CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION, HELD MAY 2ND, 1881.
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 VII. TO XII.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
The City of London,COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, May 2nd, 1881, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM McARTHUR, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. GEORGE DENMAN , one of the Judges of the High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., M.P., Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bark, M.P., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., and Sir CHARLES WHETHAM, Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; HENRY EDMUND KNIGHT , Esq., EDGAR BREFFIT, Esq., and REGINALD HANSON , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
McARTHUR, MAYOR. SEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody-two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, May 2nd, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TORE, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence. (See Sixth Session, page 627.)
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAMS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
(See Sixth Session, page 562.)
MR. POLAND, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS. WARNER
SLEIGH and GEOGHEGAN Defended.
HENEY GRAVES . I carry on business as a publisher at 6, Pall Mall, and have done so for 53 years—the prisoner was in my employ for about eight years as cashier and manager of the books entirely—at the time in question his salary was about 200l. a year—I have a private account at Ransom's, but the account of the firm, which is only myself, is at Glyn's—I may occasionally have sent cheques to Ransom's and obtained money for them—when I handed cheques to the prisoner it was his duty to pay them in to my account at Glyn's—I handed them to him for that purpose—he kept a memorandum book in which he entered what he paid in to Glyn's; this is it (marked A).—it was open for me at any moment to look at—on 21st February I handed the prisoner this cheque for 200l., signed Pascoe Glyn, for the purpose of paying-in to my account—I find an entry in the diary in the prisoner's writing on that date, "Glyn and Co., 200l."—there is an entry is this pass-book, marked B,
which I call a fictitious pass-book, of 249l. 14s. 6d. paid in—at the time I gave the prisoner the 200l. cheque I also handed him a cheque for 49l. 14s. 6d.—in this genuine pass-book, marked C, there is no entry of the 200l., only of the 49l. 14s. 6d.—on 8th March I received from Mr. Paget, of Leicester, this cheque for 105l., dated 8th March, 1880—I gave that to the prisoner to pay in to my account at Glyn's—that is entered in the diary on the 9th—in the fictitious pass-book 226l. 6s. is entered, and has my tick to it as correct, but in the genuine pass-book it is not entered—on 5th April I received this 500l. cheque from Mr. A. H. Pierpoint; it has my endorsement—I handed that to the prisoner to pay into Glyn's together with a cheque for 46l. 15s.—in the diary that 546l. 13s. is entered, and also in the fictitious pass-book, but not in the genuine pass-book—this fictitious pass-book was continually placed before me by the prisoner—I was not aware that there were two passbooks in existence—I looked on that as the genuine pass-book, and there are my ticks throughout—I did not give the prisoner any anthority to cash these cheques at Ransom's—I was not aware, until the catastrophe, that the prisoner had an account at the London and West-mister Bank—certain matters came to my knowledge; I consulted my solicitor, and eventually the prisoner was given into custody on this and other charges.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I first found out that matters were going wrong at the beginning of October—I gave the prisoner into custody in February this year—I had an assistant salesman named Croxford in my employ at the same time as the prisoner—they were in totally different departments; he had not been longer in my employ than the prisoner; his father had been with me about 20 years; the son had a higher salary than the prisoner, he had 300l. a year, the prisoner had about 200l. altogether, I insured his life, and he had gifts and things—I have seen nothing of Croxford since I commenced my investigations; I don't think he has absconded—I did not dismiss him; when the catastrophe occurred he went of his own accord—he had no money owing to him when he left—he gave me no notice—the prisoner left in October, 1880; you may call it a dismissal; I dismissed the whole of them—I believed him at that time to be a thief—I did not in January this year give him a character to enable him to go into a public-house—I think the words I used were that I had no doubt he would get on, he was a very clever fellow, or words to that effect—I was not asked as to his honesty and integrity that I recollect—I heard afterwards that he did go into a public-house, and that his relatives were going to advance 1,000l. to let him go into it—I always considered this conduct of his very dishonest and ungrateful—I did not want to be bothered with a prosecution at my time of life—I never said I considered it a matter of account—I could not have said to Mr. Martin Colnaghi that I so considered it—the prisoner offered to my son to make restitution, and he accepted that offer—I did not wish to interfere in the matter; I left it in my son's hands—I don't know that I considered myself bound by my son's action if it was wrong—the real fact is I did not want to go on with the prosecution—if he made restitution I did not wish further to prosecute him—I believe he sold his wife's jewellery; I have not got it—I believe he gave up some blue china to be sold—he admitted that the whole was purchased out of the robbery he has committed on me; he,
did not admit it to me, but to my son Boydell Graves—the prisoner has not given up property to the amount 5,884l.—he gave up a property at Lea on which there was a mortgage, and I gave my son a cheque for 450l. to pay it off—I believe that the jewellery is not sold—I believe this pass-book to be in the prisoner's writing—I saw it every ten days or a fortnight; I never thought to look at the writing, I never dreamt of a fraud—I don't say now that it is his writing, I think it is, it is like it; it did not strike me before or I should have discovered it—he has given up a number of oil paintings and engravings; the whole of them have been sold a month or so ago; they produced 1,600l.—he also assigned two life policies to me; I have paid two premiums on them since I held them; I don't know that I shall continue them—Croxford's father also assigned a policy to me—I do not know that my two sons have borrowed money of the prisoner—I did not get two I O U's, one for 105l. and one for 50l. of my sons; it never came to my knowledge—until a notice came to me a day or two ago I did not know of any such loans; I had notice to produce the I O U'S, which I have not got—I don't know whether the prisoner was intimate with my sons—I have the general management of the business, especially of the publications.
Re-examined. I had every confidence in the prisoner—the total amount of his defalcations amount to 13,000l.—an accountant has gone through the books—he has restored property to the amount of about 3,000l.—I did not know that he had that property—I heard that his wife had large private means—I did not desire to prosecute him at first; when I heard that he had sold his furniture and house and kept the money I considered he was a double-dyed villain.
WILLIAM FOSTER . I am a clerk in Ransom's bank, Pall Mall—Mr. Graves keeps a private account there—I have known the prisoner for some years as his confidential clerk, and have been in the habit of cashing cheques for him—I cashed this 200l. cheque across the counter on 21st February, and gave a 200l. note in payment, No. 18903, dated 15th September, 1879—the cheque was only crossed in lines; the stamp on it is ours—on 10th March I cashed this 105l. cheque and gave bank-notes in payment, and on 6th April I cashed this 500l. cheque in the same way, and gave in payment a 500l. note, No. 33999, dated 15th March, 1880—I cannot say for whom I cashed the particular cheques—I was in the habit of cashing cheques for the prisoner in that way.
Cross-examined. I do not know that in October last a son of Mr. Graves came to the bank and got the prisoner's pass-book—I cannot say when the prisoner's account was closed, without reference to the books.
HXBBIBT WILLIAM ROGERS . I am a member of the firm of Charles Russell, Son, and Rogers, of Westminster Chambers, Victoria Street—I was formerly private solicitor to Mr. Graves. I knew the prisoner as his confidential clerk and cashier, and our firm transacted some legal business for him—on 5th or 6th August, 1880, I received from him 561l. 0s. 5d.—I cannot say whether it was in cash—on the 6th April I paid in a sum of 555l. at Cocks and Biddulph's in notes, cheques, and gold, including what I received from the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I remember the prisoner and Mr. Boydell Graves calling on me; I can't remember the date—I was informed by Mr. Boydell Graves that certain deficiencies had been found out on the books—he did not instruct me to take criminal proceedings—he said that his father would like to treat the matter as one of account, and he gave me a list of certain securities which the prisoner was willing to give up—those included property at Beckenham, Lea, and Stockwell—on one of these there was a mortgage of 450l.—I laid the matter before counsel, after which certain mortgages were paid off, and the money was received by the prisoner or his solicitor—I heard afterwards, either from Mr. Graves or his son, that the money passed into their hands—I made the prisoner a temporary advance on some property at 34, Lambert Road; there was a mortgage on it—he bought the property through my firm, and had not sufficient money to pay for it, and we found him the money—he found a customer for it, and that customer's solicitor paid off the mortgage—I can't say what became of the property ultimately—I do not remember having any conversation with Mr. Graves or his son about it—I was not consulted about selling the other property.
Re-examined. When I acted in this matter I did not understand that the defalcations were as large as they are—I was told by Mr. Boydell Graves that they amounted to about 9,000l. or 10,000l.—as far as I remember the prisoner was willing to make restitution and give up his property.
RICHARD HAYNES WOODMAN . I am an accountant, in partnership with Mr. Tulloch, of Mansion House Buildings—I have been through the books of Mr. Graves for the purpose of eliciting the amount of the defalcations—I began on 19th February, and completed it on 26th April.
A previous conviction was proved against the prisoner in April, 1872, for stealing a hook from his employer.
MR. POLAND stated that the total deficiency in the present instance amounted to 28,000l.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MESSRS. COWIE and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted.
CHARLES JAMES STEVENS . I am a travelling clerk attached to the General Post-office—the prisoner has been employed as a junior sorter in the Inland branch for four years—in consequence of numerous complaints of the loss of letters in that department, on 27th April I made up a test letter; I put in it a sovereign, a shilling, and six single penny postage stamps, all of which I marked; I put it in an envelope, and sealed it with wax as well as the adhesive gum, and addressed it to Miss Ada Birch, 3, Guysyke Road, Colne, Lancashire—I posted it at the chief office about 10 minutes past 4 that same afternoon—I had previously spoken to Mr. Frayer, the overseer of the Inland department, about it—about
7 next morning I sent for the prisoner to my room, and told him a letter as addressed, containing a sovereign, a shilling, and six penny postage stamps, was missing—I said "It was sorted to you for dispatch this morning, do you know anything about it?" he said "No"—I directed Butler, the constable, to search him, and while searching him the prisoner put his hand into his right-hand trousers pocket and took out a sovereign, a shilling, two sixpences, and 5 1/2 d. In bronze—I said "Where did you get the sovereign and shilling from?" he said" I believe I had the Sovereign from the Post-office Savings Bank a few days ago"—I examined them, and identified them as those I had put in the letter—the officer took from him some pieces of paper, and among them was a receipt for a registered letter, and in the folds of the receipt were six single postage stamps and two others; the six all bore my private mark, which I hid put on them the previous day—I said" Where did you get these stamps from?" he said "I always carry a few stamps about me"—I said "They all bear my private mark, and they are the same I enclosed in that letter, and I shall charge you with stealing that letter"—he offered no further explanation at that time—he subsequently said he had picked up the stamps in the basement at the office.
JOSEPH FBAYER . I am an overseer in the Inland branch of the General Post-office—on 27th April I received instructions from Mr. Stevens with reference to the prisoner—on the morning of the 28th I was in the office where the prisoner was engaged—at 6 a.m. I placed the letter addressed to Miss Ada Birch on the table where the prisoner was sorting, and at 6.15 he left the table and went towards the basement—during his absence I went to the table and searched for the letter; it was not there—the prisoner returned in about 10 minutes, and went on with his sorting—I afterwards saw the messenger leave the table with the Colne bundle of letters; he put them on the Manchester road—I searched them, and this letter was not among them—I then communicated with Mr. Stevens.
EDWIN BUTLER . I am a police-officer attached to the Post-office—on the morning of 28th April I was at the Inland office, watching the prisoner at the sorting table; there was no one else there—I afterwards took the prisoner to Mr. Stevens's office, when he identified the coins and stamps—I afterwards went to the prisoner's lodging, 13, Lloyd's Row, Clerkenwell, and made a search in the first-floor back, and in a box I found six or seven rings, a gold chain, a silver necklet and locket, 2l. In gold, four pawn-tickets of silver watches, and a silver watch pledged in January last—he was also wearing a silver watch—I also found a dozen linen collars, which have been claimed by a gentleman.
EDWARD ALFRED TARRANT (Examined by the Prisoner). About a quarter to 6 on Thursday last I saw you take some money out of your pocket—I noticed a two-shilling piece, a half-crown, and some coppers—I could not swear to anything else.
Prisoner's Defence. The money was my own. The stamps I picked up in the basement. I bought all the watches at sales.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. PUBCELL Prosecuted.
EDWARD CECIL CURZON . I am a Justice of the Peace for the county of Middlesex, and live at Scarsdale House, Kensington—on Tuesday night, 1st March, I believe my house was all safe before I went to bed, about 10—next morning I received information, and on coming down stairs I missed a quantity of plate, china, and other articles of considerable value—I have since seen some of the property, not the plate.
CABOLINE BARRETT . I am cook to Mr. Curzon—on the morning of 2nd March I came down stairs about 10 minutes past 6—I found a champagne bottle on the kitchen table, two glasses, two knives, and some bread and cheese, taken from the servants' cupboard, which had not been there the night before, and the kitchen was in confusion.
JAMES EDGAR . I keep a curiosity shop at 37, Goldney Road, Harrow Road—I have known the prisoner about a year and seven months—on the evening of Ash Wednesday, 2nd March, about half-past 9, the prisoner came in with these two vases—he said" I have brought you something rare;" I said "I don't like them, they are not my style of china"—he asked 3l. for them; he ultimately took 1l.—the police afterwards left me a notice, and on 25th March I saw the prisoner near Tattersall's, and gave him into custody.
HENRY HOPLING (Policeman B 198). The last witness spoke to me, and I took the prisoner into custody—I told him I should take him to the station, and he would be charged with burglariously entering the house of the Hon. Mr. Curzon, of Wright's Lane, Kensington—he said "All right, I will go with you to the station; I am very sorry, it is the first time I ever got into trouble."
FRANZ BUEZ . I am a curiosity dealer, 278, Westminster Bridge Road—on 10th March, between 1 and 2 in the afternoon, the prisoner offered these two vases for sale for 2l.; I gave him 15s.—he said they were his own.
HENERY JONES (Police Inspector T). On 2nd March I examined the prosecutor's house—I found no external marks—inside one of the two doors leading to the pantry had been forced by breaking a pane of glass, and then unlocking the door—on 25th March I found the prisoner detained at the station—I said "Can you give me any reasonable account of the possession of a portion of the china stolen from Mr. Curzon's house, which you sold to Mr. Edgar?"—he said "I bought it of a man in the street; I thought of making a little by it; I don't know the man; that is all I know about it."
JOHN MANITIX . I am servant to the prosecutor—it is my duty to see that the house is closed, and I believe I did so on this night—next morning I missed from the pantry 60 silver spoons and forks, a silver tea-pot, ladle, and sugar tongs, and all the silver used at breakfast and dinner; they were safe the night before—I know nothing of the prisoner.
Prisoner's Defence. I am perfectly innocent. I bought the vases in a public-house of a man whose name, I believe, is Gill, whom I had often
seen at sales. I have lived with Lord Shaftesbury, Sir Henry Thompson, and other gentlemen, and have always borne a good character.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 2nd, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
436. WILLIAM LEEDS FLETCHER (17) to stealing a post-packet and two half-crowns, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General. He received an excellent character,— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months Hard Labour ,
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM PLATT . I am barman at the Red Lion, Russell Street, Covent Garden—on 25th April, about 2.20 a.m., on the house being opened on account of the market, the prisoner came in and tendered a half-crown for some rum and milk—it felt greasy, but as I had been spreading butter, I put it in the till, and gave him four sixpences, three pence, and two halfpence—he passed the rum and milk to a man who stood in a corner of the bar, and walked out quickly, which attracted my attention, and I took it out, bent it, and found it was bad—I broke a small piece out of it, and gave both pieces to the constable—the only coins in the till were four shillings—he returned in about eight minutes, asked for a cup of coffee, and gave me another half-crown—I kept it in my hand till I had served two more people, and then I tried it, and found it bad, and got over the bar, laid hold of him, and held him till a constable came, and gave him in charge with the coins—I lost one piece.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not tell you before you bolted out, that the first half-crown was bad—there were not 30 people in the bar—the bar would not hold them—you did not give me a shilling first—it was a half-crown.
ARTHUR MORRIS (Policeman E 269). I was called and Platt gave the prisoner into my charge for passing two bad half-crowns—he said, "Oh, I know nothing about it; I have just arrived here from Liverpool"—there may have been 20 persons in the bar—he tried to throw me down outside, but with assistance I took him to the station, searched him, and found these six bad half-crowns wrapped separately in newspaper, and the whole in brown paper in his left trousers pocket, and in his right a purse containing three shillings, four sixpences, and tenpence-halfpenny in bronze, good money.
Cross-examined. There were not more than 20 people in the bar.
WILLIAM WEBSTEB . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this half-crown of 1846 broken in two, is bad—the next is bad, but the date is broken off—these six half-crowns found in the prisoner's pocket are bad—two of them are from the same mould as that of 1846 and three of 1874 from the same mould as the one with the date broken off—counterfeit coins are usually wrapped up separately to keep them clean—here is one of George III, 1819.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was that he treated some people to drink, and that a bad coin was passed, a row took place, and some one must have slipped the six bad coins into his pocket. He made the same statement in his defence.
He was further charged with a previous conviction of a like offence.
HENRY WARD . I am a warder of Her Majesty's Prison, "Wandsworth—I produce a certificate of the prisoner's conviction on the 1st March, 1880, in the name of Samuel Turner, of uttering counterfeit coin—the prisoner is the man—I was present, and have not the slightest doubt about him.
Cross-examined. I have many reasons for knowing you well, but do not wish to be unfair to you.
GUILTY.**— Seven years' Penal Servitude .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
ARNOLD MALZY . I am a tobacconist, of 1 A, Tottenham Court Road—on 22nd March, between 12 and 1 at night, I served the prisoner with half an ounce of tobacco—he gave me this florin—I broke it in the tester, and asked him where he got it—he said, "In payment for some work I did at the docks"—I gave him in charge—he told the sergeant he received it at a stall in the street where he bought some oranges—he was remanded, and discharged on the 24th.
TERENCE SMYTHE (Police-Sergeant 45 E). I took the prisoner—he said, "I received it for some work; I got 5s. for some work I did at the docks, and in passing through the Strand this afternoon I went up to a costermonger's barrow, asked for two oranges, and tendered half-a-crown; he gave me in change two shillings and four pence"—he gave the name of Godfrey—he was remanded till the 24th, and discharged about 12.30 in the day.
JOHN TAYLOR . I am a tobacconist, of 56, Wilton Road, near Victoria Station—on 24th March, about 10 p.m., I served the prisoner with half an ounce of shag—he slided a bad florin on the counter—I said, "I suppose you know what this is"—he said, "Is it bad?"—I did not answer—he then put down fourpence—I fetched a constable and gave him in charge—he got it in change for a half-crown in buying a half-penny orange at a costermonger's barrow.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not throw it on the counter—you kept your hand on it.
HERBERT SKINNER . I was 40 B R. On 24th March, about 10.30, I was called to Mr. Taylor's shop, and the prisoner was given into my custody for passing a bad florin—he said, "I did not know it was bad; I received it at a costermonger's barrow in change for a half-crown; I bought a halfpenny orange"—I said, "Where was the costermonger's barrow?"—he said, "In Wilton Road"—no barrows are allowed to stand there—I was there all the evening, and there was not one there—he was searched at the station, and a purse was found on him with a good fourpenny piece and three-halfpence in it; and he had half an ounce of tobacco in his hand—he gave his sister's address, 6, St. George's Street, Borough—this is the florin (produced).
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am guilty."
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
MESSRS. CRAWFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
The evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
HENRY GEORGE WINTLE . I am a tobacconist, of 24, South Street, Marylebone—on the 16th April I served the prisoner with two pennyworth of tobacco—he gave me a florin—I gave him the change and kept the florin in my hand, and before he had quite left the shop I found it was bad, and went to the door, but could not see him—about half an hour afterwards I saw him passing my window—I touched him on the shoulder, and beckoned to him to come into the shop—he came in—he had been there half a dozen times before, and always took the tobacco away in his hand—he would never have it wrapped in paper—I knew what he wanted when he came in—he only said "Twopence"—I said "This coin you have given me is bad"—he said, "No, no," shaking his head and making towards the door—I saw a constable across the road, and ran across to him—the prisoner left the shop at the same time, and started at full-speed down the street—the policeman followed him, and I afterwards saw aim at the station.
ALEXANDER BLOOIOULD (Policeman D 9). I was in South Street off duty and Mr. Wintle pointed out the prisoner running as hard as he could down the middle of the street—I followed him and took him in William Street without losing sight of him, except while he turned the corner—I told him the charge and forced him into a shop, searched him, and found sixpence in silver and fourpence in bronze on him, and at his feet this purse, containing a bad florin bent—I took him to the station—the charge was interpreted to him in French, and he said "I have had the money about three months, I must have got it in change from a chemist"—he gave his address, 2, Little Barlow Street, which is about 50 yards from the prosecutor's house.
Cross-examined. I took your pocket-book from you in the shop, and you had all these papers loose in your pockets—I did not at that moment let the purse fall—I held your hands while I searched your pockets, but you may have dropped the purse while I was forcing you into the shop—I did not hold you at that moment—I did not see the purse till it was on the floor; I cannot say whether it was in the pocket-book.
HENRY GEORGE WINTLE (Re-examined). I knew him as a customer two or three weeks—he has said "Twopence "before in English—sometimes he said "Pounce "instead of "ounce"—I marked the coin with a "W "and put it on the shelf, not in the till.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." My wife gave me the money on Saturday night, a 2s. piece and 3d., to go to market with. I went to the coal merchant's and to this place. If I had been guilty I should not have gone to the tobacconist's. The other piece my wife received from a customer three months ago, and I cut it myself."
The Prisoner called.
ANGELIQUE GAVALIER (Interpreted). My mother gave you this piece of money and 3d., and you bought some coals, potatoes, salad, tea, sugar, and bread—I was present when a woman came and paid my mother for
some petticoats with a florin; I saw you put it to your mouth and bend it.
Cross-examined by MR. CRAWFURD. That was more than three months ago, and my father had it a long time in his purse—my mother gave it to him on Saturday night, the 9th, to go to market, the same night that he was taken in custody—that was the day she gave him the 2s. 3d.—I can't say at what time he came home with the potatoes and other articles, but it was at night, and he did not go out again—I do not know whether he had any other money in this purse but what my mother gave him—I have no idea how much he spent, but all he had was the 2s. my mother gave him and the 3d.—I am sure the coin found in the purse was the same one my mother gave him.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not look at the coin; it was late at night, and I put it in my pocket with the 3d. I went into the tobacconist's and bought some tobacco, changed the florin, and lit my pipe before going to market. I then went to the grocer's next door, then to the coal merchant's opposite. I took the coals upstairs and went out again, and went to the corner to the baker's, which is nearly opposite the tobacconist's shop, and then went to another grocer's, where I bought some tea and sugar, and then I remained in the street to see whether I wanted to buy anything else, and he had me taken in custody an hour afterwards. I am entirely unaware that the coin was bad. Had I known it I should have done with it just as I did with the other.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
FANNY MILLER . I keep a baker's shop at 8, Grown Court, Pall Mall—on 5th April, between 5 and 6 p.m., the prisoner came in and asked for two crusty brick loaves for the coffee-shop in Piccadilly—I said "Is it the one we serve?"—he said "Yes"—I said "Is the young man gone who hat been there so long?"—he said "Yes, he left on Saturday night"—that young man had come and paid me on Saturday night, and that had gone on for years—they came to 7d.; he put down a half-crown—I saw that it was bad, bent in the tester, and said "Why, it is a bad one"—he said "A bad half-crown!"—I said "Yes, a very bad one"—I said that because it was so soft, and it would not bounce at all—I also tried it with my teeth—he went out, but did not go in the direction of the coffee-shop—I followed him and gave him in charge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say that you supposed the other boy had left on Saturday.
JOHN DICKS (Policeman C 253). On 5th April I was on duty, and the last witness pointed out the prisoner to me walking slowly in Bury Street—he saw her speak to me, and turned round and looked in a doorway, and then turned round and ran to the corner of St. James's Street, where I caught him—he spoke first, and said "You have got the wrong man, policeman"—I took him back to the shop, searched him, and found 2s. 5d. in good money in his left-hand trousers pocket, and at the station I found a pocket inside his coat, under which the lining was torn, and I found two half-crowns between the lining and the pocket with a small piece of paper between them—he said "I met a man in Piccadilly who said 'My
man, do you want to earn 3d.?' I said 'Yes,' and the man gave me a drop of rum out of a bottle; I drank it, and the man told me to drink I again, and then told me to go to the baker's shop and get two loaves of bread, and after that to get change for a half-crown," and that the man gave him the two half-crowns—neither of them were bent.
Cross-examined. I did not find the money in your breast pocket, but between the lining and the cloth at the bottom of your pocket, just in the flap of your coat; it stopped there because it was down at the bottom.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." When the policeman caught hold of me I did not say that I was not the man, before he had said I was. When I got the bread I went to where the man promised to be, but did not see him. I did not know they were bad."
The prisoner produced a written defence stating that he was sent to the shop by a man who gave him some rum, but who he could not find afterwards.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 3rd, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
GEORGE MARTIN . I am a labourer, and live at 30, Tyman Road, Lavender Hill—on 4th April I was in the Snow Shoes public-house, Chelsea, from about a quarter past 8 to 9—I was sober—a number of men were there; the prisoners are two of them; they were upstairs in the singing-room—I had some ale and afterwards went out to the back yard; as I was returning to the house I was met by the two prisoners; they got hold of me, put their hand over my mouth, and tore my inside coat pocket out and took my pocket-book containing three sovereigns and my discharge and pension paper—they struck me, knocked me down, and kicked me on the temple, and I got a black eye—when I recovered myself and got up the men were gone—I went inside and complained to the landlord—I tried to defend myself, but could not, they huddled me so—I did not know the prisoners before.
Cross-examined by Bancroft. I did not see you come downstairs—I saw you in the back yard.
Cross-examined by Moorcroft. You were upstairs at the time I was—I was not in company with two women—you are one of the four that met me in the back yard.
GEORGE SMITH . I am a private in the Army Service Corps at Chelsea Barracks—on the evening of 4th April I went to the Snow Shoes about 7 o'clock—while I was in the bar I saw the prosecutor come downstairs and four men behind him, and Martin went out into the back yard; the four men went also; the prisoners are two of the men—I have known them perfectly well for the last twelve months—they were out in the yard between four and five minutes; they then came rushing into the bar, and Martin came running in with his head all bleeding and his ear and head cut—he complained to the landlord of being robbed and kicked—the
four men escaped out of the house—I noticed that Moorcroft had his lip cut and bleeding—a constable took Martin to the station—about half-past 10 or a quarter to 11 I pointed Bancroft out to a constable at a fried fish shop, and he was taken into custody—I saw Moorcroft in custody next morning—since I have been the cause of having these two men apprehended I have been grossly insulted by two men who know the prisoners—I was quite sober—Martin had had a little drop to drink, but he was not any the worse for it; he knew what he was about.
NOAH BULLIMORE . I am landlord of the Snow Shoes—the prosecutor made a complaint to me; his head was all over blood—I was in the bar—there is a singing-room upstairs; it holds about twenty or thirty persons—the potman attends to them—after the complaint was made to me I went into the yard; I found no one there—I saw both the prisoners in the house that evening—anybody coming from the yard into the street would have to come straight through the bar.
HENRY SCOTT . I am potman at the Snow Shoes—I was in charge of the singing-room on 4th. April; I saw the prosecutor there about half-past 8—there were three or four persons with him—I saw the two prisoners up in the sing-song room with the prosecutor, but I did not see them leave—I knew them by sight—I afterwards saw the prosecutor at the bar with his mouth, bleeding.
JAMES BOYCE . I am waiter at the Snow Shoes—I was in the singing room on 4th April—I saw the prosecutor and the prisoner there—I saw the prosecutor leave—the prisoner left about half an hour before him; he was in company with a woman in the room.
ARTHUR MARTIN (Policeman B 405). On the night of 4th April, about a quarter to 11 o'clock, the witness Smith pointed Bancroft to me at a fried fish shop in the Pimlico Road—I told him I should take him into custody for assaulting and robbing a man of 3l.—he said "I don't know what you mean"—at the station he said "I was in the Snow Shoes at 6o'clock"—he afterwards said "I had only been out of the Snow Shoes three minutes previous to your apprehending me"—I found on him 1s. 10 1/2 d.—he was sober.
Moorcroft's Defence. I was in the Snow Shoes, but I left at half-past 7o'clock, and never went in again—I was not there at the time the man was robbed.
GUILTY . BANCROFT also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in January 1875. BANCROFT— Fifteen Months' Hard labour. MOORCROFT— Twelve Months' Hard, Labour .
442. WILLIAM DAVIS (19), EDMUND NORRIS (18), and WILLIAM VAUGHAN (21) , Robbery on Kate Mallinson, and stealing; a bag and 64l. 5s., the property of Louis Lumley and others, and ALFRED HELDERGILL (20) , for inciting them to commit the said robbery.
MESSRS. POLAND and MR. WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
KATE MALLINSON . I live with my parents at 125, St. Paul's Road, Bromley—I am in the employ of Messrs. Louis Lumley and Co., cork merchants—they have an office in America Square, and the works are in Bow Common Lane—it was mine and my sister's duty to go on alternate
Saturdays to America Square to fetch the money for the wages, and bring it back to Bow Common Lane—I have done it for the last two years—Heldergill is in Messrs. Lumley's employment—on Saturday, the 5th March, I went to the City to get the money, as was my custom—I left Bow Common Lane at about 11.30, went by rail to Fenchurch Street, and on to America Square, and fetched 64l., 52l. in gold, 9l. 9l. 6d. In silver, and a cheque for 2l. 16s. 1d.—I put the money in this bag, I locked it and put the key in my pocket—I left the City by rail, and returned to Burdett Road—I walked down St. Paul's Road, where I lived, called at my own house, came out again, shut the gate, and proceeded down the road—it was about 1 o'clock in the day—I had the bag in my hand, locked—I saw Davis, Norris, and Vaughan on the pavement——Vaughan rushed towards me and took hold of the bag, then he pulled me round, forcing me towards my house; the other two took hold of me at the back by the shoulders and the arms; Vaughan was pulling at the bag, trying to get it away—I screamed out for help; one of them rushed between Vaughan and me and took possession of the bag, and ran off with it, and the other two ran after him—Davis said "I will run after him"—the struggle lasted about two minutes—I had struggled with them past six houses—Vaughan's hat fell off into the footpath in the struggle—they all ran round the corner into Rowsell Street—Vaughan's hat was picked up and handed to me, and I took it to the works—I gave information, and the police were sent for—in the afternoon the bag without it's contents was brought to my house—I felt the effects of this for about a week afterwards in my arms, where they had been caught hold of—I was struck on the arm—the struggle took place about 100 yards from the factory—the men were generally paid at two o'clock—I saw Davis about a fortnight afterwards, Norris about a week after that, and Vaughan a week after that—I have no doubt that these are the men—I was not quite so sure of Norris, I am positive of the other two.
SUSANNAH COCKERTON . I am the wife of Arthur Cockerton, a carpenter—we live at Copenhagen Terrace, Limehouse—on Saturday, 5th March, I was in St. Paul's Road about a quarter to 1—I saw the prosecutrix there with the bag—I saw three young men come along; Davis is one of them, and Norris is the one who took the bag; I can't swear to the third one—I saw Davis give Miss Malinson a knock on the right arm—I did not see whether it was the arm on which she carried the bag—the struggle did not last long, it was very quickly done—then they all three ran away, and I did not see what became of them; they turned down the first street they came to—the prosecutrix screamed out.
ELIZABETH BUSS . I am the wife of Thomas Buss—we keep a coffee-house at No. 187, Bow Common Lane—on Saturday, 5th March, three men came into our house at about 1.30—I can identify Davis and Vaughan; I am not sure about Norris—Vaughan had a scratch on his hand, which was bleeding; he had no hat on—they asked for three cups of coffee, and sat down in one of the boxes near the door; we keep the window shutters at the end of that box during the day—I said to Vaughan "You appear to have met with an accident," and Davis said "Yes, we have been fighting," and that in the struggle Vaughan had lost his hat—Vaughan asked me if I had an old one to give him; I told him I had not got one; he said "A sack or a bag will do"—I tried to find one, and could not—he then asked me for a newspaper; I gave him one, and he
took his coat off and made a parcel of it in the newspaper, and put the parcel on his head—the two other men went out first, and Vaughan followed with this parcel on his head—no one else had been in that compartment where the shutters are kept that morning—about three-quarters of an hour after the men had gone Inspector Godden came to my house, and I went in the box where the prisoners had been sitting—I looked behind the shutters, and found this bag; it was cut; nothing was in it—I handed it to Godden, and he took it away—Vaughan was in the house about three-quarters of an hour, Davis about half an hour, and Norris only a few minutes—I afterwards, on a subsequent occasion, saw Davis again at the police-station; he was placed among eight or nine others, and I picked him out—a few days after that I saw Norris at the police-station; he was put among others, and I picked him out—I can speak positively to Vaughan.
MICHAEL JOYCE (Policeman H 140). I took Davis into custody on 18th March—I had seen him on 11th March; he was in custody then on another charge—I searched him on that night; I found on him 10l. in gold, 25s. in silver, and two gold rings—he was discharged upon the other charge, and detained in custody till the 18th, and then taken on suspicion of this—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with two others not in custody in stealing 65l. from a young lady on the 6th March; he said "All right"—he said he was a dealer, and that was his stock money—he was afterwards seen by Miss Mallinson and the other witness, and identified.
JOHN SMITH (Police Sergeant). I apprehended Norris on 25th March near the House of Detention at Clerkenwell; at that time Davis was in custody there—I told Norris I was a police officer, and should take him into custody for being concerned with two others, one in custody, for stealing a bag containing 65l. from a young woman in Bow Common Lane on 6th March—he said "All right, I suppose if they don't pick me out you will let me go?"—he said later on "Who put you on to me?" I said "No one"—he said "If they don't pick me out I will stand to it"—I went with Sergeant Thick to Messrs. Lumley's works, Bow Common Lane, about two o'clock that same day—I spoke to Mr. Chapman, the manager and foreman, and Heldergill was called into the office—Mr. Chapman said "These are two police-officers, they wish to speak to you "Thick said to Heldergill "You had better be careful what answers you make to our questions, as we are in possession of information"—I said "Do you know a man named Vaughan?" he said "No"—I said "Do you know of the robbery committed upon a young lady in your master's employ?" he said "No, I did not put it up"—I said "No one asked you for that remark"—on the way to the station he said "I met Vaughan," and I think he said Davis, "in a public-house at Bethnal Green, and he said 'Can you put us up to anything where you are?' he said 'Yes, there is a young lady goes to the City every Saturday and fetches the money to pay the men, and I should think you might get it'"—I said "Do you know Vaughan, the person you speak of?" he said "Yes, I know Vaughan has been in trouble"—he said "I never met them again until the night of the robbery I then saw Vaughan and Davis; I said to Vaughan 'Well, you have done the job, then?' he said 'No, it was not me, it was Mivey' (Mivey is a nickname for Davis, I believe);' all I got out of it was a glass of ale; on the morning that I was
brought up Davis was brought up by a habeas corpus'"—I told Vaughan he would be charged with the three others for stealing a bag containing 65l. from a young woman on the 6th March; he made no reply—I produce the hat given me by Godden.
In the Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate, Davit, Norris, and Heldergill declared their innocence. Vaughan alleged that Heldergill informed him of the robbery having been committed.
DAVIS, HELDERGILL, and VAUGHAN— GUILTY . DAVIS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. HELDERGILL— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. VAUGHAN, who PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction— Two Years' Hard Labour.
NORRIS— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 3rd, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAXTFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
AMBROSE SINCLAIR . I keep a refreshment room, 34, Poland Street, Oxford Street—on 24th March, between 6 and 7 p.m., the prisoner ordered half a dozen oysters, which came to 15d.; she ate them and gave me a florin; I gave her 9d. change, and put it in the till, where there was no other florin—I took it out about ten minutes afterwards and gave it to Charles Taylor with 4d. In copper, who brought it back—I found it was bad, put it in the fire the same night, and it melted like lead and went right through the cinders—it was an open grate—on 31st March the prisoner came again, and my daughter served her with a cup of tea; she gave her a half-crown; I examined it, bent it with my teeth, and found it was bad—I called a policeman, gave it to him, and said "This woman has passed this, and passed another last week; you had better see if she has got any more on her"—she said that she had not, and pulled her purse out and showed him—she said to me "You have made a mistake; I was never in the shop before"—when she found I was going to charge her she said "Forgive me this time"—I gave her in charge with the coin—this is it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I recognised you by your features and dress—I took the half-crown to a friend next door, and brought him and another man back, and a policeman.
CHARLES TAYLOR . I am in Mrs. Tickell's employ, a coal dealer—I took a sack of coal to Mr. Sinclair's on 24th March, and he paid me with a florin and 4d.—I gave the florin to my mistress, who gave it back to me, and I took it back to Mr. Sinclair and gave it to him—it was bad—my mistress bent it.
ANN TIOXELL . I am a coal dealer of 2, Old Broad Street—on 24th March Taylor handed me a florin and 4d.—I bent it with my teeth, and I could have broken it if I liked—my teeth sank in it and it bent easily and felt greasy.
Sinclair called me to his shop and said in the prisoner's presence that she had just given his daughter a half-crown, which he gave me; and had tendered a bad florin for some oysters the week before—she said "I think you are mistaken," but afterwards she said "I hope you will forgive me this time"—I said "Have you any more money?"—she said "No,"'and produced her purse—there was nothing in it—nothing was found on her.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." It was given me by a gentleman on the Wednesday afternoon. I know nothing of the 2s. piece."
Prisoner's Defence. I have been leading a gay life, and the half-crown wag given me by a gentleman.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour .
MESSRS. CRAWFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
THOMAS BARROW . I am a photographer of 9, Cornhill—on 12th March the prisoner tendered me a half-sovereign for a dozen gem portraits, which came to 1s. 6d.—I found it was bad, and said "Where did you get it?"—he said "From Waterloo booking-office"—I said "I thought they were more careful than that at the booking-office," and asked what he changed it for—he said "I changed a sovereign"—I said "What have you done with the rest of the money?"—he said "I bought some goods with it"—I said "Where are the goods?"—he said "I left them to be called for"—I said "How did you get the sovereign?"—he said "At Croydon Races"—I said "There are no races this week, and you will have to give your name and address to the constable"—I gave him in charge—I gave evidence against him on the Monday—he was remanded, and discharged on 22nd March—this is the coin; it is very soft; I chipped it with a knife—this (produced). is one of the portraits.
GEORGE BAKER (City Policeman 583). I took the prisoner and received this bad half-sovereign—I said "Where did you get this from?" and he said "Last Tuesday I went to Croydon Races and received this half-sovereign there at the railway station in change for a sovereign, taking a ticket for London"—I said "Have you any more money?"—he said "No, only 1d."—I searched him at the station, but found nothing on him—he gave his name John Fermen—the prisoner is the man—the half-sovereign was almost broken when I put it in my pocket, and it got broken at the station.
LOUISA PENWILL . I am barmaid at St. Stephen's Restaurant, Bridge Street, Westminster—on 29th March I served the prisoner with a glass of ale; he gave me this bad half-crown (produced).—I gave him in custody.
FREDERICK FOSTER (Policeman ER 35). I took the prisoner and asked him where he got the coin—he said, "I got it at the Croydon Races, a bookmaker gave it to me"—I found a good shilling and a penny on him.
The prisoner in his defence, through an interpreter, stated that he received
the half-crown in payment of a let on horse racing, and did not know it was bad; he did not account for the possession of the bad half-sovereign.
GUILTY .**— Two Years' Hard Labour .
MESSRS. CRAWFURD and SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
GEORGE WATKINS . I keep the Lord Hill, North Walk Road—on 16th April, about 8.45, I served the prisoner with a glass of ale—he put down this coin (produced).—my wife pushed it and said, "What do you call this?" and threw it down—he picked it up and went out, saying nothing—I ran out at the other door, caught him with the coin in his hand, and took it from—he said, "If you will let me go I will give you my name and address"—I gave him in charge.
CAROLINE ELIZABETH WATXINS . I served the prisoner—he threw down this coin—I instantly detected it, and said, "What do you call this?"—he made no answer, but picked it up and left quickly without taking the ale—the bar was full—I called my husband, who went out and gave him in custody outside—he was the worse for drink, and I think he hardly knew what he was doing.
THOMAS PRICE (Policeman X 270). I took the prisoner and charged him with attempting to utter counterfeit coin, which I showed him—he said, "I had it from the Victoria public-house"—two shillings and a florin in good money were found on him at the station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say, "I think I received it from the Victoria"—you said, "I had it"—you had been drinking—you were not drunk, you knew what you were about.
Prisoner's Defence. I received 30s. 2d. from my master—I was under the influence of drink, and gave 20. worth of silver for a sovereign, and they gave me this medal, and when I went to have some drink I put it down, and found it was not good—I wanted to change it because I had not sufficient silver to pay my landlady what I owed her.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
HENRY LINKLATER . I am master of the ship Harmony, lying in the West India Docks—I saw my sextant and opera-glass safe on 26th April and missed them on the 28th—these are them (produced).—they are worth 12l.
WILLIAM WHITE . I was assistant to the late Mrs. Purser, a pawnbroker—these articles were pawned there on the 27th April, between 6 and 7 o'clock, by the prisoner, who gave his name George Smith, East India Road, for 2l. 5s.—the shop is about five minutes' walk from the docks.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." I had the sextant and the glass from the same two men that I got the rest from.
Prisoner's Defence. The articles were given to the in the dock to take out, but I did not know they were stolen.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, May 3rd, 1881.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
448. FREDERICK WILLIAM JONES (33) to uttering three orders for the delivery of goods (it was stated there were 30 cases of fraud against the prisoner).— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude .
449. ISAAC FISHER* (46) and JOHN DAVIS (58) to stealing a watch of Samuel Newns from his person. Fisher also pleaded guilty to a previous conviction.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months each with Hard Labour.
450. JOHN GROYES (29) to burglary in the dwelling house of William Henry Watkins and stealing a pencil-case, 17 postage labels, and 6s., his property.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. A. B. KELLY Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.
WILLIAM ALBERT HENRY . I am a florist and market-gardener at Chigwell—about 3.30 a.m. on the 26th April I came with my pony and cart to the London Flower Market—I left it in charge of Dennis Driscoll while I went into the market—Lay, who is employed by me, came up with me, and he was also left in charge—I next saw the pony and cart at Bow Street—the prisoner was there—I gave him in charge—he said that he was sent by a man to fetch the cart from Burleigh Street into the Strand—the pony and cart are worth about 25l.
