CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
McARTHUR, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) 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, Oct. 17th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
838. CHARLES SEPTIMUS KENT (40), WILLIAM HAYES (60), JAMES MAYERS, ALFRED LEESON , and THOMAS ROBINSON were indicted for unlawfully obtaining various sums of money by false pretences. Other counts, for conspiring to defraud.
KENT, MAYERS, and LEESON PLEADED GUILTY to the conspiracy counts.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, MEAD, and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
ALBERT STEADMAN . I am a bootmaker at Oxtead, Surrey—in September, 1880, the prisoner Robinson called on me, and asked me to become a member of the London and Provincial Mercantile Society, at, 48, Bedford Row—I paid him a subscription of 25s., and he said he would send me a subscription card—on 18th September I received these cards; one is headed "The London, Provincial, and Foreign Mercantile Association. Office, 48, Bedford Row." Signed, "Thomas Robinson, Secretary"—the other is "London and Provincial Mercantile Agency, established for the protection of bankers, merchants, and traders." Signed, "Mr. Robinson, Provisional Manager"—they were enclosed in this letter, signed "T. Robinson, Manager"—Robinson called on me after that, and I gave him the names of persons who owed me money—Haynes, of Brighton, was one; his debt was something over 20l.—after that visit, on 22nd November, I received a P.O.O. for 4l. from Haynes directly—on the evening of the next day Robinson called; I advised them by letter on the 22nd that I had received this money, and I had this answer on the morning of the day on which he called; it is dated November 22nd, from 48, Bedford Row. (Read: "Yourself and Haynes,—This man is served with a writ; return him the post-office order, or you will be charged with the solicitor's costs. Accounts placed in our hands must not be interfered with by the subscribers. W. R. H.") When Robinson called on the 23rd he said he had come about the 4l. I had received from Haynes, and he said I had better hand him over the 4l. as Haynes had been served with a writ, and I must not interfere, and I handed him the 4l.,
and he gave this receipt—after that Robinson never called on me again—I wrote to him, and went to the office several times—I had several answers, stating that they would pay on the settling day—they had got other moneys of mine; subsequently I went to Bedford Row, and saw Hayes there; he said he would send me a debtor and creditor statement of the moneys they had received, and that I should have the money on their settling day—I have never received a penny of the 4l., or of any other money they got for me—they got about 35l. from creditors of mine, I believe—there was about 200l. which I put into their hands—I thought the society was all right, as I saw the names of other tradesmen in the neighbourhood, and I thought I should be all right—I afterwards saw Haynes, and then applied to the Surrey Petty Sessions at Godstone for a warrant, on which Robinson was arrested at Canterbury—they agreed to collect my debts at 21/2 per cent.; they brought me in their debt 5l. 14s. 6d., and wrote me a letter demanding it.
Cross-examined by Robinson. You said that I should be charged with solicitor's costs if I interfered—I did not know it had gone into the solicitor's hands—I gave you an acceptance from Haynes, of Brighton, for you to sue upon; the amount was something over 20l.—I did not propose that you should take the 4l. to go towards paying the solicitor's costs; the 4l. had nothing to do with the acceptance—I forget if I sent Mr. Haynes a receipt for the 4l.—I have no recollection of consulting Messrs. Rogers and Kent, the solicitors, prior to the meetings of Haynes's creditors—you introduced me to Mr. Kent as your solicitor—I knew that some of my creditors were paying money into the office prior to my receiving this 4l., but I never had it—I received a letter from Messrs. Rogers and Kent relative to the meeting of creditors of Mr. Haynes—I knew that they were acting as solicitors to your office—I have received about 30s. from one of my creditors, but I never received any from your office—I don't know who holds the 20l. acceptance now; I have not seen it since I gave it to you—I did not see it produced at the meeting of creditors in Rogers and Kent's office—I have not received 6l. 13s. 4d. from Mr. Dyer—I know no one of the name of Peck—I did not try all I could to get these sums before I put them into the hands of the agency—I only wrote to them for them—Mr. Mann still owes me money—I had about 30s. of Mr. Parkes's, and I think I had a few shillings of Mr. Roffey—I have never received a halfpenny from your office—I have two of your receipts for money that you received from my customers—I have since placed some of my accounts in the hands of Mr. Rogers, and have got some of the money, not through your agency.
Re-examined. The two receipts are for money received from Mr. Dow, of Walthamstow, and Mr. Stenning, of Godstone.
ALBERT ERNEST HAYNES . I am a bootmaker, of George Street West, Brighton—I was indebted about 20l. to Mr. Steadman—on 22nd November, 1880, I sent him a post-office order for 4l. off that debt—I had not before that received any communication from any debt-collecting society in Bedford Row—no writ has been issued against me by any one.
Cross-examined by Robinson. I was not applied to by anybody relative to Mr. Steadman's debt—I paid 1l. to Mr. Kent, an agent in Brighton, that was a long time after the 4l.—that was before the meeting of creditors;—I did not receive any acknowledgment for the 4l. from Mr. Steadman—I wrote to him, and he said he had placed the account in
your hands, and he expected you would send the receipt—I did not get one—the result of the meeting of creditors is that the estate has been sold.
THOMAS POPPLEWELL . I am a draper at Watsford, Essex—on 24th April, 1880, I saw Robinson at my house; he asked me to subscribe to his office, the London, Provincial, and Foreign Mercantile Agency, for collecting debts, 48, Bedford Row—he said the terms were 25s. a year—I agreed to subscribe for six months, and paid him 12s. 6d., and he gave me this receipt—I afterwards wrote to the office giving Robinson four debts to collect—a few days afterwards he called for the remainder of the year's subscription, that was after I had received one sum—I gave him another 12s. 6d.—I recommended the society to a friend named Wybrow, and I paid 12s. 6d., a six months' subscription, for him—Robinson gave me this card to give to Wybrow; I did so, and Wybrow gave me a list of persons who owed him money—I handed that to Robinson—among them was 13l. due from Grimes, of Prittlewell—I also recommended him to Mr. Bollick and Mr. Lockwood and several others, and I received letters from Robinson enclosing subscribers' cards for them—the agency only collected one sum for me, and that was paid to me by the customer—I received none through them—I made several applications on Wybrow's behalf both at 48, Bedford Row and afterwards at 11, Newgate Street; I there saw Hayes—I told him I had come about a letter that Wybrow had received demanding 2l. odd—he said it was quite right; it was for subscriptions due—I said I thought it was all wrong, and that it was wrong from the beginning, and unless they paid over to me the money they had collected for Wybrow I should put it in my solicitor's heads—Hayes said it was all right; that they had not had time to go through the books, but they would do so, and see if it was all right, and would write me in a few days—he said he knew nothing of Robinson, only he had taken the business over from him—I had mentioned Bobinson's name.
Cross-examined by Robinson. 2l. 10s. was one of the sums I received through your application—I was never applied to from the office for that 2l. 10s. or for any commission.
JAMES WYBROW . I formerly lived at Watsford and was a neighbour of Mr. Popplewell's—he gave me a card of the London and Provincial Foreign and Mercantile Agency, and I gave him a list of debts that I wanted collected, among them Mr. Grimes for 13l. 10s—I never received anything—I paid 12s. 6d. as a half year's subscription, and had their receipt for it—on 2nd May I received a letter signed W. H. Powell and Co. demanding 2l. 10s. as a subscription—I did not send it.
JOHN GRIMES . I am a labourer at Prittlewell, Essex—in May last I owed Mr. Wybrow about 13l.—I received a letter about it, and afterwards Robinson called on me, and I paid him 10s. on account of that debt—he gave me a receipt on the back of the letter—I was to pay 10s. monthly—sent a post-office order for 10s. to 48, Bedford Row—my wife sent the letter.
ELLEN GRIMES . I am the wife of the last witness—I sent the post-office order for 10s. to 48, Bedford Row, and received this acknowledgment for it sined "T. Robinson, pro W.B.H."—I did not send any other instalment—I received other letters after that from Bedford Row, but did not sent any more money.
know Robinson, Hayes, and Kent—about two years ago Robinson and a man named Gilpin took the third floor at 48—six months after that Gilpin left, he was supposed to have gone away mad, and Robinson gave me this agreement for the rooms Gilpin had occupied; he afterwards moved to the ground floor and remained there one quarter—while Robinson was there Hayes assisted him for about twelve months or more—while they were there any amount of people came making complaints and kicking up an awful row, saying they were a lot of swindlers, and they could not get the money they had employed them to get—not being able to get rid of them I put the brokers in—Robinson asked me to withdraw them and gave me this I O U for 5l. 11s. 6d.—he has never paid it—I gave him notice to go, and he went with his books to 11, Newgate Street—I have never got any rent—I followed his clerk Hayes to Newgate Street—I there saw Kent, Kennedy, and Hayes—during the last six months there was not much business done in the office as far as I could see—Hayes called for the letters.
Cross-examined by Robinson. I have been landlord of 48, Bedford Row eleven months, but I was agent before that—I have not got the agreement between you and Gilpin—you did not tell me I could let the office—I told you to pay me and take your hook—you said you were going to get your books adjusted and to realise—I never told you that I thought you were working up the agency very well; I always said very different—I have not said that I would do the agency all the harm I could.
WILLIAM STEVENSON . I am a grocer, of High Street, Croydon—on 14th January, 1879, Leeson called on me and asked me to join the London and Manchester Mercantile Agency, at 11, Newgate Street, and gave me this card—I hesitated and then said I would join and gave him a cheque for two guineas—I did not give a list of debtors, only a subscription.
SAMUEL ATKINSON . I know Mayors and Leeson; at their solicitation I became a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office, and subscribed two guineas—I gave them a list of debtors—I never got any money from them.
JAMES COLLINS . I am a harness maker, of Ditchland, Sussex—I know Mayers—I saw him and became a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office, at 11, Newgate Street, and subscribed one guinea—they collected debts for me—Stevenson and Norman were two people who paid them—I never received any money.
JOHN STONEHAM , of Ditchlndg. I know Mayers and Leeson—I became a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office, 11, Newgate Street, and subscribed one guinea—I gave a list of debts to collect—I never received any money, nor did I ever go to the office.
FRANK HOLMDEN . I know Lesson—on 29th March, 1881, I became a subscriber to the London and Manchester Mercantile Office—I paid him one guinea and gave him a list of debts to collect—I received a statement from one of my debtors, Gander, who owed me 20l.—Leeson said he had collected 1l. from Gander and 5s. from another man named Short—I saw an account of Mayers's apprehension in the paper and
communicated to the police—they received from me the guinea subscription and 1l. 6s. besides.
JAMES ROBERTSON . I am a butcher, living at Hardingly—I became a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office at the solicitation of Leeson and Mayers, and paid three guineas subscription—I gave a list of debts but never received any money—I don't Know if they collected any.
EDWIN GODSMARK . I am a coal merchant—I know Mayers and Leeson—I saw them both on 5th April, 1881, and Mayers first asked me to become a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office—I subscribed two guineas and gave them a list of debts—I never received any money from them, but I know they collected 1l. 2s. 6d. for me.
GEORGE CLAYTON NEWINGTON . I am a draper and grocer, at Balcombe—on the 9th April, 1881, I became a member of the London and Manchester Mercantile Office, and subscribed one guinea—I never gave a list of debts to collect, and I never got my money back.
EDMUND BOLTON . I am clerk to John Tann, of 11, Newgate Street—the prisoners Kent and Hayes occupied an office on the first floor of that house, first as the London and Manchester Mercantile Office and afterwards as Powell and Co.—the name was altered about six months from the time they took it—I saw Hayes and Kent there constantly—they were in attendance up to the time of their being taken into custody.
BERTRAM CAISER . I am a solicitor's clerk—in February last year I answered an advertisement, and was engaged by Kent as a canvasser for his society at 11, Newgate Street—he gave me a number of cards similar to this one produced for me to go round and canvas—I was to have 75 per cent, on the first year's subscriptions, but I was not to touch the money, and they would send for it—I canvassed for about a fortnight, but found everybody round was calling us swindlers, so I went to the office—Kent, who was called Powell at first, and Turner by Hayes, was there, and I told him that everybody was calling him a swindler—he told me to take no notice, but to try again, and he would give me my expenses—I never got any money.
SAMPSON FOSTER (Detective Sergeant). Prior to 23rd May I received a great number of complaints with regard to this office in Newgate Street—having been several times before and unable to get in, I went on 23rd May and found the door was shut—on the door was "Kent, accountant"—the name of Powell and Co. was on the first floor as well as on the zinc plate at the bottom—I opened the door and saw Hayes at the desk—I asked if I could see Mr. Powell—he asked me what my business was, and said "Mr. Powell is not at home"—I told him I could not tell my business until I saw Mr. Powell—I then said "Are you Mr. Powell?"—he said "No, I am not; what is your business?"—I said "My business is with Mr. Powell"—he said "Are you a subscriber?"—I said "No, I am not; I have called here to see Mr. Powell on two or three occasions"—he said "Mr. Powell is away, and not likely to be here for a fortnight or so; I cannot say when"—I then heard a movement behind a small partition—I looked over and saw the prisoner Kent, and said "Oh, there is Mr. Kent; he can answer any question that I want to know"—I spoke to Kent; he lifted up the counter, and asked me in—he said "Oh, you are Foster"—I said "Yes, I am; I have two men in custody, and I want to Know something about them"—Leeson
and Mayers were the two men—I asked him how long he had known Leeson—he said he had known him for some considerable time—he said he had only known Mayers since the 9th April—I said "Well, you must have known them longer than that or else I have been deceived"—he said "Well, I have known them, but not in those names"—Kent said "Both of those men, Leeson and Mayers, have been in Sussex, and have got 10l. or 12l. out of a sum of money which they had had there"—before going there I had taken from Mayers and Leeson receipts for subscriptions for 114l. from Sussex collected in five weeks, and he had only received 12l. or 14l.—I asked Kent how long it was since Leeson was there—Kent looked up to Hayes and said "How long was it?"—they hesitated for some time—I said "It is only the 23rd; was he not here on the 17th?"—he turned round and said "Yes, it was"—I then asked him if he had given notice to quit his service—after some more conversation I left—about a month after I went for the purpose of apprehending Kent and Hayes to the same place at 11, Newgate Street, in company with Sergeant Fluister, of the City Police—I had then received numerous complaints with regard to Newgate Street, with regard to Robinson.
Cross-examined by Robinson. I had a great many complaints of people being subscribers to this debt-collecting agency and not receiving any replies, and complaints as to how the business was carried on—there were ten different offices in the City where complaints were made, and on inquiry at those places I found the whole of them were connected together—the Surrey Constabulary complained to me about you, and others as well, that you were connected with the office.
WILLIAM JOHN FLUISTER (City Detective Sergeant). I took Kent into custody at Union Street, Borough, in July—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension—I found some papers on him—I took charge of the office—next morning I took Hayes into custody at 11, Newgate Street—as soon as he opened the doors I said I had a warrant, and read it to him—he said he knew nothing about it—he was taken to the station and charged—that telegram was lying on the mantelshelf in the office, and thousands of letters as well—Robinson was not in custody at that time—I found this agreement there, dated as far back as 1873, by which the business was sold to Robinson for 5s.—at the office I found 43 letters referring to Robinson—I believe Mr. Wontner has the letters; some were satisfactory and some were complaints.
HENRY STEPHEN SMITH . I belong to the Surrey Constabulary—I took Robinson into custody at Canterbury on 15th July—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension—he said it was perfectly true he had received the money from Mr. Steadman, but it was a book debt, and he had a perfect answer to the charge—he also said he had paid Mr. Steadman several sums of money, but he never received any receipts for it—he said his books were at Mr. Kent's, the accountant, at Newgate Street, and that he should expect him to produce them to carry him through, and if he did not he should open on the lot—I searched pieces Robinson, and found these 54 receipts for subscriptions on him—I also found this book, with the counterfoils as they are now, and these cards, "London and Manchester Mercantile Office."
Cross-examined by Robinson. This conversation took place partly at Canterbury and partly coming along.
Hayes in his defence stated that in all he did he was acting as clerk to Kent
and afterwards to Robinson, Robinson in his defence stated that the only money he had received was the 4l. from Mr. Steadman, that the agency was a bond-fide concern as far as he was concerned, and that he had only acted in the outdoor department, not feeling competent to manage the accounts.
ROBINSON. GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
HAYES. GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
KENT.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MAYER and LEESON.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
COLES also PLEADED GUILTY to two other indictments for stealing certain documents whilst employed in the Post-office.—COLES, Seven Years' Penal Servitude. OWEN, Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
841. CHARLES WILLIAM BLACKWELL (24) to stealing three post letters containing postage-stamps whilst in the employ of the Post-office.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 17th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSES. E. LLOYD and LEVEY Prosecuted.
GEORGE GOLDFINCH . I am a butcher, of 205, Victoria Park Road—on 12th September, about 1.30 p.m. the prisoner bought some meat—I was acting as cashier; he gave me a half-crown; I put it in the till where there were only shillings, and gave him 2s. change—the prisoner was brought back about a minute afterwards, and then I found it was bad—he said, "I think it is good"—I said, "It is not good, and I won't take it"—I gave it back to him, and he put it in his purse and gave me two shillings and a sixpence in its place, and went out.
JOHN KING . I keep the Earl of Derby, King Edward Road, South Hackney—on 12th September, about 1.30, Highley (See next case) came in and called for half a pint of ale; the prisoner followed him in; Highley gave me a half-crown—I tried it in the detector; it would not pass through, and I cut it with a pair of champagne nippers and threw it on the counter; it bounded over, and I said, "This is bad"—Highley picked it up, paid me with a good shilling, and left—William Martin was there.
WILLIAM MARTIN . I am a gardener, of Norton Street, Bethnal Green—on 1st September I was at the Earl of Derby, and saw the prisoner sitting behind the door—Highley came in, called for some drink, and gave Mr. King a half-crown, which he cut with a pair of nippers, told him it was bad, and threw it on the counter—it rolled off, and Highley picked it up—directly the prisoner saw that he got up and walked out—I stopped till Highley went out, and then followed him; he met Craddock, and they both went to the Broadway, South Hackney, which is about
200 yards—I saw them in conversation, and saw Highley give Craddock something, who went into Mr. Goldfinch's shop—I communicated with the police—I saw Highley leave the butcher's; he ran, and I chased him with two constables, and saw him go through the two parks and throw something into a shrubbery—there was no communication between them after Highley came out of the butcher's.
JOSEPH CROUCH (Policeman N 200). On 12th September, about 1.30, Martin spoke to me in Broad Street, and I saw the prisoner go into Mr. Goldfinch's—Highley was standing outside the Alexandra Hotel opposite—I saw the prisoner come out, and I spoke to Mr. Goldfinch's foreman outside—Highley then went across the road; Martin and I followed him, and I saw him throw something over some railings in Victoria Park—he was running; I chased him about 200 yards, stopped him, and took him in custody—we met the prisoner on the way to the station, walking from the butcher's; I stopped him, got Kerr's assistance, and took both prisoners to the station—Highley was in such a position as that he could see Craddock, and he could hear—I found on the prisoner two good sixpences, and on Highley 8 1/2 d. in coppers—the butcher's shop is about 200 yards from the Alexandra public-house.
WILLIAM GOODMAN . I am a labourer, of 17, Clinton Road, Mile End—on 20th September I was at work in Victoria Park about 1.30, heard a cry of "Stop thief," and saw Highley running—he threw away a piece of paper; I picked it up, and a half-crown fell out of it, and another man picked up two more—I took them to the station and gave them to Huntley, who marked them in my presence.
The Prisoner called
EDWARD HIGHLEY (in custody). I am a butcher and provision dealer in the London Central Market—I gave Craddock the half-crown he is charged with—he wanted eighteenpence, and I went in to get change to give it to him—Mr. King said that it was bad, and he came out and showed it to me; I said it was a bad job—I was not aware it was bad.
Cross-examined by MR. LLOYD. I decline to say whether I have ever been convicted.
GEORGE GOLDFINCH (Re-examined.) The half-crown did not bounce like a good one, and it had the general appearance of a bad one—it was very similar to these produced—I have taken cash for the last six or eight years.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of feloniously having counterfeit coin in his possession in October, 1875.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
The evidence given in the'last case was read over to the witnesses, to which they assented.
Highley produced a written defence, stating that Craddock paid him for a box of goods, and he went in to get change for a half-crown to pay 1s. 6d. to Craddock, hit did not know that it was bad, that he then looked at
the other coins in his pocket, and finding they were bad threw them away. He received a good character, in reply to which a certificate of his conviction in December, 1873, was put in.
HIGHLEY— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in October, 1869.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
The prisoner stating in the hearing of the Jury that he was GUILTY, they found that verdict. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HEWICK Prosecuted.
ELLEN HISCOKE . My husband is a fishmonger, of 13, Newcastle Street, Strand—on 27th September the prisoner gave me a florin for some fish—I said, "This is a bad one"—he said, "I did not know it; I took it in the street"—I gave him in charge with the florin—two months before that I had served a little girl who gave me a bad florin, and I examined my till and found another—I kept them on the shelf, and gave them also to the constable on 27th September.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. From what the little girl said to me I went out into the street and looked for a lame man—I saw that you were lame on 27th September.
FANNY SMITHERS . I serve in Mr. Hiscoke's shop—I saw the prisoner tender this coin on 27th September, and recognised him as having been in the shop over two months before, when he came in about 11 o'clock for twopennyworth of fish and onepenny worth of potatoes, and paid with a light florin, but I put it in the till; gave him the change, 1s. 9d., and he left—a short time afterwards my mistress showed me another florin, a bad one, and about 20 minutes afterwards a child came in, and I saw her pick up a coin, which I found to be bad—I then went to the till, and found the other was bad—I knew the prisoner was lame with his right leg.
Cross-examined. I took the coin from you 10 weeks ago, and I knew then that you were lame—I don't remember whether it was 10th August but it was two months ago last Thursday fortnight.
Re-examined. I am certain the prisoner is the man who passed the coin two months previously.
SAMUEL WARNER (Policeman E 344). I took the prisoner, and found on him 2s. good, 8d. in bronze, and a pedlar's licence—I told him the charge—he said that the coin was given him in the streets of Woolwich—I examined him, one leg is shorter than the other.
Cross-examined. When you were brought up at Bow Street the little girl said that the man was lame, but she could not identify you, nor could a gentleman who saw you.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I took tile two-shilling piece in the High Street, Woolwich; the others I have no knowlegde of.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he received the florin for some books which he teas selling in Woolwich: and that he was not then on the second occasion, and that the girl said at the station that she was certain he was not the man.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. LLOYD and HEWICK Prosecuted.
LIZZY TINGEY . I am barmaid at the Enterprise, Long Acre—on 20th September, about 11.45, the prisoners came in—one of them asked for a pot of stout and ale—a half crown was laid down—I put it on a ledge at the back of the till, and gave 2s. change—another pot was called for, and Hayes gave me another half-crown—I broke it in the detector, and then examined the other, and found it bad—I marked them and kept the smaller piece of the one I broke, and gave back the other—the doors were closed at 12.30 and a policeman sent for, and when he came I saw White throw something under a seat.
Cross-examined by Jones. You could have left the bar; you did not know that a constable was sent for.
Cross-examined by Hayes. I do not think I could have mistaken another man at the bar, for one of you.
FREDERICK NICHOLLS . I am barman at the Enterprise—I saw the prisoners come in a little before 12; they remained till the house closed—I saw Tingey serve them, and I served them with one pot, but can't say which asked for it, or which paid, or which took the change—I afterwards saw Tingey break a half-crown—the prisoners went to the door, but I was standing there, and had it shut; that was at 12.30—my master went out and brought a constable—White then threw this piece of a half-crown under a seat; I picked it up, and gave it to the constable—the barmaid showed me another half-crown on a shelf—a young man came in and had some supper, and paid with two threepenny pieces and pence.
Cross-examined by White. That man was not there when you came in—I did not see you pull off your scarf and sell it.
Cross-examined by Hayes. You called for the pot which I served, and gave me a good coin, but you gave the barmaid a bad one—you did not try to force your way out.
DANIEL REDMONT (Policeman E 157). The prisoners were given into my custody—White said "What did she want to go and break the money for?"—Jones said "What do they want to do this for? We have been here nearly an hour, and if anything was wrong why could not they have locked us before?"—Hayes said "The money is right enough"—I found 2d. on White.
JOHN CRAWLEY (Policeman E 393). I was with Redmont—I found on Jones two florins, three shillings, and two sixpences in good silver, and 4 1/2 d., and on Hayes 1d. and a knife—Jones said to Hayes "You know you gave the woman the half-crown, what did you go and say you did not for?"—I received this coin from Redmont, and this other from the barmaid.
White's Defence. We had been at the theatre, and spent what we had. We met Jones, who treated us, and then I sold my scarf for 2s. 6d., which I had paid 1s. 6d. for two days before, and lent Hayes 1s. of the money. As soon as Jones paid, a man who was eating some meat ran out. We stayed there till they shut up, and were taken in custody. I did not know the coins were bad.
Jones's Defence. I met these two prisoners, and we went and had some drink. I paid for two or three pots, and this man said "I do not like to see you paying like that, I will sell my handkerchief." A man gave him half a crown for it, and the barmaid broke the coin. He lent Hayes a shilling, which was afterwards broken in the tester. When we wanted to leave the door was closed.
Hayes's Defence. I got the half-crown from White. I had only 1d. when I went in, and neither of us had a half-crown till Jones sold his handkerchief. The barmaid may have mistaken another man for one of us. We had plenty of chance to walk out if we were guilty, but we stopped 25 minutes, till the house closed.
Hayes received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSES. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
HENRIETTA JAMES . The prisoner kept a common lodging-house at 31, Clerkenwell Close, where I had been his servant for six weeks—when I first went there he was living with his wife in a room on the ground-floor level with the street—his wife left him on the Monday previous to 9th September—I saw her go away with some man whom I had never seen before, arm-in-arm, at a quarter to 2 in the morning—the prisoner was then in his house—I told him his wife was gone, and he went out to look for her, and came back in about 20 minutes, and told me he could not find her; she never returned—he was in a strange state after that; he never went to bed all that night—I did not see much of him on the Wednesday or Thursday, but when he came home he seemed very strange—I do not know if he was sober—he used to take more drink than when his wife was at home—I never heard them quarrel—I thought he was all right on the Thursday night—I went to bed at 1.30; he was then up, and very strange in his manner—I could not tell if he had been drinking or not—I got up at 8.30 in the morning; the prisoner was out, and his door was locked, and he had taken the key with him—I don't know when he came back—I heard a noise in his parlour; I thought it was the street-door shut; that was at 10.30 or 11—I came downstairs and tried the door, I found the key in it, and it was locked; I looked through the keyhole, and saw him lying on the bed—the windows of the room look into the street, there are no shutters—I knocked at the door, and called him: he took no notice—I went out to fetch a police-constable—I found one in-uniform, William Phair, and brought him back with me—he knocked at the door; the prisoner answered from the inside "Who's there?" the constable said "A policeman"—he then opened the door, and said "Go out, or I will fire—I ran away from the door, then into Clerkenwell Close opposite—I heard the first shot fired as I got to the door; it hit the door—about three minutes after that I saw Mr. Eagle—I did not see the second shot fired, but I heard the report, and saw Eagle fall—I don't exactly know how near he was to me" when he fell—the door of the house was about 20 yards off, on the same side of the
way—people came to assist him—I had not seen any pistol in the possession of the prisoner before the shot was fired—when Phair went into the room afterwards I saw the pistol lying on the table—what I thought was the bang of a door I now think was the report of a pistol.
Cross-examined. On the Thursday morning the prisoner was not in the house when I got up at 8.30—I only knew by what his wife told me that he had been married two months—he seemed very much attached indeed to his wife, and always treated her very kindly—he was a quiet and peaceable man; I never heard a quarrel or row while I was there—after Mrs. Heavens went away I noticed a complete change in the prisoner's manner, he always seemed to want to be by himself—I heard something like the banging of a door about two minutes before I ran downstairs—the room did not seem dark when I looked through the keyhole—I can't say if there was smoke in the room—when I ran out into the street I stood on the same side as the house, immediately opposite the side door—I was frightened when I heard the shots, and wanted to get out of their way—Mr. Eagle was between me and the doorway, among the crowd which collected on the same side of the street as I was—they came seeing the policeman come, I suppose.
WILLIAM PHAIR (Policeman 20 G R). I was on duty in uniform on 9th September at Clerkenwell Green—some woman came and spoke to me, and in consequence I went to 31, Clerkenwell Close, a common lodging house kept by the prisoner—I got there about 20 minutes to 11—I went to the door of a back room on the ground floor—the passage is about 6 inches above the level of the street—the room door was locked; I knocked, and heard no answer; I tried to shove the door open, but was unable to force it; I made a noise in so doing, and then knocked again—a voice from the inside said "Who's there?" I replied "Policeman"—then he opened the door, and presented a pistol, and said "Get out, or I will fire"—before I had time scarce to move from the door he fired—he was 3 or 31/2 yards from me then; I saw the pistol in his hand; he took it up and pointed it at me; I heard the bullet; it entered the door of the room close to my head, about 4 feet 9 inches or 5 feet from the ground—he was standing inside the room when he fired—after he had fired I stepped back and he advanced into the passage with the revolver in his hand—I tried to back out of the passage into the street—before I had time to get into the street he fired a second shot towards my face; it passed me and hit a man in the street—he said nothing when he fired—he was about one or two yards from the door—I did not see Eagle shot—when he had fired I got to the outer door, with one foot on the pavement, to go out, and he turned and ran out down the passage and some steps, and I followed him; he turned and came back, and I caught hold of his right hand; he had the revolver in it—he said "All right, I will give if up to you quietly," and he gave it up to me—he said "I have got some shots in my pocket, you shall have them"—he took 42 cartridges from his pocket and gave them to me—he said "I hope I have not injured anyone, have I?" I said "I don't know, I believe you have"—then another constable came and he was taken to the station—I then found out that he had injured this Mr. Eagle—I went back with Inspector Bowles to the prisoner's room—I saw the inspector find five empty cartridges in the bedroom, some close to the fireplace, and some behind the bed; and a spent bullet behind the bed—I examined the pistol, and
found it had five barrels; three chambers were loaded, two appeared to have been recently discharged—it appeared to be a new pistol—the prisoner appeared very excited, as if he had been drinking—I could not say whether it was excitement aggravated by drink—he was fully dressed.
Cross-examined. From the door where the prisoner was to the street-door, along the passage, is 9 or 10 feet, perhaps more—I backed out with my face towards him; both our faces were in the same line as far as I could judge—he pointed the pistol directly at me—I afterwards saw the spot where Eagle fell, it was pointed out to me; it would be almost in a direct line with us two; it was right opposite the door, I believe—I said at the police-court that the prisoner showed great regret, and made a statement, I believe to the inspector, about his wife having run away with another man—the prisoner was an utter stranger to me, I had never seen him before.
By the JURY. When the prisoner fired at me he was looking straight at my face.
THOMAS MARTIN . I am a labourer, and live at 31, Clerkenwell Close—about 10.30 on the morning of 9th September I was in bed, and heard two shots fired—I came downstairs and saw Phair in the passage—I looked through the keyhole of the parlour door, and saw the room full of smoke—Phair knocked at the door—the prisoner said "Who's there?" Phair said "Policeman"—the prisoner then opened the door and said "Stand back, or I will fire," and a shot was fired from the room.
Cross-examined. The house stands back from the street—I have been in the house about two years and a half—the prisoner had been there six or seven weeks.
GEORGE SMITH . I live at 40 Rosoman Street, and am an engraver—I was at Clerkenwell Green and saw the policeman fetched; I followed him and heard a shot fired in the house—I then saw the constable coming backwards, and the prisoner behind him—he fired a revolver at the constable, who seemed to be rather on the right-hand side by the door—Eagle was by my side; I saw him fall—I saw blood on his shirt after the shot was fired—he was between 12 and 15 yards from the door when he fell.
WILLIAM BOWLES (Inspector G). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there in custody on 9th September—he was very excited and appeared to have been drinking—I cautioned him when the charge was made, and he commenced making a statement—I made a note of it at the time—he said "I did not intend to hurt any one; I intended to shoot into the air. I had no animosity against any one. I amuse myself with it. I bought it to shoot my wife with; I intended killing her with it"—he afterwards said he had been married two months, and that his wife had left him about two or three days—I searched the room; there was only only one spent bullet found besides the one in the door, and five empty cartridges—I had him in custody from 11 in the morning till 3.30 in the afternoon—he seemed very calm the latter part of the time.
WALTER JESSOP . I am house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—about 12 o'clock on 9th September Samuel Eagle was brought there—he was in a conscious state, but had lost a good deal of blood—I examined him and found a horizontal wound just below the right nipple, about 3/4 of an inch long, and blackehed; blood and air were coming from
the wound—I attended him till 17th September, when he died—I made a post-mortem examination—the wound was about opposite the fourth intercostal space, just at the nipple—a probe passing through that passed through the next intercostal space, about 3/4 of an inch lower down, and then went into the thorax—the chest was full of blood, the right lung had collapsed—I found the track of the bullet right through the lung—the other organs were perfectly healthy—the wound was the cause of death—we found the bullet lodged in the spine.
REV. MR. OLUTTERBUCK. The deceased Samuel Eagle was the verger of my church.
GUILTY of manslaughter.—Recommended to mercy by some of the Jurors.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
MARTHA ANN NYE . I am single and live at 19, Graham Street, St. Luke's—I lived there four years with my mother, Martha Nye, a widow, 57 years old; the prisoner, my brother, sometimes lived with us—he has no fixed occupation—we occupied two rooms—on Sunday, 11th September, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I was at home alone in the room with my mother—the prisoner came in; he was neither drunk nor sober—he said to mother "You have been speaking to that woman up the street"—she said "Yes, I have; that woman calls me filthy names; and why should I be called names by her?"—then he called mother a "B—old w—, it was time she was dead"—he said "You have had your day, let me have mine"—he beat my mother on the bed with his fists a good many blows; he hit her on her head and about her body—she was lying on the bed dressed when he first struck her—I stepped in between them and he hit me in the eyes and gave me two black eyes—he then went into the next room and went to sleep—my mother went upstairs to a woman living in the same house—up to that time she had been in good health—she had never had a day's illness—after the assault, on the 11th, she complained to me of pains in her head and limbs—on Saturday night, 17th September, at 11 o'clock, she was in bed undressed, complaining of being ill; at 11.30 my brother came in; he was neither drunk nor sober; he sat down for a few minutes; he suddenly got up from his seat without saying anything and beat my mother with his fists about her head and body a good many times—I tried to prevent him and then he struck me on the head; while I was struggling with him my mother got out of bed and went upstairs in her night dress—I went for a policeman; I saw one, but he said he could not come up, he would be trespassing—all that night the prisoner sat in a chair and went to sleep—my mother complained of her head that night, and next day, Sunday, she was very ill indeed—she complained of pains in her head, she was obliged to keep her bed till 7 o'clock at night, and then a neighbour, Mr. Darrah, took her to Dr. Simpson's surgery—on 20th September she was much worse—the prisoner came home between 10 and 11 o'clock I think—he was neither drunk nor sober—he said "What, aren't you dead yet? it is time you were. You have had your day, and let me have mine. The place belongs to me"—I called in Dr. Simpson—my mother was not
able to get up on the Monday—she got up for a short time on the Tuesday and laid down—on 22nd September I went to Clerkenwell Police-court and took out a summons against the prisoner for assaulting my mother—the summons would be returnable on the 29th—on 20th, September my mother was unable to get up—Dr. Simpson continued to attend her up to the time of her death, and last saw her on Sunday morning, 25th—from the 20th to 25th she had never been up—during the 25th she got much worse, and the prisoner went and fetched another doctor, Dr. Borland—at that time she was in a dying condition, and she died about 1.30 on the morning of the 26th—her life was insured in the Prudential life Office for 14l. 2s.—I never got it—this is the policy—she also had some money in the bank—after the Coroner's verdict of manslaughter against the prisoner, he said to me "I have you to thank for this; I will make you pay for it," and he said "I dare you to touch like money in the bank"—when he was in work he used to give her 12s. a week for her support—from 11th September up to the time of her death he paid nothing at all.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My mother was a healthy woman—she had rheumatism in her hands after washing, but that had nothing to do with her health—I did not begin abusing you when you came home on the 3rd—mother and I were not drunk—I had not been to the young woman up the street abusing her, I never spoke to her in my life—I did not scratch your face, mother did as you pulled her about—my other two brothers were not at home at the time.
RICHARD DARRAH . I live at 19 Graham Street—the deceased occupied two rooms on the first floor, I and my wife lived on the second floor for many years—on Sunday, 11th September, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, we were in our room and heard a noise downstairs—I heard the prisoner's voice cursing and swearing at his mother, and making a great noise for five or ten minutes I should think—I looked over the banisters and saw the prisoner on the first-floor landing with his mother—they were struggling together, trying to get possession of the door, it kept slamming; he being the stronger one mastered his mother and got her between the door and the doorpost—the mother seemed to be forbidding him to go into the room, he was pressing the door against her arm; ultimately they got into the room where the bed was—after that I only heard the swearing going on as usual—Mrs. Nye came up to my room and I saw her arm, it was bruised from the elbow right up to the shoulder, all black and blue—she made a remark to me about it—on the night of the 17th I was in my room at 9 o'clock—I heard the prisoner swearing as usual; he was using very bad language to her: "B—old cow and b—old wh—; rotten old wh—"—I did not see anything done on that night—it was so usual for me to hear that language that I did not stop any longer, I went out—one day in the middle of the week, it was the Tuesday or Wednesday I think after the 17th, I heard him say to her, she was a-bed, "Not dead yet; die, you old b—r, I want your place"—I was upstairs then, I could hear very plainly when the doors were open—I can swear it was the prisoner's voice—during the week she made some remark about the kettle, and he said "You old b—r, I will scald you with this kettle"—I saw the last witness with a black eye first on the Sunday; I heard that she had got it on the Saturday night—I knew Mrs. Nye for four and a half years—she
was a very kind, good-hearted woman, and always enjoyed very good health up to Sunday, 11th; a very strong woman, always went about her work and did it properly—I have lived in that house seventeen years last August—she had lived there about four and a half years—the very first night they came into the house the prisoner-commenced swearing.
HARRIET DARRAH . I am the wife of the last witness—on Sunday, 18th September, I went with the deceased to Dr. Simpson's surgery—she appeared to me to be very ill—she had been complaining a good deal during the day—I saw Martha, and she had a black eye—before the 18th the deceased was in very good health—as far as I can say she was a sober woman—I remember hearing the prisoner say on the 11th that he would scald her, and he ran from one room to the other with the kettle—he was using bad language.
WILLIAM OXLEY (Policeman G 67). About 11th September, at 8.45 at night, Martha Nye came into the street and made a complaint to me—I went to the house, but seeing no assault myself I declined to go upstairs—she came to me again about 10.30 on the 17th and made the same complaint, with the same result.
HENRY ERNEST SIMPSON , M.R.C.S. I live at 169, City Road—on Sunday evening, 18th September, Mrs. Nye was brought to my surgery—she was in a very weak, excited condition, and complained of pains generally about her head, chest, and back—I noticed a little puffiness at the back—I did not strip her and look for bruises—I prescribed for her, and recommended her to get home as soon as possible—on the following day, Monday, the 19th, they sent for me, and I saw her at home—she was in bed, and much worse—I continued to attend her from day to day until Sunday, the 25th—she was in bed the whole of that time; at intervals she sat up—I last saw her about 2 o'clock on the 25th—she appeared to me then to be just dying; she was unable to lie down—I could do nothing more for her—I knew that during the week an application had been made for a summons, and I gave a certificate that she was in a dangerous condition—after the death I made a post-mortem examination on the 27th—all the internal organs except the heart and. lungs were healthy—the left; lung was in a third stage of inflammation—that was of recent date; I should think within eight or ten days—it might result from injury or from other causes—it might arise from direct violence, from external injuries, blows—the other lung was perfectly healthy—the heart was inflamed, and its covering also—the pericardium contained about a pint of serum, the result of the inflammation, which was of recent date, within eight or twelve days, I should say, most certainly—the cause of death was inflammation of the heart and lungs, with effusion into the cavity of the pericardium of about a pint of fluid, that stopped the action of the heart altogether—there was no appearance of any chronic inflammation of the heart—external violence would account for the inflammation of the heart and lungs—from the internal organs she appeared to have been a very healthy woman, well nourished and strong, I should imagine.
By the COURT. By violence I mean either blows or great pressure—assuming that she was a healthy woman, able to go about her work up to the 11th, and that then and on the following Wednesday she was struck about the body, in my judgment those blows would account for what I saw—they were heavy blows—she suffered from chronic rheu;
matism—that would account for a little effusion into the pericardium, but not for the inflammation—there was no effusion into the valves—I saw no external marks of violence on the body—the prisoner called on me on the Sunday she died, the 25th, about 6.30 or 7 o'clock in the evening—he told me he had called at my surgery in the afternoon, and not found me at home, and he had sent for another medical man—he asked me if in the event of her death I would give him a certificate—I thought the question premature, and sent him off—he paid me 4s. 6d. for my attendance on his mother at the time.
JOHN BORLAND , B.M. I live at 12, Colebrook Row, Islington—on 25th September, at 4.45 in the afternoon, I was called by the prisoner to see the deceased, and found her in a state of collapse sitting up on a chair—I caused her to be lifted into bed in the evening—about 11.45 the prisoner fetched me again—the deceased was then sinking—she died about an hour afterwards—the prisoner paid me my fee of 5s.—he said that in struggling to assault his sister he pushed his mother down, and she fell on the bed.
The prisoner put in a written defence, alleging drunkenness and violence on the part of the deceased and his sister, and stating that he had always done his best for his mother's support, and that the injury was caused in the struggle with his sister.
THOMAS SCOPES . I am a coalheaver, of 3, Graham Street, City Road—I was at the prisoner's house with a friend named Tibbits; I can't say the date; it was two or three Sundays before the deceased's death—we knocked at the door, and the mother came down and asked us up—she said the prisoner was asleep, and not to wake him—we sat there, and were all happy and comfortable together—we had a drop or two to drink—I never saw that the sister had a black eye—we went there about 6.30 or 7 o'clock, and I stopped till about 11 o'clock, When I left—the prisoner woke up, I don't know at what time, and I believe he went out—I had never been there before; I left them all good Mends—Tibbits stopped there that night—the prisoner had not come back when I left.
MARTHA ANN NYE (Re-examined). I recognise Scopes as one of the friends who came on Sunday, the 11th—mother asked the other young man to stop all night to protect her, for she told him the prisoner had threatened her life.
GUILTY .— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. POLAND, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence; the Grand Jury had ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. MORTON Defended.
