to him when he suggested to me to rob St. John's Wharf that I had got some sweepings mat I was getting together, and that I could lot him have them—there was never any conversation between us but once—the first time the sweepings were ever mentioned to me was when Mr. Lafone, of Butler's Wharf, took the prosecution up; he sent for me at St. John's Wharf, and the first person I met standing on the quay was the prisoner, and he asked me before I went up to Mr. Lafone whether I would say it was sweepings he wanted me to get from St. John's Wharf in answer to that letter—in June or July he came to St. John's Wharf one afternoon when Butler's Wharf closed early—he walked from St. John's Wharf to Wapping Station—there was nobody else with us—on 5th August I met him in Bermondsey Street; I did not say then that I had been putting together about a ton of coffee sweepings, and there would be about ten bags; I swear that; that note did not relate to such sweepings—from 1875 to 1880 I never mentioned these suggestions to my employers or anybody else in authority in the firm.
Re-examined. I do not keep a diary, and I did not put down when these suggestions were made—I was not aware when he made those suggestions that he was making them to any one else; I thought I was the only person—Mr. Lafone entered the service at Butler's Wharf about two years ago I believe; since he has been there there have been no sales of sweepings; I think previous to that time a certain amount was sold.
By MR. WILLIAMS. I never prepared a list of sweepings—this document (produced. I have seen; it is in my writing—I do not know what it is—I do not know whether it refers to Butler's Wharf—on looking at it again I find that it refers to St. John's Wharf, but I do not know what it is; it may be sweepings—I cannot say what was done with them—sweepings are not in my province.
By the COURT. I go to church and hear "Thou shalt not steal"—it has occurred to me what that means—I never asked the prisoner to my house; I went to his house once and sat down to his table.
By the JURY. Had the robbery been committed, the coffee would have been sent down in Broughton's charge, and it would have gone away in his charge, he being delivery foreman.
THOMAS MOAD . I am colonial sampler at Butler's Wharf—I came there in May, 1879—my duties are to class colonial produce—the goods are sent up in the warehouse, and I sort them according to what kind of goods they are—if they are bags, such as tobacco or pepper or cloves, we stab them with an iron; if they are cases of ginger and so on, we turn them out on the floor and bulk them; they are then weighed, put into stock, and I have nothing more to do with them—when they are on the floor in bulk they are all cut open to draw samples from—there could be stuff put on one side—even if anybody felt disposed to get rid of some, it would be running a risk to do so—there must be delivery orders passed before he can deliver them—some few months after I went to Butler's Wharf the prisoner on one occasion held out a handful of coffee and asked if I could manage a half
hundredweight of that, and if I would he knew a party' who Would buy it—he said "I wish I was the other side of you, old man, we might make a quid or two"—I have passed it off and left him—I do not know that I have made any reply—in August last we had a very good parcel of white pepper working on the top floor at the time, and he asked me if I could let him have a bag of that, and I said "Yes, you can have a bag"—he said "All right, see Fred Leader;" I said "No, that is for you to do"—he said "All right, I will see him"—some months after I was down stairs, at the foot of the C staircase; I am all over the building, from the top to the bottom; I saw Fred Leader at the bottom of the stairs—while there the prisoner came along, and he said to Fred Leader "Our friend has got a bag of white pepper for us;" Leader said "All right, show me where it is," and I showed him the bag of pepper, and left him there—the bag remained there for a couple or three days—it was then a parcel of pepper not finished, which was left for some more to come from the ship—the bag of pepper was put to its parcel, and at the end of the week I went away and left the matter in the hands of Bradley—the bag was resting against the wall, and I said "There is a bag for you"—I came back from my holiday in the beginning of September—the parcel of pepper was weighed, and put into stock—I told Mr. Webb, the manager, all that took place.
