CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 26TH, 1882.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, June 26th, 1882, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. GEORGE DENMAN , one of the Justioes of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir JAMES FITZJAMES STEPHEN, Knt., one other of the Justices of the High Court of Justice; THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, ESQ., Sir ROBERT WALTIR CARDEN, Knt., M. P., Sir THOMAS WHITE , Knt., and Sir THOMAS SCRAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., F. R. G. S, Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., M. P., Recorder of the said City; GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE , Esq., and JOHN STAPLES, ESQ., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL. D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
Sir WILLIAM ANDERSON OGG, Knt.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
ELLIS, MAYOR. NINTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoner's have been previously in custody—two start (**) 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, June 26th, 1882.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NELLY MOORE . I am barmaid at the White Horse, Liverpool Road, Islington—about 10 o'clock in the morning of 19th April last the prisoner came for three half pennyworth of rum—I served him, and he gave me a half-crown in payment—I saw it was bad, and tried it at the tester; it broke—I showed it to him and asked him what it was—he made no reply, but threw down 1 1/2 d. for the rum and then went out—I gave the broken half-crown to my mistress, and I saw her hand it to the constable—the prisoner was brought back by my master, who went after him, and he was given in charge.
JOHN POTTER (Policeman N 161). The prisoner was given into. my charge with these pieces—I asked him if he had any more money about him; he said "No"—I searched him and found nothing on him—I took him to the station, where he was asked his name and address; he refused to give it, and said it would take all my time to find it—at the police-court he gave the name of Sullivan, no Christian name—he was. remanded on that charge, and then discharged.
ALICK RICKABY . I am barmaid at the Duke of York, Gloucester street, Clerkenwell—on Saturday afternoon, 20th May, I saw the prisoner pass the door, and then he came in and asked fur twopennyworth of whisky cold, and ninepennyworth of whisky in a bottle—I served him; it came to 11d.—he gave me something that represented a half-sovereign; that is it—I thought it looked too bright even for a new half-sovereign, and I called my mistress, who looked at it and said, "This is not a good half sovereign"—the prisoner said, "If it is not a half-sovereign what is it?"—she asked him for his name and address, and he gave the name of James Green, 63, Tollington Road, Holloway—he asked for the half sovereign back; my mistress refused to give it him, and sent for a constable, and I saw her hand it to the constable—the prisoner stayed, and was given in custody.
Cross-examined. A person belonging to the house went for a constable—I don't know if the prisoner saw him leave—my mistress was in the bar, and the prisoner was standing in the bar with his back to the counter—he was rather impudent about the half-sovereign—I should not say he had been drinking; he spoke in a very hesitating manner—the man was gone about five or six minutes before he came back with a constable.
JOHN MCCARTHY (Policeman G 430). I was called to the Duke of York, and the landlady gave me this gilded sixpence—the prisoner was given into my custody for uttering it—I asked him, "What sort of a coin do you call this? is it half a sovereign?"—he said, "If it is not a half sovereign, what is it?"—I took him to the station and searched him; he had a halfpenny good money and 15 postage stamps.
Cross-examined. When I saw this coin I did not know what it was; I did not know it was a sixpence—I believe the prisoner mentioned at the station that he had been to the Harpenden race-meeting on Friday, and got the sixpence there—he gave the name of James Green and the same address that he gave to the landlady; it was not where he resided—some man came for me.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am inspector of Her Majesty's Mint—this is a bad half-crown, and this is a sixpence gilt very thickly, and very likely to deceive—it is precisely the size of a half-sovereign; the head is exactly the same; the only difference is there is no half-sovereign with a reverse like this—it is a sixpence of the stamp of 1816.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.
ALICE SURREY . I am the daughter of Mary Surrey, who keeps a milliner's shop at 65, High Street, St. John's Wood—on 30th May, about 6 o'clock in the evening, the prisoner came in and asked for a pocket handkerchief; I served him—the price was 5 1/2 d.; he gave me a half-crown in payment; I gave him the change, and he left—I put the half crown in the till; there was no other there—on 3rd June I saw the prisoner again in the shop as I was coming in at the door; Sarah Kelly was serving him.
Cross-examined. Two or three different persons had been in the shop before, very much of the same appearance as the prisoner, and we had taken other bad money—no one but myself was serving in the shop on the evening of 30th May—I noticed the prisoner then because he had been in before; I could not fix the date—directly I saw him on 3rd June I recognised him as the same person who had been in on the 30th May.
SARAH KELLY . I am employed at Mrs. Surrey's—on 3rd June I was serving when the prisoner came in—he asked for socks; I said we did not keep them—he then said, "You keep pocket-handkerchiefs "—I showed him some; he selected one at 5 1/2 d., and gave me a half-crown in payment; I saw that it was bad; I gave it to Mrs. Surrey—she told him it was bad—he said, "Is it?"—she said yes, and she had some more, and with that he ran out of the shop—Iran after him; some man stopped
him, and a constable took him into custody; I saw him stopped—I was in the shop on 30th May and saw the prisoner there—I gave Miss Surrey the change for the half-crown to give to him—he is the man.
Cross-examined. I did not tell him on 3rd June that he was the man that came on the 30th May; I told Miss Surrey so when she came in, not in his presence—Mrs. Surrey scraped the coin with her scissors; he remained in the shop while that was being done; I don't think he saw what she was doing; he could see her handling it—she said it was bad, she did not say she would lock him up or that she would send for a policeman; she was angry.
MARY SURREY . I was in the shop on 3rd June when the prisoner came in—I have heard Sarah Kelly's evidence; it is correct—I received the half-crown from her and gave it to the constable—on 30th May I brought the money out of the till about 10 o'clock at night; there was only one half-crown there, and that was bad—I kept it with two bad florins which had previously been passed, and gave them to the constable.
LEWIS LAIDLAW (Police Sergeant 8). On the afternoon of 3rd June I saw the prisoner running in High Street, St. John's Wood; somebody stopped him, and I took him into custody—Miss Kelly was running after him—I told him I was a police-officer—he said, "I did not know it was bad; if I have done anything wrong I will pay for it"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him two half-crowns, a florin, and 1 1/2 d. in bronze, good money—Mrs. Surrey on the same day handed me this half-crown; she also gave me this other half-crown on the 31st—the prisoner made no reply to the charge at the station.
Cross-examined. He refused his address—I have made inquiries and found nothing against him.
Cross-examined. They are very good imitations, and might deceive the eye of the general public; they would not deceive me.
By the COURT. The weight is not right; it is very much lighter, and the touch is not the same
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
ALFRED SMELLIE . I am manager of a bookstall at the Camden Town Railway Station—on 5th June, about 5.25, the prisoner came to the stall and purchased a penny newspaper, and gave me in payment a bad florin—I saw it was bad and returned it to him—I told him it was bad, and any one might see it, and advised him not to attempt to pass it anywhere else—he then tendered a good half-crown in payment and I gave him change, two shillings and five pence, and he left—I watched him across the road to Mr. Wilson's, and when he came out I went and spoke to the person who was serving there—from what she said I fetched a policeman and gave the prisoner in charge.
MARGARET WILSON . I assist my father, who keeps a confectioner's shop at 106, Camden-Road, opposite the railway station—about 5. 40, on 5th June, the prisoner came and asked for two penny tarts—he put on the counter a bad two-shilling piece—I saw directly that it was bad and told him so—he said he was very sorry, he did not know it—I asked if he knew where he had taken it—he said no—I bent it and handed it
back to him, and lie paid me with a good shilling—after he had gone Mr. Smellie came in and spoke to me.
CHARLES STEVENS (Policeman YR 41). The prisoner was given into my charge by Mr. Smellie—I asked him what he had done with the two-shilling piece; he pulled it out of his pocket, bent as it is now, and said "Here it is; I did not think the young man knew whether it was good or bad, so I took it across to the shop opposite to see if it was good"—I searched him and found on him 3s. 6d. in silver and 8d. in bronze, good money, and a penny railway ticket from Camden Town to Chalk Farm—on the way to the police-court he said "A similar thing happened to me about a fortnight ago, but the parties made a mistake. "
The pritoner, in his defence, repeated the statement made to the constable.
NOT GUILTY .
619. OLIVER NEAL** (44) to a like offence, having been before convicted.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, to commence after the expiration of a previous sentence. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
620. FREDERICK JAMES PARKER (26) feloniously forging and uttering a request for the delivery of goods, also to obtaining goods by false pretences. Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
621. JAMES STANLEY (22) to stealing in the dwelling-house of Edwin Bennett, and afterwards burglariously breaking out; also to two other indictments fur stealing in a dwelling-house, having been before convicted.— Two Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
622. FREDERICK TOOMER (45) to forging and uttering acceptances to three bills of exchange for 100l., 72l. 12s., and 73l. 16s. 6d.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
GEORGE AUSTIN . I live at 87, Haverstock Crescent, and am a stationer—on Friday night, 12th May, I saw my coats safe hanging behind the door in the breakfast parlour; I also had a pair of trousers in a box—all the doors and windows were fastened except the back window, which was closed, there was no fastening on it—I was the last who went to bed—I went about 12.30—I got up at 7.30—I missed my boots from the back kitchen when I came down—I then went into the breakfast parlour and missed my two coats and two pairs of trousers I gave information to the police—I afterwards saw my coats at Hammersmith Police-court—these are they (produced)—the entry had been effected by the back window from the railway—it was closed; no other part of the house, was broken; anybody could get in by the window, and put it down when they went away.
JOHN WESTON (Detective Sergeant). On 16th May, about 10 o'clock, I took Haley in custody at Kilburn—I said I should take him for getting into a house and stealing some coats at Notting Hill—he said, "I know nothing about it"—on the way to the station he said, "Who rounded on me?"—I said, "That is best known to myself; you were seen wearing the coats"—he said, "Did not I look a toff?"—that is a swell—he said, "How shall I get on?"—I said, "I do not know; I should plead guilty at Hammersmith and get the job finished. "
ROBERT MACKHAM (Policeman X 442). About half-past 10 on 16th May I took King into custody in Kilburn—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with Haley in getting through a window and stealing two pairs of trousers, two coats, and two pairs of boots—he said, "All right"—on the way to the station he said, "How did you know we did the job?"—I said, "I was told you were wearing the coat across Hyde Park on Saturday morning"—the two prisoners were seen together before this took place, and Haley said, "Don't you round"—on the way to the station King said, "I will tell you all about it; we got on to the back of the line; we laid in some hay; we went there about 3 o'clock in the morning; we got over the wall at the back of the house; the window was open, unfastened; Haley got through first, and I got through afterwards; we took the things, and in the morning we put them on and walked across Hyde Hark; Haley pledged a coat and a pair of trousers in John Street, and I pledged the others"—when this statement was made Haley was a short distance in front of King.
Haley's Statement before the Magistrate. "I don't know where the place is at all, and I never saw the clothes before this morning. "
GUILTY. HALEY was also charged with having been convicted at Hammer smith Police-court on 2nd September, 1880, to this he
PLEADED NOT GUILTY,but JAMES TULE, Policeman X 239, produced the conviction and proved the prisoner to be the person convicted.
GUILTY**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
KING— Three Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 26th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. E. LLOYD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
SUSANNAH WILSON . My husband keeps a provision shop at 196, Abbott's Road, Bromley-by-Bow—on 14th June, about 4.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with a rasher of bacon, which came to 3 1/2 d.—he ten dered a half-crown; I gave him the change and kept it by itself—Wright afterwards said something to me; I examined it and found it was bad, and gave it to Mr. Wright—I recognised the piece of a broken shilling at Bow Street—this is it.
walked across the road and took a piece of paper with writing on it out of his pocket—while he was gone the one who has got away dropped a half-crown on the pavement at the corner of Abbott's Road, about fifteen yards from me—it did not bounce or make any noise, which made me suspicious—they both went to Mr. Wilson's; the other man went in and came out laughing in two or three minutes and joined the prisoner in Brunswick Road—I went in and spoke to Mrs. Wilson, who gave me this bad half-crown—I got two policemen in uniform, and found the prisoner on Bromley Bridge, half a mile from the shop, and the other man coming towards him—I pointed him out and saw him pitch something away—I was 100 yards ahead of the policemen, and when he saw them he jumped over some railing, and the other man ran away; I ran after him, but could not catch him as I was out of breath—I saw the prisoner caught.
JOHN GROOSHAM (Policeman k 163). I received information, and saw the prisoner get over some railings on to some waste ground; I got over after him; Wright called out "That is one of them," and the prisoner dropped three parcels from his right hand; he had then gone twelve or twenty yards; I ran and caught him, and saw Kerswell pick up the parcels; they contained these five half-crowns and five florins, all counter feit, done up in newspaper, with paper between each—the prisoner said "It is not me; it is the man going there"—Kerswell and Wright ran after the other man, but did not catch him—I found on the prisoner 15s. 6d. in good silver and 13d. in copper—I completed my search at the station, and found two rashers of bacon, which Mrs. Wilson identified—while the prisoner was in my custody a young man came up and said "Is it for counterfeit coin you have got the prisoner for, constable?"—I said "Yes"—he said "A young man has just passed a counterfeit florin at my mother's shop; my sister took it," and gave it to me—after the prisoner was charged with uttering it he said "It was not me that uttered the 2s. piece; it was my friend who got away"—he also said "It was not me who made the purchases or uttered the counterfeit coin; it was my friend who has got away; he gave me the whole of the counterfeit coin to mind"—the other man did not run within thirty or forty yards of where the coins were found.
Prisoner's Defence. A man asked me to come for a walk with him. He said "Catch hold of this; I will get something for tea," and gave me a paper parcel. I put it in my pocket. He went to a shop, came out, and gave me some bacon, which I put in my pocket, and then he went to a tobacconist's, and said "I have been tumbled with a bad 2s. piece; you had better throw that parcel away," and ran off. I gave the constable all the information I could to find the man. I have been led into this unknowingly.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. E. LLOYD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
and gave me a new shilling; I put it into the till and gave him change; there was no other new shilling—he left and a constable came—I looked in the till; there were other shillings there, but no other new shilling; it was bad; I gave it to Y 276.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. That was at 8 or 8.30 DANIEL KENELLY. I keep a dairy at 7, Marlborough Terrace, Holloway Road, twelve or fourteen doors from Mr. De Melli—on 15th June, just after 7.30, the prisoner came in for a half-quartern of Neville's bread, which came to 3 3/4 d. and put down a half-crown—I found it was bad, jumped on the counter, and said "I shall detain you"—he said "No, you won't"—I said "I will"—he made a dart for the door, and I took him by the back of the neck, swung him round, put my back against the door, and sent a girl for the police—Y 276 came, and I gave the prisoner in charge with the coin—this it; I scratched it—I saw a man looking in at the window when I put my back to the door; he darted across the road and went down a road—I asked the prisoner where he lived; he said 11, Gray's Inn Road—I said "It is rather peculiar for you to buy a loaf three miles away and carry it that distance"—he said nothing.