After the case had commenced the prisoners having handed in some papers to the Court, admitting the setting fire to the place, stated that they wished to withdraw their plea of NOT GUILTY and to plead GUILTY, upon which the Jury returned a verdict of GUILTY . The prisoners were inmates of St. Paul's
Industrial School, in Burdett Road, Mile End, and they alleged that it was in order to escape from the hard and cruel treatment to which they were there subjected that they were induced, with other of the inmates, to commit the act in question. The Jury strongly recommended them to mercy.— One Month in Newgate and Three Years in a Reformatory.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
He was subsequently tried before the Common Serjeant for a common assault on the said child and found
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
HARRILT YERBEKER . I am companion to Mrs. Frazer, of 1, Palace Houses, Kensington—on 4th May, about 6 a.m., the housemaid called me, and I went down to Mrs. Frazer's dressing-room, and on the landing saw an empty jewel-case and some candle grease and matches—the wardrobe drawers in the dressing-room were pulled open—I missed a black enamelled bracelet with a diamond monogram, a black enamelled collar with a large diamond in the centre, six rings, two gold watches, and a sealskin jacket—the jewellery was worth about 500l.—I saw the sealskin jacket the same of ay in the garden of the Red House, three doors off.
CHARLES SPEISS . I am Mr. Frazer's footman—on 3rd May I saw all the doors and windows fast before I went to bed in the servants' hall at 11.15—the pantry shutters were up, but the screw was not in—mine is the first room you would pass through coming from the area door, and the next room is the pantry—I heard no disturbance in the night, but next morning I found the door leading to the garden wide open, which had been shut the night before, and the pantry window broken.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My room door was not locked—I do not know whether my clothes were disturbed; I had a few shillings in my pocket, but do not know whether I lost anything; I found my watch all right.
GEORGE MEAD (In custody). I am serving a sentence of seven years' penal servitude for this burglary; I was taken a day or two afterwards, and tried here (See page 373)—on the day before the burglary the prisoner came to my place, 20, St. George's Road, Notting Hill, and asked me to come for a walk, and we went towards Palace Gardens—he there said, "What do you think of those drums over there?" meaning the houses—I said, "I an not think much of them"—he said, "I have seen them go in and out with rings on their fingers, and no doubt there are diamonds and gold watches and chains; will you go?"—I said "Yes." and we made an appointment to meet at 8 o'clock at the Elgin public-house, which I did, and we had some beer and waited till 10 o'clock, and then went towards this garden and got over the wall of No. 3—I carried the
jemmy and Head carried the dark lantern and the knucklers, which are things to open doors—we went to the bottom of the garden—he said, "What have they got at those red houses?" and that he was put up to them by a porter who used to work there—I said, "All right"—there was a swing at the bottom of the garden, and we spent the time in swinging, waiting for the lights to go out, but they did not go out, and he said, "Let us go at those big drums, it is no good waiting here"—we then went to 1, Palace Gardens, and waited till the lights were out there, and gave them time to go to sleep, and then forced the kitchen window with this jemmy (produced), took our boots off, and went into the back kitchen, where there was a man asleep; I picked up a bell, and put it out in the front area—we then went into the front kitchen and saw a man's clothes, and there was no doubt a man in the part partitioned off, but we did not go there—we went next into a little middle room, and found all the jewellery, a gold and diamond collar, a gold and diamond wrist-band, a gold and diamond cross, five or six rings, a silver buckle, two gold watches, 9s. in money, and a sealskin jacket—we came down into the garden, and I gave Head my share to carry—we put the sealskin jacket behind a stone at a place at the bottom of the garden, which had not been used for years, at the back of the Red House; that is about four houses from No. 1; the garden is parted off—I had planted the jemmy under some rubbish close to the sealskin jacket—we then got over into Caroline Place and saw a sweep, and turned out of his way and got into Queen's Road, Bayswater, where we met a police-inspector; we passed him and went up towards Farringdon, and from there we went to my brother Samuel Head's house at Treverton Street, Notting Hill; I believe it is No. 50—we saw his wife these; I asked her where Sam was—she said that he had gone off to work about 4.30—I took some things from Head at the top of the street to see if they were good; I found they were good, and gave them back to him—we did not stop at my brother's house above five minutes; I showed his wife some of the jewellery—We then went towards the Round House, Notting Hill, and met my brother sam there, and Head said to him, "If you will go after the sealskin jacket we will give you 10s.," and told him where it was, but I said, "Don't you be fool enough to go after it, they will be waiting on you"—we then went to a public-house out of the way of an inspecter—We had a drop of beer, and went back to my brother sam's house—I believe he went with us—his wife was at home; he tried all the jewellery in her presence, and found it was good—we then went towards Notting Hill Railway Station, and went to Aldersgate Street by the railway, and from there to Whitecross Street to a barber's shop named Stone—we got rid of all the jewellery there bar two rings which I had in my pocket—Head told me they had paid him 10l. for the jewellery, and promised him 50l., and told me to go to my brother's wife and give her 1l., which he gave me, to shut her mouth up—I gave her the 1l., and told her that Head gave it to me to give her to shut her mouth up and pay her rent and say nothing about it—I saw no more of Head till he was apprehended—I have been in his company constantly for six months before.
Cross-exmained. I was taken about half an hour before my brother was brought to the station—I was the only one who was charged—I stated that he and his wife and my wife knew nothing of the robbery;
I said that because they did not know where the things came from; if they had not been taken up I should have made the same statement concerning you and Stone because you done me out of a good deal of money; it was 52l.; Stone promised us 52l., but he deducted 12l. 10s. for the earrings; you had been up and drawn the remainder of the money—I mentioned at the station that you and I did the robbery—I have been charged with burglary with my brother Samuel and with you too; I was remanded; my brother got ten years' penal servitude—when my brother and his wife and my wife were brought in I spoke the truth and confessed to it because you did me out of my share of the money; you were not in custody then—I said at the police-court that I went into the butler's pantry when he was asleep and turned his clothes over, and there was no money in them.
Re-examined. I made that statement to Inspector Morgan, who took it down, and I signed it—this is it.
SAMUEL MEAD . I live at 50, Treverton Street, Notting Hill—I am undergoing six weeks' imprisonment for being drunk and they told me for an assault—on the morning of 4th May I met my brother and the prisoner at the Round House about 7 a.m.—the inspector came up, and my brother said, "Let us go and have a drop of beer"—we did so, and Head said, "I have got a job for you to fetch a sealskin jacket"—my brother said, "Don't you go, you will only get yourself into trouble"—he said that it was over at Lancaster Gate, concealed under a stone—he had a lady's watch and a gentleman's watch—they came to my house and washed themselves, and pulled out a silver bottle, a silver necklet, a silver arrow, and some brooches and rings, and put them in their pockets and went out, saying that they were going to Whitecross Street, and I saw no more of Head—he used constantly to come to my place before.
Cross-examined. It was 4th May that I saw you, the day after the robbery—I fix the date because I was at work on the 3rd, and on Tuesday I got no work—I never did a burglary in my life, thank God, but I underwent seven years' penal servitude for my brother—I have never undergone any calendar months' hard labour—Inspector Morgan first came to my place on the 5th, that was the same day that my brother was apprehended, and his wife and my wife—my brother was in a cell—he had been charged with burglary before I came in, and then he made this statement—I do not know whether it was to get me off—I swear that Inspector Morgan did not come to my house on 6th May, he came the second day after my brother was taken.
Re-examined. That was the first time I saw Morgan—I had not heard of him before—I had nothing to do with the burglary—I was not out with my brother that night.
ELIZABETH MEAD . I am the wife of the last witness—George Mead is my brother-in-law—the prisoner has been to our house occasionally—I have seen him with George Mead several times—on 4th May George Mead and Head came to my house before 6.30 and showed me some jewellery, which they said they had got during the night—there were two watches, a silver bottle, and a diamond bracelet and necklet—they left and said they were going to Whitecross Street—on the same day, after they had gone, Inspector Morgan came and searched the house—my husband came in while he was there—I am sure I had seen the prisoner that morning—I saw him again next day with George Mead in
Portobello Road, and heard him ask my husband to fetch a sealskin jacket—I did not see Head again till a Wednesday in the beginning of September, when he came and asked if Sam had been—I said, "No"—he said, "I have got a little job for him; a little bit of scaffolding, which I do not understand myself, where is he?"—I said, "If you want to know he is in prison"—he asked me to go and have something to drink—I said, "No"—he said that he had some money in his pocket to treat roe and some to give me as well—I said, "Who from?"—he said, "Thos. Tecks"—I thought he meant the inspector—he said, "If you say anything against me I shall bring your husband into it"—on 4th May George Mead gave me a sovereign—when I saw Head that morning he said, "I am very cold, will you give me a cup of tea?"
Cross-examined. Inspector Morgan told me he had taken George, who he had heard had committed a robbery, and he thought I had some of the jewellery—that was at 10 o'clock on the same morning on which I had seen the jewellery—I did not light a fire and give you a cup of tea—George Mead was at liberty next day in Portobello Road.
Re-examined. I am sure Inspector Morgan came to my house on the day George Mead was taken in custody, and my landlady told me that a gentleman had called before, but I was not in—I heard that, I think, the same night that I heard of the robbery.
ROBERT FORD . I am a plasterer, of 50, Treverton Street, Notting Hill—Inspector Morgan came there on the morning of 4th May—I had seen the prisoner at 7.30 that morning going out of Mrs. Mead's kitchen with George Mead—I had seen them together at our house before—I next saw the prisoner when he came to see Mrs. Mead on a Wednesday morning about the beginning of September—it was the day before I was examined before the Magistrate,' about 7th September—I saw him talking to her at the area door—he said, "If anything should happen to me and you come up against me as a witness, I will bring Sam into it"—he asked her to come and have something to drink—she said that she did not want it—he said that he had something better than beer, and he would give her something—he said, "If they ask you any questions, say you don't know."
Cross-examined. I know it was 4th May because Inspector Morgan came that day—I saw him come a long while after dinner.
FANNY FORD . I am the wife of Robert Ford, of 50, Treverton Street—the last witness is my son—Samuel Mead and his wife occupied the front kitchen—I have seen the prisoner at the house with George Mead three or four times—on the day George Mead was arrested Head came in the morning, and again about 8 p.m.; he asked for Mrs. Mead—I had seen them leave the house the day before May 4th, which was either Tuesday or Wednesday—I saw Inspector Morgan come on the Wednesday, and I saw Head before eight that morning, he was sitting in Mrs. Mead's room when I knocked at her door.
Cross-examined. I saw you leave the kitchen and go up the area steps—my kitchen is the next room to Mrs. Mead's—I looked at you particularly, because I wondered what you did there so early—I came purposely to see what was going on, and asked for some hot water—I saw Inspector Morgan in the kitchen some time before dinner.
an entry had been effected by throwing up the kitchen window with a jemmy, and there were marks of a file—I went to the bottom of a garden four houses away and found this sealskin jacket concealed under a large stone, and this jemmy under same rubbish and gravel—I went to 50, Trevertoh Street, about 7 p.m., and saw Mrs. Ford—I searched Mead's house on Friday morning, but found nothing connected with the burglary—that was the first time Mr. and Mrs. Mead saw me—I afterwards took George Mead and charged him with the burglary—he made this statement, which I wrote down:" The jemmy is lying near where the jacket is, under some rubbish; Head and I sold all the jewellery to a barber in Whitecross Street. I went into the Sutler's pantry and saw him asleep. Head took the stone out of the collar and sold it for 10l., and sold the collar for 2l. 10s.; we got 52l. for all. We got 2l. 10s. for the cross, but had to return the money. We got in at the front and went out at the back over the wills. Head wore the boots with the nails. We had no information whatever from the house or the servants"—further on he said, "This is the man who brought the jemmy. Head promised us 52l., but afterwards deducted 2l. 10s., and he only paid us 5l. each. We came about 8.30 in the morning. That woman (Mrs. Stone) was present; she paid his the money. The man asked me where it came from, and I. said, 'From a large house opposite Kensington Gardens'"—the rest of the statement does not relate to this burglary—Mr. and Mrs. Stone were taken for the burglary and tried and acquitted—Samuel Mead was at the station when George was there—he made a long statement about the house, and I told him I could not let him go without some corroboration—his brother corroborated him, and then I did not charge him—I found the jemmy in consequence of that statement—I looked for Head that afternoon, but could not find him—a few days before he was taken I saw him at Notting Hill, and had him raider observation—I afterwards saw him at Paddington Station, and told him he would be charged with George Mead, now in custody, with burglary at Palace Houses—he said, "I don't know Mead, I know nothing about it; I was at Market Harborough; I was not in London when the burglary was committed; I saw my name mentioned in the paper."
Cross-examined. I am sure you said "I don't know George Mead."
JOSEPH BOYLE (Policeman X 143). Oh 7th September I took the prisoner in Ladbroke Grove, and told him he would be charged with George Mead with burglary—he said "All right, bat I won't go until I drink my beer."
Prisoner's Defence. George Mead, being a convict, has fabricated this to get some of his time off. He made a statement at the station to get his brother and his brother's wife off.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of highway robbery in Jersey, when he was sentenced to seven years' penal servitude.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. F. H. LEWIS Prosecuted.
believed its contents, and sent a cheque on July 20 for 20l. to Mr. Rignold or order, 294, Pentonville Road, believing that I was sending it to Mr. Rignold the actor—I sent it from London; I believe it passed through my bank, and a few days afterwards I received an acknowlegement—later on I received a letter signed H. Hedley Jones, appealing to my sympathy, and sent him this cheque for 12l. (produced), dated 25th August—I think I directed it to the Reporter's Gallery, House of Commons.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had doubts that I had been cheated soon after I sent the cheque—I have had a good many letters from you, and became used to your writing; it did not occur to me that you were the person who had cheated me till you were taken up—I received a letter from you in Court at Bow Street, dated 20th September—it was the second day of your—I do not know that you were in prison from September 15th to 22nd—I do not know whether you would have written it—I have received another letter to-day—I have not compared then with the fraudulent letter.
JOHN ROCHE DASENT . I am private secretary to Earl Spencer—I received this letter. (Dated 18th August, and signed W. Rignold, and asking for the loan of 10l., stating that he had been on the London stage 20 years, and was starting on an engagement for New York the following Saturday by the Alsalia, and having a large family, and lost a child recently, had had to part with his professional wardrobe.) I had previously received letters from a person signing himself Hedley Jones—Earl Spencer did not send any money.
ARTHUR MAURICE HEWSON . I am a hairdresser, of 294, Pentonville Road—I have known the prisoner nine months by the same of Rignold—I was away ill for some time, but I suppose he asked permisssion for letters to be left there, or we should not have received them—before I knew the name of Rignold the prisoner asked for letter—I said "What name?" and he said "Rignold"—he was a customer—I recollect one letter with Earl Spencer's mine on it.
Cross-examined. I have a notice up that letters will be received on payment of one penny—the persons have to give their names first, or initials if it is an advertisement—I asked you, "What name?"—you said "Rignold," and I take a respectable looking man's word—I had no other knowlege of your name.
EMILY RIGNOLD . I am the wife of William Rignold the actor—he is in America—he sailed on 9th August; neither these two letters nor the endoresement on this cheque is in his writing—there is no other William Rignold belonging to the theatre.
Cross-examined. I never saw or heard of you before you were at the police-court.
cashed two 5l. notes for the prisoner about the first week in July, and paid them in to Messrs. Winder's account—I cashed one in the morning, and one in the evening.
Cross-examined. I will not swear that it was not on Wednesday, July 22nd—I did not take the numbers of the notes, and do not know that these are the very notes I took—I do not know what I did with them—ours is a large public-house at the top of the Haymarket, with supper rooms adjoining belonging to my brother—if he is short of change he sends to me for it—I do not know how I came into possession of these notes at all—I have not the least idea—the house is near the Criterion and Haymarket Theatres and the Pavilion Music Hall—we often cash notes for customers.
Re-examined. I have no doubt I changed one in the morning and one in the evening—my custom is to place them in a drawer, and afterwards pay them into the bank.
SAMUEL HENRY WESTON . I am cashier at the London and Westminster Bank, Regent Street—Messrs. Winder bank there—on 4th July I received a 5l. note, 47193, and on 5th July another, 47192, to be put to their account—each note was paid in with a bulk of money and a credit note.
Cross-examined. I am quite positive one was paid in on the 4th; it is entered in our book on that day, and the other on the 5th.
The prisoner produced a written defence stating that he was a member of a club, exactly opposite Mr. Hewson's shop; that he made Mr. Rignold's acquaintance at the club, who asked him to call for his letters at Mr. Hewson's, which he did, but did not state that he was Mr. Rignold; that he received Earl Spencers letter, whose name was outside it, and gave it and others to Rignold; that the letters produced were in the same hand as those received since by Lord Wolverton while the prisoner was in prison and not allowed to write, and contended that whoever wrote the one wrote the others; he further stated that he was very ill on the day the cheque was sent, and could not go out, and that the only evidence against him was in calling for the letters.
Witnesses for the Defence.
CAROLINE COOPER . I am the wife of George Cooper, a merchant—on Monday, 27th June, the prisoner's wife was confined at 4 p.m., and I remained there during that week, as she was very unwell—the doctor who attended her noticed the prisoner on the Saturday, and advised him to have some medicine—he was too ill to. go out for it, and I got it for him on the Sunday—he was in the house all day, and I got him his dinner—next day, between 4 and 5 o'clock, he said that he felt a little better, and went to the House of Commons, but up. to that time he was not out of my presence five minutes the whole day; he was lying on the bed by the side of his wife, and he could not have cashed a cheque in Lombard Street that day—he returned at 4 a.m. from the House, and his wife said it was a pity he could not go out in the day, and be at home at night.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. I was acting as monthly nurse—I live
in the house, and did it oat of kindness—I received 12s. a week payment—I made no note of the particular day; the only thing, that impressed it on my memory was being the week Mr. Gold was murdered in the railway carriage, and the doctor who attended the prisoner's wife was a Mr. Gould—the prisoner called that to my recollection last week—he wrote me this letter. (Informing the witness of the charge against him, commenting upon the evidence, and stating what he wished her to prove.) He there points out to me exactly the evidence which I am to give.
By the JURY. Jones had no visitors—I never heard of a Mr. Rignold coming there—I was never at Glyn's bank.
KATE JONES . I am the prisoner's daughter, and am 12 years old—on Friday, 15th July, I came up from Bristol, and on the following Saturday or Monday a gentleman came to the door—I went down; he asked for Mr. Jones—you were out—I asked what he wanted—he said that I was to tell you his name was Mr. Rignold, and to give you that, giving me an evelope with some pink orders for theatres in it.
CHARLOTTE WEIGHT . My husband is a licensed victualler—the prisoner gave me some theatre orders in the spring, and a month or six weeks afterwards some more for the Folly, and in June or July some more for the Philharmonic—I used some, and gave some to my friends—I have known the prisoner two years and a half—I do not think he ever gave me anything of the sort before this spring.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSES. COWIE, Q.C., and BAGGALLAY, Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
GEORGE KIDD . I am a contractor, and live at York—on 23rd August I drew this cheque on the York Union Bank for 81l. 14s., payable to James Brown, and enclosed it in a letter addressed "Mr. James Brown, 2, Broad Street Buildings, Liverpool Street, London, E.C."—I posted it at the head office, York, the same day about 2 o'clock.
Cross-examined. It was not crossed or registered.
HENRY WALTER BADGER . I am a solicitor, of York—I drew this cheque for 3l. payable to Mrs. D. Rivers or order, on the National Bank of England, and enclosed it in a letter addressed to her at Ordnance Road, St. John's Wood, London—it was not crossed—I posted it in York before four o'clock, I think.
CHRISTOPHER THOMAS BERKHILL . I am a sorting clerk at the York Post-office—a mail bag is made up for London at 4 p.m., and would be delivered at the chief office, London, between 9 and 10 p.m.—a letter posted in York early in the afternoon would be enclosed in that bag.
Cross-examined. There is what is called a relief mail—I do not know whether it goes by passenger or luggage train—I do not think a staff of clerks go with it—it is to relieve the morning work—there would be
another mail coming in hours later—I tie up the bag, but do not seal it or see it put in the train.
Re-examined. I make out the bill—this (produced) is the afternoon bill of 23rd August—I put it in the letter-bag on that occasion, and saw it after it was sealed—this "C. B." is my signature in the left-hand corner, and in the right corner is the signature of the clerk at the Post-office London, who received it—the bill signifies that I made the bag up—there would be a separate bag for registered letters.
THOMAS STONESTREET . I am a junior sorter at the Inland Post-office, London—on 23rd August I went on duty at 4.45 p.m., and continued till 12.30—I received the York mail bag which came that evening, and which would be made up at 4 p.m.—I opened it, signed the usual bill, and turned out the letters on the opening table—I cannot say whether the prisoner was near me—I took away the registered mail-bag and got it signed for, for which purpose I was away nearly half an hour.
Cross-examined. The sorters would be there at 4 o'clock—as the letters are sorted in buntels messengers come and take them—the overseer would there in charge, but I do not know who he was on that night—the letters would be left some time under his sole charge—it was his duty to prevent people taking them and precent them getting mixed—about 40 people are employed in that room, but that is the place for the bag-openers, and there might be only six persons there; there might be only myself at that particular table.
CHARLES JAMES CHAPMAN . I am inspector of the Inland Branch of the General Post-office—the prisoner is a sorter there; he has been about 20 years in that department—he was engaged under me in night duty in August he would come on duty at 4.45 p.m., and continue till 12.30—he would be there when the 4 o'clock mail from York arrived on 23rd August, but not when the York night mail arrived—he would be engaged between 9 and 10 o'clock in the S.E or the suburbs division, sorting letters for the provinces, and between 10 and 10.30 he would be engaged on the blind letters—Stonestreet was at that time engaged at the bag-opening table, about 18 feet from the prisoner's desk—from 80 to 90 persons were engaged there at that time, but not more than six at the two opening tables.
Cross-examined. The York mail came in at 9.36—the collection of letters is made half-hourly—it was part of the overseer's duty to look at the prisoner, and when he came to my table he was under the eye of another overseer—four overseers were on duty.
ROBERT SMITH . I am cashier at the Union Bank, York—on 25th August this cheque for 81l. 14s. was presented for payment, endorsed "James Brown"—the other writing was done in my presence by Mrs. Stammers, who presented it—a conversation took place between us—she went away and never came back, and the money was never paid.
ELEANOR STAMMERS . I have lived at 18, Clift Street, New North Road, two years—I have known the prisoner 16 years—he came there on 24th August, at 10 a.m., asked now I was, and said he would call again in a couple of hours, which he did, and said "I want somebody to go to York"—I asked how long it would take to go; he said that I could go
that night and come back next morning, and he would pay all my expenses and give me 5l.—I asked what he wanted me to go for; he said "To change two cheques which I have taken on a bat at Stockton Races"—he showed me these two cheques, and said that he could not leave business—one was signed "James Brown," and he said that I should have to put "D. Rivers" on the back of the other—I asked if I had better not put my own name; he said "No, because perhaps they will not change it"—this "D. Rivers" is my writing on one cheque and this "E. Brown 20, Ousegate," on the other—he told me to put that—I wrote nothing on the cheques in London—he gave me the 5l., and I went to York on the Thursday night, and arrived about 11 o'clock, slept at Mrs. Padley's, 5, Providence Row, and soon after 10 next morning went to the bank with the large cheque, and presented it for payment—they asked me to put my name and address on it, and I put "E. Brown, 20, Ousegate," as the prisoner had directed me—I was asked to come back in the afternoon, as they must consult Mr. Kidd before I could draw it—I left and went to the National Bank and presented the other cheque, and got the 3l., and after dinner I went back to the first bank, and a gentleman called me into a room and questioned me, but did not pay me—he said that Mr. Kidd was away, and would not be back till Saturday—I said that I could not stay so long—he asked my York address, and I gave it to him, and answered his questions—I returned to London about 9.30 that night, and saw the prisoner when he left business at 1 a.m.—he had never called on me at that hour before—he said "How did you get on?" I told him I had the small cheque, but not the large one, as Mr. Kidd was not at home, and would not be home till Saturday, and they could not change it without they saw him—he said "Why did you leave the cheque?" I said "They kept it there"—he said "It is a great pity you left it there, because perhaps the party who gave it to me will not believe but what I have got the money; perhaps there is no money, or perhaps it is a forgery;" I said "Oh, yes, there is plenty of money"—he said that he should see the man who gave it to him, and he should post him up at the club, and he should never make another bet; that the bet was 90l., and he had to take those two cheques or none—the prisoner was standing by me in my room when I signed—I signed the name of Rivers.
Cross-examined. He said that he took the money over a bet at Stockton races—I gave him the 3l. next morning.
CHARLES JAMES STEPHENS . I am a clerk in the missing letter department, General Post-office—I saw Mrs. Stammers at her house on 10th September, and took down what she said—she then went with me to the General Post-office, and I said to the prisoner "Do you know this person?" pointing to Mrs. Stammers; he said "Yes"—I said "She has this morning made a statement to me with reference to two cheques you gave her; as she she is very deaf I will read it to you"—I did so, sad then said "Do you wish to say anything?"—he said "No, what she has said is quite true; I gave her the cheques; Whatever I do say will not exonerate me, so perhaps I had better say nothing"—before that I had said "The cheques you gave Mrs. Stammers were enclosed in two post letters from York, and the bag arrived at 9.30 while you were on duty."
Cross-examined. There are very stringent rules against the Post-office employes betting—they have been dismissed for it—the prisoner has
been there nearly 21 years, and his father 40 years before him—he is entitled to a pension—he is married, and I believe he has six children.
WILLIAM LORD (Policeman). I am attached to the General Post Office—I took the prisoner on 10th September, and searched him—he had some money in his pocket.
Cross-examined. He had been on leave, and had not returned from his holiday on 10th September, but he came to the office that day to draw his pay.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his long service. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MILLWOOD Prosecuted.
JOHN SIBTHORP . I am in the employment of Hodgson and Son, 37, Moorgate Street, wine and spirit merchants—on Saturday, 1st October, about 1.45 p.m., I had a quarter cask of brandy on the cellar-flap in Great Swan Alley—I heard a noise, went to the cellar-flap, and missed it—I went into Moorgate Street, and I called out to Rogers, my fellow-servant—I went with nun to Coleman Street and to London Wall, and saw the prisoner and another man, who has escaped, with a truck and the cask of brandy on it—the prisoner was wheeling it—London Wall is about 120 yards from Great Swan Alley—they left the truck and ran away—Rogers pursued the prisoner, caught him, and brought him back—the cask of brandy was worth about 40l.—about a minute and a half elapsed from the time I missed the brandy till I came up with the man with the truck.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you holding the handle of the barrow—I did not say at the police-court that yon were sitting on it.
WILLIAM ROGERS . I am a cellarman in Messrs. Hodgson's employ—on Saturday, 1st October, Sibthorp called me—we went out, and saw the prisoner pulling a truck up Coleman Street—three men were pulling besides—the prisoner was inside the handles—the quarter cask was in the truck—as soon as they turned the corner the prisoner got inside the handles of the truck, and the three men at the ends—when they saw us they ran away—I caught the prisoner—he said he had been to the market, and the men had hired him and his barrow.
ISAAC WISEMAN (City Policeman 126). I took the prisoner from Rogers at London Wall, who charged him with stealing a cask of brandy—he said nothing then—at the station he said three men hired him to take this cask for half-a-crown—I searched him, and found three duplicates, 11s. 10 1/2 d., and two keys.
Prisoner's Defence. I was asked if I wanted to earn half-a-crown, and I said yes, and the young men pushed this cask of brandy on my truck.
GUILTY on Second Count. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WAITE Prosecuted; MR. AUSTIN MEFCALFE Defended.
JAMES FREDERICK SUMMERS . I live at 701/2, Lower Thames Street—I am 13 years old—on the evening of 13th September I was at the corner of Tower Hill sitting on a window-ledge with some other boys—the prisoner pulled me off the wall and got up, and I pulled him down—then he shoved me and kicked me, and I hit him on the face with my fist—he went away and came back again—I was sitting on the wall; I saw something shine up his sleeve, and he stuck a knife in my left groin and ran away—I ran after him, and when I got about six yards I fell down—I was taken to the hospital, and remained there 12 days.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is turned 15—we were not playing—I did not mean to hurt him—the wall is about 18 inches high—the prisoner kicked me on my right leg, and I showed the doctor the mark—the prisoner kicked me before I hit him—I hit him on the eye—I did not know he had a knife—I have no knife—before he struck me with the knife he said something I did not understand—he did not hit me with his fist—I had seen him before, but not that day—we did not go to school together—the other boys were my schoolmates—we were pulling each other off the wall—I do not call that play—I have not suffered much pain.
GEORGE SAUNDERS (City Policeman 844). On 13th September I was on duty and was called to this lad and found him bleeding from a wound on the left side of the stomach—I conveyed him to the hospital—blood was dropping out at the bottom of his trousers.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in custody for 10 days before he was bailed.
CHARLES HUMPHREY BURR . I live with my father at 21, Brewer Lane, City—on the evening of 13th September I was on Tower Hill—five of us boys were there—we were sitting on a wall—there was not room for five—the prisoner was left out, and he pulled Summers down—then Summers pulled him down—McDermot kicked him—Summers struck him on the eye—the prisoner ran away, came back, and stabbed summers in the groin with a knife and ran away—Summers tried to run after, him, but fell down—I helped to pick him up—I went to the hospital and came back to the police-station.
Cross-examined. Summers is my friend and schoolfellow—McDermot is a friend too—he does not go to the same school—I do not go to school now—I was sitting on the window-ledge next to Summers—the knife was up McDermot's sleeve—I could see the end of it—I saw him draw it out.
JOSEPH WILLIAM PENNING . I was 13 on 28th August—I live at 5, Trinity Buildings, Great Tower Street—I was on Tower Hill on 13th September—several boys were sitting on a window-ledge—I saw a scuffle between Summers and the prisoner about a seat—there was only room for five on the window-ledge, and McDermot was left out; he pulled Summers off, and then Summers pulled him off, then MoDermot
tried to kick Summers: I did not see whether he kicked him; then Summers struck; McDermot on the eye—McDermot ran away and came back in a few seconds, drew a knife out of his sleeve, and said "I'll stab you"—he stabbed him in the groin—Summers tried to run after McDermot, and fell down—Summers was bleeding.
HENRY COSTING (City Detective 719). From information I received from the inspector I went with Burr to 20, woodman's Yard, where the prisoner lived, and told him he would be charged with stabbing a lad named Summers; he said "I should not have done it had not he struck me on the eye"—I asked him where the knife was, he said he did not know—I searched and found it in his presence, on the door-mat at the foot of the stairs—his mother said it was the knife he had—he gave a correct description of it.
ARTHUR GALE . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital, Whitechapel—I remember Summers being brought in on the evening of 13th September—he had an incised wound about two inches long, and as far as I could see about three-quarters of an inch deep, on the lower part of the abdomen—I did not explore it, but from its subsequent course I should say it was not dangerous—it was not bleeding when he came—he remained in the hospital about 12 days.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy on account of his youth. — Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
The Jury, not being able to agree, were discharged without a verdict. He was again given in charge to another Jury, and MR. DR MICHELE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEWICK Prosecuted.
JOHN DONOVAN . I live at 14, Castle Alley, Whitechapel—I am carman to Mr. Henry Statham, of 8, Sparrow Corner, Minories—on 14th Sept., about 5.30, I was in the Phoenix booking office, King William Street, with my van, with several packages of tea on it—I had to leave it about two minutes—when I returned I missed a half-chest of tea—about a minute afterwards I saw it on the prisoner's shoulder—I was going down Arthur Street towards Montague Square to report it—I ran after the prisoner and caught him in about 100 yards, and gave Him in charge—this is the tea.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you take it—I caught hold of you by the collar directly you put the tea down, and held you till the officer came up—I saw you drop it, and the constable was behind me at the time—a lot of people came round, and you said you would not touch our vans any more—I identify it by the No. 120S, and the name where it was going.
WILLIAM WHITTAKER (City Policeman 705). On 14th September, about 5.30, I saw Donovan running in Arthur Street East—I ran after him across Montague Square, overtook him, and saw the prisoner with the tea on his left shoulder—Donovan caught hold of him and gave him into my custody—he said nothing.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in January, 1880.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
862. GEORGE SHAKESHAFT (16), SHADRACK TAYLOR (17), and RICHARD TAYLOR (16) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Francis Stephen Wild, and stealing five chains, eleven knives, and other goods, Shakeshaft and Shadrack Taylor having been before convicted. SHAKESHAFT and SHADRACK TAYLOR PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
FRANCIS STEPHEN WILD . I am a watchmaker, of 18, Richmond Terrace, Shepherd's Bush—on 9th September I put up my shop shutters, and my premises were perfectly secure—the next morning a communication was made to me by a servant, and I went downstairs—I found the window wide open, one pane of glass broken, and the back parlour window shutters forced—I fetched a policeman, secured the premises, and he went to Hammersmith Police-court and gave information of the burglary—that was about 7.30 a.m.—I had gone to bed about 11.30.
ANNE WILD . I am the wife of the last witness—I manage the shop—I identify these articles, five chains, three rings, and a pack of cards—I missed twelve rings—there were many knives—I know they were safe in my shop or parlour on the night of 9th September—the cards were on the mantelshelf.
HENRY CROOKENDEN (Police Sergeant T). I received information and went to Mellina Road, Hammersmith, and met Shakeshaft, and told him I wanted him—he said "What for?"—I said "I will tell you"—I took him round the street—I said "I shall take you for being concerned with others in breaking into a house at Shepherd's Bush"—he said "I know nothing about it"—going farther he said "What do you think they will do to me?"—I said "I don't know"—he said "I did not do it, Taylor got the things," he did not say which Taylor, "and gave me some of them; I sold two of the knives to my sister and one of the knives and a chain to a boy known by the name of Ninety"—then I handed him over to Constable Lewis Williams, and went with Policeconstable Cobb to an unfurnished house in the Mellina Road, where I found Shadrack Taylor lying asleep on the counter—I awoke him and said "I want you"—he said "What for?"—I said "Come outside and I will tell you"—I then said "You will be charged with being concerned with Shakeshaft in breaking into a house near the telegraph office, on Friday night, and stealing some knives and chains"—he said "I do not know anything about it"—at that time Cobb came out of the shop with Richard—seeing his brother he said "Do not take my brother, he knows nothing at all about it; he was not there; Shakeshaft stole the things and gave me some knives and some of the rings, and I sold them to a boy named Harwood and a boy named Ives in Oxford Street"—at Shakeshaft's house I found two knives that were shown to the sister, and one in the front parlour, also a dark lantern and a small iron bar—they
could let themselves in at the back of the unoccupied shop, and le themselves out by the key.
FREDERICK COBB (Policeman T 263). I took Richard Taylor on 14th September in an unoccupied shop in the Mellina Road—I told him I should take him for burglariously breaking and entering a shop and stealing watch chains and knives from a shop near the Telegraph—he said "I know nothing about the shop or the property either"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found this knife and this pack of cards in his inside pockets.
Shadrack Taylor's Statement before the Magistrate. "All I have to say is that my brother knows nothing of it."
Richard Taylor called
Cross-examined. I asked him if he wanted the knife and I gave it to him—that was on the Saturday.
SHADRACK TAYLOR (the Prisoner). I am the brother of Richard Taylor—on the Saturday following the robbery I gave him these cards—they are not quite a pack—he did not ask if I had stolen them nor where I got them.
Cross-examined. I had run away from my home the day before I was apprehended—my brother joined me the same morning—I was at home when I gave him the cards—I was in bed with my brother at 11.30 on the night of the burglary—I left him asleep at 1.30—I came back at 5 o'clock—I did not tell him about it—my father and sisters were at home, but they knew nothing of it—my brother had no work to do and he went to look for some and joined me the same morning—only my brother slept with me.
Richard Taylor's Defence. I went to bed about 10.30 the night of the robbery, and woke up about 6 o'clock next morning. I missed my brother, but found him sitting by the fire. He said "Here is a pack of cards for you, will you take them?" I said "Yes, I will have them," and I went out with my eldest brother John to work, and returned about 5 o'clock. I met Shakeshaft. He said "I have got a knife;" I took it, and he stopped talking to a girl. It was raining.
RICHARD TAYLOR— NOT GUILTY . SHAKESHAFT and SHADRACK TAYLOR.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1881.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
865. SARAH WILLARD (62) to unlawfully writing and publishing a libel concerning William Brien.— To enter into her recognisances in 20l. to come up for judgment when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
GEORGE MELLISH (Police Sergeant K). About 6 p.m. on 29th August I was in Devon Road, Bromley, standing on the railway bridge on the North London Line, opposite Shepherd Street, when I saw the prisoner within a few feet of me facing me—I had known him before as being under police supervision and wanted for an offence under the Prevention of Crimes Act—I said "Thompson, you must consider yourself in custody"—he said "What for?"—I said "For not reporting yourself?"—he said "You have made a mistake"—I said "No, you know me very Well"—he commenced to struggle and I caught hold of him by his scarf round his neck—he tried to get Poplar way and I tried to get him towards Bow—he said "Are you going to leave go?"—I said "No, you had better go quiet; you are Well known"—he said "Are you going to let me go?—I said "No," and he up with his foot and kicked me in the leg and broke my ankle—we both fell to the ground—I called on the crowd to assist me; nobody attempted to—after struggling on the ground I got on my feet still holding him by the scarf—he said to the crowd "Take him away, he is choking me"—I said "No I am not; you can all see that"—his scarf was so loose that he got his head down and bit my hand—I tried to get him into a doorway-some one cut his scarf and let him loose, and he ran away from me—a young man made a communication to me—533 K came up—I was taken to the station at Bow and I saw the prisoner in custody—until 19th September I was an inmate of the hospital—I am still suffering from the injury.
DAVID FARRANT . I live, at 3. Shepherd Street, Bow, and am a carpenter—about 6.15 on this night I was in Devon Road, where I saw the last witness holding the prisoner—I saw the prisoner Kick nim and bite his fingers—somebody came up and cut the prisoner's scarf, and he ran away—I ran after him and came up with him in a passage—he drew a knife, and said he would do for me if I touched him—I saw the blade of the knife—I called for assistance and he ran away, and I lost sight of him—I went back to Mellish—I afterwards saw him in custody.
Cross-examined ly the Prisoner. In the passage you said "If you touch me I will do for you"—you were lying in a shrubbery.
JOHN CURWIN (Police Sergeant K). I was present at the Middlesex Sessions in 1879 when the prisoner was convicted of larceny, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment and five years' police supervision.
JOHN TWOPENNY (Police Inspector K). On the 13th May last the prisoner came to me at the Poplar Station and gave notice that he had removed from Poplar to 13, Amelia Street, Bromley—I served him with notice and a form to report himself on the 10th of each month at Bow Police-station—he omitted to report himself for something like three or four months.
WILLIAM BACK (Police Inspector K). I was in charge of the Bow Policestation on 10th June from 1.10 till 4 o'clock, and from 6 till 9 o'clock—during that time the prisoner had not reported himself, neither had he on the 10th July or 10th August.
WILLIAM WARD (Policeman K 533). At about 6.15 p.m. on the day in question Farrant came to me in Devon Road, and I accompanied him to the railway works and searched, and found the prisoner lying on two
chains between two trucks—he went off, and I caught him getting over the boundary wall—I struggled with him and took him to the station—I said to him "Why don't you go quietly, instead of making all this bother?"—he said he would not go quiet at first for any man.
JOHN LLOYD (Policeman K). At about 6.30 p.m. on the 29th August I found Mellish sitting in a doorway in Devon Street, with his leg broken and his fingers bleeding—I took him to the station, and the prisoner was charged.
Cross-examined. I did not say to you "If I had been there I would have opened your head."
MORGAN DAVIS . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—Mellish was placed under my care on the 29th August—he was suffering from a fracture of the fibula—I did not observe anything the matter with his hands—he remained in the hospital until 19th September—he is still suffering from the injuries.
The prisoner in his defence said that the constable would not tell him what he wanted him for, and that he drew his handkerchief round his neck to try to choke him; that he threw him down three times, when he got the advantage of the constable, and he called out "I have broken my leg;" that he had been to the police-station to report himself previously, and that the inspector said it was no good his going there until he had a proper residence to stop at.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GIRLING . I am a wine merchant, of 376, Oxford Street—on Saturday night, 10th September, I closed my premises and saw that they were properly fastened—at 12.30 a.m. on the 11th I was aroused by a constable, and I went and examined the window in my shop, when I found two squares of glass broken—I afterwards missed an empty port or sherry bottle which had been in the windows (produced)—it had previously been sealed, and it corresponded exactly with the remainder in the window, and also the dust upon it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I blocked the window up directly I came back from the police-station—nobody could have taken the bottle out while I was at the station, because the police were there.
WALTER CAMPION (Policeman C 112). About 12.30 a.m. on 11th September I was on duty near 376, Oxford Street, when I heard a smash of glass—I ran across the road in the direction, and saw the prisoner leave the lobby and go a short distance and join three other men who were standing near—I went to him and told him I should take him into custody for breaking a window—he said "You have made a mistake"—I handed him over to another constable, and in the meantime the other men escaped—I examined the window and found it broken—at about 5 a.m. I found this bottle, 12 or 13 yards off, in the carriage-way in James Street—it was lying in a heap of vegetable rubbish—I am sure the prisoner is the man I saw coming out of the lobby.
WILLIAM HAZLETT . I live at 18, Great Exeter Street, Lisson Grove—I heard the smash of glass and saw the prisoner come from the place—he joined three others standing at the kerb—I saw the constable come up and take him into custody—I have no doubt about the man—I had not seen him before.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, daclared his innocence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
GEORGE ELLIOTT . I am a carpenter, of 62, Green Street—I was going home on the night of 11th September, and when I got my door open I took the key out, and three men rushed at me and threw me into the street—the prisoner snatched my watch from me and handed it to another—I held the prisoner until a policeman came up—the others got away.
WALTER SQUIRREL (Policeman C 91). I was on duty in the neighbourhood of Green Street at the time in question, when I saw two men running away—I went to the prosecutor's door, and saw him struggling with the prisoner—he gave him into my custody for stealing his watch—the prisoner said we should find out in the morning that he had made a mistake—the watch was not found on the prisoner—I did not see the watch passed—I did not see the prisoner run over to the others.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
EMANUEL WACLAWCZWYK (Interpreted). I am a mariner, staying at 131, Sun Street, Finsbury—on 20th September last I saw the prisoner at Oberhausen, on the Rhine—from something he said to me he and I came to London together—I brought with me bedding, two large chests, and other articles—when we came to London the prisoner took me and my wife to a coffee-house—the luggage was left at the station—on the following day, the 28th, the prisoner and I went to the railway station in Liverpool Street, where we had some conversation about the luggage, and the prisoner said "We will send the luggage and baggage to the ship France"—I said "Let us go to the ship too;" the prisoner replied "It is not necessary"—a cab was called, and the two chests and other baggage were put upon it—the prisoner spoke to the cabman in English, which I did not understand—we returned to the coffee-house—the prisoner said "You remain with your wife, you had better remain with your family"—from that day until 5th October, when the prisoner was taken into custody, I did not see him—he was then dressed in my clothes, which formed part of the clothes which had been packed up in the chest, and had been sent by the cab—I had never given him authority to take or wear those clothes.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You took the tickets at Rotterdam for London—after our arrival in London you paid for the lodgings until Tuesday night—when we went out on Tuesday we saw a placard which you pointed out to me, and said "On the 28th this vessel leaves"—you did not mention anything about the France—I do not remember your saying "If you have money enough you might go by that steamer to-morrow"—yon treated everybody; all of us had beer—we went out again at night to a place where there was dancing going on—we took you by the arm, and said "Let us go home"—I said on our way to Sun Street "William, when we go to Chicago you can take those things till I pay you for them"—I did not tell you to take my two boxes—we
went to the station on Thursday, and asked a man about the boxes—there was another man with us—I did not know where the boxes were going, except to the steamer France—I did not exactly charge you with stealing 219 marks—I said before the Magistrate they consisted of gold and silver—before the boxes came back from West Hartlepool I did not find five shirts—I know all my things—they are not all marked—there is neither number nor name—I have one shirt marked "A. W."—my wife's things are marked.