CHARLES LAY . I work for Mr. Henry—I came up with him from Chigwell on 25th April to the London Market—we arrived about 3.30 a.m.—we unloaded and brought the pony out, and left it in charge of Dennis Driscoll—between 3.30 and 8 a.m. I came out of the market three or four times, and saw the pony and cart still safe—on coming out about 9 I found Driscoll holding the prisoner by the arm—Driscoll asked if I knew him—I said I did not—I went and told Mr. Henry.
DENNIS DRISOOLL . I live in the Gray's Inn Road—I work about the market—I was left in charge of Mr. Henry's pony and cart about 3.30 a.m. by Lay—I watched the prisoner—about 9 a.m. he led the pony by the head into the Strand—he was getting into the cart—I pulled him by the collar—he threw me away and knocked me down—he said he would get away in spite of me—he tried to escape—we had some tussles—I told a constable—he would not take him—another constable came up and took the charge—the prisoner said to Lay, "You know me well"—Lay said, "No; I do not know you"—I said, "He is trying to steal your pony
and cart"—Lay brought his governor up, and he pressed the charge—I saw the prisoner about 100 yards off in one street and then another—he was coming out of a public-house trying to get away.
Cross-examined. He told me he was sent by a man from the public-house to fetch the pony and trap, and I went to the public-house and saw no one there but the prisoner—he went into the public-house after he took the pony round, and it was outside that I saw him get on the step of the trap—the pony and trap were outside the public-house about 10 minutes—the prisoner was inside two or three minutes—I saw him take the pony, and watched him.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries and found he was employed by Messrs. Whiteley, of Westbourne Grove, till 14th September, 1880, and that he afterwards worked for the London Parcels Delivery Company for about three weeks.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
FREDERIOK RAYMENT . I keep Rowland's Hotel, at 18, London Wall—about three months ago the prisoner came to my house—he afterwards told me he was agent for Condy's Fluid Company, also for the Southwestern Co-operative Stores—I supplied him with food and refreshment to the amount of 18l.—I asked him several times for payment—he said he banked with the London and South-Western Bank, the Battersea Branch, and that a large house was being furnished for him at Clapham in a handsome way, and he was going there in a day or two.
Cross-examined. He paid his first bill without being asked; that was for 4l. 5s. 7d.—after that he stayed from the 24th January to the 15th February—I gave him into custody for the public good—I did not wish to sign the charge sheet, because he said he owed no one else, and would pay me within a few days—he used an office in King Street, Cheapside, and in Holborn—he represented them to be his—once when I went to King Street Mr. Morphet turned him out and said "Dent, I have had enough of you, you can go downstairs"—I do not know what Mr. Morphet is—the prisoner used to come out and talk to me on the stairs; he seemed ashamed to talk in his own office—there were three rooms, a little place he had to himself—he was given in charge there.
GEORGE ELLESMORE DUNN . I keep an hotel at 5, Norfolk Street, Strand—about Christmas last the prisoner came to my hotel—when he had been there two weeks I asked him for the amount due—he said it was not convenient to pay at that moment, but he would do so in a day or two—he pulled some papers out and said there was no occasion to make a row about a matter of 11l. or 12l.—at the end of the third week he gave me this bill on the London and South-Western Bank, Battersea Branch. (For 16l. 11s. 4d., accepted by the prisoner, and marked "Refer to drawer,")
I was never paid that sum—he remained another week and paid for that week—I never saw him till he had been there a fortnight—he then said that he was agent for Condy's Fluid Company, or for a company to buy Condy's Fluid.
Cross-examined. He did not refer to the South-Western Co-operative Stores—he referred me to a Mr. Petifer, who said Dent was good enough for what he undertook—I said "Would you lend him 100l.?"—he said "I do not think so"—I was not told Petifer was to be solicitor for one of the companies—I made no further inquiries—Dent did not tell me the South-Western Bank was to be the bank to a new association he was forming—he owes me 16l. odd—the receipt you produce is a forgery—this is the only bill I ever receipted—I know Dent has been in an office in King Street, not in Holborn—I have no idea what he was doing—I did not take much notice of his papers—I went to King Street to ask for this bill—he said a man who owed him money was one day in Belgium and another in Manchester; it was one story one time and another another—I think Condy's Manufacturing Company was painted on the stairs, but seemed to be rubbed out—I did not see Dent's name—Morphet and Littlejohn I think was the name on the door.
SAMUEL BIGGS . I am head waiter at Gosling's City Hotel—the prisoner came on the 15th April and remained till the 21st—he paid his bill of 5l. 2s. 8d. on the 23rd—the following day I handed him a further bill for 3l. 3s. 2d.—he left without paying, and left a box and two or three parcels behind—I opened the parcels—they contained a few pairs of dirty socks and an old pair of trousers—the box was opened by Sergeant Davis—it contained papers—when I gave him the first bill he said he was the secretary to Condy's Fluid Company, and something about a co-operative society at Battersea, that he was the secretary—I gave him credit because he referred us to Condy's Fluid Company.
ELIZABETH BUNKER . I am the wife of John Bunker, hotel keeper, of 456, New Oxford Street—on the 5th December, 1879, the prisoner came there with a female—he remained seven months and incurred a debt of 226l. 6s.—on the 25th December he gave me a cheque for 15l.—he said he was related to Dent's the glovers—I understood at first he was the son, then he said Mr. Dent was his uncle and Lady Dent was their aunt—I believed that story and allowed them to remain—I have never been paid—the prisoner brought a hamper and parcels to the hotel—Sergeant Davis opened the hamper—it contained a lot of coal, an old dress, and a tin kettle.
Cross-examined. They brought no luggage when they first came—I made no inquiries—I saw a Mr. Drake, who said he knew the prisoner from a boy—three parcels came with the hamper—the prisoner used to be scribbling for newspapers and taking advertisements out—he never told me what his business was—I believed them to be respectable people.
ELIO QELLATE . I am a lodging-house keeper at 37, Duke Street, St. James's—on the 31st of July last the prisoner came with a lady to my house and wanted lodgings for a few days while they looked after a house—he said he was a broker—he remained till the 10th of November, incurring a debt of 82l.—he gave me an acceptance payable two months after date from 6th November—I never got paid.
Cross-examined. Mr. Swallow introduced me to Dent—he is a lodging-house keeper in my neighbourhood—he remained there three or four
days—I gave the bill to my solicitor—Dent did not mention any company—he had offices at 62, Holborn Viaduct—I inquired there after the Dents left my house, and found they were sent away because they did not pay their rent.
Cross-examined. I recommended him to Gellate—he was introduced to me by Mr. Evans, a broker.
HARRY CROWTHER . I am cashier to the London and South-Western Bank at Battersea—that branch was open in August, 1879—from that time the prisoner has not been a customer—I do not know him—we had no order with regard to the bill produced.
Cross-examined. Mr. Barter is the manager—he is not here—a form like this produced would be sent to the manager—an account was opened called the London Co-operative account, and one share was taken up, upon which 10. has been paid—I have seen a prospectus, but not this paper—we had a few prospectuses at our bank.
ALEXANDER MITCHELL . I live at 27, Falcon Street—I am the maker of Condy's Fluid, and trade as Gondy's Fluid Company—I know nothing of the prisoner personally—he is not connected with our firm in any way.
Cross-examined. I have been to Somerset House and found an association has been registered called Condy's Manufacturing Company—I do not remember seeing this document—George Condy is no connection of ours—he is the brother of Bowman Condy, of Battersea—I know Mr. George Condy's writing—I take this to be his writing, and I see the same signature on the Articles of Association—I have had no litigation with the new company, I have only just found that it existed.
Re-examined. I did not know of the existence of the Condy Fluid Manufacturing Company till I saw it in the newspapers.
ALFRED BARNETT . I am a warehouseman employed by Dent and. Co., of 97, Wood Street, glove-makers—I have been there 34 years—I have never seen the prisoner before—I am not aware of any Lady Dent—Mr. Dent died 25 years ago.
Cross-examined. I do not know anything of the Dent family.
Cross-examined. I know all the family—the "Dent" in Meet Street is a in—I have not seen the prisoner before—there is a "Dent" in the Stand—there are others in the world, I suppose, but I cannot go back 4 the origin of the family.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective). On the 18th February the prisoner was given ito my custody—I took him to the station—on the way he said "I hope you will look over this matter"—Mr. Rayment then said, on his stating I do not owe any one a farthing," "On those conditions I shall with draw the charge"—I made inquiries, and found various other cases.
Cross-examined. He also said "I do not intend to defraud Mr. Rayment; I owe him I will pay him"—also, "I own I owe Mr. Rayment 18l. I did not intend to defraud him."
GUILTY . (Detective Davis stated he could bring 20 or 30 cases against the Prisoner.)— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
GEORGE CASTLE . I am cabinet-maker, of Mape Street, Clerkenwell—about 10 minutes past 1 o'clock on the 9th April I was aroused by a noise at the shutters—I waited about a minute, then I heard a noise of things going off the table that stood against the window—I went downstairs—I found the prisoner in the room; he stood and looked at me—I took a light—the window was open—I had gone to bed about 12 o'clock—I had shut the shutters—I called a lodger; he went for a policeman—a shawl which had been hanging behind the door was lying close to the window, a yard and a half off—it was folded up—the work was knocked off the table—tassels, &c.
EDWARD HELLINGS (Policeman K 450). I heard cries of "Police!" in Mape Street—I went to No. 64—I found the prisoner in the left-hand parlour—I asked him how he got there—he said "A female brought me in"—I asked him what female—he said "I don't know"—I took him into custody—I afterwards went back to the house and examined the window—I found the shutter had been forced, and there were marks which correspond with this knife—the window opens on to the pavement, about two feet above the street—it would be easy for anybody to get in.
The Prisoner's Defence. I was on the booze, and I thought I was going to my own place. I live in the front room. I have been living in Bethnal Green all my life.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 4th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted.
ANNIE READ . I am the prisoner's wife—we have been married years—I lived with him at 10, Benjamin Street, St. Sepulchre's we occupied one room, the second-floor back—we have three children—on Saturday evening, 19th March, about 6, I went to a public-houe in Cross Street; I found my husband there—I had twopennyworth of whisky there—my husband was drunk; he said he would pay me when I got home for coming after him—we went home together; on the way home I bought some bread, tea, and sugar with money which gave me—I had no tea ready for him at home, and he commenced owing about it—my little girl, four years old, was in bed at the ✗; she began to cry—my husband took her up to beat her—I went to ✗ry and prevent him beating her, and he commenced beating me—he tuck me on the chest with his fist, I don't know how many times—he threw me down, and kicked me ever so many times—there was a paraffirn lamp on the side table; he broke that against the table, and threw the oil over
me, and said he would set me alight and burn me; he went and tried to find the matches; he could not find them—I screamed out, and Mrs. Fairhead, who lives above, came down—she asked him to leave off beating me; he said he would leave off—she then went back to her room; he did not leave off; he commenced beating me again as soon as she went—he locked the door after she went; he would not let me go out—he then threw me down over the fender; the fire was alight—I got up, but he kicked me ever so many times before I got up, on my body—when I got up I was going over towards the cupboard; my child began to cry—he said he would throw her out of the window; I said "No, you. won't"—he said "I will throw you out as well"—the window was open—he took hold of me round the waist, and threw me out—I remember nothing more till I found myself at Bartholomew's Hospital—I left the hospital on 12th April to be examined at the police-court—I then went back again, and finally left last Sunday—Mr. Coates attended me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When we got home you asked me to get tea; I said I would get it; the fire was alight, and the kettle boiling—you began rowing because the tea was not ready—I did not row you at all; I persuaded you to lie down and go to sleep while I got it ready—you would not lie down—I was not intoxicated; I had had nothing but the twopenny worth of whisky—I don't usually take it; I took it that day because I was very cold, and had had no food all day—I was not drunk three times a week—I did not stab you with scissors and forks—I did not. get out of the window myself, you threw me out—Mrs. Fairhead visits me sometimes—she is out at work all day.
ELLEN FAIRHEAD . I am a widow, and live at 10, Benjamin Street, in the room above the prisoner—I have lived there about three years—the prisoner and his family have been there a few months—on Saturday, 19th March, about 7 or 8 p.m., I was in my room—I heard them quarrelling; I could not distinguish the words—it was so frequent an occurrence I did not interfere—I could not tell which was to blame; I heard both voices—after hearing the scream I went down to their room, and said "Mr. Bead, what is the matter?" he said "Nothing"—I went into the room; Mrs. Bead was standing by the fireplace, crying; the children were on the bed; the room was in a state of confusion—I trod on some thing on the floor like glass or crockery—I begged of the prisoner to be quiet; he said he would—the wife said he had been beating and kicking her—he said "You are drunk;" she said "All I had was twopennyworth of whisky"—she was perfectly sober—I went back to my own room, and heard nothing more—Mrs. Bead used to do my washing and cleaning, and when I have sent her for my supper beer I have always made her partake of it—I never saw her drunk—I used to give her money on Saturday for herself and children, or she would have been without—the prisoner was excited, but quite sober.
Cross-examined. I could not tell the words you used when I asked what was the matter—you may have said "My wife is beginning rowing again"—she has not fetched beer and gin and whisky for me every day, nor was she always up in my place.
HARRIET SARAH FOX . I am the wife of Mark Fox, and live next door to the prisoner—I occupy the second-floor back—on the evening of 19th March, between 7 and 8, I heard quarrelling, but on which side it laid I could not tell; I heard it for some time—I afterwards went down to the
yard to get some water, and while there I heard the prisoner say he would throw her and the b—child out of the window—the window was open—I heard a smash like the breaking of glass or crockery—after I had been in my room two or three minutes I heard a frightful scream, and then a terrible crash, followed with groans in the yard—I ran to the landing window, and saw Mrs. Read lying on the ground, and the prisoner over her, by the side of the grindstone in the yard—he said "Annie, Annie, where is your money?" and he had got her pocket in his hand—she appeared to be senseless; I thought she was dead—I ran into the street, and knocked at the prisoner's door—he came, and asked me to come in; I said "No, you beast, I won't"—I went to fetch a policeman—the prisoner fetched a cab, and Mrs. Bead was taken to the hospital—I spoke to the prisoner in the passage, and said "You beast, you wretch, you said you would do it, and you have done it;" he turned round and said "No, I did not, she done it herself"—I could not tell whether he was drunk or sober, he was very much excited.
Cross-examined. You did not run and fetch any brandy while I was there.
JOSEPH FEARLESS (Policeman G 311). About 8 o'clock on the 19th March I was on duty in Benjamin Street—I was fetched into No. 10—I went into the back yard, I found the prosecutrix lying insensible—I got a cab, and she was sent to the hospital—whilst I was putting her into the cab the prisoner was in the crowd—he asked if he could go to the hospital, and I told him he could—when I reached the hospital I found him there—when the prosecutrix became sensible she spoke to me—the prisoner was in the waiting-room—I told him he would have to go to the station with me to state to the inspector how it occurred—he said "But you won't charge me, will you?"—on the way to the station the prisoner asked me to have something to drink, which I declined—when I reached the police-station I made a statement to the inspector in the prisoner's presence—I said that the prisoner's wife said that he had thrown her out of the window—he said "What for? she fell out of the window"—the charge was entered—I went back to the house to take the children to the workhouse—I found the window open, and a broken paraffin glass lamp—the height of the window was 24 feet—the ground beneath was stone-paving—it is a sort of yard—I found the key and the handle of the door on the floor—the room was in disorder—there appeared to have, been a scuffle.
Cross-examined. I did not ask you to fetch a cab, I went for it myself—you asked if you could go to the hospital, and I said yes—I did not say that I had taken worse cases than this to the hospital—I did not refuse to let you carry her upstairs at the hospital—you said you would come to the station and give evidence, and when you came I charged you—I examined the yard—the grindstone was nearly close to where the prosecutrix was lying—I did not notice the washing-tub.
By the COURT. The prosecutrix was lying insensible when I saw her, and there was a little blood on the stones—I should say she prisoner was perfectly sober.
THOMAS FORD (Inspector G). I was present when the charge was taken—what the last witness has said is correct—the prisoner was brought in by the constable, who made a statement to me in the prisoner's presence, that he had thrown his wife out of the window—I told the prisoner he would be charged—he said "What for?"—I said "For throwing your wife
out of the window"—he said "I did not, she fell out"—the next day I went to the hospital where the wife was—she made a statement in the prisoner's presence—I took it down in writing at the time—this is it. (Read:" I went to meet my husband on Saturday evening about 6 p.m. When we arrived at home he began to quarrel because I had got no tea, then he began to beat my Annie because she cried for some tea. I told him not to hit the child, when he knocked me down, and threw the paraffin lamp at me, and tried to set me alight. When the person upstairs came down he said he would leave off. Directly she left he began knocking me about, and kicked me on to the fender. I asked him-to let me go out, but he would not. He then went over to the door, and said he would throw me and the child out of the window. He then took hold of me round the waist and threw me out of the window. The window was open at the time, and had been open all day." By the Prisoner. "Was not I sitting at the door, half awake, and half asleep, when I looked round and found that you were in the yard?" "That is not true.")
GEORGE COATES . I am a Bachelor of Medicine—I was house-surgeon at Bartholomew's Hospital when the prosecutrix was brought in—she was lying on a stretcher quite insensible—I examined her; I could not find any bruises upon her, nor any bones fractured, and the movement of all her limbs was perfectly natural—after a few minutes she began to become conscious, and when quite conscious she complained of very great pain in the left knee and hip and the lower part of her back—she was taken into one of the wards, and put to bed—next day there was a alight swelling in the knee and hip, and the day afterwards a good deal more—at first I did not think she was very much hurt, but next day she appeared very much injured—afterwards there was effusion into the knee joint, and a good deal of swelling; the whole of the left thigh was exceedingly tender and painful to the touch, the left hip joint showed signs of bruising, and there was a general shock to the system—for the first three days I could not say whether she would recover or die—it was the 12th April before she could go to the police-court, and then only with great difficulty—she is still suffering from injury to the left hip—I cannot tell whether she will recover from that; certainly not for some time—the injuries were such as would be produced by being thrown from a window; I should have expected them to have been more serious—I could not tell whether she had been drinking or not; I do not think she had.
Prisoner's Defence, I have three little children. She loves another. She was always bruising me and knocking me about. I have a black eye, and I have been stabbed with knives and forks every night I go home. She got out of the window herself. I have stopped her from doing all manner of tricks several times when she has had a drop of drink.
GUILTY on Second Count. **— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. F. SAFFORD Prosecuted.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy.— Three Week in Newgate without Hord Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 4, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
READ appeared for Ottway, and MR. FILLAN for Webster.
ALFRED STACEY . I am Superintendent of the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptey of Frederick Betts Ottway—it contains the examination of both the defendants; the order to prosecute, dated 30th January, 1881; the petition for adjudication and the statement of affairs, both dated 80th July, 1879—the debts are 6,810l. 0s. 2d., and the assets 636l. 6s.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. There is a resolution on 8th July, 1880, "That a further sum of 8l. be allowed to the trustee on account of his remuneration, &c."—that is signed by the creditors present, of whom Webster was one—Webster was a creditor for 115l. 13s. 8d.—Mr. Wynn is a creditor for 37l. 10s.—I do not know whether he is the prosecutor.
CHARLES LEGGATT BARBER . I am one of the official shorthand writers of the Bankruptcy Court—I took notes of Ottway's examination on all the occasions, aid also of Webster's examination; they are on the file—I have examined the whole of them; they are correct. (Both the defendants examinations were here read.).
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. Webster's son was examined on a subsequent occasion by the prosecuting solicitor—it was a long examination—the same books were examined, and he explained them.
CHARLES JAMES ELY . I am clerk to the trustee—I was present at Ottway's examination—this memorandum, dated 24th February, 1880, and signed W. Webster, was put in. (This was addressed to Messrs. Boys and Child, requesting them to call a meeting at once, that Ottway should have his discharge; another letter from Webster; enclosing cheque for 21l. 10s., was put in; also a letter from Ottway to Messrs. Boys and Child, requesting them to obtain his discharge; the witness's notes of Ottway's evidence, taken in the trustee's office, were also put in and partly read.)
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. A meeting of the committee was called on, I believe, 8th March, 1880, to discuss the removal of the furniture to Webster's house, but I was not present—Mr. Wynn, Mr. Beale, and Webster were members of the committee of inspection—another meeting was called for the same purpose, I believe on 15th March, but I do not remember whether Mr. Beale or Mr. Wynn attended—I believe they did not—I have never seen them at any meeting since—I believe there was a third meeting, but they did not attend; they always had notice—a general meeting of the creditors was then called, and Mr. Beale and Mr. Wynn received notice of it, but they were not there—there was, I believe, a meeting of creditors on 1st July, and a resolution to accept 21l. for the property, and the trustee received this cheque for 21l., which was paid—I wrote to Mr. Ditton, Mr. Wynn's solicitor—I was not present at the meetings of the committee afterwards, but I believe they passed a resolution accepting 21l. 10s.—I remember writing to Mr. Wynn, but I cannot remember the subject of the letter—I was present at a meeting on 8th December, 1880, when Mr. Wynn called the creditors together to
remove the trustee, Mr. Child, but three-fourths of the creditors voted for retaining him—31 members were present—all the circumstances of the removal of the furniture were explained at the meeting.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. Mr. James John Brown, a creditor for 800l., refused to remove Mr. Child, and so did a creditor for 1,000l.—I did not see Mr. Henry Holt there; he is a public-house broker—Boys and Child are chartered accountants, very well known in the City—Mr. Child is the trustee still; he is not the prosecutor—I do not know that he has refused to prosecute—the Court can order him to do so, but they have not—I took notes in shorthand—I was appointed in the creditors' interests, not the debtors'—I believe Mr. Child has taken care of the creditors' interests in getting all the information he can.
Re-examined. I should say that the steps about the furniture were initiated by Mr. Child, who I should say has done everything which a trustee ought to do—I do not know that the creditors arrived at the conclusion that the prosecution ought not 'to take place—this (produced) is the circular sent out to convene the meeting to displace Mr. Child—I do not know that before that Mr. Wynn had received circulars in favour of removing Mr. Child—I am not aware that Mr. Child admitted that there was no ground for his insinuations against Mr. Wynn—I have no reason for connecting Mr. Beale and Mr. Wynn in this matter.
WEBB (Detective Officer). I took Ottway, and three or four days afterwards I went to the Colonial Restaurant, Mincing Lane, where I found a large, quantity of plate, of which this is a list (produced).—I afterwards received smaller quantities of plate from different persons, and from an inspector at Islington Police-station one dozen table knives, two spoons, and a napkin—the dozen of table knives Mr. Crole handed to me at the police-court.
GEORGE ELMER . I keep the Old Greyhound, Milton Street—I took the house from the brewers through Otway's instructions—I did not succeed Ottway, he was only manager; I do not know to whom—I produce' the plate which I took over—I bought the house "all at," bar the furniture—I paid the brewers—there were some loose things, pots and glass and things belonging to the business, for which I paid Mr. Crole 21l. 10s.—I cannot say whether any plated things were included.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. This was a "change," and I paid over my money and took all there was in the house, and among other things these, which are not worth 2s. 6d.
JOHN DUNBAR . I am a silversmith—I have known Ottway two and a half years—I was introduced to him three months after he went to the Excise Tavern, and while he was there I sold him plated goods, value about 135l.—he gave me a cheque for 36l. on account and two bills of 50l. each, which were dishonoured, and the amount is still owing to the" tavern—I went there shortly before the petition for liquidation, and saw the plate there—I afterwards, at the request of Mr. Ditton, went to the Colonial Tavern, and saw come plate there which I identified as mine—I also recognised some plate at Guildhall Police-court—this plate produced here is mine.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. It is the very best electro-plate—I value what I saw at the Colonial at 35l.—I saw half of it at Guildhall.
plate, he brought these articles, and when he was arrested he left them there.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. They are worth about 2s. 2d. secondhand, but you could not get them new at that price.
JOHN KEATING . I am foreman at Britannia Wharf, Shepherdess Walk—on 3rd February I found these plated goods on the edge of the wharf, near the water's edge—I took them to Islington Police-station—they are marked "Excise Tavern," and fourteen forks are marked "J. B. Ottway, Excise Tavern."
ARTHUR KELDAY . I am an auctioneer, of 64, Finsbury Pavement, and am unfortunately part proprietor of the Colonial Dining-rooms—Ottway entered my employment there about 18 months ago, and brought some plate, which he left behind him when he left my employ, being deficient in his cash, and said that we could take it for the money due.
WILLIAM BELL . I am a stationer in the employ of Messrs. Waterlow and Sons—I became acquainted with Ottway at the Daily dining-rooms—there is a piano club where I am employed, and this (produced). is a memorandum of the subscriptions paid by the members of the club—the prisoner paid a subscription in respect of two pianos up to the first Thursday in August, 21l. on one account and 28l. on the other—one of those pianos was in my possession in December, 1879—he had the other back in October, 1879—he had the second one back in the latter part of December—I took care of them while his affairs were being settled—when he got the first one back in October, he said thafr his affairs were settled—he had them on a hiring agreement in the first place—one went to his house at Forest Hill and another to Mr. Ford, of Chatham, who, I believe, is his father-in-law—he told me that he had sold one—I have not seen them since they went away.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. We have a club among the employes of the firm—we pay monthly subscriptions, and there is a ballot who shall have the piano—I am the secretary, and go through the form of letting the pianos on the hire system—these two pianos were let in that way to Ottway—they do not become the property of the hirer till the purchase money is paid—he had not paid the whole of his subscriptions on either when the removal took place, and he had not acquired any property in them—the value was 47 guineas each—it was my duty in the event of a member of the society becoming bankrupt or liquidating to see that the pianos are restored to the society, because I am responsible for them—I took them away because Ottway told me that he would shortly have to file his petition, and when he told me that he had arranged his affairs, I let them go back—I consider that I have a right to claim them wherever they may be.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I do not know whether the trustee in bankruptcy claims them—I claim them—I have had to give them up—I have lost my money—I have not been prosecuted for receiving them.
Re-examined. The club is for buying pianos so that each may get one in turn—the price of each was 36l.—Ottway won one by ballot, and each member has to sign an agreement that it is my property till paid for—after he had them back he paid me two guinea a month for each, for three months—both were the same price—he wanted the second piano at once without chancing the ballot, and I let him have it by paying 10l. down and the rest by instalments—on the morning of my examination at the
Bankruptcy Court he called and said that he had sold one piano—I have received 34l. 6s. on one and 28l. on the other—it is all entered on this sheet, but since that I have had five guineas on one and 5l. from Mr. Ford on the other—the person who takes away the piano gives me the agreement—it is my document of title—the first agreements were given up and new ones substituted—I knew in October that he had been bankrupt in August.
— WEBB (Re-examined). I heard Horace Twiss examined—the prisoner had the opportunity of cross-examining him. (The deposition of Horace Twiss was here put in.)
RICHARD JOSEPH TYRRELL . I am a dairyman of Grocers' Hall Court, Poultry—I have known Ottway over six years—I bought a piano of him in May, 1880, and paid him a cheque for 11l., and afterwards the balance 35l. altogether—it came from Stanstead Road, Forest Hill—he asked me to purchase it, and said that he had it from a club, and there were a few pounds to pay, and when I paid him he would pay the balance.
OTTWAY— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour .
WEBSTER received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 4th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
459. DAVID MURRAY (40) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling 6l. 18s. and 22l. 3s. of Malcolm Colquhoun his master. There were four other indictments against him. He admitted there were defalcations to the extent of 100l.— Fifteen Months' Hard labour .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
THOMAS PARKER . I keep a hotel at 28, Surrey Street, Strand—on the 30th March I had been to Victoria Station; I was going home; it was rather later than 12 o'clock; I went along the Embankment to the entrance to the Temple Station, and in turning towards the Temple Station I saw two men at the foot of the steps and a woman half-way up—I had my coat buttoned as it is now—as I was going up the steps a third man that I had not seen placed his hand round my throat: I could not see his face, he was so close behind me—he then dropped his hand from my throat, and laid hold of my coat and pulled me down on my back—the two men who were at the foot of the stairs then rushed up; they ripped up my overcoat, then my under-coat—I had a watch in my waistcoat; it was attached by this chain (produced)—I put my right hand over the chain; one of the men slid his hand over mine along the chain, got the watch, and twisted it off the swivel; I could not see which did it—while they were taking the watch I was shouting "Murder," and fearing I should be struck I did not get up—in a few minutes a policeman came with a man in custody—I could not see the men farther than that they went up the steps.
Cross-examined. There were three men—I said at the police-court, "They dispersed in different directions after the robbery;" that is quite
correct—the swivel is wrenched, not broken—I said at the police-court I did not recognise the prisoner; I say so now.
By the COURT. I suffered no pain—I am bound to say it was done in the most gentlemanly manner imaginable, but not approved.
ALFRED DOWDY . I am a messenger—I live at 22, Bridge Street, Mile End—on 30th March I was on the Thames Embankment, going towards the City—when I was about 20 yards from the Temple Station I heard a shout and a cry of "Murder"—I went across the road; just as I got to the middle of the road a man came from the direction of the City and a man ran up to a woman; the policeman came running by, and two men ran up the Embankment towards Westminster, one on the right-hand side and one on the left—the policeman followed them in the middle of the road, crying "Stop thief"—I followed the policeman, and when he was nearly up to him the man running on the left-hand side of the road stopped; the policeman went up and took him; it was the prisoner—I came back along with the policeman—Mr. Parker was lying down on the ground; I helped to pick him up—I got the policeman's lantern and looked about on the ground and found this bar of a chain; the chain was in Mr. Parker's hand.
Cross-examined. It was a fine night, moonlight as far as I can recollect—the electric light was out—I do not know who the man was who spoke to the woman; I did not see the direction in which he ran—the constable was in the road when the man stopped, and the man was on the pavement, six or eight yards from the constable—I do not know what became of the woman—there were three men altogether.
PHILIP KEENAN (Policeman E 286). I was on duty on the evening of 30th March near the Temple Station about 1.45—I heard a shout from the Temple Station; I could not distinctly hear what it was—I ran towards the place, and when running I heard another shout—when I got to the entrance to the Temple Station I saw the prisoner with two other men leaving the prosecutor, who was lying on the ground at the entrance to the Underground station at the foot of the steps—I saw a woman standing by the prisoner, and two other men, who on seeing me come up ran away—one ran up Arundel. Street, the other two towards Waterloo Bridge—I followed the prisoner and the other man; the prisoner separated from the other man, and I followed him alone for about 250 yards—when I was within 20 yards of the prisoner I shouted "Stop thief"—he stopped, turned round, and asked what was the matter—I ran up to him and took him into custody—I told him he would have to come back as there had been a man robbed—he said he did not do it—I said, "What were you running for?"—he said, "I was running after the other man"—there was no man running in front of him—the prisoner was dressed as he is now—I brought him back to the prosecutor, who was still lying on the ground, and he said, "That is the man," or "One of the men"—I asked him what had happened—he said he had lost his watch—I think the chain was lying on the man's breast—I took this bar off the boy—he searched for the bar and handed it to the prosecutor—I do not remember seeing the boy till I got back to the prosecutor; he might have been there, but I had not time to see him—the prisoner was taken to the station and charged; he said nothing—it was a cold, sharp night, and moonlight.
Cross-examined. It was a clear night; I cannot say whether the moon
was at fall, or whether there was a moon—there is electric light on the Embankment up to a certain time, but I cannot say whether it was alight then—there could hardly have been so much light if there were not a moon—all I know about the woman is I saw her at the railway-station—I was after the prisoner then—I was about 100 yards from the place when I first heard the cry of "Murder"—I was about eight or ten yards off when I saw the men standing round the prosecutor; they were in the act of leaving him—I saw them just as they were moving away—they were stooping—it would not be correct to say, "They all dispersed in different directions"—one man that got away ran with the prisoner for some distance—there was no turning; it was straight along the Embankment—the prisoner was searched; nothing was found on him.
GUILTY .** He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in December, 1875, at Newington, in the name of Henry White.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
The Jury, being unable to agree, mere discharged without giving any verdict. He toot subsequently charged before another Jury, and no evidence being offered was found
NOT GUILTY .
STEVENS PLEADED GUILTY .
ALFRED EDWARD MARKS . I am a clerk in the Royal Mint—on 22nd April I handed to Daniel Bradley two bags containing 5l. each in new coppers, to be sent to Mr. Shovelton, of Market Street, Lea, in Lancashire—I saw him pack the bags in a box which I gave him for the purpose.
DANIEL BRADLEY . I am employed at the Royal Mint—on 22nd April I received from Marks two bags containing 5l. in coppers; I placed them in this box; I fastened the box up securely; I put a card upon it, and it was addressed to Mr. Shovelton—I handed the box over to Collier, a carman of the London and North-Western Railway; he signed a receipt for it.
WILLIAM COLLIER . I am a carman in the employ of the London and North-Western Railway at Broad Street Station—on 22nd April I collected from the Royal Mint a box addressed to Mr. Shovelton, Market Street, Lea, in Lancashire—I took the box to Broad Street Station, and handed it over to checker Tallack.
ROBERT TALLACK . I am a checker employed by the London and North-Western Railway Company at Broad Street Station—at 3.30 p.m. on 22nd April I received from the last witness a box addressed to Mr. Shovelton at Lea—it was in good condition—I handed it over to the porter Clark to take away to the No. 7 arch, which is called the Bolton Arch, as it contains the goods which go into the Bolton truck.
to No. 7 arch and placed it by the tide of the dock—that is the ordinary way of dealing with these parcels—the dock is where the trucks come in—I do not know Stevens's hut.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The "bank" is where goods are deposited in order to be loaded in the trucks—there are no huts on the bank—a gang of men were working in where the box was put at the time—they were in the service of the Company; carman who are not in the service of the Company have no right there—I have seen carman in some of the arches; I have seen them on the bank, but not in that particular arch.
HENRY SHOVELTON . I am a grocer, at 7, Market Street, Lea, in Lancashire—on the 20th March I sent to the Royal Mint a 101. note, in order that coppers to that amount should be sent to me—I have not received them.
WILLIAM DEAN . I am a porter in the employ of the London and North-Western Railway, at Broad Street—on the 22nd April I was at work at the capstan with Stevens, from about 11.45 a.m. to 11.15 p.m., with the exception of going to dinner and tea—I saw Witherington—I think it was after 7—I saw him later on, but cannot say if he was there when I left—Stevens hung my coat in his hut—I was a new hand—I saw Stevens take an empty box that looked like a champagne box, from behind the hut where we were at work—there was something in it when he brought it back and covered it over with straw—I do not know what it was—I heard some knocking like-iron-against iron in the hut—I saw Witherington and Gray go once or twice into the hut while the knocking was going on—when I went to get my coat from the hut I met Stevens at the door—he threw out my coat, and said "It is all right," so that I did not go inside—Gray was in the hut—I could not say if Witherington was.
Cross-examined. The hut has no door—there is a lamp near—there are eight men working in the gang, under one foreman, named Brown.
BARRY PARSON . I am a detective officer, employed by the London and North-Western Railway Company—a report of the loss of the box was made to me—in consequence I saw Stevens on the 25th April—I took his statement down in writing—I called Witherington into my office, and confronted him with Stevens—I said "Witherington, Stevens has made a statement accusing you of stealing a box of money from No. 7 arch on Friday night; I will read his statement to you; you need not say anything in answer to it unless you like, but what you do say will be taken down in writing, and may be given in evidence against you"—I then read Stevens's statement to Witherington, Stevens being present—then Witherington made a statement, which I also took down in writing—these are the statements. (Read: "April 25th, 1881. Stevens says, About 9.30 p.m. on Friday, the 22nd, Witherington came to me and said, "Cosher, there is a box of money in No. 7 arch;" he said "I have knocked it down into the dock and covered it over with straw." About half an hour after, he came up to me again, and said "I am going to get a basket to put it in, and I will brine it up to you, I left it in the second recess by the second column." About three quarters of an hour after, he brought it up into my cabin in a basket, and left it there. In about a quarter of an hour he came up and said, "Have you anything I could break it open with?" I said "You may find something in there." He went into the cabin and broke it open, I was outside
working the capstan at the time. When I had got about four waggons on the lift he came out and said "I have opened it." He went in the hut and pulled a bag out of the box, and gave me about 7s. 6d., which I spent.' Witherington says: 'About 3 p.m. on Friday, April 22nd, I saw a box of money similar to the one produced, in No. 7 arch on the bank. About 8 p.m. Stevens asked me to fetch the box from No. 7 arch to his hut. I did not fetch it, but Stevens did, and took it into his hut and opened it. Stevens told his mate he was going into his hut to knock a few nails in to mend it. About 10 minutes past 11 p.m. he called me into the lift, and we went into his hut. I saw the box open, and two bags of money lying on the ground. Stevens's mate came to the hut, but Stevens would not let him go in, but handed him his coat out. About 11.30 p.m. I went into the hut used by Stevens; he was there, as also John Gray. They both had their trousers and coat pockets full of coppers; Gray said to me "You take some." I said I did not want to take any. Gray said "You take this outside," at the same time handing me about 4s. in new coppers. We then booked off duty. Stevens and I wanted to go back with, the other men, but Gray would not. We (Stevens, Gray, and myself) walked to Spitalfields Church, Gray leaving us there. Stevens and I then went for a walk to Commercial Road, where Stevens met a friend, and said to me "Give me the coin you have got." and I did so. He handed me 1s. 6d. in silver for them. He also handed me a 2s. piece and half-a-crown of his own money, and asked me to mind them for him till the next morning. This I promised to do, and then I went home. I gave him that back when I came to work on Saturday morning.'") Sergeant Herron found the box produced—it was brought into my office and shown by me to the prisoners.
Cross-examined. I do not write shorthand—this is the original statement as taken down in longhand—I told him to speak slowly, and to give it me exactly—he said it so that I might take it down—Sergeants Herron and Young were present—Smith was in and out—I asked Stevens to sign it, and it is signed—Witherington's statement is not signed—I did not direct him to sign it—I do not know why I did not ask him—I had no reason—I said to Stevens "Stevens, you have heard about the box of money being stolen from No. 7 Arch?" then he said "I know nothing about it"—I said "This box has been found near where you work, broken open, and 5l. of the money we think was stolen has been also found near where you work, and this instrument, which fits the marks of the box, has been found in your hut; have you anything to say about that?" and he said "I will tell you all about it."
Re-examined. I was holding an inquiry as to what had become of the box—I did not know then who took the box.
RALPH HERRON . I am a detective officer employed by this railway company—on the 23rd April, about 5.30 p.m., I found this broken box in No. 13 Arch—that is about 60 yards from No. 7—it was in the condition it is now—there was nothing in it—the next morning I searched the station and found the canvas bag produced concealed under a quantity of bales of waste lying in what is called the field—it has not been tampered with—I searched the hut used by Stevens, and found this book concealed under some pieces of wood in the bottom of the cabin—it would not belong to the hut—I was present when the two statements were read—I heard them read at the police-court—they are a correct reproduction
of what was said—the prisoners saw them being written—I cautioned Stevens myself.
Cross-examined. Stevens spoke slowly—I told him to do so—there was no stoppage, it was written word for word as he spoke—he spoke in the ordinary way—it was the same with regard to Witherington.
HENRY EVE (City Policeman 68). On Monday, the 25th April, I went to Broad Street with Constable Phillip—I took the prisoners and Gray to the police-station—I searched Witherington—I found 1s., a knife, and a tobacco-pouch—Witherington made no reply when the charge was read over to him—Gray made a statement to mo the next morning.
The prisoners received good characters.
WITHERINGTON— NOT GUILTY .
STEVENS— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 5th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MR. LILLEY Prosecuted.
CHARLES MOULFORD . I live at 2, Rupert Road, Kilburn, and am a labourer—the prisoner and his wife lodged in the next room, and have done so for some years—on the 22nd March, about 2.30 in the morning, I was awoke by screams of murder from a female voice; the cries came from the prisoner's room, the front room; I live in the back room—I went to their room and knocked at the door and said "What are you doing?" he said "Nothing much"—I said "Well, open this door;" he said "I shan't, you are not wanted here"—I said "If you don't open this door I shall burst it open"—I did burst it open—when I got in the room the prisoner was sitting on the bed in his shirt, the same as I was—I did not take any notice of his wife then, I was looking after him, and then when I looked round my wife, who was with me, had sat her in a chair by the window—there was nobody there except the prisoner and his wife and two young children—the woman was bleeding from the ear, and I said "What have you done, have you stabbed her?" and he said "No, I have not hurt her much"—then I said "We must wash her, and see what is the matter with her"—he was going to get some cold water, and I said "No! we must make a fire and get some warm water and wash her;" and with that he got some sticks out of the cupboard, and made a fire—when the water was warm my wife washed the blood off her, then I went back to bed and left my wife there—I cannot say whether the prisoner was tipsy or not; I did not notice that he was.
By the COURT. The fire was not laid, he had to get the sticks out of the cupboard—he did it as soon as he could.
ANN MOULFORD . I am the wife of the last witness—on the night or early morning of 28th March I heard a cry of "Murder" in a female voice coming from the prisoner's room—I and my husband went to the door of the room, and my husband knocked at the door, and said "Jack,
what are doing of? Open the door," and the prisoner said "Nothing much, you are not wanted here;" with that my husband said "If you do not open the door I shall burst it open," and my husband burst the door open, and we both entered the room together—I saw Mr. Wegener sitting on the bed, and Mrs. Wegener standing between the door and the window—I helped her into a chair—she was bleeding from the outer part of the left ear; the ear had been cut—Mr. Wegener went to the cupboard, and fetched some sticks out and lit the fire, and made some hot water, and I fomented the ear—Mrs. Wegener then said "I think I will go to bed, I feel very cold;" I said "Do so"—she was quite sensible—the prisoner had been drinking; I do not think he knew what he was about—he lit the fire—when Mrs. Wegener got into bed he was in bed—she was quite sober—I went back to my own bed—I returned again about 6.30, and on going into the room I saw Mrs. Wegener lying on the bed (I had not heard any disturbance between the two times); I asked her how she was, and she made no answer, and I went to my husband—I returned to the room, and found her insensible; in consequence of that my husband sent me for a surgeon, and I fetched one—I noticed her head again before I went for a surgeon; there was a blow on the left side of the skull which had not been there before when I saw her—the doctor was there almost as soon as I got back, about 7.30; he proceeded to examine her—I saw nothing lying in the window-sill—the prisoner had lived in the same house with his wife for about seven years, and we have lived there too—since I have known them they have lived on affectionate terms together until Christmas—since Christmas he has been drinking—I never knew them have any unhappy words until this night—he was a very kind, affectionate husband, and she was kind to him.