HERBERT BOITOULT (Policeman Y 276). I was called to Mr. Kenelly's shop—he had hold of the prisoner, and gave him into my custody with this half-crown—he said "I did not know it was a bad one," and produced a good florin, two halfpence, and a farthing, saying "This is all the other money I have"—no tobacco was found on him—I received this shilling from Mrs. De Melli, who picked the prisoner out at the station from seven or eight others.
Prisoner's Defence. I never tried to run away. The inspector said "It is no use booking the charge for one thing; you had better go and see if you can find anything else and make a charge of it." I remained waiting there, and the woman saw me with the inspector for a quarter of an hour, and therefore she picked me out.
629. CHARLES HENRY CLAY (21) to two indictments for stealing whilst employed in the Post-office two letters containing post-office orders, and to three indictments for forging and uttering the said orders.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. E. LLOYD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH BEDWIN . I am barmaid at the Jolly Gardeners, Rochester Row, Westminster—on 2nd June, about 3.30, I served the prisoner with a half-pint of beer; he gave me this half-crown (produced)—I tried it in the tester and found it was bad—I gave it to Mr. Harmer, the landlord, who asked him where he got it—he said "I got drunk overnight, and I had a lot of coppers and changed them"—Mr. Harmer gave him in custody with the half-crown.
GEORGE PARSONS (Policeman B 455). On the 2nd June I was called to the Jolly Gardeners, and Mr. Harmer gave the prisoner into my charge with the half-crown—he said "I got drunk, and what coppers I had changed for silver"—I found a good florin and a penny on him—he was taken to Westminster Police-court, remanded till the 5th, and then discharged.
ELLEN CALLCOTT . I am barmaid at the Brownlow Arms, Betterton Street, Drury Lane—on the 9th June I served the prisoner with half a pint of beer—he gave me this bad sixpence (produced)—I gave it to Mr. Colson, who told him it was bad and asked him if he had any more bad money about him—he said "Do you think I should come into this house to change a bad sixpence?"—Mr. Colson said "I don't know," and went round and stood by him—he then rushed out and Mr. Colson after him.
JOHN COLSON . I keep the Brownlow Arms—on 9th June, about mid day, the last witness gave me a bad sixpence, and pointed out the prisoner as having given it to her—I said "Have you any more of this bad money about you?"—he said "Do you think I possess bad money?"—I said "I must detain you till I know more of you, and send for the police"—he threw a good sixpence on the counter, and while I was looking at it he made a dash past me into the street—I ran after him and lost him in Little Queen Street—I met him in Seven Dials about 3 o'clock that after noon—I saw that he noticed me and walked towards mo—I then felt sure of his identity, and seized him and said "I shall give you in custody for attempting to pass a bad sixpence this morning"—he appeared surprised, wriggled himself out of his coat, and left it in my hands and ran away—I followed him with the coat, and met him being brought back—I marked the sixpence; this is it.
FRANK PEARCE (Policeman E 445). On 9th June, soon after 3 o'clock, I saw the prisoner in Little White Lion Street—some one shouted "Police!" and Mr. Colson was following with a coat in his hand—I stopped the prisoner and took him to the station—the coat was given to him—he was charged, and made no reply.
GUILTY.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. E. LLOYD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
ALBERT GREGORY (Detective E): About 11.45 on the night of 22nd May I was with Berry, and saw the prisoner outside the Wellington public-house, Strand—he saw us and went into the Wellington—we followed him, and I said "I am a police officer; I have seen you in company with persons who have been convicted of passing counterfeit money for some time past, and I shall search you"—he made no reply—I searched him and found in his ticket pocket outside, five half-crowns wrapped up; with newspaper between each—I said "These are bad; have you any more in your possession?"—he said "Yes, I have some more in another pocket"—I searched his left trousers pocket, and found 12s. 6d. in good money, and one more bad half-crown—I believe he said "I refuse my address. "
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I picked them up in the public-house."
GUILTY .*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
PICKERING PLEADED GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LLOYD offered no evidence against
ROSS.— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. E. LLOYD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted.
EDITH TURNER . I am barmaid at the Wellington public-house, Strand—about 5th May I served the prisoner with a glass of beer—he gave me a shilling—I broke it in the tester, found it was bad, and told the manager, who spoke to the prisoner—he said "I had it given to me"—this is part of it—we put it at the back; the other part is lost.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am sure it was you—I picked you out at Bow Street from half a dozen others—you did not come in again for a long time, but I saw you go by, because the doors were open.
ROBERT BATES . I am barman at the Old George, Drury Lane—about the beginning of May I served the prisoner with half a pint of stout—he gave me a shilling—I broke it in three pieces in the tester, and said This is a bad one"—he said "I was not aware of it," and offered me a good florin—the pieces lay on the bar some time, and then I threw them away—the coin was very gritty—I afterwards picked the prisoner out at Bow Street from a dozen others.
Cross-examined. No other butcher was there when I picked you out.
ÁLBERT GREGORY (Detective E). On 6th May I received information from Edith Turner—a broken shilling was shown to me, and the manager marked it—this is a piece of it—I received a description of a person, and about 8th or 9th May went to the Old George public-house and saw Bales, who gave me a further description of the prisoner, and on June 1st I saw him entering a urinal in Seven Dials, and said "I shall arrest you on suspicion of passing a bad half-crown at the Wellington in the Strand about three weeks ago"—he said "I don't know where the Wellington public-house is; I never was in it in my life"—I took him to the station, placed him with a number of others, and the two first witnesses came in separately and identified him without doubt—he was then charged with uttering the two shillings, and said "You have made a mistake.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am not the person; they have made a mistake."
Prisoner's Defence. I have been ten years keeping a butcher's shop. No one will give me a bad character. I have never been in a station house before. I know nothing at all about it. I did not believe they would say it was me; I was quite surprised.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CRAUFURED and LLOYD Prosecuted.
your pardon"—I said "I must test it"—he said "Don't deface it, I must give it to the party I got it from"—he offered me a good shilling—I called my husband, who said to the pot man "Fetch a policeman"—the prisoner said "I will fetch him," and ran out—my husband went out and brought him back and gave him in custody, and marked the florin.
MOSES M. WARD . My wife called me and said in the prisoner's hearing "This is a bad piece this young man is offering me"—I said "Yes it is; where did you get it?"—he said "In Gray's Inn Road"—I said to the pot man "Go for a policeman," and as I went round the bar the prisoner bolted out of the house—I ran out after him, stopped him 300 or 400 yards off, and told him he must come back—he said "I am going to Gray's Inn Road"—I said nothing till a policeman came.
Cross-examined. You were 30 or 40 houses off when you came back, but you did not come back till I collared you and brought you back.
WILLIAM CLEAVE (Policeman S 191). On 23rd May, about 2. 50,1 was called to the Hope, and Mr. Ward gave the prisoner into my custody with this florin—I asked him if he had got any more—he said "No "—I searched him and found the change, but no bad coin—I asked his address, he said "I refuse it"—going to the Court he said "I met a man and backed Gerald for 3s., and gave a half-sovereign, and may have received the bad money in change. "
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he received the coin in change for a half sovereign which he paid for a bet, and did not know it was bad
NOT GUILTY .
For cases tried in the Old-Court on Tuesday see Surrey cases.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 27th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
JAMES MCGOWAN . I keep the Horse and Groom, Hackney Road—on 29th May, about 6.30 p.m., two persons came to my house—the prisoner is one of them—he called for a pint of beer, and gave me a florin—I tested it in the tester—it was lead—I bit it—I put it on the counter and said it was a bad one—I told him I was entitled to break it up—he said "I am only a working man; give it me back, I know where I got it from"—I gave it him, and he gave me a good one and I gave him the change—they drank their beer and went away—I have been shown the florin since—I made a mark on it with my teeth—I do not think I could swear to the mark—at the station I picked the prisoner out from six or seven others—I am sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I do not know the date—I think it was the day that I went before the Magistrate—29th May was Bank Holiday, Whit Monday, and we should be more busy than on ordinary days—I think this is the mark I made on the florin—I bent it—I did not put it in a tester—I reckon my teeth to be the tester—I gave sixpence, a shilling, and three penny pieces change—the other man was short, with rather a
red face—I believe I told the Magistrate that the prisoner pat the florin down.
LAVINIA GRIFFITHS . My father keeps the Duke of Clarence, Greville Street, Shoreditch—I live with him—on the 29th May, Whit Monday, a little after 6 o'clock, I was serving in the bar—two men came in, one of them was the prisoner—he called for three halfpennyworth of gin and bitters and a glass of mild and bitter—that came to 3d.—I served him—he gave a florin—I saw it was not good, and I gave it to my father, who spoke to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. We were not very busy, there were only about half a dozen customers there—I did not take much notice of the other man—I have no idea what he was like—I do not know that I should know him again if I saw him—I had to take notice of the prisoner as he gave me the money—that is the only reason I had for noticing him—I do not think the florin was bent when I received it.
Re-examined. The other customers were in the other part of the bar—there was only one in the part where the prisoner came in.
JAMES GRIFFITHS . I keep the Duke of Clarence—the last witness is my daughter—on Whit-Monday evening she showed me a counterfeit florin—I said to the prisoner "It is bad, and I wish to be paid for the drink"—he did not say anything—I said to the man that was with him "This is a bad coin, and I shall lock the two of you up"—I noticed a movement between the two, as though something was passing between them—the prisoner then gave me a half-crown, and I gave them 2s. 3d. change—I then said I should detain them, and while I was calling for assistance the other man ran away—I jumped over the bar and detained the prisoner—a constable came and I gave the prisoner in charge—I marked the florin with a penknife—I or the constable told him what the charge was—he said "You won't lock me up"—I said "I will"—my house is about 75 yards from the other—the Horse and Groom faces the street I live in.
Cross-examined. I did not bend the florin, I marked it with a pen knife—I do not know who bent it—I should not think it was bent like it is now when I saw it—I know what mark I put on it—it could not have been bent—I should have noticed it—my daughter may have done it—at the time the other man ran away I was one side of the counter and the prisoner the other—I might not have said anything at the police-court about seeing something pass between them—I do not think I did—the change I gave was two separate shillings and three penny pieces—before he went away he said "Let me have half a pint before 1 go, old man"—I did not want to charge him for it, but the girl took for it.
Re-examined. I do not think the florin was bent when I received it.
CHARLES CHAERTNGTON (Policeman G 197). I was called to the Duke of Clarence on Whit Monday about 6.30—Mr. Griffiths said he would give the prisoner in custody for uttering a counterfeit florin—he said, "I did nut pass the florin"—Mr. Griffiths handed this florin to me, bent as it is now; it was marked before I got there with a cross and a alight mark on the head—I searched the prisoner, and found 2s. in silver and 2d. in bronze—he gave his name, John Lee, at the station—on the way to the police-court on the next morning he gave the name of John Roberts—at the police-court he gave the name of William Lee.
Cross-examined. It was to me he said his name was Roberts—he said
he was asked his name at 6 o'clock by the inspector, and he gave another name, he did not know what, but his right name was John Roberts; I did not hear that—I searched him; I found no other money on him.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CEAUFURD and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
ALBERT GREGQRY (Detective of the Criminal Investigation Department). I was on duty on the 20th May—I saw the prisoner at about 11. 15 a.m. I had seen him previously continually for about two or three weeks; I kept observation on him—I stopped him in Drury Lane; I said, "Will you come in the public-house a moment?"—when inside the door I said, "I am a police-officer; I have seen you for some time past in company with persons who have been convicted of passing bad money; I shall search you"—he did not say anything—I searched him—in his left-hand outside coat pocket I found this packet containing sis counterfeit florins wrapped separately in a piece of newspaper—I said, "These are bad; how aid you come possessed of them?"—he said, "I do not know; I did not put them there"—I then searched in his other pocket, and found one sovereign and two half-sovereigns; they were good—there was besides that 5s. in silver, consisting I think of two florins, one shilling, and 9d. in bronze.
Cross-examined. They were all good—I took him to the police-station—he was charged; he made no answer—I saw him first at the corner of Brownlow Street, Drury Lane—I did not say, "Have you got anything soft about you?"—I know the meaning of "soft"—I did not use the expression—I searched him in the public-house—I did not put my hands into his vest or into his trousers first and find good money; I searched his coat first, the same coat that he is now wearing—all the rest of his pockets contained good money—I do not remember, when I told him they were bad coins, his saying, "Well, if they are I have been done"—he did not say, "I know who it was did this for me"—he did not say anything about a young man with whom he had had some angry words; if he had I should have heard him; I will swear he did not say anything of that sort in my presence—he was not excited; he seemed very cool he did not say anything about a young man to whom he had owed some money saying he would put him away; nothing of the kind—I had not seen any one near him that morning—I had seen somebody speaking to him a morning or two before; I know who that person is; he is con victed of uttering counterfeit coin now—from the position in which he was standing it is not possible he might have put the packet of coins into the prisoner's pocket—I never had the slightest information in this case; it was in consequence of what I had seen for weeks that I watched him this day—I cannot prove that he uttered any coin—I have had six years' experience in the police—I do not know that persons who are charged with these offences frequently have what are called "sly pockets" with counterfeit coin in them—I have known cases where it has been in the trousers or waistcoat pocket—I recollect cases of men carrying counterfeit
coin in the outside coat pocket—I knew where the prisoner lived, but I did not see him come out of the house.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These half dozen florins are all bad—it is the usual way counterfeit coin is carried—they are blackened over—they wrap them in this way; as they want to pass them they take out one at a time—they are bright when they come out of the galvanic battery—they rub them on their clothes.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour,
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, June 27 th, 1882.
Before R. M. Kerr, Esq.