Re-exmained. I gave to the prisoner 110 marks to pay for the tickets from Rotterdam to London; that is equal to 5l. 10s.—they would be 15s. each.
CHARLES VON TORNOW . I am an inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department—in September last I made inquiry, in consequence of which I went to West Hartlepool, where I found the prisoner in custody—at the station I found one of the packing-cases mentioned—I said "Your name is Wichman," and he said "My name is Thompson"—I said "I shall charge you with stealing the goods of Waclawczwyk, an emigrant to America;" he said "I have a complete answer to the charge"—I then went to No. 8, Amelia Street, Clerkenwell, where the prisoner lodged—in a bed where two children were lying I found two pillows—I saw a box in the corner broken up for firewood—when the prosecutor came up to London he identified the jacket the prisoner was wearing.
Cross-examined. I have not noticed any marks on the things—I unpacked the boxes, and your clothes were in it, and the prosecutor said "That does not belong to me, that belongs to the prisoner"—I took every article out of the boxes.
ARTHUR CHARLES DILLON . I am an inspector of the Great Eastern Railway Police—on 28th September I was on the arrival platform, when I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor come up with two large boxes—the prisoner asked the fare for a cab to go to St. Pancras Station; I looked at the luggage, and told him the fare—when they were putting the luggage on the cab I noticed that there was no address on the boxes, and I told him it was no use sending the boxes to St. Pancras Goods Station without an address on them and an order to forward, as if they did the boxes would be thrown on the hands of the cabman—the prisoner then took out of his pocket a piece of newspaper, apparently to tear off the white edge and write on it—I said "That won't do; you had better come to my office"—I wrote the address, "Mr. Thompson, 8, Amelia Street," at his dictation—he fastened the cards with that address on to the two boxes, and the cab drove away with the boxes.
The Prisoner in his defence said that he had spent money for the prosecutor, and that the prosecutor had told him to take his boxes and do what he liked with them, and that lie considered the boxes from that time his property.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Durham in June, 1880.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
EMMA MOGER PLEADED GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
MR. AVORY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence against
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
GEORGE BAGSTER PHILLIPS . I am surgeon to the H Division of police—on 15th September I saw the prisoner at Leman Street Police-station, about 10 o'clock in the evening; she had been drinking, and was partly under the influence of drink—she said "I have been drinking all day; I went home and nursed my child; I went out again, and came back and found my child dead"—this was said incoherently and unconnectedly—she was continually saying in her drunken sobs that she had killed her child—I asked her some questions in a general way, but only to elicit the same answers as I have given—she gave me to suppose that it was by neglecting it, but she was not clear on the point—it was partly in answer to questions from me—I went to her house with the police-sergeant—I did not gather the direction from the woman—I went into a bedroom on the ground-floor; her husband was there, together with several women, and the dead body of a child on the bed—I examined it; it was very dirty; the finger-nails were black or dark-blue, the lips livid, and the mouth open, from which I concluded that it died in some convulsive struggle; its weight was 6 1/4 lb., which is rather under the average of a newly-born infant—I don't know its age; it had the appearance of a child which had been recently born—the navel string had separated—a child born at the seventh month would be lighter—supposing the child to be born in May it ought to have increased some four or five pounds, if properly nourished and had grown fairly—I made a post-mortem examination on Saturday 17th; this was the Thursday—I came to the conclusion that the child died from convulsions, from an irritation of the small intestines from pent-up gas—I think that arose from the non-digestion of food that had been given it within the space of a couple of hours—it had evidently had food within that time—there was no food in the whole intestinal track except mother's milk; that portion of the intestines beyond where the obstruction from dilatation of gas had taken place had not received any nutriment for some hours before death, I should say at least 12 hours, and probably much more; in its weak and exhausted state it could not digest the food given later—an infant of that age should be fed every two hours, at least; with in three, except it be asleep; it should never be awakened to be fed—the digestive organs were in a healthy state except being collapsed and pale, so that they were not fit for their functions; they were impaired by the general want of care—that would be brought about by want of sufficient nourishment—I went into the upstairs room; I there found a little crumbled-up bread mixed up with the flock of the bed; that was the only food I saw in the place—it was in a very deplorable, dirty, miserable condition—the proper food for a
child of this age would be the breast milk, and that alone, unless ordered by a medical man—bread would positively have poisoned it; it was entirely dependent upon its mother's milk—the child's lung was in a very diseased condition—I do not think that caused death, still it might have brought the child into a very low condition—the left lung had never been thoroughly expanded, and besides that it was actually congested.
HARRIET TAYLOR . I live at 52, Back Church Lane, in the same house as the prisoner—she, her husband, and family occupied one room—besides the deceased child there were two, very fine, nice children—the husband works in the docks—I do not know what he earns; he seems to earn enough to pay his way—the two other children were his—the prisoner was confined with this child in May last, I think—sometimes I did not see it for three or four weeks at a stretch, because I was in the habit of going out to work—I might have seen it half a dozen times between its birth and its death—it seemed very healthy when born, but it seemed to pine away very much—I was not present when it died—after it was dead the prisoner put it in my arms, and I took it downstairs—that was on the night of the 15th September—I saw the prisoner suckle it at 7.30 that evening—I had seen her suckle it before—I did not notice whether she was a steady woman, or whether she neglected her home, I had quite enough to notice my own—she seemed very steady whenever I saw her.
HENRIETTA CHUBB . I am a widow, and live in the same house as the prisoner—I am her sister-in-law—I saw her very often—I know when the baby was born—I frequently saw her nursing it—she was always at home till she got into company—I remember one night she was out—she knew the child was in good hands; that was about two months ago—she was out all night, and came home in the middle of the day—I heard that her cousin was bad, or something—I brought the child downstairs, and kept it with me all night—she did not ask me to do it—she had got a little drop of drink, and I expect she fell asleep at her cousin's, or else she would have come home to her baby—now and again she would have a drop of drink—she was not an habitual drunkard—she would take a drop, and was very easily led—I was not often with her—I had to mind my work and my children.
GEORGE FOSTER (Police Sergeant H). I was sent for by the inspector, and saw the prisoner at Leman Street Station—by his direction I went to 52, Back Church Lane, where I saw the child dead; I sent for Dr. Phillips—when I got back to the station the prisoner was charged on her own confession with causing the death of her infant Jane Wiggins, aged three months—the inspector read the charge to her, and she answered "By neglect and intemperance; that is all I have to say"—she had evidently been drinking heavily, and was recovering from it. By the Prisoner. I saw a loaf on the table when I went to the room.
HENRY PAYNE (Policeman H 184). On the evening of 15th September, about 8.30, I was at Leman Street Station when the prisoner came there—she said "I have come to give myself up for neglecting my child Jane Wiggins; it is dead; I have not done by it as I ought; I have starved it"—I believe the other children are very nice children—the prisoner has been very much given to drink lately—I have seen her in the neighbourhood with other women—I have known her for years by sight—I should say she has been indulging in drink for the last six months—when
I first knew her she was a smart young woman; she has always behaved herself—she never got into the hands of the police.
Prisoner's Defence. I always fed my baby with the breast till that night. I had her in my arms till past 7 o'clock, when I laid her down. I went upstairs, and returned about 8 o'clock, and found her dead. I put her in the arms of Mrs. Taylor, and first thought I would drown myself, and then I thought I would go and give myself up.
GUILTY .— Five Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
HENRY PERCIVAL . I am in the service of Chas. Best and Co., house furnishers, who had lent the defendant some furniture on hire at 52, London Wall, on this agreement, for 16l.—15l. had been paid, and I called on the prisoner for the remaining 1l. on 28th February, at 110, St. Thomas's Road, Finsbury Park—he complained of the articles, particularly the carpet, and said he would not pay me, as we had charged rather a heavy price, and I might go to the County Court—I left and went again next morning; I was denied, but he eventually came—he said, "I will not pay you," and I made a movement to go upstairs to enforce the agreement by taking some article of furniture—he went up before me, saying, "I will soon settle you"—he returned in a quarter of a minute from a little room, came down three stairs, and I heard the report of a pistol, and saw a revolver in his hand—he told me to go out—I said, "No, 1 will not," and he pointed the pistol again at me, and said, "I am a desperate man"—his wife was in front of him clinging to him to prevent his coming to me—I believe he simply meant to frighten me, not to injure me.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY .— One Month's Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
874. GEORGE JOHN GLOVER (76) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining a waggonette and a gelding by false pretences, also to forging and uttering a cheque for 58l. 10s., having been convicted of felony in July, 1872.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
The prisoner had obtained a loan of 20l. from a money lender upon the statement that certain furniture belonged to him, which was not the fact,
giving also three sureties and a note of honour; he had repaid the first instalment of 2l., and the Jury considered that he intended to repay the whole, but that he was guilty of fraudulently obtaining credit, which he intended afterwards honestly to discharge.— Ordered to repay the amount, and to enter into recognisances to appear if called upon.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
GUILTY on the Second Count. He had been twice convicted of like offences.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
880. ROBERT JONES (19), PERCY PULHAM (16), and HENRY BETLEY (17), PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling house of Cresswell Spencer Smith, and stealing therein 20l., and RICHARD BURCHELL (20), WILLIAM WHITE (21), THOMAS BRIGNELL, (19), ROBERT MARKHAM (17), and JOHN CRONIN (17) , to receiving the same, JONES†* having been convicted of felony at Marylebone in July last.— Two Years' Hard Labour. PULHAM† and CRONIN†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. BETLEY†— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. BURCHELL† and WHITE†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. MARKHAM†— Nine Months' Hard Labour. BRIGNELL—> Six Months' Hard Labour.
881. CHARLES HARFORD (76) and FRANCIS HUGHES (25) to obtaining (in Surrey) a quantity of boots and other goods from Owen Smith and others by false pretences, Hughes having been convicted of a like offence in August, 1879, at this Court— Judgment Respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.
AUGUSTE MULLER . I occupy the second floor at 56, Eagle Street, Holborn—I am a furrier—I work for, amongst other people, a Mr. Phillips, of Newgate Street—on 6th August I had some sealskins in the back workroom to make up for him into jackets—about 7.30 I left my premises safely locked up—the skins were hung on a line—they could not be seen from outside—they were worth 120l.—I had employed the prisoner's brother there, but discharged him a fortnight before the robbery—the prisoner had come to see his brother late at night—I had seen him twice before 6th August—I came back to my premises between one and two on Sunday morning—somebody spoke to me, and I went upstairs—the door had been locked with a key similar to this—I found it open, and some marks on it as if an instrument had been used—missed the six jackets from the line—no inner doors had been locked—I had left a calico bag on the table in the workroom where the skins were—I missed that bag when I returned—I found this hat in the small room before I came to the workshop—it is not mine, and was not there when I left.
Cross-examined. I have lived in the house since. 1st February—at the
time I discharged the prisoner's brother I employed five, or six hands—two families lodge in the house—I cannot say how many persons—the door that was locked leads out on to the second floor, not into the street—I discharged the prisoner's brother on account of his bad language—I had not seen him since, but I believe he hung about the neighbourhood—the prisoner was a porter—I used the bag to carry things home in.
Re-examined. I generally keep skins at my place to work on for about a week.
ELLEN CLAPTON . I am the wife of Walter Clapton, a journeyman baker—we occupy the third floor of 56, Eagle Street—Mr. Muller occupies the second floor—I have seen the prisoner's brother, who was porter to Mr. Muller—on Saturday evening, 6th August, I went out marketing—I went downstairs about 9.15—I met two men about two steps below Mr. Muller's landing; the prisoner was one—I have seen the other several times on the stairs—I think he was the brother—I said, "Who do you want?"—the brother said, "We want Mr. Muller"—I said, "Mr. Muller is not at home, he may be home directly, or he may not come home till late"—they went downstairs and through the passage—I went up to my own room—about three minutes afterwards I heard them again—I went out at the street door, through Eagle Street, into Red Lion Street—I did some business and went back to 56, Eagle Street, and to my own room—I went out in the street again, but saw nobody—I went out again, and saw two men standing at the door when I came back—the prisoner is one—I said, "Who do you want?"—they said, "We want Mr. Muller"—I said, "Mr. Muller is not at home," and came in—the other man asked me to leave the door ajar, and I did so, and went upstairs to fetch some things, and was there about five minutes—I saw the same two men at the door—I went shopping for about five minutes—when I went back I saw no one there—there was no light on the landing—I went out to get a light to light the gas in the passage—the door was still open—I stood at the street door a few minutes—I heard a noise like Mr. Muller's door being broken open—I went up to my room—I noticed his door was a little way open—my husband was asleep—I did not go down again.
Cross-examined. There are four families in the house—the street doer has often been left open—I was communicated with by the police about a fortnight afterwards.
ROBERT RAM . I am a cornice-pole maker, of 11, Eagle Street, Holborn—between 9.30 and 10 p.m. on 6th August my wife went out marketing—I was at my window—No. 56 is opposite—I saw the prisoner and another man standing at the door of No. 56—I saw him talking to Mrs. Clapton after the second time he passed—I afterwards saw the two men passing Red Lion passage—the prisoner had a black calico bag on his shoulder, similar to that used by tailors—it had something in it.
Cross-examined. I had seen the other man before—I had not seen the prisoner till this evening—I first heard of the robbery on Sunday morning—I said at the police-court "I saw the prisoner and another man carrying a bag"—they were not both carrying it—I had seen the other man, go in and out of 56 on previous occasions.
Saturday, 6th August, I was in Theobald's Road—between 9 and 9.30 p.m. I saw the prisoner outside the Eagle public-house with an old gentleman—I had not seen Ernest that day—the prisoner was wearing a billycock hat, like this (produced).
WILLIAM MANTON (Policeman E 236). About 12.50 on 21st August Mr. Muller gave the prisoner into my custody in Eagle Street for stealing these jackets—he said, "It was not me, but my brother Ernest that did the robbery"—this screwdriver was given to me—I found marks on the door on the second floor that fitted it to the very hair.
Cross-examined. I know Shooster—I think he is a furrier—he was with the prisoner—I did not know Shooster had invited the prisoner to accompany him to Muller's place—I said at the police-court, "He said it was my brother Ernest that stole them"—that is correct.
AUGUSTE MULLER (Re-examined). I found the screwdriver in the workshop on the table where I left the black bag—I kept it in my home till I gave it the constable on the 21st, when I gave the prisoner in custody—it is not mine—it was not in my room when I left the room safe on the Saturday night.
Cross-examined. Mr. Shooster is not my friend—the prisoner said when given into custody that he accompanied Shooster at his request to see me.
GUILTY .* He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in May, 1878.— Judgment Respited .
883. HENRY SIMMONDS (20), JOHN REEDER (21), and PATRICK LAMB (20) , Robbery with violence on Charles William Price and stealing his watch. Second Count, charging Reeder and Lamb with feloniously harbouring Simmonds.
MR. HARRELL. Prosecuted; MR. ROUMTEU defended Reeder.
CHARLES WILLIAM PRICE . I live at 167, St. James's Street—I am a stockbroker—on 4th September I was in Cranbourne Street about 11 o'clock—a man advanced towards me and snatched my gold watch, leaving only two links of the chain—I followed him up the court; there I met three or four more, who kicked me and knocked me down; I bled profusely; when I got up the men had gone—the man who took my watch did not hit me—people came round; the police came up—I afterwards went to Vine Street and identified the prisoner from half a dozen men—I had been previously shown another man whom I could not identify—there was a gas lamp in Cranbourne Street—Simmonds helped me up; a crowd gathered, and more than one helped me.
Cross-examined by Simmonds. The man who snatched my watch and chain was not two or three inches taller than I am—I did not pass you twice at the station; I went down the row and advanced to get you in the position you occupied when you came up to speak to me; I identified you at once; I did not see the inspector fix his eyes on you—I said at the police-court, "To the best of my belief the prisoner is the man"—I swear positively now.
Cross-examined by MR. ROUMIEU. I cannot swear positively to the time—Cranbourne Passage is rather a dark place—I cannot recognise the two men who stopped me.
EMMA LEE . I am single, and live in St. Giles's—on the night of 4th September I was near Cranbourne Street between 11.30 and 12 talking to a young man—I heard cries of "Stop thief," went through the passage,
and Simmonds ran by me with a gold chain hanging in his hand; I tried to catch hold of him, but he pushed me on one side—I went down the court and saw Reeder kicking a gentleman lying on the ground—I saw Lamb speaking to a policeman in the middle of the Court; he wanted the policeman to run in a different direction—I have known Simmonds before; I am sure he is the man—I have seen the other prisoners before—I next saw Simmonds in Vine Street; I picked him out at once from about 20—Reeder had a long coat on, not dark but a mixture colour—I gave descriptions of the men to the police—I am sure they are the men—Lamb wore a different hat.
Cross-examined by Simmonds. I am a prostitute—I was not talking to a policeman; no policeman was there then.
Cross-examined by MR. ROUMIEU. About seven people were in Cranbourne Alley—the alley is dark—there were two other men there—I could swear to them all—I said to the policeman, "You need not trouble, I know them all, I can pick them all out for you on the Dials"—I stayed up till past 3, and we went to the public-house near the Clock House and looked, and there was nothing of them to be seen—I said at the police-court Reeder wore a lighter coat.
Cross-examined by Lamb. You tried to stop the policeman outside what used to be a gay house—I saw you three or four nights before you were in custody, but what could I do when there was no policeman about? you were passing along Leicester Square with a woman and a child—I said at the station every time I saw you you ran away; you did not run away that time—I followed you close to give you in charge—I saw you in a ginger-beer shop—you asked me what I wanted to put your name in for.
MARY DUNCAN . I am a widow, of 6, George Court, Fox Court, Holborn—on Sunday, 4th September, between 11 and 12 p.m., I was in Cranbourne Street—Mr. Price passed me looking on the ground as if in deep thought—four young men met him, and one, Reeder, was a little way behind—Reeder looked at the gentleman and spoke to the others, and all five followed him—Reeder had a long coloured coat on—I heard a noise and ran into the passage to look for the gentleman; I saw him on the ground in blood; I screamed "Murder"—I saw one man kick him and run away—Simmonds was struggling on the ground with the gentleman—I am positive Simmonds and Reeder were two of the men.
Cross-examined by MR. ROUMIEU. I was two doors from Castle Street when I saw Reeder—I could not tell the colour of Reeder's coat—I said at the police-court, "To the best of my knowledge the prisoner was one; he wore a light coat"—my evidence was read over to me.
NEWMAN TURPIN (Police Inspector C). I was with Sergeant Berry in search of Simmonds—we first saw him in White Hart Street, Drury Lane, turning into a court some 50 yards away; he was with several others, and they all ran away—we continued searching; we found him in Newport Market with 15 or 20 others; I signalled to Berry to get him away from the others—when we got him 200 yards away he said, "What is all this about, governor?"—I said, "It is about that watch business in Cranbourne Street, where you snatched the gentleman's watch, and Billy Hares and some others knocked him down"—he said, "Well, I know nothing about any watch"—he was taken to the station—Lee identified him, and afterwards Mr. Price.
Cross-examined by Simmonds. I did not say at the police-court I saw
you in King Street—I did not point yon out, nor did the prosecutor pass you at the station; I did not fix my eye on you; Mr. Price looked along and said, "I cannot say, let me come there, then I shall see the man in the same position as he was when he came to me;" then he looked at you and said, "That is the man, I believe," going up to you and touching you.
CHARLES BERRY (Police Sergeant E). I was with Turpin, and saw Simmonds in White Hart Street Drury Lane; when he saw us he ran away—we arrested him in Newport Market—I arrested Reeder on 8th September in the Crown public-house, Seven Dials—I told him I was going to take him in custody for being concerned with other men in stealing a gentleman's watch on Sunday night"—he said, "I can prove where I was at the time"—I afterwards searched him and found a duplicate relating to an overcoat—he had the same clothes on as he has now—I was at the police-court when Lee was examined; she gave me a description of Reeder.
Cross-examined by MR. ROUMIEU. She said he was a dark man with a slight dark moustache, he was dressed in dark clothes, but he usually wore a long, greyish overcoat, and he was generally to be found at the Crown public-house—this is the ticket I found.
Cross-examined by Lamb. On 7th September I looked about the Dials—I cannot say I saw you; if I did I had not the information I had afterwards—I am about there every night.
HERBERT HOWES . I am assistant to Barbara Wells, pawnbroker, 52, Broad Street, Bloomsbury—I produce an overcoat pledged by Reeder on Wednesday, 7th September, in the name of Rowen—he had pledged the coat habitually for three or four weeks previously—I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined by MR. ROUMIEU. He has pledged it six or seven times—it is a usual length—I do not know how long he had had it out before he pawned it last—he generally pawned it the early part of the week and redeemed it the latter.
FREDERICK CHURCH (Police Sergeant C). On 26th September I arrested Lamb—I told him he would be charged with several others with assaulting a gentleman and stealing his watch and chain in Cranbourne Street, on Sunday night, 4th September—he said "All right, sir"—I took him to Vine Street station, and he was identified by Lee in my presence from seven or eight others—she had described him—no one pointed him out.
Cross-examined by Lamb. I did not see you on several occasions before I arrested you—I had been looking for you—I did not see you under the arches at the Haymarket—I stood there.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Simmonds says: "I was down in the Haymarket on 4th September, on Sunday night about 10.45 p.m. Coming away I saw the man who committed this crime rowing with his fellow-man. I followed, thinking there was going to be a row, as there generally is with him. There Were three others with him. All of a sudden I saw him stop at Cranbourne Passage, as if to speak to the gentleman. He stole the watch; the others Were behind the gentleman. I saw him snatch the watch and run through Cranbourne Court. I heard him ask the others why did not they stop him; then he turned round and struck the man. I helped the gentleman up;
the constables were there. The witness Emma Lee is false; she has threatened to lag me for not living with her." Lamb: "On 4th September I was with my wife and child. I went to my brother's to ask for money on Monday morning. I was with my wife all night long. I left her about 12 o'clock going upstairs. On 28th September I left her. I told her to get some papers off a chap. Church came up and said 'I will take you into custody for being; concerned in a robbery in Cranbourne Street.' Going to the station I said 'What name? I am Patrick Lamb, a labourer; I am out of work. 'That is all I say.'"
Simmonds's Defence. My statement is true. This girl is trying to put me away.
SIMMONDS— GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
REEDER— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
LAMB— NOT GUILTY .
884. HENRY MATTHEWS (27) and HENRY LEE (32) , Unlawfully conspiring together to defeat the ends of justice. MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS. THORNS, COLE, and ROUMIEU defended Matthews.
CHARLES HARDY (Policeman K 496). On 28th July I took Matthews for assaulting Ann Lee—he was brought up the same day at Worship Street Police-court, and in my presence sentenced to two months' imprisonment by Mr. Hosack.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. He was sentenced as Henry Lee, about 12.30 in the day—I took him about 7 a.m., and was with him from 9 to 12.30 in the Court, and I went about my business. (The certificates of conviction of Henry Wright, otherwise Lee, and of Richard Broom, were here put in.)
CHARLES CHURCH (Policeman G 390). On 27th July I took Lee, Who gave the name of Broom, for assaulting a man named Rawlins—he was brought before Mr. Hosack on 28th and sentenced to one month's imprisonment in the name of Broom.
CHARLES BRADLEY (Policeman G 53). I am sub-jailer at the Worship Street Police-court—I was present when Matthews received a sentence of two months' imprisonment as Wright or Lee, for an assault on Ann Lee, and Lee one month for an assault on Mr. Rawlins—they were placed in the cell after conviction—they had some refreshment there, and at the end of the day were sent in a van to the House of Correction with the other prisoners—these are the two commitments with Mr. Hosack's signature.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. There were about nine prisoners in all—the jailer was not absent—Mr. Gunner, the clerk, makes out the commitments—he is not here—he is also jailer—the van called between 6 and 7 p.m.—the Magistrate rose about 5 p.m.—the van has a round to go—I heard something about the rum, but I did not not see or smell any.
THOMAS SHARKIE . I am principal warder at Coldbath Fields on 28th July I was acting for the Governor—I received the prisoners in that capacity—Matthews answered to the name of Broom, and Lee to Henry Wright or Lee—Matthews had on him 120l. 16s. and some coppers, and Lee close upon 9l.—they were perfectly sober—I said "How long have you got?"—Matthews said "I have got one month;" and Lee "I have got two months."
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I had been acting for the Governor since 6 p.m.—I received the prisoners outside the chief warder's office, Mr. Hay—there are six cells each side the van—sometimes two are put in a cell—I received the commitment papers from the police sergeant—my mark is on the papers in pencil where Henry Lee gave his age as 32, bricklayer; and Richard Broom as no employment—I copy those particulars into a book—when I called out the names they said "Here," not "I am Wright or Lee," or "Broom."
JOHN BLAKE . I am a clerk in Her Majesty's Prison, Coldbath Fields—on 27th August I was present when Matthews was discharged in the name of Richard Broom—I handed him 120l. 16l. 9d., which had been taken from him when he was brought into the prison, deducting one penny for a receipt stamp.
WILLIAM ROLFE (Police Sergeant K). On 28th August I was at Worship Street when Matthews was sentenced to two months' imprisonment—on 19th September I was in the Red Cow public-house—I saw Matthews there—I said "I shall take you in custody for being a prisoner at large without lawful excuse"—he said "My name is Broom, I was sentenced to one month's imprisonment for assaulting a man"—I said "I know better, you were sentenced for two months' for assaulting a woman"—Hardy was with me—he identified him and I took him—Matthews said "I have never seen him before."
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The Red Cow is in the Mile End Road—I went there to arrest this man—I had received instructions to arrest him the previous Friday.
RICHARD HUMPHREY . I am a warder of Coldbath Fields—on 15th September I said to Lee in the prison "I have information that you have been changing your name with a prisoner who has gone out"—he said "You make a mistake"—about 9 a.m. I took him to the Governor's office—I had a communication with the Governor, and he gave me certain directions—I took the prisoner back to his cell—when I was about closing the door I said to him "Whatever did you do such a thing for?"—he said "I was hard up at the time"—I said "It is right then?"—he said "Yes"—he was discharged on the 27th.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. He was kept on at similar work in the second month—no one was present when I spoke to the prisoner.
Cross-examined by Lee. I did not admit that I made a mistake—the Governor did not caution me that blubbering in that way would not be an expert way of giving my evidence—you did not tell me your name was Wright.
RICHARD WILDY (Police Inspector). On 27th September I took Lee as he was leaving Coldbath Fields Prison—I said "I am an inspector of police, and shall take you in custody for conspiring with a man named Matthews or Lee to defeat the ends of justice and to pervert the due execution of the law"—he said "I know nothing about it"—he gave his name Henry Lee to a warder as he passed—I found on him 9l. 10s. in gold and sixpences, and 3d. In coppers—he tried to conceal a half-sovereign—he was taken before the Magistrate and charged with this offence with Matthews.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I found the money in his right trousers pocket in the jailer's room at Worship Street—390 G was with me—I told him I was going to search him, then he took the money out of his
pocket and put it on the table—I asked him if that was all and he said "Yes"—a constable called my attention to a half-sovereign between his fingers—we struggled and I took it away by force.
GUILTY . MATTHEWS— Six Months' Hard labour. LEE— Three Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHRGAN Defended.
CHARLES SMITH . I am a bill-poster, of 31, St. John's Terrace, Hackney Road—I am the landlord, and Solomon Hughes occupied two rooms on the first-floor back—he was 69 years old—Alfred Nicholson occupied the first-floor front with his wife—about 7.30 on 13th September, while I was having my tea in the kitchen on the ground-floor, two men and a woman rushed into the house—I tried to get out of the kitchen, and some of them barred the door—that was Alfred Nicholson, the prisoner's brother, and his wife—I was unable to get out—a few minutes afterwards I heard somebody tumbling downstairs, and then I saw Ellen Nicholson, her husband, and two men run upstairs—I saw Solomon Hughes lying at the bottom of the stairs, bundled up like a heap—two policemen came, and with their help I got Hughes up and got him into the kitchen—I looked upstairs, and saw his daughter, Margaret Hubbard, and the prisoner standing on the landing—Hughes was put into an ambulance, taken to the station, and thence to the infirmary—the prisoner did not live in my house.
Cross-examined. There were four people in the kitchen preventing my going upstairs, and the moment they heard of somebody falling down-stairs they ran out—there were a whole lot on the landing when I saw somebody lying at the foot of the stairs—it was two minutes alter I noticed deceased lying at the foot of the staircase that I saw people on the landing—the four people" had run upstairs before I noticed the prisoner on the landing—policemen were not in the house before the deceased was thrown downstairs—this staircase is at the back of the house; there is a little bit of a turn to it after you have gone up four stairs—standing in the hall, and looking up the stairs, you can just see the landing—the prisoner had been in the habit of visiting his brother Alfred very frequently, not every Sunday—I had not seen Margaret Hubbard before on that night.
By the COURT. The four people who prevented me from going out of the kitchen were Mrs. Nicholson, Alfred Nicholson, her husband, and two men whose names I don't know; I believe they were Vernon and Roberts, who have since been convicted of an assault in connection with this case—all four must have stepped over the body of the man to go upstairs.
down again and then shut the door, and Morris Nicholson asked me to let him go in; I said "No, sir, I shall not"—he said "Get out of the b—way," and with that he pushed me on one side and struck me on my left eye—I halloaed in the passage, and my sister, Margaret Hubbard, a married woman, came downstairs, and asked me who hit me; I pointed to the prisoner—she said "Which one was it hit you?" I said "This one"—she said "That is Morris Nicholson"—I and Margaret Hubbard and my brother-in-law, James William Hubbard, then all went upstairs into my father's room—the prisoner went into his brother's room, which was the front room on the same floor—my father had been out while this was going on—he came in, came upstairs, and said "Which one is it struck my daughter?"—he was in his room when he said that—I said "It is Morris Nicholson;" the prisoner was standing close by—then my father went on to the landing, and said "Which one is Morris Nicholson, who struck my daughter?" and then the prisoner said "I am"—some one inside Nicholson's room whom I did not fee said "Let's throw the old b—downstairs, he does not live here," and then I heard something rolling down the stairs, and saw my father lying there—he was picked up by the landlord and policemen—nobody was upon the landing when I saw my father lying at the foot of the stairs.
Cross-examined. I went to the landing the moment I heard something falling downstairs, and when I got there there was no one on the landing—just before I heard the expression "Let's throw the old b—down-stairs" I heard a great many people run up the staircase and into Alfred Nicholson's room, and a noise as if the bannisters were broken—I and my sister went into my father's room, and he came in afterwards—James Hubbard was sitting down by my side, and my sister Margaret was standing by the open door—James Hubbard ran out with me on to the landing; we both came there at the same time—I know William Harlstone and Richard Till—I could not see on to the landing, but I saw her turn out of the door—it is not a fact that I and my sister never went upstairs at all, but that we remained at the street door, and that our father rushed by us, and went upstairs—I did not know the prisoner.
MARGARET HUBBARD . I am the daughter of the deceased, and lived in the same house with my husband—on the evening of 13th September I was with persons in my room on the first-floor back—a row in the kitchen attracted my attention, and I heard my sister scream—I ran downstairs; my husband did not go at first, he came down afterwards—I saw my sister downstairs—the prisoner was standing by the back parlour door in the passage—I asked my sister what she was screaming for, and she said "I have been hit"—I asked her who struck her; she said "This young man here," pointing to the prisoner—I said "That is Morris Nicholson"—the policeman came in the passage then, I think, and my sister, I, and my husband went upstairs—we left the prisoner in the passage—I had seen the prisoner's brother Alfred in the kitchen, by the kitchen door—when we three got upstairs we went into my room—father came in about three or four minutes afterwards—he asked my sister who had struck her; she said "Morris Nicholson"—father then went out on to the landing—I was in my own room by the door, and heard him ask which was Morris Nicholson, the one that struck his daughter—the prisoner, who was standing by my father's side, said "I am"—then I heard some one in Nicholson's room say "Throw the old
b—downstairs," and then I saw the prisoner take my father by the shoulder and deliberately push him downstairs—my father was standing with his back against the wall and his side towards Morris Nicholson, not very far away from the top of the stairs—I saw my father go right downstairs, from the top to the bottom—I was about a quarter or a yard away from the prisoner, right opposite him, when he did this—my sister and my husband were in our room—some constables were in the passage, I believe—I had seen the prisoner before; I had seen him come to his brother's, and I knew him well by sight and name—my father was quite sober.
Cross-examined. The prisoner and my father were strangers—the house was full of strange people; 13 or 14 I should think came in with the prisoner—I had seen them at Worship Street Police-court—I had seen the prisoner in the passage, and some of them in the kitchen—after I, my sister, and my husband had gone upstairs I heard a number of people come up—at the time the prisoner pushed my father downstairs there was no one else there; if there had been another man there I must have seen him—I tried to prevent my father coming out of our room—the door of Alfred Nicholson's room was open, I could see in; the room was fall of people, and some of them were hanging round the door—they could see from there on to the landing—it was not a quarter of a yard from the door to where my father was standing on the landing—I am not a friend of the landlord, Mr. Smith—I have lived there nine years—I know his daughters, they have been in the house longer than we have—the Nicholsons have been there about 11 months—the expression used was "Threw the old b—downstairs"—only one person called that out—I think they said "He does not live here"—no person came out of Alfred Nicholson's room when that was said; one stood on the landing by the door—I did not see James Nicholson by the door—my father did not catch hold of James Nicholson.
Re-examined. I afterwards pointed out the prisoner to the policemen, and they took him into custody.
WILLIAM JAMES HUBBARD . I am a cabinet-maker, of 31, St. John's Terrace—I was there on the night of 13th September, and Mrs. Nicholson, the prisoner's brother's wife, said something in the deceased's room—about 9.30 the same evening I heard a row downstairs, and on going down I heard that Caroline Hughes had been struck—I came up again after that—I heard the deceased come upstairs—I heard what passed, but saw nothing; I merely heard the noise of somebody being thrown downstairs.
DANIEL SOUTHGATE (Policeman G 362). At a quarter to 10 on 13th September, I went to 31, St. John's Terrace; there was a great crowd outside the door, which was ajar; I pushed it open and went in with another constable—I found the inside of the house, on the ground-floor, full of people—I asked if they lived there, and the landlord asked me to turn them out—after that about 14 of them rushed upstairs, and as they went up they pulled the bannisters away from the rails—I saw the deceased on the landing with the prisoner and another man; the prisoner was nearest to him—I heard said "You old b—r, you don't live here, go on down"—I was then at the foot of the stairs—I saw the deceased come rolling downstairs—I could not see who pushed him down—after that I received information from Margaret Hubbard, and went upstairs,
and she pointed out the prisoner to me—she said to me and my brother constable in his presence "That is the man who struck me in the eye, and also pushed my father downstairs"—he made no reply; he could hear what was said—I said that I should take him into custody; he said he would be b—d if he would go, I should not take him—the others used bad language and pushed about—the prisoner was taken away by another constable; the deceased was taken to the station, where the doctor saw him—when we were taking the prisoner from the room he said he knew nothing about it.
Cross-examined. I can't swear one way or the other if the prisoner said he knew nothing about it—the room was full of people, and the moment Margaret Hubbard made the charge I took him in custody—I was standing at the foot of the stairs and was looking up—the door of Alfred Nicholson's room was open; there was light from a large lamp; I could see quite plainly that there was another man on the landing besides the prisoner—I could see the whole of the landing when I heard that expression, and I can pledge my oath that I did not see Margaret Hubbard—the expression came from the door of Alfred Nicholson's room—I could not see who said it—I did not see the push given because I was talking to my brother constable about what we should do next; it all occurred in an instant—I have not ascertained who the other man on the landing was, we could not see the door of the deceased's, room from down-stairs—the expression I heard was "Go downstairs," not. "Throw him"—these 14 people who ran upstairs were a very rough and disorderly lot.
Re-examined. I went upstairs—this drawing shows the landing, the back and front rooms—from where we were standing at the foot of the stairs we could not see the door of the deceased's room—the door of Alfred Nicholson's room faces the stairs—the landing is, very small, about a yard square—the deceased was standing close to the top stair—Rockingham was with me.
JAMES ROCKINGHAM (Policeman G 366). I went to the house with Southgate—I saw a number of people run upstairs pulling away the banisters—I saw one man and one woman on the landing—the prisoner was the man nearest the deceased—I did not see who pushed him down-stairs, as he stood in front—I saw him rolling downstairs—I did not know the prisoner before—I had seen him downstairs before on that day—no other man was on the landing just before I saw the deceased rolling down—I did not say at the police-court that I saw another man—I saw Margaret Hubbard standing at the back door—Southgate and I stood side by side at the bottom of the staircase.
GEORGE PAYNE . I went on the night of 13th September, to 31, St. John's Terrace, and while I was talking to the landlord I heard, the noise of somebody falling downstairs—I did not see him pushed—I saw the man at the foot of the stairs, and he was taken to the station—Caroline Hughes made a statement to me, and I went to take the prisoner—he said he knew nothing about it, and said "G—blind me I won't go"—when at the station, the deceased in the prisoner's presence was asked if he could identify the man who had thrown him downstairs—the prisoner was then standing in the dock with two others, who were convicted at the police-court on the same occasion—he said that through the fall his sight was so affected that he could not identify the prisoner, but he thought that Nicholson was the man—he put his spectacles on,
and was led as near the dock as he could go—he pointed out with his hand—the Divisional Surgeon was sent for—I made a memorandum of what was said.
DAVID LLOYD . I am assistant medical officer to the Shoreditch Infirmary—at 11.30 on the night of 13th September, Solomon Hughes was admitted as a patient suffering from injuries to the neck, arm, and thigh—I attended him till the morning of 21st, when he died—on the 23rd I made a post-mortem examination—I found there were external bruises, and internally a fracture of the spine, and laceration of the membranes of the spinal cord—he died from these injuries—considerable violence must have been used to have caused them—it would have required more than a mere fall downstairs—he was a healthy old man, with the exception of a slight congestion of the lungs.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
886. WILLIAM THOMAS (37) PLEADED GUILTY to a common assault upon Alfred Soper. There was another indictment against the prisoner for feloniously wounding the said Alfred Soper, upon which MR. BAYLIS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
The Prisoner received a good character.—Four Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 20th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROUMIEU Prosecuted.
JOSEPH DUODO . I am ship's chandler, of 138, Minories—on 14th September, about 8.45 p.m., I was in Whitechapel with a parcel in one hand and an umbrella in the other, when I was suddenly thrown down from behind—I got up and ran into Johnson's shop for protection, and as I was entering Carter gave me a blow on the left side of my face—Cann offered no violence, but they were both drunk—they had no opportunity of robbing me—they were taken in charge—they must have mistaken me for somebody else.
Cross-examined by Carter. I did not throw you to the ground before you struck me—I was loaded, and going to the station.
JAMES HOBBS (Policeman H 246). I saw both the prisoners take hold of Duodo behind, and throw him, and Carter struck him as he got up—he went into a shop, and Carter struck him again on his face—I took them for an assault—Duodo's watch chain was broken—the charge with intent to rob has been preferred since.
NOT GUILTY .
The evidence in the former case was read over.
CARTER— GUILTY .— One Month's Hard Labour. CANN— NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
CHARLES ODELL . I am a pawnbroker's assistant, of 70, Paul Street, Finsbury—on 8th September, about 6 o'clock, the prisoner pledged these boots with me for 2s. in the name of John Brown, Paul Street—he came to redeem them on 26th September, and brought this ticket (produced)—I took his money, and then told him I had delivered them to Detective Abbott, and that they were the proceeds of a large robbery, and if he went to Old Street Station, and they belonged to him, they would be delivered to him, and he went away.
THOMAS HURLE . I am assistant to R. J. Hurle, pawnbroker, of 209, Hackney Road—on 8th September, between 4.30 and 5 o'clock, the prisoner brought this pair of boots and asked 4s. on them—we lent him half-a-crown in the name of John Jackson, 12, Nichol Square—I afterwards gave him in custody, and picked him out from about nine others.
FRANK BRIER (Detective Sergeant). On Monday morning, 26th September, the prisoner came to me at Old Street Police-station, and said that he had been to a pawnbroker's who had taken his ticket and his money from him—I asked him what the ticket was for—he said, "A pair of female's boots"—I asked him where he got the ticket—he said, "I gave 6d. for it of a man in Old Street, whom I do not know"—he left, and returned in 10 minutes, during which time I examined the printed information, and seeing he answered the description of a man who was wanted for stealing boots, I took him in custody, took him to Moor Lane, and from there to Bow Lane Station, where he was placed with seven others, and identified by the two pawnbrokers—he was then charged.
JOHN BALDWIN . I am manager to Henry Reissmann—on 8th September 150 pairs of boots were in a case in the passage at the bottom of the staircase leading to the street; the case was stolen—it was worth 25l—these are two pairs of the boots.
FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective). I charged the prisoner—he gave his name Charles Dack, 111, Nichol Square—I inquired, and found he lived there in the name of Browning—on Friday week after his committal he sent for me to Newgate and said, "I told you I am innocent of stealing the boots, and so I am, but if you go to a man named Bayliss five or six doors on the right-hand side of Ironmonger Row, St. Luke's, he will tell you who stole the boots, and all about it"—I said, "You were pledging the boots on the same day as they were stolen"—he said, "You go and see him, he will tell you all about them"—I have subpoenaed Bayliss here.
JAMES BAYLISS . I am a smith and fitter, of 16, Ironmonger Row, Red Cross Street—I cannot remember the date, but on a Thursday two parties came into my back yard and turned a case of boots over—I only identify one of them, whose mother lived on the floor under me—I saw them go
to the privy and take the goods from the ease and tie them up in separate handkerchiefs and go out; one went right, and the other went left—they came back afterwards with the parcels and a third man with them, and then two more came with a trap and the goods were put into it, and they were taken away before I could say anything—I know the prisoner; he was not one of them; I know him to be an honest man and upright—they drove away, and I saw no more of them from that day to this—I left home and went to Old Street to work, and met the prisoner—he said, "I have not a penny, and I want to go to the w.c.; will you take me to yours, you live close by?"—I took him there, and he said, "There is a parcel here; who does it belong to?"—I said, "I don't know"—he said, "What shall I do with it?"—I said, "I don't know; they have been taking a lot of parcels out of this case, and going in and out repeatedly; I suppose they have left it behind"—it was a parcel of boots, but I did not open it—he only did what I should have done, he took them away with him—I did not see him again till the following Sunday fortnight—he then said, "I am out of work, I wish I could treat you"—he is no friend of mine; he never lodged or worked with me, but when I had a drop of sherbet he used to have a drop with me; I drank with him the same as you gentlemen do.