ELIZA WEGENER . I am the prisoner's wife—on the morning of 22nd March last I was in bed with my husband—I was woke early in the morning; my husband struck me a blow on the side of my ear—there had been no angry words between us before going to bed—I had been out with him that evening, and returned between 11.30 and 12 o'clock—up to the time of going to bed we were on entirely affectionate terms—when I went to bed my husband went out and got himself some tobacco and some more beer; he drank some at the bar, and some he brought home—I do not know how much he brought home, for I was asleep when he came home—after he hit me the first blow I remember nothing else—I recollect Mr. and Mrs. Moulford coming in—my husband lit the fire, and made some hot water for Mrs. Moulford to bathe my ear—when I got into bed my husband was sitting on the side of the bed—Moulford and his wife got into the room by breaking the door open—then my husband got into bed, before I got in; I said I was cold, and I got in—I remember nothing else for a day or two—I was not aware of having a second blow—I do not recollect the surgeon coming—when I came to consciousness I was in my own bed; that would be Thursday, more than a day after it happened, as that was on Tuesday—I don't recollect receiving any blow after I got into bed again—I have been married 11 years—I have always lived on affectionate terms with my husband—we have always lived on happy terms until Christmas; since, then my husband has been another man, he has been taken up with nothing in the world but drink.
By the COURT. There have been occasions when he has been angry
with my sister—she does not live in the same house; she lives at Notting Hill, but she was confined at our place with his sanction, and after her confinement they quarrelled, I believe through his not being sober—he accused her of trying to induce me to leave him; there was no truth in that—I tried to persuade him not to drink—he was out of employment at this time; he got discharged about three weeks after Christmas, that was from slackness of trade—I think it preyed on his mind—he had taken to drink before, but not so hard as since Christmas.
JOHN RING , M.D., Cambridge Gardens, Kilburn. About half-past 7 on the morning of 22nd March I was called to No. 2, Rupert Street—my assistant went at once, and sent for me, and I got there about 8—I found Mrs. Wegener in an unconscious state, with a wound on the left side of the head and a fracture of the parietal, temporal, and frontal bones—there was an incised jagged wound of about 2 or 2 1/2 inches; it went through the skin and muscle—I should say the injuries must have been caused by a series of blows—I took away five or six fragments of bone from the wound, and there was excessive depression of those bones on to the membranes of the brain—I performed the operation of trephining, and did what I considered necessary—she recovered consciousness about two days afterwards—I looked on it as a very serious case—I thought she would have died, but she gradually recovered—on my first visit to the room I found this knuckle-duster on the window ledge, covered with fresh blood—such an instrument would produce the injuries; it was impossible for a fist to have done it—I asked the prisoner if he had done it with this knuckle-duster; he said "No," but he would not tell me what he had done it with—he was under the influence of drink, but knew perfectly well what he said and did; he was in a very morose, abusive condition.
JOSEPH SPENCER (Police Sergeant X 2). On the morning of 22nd March, about half-past 7, I saw the prisoner at the police-station—he walked into the office and said "I am come to give myself up?" I said "What for?" he said "For striking my wife;" I said "Is your wife hurt?" he said "No, I dont't know that she is"—I said "Where and when did it take place?" he said "Only a short time ago, at my house, No. 2, Rupert Road"—I noticed that he was the worse for drink—I asked what he struck her with; he said with his fist—I called a constable and told him to go with the prisoner to his house, and they left together—he returned with the prisoner in custody in about a quarter of an hour—he said "She had been out whoring, and I struck her."
JOHN WINCH (Policeman X 337). I was sent with the prisoner to his lodging—I saw the wife lying on the bed insensible, the doctor attending to her—the doctor said to him "What did you do this with?"—he said "My fist"—the doctor said "That is impossible"—at that moment he saw the knuckle-duster on the window, and he held it up to the prisoner and said "You have done it with this"—he said "I struck her the first time with it, but not the second"—there was fresh blood on it—he asked to go downstairs, and on the landing he pointed to some rope and said "I tried to hang myself there this morning"—I should think that the prisoner had been drinking very hard; he appeared to be in a semi-state of drunkenness—I examined the rope; it was a very weak one—when we went into the back yard there was a cistern, and he said "I put my fingers in this water, but it was too cold, or I intended to drown myself"—I sent for Inspector Palmer.
MICH AEL JOSEPH PALMER (Police Inspector)'About a quarter past 8 in the morning on 22nd April I went to 2, Rupert Road—I saw the prisoner sitting down smoking a pipe—Dr. Ring called my attention to the knuckle-duster; there was some fresh blood on it—I held it up to, the prisoner and said "Does this belong to you?"—he said "Yes, but I did not do it with that"—I said, "There is fresh blood on it; how do you account for it?"—he said "I used it the first time but not the second "—I then took him into custody and conveyed him to Kilburn Station—he appeared rather excited, and evidently had been drinking—at the station I noticed some blood stains on his shirt, and while I examined them he said "That is her blood; I have done it; I want to be hung, and I wish to confess to it"—seeing that he was rather excited I cautioned him, and told him that what he said might be used as evidence against him—he said "I don't care; I wish to confess to it"—he then made a statement, which was taken down in writing by another inspector, and the prisoner signed it and said it was quite correct. (Read: "My wife and I had been drinking together at the Albert Edward public-house, and returned home about 12 at night, taking home some beer with us; we went to bed, and while in bed had some angry words; I got out of bed and struck her on the side of the head with the knuckle-duster; Mrs. Moulford then came into the room and washed the wound: we went to bed again; about 5 we had some more words, and I struck her on the head, which caused the wound there; I did not strike her on that occasion with the knuckle-duster, and I will not say what I did strike her with; I was to be hung; if the rope had not broke I should have hung myself, and have saved you the trouble of bringing me here.")
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate, "I am deeply sorry. I was very fond of my wife. I have been drinking since Christmas, and don't know what has happened."
ELIZAWEGENER (Re-examined). There is no foundation for the prisoner's statement that I had been out whoring—I had not been doing anything that he might have thought imprudent—he is very fond of me, and likefoundation wise very jealous—since Christmas he has, accused me, but there is no for it—we had been together at a public-house on this night, and both took drink—he had shown signs or drink before that—I only had twopennyworth of whisky.
Prisoner's Defence. I am very sorry it has happened. I am very fond of my wife and my family. I have been drinking very hard since Christmas, and I have not known what I was about. I don't know whether what the policeman says is true or not; I don't remember talking about it. I was placed in a padded room at the House of Detention. My head has been very bad; I put it to the state my mother and father were in before me. My mother died in Caterham Asylum, and my father was raving mad; he had something the matter with his head; he died at Guy's Hospital. If I have any trouble, or drink, I hardly know what I am doing, and I can't work. I send in my patterns all wrong. I believe it is the drink that has caused it. It seems to me like a dream. This knuckle-duster has been knocking about the place these 26 years. I am a moulder, and I picked this thing out of some ruins, and drilled a hole in it to make another from it. I never used it before or offered to use it; I don't know that I used it then, but as the doctor says there was blood and hair on it I can't deny it.
ELIZA WEGENER (Re-examined). He was working at a foundry in Stingo Lane, and picked this out of some rubbish; it has been in our place for years; it was never used only by the children playing with it; they used to call it "the rings."
SIDNEY ROBERT SMITH (Governor of Her Majesty's Gaol of Newgate, examined by the COURT). The prisoner has given just the same account to me that he did to the doctor—he has apparently been sullen and quiet, and sighing a great deal, apparently sorry for what he has done—he told me he was confident of his wife's infidelity, and that he heard her confess it to her sister, and that was his reason for committing the assault upon her.
ELIZA WEGENER (Re-examined). It is not true that he heard me confess to my sister that I had behaved improperly—I remember one evening when he was in bed saying to my sister "I am fair done up," and he raised his head, and I suppose thought I had said something else.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
NEW COURT.—Thursday and Friday, May 5th and 6th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
466. SAMUEL WALTON (35) was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury, in an action tried before Mr. Justice Lopes, upon which MR. BESLEY, upon the prisoner undertaking that no further litigation should ensue, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES BUTTON . I am official shorthand writer in the Divorce Court, and took notes of the trial of Dunbar v. Dunbar—I saw the prisoner sworn and took notes of his evidence. (These being read stated that on a Wednesday evening early in 1880 the Archdeacon and Mrs. Foote were alone together in a room in the Church for twenty minutes, and on several other Wednesday evenings from an hour to five minutes at a time; that he saw the Archdeacon kiss Mrs. Foote when assisting her into a cab, and that he had fetched whisky for them to the Church, part of which they consumed together.
WILLLAM MAYNARD . I am a clerk in the Registry of the Probate and Divorce Court—I produce the proceedings in the case of Dunbar v. Dunbar—the petition was filed on 19th August, 1880, the citation was issued the same day—particulars were delivered on 6th November, and this is the affidavit verifying the particulars (produced)—the issue was whether Archdeacon Dunbar had committed adultery, and the verdict was that he had not.
CAROLINE AGNSSFOOTE . I am a widow and live at Porchester Terrace, Bayswater—I was present at the hearing of the suit of Dunbar v. Dunbar—I heard part of the prisoners evidence—I was for a few months a member of Archdeacon Dunbar's congregation at 8t. Andrew's Church—I went there three or four times on Sunday evenings, but not close together—I saw his sister Miss Dunbar there twice, but she was not in the habit of accompanying me there—I never went to the Church on any week day—I never went into the vestry, and only heard on the trial of the place they call the study; I never went into it—I never went to the church except to attend the services—I never had any refreshment there nor anywhere else with the Archdeacon, except some tea at Prince's Square, when Mrs. Firman was present—the Archdeacon never kissed me at the church or at any other time or place, nor has there ever been any familiarity or impropriety between us at any time or place—I was first introduced to the Archdeacon at the Russell Club by a lady well known in society—Mrs. Dunbar was also a member, and Lady Dunbar, the Archdeacon's mother—I first heard of his having a room at the club near Christmas, 1879, when some one sent to inquire after him—when the Russell Club was about to be dissolved I proposed to him that he and his friend Mr. Williamson should take a very small furnished house of mine which was vacant, as he proposed taking apartments—he finally arranged to take it—he had been in indifferent health since the winter of 1879—I heard that he required absolute rest and quiet, and I offered him a room in my own house—Williamson was to have come there too, but I was not living there regularly, and there being no caretaker there was no one to do the attendance—lie was very ill for a few days after he came there—I cannot say whether it was a week or 10 or 12 days—I was told that an operation was performed on him there, and together with his sister I nursed him, as 1 would have done any other friend taken ill in my house, and Mrs. Firman came frequently, and also Mrs. Dunbar, but I did most—Miss Dunbar would have stayed in the house if I had had a regular servant, but I could not take her in—the prisoner came there with letters for the Archdeacon nearly every day—I have always remained on friendly terms with the Arohdeacon, but apart from that there is no reason for saying that there has been any familiarity whatever, it is a tissue of falsehoods from beginning to end.
Cross-examined. He was not my regular clergyman—I go to other churches when I think fit—he was a friend, but not a great friend—I made his acquaintance about 1879 at this club, but I am not certain—his sister was introduced to me one evening after church in 1879; not at the beginning of 1879, because I never took a sitting till July or August—I did not get to know her at the club—I do not know Lady Dunbar, she does not reside in London—I never saw Mrs. Dunbar at the club. but she was a member—I did not know till May or June last year that she was separated from the Archdeacon—I heard that she was abroad—I have dined at the club at the same table with the Archdeacon, but not with him, other people have always been present—there was no intimacy between us there or anywhere else—I kept no cook in 1879, I did not require one—I never took my meals at any of my four houses—my servant Pritchard went between three of my houses when they were not let, and she had as many persons as she pleased to assist her—I had no other
servant—I sometimes returned home at 9.30, and sometimes later—I was never out as late as 1 or 2 o'clock alone unless I was at a party—I have not been out alone after 12 o'clock 20 times three years—no one ever came home with me—I had my dinner and my lunch at the club, or with my friends—I know Williamson as the sacristan of the-church—I heard him say that he is a merchant's clerk—I have never dined at the same table with him that I remember—I do not know what his position is—the Russell Club broke up at the end, of March or April, 1880, and was converted into the Lotus Club—I did not join the Lotus at first, I did afterwards—some young ladies who were actresses joined it, but my friends were not actresses or young ladies—the rent of Prince's Square is about three guineas—I have a lease of it—the unfurnished rent and taxes are over 97l.—I let it to the Archdeacon and Mr. Williamson, but never received a shilling from him, on account of his bankruptcy—he remained about six months—he remained there after his bankruptcy, with Williamson—they continue to use the house now—I went to see the Archdeacon in Prince's Square once when we had tea with Mrs. Firman—he left Prince's Square because the doctor ordered him quiet and he could not have it, and I said that he might stay there for a few days—when he came to Gloucester Place I had a servant, Pritchard—she slept in the servant's room, and the Archdeacon in the room just under her—I slept on the ground floor—I did not know till afterwards that the Archdeacon came there to escape from writs—I was told, that he had an operation, but I do not know what it was—he was not there so long as three weeks—he went back to Prince's Square the first day he could drive—I used to go there to see him nearly every day during the two months he was ill, but not on Sundays—I did not live at Porchester Terrace then—I removed from Gloucester Place to Porchester Terrace—one house was furnished and one was upset—I lived in the one which was upset, and while I was living there the Archdeacon met me and stayed till 11 o'clock with me in the house that was furnished—he did so twice, I do not remember his coming oftener—lie never called on mo unless I sent him a message or a note that I wished to see him, and the reason of his coming was about the house—I always promised him that he or Williamson should have it till it was let—I had letters saying that men who were not tradesmen were constantly going down the area; my plate was there, and I objected, and the Archdeacon informed me, or I heard it from Mr. Williamson, that his papers had been destroyed, and I thought proper to inform him; when I was passing the house I called if it suited me, and for no other reason has he called—it is not my custom to have appointments with gentlemen unless I have business to discuss—my servant was there—the servant might have gone out to the other house and left me alone in the house with him—the houses are close together, and I was on one floor and she on the other—he came once with my nephew about 8 or 8.30, just after dinner—I do not know at what time my nephew left, I had no clock—I did not then remain two hours with the Archdeacon, only an hour—it might be as late as 11—I do not know that Pritchard went out during that hour—on the next night Williamson came with him, and left him with me, but I cannot say for how long, I had neither clock nor watch—this was in the furnished house—he did not come to mine because there were no carpets—the interview was not in the daytime because it did not suit me—Mr. Learoyd has been my solicitor for years; I introduced
him to the Archdeacon, after which he acted under the Archdeacon's bankruptcy—he also acted for him in the divorce suit—I never heard of the study, or that there was any upstairs at the church till the trial—I heard of the vestry two or three times—I never saw Mr. Burrow, the other clergyman, till I was at the police-court, nor had I heard of his name—I never saw the Archdeacon or any one else drinking champagne or spirits at this church—I never heard that there were drinking bouts till the trial—I never kissed the Archdeacon at any time or place—I never went home with him in a cab that I remember excepting from St. Andrew's Hall, Newman Street—I never went home with him in a cab from the church on a week day, but I will not swear I have not on a Sunday—I do not remember driving to the Russell Club with him from the church; I would be prepared to swear that I never did; I should not deny it if I did remember it—I have offered him a seat in my cab when he was ill, and when he was convalescent, and could not walk—I have driven with him in a cab on several occasions when he has been going my way, both in the day and in the evening, as I do with other friends.
Re-examined. We were not always alone in the cab, Mr. Firman has been with us, and Miss Dunbar, and Mr. Williamson—we have been three, and sometimes four, and sometimes two—I drove him from St. Andrew's Hall because he was unable to go by himself—we drove in a carriage—he was unable to stand the shaking of a cab—it was in the morning—Mr. Williamson had to go early—I accompanied him, but I did not go to the service—Mr. Williamson came to the door and assisted him out—he was in a very deplorable state—he took his to in to church—I did not drive beck with him—I had a drive in the evening, as the carriage was to be paid for, and he left with his sister and Mr. Williamson from St. Andrew's Hall, in the evening when we drove back—I have four houses; I lire in one and let three when I can—Prince's Square was only let to the Archdeacon until somebody took it on a lease—he was one of the committee of the Russell Club, and so was the Bishop of Aberdeen—the Archdeacon occasionally sat at my table there with five or six friends, each paying for our own dinner; I never paid for his dinner or he for mine—I nave a caretaker in my house who always sleeps in it, and she has other people under her, as I cannot be troubled with them—that is Pritchard.
CHARLES GORDON CUMMING DUNBAR . I am a Clerk in Holy Orders, and was for some time Archdeacon of Grenada—I am living in Prince's Square—I began to rent St. Andrew's Church, Tavistock Place, on 13th January, 1878, and continued there till the end of May, 1880—there were Sunday and Wednesday evening services, and for a considerable time on Saints' days, but not latterly—the congregation on Wednesday evenings was very small, a mere handful; but on Sunday evenings every available corner was crowded—the sittings were charged for—I belonged to the Russell Club; I was on the committee, and so were two bishops, and one of my clergy, and various other clergy—I was introduced to Mrs. Foote there by an elderly lady, and she took a sitting in my church; my wife was a member of the club, and my mother and Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth and my wife's mother and sister, they gave small parties there—that was just before it closed—my wife and I ceased to live together in, I think, February, 1879, but we had virtually been living apart before that—I never received a message from Mrs. Foote, and she
never came into the vestry or the study—I once saw her going out of church with the congregation—my sister also attended the services, and sometimes my mother, Lady Dunbar—it is not true that I ever drank whisky in the church with Mrs. Foote—I never kissed her in my life—I never drove home with her from St. Andrew's Church—I never saw her there on a week day—I never knew of drinking in the church, but they had refreshments—I had been ill more or less for a long time, and had to take nourishment, and I used to have some wine there beaten up with egg before service—Mr. Fagg assisted Mr. Williamson, and they had to direct large numbers of circulars and do other work—Mr. Fagg lived at Slough and Mr. Williamson at Westbourne Park, and when they chose they had their supper there: chicken and duck—the room is not part of the church—a petition was filed in 1880 against me by my wife for a judicial separation—there were some writs against me—an illegitimate sister of my wife sued me, the verdict went against me, and I was unable to pay—I lived at the Russell Club, and had a bedroom there, and when the club was dissolved, some of Mrs. Foote's friends suggested that I should take a very small house of hers in Prince's Square instead of going into lodgings, and Mr. Williamson and I lived there for some time—my health got worse there—everybody who knew me knew that I lived there—I was only pressed by one creditor at that time, who was paid, and by Mrs. Reeves—an operation was about to be performed on me, and the doctor thought I ought to have quiet and rest—I went to an hotel at Windsor for one day, and found it too expensive, and Mrs. Foote offered that Williamson and I should go to Gloucester Place, and I accepted her offer—the operation was performed there, but it was not intended to be—my sister was sent for, but I did not tell her the exact day, because I did not wish her to know—she assisted in nursing me throughout, but she was in extremely delicate health—she had been living with me some time, but the annoyance of these Wentworth people made her quite ill—Mrs. Firman came and stayed a week or 10 days—I returned to Prince's Square on a Sunday, and Mrs. Foote visited me there and my sister and Mrs. Firman—I was confined to my bed, and was dreadfully ill for about six weeks, and ill for a long time after—when I got better I went to Mrs. Foote's house in Porchester Terrace once or twice—I think that was after an early dinner—I did not stay very late—I went with Mr. Williamson, I forget whether he left before me or not, I have heard that he did—Mrs. Foote's nephew was there—I forget whether he went with us, I think he was there when I arrived—there never was the slightest shadow of impropriety or familiarity between me and Mrs. Foote—I remember kissing my sister as she left the church in Tavistock Place in a cab or carriage—she was not very often there, she is very delicate, and cannot walk even a short distance, so she was prevented from coming very often—I have not kissed other ladies there—my wife's petition was heard in February last, and I heard what the defendant swore about the familiarity between me and Mrs. Foote—there is not the faintest truth in it—I was called at the trial and so was Mrs. Foote, and the Jury were satisfied, and stopped the case, and dismissed it.
Cross-examined. No drinking of spirits went on in the sacristy of the church—I have heard of spirits, and beer, and tea being drunk, but I do not know whether they had whisky in particular—they had their supper—it
was not the sacristy of the church, it was a room which had been a bedroom—there was no room called the sacristy that I am aware of, there was a room where they had their supper—I have never ordered whisky—bottle after bottle of whisky has not been brought into the place to my knowledge—I believe Williamson and Fagg smoked there; there was no reason why they should not—there was a large vestry downstairs, but they never took any whisky or smoked there—that was part of the next house—the room was called the Archdeacon's study—I began making it a study, but it was wanted for other purposes, and I gave it up to them—they brought their friends there; it was a secular room—I do not think they had lady friends there—I never heard it suggested that they had women of indifferent character there—I never heard it suggested, except by Counsel, that cards were played at there, and I do not think they were—they did not remain in that room till two or three a.m. to my knowledge—I do not know whether singing went on—there is no reason why they should not sing "Three blind mice;" it is a secular room, and not part of the church—Williamson was to have a salary, but it was not defined, and he never had any—I put him down originally as a creditor for 93l. 3s., but I don't think it was entered in the books of the bankruptcy—I signed this list of creditors containing his name for 99l. 3s.—I owed him money independently—I added up various sums which he had advanced me—10l. was to pay one bill shortly before the church closed—that was not by cheque—he makes 250l. a year I believe—it was understood that Mr. Fagg was to have a salary—I very likely inserted him as a creditor for 60l.; that was for salary—my debts were, I believe, 4,178l., of which my father is down for something like 2,000l., and there were possibly 35 tradeemen, for small sums—my assets consisted, among other things, of a reversionary interest in my wife's property, which I sold to a relative for 50l., but before that I had it valued—I have paid my creditors nothing, I have nothing to pay with—Mrs. Firman is not a nurse, she is a lady—she lent me, I think, 55l.—my sister-in-law brought an action against me, as she put it, for a sum of money lent by her husband to me, but it proved to be utterly false—I swore that it was a loan from one sister to the other; I think that was so, and the Jury fully believed me—a letter was put into my hand from my wife to her sister; I was not responsible for it, it was between themselves—this letter is in my writing: "My dear Fanny,—I thank you very much for your kind letter, I am exceedingly obliged to you and Mr. Beeves for the loan of the 200l., &c. We spent more than we originally intended, hence my difficulty, &c." After hearing that letter I swear that it was a loan to my wife alone—I went through the Bankruptcy Court, and I have filed a petition against my wife for the restitution of conjugal rights—from that church I went to Prince's Square, and had Wednesday evening services in the conservatory there, but it was not open to the public, only to the class—Williamson attended there, but not us an official—I do not know whether Fagg attended—I afterwards had religious services at St. Andrew's Hall, Newman Street, and Williamson attended there as sacristan, and Fagg also—from there I went to a private chapel in Fitzroy Square—I do not remember Williamson taking part in any service there—Mrs. Firman did not come to Gloucester Place till after the operation, nor do I think my sister did, and it is very possible that for three days and nights Mrs. Foote and I were living and sleeping in that house—from Prince's
Square I went to Windsor, but only stayed there one night—I had no intention of going to Gloucester Place then, I was going to stay in the country—the operation was not the examination of my anus by the speenlum, it was much more severe than that—I heard the doctor examined in the Divorce Court—he said that he did not technically call it an operation unless, he cut or removed something—Mrs. Foote has been in my room very often when I have been in bed, acting as nurse—she did not do the menial offices which a nurse would do—I had no other nurse—I paid two visits to her, I believe, at Porchester Terrace—I did not remain alone in the house with her as late as 11 o'clock at night—I think I left before 10 o'clock—I never looked at the clock—it was not as late as 12 nor 11 o'clock—I went to see her about the house—I went in the afternoon and she was not at home, but her nephew was there—I went with Williamson—I do not think he remained—I have not been inside the Aquarium three times in three years—I have not dined at the Holborn Restaurant since my wife left me—I have dined there frequently, it is the most convenient place to my church—I had luncheon there with one lady—I have never driven from the church to the club with Mrs. Foote—I have driven from church in a brougham, not in a cab—I dropped my sister and picked up my luggage, leaving Mrs. Foote in the brougham—I forget whether Mr. Williamson was with, us—as to introducing my wife as a member of the club to Mrs. Foote, I don't think I knew Mrs. Foote till after our separation.
Re-examined. I do not know whether my wife went abroad after our separation; I cannot rely on what she says, she generally said the reverse of what she did—I know she called at the club—I went there once with my uncle, relative to the separation—I do not think I saw her there once after I knew Mrs. Foote—my father was a creditor for 2,000l., for various sums which he had lent me—he declined to take any part in the duties of trustee, his proof was not filed—as to the lady who brought the action, the verdict went against me because a letter was written by me; she dictated various portions of it, and as I had not repudiated it, I was liable—the amount was 300l. and something—that caused my bankruptcy—seven actions were brought against me by that lady, directly or indirectly—some pious pictures were hung up in my conservatory, and I had a lecture there; I did not wish to lose the class, and they came there at the usual hour as they did to the church, but only for about a month—I may have drunk a glass of beer at the room in Tavistock Place—I am no smoker, I do not smoke two cigarettes in the course of a year, nor do I take spirits unless I am ill.
By MR. MURPHY. Champagne was the wine I mixed with the egg—I used to take a small bottle of champagne and egg—there was port for the Church purposes.
ARTHUR AUSTIN WILLIAMSON . I live at 87, Prince's Square, Bayswater, and am clerk to an insurance broker—I was sacristan at St. Andrew's Church while it was occupied by Archdeacon Dunbar—I had known him about 12 years before that—the defendant was verger there from December 10th, 1879, to May, 1880, during which time I attended all the Wednesday evening services—I know Mrs. Foote—I never saw her there on a Wednesday evening, or at any other week-night service—she could not have been there on a Wednesday evening without my seeing her—there were about 20 people on the Wednesday evening, 20 would be the
highest number—I always remained to the end of the service on Wednesday, and it would have been impossible for her, or for any other lady, to have remained in the vestry with the Archdeacon without my knowing it—I also attended the Sunday services—I never left Mrs. Foote there after I left—she was never there with the Archdeacon in the vestry, as far as I know—a room called the study was used by me, and also by Mr. Fagg—I had various duties to conduct there, and correspondence to write, and was often there for many hours—I have had refreshment brought into the study, and whisky very occasionally, for my own use; perhaps Mr. Fagg consumed some of it if he was there assisting me; I simply had it as ordinary refreshment, perhaps not having had my dinner—I was occasionally there from 4 p.m. till late at night, and had, perhaps, a glass of stout and a biscuit, which I used to order, myself.
Cross-examined. There is a room marked "Sacristy," which we used as a store-room—it is hardly on a level with the room called the study; they communicate with the passage, but the sacristy does not communicate with the study directly—the study is on the top of the staircase, facing you going upstairs—no drinking went on in the sacristy, or smoking—I heard the evidence at the police-court; I heard Fagg examined—if I wanted a bottle of whisky I ordered it; I did not entertain my friends there—I have smoked there when I have been there late at night—my salary is 110l. a year and commission—the Archdeacon is my godfather—I have known him since I was quite a small boy—I paid no rent up to the time of the bankruptcy, but I paid the Archdeacon 1l. a week for my board and lodging—there was a verbal arrangement for my being paid for my services at the church, but no sum was mentioned—I paid him that money although he owed me money as sacristan, because I knew the position he was in at that moment—I will swear that I was never away from the Wednesday night services from December, 1879, to May, 1880—I had no particular reason for remembering the people who attended the Wednesday services till this dispute arose—I was away for a fortnight about October, 1879—if I have said "I was in most every Wednesday night, every Wednesday from October, 1879, to April, 1880," that is so—I was not at the services in the conservatory in Prince's Square, and I never said that I was, nor was I at the services at Fitzroy Square—I did not take an active part there—I took no part in the services, and I never said to Fagg that I did—I have ordered as much as two bottles of whisky at a time for this study—I went to Porchester Terrace with the Archdeacon, to see Mrs. Foote, and possibly I have left him with her late in the evening, but I cannot tell—I know I did once go to the house to see the house; it was about 6 o'clock; it was before dinner; I have never been later than 7 with the Archdeacon—Mr. Fagg may have had a cigarette in the study—there was not card-playing going on; I never saw any cards there—I lived in the neighbourhood—I have not been there as late as 2 a.m.—I may have smoked, and I very likely drank whisky and water if I was smoking—very likely I saw my friends there; they would find me there, and if a friend dropped in, and I was drinking whisky and water, I should not be so mean as not to ask him to have a glass—ladies did not come there to see me—the choristers never smoked there while I was in the place—I have never seen the Archdeacon driving away from the church with Mrs. Foote.
Re-examined. think I took my holiday in September; I generally do, hardly ever later—I am sure I was never away from Christmas to May—I had the secular management of the church; it was left entirely in my hands, and I had to work in that study, which is away from the church; it is part of another house, and I used it as a living room, and had my food there.
FREDERICK WILLIAM FAGG . I live in the Euston Road, and am an authorised clerk to a member of the Stock Exchange—I attended St. Andrew's Church constantly—I was the assistant sacristan—I attended the Wednesday evening services; I was at all of them for the first four or five months of 1880, and I remained until the church was closed—the defendant was there as verger—I know Mrs. Foote—I never saw her there on any week day, but on the Sunday evening only—I could not have left her there on a Wednesday evening with the Archdeacon without knowing it—I had the use of the study, the same as Mr. Williamson, for writing letters, and doing other business connected with the church—I have taken my mother and sisters there—ladies decorating the church used it very seldom.
Cross-examined. I am a great friend of Mr. Williamson's—I was not paid—I can't tell you my salary as a clerk, for I don't know it myself—I also acted as assistant sacristan at Fitzroy Square—Mr. Williamson was very seldom there, but he did go there—he was away for a fortnight on a holiday—I said that Williamson was generally at the chapel in Fitzroy Square, and so he was, except during the fortnight when he was away for a holiday—I never understood that he had discontinued being sacristan, and therefore I said that he was sacristan—I believe he told me that services took place at Prince's Square—I used to stop to the end of the service on Wednesday evening—I believe I have said "I cannot swear that I stopped to the end of the service on Wednesdays"—I say now that it was my custom to stop to the end of the service; I did, to the best of my belief—I believe I have given my friends drink in the study; I can't specify whether it was whisky or beer—I don't think I have done it more than once—there may have been four or five people drinking there together—Mr. Lewis used the words "drinking and smoking," which was a very wide term, and implied a good deal which was not true—I have smoked there and I have drunk there, but there were no drinking bouts there—there is a room there called the sacristy, it is a few yards away from the study; I may have smoked there, and I think Williamson may have—I do not wish it to be understood that we were in the habit of smoking there, but I may have lit my cigarette in the sacristy, and walked from there to the study—I may have been writing in the sacristy, and had something to drink there—it was only a sacristy by name; the vestry proper was used as a sacristy—Williamson did not keep beer and whisky in the study—I call a sacristy a place where vestments and things belonging to the church are kept, but this place was used by Williamson and I alone, and we put up "Sacristy" on it to keep other people out—no sacred vessels were kept there—I had no reason for watching Mrs. Foote at that time to see what services she attended.
Re-examined. The majority of the vestments were kept in the vestry, and a few in a cupboard in the study—this place was not used as a sacristy, it was Boynett's bedroom—I was told that I should have some
recompense, but the funds were very bad; they fell off—the whole income was not offertory; there were pew rents, and there were single payments for Sunday seats—there was an organist and choir—the expenses were very great.
EDWARD WEBB . I am a ticket writer, ox 156, Merrick Road—I was employed at St. Andrew's Church as chorister and acolyte; I was first engaged by Mr. Stedman, the leader of the choir; my voice failed, and I ceased to be a chorister—I was there at every week-day service in the first half of last year, and I always remained to the close of the services; the Archdeacon usually left the church about the same time that I did—I know Mrs. Foote; I never saw her there at any week-day service, and I do not think she could have been there without my seeing her—I knew most of the people by Bight who attended the week-day services—the average number was 25 or 30—I never saw Mrs. Foote leave in a cab with the Archdeacon on any Wednesday evening; I never saw her leave with him at all.
Cross-examined. I had no particular reason for looking out for her—I never saw her till I saw her in the Divorce Court, but if she had been there I should have remembered her.
MISS BAILEY KINGHAM DUNBAR . I attended my brother at Gloucester Place constantly, but I do not mean that I never went away; Mrs. Foote took turns with me in nursing him, and Mrs. Firman—I frequently left the church with my brother, and I visited him at Prince's Square while he was ill; Mrs. Firman and Mrs. Foote were there.
Cross-examined. I did not go to Gloucester Place till after the operation—I did not sleep there; I was in delicate health.
MARY ANN PARDOE . I attended St. Andrew's Church while Archdeacon Dunbar was there; I attended the Wednesday evening services with the exception of two Wednesdays before Christmas; I attended every Wednesday evening service from Christmas, 1879, to May, 1880—I never saw Mrs. Foote, and I knew most of the congregation.
Cross-examined. I was not examined at the Divorce Court or the police-court—I saw Mr. Williamson there every Wednesday with the exception of two Wednesdays when I was not there; that was about three weeks before Christmas.
LOUISA FIRMAN . I used to attend this church with my son, aged 19—I never saw Mrs. Foote there on a Wednesday, but I was not there every Wednesday—I went to see Archdeacon Dunbar when he was ill, and I also went to see him at Prince's Square-Mrs. Foote and his sister used to go there.
Cross-examined. I never slept at Gloucester Place—I had no reason to keep are cord of the names of the people who attended particular services—I have been there on many a Wednesday when it is said that Mrs. Foote was there—I lent Mr. Dunbar about 50l.
Witnesses for the Defence.
REV ARTHUR BURROW . I am an Oxford M.A., and a clergyman of the Church of England—I went to St. Andrew's Church about eighteen months ago, and acted for Mr. Dunbar in some of the offices occasionally when he was away—I have seen Mrs. Foote there but do-not know her by any name: I only saw her at the end of the time she was there; I thought she was Miss Dunbar; I am quite sure she is the person—by the end of the time I was there, I mean about a month or six weeks before
the church was finally closed; I should not like to be sure to a month, I think it was about April last year—whether I have seen the Archdeacon kiss her is a question I should not like to answer; to the best of my belief I have, but I will not swear I have—I have seen him hand Mrs. Foote into a cab at the church porch; it might have been only once or it might be more—I should not like to swear he kissed her; I am afraid of an Indictment—I am not doubtful of the person; I thought she was Miss Dunbar—I am sure of the person, but not so sure of the kiss—as a man of the world I have no doubt about it—I have seen that occasionally I believe; it might only have been once or it might have been two or three times; I cannot remember; it was on Sunday evening I believe—I occasionally officiated on Wednesday evening, and I believe Mrs. Foote came there on one Wednesday, but I am not sure; I do not recollect speaking to her on any Wednesday evening—I know a room which has a little piece of paper pasted over the door, "The Rev. Archdeacon Dunbar's private study"—there was no regular place to keep anything—I have seen smoking and drinking in the study—I have seen Mr. Jacquet smoke there, and I believe an Austrian nobleman, I understood it was an Austrian title he had, and also Williamson and Fagg—I have occasionally seen females there; I was introduced to one lady up there; I don't know whether she was a relation of Williamson or Fagg—there was a drawer there which was full of playing cards, there was a large table with a marble cover and a drawer to it, and occasionally the small vestments, such as stoles, maniples, and bands, were there, and the cards also—I have never seen anybody playing with the cards in the room, but I have seen them handled by one of the acolytes, Weller.
Cross-examined. I belong to St. John's College, Oxford—I can't remember in what year I took my M.A. degree; I will swear that I do not know—I do not remember when I took my B.A., or how long I was at John's—I will not swear that I was a student at John's, and I will not swear—that I was not: I have been threatened—I will not swear that I took my degree at all at St. John's—I will not swear that I am M.A. of Oxford, but I believe I am—I was ordained, but I don't remember where—I believe I am in the Clergy List. (The Clergy List was here handed to the witness)—(Looking at it) I do not say that I have been ordained since 1879; if you have an older book I think I can show it to you—I should like to look at the list for 1878—if I swear I have been ordained I am open to a charge—I will not swear one way or the other because then there are no grounds for a charge of perjury being brought against me—I do believe I have been ordained—the last time I I saw Williamson he made certain threats against me, and therefore I am very careful not to lay myself open.
Re-examined. Williamson met me and said that if I gave evidence he would either ruin my character or by God he would murder me—he said that in Moorgate Street last Saturday.
ARTHUR AUSTIN WILLIAMSON (Re-examined). Mr. Burrow rushed into my office last Saturday and said "Is Archdeacon Dunbar in town?"—I said "Be off, and don't interfere with my business; I will give you no information; you ought to be ashamed of yourself"—I said nothing about prosecuting or murdering—I did go after him into Moorgate Street—I was going out, and I went out after he left the office—I was very angry at his taking the liberty to speak to we—I thought if I could see him
I should just like to look at him, and I said "You come to my office in the midst of my business, and take the liberty of asking me a question about Archdeacon Dunbar; a man like yourself ought to be ashamed of yourself, after the manner in which we treated you at St. Andrew's Church, for you to come spying about to see if you can get any information from me"—I did not threaten to knock him down; he had interfered with my business—I was angry because I knew the man's character—I said nothing about his giving evidence or knocking him down.
By MR. COLLINS. He left St. Andrew's Church because we thought he was an impostor—I requested him to leave—he left about Christmas, 1879, a considerable time before the prisoner was employed—I know he was not about the church taking any active part; looking after the children was his principal duty—he may have been there as a member of the congregation—inquiries have been made whether he is a real clergyman or not—it was after those inquiries that I requested him to leave.
REY. ARTHUR BURROW (Continued). Williamson came after me in Moorgate Street, and threatened to knock me over and punch my head, and said that if I gave evidence he would ruin my character or ruin me, or else, by God, they would murder me—I have said that I have been ordained, and I have been, by a Bishop, but I can't remember where, or when, or by what Bishop, or in what diocese; they will write there, and ruin me—I shall not answer any more questions.
WILLIAM WOODS . I am a cabdriver, of 69, Kempton Street, Brunswick Square—I have been for some years on the Tavistock Place rank—I know St. Andrew's Church; I hare been called there sometimes to take up a lady, sometimes a gentleman, and sometimes a lady and gentleman, on Sunday and Wednesday evenings—I have driven Archdeacon Dunbar from the church with a lady—I was not ordered anywhere, only "Go on," and when I got opposite the Pantechnicon they said "Pull up," and that was at the Russell Club, formerly the Corinthian Club—I should know Mrs. Foote much better in her sealskin cloak; she has rather bloated cheeks—I will not take a solemn oath that I drove her with Archdeacon Dunbar, but it was a lady very much resembling her; Whoever it was I drove them to the Russell Club from 9 to 10 o'clock on a Wednesday evening—I do not speak positively to the lady, but I have driven the Rev. Mr. Dunbar and another gentleman—the prisoner has called me off the stand half a dozen times—I have been driving a cab 30 years.
Cross-examined. I was not at the police-court in this case—I am sure I have driven Archdeacon Dunbar and a lady to the Russell Club, and the prisoner opened the door and put the lady is.
By the COURT. That might be in January or February, 1878; no, 1879; I beg pardon, in 1880; I suppose it might be January last year, and it might be April—I cannot swear to that, because if I had to swear to anybody I had in my cab I should have enough to do.
GEORGE SMITH . I am at present an attendant at Colney Hatch Asylum—I am an Army pensioner—I was formerly verger and watchman at St. Andrew's Church—I know Williamson and Fagg—I was always there on Wednesday evenings—Williamson used to come on Wednesday evenings and stop a short time, or he might stop the whole service, but not as a rule—I have fetched bottles of whisky for him from the public-house to
the study—I have seen Archdeacon Dunbar in my vestry when liquor was going on—we call it a vestry; it is where I used to sleep—the Archdeacon's study is down below—I have seen the Archdeacon have champagne there every Sunday—I cannot say whether it was mixed with egg, but very little of it came to my share, I know that—one good lady, named Mrs. Blake, proposed to have a game at cards there; she said that it was a regular thing to play at Nap—I have seen playing cards upstairs when I used to go and clean the place up—I know Miss Foote; I have always addressed her as Miss—I should know the good lady if I was to see her—I have seen her at church on Sundays and on Wednesday evenings, and I have seen her in the Archdeacon's study on several occasions—the champagne used not to be kept there—I used to have to go to Mr. Williamson's house to fetch it—I have seen the Archdeacon going away from the house on several occasions with ladies—I have seen him go from the church in a cab with Mrs. Foote—I was discharged because a woman came there who made herself very officious, Mrs. Blake—I don't want to lose my situation over it—I had some dispute with Fagg about it, and I was discharged.
Cross-examined. I was charged before a Magistrate with being drunk and disorderly—I was fined 1l., which the Archdeacon paid, so I could not have been a bad servant—I left the church on 14th November, 1879, before Boynett came there at all—all this took place when I was there in 1879—I cannot give a date when Miss Foote went in the cab with the Archdeacon—I was only there a short time, two months or 10 weeks—I cannot say exactly whether I left in 1878 or 1879; I could tell you if I had my character here which I got from the Archdeacon—it might be 1878, but I think it was 1879—I don't know when I went to Colney Hatch, and I don't care about saying—I am not there now; I am at Battle House—I am a regular attendant at Colney Hatch now—I do not know what Battle House has to do with it—I don't know what you are saying; you are doing me altogether.
Re-examined. I don't know who succeeded me at St. Andrew's—I left on 14th November, 1879, with a character from the Archdeacon, and got a situation by means of it.
MORLEY. I know Smith—he was dismissed from St. Andrew's about 12th October, 1879—I went to the church twice on a Wednesday evening to find out his address, as he was indebted to me, but I never obtained it—I went on a third Wednesday, and met Mr. Williamson coming out of the church rather before 9 o'clock, and had a trifling conversation with him.