638. MALCOLM FAIRFAX (22) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a request for the payment of 25l., and to obtaining goods from Robert Dobbie and others by false pretences.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
640. HENRY HOLLAND* (34) to stealing 12 yards of cretonne and other goods of Richard Jacques, having been previously convicted of felony.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
641. FRANCIS FITZGERALD (18) and GEORGE ALLEN (17) to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Ellen Prescott, and stealing 15 petticoats and other goods her property. Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
643. CHARLES M' DONALD (30) to two indiotmenta for forging requests for the delivery of three flutes, having been previously convicted of felony.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. CANNOT Prosecuted;
MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
LIZZIE FLEMMING . I live at 57, Wood Lane, Shepherd's Bush—my husband is John Simpson Flemming, of the German Opera Company—on 1st May I left my house about 3. 80 with no One in it—I left two bracelets, three brooches, a locket, and other articles to the value of 100l., not all in one room—I saw them before I went out—I fastened the door—I came back about 20 minutes to 8 o'clock—I saw the kitchen dock was stopped, and the key was lying on a rug on the kitchen floor—my sister and two children were with me—my sister went upstairs and missed her jacket—we got Mr. and Mrs. Kent of next door to come in—a box. On the landing that contained forks and spoons was broken open, and the spoons and forks gone—we next went to my bedroom and saw the ward robe and a chest of drawers were open—my bracelet and other articles had been in the wardrobe—I communicated with the police at once—I saw some of the articles the day the prisoner was caught, and I identified them—these things are mine.
Cross-examined. I identified this silver and gold bracelet and a gold chain—all the silver plate, a jacket, and a dress are still missing.
JOHN MATTHEWS . I am a bullion dealer of 116, Leadenhall Street—on 2nd May the prisoner brought to me for sale these articles (produced), one bracelet, a silver gilt brooch, gold brooch, silver locket, gold pencil case, two pins, silver cross, small silver brooch, and a wedding-ring—I had known him previously, by his coming occasionally to the shop; but as this was a quantity I had not seen him have before, I said "You are a dealer, I believe; do you deal in pawnbrokers' lots?"—he said "Yes, and attend sales"—I said "Give me your card"—he said "I have not got one by me just now "—I said "Will you give me your name and address? I like to know whom I am dealing with"—he said "Lewis Myers, 53, Commercial Road; you will find me there at any time"—I wrote it down—I valued the goods—they are gold and silver—I paid him 5l. 4s. 10d. for these articles—that is not all I paid him—in cones quence of seeing, the next morning, the pawnbrokers' list, I gave information to the police—the list described the inscriptions on two of these articles—the prisoner came to me on 11th May—I pointed him out to an officer, and he was taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I have heard of a public-house in Houndsditch called the Jewellery Mart—I think there is a coffee shop, but I have never been there—the prisoner had not been to me 12 times in a year—if I said that before the Magistrate I correct it—I saw him occasionally three months ago—I know him as a customer—the public and coffee house are well known to the trade—they are not an open market—they are open for Sunday morning sales—I heard him say at the police-court he bought them in open market.
JOHN WESTON (Policeman X. I received information of the robbery on Monday, 1st May—I went to 57, Wood Lane, Shepherd's Bush, and examined the premises—I saw marks like a jemmy on the door, the boxes were disarranged, with marks upon them—I kept observation on a shop in Leadenhall Street—about 12.30 on 11th May I was called in by Mr. Matthews's son—I saw the prisoner in the shop—Mr. Matthews said "This is the young man that sold me these things last week"—I saw something in his left hand—I said "What have you here?"—I saw these articles produced. (Other jewellery)—he said "I bought them in the market"—I said "Where did you get those things you sold here last week?"—he said "I bought them in the market from a man"—I said "What is his name and address?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "What are you?"—he said "A dealer"—I said "What is your name and address?"—he said "Lewis Myers, of 6, Little Somerset Street"—I said "Why did you give a false address last week?"—he made no reply—I said "Those things that you sold here last week are from housebreaking"—he said "All right"—I then with assistance conveyed him to the station—I searched him—he was then wearing this chain—I found two seals, a watch and chain, two rings, an eyeglass, a small file, a knife, and a watch—I then went to Little Somerset Street, Aldgate—I searched the front room—I found these articles—some are not identified—I read over this list of things found on him—he said "It is all my property"—I said "I want to know the man you bought these things from"—he said "I bought them of a man I do not know; he hawks china sometimes. He is respectable, and sometimes shabby, with hardly
any boots to his feet. I saw him this morning "—he gave me a description of a man—he was told at the station these things had been identified by Mrs. Flemming, and that he had sold them and would be charged—he said "I know nothing about them," and pointing to the things on the floor paid "Some of them I have had fur years"—I received from the City Police, the articles which have been identified by Mr. Matthews.
Cross-examined. I heard the prisoner say at the police-court he had been a dealer in the open market for 25 years—he did not say "excepting I bought them"—there are three lots of things, some of them the proceed! of another burglary committed on the day he had them—I have matte inquiries in Houndsditch; there is no public market—there is a coffeehouse and a public-house, and in the back parlour some stalls—the diameter I got from my inquiry about the prisoner was that he dealt in old clothes and anything he could get hold of.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I bought them publicly in an open and public market with people looking at me, and where I have done business for 25 years, and have never had a stain upon my character."
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of receiving. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
WILLIAM JONES . I am a footman at 11, Conduit Street—on Monday morning, the 5th of June, I was passing near that place at three minutes past C—I saw the door open and latchkeys—I walked in and saw the prisoner on the mat at the bottom of the stairs—he said "Good morning," and I said Good morning"—he walked out; I followed him; he went up Regent Street; I saw a policeman, stopped the prisoner, and asked him what he wanted in there—he said "Look it over"—I said "I shall not"—he ran away, and I ran and caught him; I held him till a policeman came—I went to 11, Conduit Street; the door was still open; I went into the room; I saw nothing amiss; two doors were open; it ii not certain whether they were left open overnight or not—he kicked me in the privates; I was not hurt so bad as he intended to.
Cross-examined. I am sure it was not 5 or 10 minutes past 6.
Re-examined. I could not see the door till I was opposite it—I was about three minutes coming up the street because I walked very a low—I heard several clocks strike one as I came up to my lodging—the prisoner was on the mat ten yards from the front door—I had got up early and gone for a walk—my master was the last to come in.
JOSEPH HARRISON (Policeman C 254). I was in Marlborough Street about fifty or sixty yards from this house about 6. 5 a. m. on 5th June—I saw Jones holding the prisoner—he said "I give this man into custody for breaking into 11, Conduit Street"—the prisoner said "I did not enter the house with the intention of stealing anything"—I asked him what he went there for—he said "That is best known to myself"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him two street-door keys—I charged him with entering the place.
opened by a false key because I had some difficulty in getting it out of the lock—at the station the prisoner said he had just got inside the door to light his pipe; that caused me to ask Jones where he found the prisoner, and I measured it, and it is exactly 30 feet along the passage from the front door.
Cross-examined. The servants and the landlady were in the house.
GUILTY . —Nine Months' Hard Labour.
GUILTY of indecent assault — Two Years' Hard labour.
EDWARD WARREN (Policeman C 66). I was on duty in Fall Mall East on 20th May at 1.30 a.m.—I saw the prisoners wandering about my best—they stopped in Monmouth Court—several minutes afterwards they went to a door and unlocked it with two keys—three or four minutes afterwards I went to the door; finding it open I woke the people up, and asked them the reason the door was open; they did not know—I saw the prisoners in the water-closet—I took hold of Condon and handed him over to Mr. Seymour—I searched Warne, whom I found sitting down at the washhouse door—I asked Condon what business he had there—he said he was a lodger—I found two keys at 28, Newmarket Street, where Warren lived—both fit the door.
Cross-examined by Warne. You were not using the closet—I did not say so before the Magistrate.
BENJAMIN OWEN (Policeman C 140). On 20th May I assisted in taking the prisoners into custody—I was on special duty at Garret's, the silver smith's, in the Haymarket—seeing the constable had one defendant and the prosecutor the other, I asked what was the matter—the constable said he charged them with burglary, so I took hold of Condon—he said "I have done nothing," and Warne said "Seeing the the front door open I entered for the purpose of using the water-closet. "
Both the Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. "I did not intend to steal anything. "
Warne's Defence. I wanted to make use of the water-closet. The keys I had were of my door and of my workshop in Compton Street.
Condon's Defence. I went to a public-house and drank with this man. I was in the actual use of the closet. I had no more thought of harm than of flying. I am a painter, and work for Mr. Saunders, who lives in Monmouth Court.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 28th, 1882.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MR. POLAND, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the Inquisition, the Grand Jury having ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted;
MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
CATHERINE BEVAN . I am the wife of George Bevan, a carman, and live at 6, Waterloo Place, St. George's-in-the-East—next door the prisoner lived, with his wife and three boys; the wife was about 43 years of age—at half-past 2 on Wednesday afternoon, June 7th, I heard the prisoner and his wife jawing—she called to me and I went in; she was jawing him and calling him all manner of foul names—the prisoner appeared to be getting out of a drunken sleep; he appeared to be drunk—he was standing by the fireplace; she was sitting on a chair right over the fire-place, and while she was jawing him he stooped down and picked up a piece of the tongs and slung it over at her with his left hand, back handed—he was about a yard from her; it struck her, and she fell back on the chair—I said "Oh, Ted, you have done it this time"—I did not exactly hear what he replied in the confusion; I ran out—I did not see any blood—I have lived next door to the prisoner eighteen years—I had seen him at I o'clock in the day; he was then drunk down the bottom of the street.
Cross-examined. He was in a great rage when he threw the piece of tongs—I am sure he was standing at the time he threw it, not lying down—I don't think he intended to hit her; he threw it about carelessly, without intending her any harm.
ANN QUINLAN . I am a widow—I live at 18, Waterloo Place, nearly opposite the prisoner—on Wednesday afternoon, June 7th, I heard screaming, and Mrs. Bevan called out "Jack, Jack, Mrs. Sullivan is being killed"—I rushed out and went into the prisoner's house—I saw Mrs. Sullivan lying on some chairs, bleeding from the left cheek; the prisoner was in the room; she never spoke—I lifted her up and put my hand to the wound—I said to the prisoner, "Ted, you vagabond, you have done this"—he said "No, she fell down; I have not done it"—I sent for the doctor and the priest—the prisoner stood there five or six minutes while I had the woman in my arms—he then went into the yard, and wrung his hands and tore his hair—I heard somebody say "Ted, run away, you will be locked up"—he said "I know I done it, I will give myself up, I never intended doing it"—I don't believe that he knew what he was doing; he was just getting out of a drunken sleep.
Cross-examined. I did not see anything of the occurrence; I saw no poker—I have known the prisoner sixteen years, travelling town and country with him—I never knew him to hit his wife—they had been married twenty-five years—she has been ailing for the last fifteen years, and been from hospital to hospital—he has been a good nurse to her.
REBECCA TURNER . I am the wife of Thomas Turner—after this matter occurred I went into the yard where Mrs. Sullivan was—she was taken in from the yard, and the doctor came—she died while I was with her, about twenty minutes after I saw her, which was between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon; she never spoke—after the doctor had gone the prisoner came in—his wife was lying on the floor; he said "Good God, what have I done? I never intended to do it; I loved her as I love; my life"—after he heard she was dead he went out into the court.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner three years; I have never heard them have an angry word with each other.
JAMES STRACHAN (Policeman H 179). On Wednesday afternoon, June 7th, I went to 7, Commercial Place, and found the deceased lying dead on the floor in the room—I cleared the room—a little later on I saw the prisoner coming from the back yard—I knew him by sight—I took hold of him, and said "Sit down, Sullivan"—he sat down in a chair and answered one or two questions which were put to him by the Coroner's officer respecting his age and name and that of his wife—he said her name was Elizabeth, and she was about 43 years of age—he made a statement to me, which I took down at the time; this is it.
(Read: "I had a dispute with my wife. I lay down on the floor; my boy pulled off my boots. I lay down again. My wife said 'What a wretch you are to be like this every day. 'I said 'Never mind, that is nothing; we will get over all this. 'She said 'What are you jawing about now?' I said 'I am jawing about nothing. 'She said Hold your noise. 'I said 'Hold your noise or I will give you this at the same time. 'I sat by the fire. I seized the poker and flung it at her; it struck her on the head and she fell forward. I did not intend to do it.") He was taken to the station, and made a further statement, which I also took a note of—he asked me "She is not dead right out, is she?"—I answered "She is dead"—he then replied "I had no right to do it, she was too good a wife; it was a piece of flat sort of iron with the head on it, not a poker; I flung it back-handedly. I was at many places that day; I had a good drop to drink"—he was formally charged at the station, and made this further statement: "I threw it carefully back out of my hand backhanded. I did not do it intentionally. She was as good a woman as ever walked on this ground. Twenty-three years I have been married to her; I never raised my hand to her, and never had occasion to do it. She said 'Ted, why don't you chuck up the drink, late or early?' 'I will,' I said; 'hold your noise, we will get over all this"—I did not find the piece of the poker in the room; it has never been produced.
Cross-examined. The words he made use of were "I threw it back carefully," not "carelessly;" I am sure of that—he was standing in the dock at the time—there were other persons round.
FREDERICK WILLIAM BLACKWELL , M. R. C. S., Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries. I live in Commercial Road—I was called to see Eliza beth Sullivan at 7, Waterloo-Place, about 2.30—she was sitting in her chair in the yard at the back of the house—I had her removed inside and attended to her—I found a small punctured wound on the left temple—I dressed it and left her—I could do nothing for her; she never spoke—in about twenty minutes a person came and told me she was dead—I made a post-mortem examination next day—the wound I found penetrated about two inches in depth; there was a small quantity of iron in the wound; it penetrated into the brain, and that caused death—if a part of a piece of tongs had been thrown at her that would account for the wound; it had gone through the bone and into the brain—considerable force must have been used.
Cross-examined. She was suffering from tubercular disease of the lungs and bronchitis—beyond all doubt the death was caused by the wound—the amount of hæmorrhage was quite incompatible with survival; it had severed an artery.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAUD and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted;
MR. GEOGEGHAN Defended.