By the COURT. This turning over the boots did not take more than a quarter of an hour—the case was only pulled over, and the boots abstracted from underneath the lid—I saw that they were boots, and that they were new, and saw the men drive away with them in a trap, and in the afternoon the prisoner found the parcel of boots in the w.c., and took them away at my request—I never saw such a thing before for 30 years, but the Bells public-house makes use of our w.c.; we have had locks on the door, but cannot stop it—on the following Saturday fortnight I saw the prisoner, and he said that he had not a farthing and was out of work.
By the JURY. The mother of the man I saw first lived on our first floor as a boxmaker—I did not know that the case was there—I did not act when I came home at 3 o'clock, it was so quickly done; if you were put in the same position you would not know what to do—why should I interfere with other people's business?
GUILTY On the Second Count. The Jury stated that they were very much dissatisfied with Bayliss's evidence, in which remark the Recorder concurred— Six Month's Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 20th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
892. SAMUEL THOMAS HARRIS (19) to two indictments for stealing a watch and chain, the goods of John Brook and a watch and chain, the goods of William Butler, his master.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
others stated that the prisoner was not a responsible person.— To enter into recognisances to come up for judgment when called on. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. MACMORRAN Prosecuted.
BENJAMIN SCOTT FOSTER MACGEAGH . I am the managing director of Foster's Parcels Express Delivery Company, 115 and 117, Queen Victoria Street—Frost was in their service about nine months to 1st October, as a porter—about the end of September he said to me "I do not think it is fair that I should pay the carriage of that parcel from Oxford to Liverpool, neither do I think the amount charged right or fair"—I said "The amount you have to pay is the precise sum paid by our agent at Oxford for the carriage of the parcel to Liverpool"—he said "I do not think it is, I consider you are making a profit out of me"—I said "The agent at Oxford sent up a voucher for the sum paid, and the chief clerk on or by instructions acted in accordance with the voucher"—I told him he had better leave—lie said that he intended to do so—I said "You ought to be very careful in making such remarks, they are totally unfounded, and it is a very serious charge to make against any company"—on 28th September I received this letter and envelope, dated 27th September, 1881—they are in the prisoner's writing. (Threatening to canvass the City and expose him to business houses and give information to rival firms, and concluding: "It depends entirely upon you whether I do a profitable canvass in the City or not. Hoping that you will see fit to compromise the matter, and that I shall have to make no such unpleasant disclosures, I am, Sir, yours to command, WILLIAM H. FROST.") I communicated with my solicitor, and by his advice applied at the Mansion House for a summons—about two days after the summons was served I received this letter and envelope dated 30th September, 1881, post-mark October 1st—they are also the prisoner's writing. (Threatening to make such a statement in Court as would induce the reporters to report it, and stating, "To prevent its publication will cost you a sum of money which would be better employed in another way.") The prisoner was committed for trial—there is not the slightest truth in his suggestions; we did not make a farthing profit out of the transaction, in fact we had a claim for 13l. through a delay caused by a parcel being sent to the wrong town, and the only thing we imposed upon the men was to pay the carriage to the right town if they labelled it to the wrong.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The whole of these proceedings do not arise out of the 1s. 9d. that was stopped out of your wages—I showed you the letter from the Oxford agent—if you would not submit to the 1s. 9d. deduction from your wages you would be obliged to leave, as that is one of the company's rules—I am managing director—there are four other directors, but they do not personally superintend the work—my son is the secretary—I do not know that the matter would have dropped if the 1s. 9d. had not been insisted on, or if it had been reduced to 1s. that would have compromised the matter; you made no suggestion of the kind—I gave you no opportunity for apology—I did not say a word about taking out a summons to you.
Re-examined. My taking proceedings began with the letter—it had nothing to do with the quarrel as to the 1s. 9d., which, if the prisoner bad refused to pay, he would simply have left the company's employ—I heard him make a statement before the Magistrate.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I shall submit a plea of justification, and shall attempt to prove that the prosecutor in this case has committed a much more heinous offence than I have, in that while I endeavoured to make capital out of my knowledge of his rogueries, he has succeeded in obtaining money by conspiracy, which is an indictable offence."
The prisoner in his defence stated that his intention was to induce the prosecutor to change his decision with regard to the 1s. 9d., and not to extort money, and that his statement about the Mansion House was written out of bravado, and in the hope that the prosecutor would allow the matter to drop.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury, who thought the proceedings very harsh. — One Month's Hard Labour.
MR. ROUMIEU Prosecuted; MR. BAYLIS Defended.
WILLAM JOSHUA HOLLIBONE . I am a wine merchant, of 19, Southampton Street, Bloomsbury—on 4th October I was in Drury Lane about 7.15—I saw the prisoner at the mouth of a court—as I came abreast of him he wheeled round and struck me a blow on my chest and laid hold of my watch and chain; he pulled vigorously at it, but it had an indiarubber ring on, and would not come out—he pulled my waistcoat entirely open—the struggle lasted a quarter of a minute—there was a gas-lamp immediately overhead—as soon as my waistcoat opened he bolted down the court—I saw two men at the bottom of the court, and did not go down—I went to Bow Street, related the circumstances, and described the man—a sergeant in plain clothes went with me; we looked in the public-houses, and then came back to Drury Lane—when we reached about 20 yards from the mouth of the court we saw the man leaning against the lamp-post—as soon as he saw us he ran away down the court—the constable ran after him, and secured him—when I came up I immediately identified him as the man who had struck me and endeavoured to obtain my watch—I could see by the cut of his coat when he was leaning against the lamp that he was like the man—from 10 minutes to a quarter or an hour had elapsed since he attempted to take my watch—the force was sufficient to male the round links oval.
Cross-examined. I had no overcoat—my other coat was unbuttoned—I shouted "Leave go of my watch"—my hands were occupied; I could not strike him—I had a newspaper and umbrella—I described the prisoner as a big man, having a long cut-away coat, a close-fitting cap, without a collar—not many people were about.
Re-examined. No one came to my assistance—the struggle was long enough for me to see his face—the watch and chain are 18-carat gold.
HARRY TILDERSLEY (Police Sergeant E 10). On 4th October Hollibone made a complaint, and gave a description of the person—I went with him in plain clothes to Drury Lane—we searched the neighbourhood for
about 10 minutes—coming from Great Queen Street into Drury Lane I saw the prisoner standing at the end of Prince's Court, leaning against the lamp-post—seeing our approach, he turned sharp round and ran away down the court—we followed him—we did not lose sight of him except for a minute or two—we were about 20 yards off—I saw no one else in the court—turning the court I saw the man still running—I caught him nearly at the end of the court—the prosecutor came up, and at once said "That is the man who attempted to steal my watch;" the prisoner said "You are mistaken"—I took him to the station—on the charge being read to him he said "I came to the top of the court to look after my sister; you have got the wrong man."
Cross-examined. Hollibone described him as wearing a black cut-away coat and close-fitting cap, without a collar—I asked the prosecutor whether he was wearing a wrapper, and he said "Yes, a black one"—Prince's Court is about 40 yards from the corner of Great Queen Street—the lamp was a little way down the court, just over the archway, between me and the prisoner—there is another lamp on the opposite side of the road—the light is very good there—he ran 10 yards—it is about 20 yards to the end of the court—he got into the court before I commenced running—Drury Lane was not crowded then.
Re-examined. The prisoner does not live near the court—he was about half way down the court when I came up to the court, and near the end when I caught him.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about the case."
Prisoner's Defence I am innocent of this; I know nothing about it. I was walking through the court, and I heard some one running behind me. I stepped on one side to let him go by, when he said he was a police-officer, and took me into custody. I said I was not the man. The deputy of my lodging-house was coming to speak for me. I have never been locked up in my life before. I told the man I was going to meet my sister, and as I was coming back I was taken.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNDEES Prosecuted.
ELIZA EVANS . I am the wife of Benjamin Evans, a labourer, of Chelsea—on Saturday evening, 1st October, I was at my sister's house, 4, Cross Keys Yard, Chelsea—my sister and the prisoner were quarrelling—her son went outside—I went out to fetch him in—the prisoner said "I mean doing something for some of you;" I said "Mrs. Rowland, go in and mind your own business, and do not interfere with me when I do not interfere with you"—she took her hand from behind, and said "Take that, you English b"—she struck me in the eye, and I fell up against tie wall—I fell down against my sister's door—she went inside—I saw nothing in her hand—I was quite sober—I am still suffering from the injury—I have had a good deal of pain.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My sister and I did not go into your room and drag you out.
between 8 and 9—I went outside—I saw the prisoner with a knife in her hand—there was no light on the stairs—I could see her fire—the door was wide open—I did not see the blow; I saw the blood.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not tell the inspector I saw no knife—you hit my mother with your fist, not a knife—the row was on the landing.
HENRY ANDERSON . I live at 4, Cross Keys Yard—I saw the prisoner with a knife in her hand just inside her room door—she took her hand from behind her back and went like that (striking out)—I lodge in the floor beneath, heard a row, and went to see what it was all about—the prisoner kept on saying "Take that," and stepping back—Mrs. Evans bled, and I saw her on the floor and against the door.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was a light in your room—her son said it was a knife—I have not had a farthing to come here.
GEORGE JEFFERY (Policeman T 290). I was called to 4, Cross Keys Yard, about 8.45 p.m.—the prosecutrix was bleeding from the left side of her face—I saw the prisoner in her room—the prosecutrix in the prisoner's presence said that she had stabbed her—the prisoner said she had been quarrelling with the prosecutrix—I believe the prisoner had been drinking—I searched the room, but found no knife—it was Mrs. Evans who fetched me—she seemed excited, not drunk—I was on duty close by.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The plaster was broken off the wall in your room, and there was a lot of water about—you said "Look at my room"—the others said nothing to that.
RICHARD THOMAS DANIEL . I am divisional surgeon at Chelsea Policestation—on Saturday night, 1st October, I saw the prosecutrix at the station—her face was covered with blood; on its being washed I found a small wound on the left eyelid, a superficial wound on the covering of the eyeball, and an incised wound on the cheek—she had lost a great deal of blood—the eye was much inflamed—there is no actual danger to sight—if the knife had gone the fifth of an inch farther it would have perforated the eyeball and destroyed the sight—the wound was caused by some sharp instrument—it could not hare been caused by a fist.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am perfectly innocent of the charge; she struck me, and I struck her back. I struck her with my right hand, that was all I struck her with."
Witness for the Defence.
HENRY GOODBEER . I am a wood-carver, of 4, Cross Keys Yard, bottom floor—the prosecutrix was in my room ten minutes before this—I heard a row, and went upstairs to see what it was—I saw the prosecutrix and Thomas Anderson quarrelling with the prisoner just outside the prisoner's room on the landing—the prisoner was inside, and she opened the door; the prosecutrix rushed past me towards the prisoner—she just got her head inside the door and said she was stabbed—they were challenging the prisoner to come out—there was no fight.
Cross-examined. I did not see the blow; I saw the prisoner raise her hand.
Prisoner's Defence. I never had a knife at all, and I am very sorry for it. I am perfectly innocent.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The Jury recommended her to mercy on the ground of the provocation. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. STUTFIELD Prosecuted; MR. PUBCELL Defended.
WALTER EDWARD HAYES . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Spilsbury, of 1 and 2, Huggin Lane, City—on 6th October the prisoner came into our premises about 1.50 p.m.—he said "What is the price of black machine twist?"—I said "23s."—I showed him some in a box—he said he would take one reel as a sample—I took it out of the box, wrapped it in paper, and walked to another part of the room, leaving the box on the counter—he came round to where I was—I saw a box under his coat—I said "What have you there?" he said "Only a box"—I pulled his coat on one side, I then saw our own labels on the box—I took it from him and told him it contained five ounces of machine twist—I opened the box and showed him—he said "For God's sake do not lock me up, I have a mother at home aged 80"—I told him I should lock him up—I sent for Mr. Spilsbury—I saw him with the box about six yards from the counter I served him at—it was not on the way out—the exit was about two yards from where I was standing.
BENJAMIN SPILSBURY . I am one of the firm of Spilsbury and Co.—I saw the prisoner on the second floor of our warehouse on the afternoon of 6th October—he asked if he could have a few minutes' conversation with me, I said "Certainly," and took him to the other side of the room, apart from the young man who was standing there—he said "I do not deny this; I have an aged mother, and am in want of money; I will pay for it"—I sent for a policeman and gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. He did not say "I did not deny it"—if it is so in the depositions it is a mistake—"I do not deny it" was a confession—I had been told all about it.
JOSEPH THOMPSON (City Policeman 150). I was called, and the prisoner was given into my custody and charged with stealing a box of twist silk—he said "For God's sake do not lock me up, I have got an aged mother"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. At the station he denied the charge—he said "I did not have the box"—my deposition was read over. (This expression was not in it.)
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 21st, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
This case was withdrawn from the consideration of the Jury, the RECORDEE considering that the charge of false pretences could not be sustained, although the prisoner might be sued in a Civil Court.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, October 21st, 1881.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. A. METCALFE. Defended.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am a ship-worker, of Sheridan Street—about 10.20 on 26th August I was in the London Docks with James Taylor, the foreman of the ship Titian—she was unloading, and was nearly unloaded—the prisoner was an extra labourer engaged on that morning—I was checking the men's names with Taylor—the prisoner was on the fore part of the deck—I and Taylor were near the open hold close together—the depth is 23 ft., and 21/2 ft. of combings—I saw the prisoner at my back, and felt a pushing by me, and saw Taylor descend into the hold—the prisoner was on the ladder descending to get away from the ship—that is about three yards from the hold—he let me pass him, and I said, "You have done a fine things now"—he said, "You b—b—, I intended it for you, not for Mr. Taylor"—I went for. a constable, came back, and a constable had him in charge.
Cross-examined. The Titian had been in dock about three days—the prisoner was working on the quay—I know Harrington—there was no provocation between him and the prosecutor.
CHARLES RAVEN . On 26th August, a little after ten, I was on board the Titian with my back towards the chart-room, facing the main hold—I saw Mr. Taylor near the hold, with his hands against the combings, looking down—the prisoner, who was directly behind him, took him by the seat of his trousers and by his collar and pitched him over the combings of the hatch down into the hold—the prisoner walked backwards three or four yards, turned very pale, and ran down the gangway—I called out, "Look out for the man falling down."
JAMES TAYLOR . On 26th August I was foreman at Nos. 1 and 2 Quay, London Docks—I have been 41 years in the Dock Company's service—I am 60 years of age—the prisoner was employed on shore as an extra labourer—I missed him from his work about 8 o'clock—a few minutes afterwards I saw him on board the Titian with a bottle of beer on his shoulder in a wicker basket, to hand it down the hold of the ship, so he said—that is against all regulations, and it is my duty to interfere—I said, "Halloa, where have you been?"—he said, "I have only been outside for some beer for the men working down the hold"—I said, "But you know that is against all regulations"—he said, "Yes; I know that"—I said, "You are always leaving your work, and whenever you come in you are half drunk; you seem to be half drunk now; the best thing you can do is to go on shore and get your money, and go about your business"—he went on shore—I sent him to Mr. wood for 1s.—he worked from seven to nine—the labourers are taken on every morning as required—about ten I was on board the Titian with Smith checking the men's names and entering them into my book—as I was leaning over the hatchway in a sort of kneeling posture, with my knees against the combings, I received a violent blow on my head and neck, and I recollect a lift up, but that is all—I have been since under medical treatment—I can do nothing—I suffer from my head and back now; I ought to be in bed—I never had any angry words with the prisoner—I have hid his faults—he had been in the habit of being employed there—I had done
nothing to provoke him—I came to my senses in the London Hospital, when I was having my wounds dressed.
Cross-examined. The skin was broken about my head.
GEORGE HADDOCK BATES . M.D., M.R.C.S. I live at King Edward's Road, Hackney—I have attended Mr. Taylor since 26th August, and am still attending him—I saw him in bed at his own house on 26th August about 7 p.m., he had been to the hospital in the morning—he had three scalp contused wounds on the right side of the head and one on the temple, not penetrating to the bone—he was suffering from a general shock to his system, and in addition, as would naturally happen to a man who had fallen from a very considerable height upon some soft substance, he also had a considerable sprain of the muscles and ligaments of the back of the neck—if he had fallen on anything hard it must have killed him; if he had fallen on a beam I do not see how he could have escaped—a man at his time of life falls very heavily—his head was doubled up under him—I cannot say whether the injuries will be permanent—he cannot work.
JAMES SPURGEON . (Police Officer, London Docks, 130). The prisoner was given into my custody on the morning of 26th August—Smith called out, "Stop the man"—I stopped him, and Smith said in his presence, "That is the man"—the prisoner looked at Smith and said, "I wish it was you in the room of the old man," using bad language—the prisoner was drunk, but he knew what he was doing—he walked pretty steadily.
JAMES AUGER . (Policeman H 134). I received the prisoner from Spurgeon—he was charged with causing injury to Taylor by throwing him down the hold of the vessel—on the way to the station he said, "It was done in a minute of Irish temper, and if I hurt the poor old man I must suffer for it."
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury ,— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BAYLIS. Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS. Defended.
MARIA BERRY . I live at 4, New Square, Limehouse—I have been living with the prisoner on and off for two or three years—I had to part from him several times through his cruel treatment—on 18th June I was living at 10, Jamaica Passage, Limehouse, and between twelve and one I was standing at the door of the house talking to Hannah Weymouth and a gentleman—before I could get from the passage the prisoner caught me on the nose with an umbrella; he gave a second thrust before I recovered myself, and caught me on the right eye—he ran away—I lost my senses—I have been in the hospital—I have totally lost the sight of that eye—the prisoner must have rushed from a doorway—I had not been there two minutes before it happened—I had separated from him three days before—I believe he lived at No. 1, St. Ann Street.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were forced to leave me—you forbid me going to my daughter's, and I would go to my own child—you made out that my married daughter kept open house—I am a widow with five children, and my daughter is Mrs. Martin—when I went to live at this house it was empty—I never saw anything wrong there—the friend was a respectable hard-working female—I do not know the sailor she
was with—I did not say he was a friend of mine—the house was not a brothel, and I was not going with the man—I was in his company about 20 minutes—we went and got a glass of ale—I was not drunk—we were not all singing going home—I had no bonnet or shawl on—I live by hard work, but through you I cannot work now—my work is laundry and charing work.
Re-examined. I had lived in this house since the beginning of February—I have now got a place at New Court.
CATHERINE BARRETT . I live with my husband at 9, Jamaica Passage, next door to where this took place—on 18th June I saw Berry and Mrs. Weymouth come down the steps—the prisoner ran after her with an umbrella in his hand—he made two thrusts with it at her, and said "Take that, you cow, I have done it to yon now"—I went to her, and saw her hands up to her, and blood running through her fingers—I says "My dear, come to the doctor," and we went to Bicker Street—the prisoner ran off—I found the umbrella at the top of St. Ann Street, about two minutes' walk off.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know that this house is a brothel—I never saw the man with Mrs. Berry before.
HANNAH WEYMOUTH . I am a widow, of 9, Jamaica Passage—on 18th June I was talking to the prosecutrix between 12 and 1 at the street door of No. 10—the prisoner came and thrust his umbrella twice at her, saying "Take that"—he walked away with his umbrella in his hand—this is it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I and Mrs. Berry were standing just inside the door—the sailor was not there—we had been to a public-house drinking with a man—I do not know what this house is—I lodge at No. 9, so does Mrs. Barrett—no other female was with Mrs. Berry.
JAMES WELCH . I am a labourer, of 11, St. Ann's Road, Limehouse—on 18th June, between 12 and 1, I was about 20 yards from this place—I heard screams, and went towards them for assistance—I saw the prosecutrix's eye bleeding—they told me who did it—I went towards where he lodged, and told the prisoner that he had poked her eye out with the umbrella; he said she drove him to it—I said I would lock him up—I took the umbrella away from him—this is it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have known you by sight three years—you have been a scavenger—I had a struggle with you—you did not use the word "aggravating," you said "She drove me to it, let me go"—I gave the umbrella to Mrs. Barrett or dropped it, but I was looking after you.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER FITZGERALD . I am assistant house surgeon at the Royal Ophthalmic Hospital, Spitalfields—I saw the prosecutrix on 4th October; she had been an out-patient before—her right eye shows the mark of a wound which might be caused by the blow of some blunt instrument; an umbrella would cause it—the interior of the eye is disorganised—there is no prospect of her regaining her sight—the bleeding took place from the interior of the eye—the other eye may possibly suffer from sympathy, but it does not appear to be affected—I should say she became bund at the time, because there are still remains of the bleeding in the interior of the eye, which could only be caused by the wound—the wound could not be caused by disease—there is a distinct scar on the eye-ball—it must have been the result of great violence—I did not examine her nose.
HILARY MARTEL . (Policeman K 264). I took the prisoner on 22nd September at 467, Commercial Road, Stepney—I told him he would be charged with assaulting Maria Berry with an umbrella on or about 18th June; he said "Show me your warrant;" I produced it, and he read it, and said "That's wrong"—he afterwards said "I suppose I must go with you; I am sorry for what I have done"—I had been looking for him some time.
MARY ANN JAGO . I am the wife of William Jago, and live at 2, St. Ann Street, Commercial Road—on 18th June the prisoner borrowed an umbrella from my husband in my presence early in the evening—he said he was going to Shoreditch to get a parcel from the pawnbroker's—it was raining.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were lodging at our house at the time—you had tea.
Prisoner's Defence. I borrowed the umbrella with no intention to hurt the woman, but because it was raining a little—touching the eyeball would blind a person.
GUILTY.** of unlawfully wounding— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
903. WILLIAM MACKNESS (26) and DANIEL ARCHER (33) , Feloniously breaking and entering the warehouse of Henry Green and another, and stealing three sacks and three sacks of oats, his goods. Second Count, Archer receiving.
MR. GRAIN. Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS. appeared for Archer, and
MESSRS. BAYLIS. and PURCELL. for Mackness.
GEORGE BIRCH . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Green and Andrews, corn merchants, Rutland Wharf, Upper Thames Street—I received instructions from the police on 23rd September, and concealed myself in a van in the ride of the wharf—I was covered with tarpaulin—I had known Mackness about four months; he was a carman employed by Mr. Bradley, who has a horse there and two or three coal vans—I load them up at night, and leave them for the morning—Farnham is Mackness's mate—I heard Mackness and Farnham coming down the ride together talking, but what they said I could not make out—I next heard the warehouse door broken open upstairs—it is locked up at night with an ordinary padlock—I had locked it up at 4 o'clock, when I went to tea—I always carry the keys—no one had a right there without coming to me—I next saw a man coming down with a full sack on his back—he went up and brought two more—he put them in the front of a van that had a ton and a half of coals in it—after that he went down under Smith's warehouse, where there are some sacks—he took three sacks, and put them with the others in the coal van—I heard Mackness saying something to Farnham—he brought a horse out, and put it in the van—I knew his voice, and saw his face—the sacks were whitish—Mackness said "We back!"—shortly after that he took the horse and van up the ride—I could not see the corn in the van, it was covered over with coal sacks—I followed Mackness and the van to Whiting's Wharf, about 20 yards off, about 8.40—he drew in there—I walked up and down to see if I could see the police; then walked to Rutland Wharf again, and stopped there till the police came—I followed the police directions—I saw Mackness with Archer in Thames Street, talking together about 9.15; Detective Palmer was with me—I went and spoke to them—I afterwards went back with
Palmer to Whiting's place—before that I examined the staple of the granary door; the door was broken open, and the staple on the ground—about 60 quarters of loose oats were up there—I could see footmarks over them, and a few were scattered on the floor—I found at Watney's premises six sacks of oats, five full sacks; they were Russian black oats and white oats—the oats in the granary were white, and Russian black oats were down in the ride—there were three sacks of each, and nine empty sacks—four sacks were marked "Green and Andrews," and one "Matthews," who is a customer—I did not know Archer before—I had seen Mackness nearly every day.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Mackness and Farnham are employed by Mr. Bradley, and were employed before I came into the prosecutor's employ—I leave at 6—I have heard Bradley's men have been at the wharf as late as 9 or 10; I have not seen them—Smith's warehouse is 15 yards off—the ride is the space underneath—there are three or four buildings in the yard—there are two iron gates to the yard, next to Mr. Green's window—they are locked between 7 and 8 p.m.—the Magistrate discharged Farnham.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Mr. Bradley keeps one horse at Rutland Wharf—he has another at Watney's, and he sends for food for it—Archer is Watney's man—Bradley's van took away the corn—we send the grub round, three bushels of chaff and half a bushel of oats, to Watney's place, enough for the day—I see it mixed from the loophole of my warehouse—I work for Mr. Green, who owns the oats.
Re-examined. Watney contracts with Bradley to supply him with horses—the ride terminates in an archway which leads down to the river—the cart in which I was concealed was under the arch.
HENRY GREEN . I am one of the firm of Green and Andrews, of Rutland Wharf, Upper Thames Street, corn merchants—I do not know Mr. Whiting, of Horse Shoe Wharf; he is not a customer of ours—I let a stable to Mr. Bradley—I occupy a granary at this wharf—the whole premises belong to me, and I let them off—on 23rd September I had some loose oats stored in the granary, also some in sacks below—the black oats were not Russian, but Swedish—our premises are usually closed at 6; my men leave at 6—Mr. Bradley's men have no right to go to my granaries, nor to touch any oats—this small bag contains similar oats to those.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I supplied Mr. Bradley with oats, but a different quality to these altogether.
WILLIAM BRADLEY . My father is a coal merchant, and hires a stable from the prosecutor—Mackness and Farnham were our carmen to deliver coals—Mr. Whiting, of Horse Shoe Wharf, is a horse contractor—he supplied us with horses for our vans—we feed the horses, and do everything except shoeing and doctoring—we keep one horse at a stable at Rutland Wharf; the others are stabled by Mr. Whiting—the food is taken round daily by the carman who has charge of the horses, either Mackness or Farnham—it is a mixture of clover and oats—a four-bushel sack is taken round every day—the time varies for closing, it is usually between 7 and 8—on 23rd September three vans were loaded, and stood on the premises between 5.30 and 6; two had to be delivered the next morning—there were no orders about the third—Farnham had the delivery of the two vans the next morning; I gave him instructions
myself—Mackness had no right or necessity to take out a coal van that night.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Mackness has been employed by our firm fifteen months.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I am my father's clerk—he is not here—he was out of town at this time—he was not examined before the Magistrate—Mr. Whiting is not here—the arrangements about corn are made between my father and Mr. Whiting.
WILLIAM PALMER . (City Detective). On 23rd September, in consequence of instructions I received I instructed Birch to conceal himself on the wharf—in a van or cart under the archway, covered with a tarpaulin just after 6—the premises were locked up then, and the business done for the day—I next saw Birch about 9 o'clock—from what he told me I went and examined the granary—the woodwork of the door was split, the staple was forced out, and the door broken open, and some oats were spilt on the ladder that goes up to the granary, and in the granary a heap of oats looked as if some one had been treading about on them—in consequence of what was said I went to the Horseshoe Wharf, which Whiting occupies, and which is next to Rutland Wharf—I saw a coal van; 15 sacks of coal were at the rear of the van, and an open space left to drive; there were some empty coal sacks, with a lot of oats scattered about—we also noticed traces of oats from the van to Whiting's stable-door—Birch and Watson were with me—we went to Upper Thames Street—I saw Mackness and Archer speaking together—they went towards Whiting's stables—Archer went in, and Macknees remained outside—we went up to them—I said "We are detective officers; you will be charged with breaking and entering a granary and stealing six sacks of oats at Rutland Wharf, the property of Mr. Green;" both said "We know nothing about it"—we took them to the station—I and Watson went back to Whiting's stables—we found fire full sacks of oats and a sack of maize and 12 empty sacks and a bin full of oats—a lot of oats were scattered round about the bin—the 12 sacks were in a manger, with a sack of coke standing on them—some of them had the name "Green and Andrews," and one the name of "Matthews, of Rotherhithe"—we took the sack and the oats to the station—then we charged the men.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Farnham was discharged—he said he was conveying a parcel at 9 o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Archer is a foreman horsekeeper—I don't know what his salary is—I ordered Whiting to attend at the police-court, and he did attend, but he was not there when called.
HARRY WATSON . (City Detective). I was with Palmer when the prisoners were arrested—on the way to the Mansion House Archer said "Have you seen my governor?"—I said "Yes; he says there was corn in the bin"—he said "Yes, there is a sack and a half, and he has never told me in any way to buy corn; I was there when they came in with it, but I know nothing more of it; sometimes I leave off at 6 o'clock, and sometimes not till 10 at night"—Archer made these statements without my saying anything about the sacks—I made a note of it.
MACKNESS— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. ARCHER— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MEATES. Prosecuted; MR. BAYLIS. Defended.
THOMAS STATHUR . I am a porter, of 7, Clifton Street, Finsbury—on Saturday, 3rd September, about 12.30, I was returning home in Lower Finsbury Avenue—when I was half way through an entry the prisoner came up, I heard him say "Here he comes"—there was another with him—he asked me for a match, and directly put his hand on my chest and threw me down—while I was on the ground I heard him say to the other one "Have you got it?" he said "Yes"—I did not see the other one till I got up—they ran away—I followed them, but there was not much chance of overtaking them—I saw the prisoner a week afterwards in a public-house in Bishopsgate—I went to look for a detective, and when I returned he was gone, and I did not see him till the next Saturday night, in a beershop—I fetched a detective and had him taken—there was a lamp half way up Finsbury Avenue—I was sober—I had had a little to drink—I knew the prisoner by sight—I am sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I had a gold albert and silver watch—I felt the man tugging and pulling at my waistcoat—I had been into the Swan in Bishopsgate—I do not think I had more than a pint—I left work about 6.30, and went home to tea and a wash, and then went to the Swan, and then called in at the Britannia—I was there two hours—I had two pennyworth of whisky—a friend was with me—then I went home—I gave information to the police the same morning.
GUILTY .** He then PLEADED. GUILTY. to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in October, 1875.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 22nd, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GATES Q.C. with MESSRS. SIMS. and FILLAN. Prosecuted; and MR. MCINTYRE. Q.C., Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY MIDDLETON . I am a lead and glass merchant, at Stoke Newington—at the end of last year some actions were brought against me by certain creditors, Mr. Russell and Mr. Seale—Mr. Swaine was my solicitor, and I knew the prisoner as his managing clerk—looking at this receipt (produced) I evidently saw Jarvis on the day it is dated, at Mr. Swaine's office—he told me that 49l. was to be paid into Court that day, re Russell and Seale—I believe that I saw him again the same day, paid him the money, and he gave me this receipt: "Received of W. H. Middleton, 49l. re Russell and Co. and re Seale, to pay into Court H. Jarvis"—after that I had several conversations with him—he said
that he could not draw the money out of Court yet, as there were other actions against me, and it would be required—proceedings were being brought against me by Mr. Goringe—about January 22nd I saw Jarvis at the office in King Street—he told me there was an order to pay 190l. the next day—I said "It is very short notice to get so large a sum, but I will get what I possibly can"—he said "Do so," and I brought him 100l. in bank notes to Groom's Coffee House the day after the conversation, and he said "There is 49l. already in Court, which I will draw out, and that will make 149l."—we then walked across the road to the New Law Courts—he went upstairs to pay the money in, and I waited for him—he showed me a paper in his hand, which purported to be the paymaster's signature for the 100l., but did not give it to me—he said that it would be all right, they had received the 100l. instead of 190l.—I was made a bankrupt in February—an action was brought by my mother against Mr. Swaine—I saw Jarvis about it—he told me that the money could not be taken out of Court until other actions were satisfied—that was previous to my bankruptcy—Jarvis said once that Mr. Swaine was ill, but as he could see him he would write a cheque out and hand it to me, but whether that was after the action of Mrs. Middleton against Swaine I cannot say—Jarvis was trying to arrange with me that part of some money in Court should be arranged with my mother, so that 25l. of the money in Court should go to the payment of costs—when I gave Jams the 100l., I believed that the 49l. was in Court, and that it would be put to it, and that there was a necessity for paying the money into Court—I knew that on 18th December the execution creditors had been ordered to withdraw, but I can't say whether Jarvis told me that—I saw Mr. Swaine in his office in July; Jarvis afterwards came in, and Mr. Swaine said, "What about this action by Mrs. Middleton and myself?"—I told him that Mrs. Middleton was bringing an action against him; he said that he knew nothing about it—Jarvis said, "You do know about it; I will explain all to you if you will only allow me; I can account for all these moneys if you will only go through my account;" but Mr. Swaine refused, said that he should not touch the books again, and ordered him to leave the office at once.
Cross-examined. I have known Mr. Jarvis some years; he was a clerk in Mr. Bannister's office, and held a responsible position there—he conducted the whole of the business of Mr. Swaine's office; all my instructions were given to him, but I may have had a conversation with Mr. Swaine when he was in the office—I am not the prosecutor here—I know that Mr. Swaine gave Jarvis in custody outside Guildhall, when Jarvis had got a summons against Swaine to indict him for perjury—Mr. Swaine sent for me on the 2nd to come as a witness—I had, I think, a dozen actions against me before the 49l. was handed over—after the actions I sold the business to my mother, and gave her a bill of sale, which I think was registered; that was some time in November—Jarvis told me that the 49l. was in Court, not that it was in hand, and would go towards the 190l. that I had to pay—I did not ask to see the orders, to pay the money into Court—the 190l. was in Gorringe's case alone, and I could only make up the 100l. and the 49l.—after I paid the money to Jarvis I borrowed sums of him amounting to 6l. or 7l.; I may have said it was 9l.—he told me that there had been a great many costs out of pocket, 60l. I think—he. told me that Mr. Svraine's costs, or the costs in
the office, would be something like 200l.—he did not tell me that the money I had paid would be used to settle the costs, and if there was a balance it would be handed over to me—it was not my money, it was Mrs. Middleton's; she was ordered to pay the 49l. into Court, and the 190l.; both those sums were required to be paid into Court, otherwise the goods were to be sold; the Sheriff was in possession—Jarvis told me that a creditor of mine had obtained judgment; they alleged the goods to be mine, and my mother alleged them to be hers—when I was made bankrupt my liabilities were about 2,000l., and my assets about 1,000l.—Jarvis told me that there was no question about the interpleader because by my bankruptcy everything passed to my assignees, and therefore there was no necessity for this money stopping in Court—he did not tell me he had taken out a summons for further time to pay the 190l.—he showed me a long and narrow paper when I paid the 100l.—he did not tell me when the remainder of the 90l. would be required, and I think I was adjudicated bankrupt the next day—no, this was in January, but it was a very short date—I am sure he did not tell me he had got further time to pay the money in—we two were by ourselves—I do not remember his telling me when I was to bring the remainder of the 190l.—I do not think I saw Mr. Swaine about the matter before my mother's action; I never mentioned it to him because I understood from Mr. Barton that he had seen Mr. Swaine—Mr. Barton took possession of the premises at Stoke Newington for my mother—I am carrying on the business now as the servant of the trustee for the creditors' benefit—my mother never went down there and took possession—Jarvis pressed Mr. Swaine very strongly on the 27th to go through his books, and claimed that Mr. Swaine was in his debt; I forget whether he claimed 100l. or 200l.; Mr. Swaine was very excited, and refused to go into the accounts.
Re-examined. He said, "Why should I go into your accounts?"—as strongly as one desired it the other resisted it—the conversation about the costs was after my bankruptcy—I saw no order to pay the money into Court, but I was told so by the Sheriff's agent; Jarvis had told me that there was such an order—I am an old personal friend of Jarvis—I attend here upon my recognisances; I was told by Mr. Swaine's partner that I was called as a witness on the first occasion, when Mr. Swaine was before the Magistrate; I was not there the second time, as I had no subpoena, and the third time I was subpoenaed and attended.
CUTHBERT AMOS SMITH . I am a solicitor, of 40, King Street, Cheapside—the prisoner came to me as my managing clerk in October, 1879, and remained till 27th July, 1881—William Henry Middleton was a client of mine in December, 1880; there were a great many actions against him—Jarvis attended to the business on my behalf, and called on me night and morning, and also on Sundays, and told me of the proceedings in the different actions, I being at that time ill and not able to attend at the office—I had no personal knowledge of the action of Russel v. Middleton or Seal v. Middleton—Jarvis was furnished with proper books; they continued from his predecessor—this is called the receiving-book; it has been my custom for eight or nine years that all sums should be paid into the bank, no matter how small, and all cheques were drawn by me; but when I was ill, instead of paying into the bank, he retained what sums he required for the use of the office, and paid the rest into the bank—if he received 49l. from Middleton in December, 1880, it
ought to have been, entered here on that day; nor is there any entry of his having received money on 22nd February—no Communication was made, to me till the latter end of January or beginning of February, when I said, "Really, Mr. Jarvis, I cannot carry on, the business any longer unless money is provided; I cannot allow you to continue this business of Middleton unless there is payment; the payment are getting too large"—he said, "Well, there is 49l. paid into Court; I shall be able to get it out; in a few days"—I said, "Set about it, and let the money be got out of Court"—he made no communication to me about a sum of 100l.—I had never heard of the case of Goring v. Middleton—the full knowledge of these matters came to me about the middle of February, and I said, "Look here, Jarvis, I must have some money from Middleton"—he said, "Well, I have got an appointment with Middleton to-morrow to go down to the Court and get the money"—I said, "Well, be sure you see about it, and come down to my private house to-morrow, and let me know how things go on"—on 27th July Mr. Middleton called on me and spoke of the 49l. and 100l. and when Jarvis came in I asked him to bring me the book—I said, "Mr. Jarvis, I understand there is a charge brought by Mr. Middleton against me for 149l.; what is it all about? I never heard of such a thing; what does it all mean?"—he said, "Well, I can explain, the whole to you"—I said, "Is it the fact that these is an action pending against me for 149l.?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Who is the solicitor acting for me? who gave him instructions?"—he said, "I did"—I felt exceedingly angry, at an action being brought against, me and being ripe fox trial without my knowledge, and I ordered Jarvis out of the office—he said, "Let me stop and I can make up all the accounts satisfactorily"—I said, "I have asked you over and over again to let me have your accounts, and you have made all sort, of shuffling excuses, and I intend to make inquiries"—I had asked him to do so many, times, and the books had been brought down to my house, and he made appointments to go through them, but the matter went on for some months—he said, "I should like to make up the accounts," but I refused to have anything to say to him until, he explained, this 149l—I said, "Be good enough, to leave my office," and I locked the door myself—this happened at 6 p.m.—the entries which are in his writing in these books are in the same state as they were then, except this in, red ink—I find here entered on 12th February "Middleton, cash on account 49l."—it does not specify on what account; it is carried into the ledger in Jarvis's writing, "On account of costs, 12th February, ditto 49l."—"ditto" means cash; that is in Jarvis's writing—there is no receipt on 22nd February, 1881, in the receiving-book of 100l. from Middleton; but there is a payment into the bank on that day on my account of 25l., and in his cash book there is 40l., that makes 65l.; something appears to be dove-tailed in—I have not made inquiries about the numbers of the notes paid in; the 65l. was paid in re Wilson and Larner, not on Middleton's matter—after I dismissed him in July he had no authority to act in any matters which were in my office—there was a case of Olney in liquidation. I did not authorise him to apply to Mr. Leech to stay execution against Olney; the first I heard of it was on, the morning of his arrest—no sum of 100l. was paid to my credit on any other day on Middleton's account.