JOSEPH SHARP . I was verger at St. Andrew's Church up to within a few months of its closing—I have seen Mrs. Foote there perhaps 10 or 12 times, both on Sundays and Saints' days and Wednesday evenings—I used to fetch whisky from the Tavistock Arms and the Lord John Russell, for gentlemen who used to stay very late after the services were over, Fagg, Williamson, Archdeacon Dunbar, Mr. Sharby, and others—I have seen the Archdeacon in the study upstairs when drinking and smoking was going on, and I have once or twice seen him bring champagne with him—I have seen him driving away from the church with a lady, but not with Mrs. Foote.
Cross-examined. I am now verger at the Holy Cross, Dutton Street, Golden Lane—I left in January, 1878, not in February, 1877—I was
examined in the Divorce Court—I was asked, "You left, I suppose, in February, 1877?" and I said "Yes," but it was a mistake—I went back to the church afterwards—I was away four or five months—I said at the Divorce Court that I was away 12 months, but I was engaged three times—I was twelve months away on one occasion, that was in 1878—I was under no engagement, but I was at the church always while it was open within three or four months of it closing, as a worshipper, and doing other things besides, because the men who were there were not to be depended on—I was not paid for it—my wife was examined in the Divorce Court—she is here.
Re-examined. When I left finally I did not get a character from the Archdeacon because I never applied for one—I was not discharged; I left of my own accord two months before the church was closed.
TYSON. I was an acolyte at St. Andrew's in 1878 till the church closed—I know Mrs. Foote by sight—I saw her there every day, both when there were services and when there were not—I have seen her there on Wednesdays—I have seen the Archdeacon kissing somebody there, in the vestry and at the church door—I do not know Mrs. Foote only by seeing her at Westminster Hall—I know Mrs. Blake.
CORNELIUS TOLD . I lived at Tavistock Place from February, 1878, to April, 1879, and have seen spirits going to the church several times during the week, sometimes twice in the evening, and sometimes not at all—I have heard people there up to 2 or 3 in the morning; they made a great noise, and woke me up by singing "Three blind mice"—I was not there after April, 1879.
Cross-examined. The verger lived there, but he did not make all that noise.
— LAST. I keep the Tavistock Arms—the church was a good customer, to me; I was pretty busy on Sundays and on Wednesdays—the whisky was all paid for at the time, and I cannot tell how much was sent out to the church.
Cross-examined. These people did not come to my house to drink, they took it away—I do not know who drank it—I do not know whether the choir consisted of 100 people—I have been to the church on one or two occasions, but I was generally busy when it was open—I just looked in for about an hour.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MEAD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BEAVES (Police Inspector A). This licence (produced) as prepared for issue to Charles Thomas Baxter, of 6, Cadogan Street, Chelsea, on 3rd January, 1880—he did not attend for it; it became spoiled and I sent it to the chief clerk—it was afterwards returned to me torn, and put in a bag to be sent with other waste paper to the Stationery Office—this "9th" was not written by anybody in the public carriage office—the height of the holder of the licence has been altered from 6 feet 10 inches to 5 feet 4 inches, and these dates were not there when the licence was cancelled—on 9th March the prisoner was pointed out to me by William Grimes, in Copenhagen Street, and I said "Teddy, you will be charged with uttering a forged cabdriver's licence"—he said
"My name is William Page, I don't know anything of a forged licence"—I took him in custody 5s. is payable on the licence by the party who takes it out; it is not transferable.
JOHN BRUNGES . I am a cab proprietor of 44, Walton Street, Clerkenwell—on 15th December the prisoner came to me and asked for employment—he produced this licence—he gave no name, we always suppose that it is the name on the licence—this 9th January was on it and "5 feet 4 inches," and this endorsement except my name, I put that myself—he said that he had been driving for Mr. Rintoul for some months—I asked him how he managed to tear the licence—he said that one of his children got hold of it and tore it, and he plastered this piece of paper over it—I employed him with cab 5994, it was 74 Midland, and he brought it back the following morning about 5 a.m.—I kept the licence till 14th February, when I took it to Scotland Yard.
WILLIAM GRIMES . I am Mr. Brunges's ostler—the prisoner came there on 15th December, asked for employment, and produced this licence—he went out with cab 74, and I did not see him again till 19th March, when I recognised him in Copenhagen Street—he goes by the name of Teddy Cook, but he has gone in the name of William Page.
DAVID GRIMES . I am a cab washer in the employ of Mr. Brunges—I was there when the prisoner brought back cab 74 of the Midland, next morning—I knew him before and have no doubt he is the man who came in with the cab.
Prisoner's Defence. About five months ago I was out of employment and purchased the licence for 2s. of a man who I met outside a public-house, and the next day I went to the prosecutor and got a cab, and while I was out I told a cabman about it; he told me I was doing wrong and might get myself into trouble, and therefore I took the cab back and would have nothing more to do with it. This licence is just the same now as it was when I had it. I was merely out with the cab one day.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SMITHIES Prosecuted.
JOHN PAYNE . I live at 701/2, Wilson Buildings, Lower Thames Street—on Saturday morning, 9th April, I saw my little boy John go out—his age is four and a half—I saw him next on Sunday morning, the 10th, at Vine Street Police-court, Piccadilly.
THOMAS HOLLAND (Policeman 286). On Saturday, 9th April, I was sent for to a public-house in Windmill Street, and saw the prisoner there with a child, which was crying—the landlord said that he did not think the child belonged to her—I said "Is it your child?"—she said "Yes"—I asked her name—she said Louisa Davis, and that she lived at Blackfriars—I asked the child his name—he said John Payne, and that he lived in Thames Street—I asked her how she came to tell a falsehood—she said "If you want to know the truth, I found him this morning about 11 o'clock on London Bridge, and being a nice little boy, I brought him to the public-house to give him some bread and cheese"—I took her to the station, where she said that she found him at Charing Cross Railway Station, and he took hold of the skirt of her dress—she said that she was going to her sister at 51, Bond Street, Golden Square—she gave a false address—Mr.
Payne came to the station, and she asked him to forgive her, as she had not hurt the child or taken anything from it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say that you had given me a lot of trouble and I would get you into trouble for it.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I only took the child to give it something to eat and drink."
Prisoner's Defence. When I met the child I tried two or three places to find out where he lived. I spoke to the landlady and she sent for a policeman. If I had done any harm I should have walked out when she sent for the policeman, but knowing I had not done any harm I stayed there.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 5th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
470. GEORGE SMITH* (20) and HENRY JONES** (19) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick William Ayres and stealing 6l. 4s. 6d., his moneys, having each been before convicted. JONES— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .SMITH— Two Years' Hard Labour . And
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ROW . I live at the Craven Arms, Craven Street, Strand—I am a courier—on Tuesday morning, the 19th April, about 1.20, I was passing through the tunnel under Charing Cross Station from Villiers Street, going home—there was gas light—as I was entering the tunnel, and near the public-house there, the prisoner came to me and said "You are wanted," and put his hand to my pin—I put it in my pocket—he forced me back and said "There are three gentlemen, they want you"—I said "I am not Wanted, I am going home"—three more came, and they forced me on the ground—they caught me by the left arm—I had my coat buttoned and held tight my watch—the prisoner got the chain at once—I saw him take it—I halloaed out "Police!"—the publican opened the window, and they all four walked quietly away—one of the men took my umbrella—they did not hurt me—the policeman came, and passed one on Hungerford Bridge steps before he got to me—four policemen came from all parts—one went back to the bridge to follow the man—this is the watch—the swivel gave way—the policeman picked it up—there was a pencil to the chain—I saw the prisoner with 20 men at the station, and said "That is the man."
JOHN BARKER (Policeman E 396). I heard a cry of police on Tuesday, about 1.20 a.m., near Villiers Street—I saw Mr. Row—I found the bar of the watch, the chain, swivel, and pencilcase in the tunnel—they were given back to the prosecutor.
ARTHUR CANTLE (Policeman C 196). I took the prisoner into custody about 10.30 p.m. on Tuesday evening on another charge—I searched him at the London Pavilion, Tichborne Street, about three-quarters of a mile
from the place of this robbery—I found these two pieces of chain in his right-hand pocket—the case was dismissed, and he went at large.
PHILIP SHRIVES (Detective Officer P). On Friday afternoon I took the prisoner into custody on another charge—I took him to the station and searched him—I found these two pieces of chain on him—after he was discharged the chain was given back to him, and when I took him again I found another piece—the prosecutor identified him from about 15 or 20 others.
GUILTY *.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. DRUMMOND Prosecuted.
MARY CLEMENTS . My husband is George Clements—he is a colourman—I live at No. 6, Fig Tree Court, Temple, by myself—I am servant to the housekeeper—on 18th January I left my room about 5 minutes to 11 o'clock—I locked the door and took the key with me—I returned about 20 minutes to 12 o'clock—the lock was then broken off and the door open—I missed my husband's silver watch, his coat and trousers, and night-dress—they had been safe in the morning—this is my husband's property (produced)—the value is about 5l., including the watch.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have a brother, if he is alive, he went to to Australia—we have not heard of him for 20 years—I did not see you in my premises on 18th January.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Detective Officer). I saw the prisoner on the 12th March in custody at the police-station—I saw him searched—this duplicate was found upon him—I apprehended him on 20th April—I said "l am a police officer of the City, and I shall arrest you for stealing on 18th January, from 6, Fig Tree Court, Temple, a silver watch, a coat, a pair of trousers, and a night-dress"—he said "I was in Montreal at the time you mention, and only arrived at Gravesend on 11th March."
THOMAS NORDEN . I am assistant to Mr. Robinson, pawnbroker, of 26, Mortimer Street—this brown coat and night-dress were pledged at our shop in the name of King, for 4s., on 18th January—this is the duplicate—I do not know who pledged them.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not seen you in our shop.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was not in England at the time of the robbery. I call no witnesses here!"
The Prisoner in his defence stated that he left England in July, 1880, and returned in February, 1881, by the Drupin, which was now on her way back to Montreal; that on 12th March a man called King, who he had seen in Montreal, met him, and said he wanted to go and see his sister in the Temple, and that he received the duplicate from him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
JOHN MURPHY (Policeman E 411). On 1st April, about 4.30 a.m. I was on the east side of New North Road, near Devonshire Street—I saw more than three men—I recognise Hawkins as one who was peeping round the comer—I turned back to get the assistance of another constable—I
saw George cross Drake Street to where Hawkins was standing—I saw Hawkins peep round the corner again—I went after him—he looked behind and then ran with a barrow—in Southampton Row he dropped the barrow and ran into Holborn, where I lost sight of him—I went back to the barrow and found in it a lot of meat in a basket, some German sausages, and weights and scales, covered over with a sack—I came back to Devonshire Street—I afterwards went to No. 3, and I found the house was broken into by a jemmy—the lock was broken, also the woodwork—I took the barrow to the station—I swear to Hawkins, and to George being in his company.
Cross-examined by Hawkins. I was about 30 or 40 yards from you at first—I stood near the corner about three minutes—a man passing said "They are running, constable"—you were 200 yards ahead—I took the barrow to Devonshire Street—I had not been there for half an hour—from the time you left Southampton Row to my return would be about three minutes—I called the landlord up about 25 minutes to 5—it was daylight—I could see you distinctly—I am sure it was not dark at that time—it was a clear morning—the lamps were left alight—I saw your face when you were looking behind you.
JOHN DAMPIER (Policeman E 274). I was on duty at 4 a.m. on 1st April in Devonshire Street—I saw the two prisoners leave the door of No. 3—I saw a light in the doorway—I examined the door—it seemed safe at that time—I went on my beat and came up Devonshire Street again—I saw Hawkins and George proceeding towards Devonshire Street about 20 or 30 yards apart—this would be about 20 minutes past 4—I met Murphy about 4.30—he made a communication to me—about 5 o'clock I saw the prisoners going towards Gray's Inn Road on the opposite side of Theobald's Road—they were conversing together—I followed them till I met 236 E—I told him what had occurred, and we apprehended Hawkins, and took him to the station—the other rushed away—Hawkins said "I have not done anything; you can search me if you wish"—I am sure George was there too—I saw both leaving the doorway—I only mentioned Hawkins at the police-court—I do not know why.
WILLIAM MANTON (Policeman E 236). On 1st April, about 10 minutes to 5 a.m., I saw George in Bed Lion Square—I again saw him with Hawkins about 2 minutes past 5—they joined each other in Drake Street conversing—they passed me at the corner of North Street—after that Dampier made a communication to me—we followed them down Theobald's Road till we got opposite Yorkshire Grove, where Dampier crossed the road and put his hand on Hawkins—George ran away, and I ran and caught him—he resisted, and punched me—he broke my helmet—I felt pain at the time—I kept hold of him—I said "What do you mean by punching me in that manner? where are you going"—he said "I am going to work in the City"—I said "What time did you leave home?"—he said "About a quarter past 5"—I said "You will have to go with me to the station"—it was about 500 yards from the prosecutor's place that I arrested him.
Cross-examined by George. I found a knife, a key, two tailors' thimbles, a needle, and a comb on you.
Cross-examined by Hawkins. I had not heard of the robbery previous to seeing you—the other constable spoke to me about the robbery after you had passed me—I followed you 400 or 500 yards.
Re-examined. When the constable made a communication to me both the prisoners were in our sight.
WILLIAM AUSTIN (Policeman E 73). About 1 a.m. on 1st April I was on duty in Duke Street, Euston Road, and saw Hawkins with a barrow—I saw the barrow that morning brought to the station about 6 o'clock—I know it by one leg being off.
Cross-examined by Hawkins. I can swear to your clothes, and you asked a man for a match about half a mile from the place of the robbery, where I saw you.
JOHN HOSKINS . I live at No. 3, Devonshire Street, Queen's Square—about 12.30 on 1st April my premises were all locked up securely—I am a grocer and cheesemonger—I was called up about a quarter-past 4—the front door was burst open, and a box torn away from the post—the folding doors which enclose the shop from the passage had a stout iron bar across them, which was bent back—the bar I found on the floor—I missed a side of bacon, a half side of bacon, two or three gammons, and several other pieces of bacon; a piece of cheese, some German sausage, a piece of cooked meat, a pair of scales, and two iron weights—I saw them that same morning on a costermonger's barrow—I could not speak to the time, I was so flustered.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. George says: "I was simply passing along Theobald's Road this morning till I came to the Town Hall, when I was met by the police-constable, who handled me very roughly indeed; I met Hawkins in Theobald's Road, and I asked him for a light for my pipe."
Hawkins says: "I was coming down Theobald's Road this morning when this man George asked me for a match. I said I did not have one. We went along till we came nearly to Gray's Inn Road, where I was stopped by two constables. One asked me where I was going to. I said 'To work.' He took me into custody. George is a complete stranger to me."
The prisoners, in their defence repeated similar statements.
GUILTY . They both PLEADED GUILTY** to convictions of felony at Clerken-well in March, 1875.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude .
ELIZABETH LILLEY . On 24th March I lived at 12, Cromwell Houses, South Hampstead—I was about to leave my situation on Saturday, the 26th—on Thursday, the 24th, I called at the Parcels Delivery Office, at Mr. Harwood's, the milkman, for some one to come for my boxes—on 25th Morris came—he said "If you please, I have called for the boxes; I have come from Mr. Harwood's at the milk shop"—I gave him my two boxes, and he took them away—the value is about £8—they contained women's clothes—about 2.30 the same day the proper person came for the boxes—then I gave information to the police—the same night I saw Morris in custody—the hat I am wearing was in the box—this hat was shown to me by the police, and I identified it as my property.
Cross-examined by Morris. You did not tell me that you came from the milk shop, but you told the lady housekeeper, and she told me—I did see you, and handed over the boxes to you.
FANNY BELLAMY . I live at No. 12, Cromwell Houses—on 25th March, about 10.30, I answered the door—I saw Morris—he said he had come for two boxes—I asked him where he had come from—he said "From the milkshop"—he asked if they were heavy boxes, and I said."I believe not, are you from Carter Paterson's?"—he said "No; from the Parcels Delivery Company"—I called the servant—when she came down she asked me if I had any gum in the house—Morris said "Never mind, I will put that on safely; we have plenty of gum in the office"—I have no doubt Morris was the man.
RACHEL REEVES . I am the wife of John Reeves, of 210, Arlington Road, Camden Town—about 12 on Friday, 25th March, Bryant asked me to buy a box—I told him I did not mind, but asked him if it was perfectly safe—he said it was as far as he knew—he asked 3s. for it—I paid him the 3s.—he asked me to buy a hat for my daughter—I said I did not mind—he said he would send his friend with it—his friend came, and I paid him 3s.—Bryan asked me to buy some clothing at the same time he brought the empty box into my house—I told him I did not mind, but I would see it—the stranger brought the clothing, and I was to pay him 26s. for it—I gave him 10s.—Bryan received 16s. from me on the Saturday—he lodged in my house—he said his friend's sister was gone over to America with a gentleman, who would provide her with plenty of clothing—he said he wanted the money to give it to the man—the same night the police came and apprehended him.
Cross-examined. The man said "My sister has gone to America, and left me these things"—afterwards, when I spoke to Bryant about the under-clothing, he said "My friend's sister has gone away to America with a gentleman, and that gentleman will provide for her, and provide her with things, she does not want these things"—I have known Bryant three years—he is a respectable man—he works for the Gas Company—I do not know the price of a box like this, I never bought one—the prisoner has lodged with me a year and 10 months—he said "I would not like to see you doing anything wrong"—he was not present when the other man came—he was about 10 minutes in the house on the Saturday when he asked me for the 16s., and said the man wanted it.
BENJAMIN HARWOOD . I am a dairyman, of 27, Winchester Road, Adelaide Road, South Hampstead—I take in parcels for the Parcels Delivery Company—I gave no authority to the prisoners to fetch this property.
WILLIAM WITHAMS (Policeman Y). Between 9 and 10 on Friday, 25th March, I went to the Black Cap, Camden Town, with another officer—I saw Morris there—I said to him "I am going to take you into custody for obtaining two boxes of clothes, belonging to a servant, at 12, Cromwell Houses, South Hampstead"—he said "I do not know what you mean, I do not know anything about any boxes"—on going up the Park Road he said "Is it desertion you want me for?"—I said "No, it is for obtaining two boxes of clothes belonging to a servant"—he said "I do not know anything about any boxes, I do not know what you mean"—he passed that remark two or three times—I took him to the station—he was identified by Lilley—when he was about to be charged, he said "I know I had your boxes, a man belonging to the Parcels Delivery cart asked me to fetch them, and I fetched them and gave them to the man"—the Inspector asked him his name and address, and he said "I decline to give
either my name or address"—the next morning he gave one before he went before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries and find he is a respectable fellow—he works for a gas factory.
WILLIAM CLIFFORD (Policeman Y). On 25th March I was in the Black Cap public-house—I remained there about an hour—I saw the prisoners drinking together all the time—they called each other "Ted" and "Charley."
Cross-examined. I know where Bryan works—the Black Cap is about 500 yards from there, and about an equal distance from where he lives.
ALEXANDER OSBISTON (Policeman Y 221). About 7.30 p.m. on Monday I was called by Reeves in King Street—I took Bryant into custody—on the way to the station he said "I did steal her box"—the charge was read over to him—he made no reply.
Morris's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was round there looking for employment when I saw the man not in custody standing outside the milk shop, and knowing him as a carrier, I spoke to him. He asked if I was at work. I said no, I was looking for for some. He said 'Well, run across to 12,' pointing to the street, 'and ask them what they have for the carrier; if they ask by whom you are sent, say by the carrier from the milk shop.' I went for the boxes and brought them back and gave them to him, and he gave me a shilling. I left the man and saw no more of him till I met him later on in the day." Bryant said: "I am innocent."
Morris's Defence. My statement has been read, it is quite correct.
BEYAN received an excellent character, and MR. WILLIAMS stated that he would withdraw from the Prosecution with regard to him.—
NOT GUILTY .
MORRIS— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude. There were two other indictments against the prisoner Morris.
OLD COURT.—Friday, May 6th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
476. GEORGE DREVOR (48) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully publishing a libel upon Harry Cadogan Rothery.— Three Months without Hard Labour, and to enter into recognisances, find one surety, and to appear for judgment if called upon .
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. A. B. KELLY Defended.
JOHN GOLDING . I am a waiter at the United Club, 24, Charles Street, St. James's—Mr. Gardiner is a member of that club—he is called Captain Gardiner—on 9th November the prisoner brought me this order for 10l. on the Union Bank of London, Charing Cross Branch, signed William B. Gardiner—he said, "Will you oblige Captain Gardiner by cashing this cheque?"—I said, "Yes, if I can do it"—I took it to the cashier, got two 5l. notes, and gave them to the prisoner—I had only seen him in the club with Captain Gardiner—I believed that he came from him.
nine years—the prisoner was in my employment as an assistant clerk until the end of September last—the signature to this cheque is not mine; it is evidently in the prisoner's writing, although disguised; it is certainly like my signature, although it is not mine—I never gave the prisoner or any one authority to sign a cheque for me—I did not send him to the club on 9th November with this.
Cross-examined. I have conducted law business for the prisoner—he has been a client of mine—I have not an insurance for 200l. on his life; there is an insurance upon it to a Mrs. Trimmer, a client of mine, who lent him 10l.—he came over here in July 12 months and asked me to take him into my employment, and I did—I had one or two actions pending in Dublin at the latter part of last year—I did not propose that the prisoner should go over there to swear some affidavits—since the warrant was granted I wrote him this letter of 23rd March, 1881 (This was addressed "Dear Dillon," stating that he would send him an affidavit to make in some action)—I first heard of this forged cheque about 20th November, when I went to the bank—I wrote this letter for the purpose of having the prisoner detected—the warrant was out at the time, and we were searching for him everywhere—I accidentally heard that he was staying at an hotel in Liverpool, where he could not pay his bill, and the hotelkeeper found some of my papers upon him, and wrote to me—I knew him about 25 years ago, but my last acquaintance with him was when he came back from America in 1877—I have not seen him for three years—he owed me some money—I know his father and his brothers very well—he saw me for about five minutes on two occasions at the club, and I took him into the coffee-room.
Re-examined. About six weeks before this occurrence I sent him to the bank to bring me a 5l. note, and next morning he told me he had had his pocket picked of it—I dismissed him for that, and I had nothing to do with him since.
ANDREW LANSDOWNE (Police Inspector). In consequence of information I went to Liverpool on 31st March, and found the prisoner there in custody—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Yes; it is done out of spite because I would not make an affidavit."
GUILTY.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
MR. CROOME Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.
WALTER ANWYLE HORACE REES . I am a brass-finisher, and live at 9, Travers Road, Holloway—on Friday night, 15th April, I had been drinking—I was in a state of intoxication—on my way home about half-past 11 I was accosted by a female in Lonsdale Square, Islington, and I stopped to talk to her—I noticed four men standing near, three youngish ones and one a middle-aged man—the prisoner was one of the four—he was talking to the other three—I was wearing a tall feltless hat at the time, and a pair of light trousers—while talking to the woman I suddenly received a blow on the crown of my hat, knocking it over my eyes, and I was knocked down into the kennel by a punch under the ear, I believe, but I felt no ill effects from it afterwards—I was shaken, I was knocked down on my face, then turned over, and my right-hand trousers pocket
was violently torn or cut away—I believe I had in it about 6s. in silver and coppers, and a purse or pouch with a number of duplicates in it—I called out, "Police!" "Shame!" and "Oh, oh! it is not right; it is not fair"—I believe I got up—I can't say whether I was assisted up—when I was on my feet I heard the men running away—I did not see them—I heard a gentleman, Mr. Hitchens, say, "Here is one of them"—he had got his hand on the prisoner's shoulder—a constable came up directly after, and I gave the prisoner into custody—I have not seen my purse or money since.
Cross-examined. It was within a yard or two of where I was pushed down that I heard Mr. Hitchens say, "Here is one of them"—I have said that I could not swear the prisoner was the one that knocked my that over my eyes, or that assaulted and robbed me—this was on the night of Good Friday—I had not been out for a holiday, I had been at work all day—I had taken too much—I was on my way home when the woman stopped me—I was not conversing with her two or three minutes from what I can remember; my memory is rather obscure—there was no impropriety taking place—I suppose she made off while I was in the gutter.
CHARLES BROWN (Policeman N 105). On Friday night, 15th April, about 20 minutes to 12, I was on duty in Lonsdale Square—I heard screams and cries of "Police!" "Oh, you cowards!" from the other end of the square—I ran as fast as I could towards the spot, and saw the prosecutor lying in the gutter, and the prisoner and another man stooping over him, and two others between 15 and 20 yards from them—when they saw me they all four ran; three of them turned on to St. George's Terrace and ran away, the fourth stopped under a lamp-post—I followed the three about half way down the terrace, which would be something like 50 yards—I could not catch them—I then ran back out of breath and ran up to the prisoner—he came two or three yards towards me from the lamppost where I had seen him standing before—Mr. Hitchins had hold of his shoulder, that was the reason I left him and tried to get some of the others—I took hold of his shoulder along with Mr. Hitchins and told him he had to come to the station with me—I took him half way towards the prosecutor and the prosecutor came half way to me—he said he did not know exactly how it was, he was rather boosed, but he said "Take him"—I told him the charge—he said I was mistaken.
Cross-examined. I was about 120 yards off when I first heard the screams of "Police"—I had to run round the other end of the square—I saw the woman standing up against the wall right abreast of the prosecutor; they might be a yard or two apart—when I came back from running after the men the prisoner was in custody of Mr. Hitchins; there were a lot more besides—I did not hear any one say "That is not one of the men"—I heard a person offer his name and address to the prosecutor—I do not know who that was—I asked the prosecutor for it, but he lost it.
Re-examined. I could not identify any of the men but the prisoner; I swear he was one of the two who wore stooping over the prosecutor—I found 8d. in copper on him.
By the COURT. I knew the prisoner before; I have seen him several times round our neighbourhood, four or five of them and a woman, knocking about the Liverpool Road at all hours of the night—I don't
know where he lives; he refused his name and address; I asked him for it at the station—I dare say I have seen him half a dozen times.
EDWARD HITCHINS . I am a railway inspector, and live at 19, Lonsdale Square—on Friday night, 15th April, about 11.30, I was on my way home, and passed the prosecutor talking to a female—I saw the prisoner about ten or twelve yards away from him with three other men standing at the corner of the square; after I had got about thirty yards past the prosecutor just across the road, I heard a noise, and ran back; when I got to the corner again I saw the prisoner and the three other men running away from the prosecutor—the prisoner was five or six yards from the prosecutor, who was lying in the gutter—I followed him for about 100 yards into St. George's Terrace, when he stopped; I put my hand on his shoulder and said "You are one of the men"—he said "You make a mistake, see," and he put his hand in his pocket, pulled out his pipe, and asked if I would give him a light—I had not lost sight of him from the time I saw him run from the prosecutor—the constable came up almost directly and took him into custody—the other three men had run down St. George's Terrace.
Cross-examined. The woman must have got away before the men, I could not see her—the policeman was out of breath when he came back; he said he could not catch the one he ran after.
By the COURT. I noticed the four men sufficiently to enable me to say that the prisoner was one of them—they were in conversation about a fare when I passed them, and one of them mentioned 30s.—I am quite sure of the prisoner; I have known him thirteen or fourteen years; I knew him well by sight as a cardsharper—I could not say that I had seen him with the other three men before, but I knew two of the others.
Witness for the Defence.
ROBERT MARSHALL . I am a printer, and live at 31, Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell—on the night of Good Friday I was in Lonsdale Square; I heard a person halloa "Oh, oh, oh!"—I was on the left-hand side of the square—I saw a policeman run from the right-hand side; I ran by the side of him at first and then behind him, and at the corner of St. George's Terrace I saw three or four young men running away—I and the policeman ran till we got right opposite the Fever Hospital; we then returned—there were fourteen or fifteen people standing at the corner of St. George's Terrace—the policeman was holding a man up by the arms; he had had a little drop too much, he could scarcely stand—Mr. Hitchins came from the square and pointed to the prisoner, who was standing among the fourteen or fifteen, and said "You can't do wrong if you take that man down; to the best of my belief he is one of them"—the prosecutor was so drunk that he ran over to a young lady who was passing on the opposite side, and said "Give me my tickets"—she said "I don't know anything about your tickets"—I said to the prosecutor "I think you are making a mistake, she is a respectable young woman"—he said "Do you know her?"—I said "No, I don't know her"—he said "Did you see anybody assault me?"—I said "No, I saw two or three young men run away"—he said "Will you give me your name and address?"—I said "I don't mind"—I was writing it down, and the policeman took him away, and the prisoner said "Will you give it to me?"—I said "Yes," and I did so.
Cross-examined. I had been to Winchmore Hill to see a little racing
and was on my way home—the first thing I saw after hearing the cry was the policeman running, and I followed him, and saw two or three young chaps, and I followed them with the policeman—when I came back the prisoner was standing at the corner of St. George's Terrace—Mr. Hitchins was not by the side of him with his hand on his shoulder, that I swear—he was not there at all—he came from the square about half a minute afterwards—no one had hold of the prisoner—he was asking for a light; he was not asking Mr. Hitchins for it; I think I could swear it; he was not there—to the best of my belief it was not Mr. Hitchins that he was asking for a light.
Re-examined. It was a dark night; the square was very dark—there was no lamp near where the disturbance was; there was one at the corner of the street.
By the COURT. The first thing I saw was the persons running away and the man rolling over in the gutter; I passed him as I was running with the policeman—I had never seen the prisoner before.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction on 17th July, 1871, of larceny from, the person, when he was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .
THIRD COURT.—Friday May 6th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
ARTHUR HERBERT SAFFORD . I am Chief Clerk at Westminster Police-court—I was present on 15th February when William Irving was charged with stealing a purse and 5s., the property of Charles Rowe, from the person of Estella Rowe—this is the charge sheet—Estella Rowe was the first witness called—I took down her evidence; she signed it—Henry Catley, a porter at the District Railway Station, was called on the same day, and I took his deposition; also Henry Durrant, a constable, and Sarah Vernon (the prisoner)—she has changed in appearance since then—she was sworn in the ordinary way—this is her deposition. (This stated that she lived at 5, Blue Heart Court, Bell Alley, London Wall; that she did not know the prisoner, and never saw him before to her knowledge, and that when the prosecutrix asked her to come to the station she was quite alone.) She was recalled after Osborne gave evidence, and stated: "I saw them go away together in a third-class carriage"—then Vernon, who had been in Court, was recalled, and said "I positively swear that not to my knowledge did I ever see the prisoner till the lady said he had taken her purse. It is a mistake to say I was on Hammersmith platform with him. I had not been on Hammersmith platform that afternoon. The prisoner did not call me into the same compartment with him. I have not spoken to the prisoner since he has been in custody"—in cross-examination she said "I gave instructions to the defendant's solicitor to defend the prisoner; the fee was half paid by me and half by a friend. I had a conversation with a friend of the prisoner, who said he wished he could afford Counsel, and I said I had been suspected myself, and that
was the reason I paid half the fee. I did it out of pity"—then there was a remand till the 22nd—on the remand Vernon did not appear—the case was further remanded till the 25th—she did not appear then—on the 25th Urban, another inspector was called, and the prisoner was committed to take his trial at Middlesex Sessions on 7th March.
DANIEL CONNOR (Police Inspector B). On 14th February William Irving was brought to the station about 8.45—I entered the charge—the prisoner came in with Irving and the prosecutrix—she said "I was on the platform, and the lady first accused me of having had the purse. I know nothing of the purse and I do not know the man; I think the lady must make a mistake about him having the purse; I came here partly because she accused me and partly on behalf of this poor man"—she gave her name Sarah Vernon, 5, Blue Hart Court, Bell Alley, London Wall—Irving was detained and taken before a Magistrate the next day—the prisoner attended as a witness—she told me she would do so and said Irving was a total stranger to her, and that she never saw the man before.
GEORGE URBAN (Police Inspector). On 14th February I was on special duty at Hammersmith Police-court—it was the day of the boat-race—I saw Irving on the platform of the District Railway about 3.20—I saw the prisoner with him; I saw them speaking together—I watched them—the prisoner tapped Irving on the shoulder with her right hand, he turned shortly round; she said something to him and he looked towards me, and they walked down the platform—he sat on a seat and she stood at the other end—I was in plain clothes—Irving got into a carriage; he beckoned to her and she followed him—they went away in the same compartment—the train went towards the Mansion House—I called Osborne's attention to them—he is a travelling inspector—I got out of the train at South Kensington and spoke to a gentleman—they were in the train then together—I got out at Westminster and at Charing Cross—I am quite sure the prisoner is the woman I saw with Irving—I saw them from 20 to 25 minutes at Hammersmith Station—I afterwards attended at Westminster and gave evidence that I saw Irving and the prisoner together—I cannot say I know her.
Cross-examined. The boat-race was between Hanlan and Laycock—there were a good number of persons at Hammersmith—persons were returning from the race—I gave evidence against Vernon on 25th of February and 25th March—I do not know whether I said at the police-court that the man beckoned—that has not occurred to me since—I do not recollect saying I saw them together in the carriage—my memory has not improved since.
Re-examined. When she patted Irving on the shoulder he was standing in front of a gentleman having the appearance of a Clergyman, and he unbuttoned the top and second button of his overcoat—that was the gentleman I spoke to at South Kensington.
JAMES HICKS OSBORNE . I am a travelling inspector on the District Railway—on the 14th February I was on the platform of Hammersmith Station, between 3 and 4 p.m.—Urban called my attention to Irving standing on the platform with the prisoner—they were speaking together—Irving was sitting down and the woman was standing—I also saw them walking about the platform conversing; they were walking about among a crowd of persons in a suspicious manner—at first they appeared
to be quarrelling; I watched them—Irving got into a third-class carriage and beckoned to the prisoner—he said "Come on;" she appeared to object—then he got in and called her in—no one else was then in that compartment—she got in and went to the opposite side of the carriage while he sat next the door—the train started—I saw them speaking together side by side—the compartment was then full—I did not go by the train—after Irving was given in custody I attended before Mr. Partridge, and after my evidence the prisoner gave her evidence—she was recalled—I am quite sure she is the woman I saw there—I noticed her at the back of the Court—I believe I have seen her before, but I do not know her—I have seen them both before.
Cross-examined. I am not sure that I have seen them before together—I am sure that the man beckoned to the woman to get into the train—I said that before the Magistrate—I heard my deposition read over; I signed it—I did not tell the Clerk he had not taken it down—I said what amounts to the same thing—after I had sworn that I saw the prisoner at Hammersmith she got into the box and denied it.
HENRY DURRANT (Policeman B 109). On 14th February Irving was given into my custody at Victoria Station—I attended before the Magistrate the next day—the prisoner gave evidence—on the remand she did not appear—in consequence of that I made inquiries—I went to No. 5, Blue Hart Court, Bell Alley, London Wall—I could not find her—I afterwards found that her mother lived next door—afterwards a warrant was granted against her—she was arrested and brought to the station and charged with perjury—on the way to the station she said "I am very sorry I did not attend as I am bound over to, but I was advised not to by Irving's companions"—this umbrella (produced) was taken from Irving when I took him.
Cross-examined. When Irving was charged by Mrs. Rowe, the prisoner offered to be searched—she said "I know nothing of the matter," but she did not say "But the prosecutrix charges me, this lady says I have had the purse, and here I am," nor words to that effect—the prosecutrix did say "I strongly suspect this woman as receiving the purse"—I said to the prisoner "Do you know this man?"—she said "I do not."
ESTELLA ROWE . This is my deposition. (This deposed to the loss of the purse and charging the prisoner with having it, and her denial.) The woman referred to is the prisoner—the deposition is correct.
Cross-examined. A great many persons were on the platform when my purse was stolen, and round about me—I did not notice them in my confusion—the prisoner accompanied me to the police-station—she was anxious to be searched and was taken into the waiting-room—the moment I looked at her on the platform she came forward, as I told the man I suspected her—she said if I had any suspicion I could take her in charge also.
THOMAS LEMON . I live at 5, Blue Hart Court, Bell Alley—on 14th or 15th the prisoner was not living at my house—her mother was living next door at that time, a Mrs. Macdonald—I have seen the prisoner go into that house three or four times—I did not know her name.
ARTHUR HERBERT SAFFORD (Re-examined). I also took the depositions when the prisoner was charged at the police court—when Urban had given his evidence she made this statement: "My husband's name is Hopkins. I left him four years ago. I do not see that family matters should be brought into this Court."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have to say that I was not at Hammersmith at the time mentioned, and that I did not say I was bound, ever, and was; advised by Irving's friends not to appear. All I said was I was sorry I did not appear the second time, as, appearing the first time, people frightened me, and told me I should be imprisoned for contempt of Court.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
THOMAS HEWSMAN . I am employed by Messrs. Cook, Sons, and Co., of 22, St. Paul's Churchyard, silk merchants—on 1st April I saw the prisoner about 10 a.m. passing through the warehouse—I knew he was not employed there—he was holding his coat so that it was drawn tightly across the back—I followed him to the back door; there are three steps to go down, so that I could see over his shoulder, and I saw a corner of a parcel inside his coat—I communicated with Mr. Harries, followed the prisoner, and asked him what he had under his coat—he threw the parcel in the road and ran away—this is it—I and Harries ran after him—it was picked up and given to me—Harries caught the prisoner, and he was brought back.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you take the parcel, but I am quite sure you are the person who came through the warehouse—I never lost sight of you—I had plenty of opportunities of seeing you in the warehouse—the value of the silk is about 2l. 16s.
FRANK HARRIES . I am town traveller to Cook, Sons, and Co.—on 1st April my attention was called to the prisoner by Hensman—I followed him; I saw the silk under his coat; I saw him drop it—I chased him; I caught him; I went about thirty yards; he was in sight all the time; I took him back to the warehouse—he was given into custody.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said "Please let me go"—I did not hear you say "I have done nothing;" you began to cry.
Prisoner's Defence. I was walking through Carter Lane, heard a cry of "Stop thief," and was arrested by a lot of gentlemen. I said "I have done nothing; please let me go," but I was walked into the warehouse, and charged with stealing that piece of silk.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in August, 1879, in the name of John Brown.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, May 7, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
WILLIAM READER (Police Sergeant E). On 7th April last I apprehended the prisoner at the corner of St. Mark's Road, Camberwell, about 350 yards from 45, Grosvenor Park—I had ascertained that he was living there—I was in company with another officer—I said to him "Mr. Powell, I believe?"—he said "Yes"—I said "We are two detective officers, and are going to arrest you for being at large when on return from transportation in the name of Leeson"—I took hold of his arm—he said "What name did you say?"—I said "Leeson"—he said "Don't hold me, I will go with you"—after we had gone a little way he said "A convict! that is nice, very nice! this is a mistake, and a very unpleasant one for me"—we got into a cab, and on the way he said "I suppose it is no use my asking you gentlemen at whose instigation this is?"—he was taken to Bow Street Station, and from there to Tottenham Court Road—he was there placed with about eight or ten other persons, and Superintendent Thompson picked him out as Charles Leeson—next morning I examined the prisoner's arms; on the left arm there was an urn tattooed, something after this style (producing a paper)—this is a sketch of it that I made—on the right arm there was a cross with the letters "C. G." or "G. G." on the top, and under it "I. H. S." and "M. M."—I subsequently went to 45, Grosvenor Park, Walworth, with Inspector O'Callaghan, and assisted to search the place—O'Callaghan found what he will produce.
Cross-examined. I have been in the force 17 years—I do not know when the Government ceased to send convicts to Australia—I had nothing to do with the trial at Manchester—I first learnt that we were to look for the Manchester convict about the middle of March; Inspector O'Callaghan told me of it—other officers were present—Oscar Ruman was not present—I don't know him; I never heard of him in connection with the police—since the middle of March I have discussed this matter with O'Callaghan, it might be two or three times a week—I went over and kept observation two or three times—I was engaged at Sessions at different times, or he would have been arrested before—I went into a private house in this instance under O'Callaghan's directions without any Magistrate's warrant or Secretary of State's order, or without the knowledge of Mr. Howard Vincent—I am still acting under O'Callaghan's directions—I saw him lay his hands on a woman and search and carry away papers—Sergeant Berry was with me in the cab, not O'Callaghan—since I first examined the prisoner's arms I have made a further examination—I first called the mark something like basket-work—I have not taken any persons to Newgate to identify the prisoner—I believe persons have been sent; I don't know their names.
JAMES JACOB THOMPSON . I am now Superintendent of the E Division—in 1866 I was an Inspector of the Detective Department at Scotland Yard; in that year I arrested two persons in London connected with a charge of breaking and entering a warehouse in the country—the prisoner is one of those persons—I knew him then in the name of Charles Leeson; he was then keeping a beershop in the Kennington Road—I arrested him there; I took him to the police-station in a cab—he was afterwards charged before Sir Thomas Henry—I was present and saw him, and again on remand, and then I took him to Manchester—I saw him
when he was examined there before the Magistrate from time to time, and was present at his trial with three others before Mr. Justice Blackburn; the trial lasted several days—I was in Court from day to day and saw him there—I have no doubt whatever that he is the man—I produce the certificate of his conviction; his sentence was 15 years' penal servitude—he had been previously convicted as Charles Kelly in August, 1858, and sentenced to seven years (These certificates were put in and read)—I think I saw him afterwards at Millbank with the others, but I am not sure—in April last I saw him at the Tottenham Court Road Police-station in custody—there were a number of other persons there—I recognised him at once.
Cross-examined. The arrest was early in September, 1866—I had seen him previous to that—I had occasion to keep observation on him for three weeks or a month—I was present at his trial with three others—it lasted four days—I believe I saw him after at Millbank for a few minutes or half an hour, early in 1867—since then I have never seen him till this year—I stated in cross-examination in April that on taking the Manchester convict in September, 1866, I went with him to the station in a cab with Sergeant Potter and a private constable—I said, "I am less sure about Potter being there, and still less sure about the private constable"—I think I also said there was another constable, but I could not give his letter or number—I have no doubt Potter was there—I think what I said was that I was less sure of Potter than I was of the constable; I did not say I was not sure of him—I said to Sir James Ingham that to the best of my belief the prisoner was the man—my belief at the time was very strong; I am, if possible, more sure to-day—I said at the Tottenham Court Road Station, "My belief is a very strong one that you are the man, but I should be unwilling to swear with absolute certainty"—I do not remember a case of the police being put on taking a convict into custody 13 years after his conviction; such cases have happened, I can't call them to mind at this moment—I do not know the statute by which whoever shall discover and prosecute to conviction in such a case shall be entitled to 20l. reward—I am not the author of first looking after the prisoner; the information was sent to the Director of Criminal Investigations, who referred the matter to me, and in the ordinary course of police duty I placed the case in the hands of O'Callaghan and subject to my directions he acted in the matter—I gave him no directions till Powell was in custody—it was to some extent without my cognisance that he forced his way into a private house, and laid his hands on a woman, and took away papers—I should say that is a thing not done without a warrant—I do not know the exact number of persons who have been taken to Newgate to try and identify the prisoner; I should think over 10—the larger portion have not identified him—I do not know that the Governor of Newgate differs from the police as to the marks on the prisoner; it has not been reported to me—I do not know the exact period when transportation ceased. I should think about 1865.