WILLIAM WEEDON . I am a carman, and live at 9, Thomas Street, Clerkenwell—I knew a young man named George Hart; he was about 28 years of age, and was a bootmaker and finisher—I also know a woman named Jane Smith; I had lived with her for about eight years as her husband—when she left me about three years ago she went to live with the prisoner at St. Luke's—I am 26—on Wednesday, 31st May, I met Hart about 7 o'clock, and we went about drinking at various places—Smith was with Hart when I met him between 12 and 1 o'clock just as the houses were closing—I and Hart went to 12, New Street—we had left Jane Smith at a public-house five or ten minutes before; a friend of hers, a woman, was with her—I and Hart were the worse for drink; Hart was the worse of the two—the street door of 12, New Street was shut; I knocked at it; the prisoner came; I asked him if Jane Smith was there—he said, "So, she ain't here"—Hart said, "We will have a look and see "—we went to make our way into the passage; the prisoner tried to prevent us from going in: we both got into the passage—Hart and the prisoner had a fight and quarrel in the passage—only we three were in the passage while they were fighting—I made my way through, and opened the back parlour door, the prisoner's room—Hart was trying to push the prisoner away, and the prisoner was trying to push him out—I turned the light up, and saw the prisoner go to make a hit at Hart, and I heard Hart say, "I am stabbed"—I did not notice the prisoner do anything; J did not see anything in his hand; I saw him take his hand as if from his pocket, and then he made as if he was going. to punch him, and Hart said he was stabbed, and fell down in two or three seconds, and I picked him up and stood him against the wall—I did not notice anything for a minute or two till I saw the blood on the front of Mai at the top of the trousers—I did not see whether his clothes were cut through—Smith and Burgiss came in—I believe they bursted the door open—when they came in the prisoner was standing against the wall, and he went into the back-yard; he did not go. out for two or three minutes after Hart was stabbed—I ran out to see if I could get a cab or a constable; I saw neither, and Burgiss then went and got a cab from the Grecian—we saw no policeman till I, Smith, and Burgiss had taken him to the hospital—I had seen the prisoner, about 11. o'clock before I went to the house—I could not say it' he was sober or not—I did not notice before the next day that he was injured; I saw then about 2 o'clock in the morning at Bagnigge Wells' that he had a cut across his eye—I don't know how it was done.
Crow-examined, I had known Hart about four or five months—he was called "Left-handed George "—I don't know if he was a bit of a fighting man—I and he had been in company with Jane Smith from 7 to 12 o'clock at night—the prisoner had seen us together at a public-house at the corner of East Road—I believe he left the house and went towards home and Hart followed him—I don't know that Hart wanted to quarrel with him—Hart was the worse for liquor—the prisoner did not threaten in my presence to pay Jane Smith for being in mine and Hart's company, nor did I hear the prisoner say, "I don't want to have any quarrel; I
am going to my own home "—I did not hear Hart say, when the prisoner refused to let him come in, "I am Left-handed George, and I will make my way in "—they had a fight—after they had knocked one another down on the floor the prisoner got up with a cut over the eye, and said, "Am I to stand this in my own house?"—I did not see the cut—I did not hear, when Hart cried out "I am stabbed," the prisoner say, "So am I, look at my face"—I did not agree with Hart to go to this man's house; Hart asked me to go round, and I went round—Hart and he had had a few words—I did not know as we were going there that there had been any dispute between them.
Re-examined. On Friday, the 12th, I saw Jane Smith with this knife; she was picking her finger-nails with it—I took it from her and gave it to Poole.
EMMA CROSSMANN . I live at 12, New Street, St. Luke's, and am the wife of Joseph Crossmann; we occupy the front parlour on the ground floor—the prisoner and Jane Smith lived as Mr. and Mrs. Smith in the back parlour, same floor—about 25 minutes to 1 on 1st June I was in my room—I heard a knock at the front door—I did not see, but I heard Mr. Smith open the door—I heard some one say, "Is Jane in?"—the prisoner answered, "No, she is not"—I knew his voice—I heard the same man who asked the question say, "Then we will go and see"—the prisoner said they shouldn't—then there was a noise of scuffling, and some one fell down, and I heard the prisoner say, "Am I to fake this in my own house?"—they were scuffling for some minutes in the passage, and then they went into the back parlour—they were in the back parlour, and the door was shut, and the next thing I heard was, "I am stabbed"—I do not know whose voice that was; it was not the prisoner's voice—I went into the passage, and saw the man holding a pocket-handkerchief to his stomach—I saw Smith and Burgiss come in at the street door; then Weedon went out at the front door, and Mr. Smith went out at the back—the two women helped the deceased man out of the house and up the street—Weedon came in again, and asked me if they were there—I said they were gone down the street—the prisoner then brought a constable in, he said to-protect him—the prisoner asked me where the deceased was—I said, "They have taken out the man who was stabbed "—he said there was no one stabbed but him, and he was bleeding—he and the policeman then went into the back parlour to see if they could see any blood, and the policeman went away, leaving me and Mrs. Smith standing at the street door—when I saw the prisoner he was bleeding right down the face from his eye, and one of his fingers was bleeding—about an hour after the prisoner was gone a policeman came back to fetch him away—the prisoner was sober.
Cross-examined. He was considerably excited, I believe—he said, "There was no one stabbed but me"—he was bleeding very much—he showed me his finger and said, "Look at what they have done to me "—I saw it was bleeding.
JANE SMITH . I live at 12, New Street, Bath Street, City Road—at this time I was living with the prisoner in the back parlour on the ground floor—on the afternoon of Wednesday, 31st May, I met George Hart; I knew him—I was drinking with him on the afternoon and afterwards met Weedon drinking with him—I did not see the prisoner till near on 12 at night, when I saw him at the Three Crowns public-house, corner of East
Road—Hart and Weedon were with me; Burgiss came with the prisoner—he said he would pay me when I went home, and went away—I remained at the public-house, and Hart and Weedon went away, and about twenty minutes afterwards I went to my house—when I got to the street door it was shut—I heard quarrelling in the passage; I burst open the street door and went in; Burgiss was with me—Hart, Weedon, and the prisoner were at the back; directly I went in Hart said he was stabbed—the prisoner was a good way off then—he was near enough to hear what was said—I said, "Where?"—he showed me just below the top button of his trousers—I saw h el was stabbed—the prisoner said, "Look at my face, it is all bleeding "—I looked at his face and saw he was bleeding from the eye—I said, "For God's sake get over the back "—I sent Burgiss for a cab, and went to the drawer and got a handkerchief; the prisoner went into the yard—Hart was standing in the passage—I held the handkerchief to his stomach; a cab was got and he was taken to the hospital—the prisoner sells fish in coffee shops; he had not got a knife about him—he sometimes used a knife, but very seldom—that knife (produced) has been in my drawer for months in the back parlour; it belonged to me—I had seen it in the week in a little box in the drawer—after this occurrence I cleaned the drawer out and took the knife out of the box and put it in my pocket—on the Friday following Weedon took it from me, and it was given to the police.
Cross-examined. From 3 till 7 Weedon and I were drinking together, and from 7 to 12 we and Hart were drinking together—the prisoner said he would pay me, and afterwards Hart said, "Who is he going to pay?" and Hart said, "I will pay him," and left the public-house and did not come back—Weedon and I left that public-house and went to another one—when Weedon and Hart left the second public-house, Hart said, "Let's come and chuck him out"—he did not say who he was going to chuck out, but I understood the prisoner—those were the last words I heard him speak—when the prisoner said, "So am I too, look at my face," his eye was bleeding very much; his finger was cut; it looked like a cut—while I was standing outside the street door I heard him say, "I am cut very much, look at my finger "—in the second public-house before they went to the house Hart said, "I will pay him," and crossed the room to the prisoner.
By the COURT. The prisoner paid the rent of this room.
THOMAS SMITH (Policeman 0 215). About a quarter to I in the morning of 1st June, I was on duty in Bath Street, St. Luke's, the prisoner came to me—he was smothered in blood about the face—he said, "Two men came to my place and knocked me about"—I went with him at his request to 12, New Street—there was no one there—he said, "They are gone "—Mrs. Crosby said that a man had been stabbed and taken to the hospital—the prisoner said he knew nothing about it—I stopped outside till Jane Smith and Weedon came with a paper from Bartholomew's Hospital, stating that a man had been stabbed in the abdomen—I then went back to the front door with Weedon; he opened the door—I heard somebody go out at the back; I called out, "Is Thomas Porter here?" and the prisoner came over the wall of the adjoining yard—I told him I should have to take him to the station on a charge of stabbing a man named Hart—he said, "I know nothing about it; if they had not come into my place this job would not have happened "—he said he never had
a knife in his possession—I searched him at the station; I found no knife on him.
Cross-examined. When he first came to me he pointed to a cut on his eye—I cannot say that it was caused by a knife; it had the appearance of a cur, it was about half an inch long, blood was flowing from it there was a cut on the finger, it was not bleeding—it was a dark night WILLIAM POOLE (Police Inspector 6). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there—I told him he would be charged with stabping, but there was no evidence to that effect, he would be charged with assaulting George Hart—he said, "I had a fight; if anybody has been Stabbed, it has been me, look at my eye "—he was then bleeding from a wound in the eve—it looked like a punctured wound; I have the clothes here that Hart had on; they were given me by the hospital authorities—there is a clean cut on the trousers, just below the waist band, on the left side, two corresponding cuts in the waistcoat, and three through the folds of the shirt—there was blood on the shirt and trousers, and two cuts through the under shirt—all the cuts through the shirt appeared to have been done at the same time—there were two wounds, one serious, the other trifling—I received this knife from Weedon; there were no stains of blood upon it.
WILLIAM PARKER HERRIER . I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on the morning of 1st June, about 1 o'clock, Hart was brought there by two women and a man—he had a stab about an inch long in the middle line of the abdomen, penetrating the cavity, and some small portion of the intestine was protruding—there Was another oblique wound on the left side, a little lower down—the first stab had gone right through the clothes; the fatal stab only went through the shirt, not through any other clothes—the one at the side went through the waistcoat, trousers, shirt, and under shirt—he remained under my care till 3 in the morning of the 4th—he died 74 hours after he was admitted—he died from the injury—I did not make the post-mortem examination—I was present when the Lord Mayor came and took his statement—he was then in a dangerous state, but not certain to die; he was rational and quite able to give an account of the matter—the prisoner was present.
Cross-examined. Hart was quite conscious all through. By the COURT. When he came to me he had his trousers undone two or three buttons at the top—it would not require very much force to inflict the wound in either place, it is a soft part of the body—I think it is possible that the wound might be inflicted by the knife produced, but not probable—it looked more like a wound inflicted with a bigger instrument.
JAMES ELLIOT SQUARE . I am one of the house surgeons at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I made the post-mortem examination in this case—the wound that caused death was an inch in length, and penetrated about an inch, and then entered the abdominal cavity—the second wound was quite a superficial one; that was just on the left side, rather lower down—that had nothing to do with the cause of death—the other wound Was a stab—I think it quite possible that it might have been caused by this knife; it would depend upon the movement which the man made.
was present—the deceased signed the statement and the Lord Mayor also—the prisoner put questions to Hart, and he answered them.
(The statement was to the effect that he was first struck by Hart and that what he did was in self-defence.)
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, June 28th, 1882.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. RIDTON, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MEAD Prosecuted;
MR. COLE Defended.
CATHERINE BARRETT I am a widow and live at 5, Houghton Street, Clare Market, and am the mother of James Barrett—the prisoner lived in the same room with me—on 2nd June I was standing in the room when she came in—my son was lying on the floor tipsy—the prisoner took the matches from the mantelpiece, struck a light, pulled the rushes out of the mattress, and set fire to them-—they burnt, and I had to take the fire from my son's face—I called fur assistance, and the neighbours and a policeman came—my shawl was also burnt.
Cross-examined. My son has been living with the prisoner ten or eleven years—they have lived in that house about seven years—I had lived there eight or nine weeks—they only occupy one room—they slept on the bed and I slept on a mattress on the floor—I was sober; I had taken nothing—my ion came home tipsy between 7 and 8 o'clock; a man led him to the door—lie remained there till 10 o'clock—he was not in her company all day—she came in between 8 and 9—1 had not been out that evening—there had not been any quarrel between them nor with me.
JAMES BARRETT . I live with the prisoner at 5, Houghton Street—on 2nd June I was not sober when I came home—I laid down on the floor; there was nothing else to lay on but part of a mattress—I was awoke between 10 and 11 o'clock, and saw part of the room in flames—I was slightly burnt on the back of my head, but nothing to speak of; I suppose some of the shavings flew about—the firemen came with a hand engine and put the fire out.
Cross-examined. I have lived with the prisoner eleven or twelve years—there was an old mattre's nearly knocked to pieces—there was "no bedstead in the room; there had been a bed, but it had been cleared out in the daytime—the brokers had not been in, but the prisoner cleared the things out and took the bed and bedstead away, and I believe sold them—there vas no furniture in the room but the mattress when I threw myself on the floor—the mattress was hardly worth a shilling—I did not notice whether the prisoner was drunk—I did not see any matches—there was no candle or lamp; everything was gone.
CHARLES WESTCOTT (Policeman E 152). On Friday, 2nd June, about 11 o'clock, I saw flames coming from the second-floor window of 5, Houghton Street—I went upstairs to the second-floor front and found a mattress burning—the prisoner was on the landing outside the door; she said "Have you come upstairs to put the fire out, you b——? I have sold all
the furniture, and I intend to do for the lot to-night"—I found the mattress burning; it was made of shavings; I put it out—the prisoner was quite sober; she had a box of matches in her hand, and when I went to take them away she crumpled them up—several families live in the house.
Cross-examined. I made inquiry of the people in the room while the prisoner was present, and James Barrett and the witness—the prisoner did not appear to be the worse for liquor—I do not know that she came home drunk that night.
CATHERINE BARRETT (Re-examined). I was not drunk—I did not 30 out—I am not a teetotaler—I had a drop last night and was locked up a little while at Bow Street—I was let out last night, not this morning.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, June 28th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
BLAKE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted;
MR. GILL Defended.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective). On 26th May I went with another constable to MESSRS. Rock Brothers and Payne, wholesale stationers in the City, where I saw Blake—I told him I was a police officer—I had some conversation with him, in consequence of which I went to Taylor's house in the Old Kent Road—it is a small newspaper shop and stationer's—I saw Taylor in the presence of Mr. Frugett and Mr. Payne—I said to him "I am a police officer; I have taken Blake into custody, and he has admitted robbing his employers, MESSRS. Rock Brothers, of a quantity of stationery, note paper, and envelopes, and he says you are the cause of his committing these robberies, and that he has sold the envelopes and paper to you "—he became very agitated, and said "I have known Blake about four months; he came to my shop and told me where he was working, and said that he could sell me paper and envelopes much cheaper than I could buy them elsewhere; I said 'I will buy them of you and give you the regular price for them if you have come honestly by them;' since then I have bought at various times paper and envelopes from him "—I said "Will you produce the paper and envelopes you have bought of Blake?"—he then produced 181/2 reams of note paper and 1,800 envelopes—this is some of the paper (produced)—Mr. Frugett drew my attention to some pocket-books in a case—I said "Have you bought anything else?"—he said "That is all I bought"—I then said "Have not you bought some pocket-books of him?"—he said "Oh yes, I forgot"—he then brought from various parts of the shop 23 pocket-books, 8 bottles of ink, 3 of gum, 3 boxes of pens, 10 boxes of quill pens, and 2lb. of sealingwax (produced)—I told him I should have to charge him with receiving the property well knowing it to be stolen—he said "I know I have done wrong, but I have not received it with a guilty knowledge "—I took him to the station and he was charged—the list of property really stripped the shop.