Cross-examined by MR. MCINTYRE. After Jarvis came to be my managing clerk I was absent a great deal—I was rather reluctant in
engaging him; he said that he had a good connection among musical people—he introduced Middleton's business, but not Olney's I had done business for Mr. Olney before Mr. Jarvis came; I have not seen him here to-day; I have not been speaking to him at the bottom of the stairs outside—I gave Jarvis in custody on a Monday—I don't think I had seen, Frederick Bray shortly before that—I know him perfectly well—I will not swear because I do not remember—he did mot tell me that Jarvis was taking proceedings against me—a gentleman told me that Jarvis had an information ready for me to be charged with perjury but that was not before I took proceedings against Jarvis—I laid an information against him at the Mansion House when information came to me that he was at Guildhall—I had previously seen Sergeant Outram—I did not receive information on the 29th that Jarvis was preferring a charge of perjury against me—the Jury at the Mayor's Court disagreed with my version—Jarvis was not there—I and my friend Mr. Parry were examined as witnesses—I denounced, a bill of exchange as a forgery, which had my name on it as drawer and endorser—parry had come down on purpose to draw it; my name was genuine, it was Mr. Parry's signature which was denounced as a forgery; he and Jarvis had come down on purpose to have the bill drawn, and accepted but it was not signed by Mr. Parry after it was. signed and accepted—the acceptance was a forgery, it was endorsed by Jarvis—I Knew that it was discounted by Jarvis, with his endorsement on it—about five months after it was drawn, when I saw Parry's signature, in April on May, I denounced it at once—I kept Mr. Jarvis, who I knew had passed that document, in my service till July; my reason for was the multiplicity of actions in which he refused to give me the information I required as it would be exceedingly difficult to discharge him there and them—I kept him in my service two months knowing, that he had uttered a document knowing it to be forged—I spoke to him about it and very angry words occurred, and he said "I have arranged with, the holder; you will not be troubled about it"—the only bill I ever gave Jams was one which I asked him to go and get discounted for me; it was not a business bill, but one which I required for a, mortgage—I am very much disposed to think it was a promissory note—I do not know what became of it—I see my letter refers to a promissory note—there ware never any accommodation bills between me and Jarvis, nor did? he draw on me except in that particular transaction, when he went and morgaged my deeds—I should know; if I saw it whether it was a promisory note—I do not know whether I accepted a bill of his, or he one of mine till I see it;, it was taken to Mr. Warren, who has my deeds, and he let me have 175l.—Mr. Warren sued me and Jarvis for 200l.—Jarvis did not find a portion of the money; he did not find 79l.—I will, tell you, where I had the money from; I borrowed 200l. to take it up with; it was a 200l. note Which I got from Lombard Street—Jarvis did pay me 79l. on another transaction, but I don't think that was used in settling the matter with Warren—I received 200l. in notes from. Mr. Bird, and they were that notes I took to Mr. Warren—the money was paid into Court on that occasion, and I asked Mr. Warren to give me the deeds up; he refused, because he had got the acceptance of myself; and Mr. Parry—I declined to pay more than 200l. into Court, and there was a counter-claim—I was never indebted to Jarvis 200l. in my, life—in all probability I accepted a
bill, which said "For value received" from Jarvis; that was the usual form—I was lying at home ill, and Mr. Warren had deeds of mine value 200l., and I did not think it wrong—I had pleurisy in my side—Dr. Bunting attended me; he is not here—I was away a month or two, and did not come out during the stormy weather—Jams took me to his house at Southend; I was his guest, but he charged me 24l.—I was there three weeks—I was ill at West Green, but I came to business occasionally; I was not entirely in bed—I never had any creditors; I have had executions—Jarvis only paid out one of them; a little one for 5l. or 6l.—I mean to say that I, a solicitor, had an execution in my office for 5l. or 6l.—he does not claim against me that he paid money to the clerks in my office, and the person who cleaned the office, but I have heard people talk about it—he wrote me a letter saying that a balance of 18l. was due to him, and he mentioned 79l. and 50l.; the 50l. I entirely ignore—he was to meet me at Exeter last Good Friday by the 9 o'clock mail—he did not meet me, and he came back on the Tuesday morning, and said "I am very sorry I did not meet you; I went down to Exeter with the money, and left the bag in the railway train, and have lost 105l."—that was about Miss Soper's affair—I think it was settled; she had brought an action against me; it was a private action, nothing to do with Jarvis—no private account books were kept between me and Jarvis—here is an entry in this book from my office, "September 14th," private account as rendered—I have not gone into that yet—I did not see that book for nine months—I should think it was about the end of July, 1880—I might have seen it in his hands, but I never examined it or checked it—here is 24l. 18s. 2d. account rendered, September, 1880l' that is the private account which he charged me for staying at his house at Southend—I did not buy a boat—I did not get into a disturbance about a man's hat being broken, but such a thing might be if I got larking—I do not know that the result was a complaint made against me about smashing a man's hat, which I compromised—I don't remember anything of the kind, or that Jarvis paid it for me—very likely it might occur, but I don't remember it—if there is any private account I wish he would let me have it, because I have wanted it a long time—I found what I say in the books two or three lays after he left—he wrote to me on the very day he left to go through his books—I did not refuse—I had gone through them myself—I did not make an offer to go through them, because I was having then gone through by an accountant, Mr. Green—I also employed a man named Parsons, who went through them up to 1874—I employed him again a year and a half ago—he is here—I do not know that Jarvis again wrote to me, threatening me that if I did not let him go through the accounts he would take proceedings against me—I have handed one or two of his letters into Court—I received this one (produced), and considering it a gross insult, I did not take the trouble to answer it; if Jarvis had anything against me I invited him by my sons to go and do it—I was concerned in a case of Jewel v. Fisher—I don't know when it was, but the papers are here—Jarvis had the exclusive management of it—I had nothing to do with it, nor did I receive a farthing of money in it that I know of, but it is difficult to say whether I looked at a letter or received a shilling, but I believe every shilling of the money was paid to Jarvis—a cheque for 21l. 13s. was received, and credit given; it was paid into my bankers, my endorsement is on it—I do not remember denying to
Jewel that I received it; I told him that I had never received it, but I meant the second action—I never denied receiving 21l.—I denied receiving the last money in Jewel and Gunter; if I denied receiving it in Jewel and Fisher I was misleading myself—if there was a cheque in Crossley and Burn I endorsed it—I distinctly remember receiving it—I did not deny it; not that cheque—I denied it on the second action—I don't know about the first; if I did deny it in Jewel and Fisher I told an untruth—I will not swear I did not—I was very busy; I don't remember the exact words—Jarvis did not speak to me about the money after he had gone and seen the cheque with, my endorsement on it—he did not return and tell me so—I told him I had not received the money in the second action—that was all received by him—nothing in pencil has been rubbed out of this book by me.
Re-examined. The 200l. acceptance found its way into Mr. Warren's hands in this way; Jarvis came to my private house and said "We have not been able to get a lot of bills of costs, and are running short of money; the best thing you can do is to go and get a couple of hundred pounds on that property of yours in Devonshire," and the following day, I think, he sent down a promissory note by a clerk to me to sign, and I returned it with a letter, which I think you have got—I was at home on 24th January, and I wrote Jarvis an authority to get certain deeds and raise 200l. on them; I enclosed my acceptance, the name of the drawer was not filled up; I did not direct Jarvis to fill it up; it was not an accommodation bill between me and Jarvis; it appears in my books as an accommodation bill to raise money for the business—there is a suggestion that Jarvis paid 79l. of this 200l., but he did not pay a farthing; I paid the whole 200l. into Court myself—the action brought against me by Miss Soper was for breach of promise of marriage, and I arranged to settle it on payment of a certain sum to her—I arranged to go with Jarvia to Exeter, and gave him a cheque and told him he had better bring 105l. and meet me at the station—he changed the cheque at my bank, and was to meet me at the Great Western Railway Station, and go with me to Exeter to settle the action, but he did not meet me—I saw him at the office on Wednesday—he said "I have been down to Exeter with that money; I had the money and left the bag in the railway train, and while I was talking to a lady the train moved on, and I have lost my bag"—I said "I will make inquiries," and I instructed two detectives to do so—I insisted on his replacing the money; I said that I did not believe he had lost it, and that I should certainly discharge him; he said "I don't want you to lose that money, I can borrow 100l. of my sister, and, if you will look over it, you shall have all the money," and he showed me letters from a building society, and paid me 75l. on account of the 100l. which he had lost—this is Jarvis's letter to me (Stating that he could not get the money yesterday, but that the secretary of the building society assured him that, it would be arranged for next Friday), it enclosed this other letter (produced)—the 79l. so obtained by him had nothing to do with the repayment of the 200l.—it was in September, I think, that I was at his house in Southend for three weeks—I made him no promise to pay for my board, I know nothing of the 24l. charged in the books, unless it was for what I had at Southend, eating, Bleeping, and drinking—he has not told me what it was for—I have never seen the account—the three little executions which were paid out were entirely Jarvis's fault in not paying the
amounts; the summonses were never shown to me—the largest of them was for 7l. 10s. 3d., and after that there was still 5l. 9s. 4d. in his hand—this book has been kept in my safe since Jarvis left, except when it was being posted—it is in the same state as he left it.
HENRY MAYNARD . I am clerk to William Maynard, of Clifford's Inn—I attend to, the interpleader summonses at chambers—in December, 1880, the case of Russel and Co. v. Middleton was in my hands, and I have got the summons with the Master's endorsement—his order is, "Order Sheriff to withdraw in action. H. H. D."—that is Master Dodson—there was not an interpleader at all in Seal's case, I should certainly know if there had been—Mr. Maynard is solicitor to the Sheriff of Middlesex—there was afterwards an order in the case of Goring v. Middleton to pay 190l. into Court.
Cross-examined. An order was drawn up; the officer was simply directed to withdraw—that was not the first summons, there were two issued—one was in Ickley and Middleton, and a similar order was made in that—there was an order in Russel v. Ickley that the money should be paid into Court—there was an interpleader where 149l. was to be paid into Court—I mean to say that there was no order for 49l. to be paid into Court—Mr. Birket was acting on the other side—I have not got the affidavit, it would bellied, and the copy would go to the execution creditors, who were ordered by the Master to withdraw all claims—I have got the Sheriff's instructions to issue the interpleader—I was acting for the Sheriff—I heard that the Sheriff's agent told Mr. Middleton that the 49l. was to be paid into Court—I do not know whether the Sheriff's officer remained in possession on account of the other action—he is here—I was at the Mansion House, but was not called.
Re-examined. I never said anything to Mr. Middleton about paying money into Court—I never saw him in my life until to-day.
Cross-examined. I did not take the numbers down at the time—this memorandum came into my hands from Mr. Bates, the solicitor; this very paper was copied which was sent to the office—the man in possession told me that the 49l. was ordered to be paid into Court.
JOSEPH LEACH . I am, a merchant, of 106, Cheapside—I know Jarvis very well; he was Mr. Swaine's clerk; he was introduced to me by Mr. Olney, who married my cousin—on 23rd August, 1681, Jarvis and Olney called on me; Olney had a note in his hand, which he said he had just received from Mr. Hill, the receiver of the estate, and that 5l. was required to restrain the creditors from taking possession of the furniture, and that was the last day, and: if they had it there and then they could restrain it, and that the next day, when Mr. Hill, the receiver, returned from Deal, would not do—I said to Jarvis, "I hold you responsible, if I lend this money, for the 5l.; I do not recognise Olney in the matter; you ace to bring it back when Mr. Hill returns"—he said, "That is so"—I drew a cheque on Mills and Co., payable to Jarvis's order, and said to Jarvis, to show the transaction, "Give me your I O U on the back of Mr. Hill's letter," which he did; this is it, and this is my cheque (produced)—I gave him the 5l., believing it must be paid into Court that day.
Cross-examined. I did not know Mr. Hill was the receiver till they told me—I looked upon this as Jarvis's debt to me—he was Mr. Swaine's acting managing clerk; I only knew him in this matter—this was to restrain the execution creditors from selling Fanny's furniture; she is my cousin, and was just confined—I heard from Olney at the police-court that he received 1l. of this money himself—Jarvis told me that he went to Maid stone to get the furniture freed; it was not sold—Olney is in possession now—I only knew from, what Olney and Jarvis said that the injunction was expiring about that time; Olney said, "It is the last day for restraining creditors, to-morrow will be too late"—Jarvis said that they must have some money, or the Sheriff's, officer would go into possession; he said, "Mr. Hill has sold the stock, and has money in hand; they gave us 5l. out of the money he had in hand belonging to Olney's estate"—I cannot say whether Mr. Hill returned the next day; I did not see him till I went to Mr. Swaine's office with an officer on the day Mr. Jarvis was arrested—I am not the prosecutor—Mr. Swaine took the I O U from my hand and said, "This is the third fraud which has cropped up by that fellow this morning; you will have to come with me to the Old Jewry."
Re-examined. I only knew him and Mr. Swaine in this transaction—he did not tell me that an order had been obtained to continue the distraining order; if I had known that, I would not have lent the money.
WALTER OLNEY . I was unfortunate in business, and was in liquidation this year—Mr. Swaine is my solicitor; Jarvis managed toe entire thing—a creditor named Auguste Guteman and Co. got judgment against me, and there was an order restraining his issuing execution—I saw Jarvis from time to time about the liquidation proceedings; I saw him in August—an order had been made On 27th June under the seal of the Court, and on 29th. July, restraining certain creditors; Jarvis acted for me in obtaining the consent of my creditors to the continuation, of that order, but he informed me that the order had been continued on or about 23rd August; that was the very day I went to Mr. Leach) I understood—it was after I went to Leach—I did not see creditors named Cook and Co., Guteman and Co., or Plunkett and Leader—I found Mr. Hill, the receiver—I received 1l. out of this 5l. from Mr. Leach; it was to pay the gas company, and I paid 14s. to them.
Cross-examined. They were creditors of mine, and I paid it to prevent the gas being cut off—when I employed Mr. Swaine at first he did not attend to the business; I called several times to see him, he was not there, and I saw Jarvis—the he petition was filed, I believe, on 29th July—I asked him to conduct the proceedings for me as there was an execution out against me, and he said he would put Mr. Swaine's name on the proceedings, as he should not like him to think he was taking anything out of the office, and when, he filed the petition, we tried to find Mr. Swaine, but could not—I did not, know that Jarvis had left then—I think Mr. Swaine was away, ill at that time—there were, I think, three creditors appeasing against me then, Barton Cook, and Guteman—Jarvis complained to several times about Mr. Swaine's accounts with him—he went with me to Maidstone to save the estate a, few. days before 23rd August, and again on, the evening of 23rd August I think; that was the very day that the cheque, was given to him—the furniture had been saved.
NOT GUILTY ,
(There was another indictment against the prisoner, which was postponed to next Session.)
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, October 22nd, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended., JAMES THOMAS MCDOUGALL. I am a manufacturing chemist, of 10, Mark Lane, City—the prisoner called on me, and I have given him money on two occasions—he was always dressed as a clergyman—he called on 7th September and I said, "Mr. Clarke, I gave you a donation some 18 months since, and you told me that a number of influential men in the City had promised to form a committee for carrying on your work, and that Mr. Boustead was to be treasurer, and that within a few weeks you would send me a printed circular containing the names of the committee and a copy of accounts; as you have not done so I shall not give you more than a trifling sum," and I gave him 5s. specially for the support of 16 destitute children, whom he said were at his cottage homes—the last time he called he said, "I have 16 destitute children under my sole care, whom I have gathered from the streets; also in one of the homes I have some fallen girls"—I said, "I told you before that I would not assist you in that bent of your work, as I think it is very indiscreet your having anything to do with it; you should leave it to respectable women"—he said the homes were at Botany Bay, Enfield; he said, "I shall be glad if you will help me in support of the children"—he said he had three homes at Botany Bay, two for the children and one for the fallen women—I said, "Well, I will give you 5s. towards the support of the children, give me a receipt for it"—he took a book of blank receipts from his pocket and said, "Surely you mean that I may write the receipt for 5l.?"—I said, "You may come and ask me for more when you have convinced me your accounts are in order, and that a proper committee has been formed for superintending the work"—then he gave me this receipt; he had not pot in "for food," and I said, "Put in 'for food,' "and handed the receipt back—I saw him quietly draw his pen through the "16," which roused my suspicions; then he left—when I parted with the 5s. I believed his statement that there were 16 children and three cottage homes—I communicated with the Charity Organisation Society—the prisoner gave me a circular similar to this. (Headed "The Gospel Mission and Children's Cottage Home, 14, Astey's Row, Essex Road, Islington, and Botany Bay, Enfield, Middlesex," and slating that this was a thoroughly unsectarian effort to elevate the social and moral condition of the poorest class, especially in the salvation of souls; that there were special children's services, a cottage home at Botany Bay, to which the little sick and ailing ones are sent for a few weeks to rebuild the shattered frame, and a mission-house in Astey's Row, ending with a printed form for subscribers to fill up.)
Cross-examined. He had previously handed me a circular—I had not read it—he was in my office 5 or 10 minutes—very likely he said I had given a donation—he represented the institution to be permanent—the
children were to be kept till they could take care of themselves, and his object was to save these children from the life they would come to if left on the streets, and that their being kept there was a reasonable inference—his clerical costume influenced my mind.
EDWARD BOUSTEAD . I am a merchant, of 34, Leadenhall Street—the prisoner called upon me on 20th December in his present clerical costumer—on 21st June he came again to solicit contributions to his Homes at Botany Bay, Enfield, for destitute children whom he had rescued from the streets; the children of fallen women—at first I refused to give him anything, but he said the Homes were in urgent need, being in arrears of rent, and that unless the rent was paid these poor people would be turned out, so I gave him 5l., begging him not to come again—I believed his statement—the next I heard of it was from a detective calling—I did not interfere—these are the two receipts.
Cross-examined. His appearing as a clergyman influenced my mind—he showed me a paper which he called a summons—I gave him the money to prevent their being turned out—the conversation lasted about 20 minutes.
FRANCIS AUGUSTUS BEVAN . I am one of the firm of Barclay, Bevan, and Co., 54, Lombard Street—the prisoner came to see me in his present garb several times—on 12th April he said, "I keep a school at Botany Bay for destitute children, and I am in arrear with the rent, will you give me something towards it?"—he also said he had another work in Islington, a reformatory—in consequence of his statements I gave him 5l.—I told him I should make inquiries—he mentioned several names, and especially that of a City missionary I know—I have a country house not far from Enfield—I made inquiries, and wrote to Mr. Clarke—I afterwards communicated with the Charity Organisation Society—my cheque has been paid.
Cross-examined. The prisoner never called at my house at Enfield—his clerical dress influenced my mind.
GEORGE THEODORE CROSSFIELD . I am a wholesale tea-merchant, of 3, Great Tower Street, City—the prisoner called on me in his present dress, and said, "You remember that I called upon you before when I was in difficulty on account of the rent of one of my cottage Homes; after seeing you I found a friend who made up the amount of rent required; I am now again in great difficulties, and have been served with a notice to quit unless the rent is paid within a few days; I have been so much occupied with carrying on the work of the mission that I have not had time to go about much to collect money; if you are able to give me some assistance it may be the means of preventing the work being altogether stopped"—I said, "I must repeat what I told you the last time I saw you, that I am already subscribing to as many objects as I well can do, and I cannot give to anything fresh"—he pleaded very hard, and finally said, "Will you think the matter over and write to me in the course of a day or two?"—he gave me a circular like this on a previous occasion; he corroborated the statement in it—he said he had another Home for fallen women at Botany Bay he did not like to put on the report—I read the circular—having heard his statements and from the pressure ha put upon me, I gave him 2l., believing his statements—I sent him a cheque for 5l. by post on 11th August—his receipt is dated 13th August.
Cross-examined. His clerical dress did not make the least diffference to me—I should be rather less inclined to give to a clergyman—I did not take the oath, I affirmed—a detective called on me—I have a vivid recollection of what took place—I was specially influenced by his statement that the rent was in arrear; that added to what had gone before induced me to give.
JOSIAH LEVER . I am a goldsmith, of Rydon Crescent, Clerkenwell—I have known the prisoner three or four years, first at Enfield, where I have resided—he was living in a small cottage with two rooms—he removed from the neighbourhood, and I did not see him for six or eight months—he came back and lived at Botany Bay, a little hamlet two miles from Enfield—he took rooms in a cottage close to the end of my stables, two rooms downstairs and one up—a living room, a wash-house, and a bedroom—his mother took the house—another woman was there, a younger woman, and three children, one was born early in the present year—the oldest child would be about six—a Mrs. Brewer lived next door—I never saw any destitute children there, nor any fallen women—the rent of the cottage was about 3s. a week.
Cross-examined. I leave home about 8 a.m. and return from 7 to 8 p.m., and am at home all day on Saturday and Sunday—the toother kept a school at the cottage for a short time last year—a school had been carried on there for 40 years—I have lived there seven years—she revived the school, and some of us subscribed 1s. a week and the clergyman guaranteed the rent—I have been in the house, but not while the mother was there—Mr. Edwards is the landlord—there are a few other cottages, a farm, and a beerhouse in Botany Bay.
STEPHEN EDWARDS . I own some cottages at Enfield—I let one to Mrs. Clarke, the prisoner's mother, at 3s. a week, ft year and eight months ago—the prisoner afterwards came there—he was there on and off all the time—I used to go there for the rent, but I could not get it—nobody else was there besides old Mrs. Clarke, the children, the prisoner's wife, and two dogs.
Cross-examined. The prisoner owes two quarters now, 3l. 12s.; he was always shuffling and cheating—I lived about two miles off—I took out a summons against Mrs. Clarke, and then the prisoner got it turned over to him by the quarter.
GEORGE HENRY KILBY . I am a colporteur for Mr. Spurgeon of the Metropolitan Tabernacle—the prisoner came to my Mission Hall in Church Street, Essex Road, Islington—he said he was the pastor of a church at Enfield, and that he had a hall at Astey's Bow, Islington, which he gave suppers at.
WILLIAM OSBORNE (City Defective). I took the prisoner on 15th September upon a charge of obtaining 5s. from Mr. McDougall by false pretences—I said "I hold a warrant for your arrest"—he said "Where is it?"—I read it to him; he said "Give it tome"—I said "No, I will read it to you if you like"—he asked me to give it to him again, and then said "I shall not go"—we had a little struggle, and after a little persuasion I took him to the station—this occurred partly in 14, Aster's Row and partly in the street—he was charged on the warrant at the station, and gave his name as the Rev. Charles Edward Clarke—the inspector said "Are you a clergyman?"—he said "Yes, I passed my degree in America"—I said "What is your address?"—he said "Botany
Bay, Enfield"—I said "I want your London one "37, Ormside Street, Hatcham"—I searched him—I found the memoranda and receipt-books produced; an agreement between Mrs. Clarke and Stephen Edwards for a cottage at Botany Bay—I went to Ormside Street—I found two women who gave me the names of Jenkins and Reed, but since both had given the name of Mrs. Clarke—they had each a child, one at the breast, and one with a feeding-bottle—there was one bedroom, and one bed in it—at Astey's Bow I found four receipt-books and a quantity of these circulars—I went to the cottage at Botany Bay and saw a female there with two children—there was one room about twice the length of an ordinary umbrella, and a kind of attic which I could scarcely stand up in, with a slanting roof, and was a wooden building, and a very small place used as a washhouse—at Astey's Row it was a large room, and a pastry or back room—there was an apparatus for cooking, cups and saucers, and a bag of straw and a table, no chairs—the windows were broken, and the blind had the words "Mission Hall" on it—the shatters were up.
GUILTY †*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
>MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MURRAY . I am a compositor, and live near the Waterloo Road—on 1st October I was returning home, and Tebbs accosted me in Little Queen Street—I accompanied her to her room, 30, Macklyn Street—Watte came in, and said "This is my house, I want 2s. rent"—I gave him 2s.—he said "I want another shilling"—I said "I suppose you will keep asking all night," and I refused—Watts gave Tebbs an oralheaded club, which she held over my head, and he said "Now, if you move or make any noise I will settle you in a minute," so I kept quiet, and he took everything out of my pocket; about 24s. and some loose change, besides the 2s. I gave him—they then let me out—I rushed downstairs as quick as I could, saw a policeman, and we came back and saw Tebbs—I said to the constable "That is the female"—she yelled and used bad language—I saw Watts at the police-station, and identified him from six others.
Cross-examined by Watts. I came out with 30s.—I was not with two females—I paid 2d. for potatoes—I did not meet you, and say I had been searched by two young men, nor give you 2s. to see me safe out of the street—you had on a brownish coat and the same necktie you are wearing—I was perfectly sober—I had had two glasses of ale.
ROBERT DAVIES . On Sunday morning, 2nd October, about 12.15, I met Murray at the corner of Macklyn Street and Drury Lane—he was sober—he made a communication to me—I went with him to 30, Macklyn Street—I saw two females there—he pointed out the prisoner as the one that robbed him—she said she did not—I took her to the station—on the way she said "I b—well will do it again"—when the inspector told her the charge she said she did not steal the money—I took Watts on 3rd October a little after 2 a.m.—I told him the charge; he said "I am not guilty, you have made a mistake"—I have seen Watts before—I know he lives with Tebbs at No. 30.
Cross-examined by Watts. I have seen you go in and out of No, 30 at all hours of the night.
Watt's Statement before the Magistrate. "She is quite innocent. I am the guilty one."
Watts's Defence. I said I am not guilty of any violence, robbery, or harm. I was guilty of receiving the 2s. which he gave me to see him out of the street where he had been overpowered.
Witness for the Defence.
HUGH CURLEY . I am a labourer, of 24, Great Wyld Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields—this is the coat you wore; you gave it to a man on Tuesday week, and the man returned it to me on the night of the robbery—you returned home that night about 12.10—you said you had met a man in Macklyn Street, who gave you 2s. to see him safe out of the street, and that you had done an awkward thing as you might have got your own neck kicked, but being in want of money you had done it.
Cross-examined. I have seen Tebbs with my son once—he has not stopped with me for a week together—during the last month I have seen very little of him.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Monday, October 20th 2st, 22nd, and 24th, 1881.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSES. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
GEORGE HENRY LEWIS . I am a solicitor, of 10 and 11, Ely Place, Holborn—I acted as solicitor for Captain Philp in an action brought by the prisoner against him—the name of the action was Wilberforce Philp—it was in the Queen's Bench Division—I have the writ—it was issued on 28th November, 1879, for libel and slander—the statement of claim was amended, and the amended statement of claim only forms portion of the record—it was delivered on 23rd June, 1880—it sets forth various slanders alleged to have been uttered by Captain Philp, the son of Dr. Philp, against the prisoner; also a libel in two letters he wrote to his father—the amended statement of defence was delivered on the 17th July, 1880—it denied all the alleged slanders, but admitted the writing of the two letters, and claimed privilege as being letters a son should write to his father as to information he received concerning his father—issue was joined on 30th June, the cause came on for trial on 5th July, 1881, and continued till the 11th, when the verdict was given—I produce the judgment—it is entered 10th October, and states that the action was tried on the 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and 11th July, before Mr. Justice Field, judgment for the defendant—the costs have not been taxed—I was in Court when the prisoner admitted that these letters in this bundle were in her writing.
ALBERT EDWARD LORENZ . I am a shorthand writer employed by Messrs. Cooke and Sons, Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane—I was in Court at the trial of Mabel Wilberforce v. Philip, for the purpose of taking shorthand notes of the evidence—she was sworn in my presence
before Mr. Justice Field—she answered to the name of Mabel Wilber-force and gave evidence—I took the notes from page 1 to the bottom of 16, of the first day, July 5th; and Mr. Cooke from the top of 17 to page 52—page 52 is the end of the examination in chief—the whole of the rest of the evidence was taken by me—I was also present in Court when pages 17 to 52 were taken, and saw Mr. Cooke take it down—he wrote that portion of the transcript—I did not follow that portion word for word, and cannot vouch for it by my own mouth—these are the original transcripts, they have been compared with the shorthand notes—I wrote out the greater part of them myself. (The transcript was put in and portions of it were read by Mr. Williams. Those parts upon which perjury was assigned were as follows: that she (the prisoner) falsely swore that her right and proper name was Mabel Wilberforce, and that she was born in the year 1854; that she had never passed by the name of Mrs. Trenefidi, and that she did not in November, 1861, in that name lodge at the house of Catherine Thompson, at East Cliff, Dover; that she was not, in or about January, 1862, confined of a female child there; that she was not the mother of a female child registered at Dover in the name of Amy Evangeline Trenefidi, and born on 16th January; that she was not living at Park Villas, Hounslow, in or about 1863, in the name of Mrs. Trenefidi; that she never knew a person named Triandafilladi, at Manchester; that she never lived at Manchester and passed by the name of Amy Normandy or Mrs. Trenefidi about October, 1863, or May, 1864, and never caused certain photographs of herself and children to be taken by Mr. Duval; that she never lived at Clarendon Terrace, Liverpool, as Mrs. Trenefidi, and did not send a boy named Yorke Trenefidi, her son, to live with Rev. Mr. White, at Budworth Rectory; that she did not, in 1872, in company with Yorke Trenefidi, live at Mrs. Champ's, of Brighton; that in or about 1866 she and her brother, Basil Wilberforce, were pupils at a school kept by Miss Smith, in Lansdown Place, Brighton; that in or about 1867 she was a pupil of a school kept by Miss Beckwith, at Campden Hill, Kensington, and that in 1877, during the war with Russia and Turkey, she was in company with Dr. Sandwith, at Plevna. The first, and the two last of these assignments were ultimately abandoned.
CATHERINE THOMPSON . I am the wife of John Thompson, of 34, East Cliff, Dover—my husband is a pensioner now; he was a coastguardsman—I formerly lived at 33, East Cliff—while living there I remember a Mrs. Trenefidi coming to lodge with me—I can't speak to dates—she came somewhere in November, 1861, and remained about five months—I have my rent book here—my husband kept it; he is not here—a boy called Yorke Trenefidi and a servant came with her—I see Mrs. Trenefidi now; that is her (pointing to the prisoner)—I was in the habit of seeing her every day—I nursed her in her confinement of a female child a while after the came—I can't say when that was, whether it was before or after Christmas, the register book will show—Dr. Ottaway attended her—while she was with me she became acquainted with Mrs. Shuckborough, the wife of Colonel Shuckborough, our next-door neighbour—when she left I believe she left with her two children and the servant—she did not say where she was going—I think the boy must have been about 15 months old or upwards when they came, I could not say exactly, he was a little boy—eight or nine years afterwards I saw
her again—she was on a visit to Mrs. Shuckborough, and she came with her to see me, and stayed with me two or three days—I addressed her as Mrs. Trenefidi—I afterwards saw her at "Westminster Hall, when the trial was on, and I recognised her as the same person I had known at Dover.
By the COURT. I cannot state the time when she gave birth to the child, my memory will not enable me—I noticed that she was in the family way the morning after she came—I told her I thought she would shortly require assistance, and she said no, not for a while—I can't remember how long after that it was that the confinement took place; I spoke to Dr. Ottaway directly, and he may give you a better account of the date than I can—I don't recollect seeing her between the time she came with Mrs. Shuckborough eight or nine years, after the birth of the child, and seeing her at Westminster Hall—I went into Court and took my seat, and saw her there—nobody told me I should see her, I saw her myself and told my daughter that was her—I knew I was coming there for the purpose of seeing Mrs. Trenefidi, because I was subpoenaed—I was not told before I went into Court whether I should see her there or not—I picked her out—the registrar before Mr. Carter registered the birth of the child I don't know who gave the information to register the birth.
By the JURY. The prisoner has not altered much in features to what she was in 1861—I do not see any great difference, only in the colour of her hair—she is not fatter or thinner in the face that I see.
CATHERINE ANNIE CHURCH . I am the daughter of Mrs. Thompson, and the wife of George Church—I live at 33, East Cliff, Dover—in 1861 I was living there with my mother—I was then single—I remember a lady in the name of Trenefidi coming to lodge there in November, 1861—she brought with her a little boy named Yorke Trenefidi, and a nurse—the boy was about 15 months old—while Mrs. Trenefidi was with us she was confined of a girl—I think that was in January, 1862—she remained till the following April, according to the book, I think the 12th April—my father kept the book—I saw it from time to time, as the entries were made—they were made when the money was paid—I saw them at the time, so as to know they were accurate—when she left, we understood that she was going to Hounslow—I can't remember that she told me so—I knew nothing about the registering of the child—she told me that her husband was George Trenefidi, and that he was on Garibaldi's staff—she never told me that the boy was her brother—she treated him as though he was her own boy—I was not at my mother's eight or nine years afterwards, and did not see be? then—I see her now, there (pointing to the prisoner)—I saw her in Westminster Hall at the trial—I then identified her as the person who had lodged at our house—I was in the habit of seeing her there every day.
By the JURY. According to the book it was about 10th November that she came—I was then 20—I do not notice much difference in her appearance, considering the length of time—her hair is much darker—I did not come up with the person who had the register book—I know that the child was born in January, 1862, at our house—that I am quite sure of—I have seen the register here.
By the COURT. I saw the expert in the Court of Queen's Bench examining it—I recollect the time the child was born without the aid of the register—the book did not assist me at all.
JAMES OTTAWAY . I am a surgeon, reading at 37, Inverness Terrace, London—I was in practice as a doctor at Dover in 1862—I remember attending a lady in her confinement at Mrs. Thompson's—I believe it was in that year—I have my book here—there is no entry that will assist me as to the exact date, but I did attend a lady named Trenefidi, at 33, East Cliff, just previous to April, 1862—I have, an entry in my book that the account; was paid tome on 14th April, 1862, and which. I think included a charge for her confinement, as I see the letter M, which signifies "Midwifery"—this entry is in my own writing—it was made at the time, or probably within a fewdays of the receipt of the money—I am not able, by looking at it, to say with accuracy the exact date of the confinement—I had a considerable practice at Dover at that time—I never saw the lady since till the trial at the Queen's Bench—I should be very sorry to swear positively that the prisoner is the person, but to the best of my belief she By the COURT. There is a considerable alteration in her face—when I saw her at the Queen's Bench she was apparently haggard from the excitement and trouble, she was subjected to, which made a great difference in her appearance—although I believe her to be the same person, I would not like to swear positively.
HANNAH GRAVES . I am married, and now live at Dover Castle—in 1871 I was parlour-maid to Colonel and Mrs. Shuckborough, at 72, Maison Dieu, Dover—I remember a Mrs. Trenefidi coming on a visit to them—I can't tell the time of year, or how long she stayed—I should say it was about two months—Dr. Sutton attended her for about a fortnight—I remember her leaving—she left suddenly—I saw that lady from day to day—after she left Mrs. Shuckborough she went on the East Cliff to Mrs. Thompson's—theprisoner is that lady, I am quite positive—Colonel and Mrs. Shuckborough are both dead—Mrs. Shuckborough died in August last.
WILLIAM SUTTON I am at surgeon at Dover—I was practising there in April, 1871—I had a considerable practice there—I knew Colonel Shuckborough—I remember attending a Mrs. Trenefidi there in April, 1871—I have my book here—I saw her from the 4th to 9th April, five days—I saw the same lady afterwards at Mrs. Thompson's on East Cliff, on one or two occasions—I saw her there on the 12th April—it was an ordinary case—I quite think the prisoner is that lady, but I could not swear it—her appearance is so very much changed since then—I see an immense change in her appearance—I have not seen her for ten years—her hair at that time was quite golden, and on her shoulders—I have not seen her since until yesterday.
GEORGE JOHN CARTER . I am Superintendent Registrar of the Dover district—I produce the original register of the district, which includes East Cliff for 1862—Mr. Payne, who was registrar, is dead—on 16th January, 1862, I find an entry of the registration of child "Amy Evangeline Trenefidi"—I also produce a certified copy—the name of the father is given as "George Trenefidi"—the name and maiden surname of the mother, "Amy Evangeline Trenefidi, formerly Normandy, Countess de Peniflis"—rank or profession of the father, "Gentleman"—signature of informant, "Amy Evangeline Trenefidi, Countess de Peniflis"—mother's residence, "Hounslow."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot swear that is your signature.
By the JURY. Mrs. Church has not inspected any book in my custody—she has not seen it since it has been in my custody, that is three years—she might have seen it in the Queen's Bench.
ROBERT OADES . I am an estate agent, now living at Egham—in June, 1862, I remember Park Villas, Hounslow, in Isleworth parish, being purchased by a Miss Gosling; they are numbered 1 to 6—the tenants were handed over to me—one tenant at that time was Georgia Trenefidi—that was the name given me by the landlord from whom we bought—I collected the rent—I saw a lady who I knew as Mrs. Trenefidi—on 9th January, 1863, she paid me the half-year's rent due at Christmas, 1862, and on 8th August, 1863, she paid me the half-year's rent due at Midsummer—I called at the house and saw her, and she paid me there—there were two children there; to the best of my remembrance the elder was a boy, and a little girl—I did not receive any rent after that—on 7th January, 1863, the key was given to me by Mr. Taylor—I know Mr. Hetherington; I called at his house, but could not see him—I do not know where Mrs. Trenefidi and the children went to; I made inquiries, but could not find out—I could not swear that the prisoner is Mrs. Trenefidi; in stature and dialect she resembles her very much; if I was to form an opinion it would be that it was Mrs. Trenefidi that I had known at Park Villas as a tenant.
By the COURT. By stature I mean she was a very moderate sized lady as far as height goes—I should think she was not more than 4 feet 2 inches high, to the best of my recollection; she was short certainly—it is 18 years ago—I think I have made a mistake, I meant 5 feet 2 inches—she was certainly below the middle size—the only thing I noticed about the face is that the hair is not the colour now that it was at that time, it was very much lighter—I don't recognise her by the hair, more by the size and the dialect, I thought she had a foreign accent—I could not say that I recognise her features—I could not tell the last time I saw her, but I think I saw her up to September, 1863, it might be a little later—I fancy I called on her for the September rent—after that I did not see her again till last evening, when I was in Court.
By the JURY. As far as my judgment went I should say that Mrs. Trenefidi was 19 to 20 years of age in 1863—her hair was golden and worn long down her back.
JOSEPH MESSENGER . I reside at Whittondean, about a quarter of a mile from Park Villas, Hounslow—I am parish clerk at Whitton Church—I was so in 1863—I remember a Madame Trenefidi who had four sittings in the church—I knew her by sight—I used to see her from time to time at church, and I have likewise met her in the road several times—she lived at No. 2, Park Villas—I see that lady here to-day, it is the prisoner—it was in the spring of 1863 that she came to Whitton Church, and it was my place as clerk and verger to put her into the sittings—I knew her up to about September, 1863, about six months—I do not know where she went to—I did not know Mr. Trenefidi.
By the JURY. I cannot fix any dates in 1863 when I knew her—I know it was in 1863; it was a new church, only opened in May, 1862, and she applied to me for sittings after coming to the church several times, and then she gave me the name of Madame Trenefidi, 2, Park Villas—she had golden hair at that time—I should say her height was about 5 feet 4 inches.
JOHN GRESHAM . I am a clerk in the office of the vestry clerk of Isleworth—I produce the Hate books of that parish for 1862 and 3—Park Villas is not mentioned, it is merely described as Whitton Road; it is the same thing—the name of J. Trenefidi appears in the rate book for May, 1862, for the first time, as the occupier of a house in Whitton Road—the next rate was in December, 1862, the name then is George Trenefidi, "George" has been written over the J.—in February, 1863, the name is also George Trenefidi—the only rate paid was in May, 1862—neither the December or July rate appears to have been paid.
JAMES HETHERINGTON . I am a professor of music and also a music-seller, at Richmond—I was living there in 1862 and '3—I then had a daughter named Elizabeth Susannah, she lived as companion to a lady named Madame Trenefidi, living at Park Villas, Whitton, near Hounslow—I knew the lady about three years—my daughter was with her about two years, I think, at Park Villas—Mrs. Trenefidi had two children, a boy named Yorke, and a daughter; I don't recollect her name—I used to see the lady at Richmond—I let her a piano—I saw that lady at the police-court—I do not see her to-day (looking round the Court); yes, I see her now plainly, that is the lady (the Prisoner)—my daughter is dead—my daughter did not go with the lady when she left Hounslow—I cannot recollect where she went to live—I don't remember seeing her after that—my daughter did not go to visit her anywhere.
By the JURY. Her hair is about the same colour as when I knew her; it is dark brown now, and it was so then—she was rather short, about 5 feet.
By the COURT. I can see her hair plainly—I can't see whether she has a hat on—my sight is not so good "as it used to be—it appears to me at this distance that what covers her head is her hair. (The prisoner was wearing a hat.)
GERALD DUVAL . I am a portrait-painter, at Manchester—I employ a photographer—I knew a lady named Trenefidi; she came to my premises at Manchester to be photographed—I produce a photograph of herself and her two children—I think she was taken three or four times; one was on 26th November—that was an accidental photograph of her; she came in with her two children, and she was caught in the focus of the lens without knowing it, and on 30th November she sat again by herself—this (Marked Z)is the first one, where she was taken accidentally—the boy's name was Yorke, and the little girl's Amy Evangeline; the prisoner is Mrs. Trenefidi—she lived at Merrivale Lodge, Fallowfield, about three miles out of Manchester—here are six photographs of the lady and the children; they are all mine; they were taken on November 19, 26, and 30—I have the negatives.
By the Prisoner. I did not swear to you at the Westminster Police-court; I said to the best of my belief you were the same person—after such a lapse of time I would not take on myself to swear it, but I am morally certain of it.
By the JURY. I was in the gallery with my operator at the time the photographs were taken—I did not preserve the negatives at her request; we always keep them—no negative is destroyed; we have 80,000 of them—I was not in Court during the evidence of the last two witnesses—I have a very good recollection of the lady, she had golden hair, and wore it in curls.
JOHN PAPPADACHI . I am a merchant, of 6, Merchant, of 6, Cumberland Street, Mancheater—I was acquainted with a gentleman named Triandafalladi; he married my wife's sister in 1864—I happened to know the prisoner before that, at Manchester; I don't exactly know where she lived, but she was intimately acquainted with Mr. Triandafalladi—they were not living together to my knowledge—Mr. Triandafalladi told me that she was under his protection: I know nothing whatever myself—I have seen them in company when I was with them—I only saw them at long intervals together, and only one at a time, not in their own house; out of doors, or at some hotel, both ways—I have Seen them together about five of six times in Manchester, in hotels, not in any house—that was before Mr. Triandafalladi's marriage—I Knew her by the name of Amy Normandy—I have passed several hours in their company when I had occasion to be With them—I cannot be positive whether I saw her after his marriage; I believe so, but I am not positive—on one occasion I saw her with a boy about eight years old that she said was hers—I saw her at the trial at Westminster—in my belief she is the lady I knew as Amy Normandy.
By the JURY. Her Appearance is not much altered; it is the same generally—the hair is not the same.
ROBERT ROBINSON . I am manager to the firm of George Henry Lee and Co., silk mercers, at Liverpool—I was there in 1866 and 1867—I know the prisoner—I am strongly of opinion that she is the person I knew by the name of Mrs. Truefield in 1866 and 1867—I remember distinctly seeing her on one occasion—I spoke to her about an account that was owing, about 44l. odd; she made some premise of payment—she said she expected a remittance from America, or she expected money from the proceeds of a work that she had published—she was known to us as authoress—I forget the title of the work; it was a serial; the Anglo-American, or some such name—at that time she was living at the Washington Hotel, Liverpool, and also at the Royal Hotel, Waterloo; that was where I saw her—she did not say directly tome whether she was a wife or a widow, but she was represented to us as the wife or widow of a Colonel or General Truefield—the account was not paid—that was the last time I saw her.
By the JURY. I fix the date by reference to a book—I did not make inquiries about the lady before trusting her—I do not know what inquiries were made by the then firm—my recollection of Mrs. Truefield is that her hair was lighter—the prisoner's manner and voice strongly resemble the Mrs. Truefield I knew.
ARTHUR WHITE . I am now living at 22, King Street; Wigan—my father is a clergyman, living at the vicarage at Little Budworth, Cheshire—I had a companion there for some time named Yorke Trenefidi—he came early in 1870, and remained about two years—his mother brought him, the prisoner, and she came and visited him there several times—I always saw her when she came—the boy was about 10, I think, when he came—I have never seen him since he left—I have had two letters from him—I produce a photograph of him, I think, from my album; it is very like him—this, other one is also exceedingly like him—I saw the prisoner again in January, 1878 vicarage—she slept there one night—she was addressed as Mrs. Trenefidi; she then said the boy was in the American navy—when she left she said she was going to St. Petersburg to attend
to the wounded in the war—on one Decision when she came to visit the boy she brought a lady with her, a Miss Hetherington—these two letters (produced)are those I received from my companion.
By the JURY. I was nine years old when the boy came—I was not suffering mentally or otherwise which required a companion—my father had advertised for a companion for me.
ISABELLA KER WHITE . I am the wife of the Rev. Mr. White, of Little Budworth Vicarage, Cheshire—in the early part of 1870 I and my husband advertised in a Liverpool paper for a companion for our son, and received an answer by letter from a lady; I have not the letter, it was destroyed—she signed herself "A. E. Trenefidi"—it was dated front Upper Warwick Street, Liverpool—I answered the letter, and after some correspondence it was arranged that Mrs. Trenefidi should bring her son down to the vicarage; she came quite unexpectedly with her son—his name was "Yorke, with several other names she said she had come from the house of a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Manchester that morning—Yorke appeared 10 or 11 years of age; she told me he was seven—I agreed with her that he should remain for a week with us, and that then we should decide as to permanent arrangement—she remained, I think, there or four hours, and left her son—he remained at our place Two years and about four months, I think; during that time she used to visit us from time to time, and in the course of those visits she told me her father was an English clergyman named Norman, who had married an Italian lady of very high position, and that immediately after their marriage they lived in Italy, where she and a sister, whose married name was De Martin, were born; that while they were still young their parents had taken them to the United States, and that there her mother died, and her father married again; she said that she had married a gentleman of the name of Trenefidi when she was not much more than 14, and that he was middle-aged; that they had lived in various places, and had had two children, Yorke, whose full name was Yorke George Dudley Pericles Trenefldi, and a, twin sister, Amy Evangeline, who died very soon after her birth—on one occasion she brought with her her only lady friend I ever saw, Miss Hetherington—Miss Hetherington told me where she came from; I am not sure if it was in the prisoner's presence—the prisoner did not tell me how long she had known Miss Hetherington—they both told me that Miss Heiherington had been her companion and assistant near Richmond—the prisoner is the person who called herself Mrs. Trenefidi—she told me either by letter or personally of her taking a house in Liverpool—I have not got any of her letters; I destroyed them all at the time—I received a letter from her bearing the post-mark of Dover; I received letters frequently—she mentioned the name of Colonel Shuckborough in her letters; she was on a visit at his house, and she told me in another letter she had left his house because there had been unpleasantness with Mrs. Shuckborough; they were strangers to me—in January, 1878, she suddenly came to the vicarage again quite unexpectedly, and remained there a night, but I was not at home—my husband received this book; I have seen it in hid hand. (This was addressed to "Rev. Mr. White, the Vicarage, Little Budworth, By the Prisoner. I destroyed all the letters in the spring of 1872, because the remembrance was too painful, and I never wished to refer to them again.