JOHN HOOK . I am principal warder at Millbank—I knew the prisoner by the name of Charles Leeson at Millbank—I received him there on 20th December, 1866—he left on 30th September, 1867—at that time I was master cooper in the artisans' yard—the prisoner was brought there to work as a paperhanger—I used to see him every day and twice a day except on Sunday, I don't know that I always saw him on Sundays—I
have no doubt about his being the man—I was one of the escort that took him and other convicts down to Sheerness—I saw him there on board the Hugenot, or Hugemot—some old pensioners on board took charge of the convicts—that was the last I saw of the prisoner until I saw him at Bow Street on 14th April last; he was then in the passage of the Court, standing among several more men, I could not tell how many—I was called out to see if I could recognise a man, and I went and touched the prisoner, and said "That is a man I know by the name of Leeson"—I produce the register of the marks of the convicts, kept by one of the clerks—I don't know whether the clerk who made this entry is dead—the clerk who signs his name here is Cannon.
Cross-examined. The man I have been speaking of was received from Manchester—he was a very handy, industrious fellow, one of the best conducted men I ever had under my control—I have seen him at work with his shirt sleeves turned up—I never took any notice of any marks on him—I first knew that I was wanted as a witness against Powell on Wednesday, 13th April—I had a subpoena from the Treasury—Bryce did not speak to me before that—he spoke to me about a man named Leeson, not Powell; he said Leeson was in custody, and that he was at the House of Detention under remand—that was before I saw this man at all—the Manchester convict went down to Sheerness with some 50 other convicts, I believe—the old pensioners were on board when we arrived—I am not aware that any of them are here, they went out to stop in the country—I am not aware that any of the officers of the ship are here, or anybody but warders and police—I did not see the ship sail.
Re-examined. I had nothing to do with examining the marks on prisoners.
BENJAMIN BRYCE . I am principal warder at Millbank Prison—I have been there since 1864—I knew the prisoner there from December, 1866, to September, 1867, in the name of Charles Leeson—I saw him daily, and several times during the day—I remember a batch of convicts going from the prison to Australia—I was not present when Leeson went away—I have so doubt about the prisoner being the Charles Leeson who was there—I did not go down to Sheerness—on Monday, 11th April last, I went to the House of Detention and saw the prisoner there—I should say there were from 100 to 130 there—I recognised him—he was about the third or fourth man that passed me when I got into the yard—they were marching round—I called him out.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell when transportation to the colonies practically ceased—I read in the newspaper that Leeson was in custody, on the Sunday before I went to the House of Detention—I once made a mistake in a man, as to a previous conviction.
Re-examined. I went to the House of Detention in the ordinary course of my duty, when I saw the prisoner—I called him out and asked him his name; he said his name was Charles Leeson Powell.
FREDERICK LIGGINS . I am a warder of Her Majesty's Prison at Manhester—in 1867 I was warder in the convict prison at Fremantle, Western Australia—I remember a man named Charles Leeson coming to that as a convict—he was not under my immediate notice there; he was in the prison where I was; I saw him there from time to time—I see him now; it is the prisoner—I went to Newgate, and recognised him—I did not recognise him at first; he has got a great deal stouter than he was; his face is fuller—I now say he is the man.
Cross-examined. I went to Australia in 1863 as a warder—I was not always at Fremantle—I went there in the beginning of 1868—I was not there when the ship containing the 50 convicts arrived; I was up the country—the convicts were called by names, and not by numbers—Leeson was not under my immediate charge—sometimes when up the country we had from 20 to 50 under our charge for months together—I returned to Fremantle in 1868, and did not go up country again—we generally had between 400 and 500 under charge at Fremantle—I never left Fremantle again until I left for England in 1872—I saw Charles Leeson plenty of days, I might say a score perhaps; I saw him called out on the parade ground—I never saw a photograph of him there—I first heard that I was wanted to go to Newgate yesterday week—I was brought up from Manchester—I saw a paragraph in the Guardian newspaper that somebody was wanted to identify him, and I thought I could do so—two other persons went with me to Newgate, Robinson and Handy, I think, no one else; yes, Mr. O'Callaghan did, but he did not go in, he stopped outside—I am not aware that I have talked to the officers about the man—I think I gave a description of him, I might have done so, to O'Callaghan—he did not give any description to me.
THOMAS HANDY . I was an officer in Millbank—I have retired on a pension—this book (produced) is the reception ward book, where all prisoners' names are entered—this entry was made by me as to the convicts' religious professions; I made it at the time when I was chief warder in the prison—the officer who accompanied me is here.
EDWARD CANNON . I am chief clerk at Bostall Prison, Kent—I was formerly a clerk in Millbank Prison—it was my duty to make an entry of the religions of the convicts—I find in this register an entry of the name of Charles Leeson with my signature—there are other entries made by H. T. Graham; he was an assistant warder at that time; he left the prison shortly after that date, and I don't know what has become of him—I only see the prisoners just to make this entry as to their religion; I do not see them from day to day—I do not profess to identify anybody.
Cross-examined. I did not write this down from what the chief warder told me—it is the prisoner's declaration with regard to his religion, made to the chief warder, or deputy-governor, or whoever may be present, and I wrote it down at the time in this book.
EDWARD ROBINSON . I am chief warder of Her Majesty's Prison at Walton, near Liverpool—I know the prisoner—I produce a certificate of the conviction of Charles Gleeson in October, 1854, at the Liverpool Quarter Sessions; the prisoner is the person—I was present at the trial—he was sentenced to be imprisoned for two years with hard labour and to be whipped—he served his term in the Walton Prison; during these two years I saw him every day, and very often several times a day—I saw him after the expiration of that sentence, in December, 1866, at the Manchester Assizes, when he was tried in the name of Charles Leeson, and sentenced to 15 years' penal servitude—I then proved this conviction against him—I recently went to Newgate—I saw about 30 persons there, the prisoner amongst them; I pointed him out to the governor—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man—I knew him before 1854.
Cross-examined. I was asked to come up some time last week; they
wrote to the head of the police at Liverpool, and he wrote to our governor—I have never seen the prisoner since 1866 until I saw him in Newgate—I saw in the paper that Charles Leeson Powell was in custody, and that he was charged as being the man who was convicted in 1866—I did not come in contact with any of the police-officers here when I came up; I reported myself to the governor of the gaol—I saw Mr. Batchelor, who is conducting the case for the Treasury, and I saw O'Callaghan—no one went to Newgate with me.
JAMES COLLINS . I live at 5, Cook's Road, Kennington Park Road—at the end of October last I was employed by Mr. Gabb to do some work at 45, Grosvenor Road, a private house—I saw the prisoner there—he was not occupying the house at that time; he was moving to 45 from another number in the same road—I helped to move a safe for him—he resided at No. 45 during the latter part of the time I was at work there—there was a lady there passing as his wife, Mrs. Powell; they occupied the house during the time I was working there—I had not seen Mr. Powell about the neighbourhood before October—I went to do some repairs at 45; he merely passed the time of day when I saw him, we had no conversation—I lent a hand one morning moving the safe to 45; a man went with me, and helped to move it—I worked there for a fortnight or three weeks; I saw Powell there constantly—I do not know that he ever slept in the house—I went there at 7 in the morning, and came away at 6—the lady answered to the name of Mrs. Powell.
JOHN O'CALLAGHAN . (Police Inspector E). I was at Bow Street Station when the prisoner was brought in on April 7, about 2 in the afternoon; Sergeant Header was present—I said to the prisoner "I understand you deny being the man;" he said "I have said nothing, I don't know who you take me for, or what the charge is"—I said "We say you are Charles Powell, who was convicted in Belgium in February, 1878, and liberated from there about four months ago. The charge against you now is that you are at large while under sentence of transportation;" he said "They have told me that already, it is very vague"—I said "We believe that as Charles Leeson you were convicted at Manchester for a stamp robbery in 1866, and sentenced to 15 years' transportation, and that you escaped from Western Australia in 1869;" he said "I have heard all you say, and I say nothing"—I was present when he was formally charged at the station—he was asked by the inspector his age, name, and address; he said "I decline to make any statement whatever"—after he was in custody he was visited by a woman in the cell—before she came I went to 45, Grosvenor Road, Camberwell—I there saw that same woman—I found a safe there, and at my request she opened it, and I found there these documents, amongst them these two receipts.
MR. BESLEY objected to these being received in evidence in the absence of proof by the person making them, and under the circumstances in which they were taken possession of by the witness, there being no actual proof that the safe in which they were found was the property of the prisoner. The RECORDER declined to admit them.
MR. BESLEY called attention to the 5th Geo. IV., c.. 84, sec.. 22, by which two classes of persons were intended to be reached, and submitted that the prosecution must make up their minds to which class they alleged the prisoner to belong.
MR. POLAND contended that this was not a ease under the 5th Geo. IV., where a person agreed to banish himself, but by the Penal Servitude Act, 20 and 21 Vic., penal servitude was the same as a sentence of transportation, and that the authorities could send prisoners beyond the seas as if they had been sentenced for transportation.
The COURT decided that the case must go to the Jury, but the onus of proof lay with the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. J. P. GRAIN and.HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
WALTER JOYCE . I carry on business at the Adelphi Stores, 75, Strand—in November last year the two defendants were introduced to me by some public-house brokers named Clark and Carter—I am not positive whether they were together the first time, but I saw them both on many occasions—the broker said to me in their presence "We are given to understand that your house is for sale"—I said "You are given to understand very wrongly then, for I never had such an idea"—I had not advertised it, or ever dreamt of such a thing—the broker said "Well, but I suppose you would sell"—I said "Every one will sell anything if it is to their advantage; I don't feel at all inclined to"—at last it came to this, "What would you take for it?"—I said "I have a very short lease; I will take 8,000 guineas for it, as I have something else in view"—there was some discussion about the price, and I ultimately agreed to take 7,500l., because the lease was a year shorter than I thought it was—that was the result of two or three interviews—they came about twice a day: both came—the woman always took part in the conversation as well as the man; it was principally the woman, the house was for her—about 8th December I said "Before we talk any more about it I shall require a reference, and I shall want 500l. deposit paid," which they agreed to, and I said "What money have your"—they said "We have 2,000l. on deposit at the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury"—they spoke in that way, "we have," and sometimes she said "I have"—they aid not say in whose name the 2,000l. was standing—they came again and said that they should have to give seven days' notice for the money, and would I wait till then for the deposit—they afterwards came and said they had made a mistake, and found that they had to give 28 days' notice: that would be 17 days then, and would I take a bill for 500l., payable in 17 days at the London and Westminster Bank—my solicitor was present, and thereupon this bill for 500l. was drawn. (This was dated). 17th February, payable 18 days after date drawn by Thomas Peal, on Mrs. Marie Josephine Peal, of Bedford Place, Russell Square.) That was accepted by the female prisoner in my presence and that of my solicitor—the man drew and endorsed it and the woman accepted it—two or three days before the bill became due I said to him "There will be no doubt about this matter, will there, because I am entering into a large arrangement with something else"—he said "Don't hesitate at all; we have our money; we take the money in about two or three days"—and he said" By the bye, Mrs. Peal is short now; will you advance me 20l. till then," and I did lend him 20l., as I thought the whole of the money
was coming in in two days—this (produced) is the agreement that was entered into on 17th February for the purchase of the house, in the presence of my solicitor, the brokers, and every one—it was signed the same day as the bill—on 8th January the male prisoner came to me and said "I wish you would give me 10l. for this cheque," handing me this 10l. cheque—I said "Certainly; whose is it?"—he said "My landlady's; she has paid it to me; will you change it?"—I did so—it was presented and returned marked N.S.;—I told him—he said "Yes, she is very short; I suppose I shall have to pay you that," and I let it go over—he did not pay it. (This cheque was signed Ellen S. Howell, and was on the London and Provincial Bank). When the 500l. bill came due it was not met—there was no account there—the contract was to have been carried out on 5th March—I made inquiries about their position, and ultimately instituted these proceedings—I traced them to several of their lodgings, and found that they had never paid a penny for years.
Cross-examined by Thomas Peal. When you first came I understood that you wanted to purchase the lease—I told you it was a short lease, but no doubt you could obtain a renewal by paying for it—I saw Mrs. Peal a great number of times; not quite so often as you—you said you had a lot more money, which Mr. Field, your solicitor, was obtaining for you, and 700l. from some other man—you asked me what trade I was doing, and I gave you all my books—you spoke of getting loans from the distillers and brewers, to make up the amount, besides the 2,000l. which you said you had—there was no difficulty with the brokers—I employed Mr. Cronin, my broker—I did not recognise Clark and Carter as my brokers, but they were settled with—Mrs. real showed me some agreement by which a Mr. Morris was to deposit 2,000l. in the bank for her—I saw Mr. Morris, and he was to bring the money, but he never did, and I have never seen him since—his bankruptcy was in the paper the very day he called, and he had an enormous deficiency with 2s. in the pound—the 20l. loan was not a private matter of your own—you did not ask me not to let Mrs. Peal know of it—that would have aroused my suspicion—you said you were both short, and asked me to advance it.
Cross-examined by Marie Peal. You gave me Mr. Morris's address, and I got a cock-and-bull letter from him, and saw him next day—I don't know who he is—I believe he has acted the same part several times with respect to other houses—everything you told me was false.
EDWARD NORMAN TENNANT . I am a clerk at the head office of the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury—I do not know either of the defendants—I have searched our deposit books for the name of Marie Josephine Peal—no one of that name had any right to accept a bill payable at our bank.
HERBERT CLARK . I am a member of the firm of Clark and Carter, public-house brokers, Featherstone Buildings, Holborn—about November last year the defendants called on me and gave me instructions about the purchase of Mr. Joyce's place—I introduced them to him—Mr. Peal said in Mrs. Peal's presence that she was coming into a legaoy of about 8,000l., and that 2,000l. was deposited in a bank—there were a great number of negotiations, and ultimately a day was fixed for signing the contract—I got the stamp for the bill of exchange—I have got part of it—the bill was drawn and the contract was signed in my presence and that of Mr. Norman, Mr. Joyce's solicitor—we were given to understand that the
money was lodged at the London and Westminster Bank, and thereupon the bill was made payable there.
FREDERICK LOVEGROVE . I am a licensed victualler of 83, Strand—Mr. Joyce is a neighbour of mine—shortly before 24th February I saw the male prisoner—he told me something about purchasing Mr. Joyce's business—on the 24th he came and asked me to change this 5l. cheque, drawn by Thomas Peal, payable to self or order at the London and County Bank, Edgware Road—I gave him the money for it, and paid the cheque into my bank—it was returned marked "No account"—at the time I cashed it I believed it to be a good and valid cheque.
MR. BEDDINGFIELD. I am a clerk in the London and County Bank, Paddington branch—I know nothing of the defendants—no person named Peal had any account at our bank at the time this cheque was presented—it comes from a cheque book that was issued to Madeline Josephine Peal, trading as Marie Madeline, Norfolk Hotel, Paddington—that account was closed on 26th August last.
The death of Thomas Brietow Winckworth having been proved, his deposition was read, which stated that in July,. 1879, he had changed for the male prisoner a cheque for 24l. 10s., on the Royal Exchange Bank, drawn by J. H. Smith, which was returned marked "No account."
ALFRED GEORGE KERNE . I am a clerk in the Royal Exchange Bank; it used to be called the Metropolitan Bank—no J. H. Smith had any account there since June 11, 1868—this cheque was given out to a firm named C. F. Smith and Co.
ELLEN SOPHIA HOWELL . I live at 8, Upper Bedford Place, Russell Square—I let apartments—the defendants came to lodge with me in May, 1879—they engaged the rooms as Mr. and Mrs. Peal, but not as man and wife, they had two bedrooms—this cheque bears my signature—I gave it to the male prisoner—I have never received any money for it—he told me that he was cousin to Mrs. Peal's husband, that she was a widow, and that they were endeavouring to do some business together—I know his handwriting, I have often seen it—to the best of my belief this cheque for 24l. 10s. on the Royal Exchange bank is his writing.
Cross-examined by Thomas Peal. After you had been with me a little time I said I thought I should like to have an hotel in the country, and you brought me the particulars of one at Cheltenham—I went there with you to see it, but I had not the money to purchase—Mrs. Peal told me she had 2,000l., and you corroborated it—I was in monetary difficulty before Christmas, because you owed me so much money and I could not get it—you never wasted your time on me—I assisted and helped you both in every way, believing you to be respectable, and I have lost everything through you; and since you left you have tried to do me all the injury you could.
Cross-examined by Marie Peal. I was present one morning when Mr. Morris called on you—I heard him say that he had placed 2,000l. in the bank for you—you gave me a letter to Mr. Morris to hand me 300l. out of the 2,000l., and he promised to let me have it the following morning, but you know he did not have the money; he was always telling falsehoods—you told me yourself that you did not believe he had 2,000l., or any such sum, and you went out one morning telling me that you would go to Mr. Field, your solicitor, and make a full statement of the facts, so that he might negotiate with Mr. Joyce in a different way, as you could
no longer depend upon Mr. Morris's word, and I never saw him afterwards at my house.
By Thomas Peal. He said he had deposited 2,000l. in the London and Provincial Bank, on Mrs. Peal's behalf, and he told my solioitor, Mr. Durant, the same thing—you advised me to ask him to lend me 300l., as you could not pay me yourself, and that would very nearly cover what you owed me—I had previously tried to get 300l. from a society—he accepted four bills for me, which I have had to meet; he never had any money.
The male prisoner, in a long defence, repeated the substance of his cross-examination, but acknowledged that as to the 5l. cheque which Mr. Lovegrove changed, he had done wrong, having taken that cheque from Mrs. Peal's cheque-book. The female prisoner, in her defence, stated that she knew nothing about the cheques or the borrowed money, and that she had no intention to defraud Mr. Joyce.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude each .
MR. GRAIN stated that the prisoners had been in the habit for years of committing similar frauds.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, May 7th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SMITHIES Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN defended Coker.
WILLIAM THICK (Detective Sergeant H). On 7th April, about 11.30 a.m., I went with Downs to Messrs. Chad wick's premises, 208, Upper Thames Street, and saw Meekings there—Downs took him and charged him with stealing a quantity of paper of his masters—from the statement he made we went to Coker's shop and saw him—Mr. Dennis accompanied us—it is a small stationer's shop, and he sells shuttlecocks and other small articles—Downs said "We are two police officers; a load of paper was brought here on Tuesday morning about 9 o'clock, which was stolen from 208, Upper Thames Street; a man named Meekings, the foreman at Messrs. Chad wick's, is in custody; where is the paper?"—Coker said nothing, but took us into a room at the back of the shop and showed us a quantity of paper piled up on shelves, 110 reams—Downs said "Have you any invoices or receipts?"—he made no reply, but produced the receipt. (This was a bill on one of Coker's bill-heads of J. Jenkins to Mr. Coker for a large quantity of paper; total, 5l. 1s.; stamped, and signed "Received J. Jenkins, 25/4/81.") Downs said "Who is Jenkins?"—he said "I met him with Meekings; they asked me if I could do with some paper; I said 'Yes;' I have had four lots from him; the last lot I gave Meekings 1l. 15s. and Jenkins 1l., and I gave them 1l. each in the evening; I was going to meet them at the White Horse, Shoreditch, this evening, and give them the balance"—Downs said "Who made out the receipt?"—he said "I did and signed it, for they could not write"—he sent out one of his workmen to find Jennings, but failed to do so—he told me that Jennings lived at 8, Sweet Apple Square—Downs took him in custody.
Cross-examined. I took the conversation down directly afterwards; these are my notes—I have heard that Coker's father was a stationer there thirty years—when he pointed to the paper in the back room he said "There it is," but some of it was in the shop—I did not hear him say as to the invoice "This refers to what was bought yesterday," or "I have already had a sample from Jenkins," but I was looking round the shop—I won't say whether he said "This is the fourth lot," or "This is the fourth transaction"—40l. odd was found on him, I believe—there was a door between the shop and the parlour, and when that was shut there would be a concealment from the public, but not of the reams which were in the shop—I have made inquiries and find that Jennings has absconded—such a person exists, but his real name is Jenkins.
Re-examined. The shop is about four yards square; it was full of stuff—there is no name on the paper, but it is marked "21."
FREDERICK DOWNS (City Delective). I accompanied Thick to Messrs. Chadwick's and charged Meekings; he made a statement to Mr. Dennis, and I took him in custody—I got information from another quarter, and went with Mr. Dennis and Thick to Coker's shop, 2, Broadway, Shoreditch, and saw him—I said that we were police officers, and said "Yesterday morning about 9 o'clock a load of paper came to your shop, and that paper was stolen by a man named Meekings from his employers, Messrs. Chadwick, of Upper Thames Street, a firm which this gentleman represents (Mr. Dennis), and he is in custody for it"—he said nothing, but went into a room at the back of the shop and said "Here it is"—I found in the room and in the shop 110 reams of paper, which Mr. Dennis identified—I asked for the receipt; Coker produced this invoice made out on one of his bill-heads, and said "Here it is for that which was bought yesterday"—I looked at it and said "Who is Jenkins?"—he said "I met him with Meekings, and he asked me if I could do with some paper; I had previously had a sample from Jenkins; I said 'Yes;' some was sent; I paid Meekings 1l. 15s., Jenkins 1l. and I gave them 1l. each in the evening, and have to meet them this evening at the White Horse in Shoreditch and pay them the balance"—I said "Who made out this receipt?"—he said "I did, and signed it, as neither of them could write"—I said "Had you any other transactions with them?"—he said "This is the fourth, I believe"—I said "Have you any receipts or invoices relating to those?"—lie said "No"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found 43l. 6s. 1 3/4 d—I made no inquiry about Jenkins because I knew it was a farce; I knew that he was fictitious—I made inquiries at 25, Commercial Road, and he was not at home—it was a large saddler's shop.
Cross-examined. There may be such a person as Jenkins, but it was not Jenkins who took the paper—it was Jennings who was with Meekings when he took the paper—I never knew that it was necessary to reduce prisoners' statements to writing, and I did not know that Thick had done so—I mentioned before the Lord Mayor that I asked Coker if he had any receipts, and I did not notice that that was omitted from my deposition—about six reams of the paper were in the shop; I should say that there was no concealment unless it was of that in the back shop, which is a kind of storeroom—he asked my permission to go to the White Horse to pay the balance that evening—I said "How many transactions have you had with Jenkins?"—he said "This is the fourth one"—he sent to
the address where Jennings was living to inquire for him—I have reason to believe that he lived at 8, Sweet Apple Square, but he does not now.
EDWARD HAINES . I am carman to Mr. Silverton—on Tuesday, 26th April, about 7.45 a.m., I went with my van to Mr. Chadwick's, and saw Meekings and another man; they loaded ten or fifteen parcels of paper like these into my van, and the other man got in; I drove to the back of Shoreditch Church, and unloaded the paper into Coker's shop—I had taken paper there three weeks before.
JOHN DENNIS . I am cashier to Chadwick and Son, 208, Upper Thames Street—Meekings was their foreman, and had been so two yean is April—he had no authority to send paper out unless it was entered in his book by the clerk underneath—I have searched through the order-book, and there-is no entry of any paper to Jenkins or Coker—we never had any account with them—I went with Dennis and Downs to Coker's shop, and saw a lot of paper, some of which was loose, 140 or 160 reams altogether—I identified 110 reams as belonging to my employers by a mark on the side of it, and we have taken stock since and find that we are deficient of those numbers.
Cross-examined. We sell it at 3 3/4 d. a pound, but the lowest price of that found in Coker's shop is 4 1/2 d. a pound—we never had any dealings with Coker—I know that his father was in the trade—Coker admitted that ten or fifteen reams had come from our shop—5l. would be a fair price for ten reams.
Re-examined. The 110 reams are worth about 40l.—that was about the quantity in Coker's shop.
JAMES MEKKINGS (The Prisoner). I was foreman to Messrs. Chadwick—I have pleaded guilty to this charge—on Monday; 25th April, after leaving the place to go home, a man named Jennings stopped me and said something to me, and we went to get a van, and he went down to see Coker, and the arrangement was that Jennings was to meet me next morning at my employers' premises in Thames Street—I went there at 8.5 and opened the place, and Jennings was there with a one-horse van and a carman—he came in—I took about twenty reams of paper out, and Jennings carried it out and put it in the van and went away with it—Jennings came down once before, and I would not deliver any, and once when I did—Jennings used to pay me—Coker never paid me any money, but on the Tuesday night he gave Jennings two sovereigns, who kept one and gave me the other, and said that he would settle up to-morrow night—that was at the London Appren-tice, Old Street, about 7.30—Coker was not there when Jennings spoke to me about the van—Silverton was the carman, and Jennings used to engage him.
Cross-examined. I have seen Coker twice and Jennings repeatedly; he used to be in Thames Street—Coker paid Jennings 2 1/2 d. per pound—Jennings appeared to be the master; he hired the van and paid the man—he represented himself to be a general dealer, who bought and sold job lots at sales—I did not count the reams, but I should say there were near twenty—I was rather flurried.
COKER received a good character.— NOT GUILTY . MEEKINGS—
GUILTY.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
484. ALBERT KNIGHT (26) , Unlawfully obtaining a dressing bag, and 4l. 5s. in money, by false pretences, with intent to defraud. Second count for obtaining a dressing bag and 1l. 13s. with a like intent.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
GEORGE STENNETT . I am salesman to Mr. Fisher, dressing case maker, of the strand—on 5th April the prisoner came in for two paper-knives—Mr. Charles Fisher served him—he then asked to see some dressing bags, and agreed to buy one for 7l. 15s—I had nothing to do with the sale, but I identify him.
CHARLES FISHER . I am assistant to samuel Fisher of the Strand—on 5th April, about 4.30, the prisoner came in and selected two paper-knives—he then said "I should like to see some dressing bags"—I showed him several, and he finally decided to take on at 7l. 15s., that being silver-mounted and the other plated—he asked what the amount was—I told him 8l. 7s., including the paper-knives—he tendered me this cheque. (This was for 10l. on the Brighton branch of the London and County Banking Company, Limited, payable to Arthur Gordon or bearer, signed Gordon and Lintott, and crossed to Twinings.) I gave him 1l. 13s. change, and the cheque was returned marked "Account closed."
THOMAS JOSEPH BARWELL . I am assistant to Mr. Starling, a pawnbroker, of 68, Great Portland Street—on the morning of 6th April the prisoner brought this bag, and asked for a loan of 3l.—I said "Where did you obtain it?"—he said "I purchased it at Fisher's in the Strand some few months ago"—I said "what are the mounts made of?"—he said "Electro plate"—seeing that they were silver, I said "What is your name and adddress?"—he said "Knight, 25, Albany Street"—I said "you will have to wait while I make ingquiries there to see if what you state is correct"—he said "I won't wait"—I said "You will have to wait," and I sent a messenger—after waiting some minutes he said "I want to get a glass of ale"—I said "You can't do so"—he afterwards left the shop and went to a public-house at the corner of Morton Street—I did not follow him, but I saw him through the window, and sent a constable after him, who brought him back to the shop—I then said "The messenger sent to Albany Street finds what you state to be incorrect, and you will have to accompany me to fisher's in the Strand," that is about a mile and a half from my place—we went there in a cab, and when within 30 yards of fisher's he jumped out and ran down Holywell Street—I pursued, shouting "Stop thief!"—he was stopped, I got hold of him, and he said. "We are close there, now we will go"—I said "I shall not trouble you to go now; I shall take you elsewhere," and gave him into custody.
PHILLIP MINES (policeman E 221). Mr. Barwell gave the prisoner into my custody—I searched him at the station, and found these four cheques of the Brighten branch of the London and county Bank filled up—one is for 5l., another for 2l. 10s., payable to Arthur Gordon or bearer—they are signed Gordon and Lintott—I also found 17 pawn tickets in several different names, but Gordon is the name on most of them.
ALFRED JAMES SELF . I am a clerk in the Brighton branch of the London and County Bank—in October last we had an account in the name of Gordon and Lintott; it was closed on 17th October by the balance being drawn out—this cheques was presented and returned; the signature Gordon and Lintott is the prisoner's writing—I paid him two cheques on 6th October, 1880, personally, and have compared the
signatures, but I did not see him sign them—both Gordon and Lintott signed the book when the account was opened; and when the first cheque was presented I compared it with the signature book—the two partners came, and the prisoner is the one who was said to be Gordon—this signature is not Lintott's, it is Gordon's.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No previous cheque signed by you had been dishonoured—Mr. Lintott paid no cash in afterwards; the only amount which was paid in was 100l. when the account was opened; you paid that jointly—Lintott came to the bank and made a statement.
WALTER KNIGHT . I am salesman to Mappin and Co., of King William Street—on 4th April the prisoner bought this bag (produced) for 5l. 15s.—he gave me this cheque for 10l., and I gave him 4l. 5s. change. (This was also signed Gordon and Lintott, and marked "Account closed.")
A. J. SELF (Re-examined). I believe the signature to this cheque to be the prisoner's.
The Prisoner in his defence stated that Mr. Lintott had never contributed one penny to the bank account, and had no authority to draw out anything; that no notice had been given to him, the prisoner, that the account was closed, and he had no idea that such was the case; that, having accidentally left his money at home, and having only a few coppers, he was obliged to pawn the bag in order to get back, and was given into custody.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Brighton in April, 1880.— Five Yearss'Penal Servitude .
MR. FRITH Prosecuted; MB. LEVEY defended Pepperell.
HENRY BRISTOW . I am a butcher, of 51, Bear Street, Hackney Wick—on 10th April, about a quarter to 12 p.m., I was in Whitechapel Road, standing about a yard and a quarter from a coffee-stall, looking down the road for a tram—I saw the two prisoners and some other men—the prisoners whispered together, and Stokes came up and asked me where I was going—I said, "I want to go to Well Street, Hackney"—they whispered together a second time, and Stokes came up and punched me on my nose, it bled, and saturated these two handkerchiefs (produced), one of which I had to take off my neck—Pepperell then came behind me and put his hand in my left trousers pocket and took my watch and chain out—I snatched the watch away from him, and he went away to the lamp-post, and said, "It is no b—good "—I walked up to him and snatched a piece of my chain from him—he ran away with about nine inches of it, here is the remainder of it; it is gold—I know Pepperell by the brown mole on his face—I picked Stokes out at the station on 14th April from several others directly I went into the room—I have no doubt as to their being the men.
Cross-examined. I had been to No. 58, New Road, to see my young woman—I left her about 11.30—I looked at my watch in the street two or three times after I left her, and I looked at the hospital clock when I was waiting for the car—there were about 25 men round the coffee-stall, as the public-houses were closed—a young man who saw it done went with me to the station—I have not seen him here to-day—I did not hear him say, "I
can't identify Pepperell"—I have not seen him since—when I got the blow I slipped down, and Pepperell had his hand in my pocket when I got up—I never picked Pepperell out from a number of men, I saw him sitting down at the station, and said, "That is the man"—a man named Norris was not taken for being concerned in the robbery, he tried to throw me down, and the coffee-stall keeper said, "Good night, Norris; good night, Pepperell," after this affair was done—I identify Pepperell by his clothes as well as by the mole on his face—I was knocked down and was on the ground when Pepperell put his hand in my pocket.
Re-examined. Pepperell was sitting at the back of the police-station dock when I identified him—I have no doubt he is the man—this affair occupied about 10 minutes—I was standing up and saw Pepperell go to the lamp—I did not suffer much pain.
WILLIAM ROLFE (Detective Sergeant K). On 11th April, about 12.30, I took Pepperell, and said "I shall take you for being concerned with others in a robbery with violence last night in Whitechapel Road"—I mentioned no time—he said, "I know nothing about it; I can prove I was at home by 10 o'clock"—I took him to the station—I did not know him, but apprehended him when I saw him, on a description which I saw in the Times report.
Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. I took him in Bethnal Green Road—not Mr. Shalers's, but he did work there—I may have said at the police-court, "I should take him for robbery with violence with others between 11 and 12 last night"—I put down what he said, "I can prove I was at home by 10 o'clock"—I don't think he said "11 o'clock"—Norris was not identified and he was discharged—the spot is half a mile from Coventry Street, Bethnal Green, and about the same from Colt's Lane.
WILLIAM WALLER (Detective Sergeant K). About 11.30 on the Thursday after this robbery, I took Stokes and told him the charge—he said, "I left Pepperell at 4.30 outside the police-station; I was in the Whitechapel Road at 8 o'clock, and was home at 11"—I took him to the station, placed him with 10 other lads about his height and age, and Bristow was brought in and identified him at once—he walked straight up to him and put his hand on him—he made no reply—next morning I went into his cell to tell him that his father had been there—he said, "I never hit the chap, I was at the coffee-stall with Sam Pepperell having a cup of coffee,"
Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. Bristow got to the station before us, and saw Pepperell there, and identified him.
Cross-examined by Stokes. I am sure you said that you were at the stall drinking coffee with Pepperell; you used the expression Sam Pepperell, and on the Saturday as well.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Stokes says: "It was not this Pepperell that was there at all." Pepperell says; "On 11th April I was at work at Mr. Shalers's, and he told me Rolfe had been after me. I saw Mr. Rolfe; he said he wanted me for a robbery which had been done in Whitechapel Road on Sunday night between a quarter to 12 and 12. I said I could prove I was at home at 11.20. He took me to the station, and when I got there the prosecutor was standing at the dock, and he told the policeman I was the man who stole his watch. The prosecutor did not pick me. out from any people, but he said, 'Yes; he is the man.' A witness who came up with the prosecutor saw me with other men, and passed me
about five times, and said that the man who did it was not there; and he said the man who did it had a scar on his face, not a mark like mine. They discharged Norris because the prosecutor did not pick him out. On the Monday I was at work up to 6 o'clock at night."
Witness for Stokes.
HENRY ABRAHAMS . I am employed at a coal merchant's—on the Sunday night before Easter, the night this row happened, about 11.20, I was with Stokes at a coffee-stall at the corner of Baker's Row, Whitechapel Road—he had nothing to do with the row that I know of, but all at once I missed him, and did not see him any more.
Cross-examined. I missed him at a little after 11.30—I am sure he did not go home at 11; it was 11.30 when the affair happened, and then he was with me—I knew that he was charged before a Magistrate, but I did not go there; I did not know I was required.
GUILTY of robbery only. PEPPERELL*†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour . STOKES— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday, May 9th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JOHN GIBSON . I am an engraver and manager in the service of Mrs. Berry, of 36, High Holborn—on 21st February, on returning to the shop about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I found the two prisoners there talking to Mrs. Berry—in their presence she handed me this coin (produced) and asked if we could make dies to produce this—I examined it and saw it purported to be a coin of Russia or Poland, and I said "I don't think we are justified in doing so"—I consulted with Mrs. Berry, and finally told the prisoners to call again—before leaving I asked Scawitz for his name—he spoke to me; the other could not speak English—Lowensohn wrote on this card "R. Lowensohn," and Scawitz gave me the address, which I added, "5, Little Holloway Street, Commercial Road"—on their leaving Mrs. Berry went to Scotland Yard, and when she returned a letter was written to this address—next day the prisoners came and ordered two dies and paid 10s. deposit; I asked four guineas for them, they would not pay more than three, and I agreed to that—Scawitz always referred to Lowensohn in the conversation—Lowensohn paid the 10s. deposit—I told him the things would be ready in about ten days—they gave me some wooden models to show the way in which they were to be made, but they would have been too expensive, and I induced them to adopt the English mode—they said they must be exact to the coin, the same thickness and everything—at that time I was acting under the directions of the police in what I did—Scawitz said he could not pay more than three guineas, because he had got no more money coming from Russia, he had written for that and no more—this was on 26th or 27th February—the dies were promised for the 3rd of March, but they were not ready then—on Monday, 7th, they called and the dies were then finished—these are they (produced)—I showed them to
them on that day—at that time the two letters M and W, at the foot of the eagle, were not engraved on the die, and they said that those two letters must be put in, as it must be exact to the pattern—Scawitz looked at it first and showed it to the other—I could see that the letters were not cut in—they called again about half-past four that afternoon; in the meantime I had put the letters in, and they were pointed out to them—I struck this impression on copper, later in the day, from the die, and showed it to them when they called—there was a certain mishap in the reverse die, which made a mark at the back, which they did not like; it was something very trifling on the edge of the coin, but they noticed it, and I agreed to have it altered and have it finished by 9.30 that same evening—they said they were going to start for Hamburg the next morning—Scawitz filed the reverse side of the copper impression and showed it to me, and asked if I could see any difference in it—I said "Yes, it resembles the pattern very much now"—he said "Yes, is it not good?"—the filing produced the effect as if it had been in wear a good deal—I handed to them the two dies and this collar, which I had also made by their instruction—the dies fit into it—Lowensohn paid me 2l. 18s., which, with the 10s. deposit, made 3l. 8s., and I gave him a receipt—when they left the premises they were taken into custody—everything I did was under the direction of the police and communicated to them.
Cross-examined. I had not heard of any one calling about the dies before the prisoners came—I could understand Scawitz, and he understood what I said; we had not much conversation; he seemed to understand the principle of making the things pretty well—these are the wooden models; they are made square, but they had a round piece on the top the same as the others—I persuaded them to have them made in the English way because of the cost—I knew that the police were waiting for them when they left—they said nothing to me about what they wanted them for, only that they must be exact to the pattern.
MRS. BERRY. Mr. Gibson is my manager—after the prisoners had been on 21st February I went to Scotland Yard and communicated with the police, and after that gave my manager directions, and we both acted under the directions of the police.
Cross-examined. When they first entered the shop they showed me a coin—they did not show me the wooden models till the second time they come—they said they wanted a facsimile of two dies—they said things between them which I could not understand—I understood all they addressed to me—I understood what they wanted very well—we make hundreds of dies for different places—they did not say what they wanted them for.
Cross-examined. This, is not a coin that is struck now, but it is in circulation in Poland—there are about three millions in circulation—they are received at the Inland Revenue Office.
CHARLES HAGAN (Police Inspector). I had charge of this case from the beginning—on 7th March, at 9.45 p.m., I went with another officer to Mrs. Berry's premises and met the prisoners as they came out—I took them both into custody—I spoke in English to Scawitz, and told him I should take him
into custody, suspecting them of, having machinery for the manufacture of Russian coin in their possession—he spoke to the other prisoner in Polish—he made no reply to e—I took them to Bow Street, where they were charged—after the charge was made Lowensohn, in broken German, which I understand, said that he wanted the things to make neck ornaments or solitaires—I searched him at the station and found these two dies and this cellar, also this bill and receipt for 3l. 18s., and some letters.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour each .
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS , for the Prosecution, stated that the prisoner had been convicted of perjury at this Court in December, 1877 (see Sessions Paper, Vol. 87, p. 85), and had also been convicted of bigamy on more than one occasion. The prosecutor in the present case stated that he was not aware of these convictions when he engaged him, and that his defalcation amounted to nearly 100l.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. There were several other indictments against the prisoner.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 10th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SMYTHIES Prosecuted.
SAMUEL MUGFORD . I am a builder, and live at 139, Drummond Street—on the night of 30th March, between 12 and 1, my wife aroused me, and I went downstairs—I found the place in disorder, the shop door open, my tool chest broken open, and a basket of tools; that one of the men had brought home the previous night was gone, also a lot of tools belonging to myself—I had seen everything secure before going to bed—this chisel (produced) belongs to one of my workmen, and was in the basket that was taken—this key is similar to one I lost, but it has been altered since, and made into a skeleton key—I saw the chisel tried to some marks on the chest that was forced open, and they corresponded.
ANN FYSON . I live with my father at 139, Drummond Street—we have a shop next door to Mr. Mugford, and sleep in his house; it is the same house—on the night of 25th March, about 9.30, I saw the prisoner in the passage; the outer door was shut—he said he wanted Mrs. Smith, the first floor; I said no such person lived there.
WALTER REEVE (Detective S). On the morning of 31st March I went and examined the prosecutor's premises—I tried this key to the shop door, and it fitted; I got it from the constable who searched the prisoner—I examined a chest in the shop—I compared the marks on it with this chisel; they corresponded.
on 1st April, about a quarter-past 10, at 4, William Street, he was found by the proprietor in the rear of the house—he was taken into the shop, and then to the station—on the way he threw away this key; it was picked up and handed to me immediately—I searched him at the station, and found on him these two wedges, which are used for prising up—I afterwards went back to 4, William Street, and behind a sack in the shop found this chisel—I afterwards fitted this key to the shop door of Mr. Mugford, and it opened it—the prisoner refused his name and address.
Prisoner's Defence. I bought the chisel for 5d. at the Cattle Market—I know nothing about this burglary.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard labour .
MR. SMYTHIES Prosecuted; MR. SWIFT Defended.
JOHN HILLARY (City Policeman 716). On Tuesday, 19th April, at 9 p.m., I saw the prisoner and prosecutor together in the Three Kingdoms public-house, Lower Thames Street—I watched them—I noticed when the prosecuter left the public-house he was wearing a chain on his waistcoat—I followed them to another public-house, where they remained about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes—when they came out I followed them to Billiter Street; they remained in conversation for some 5 or 10 minutes in rather a dark portion of Billiter Street—it appeared to me that the prisoner was buttoning up the prosecutor's coat, or doing something to it—they then left Billiter Street and I followed them to the Liverpool Street Railway Station; they there bade one another "Good night" and parted—I spoke to the prosecutor, and from what he said I followed the prisoner and stopped him—I told him I was a police-officer, and that he would be charged with stealing a watch and chain from the person—he said it was a mistake—I took him back to the prosecutor, who said "You have got my watch;" he said "It is a mistake, I have not got it—I said to the prosecutor "Will you give him into custody?" he said "Well, I am not quite certain he has got it"—I then put my hand into the prisoner's right-hand coat pocket, and produced the watch and chain—I said "What's this?" he made no answer—the prosecutor identified it—I took the prisoner to the station; he made no answer to the charge—he as sober—the prosecutor was under the influence of drink, but knew what he was saying and doing.