Cross-examined. Et is a very small shop—I did not take a note of the conversation—the pocket-books were in a glass case on the counter, and some were in the window—I had been watching Blake several days.
THOMAS NEAL FRUGETT . I live at Park Cottage, Leyton, and am manager to MESSRS. Bock Brothers and Co., wholesale stationers, of Walbrook—I have seen the property produced by Mitchell—I went with him to Taylor's shop—I identify this as the property of my firm; it is worth about 6l.
Cross-examined. The 1,800 envelopes are worth 10s. wholesale price paper varies very much in price—ordinary good envelopes would be sold for 3d. a packet or 10d. per hundred—the price of this pocket-book would be Is. 6d.—the wholesale price would be 11s. a dozen—they could be produced in paper much cheaper—we have three country travellers and one town—they are supplied with samples of all sorts of things—the samples are afterwards jobbed off on account of their having been with the travellers and soiled—some of the paper is very common, namely, five quires for 6d.—I got Blake with a good character.
Re-examined. I have given the wholesale price—some of the books have the name of my firm in them.
ALFRED BLAKE (The Prisoner). I am 17 years old and have pleaded guilty to stealing this property—I think it was in October last that I went into MESSRS. Bock's service—after Christmas, Taylor sent for me to his shop, and asked me where I was working—I told him at a stationer's—he asked if I could get him any paper or anything, and I said "Yes," and I took him a packet the next day—I stole it from Bock Brothers—I asked him what he thought it was worth, and he said" 6d. "and he gave me 6d. for it—at another time I took him different paper, and he gave me different prices for it; sometimes 5d. 3d., or 6d.—he asked me if I could get him any pocket-books, and I took him some, for which he paid me 3d. each—I also took him some gum—I stole the books and gum from Bock Brothers—he has paid me about 15s. altogether, I did not keep any account—on 26th May Mitchell came and took me in custody, and I made a statement to him.
Cross-examined. I had known Taylor four or five years, and was employed at the same place, Miss Williams's, in the Old Kent Road—he used to go to the City and fetch the papers for Miss Williams—this is the first time I have been dishonest—there is no reason that Taylor should know I was dishonest—I had a respectable character at Miss Williams's—I did not tell Taylor that I had any opportunity in my place for getting stationery very cheap—I suppose he meant I should steal it—he told me to get it—I went to his place about 18 times—the things I took him were all in small lots—I never heard that the travellers brought back lots—he bought the things from me across the counter—I went there in the evening and nobody at all was present—I knew Taylor as a respectable man at Miss Williams's—about a week after I took him the first lot he asked me if I could get him anything else, and 1 told him it was not handy, that I could not get anything else, because I thought perhaps they were watching me, and I might be stopped coming out—I sometimes took the things home after I had been to Taylor's shop, because he did not give me enough for them—things were found at my place—I have never accounted for those things by saying that I had taken them to his shop and brought them home again—I went afterwards to the shop with other things—I commenced robbing my masters just after Christmas. TAYLOR received a good character.—
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of hischaracter. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
BLAKE—Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutors.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
CHARLES WELLS PLEADED GUILTY to this and five other indictments, and also to having been convicted of felony in April, 1870.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence against the female prisoner.
ELIZA SARAH WELLS— NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, June 28th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LEVEY Prosecuted;
MR. GILL Defended.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted;
MR. PURCELL Defended.
EDWARD WHITE . I live at No. 1, Judd Street, Euston Road—I am a baker—I was walking along the Euston Road on Whit Monday night, about 12. 25—at the corner of Fitzroy Place four young men rushed from the corner and laid hold of me, one from behind and one in front Gammon was one—he held me by the throat—Thomas laid hold of me from behind and put his knee in my buck, pulling me over—Newman put his hand into my pocket, and another, whom I have not been able to identify, tore my watch and chain from off my waistcoat—it was a silver watch—they also took 4s. 2d. in money and some keys, and the hat from my head—I cannot say which took the hat; I believe it was the one who took the watch and chain—I struggled with Gammon, and the four laid hold of me and threw me on the ground on my head, cutting my head and leaving me insensible—when I recovered my senses I walked towards the Hampstead Road—the men were gone, and the watch and chain—I had not looked at my watch. since 9 o'clock, when I left the Kent Road—I met a constable and went to the police station, and had my head dressed my collar was saturated with blood—I was in great pain in my head—I was light-headed for four days after, and not able to find employment—the next night I was in Fitzroy Place—I saw Newman there—as I was passing him he laughed at me—it was about 8.30—he was in company with some girls and young men—there was an organ playing and young men and girls dancing—the prisoner was amongst them—I recognised him as being one of the men that was there on the previous night—I said to him "I want you for being concerned in knocking me about last night"—he laughed in my face, and I gave him in charge—he laughed at me before I said that, as I walked up in the
company of the sergeant—the police sergeant came with me—he was in plain clothes—I gave prisoner in charge—I afterwards went to the Goat and Compasses public-house, the same evening, about half an hour later, in company with Detectives Beeson and Barrett, I saw Gammon there—he spoke to me before I spoke to him—he said "Good evening to you"—I said "Good evening to you; I know you, and it may be good evening to you "—he made no reply—I called Beeson and told him I should charge the prisoner—Beeson was in the Goat and Compasses—lie was not with me when this conversation took place—he stood at the door—I called him in and gave Gammon in custody—he made no reply to the charge:—going along he said to the detective "I was in the beershop when ft was done, at 12.15, but I was not there at 12.30"—the place was lighted by a lamp on the kerb, and the gas was in the beershop—the beershop is at the corner of Fitzroy Place—it was a few yards away from where I was rubbed—I have not the slightest doubt about these three being the men—on the following night, the 31st of May, I was passing along the Euston Bead, and taw Thomas standing at a corner outside a beershop—it was about 8.30—that is my usual time for passing—as soon as he saw me he put his pipe in his mouth and put his hand in his pocket and turned his "head from me—I walked up alongside of him—I looked him in the face and walked away, and went towards Albany Street—I met Police-constable 94 S, and told him I wished to charge the prisoner—before I told the constable the charge, Thomas said u if you want me for the job on Monday night, you have got the wrong one "—I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I do not live in the neighbourhood of Fitzroy Place—I live at Judd Street, near King's Cross—it is about three quarters of a mile from Fitzroy Place—I occasionally pass Fitzroy Place—I do not go there frequently in the course of business—this affair took place about 12. 25—it was within about five minutes of the public-houses closing—they close at 12.30—after it was all over the public-house was closed—the public-house was open, and people drinking and fetching beer, while I was being knocked down—it took place in a few moments—I was lying on the ground from five to 10 minutes—I was going to Albany Street—I had been at work till 8 o'clock in the Kent Road—when I left work I went to bed and got up again—my landlady had lost her child, and I was going to see if the child was at Albany Street—I left work at 8 o'clock, and got home about 9 o'clock—I went to bed and got up about 11 o'clock—I had not been to any public-house that evening—I was perfectly sober and clear-headed—the four men rushed on me suddenly—I turned round and saw Gammon; I saw his face—I saw all four—I saw these three distinctly, but not the other one distinctly—they came on me from the side—I had never seen them before—I saw Newman next evening; he was against a window—I did not notice a milk shop near—I walked up and down, and passed him twice—he said "Well, you can look," then he laughed—I said I would give him something to laugh about—I said "I shall want you directly "—he rather jeered at me—he was leaning against a wall—he did not say "You have made a mistake "—the police constable said "Is that one of them?"—I said "Yes "—I did not hear the prisoner say anything—there was a crowd of about fifty people looking on—the robbery became talked about in the locality where these lads lived—I walked down the Hampstead Road by myself before I found the police—I was partly silly when I got up.
Cross-examined by Gammon. I went into the Goat and Compasses to have a glass of ale and to see who was there—1 did not go in for anything else—I did not light a pipe—you did not say "Good evening, after you with the light"—1 did not see you take a spill—you never said a word to the detective any more than when you got outside you said to Beeson, "I was in the beershop at a quarter past 12 o'clock, but I wan not in it at half-past"—it was Beeson who told you the charge—I do not identify either of the keys found on you as my own—when the struggle took place I seized hold of you by the throat and by the shirt—that was when the other three came on me—I said on the first hearing that the lamp may have been 10 yards away—I now find it is not more than about 5 yards—you were in between the lights—I could see you distinctly—the beershop is at the corner, and there is a dead wall—I was going along the Euston Road.
Cross-examined by Thomas. I did not speak to you before I fetched a policeman—I came and looked at you—when I came back the second time you said "Who are you looking at?"
By MR. PURCELL. The Southampton Arms was at the corner—there were no persons standing about at the corner of the court except the prisoner—I am quite certain there were no persons loitering about outside when the public-house was closed.
By the COURT. I am not in pain now—I have had my head dressed five times; twice by the divisional surgeon—I have not the slightest doubt as to these three prisoners.
RICHARD BEESON (Police Sergeant S). I received information of this robbery on the Tuesday morning, the 30th May—the same evening I went with the prosecutor to Fitzroy Place; he gave Newman in charge—prisoner made no reply—I am quite sure he said nothing on the way to the station—I went back the same evening with the prosecutor to the Goat and Compasses—Gammon was there—the prosecutor went into the public-house and got hold of him; I stayed outside—the prosecutor gave him in charge—the prisoner said "I left the beershop at a quarter-past 12 o'clock "—he said that after he was given in custody—I did not take Thomas into custody; Henry Hawkes, 94 8, took him the following day.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Whit-Monday is a busy night, I should think the public-houses would be well filled—I was standing back in a passage when the prosecutor saw Newman—Newman was not leaning against a wall, but surrounded by a crowd—I saw the prosecutor go and catch hold of him—he did not pass him once or twice staring at him—I took him into custody—I did not say anything to the prosecutor before I took the prisoner—I did not ask the prosecutor "Is that the man?"—I think I said "Is that the man?" before I took the prisoner to the station—I did not take a note of what was said—I thought it was important—I would not like to swear one way or the other as to whether I said "Is that the man?" or whether the prosecutor said "Yes"—I swear I said to the prisoner that I should take him in charge—I am quite certain he said nothing in reply—I gave evidence next morning at Marylebone—I do not remember the prisoner saying "You have made a mistake"—he might have said it at the police-court—I confused the two names of Newman and Gammon—I aid not notice when Newman was charged that he jeered the prosecutor—I did not hear, the prisoner say "You may look," and the prosecutor say "It may not be a laughing matter "—I was 10 or 15 yards away—I stood round the corner; they could not see me, I could see them.
Cross-examined by Gammon. When the prosecutor came into the public-house I was standing at the door nearest to you—he took hold of you—I told you the charge when you got outside on the pavement—I might have been smoking at the time—the other constable told me to take the pipe out of my mouth—I suppose he thought it might be knocked out—I cannot say if the prosecutor was smoking—I was told by you and Thomas that Barry, Sullivan, and Jones did it—you told me at the police-court.
Cross-examined by Thomas. I said "Under the circumstances I identify you three, because he (prosecutor) will not identify Barry and the others as being the persons. "
By MR. PURCELL. As a matter of fact three names have been given to me by one of these prisoners—neither of the men are here—I have not taken any pains to bring them here—one is at Hounslow.
HENKY HAWKES (Policeman S 94). I was in the Euston Road on the night of the 31st May—I saw the prosecutor there—he gave me certain information—I saw Thomas standing at the corner of Fitzroy Place—before I spoke to him he said "If you have got me for Monday night, you have got the wrong one"—the prosecutor gave him in charge—he made several rambling statements—he said that he had been at the Welsh Harp—that was in the afternoon.
Cross-examined by Thomas. You said before anything was said to you "If you have got me for Monday night's job you have got the wrong one—there was a young man came up—he was telling a young woman to get some witnesses—we had walked about 300 yards to the station between the statement about having the wrong one and when this young woman came up—I did not turn your witnesses out of the station when they came there—I did not tell you it took place about 11 o'clock—I did not tell you anything.
Re-examined. I said nothing whatever to the prisoner before this statement.
Newman, in his statement before the Magistrate, said he toot not there at the time mentioned. Gammon said he was perfectly innocent, and that he had a witness to prove it. Thomas stated he woe innocent, he had hen taken up for another party.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARY NEWMAN . I am the wife of John Newman—I live at 22, Henry Street, Fitzroy Place—the prisoner Newman is my son—my husband works, and has worked for MESSRS. Jackson and Graham for 17 years—on Whit-Monday I went to see a friend in Cleveland Street—I did not go into the place, I met her in the street—I went to Charing Cross with two friends, Emma Walsh and Sarah Bishop—Sarah Bishop is not my married daughter—my eldest daughter, Mary Ann Archer, went—we went to see Mr. Walsh—he is a cabdriver—I believe we were at Charing Cross about half-past 9 in the evening—after having been there we went straight home—we reached home about a quarter-past 12 at night—when I got home my son, the prisoner, was in my room with my other son and another lady, a lodger who has been with me five years—the prisoner's youngest sister was there also—she cannot come, she is in business—I am certain that was the time, a quarter-past 12 o'clock—we delayed coming along the road—we saw a clock in the last public-house we Went into, in Judd Street—it was then about 12 o'clock—when I got indoors
my son was sitting on the chair along with his brother, talking—he did not appear as if he had been struggling or running at all—lie was as quiet as I am now—I said "I am glad you are at home"—he remained with mo till 2 o'clock—we went out about half-past 12 o'clock to convey my daughter home—about half-past 1 o'clock we got to my daughter's place—I fix the time because we looked at the clock in my room—my eldest daughter said "I am ashamed to be out so late with a baby in arms"—the prisoner never left my company till 2 o'clock—we were rather jolly—we generally keep good hours—the prisoner is 20 years old—I think he has been charged with being drunk once or twice—he has never been charged with stealing—he was in employment at this time—his master is here.