By the COURT. It was not in reference to this case that I destroyed them—I have looked at that handwriting; I know it quite well as the writing of the lady I knew as Mrs. Trenefidi.
By the JURY. I am sure that is the person; I recognise the voice—she has changed; she looks ill, but I know her perfectly.
EDWARD NEEP . I am an auctioneer and house agent and live at Broad Street, Liverpool—in May, 1871, I had a house to let in Clarendon Terrace, Liverpool; it was taken by a lady, who gave the name of Mrs. Trenefidi, for Mr. Louis de Martin, who she stated was her brother-in-law—she occupied the house from 25th May, 1871, to 14th October, 1872—I saw her several times—she had one child, a boy from 10 to 11 years old, I think; his name did not transpire—she told me that he was part of the time at school at Budworth Rectory; that was during the time she was in possession—I never saw any Mr. De Martin; I only saw Mrs. Trenefidi—the prisoner is the lady—I can't say where she went after she left Clarendon Terrace—I got the rent with some difficulty—she told me she had been living at Manchester immediately before; I don't know where at.
Cross-examined. You had a draft of the lease, but no Mr. Be Martin was to be found to sign it—it was a tenancy from year to year, but we had a special agreement, because there was a piece of garden ground which was used in common by the tenants; it was an agreement, not a lease.
By the JURY. I saw her many times during the time she was in the house in 1871—her hair is a little darker, and she looks older, but I should have recognised her voice if I had not seen her face; it is a peculiar voice, a charming musical voice in my opinion.
JOSEPH HOOD . I now live at 35, Sloane Street, London; formerly I lived at 29, Hardman Street, Liverpool, I was there in 1871 carrying on business as a carver and gilder—I knew a Mrs. Trenefidi, who was living at Upper Warwick Street, Liverpool, when she first applied to me—I went there to give her an estimate for some work, and when it was completed delivered it at Clarendon Terrace—she represented to me that she was deputed by her brother-in-law, a Mr. De Martin, of New York—I saw her at her house frequently during the progress of the work, and she called in my shop, and I went to the house after the work was done on several occasions—there was a dispute as to the payment; I never got the money—the lady summoned me at the police-court for making a disturbance—I had made a personal application for the money with a policeman—her name was Amy Trenefidi—I was bound over to keep the peace for six months; that was between May and October or November in 1871, at the City Police-court, Dale Street, Liverpool—the prisoner is the lady I saw on all the occasions, without the slightest doubt.
By the JURY. I recognise her voice perfectly well—I am not biased by revenge at all—between 1871 and to-day I have seen her at the Westminster Police-court, and when I was here the last time.
By the COURT. When I went to the house with the policeman she tried to slam the door in my face; I put my foot in, and she called out, "Yorke, bring up the hammer; I will give you a minute to take your foot away," and I removed my foot—she summoned me for an assault, and I was bound over to keep the peace.
of the eyes for a little leas than three months; she visited at my house on several occasions—the prisoner is the person—she lived at 2, Clarendon Terrace—she had a boy 9 or 10 years old named Yorke Trenefidi, whom she represented to be her son, and that he was staying somewhere in Cheshire, at Budworth; he was with her at Liverpool a portion of the time—I received this book; I can't swear to her writing—she is much more haggard than she was; she is paler, and her hair is darker.
JOSEPH FURNISS . I was a wine merchant and grocer, of Liverpool, in 1871 and 1872—I knew Mrs. Trenefidi; she lived at 2, Clarendon Terrace, just opposite my house, and dealt with me a little when she first came there—I saw her from time to time for about 17 months—the prisoner is the person, I have not the slightest doubt.
By the JURY. I have heard her speak—I went to her house once to get a small debt, and a great many circumstances took place—the bailiff of the County Court was kept by her in the passage for two days; he had no accommodation, and he came to my shop and asked where he might go—I directed him to a place to go to, and when he went back he was barred out; I was not there; I recognise her voice again—her hair is not so light as it was, and she has a peculiar expression of the eyes and mouth.
CESAR FERRANTI . I am a photographer, of 132, Bold Street, Liverpool—I produce two negatives of the photographs of Yorke Trenefidi, taken by me on 31st May, 1872, at Liverpool; the proofs were sent to Budworth Rectory, Cheshire, and I think the cartes must have been sent to the same address, but I am not sure—the address given was Clarendon Terrace, Beaumont Street, Liverpool, in the first instance, and by the side of that is, "Proofs to be sent to Budworth Vicarage, near Tarporley"—the photographs produced are mine; they are taken in two different positions, but on the same day.
JOHN SPEARS BAKER . I am a notary and conveyancer, of Liverpool—in 1872 I was with Messrs. Mace and Co., solicitors—in July, 1872, I became acquainted with Mrs. Trenefidi; she was then living in Upper Parliament Street, Liverpool; I only saw her half a dozen times within three weeks in the early part of July and the beginning of August—I prepared some affidavits for her in an action—she told me her name was Eve Amy Trenefidi, widow; she is in the dock now—she consulted me in reference to the house of Mr. Martin as to whether she or Mr. Martin was liable in respect of some furniture supplied to the house where she was residing in Parliament Street, Clarendon Terrace; I don't remember the number.
Cross-examined. I have none of the papers in the case now—Mr. Robinson, the plaintiff, is not here; he is dead.
By the JURY. She is much altered in appearance now; she looks much paler and haggard, and her hair is much darker that it was then—I also recognised her by her voice—I will swear she is the person; I have no doubt of her whatever—I mentioned the name of Robinson to the Magistrate.
ELIZA CHAMP . I am a widow, of 120, King's Road, Brighton—in, I think, 1872 Mrs. Trenefidi lodged with me—it is seven or eight years ago; I think it was 1872 or 1873, and as far as I remember she lived there two or three weeks; the prisoner is the person—she called at my house about four months ago, and when she came in I said "Oh, how do
you do, Mrs. Trenefidi?" she said "I am not Mrs. Trenefidi"—I said "But you were when you were living with me some years ago with your son Yorke; do you not remember?"—she turned to a gentleman who accompanied her and said "There must be some mistake;" then she turned to me and said "I am not married: I am 23 years of age, and my name is Miss Wilberforce; it is not pleasant to be told I hate a son, as I am not married; you know it is 16 years ago since I lodged here with my mother, and then I was seven years of age"—I said "If that is so certainly you are not the same person, because I nave only been here ten years myself; may I ask you, men, why you have called here?"—she said "I was passing the house, and I thought I would do so, but as it is not very pleasant I shall leave"—I bowed, and she did so—while she lodged with me her son Yorke was with her, and she went as Mrs. Trenefidi—she took my apartments in that name; I always addressed her so, and my servant also.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you were 27. By the JURY. I can't remember all those who have lodged with me for a fortnight or three weeks, years after they have left—the prisoner was not brought to my mind in any way, but two things caused me to remember her: seeing her unexpectedly and believing it was Mrs. Trenefidi without expecting her at all, and the other was the loss of a habit-body which she had borrowed from a riding-mistress in Brighton—she occupied the drawing-room apartments—she had not altered at all between the two visits, but she looted sad—her hair looks a little darker.
ELIZABETH DUMBRELL . I am the wife of Alfred Dumbrell, of 26, Claremont Street, Brighton—I was formerly in Mrs. Champ's service, and remember Mrs. Trenefidi and her son having rooms there for about three weeks—the prisoner is the person.
Cross-examined. That was in 1872.
MARY HODGES . I have lived at 102, Lansdowne Place, Brighton, for 21 years—I was there during 1866—Miss Jane Smith kept a school there—there was no Miss Mabel Wilberforce a scholar there, or a boy, Basil Wilberforce—I know nothing of the prisoner—I had charge of the pupils, so that I saw them all—no other Smith keeps a school in Lansdowne Place to my knowledge. (The witness was directed to bring the books containing the list of pupils into Court to-morrow.)
FREDERICK BATTS . I am a rate-collector, of Brighton—I have known Lansdowne Place for many years—I know Miss Jane Smith's school at 102—there are two other Smiths rated in Lansdowne Place, but no other Smith who keeps a school—one is a private gentleman, Charles Smith, at No. 20, and the other is a lodging-house keeper—my evidence also applies to 1855—I have looked at the books.
Cross-examined. It would be possible for Miss Smith to hire a furnished house and to keep a few pupils without her name appearing.
GEORGE CAPPER HARDING . I am vestry clerk to the parish or Kensington; Campden Hill is in that parish—I have the rate books here from Michaelmas, 1866, to Lady Day, 1868; I have looked through them; no person named Miss Beck with is rated for a school at Campden Hill between those dates.
Cross-examined. An old occupier's name might possibly be left on the books—it would be the officer's duty to make a record of any change of
name in the event of a transfer from an unmarried sister to a married one—it might be that a mother might be lodging in the House and the daughter might be rated, and the rate might be paid in the name of the occupant.
EDWARD MAXWELL GRANT . I am a journalist—I live at Belgrade, but I am at present staying at the Inns of Court Hotel—I knew the late Dr. Humphrey Sandwith very well indeed—I was engaged for the Times newspaper during the war between Russia and Turkey during; 1877 and 1878—I was engaged on the Russian side—I saw Dr. Sandwith a number of times at Bucharest; he came out on the Russian side to represent a society for the aid of the sick and wounded—I cannot say whether he was ever with the Turks, but it was utterly improbable—I was in Plevna on 10th December, 1877, when it was taken; I entered with the Russians, and remained till the morning of the 12th to examine the Turkish fortifications of the town, and started that morning for Bucharest—I did not see Dr. Sandwith at Plevna; I know he was not there with the Russians—I reached Bucharest on the morning of the 18th, and within a day or two Dr. Sandwith called on me at Bucharest—I do not remember whether it was the morning of my arrival or the next day—Shumla would be 80 miles from Plevna—I think it was impossible for any one to leave Plevna for more than a month before the fall—I never saw the prisoner out there, and never saw her till she was at the Magistrate's office.
CHARLES CHABOT . I carry on business in Red Lion Square—I have for very many years made handwriting a study—I have examined the letters in the admitted handwriting of the defendant, also the writing on the two pamphlets; one is addressed to the Rev. Robert White, Budworth Vicarage, Cheshire, and inside "With the author's kind remembrance," and the other to "Dr. Johnson, 1, Canning Street, Liverpool"—in my judgment they are the same handwriting as the admitted letters—I see the name of "Amy Evarigeline Trenefidi, Countess de Peniflis" in the register, and in my judgment those words are in the same handwriting—I can, if necessary, point out the grounds of my judgment—I do not express a strong opinion; the amount to be compared is too small a matter to do that—I have no doubt that the writing on the two pamphlets is the same. (The prisoner handed in a sheet of paper with seven scraps of writing on it, and asked the witness to mark those which he considered to be her writing.) I should want a good deal of time to do that; I should want to examine every word, and every letter, and to know the date of each piece of writing, and even then I might not be able to give an opinion—I do not recognise her handwriting in any of them—I do not doubt the writing on this passport being hers—I have here a schedule containing the grounds of my opinion as to the handwriting I have spoken of.
MARY HODGES (Re-examined). I now have with me the book containing a list of all the scholars at the school; it is Miss James Smith's book; it begins on 2nd June, 1858, and goes down to Midsummer, 1870—I have looked it all through; there is no such name as Mabel or Basil Wilber-force; it is Miss Smith's own writing.
Prisoner. This is Miss Jane Smith; it is not the same school.
I was their accredited correspondent in Bulgaria in 1876—I have it in my possession—I swear that I visited the hospitals there—I never heard of an amputation hospital, nor of the Bulgarian school-house as being a particular hospital—I know there was a Bulgarian school building in Plevna—I come now from New York—the last time I passed through "Washington was, I think, in December, 1872—Dr. Humphrey Sandwith is dead—I have known another Dr. Sandwith; he was with the Turks at the siege of Plevna.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know whether I heard you say at the police-court that I had seen you at Plevna, or whether I read it in the paper—I was not in Plevna myself in December, 1877—I saw you in Constantinople, I think, in the doorway of Desire's hotel, and you came up and introduced yourself as Miss Mabel Wilberforce, and that you were in Turkey for the purpose of assisting either the refugees or the wounded—I can't say that you told me you had come from Plevna—I did not ask you what part you had come from, nor do I recollect your saying you had come from Plevna—I do not recollect any mention of Plevna—I did not hear of you at Constantinople, and only saw you for a few moments in the hotel doorway—the amputations at Plevna as a rule-were done whereever the injuries occurred; I know of no particular hospital—there might have been—I saw none—the houses were made to contain the wounded as they were brought in; but the town was almost as much under fire as the camp—the wounded were placed anywhere, some in the Governor's konak, or stadt-house that was turned into a hospital—I wore a long grey ulster and cap; I was not disguised as a Cossack; we did our best to look as much unlike a Turk as we could—I did not write a letter to Mr. Russell saying that I had never seen you in my life—I said I had never seen you in Plevna; I saw you once at Constantinople, and once afterwards at Paris in the doorway of the Grand Hotel de Louvre; you came up to me in company with a gentleman I had known in Constantinople—you asked me if I recollected you, and for the moment I did not; you reminded me that you had seen me at Desire's Hotel; your appearance had much altered since I saw you there.
CAPTAIN BAIRD DOUGLAS . I was taken prisoner by the Russians, and went to Bucharest—I left there on 8th December, 1877, to the best of my knowledge—I saw Dr. Humphrey Sandwith there several times—I never saw the prisoner till 5 o'clock on Thursday evening.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was never at Tocula—I was at Boggota in October, 1877—when I was at Bucharest I went to an hotel—I saw Mrs. Mansfield, the wife of Colonel Mansfield, from 1st to 8th December; I could not recognise her handwriting—I did not see Dr. George Sandwith at Boggota—I know no person of that name—I know something of the humanitarian work going on at Plevna—there was great distress there, and great need of assistance—I did not give my address to Mr. Sumner Wilberforce; I have no knowledge of meeting such a person, or of Dr. Lampseet—I had a sick friend named Vachel, from Bath—Mr. Sumner Wilberforce did not to my knowledge assist my friend to get to England; he was very pale and ill—I do not recollect you.
By MR. POLAND. I was commissioned as an assistant surgeon by the
Stafford House Committee—Mr. Vachel was taken prisoner with me—there was an account of it in the newspapers.
Prisoner's Defence. I say that I never passed by the name of Trenefidi in November, 1861; I never lodged with Catherine Thompson at Dover; I never had a child; I never lived at Park Villas, Hounslow, in 1863, or at any other time; I know no person of that elongated name; I was never in Manchester in my life; I never passed by the name of Amy Normandy; that photograph of Mrs. Trenefidi is not a photograph of me; I never lived at Clarendon Terrace, Liverpool; I have often passed through Liverpool, but I never lived there; I know no one of the name of Yorke Trenefidi, nor do I know-anybody of the name of White at Budworth; I never went to Budworth; I never was at Brighton in the house of Mrs. Champ in 1866; I did go to school at Brighton when I was a child, in Lansdowne Place, with Mrs. Annie or Anna Smith; I did go to school at Campden Hill in the house of Miss Beckwith; I went to school in Paris; in 1877 I was in Roumania and Bulgaria; I was outside Plevna, not in Plevna, in December, 1877; the Russians were in Plevna at that time; I was taken in an ambulance, being laid down by fever, and went to Varna in company with Dr. Sandwith and two Bulgarian women, and then by water to Constantinople. The prisoner called the attention of the Jury to the letters and photographs, and to various portions of the evidence relating to her identity, and desired that Captain Philp might be put into the box.
CAPTAIN FRANCIS LAMB PHILP (Examined by the Prisoner). You were not to my knowledge adopted by my father—my father told me you came to visit him in London with a view of being married from his house to a person you were engaged to abroad—I deny all knowledge of the adoption—I am not aware what Mr. Russell did—you stated in your examination in the Queen's Bench that you were Dr. Philp's adopted daughter—Mr. Russell said there was never any question about the character of the relationship between you; that there was nothing improper—you travelled with my father abroad—I got letters from him—after a time he called you by your Christian name—he wrote very favourably of you—he looked on you as a good Christian young woman, devoted to good works, to the care of the sick and wounded, by your own account—you wrote me many letters from abroad—I believe you went from Aix-la-Chapelle to Nice—you were at Cannes the greater part of the time—I believe you introduced my father to a gentleman there, but I was not there—I got a letter from him from there—he mentioned that you were engaged to be married to a young foreigner—I do not know that the engagement was broken off—my father wrote and told me so—I have heard you use the expression that you gave up this congenial matrimonial engagement with an amiable family who had known you all your life—I do not know the reason of your giving it up—my father did not write and tell me that it was at his instance—you then accompanied him to Spain and Portugal, I believe—you wrote perhaps half a dozen letters from Spain—you referred to me as your brother—you came from your place and met us at Southampton, and you went down to visit me—we thought your manners were peculiar, and as you said you were an American, and I had not the honour then of knowing many Americans, I attributed the peculiarity to that—I have now to apologise to the American people—I regret having used the
expression—I came to visit you in town. Q. Did you accuse me of attempting to poison your father?—A. Well, the circumstances of the attack which he had were such that he had never had before, so peculiar; and knowing the character I had heard of you, I believed you capable of comparing his death, and I have evidence in this bag sufficient to prove it—you brought an action against me after that—my father naturally tried to arrange matters between us; he wished to avoid any publicity in the affair; he did not arrange the terms—it is the action that was ultimately tried—he suggested that I should withdraw, but he did not arrange any terms—the suggestion was that I should write to my father desiring him to apologise to you—I refused to do it—this letter (produced) is my father's writing; it is addressed to your solicitor, Mr. Booke—I did not feel inclined to withdraw my opinion of you—I did not consider you to be a fit person to be in my father's house at his age—I went to Dover to see Mrs. Thompson—I did the whole work myself; I have no objection to its being known—I saw Mrs. Church and a clerk in Mr. Garter's office—I saw Mr. Pappadachi, Mr. Duval, Mr. Neep, Mr. Johnson, and all the witnesses—I did not see the Whites; I corresponded with them—I went to Brighton, and saw Mrs. Champ and Mrs. Dum-brell, and the persons at Richmond; in fact, X acted as my own detective—I assisted to turn you out of my father's house; my lather wished you to leave, you would not, and I turned you out by his orders, I and his solicitor; we saw it carried out—it was about 9 at night; you had been preparing from 4 o'clock, but you would not go—I did not tell the cabman to take you to the casual ward—he came back three times, and I told him to take you to the Inns of Court Hotel, as. I believed you were known there, and I believe ultimately he did—I did not tell him to take you to the police-office—you lay on my father's doorstep at 11 o'clock, and told the people I was your brother, and I denied it—I did not come out and kick you off; I went to the police-station, and said you were a trespasser on my father's premises.
The Prisoner read to the Jury a letter from Dr. Philp, containing particulars of an interview with an officer of the Charity Organisation Society, in which the officer alleged that the prisoner was a person of infamous character, and had been for years swindling the charitable public.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 24th, 1881.
Before Mr. Recorder.
911. HERMAN GURNER (29) to embezzling the sums of 3l., 6l. 3s. 3d., 10l. 13s. 4d., and other sums of Henry Aaron Isaacs and another, his masters.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSES. GRAIN and TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.
71/2 years in the Post-office—I left about May, 1880—after the death of both my parents I came, in for upwards pf 10,000l. under the will, and about October, 1880, I received 6,000l. or 7,000l. of it—I was living in apartments at 17, Porchester Gardens, Bayswater, and about 1st April, 1881, Mr. Lound who had done some business for me, introduced me to the defendant at his office, 7, Little Tower Street, City—Mr. Lound said "I have advanced two loans to Mr. Cameron, you can take them over if you like, and he will arrange for you to land further money to his clients"—Cameron said "I will undertake to sample all the goods before you lend any money on them, and I will also take care that you do not lend more than half the value of the goods"—that was on or about 8th April—Mr. Lound said "Mr. Hiscock has a good sum of money, which if you investigate things he will be willing to lend," and next day I made a loan through Cameron; all the loans were made through him—I kept a record of each, which I made within a few hours—on 8th April I lent McNamara and Co. 351l. 9s. on 17 hogsheads 10 quarter-casks of brandy, as Cameron said "My clients are bond fide men of substance, who simply require temporary advances, probably for one month, and for that month they are willing to pay liberally"—a warrant, an agreement, and an acceptance of the parties borrowing were handed to me—this is the warrant; I have the numbers here in my book—on 14th April I saw Cameron, and lent 360l. to a person named Culliford on 12 butts of Couzens sherry—I said "How much is this sherry worth per butt?" he said "It is worth 50l. a butt, and you can lend 30l. a butt"—I received the warrants—on 21st April I lent McNamara 320l. on 16 hogsheads and five quarter-casks of brandy, and on 28th April 350l. to Oliver and Co. on 11 butts of sherry; on 4th May 350l. to Culliford on 12 butts of sherry; on 5th May 500l. to McNamara on 17 butts of sherry; on 10th May 28l. to Loe and Co. on 21 quarter-casks and six hogsheads of brandy; on 17th May 310l. to Ollivex on 12 butts pf pale skerry; pn 21st May 650l. to McNamara on 21 hogsheads and 30 quarter-casks of brandy; on 28th May 450l. to Culliford on 25 hogsheads of 1875 brandy—on 30th May this agreement was drawn up between Cameron and me; this is his signature. (By this agreement the prisoner undertook to obtain securities, upon which the witness was to lend money at the rate of 60 per cent per annum, retaining the securities and paying the prisoner 10 per cent.) On 14th June I lent 400l. on 14 quarter-casks of brandy—I was at Eastbourne in June, and had some correspondence with Cameron about a proposed loan to McNamara; I destroyed several of the letters, but in answer to one of them I received this letter (Requesting an advance of 800l.), and on 21st June I came to town and saw the defendant and said, "This is the largest loan which any of your clients have yet had; this also makes about 2,600l. that your client McNamara has had of my money, and before advancing so large a sum I wished to come up and see you personally as regards the security"—he said, "I have sampled the brandy in question, and it is worth 12s. per gallon"—I said, "Do you consider McNamara worth that large amount of money? is he a man of substantial portion?"—he said, "You need have no doubts on that score and I advanced nearly 800l.—I gave this cheque for 500l. (produced) another for 100l., and notes—I sometimes gave cheques which I had received in business; he once said, "I don't like crossed cheques, I much prefer you to bring me open
cheques or notes," and the cheque for 100l. is payable to E. T. Cameron, and endorsed by him—the cheque for 500l., though originally crossed, has been marked "Pay cash," and it would be paid to anybody across the counter—as to Boss I first wrote to Cameron and said, "Ross is a new client, and I know nothing of him; is he a substantial man?"—he said, "I knew him several years ago, and have done business with him, although this is the first loan he has had from you, and he is a very respectable man"—on 5th July I advanced 500l. to Ross and Co. on 15 hogsheads and 25 casks of brandy, and received warrants and this acceptance, which is all in Cameron's writing, except the signature "Alexander Ross and Co."—on 14th July I advanced through the defendant 150l. to Loe and Co. on 43 cases of champagne, and also 120l. on 48 cases on 23rd July, and 80l. on 27th July on 27 cases of winess and spirits; on 28th July 450l. to Ross and Co. on 25 hogsheads of brandy, and received this acceptance, which is in Cameron's writing, expect the signature—on 29th July I advanced 160l. on 71 cases of champagne; on 5th August 110l. on 44 cases, and on 25th August 170l. on eight cases of brandy, all to Loe and Co.; that was my last advance—about 23rd August I saw Cameron at 7, Little Tower Street, and he said, "I have an application from Messrs. Culliford for a loan of 450l."—I agreed to advance it; the agreement was drawn up, but I refused to take it or the warrants or the acceptance—I sold a farm in Devonshire, and told Cameron towards the end of August that I should have nearly 2,000l. in a few days, and after that he said Ollivers had applied for a loan of 1,500l. on some sherry in bond worth about 50l. per butt; I made inquiries, and then communicated with my present solicitors, who wrote this letter to Cameron. (Dated 8th September, and applying for the instant payment of 800l., 160l., 500l., and other sums, and stating that all the loans must be paid off on the day of their maturity, and stating that unless they heard from him by Saturday they should consider their client's suspicions well founded)—I heard nothing, and applied for a warrant at the Mansion House, which was granted, and also warrants against McNamara and Culliford—I never saw one of those people from the beginning to the end—I wrote Cameron this letter (produced)from Eastbourne, and other letters about other loans—I gave him a cheque for 500l. on 24th August on a proposed loan, but did not pay in the money to meet it, and allowed it to be returned—I unfortunately took up the cheque subsequently.
Cross-examined. There were loans in February taken over by me on Mr. Lound's representation—I was in the Money Order Department of the Post-office for seven years, but I have had no experience in commercial transactions—when I first took over the two loans I found that Mr. Upton was also advancing money to Cameron, and I was desirous that Upton should cease to act with Cameron, and that I should have the exclusive management—the first advance made by me direct to Cameron was on 8th April, but the 10th April was Upton's, and so was the 100l. to Culliford on 3rd May; that was the last of Upton, I think—Upton had lent about 400l.—I desired to get rid of him, and paid him out, and gave him 25l. bonus to retire from his connection with Cameron, that I might be the person advancing the money—by the agreement of 30th May I am to receive interest at the rate of 60 per cent, per annum, and half of the hypothecation on the securities—nothing did
fall in, but if it had and they were sold, we should take half the loss, if any, or divide the profit, after providing for my interest—I believed I was only advancing half the value of the wine and brandy, so that if there were a forfeiture I should have a very considerable profit to divide with Cameron—my solicitor, Mr. Lound, drew the agreement; it was not signed till 30th May, and I returned it on the 31st with a letter—I did not suppose persons could pay 60l. per cent, per annum, but I did suppose they could pay 5l. per cent, per month; Cameron explained it in that way—I did not know that this was really not Charentin brandy, but only sold as such—I knew nothing about grain spirit or about wine till the trial came on—when wine was represented to me as sherry I believed it to be such, and then the client would borrow the money at 5 per cent, per month—the transactions were all for a month, but they became longer, as Cameron said that the client wished to renew the loans for another month, and I agreed—I took him two samples of brandy about April; that was the very first transaction, I believe—it was nasty stuff; it was not finished enough to drink, but I imagined it was worth 12s. a gallon—I never tasted the champagne, but I have a letter from Cameron, in which he says it is "Dry perfection," worth 76s. a dozen—I scarcely ever tasted a sample of the sherry, it would be no good—Cameron said "Try a glass of this," and I said "If that is what I lent the money on it is very good"—I am no judge of what it was worth—I tasted champagne in Cameron's office, but I never tasted the samples which I lent money on—this letter to Cameron was written by my solicitor with my entire approval, and not receiving the payment, I swore an information and applied for a warrant at the Mansion House before Sir Thomas White; Mr. Grain appeared for me—Mr. Upton has taken up nearly all his loans, and Mr. Lound; finding that I had lost, has taken over two loans himself.
Re-examined. Knowing Mr. Lound to be a respectable gentleman I entered into negotiations with Cameron, but I would not have advanced any money if I had not believed Cameron's statements; they were the basis of my advances.
JOHN CHALLENGER . I am a wine cooper, of 36, Minories—I have known Culliford about 14 years; he was a clerk when I first knew him—he never had any office at 36, Minories; I heard that he had one at Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, but I never went there—Oliver is one of his Christian names—Oliver is not the same as Culliford—I don't know what he called himself—I know McNamara by sight; his office was in Fenchurch Street—he is about the same class as Culliford—I have seen them together there two or three times—I have known the defendant over 12. years in Newgate Street, Cheapside, and Tower Street—he traded at 36, Minories 10 or 12 years ago, when I did business with him—I never knew Oliver and Co. to carry on business there.
Cross-examined. I purchased wine of Culliford 12 years ago, and he was always calling at my house as an old friend to see me—he was clerk to a good firm, but business has rather retired from them; they were a large house—that is over 12 years ago.
RICHARD PETERS . I have been housekeeper at 157, Fenchurch Street, 21 years—I know most of the tenants—a man named McNamara has occupied a room on the third floor about nine months, and paid 7l. 10s. a quarter; he is a commission agent—he had a clerk there, or some one
who acted for him—I have not seen McNamara for a month, not since Cameron's arrest; he has not raid his rent, he owes 10l
Cross-examined. He owed 2l. 10s. balance on the June quarter—he disappeared after these proceedings commenced, and after that another quarter became due.
JOHN-KENNEDY. I am housekeeper at Commercial Chambers, 17, Devonshire Square, City—I knew two persons there named Moss and Loe, but they called themselves brothers; the name on the door was Loe and Co.—I have seen several cases going up and down stairs—they came on 29th April, and the last I saw of them was on 13th September—nine weeks' rent at 6s. 6d. a week is owing.
Cross-examined. I live on the premises—I have not seen what the cases contained—unless I get a day's work I am always there.
HENRY RANDELL (City Detective). I have had this case in charge from the commencement—I have been to Queen Street, Tower Hill; it is a low court of 21 houses, principally occupied by four or five families in each house—there is no firm of A. Ross there, or Alexander Ross and Co., nor is anything known of such people—I received a warrant from the Mansion House to arrest Culliford—I have been to 9, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, but cannot find him, nor can I find him at 36, Minories—I have warrants for Oliver and Macnamara's apprehension, but hate not been able to execute them.
HENRY ALFRED STACEY . I am Record Keener of the Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the liquidation of Thomas Borough Cameron, of 7, Little Tower Street—the petition was filed on 17th December—there are two preliminary statements of liabilities filed.
JOHN WALTER RASHFORD . I am a sworn broker of the City of London at 8, Hart Street, Mark Lane—I did not know Cameron before these proceedings—I have known Macnamara about a year; he had purchased brandies for. me for cash on delivery warrants—I think they contained a large proportion of potato or Berlin spirit—my transactions with him began with January this year. (Reading a list of sales of brandy and champagne between January and July.) 2s. 6d. per hogshead was the lowest price; it would tot be the best old Cognac—I hate had a great many warrants placed in my hands, which I recognise as being handed to Macnamara; this batch of warrants (produced) represents the parcel of 25 hogsheads handed to Macnamara on 27th July; the total cost of the 25 is 181l. 11s. 3d—there is no pretence for saying they were 1875 brandy; that means a vintage of pure Cognac, not one of potato spirit—these are the 20 warrants representing the brandy sold to Macnamara in June—there is no difficulty whatever when a person has an application for a loan, in coming to a broker and ascertaining the value; the rate I should allow as a margin would be about two-thirds.
Cross-examined. All these transactions were in the course of business, and perfectly bond fide—Macnamara paid me over 1,300l. and under 1,400l.; he always paid me cash on delivery—I never saw Cameron till I saw him at the Mansion House; if this warrant was handed to me I should not have been able, to say whether they were Charentin brandy or not—it is an ordinary warrant, and, if presented to me, I should know nothing to the contrary—a very large trade is done in this supposed brandy; there is brandy in it—the scientific definition of brandy is spirit made from grapes—none of this year's brandy vintage is sold yet—even
respectable wine merchants sell as brandy that which is not brandy, every day—going into a restaurant for brandy I should not know that I should get it—I don't know Culliford—I don't remember by whom Macnamara was introduced to me; my transactions with him were all bond fide.
Re-examined. He paid in cash—I do not think I ever took cheques; always notes or gold—certain spirit of this class is exported through Charentin, and is described as coming from there; but, as a respectable wine broker, I should not describe any of this stuff as 1876 brandy—any ordinary wine merchant would take a sample from the docks and ascertain that—it is usually exported to Africa.
DONALD NICHOL ABBOTT . I am a wine merchant and broker, of Mark Lane—I know Macnamara, not personally, but through Hr. Base, our agent—I made the following sales to him through Base. (Reading a list of sales of brandy sold between 15th April and 30th June.) This at 2s. 7d. and 2s. 9d. a hogshead is commonly called brandy—I know A. Oliver and Co.—I sold them on 26th April 1 butt, 12 hogsheads, and 15 quarter-casks of sherry, price 15l. 10s.; and on 17th May 12 butts of sherry and brandy—I know Culliford and Co., their agents; I sold them 12 butts at 15l. on 4th May, and 10 hogsheads, 17 quarter-casks, at 2s. 10d. a gallon on 10th June—I sent by my traveller an invoice in every case to the purchaser carried out at so much a gallon—I say the same of this brandy; it is a well-known article.
Cross-examined. I sold these wines and brandies to merchants—large quantities of inferior brandy, sherry, and champagne are sold—I can't say that they are spurious.
Re-examined The course of business was warrants against cash—I received bank notes, but not cheques.
FREDERICK HILL GODSELL . I am a sworn broker, of 71, Great Tower Street—I have had 25 years' experience as a taster, and judge of wines and spirits—I have sampled a great number of warrants of what is called brandy; we call everything brandy which is entered by the Customs as brandy—this article is very well known in the trade—among other things I received a parcel of warrants, among which was this one marked "O.P." under two diamonds; the value of that brandy Was 2s. 9d. a gallon—I also valued another parcel of five hogsheads and two quarter-casks by the Curlew; I put them at 2s. 3d. or 2s. 4d. a gallon, and 10 other hogsheads of the same class at the same price—I have sampled five quarter-casks, one butt, and three hogsheads of sherry by the Miguel; it comes from Cadiz; the value is 8l. a butt—it is a very low class—I believe it is barely sound—taking them all round, the maximum value I put on these is 14l. or 15l. in bond—a number of other warrants both of sherries and spirits hate been placed in my hands, some of them are inferior to what I have described; the maximum value of any of the spirits is 9s. 6d. for a quarter-cask—I have sampled some champagne; one lot is called Jacquerson's; it is cheap champagne, valued at 12s. or 13s—I said at the Mansion House that 18s. to 20s. was the outside value.
Cross-examined. Jacquerson's card price is 52s., but that has nothing to do with the value of the wine—what allowance they make I don't know—I do not think anybody would give that price—shippers do not sell single bottles—I think it is Jacquerson's wine, as it came over here with the brand on the cork—their brand is not well known—I have sampled Moet's champagne, and should not like to say that any of it is of
inferior quality, but if I was valuing it without the brand I should value it at less—Jacquerson's had the brand, but that is not so well known as to give the stamp of value—I should value gooseberry in the same way according to my own judgment—this brandy passes through the Custom House, and pays 10s. 4d. duty—it is sold as brandy just the same as British brandy would be—I value it at 2s. 3d. but if I could get 7s. 6d. I should take it—I sell in the highest market—it goes through a good many hands, and would be sold as high as possible—I do not put the price of the sherry as low as I can, I put the market quotation of the day—I should expect to get a profit on it—I have sold quantities of this sherry by auction, sometimes at a good deal less than 8l. a butt, and sometimes a good deal more—it depends on the quality, and whether the purchaser knows what he is about—it is my business to lend money on wine warrants—if I lent money on the best Cognac I should charge 5 per cent. per annum interest, and half per cent. commission—5 per cent, a month is not the usual interest in the wine trade, but I do not think it stands to reason that a man lending that amount would be lending on an inferior article—if he could get 5 per cent, a month he is perfectly entitled to do it—I don't get such terms offered me.
Re-examined. I should not advance the money without sampling the wine—I make my own valuation—there is no difficulty in a person coming to me and having the thing done—I sampled these parcels—the dock warrants do not show the value, they only describe where it comes from, and the quantity, not the quality.
THOMAS MILES RESTALL . I am a sworn broker—I have valued a number of brandies and sherries in these different parcels—the value of this brandy "two hogsheads ex ship Merlin" P under a diamond, is 2s. 9d. per gallon—I also valued a parcel of 20 hogsheads ex ship Carlin, marked three stars with a number of grapes—2s. 9d. a gallon is the full value of that—I also valued 10 hogsheads and 10 quarter casks marked with two diamonds and 0 P underneath, at 2s. 9d. a gallon.
FREDERICK UPTON . I have known Cameron many years—I knew him when he was carrying on a small business in Newgate Street, and subsequently the same class of business in Cheapside—I afterwards heard that he was clerk to a wine merchant in the City—shortly before 21st February, 1881, I had a conversation with him, the result of which was this agreement between us (produced), by which he was to be my servant at 10s. a week, and receive 40 per cent, of the profits—my solicitor drew it before entering into it—I inspected some books at Tower Street; they were the ordinary business books, representing the former business, and showing that he had customers all over the country—I made a few loans, and had the greater portion of the goods valued—Mr. Hiscock subsequently took them over.
Cross-examined. I received 50l. from Cameron to go out and break off the agreement, as I was not aware that the money was coming from Mr. Hiscock when I advanced money—I took the warrants in two or three cases, and in two or three Cameron took them—there was no agreement between us as to who was to sample, but nothing was to be done without my sanction; it was understood that I should sample them—Mr. Hiscock told me that his transactions with Cameron had been satisfactory—Hiscock paid me 25l. and Camoron 25l.—I had been at
some expense on the agreement, and I thought I was entitled to it—I had one loan of Culliford and one of Macnamara—they. had not matured when they left my hands; they have been taken up, I believe—I believe they were valued by a broker before I advanced the money.
HENRY RANDELL (Re-examined). I received a warrant, and apprehended the prisoner in his office, 7, Little Tower Street; I afterwards searched it, and found this scribbling diary and little black book, in which there are numerous entries with respect to Macnamara and Culliford; I also found a great number of his papers, post-cards, letters, and memoranda, and these two I.O.U.'s, one for 14l. 14s. 0d. and another for 2l., signed Horace Moss; also this paper of 7th September, 1881, in the defendant's writing, that was in his pocketbook on his person. (This contained the numbers of hogsheads of brandy and the prices), and these two warrants, and this letter of the North-Western Railway relating to three quarter casks of whisky; two are to A. Oliver and one to Charles Bond—there are a number of other papers—I have made inquiries for Oliver, Macnamara, and Ross, but have not been able to find anything of them—I found no record of purchases at Cameron's office.
Cross-examined. There are several entries of the name of Macnamara and others in this scribbling diary.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.
GEORGE CASTLE . I am a solicitor, of the Poultry—on 10th May, 1880, Death called on me with another person to bring about a settlement between his sister and her husband—she derived property from her first husband, and wanted the Court to enforce a settlement of it for the benefit of her children by him—Death said that the papers were in the hands of another solicitor, Mr. Philp, and went with me to Mr. Philp to get them away, and gave me authority to pay his charges—I got them next day, the 11th, and got Death's order in writing, which was signed on. the 10th or 11th; this is it—I paid five guineas out of my pocket—I Then laid the papers before Counsel—I acted all through for Death only not a word was ever said about costs—I never said or undertook that the whole costs should be covered by 5l. 5s. or I should have put it in the retainer—the business went on—I acted under Mr. Bower's advice, who said that an action was not tenable, and after a (Treat deal of correspondence a settlement was arrived at—I first saw him on 10th May, had the deed is dated 10th June—I received 150l., and on 14th June I aid 95l.; this is the receipt—there was a mortgage on the house which was to form part of the settlement—Wells had taken the deeds away and pledged them—the 95l. was for the mortgage, not for costs—I don't know whether the 5l. 5s. Is included in the costs—the difference between that and 150l. Is 55l.—there was a balance in my hands of 25l.—I was applied to three or four times for my bill of costs, and have got the letters here—the decree was not completed till the end of August, and the long vacation ensued, and on 22nd November Death appeared at my
office with Mrs. Wells—she was very excited and violent, and I saw that I could not talk to Death unless she was out of the room—when she was out of the office Read, my clerk, brought in the bill of costs—I said, "Sit down; here is the bill; go through it"—he looked at the items—I said, "I have not got it copied, I did not know you were coming; here is the draft, you go through it, and we will settle it now"—he said, "I have had certain money on account," and pencilled it all down, and said, "11l. 16s. Is the balance due to me"—I said, "Very well," and gave him a cheque for it—my clerk was there; somebody else was announced, and Death went into the next room to Mrs. Wells, and said, "I have settled it, come and get the cheque; come along"—not ft word was said about his agreeing for 5l. 5s., nor did he say that he took that on account—I was sued in the City of London Court for the difference between the amount of the bill and the 11l. 16s.—the first intimation I had of it was this letter from York and Walton, of 7th January, asking for 21l.—I had had a letter from Boydell before the settlement—I was sued in April—I attended before the Commissioner, who said, "Did you receive 150l.?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "You paid so and so, and so and so, and you have 21l. In hand, and you must pay it"—it was rapidly done; no witnesses were examined on either side—I asked for a new trial, and filed an affidavit—there is not a word of truth in the statement that I agreed to do all the work for 5l. 5s.