Cross-examined. They left the King's Head, in Fenchurch Street, about 20 minutes past 9—at the Three Kingdoms there was a third person with them—there were no female—I saw one turned out—I did not see any female soliciting the prosecutor—my attention was drawn to the prosecutor seeing that he was under the influence of drink.
DAVID BARNES . I am a joiner, and live in Ordnance, Road, St. John's Wood—on Tuesday night, 13th April, about 9 o'clock, I was in a public-house in Lower Thames Street, opposite, the Custom House; I don't know the name of it—the prisoner was there and I believe we drank together; I paid for some of it—I was wearing a silver watch and metal chain—the prisoner went with me to show me the way to the Bishopsgate Street Station—I don't whether we went into another public-house—I kept my coat buttoned so that did not show my chain—to the best
of my knowledge, when we got to the station door the prisoner left me, and I went down the steps—the constable came and asked me if I had lost anything; I said "No, not that I am aware of," but I found that my watch was gone—he afterwards returned with the prisoner—I saw my watch afterwards at the station.
Cross-examined. I went to the public-house opposite the Custom House about 6; it was about 9 when we got to the Bishopsgate Street Station—we went straight from the Three Kingdoms to Liverpool Street—there were two or three persons drinking in the first public-house—there was one female; she did not pay me any attention, or I her—I did not give the prisoner my watch to take care of while I went with her.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Four Months; Hard Labour .
FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective). I was on duty in Cannon Street at a quarter to 7 on the evening of 1st April—I saw the prisoner there with another man not in custody, following a van laden with goods—I followed them for about an hour, following vans laden with goods—they came into Bread Street, where a boy was leading a pony and cart which had parcels in it—the prisoner went behind the cart, took this parcel, and came towards me with it on his shoulder—I caught hold of him, and said "Where are you off to with that?"—he threw down the parcel, screwed himself round, and got away—I pursued and caught him, and with assistance took him to the station—he said a gentleman asked him to carry the parcel; at the station he said he was hungry and dry, and he took it—the parcel contains miscellaneous things worth about 6l.
Prisoner. I was with the man that took it, and I knew it was stolen, but I did not take it.
GUILTY . Se also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. LEVY Prosecuted.
JONAS BLACKMAN . I am a sailor—on 26th April I was engaged on board a steamboat lying in the West India Dock—about 8 or 9 that evening I could not find my way on board—I saw some men in the road, and I asked them the way—one of them said he would show me the road, but he showed me another road—I told him it was not the road, and while talking to him two other men came up—the fellow that was going to show me the way pulled me back on the ground, and the other two kicked me in the stomach and kicked the wind out of me, and they took 10s. from my waistcoat pocket—I had awful pain from the kicks for some time, and I spit blood sometimes yet—they left me lying in the road and ran away.
Poplar—on the evening of 26th April, about 8 o'clock, I was in the East Ferry Road with Greaves and another man—I saw four men—Edward Nicholls and another not in custody went along first, and then John Nicholls and the prosecutor—they passed me and my friends in the Old Farm Road towards West Ferry Road—as soon as they passed us John tried to put his hand in the prosecutor's pocket—he gave a bit of a whistle and the other two came up—John pulled the prosecutor back on the ground, and they were all on the ground scrambling for about five minutes—they were all on him, kicking and ill-using him and jumping on him—I and my friends went towards them, and they said, "What are you doing here you b—scoundrels? we will do for you," and they came up threatening to gouge our eyes out—the prosecutor, came up to me and said, "Me have been robbed, me have been kicked"—we followed the men up for about half a mile till we came to a constable—we told him what had occurred, and he ran and took Edward Nicholls—the one not in custody ran one way and John another, and I ran after him for about 600 yards and caught him—I did not lose sight of him, and I did not lose sight of Edward till the constable took him—on the way to the station Edward hit me a blow in the face and said, "Take that, you b—s—," and at the station they both said to us, "You b—s—, we will do for you when we come out."
SAMUEL GREAVES . I am a labourer, and live in Wharf Road, Poplar—on the evening of 26th April I was with Brooker in the East Ferry Road—I saw Edward Nicholls and the one not in custody walking together in front of John and the prosecutor—they went straight down the East Ferry Road about 20 or 30 yards, then John pulled the sailor down, and the other two rushed on the top of him and kicked him—he was on the ground five or six minutes—I and Brooker went a little way on the road, and they rushed up to us and said they would gouge our eyes out if we kept following them about—the prosecutor got up and said, "I am robbed"—we followed the prisoners down to the Nelson, we told some more men, and they went with us till we met a constable—we told him what had happened, and he took Edward—the other two ran away, one one way and one another—Brooker caught John—I did not lose sight of him—on the way to the station Edward struck Brooker in the face.
GEORGE HIGGINS (Policeman K R 28). I apprehended Edward—I told him the charge—he said, "I don't know anything about it, and I have not a halfpenny about me"—I had seen the prisoners in company with another man in the West Ferry Road about 8 o'clock—as I was taking Edward to the station Brooker brought John up, and we all went to the station together—on the way Brooker said to Edward, "You were going to gouge my eyes out in the Old Farm Road"—he said, "Yes, you s—, take that," at the came time striking him a violent blow at the side of the head—I searched the prisoners at the station; on Edward I found 5s. in silver in the lining of the leg of his trousers; I found nothing on John.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Edward says: "I can say the man who robbed him; I reserve my defence." John says: "I reserve my defence."
The prisoners, in defence, stated that they had been at work over the water, and at they were returning home they were taken into custody, but knew nothing of the robbery.
GUILTY . They also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted,— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each .
The Court ordered a reward of 2l. each to the witnesses Brooker and Greaves.
MR. LEVY Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LEVEY Prosecuted.
EDWAED CHAPMAN . I am a labourer, of Amelia Street, Silvertown—on 21st March, about 7 p.m., I went to a concert with my wife, leaving two children in the house, which we locked up, and the windows were safe; I took the key with me—we returned about 12.30, and found the street door open; it had been unlocked—the prisoner was in the back room—I said, "What are you doing there?"—she said, "The children were crying, and I came in to see them"—a lamp was burning on the table; I took it into the front room, and missed a sheet which had been taken in there before I went out—I said to the prisoner, "Have you taken it?"—she said "No"—the constable afterwards showed me the sheet; this is it—this key (produced) opens my door—I asked the prisoner how she got in—she said the door was open—I went to 12, Amelia Street, where the prisoner lives—the key opened her door—the sheet was found there rolled up and put into a desk.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know you by seeing you in the street; you were never in my house before, but I saw you at my front gate once and ordered you away—I did not stop out all one night, and find you there in the morning after your sitting up with my wife—I did not see you in the house the next day.
MARTHA CHAPMAN . I left home with my husband about 7 o'clock; he locked up the house before we left—we returned about 12.30; the front door was open and the prisoner was in the back room—the children sleep upstairs in a front room over the front door—the prisoner lives opposite to us—I said "What are you doing here?" she said "I heard the children cry, and came in to see them,"—she has not been in the habit of coming in—my eldest boy is eight, and the young one six—she did sit up with me one night when my husband was away; she was a complete stranger to me then; my husband knew nothing about it; I did not go to bed because I did not know what had happened to my husband as he did not come home—a constable was fetched; I asked him if he would call the children down and ask them whether they were crying—they came down; he questioned them whether they had been crying, and they said "No!"—they are both boys—he asked their names—Charley, the oldest, said, in the prisoner's presence, that he heard something fall on the front doorstep, and he called out "Who is there?" and no one answered, and he called again "Who is there?" and then covered his head over with the bedclothes—the prisoner said at the station "She
is not to go into my house, I will not have her in there"—when I went to the concert that night I left this sheet round some chintz that I had to cover some chairs, and when we came back my husband went into the back room and said "There is the sheet gone off the chintz"—the prisoner's husband came to the station, and then we went to her house and found the sheet in a little till of a drawer.
Cross-examined. No one went to the children, the constable called them down—I was not the worse for drink, nor was my husband—I did not cut your head open with the lamp-glass—when my husband found the sheet was gone he said "Mrs. Stokes, what have you done with that sheet?"—you made use of a disgusting expression and made for the front door, my husband stopped you and you struck him.
By the COURT. I left all that out because her husband begged me not to press the charge against her, but she struck my husband and knocked his elbow through the glass panel, and smashed it; he called to me to bring a light; I took the lamp up the passage to him, she struck it, and knocked the light out, and the glass cut my husband's face in several places; the well of the lamp came off and bounded up against the wall and rebounded—I do not know whether that is the way the prisoner got her head cui, but she bled very much indeed.
EDWARD CHAPMAN (Re-examined). I said "What have you done with the sheet?" the prisoner said "I have not taken it"—she called my wife a b—w—, and me a b—s—I then said "You shan't go," and went to the front door to stop her, and she knocked my elbow through one of the panels; my wife brought the lamp from the back room, and directly she entered the passage the prisoner struck the lamp, and the chimney broke, and flew all over the place, and struck me on the side of the face, and my wife on the side of her face, and cut the prisoner on her head; the lamp did not explode—the sheet was found the same night—the prisoner had had no opportunity on going home in the interval.
HUGH MAGUIRE (Policeman K 45). On 25th March, about 12.30 a.m., I was called to Chapman's house, and found him detaining the prisoner; she was very violent, and trying to escape; she was bleeding very much from her head—he charged her with burglary, and stealing a sheet value 2s. 6d.; she said she heard the children cry, arid found the door open, and went in to see what was the matter—when I took her to the station I heard something drop from her left hand—I said "What have you dropped?" she said "I suppose it is the key of my door"—I looked with my lamp, and found this key—I then went and fetched her husband from where he worked, took him to 12, Amelia Street, and in Mrs. Chapman's presence searched and found this sheet in the drawer of a small writing-desk in the back room; he and his wife identified it—the key fits both the prisoner's door and the prosecutor's—the prisoner said "I deny the charge, it is through spite I am locked up"—I have heard the evidence given as to what the children said to me; it is true; they said that they were not crying.
Cross-examined. I did not go upstairs and fetch the children down.
Witnesses for the Defence.
EMMA STANLEY . My husband is a labourer—we live next door to you, that is on the opposite side to Mr. and Mrs. Chapman—Mrs. Chapman and you are in the habit of drinking together—she has brought you clothes to pledge—on two occasions I have known Mrs. Chapman lend
ou a jacket, and on several occasions I have seen her taking things, such as needlework, to your house—Mr. Chapman was aware that you sat up all night with his wife—I gave you things to eat while your husband stopped out, because he would not give you any money.
MARY STOKES . My husband is a labourer—we live at Lion Street, Kirby Street, Poplar—I am your mother—you have been in the habit of going into Mrs. Chapman's when she has lent you things to pledge—you used to drink together, and I said to you "Martha, why do you go there? You will get into trouble."
The prisoner, in her defence, stated that Mrs. Chapman gave her the sheet to pledge, and that she put it into the desk so that her husband should not see it, and that she went into Mrs. Chapman's house because she heard the children crying.
NOT GUILTY .
494. THOMAS SMITH (30) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing two saws, five planes, and other tools, the property of George Ell wood, and other tools of Edward Davis, and other tools of Thomas Gypsen, after a previous conviction of felony in February, 1881.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
MARY ANN WARE . I keep a china shop in Lewisham—on 21st March the prisoner, who I had seen there five or six times before purchasing articles, came in and bought two wine-glasses and a mustard-pot, which came to 6 1/2 d.—he gave me a florin, I gave him the change, and he left—I afterwards wanted some halfpence, and sent Elizabeth Johnson out with the florin—she returned with Mr. Patching in two minutes—one of them gave me the florin, and I gave it to a policeman—on 31st March the prisoner came again for two ale glasses; I told him I had none; he said he would have two wine glasses; they came to 3d.—he tendered a florin—I sent for Mr. Patching, who said it was bad, and asked him where he got it; he said "At the corner public-house"—I gave him in charge with the florin.
ELIZABETH JOHNSON . I am the niece of the last witness—she gave me a florin on 21st March to go out for some halfpence—I went to Mr. Patching, who followed me back directly to my aunt's shop and gave me the florin, and I gave it to her—I did not see the prisoner.
WILLIAM PATCHING . I am a hairdresser, of Lewisham, next door to Miss Ware—the last witness brought me a bad florin; I went back with her, and saw her give it to her aunt—on 31st March some one came to me; I went to the shop immediately, and saw the prisoner there—Miss Ware handed me a sovereign, and said "Can you change it?" I said "Not that one, as it is bad"—she said "This is the man who has been into my shop five or six times, and who tendered me one on 21st March"—I said "You shall not have this coin back?" he said "Then I must, go
without it"—I said "You will not go till a constable is fetched; where did you get it?" he said "At a public-house at the corner in change for a half-crown" I identify both coins.
EDWARD JEFREYS (Policeman R 165). The prisoner was given into my custody on 31st March—he denied having been in the shop before, and said that he got the coin on Bromley race course—Miss Ware gave me these coins—I searched him there and found a good shilling and six pence, and again at the station, and found this penny silvered on one side.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two coins are bad—this penny has been ground down and whitened on one side—the silvered side looks very much like an old half-crown, but it is much thinner—it is a penny defaced.
The Prisoner, in his Statement before the Magistrate, said that he was not in the shop on the 21st, and that he received the florin which he uttered on the 31st at a public-house in change for a half-crown. He repeated this as his defence.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a conviction of a like offence at this Court in October, 1875.
—I am principal warder at Wandsworth—I was present in 1875 when the prisoner was convicted of uttering twice on the same day—he is the man.
GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MARIA HATCH . I live at 50, Devonshire Road, Greenwich, and am in the service of Mrs. Elizabeth Cotton—on the evening of 29th March I fastened up the house—the breakfast-room is on the basement—I fastened the windows and drew down the blinds—I locked the door on the outside, leaving the key in—the next morning I went down about 7.45, and found the sitting-room in confusion, drawers open, a cruet-stand and biscuit-box on the table, two napkins and mats were about the floor, the blind was up a little way, and the window was shut—the property produced is Mrs. Cotton's.
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Policeman R 25). On 31st March, about 6.45, I was in Blackheath Park—I saw the prisoner Matterson carrying a black bag—I stopped him and asked him where he was going—Matterson said, "To work"—I said, "What have you got in the bag?"—he made no reply—I took the bag from him—it contained table-napkins, a pipe, keys, and cigar-holder—I asked him where he got them—he said, "From home"—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "I do not know"—I said, "I shall take you in custody for unlawful possession"—on the way to the station I again asked him, and he said he took them from the area window of a house near the church—I made inquiries and found that Mrs. Cotton's house had been broken into—I found this knife (produced) in Matterson's breast coat pocket—I found marks on the window which might be produced
by pushing such a knife between the sashes—I also found some matches and a piece of candle, on Matterson—White said nothing.
Cross-examined by Matterson. I addressed you because you were carrying the bag—I did not see White give you the bag.
GUILTY .White then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in July, 1880.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each .
MR. R. WILLIAMS Prosecuted;MR. COLE defended Easterbrook.
HENRY BELL (Policeman R 111). On 21st February, about 11.20 a.m., I was on duty in Bennett Street, East Greenwich—I saw the prisoners with six or eight men—Dullion was taking off his clothes, and they were using bad language—I persuaded Dullion to put his clothes on, and asked them to go away quietly—they went farther up the street—about five minutes after I heard a row—I found Dullion fighting another man—I went and tried to persuade him to go away quietly, when, he gave me a blow on my face, and kicked me on my knee—I took hold of him and said I should take him to the station for assaulting me—the prisoners took hold of me and Easterbrook said, "We won't let the b—bastard have them"—I gave two of them a blow with my truncheon—that cleared them from me—I put my truncheon up and closed with Dullion to take him to the station, when they all set on me again—they punched me, kicked me, got me down, and whilst I was down they got Bullion away—I dragged Bullion to the ground, but whilst I was on the ground they took him from me—I got nearly up when Easterbrook gave me a severe kick on my knee, and caused me to fell again—they all, ran down the street, saying, "We won't let the b—bastard have them"—I ran after them 30 yards—I said, "I am determined to have them"—I took hold of Dullion—they again, said, "We won't let the b—y w—e take them"—they got me on the ground again and dragged me along, and one rubbed the, mud into my eyes—Easter brook took hold of my arm, and was one of those who kicked me—they ran up the street, and I overtook them in about 15 yards—I took hold of Dullion and said, "I shall take him"—they got me to the ground and made use of the same expression—I got up and took hold of, Dullion—one of them said, "You have made a mistake this time, you don't take them unless you take me"—I sprang my rattle—Samuels came up while I was on Bullion, and Easterbrook was trying to pull me off—in so doing he pushed my hand against Bullion's mouth, who bit my little finger, causing it to bleed—I told Samuels to run to the station, otherwise they would cripple him—I still struggled till assistance came from the station—Dullion was taken, and I got up and took hold of Easterbrook—I said, "You will have to go to the station for assaulting me and attempting to rescue the other prisoner"—he said, "I will go quiet"—I have not been able to go on duty since, and have been confined to my bed—I feel the pain now—my finger has got well—Dullion was drunk, Easterbrook was sober.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I do not know that it was on Easter Monday—I was 5 or 10 minutes persuading them to go away the first time—I was on Bullion on the ground when Hockley came up—he did
not use his truucheon; I did—I heard some people say "Shame"—there were not a large number there; I should not think there were 50.
JOSEPH HOCKLEY (Policeman R 144). On 21st February, about 11.45, I was on duty in Lower Road, East Greenwich—from what I was told I hurried to Bennett Street—I found Bell struggling on the ground with Dullion—I said, "Get Up," which he did at once—I laid hold of Dullion—he said, "Now you have come I will give in, but if you had not come I should have perished"—with the assistance of Samuels I took him to the station—on the way he used, very bad language, and was very violent—Bell took Easterbook—Dullion was drunk, Easterbrook was not.
FRANK SAMUELS . I am a potman at the Lord Napier—on 21st February, about, 11.30 a.m., I was going home—I heard the policeman's rattle from the top of Bennett Street—I ran and saw Bell and Dullion struggling on the ground, and Easterbrook trying to pull the constable off Dullion—he had hold of him by the shoulder—Bell said, "It is no use your interfering, there are several of them, will you go to the station for met?"—I went and saw the sergeant coming up, and he came back with me.
ALEXANDER FORSYTH . I am a surgeon at Park Place, Greenwich; I am also divisional surgeon to the police—on. 21st February, about 12.30 a.m., I was sent over to the police-station in Park Road to attend to Bell—he was completely covered with mud, and was bleeding from the little finger of the right hand—he was sitting in a chair; he could move with difficulty—he complained of being in pain all over—I examined him; there were no bones bones broken—I dressed his linger and ordered him to be put to bed—it was a small wound just on top of the finger—I attended him the following morning—he was in bed and could not move without great pain—his knee was injured, either by a kick, a fall, or a blow from a stick, or from some violent force—he is getting better, but suffered a great deal from standing about at the police-court and here—he has been under my care since 22nd February—he was in bed nearly six weeks, and unable to get up—he will not be able to attend to his duty for a month yet—there were other tender parts, but no other bruises.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour each .
Before Mr. Justice Denman,
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
MAKY ANN NASH . I am single, and live at 75, High Street, Woolwich—on Saturday evening, 26th March, between 8 and 9 o'clock, I was in the Eagle public-house—the deceased, Annie Bray, came in—she was crying—she made a complaint to me, and mentioned some person's name—she afterwards showed me a mark on the right side; it was swollen and slightly black, and she had a slight black eye—she went into the infirmary on 1st April—I afterwards saw her dead body in the dead-house at Woolwich on the day of the inquest.
Infirmary—the deceased was brought there on 1st April—she was in a state of fever and seemed extremely ill, complaining of great pain in her side—I ordered her to bed, and afterwards examined her—I found a slight swelling on the right side of the abdomen, a little to the right of the navel—she made a statement to me—next day I found she was sinking, and called the attention of the police to the case—I told her that in my opinion she could not recover—I was not present when her statement was taken in the prisoner's presence on Tuesday, the 5th—she died on Tuesday evening about 10 minutes to 7 o'clock—I had seen her between 2 and 3 o'clock—nothing was said to her then about her condition—on the post-mortem examination I found a slight bruise over the right eye, the remains of a bruise, and a swelling of the abdomen on the right side, corresponding with the swelling she had during life—on opening the abdomen I found, on the outer surface of the peritoneum, a small congested spot, about the size of a sixpence, and corresponding with this internally was a mass of recent lymph effused, about the size of a small orange—the intestines were matted together, and in the lower part of the pelvis there was evidence of old disease, an old abscess—the cause of death was acute local peritonitis, which I should say was due to the injury on the right side.
ELIAS FORD (Police Inspector). On the 26th March the deceased applied for a summons against the prisoner for an assault—that summons would be returnable on the following Monday, 4th April—I received information as to her being in the infirmary, and I went there on Tuesday evening with Mr. Jolly, one of the Magistrates for Kent—the prisoner was brought there in custody, and in his presence she made a statement which I took down—immediately after it was taken she said she knew she was dying, and asked me to communicate with her father and mother—this is what she said. (Read: "The man now before me is John Cain. I know him. On Saturday, 26th ultimo, between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening, I had just come out of doors, when John Cain and another man came up; the other man spoke to me. I did not answer. John Cain struck me a blow in the eye and another in the right side. I did not take much notice of it at the time. On Sunday the pain passed away, but on Tuesday the pain was so great I could not get out of bed. On Friday I was brought here and I have been here ever since." By the Prisoner. "Now, Annie, on your dying oath, did I strike you any place about your body? "Yes, on my right side.") That was read over to her—I asked her if she knew the other man's name—she said his name was John Goggin, I know him very well—Nash had stated that the deceased told her she had been kicked, and I asked her if it was a blow or a kick, and she said a blow from his fist.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARY PATTISON . On 26th March, between 5.30 and 6, I was in Rope Yard Rails, Woolwich, and saw the deceased and the prisoner quarrelling—she called his mother some bad names, and he up with his hand and struck her in the face—she said "All right, Johnny Cain, I shall summons you, you b—," and with that the prisoner walked away—he did no more—he did not strike her in the side—I was nearly close to them—I knew
them both by sight—I knew the deceased before; I waited on her a week before that, she was very ill and complaining of pain in her stomach and side on 18th March.
ANN MARCHANT . I was with the deceased about eight days before Christmas, when she had an injury—some young fellow came up to her and said something to her, and he knocked her down with his fist and brutishly used her for two or three minutes—I found her lying there crying, and she had pain in her stomach where he hit her, and she complained for a month or so after—the man was a stranger—I know nothing of what took place on 26th March, but she told me that she had summoned John Gain for hitting her in the face.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY .**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
MESSRS. POLAND and GILL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM PROWSE . I am the assistant-master of the Greenwich Work-house—I have known the prisoner for about a year and a half—he was an inmate of the workhouse in September, 1879—about March, 1880, a charge was made against him of stealing tools—I was a witness in the case, and gave evidence at the police-court, and also at this Court: he was convicted and sentenced to twelve months with hard labour; that was 24th March last year—I saw nothing of him from that time until this occurred—on 24th March I went to bed about 12 o'clock that night—after I had gone to sleep I woke up and found myself struggling with the prisoner—I felt some blood running down my head and neck—when I was conscious I was out of bed, at the foot of the bed, struggling with him—I had hold of his right hand; I saw a chopper in it; I tried to keep it away from me—he seemed to try to throw it at me, but I succeeded in throwing him down on a box behind the door; I pushed him back on the box, and was kneeling over him, and a rush of blood came from my head, but I succeeded in getting the chopper from him—this is it (produced)—I believe this was between 3 and 4 o'clock—I had a small glimmer of gas in the room—when I got it from him he said "Kill me, Mr. Prowse, kill me"—I told him to keep there and I would lock him in, and I went out and aroused the storekeeper, Mr. Hughes—no one came to me—I ran out of the room, along the corridor, and up the next floor to Mr. Hughes's room—I did not go back to the room again—I saw the doctor, my wounds were dressed, and I was carried up to a spare room—I had three wounds on the head, one on my back, and my fingers were cut, and my left arm was bruised—I heard the statement the prisoner made at the police-court—it is not true that I met and taunted him after he was discharged—I never saw him till this morning, when I had hold of him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you in the Trafalgar Road; I was in Trafalgar Road, and our storekeeper was with me; he left Greenwich in my company—the storekeeper's room is on the next floor above mine—I did not lock my room door on leaving it; I believe I closed it—there are two windows to my rooms, one in the bedroom and one in the sitting room—I don't know whether my door was guarded for some time after I left; there was nothing to prevent you getting out of the window except the distance from the ground, that would be about 17 feet.
THOMAS HUGHES . I am storekeeper at the Greenwich workhouse—between 3 and 4 in the morning of 25th March I heard a knocking at my door, I opened it and saw Mr. Prowse; he had this chopper in his hand and was bleeding from wounds in his head; he was covered in blood—I took the chopper from him and called up three men—he made a statement to me of what had occurred—the master of the workhouse afterwards came, and the doctor was fetched to attend to him—I saw the prisoner in custody of the policeman; I knew him before.
Cross-examined. On the evening of 24th March I left the Greenwich Union with Mr. Prowse about 7.20; I was not in his company the whole of the evening; I left him at the railway station, Maze Hill—on being aroused on this occasion I called up three of the nurses, and left one of them to guard the door; it was about eight or ten minutes before I placed him there.
HENRY KILBY . I am the master of the Greenwich Union—at about 4.30 on 25th March I was called up by Mr. Hughes; I went to his bed-room, and saw there Mr. Prowse bleeding from wounds on the head—I called two nurses to attend him, and then fetched a policeman—when I went into Mr. Prowse's bedroom I found the prisoner kneeling down by the side of the bed with his head forced into he bedclothes—I gave him into custody—he made a statement to me as to the manner in which he got into the house; he said he got over the front gate, went up the front of the house, up the side of the house over the wooden gates into the ablebodied men's yard, then he got over two high walls and tried the storeroom door under the steps in the basement, but it was fastened, that he then came up again, got into the dining-hall window, went down the staircase by my office, obtained the chopper, and went to Mr. Prowse's bedroom, and he did not know what made him do it—I put the question to him "How came you to do do this, Howlett?" and he then toil me this—his clothes were blooded a great deal; he had no boots on; I found them in Prowse's sitting-room—this chopper is one of ours belonging to the Union—the prisoner was quite sober—the dining-hall window that he speaks of is left a little open at night for ventilation.
THOMAS JAMES (Police Sergeant R 15). On the morning of the 24th March I was sent for to the Greenwich Workhouse—I went to Mr. Prowse's bedroom and found the prisoner kneeling-down with his head resting on the bed; he appeared to be in a fainting state—I asked him where the chopper was that he had attacked Mr. Prowse with; he said "Mr. Prowse has taken it with him to his bedroom"—he was not intoxicated—he remained insensible for five or ten minutes—he walked with me to the station.
charge over to him, and he said "I do not care what becomes of me after the life I have led for the last thirteen years, for during that time I have been treated lik a dog; during the time I was in the workhouse, that was just before I was sent to prison the last time", Mr. Kilby and the assistant master treated me with the greatest kindness, and I don't know why I did it"—I said "Whatever you say now I shall take down in writing, and it will be used upon your trial"—he said "No harm in that"—he seemed quite rational when he came in; he was crying very much, and I put a constable to look after him in the cell, as is usual in all desperate cases of this description.
CHARLES HENRY HART . I am assistant medical officer to the Greenwich Infirmary—on the morning of the 25th March, shortly after 4, I was called up to see Mr. Prowse in the storekeeper's room; he was bleeding from the head; there were three wounds on the head, one about 31/2 inches in length running in a horizontal manner across the right temple region, a jagged cut extending right through the temple region that was bleeding very freely; there was another cut at the back of the head running in an oblique direction, about 3 inches in length, another more on the face running vertically down the forehead about an inch or an inch and a quarter in length, another at the back on one side of the spinal column about 11/2 inches in length; that was quite deep; there were several cuts about the hand and fingers; I think the little finger was cut down nearly to the bone, and there were several bruises about the body, particularly on the arm; the cuts I have spoken of were separate outs, and must have been done by separate blows—this chopper is such an instrument as might have produced them—he has been under my care ever since—he was very ill for a long time, in fact for the first week or ten days he was just between life and death; from that times he steadily recovered, till the day he appeared before the Magistrate at Greenwich; he has been getting better from that day, but he is still very weak.
HENRY KILBY (Re-examined). I remember the prisoner quite well when he was in the workhouse before—he has not been accustomed to fits at all—he was a strong, able-bodied man, healthy, and in possession of all his faculties, mental and bodily.
Premier's Statement before the Magistrate. "On Thursday, 24th March, I left my lodgings in Great Charlotte Street, Blackfriar's Road, about 5.45 a.m. I walked down on the Middlesex side as far as Barking, seeking employment. I crossed the water at North Woolwich. I was walking along the Trafalgar Road about 8.30 p.m. I met Mr. Prowse; he asked me when I was liberated. I told him upon the previous Monday. He asked me i! I was doing anything; I replied "Not at present." He then told me he supposed I had gone down to give the carpenter's shop another turn, but, was he in my place, he would make sure of a market, that I should not get off with 12 months'. I went into the British Queen and had two glosses of ale. Not having had any for 14 months, it took effect on me, and, with the excitement caused by Mr. Prowse's taunts, I was not conscious of what I was either saying or doing. When I was brought to the police-station I was in such a state of excitement that the superintendent deemed it necessary to place a guard over me the whole of the day, and on my removal in the police-van to the House of Detention the same constable was sent there in the van sitting alongside of
me, and on my arrival at the House of Detention I was placed in an open cell, with the small wicket in the door open night and day, and the gas alight all night. I was in such a state of excitement that I was without food three days afterwards, which could be proved by the officer or the medical officer."
LUKE GEORGE SMITH (Policeman R 348). I was at the police-station when the prisoner was brought there—I watched him when he was put into the cell about 10 in the morning—he seemed all right to me—he did not show any excitement—I went with him to the House of Detention.
WILLIAM GUEST CARPENTER . I am surgeon to the House of Detention—I saw the prisoner when he was there early the following morning; he seemed in a very sullen state, not at all excited—the second day when I went to see him the warder told me he had not taken his food—I asked him why—he said he did not want any food—I said "You must take it, or, if you do not, I must have it forced down you, which is rather a painful operation," and on the third day I found he had taken his food. The Prisoner, in a long written defence, reasserted that Mr. Prowse met him in Greenwich and cruelly taunted him, and that, coupled with taking the ale, so upset him as to render him unconscious of what he was doing; that when about 16 years of age he fell down the hold of a ship and received an injury to the head, and from that time any excitable cause would for a time so overcome him as to make him quite unconscious of his actions.
MR. PROWSE. It is altogether false that I had any such conversation with the prisoner; I never saw him or spoke to him.
GUILTY on First Count.— Penal Servitude for Life .
Before Mr. Recorder.
501. GEORGE WELLBOURNE (30) and RICHARD WALKER (47) , Stealing 40 gallons of coal tar of Francis Ditton Hay, the master of Wellbourne. Other Counts, for stealing other tar, and charging Walker with receiving.
MESSRS. GILL and FRITH Prosecuted; MR. TIOKSLL appeared for Wellbourne, and MR. WILLIS. Q.C, with MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and DEANE for Walker.
WILLIAM ELCOME (Detective P). On 18th March I went with Prince to the Neptune Chemical Works—Mr. Dickenson sent for Wellbourne, and said "Wellbourne, I am very sorry to find you have been selling my tar; these are two police officers, and I intend to give you into custody for robbing me "—I told him he would have to go to Lewisham Police-station with us—he sat down in chair for a minute or two, and then looked up to Mr. Dickenson and said "Yes, I have sold two lots to a builder at Perryhill"—Mr. Dickenson asked him what lots, and what day it was (Prince cautioned him just as he began to make the statement)—he said he did not remember the day, but he nearly filled the runlet; that the builder asked him how much he was to give him, and he said 'The same as you gave my mate,' and he gave me 5s."—Mr. Dickenson said "You were seen down there last Monday"—he said "Yes, that was the last lot I left; I filled the runlet, and put some in a tub; the builder was riot there at the time; I went across to the buildings and saw the builder, and he came back with me and saw what I had put in the tubs, and he gave me 3s.; I said 'This won't do for me,' and he gave me 2s. more; I should not have sold him any had he not pressed me; he spoke
to me several times "—I then took him to the station; he there made a similar statement—Walker was there, and they were both put in the dock—when Wellbourne saw Walker he said "That is the builder"—Walker said he had bought three lots of tar, two of this man, and one of another carman, and he had given 5s. for each lot—Prince asked if he had got a receipt for it; he said "No"—I have been to the buildings referred to; they are in Rutland Park, Perryhill, in the parish of Lewisham, about a quarter of a mile from the Crystal Palace Gas Works—I saw there a large runlet and a little tub, like a washing-tub; the runlet stood by the side of the footpath on the building-ground, and the tub was on the top, with a lot of tar in it—the buildings are off the main road, down a by-turning.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. It is no thoroughfare; there are two entrances to it—I did not see any tar on the ground the first time I was there; I noticed some about four or five days after the prisoners were in custody—I saw that tar had been poured on the bricks—the ruulet would hold from 36 to 40 gallons.
GEOBGE PRINCE (Policeman P 144). On Friday, 18th March, I went with Elcome to Blythe Hill Terrace, Winchester Road, Lewisham—we were in plain clothes, and met Mr. Walker leaving his house—I told him we were police constables, and were going to take him into custody for feloniously receiving a quantity of tar from one of Mr. Dickenson's carmen on the 14th—I cautioned him that anything he said might be used in evidence against him—he replied "Yes, but I do not understand why I should be charged, as I paid 15s. for the three lots I received from two carmen; I met the carmen in the road and asked them if they could supply me, which they did; I gave 5s. for the first cask and 5s. for the second, but it was not quite filled; I was not present when the third lot was left, which I gave 5s. for; the carman went down to my works and left the tar, filled the cask, and partly filled a small tub; he then came across to my works, and I gave him 3s., telling him that that squared the lot; Wellbourne said 'No, this won't do for me and I gave him 2s. more"—I asked him if he had got any receipts for the money—he said "No"—I took him to the station and found Wellbourne there in custody—when placed in the dock Walker turned to Wellbourne and said "You have got me into a pretty mess"—Wellbourne replied "You are not going to put it all on my shoulders"—in going to the police-court in a cab next day Walker said "I wish to correct the statement I made to you yesterday; I paid 6s. for one lot, making 16s. in all.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. It was shortly before 1 o'clock on the 18th that I saw Walker—I took him direct to the station, and he was locked up till the next morning—his son came next morning; to the best of my belief he had a book with him; I could not swear to the book; it was one similar to this (produced)—the son did not call my attention to the fact that there was an entry of this tar in his father's handwriting in the book—he did not show me any entry—the book was produced at the police-court—I never examined it.
ALEXANDER JEWELL (Police Inspector P). On 18th March I was in charge of the Lewisham Police-station when the prisoners were brought there and charged—when the charge was read over Walker said "Not feloniously receiving; I received three lots, two from this man, and one from another man; I met them in the road, and asked them if they could
let me have some tar; they said 'Yes,' and asked where the men could leave it; I told them at my buildings at Perryhill; the other man left the first lot, and I gave him 5s.; this man left the second lot, and I gave him 5s.; when he left the third lot I was at my buildings, and he came across to me and told me he had left it; I went and looked at it, and gave him 3s.; he asked me what that meant; I told him that would square it; he said 'No, this won't do,' and I gave him 2s. more; I did not want the third lot, I did not ask him to leave it"—Wellbourne then said "Since you have had your say, I will have mine; you met me and my mate in the Stanstead Road, and asked us if we could let you have some tar; we asked how much, and if you had a can to put it in; you said 'At my buildings at Perryhill, about 10 gallons;' I went to Bromley the next day, and my mate left it; on another day you again met me, and asked me to let you have some more; I left the runlet nearly full; you asked me how much you were to give me; I said the same as my mate, and you gave me 5s., saying 'You have not left so much as your mate;' I said 'I will make it up all right next time;' on Monday you again asked me to let you have some, and I left the runlet nearly full, and some in a tub; you were at your buildings at the time; I went and told you you that I had left it, and you came and looked at it and gave me 3s.; I asked what that meant; you said 'That will square it;' I said 'This won't do,' and you gave me 2s. more."
Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I have been 13 years in the force; there were solicitor and counsel at the police-court—I made a note of this at the time—at the police-court I did not state all that I have now; I was stopped—I was asked if it was similar to what the others had said, and I said "Yes."
ARTHUR DICKENSON . I am manager of the Neptune Chemical Works at Deptford—they are the property of Mr. Francis Ditton Hay—Well-bourne has been in the employ three or four years, on and off—he was in our employ on 14th March as carman—his duty was to drive the tank vans to the works at Sydenham Gas Works and back, twice a day—the tank vans hold over 400 gallons of tar, which would be emptied into a large tank underground, holding about 40,000 gallons; we have tank room for 100,000—sometimes on Saturday, to give the horses a rest, they would only go once a day—we never sell raw tar—we sell refined tar retail at 1d. a gallon if it is in small quantities; it would be cheaper in larger quantities—Mr. Hay has a contract with the Crystal Palace Com-pany—I never authorised any one to sell any of this tar—I received some information from Mr. Arless, the secretary of the Gas Company.
Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. It is refined tar that we sell at 4d.; that is commoner than raw tar, because we have extracted the colour from it; refilling diminishes the value—Wellbourne has always been a very good workman; he has only been a carman for the last nine or ten months—Killick has been with us 10 or 12 years, always as a carman—the van tanks contain from 10 to 20 gallons more than the 400—you cannot empty the tanks perfectly, as it is so thick, and you are obliged to have a little allowance for that—it is Stillman's duty to examine the tanks; he could easily detect any deficiency in the load, but I don't think it is always done—the labourers were not accustomed to sell tar, and hand over the money to me—it was never done to my knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. Killick has never paid me any money
for tar that he has sold—I should have sacked him if I had caught him at it.
By the JURY. My name, and the name of the Company, are on the vans, in very large letters.
WALTER JOHN ARLESS . I am chief clerk of the Crystal Palace Gas Company at Sydenham—Mr. Hay has a contract with the company to purchase their gas tar—on 14th March, about 1 o'clock, I was in the neighbourhood of these new buildings, and my attention was attracted by seeing the tank there with the names of the company and Mr. Dickenson on it—I saw a butt on the ground, which would hold from 36 to 40 gallons—I reported the matter to the secretary, and he wrote to Mr. Dickenson.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. I noticed this as I was passing along; I had to walk down to see the name on the cart—we sell by retail and wholesale too—we are not under contract to let the prosecutor have it all.
WILLIAM KILLIOK . I live in Bush Row, Rotherhithe—I am a carman employed by the Neptune Chemical Works at Deptford—it was part of my duty to go to the Crystal Palace Gas Works to fetch tar away—I used to go with a tank van twice a day, sometimes alone, not always—on 23rd February I was going to Sydenham with the tank, alone, and at the farther end of Stoney Lane, near Rutland Park, I saw Mr. Walker—he stopped me and said, "Can you sell me some bar?"—I said, "No, I am not allowed to"—he said, "I only want 8 or 10 gallons"—I said, "I am not allowed to sell it"—I then went on to the gas works—on my way back he stopped me again and said, "Can you let me have some now?"—I said, "No; I am not allowed to sell it," so I went on again—I saw him again in the afternoon, on the second journey, against the Two Brewers—he stopped me again, and asked if I could serve him, he wanted about 8 or 10 gallons, just a little way down on the works, and I turned and went down and delivered it in a runlet and tub—I left about 40 gallons, or a little over—he said, "How much is it?"—I said, "Well, I don't know; give me a drop of beer," and he gave me 5s.—that was the only time I delivered any tar there—I kept the 5s. and spent it.
Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I have been 10 or 12 years with Mr. Dickenson—I never sold any tar before—the tank contains 400 gallons, it might be a little over; I never measured—I never knew of any one selling tar and handing the money over to Mr. Dickenson or his clerks.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. I knew I was going to give away 8 or 10 gallons of my master's tar—he pressed me very hard, and I gave between 30 and 40 gallons—all I wanted was a drop of beer—I suppose it was stealing; it was not mine—there was no one with, Mr. Walker when he first spoke to me—Wellbourne was with me the day before; I can't say the day—he spoke to Wellbourne the first day—we were both together—I went on; I did not stop to hear the conversation—he did not speak to me the day—I did not say I could not leave the tar that journey, out I would bring it when I came back—it was about half-past 2 o'clock when I delivered it—I was then coming from the gas house, not coming from Deptford—I did not ask Wellbourne what Mr. Walker had said to him—I did not know on that day that he wanted any tar—that was on the Tuesday—it was on the 23rd that Walker spoke to me—Wellbourne would not tell me what Walker had said to him—I asked him, but he would not tell me—I could not say the exact time of day that Walker spoke to me—I
generally get down to Sydenham gas house about 9 o'clock—it must have been about 9 o'clock the first time—I was alone then; Wellbourne was not with me—I did not go to his place with my van about 10 o'clock that morning and say I could not leave the tar that journey, but I would as I returned from the works; nothing of the kind—it was 5s. he gave me, not 6s.—I did not say anything about this until after Wellbourne was in custody—I was asked before the Magistrate whether I had not sold tar before, and I refused to answer; but I have made sure of it since that I have not sold any—I had seen Walker before several times—I knew he was building houses in Stoney Lane and Rutland Park.
Re-examined. He pressed me very hard three times that day, and the last time I went down with my van to the bottom of Eutland Park, and I turned round, and he goes and gets a shoot and puts it behind an iron hose, and I runs it in until it was filled; he standing by all the time.
MR. WILLIS called the following witnesses for the Defence.