Cross-examined. He has been charged twice with being drunk—I cannot tell how far my house is from the Goat and Compasses—it would take me less than a second to go if I wished—it was not half-past 12 when I got home—I was rather flurried in the Court when I made my statement that on the evening of Whit Monday: I returned home at 15 minutes to 12—I had not been in such a place before—I looked at my clock; my clock was quite right; it always keeps correct time.
Re-examined. At the police-court I got into the box and the Magistrate asked me questions—he tried to puzzle me—he said he would not call any witnesses up, and that made me in a flurry—I was there on the first day.
By the COURT. I can say exactly it was a quarter past 12.
EMMA WALSH . I am the wife of John Walsh, who is a cabdriver, and I live at 20, Sandwich Street, Burton Crescent—I saw Mrs. Newman on the evening of Bank Holiday—I went with her and Sarah Bishop and Mary Ann Archer to Charing Cross, to where my husband is a privileged cabman—I took them to have a ride—we then went back to Mrs. Newman's house—we got there, I should say, about a quarter past 12; I noticed the time as we were going along; we were in a public-house at 12 o'clock—it was not quite ten minutes' walk to the house we went to—I know public-houses as a rule have clocks fast in order to get the people out—the house, was in Charlotte Street—we went in more than one public-house—there is a clock in the house; I noticed the time; it was a quarter past 12—I remember the time because Mrs. Newman's married daughter told her it was time she went home—she had a baby—when I got to the house I saw the prisoner Newman; he was with his younger brother—he did not look as if he had just rushed in from a tierce struggle; they were enjoying themselves singing.
Cross-examined. I was happy that evening—I should say I had been in two or three public-houses; it was not half a dozen—I had only two or three glasses of ale; 1 was perfectly sober—I saw a clock in the public-house; it was a 12 o'clock public-house; we did not go anywhere else; we came straight to Mr. Newman's house.
SARAH BISHOP . I am not married—I live at 22, Chapman Street, Fitzroy Square—I went with Mrs. Newman and Mrs. Walsh to Charing Cross on the Bank Holiday—we took a drive—I came back with Mrs. Newman, Mrs. Walsh, and Mrs. Archer to Mrs. Newman's house—we called at some public-houses; I did not count them; I was quite sober—the last house we went into was in Grafton Street—I have a distinct recollection of it; I cannot remember if we went into a house in Judd
Street—I did not notice the street I was in—it was getting on towards 12 when I left the last public-house; it was about two or three minutes to 12 when I got to Mrs. Newman's house—the prisoner Newman was in the house when I got there—he was not doing anything except sitting down in a chair against the window—his youngest sister and an old lady who lives there were with him—he did not look as if he had just rushed into the house after a struggle; he seemed quite cool.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was laughing and singing; he sung a song the last public-house we went in was in Grafton Street; that was before 12 o'clock—that would be about five minutes' walk from Fitzroy Place—I could not tell how many public-houses I had been in; not half a dozen—we got to Mrs. Newman's a few minutes before 12; between a quarter to and 12—I am quite sure it was not past; I heard the clock strike 12 o'clock; I did not hear it strike a quarter to 12 o'clock—if I said so before the Magistrate it was not correct; I was nervous—the clock does not strike the quarters—I heard it strike 1; I heard it strike twice—it is not correct if I said before the Magistrate I heard it strike several times.
Re-examined. It was near 1 o'clock we left to see Mrs. Newman's daughter home—from the time I got home until the time I went to see the married daughter home the prisoner was with MR. MARY ANN ARCHER. I am the wife of Thomas Archer—I live at 53, Whitfield Street, Tottenham Court Road—I am the daughter of Mr. Newman and the married sister of the prisoner—I went with the other women to Charing Cross; it was early in the evening—after we had our amusement we went to Mr. Newman's house—I had my baby with me—it was between 10 minutes and a quarter past 12 when we got home, as well as I can remember—I had no reason for noticing the time to a moment—the baby was in my arms—when I got home my brother was there; he did not look as if he had just rushed in after a severe struggle—my mother and my brother the prisoner afterwards saw me home—it was about a quarter to 1 when they left me at my house.
Cross-examined. I do not know how many public-houses I went into in the evening—1 think the last one was up Oxford Street; I did not go into one in Grafton Street or in Charlotte Street—I did not, I think, go into one in Judd Street—I was with the other witnesses all the time—it was about a quarter past 12; I did not notice the clock; it was about that time I know by the time we came home; it was not about half-past 12—I did not hear 12 strike—the last clock I heard strike 12 was in Tottenham Court Road—we got to Fitzroy Place in about ten minutes—it is not a mile—I left my mother about half-past I; I think it was just about the Corner of Goodge Street when 1 heard it strike 12—it took about a quarter of an hour one way; it did not take three-quarters of an hour to walk back.
CATHERINE GAMMON . I am the mother of the prisoner Gammon—I am a widow—I live at 35, Stanhope Street, Hampstead Road—I keep but one room—I was indoors at 10 minutes past 5 o'clock, on Whit Monday evening—his brother was with me—I was in when he came home; it was 10 minutes past 12.
Cross-examined. I It might be a little over the 10 minutes—I heard him at the door—I lifted up the parlour window—it was not half-past 12—I looked at the clock in my room at the time I opened the door; we sleep
in the same room—a young man was with him outside—I said when before the Magistrate a minute or two over the 10 minutes past; that is what I meant when I said "It might not be exactly that time"—my clock was quite right—he went into bed directly he came home—I put the light out after he got into bed.
ALFRED GOODALL . I am a cabinet-maker—I live at 7, Fitzroy Place, Euston Road—I saw Gammon on the Monday night outside the Hog public-house in Stanhope Street—it was about 9 o'clock; I stopped with him then till about 10 minutes past 12—we went into the Cock public house—we went to the Southampton Arms, Euston Road—I am not sure when we got there; I know we left about 10 minutes past 12—we were only in two public-houses—I saw him right home to his door that night—it was a quarter past 12 all but a minute or two when I left him.
By the COURT. I should think it is about three minutes' walk from the Southampton Arms to his house.
Cross-examined. I was with him the whole time—he was never out of my sight—I got to his house about a couple of minutes under the quarter past 12; I had been looking at the beer shop clock—I did not go into his house—I am positive it was not a quarter past when I left there—I went straight home—I was in Court when the last witness was examined—I heard what she said.
By the COURT. Fitzroy-Place is the next turning to Stanhope Street, Hampstead Road.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1882.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.
ALPHONZO COZZO (Interpreted). I live at 7, Eyre Court, Clerkenwell, and am an ice-cream seller—on the night of 15th May I was. in a public-house close to my own residence—I went there alone—the prisoner was there—I knew him before; we were on very friendly terms—there were no friends of mine there—we played a game called La Mora, five on each side; the prisoner was on the other side—we played for beer—at the end of the game there was a difference of opinion as to who was the master and who was the second; the prisoner wanted to be master when he was not—I said to him, "If you want any beer you can take it, but you are not the master"—he said nothing to that—he drank a glass of beer, and the second one I threw on the ground to prevent his drinking it—he then gave me a slap—I got up from my chair, and then I fell on the ground, partly because I was drunk and with his sticking me—I had this icebreaker in my pocket at the time, and when I was on the ground I took it in my hand; I was going to defend myself with it; I wanted to strike him with it, but I could not—I was lifted up from the ground—nothing more took place then—I used this to strike him with it; I don't know if I struck him—three people who were there saw that I was drunk, and they took me to my house—my cousin was not one of them—when I came out of my house again I saw the prisoner in the court—I can't say how
long after that was, because I was drunk—I went near him, and then I felt that be struck me in the left-band side, but I did not see the knife; he struck me twice—I saw him—I did not feel that I was injured; I did not feel anything—I rose up from the ground and went inside my house; three or four companions took me in—the prisoner had gone to fetch a policeman, and the policeman came and took me to the station, and charged me with assaulting the prisoner—a surgeon examined my wounds at the station.
Cross-examined. I had been in the public-house about an hour or a little more—there were other Italians there who were not engaged in the game—some of my friends laid hold of me, and some of the prisoner's friends held him back—I did not go out with my ice-cream barrow next day, not for a week afterwards—I did not want to go to the hospital.
PAULO Cozzo (Interpreted). I am cousin to the last witness—I do not live near him—on 15th May I was in the court where he lives, and saw him there with one of our countrymen, and we took him inside his house—I saw the prisoner enter the court—he had a knife—there was a woman with the prisoner who was holding him from behind—he had the knife in his hand; it was a small pocket-knife—he and my cousin struggled together—I did not see him do anything with the knife—after that the police came—after the struggle I saw my cousin with blood on his head—the prisoner afterwards came to the house with the police, and took my cousin into custody—I afterwards saw a knife on the ground in the court, and another countryman of ours named Moggarino picked it up—I was sober; I had been at work all day—I had not been in the public-house where the game was going on.
Cross-examined. I did not see anybody use the knife; I only saw it in his hand—there were a good many people round, 20 or more—I also was holding my cousin.
HENRY KNIGHT (Policeman G 302). On the night of 15th May I was called to Eyre Court, I don't know who by, and I went there about a quarter-past 9 o'clock—when I got there I saw the prosecutor and prisoner fighting together—they had got hold of each other; I parted them, and the prosecutor was taken away by two other men to 7, Eyre Court—he was bleeding very much from the back of the head—shortly after that the prisoner complained to me of being stabbed in the groin by the prosecutor—I understood him, he spoke English—I went to No. 7 and took the prosecutor into custody—he was taken to the police-station, and the doctor saw him and ascertained that he had been wounded—the prisoner was examined and was taken into custody—they were both charged; they charged each other—I saw nothing of any knife—I went back to the court a short time afterwards and tried to get possession of it.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was the first to complain of being stabbed, and I took the prosecutor into custody and took him to the station, the prisoner following to charge him—at the station they were both examined by the divisional surgeon, and charged each other with stabbing—there was a crowd outside the court on to Eyre Street Hill when I got there—it is what is known as the Italians Colony—there might have been 30 or 40 people there; there were not many in the court—the two were struggling together, and several people were about.
Re-examined. The prosecutor was discharged next morning when it was found how he was injured.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER (Divisional Surgeon to the Police). I examined the prisoner at the police-station on Wednesday night, the 15th, about 10 o'clock—I found there was a small punctured wound in the left groin such as might have been produced by this instrument (produced), and there were also cuts in the trousers; it was merely superficial, just through the skin, sufficient to draw blood—there was also another wound on the third rib, which was also superficial—the instrument had gone through the clothes—I also examined Cozzo—I found an incised wound 10 inches in length in the left breast just above and on the inner side of the left nipple—the wound penetrated into the space between the third and fourth ribs; it penetrated downwards for 1 1/2 inches, passing through the whole of the muscular structure of the chest—I probed it very carefully with a blunt probe—it was just at the apex of the heart—I saw the cuts in the coat and shirt; they corresponded with the wound—it must have been done with a sharp instrument—a small knife would do it, with great force—I also found an incised wound on the upper back part of his neck just where the skull joins the neck, 1J inches in length, penetrating the transverse process of the second vertebra of the spine to the bones, cutting on its way the post-occipital artery—he had also a large swelling on the back of the head, 2 inches above the wound, that must also have been done by a sharp instrument—the bruises might have been produced by a fall or by a severe blow from any blunt instrument—the two wounds had bled very much; he had lost a great deal of blood—he was insensible for six hours afterwards—the first wound was the most serious, the second was not dangerous—be was in danger for quite six hours afterwards, in fact there was a symptom of internal hæmorrhage; after that the wounds progressed very favourably—for the: first week he attended my surgery every day, afterwards he came three times a week for three weeks—he is quite sound now.
SAMUEL GEARY (Police Inspector). I took the charge against the prisoner at the police-station—I read the charge to him through the interpreter, and his reply was, "I did not have my knife"—I have had charge of this case, and have made every inquiry to find the knife without avail.
Cross-examined. I am stationed in this neighbourhood, and know the Italian Colony very well—it is a common custom with Italians to carry pocket-knives.
By the COURT. I have not been referred to Moggarino about the knife—I did not ask Paulo Cozzo anything about the knife; I asked the interpreter to ask them all, but could not get anything out of them—he did not mention the name of Moggari No.
Witnesses for the Defence.
VETO ONESTO (Interpreted). I am an ice-cream seller; and live at 7, Eyre Court—on 15th May last I saw the last of this disturbance between the prosecutor and the prisoner; I was the last who arrived—when I came in the place I saw Alphonso Cozzo had been wounded; I saw Alphonzo Cozzo, that was before the door, with a little knife in his hand, and then Lorenzo Valvona came with the police—I never saw them fighting at all.
GUISEPPE VERALDO (Interpreted). I live in Leather Lane, and am an ice-cream seller—on 15th May I saw this disturbance between the prosecutor and the prisoner inside the public-house—I saw Alphonzo throw the glass of beer on the ground—Lorenzo gave him a smack in the face
and they attacked each other, and after that they went out—Alphonso fell on the ground on his back—after that he went to the court, and I saw no more of them—I saw Alphonzo make a stab at his back—I am not positive he held that in his hand—I have not see that.
ALAZIO MARANI (Interpreted.) I live in Eyre Street, and am a seller of ice cream—on the night of 15th May I saw this disturbance between the prosecutor and prisoner—they were drinking beer; Alphonso threw the glass of beer on the ground—the-prisoner gave a slap of the face to the other; the other took the thing that they break the ice with and gave five or six stabs; he was standing up at the time—I put myself between them and caught hold of them in this way—Cozzo afterwards fell down because he was drunk; I saw no more of it after that—I was not playing at La Mora; I was drinking a pint of four ale.
Cross-examined. When the beer was thrown on the ground by Alphonso the prisoner struck him for doing it, so. (A slap)—Alphonso did not fall to the ground nor back in his chair then, afterwards he fell down—I saw the ice breaker in his hand directly after he received the slap.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding when acting under strong provocation. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
CHARLES BOYD ROBERTSON . I live at 38, Onslow Square, and am engaged in the Foreign Office—last year I was in want of a butler and the prisoner came to me at the Foreign Office; I had some conversation with him and put some questions to him and obtained from him the names of some of his former masters, Mr. Vaughan Richards and Mr. Herbert—Mr. Herbert was his last master and he wrote down his address, Hackness Grange, Scarborough, on a piece of paper—I wrote to Mr. Herbert, Hackness Grange, Scarborough, and received in return this letter (produced)—I wrote to him from the country that I had received the letter—I saw him after the prisoner left me—he remained with me about three months; he gave me dissatisfaction and 1 discharged him—I afterwards saw him; I said he had greatly deceived me as regards his character and general proceedings; I had made inquiries at Hackness Grange.