Cross-examined. I have known Death some time—I made his acquaintance at a meeting of creditors—I did a little business for him once, before—a client of mine prosecuted him for obtaining goods by false pretences; it was not unsuccessful—I did not do business for him till this business—although I had prosecuted Mm I did not take luncheon with him—I did not meet him at Prince's Restaurant; he may have come after me there—this is the letter I received from York and Walton: "We are instructed by Mrs. Wells to apply to you for 21l. 14s., balance of money after paying your costs, and to hand over all documents, and unless the same is paid before Wednesday next, legal proceedings will be taken against you—the prisoner is Mrs. Wells's trustee, and I should think he was the proper person to sue—he did not sue as her trustee in the Commissioners Court—he never went into the box or came forward as the trustee under the deed—I don't think I said at the commencement of the transaction "You know, Death, I shall not hurt you as to costs"—I don't think I said that the old woman was desirous of keeping down the costs as low as possible—he did not a day or two after I gave him the retainer ask me what my charge would be, nothing like it, I swear that—there was no discussion as to costs at any time. Q. Listen to this: "I hope you will not charge much, as you know, Death, I shall not hurt you?" A. I do not know of anything of the kind, and I am pretty sure he did not say anything of the kind. Before the settlement I was asked three or four times to settle the matter—he called twice or three times; we went through the call-book at the police-court—I did not see him repeatedly outside; I saw him once or twice—I received a letter, in August from Boydell and Co., his solicitors, requesting me to furnish them with my bill of costs; I did not send it because I met Mr. Boydell—I did not furnish any bill of costs till the verdict was given against me in the Commissioners' Court this year, and for this reason, the bill of costs was copied, Mr. Death promised to call for it after the settlement,
he did not call for it, and I did not know his address, as he had moved, but he might have called the following day, but I do not think he called once, because he could have had the bill—I did not make a claim of set-off because the account was settled for a cheque for 11l. 16s. (the cheque is a receipt), nor did anybody on my behalf—the matter was rather hurried, and as soon as he got hold of the cheque he went out, and said to Mrs. Wells "We have settled the matter, and I have got the cheque for the balance of 11l. 16s."—I swear I heard him use the word "balance"—Mr. Justice Field and Mr. Justice Grove dismissed his application, and Mr. Justice Field said that no did not believe a word of what was in the affidavit—the application was to get the amount of the judgment from Boydell—after I prosecuted him he persisted in claiming this money still—some of the statements in the affidavit may be correct—I showed him the whole of it; was in draft, and it was copied next day—he promised to call for it, and he removed, and I did not know his address—York and Walton were not concerned, and never asked me for the bill of costs'—Mrs. Wells came in in an excited state on 27th November, and said that I had got her money, or words to that effect—she said that the chairs and tables in the room were bought with her money—I had not to put her out by force; Death persuaded her to go out, and I put my hand on the back of her chair and said "Really you must not make a noise in my office; you must go outside"—as to my taking the chair from under her, she slid down—she brought an action against me for assault—I do not think she has asserted that I agreed to do this for 5l. 5s. or for a certain price: not to me—I read the affidavit in support of the application for a new trial, and took proceedings upon it—Death did not say to me on 10th June "Why, I have done all the work; I have done aft the messages"—I did not hear it said "You ought not to want more than this, because, I have done all the work"—they did not know what I was going to charge at that time; I swear that—I did not furnish a Mil of costs between July and August, because the work was not done—I was instructed after that to apply for payment of 300l.—I think that was in August; it was some time after the deed, and I registered that on 20th August—the work I have charged for was completed about the middle of September—I did not know that I had 11l. 16l. In hand—the last date in my bill of costs is 21st August, but I think there was some other correspondence which does not appear in the bill—there still is the legal estate outstanding, and I was endeavouring to get that estate retransferred to Death—I did not send in my bill and remit the balance, because my impression was that there was nothing coming to him, not even 11l. 16s. no doubt I ought to have sent it in before, but my business would not allow me to do so.
WILLIAM READ . I am Mr. Castle's clerk—after June 4th, when this money was paid, some time was occupied in preparing and lodging the deed in the registry, which was done on 21st August—it was left there ten or twelve day—I began to draw the bill of costs the next day—I do not think Death called before it was finished—the draft was not completed till a few days before 22nd November, on which day Death came with Mrs. Wells—I went into the room as she was coming out—Mr. Castle said, "You had better go out," and she went but—Mr. Castle asked me for the bill; it was 25l. 19s.—Mr. Castle turned over the pages, and pointed out the items to Death, who took his note-book out and said,
"There was five guineas and so-and-so you paid," and it amounted altogether to 143l.—Mr. Castle made some pencil notes on the bill, and drew a cheque for 11l. 16s., and gave it to Death, who put it in his pocket, and I went out of the room—Death followed in a few minutes, and said to Mrs. Wells, who was sitting in my office, "Come along, I have got a cheque, it is all settled," or words to that effect—they went away, and half an hour after I was going through the Poultry and saw them, and said to Death, "You have got your money at last"—he said, "Yes"—I did not speak to Mrs. Wells—I had never heard that there was any claim that the costs of Mr. Castle's work had been fixed at 5l. 5s.—Death never said so while I was there—the first time it was mentioned was in Mr. York's letter—when Mr. Castle pencilled down the items Death said that the charges were rather stiff, and he did not know what the old woman would say.
Cross-examined. I said, "You have got your money at last," because he had been to the office once or twice, or it might be three times, but I did not see him—I have seen him there once or twice—he said that he would call for his bill of costs, and I was instructed to make it out—I gave it out to the copying clerk—a fair copy of it was made by Mr. Castle's instructions, and Dale called on December 1st and asked for it, but I don't think it was ready then—I was just going out, and I said, "I don't know whether the bill of costs is ready, I have not got the deed, you had better call again"—I had the deed—they only asked for it on that day, and I had no instructions to give it up, and there was a legal estate outstanding even then—Death did not write for it several times—I have said, "Mr. Death said, 'It seems rather stiff, I don't know what the old woman will say about it.'"
Re-examined. We put down the names of all clients in the call-book, and I satisfied the Magistrate that Death's name appeared three times only—this (produced) is my diary—it is in my writing, made within half an hour, before there was any dispute or suggestion about an agreed contract: "Attending you and Mrs. W., &c.; giving you cheque for 11l. 16s., and you were to call for my charges in a few days"—he did call.
FITZROY KELLY NORTON . I was clerk to Mr. Boydell at the time he was consulted with reference to the business done with Mr. Castle—Death came with Mrs. Wells, and said that she wanted a writ issued against Mr. Castle—she said that he owed her money—I asked her what amount, but she could not tell—I said that I never did so without first communicating with them—I asked if Castle had done business for them; they said "Yes," and I suggested that a letter should be written demanding the bill of costs—Mrs. Wells said that she had paid him no money, and upon that Mr. Boydell wrote the letter—I saw them afterwards, and they asked if the letter had been written—I said "Yes," and that to the best of my knowledge Mr. Castle had not answered, and no bill of costs had been delivered—neither of them said that there had been a contract agreement for a stipulated sum of five guineas for costs.
GEORGE CASTLE (Re-examined by MR. GRAIN). I do not remember whether I took receipts when I paid over money to Mrs. Wells and Death, but when I gave a cheque for 5l. I did not—the cheque was payable to order—I swore in the action that I did not take receipts; these are I.O.Us.
By MR. BESLEY. The cheque came back from my banker with Death's endorsement.
GEORGE EDWARD COOPER . I produce the affidavit from the City of London Court, which Mr. Lumley has spoken to, also the plaint note under the seal of the Court, and the order of Court amending tike original plea from "Wells and Wife" to "Death" only.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 24th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CANDY and JONES Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
ERNEST ROBINSON . I am an officer of the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of the proceedings in the bankruptcy of Robert Riddick—the petition is dated 14th May—it alleges that he left his dwelling with intent to delay and deter his creditors—he was adjudicated bankrupt on the 7th—the first meeting of creditors was on 1st June, when Mr. A. E. Clements, of Queen Street, was appointed receiver—a public examination took place on 24th June, and was adjourned till 8th July, and from then to 5th August—on 4th August there is an order to prosecute the debtor for various offences under the Debtors' Act, made by the Registrar, under the seal of the Court.
Cross-examined. Messrs. Phillips, Sedgwell, and Beadel, of 18, Gresham Street, are the solicitors.
ALFRED ERNEST CLEMENTS . I live at 7, Queen Street, Cheapside—I am an accountant and trustee in this bankruptcy—I was ordered to prosecute the debtor—my appointment was on the 1st June—the defendant has carried on the business of a tallyman for some years—the assets consist entirely of book debts owing from customers—he was paid by weekly installments of from 6d. to 2s. from the customer, who had a bill, upon the back of which he endorsed the amount paid, entering the amount in his ledger at the same time—he has ledgers for each day or round of the week, and these ledgers contain the same particulars as upon the customer's bill, the customer retaining the bill and the defendant his book—after his bankruptcy he ought not to have received any money, or having received it, he ought to bring it to me—since my appointment he has not delivered a single penny to me—I was present on his examination on 8th July, before Mr. Registrar Hazlitt, sitting as Chief Judge, who told the defendant he had no right to collect a single shilling, and that he must show up his rounds—I wrote him this letter of 8th July, 1881 (Asking defendant to attend at 10 on the morrow at witness's office, and stating that he would allow defendant a reasonable sum for his services)—the defendant did not call, and on the 9th I wrote this letter and sent it by Mr. Smart (Threatening to commit the defendant for contempt)—he has never attended to show up his rounds, although he has been asked to do so—on 17th June he said he would not do it unless he received 140l.—it is impossible to realise the estate without some one introduces the collector to the customers, and the only person who can know the customers is the tallyman himself—I have received five books from the defendant, one for each day—there are other books, because the "book for Tuesday, commencing March 3rd, 1881, shows a balance, and the folio of the old book from which the balance was brought—when I demanded his books at my office on or about 17th June, he said he had left them at Grafton Street,
where he originally carried on his business—his new address was 21, Alfred Street—I never received the old books—I gave certain instructions to my clerk Bottomly—I think the last date in the books is 27th April—I wrote this letter on 17th June (requesting defendant to come on the 20th and give information)—I sent a duplicate of the letter to my solicitor—I afterwards made a report to the Registrar, which resulted in an order to prosecute—a statement of affairs was filed on 22nd June—the book debts were set down at 580l.—if the bankrupt had acceded to my request I should have no difficulty in selling them for 400l. or 300l.—I sent him this notice on 27th July (a notice to deliver up his papers)—I had repeatedly given him verbal and written notices, and received nothing.
Cross-examined. Defendant is a Scotchman—he served a Mr. McCormick—I have heard he agreed to pay McCormick 490l.—he owed 133l. at his bankruptcy, out of whatever the purchase money was—by the usual custom McCormick would guarantee the defendant a certain amount—McCormick was not a bankrupt—he made, a private arrangement with his creditors—I acted for the trustees—McGormick and the prisoner had a joint occupation of a shop—McCormick's furniture was moved, and he was obliged to go—I have not read the indictment, but I have no doubt 4l. 9s. Is the amount the defendant is charged with receivings—the amount admitted by this account to have been received since 1st January is 191l. 5s. 4d.—none of the 4l. 9s. Is in that account—I do not know of any—if you give me the list of the items of the 4l. 9s. I will tell you presently—it it in my ordinary course of business to become a trustee in bankruptcy—I have no idea, what the cost of this prosecution will be—I have not made up my accounts, and cannot say what my charges will be—not ten times the 4l. 9s.—this is the fourth case I have been a witness in where there has been an order to prosecute—I have nothing to do with the paying—the defendant travelled about London, some tallymen travel about the country—I cannot say where the defendant's old books are (After the adjournment) I am now in ft position to say that possibly 3s. of the 4l. 9s. Is included in this list of items, that is in the case of Reynolds, a customer—defendant by his account admits bating received 2s. more than is set down in the book, and 1s. of that may be part of the 4l. 9s.—the same with a Mr. Ryan 1s.; also Mr. Shaw 1s.—I complain of the defendant not going the rounds with me—the name and address of the prisoner's customers are given in the defendant's books—he is charged with not accounting for 4s. received from Annie Hill, and 4s. from Caroline Hill; from Allen 2s., Alvin 3s.—these are all since the adjudication—from Clements 3s., Collier 2s. 6d., Cooke 1s., Creedy 6d., French 3s., Hall 1s. 6d. Harris 4s., Hazell 3s., Holbrook 2s. 6d., Hudson 3s. Lowdell 4s., Marsh 2s., Matthews 4s., Middleton 4s., Mills 1l. 2s., Page 1s., Reynolds 2s., Ryan 2s., Shaw 5s., and White 4s.
ALFRED WILLIAM SMART . My address is 63, Shakespeare Road, South Hornsey—I have been employed by Mr. Clements in this bankruptcy—in pursuance of his instructions in July last I called upon persons between 11th and 20th July, whose names were supplied me by Mr. Clements—the names had been obtained from the bankrupt's books—I made notes of my visits in this book—I applied to those persons for the payment of money—I called on Mrs. Matthews on July 13th; Lowdell, Whitehead, and Hudson, 14th; French and Creedy, 15th; Holbrook, Hall, Marsh, Mills, Clements, and Collier, 16th; Middleton, Alvin, one of the Hills,
Allen, and Clements again, 18th; Nelson and Hart, 19th; Harris and Shaw again 20th; Lowdell and Whitehead again on 21st—one day between July 11th and 20th I met the defendant in the street—I said "So you are still calling round and taking the money?"—he was very indignant, and said he was not doing any such thing, it was a lie, he had not called since the appointment of the trustee—I delivered the letter of 9th July personally to the defendant, asking him to show up his rounds—he said he should not do so, he wanted more than what was offered, he should not think of doing it for that sum—I said I should have to go back for further instructions, and "I believe I shall call on the people myself."
Cross-examined. He said he could not work for nothing—I am inclined to think he said he would go if we would advance more—I went back to the office, and they gave me the books—I should know the customer from those books.
EMMA ALVIN . I live at 15, Ann Street, Mile End Old Town—I am married—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick—this is my bill, with my husband's name on the top; it is for 14 yards of cord and 12 yards of calico, 1l. 4s. 8d.—when I paid him anything he put figures on the back—I always paid him 1s.—the beginning of July I paid him 1s.; he did not put it down; the bill was mislaid—I had been confined three days ago; that was the 29th June.
AMELIA ALLEN . I am married, and live in North Terrace, Clyde Road—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick—he called on a Monday; I paid him 1s., which he put on the back of the bill—I paid 1s. on 30th May, and 1s. on the first Monday in July, the last time.
Cross-examined. I know the time because he stayed away for three weeks, and when he came the last Monday in June I was not prepared to pay him, and he passed the remark he had been away—he piad 1s. on the bill without any date.
ELIZABETH CLEMENTS . I am married, and live at Lower Arch Street, Limehouse—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick; this is his bill—he used to call on me every Saturday—I cannot read or writer—he stayed away not many weeks—when I paid him 1s. he said he had not time to put it down—he called the next week, and I paid him 1s., and he put down 2s.; he put no date—Mr. Smart called the week after, and I gave him 1s.
CATHERINE COLLIER . I am married, and live at 20 Arch Street, Lime-house—I have dealt with Riddick; this is his bill I used to keep—I can read writing—he called on a Saturday—I used to pay him 1s., or or 2s., or 5s.—on 21st May I paid him 1s. 6d.—if I could not find the bill he used to put it down on somethings—I did not pay Mr. Smart when he called—Riddick called the Saturday before that, and I paid him 1s., which was put on the bill—I have not paid anything since—he has called since; he asked how I was getting on.
ELIZABETH GREEDY . I am a widow, and live at Poplar—I have dealt with Riddick; that is my bill if it is Elizabeth Greedy, but I am not able to read my own name—he used to call on a Saturday—I paid him 6d., also 1s. for Mrs. Page, 1s. for her nephew, and 1s. for Mrs. Cooke—that was the last time he called; I do not remember the date—it was a month or six weeks after I paid him before that.
I handed him the bill, but not the last time—I used to keep the bill.
ELIZABETH HARRIS . I am a married woman, of 17, Lime Square, Mulberry Street, Whitechapel—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick—I kept the bill—I cannot read or write much—this is my bill—he used to call on a Wednesday—I paid him the last 1s. on 6th July; I saw him put 1s. down, but not the date—he kept away for weeks previous to the 6th, and I asked him if he had been in the country, and he said "No," he called on a little business.
Cross-examined. I know it was 6th July because Mr. Smart called the week after; it is on the paper—my husband told me so, and he is always at home.
KATE HALL . I am single, and live in Church Road, Limehouse—this is my bill—I paid Biddick on 2nd July 1s.; I saw him put it on the back of the bill—he put "2," but no month on it—before that I paid him about Whitsuntide; he put it down—I paid him on 28th May, because we had the chimney-sweep, and we always keep the date; I paid him 6d.
CATHERINE HART . I am single, and live at 5, Eagle Place, Old Montague Street, Whitechapel—I and my sister, Rebecca Nelso, dealt with Mr. Biddick—I paid him 1s. for myself and 1s. for my sister the week before Mr. Smart called; he used his pen—I do not know the month.
ANNE HILL . I am the daughter of Caroline Hill, and live in West Street—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick—I can't read or write—this is my bill; I know it by the colour—on 11th July I paid him 1s.; mother was with me; I saw her pay 1s.—he used to call on Mondays—he gave me a new bill; he used to write on it.
Cross-examined. I know it was the 11th July because it was my little sister's birthday—I have three sisters—I cannot remember their birthdays.
CAROLINE HILL . I am the mother of the last witness; I live with her—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick—I paid him 1s. on 11th July; my daughter was present—it was some weeks before that when I paid him last—he made out a new bill, and said I could do away with the old one; I said "No;" I saw him put down something, but I took no notice—I know it was the 11th July, because I had a little girl 12 years old the same day—Mr. Smart came on the 12th—Mr. Riddick came once since the 11th July, about a week after, I think; he wanted to look at the bill, at the dates—he did not ask for any money—he looked at the bill—I said "You have got into a nice mess;" he said "Yes, I have got to get out of it."
Cross-examined. I have nine children—I cannot tell you all their birthdays.
ELIZABETH HOLBROOK . I am married, and live at 46, Park Street—I have dealt with Riddick—I cannot read or write—I paid him on 18th May; he put something down on the bill—he used to call on a Saturday.
HARRIET HUDSON . I am married, and live at 22, Baker Street, Stepney—I have had dealings with Riddick; this is my bill; I know it by two pencil-marks—he used to call on a Thursday; I paid him 1s. every fortnight; he stayed away in June two pay days; after that I saw him and paid him 1s. 6d., and a shilling on Mrs. Hazell's bill; he made two pencil-marks, one on each bill—he called on 14th July; the amount
was 6d.; I remember that because I had a nephew died that day—I remember Mr. Smart calling—my sister, Mrs. Hazell, is a neighbour, and I used to pay her bill.
ELIZABETH LOWDELL . I am married, and live in Bedford Street—I have dealt with Mr. Riddick; he used to call on Thursdays—I can read, but cannot write—this is my bill—I paid him 1s. and 2s. since his holiday, which was I think in May—I saw him the morning Mr. Smart called; I paid him 1s., which he did not put down.
SARAH MARSH . I live at 24, Church Lane—I have dealt with Riddick—I cannot read or write—he used to call on a Saturday; I paid him 6d. a week as a rule; the two last payments were on 28th May 6d., and 1s. on 2nd July—I saw him after 22nd July at my place; I made no payment to him.
Cross-examined. I had the sweeps on 2nd July, and a brick came on the lodger's head; that is how I remember it.
MARY ANN MATTHEWS . I am a widow, and live at Devonshire Street—I have dealt with Riddick—I cannot read or write—I am not quite blind—Riddick called on Wednesdays—I paid him 1s. between June and July—I remember his being away; I paid him when he came back.
Cross-examined. I know it was July because I paid my rent in August, and my landlord was there at the time.
SARAH MIDDLETON . I am married, and live at 25, Cleveland Street, Mile End—I have had dealings with Riddick; he called on a Monday—I cannot read or write—he used to put down what I paid on the back of the bill—I last paid him 1s. about Whitsuntide—he was away about a fortnight—I showed him the bill; I offered him 1s.; he said I was not to show the bill to any one nor pay any one while he was away.
MARY ANN MILLS . I am married, and live at Mill Street—I have dealt with Riddick; he used to call on Saturdays—I can neither read nor write—I had two bills, one was mine and one my son's; this is my bill, because a bit is tore off; this is my son's bill—I paid Riddick when the crosses were, 2s. I think, a week or a fortnight before Mr. Smart called; Mr. Smart called my attention to the crosses, I thought it was the date.
ELIZABETH REYNOLDS . I am married, and live at Peter Street, Hackney—I dealt with Riddick; he called on Tuesdays—I have no bill; I asked for one; he promised to bring it on the following Tuesday—I paid him about 1s. a week,; I cannot remember how much; I think I paid him the last shilling in July; he went away before I paid him the last shilling.
Cross-examined. I think it was July because it was about six or seven weeks before I went to the police-court, it may have been eight; I speak to the best of my belief.
CATHERINE ROUND . I live at 21, Beatty's Gardens, Commercial Road—I am married—I dealt with Riddick—I have mislaid my bill—he used to call on Wednesdays; I paid him 1s. a week; when I had the bill he put it down; my last payment to him was 1s. on 6th July.
Cross-examined. I know it was 6th July because I had to pledge for it.
MARY SHAW . I am married, and live at Mary Ann Street—I dealt with Riddick; he called on Wednesdays; this is my bill; I paid him 1s., and the following week I paid him 1s., and put down 2s.; I last paid him 1s. on 13th July; I gave 1s. to Mr. Smart the following week.
Cross-examined. I know it was 13th July because I reckoned it from the time he ought to have called.
Re-examined. Mr. Smart gave me this paper—Riddick called the week before that.
ELLEN WHITEHEAD . I am married, and live at 110, Nelson Street—I dealt with Riddick; he called every Thursday—this is my bill; I paid him last on 7th July 1s.; he put it down; I do not remember his putting down the date—I paid him the week before 1s.
Cross-examined. I know it was the 7th July because Mr. Smart met me the week after.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered,— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 25th, 1881.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
GEORGE SALMON . I am a solicitor, of 23, Gloucester Street, Pimlico—on 25th August I left town with, my wife, leaving my house safely locked up—I returning on 22nd September received information from a work-man named Bellamy, who had been engaged with others in painting my house—I found the drawers in two wardrobes had been broken open, the contents scattered about, and various articles of jewellery, two clocks, and three shawls stolen, worth altogether 50l.—the cheffonier had been locked—I found this handkerchief produced, on the bed in the back bedroom, first-floor; it is marked "G. Pope," and was covered with blood; there is a ship marked on it, and the words, "All on account of Eliza;" I handed it to the police—there were marks of blood on the end rail of the stairs, on the dining-room table, and in the bedrooms—in the attic a desk had been broken open and papers scattered about, many of which were covered with blood—the glass of the area door was broken, and the cloth which I presume had been used in breaking it was lying in the area.
Cross-examined. When the handkerchief was produced at the police-court I believe the prisoner said that he had not had it in his possession for some time—I do not think he said, "I know nothing about it," I think he admitted it; he might mean, "I know nothing about that handkerchief being in the house."
WILLIAM BELLAMY . I am a painter, of 56, Lawrence Road, Brixton—I was at work at Mr. Salmon's house while he was absent—I went there about 8.45 on Thursday morning the 23rd of September, and having access I went in and found the cheffonier broken open, and both doors open—I called the police—we found the drawers in the front and back bedroom broken open, and the clothing scattered about—a desk in the attic was broken open, and there was a lot of blood on the stairs, the walls, and the doors—I saw this handkerchief was covered with blood.
Cross-examined. I had seen the house safe on the 17th of September, but had not been there since—I also saw the house at 3 o'clock on Wednesday, September 21st, but did not notice any window broken in the
area—I did not look into the area at all; my impression is that it was then safe—It was a half-glass door; it had no shutters.
Re-examined. I merely saw the outside of the house on the 21st; I did not go in—a man named Giles had the key—I could not see the area door without looking over.
ROBERT GILES . I am a labourer, of 54, Harold Street, Camberwell—on Tuesday, 20th September, I locked up the house between 7 and 7.30, and took the keys to the estate office in Camberwell—on Thursday, the 22nd, I took the key from the office, and gave it to Mr. Bellamy—the last time I saw the house was the 22nd; the area door was perfectly safe then.
Cross-examined. I was at work there on the Tuesday, and on finishing I took the key to the estate office; I did not go near the house on the Wednesday—there are railings round the area—you can look through them; you can see the area door by looking over the railings—the door is under the front-door step—in going past you would not see the area door unless you turned round, but you could see it through the railings as you were walking on the pavement. (Mr. Salmon here stated that the area door was below the front-door steps, and facing the same way as the front door.)
COLIN CHISHOLM (Police Inspector). On 22nd of September, about 9.15, I received information; I saw Bellamy, and went to the area door of 23, Gloucester Street, in which a square of glass had been broken, on the right-hand side farthest from the lock—a person putting his arm through the aperture could unlock the door, as the key was inside—the glass was all removed, and there was considerable difficulty in tailing that it had been broken, unless a person looked very carefully from the pavement—I noticed blood on the banisters leading upstairs and on the side of the wall, as if a person had been feeling his way up—the drawers in the front bedroom were open—I saw blood in the attic; a desk there having been broken open, and the window was open—I communicated with Clough, and on the 26th December he brought the prisoner to the station with this handkerchief which was found in the house—I looked at the prisoner's left hand, and at the marks on the handkerchief, and pointed out to the prisoner that they corresponded—it was spread on the table, and he said "That is my handkerchief."
Cross-examined. No one else saw the handkerchief; he said that voluntarily before I mentioned anything about the marks corresponding, or before any one ascertained that he had marks on his wrist corresponding—I heard him say at the police-court that he had not seen it for a month; it is impossible to say how the glass of the area door had been cut, as it was cleared away—I believe there was one small corner; the edge there showed that it was not cut with a diamond, it appeared to have been broken out—it is the duty of the constable on the beat to look after the doors, and turn their bull's-eyes on them, but it would be very difficult to see that this glass had been removed—the hole was about seven or eight inches square—there were nine panes altogether; the lower part of the door was wood—the house was reported as unoccupied, and it would be the constable's duty to keep a special eye on it.
Re-examined. It would not be his duty to go into the area, and I do not think he could see the door at night.
Street; his right hand was bound up with a handkerchief—I said "George, what is the matter with your hand?"—he was carrying it in this position—he said "I have cut my finger, Sir"—I said "You had better be careful of it," and left him—the next morning, at 9.15, I received information; I went to the house with Inspector Chisholm, and saw the house and the blood—on Thursday, the 23rd, I received this handkerchief from Mr. Salmon—it had been washed then—I searched for the prisoner, and found him on the 26th September, about 12.30, in Soper's Lane, which is 700 or 800 yards from Warwick Street, and 400 from Gloucester Street—I said "George, I shall take you on suspicion of breaking and entering 23, Gloucester Street, and stealing a quantity of valuable property therein"—after walking about a dozen yards he said "Who told you I had done it?"—I said "That information I cannot give you"—I took him to the Cottage Road Station; Inspector Chisholm was present—I put the handkerchief on the table; the prisoner was sitting down—I took hold of his left hand, which had got some tattoo marks on it—I brought him towards the table, and he said "That is my handkerchief"—I compared the ship which was worked on the handkerchief with the tattoo on his left hand, and they corresponded in every way, both in the masts of the ship and in the men—he was then charged with breaking and entering the house—this carpet bag containing two clocks, a piece of satin, and three shawls was found on Sunday morning the 25th outside a large timber yard at the foot of Vauxhall Bridge—it had been dropped inside some railings projecting three feet from the road; that is three-quarters of a mile from the house—I produce some shawl cases which I got from Salmon—we took them round to show the pawnbrokers when we made inquiry about the property.
Cross-examined. I addressed him as George, as I had known him from a lad—he has been on the Warspite—I knew the lad who was with him by sight—his name is McCullagh, or McGrath—before I made my comparison of the marks he said, "That is my handkerchief."
Re-examined. His father lives at 28, Rutland Street, Pimlico, but whether he slept at home I cannot tell you—that is three hundred or four hundred yards from 23, Gloucester Street—when the handkerchief was produced with his name on it I then remembered seeing him with his hand bound up.
WILLIAM BUSH (Policeman). On Sunday evening, 25th September, about 7.30, my attention was called to a sack behind some timber in Grosvenor Road, within an enclosure—that is about three-quarters of a mile from Gloucester Street—I got into the enclosure, opened it, and saw some coloured work, and took it away, as there were a lot of people about—there was a carpet bag inside the sack, containing the other articles.
HENRY REXFORD FULLER . I am a surgeon of St. George's Hospital—at 1.48 a.m. on 21st December, or probably seven minutes earlier, the prisoner came there, suffering from a wound on his wrist, which he said was caused by glass, and it had that appearance—it was quite recent—it was a nasty cut—I attended to it—he came to me afterwards, but I lost sight of him before the wound was healed.
Cross-examined. This was about 1.48 on Wednesday morning, the 21st, commonly called Tuesday night; it was in the middle of the night—it was not a straight cut such as would be caused by a knife; the line of
the wound was more or less in the axis of the arm—it was more or less up and down the arm, but as I did not know I was going to be called I did not take particular notice—it might have been produced by a broken bottle—if it had been cut by putting his arm through a broken window I should rather expect it to be in front of the wrist, if he did it with his closed fist—I made no note which hand it was—another person was with him, a male, but I have no recollection of him.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOSEPH POPE . I am the prisoner's brother; we live with our father in Rutland Street, Pimlico—we went hopping in September, and returned together to London on the Monday before September 11—on Tuesday evening, 20th September, we went to Birdcage Walk to hear the soldiers play, at 10 o'clock, and then we went round the Haymarket for a walk, and before we came home we found a bottle in St. James's Park; that was as we were going towards the Haymarket—it was about 10.30, when we were returning home—on the way home we were playing with the bottle in the Park, throwing it in the air and trying to catch it, and my brother, in attempting to catch it, fell on it and cut his wrist, and we went home and went to bed—there was a pump in the Park, and I held his hand over it to wash the blood off it, but going home it got saturated with blood again—we went home to our father's house—we got there about 11 or a quarter past—my brother slept in the same bed with me, and in the night he woke me up, and said his hand was very painful, and he thought he would get up and go to the hospital—I got up and went with him to St. George's Hospital—he woke me up two or three times—he would have gone before, only it was raining so hard—he had it dressed by die doctor, and then we went straight home again and went to bed together—he was in bed with me in the morning—on the Wednesday I believe I was in his company all day, but I won't be certain—he slept at home on the Wednesday night in the same bed with me—on Wednesday morning we went to the hospital again—I have seen this handkerchief before, but I have lost sight of it perhaps two months or more; if I had seen it I should have known it by the writing on it—I should have been sure to have seen it if he had it while we were hopping.
Crosss-examined. My father is a stoker; I am a labourer—I was looking for employment after returning from hopping—my brother has been on the Warspite for three years—I believe he deserted; he is not in the navy now—he was in a merchant ship, but has not any ship at present—he slept in my father's house on Monday night, 19th—he was not constantly in the habit of stopping out—we have not both been locked out of a night—we are not constantly in the habit of sleeping in stables, because we cannot get into our father's house, but we did so when we went to a music hall with a friend, and he was too late to get in, and we thought we would sleep with him in a stable; that was only once—on this Tuesday night we started from home at a quarter or ten minutes to six—we went for a walk till 9.30 we Warwick Street and round Buckingham Palace Road, and at 9.30 we went to the tattoo, and stopped till it was over—we then went to the Haymarket, and walked about for about ten minutes, and then took our way home, down the Duke of York's Steps and through St. James's Park, but we had picked up the bottle in the Park before we went there, about 10.5—the bottle was thrown too far from my brother's reach; it fell to the ground and smashed, and he fell
on it; it was a champagne bottle—this happened between New Palace Yard and the Duke of York's Steps—we had picked the bottle up about 10.30—we could see it when it was thrown up; it was in the broad part—we carried it about the Haymarket, walked about with it, and brought it back again—we had thrown it up two or three dozen times—the game was, whoever caught it to throw it up again, and we both ran to catch it at the same time, one being a little nearer to it than the other—we started this game just as we came down the Duke of York's Steps, and we broke it nearly opposite Old Palace Yard, and in that interval we threw it up about three dozen times—it was not a light night, but there were lamps—it was not raining—the bottle had no cork in it—we got home about 11.30—we walked down Denby Street that night, and passed Gloucester Street, but we never went near number twenty-three—I have passed it, but how was I to know that it was uninhabited? I did not know it—my brother said at the police-court that he had a witness at the back to prove that he had a splint on his hand, at the time I was there—I did not volunteer to give evidence—he called his father, but I was not there then—I did not tell the inspector at the police-station that the bottle was broken in Battersea Park; I told him nothing about the bottle whatever.
Re-examined. No solicitor or Counsel represented him—we kept walking towards home as we were throwing up the bottle—since my brother left the Warspite he has been several voyages on merchant ships—as soon as I heard my brother was taken I went to the station to know what he was taken for—he slept at home every night after we returned from hopping until he was taken into custody—he may have gone down Gloucester Street on Tuesday night, the 20th; I won't be certain—my brother had nothing to do with breaking into any house while he was in my company, nor have I ever had anything to do with such a thing.
ELLEN OVERTON . I live with my husband at 28, Rutland Street, Pimlico; the Popes live there—I remember the prisoner being away hopping; he returned only two or three days before he was taken into custody—on this Wednesday morning, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I saw his hand was bound up; his mother was dressing it, and I said that it seemed a very bad place—I had gone up to bed before he came home on the night before, but I had not gone to bed; I heard some one come in—I saw him on the Wednesday night at 10 o'clock having his supper in the washhouse—I have seen this handkerchief in the wash—I have done his washing for him over four years; the last time I saw it was in July; I know that, because on 28th July we went to a school excursion at Hampton Court, and I have washed for him every week since, but did not see it afterwards—I asked him what ship it was on it, and he said it was the name of his ship—I said nothing to him about the handkerchief after 28th July, but I never saw it afterwards, though I continued washing for them up to the last week.
Cross-examined. The handkerchief was generally downstairs in the washhouse for two or three days—he was at home from July to September, except when he was hopping, and I did his washing every week—I cannot say whether he was ever on board a ship—I washed for him every week when he was at home, but not when he was away; I can't say how many weeks I washed for him after 28th July—I had not seen the hankerchief the week before 28th July; I don't remember whether
I saw it the week before that; I only saw the handkerchief on one occasion.
By the JURY. I only saw the handkerchief once with this mark on it—I have washed his shirts since 28th July.
By MR. TICKELL. I had not seen the handkerchief before 28th July to my knowledge—I swear I saw it on the 28th at the school treat; we met him down at Hampton Court—I can swear he was not on board a ship on 28th July, because I saw him—I can't say that I know his writing; I may have seen him write; I can't say whether this "George Pope" on this certificate of discharge is his writing or not. (The certificate was dated July 29)—I am a lodger in this house; I have been in the habit of washing for the landlady—I was not subpoenaed at the police-court.
Re-examined. I am quite certain I never washed this handkerchief after I saw it on 28th July—I know that he has been voyages during the last two or three years, and at other times he has been at home with his father, except when he was away hopping—I never made any remark to him about the handkerchief—I saw the wound on his wrist dressed with bandages on the Wednesday morning.
GEORGE POPE . I am a stoker, and have been in the employ of Octavius Smith and Sons, Grove Road, Pimlico, 24 years—the prisoner is my son—he was at one time on the Warspite, and has been on some coasting ships since—the last time he went away was Whit Sunday morning; he was away five or six weeks, but I can't tell you on what day he came back—he then lived with me till he went hopping at Wateringbury, in Kent; that was the last day of August, or a day or two earlier—he returned home on, I think, 19th September; it was a Monday night; he then slept at home every night till he was taken—I remember seeing his hand bound up—I go out very early in the morning, and go to bed about 7 o'clock, and when I come out I ask my wife if the boys are in, and if they are not she says "No"—I never knew my son in any trouble of this kind before; I never knew him to steal a farthing—he has been rather too fond of life and too lively and fond of skylarking, but I never knew him to commit any offence—I am sure there is no conviction against him—I never locked him out at night; when they like to come home they always do so; he has never been in the habit of sleeping out at night that I know of.
Cross-examined. He was not so lively that I would not allow him to sleep in the house when I was at home—I never turned him out; I deny in toto that my sons dare not come to my house when I am at home—I can't tell what he has been doing since July; I have given him board and lodging—he did not like the Warspite, and he ran away two or three times; my wife was very angry about it, and asked me if I would take him back and see if I could not get his discharge, and I went with this detective, Clough, two years ago last August and saw the captain about him; he was discharged at Charlton Pier, where the Warspite was lying—I do not know where the William was, from which he was discharged on 29th July—he was never convicted, but he was locked up for throwing a stone when he was a mere boy at school—he was out hopping three weeks from September 2nd to the 17th, when he was paid off.
Re-examined. I never saw this handkerchief in the house since 28th July, when I think my mistress was ironing it, and I asked her what those marks were; he had it given to him on the 28th, when he
was going to St. Gabriel's school treat; I have no doubt that he was at that school treat on 28th July, and his mother gave him the handkerchief clean that morning—it is seven or eight years since he was locked up for throwing a stone in the street; he has also been locked up for bathing in the Thames; also when a policeman went into a public-house with some soldiers, and the boys shouted out that he was drinking on duty, and he took my boy in custody for an assault, but he was discharged; if he had committed any act of dishonesty I should have known it—he had been at home a week or more when he went to the school treat, but I can't say because I work day and night, and sometimes I do not see my children all the week.
HANNAH POPE . I am the prisoner's mother—I gave him this handkerchief clean on 29th July, when he was going to St. Gabriel's, Pimlico, school treat at Hampton Court—I have never seen it since till now—the letters were very bright then—I have never had it to wash since—I remember his hand being cut; I first saw it on Wednesday morning, 21st; he was in bed; it had been dressed by the surgeon then, but I dressed it at 8.30—he came home, I think, in July from his last ship; that may have been a week, I think, before the school treat—I remember his going away hopping and coming back; he slept at home every night afterwards till he was taken in custody.
Cross-examined. I was accustomed to wash the handkerchief; he may not have had it every week; he has had it several months, but 28th July was the last time I saw it—I could not wash it many times because he was not at home—I may have seen it three times between April and July—I had a woman to assist me in washing and ironing in the washhouse—I have hot asked the prisoner what had become of it, but it was not forthcoming when he wanted a clean one.
Re-examined. I have noticed that it was not there, but I have not made any remark about it—when it was washing these blue marks always came up—he was at sea from April to July, but he came home twice in the time, and I did his washing.
By the JURY. I did not notice any blood on his cuff when I dressed the wound, or any marks of gravel on his hand; he had been in the hospital then—there was a large bandage round his arm and a splint—he was in his night shirt when I saw him in bed at 6 a.m., but at 8.30 he was up.
Witness in reply.
EDWARD CLOUGH (Re-examined). I found this certificate of discharge on the prisoner—on the day he was charged, the 26th, his brother came to the police-station door and said, "I want to see the inspector"—he came into the office where I was—I said, "What do you want?"—he said, "I want to know what my brother is charged with"—I said, "Who is your brother?"—he said, "That young man just brought in; I saw him being brought in"—I said, "Do you know how he got his hand cut?"—he said, "Oh, yes; he was playing with a bottle in Battersea Park, and the bottle broke and cut his hand"—I told him he was charged with breaking into 23, Gloucester Street, and he went away.
Cross-examined. I wanted to get some information from him for the prosecutor; I did not want to catch him telling an untruth; I wanted to know the truth about his brother; I wanted to get some evidence—as far as I know he had not communicated with his brother—the prisoner
had no solicitor before the Magistrate—I did not tell the Magistrate that there was information how his hand was cut; I knew that his hand being out was the chief evidence against him, but I did not tell the Magistrate that I had seen a witness who could give information about it, because the brother was there—the brother did not ask me on what day the burglary had been committed, nor did I say, "I am not going to tell you that, because you will be going and getting evidence that he was somewhere else"—he said nothing more than I have told you; if he had I most probably should not have told him in that stage of the case.
By MR. TICKKLL. The prisoner could hear the evidence given against him at the police-court, and his brother was there from first to last—the prisoner did not account either before the Magistrate or to me for his hand being out.
By the JURY. His brother did tell me it was done with a bottle—I am sure he did not say it was in St. James's Park; I am sure he said Battarsea Park—the prisoner did not try to account to me for the cut.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
JOHN BUCKLEY . I am a fish curer, of 154, Little North Street, Stepney—on. the 17th September I left a pony and cart in Brick Lane, Spitalfields, at about 9.45 p.m.; I came out and the pony and cart were gone—I next saw them on Tuesday, about 10.30 p.m., in the green yard at West Ham, and identified them.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw you in my life that I know of.
WILLIAM TAYLOR (Policeman K 362). At 3.30 a.m. on the 18th September I found the prisoner with a pony and cart in High Street, Stratford; he was driving it, and was intoxicated—I took him in charge for being drunk and incapable—I asked him how he came possessed of the horse and cart, and he said a man asked him to drive it from Ilford to Bow Church; I asked him who the man was, and he did not know—he gave me the address of Beehive Chambers, Brick Lane, Spitalfields, which I afterwards found to be false—I did not charge him at that time with stealing the horse and cart—I charged him with that on Monday morning, when I had heard of the loss—on the way to the station he said "I suppose you are going to lag me for this pony and cart"—that was before I charged him—they were afterwards identified by the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. I asked you if the pony and cart were yours, and you said you did not know—you did not say it was not yours—you did not say that a man gave you a job to drive it from Ilford to Bow.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not steal the pony and cart; a man gave me a job to drive it"
Prisoner Defence. I never stole it.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. G. H. STUTFIELD Prosecuted.
The Jury being of opinion that the prisoner had no intention of injuring any one found her
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. WAITE Prosecuted.
GEORGE WATSON . I am a labourer, of 153, Tower Street, Woolwich—I was in the Castle Inn, Woolwich, on the night of 5th October—the prisoner came in—he asked the captain I was with to buy some matches, the captain said "How do you sell them?"—the prisoner said "Two a penny"—the captain said "I will give you a penny for three boxes"—the prisoner said "No, two a penny; I shall sell them for no less"—shortly after he said "You shall have three boxes a penny, and give me a glass of ale"—the captain said "I shall give you no ale, if you will have my money at three boxes a penny I will purchase them," and he purchased the three boxes, the prisoner saying "Here you are, you shall have them"—he still stood there and demanded drink—the barmaid said "You had better leave this bar, you were here yesterday, and you created a great deal of disturbance"—the prisoner called her a cow, a sow, and a mare, and left the compartment and went into another—the barmaid called to the landlady, who came out and said in his presence "If it is possible detain that man till I call a policeman, and I will have him locked up"—I went out of one door, and the prisoner out of another—I said "The best thing you can do is to go and speak to the landlady, and make some recompense to her, otherwise you will be locked up; she says she is going to send for a policeman"—he never uttered a word, but up with his hand and knocked me down—I did not strike him back—he struck me in the chest with his fist—he fell on the top of me; I did not feel I was stabbed till I found the blood flowing from my neck and head—a crowd collected round when I got up; they saw me bleeding, and I shouted out "I am stabbed!"—I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand when I got up—I shouted out "Seize him; look, he has got a knife in his hand," and he was seized by two men, who took the knife from him—I never struck him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not knocked down—only two persons were with me—the captain did not see the disturbance—I did not kick you when I was down.
JOHN SCOTT . I live at Ford, in Essex, and am a waterman—I was in the Castle Inn on the evening of the 5th October; the prisoner came in—the barmaid ordered him out; he used language which I did not understand—the landlady asked Watson to go out, and he went out, and talked to the man—I did not go out till some time after—when I went out both men were on the ground—I saw the prisoner punch Watson—I
did not see Watson hit him—I saw the prisoner run after Watson with the knife up—I did not see him stab him—when Watson said "I am stabbed" I saw another one, who got the knife down, and pulled him away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I took the knife from you—three of us were present, me and my skipper and Watson—I have seen Watson twice before—I said before the Magistrate "They were hitting one another hard with their fists"—that is a mistake.