BENJAMIN TINDALL . I live at 5, Rutland Road, Catford Bridge—I am in Mr. Walker's employment, and have been for about 18 months—on Monday, 21st February, about 10 a.m., I was with him walking up Stoney Lane—we met the two carmen, Wellbourne and Killick, with their tanks, coming from the Crystal Palace Gas Works—he asked them, in the presence of both, if they could sell him some tar—they said, "Yea, sir," and asked how much he wanted—he said, "Between 30 and 40 gallons"—they asked where he wanted it—he said "In Rutland Park," and they said they would bring it—there was some tar wanted there for the damp courses; I had mentioned that to Mr. Walker—on Wednesday, the 23rd, about 10 a.m., Killick came down to the works without his van, and called to Mr. Walker and told him he could not leave the tar till he had been to the yard, and he would bring it back—Mr. Walker said, "Very well"—at this time there were several of Mr. Walker's men about the spot—about 1 o'clock Killick came with the tar, and delivered about 30 gallons—Mr. Walker asked him how much he was in his debt—he said 6s. "—I saw 6s. paid—nothing was said about beer—Killick asked if he would want any more—Mr. Walker said he would let him know—I was with Mr. Walker the whole of that day, assisting him, and there were 14 or 15 bricklayers on the spot—there was no attempt to conceal the tar in any way; it was there for anybody to see—after that first lot of tar had been consumed we wanted some more—I saw Wellbourne coming along the Lower Sydenham Road, near the same place as we saw him before—I asked him if he could bring us some more tar—I was alone then—on Tuesday, 2nd March, I saw Wellbourne bring the tar and put it in the tub—the workmen were on the works while he was delivering it—I did not hear Mr. Walker say anything to Wellbourne about payment that time—he brought about 14 gallons—I met Wellbourne again a few days afterwards, and asked him if he was going to bring the other tar—he said he would bring it back with him—on Monday, the 4th, I found that some more tar had been left in the tub—about 2 o'clock that day he called and saw Mr. Walker and myself, and asked how that would suit him—we went across to see what he had left, and Mr. Walker gave him 3s.—Wellbourne said, "This won't do for me," and he gave him 2s. more, and he said, "Thank you, sir," and went away—everything was done openly for anybody to see—I have an entry here in a book about the tar as it came in.
Cross-examined. We do not often have things come on the works without tickets—I am a labourer—we wanted tar for the buildings—I saw the name on the carts, "Charles Dickenson, Manager of the Neptune Company"—Walker could see it—I did not know that tar could be got at the Crystal Palace Works—I knew that these tanks came from there—I did not know that we could get it retail—this was the first time we had bought things in the street in this way—we have delivery-notes with bricks, and timber, and sand—I thought the men had a right to sell the tar, as they said they could not leave it till they had been home to the yard—I was not with Mr. Walker at Windsor; I don't know whether he came from Windsor—the runlet holds about 30 gallons and the tub about 5 or 6—no price was agreed on before the tar was delivered—Killick delivered the first lot, and Wellbourne the second and third—it was on the 23rd that Killick came, not the 22nd—I said the 22nd before the Magistrate; that was a mistake—the quantity was guessed at—I have paid 1d. a gallon for tar, and I have paid 2d.—I thought too much was paid for this—I am a son-in-law of Mr. Walker's.
WILLIAM OWEN . I am no relation to Mr. Walker—I was working at his works on 23rd February—I have a contract with him to build nine houses—on 23rd February I remember Killick coming there about. 10 o'clock; he said "I can't bring it now, I will bring it when I come from the works, I will leave it at the bottom of my tank"—I saw him come at 1 o'clock—I could not see which way he came—it could not have been a full tank—he filled a tub with about 30 gallons, and that emptied the tank—I saw Mr. Walker give him some money, what it was I can't say—Mr. Walker told me it was 6s.
Cross-examined. I was not called before the Magistrate.
GEORGE AMBROSE . I live at Deptford, and am in Mr. Walker's employment—I was at work on his building in Rutland Park on Wednesday, 23rd February—I saw Killick there and spoke to him—I heard him say to Mr. Walker "I can't bring your tar now, I will bring it back in the bottom of the van "—about 1 o'clock he brought the tank and emptied the tar, and I saw Mr. Walker pay him, I don't know how much.
Cross-examined. I was about 10 yards off in the morning, and about 20 in the afternoon—I know the tank was emptied because the runner dropped on the ground; there was no more to run out of it—I don't know in what direction he came from—I was not called before to-day.
EDWARD FLETCHER . I was in Mr. Walker's employ—on 23rd Feb. I was there with Ambrose when Killick came; he shouted to Mr. Walker and told him he could not fetch the tar till he had been to the yard, and he would bring it at the bottom of his tank—I saw him in the afternoon, when he came and delivered the tar; it pretty nearly filled the barrel—I could see by the runlet running very slowly that the tank was empty.
WILLIAM TRACY . I am a bricklayer—in February last I was in the service of Mr. Rowell, at Catford—I know Killick by sight—on the afternoon of 23rd February, about 1 o'clock, I followed his van from the Rutland Arms—he turned down Eutland Park from Deptford way.
GEORGE HENRY WALKER . I am the son of the defendant, I take part in the carpenter's work—my father was in the habit of keeping a book in which he entered wages and some materials and things—I remember his being arrested on Friday afternoon, 18th March, a police constable
came to me on the works about 3 o'clock—I got this book (produced) on Friday morning—the entries on 26th February were then in it, in my father's writing—I took it to him to the police-station that morning—I had it with me when I went in the cab with my father and the police constable—the constable saw the book and saw the writing that was in it, as it is now—my father took the book away from me and said "Look here! this doesn't look much as if a man wanted to steal anything, or hide it, does it?"—the constable must have seen it if he did not shut his eyes—I took it on to the police-court and gave it to Mr. Moss—my father was admitted to bail on Saturday, and he afterwards completed the entry of March 19th, making the third entry of the tar.
Cross-examined. The book was at home in my father's office, not at the buildings—we don't usually begin a book in the middle; a good many of these entries were written at the same time and with the same pen—the book was produced at the first hearing before the Magistrate—I was not called as a witness—we don't make entries in this book of where the things are got from—it is a book of the expenses that are laid out during the week—I have nothing to do with the books—I don't know what books my father keeps—there are entries in the books of where things come from—when the policeman came for me I went to see if my father had got any entries relating to the tar—he spoke to me on the Friday, and I produced the book on the Saturday—my father was living at Windsor at one time; I can't say when; eight or nine years ago, I suppose—he was charged with stealing a watch in a public-house there, and honourably acquitted—the man who charged him was drunk—I was not in Court at the time—I know it was a drunken row, and my father happened to be there, and was charged with stealing the watch, and acquitted.
Re-examined. The book is in the same state as when I got it on the Saturday morning—I had no opportunity of seeing my father alone after he was charged.
JOHN THOMAS MOSS . I am solicitor for the defendant—I was first communicated with on the night Mr. Walker was arrested—I defended him at Greenwich, and I had the book produced to me to hand to the Magistrate that morning, and it is exactly in the same state as it was then, with the exception of the last item.
Walker received an excellent character. WELLBOURENE— GUILTY.Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury .— Nine Months Hard Labour .
WALKER— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. WILDBY WRIGHT defended Kirldand.
JOSEPH MTDGLEY . I am manager to Frederick Button, of the Surrey Gardens, Walworth—I advertised for a barman in the Morning Advertiser about 17th March, 1881, and Coleman called on me and said that his name was Miller, and he had come in consequence of the advertisement,
and had lived at Mr. Kirkland's, the White Hart, at the back of Hickman's Folly, seven months—I said "What are you leaving for?"—he said "The business is quiet, and there is not sufficient work for me"—I said "Where is your private address?"—he said "I have not left yet"—I said "I shall call in an hour or two's time at Mr. Kirkland's"—I made a note of the conversation at the time, which I tore up afterwards, but I took it with me to Kirkland's—I got there about 2 p.m., and saw a female in the bar, and afterwards Kirkland—I said "I have called respecting Miller's character; how long has he been living here?"—he said "Seven months"—I said "Is he honest, quick at the counter, and a good barman, and sober?"—Kirkland said "He is sober and steady; I can highly recommend him"—I said "What is he leaving for?"—he said "Trade is very quiet, and I don't require him any longer"—Coleman came in, dressed as a barman, while I was talking, with his sleeves tucked up and a white apron on; he looked smart and clean—I said to him "Your character is satisfactory; are you single?"—he said "Yes," and I agreed to give him 12s. wages—I said "I shall require you tomorrow"—that was the next day, Friday—he came on the Friday—he got there between 6 and 7 p.m., and worked up to 12 p.m., when the house was cleared—I then said to him "I shall not require your services any longer"—he said "What for?"—I said "You are drunk, in the first place, and I have heard that you are a married man, and have got a wife and two or three children"—he said "Are you going to pay me any wages?"—I said "Certainly not; if you want any you will have to go to the County Court"—he left the same night—on, I believe, the Saturday week afterwards, I went to Kirkland's again, and saw the same female behind the bar, and Coleman leaning the taps—he was not dressed for the bar—I said to the woman in his hearing "I have been very much put about with the young man I had from here; he was drunk, and I was obliged to discharge him"—she said that she was very sorry—Coleman asked if I was going round to the other compartment, and I did so—he said "I was not drunk, I only had a glass of stout"—Miller was the only name I knew him by, till the Licensed Victuallers' Protection Society called on me, and then I heard that his name was Coleman.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I am quite certain you gave the name of Coleman—my son was present part of the time.
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. I have never gone by the name of David Murphy—I had a house in Gainsford Street—I never had a house of Day and Noakes—I think my first interview with Coleman was nearer 12 o'clock than 10, but I will not swear to the time; I am certain I had had my dinner, and the young men had had theirs before I could go out, so it was as near 2 o'clock as I can tell—when I went to Kirkland's house Haynes was behind the bar, but I do not remember seeing that man (Cox) there—I destroyed what I wrote, the same evening behind my bar—I had it in my hand when I went to Kirkland—my son was in the bar now and then, having a look at the young men as they came in—I was only at Kirkland's a quarter or half an hour—I no doubt told the Magistrate from half an hour to an hour—I was only in Kirkland's house twice—I generally dine about 1 o'clock—I will not swear that the interview did not take place before noon—when I said, "Is he honest?" Kirkland may have said, "As far as I know, I never found him otherwise;"
and when I said, "Is he sober?" he may have said, "I never saw him drunk," but I do not know—I may have then said, "That is. good enough for me"—Kirkland gave satisfactory answers to all my questions—I am not the prosecutor—I swore an information at the police-court at Mr. Maitland's, the solicitor's, request—his young man came to me from the Society—I went to Kirkland's in a cab; which waited for me, and I went away in it—I said to Coleman, "Think yourself lucky, old fellow, that I am going to take you into my service," and I might have said, "Keep off the girls"—I will not swear I did not say, "Keep your * * * * "—I will not swear whether I was in the house more than five minutes—to the best of my belief, the second interview was the Saturday week after Coleman left, but it may have been a fortnight—I saw Sant, a licensed victualler, at Lambeth Police-court—I do not remember saying to him, "Mind, you will have to swear to a seven-months' character"—I believe I said to Kirkland on the first occasion, "I believe you are a victim in this matter," and so I did—since then I have seen Mr. Maitland many times, and have been at his office once.
Re-examined. When I had the conversation with Kirkland at the police-court no reference was made to the Horns Tavern—he said that he had not been in the trade long, and then I said, "I believe you are a victim in this matter"—I don't think I knew then about Miller having been at the Horns—I never said in the open bar where women were, "Keep your ****; "I would scorn the action, I would never say such a thing—I understood what Mr. Wright meant; I never used that expression in a public bar—I have not interfered with Sant in the evidence he is to give; I never said, "Stick to a seven months' character."
JANET FANNY CLARK . I am a widow, and keep the William IV., King William Street, Strand—on Friday, 5th February, I answered an advertisement in the Morning Advertiser signed "H. C." or "W. C," and Coleman called—he brought me a letter, and wrote his name down "Collins" on a paper which I did not keep—inquiries were made by other persons, and he came into my service in the name of Collins, on a Tuesday, and left on the Thursday because he was drunk—no one has asked me for his character—he mentioned the Rose and Crown, Long Lane, Bermondsey, as the place of his former employment.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I do not know where I wrote to, but you came back to know whether the reference would suit—I did not receive your character myself.
ELIZABETH CLARK . I am the wife of William Thomas Clark, who has kept the Rose and Crown, Bermondsey, five years—William Collins was my barman for fifteen months, and left about Christmas—we called him "George"—Coleman is not the man—a gentleman came to see me from Mrs. Clark, and I gave him Collins's character.
GEOEGE BALDOCK (Police Sergeant L). I was present at the police-court when Richard Kimber was examined against the prisoners—this is his signature—I heard Coleman cross-examine him. (Read: "Richard Kimber, police-sergeant. I know Coleman—I have known him by different names—I have frequently seen him at the Drum public-house, Tooley Street, at various hours of the day—I have from time to time
missed him from the neighbourhood two or three days at a time—I have seen him standing about as if out of work during the last three or four months.
Cross-examined. I know Coleman—I have seen him tried at the Old Bailey—I have seen him standing about Mill Lane, Tooley Street, as if he was looking for employment.")
JOSEPH MIDGLEY (the younger). The first witness is my father—I was present when Coleman came—my father asked his name—he said "Miller"—my father asked whether he was married or single—he said "Single"—I saw my father write on a piece of paper at the time he asked the questions—this was on a Thursday—he came and worked in the bar for some hours on Friday evening—he was the only barman there—I never heard that his name was Coleman till the case came on at the police-court—no such person as Coleman applied to my father to my knowledge.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I was not present all the time you were there.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I was only at the police-court on the last occasion—I went there to say that he said his name was Miller and that he was single—Mr. Maitland told me to say that.
Re-examined. No one told me what answers to make, I answered according to my knowledges—Mr. Maitland asked me whether I remembered what took place at the interview, I said "Yes" and was told to attend at the police-court.
By the COURT. Mr. Maitland said first to me that Coleman said that his name was Miller and that he was single—I had no conversation with my father before my conversation with Mr. Maitland, or before I went to the police-court.
EDWARD MAITLAND . I have been a solicitor ten years—I am one of the solicitors to the Licensed Victuallers' Protection Society—this prosecution is undertaken by them—I first saw the last witness at Lambeth Police-court on the second examination, with his father, who had before said that he did not remember whether his son was present at the interview with Miller—he then said "I have brought the lad with me that you may ask him what he remembers about it—I then said to the boy "Were you present when your father spoke to the barman?"—he said "Yes"—I asked him what name he gave—he said "Miller"—I did not suggest the name of Miller; I knew the point too well; nor did I suggest to him to say that the man said that he was single.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. The boy was a considerable distance from his father when his father said "I remember that the boy was present," and without telling him anything, I said "Were you present?"—he said "Yes," and then his father said "What name did he give?"—he said "Miller"—the father said "What more did you hear?"—he said "I heard him say that he was not married"—none of my clerks had been up there between the first and the second examination, and I think the boy came up at the second—I should say that I am the person who is responsible for this prosecution—I am paid by the chairman and committee—I mean to tell you that the Society can prosecute as a body; we have done so many times—the chairman, John Cox, instituted the proceedings; he personally gave me instructions—I do not say that he is responsible—I should be willing to put myself forward as responsible if the prosecution fails, T undertake to say that I am as much responsible as any one else—I
am afraid I cannot help accepting on my own shoulders the responsibility and the liability—I certainly will not raise any question about it—I should most decidedly raise legal objections to get out of it.
He-examined. I am quite certain that down to the time the boy was at the police-court none of my clerks ever saw him, and when his father spoke about him he was at a great distance.
RICHARD SANT . I keep the Pitt's Head, Broad Street—on 1st April I saw this advertisement (produced) in the Morning Advertiser and sent this letter in this envelope (produced) to A. B., 149, Snow's Fields—Coleman came the same day and said "I come in answer to your letter," producing it. (Read: "Pitt's Head, Broad Street, Rotherhithe. If A. B. is not engaged please call at the above address.") I asked him inside and said "Are you accustomed to the duties of a potman?"—he said "Yes"—I said "Where have you been living, and how long?"—he said "With Mr. Kirkland, the White Hart, George Road, Dockhead, Bermondsey"—I said "Why did you leave?"—he said "I have not exactly left, but Mr. Kirkland told me as trade was falling off I had better look out for another job"—I said "What wages do you want?"—he said "12s."—I said "What were your last wages?"—he said "10s.; when will you see Mr. Kirkland?"—I said "To-morrow morning before 11 o'clock"—I said "How long have you been with Mr. Kirkland?"—he said "Seven months"—I wrote down the address at his dictation and appointed to go on Saturday, but found it more convenient to go the same evening—when I got to the White Hart I saw Kirkland and said "A young man has been to me after a situation; he refers me to you"—he said "John Coleman you mean"—I said "I don't know, I have forgotten his name, he is the young man living with you; is he honest and sober?"—he said "Yes"—I said "Can I trust him in the bar in my absence alone"—he said "Certainly"—I said "How long has he been with you?"—he said "Seven months"—I asked why he was leaving—he said "Through slackness of trade, as they are pulling down the buildings in the neighbourhood"—I afterwards wrote to Coleman, and he came on Monday, 4th April—I asked him his name—he said "John Coleman"—he was taken in custody next day, but I had nothing to do with that.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I had nothing to complain of.
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. I am not the prosecutor—I am not a member of the Society—Mr. Maitland's clerk came to me and asked me to go to the police-court—I asked Kirkland if the man was sober and honest and he said "Yes"—he may possibly have said "So far as I know"—I should possibly have taken him if Kirkland had only given him seven weeks' satisfactory character—I took no note, and have only my memory to help me to say that he said "Seven months"—Mr. Midgley and I were together the whole time we were at the police-court—we did not talk much about the case—he did not say "Mind you stick to a seven months' character"—Kirkland did not come up and say to Midgley in my presence "I am all right, but I have heard you telling stories about me."
Re-examined. About an hour and a half before Coleman was taken I was seen by some one connected with the Protection Society, and asked what length of character the man had given me, and I said seven months—I did not then know of Midgley's existence—I spoke from memory—my talking to Midgley had nothing to do with the seven months' character—I
should certainly say that no man ever said to me "Mind you stick to a seven months' character," but I should not like to take my oath to it—I am quite clear that Kirkland did not speak of two men, one occasionally and one permanently in his employment.
EDWARD ROBERT CRISP . In September, 1877, I kept the Kenilworth Castle, 286, New North Road—I replied to an advertisement of a potman and barman, and Coleman came to me—he gave his name John Wright, and referred to a Mr. Homfrey—he was in my service 10 days—I afterwards saw him at this Court on May 11th and 13th, 1878. (See Sessions Paper, Vol. 88, p. 79.)
Coleman. You gave very bad evidence on that occasion, and were told to stand down.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I have no doubt about you whatever.
MRS. WITHERS. I keep the King's Arms, Well Street—last year I advertised for a potman, and Coleman came—he said that his name was Thomas Cole, and that he lived with Mr. Colmer at the Coach and Horses, Holloway Road, two or three years, and left in consequence of the owner taking his family into the bar, since when he had been living with his brother or sister-in-law at a greengrocer's shop, and had been out of the public line two or three years—I saw Mr. Colmer, after which Cole came into my service, and remained from 26th April to 23rd September last year—there was nothing against him except that he quarrelled so dreadfully—I gave his character to Mr. Simms.
THOMAS CHRISTOPHER COLMER . I keep the Coach and Horses, Holloway Road—Thomas Cole was in my employment eighteen months ago—Coleman is not the man, I never saw him till he was in custody—whatever I said to Mrs. Withers applied to Thomas Cole.
CHRISTOPHER SIMMS . I keep the Windmill public-house, Great Charlotte Street—I saw Mrs. Withers, after which, on 1st October, Coleman came into my service as Thomas Cole—he was with me 10 days—I paid him 1l. for wages on leaving, and took this receipt (produced) from him in the name of Thomas Cole.
Cross-examined by Coleman. I was not convicted at Southwark Police-court two months ago and fined 10l. and costs under the Adulteration Act; Mr. Hunt was summoned, and I appeared for him—you had to get some green liquid from the stable and upset some of it, but I discharged you for being intoxicated.
Re-examined. Mr. Hunt was summoned in reference to putting sugar in beer, and I was his manager—I have never been convicted.
JAMES WEBSTER . I am manager to John Burroughs King, the licensed holder of the Horns, Kennington—Coleman applied to me for a situation as barman, and came on 1st October—he gave his name William Cole, and referred to Mr. Walker, of the Bricklayers' Arms—he came about 6 o'clock on Saturday and left after the house closed on Sunday night because he was the worse for drink—no one has been about his character—I am quite sure he is the man.
a conversation about him with a gentleman from the Horns—Coleman is not the man.
THOMAS STONE WATSON . I keep the Coopers' Arms, Union Street, Borough—on 16th February I put an advertisement in the Morning Advertiser, and saw Coleman next day—he gave the name of Coleman—he had applied to me before on 18th December, 1879—I went for his reference but did not take him then—I did not see him till he came in February 1881—he then said that he had been three months in his last place, 173, Adam Street, Bermondsey, but said that the occupier was out of business—I did not go and did not engage him.
EDMUND CARPENTER . I keep the Drum, Snows Fields, Bermondsey—I knew Coleman for about a month before he was taken—he used to come to my house two, three, or four times a week of a morning to look at the Advertiser, and once he came in the evening with a jug—my house is within 200 or 300 yards of his aunt's—I understood by his conversation that he was a barman out of work.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I am a member of the Association—I have nothing to do with the prosecution.
HENRY KIGHTLEY . I am a barber, of 149, Snows Fields, Bermondsey, that is the address in this advertisement—I took in letters for Coleman in the name of "A. B." three weeks before he was taken in custody—he asked me to do so, and came for them it may be four times on the outside.
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. The detectives came to me—I know Coleman's brother, a master lighterman—I do not know Mr. Kimber's public-house, the White Hart.
LOUISA HACKETT . I am a widow, of 4, London Street, Bermondsey, not far from the White Hart—my mother has lived there 56 years—I have been in the habit of going to the White Hart for beer two or three times a day ever since Mr. Kirkland kept it—I saw Coleman there once, that was in February—Mr. Haynes used to attend to the business, he was in and out, and a person named Johnson went in and out to char.
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. I went for beer when I had got half-pence to get it with, and sometimes not having halfpence I did not go for a week together—nobody told me to pay that I had only seen the potman once—I take my jug three times a day—I do not go and drink there—I only saw Coleman there once—I do not know Daniel Coleman, the lighterman.
PERCIVAL HACKETT . I am a wood hoop-binder, and the son of the last witness—I occasionally used the White Hart, and have known Haines all my life as potman—I saw Coleman there seven or eight weeks ago, but never saw any other servant helping.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I was there with my mother, but I often went there without her—I have seen two barmaids there while Mr. Kirkland kept the house, not at the same time, but one after the other—one named Maria was there when Mr. Eastley left—I was in the house
two or three times a day daring the two months before Coleman was arrested—I am twenty-seven years old—I work at piece work, and come home to dinner when I like—I generally went there before 1 o'clock, and sometimes of a night I stopped there two hours.
Re-examined. Mr. Kirkland came to the house in June, 1880—Mr. Eastley was the previous landlord—there was one barmaid in his time, she was taken bad and went to Brompton Hospital, and another barmaid came—Haynes was the only male servant.
WILLIAM FOSTER (Policeman M 104). In January and part of March I was on duty on the beat where the White Hart is—my night beat was shorter than my day beat—my night beat began at 10 o'clock—I have looked in at the White Hart sometimes two or three times of a night—I never saw Coleman there serving—Kirkland and Haynes are the only two persons I ever saw attending to the business.
Cross-examined. The house closed from 12 to 12.30, and was not opened again till I went off my beat—there are two public-houses and one beer-house on my beat—it took me half an hour to go over my beat—I am a teetotaller—I never got any drink there, but I just looked in every night to see who was in the house, and I saw who was behind the bar—I never saw a row there.
Re-examined. I sometimes looked in two or three times of a night—I was not there in February—I was elsewhere.
JAMES FARROW (Policeman M 106). I have known Bermondsey over ten years—the White Hart is a small house—I never knew a barman kept there, but a potman, Haynes, was employed by Mr. Kirkland—I never saw any other male servant.
Cross-examined. The solicitor's clerk asked me to come here—I have never been inside the house since Kirkland has had it, but I could see in when the door was open—I have been there from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m., and passed the house four or five times.
GEORGE WALDOCK (Re-examined). I received Coleman at King David Lane Station on Tuesday, 5th April—I said "I am a police-officer; I hold a warrant for your apprehension for obtaining a situation as barman, by means of a false character, at the Surrey Gardens Hotel"—John Wright alias Miller was the name mentioned in the warrant—he said "I don't know Wright or Miller; my name is John Coleman"—I said "Well, you are the man who had the seven months' character to go to the Surrey Gardens Hotel"—he said "I am the man who was at the Surrey Gardens Hotel; Mr. Kirkland only gave me a seven weeks character, not seven months; Mr. Midgley cannot say I was never at the White Hart because I served him there, last Saturday and once before"—I said "Are you the man who was at the Horns, Kennington, in the name of Cole?"—he said "No, I never lived at the Horns, Kennington"—I said "Who gave you the character to go to the Pitt's Head?"—he said "The same party who gave me the character to go to the Surrey Gardens."
HENRY DUKE (Detective L). On 6th April, about 2 p.m., I went to the White Hart and read the warrant to Kirkland—it referred to Coleman, alias Wright, alias Miller—he said "I employed him on a job on two or three occasions, and I gave him the character I found him, and that was honest"—on the way to the station he said "Is it for the situation at the Surrey Gardens?" I said "Yes, with others"—when the charge was read over he said" I don't know a man named Miller."
Cross-examined by Wright. I only speak from memory, but I believe I am correct.
Re-examined. I took him before the Magistrate at once, and I made the statement to the Magistrate within two horn's, when it was fresh in my mind.
Witnesses for Kirkland.
WILLIAM HAINES . I was 7 years and 265 days a soldier, and left the Army with a good character—I was then watchman at the Grand Surrey Dock Company for two years and four months, and have been for some time potman at the White Hart, which has been kept by Mr. Kirkland for the last year—during the last few months Coleman has been there as barman when the master was away, and if I was going away he would do a little of my business—I have seen him repeatedly there—on 17th March I was behind the bar when Mr. Midgley drove up in a Hansom's cab, about 11.30 or 11.40 a.m.—he came into the side compartment, where Mrs. Kirkland was, and said "I have come to inquire after a man John Coleman, is the master at home?"—she said "Yes," and Air. Kirkland came round to the side bar, where Midgley was, who said "Good morning; I have come to inquire after a man named John Coleman; what sort of man is he?" Mr. Kirkland said "He is all right as far as I know"—Midgley said "Is he honest?" Kirkland said "I never found him any otherwise"—he said "Is he sober?" Mr. Kirkland said "I never saw him drunk, and he is a very good man at business, and that is as far as I know"—Midgley said "That is good enough for me; Coleman, you can come to-morrow, and think yourself devilish lucky you have got it too, for I have had a good many applications after if this morning; you just stay clear and keep away from the girls, and keep your * * * "—Midgley called for something to drink, and treated the governor and had something himself—he then got into his cab and went away—the whole interview lasted from four to five minutes—by the work I have to do in the morning I can positively say it was not 12 o'clock—I never heard the name of Miller mentioned—Midgley did not say "How long has he been here?" I heard nothing said about seven months—Kirkland did not say "I can highly recommend him"—Midgley did not say "What is he leaving for?" nor did Kirkland reply "Trade is very quiet, I don't require him in my bar"—Midgley did not ask if he was single, nor did Kirkland reply "Yes"—when Coleman single, nor did Kirkland reply "Yes"—when Coleman came back from Midgley"s he told Mr. Kirkland in my presence why he had left so soon—I believe that was on a Sunday—David Coleman. a lighterman, who is Coleman's brother, was a customer there.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I saw David Coleman here yesterday, and saw him served with a subpoena to come to-day—J did not hear Mr. Wright say that he would not call him—he was subpoenaed after Mr. Wright had done speaking yesterday—I never left the Army: I am in the reserve—I left the regulars in January, 1878, I believe—I had worked at the White Hart before, 12 or 14 years ago—Mr. Cook was then the landlord—Kirkland was a stranger to me, I was introduced to him by the previous owner—Mr. Eastley kept no barman, but three barmaids at one time, and a man came to clean the pewter-the bar measures 28 feet inside; it is at the corner of a street, and there are three compartments—I do not know whether there was work for three barmaids, but I swear I saw thorn there—I never knew Coleman by any other name—I
do not know that in January, 1881, he was at Mr. Purchase's in the name of James Green—I never heard that for 48 hours he was at Mrs. Clark's, King William Street, Strand, as Henry Collins—I believe he advertised, but what he put in I do not know—I did not know of his being in this Court before till I heard it at the police-court—this is the first time I have given evidence—Mr. Kirkland said "Bill, you have heard the conversation, you will have to be at the police-court," and I went—Mr. Midgley is the only person who I know of who came for Coleman's character since Christmas—I was not there when Mr. Sant called—I cannot swear to any date when Coleman was behind the bar; I am rather a careless character, and do not take notice of when I go out, and I cannot tell you, not by telling the truth—Mrs. Kirkland was in the bar when Midgley came in, and he used that filthy expression loud enough for her to hear—her husband did not remonstrate.
Re-examined. I cannot say whether she was in the bar when he used that expression, because the bar has a curve round, and neither Midgley or Kirkland could see her—I have seen Coleman at work there three or four days a week—he might have come early in the morning, and sometimes he stopped late at night, but if the governor came home early he would go away.
FRANCIS COX . I keep the Anchor and Hope beerhouse, George Row, Bermondsey—I was at the White Hart on 17th March at 11.30 or 11.40 a.m., and saw Midgley there—he did not stay five minutes; I was there all the time—he came in and said to Mrs. Kirkland "I came to inquire about a man named John Coleman; if the master at home?" she said "Yes," and he came round to the side box, and Midgley said "Good morning, Sir; I have come to inquire about a man named John Coleman; what kind of a man is he?—Mr. Kirkland said "A very good man as far as I know"—he said "Is he honest?"—Mr. Kirkland said "To the best of my belief"—he said "Is he sober?"—Mr. Kirkland said "I never saw him drunk"—Midgley said "He is good enough for me; Coleman, you can come to-morrow; you ought to think yourself devilish lucky to think you have got it, as I have had a great many applications this morning; mind what you are after, and Keep away from the girls, and ***"—I saw; Coleman draw something for him, but cannot say what—I had been a customer for the preceding two or three months, and have seen Coleman there; he has served me on several occasions—Midgley did not say "How long has he been with you?" nor did Kirkland say "Seven months" or "Seven weeks," or "I can highly recommend him"—Midgley did not say "What is he leaving for?" nor to the best of my knowledge did Kirkland reply "Trade is very bad, and I do not require him in my bar"—nothing was mentioned about his being single.
Cross-examined. Besides keeping a beerhouse I work for the General Steam Navigation Company as stevedore—my hours depend upon the tides—I was not at work on 17th March, because it was St. Patrick's Day, and I am a bit of an Irishman—I did not know Coleman's brother till yesterday—I cannot fix any other day when I saw Coleman behind Kirkland's bar.
DAVID COLEMAN . I am a lighterman, of 190, Abbey Street, Bermondsey—I have been an occasional customer, before and alter Christmas, at Mr. Kirkland's house, the White Hart, Bermondsey—Coleman is my brother—a
little before Christmas he was not doing anything, and I saw that Mr. Kirkland was very busy, and I said "My brother has been in the line, and he would not mind assisting you"—Mr. Kirkland said "Well, he can come and assist me in the busy time, if he likes," and he afterwards went to the White Hart now and then—I dare say I have seen him working there a dozen times.
Cross-examined. I used the White Hart for 12 months before Christmas—I lived at 190, George's Road, at that time, and up to five weeks ago—I used the house in Mr. Eastley's time; two barmaids were kept then, but not a barman that I know of—I did not know of my brother going in the name of John Wright—I did not see him for 18 months between May, 1878, and May, 1879; I kept no account—I do not know of his being at Mr. Rose's, the Stanley Tavern, in 1879, or that he was going by different names—I know that he had a little time before—I did not know that he had been at Mrs. Withers's for seven months before March 17, or at Mr. Simms's, or at Mr. King's, the Horns, Kennington, or at Mr. Purchase's, or at Mr. Watson's—I did not know that he had been at Mrs. Clark's from 1st to 3rd March—I knew nothing about his movements or his situations, or the names he went in—I did not tell Mr. Kirkland that I knew nothing about the places where he had been employed, and he had better satisfy himself—I only saw him on occasions when I came ashore from my work—I am prepared to say that I saw him twelve times—I did not know of his advertising; I did not even know where he lived—I did not attend at Lambeth Police-court when he was given in custody—I was asked last Friday to come here; I was served with a subpoena—with regard to the 12 times, I am not able to fix on one special instance when my brother was serving behind the bar.
HENRY SAMUEL DUCKMAN . I am a labourer, of 13, Pleasant Place, Dock Head—I have lived 18 or 19 years in that neighbourhood, and have been occasionally at the White Hart—I was there on 1st April, when Mr. Sant came—I saw him yesterday—he said "I want to see a person named Kirkland"—Kirkland, who was in the bar, said "I am Mr. Kirkland"—he said "I have called about a man in your employ"—Kirkland said "I have two men in my employ; I have one permanent man, and one works occasionally for me; I think it is the man Coleman you refer to"—he said "H'm; is he an honest and sober man"—Kirkland said "As far as I know; I never saw no other"—two or three words passed, which I did not catch, and he said "Would you leave him behind your bar if you went out?"—he said "Yes, and that is all I can say between man and man"—one of them then asked the other to drink, and they drank—Sant was there three or four minutes—I never heard anything said about seven months, and if it was I must have heard it—I was not four feet from them—I have seen Coleman working behind the bar several times.
Cross-examined. I mean several times, on different days, not continuously—this did not strike me as an application to a master for the character of a servant, or it would have struck me as singular not to ask how long he had been in the service, and why he was leaving—I saw this in the paper, and said to several men in the bar that it was a false statement—I was not asked by Mr. Haynes to be a witness, I went voluntarily to him after the committal for trial.
occasionally gone in there within the last few months—I have seen Coleman serving in the bar and working about the place, I think 50 times since Christmas—I have known Kirkland about 12 months—he bears an honest reputation.
Cross-examined. I do not think I saw Coleman before Christmas—I cannot fix any special time when he was there, because I ran in and out 20 times a day.
Re-examined. I have seen him there on four or five different days.
Coleman's Defence. You have proof before you that I have been in this man's service a length of time, and I can bring five or six witnesses to prove it. They were here last week, but cannot lose their time. I could also prove what I have been doing since I left Mr. Simms's service.
COLEMAN— GUILTY *.— Two Years' Hard Labour . KIRKLAND received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
The Jury being unable to agree, were discharged without a verdict .
MR. DE MICHELE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
505. RICHARD DE COSTA (50) and WILLIAM HARDEN (33) PLEADED GUILTY to a conspiracy to defraud Marian Lendrum and others of their monies, and HARDEN to a conviction of a misdemeanour at Newington in September, 1870.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour . DE COSTA.— Twelve Month's Hard Labour .
MR. M. WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY Defended.
FRANK SHARRATT . I am a barman out of employment—I live at the Universities Tavern, Chenies Street, Tottenham Court Road—on 21st February I was employed at the Manor House, Stamford Street—the prisoner came to see me there—he said "I have heard that you want to go to Australia, how are you going?" I said "I think of paying for my passage out"—he said "Don't waste your money, I can get you a berth as under steward; I shall want 2l. for doing it"—I gave him a sovereign then—he said "I am second steward on board the Potosi"—I made an appointment. to meet him on 1st March in Chenies Street, to go down to the docks—I went with him to the Albert Docks—he introduced me to a man he said was the shore steward of the Orient Company that had the engaging of all the under stewards, and he told me to walk up and down in front of the office window so that the man could see me; then he took me on board the Liguria, and there I paid him 55s.—he asked me to let him have some more money to square the shore steward to get me a berth as under steward—after I gave him the 55s. he went to see the man—he spoke to the party inside the office—I said "I want to see the party to
know if it is all right, as I am in a situation now, and do not want to throw it up unless I can get this berth;" he said "It is all right, you can please yourself whether you go by this ship or the next one"—I said "I cannot go by this one, as I have to give my governor a week's notice"—that was the Liguria; the Potosi was not in the dock then—the man in the office wrote out this paper (produced), and handed it to the prisoner, and the prisoner handed it to me—I was at the office door (Read: "Mr. Sharratt, saloon steward, sign on the 12th, 1881"—we went away—the next Sunday, 7th March, he came to me, and I gave him 25s., the balance of the 5l. for obtaining me a situation as under steward on the Potosi—I had then given my employers notice to leave—the prisoner made an appointment to meet me at 9 a.m. the following Wednesday in Chenies Street to go with him down to the docks—he did not come till 6 p.m.—I asked him how it was he had not kept the appointment, and he said he had been in the hospital all night with his wife—a few minutes afterwards my stepfather, Mr. Watson, came in—from what he said to me I told the prisoner he had swindled me out of my money—I asked him to wait in the bar about five minutes, and I went over to the police-station—Detective Brown came back with me and arrested him—I parted with my money because he said he could get me a berth on board the Potosi—he told me he had served as second steward.
Cross-examined. I have known George Flynn, the defendant's son—I was for some time in a situation with him as barman at the Wheat-sheaf, Islington—I left there through an accident—I squirted some lemonade over a Mohawk Minstrel, and he said he would not come into the house if I stayed there—Mr. Baker, the landlord, said it was for drinking brandy—while I was in that situation I told young Flynn I should like to go to Australia—I did not know that his father went to sea—I knew he was trying to go to Australia—it was about two years ago—the prisoner visited my father's house as a customer—he said he had got several young fellows away on board steamers, and my mother said she had a son who wanted to go, and he said "All right"—I was not there—I knew him as the father of the Flynn I knew in the bar—I have seen the prisoner's discharge—that says "the Potosi"—I do not know whether there is another one, but he borrowed one from the Wheatsheaf, and never returned it; I was told so—he asked me if there was some money missed of Mr. Baker's while I was there, but I do not know if there was any—this (document produced) looks like the discharge—I did not notice the name of Anderson and Anderson—I was sold, and lost my money—the prisoner was not interfered with on board the Liguria—he was not known to the men on board—it was taking in stores—she was to sail on the following Thursday—the Potosi, I believe, was then in dry dock—I did not want to go by the Liguria—the ships go every fortnight—I gave the prisoner into custedy on a Wednesday; I think it was later than the 18th—he told me he was a married man—he said she had taken up a deal of his time, and if any of the authorities came and wanted to know what ship he was going away in, I was not to tell them, as they wanted money from him for her support, and that if he went away without seeing them they would very likely give him three mouths when he came back.
the 10th February, and chatted at the bar—he said, "I am second steward on board the Potosi"—I had only been in the house two or three days—he said, "I am going to Australia"—I told my wife—she said, "I have a son who wishes to go to Australia"—the prisoner said, "I can get him a berth under me as saloon steward on board the Potosi"—on the 16th March I went down to the Potosi—I made inquiries and communicated the result to my stepson when I came home—I then saw the prisoner given into. custody.
Cross-examined. My wife has property in Australia—I did not go to the docks with my son and the defendant—I went by myself.
EDWIN TAFFS . I am deputy superintendent of the Victoria Docks—in the case of every vessel going abroad the crew sign at the Mercantile Marine Office—an agreement is also signed and lodged in my department—I produce the agreement of the steamship Potosi, belonging to the Oriental line—all that crew signed on 19th March before me—the prisoner did not sign in any capacity—on 30th March he called at my office—he produced a card—I saw it in his hand—he said, "I have come from a solicitor for a gentleman from this office, to give me a statement that all who sign in the steward's department are stewards"—I said I could not do that because they were not all stewards, the cook and butcher, for instance, were not stewards; the baker is an entirely separate position from steward—he said the solicitor wanted it for the Magistrate; that he had the conducting of a case for a young man—I said, "Has the young man a discharge?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "That is all the evidence that can be required"—the discharge would be made out from the ship's agreement.
Cross-examined. The register I produce is that of the seamen who sailed in the Potosi when she cleared the last time—that was on 24th March—when the ship arrives the agreement is deposited in the office—when they sail there is always a duplicate, that is deposited at the registry of general seamen—I have the register of the voyage when the prisoner came home—he came from Melbourne on two previous occasions as assistant baker—a baker is not called a steward; they are quite distinct—I have seen the prisoner's discharge; it is all regular.
FRANCIS JOHN RICHMOND . I am steward of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company at Liverpool, and live at Birkenhead—the Potosi is one of our ships, running in conjunction with the Oriental line—it is my duty to engage stewards for our ships, whether they run from London or liver-pool—I never authorised the prisoner to engage a steward for the Potosi—. a baker would be totally distinct from a steward—I saw the prisoner at the police-court, that is all I know about him—I should not employ a potman as a steward, but should engage one who understood the work better—the prisoner had no authority to get any one.
Cross-examined. I have been in the service over 10 years—I believe the prisoner has served on the Potosi—I have not seen his discharge—I have nothing to do with those engaged from Melbourne here—the stewards wear a uniform; the bakers do not, except it is a white cap—the waistcoat the prisoner has on now is like the uniform waistcoat—we give preference to a man who has served before, provided his character is good.
Re-examined. The prisoner probably bought the waistcoat on board—he would not be allowed to wear it on board.
saw the prisoner at the University Tavern—he said, "Give me a half-crown for this ticket; I am going to have a benefit at the Cambridge Hall, New-man Street"—I knew he was a professor of the art of self-defence—he gave me the ticket, and I paid him the half-crown—this is the ticket (For a sparring entertainment to take place on 22nd February.)—I believed the statement on that ticket when I paid the half-crown—I sent the potman—he came back and told me something—when I saw the prisoner I said, "How about this entertainment?"—he said, "Oh, it will be all right"—he came to me in the billiard-room and showed me a letter supposed to have come from the Cambridge Hall—he said it would be all right, but he wanted 101. to take the hall—this was after the potman had come back—I said, "That has nothing to do with me; give me my half-crown back"—he held out something, but took care not to do so; and I never got the half-crown back.
Cross-examined. It was three or four days before the entertainment when he sold me the ticket—I saw him every day—he asked to borrow some money, but I did not lend him any—I may have trusted him with beer two or three times, but nothing more—I did not get paid for that.
JOHN NUNN . I was potman and waiter at the University Tavern a week before 22nd February—the prisoner said, "Will you let me have a shilling for a ticket for my benefit?"—I gave him a shilling for the ticket—I have since destroyed it—it was the same as the one produced—it was for an entertainment on 22nd February—upon that night I presented myself for admission at the Cambridge Hall—I spoke to a man in the hall, but I could not get anything for my shilling.