FRANCIS JOHNSTONE . I live at Hackness Grange, Scarborough, the property of my father, Lord Derwent—I had a man in my service of the name of Herbert; he entered my service on 23rd August, 1881—I have seen him write; to the best of my belief this is his writing slightly disguised—this is the paper that I use myself—Herbert would have access to my paper—Herbert left my service on 8th February; 1 have not seen him since—that is a photograph of him (produced)—the prisoner never lived in my service.
WALTER ANDREWS (Inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard). Mr. Robertson made complaints to the police with respect to a former butler, Charles Lay; I eventually took this prisoner Hi custody on 8th May, at Hampstead Police-station, at half-past two in
the morning—I said, "I am going to take you in custody on suspicion of having stolen a pair of candlesticks from your last master's, Onslow Square"—he said, "I know nothing about them, I satisfied Mr. Robertson about that before I left"—I saw him again on 3rd June; I then said, "You will be charged also with getting into his service by a false character"—he said, "As to that I was very foolish, I was driven into a corner for a character, and I got a friend named Herbert, living at Hackness Grange at the time, to write it for me: I wrote to him and said I was in a difficulty about a character. He has left there now and I don't know where he is. I never lived at Hackness Grange; I never lived near Hackness Grange. The last place before Mr. Robertson's was with Mr. Price, Down Lodge, Epsom, before that with Mr. McKenzie, 38, Gloucester Place"—he said he knew nothing further about the man who wrote the character—he said, "I first knew Herbert when he lived at Lord Bury's, at Prince's Gate," and that he had known him two years—I don't remember his stating anything about his brother till later on; not on the first occasion—I afterwards saw him at the police-court, and he said the man Herbert who wrote the character for him was his brother. The letter to Mr. Robertson teas as follows: "Dec. 22, 1881. Dear Sir,—In reply to your letter of this morning, I am happy to be able to answer your questions satisfactorily. I found Chas. Lay a man somewhat superior in point of intelligence to most of his class, and I consider him sober, honest, and in every respect trustworthy; he did not when with me have charge of the wine cellar, that I always manage myself, but I should have no hesitation in trusting him to that extent. He kept my plate in truly beautiful order, and in fact everything else with which he had to deal. I am confident you will not regret it if you engage him. I remain, faithfully yours, H. N. E. Herbert. I omitted to state that with me lie had 50l. a year. "
GUILTY .— Nine Months Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1882.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. FRITH Defended.
JOHN PELLING . I am a private in the 1st Battalion of Grenadier Guards, stationed at Wellington Barracks—on Saturday night, 13th May, I was with Private Barnes of the same regiment at the Union, Pimlico Road—a groom named Reeves was in the same compartment reading a paper—I said to Reeves, "Is there any fresh news in the paper about the Dublin murders?"—he said, "No, that is what I am just looking for; here is another thing you will like to read about, the crisis in Egypt"—the prisoner, who I had not seen then, said, "What do you say about the Dublin murders?"—I said, "Nothing; I merely asked the gentleman if there is any fresh news in the paper this evening"—he said, "Oh, what is your opinion about it?"—I said, "It is a sad affair"—he said, "You think so?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "What countryman do you call yourself?"—I said, "An Englishman"—he said, "I am an American Irishman, and every b—y Englishman should be shot down, and stabbed with this," holding up a dagger in his right hand—I said, "Don't be
silly, man, put it away "——there was a spring in the back of it—my companion Daly said, "Put it away, man, it is not a proper thing to pull out in public company," and the prisoner shoved it into his trousers pocket without closing it and went away—I went on reading the paper and he came back and said, "Do you know Lord Burnaby?"—I said, No"—he said, "He is a M. P. "—I said, "I know nothing about that"—he said, "He is the next b—r that has got to go, may they all go, every one who calls himself a M. P. and an Englishman; I am an American Irishman myself, and you call yourself an Englishman "—I said, "Yes"—he said, "You English b——s accuse the Irish of committing that crims in Dublin"—I said, "No, it is hard to say who done it, I don't know" he said, "It is not Irishmen, it is American Irishmen who did it, and I am one of the boys who did the deed "—I said, "I don't know, I wish I did "—he said, "May every b——y Englishman be served the same, shot down, or stabbed with this "—he was about three feet from me, and drew the thing out of his pocket again and rushed at me with all his force—I drew back with my back against a partition, put out my left arm, and seized his right arm just by the bend; the dagger touched me and pricked my flesh—I bled slightly—I have not the same tunic on now—I caught him by the neck and held his arm to stop the knife going any farther, and then threw him on the floor with the dagger still in his hand twirling it about, while I held his arm—I called out to Daly, who kicked at his arm, but kicked his head, and he became insenlible; a constable was sent for and he was taken to the station—he said on the way there "I did intend," or "I did not intend to take his life "—he was drunk when he spoke to me, and was like a man excited by temper.
Cross-examined. He was a total stranger to me—I thought he was drunk or out of his mind and talking big; he actually struck me on my chest with all his force, but I broke the force of the blow or it would have been much worse.
JOHN DALEY . I am a private in the same regiment—I was with Pelling, and saw him speak to a gentleman who was reading a paper—the prisoner came up, and I heard him say that he hoped every Englishman might be shot down, or stabbed with that—he put himself in a position to strike Pelling—I did not see the blow, but Pelling threw him down and called me to take the knife from him—I made a kick at his arm, and it caught him on his head.
ROBERT GOOD . I am barman at the Union Tavern, Pimlico Road—on 13th May, about 9. 15, a man named Reeves was there reading a paper—the soldiers came in, and after they had talked to the prisoner he took a knife out; they told him to put it away—I afterwards saw him make a stroke with it at Pelling, who guarded it off and seized him by the throat and knocked him down and called his mate, who kicked him on his head—I fetched a constable.
Cross-examined. He made a rush at the soldier with the knife open—it was done in an instant; there was a considerable amount of confusion and excitement.
Re-examined. The first I heard the prisoner say was "May every Englishman be shot down, or stabbed to the heart with this."
if I would have a drop of whisky—I said "No, thank you"—he said "Will you have a drop of brandy?"—I said "No"—he said "What do you call yourself?"—I said "An Englishman"—he said "I am not; I am an Irish American," and turned his face towards the door, took a knife out of his pocket, and said "See that?"—I said "Yes"—he did not open it, but said "I will stab you in the b——y heart with it; we have assisted to kill Lord Frederick Cavendish, and got it all smoked and dried for Forster"—I went out of the house, and did not see him again till he was at the station.
Cross-examined. I did not see Reeves there; I heard him give evidence at the police-court—the prisoner was drunk and not answerable for his actions; he was very wild and excited and going about the bar like a madman—he never used any foul language to me.
By the COURT. I did not see him do anything or hear him say anything except what I have told you, but he was going about with a pot half full of beer in his hand, asking various people to drink, like a drunken man.
ROBERT GOOD (Re-examined). I did not see the prisoner served, or we him rushing about with a pot in his hand asking people to drink—I saw Gaskill there, but saw nothing take place between him and the prisoner—I do not think he was served in the house at all.
By MR. FRITH. I have been barman there five months—I know that my master's licence is liable to be taken away if he serves people, who are drunk.
THOMAS NEVILLE . I am a surgeon of 85, Pimlico Road—I examined Pelling; he had a cut on the right side about the margin of the stomach and liver—the skin was cut and slightly bleeding—this knife would produce the wound—it was not deep or dangerous, but if, it had gone in deep it would have killed him.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner that night; he was very excited and I had great difficulty in dressing the wound on his head—that would be the effect of a small quantity of drink acting on a brain injured by sunstroke or a fall. By the COURT. The excitement might be attributable to many causes.
CHARLES GREGORY (Policeman V 144). I was called to the Union public-house and found the prisoner on the floor insensible—I roused him, and Felling charged him with stabbing him; he said nothing, but on the way to the station he said that he stabbed the soldier, and he would stab any b——Englishman, and at the station he said that he would serve any Englishman the same—this is the knife (produced).
Cross-examined. He was very much excited and very strange in his manner.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I plead not guilty of the intent because I do not remember anything about it. "
Cross-examined. He has been in the English navy, and the American navy—he got his discharge—his conduct was good—he fell from aloft in the English navy, and was discharged with a pension and lump sum—I
believe he injured his head when he fell, but I don't know—he is affected by drink, especially spirits—this is my knife, I gave it to him on the Sunday morning, because he was going to sea again—his parents were Welsh, but he was born in Pimlico—he has always been a quiet, well-conducted man—he was employed at Buckingham Palace ten years back, and left to go to sea, and has since been working for Mr. Reeves, at Lord Frederick Cavendish's house, painting—he has been in Australia—he allowed his widowed mother 1l. a week while he was at sea.
Re-examined. He lived with me when he was out of work, and we went out of an evening together—I have seen him have beer in a public-house, and I have had lemonade—I am a teetotaler—I have seen him drink a pint of beer and it made him silly—I never saw him violent when he was drunk, or conduct himself as has been described today—spirits make him strange in his talk, but never violent—when he has been in a public-house with me he has conducted himself peaceably—my elder brother is in the Artillery.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Eighteen Month's Hard Labour.
Upon the opening of MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, the COURT considered that the prisoner was rather the victim of misfortune than a criminal, the gun in question appearing to have gone off by accident; MR: MONTAGU WILLIAMS therefore withdrew from the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
JAMES VICARY . I am foreman to Alfred Probyn, of 9, Whitecross Street, Finsbury—this is the trade card. (This contained the phrase:"Bottles charged 2s. per dozen if not given in exchange, and allowed for when returned. ") The prisoners were in Mr. Probyn's employ—Elliott was carman and was paid 1d. for crates delivered, and 1d. for all empties; his average wages being about 35s.—we paid his commission once a month on his poundage, and his commission on deliveries once a woek—Lloyd was foreman on the washing floor; hit wages were 29s. a week—it was his duty to check every load that came in; nobody certified for a load but Lloyd—I filled up this invoice produced—it is in three parts, two of which are given to the customer if he pays, and one if he does not; the second or middle form being a receipt; the third part the carman brings back to us—on 8th May Elliott left about 8 a.m. with a pair-horse van and 108 dozen of beer in three deliveries for the day—they were loaded over night by Flutters, Kent, and Mellish, 54 packages all full—his van boy was a lad named Nelson—when he returned it was Lloyd's duty to be present to cheek the number of empty bottles and the cases that were brought back—I Saw Bath about 7.30 p.m. at my door—Elliott has paid 2s. a dozen for bottles, but never at a lower rate—from my personal observation I missed from 50 to 60 gross of bottles from my stock—I gave Bath directions with regard to Elliott's van that evening.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I missed the bottles during a period
ranging from Christmas last—we took stock at Christmas and a probable calculation about a month ago—it was conjecture; it was not very vague—three months ago I received information that Elliott was robbing me—we have eight draymen and bottled-beer carman—five take out bottled beer—Elliott was with Mr. Probyn nearly four years before I came there; since 1878—I have been there 14 months—Lloyd has to wait till the last carman is in.
Cross-examined by Lloyd. Yon were not working later than usual on February 18th; we are compelled to clear the place ready for the morning.
ARTHUR NELSON . I was Elliott's van boy on May 18th—I know Flutters, Teddington, Kent, and Kew—we left 84 dozen full bottles at Mellish's, and Elliott put empty bottles in the cases, which were wicker and wood, each containing two dozen bottles—he gave me 43 dozen—we were 41 dozen short—some of the cases were half empty, a ad 20 were empty altogether—we returned to Southampton Row—up to the time of leaving there no bottles had been put into those empty cases—I left about 7 o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. We did not walk through Smithfield; it is three-quarters of an hour's walk from Smithfield.
FREDERICK GEORGE MELLISH . I am a grocer at Hampton—on May 18th Elliott came to my place with bottled beer—this is the delivery note and receipt for 84 dozen—I returned 43 dozen only—I gave him 41s. for the other 41 dozen and 1s. for himself—I said nothing to him about buying empty bottles—on the first occasion when he delivered beer at my house I paid him for the whole of the bottles, and he said "You have no occasion to pay for these bottles; when you like I can buy you bottles at a shilling a dozen, and it will save you a shilling a dozen"—I said I would rather pay—on the next occasion I had six gross; there were some short, and I paid him for the empty bottles—on this occasion I paid him as a matter of course; we had no conversation at all about it.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I paid 1s. a dozen—I paid 2s. a dozen only on one occasion—I should not have thought him dishonest in doing business for himself if he had taken bottles back to his master, but I could have bought them in the neighbourhood at the price—I am not allowed for breakages—we lose bottles—we generally book the bottles if they are brought back, but do not make it a rule to charge them.
EDWARD BATH . I attend to the engine at Mr. Probyn's works—on May 18th I had instructions to wait for Elliott's van coming in, and I waited on the premises late—Mr. Vicary's house is 9, Whitecross Street, close to the premises—when the van came in the lad was not with it, and no other carman—Lloyd came about three minutes afterward—Lloyd and Elliott spoke quietly to each other; I did not hear what was said—I asked Lloyd if I should stop and unload the van—he said "You can go home to-night"—I saw six boxes taken out, and there were about six left—I did not count them—I went to Mr. Vicary and reported what I had seen.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. It was between 7 and 8 o'clock—Elliott was not later than usual—I do not think any of the other carman were in.
Cross-examined by Lloyd. The usual time to work to is 6 o'clock at
night—it was 7 o'clock when we left—I cannot say we were working overtime; I was not paid for it—I do not remember going down to the sewing-machine shop, and coming back and saying it was a quarter to 8, and your telling me to draw my fire, and go home to my child, which was ill.
ALFRED PROBYN . I am the prosecutor—we bottle the beer at our works—we give 1s. 2 1/2 d. a dozen for the bottles—my terms to the licensed victualler are 2s. a dozen or their return, and if they return more they get back their money; we get no profit—Elliott had no right to retain bottles; I should have dismissed him instantly if I had known that he had—we have missed a large number of bottles, our foreman is very far below the quantity; it would more likely be 100 gross—Elliott would have to account for the insufficient number of bottles—I did not know he was paid for these bottles; I never received the 41s.—I gave him in custody for stealing them on Monday, May 21st, after he came back from the work, and after we had received a letter from Mr. Mellish.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Elliott's duty was to bring back 2s. a dozen for the bottles, or the bottles—we get no profit on the bottles, the breakage is so great—Elliott has been in our service about four years; he is married; he resides, I believe, at York Buildings, King's Cross—I have five bottle-beer carmen—108 dozen is not a large number sent out on one day; 160 dozen is a usual load; there is very little breakage of bottles in transit, the breakage takes place in the washing; we take account and know exactly the number broken daily—we are continually changing carman; Elliott has been longer than any other carman in our employment—I spoke to Vicary first, in consequence of missing a number of bottles—whatever information I got about the bottles was from him.