ALFRED SHARPS , M.D. I live at Woolwich—I saw the prosecutor on the night of the 5th of October—he was bleeding from the neck and from a superficial wound in the forehead; it was a trifling one, and a glanced wound, the knife had apparently slipped—the wound in the neck was a little to the right of the centre of the vertebra, and was an incised wound of about three-quarters of an inch or an inch long; it was not bleeding at the time I saw him, but had bled considerably—the wound was not serious, because it had been arrested by the bone—the knife produced would cause such a wound; it could not have been done by a fall on the pavement.
Cross-examined. The wounds might have been inflicted by the same instrument—I could not say whether the wounds were inflicted on the ground or in a standing position; most likely the stab on the neck was given when erect, but I do not give any decided opinion.
CALEB TILLEY (Policeman R 274). I was called in to the Castle Inn—I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor; the prisoner was being held by two men; they were bleeding very much; the prisoner from the mouth—I caught hold of both—the prosecutor said "I have been stabbed; I am not the man, leave go of me"—after I let go of him the prisoner said he had been very much ill-used—he had his teeth out—when charged he said "I did not do it."
ALFRED SHARP (Recalled). I did not examine the prisoner's mouth. The prisoner in defence read a long statement to the effect that when asked what he said he replied, "What has that to do with you?" that the prosecutor and he fought, and he was kicked on the right ear and struck by the complainant on the left side of the head, and when down he received more than one blow, that when he got up a constable had hold of him, who put a running noose on his wrist although he offered to go quietly, and that he was caused great agony.
GUILTY†* of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the provocation he received.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ROSS . I am a butcher, and live at 383, New Cross Road—on 6th October I fastened up my premises securely about 10.45, and went round the house at 11 o'clock—the door which leads into the passage from the street had a lock, chain, and bolt—I fastened the chain myself, and the door was locked—the bolt was a little out of order—I went to bed—I was called up just before 1 o'clock by a policeman—I went to the side door, and found it open as far as the chain would allow it—the prisoners were in the pathway with the constable—the constable asked me how I found the door—I said "Open as far as the chain would allow
it to be"—he said he found the prisoners on the steps that lead to the door, and he wished me to go to the station—I went, and the prisoners were charged—at the station I saw the constable take two skeleton and other keys from the prisoners, also a file and shoemaker's knife—one skeleton key fitted and opened my door—it was not raining, but a beautiful moonlight night—the door is at right angles to the New Gross Road.
Cross-examined by Rennison. The key of my door was in my pocket, where I usually put it on going to bed—I said at the police-court the bolt was not fast, but the chain was; I did not say the door was insecurely fastened—I did not bolt the door—Leate did not show me the water he had made—I said at the police-court people often made water at the side of my house—I heard a squabble with you and the officer at the station, and you said "You are a pretty officer, to threaten to ill-use me if you had me outside"—I saw no marks on the door.
JOHN HAMPSHIRE (Policeman R 174). I was on duty about 12.40 on this night—passing the side of Walpole Street, New Cross Road, I saw the prisoners in a private doorway of the last witness's house—it was a side door, six steps up to it, and it lies in a good way from the side street—I saw Bennison come down from the steps; he stood on the bottom step, with his white apron on—passing the door at 12 p.m. I tried it, and found it secure—seeing the door open now I turned my bull's-eye on it—I followed the prisoners about 50 yards, and observing another constable coming in an opposite direction, I took the prisoners into custody, and, with the other constable's assistance, I took them back to the house—I found the door had been opened as far as the chain would admit it—I then called the last witness, and told him in the prisoner's presence that his door had been opened and the two men in custody were seen in the doorway, that I would take them to the station, and asked him to follow on—this skeleton key was given to me by another constable—it was found on the station fire; it opens the prosecutor's door—we can find out nothing about Rennison—Leate gave a wrong address at first, but afterwards 3, Carlisle Street, Soho Square, where I went and searched the premises, and found these two keys.
Cross-examined by Rennison. It was a moonlight night—there was a lamp at the top of the street about 12 yards off—I was about 15 yards away—I said at the police-court Leate was on the top step; I made a mistake; I correct it—you made no resistance—I was not in the station when the key was taken out of the fire—there was water three yards from the step.
Cross-examined by Leate. I did not say at the station I had a good mind to let you go.
JOHN BAKER (Policeman R 69). I was at the station when the prisoners were brought in—I searched Rennison; I found six keys, two were skeleton keys—I found the two keys in a secret pocket at the back of his trousers—I also found 1l. in gold and 6s. 6 1/2 d. in silver and bronze. (A juryman said the pocket was common, and was called a pistol-pocket.)
WILLIAM RUGG (Policeman R 60). I was at the station and searched Leate—I found five keys, a penknife, and a box of wax matches—one is a skeleton key—Thrussell said that Rennison had dropped a key in the fire—Rennison said nothing for the moment; about two minutes after he said "I did not throw it in the fire"—Thrussell said "You did"—he said again distinctly "I did not"—he was then charged—thin is the key.
Cross-examined by Rennison. You were on a chair about three yards from the fireplace—as I went out, leaving Thrussell to keep an eye on you, you got off the chair—I did not hear the constable threatening.
WILLIAM THRUSSELL (Policeman R 307). I was in the station; the last officer told me to keep my eye on the prisoners—Rennison was sitting in a chair opposite the fire—he went towards the fire, saying it was very cold—he put his hands over the fire, and I saw something drop from his hands into the fire—I went up and saw this key in the fire—I took it out and said "What did you put this in the fire for?"—he said "I did not put it there" more than once—the key was given to Hampshire—Leate was sitting close to the fire.
Cross-examined by Rennison. Four officers were in the room when you put the key in the fire—the prosecutor was sitting behind the. table—I did not use threatening language, nor say that I would hit you with a bit of wood—you did not say I was a nice man to threaten to ill-use a man for nothing if he happened to be in the street.
Re-examined. Rennison had not been searched when I found the key.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Rennison said: "I am very sorry it should happen. I found those keys on Blackheath as I was coming from Gravesend. I saw the man in Greenwich We had two or three drinks together, and I told him." Leate said: "I met the man, and he gave me four keys. I was looking after work."
Rennison in defence said he found the parcel of keys, but the one found on the fire woe never in his possession. Leate in defence said he was looking for work when Rennison came up to him by the church at Greenwich and asked him for the Old Kent Road. They drank together all day till late, and Rennison showed him the keys, and asked him if he would have some, and he took four or five; about 12.30 he stopped to make water, when the constable charged him; that he gave a correct address, had work to go to, and was innocent.
BENNISON— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
LEATE— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
HENRY PHILIP DAWSON . I am a captain in the Royal Artillery at Woolwich—the prisoner is my military servant—on 1st September I left him in charge of my quarters, and returned on 21st September—on examining my room I found a box and cupboard broken open—I missed a tunic, a forage cap, two or three jackets, and a pair of pantaloons—I have since seen them in the hands of the police and identified them—the prisoner was there when I got back—I did not ask him about the properly missing—he was a military prisoner, for absence—I did not give these things to him—I was not retiring from the service.
HENRY HIGGINS . I am in the service of Mr. Hart, of 50, Wellington Street, Woolwich, outfitter—on 5th September the prisoner brought me some things—there was a gold lace tunic, gold lace jacket, scarlet forage
cap, and a pair of flannel drawers—he said his master had a private sale that day, and had been clearing out, as he was retiring from service, and he had made him a present of those few things—I believed him, and gave him 2l. 15s. for them—the prosecutor afterwards came to my shop and identified the property.
WALTER MILLER (Policeman W 76). I received information, and on the 23rd September the prisoner was handed over to my custody by the military authorities—I told him the charge, and he said he knew nothing about it.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say to the charge, but I wish to be committed to take my trial."
The Prisoner's Defence. It is not likely that I should take the things to a place where I was known, to sell them for 2l. 15s., and lose everything by it, and be discharged from the service with a bad character. I could have called a witness to show that I was not near the place at the time.
The prisoner received a good character from Captain Dawson.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
SARAH ANN PARRETT . I am the wife of William Parrett, of Erith, Kent—on Monday, the 12th September, I drove a horse and cart to Brewer Street, Woolwich—I went inside a house, and left the horse and cart outside—there was nobody in charge of it—I was in the house not quite five minutes; when I came out the horse and cart were gone—I have since seen them at Woolwich Police-court—I value them at 16l.
WILLIAM HENRY WALKER . I live at 15, Brewer Street, Woolwich—on Monday, 12th September, between 5.30 and 6 p.m., I saw Mrs. Parrett's horse and cart outside No. 14—I saw the prisoner there, who was patting the pony on the head—two others were standing on the kerb—I went in to my house, thinking he was the owner—I next saw him on Thursday morning, in custody, at Woolwich Police-station, where I picked him out from amongst nine others as the man I saw patting the pony's head.
HENRY WICKLING . I shall be thirteen on 29th May—on the evening in question I saw the prisoner driving a horse and cart down the embankment—he went to the house of a Mrs. Lintop at the back where he lives—I next saw him on Thursday at the police-station.
BENJAMIN TINGLEY . I live at 47, Ordnance Road, Woolwich, and am a fishmonger—on Wednesday, 14th September, I was with Mr. Webster outside the Park Tavern, Woolwich—I saw the prisoner there—Webster proposed to buy the pony and cart, for which he was to pay 3l.—the prisoner said he paid 50s. for it, and he wanted a little for his trouble, but he would sell it for 3l.; and Webster agreed to pay him on the 2nd of the following month—Webster said to me, "I can work it for its keep"—on the following morning I was at Plumstead Market—I received information, and I went to the prisoner's house—I saw him, and said, "You are wanted, and there is evidence which will be here directly to speak to you"—I drove to the Ordnance Arms, and went home to sell my fish.
Cross-examined. I should say the value of the pony, cart, and harness, is 3l.
JAMES BINGHAM . I am a general dealer, of Plumstead—on Thursday, 15th September, I saw two boys with a pony and cart in Plumstead Market—they were strangers to me—I spoke to them, and in consequence of what they said I went to the prisoner's lodgings, where I saw him—the last witness was with me—he told the prisoner that the horse and cart had been stolen, and he said he bought it of a man, and that he should know him if he saw him again—I asked him to go with me to the police station, which he did—he proposed that we should go to Shooter's Hill—I said, "I dare say you are known all round, and you had better come to Woolwich, and we went there—I had seen the prisoner with the horse and cart.
WILLIAM MORGAN (Police Sergeant R). On Thursday, 15th September, the last witness and the prisoner came to the police station with a horse and cart—I told him he answered the description of a man who had taken the horse and cart away, and that I should detain him—he said, "No, I bought it for 60s. from a costermonger in Hare Street"—he was placed with nine others, and picked out by Walker.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "All that I can say is that there was one man I was with all the afternoon. At the time the boy said he saw me, between 5 and 6, I was down by the pier. I bought the pony, and Lintop was with me. As soon as I heard it was stolen I brought it to the station and gave it up."
Prisoner's Defence. Is it likely that I should keep a pony and cart about the neighbourhood for four days, and drive it about in the afternoon? I agreed to let him have it for a fortnight on trial to do his rounds. If I had stolen it I should not have done that. As soon as I heard it was stolen I gave it up. I do not know the man's name; I know him very well by sight.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. PUROELL Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY TURNER . I am a draper, of 136, High Street, Deptford—on 26th August I missed between 30 and 40 yards of plaid, value between 3l. and 3l. 10s., which was standing about two yards inside the shop—this (produced)is part of it—this satin cloth is also mine, and is worth about 12s.—I missed it a few days before the plaid—I did not know that the piece of poplin had gone till I saw it at the prisoner's house—I also saw this dress there, I had missed a piece of such material as it is made of six months before.
Cross-examined. The articles were taken at different times—my shop is about five minutes' walk from Susan Cave's shop, but I did not know her shop before this case.
JOHN WEIGHT . I am a prisoner under sentence of three months at Wandsworth Prison—about three or four months ago I went into Mr. Turner's shop and took this piece of plaid, took it in a sack to Mrs. Cave directly and asked her if she would buy it, and she gave us 3s. 6d. for it—I had often seen her before and sold her things—I have seen this coat (produced)before, I went to a house in St. John's Road and took it and put it on and went to Mrs. Cave, who gave me 4s. 6d. for it—I also went
into a shop in Kindley Street and took these two jackets (produced), and told them to Mrs. Cave; she gave us 3s. 6d. for them—I also took her other things—she did not ask where I got them, but she knew—I never saw the male prisoner.
Cross-examined. I am eighteen years old—I am under sentence for stealing meat—that was not my first conviction, I had three months before that for stealing handkerchiefs, and seven days before that for the unlawful possession of brushes—that was not the first time, but the Magistrate did not know I had been convicted; I had had two months for stealing cigars, and there was something before that, but I can't tell you what—I was 11 years old when I was first convicted, and I was sent to a reformatory for six years—I stole from about three shops a day all the week through in Deptford and Greenwich.
By the COURT. I took these things out of the sack in Mrs. Cave's presence—no one was with me, but I said "What will you give us?"
HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector R). On 6th September I received a warrant to search the prisoner's house, 171, Church Street, Deptford—I got there about 8 o'clock, and saw the two prisoners in the back room—I called them into the shop and said, "I am inquiring for a piece of woollen cloth stolen from High Street, Deptford"—the man said "I have not bought any;" the woman said "Neither have I"—I took them into the back parlour and read the search warrant—she then said "I did buy a piece of red flannel of the boy"—I directed her husband to fetch it, which he did, and produced this plaid—the sergeants who were with me searched the place—it is what is called a "leaving" shop—there were a quantity of rags there, and old lamps and fiat irons.
Cross-examined. The male prisoner is a bicycle maker and gas-fitter, he works for Mr. Luck, of Lewisham Road, and from my inquiries he bears a good character—some old dresses were in the shop—it has been carried on about 10 years.
Re-examined. The name on the door is Thomas Cave, bicycle repairer—he lives there.
HENRY GOODWIN (Police Sergeant R). I went with Inspector Phillips to the prisoner's house; I corroborate what he says; he remained downstairs, and Sergeant Francis and I went upstairs—I opened a box, saw this piece of dress, and said to Cave, "Here is some more stuff similar to that below; how do you account for that?"—he said, "I do not know," and called his wife upstairs—I said, "Mrs. Cave, here is another piece of stuff; in fact, here are a great many pieces; how do you account for this?"—she said, "I have been in business some years ago, and have had them by me ever since; that is not stolen"—I said, "Well, that may be so"—I saw these other things there, left them there, and went down with the male prisoner and told them both that they would be charged with receiving 40 yards of plaid, knowing it to be stolen—she said, "Yes, I did buy it of a lad, but there was not 40 yards"—the man said, "I know nothing about it"—I went again Best morning by daylight, and brought this piece away, with some other property, and when Mr. Turner saw it he said, "That is mine; that has been stolen"—I said to the female prisoner, "You spoke of that last night, and that has been stolen from Mr. Turner's' shop"—she made so answer.
Cross-examined. The shop has been carried on about three years—I have been in the neighbourhood about 13 years.
---- FRANCIS (Police Sergeant R). I went with the last two witnesses to the prisoner's shop; I corroborate Inspector Phillips's statement—the plaid was found, and I went into the bedroom; the sergeant took hold of the coat and said, "This is not your coat, Gave"—he said, "Yes, it is; I was measured for it; I have had it two years"—we took it away next morning with other property, also these two jackets, which Mrs. Sylvester identifies.
MRS. SYLVESTER. These two jackets are mine; they were in my front parlour; I cannot say when I missed them—I gave 6s. for the beaded one, and 8s. for the other.
Cross-examined. I have never sent them out to be repaired.
THOMAS CAVE— NOT GUILTY .
SUSAN CAVE— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. BAYLIS Defended.
JAMES DADEY . I am a porter; I live at Rodney Buildings—about 5 p.m. on 3rd October I was walking in Stockton Road, Surrey Gardens, with Mr. Aiton, a friend; we had a little to drink—the prisoner and a lot more came up to me; the prisoner shoved against me; he wanted 2s., I denied, he landed me one in the mouth with his fist; I fell, and the others kicked and knocked me about; when I got up the prisoner rushed to me and took my silver watch and alluminium chain, and handed it to a chap in the lime van to put in a Rosebag—I remember no more till I was at my mother's—shortly afterwards the prisoner was brought by a constable and a little boy—the value of the watch and chain was 31s.
Cross-examined. We had two or three pots between two—the prisoner wanted to fight me for 2s.; I did not strike his friend first—the row lasted about half an hour.
Re-examined. I saw the watch shoved aside into the nosebag—the van was stationary.
ROBERT AITON . I was walking with the the witness in the Rodney Road, Walworth; we met the prisoner and others—I had a bottle of onion pickles in my hand; the prisoner asked for some, and I said I was going to give him some, and he said he was going to fight us for 2s.; he
struck my friend, who was knocked down two or three times; I was knocked down more than once; I was looking round to see, and got another clout on the eye; I could not see who hit me—I went home with my friend's landlady—I had seen the watch about five minutes before the row, when I asked my friend the time—he was made insensible, and was taken to his mother's room, and had some water before he got his senses again.
Cross-examined. I had been with the prosecutor all day; we had been to his sister's—we had refreshment in one or two places, nothing stronger than four ale—the row lasted about 20 minutes—the prisoner hit the last witness first; he wanted to fight me too, but I had one job in hand—I did not take my coat my coat off, nor my friend—I did not hold his coat.
HARRIET HARROLD . I am single, and live at 32, Marsland Road, Surrey Gardens—I saw this row on 3rd October as I was at work at my window—I know Aiton from his passing my house—I went out on to the pavement—the prosecutor and his friend were walking up the Stockton Road; Aiton had the pickles—one man asked for some; Aiton said "No," I think, and the prisoner and his friend came up to the prosecutor and said "I will fight you for 2s.;" another one said "I will hold the money"—the prisoner took off his coat and struck Aiton first, and said "Now you get out of the way, and I will do the other one"—he knocked the prosecutor down five times—the first time he snatched his watch and chain from his pocket, passing it to his friends around—the prisoner's friend picked the prosecutor up as he fell down—I said to the prisoner "Give the man his watch and chain;" he said "I have not got it"—that was 10 minutes after I had seen him pass it—he said "You mind your own business, you b—cow;" I said "I do not want anything to say to you, you may pass on"—I am a laundress—about 5.30 I saw two constables pass my house with the prisoner, and I stayed indoors till the prosecutor's mother and others came and asked me to be a witness—I saw the nosebag hanging to the cart—about 20 or 30 people were about when the prisoner took the watch, but afterwards a great many more.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor and his friend were not singing, only talking to each other—the row commenced about 4 o'clock, and lasted about three-quarters of an hour—the prisoner was not knocked down—the prosecutor was the worse for drink—the man who picked the prosecutor up was with the prisoner when he came up, and went away with him.
JOSEPH SMITH . I live near the Surrey Gardens—I remember this row—I saw the prosecutor on the ground, and the prisoner standing over him—a crowd closed round—as the prosecutor was getting up a second time I saw the prisoner snatch his watch and chain, out not what he did with it—he got up, and they commenced fighting again—I saw a van there—half an hour afterwards the cart had moved to Penrose Street, and I saw the prisoner take the watch out of the nosebag; that is about 100 yards from where the fight occurred—he put it into his trousers pocket—his friend who held his coat at the fight was with him—I saw him calling after the cart—they went together down Penrose Street into Penton Place, where the prisoner took the watch out of his pocket, and held it in his hand and allowed it to his friend—he put it back in his
pocket, and they walked to the top of Penton Place, where the prisoner's friend turned round and said he would kick my brains out if I did not go back—I was following and watching them; I never lost sight of them—I told a policeman something, and went with him to the prosecutor's mother—the prisoner was taken into custody—after the watch was taken the prisoner and his friend went into the Surrey Gardens Hotel; I saw them come out five minutes afterwards—a constable told them to go away; they walked a little way, and then ran—then I followed, and saw what I have said about the nosebag.
Cross-examined. The row lasted about five minutes after the watch was taken—about 80 people gathered round—I was 20 yards, off when I saw the watch taken out of the nosebag—the nosebag was on the right side of the cart, hanging near the forelegs of the horse—the cart was on the right-hand side of the road, and I was on the left.
Re-examined. I do not know the prisoner or the prosecutor—I followed them to see whether they had the watch or not.
MARY ANN OGILVIR . I received information—I saw the prisoner at the corner of the Stockton Road—I said "You have my son's watch; would you be kind enough to give it to me, I am his mother?"—he said "I have not; I know who has got it"—I said "Who?"—he said "That man standing over in the public-house bar"—I went with him into the bar—he said to the man "Have not you got it?"—the man said "No, I have not"—I said "It must lay between you two"—I came out and sent for a policeman, and the prisoner was given into custody.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said "He has torn my shirt and I shall look to you for a new one"—I said "When you return my son's watch you shall have a new shirt"—I did not hear the prisoner say he wanted to give the man into custody for assaulting him—I did not say to the constable "The prisoner ought to be charged with assaulting my son"—I said "My son has lost his watch," and the constable said "Give him in charge"—I did not answer that I would not like to accuse him.
JOHN BALDISTON (Policeman P 134). I went to Ogilvie's house with the prisoner—I asked her if her son would charge the prisoner with stealing the watch—she said yes, she would go upstairs and see her son, and she went—the prisoner was in my custody—they decided to charge him and I took him to the station—when the prisoner was shown to the prosecutor the prosecutor said he was the man—when I told the prisoner what he was taken for he said "Who says so?"—I said "This little boy," and he told the boy to get away or he would kick him—he said he had been fighting with a man, but he had taken no watch—this was about 4.40 p.m.
Cross-examined. I did not recommend, I asked if they would charge him.
Witness for the Defence.
THOMAS ING (Policeman P 55). About 5 p.m. on 3rd of October, the prisoner came up to me and said he wanted to give a man into custody for assaulting him—the prosecutor's mother came up and said "You ought to be charged for assaulting my son; he has lost his watch"—I asked whether she charged the prisoner—she said no, she should not like to do that, she would not like to directly accuse him of taking it—another constable, who is ill, heard the remark—his name is Long.
Cross-examined. I was not present when the prisoner was given into custody.
GUILTY of larceny. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
932. CHARLES HENRY HERBERT (34) to feloniously marrying Sarah Ann Avenalle, in November, 1876, his wife Eliza being alive.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
JOHN ANDREWS . I am an hotel porter, 30, Park Street, Grosvenor Square—I was present at St. Paul's Church, High Beech, Essex, on 17th June, 1858, when my sister Ann was married to the prisoner—they lived together 13 months at High Beech, when my sister left him and went to live as a servant at Elstree, Herts; but she used to come backwards and forwards to see her mother.
Cross-examined. When she left Elstree she went to Portland place, London—she did not go abroad—I produce a certificate of the marriage, certified to be. a true copy.
JANE GREGORY . I live at Barnes—my name was Gregory before I married the prisoner, which was on 2nd June, 1864, at St. Mary, Newington—I had known him about nine months—he represented himself as a widower—I have lived with him up to the present time, nearly 18 years—I gave him into custody on discovering that his wife was alive a few weeks ago; that caused a quarrel between us—I produce a certificate which was given me at the time of our marriage—I understood that his wife was dead, and that her name was Sarah, and that he had lived with her five years, but she is dead—he said nothing about her.
GEORGE DURRANT (Policeman V R 19). I apprehended the prisoner at Barnes; I told him it was for bigamy, and that his wife was waiting at the station—he said, "All right, my boy; I will come with you"—he did so, and Jane Gregory gave him in charge; after the charge was read over he said, "That is all right," and about a minute after he said, "This has got to be proved."
GUILTY One Week's Imprisonment.
MR. BAYLIS Procecuted; MR. CUNNINGHHAM Defended. THOMAS BROWN. I am a clerk, of 16, Campbell Road, Bow—I purchased a bicycle of the prosecutor, for which I was to pay by instalments—on 13th September two instalments were due, and I paid 10s. to the prisoner on that day; I wrote this receipt (produced), and this is his signature to it; on the following Monday I paid him another instalment of 5s. 8d.; he gave me this receipt on the same sheet of paper; it is signed in pencil.
FRANK HARRISON . I am a bootmaker, of 98, St. James's Road, Holloway—I had an account with the prosecutor for the purchase of a bicycle, to be paid for by instalments; on 16th September I paid the prisoner 2s.; he gave me no receipt for that; he came afterwards for 10s., and gave me this receipt for the two sums; after that Mr. Watts came; down and demanded the money; I explained to him what I had paid, and showed him the receipt; he took it away and gave me another—I afterwards took home a pair of boots to the prisoner, and when I knocked at the door he looked up from the area—I said, "Is Mr. Bealey at home?"—he said, "No"—I said, "You are Mr. Besley; I have brought your boots"—he said, "I can't have them; I have not got the money"—I said, "What have you done with this money I gave you to pay? they have been to me a second time"—he said, "You have got your receipt"—I said, "Yes; but what good is that?"—he said, "l am going to the office to put it right to-morrow morning; don't you go; I will call as I come back."
Cross-examined. When I asked him about the 2s. he did not say "There must be a mistake; I paid the money over in the City"—he said he was going to business in the morning, and he would make it right; he said nothing about a mistake—there are two offices; one in Southwark and the other in the City—I gave my order in the City—I have never been to the City office to pay instalments—I know Mr. Watts, but never paid any money to him at the office; it never occurred that the payment of an instalment was not acknowledged.
HARRY CHARLES ANDERSON . I am Mr. Watts's clerk at the City establishment—the prisoner has paid me money once or twice; he did not pay me 10s. or 2s. on Harrison's account, or 5s. 8d. on Brown's account; he paid me one instalment of 8s. from Harrison.
Cross-examined. These sums are entered in this book, but I can swear that the prisoner paid me no other sum from any customer without looking at it—8s. was paid by Mr. Harrison's son in July on account of 10s., and in September another 8s. on account of an instalment of 10s.—I had not consulted this book before I stated that he had not made other payments—when orders are given at one establishment money is occasionally received at the other; this happens perhaps once every two or three weeks, but the orders are kept distinct; it happens three or four times a month at the most—Mr. Watts occasionally goes to the City, but I am managing that branch now; he was there in September, but he was not managing—all money received there was handed to me; he did not receive money for these instalments while I was there that I can remember—the money was put in a cash-box and locked up—I have given satisfaction to the prosecutors.; no complaint has come to my ears of money being paid
to the office, and no receipt given, or of complaints sent to the police-station; or that persons have sent instalments and did not receive receipts—I keep a separate leaf for each account—this is the City book; Mr. Brown and Mr. Harrison are in that—instalments for bicycles sold in the City are not often paid to the Borough branch; I have known two or three cases but not more—I swear that the money paid in the City would be received by me; I have the management of the books, and all moneys received go through my hands, never mind who collects them—this (produced)is the cash-book—I go to the Borough branch occasionally, and then these things came to my knowledge—a boy in the City office sometimes receives money when I am out for 20 minutes in the middle of the day for my lunch—I do not collect accounts—I do not give the prisoner receipts for what he pays me; the boy makes a memorandum on paper, and has always done so when he has received money, as far as I know—when the prisoner pays me money he is discharged by an entry in my book, and if he received money in my absence he would give a receipt—these gentlemen called and paid the money in the office—if the collector paid anything to the lad in my absence I should say he would give him a receipt.
Re-examined. The boy does not often receive amounts—when the collector pays me money I enter it in the book at the time he is there; he could see me enter it, and I can remember his seeing me enter this 8s. from Harrison.
WILLIAM FOSTER WATTS . I am a bicycle maker, and have a second establishment in Southwark Road—the prisoner was my clerk; it was his duty for City accounts to account to Anderson; he has not accounted to me for any sums received from Brown in September, or for any sums received from Harrison on 16th and 19th September; he accounted for 2s.—he made no communication to me about those sums—it was his duty to enter in the office the amounts he collected at Southwark—Brown's is a Southwark account; he should have entered that in the ledger—here is the ledger; it is not entered—Harrison's was a City account; he would pay money at the Southwark branch to me or to Mr. Toovey, my partner.
Cross-examined. It has happened that I have received the instalments brought by customers, and the prisoner has entered the receipts; that might happen every week, or it might not—when I received money from him in the Borough office I told him to enter it in the ledger; I never entered it myself when he received it—there are two ledgers, one in the City and one in the Borough—the Borough ledger was kept in the prisoner's office, and if he was there he would make the entries; if he was not there I or my partner would enter in it—it was his duty to see customers, and press for money due—he has not actually signed a receipt for money which I have received; when he received it he always gave a receipt himself—it would not be possible that he gave a receipt where I received the money—I may have said before the Magistrate "I have been there when the prisoner has given receipts for money I have taken; when we have both been in the office together the money might be taken by the prisoner and by me, but it was always the prisoner's duty to give the receipt"—if it is in the depositions I said so; it is quite possible that the money was paid to me, and that he gave the receipt—when money was paid to me I put it in a box where the stamps were, and he
would put what he received in his pocket, or into a desk or into a box—I sometimes put money that I received, into my pocket—money was always entered immediately in the cash-book, even if half a dozen people came to pay instalments at one time—it would not go into the cash-box.
By the JURY. He would not have to balance his cash; the money would go into my pocket for the bank, and the amount would be made up from the cash-book—I balanced every day; what I put into my pocket would not go into the cash-box, but it would all go into the cash-book—I kept private money in my pocket—I know nothing of the complaints at the police-station that sums were paid to the office for which no receipts were given—if I put money in my pocket it was entered to the credit of the person paying it—the whole of the money would be paid into the bank—the slip is made up from the cash-book; if there is a difference I should make it up myself.
By MR. CUNNINGHAM. The cash-box holds the stamps—I keep no account of my private cash, but I should make up what was required—I swear that sums were not put into my pocket and not entered—I have said there have been complaints made of sums which have been omitted to be carried to the credit of people—I never saw Sergeant Harvey call about the matters you refer to; I did not know anything about complaints till they were mentioned at the Court at Southwark—the prisoner may have entered money which I received 20 times, but not 30 times—money would come through the post, and I should write on the letters "Mark off and send receipt"—I do not know that Mrs. Crump called, and said that she had not received a receipt for 5s.; she paid 5s. to the prisoner, and he never accounted for it, but I did not see her come to the office—money payable at the London branch was sometimes paid at the Southwark branch, and conversely—nobody besides the prisoner has been accused of taking money at either branch.
Re-examined. When the prisoner received an account at the Southwark branch it was his duty to enter it in the ledger and pay it to me.
THOMAS FULLER TOOVIY . I am in partnership with the last witness—the prisoner has not paid me 10s. or 5s. 8d. on Brown's account, or 2s. on Harrison's account—his duty on receiving sums on Southwark accounts was to pay them over to either partner who was present at the time, and to enter them in the ledger—I have not been in the City for the last six months, but I have received the accounts when I have been there—the prisoner never handed me any sums of money.
Cross-examined. I hesitate because I am thinking; he has not done so—I have not the slightest doubt about it—he never actually paid me any money, nor to my partner in my presence that I remember—he may have paid some money from the City at the office; I received it if I was in charge; Mr. Watts or myself—Mr. Watts sent the prisoner out collecting two or three times, but it was not his regular duty; he was clerk and salesman—he would sometimes go out in the morning, and bring money back next morning—I rarely go to the office in the Borough—I went away for my holiday for five weeks, and Mr. Watts was in charge—I was there in September, when the prisoner was charged with receiving one sum; I came back on the 15th—I have never made any intimation of dishonesty against any person in my employ—I lost a gold Albert in the Southwark office last January, before the prisoner came into the service—I did not accuse any of the employes—I never accused any
of them of having received money—the Southwark business is mine, but I was away six weeks, and Mr. Watts took my place—we close at 7 o'clock—I received no character with the prisoner, but my partner received a letter; I did not read it; we took him on that letter—Mr. Watts told me that it was not exactly a character.
Re-examined. Nobody would receive instalments but my partner, myself, and the prisoner.
Cross-examined. He did not say whether he had paid it to Mr. Watts; I am attached to Southwark Station; complaints have been received there, not of the prosecutors not giving receipts for money, but from country people who sent there for bicycles, enclosing deposits—I had letters, and went to see the firm, and was told that if an order was executed the person had the full benefit of the deposit, but if the inquiry was not satisfactory they returned the deposit—letters came to us to inquire if there was such a firm existing—I told Mr. Watts about one complaint, and he said that people had no right to write such letters to the police.
NOT GUILTY. The Jury stated that the difficulties of the case were very great, in consequence of the loose way in which the accounts were kept. Another indictment against the prisoner was postponed to the next Session.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
LOUISA SHAW . On 19th September I was living at 21, Crofton Road, Peckham—Mr. Peacock is the landlord—the prisoner lodged there; he came on 1st May this year—he had been at Margate for a fortnight, and returned on the 19th at 3.25 in the afternoon—I served him with some soup and beef-tea at 10.30, and he went straight to bed; he appeared to be in his usual health—the next I saw of him was when he came downstairs with a razor in his hand and his throat cut—I was in the front of the house then, at the gate—I said "Oh, Mr. Wendover, what is the matter?"—he had only his jersey on—he came and took me by the left; hand by the shoulder, and I took him the best I could by the shoulders and struggled with him—he held the razor up in his right hand, and when I struggled with him he tried to get at my throat—he cut me once on the chin and once on the neck; it bled—I took hold of the razor and broke it; I thought I caught hold of the blade, but Mrs. Harris says I caught hold of the handle, because I threw it over into her garden—my hands were not cut—the blade was found in our garden—when I had taken the razor from him he tried to find it again, and I rushed up the street—I met a policeman in the Peckham Road, and he went back to the house with me, but I did not go upstairs with him—I was bleeding when I met him—they took me to the doctor's directly—I heard Mrs. Harris's voice while I was screaming:—I do not know whether she came up or not; she said "What are you doing to the girl?"—he said he was going to have my life; that was while we were struggling together—the doctor attended me from the Monday night up to the Friday—I have had no quarrel at all with the
prisoner—I have never remarked anything strange or irregular in his manner—I lifted sometimes to take Ms breakfast up to him—he break-fasted at 9 or 9.30; then he went out, and we probably saw no more of him till next morning—sometimes he came home to dinner.
Cross-examined. I had had no quarrel or words with him; he had always treated me, and behaved like a gentleman—his throat was cat when he came down, before he attempted to cut me—I was standing quietly at the garden gate; I said "Oh, Mr. Wendover, what have you done?"—he did not answer me—he said nothing when he attacked me—he had no trousers or shirt on; nothing but his Jersey—he was perfectly naked except that—I did not know of his having been confined in a lunatic asylum—he was covered with blood when he came down—when I threw the razor into the garden he left me, and went to look for it—he had had beef tea once before when he was ill—he had been in the habit of having a good deal of medicine—he appeared to be a man of independent means.
By the COURT. He has had some wines up in his bedroom—I have never seen him the worst for liquor.
ALBERT MASSEY . I am a surgeon—Louisa Shaw was brought to me about 12.15 in the morning of the 20th—she had a superficial incised wound on the chin, about two inches long, also a slight punctured wound on the left side of the neck, not dividing the skin—the wounds might have been inflicted by a razor—there was no severe hemorrhage.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner lying on his back in the back room in a semi-stupid state—he had two incised wounds in his throat, from which he had lost a considerable quantity of blood; they were two separate cuts; one on the left side of the throat, and the other near the centre—I have been about 30 years in the profession, and have had considerable experience with persons of unsound mind—in my opinion the prisoner was decidedly of unsound mind when I saw him.
MR. WILLIAMS called:—
ALONZO HENRY STOCKS , M.D. and M.E.C.S. I keep a private lunatic asylum at Peckham—I have known the prisoner since 1878—on 15th October, 1878, he was admitted into my asylum as a patient under two medical certificates—he was suffering from suicidal mania; he continued under my treatment till 11th January, 1879, and was then discharged as a patient, but continued to board in the asylum—he remained there as a boarder with the consent of the Lunacy Commissioners till September 8th, 1880—I have heard the evidence to-day, and am decidedly of opinion that he was suffering from an attack of suicidal mania at the tine this act was done.
Cross-examined. After the attack passed off, and while he was a boarder with me, he was sensible and rational—he might be subject to attacks recurring at any period—it is a paroxysm; at other times he is perfectly collected—at the time he was under my care the maniacal influence was confined solely to a suicidal tendency; he had delusions, and they assumed a form leading to suicide; he heard voices telling him he was to commit suicide—he certainly would not be responsible while labouring under a paroxysm—I certainly think he did not know what he was doing when he attacked the girl.
NOT GUILTY on the ground of insanity. Ordered to be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MESSES. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. AUSTIN
After the case had commenced, the prisoner stated in the hearing of the Jury that, acting under the advice of his Counsel, he would PLEADED GUILTY. The Jury therefore found a verdict of GUILTY, but strongly recommended him to mercy on account of the provocation he received, his wife being struck by the deceased. He received a good character.— To enter into his mm recognisance to appear for judgment if called upon.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
FANNY SEARLE . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 13, Garden Row, Southwark; I was married to him nine years ago; he is a basket maker—about four months before this matter happened I left him because of his violence; he said he would kick me out, and I walked out—I went to a friend and borrowed some money to start with, and took a place—he interfered with me; he has thrown pails of water on me—on the Sunday before I went to the police-court something occurred, in consequence of which I took out a summons, and on 24th September I was outside the Lambeth Police-court waiting for the summons to be heard when the prisoner came up to me with something wrapped in paper in his two hands, carrying it in front of him; he asked me what I intended doing—I said I intended to see the Magistrate for some protection—he said, "You do then?"—I said, "I do"—I turned my head away from him to listen to what a gentleman was calling out to see if it was my summons, and as I got on the step I received a fearful blow from something, I don't know what, on the back of my head; I fell and became insensible, and remember no more—when I came to myself I went to the police-station across the road and had my head dressed—I was wearing this sealskin hat at the time—I have not recovered from the effects of the blow, I am still under care at Guy's Hospital; I have suffered severely, my neck is all in lumps.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was about fourteen years ago that you threw water on me—we were then living in Kent Street—I did not hit you over the head with a stocking bit—I never was bad-tempered—I left my home because you insulted me—I was ill last winter, and you were very kind to me—you did not stop out drinking—I know the Jenningses, goldbeaters, in the London Road—I don't know of their being turned out of three places for harbouring prostitutes—I was not living with them for a fortnight after I left you; I got some money of Jennings to start my work with; she gave me one night's lodging in a back room that was empty; that was the night I left you—I am not in the habit of going to the Lion public-house—you smashed a great many things, and threw them into the street, and I had to run away—you never struck me before this—you have not said that if I left the Jenningses and lived respectably you would send me money to keep me—I am living with respectable people—you have called me filthy names, and got men and
boys to follow me and hoot me; and you held your stick over my head and said you would smash my skull.
Re-examined. That was what I took out the summons for—he had been bound over to keep the peace for threatening Jennings, and his brother was bail for him.
ALICE PAYNE . I live at 111, Tabard Street, Borough—I am a domestic servant—on 24th September I was at the Lambeth Police-court along with my master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Williams—the prisoner lived in our house during the time he was out on bail—I saw the prisoner speaking to his wife; he asked her what she meant to do—she said she meant to punish him for what he had done, and to have protection from him—he then asked us to see if we could come to terms with her, so that she should not go into Court, and so save his brother's bail—he said he would come to any terms; he would pay for the summons, and promise not to interfere with her provided he did not see her with any other man, and those rights he would not give up for any one—Mrs. Searle did not take any part in this conversation; she was just about to enter the Court—she said to her friend Mrs. Jennings, "Come on, or our case will be on;" and just as she was on the steps and going to enter the door I saw the prisoner raise his hand and hit her on the head with a poker that he had in the paper—I could not say how hard he hit her—I did not see her fall down—the prisoner ran away, and I ran after him, halloaing "Police!" and when I turned the corner he was caught—he threw what he had in the paper into the road—I had seen the paper in his hand, and I asked him what it was, and he said, "A witness"—I said, "What is it?" he said, "It is a witness that you know nothing about;" he did not say it was a poker—after he hit her some part of it came out of the paper, and I screamed out, "It is our kitchen poker!"—it looked like it.
Cross-examined. You said the Jenningses were villainous people, and had got turned out of several places.
RICHARD GOMM . I am chief constable of the Mendicity Society—on the day in question I was standing outside the police-court, and saw the prisoner talking for some time to a group of four or five females—he had his hands behind him, with something in his right hand wrapped up in paper folded closely round, you could not see what was inside—it was about three quarters of a yard long—I saw Mrs. Searle turn to go away from him towards the Court, and as she was going on to the first step he brought his hand from behind him, and with a sweeping cut he brought the poker from back to front, and hit her with it on the head with very great force, and she fell—some persons there attended to heir—he kept swinging the poker about in all directions for some few minutes, till some gentleman caught hold of his arm, when he chucked the poker into the road and ran away—L 71 followed and apprehended him—a boy picked up the poker and ran away with it—when the prisoner struck his wife he said "There is a witness for you; I will kill you; I am tired of my life"—he made no attempt to assist her when she fell—he got away at quickly as possible—I know nothing of the Jenningses, or any of the parties.
JOSEPH MOORE (Policeman L 71). On the morning of the 24th I was at the Lambeth Police-office—I heard some screams and some disturbance, and saw the prisoner swinging this poker about) wrapped up as it is now—that was after the woman had been struck—he seemed to be
striking at any person who came near him, as if to keep them off—there were several females about him—he struck one woman on the arm—I believe it was Mrs. Jennings, who was with the prosecutrix—I ran after the prisoner, and overtook him about two hundred or three hundred yards from the Court—he was stopped—I did not see him throw the poker away—I told him he would be charged with assaulting some woman who I believed to be his wife—he said "I will submit to anything for her, I am prepared for the gallows for her"—he repeated that several times after we get to the station, in the presence of the inspector—I produce the poker—it is a very heavy one—I saw it found by a boy in an area after taking the prisoner to the station—it was in the direction in which the prisoner had ran.
Cross-examined. I heard my brother officer say that he had inquired into the character of the Jenningses, and that it was not satisfactory—he did not say "bad."
By the COURT. The prisoner seemed sober—he was very much excited, I should say from passion—he seemed far a few moments not to know what he was at—several of the bystanders said he must be mad.
CHARLES CORBET BLAKE , M.D., and Surgeon to the L Division. I was called to the station to examine Mrs. Searle's head—I found an incised wound about an inch long at the back of the head, going down to the bone—there was considerable bruising around it, and she had evidently lost a considerable amount of blood—such an instrument as this poker would be capable of inflicting the wound—it was a dangerous wound—she seemed a healthy woman—I only attended her on that occasion.
Cross-examined. I took off the hair—I did not see her again. (At the prisoners request the witness examined the prosecutrix's head in Court)—it is far from healed now—it is suppurating at the present time, and unhealed.
The Prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate, and also in his defence, alleged that his wife had been induced to leave him by the Jenningses, who had get her into bad company and intemperate habits, and that at the time he struck her he was so excited that he did not know what he was about.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury, believing he had received great provocation from his wife. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. RAVEN Procecuted; MR. AUSTIN METALFE Defended.
GUILTY .— Five Years Penal servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST, 1881.