JOHN JAY . I am the hall-keeper at St. Andrew's Hall, in Newman Street—it was till recently called the Cambridge Hall—most applications for the hall are made to me—entries of names are made in a book which is under my supervision—Mr. Kirby made the entries—the entry on 22nd February is not my writing—the entertainment for that evening was an orchestral rehearsal for the Duke of Edinburgh Society: not sparring—the rehearsal takes place every Tuesday except one from November to May; so that there can be no sparring entertainments in the hall on Tuesday nights.
Cross-examined. I have let the hall two years last November—the prisoner has not had it in my time, but I believe he has before—I cannot say that the hall was not engaged and the arrangements fell through.
Re-examined. In the case of the hall being taken a deposit is paid—that would be entered in the book.
ALFRED BROWN (Police Sergeant E). I took the prisoner into custody on 16th March in a public-house—he said to Mr. Sharratt, "I did not ask you for 5l., I only asked you for 2l., and it has cost me that for running about, if you will let it stand over till to-morrow I will pay you back "—I searched him—I found this discharge from the Potosi homeward voyage in October last—I have known the prisoner some years as a professor of boxing.
Cross-examined. I know nothing against him—I found a lot of papers on him—two were references to character.
Witnesses for the Defines.
for a berth on board ship—I wanted to go to the Colonies—I went to the Victoria Docks to look about—I met the prisoner—he was with other stewards and sailors of the Potosi—I believe they were going to be paid off—I got into conversation with the prisoner—I told him I had been in those steamers two or three years previously, and I should like to go back—he said he would speak to some one aboard for me—I went down with him to the docks—we met a pantryman, one of the under-stewards, coming ashore—the prisoner introduced the pantryman, and told him I was looking for a berth—after some further conversation the pantryman told me to come down the following morning—I did so—in my presence he spoke to the second steward—he told me to come down again in a few days, when they were taking on hands—I went down, and the second steward put me on to work as saloon waiter—I was there over a week—I got paid weekly wages at so much per day—I was paid on the Saturday—I had the opportunity of going the voyage, but I got something to suit me better ashore—the second steward was perfectly willing that I should go, and my name was down on the list—the name of the steamer was the Lusitania—the general muster of the crew usually took place on Sunday morning, and they were grouped according to their several positions; the waiters, bakers, and so on were all ranked together on the deck—they all wore uniform—the bakers' uniform is a white jacket and a white cap—the assistant stewards wait at table, and occasionally anybody else who is wanted—I have been second cook, and have been taken to wait in the saloon—I have known cases where the bakers have been taken in to wait—the bakers are addressed as bakers, but the other stewards, even the pantrymen, are called stewards even by the passengers and officers of the ship.
GEORGE FLYNN . I am the son of the defendant—for some time I was barman at the Wheatsheaf—Sharratt was fellow-barman with me—he said he had some property in Australia, and should like to go out there—I said my father had not got a berth aboard then—I told him my father was going to Australia—that was nearly two years ago, but I have seen him since then—I saw him in Oxford Street—he asked me how my father was going on, and I said he was out in Melbourne—Sharratt said he was going there himself shortly, and he asked for father's address—I met him again and told him that father had made arrangements with the captain of a sailing vessel named the Macbeth, and I was going out, and he asked me if I could do anything for him—I said I might speak to the captain and get him a berth—afterwards I received a letter from my father, asking me not to come, because he was on the way home—when he came home I saw Sharratt again—he told me he still wished to go, and asked for father's address—I told him I did not know—Sharratt gave me his own address as 30, Crawford Street, Paddington, where I could find him at any time.
GUILTY of false pretences with regard to the steward's berth, but NOT GUILTY with regard to the ticket.— Six Months' Hard Labour .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
EDWARD MAIN . I reside at 82, Fentiman Road, the prosecutor's house—I retired on 19th April about 11 p.m.—I was awoke in the morning of the 20th about 3 o'clock by a noise—I got out of bed and listened—I got in again, and still listened—I heard another noise—I got out of bed and looked out of window into the back garden—I saw two men walking towards the garden door—I threw the window up and called out "Stop thief"—the men commenced running—I went upstairs and roused Mr. Hughes—I went into the back parlour—it was in great confusion—I met the prisoner with a policeman in the garden—that was five minutes after I gave the alarm.
JOHN HUGHES . I am a publisher, and reside at 82, Fentiman Road, Clapham Road—on 20th March I was awoke by Main about 3 a.m.—I ran downstairs without waiting to dress—I went into the back parlour—the tablecloth was gone from the table, and the clock from the mantelpiece—I was trying to find a match, when I heard somebody say "I have got one of them," and the policeman was bringing one down the garden—the window-catch had been forced—they had got over the top of the shutters, which did not reach within a foot and a half of the top, and they had torn the window-blind—the window had been opened, and the shutters burst, and the roller of the blind pulled down—I missed some table-napkins, three coats, and a cup and saucer, value about 6l.—I went with the constable to the station, and charged the prisoner—the windows were all fastened the previous night—Fentiman Mews is at the back—it is not a thoroughfare, it is open at each end into the Meadow Road—I was present when the constable put the prisoner's boots alongside the footprints, and then dropped them in—there were five of them going one way and one going towards the house—the gate at the back of the garden is so low that anybody can jump over it.
JOSEPH WALLACE (Police Constable W 113). About 2.40 a.m. on 20th March I was in the Meadow Road, Clapham—Fentiman Mews runs into it—I saw the prisoner with four others; they passed me going from Church Street towards the Fentiman Road—knowing Ticket and one of the others I kept observation on them—I made a short cut and came on to my beat again, when I missed them—if they had gone on down the Fentiman Road I should have heard them—when I got to the corner of the Mews five men came running to my face, and I heard a gentleman halloaing, "Stop thief"—I heard the call first—I recognised the prisoner amongst the five men—I followed the nearest man to me—they ran towards the other end of the Mews—when I was trying to get the other man, the prisoner ran into my arms—we both met at the end of the Mews, so I gave up the other one and held him—I tried to strike the other one, but could not—I have a plan which I have made of the ground; I know the neighbourhood well; it is an accurate sketch. (The witness explained it to the Jury)—I picked up this tablecloth and five napkins (produced)—I compared the footprints in the garden with the prisoner's boots—he denied being there—he has a very small boot, and his boots are worn down at the heels—there are four marks of the left foot and one of the right—I called Mr. Hughes and his wife to witness it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said to you, "I am sorry I did not catch one of the strangers, as I can always find you, I know you of old"—I took you round to the Meadow Road up the back garden: you did not walk on
the mould then so as to leave footmarks—I cannot swear the footmarks were not there before—you could enter the house without making any impressions at all—I took your boots from you at the station—I could not measure the footprints while you were in the garden.
Prisoner's Defence. I was taken bad when I was going home, and I went inside about three yards down the Mews to ease myself. I was dressing myself when the constable saw me. I saw a man run along, and afterwards the police-constable mentioned my name and said he would have me. Then he charged me with breaking into the house.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1879, at Lambeth Police-court.— Eighteen Month' Hard Labour .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MIRANDA COOPER . I am the wife of Henry Cooper—I now live at Rotherfield Villas, Battersea Rise—at the beginning of August, 1879, I kept a school at 27, Middleton Road, New Wandsworth—my name was not on the door—I issued prospectuses—on Wednesday, the prisoner, I believe, called on me and asked if I would receive a child about 9 years of age—he said his name was Henry Marsh; he wrote it on a small piece of paper—he said he was a solicitor, a widower, and gave his address, Gloucester House, Geoffry Road, Clapham—he held one of my prospectuses in his hand, and said, "Tour terms, I see, are 36 guineas; I am willing to give you 40 guineas if you will receive the child and instruct her in English and music"—he gave me a reference to a Judge in chambers at Westminster—he said if I would cash a cheque for him he would pay me 107. in advance—I said it would be better for him to send it to me—he afterwards produced two cheques, one for 23l. and the other for 14l. 10s., which he gave me (This was dated 30th July, 1879, drawn by Arthur James Brennan on the London Joint Stock Bank, payable to Henry Marsh)—I believe it was already endorsed "Henry Marsh, Gloucester House, Geoffry Boad"—I wrote my name on it—I was not able to cash it, and he went out to get it cashed—he returned and said that two tradesmen had refused to cash it, one had already sent his money to the bank—I then gave the cheque to my daughter, and the prisoner went out with her to get it cashed—she came back and gave me 2l.—I did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody—I think I travelled with him once—the child was to have been sent on the Friday; it sever came—I saw the prisoner at Guildhall, I think, three weeks since—I firmly believe he is the—man; I have not the slightest doubt of it—this (produced)is the address he wrote at my house.
Cross-examined. It was some months since that I imagined I was traveiling with the prisoner from Clapham Junction to Victoria—I could not tell when it was; it was last year, I can't say whether before or after Christmas—no one was with the man when he came to my house; it was on Wednesday, August 1st, 1879, I was quite sure about the day at the police-court—it was between 2 and 3 in the afternoon; I was preparing for afternoon school; it was in a very small sitting-room at the back; the blind was not down; I believe there were curtains to the window; there are no folding doors—there is a window at each end; it was a very bright,
fine day—the cheque came back to me on the Friday evening—a description of the person was given next day by my husband to the bank—I believe I wrote down a description on two occasions; I believe I gave it to Inspector Mitchell of Scotland Yard, and he wrote it—Inspector Swanson called on me to go to Guildhall on Saturday, 12th April, last—I then saw the prisoner in the dock on another charge.
Re-examined. I went to Gloucester House on the Saturday morning, as the child was to have come on the Friday, but I could learn nothing about him, and I then gave a description of the man to the police.
ALFREDA COOPER . I am the daughter of the last witness—I was present when the prisoner handed the cheque to my mother; she gave it to me, and I went with the prisoner to Mr. Shearman and got it cashed in his presence—it was about five or ten minutes' walk—the prisoner walked with me—Mr. Shearman gave me 6£ 10s., and I left the cheque with him—I handed the prisoner 4l. 10s. and took the 2l. to my mother—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. I never saw the man again till I was taken to Guildhall Police-court with my mother—I could easily recognise him—I did not write down any description of him.
HENRT SHEARMAN . I am a wine merchant of 3, Woburn Terrace, New Wandsworth—I remember Miss Cooper coming to me with a cheque and a man with her—I do not recognise the prisoner; I cannot say whether he is the man or not—Miss Cooper gave me this cheque for 14l. 10s., and I gave her 6l. 10s. for it—I paid the cheque in to my bankers, and it was returned 'marked "No account"——they were in the shop about seven or eight minutes.
JANE SPENCER . I am the wife of Thomas Huntley Spencer—in October, 79, I kept a school at Hope House, Brixton Hill—on a Saturday in October I remember a person coming about my taking a little boy to my school—the prisoner is the man—he gave the name of Percy Harding, and said he was a solicitor at Clapham—I gave him one of my prospectuses—he said he wished to place his little boy with me, that he was a co-operative store man, and he preferred payments in advance, and was I of the same opinion—I agreed to take the child, and the payment was to be forthcoming when the child arrived—he was to come with the child next day, when I should receive the payment—he was with me about a quarter of an hour—on the Monday a person came with this letter signed "Percy Harding," and gave me this cheque for 18l. 10s., signed "Bantock," payable to Percy Harding, and I gave him 4l. in change on account—no little boy was brought—the cheque was sent to the bank and returned marked "No account"—I never saw the prisoner again till he was in custody recently—I have not the slightest doubt that he is the man.
Cross-examined. He said he would come next day and bring the child; the next day was Sunday; I meant the next business day—I never wrote a description of the man; I communicated with the police at once and gave a description to them—Inspector Swanson came to me in April last—he Raid in substance that he thought they had got the man in custody who had deceived me in 1879—I did not say I had forgotten all about it because I had not forgotten it; I had kept it all fully in mind; I could not forget such a thing—I went to Newgate and picked him out.
the City on another charge—I saw him write at the office on a telegraph form, and also saw him write a letter—I also saw him write several slips of paper, which were destroyed by him at the time—to the best of my belief this cheque for 14l. 10s. is in the prisoner's writing; also this cheque for 18l. 10s. and this letter of 27th October, 1879; I should say that is in a disguised hand; it is signed "Percy Harding."
Cross-examined. I have never been examined before as an expert in handwriting—I have the telegraph form that the prisoner wrote; that was written on 10th July, 1880, when he was in custody first of all—he wrote it with a quill pen at the Detective Office, 26, Old Jewry; I should think he wrote within twenty words, a shillingsworth, and the address—I only speak to the general appearance of the writing, not to any particuar formations; the letter he wrote at the police-station to his wife is very similar to the one now produced.
Re-examined. I have been in the force 18 years.
The letter to Mrs. Spencer was ready signed Percy Harding, and stated that he was unable to call to make arrangements for the boy, but he had decided to send him, and requested Mrs. Spencer to take 13l. 19s. from the cheque as a quarter's payment and send receipt and balance.
JAMES WOODS . I am cashier in the Imperial Bank, Westminster branch—the prisoner had an account there in the name of Walter Tait; it was opened at the latter end of November last year—I have been in the habit of cashing his cheques and receiving letters from him—I know his handwriting—to the best of my belief these two cheques and this letter are in his writing.
Cross-examined. I cannot say that I saw him sign the signature book—I believe I have seen him write; I believe I have seen him fill up a cheque at the bank—I was not asked at the police-court as to his handwriting; I was first asked about it this morning—there is about 15l. to his account now.
HENRY COOPER . I am a clerk in the London Joint Stock Bank, Princes Street—we had no customer named Alfred James Brennan in July, 1879—these two cheques are from a book issued to Moss and Jenkins, whose account was closed in 1877—we had no customer named Bantock.
GEORGE GRANVILLE BANTOOK . I am a surgeon, of Granville Place, Portman Square—I know nothing of this 18l. 10s. cheque—I have no account at the London Joint Stock Bank—I knew the prisoner between five and six years ago by the name of Selwyn; his wife was a patient of mine.
GUILTY of uttering. He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in July, 1876, and there were other indictments against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MESSRS. THORNE COLE and LEVEY Defended.
the morning of 23rd March, about a quarter or 10 minutes to 1, I was disturbed and went downstairs—I found the drawing-room door locked on the inside—I ran to a window at the back—I heard footsteps in the garden—I called out but got no answer—a police-sergeant came, and we got into the drawing-room and found that the window had been forced open, and everything in the room ransacked, but nothing taken—the window was shut when I went to bed—this knife was on the floor; it does not belong to me.
THOMAS HEATH (Policeman V 266). About 4 o'clock on the morning of 23rd March, in consequence of instructions, I watched a field in Kingston Road, Wandsworth, about 500 yards from the prosecutor's house—I heard a noise in the hedge, proceeded to the spot, turned on my lamp, and found the prisoners concealed under the hedge—I said, "I want you; there has been a robbery here to-night; I shall take you to the station"—they said nothing at the station—Hastilow said, "We went into the field to stop till it was daylight, so as to find our way to Walton-on-Thames"—they were numbed with cold—I found this knife on Hastilow, and this small penknife.
WILLIAM FOSTER (Police Inspector). In consequence of what the last witness told me I took the boots from both prisoners, and compared them with footmarks in the prosecutor's garden; they correspond exactly—I traced them up to the drawing-room window, and in several places in the garden—the greater part was soft mould, and left a clear impression—Tonga's were nailed boots, and there could be no doubt about the impression.
Cross-examined. I did not get a spade and cut out one of the impressions—I made the comparison by making an impression with the boot and placing it by the side of the footprint.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS. EDWARD CLARKE, Q.C., and BESLEY defended Studd.
REGNOLD SLAUGHTER . I live at 82, Barnley Street, Stratford—in 1879 I was in the employ of Mr. Hollyer, of Ludgate Hill—for about three months Cornell was employed there—after that I filled a situation at a tea merchant's, and then went to the prosecutor's at Victoria Buildings, near Victoria Station; that was about January, 1880—while I was there I saw Cornell in the street, at the corner of Victoria Buildings; I then stole about a dozen and a half of sable brushes of my master, and gave them to Cornell, who gave me 10d. for them—I afterwards took a dozen more, for which he gave me 1s. 2d.—I was there three months, and then went to another shop of the prosecutor's on Snow Hill—while I was there
Cornell came there for some work; I had some conversation with him, and afterwards met him in the Old Bailey; after that I stole some camelhair brushes from Snow Hill—I took things from the time I went there till 26th February this year, when I left—I took distemper tools, camelhair brushes sables, ground brushes, and mops, three or four times a weak, about a dozen each time—there are 12 in a percel, and two dozen of the small ones—I used to leave them at the George public-house, in the Old Bailey, with William Davis, the potman, and in the evening Cornell and I received them from Davis and went to Stubbs's oil and colour shop, in the Blackfrairs Road—Cornell went in, I did not—he generally stopped 10 minutes or half an hour, and when he came out he used to give me about 2s. 6d.—I did not go with him every time, he sometimes received things from Davis and went alone, I do not know where, but he gave me about 1s. next day—he used to give Davis about 6d. for minding the parcel—Cornell gave me directions what sort of brushes to select the day before I took them—I shall be 16 next July—the prosecutor discharged me on 16th February.
Cross-examined. I first went into his employment about 15 months ago, in Victoria Buildings; that is a shop—I had nothing to do with serving in it—Mr. Beissbarth was not often there, he was at Snow Hill, but he used to come to look over the place; Mr. Hollyer managed it—there was a large stock kept; the burshes were in a glass case—only Mr. Hollyer and Mrs. Davis helped in the shop—it was a warehouse at Snow Hill, and a large stock was kept there—three boys and a man were employed there, and Mr. Isles conducted the retail business there—I used to tell what they were, but Cornell told him, and he told him that I was him brother; he did not tell him because he was out all day—I never opened a parcel at the Old Bailey—no one laying hold of a parcel would know what was in it unless they were brushmakers—I also took some distempers and sash tools—none of them had Mr. Biessbarth's name on them, but these distemper burshes were marked "Warranted 12oz."
Re-examined. They had red round them when I took them; they are now black, and the "Waranted 12 oz." has been altered to "Warranted all hair."
THOMAS CORNELL (the Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this charge—I first knew Slaughter at Holley and Parkes's two and a half years ago—I was in the same employment—I left just before Christmas, 1879—I knew that he was afterwards in Mr. Biessbarth's employ—I knew Studd about five years ago; he was an oilman in the Blackfrairs Road—I had a conversation with Slaughter when he was in Mr. Biessbarth's employ in Victoria Buildings, and he brought me some brushes, which I sold to a person at the Angel, Islington—he then brought me some more, which I sold to a person at Euston Station—he used to bring me things once a week, and I received them at the door, and sold them to the same person a Islington—he afterwards brought me property from Snow Hill once or twice a week, which he gave to me at the George public-house, Old Bailey—I was not always there to receive it, and then he used to leave it with the potman, who handed it to me done up in brown paper—the parcels contained brushes of all description—I sold them to Studd—I first began to do so at the latter end of August—he knew where I was; I was then in
the brush line on my own account—when I first took them to him he did not know that they were stolen—I first took him a dozen of the No. 9 English sash tools, and he bought them for 5s.—the fair price for them was 13s. or 14s.—I took him some more next day—he said, "Where do these come from?"—I said, "Biessbarth's"—he said, "Can't you get any distempers; about 2s. 6d. each you know, nicked ones?"—that means stolen—I said, "I will see if I can," and I spoke to Slaughter, who brought me about six distemper brushes, which I took to Studd, who said, "I will give you 12s. for them"—2s. each was a very fair price, being stolen, the ordinary price is 90s. a dozen—I said, "I am quite satisfied," and he gave me 12s. for the six—I went outside and gave Slaughter some money—I afterwards took him six more, for which he gave me 10s.; and then another six, and he gave me 11s. for them; and some camel-hair goods, because he could not get any more distempers—I took him about 200 of those, and asked him if he would buy them—he said that they were no good, but he lent me 4s. on them, and said, "Are you not going to bring any more distempers?"—I met Slaughter and had a further conversation with him, and he brought me some sash tools, which I took to Studd—he took 48 of them, for which he paid me 5s.—the ordinary price is about 3s. 6d. a dozen for the large ones, and 7d. a dozen for the small; the sizes were 6, 7, 8, and 9—I then took him some of these other brushes, a dozen or two at every time—they were then red—he gave me 12s. a dozen; the price of them is 58s.—when I took them to him they had "Warranted all hair" on the handle, and nothing down the centre—I took five or six dozen mops all at once, but he did not buy them; he lent me 4s. on them—I had three dozen back, and he said he could not find any more—I also took him some artists' sable brushes; he did not buy them, but lent me 3s. on them—this continued for five months—that was all that Slaughter brought me from Biessbarth—I told Studd that they were Mr. Biessbarth's property—he said that he had sent some brushes back to Mr. Biessbarth, who was going to summon him for the money, and he said "Give me an invoice, so that I shall be all right if it is found out"—he said, "It does not matter what name," and I gave him an invoice in the name of Bailey; that is my father-in-law's name—he said, "I will keep that in my pocket till it gets dirty, and then I will put it on the file"—I gave it him on 21st February—he said that he took off the mark "Warranted all hair," and put a mark of his own on, and painted the leather part black, upstairs, after the shop was shut up of a night—he said, "If you get stopped outside you will have to look out for yourself"—when I was taken in custody I made a statement to the officer.
Cross-examined. This began in August, 1880, and left off in February, 1881—I did not put down how much he gave me; the price was in proportion to the brushes—the first lot were 12 oz., the next 10 oz., for which he gave me less—I was in business on my own account at 11, Danes Road, Camberwell, when he knew me—I had been there three or four years—I had no partner—I was a brushmaker, and used to get orders to make brushes—I bought from the manufacturers, and sold to the shops—I had a few in stock, and I kept loose hair to make them up—I got these things from Slaughter at Mr. Biessbarth's shop-door—the first lot of things I had I took to Mrs. Samwell, who keeps a hop at the top of John Street Road, near the Angel—I sold them to her; they were sable writers—I took her three lots of things—she had not known me in business, but she knew my
brother; he was also in the brash trade, but not with me—I do not know where he is now; when I last heard of him he was travelling in the brush trade—a widow keeps the shop in Euston Road; I don't know her name; I took her water-colour brushes, but only twice—I never sold things for my brother—I was doing nothing at this time but receiving goods from the boy—I knew he was robbing his master—I have known him for two or three years—I first knew him when he was at Hollyer and Parkes's, employed with me—I left before him—as far as I know he was honest there—I do not know his father or mother—I afterwards heard that he was working at Biessbarth's—I met him accidentally, and then I asked him if he could get me some brushes, which he did.
WILLIAM DAVIS . I am potman at the George public-house, Old Bailey—in May, 1880, I made Cornell's acquaintance—I knew Slaughter by his coming as Cornell's brother—Slaughter used to leave parcels with me, to be kept till the evening, when Cornell came, and I gave them to him—that went on nearly every day for four or five months.
Cross-examined. I did not know what they were till the latter end of the time, when I found a small parcel broken, and saw that they were camel-hair brushes—I had no idea that anything was wrong.
JULIUS BIESSBARTH . I am a brushmaker, of 7, Snow Hill, trading as Biessbarth and Son—in July last I supplied Studd with some brushes; he sent them back, and I refused to receive them—I sent this invoice with them (for 3l. 19s. 2d.)—he has never paid for them—I did not see him personally—Slaughter was in my employ for 15 or 16 months, and left on 16th February—I did not know that he was taking brushes away from my premises to Cornell—in consequence of information I sent Isles into Studd's shop, and he returned with a brush with with my mark on it—next morning, at 9.30, Slaughter came and made a statement in my presence which was taken down in writing—I then got a search warrant, and went with the officer to Studd's shop, where we found some distemper and some camel-hair brushes, and also the brushes which he bought, which are on the invoice—this is a list of what we found—the value of what we found at his two premises and at the pawnbroker's is about 20l.—I identify it; I never sold this property to Studd—these brushes were red when they left my premises, and I can still trace the red underneath the black—"Warranted" was on them when they left my premises, and not "Warranted all hair"—that has been put on afterwards—I found three dozen distempers at Barnett's, the pawnbrokers—the mark "Warranted 12 oz.,"had been taken off, and "Warranted all hair" put on the handle—at the shop in Blackfriars Road Studd produced this invoice for 3l. odd, and said that these were the goods—Cornell was never in my service—the property produced by Middleton was all taken from my premises.
Cross-examined. I swear these distemper brushes are my property; I know them by their appearance and make—I sell from 150 to 200 dozen in a year—mine is one of the largest businesses in the trade—there may be three or four as large as mine—I know this brush by the mark 6.0. on the handle and by the ring; 6.0 means the size—other makers would make that size; but I know it also by the stamp; perhaps I should not swear to the make alone without the mark—4.0. is the size most sold—this is the brush Isles showed me—I know it by the marking and I have kept it all
the time—I have just got it from him; I swear to it by the mark and the stamp "J. B." being on the handle; those are my initials—I sell, perhaps, 1,000 dozen of those in a year—I never sold any of them to Studd—I never saw this letter before—I never saw a letter which Studd sent with the goods when he sent them before—Hollyer was my traveller who would call on Studd—he is not in my service now; I do not know where he is—he never brought me money from Studd on account for the brushes, or made any communication to me about them—Hollyer left my service about two months after I sold Studd the goods, and I have not seen him since—I discharged him because I was rather doubtful about his honesty.
— NICHOLS. (Police Sergeant M). On Saturday, 12th March, I went with Sergeant Harvey and Mr. Biessbarth to Studd's shop in Blackfriars Road; Harvey said "We are two police sergeants, and this is a gentleman from Snow Hill who has had some brushes stolen from his place; have you any of the brushes?"—Studd said "No"—Harvey said "We have a warrant to search your premises and if we find any brushes belonging to this gentleman you will have to go to the station"—he said "I have some brushes I bought of Thomas Panel or Bailey; I don't know where he lives; I know his brother, who is in the brush trade"—he took down two brown paper parcels, opened them, and Mr. Biessbarth said that they contained his brushes—Studd said that he had pledged some, and that he had got the tickets on his file, and a man named Coulter, of 43, West Square, had sold some for him—Inspector Fox then came, and I handed him the agreement; this is it (produced)—Fox and Harvey searched the premises, and I was left with Studd, who said "I hardly know what to say to this; will it be best to say that I bought the brushes or that I lent money on them?"—I said "I can't advise you; whatever you do say I shall have to repeat before the Magistrate"—he said "Oh, because I have lent Cornell money"—I afterwards took Cornell.
Cross-examined. We consider Mr. Bamett's a respectable house.
MATTHEW FOX . (Police Inspector). I searched Studd's place with a warrant, and found a quantity of brushes and other articles, which the prosecutor identified—I asked Studd if he had any vouchers or receipts for them—he said "No"—I said "Have you any entry in your books?"—he said "I do not think I have"—it is an oil and colour shop.
RICHARD TILTMAN . Within the last eight months I have bought brushes of Coulter; on the first occasion I bought six at 3s. 3d. each; these are they (produced)—at the same time I ordered two more half-dozens, which were delivered; this is one of them; they are larger; I gave 6s. each for them; they are 12 oz., and I gave 3s. 9d. for some 9 oz.
Cross-examined. I have known Coulter a good many years as a respectable man; he told me that he got them from Mr. Studd, and showed me an invoice—there was no such difference in the price as to make me suspicious, because I get twelve months' credit off the invoice price; I paid cash—I knew Studd in the trade for some years carrying on a respectable business.
WILLIAM CRUMP MIDDLETON . I am an oil and colour merchant of 195, Westminster Bridge Road—on November 30th I bought some goods of Coulter and paid him 1l. 16s. 6d. for them I believe; this is the invoice—on 28th February I bought another lot of him for 17s. 6d.; this is the invoice—I have produced the goods and showed them to Mr. Biessbarth.
Cross-examined. I bought all the brushes—Coulter, 43, West Square,
appears on the invoice; he is a general dealer, and I believe him to be a respectable man—I have known him 18 months or two years—I gave a fair price.
J. BIESSBARTH. (Re-examined). Those brushes marked 12oz. I sell at 5s. or 5s. 6d. wholesale—the price to a retail man would be 6s. 6d.
GEORGE HARVEY . (Police Sergeant M). On 12th March I went with Fox to Studd's shop, and in a cellar under the shop found a quantity of oil and varnish—I went to Wylie and Francis's factory and saw a man named Mitchell, who was in their employment—I showed Mr. Francis eight or nine brushes which were found on Studd's premises.
HENRY JOHN FRANCIS . I am a white lead and colour manufacturer, of Great Suffolk Street—a man named Mitchell was in my employ, he had the charge of apart of my premises—on 12th March Sergeant Harvey fetched me to Studd's shop, and I identified, I believe it was, 12 varnish cans which had been stolen from me—they had not been sold—to the best of my belief it was varnish which was in them, they were labelled varnish.
Cross-examined. They were marked with a green label, which had on it "Pale oak varnish," and on others, "Oak varnish," my name was not there—I was a traveller in the business down to May, 1880, and then came in as a partner; the partnership continued to August, since when I have been in business on my own account; one of the partners is now in Scotland and one at Hampton; they superintended the business at that time, and Mitchell was in their employ—I paint all my cans this colour, but I only identify them by the labels; I made them when I took the place, I have one of them here (produced)—it was the "Harrow Paint and Colour Company" when I took it, and I took over the stock—when the old cans are not fit to repair we get anybody to take them away, or give them to a dustman—I gave away about 20 or 40 when I took the business, I gave them to Mitchell to give away—he is a colour-grinder, he had authority to sell things for cash at times, there are cash sales over the counter—I have no stock book to show the number of cans he gave away, they all leaked or bulged—I do not know whether Studd has bought them from Mitchell—I did not hear that he was anxious to return goods which he had bought of Mitchell—Mitchell was practically manager when I was out of the way, if anybody came in—my wife was in the business in the front shop—the two businesses are entirely separate—she looked after the retail business—they do not sell anything wholesale unless I am there, because of the prices—Mitchell would not know the prices unless I was there—I bought the varnish from wholesale houses in casks and filled the cans—Charles Turner and Sons, varnish manufacturers, of Broad Street, Bloomsbury, and High Street, Whitechapel, are a highly respectable firm.
Re-examined. This is the proper label for my varnish, it is on the ordinary cans—the address is cut away from the label round the varnish found on Studd's premises—this large label was used by the old firm—I have used small labels since I have been in business.
WILLIAM JOHN MITCHELL . I was a colour-grinder in Mr. Francis's employ—I stole some varnish from him and sold it to Studd—some time last summer he asked me if I could do anything with him on the cross,
making signs with his fingers—I said, "What do you mean?'"—he said, "Anything you have got up to 100l. worth I can take," and he gave me a sovereign—I then took some oil lamps and varnish—I sometimes took them to him, and sometimes he sent his boy for them.
Cross-examined. Mr. Francis improved my position—I was to sell anything retail in his absence; I did not sell wholesale; it is principally retail business; the wholesale was done while he was there—before that I was at Captain Isley's; that is the same firm—I gave away as many cans as I could pack away on a costermonger's barrow, a chap goes about the street and collects them—Studd bought some barrels of me, and paid Mr. Francis for them—I put some of the labels on them, not all—two or three of us, and the boy and the mistress, helped to label the cans—I took them to Studd, sometimes in the evening and sometimes in the morning, and sometimes he sent his boy down—I gave him no invoice—Hatfield's supplied Mr. Francis with varnish—I took Studd cans the last time, I think, some time in November, but I have no memorandum—it was three gallons of varnish which he paid 9s. for, and there was some a week or a fortnight before that—I used to sell the varnish in the shop for 7s. 6d., 8s., and 10s. a gallon retail—the buyer is supposed to pay so much on the can, and when he returns it he gets his money back.
STUDD received a good character.— GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude . CORNELL— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
NOT GUILTY .
The COURT. having read the depositions, was of opinion that there was no case to go to the Jury, upon which MR. HORACE AVORY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PUBCELL. Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Yeans' Penal Servitude. There were two other indictments against the prisoner for like offences .
MR. BESLEY. Prosecuted; MR. HICKS. Defended.
WALTER BRADFIELD . (Policeman W 217). On the afternoon of Easter Monday, 18th April, about 2.45, I was on duty at Tooting Common—I saw the prisoner with his two younger brothers; I saw him behind a furze bush, and saw him stoop down and throw a lighted match into the furze—I went across to him, and he ran away with his two brothers
when he saw me making to him—I called to him, and he stopped; I caught him, and asked what he had done it for—he said, "I only done it for a lark, just to see how the furze would burn; I did not think it would burn at it did, but I have done it, and I must get out of it as well as I can "—I don't know what amount did burn; I did not see it afterwards.
Cross-examined. I was about 60 yards off when I first saw the three boys—I saw them standing by the side of the furze bush—I did not see a woman speak to them—the prisoner stopped when he found I was gaining on him—I did not say to him, "I suppose you have done it for a lark"—he did not say that he found a match in his pocket and lit it, and that it burnt his fingers and he dropped it—the younger brother pulled out a box of matches from his waistcoat pocket—on the way to the station the prisoner kept on saying, "I am very sorry I have done it"—he did not say he did not do it on purpose—he said, "We have been always working with father till to-day; he let us out, being a holiday; we did not mean to get into such a scrape as this"—I don't know the boy; I have not made inquiries about him.
WILLIAM COVINGTON . I am senior keeper of Tooting Common—I saw the furze alight; it burnt very furiously—it was beaten out in about a quarter of an hour by about 20 persons—about one-eighth of an acre was burnt—it was very old furze, and the wind was blowing furiously.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate "I did not say I done it for a lark, and I did not run away; he called me, and I stopped."
GUILTY .— Five Days' Hard Labour and Whipped .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SMYTHIES. Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY. Defended.
THOMAS JONES . I am a general dealer, of 9, King's Place, Crossley Bow, Borough—my right name is Thomas Anderson—on Thursday, 14th April, about 11.20 p.m., I was going home with my basket, and the prisoner followed me into Redcross Street and knocked me down, I do not know whether with his fist or with anything else; he jumped on me, and said "You beast, give me your money, or if not I will have your life"—he tore my pocket to pieces, and took 6s. 9d. from it—there was a strong light over the spot; no one else was there—I afterwards picked him out at the station from a number of men.
Cross-examined. I go by the name of Jones because the mistress I was married to disgraced me, it is not because I do not want the police to know my right name—I have never been charged with receiving stolen property—I know Baxter, a salesman of Billingsgate Market, by dealing there—I deal in anything I can buy, but not in stolen property—I know nothing about receiving stolen property from Baxter—I have worked all my life, I never was thieying—I had been selling whelks, and I had some in my basket and some dishes; I shan't answer you any more—I sold them in the Old Bailey; you want me to swear to a lie, but I shan't answer you any more, if I was to speak to you for a month you would keep on contradicting me; I have got no schooling—I had never seen the prisoner before, but I can swear to him from a thousand—it was not I who attacked him—it was my own hard money, what I had worked for.
CAROLINE JONES . I am living with the last witness—on Thursday night, 14th April, I was called to Crossley Row, and saw the prisoner struggling with my old man, and hitting him on the nose with his fist; he knocked him down—I did not hear him make any remark—he took me by my hair and threw me against the wall—there were two men with him, and one of them took him away, but I did not recognise him—I was not there at the first of it, and did not see them strike him.
Cross-examined. I expect I said before the Magistrate that I was the prosecutor's wife—I have been unfortunate lately—I gave myself this black eye, I fell down on a tub against a wooden balustrade in my house—Mrs. Clark lives next door, and I wash for her—it was not Jones who gave me this black eye; I think I could do him, I am the better horse; he has no occasion to give me black eyes, he is too young—I have known him about 15 years, and sometimes I have lived with him; he goes by my name—I did not see the prisoner knock him down till he knocked him down the second time—they were in the gutter when I went up—he had been out from 4 o'clock till 11—he always stands in the Old Bailey on Saturday and on Thursday nights with a basket—I know Mr. Baxter, of Billingsgate, he can give me a good character—I saw one other man, but I could not recognise him in the excitement—I know Emma Clak and Rebecca Parsons, Clark lives in the same house with me, and Parsons next door.
EMMA CLARK . I am a boot repairer, of King's Place, Crossley Road—on 14th April, between 11.15 and 11.30, I was going out to fetch my supper beer, and saw the prisoner knock Jones down, and beat him about and rifle his waistcoat pockets; he said "You beast, if you don't give me that money I will murder you," and he gave me a very heavy threat, and said he would serve me the same if I interfered—I had never seen him before, but I will swear he is thejnan—I picked him out from among 30 men.
REBECCA PARSONS . I am the wife of John Parsons, of 9, King's Place, Crossley Square—on Thursday night, 14th April, between 11.15 and 11.30, I was in Crossley Row, and saw Jones lying on the ground and the prisoner on top of him, rifling his waistcoat pockets and kicking him—Mrs. Jones went up to protect him, and he caught hold of her hair, and threw her to the ground, and said "I will take your two b—lives "—I never saw him before, but I can recognise him.
THOMAS PICKALS . (Police Sergeant M) I took the prisoner on 16th April, Good Friday having intervened—I called him out of the Fountain public-house, and said "I shall take you to the station for identification for assaulting and robbing a man in Crossley Bow on Thursday night"—he said "I know nothing of it; I am glad to think you have come before I got the drink in me, or I might have done something I should be sorry for afterwards"—he was placed with nine others, and Jones and Parsons picked him out, and next day Emma dark picked him out at the Court—when the charge was read over to him he said "I know nothing of it, I was not there."
GUILTY **.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
a pint of Spanish nuts for 1d.; he gave me a half-crown, and I gave him a florin and 5d. change, and he left—I put it with 10s. worth of shillings and sixpences on the shelf; there were no half-crowns or florins—my father found it was bad in the evening—it was marked in my presence, and I afterwards gave it to the policeman—the prisoner came again on the 13th, and picked up two halfpenny oranges—I recognised him—he gave me a half-crown—I found it was bad, and sent for a constable—I then said that I should give the prisoner in charge, as he had been there on Monday; he said that he was not near the shop—this is the half-crown.
WILLIAM ARMSTRONG . (Policeman L 92) On 13th April, about 1.30, the prisoner was given into my custody—I took him back to the shop to search him, and young Mr. Lees said "He was here on Monday, and gave a bad half-crown"—the prisoner said that he was not there on the Monday—I received these two half-crowns from young Mr. Lees.
Prisoner's Defence I deny being in the shop on the Monday.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted of a like offence.
HENRY WARD . I am principal warder of Wandsworth Prison—I produce a certificate of the prisoners conviction (This certified the conviction of George Davies at this Court in March, 1880.) The prisoner is the man; this (produced) is his photograph—I swear positively to him.
GUILTY.— Two Years' Hard Labour .
522. HARRIET UNDERWOOD (25) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post letter; also to receiving another post letter, containing a half-sovereign and 84 postage stamps, of H.M.'s Postmaster-General— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
MR. GRIFFITHS. Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY. Defended.
CHARLES WILLIAM WISE . I live in the Westminster Bridge Road—on Saturday, 12th April, I was in the Borough Road, opposite the British Schools—my hat was blown off; I went to pick it up and fell—the prisoner and a woman came up to me—the prisoner said, "I hope you are not hurt"—I said, "No, thank you; I am not"—he said, "Shall we dust you down; we are close at home?'—I said, "No, thank you, I am close at home"—my knee was hurt, but I walked away—I rested against a tree and rubbed it—I walked 30 or 40 yards and suddenly found the prisoner on one side of me, and the woman on the other—he said, "You had better let me assist you home"—I said, "Thank you for your assistance, I do not require any thing further," and almost immediately he struck me on my mouth, knocking me down, and, snatching my chain, he made off—Shaw brought him back—my watch was safe, as the swivel was defective, and gave way—I have not seen the chain since; it cost 5l. 15s. some years ago.
Cross-examined. I had only had a glass of stout—it was a dark night, and it was rather dark near the schools—I am positive of the prisoner; I remember his features well—I saw him come from the public-house with
the woman—he had a billycock hat—no light fell on his face—I saw him next when he was brought back by a constable, who said, "Is this the man who assaulted you?"—I said, "Yes"—I did not pick him out—he was apprehended almost on the spot—the woman was not taken—she was short and stout—there is no mistaking the prisoner; I recognise him by his general appearance.
Re-examined. I was not in the slightest degree tipsy—I have not the slightest doubt that the prisoner is the man—I received a violent blow which cut my lip and loosened a tooth, which has since come out—my lip is not well yet.
By MR. LEVEY. I had no injury to my face until he struck me—I did not knock him on the kerb or with my umbrella.
LORENZO SHAW . On 2nd April I lived in Fulham Road, Newington—on that night I was going down the Borough Road and saw Mr. Wise; the prisoner had one of nis arms and a woman the other—I suspected them, and followed for a yard or two, and put my hand on Wise's shoulder, and said, "What is the matter?" I spoke twice to the prisoner, and he made no answer—I have no doubt he is the man—I said, "Don't drag him along; let him rest awhile"—I looked back and saw the woman walking away, Wise on the ground, and the prisoner over him—I said, "Let us help him up"—he said, "No; if he does not choose to get up, let him stop where he is," and walked away—a little boy spoke to me as the prisoner turned the corner—I followed him and sent the boy for a policeman, who came—I stopped the prisoner—he is the same man; the policeman and I took him back to Wise, who gave him in charge—I had seen him strike Wise on the mouth, and he drew his hand back as Wise was falling.
Cross-examined. I had been to the theatre—Wise seemed lame; he seemed to drag one leg along as they were leading him—I do not think he was sober—I thought he had got a clout in the month, and was silly for a moment—lie looked as if he had got a severe knocking about—I had never seen him before; it was a very dark night; it Was 11.20—Wise was bleeding from his month—he appeared to have had a fall—they let him fall suddenly at the corner of Mansfield Street purposely—I was two or three yards behind them—Mount joy brought him back—I did not pick the prisoner put from others, but I never lost sight of him.
CHARLES MOUNTJOY . (Policeman). On the evening of the 2nd April a little boy spoke to me, and I went to Mr. Shaw—the prisoner was walking five yards from him—I followed him, and saw Shaw catch him, and I and Shaw took him back to Mr. Wise, whose mouth was bleeding, but he did not appear much hurt—he was sober.
Cross-examined. From Wise's appearance I think he had had a struggle—the prisoner said "I know nothing at all about it"—I arrested him about 30 yards off—Wise did not seem to be suffering from drink—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found 8s. 10d. loose in his pocket—I took good care that he did not pass anything away.
GUILTY He then PLEADED GUILTY**†to a conviction in March, 1876, at Newington.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 23RD, 1881.