Cross-examined. In May, 1879, the prisoner suggested to me to rob my master—he looked upon me as a perfectly honest man at that time, I believe—I may have said "Yes, all right," and so on—I cannot tell what replies I made—he made the suggestion to me about a dozen times, or more—I believer I mentioned before the Magistrate about his holding out a handful of coffee to me—I cannot swear—I talked the matter over with Sones once—I said "I am in a fog here; I have got one each side of me"—he said "What is that?" and I said "Well, perhaps you know as much as I do myself; perhaps when I am gone they will tackle you"—the prisoner was one side and Leader the other side—I have not accused Leader at all—the prisoner suggested to Leader to get rid of the stuff—I should be very sorry to say that Leader was dishonest too—Leader agreed—I know what stealing means—I was charged with stealing a piece of chain from the West India Dock Company about two years ago last Christmas—I was tried at the Surrey Sessions and honourably acquitted—I have a letter from the West India Dock Company's police saying they believed I was innocent—the prisoner incited me to steal, and Leader too—I cannot say why I was discharged from St. John's Wharf—Mr. Hall, I believe, can vindicate my character, and the proprietors will give me a good character.
Re-examined. I did not speak to Leader about the pepper after the interview I have related—I have no means of ascertaining Whether Leader was testing the honesty of the prisoner or not.
FREDERICK LEADER . I live at 91, Old Out Road, Bennondsey—I was employed at the prosecutors' during last August as delivery foreman—the goods in my department in C warehouse came under my notice before they left the wharf—in August I met the prisoner on the stairs, and he said "Can you do with a bag of pepper"—I said "Oh yes," attaching no importance to it—I was very busy at the time with my deliveries and passed on—five or ten minutes afterwards I was passing along the quay when I saw the prisoner and Moad at the bottom of the staircase; he said as near as I can remember, "Our friend has a bag of pepper"—I
turned round and I think he was gone then—I went with Moad to the top floor and saw a bag of pepper there; I did not see it after that.
Cross-examined. The prisoner never made any suggestion to me before that to rob my master—I did not know what it meant at the time—it was never told to me what the bag was for—I might have had an opinion of my own that something was wrong, and I left the bag there.
WILLIAM SAMUEL WEBB . I was managing Butler's Wharf in the absence of Lafone—I had a communication made to me by Moad, and I then communicated with Mr. Lafone—I suspended the prisoner until his return.
HENRY LAFONE . I am the manager of Butler's Wharf, on behalf of the Lands Securities Company—Sones was in my employ as sampler, also Moad—on the 8th September, on my return, a communication was made to me, in consequence of which I communicated with the detectives—the prisoner had been suspended until my return, and on 8th September the prisoner came to see me in the presence of Moad and Leader—Moad first of all accused the prisoner of having tried to induce him to get this bag of pepper away; the prisoner denied it—we then had Leader in, and he confirmed what he had said—Leader and the prisoner met in the afternoon at 8 o'clock—the prisoner came back to the wharf in the meantime, and I went over to St. John's Wharf and saw Sones; he told me what he has stated to-day—I then put the matter in the hands of the detective, and he instituted these proceedings—the prisoner had no right to the goods.
Cross-examined. The prisoner asked to be confronted with Leader.
By the COURT. He insisted on Leader being sent for—Sones was in my service from October, 1878, to this year—Moad came in 1879, and is there still—Sones left for an error in his accounts, having unfortunately changed some marks on some samples sent up, and I looked upon it at carelessness and discharged him—there should be no perquisites sold—if we cannot allot produce to the merohants to whom it belongs, it is taken to the boiler fire and burnt—it is the custom to sell sweepings at wharves, but not at Butler's Wharf.
----ALEXANDER. I am manager at St. John's Wharf—I received a note from Sones when he was in my employ, in consequence of which I communicated with Lafone and Mr. Webb.
RICHARD KIMBER (Police Sergeant). I apprehended the prisoner on a Warrant on 7th October, and charged him with inciting Moad and others to commit larcenies—he said "Well, it is a bad job; I must get out of it the best I can."
Cross-examined. He said "It is a bad job; I must do the best I can."
The prisoner received a very good character.
The costs of Sones, Moad, and Leader were disallowed.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 1880.