JOHN SAUNDERS COCHRANE . I am cashier to Mr. Probyn—Elliott gave me the day after, his account of deliveries on May 18th—he brought me a delivery note signed by Mr. Kent, a credit customer—Elliott would have to bring no money from him, only the number of bottles—he also brought Mr. Flutters' delivery note, and accounted for Mr. Flutters' money correctly, and showed that the bottles were the same number; also Mr. Mellish's delivery note, purporting to show that the bottles were 84 dozen—this is his writing, which he handed to me—Lloyd would certify the number of bottles.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. About 10l. a day passes through Elliott's hands—I have to see that the number of bottles brought back is properly deducted from the account Elliott has given me—I examined his accounts every day; the other men account to me in the same way.
Re-examined. Elliott did not pay me, nor say anything about the deficiency.
JOHN GITTINGS . I lived at 9, Burfield Street, Hammersmith—on May 26th Lloyd came to the railway arch where I carry on the business of a bottle merchant—he said that a carman was in trouble about some bottles, and he would give me 2l. to come and state to the Magistrate that I bad sold him 41 dozen at Long Lane, Smithfield—I said I did not care about the job, as I had never been in a police-court in my life—I asked him if he knew the carman; he said he did not know whether I did or not—I said "Bring him down tomorrow evening"—he then left—the next evening I was near a public-house in the Broadway, talking to three persons—Lloyd came in with another man—Lloyd said "Are-you
coming in?"—I said "All right"—I went in with my friends; I went in—I saw the prisoner and his friend in another compartment—I had no conversation, with them, but kept away—I never sold 41 bottles on May 18th to anybody.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON I buy and sell bottles to a large extent—I get 12s. and sometimes 14s. a gross, and sometimes less than 1s. a dozen—I collect them from private houses, marine-store dealers, and hotels; I am out every day—there are always a great many gross in my place—I had known Lloyd before this; I had never seen Elliott—I had not sold Lloyd anything—my place is about 7 miles from Smithfield—a bottle merchant is a common trade; a lucrative one—I do not keep an account of all the men I sell bottles to.
Cross-examined by Lloyd. You came to me on a Thursday between 5 and 6 o'clock—you did not say "Do you know if you have, or do you know any one that has sold bottles to a bottled beer carman? because, if you do, that man has got into trouble, and if you will come to the Magistrate at Worship Street his wife will give you 2l. "—I said at the police-court that I had no reason to doubt your word that Elliott was the man.
REBECCA GITTINGS . I am the wife of the last witness—on Thursday evening, 25th May, I was in the railway arch at Hammersmith—Lloyd came to my husband—I did not hear what passed—I was at home at 9 Burfield Street when Lloyd came—I heard him ask for No. 10—he came back when put right and asked for Mr. Gittings—some one was standing near him—I said he was not in, but I expected him in every minute, and no doubt he would find him, but in his absence I had done business for him, and asked him what his business was—he said "I have spoken to the governor about the business, and I mean to see him; I have brought a man down to see him"—I said he would very likely find him in the Broadway—he went away—he came back in about an hour—he asked if my husband had returned—I said "No"—he said he was afraid he would lose the train, and he had better come next morning; he had seen the governor, but he could not speak to him as lie had three friends with him—Elliott was the man who was with him—I am quite sure of it.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. It was the day after the Derby Day—there is a lamp in front of my house, and as he was going away I saw his face in profile.
FRANK BRIARS (Police Sergeant G). On 22nd May Elliott was given into my custody by Mr. Probyn on a charge of embezzlement—he said "I slid not know I was doing anything wrong, 41s. was given to me by Mr. Mellish of Hampton, and I bought the bottles in the country"—I said H Who is the man you bought them from?"—he said "I do not know; I never saw him before"—when I saw him the next morning he said he bought the bottles in Long Lane, Smithfield—on 5th June I read the warrant to Lloyd and took him in custody—he said he knew nothing about it—there are bottle merchants in Long Lane, Smithfield.
Lloyd, in his defence, said that Elliott was unloading, and he did not see any empties on the van, that the alleged whispering was when Elliott stooped and said of Bath "Why don't you make him help;" and he said Bath had a child ill and told Bath to go home; that he counted 108 dozen, less two dozen, and licked it in his book, to make a docket for the clerk; that they were working overtime, and lie remained till 10 o'clock, when he went to Long Lane, Smithfield, and Hammer smith to dear himself, arid was misunderstood by Gittings, as what lie said was "Did he, or did he know any man in his trade who had sold beer bottles to a carman;" that Gittings said "Why?" find he replied "Became one of our carman has got into trouble, and he told me if I can find out the man, his wife would give him 2l.;" that he went with no criminal intent, but to find out the truth; and that Bath's statement was not to be believed, as he was a relative of the manager.
ELLIOTT.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
LLOYD*.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1882.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted;
MESSRS. BESLEY, GEOGHEGEN, and LEVEY Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
664. HENRY GEORGE WEBER (35) PLEADED GUILTY to four indictments, two for forging and uttering cheques, one for stealing a cheque, and one for making false entries in certain books with, intent to defraud.— Strongly recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
665. WILLIAM BROWN (25) to breaking and entering the chapel of George Reynolds, and stealing there from a saw and other articles, value 5l. 16s., and the sum of 1l. 11s.; also to a previous conviction.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
JOHN MAXWELL . I live at 31, Carlton Road, Kentish Town—I am a printer—on Thursday night, the 8th of June, I left my business about 7.30—I went to visit a friend at the Exeter Hall Printing Works, Strand—I left my friend about 9.30—1 went to Garrick Street—I was going towards Seven Dials about 9. 45—there was a 'bus coming up, and I hailed it, when 1 was attacked by either three or four men—one seized my watch and chain, and suddenly pulled it out of my pocket—I tried to grasp it; he ducked his head down and escaped—I received a blow on the side of my head from a second man—I cannot say whether it was from the prisoner or not, it was so sudden—in turning round to defend myself I received either a severe blow or a severe kick in, the thigh, which paralysed my leg for the moment—I was so stunned I could not call out—I was driven up against a shop window—I do not know what became of my watch and chain, I have never seen it since it was taken from me—it was a silver watch, gold chain, and locket—I saw a man whom I afterwards knew to be a Mr. Grants—hewas a few yards
off, and I was in the act of coming forward—he did not speak at all was so stunned I thought he was one of the gang—I rather went out of the way.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have stated I do not know if you tool my watch and chain—I cannot say if I saw you there—I cannot identify you.
EDWARD GRANT . I live at 52, Christ Church Street, Chelsea, and am a plaster moulder—on this Thursday night, the 8th June, I was near St. Martin's Lane, in Broad Street—I met the prisoner and three other men in Broad Street—I was carrying a parcel—I saw two walk in front of me und two behind me—the prisoner was iii front—I walked on to the corner of Great St. Andrew Street and Dudley Street, when the two in front stopped at the corner, and the two behind passed me and walked into St. Andrew Street—two rushed out of Great St. Andrew Street, knocking me—they caught my right shoulder—only one caught me—it was a sort of push—the four men pulled the prosecutor into Dudley Street—the prisoner and another man stopped at the corner of Dudley Street—they afterwards all four ran away—I saw the prosecutor robbed—I cannot say which one robbed him—I am perfectly sure the prisoner was one of the four—I noticed him previously in Broad Street—I Went on to Charing Cross—I gave information to the police the next morning—I did not see the prisoner strike the prosecutor—on the following Saturday a policeman came to me—I was taken to the Bow Street Police-station on the 10th—I saw a lot of men placed together—the policeman asked me to point out and touch on the shoulder the man I had accused of robbing the prosecutor—I picked out the prisoner immediately—he is the man—I was able to identify him because I saw him underneath the lights of the public-house in Broad Street—I know him by sight about the neighbourhood of High Street, Bloomsbury—I do not work in the neighbourhood—I have a brother a manager there—my brother is not deputy landlord now—he left last week—he has been there eight years—I live in the same house—there was a lamppost at the corner where the scuffle occurred—I saw the prisoner there distinctly, as well as at Broad Street—I saw his features.
CHARLES ELDERFIELD (Policeman. E 123). I received information of this robbery from the last witness on the Friday morning—he gave me a description of the prisoner—I apprehended the prisoner from his description—I arrested him on Saturday morning, the 10th, in High Street, Bloomsbury—I told him the charge—he said "I will go with you"—I took him to the station and placed him with 10 others, and the last witness identified him—he said at the station "It is the first I have heard of it. "
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent, and know nothing about it. I work for my living, and do not go thieving. I have been living in the same house 10 years.
GUILTY . —Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
EMMA CHAPMAN . I live at 15, Faulkner Road, Holloway—on Thursday evening, 1st June, about 9. 10, I was in the Commercial Road—as I was passing Little Turner Street, the prisoner who was standing at the corner
rushed on me and snatched my gold locket and chain off my neck—I did not see him till he snatched it—was is it (produced)—I ran after him; he punched me in the mouth and said "Get away"—lie jumped over a coal-wharf—I had not a good view of him in the first instance—he took off his hat and jacket and put them down—I gave information at the police-station about 9.30 and a description of him—I saw the primmer at Shadwell Police-station on Saturday, 3rd June—I picked him out from nine others—they were about the same sort of men—I touched him—I am quite positive that the prisoner is the one.
Cross-examined. I am perfectly positive—I am positive to the time within a few minutes; about 10 minutes past 9 o'clock—it was not earlier—I can fix the time by having left where I had been at a certain time—I had been on a tram and then walked the other distance—I am a stranger about there—Little Turner Street is a side turning, a small narrow street—I did not have a good opportunity of seeing the man when the locket was taken—I could not have identified him—I did after—it was about five or six yards before I overtook him—I was a little agitated—I was struck in the mouth—that increased my agitation—I was a good deal flurried afterwards—it lasted more than a moment or two—I went to the police-station after that—it was twilight; I do not think the lamps were lit—I went to the station again about 4 p.m.—1 saw some other men—the prisoner had got a coat on then—he was very near the middle of the men facing me as I came in at the door, the prisoner was the first man I saw.
Re-examined. The light was as good as it is now—I did not lose sight of the prisoner up to when I had hold of him—I kept dose to him—there was no crowd when he rushed on me.
HARRIS BARNET . I live at the corner of Cable Street—on 1st June, about 9. 10,1 was standing outside my shop—I saw the prisoner running by—I did not see the prosecutrix—I did not look to see the time; it might be a little later—we had got a lamp at the shop door—there were a lot of young fellows crying "Stop thief"—the prisoner ran down Denmark Street—there were two policemen at the bottom—he was afraid to run down any further, and he came up again, walking—he had a black waistcoat, but no coat; his sleeves were tucked up—a lot of females spoke to him—they said "What is the matter with you?"—he said "There is a crowd after me halloing out 'Stop thief! I have only had a row with my wife"—he then halloed out "Stop thief!" and then the people cleared away and he went—I am certain the prisoner is the man I saw—on the following Saturday I went to the King David Lane Police-station—I identified him at once among seven or eight people dressed like himself.
Cross-examined. I am a clothier—I was not closing the shop; I stood outside with my father—we were talking—I know it was 1st June; it was a Thursday—I had stood at the door with my father every day that week—I had seen a good many people go by at all hours—I do not fix that day and time because the prosecutrix said that was the time—it was not earlier; we had been at the door about half or three-quarters of an hour before we saw the young man running by—our house is not quite half an hour's walk from Pennington Street; the shortest way you can go in less than 10 minutes—there are three or four different ways—I do not know how far it is from the scene of the robbery to my house
—all I saw was the young man run by; he walked round the corner rather fast—I saw the same young man half an hour later;. I saw him for over 10 minutes in the crowd—I did not go with Miss Chapman to pick the man out at the station—they were the same men with the prisoner when I picked him out, as when Miss Chapman picked him out—he was not just opposite the door, a little way from it—he was about the first person I saw.
Re-examined. I was told the same evening that the locket had been stolen—on the Saturday, two days after, my attention was called to its having been on the Thursday—I swore it was on the Thursday before—I identified prisoner in the station, not out in the yard.
MARGARET JONES . I live at 19, Denmark-Street, and am the wife of Robert Jones—just before 9.30 on 1st of June I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—I was in my room—I ran to the side door and saw a man at the bottom of the court, where my window is, in the act of taking his hand out of his left-hand pocket and throw something glittering down the area—he was about four paces from me—he turned round as if to strike me—he said, "What are you all looking at?" and, using a bad expression, "Can't a man run after his wife without being looked at?"—he immediately turned round and walked back again into the crowd that was following; I saw no more—I went down in the cellar and found a locket and chain—I had a full view of him when he made as if to strike me in the face—the prisoner is the man to the best of my belief, but I would not swear—he had on no coat, his shirt sleeves were tucked up to the elbow—I took the locket and chain to the police-station; I saw the man again on the following Saturday with a quantity of men—I did not identify him.
Cross-examined. I had a very good opportunity of seeing him; it did not take two minutes—he went back into the crowd—when he turned away I had my eye on his back, not on his face—I should be sorry to swear he is the man—when I went to identify the man, I turned to a darker man and said, "This resembles the one. "
By the COURT. It was just before the church clock went half-past 9—I cannot tell the distance from the robbery to East Street.
EDWARD COOPER (Policeman E 99). From a description I had given me, I apprehended the prisoner in St. George's Street, Ratcliff Highway—he was standing talking to another man in the Street—I said, "I shall take you in custody as answering the description of a man wanted at Shadwell for highway robbery with violence"—he said, "You mean assault"—I said, "Yes, and robbery"—he said, "I will prove I was not in Shadwell that night"—this is not part of the Commercial Road—I should think Shadwell would be a quarter of a mile from this place—I said, "I do not know where it way, but that is where you are wanted—I told him the date; he asked me what time it was, after he said he was not at Shadwell—I said I thought it was between 8 and 9—he was then taken to the station and placed with seven others near the same age, and Barnet identified him—one of the other men was the prisoner's brother; they followed up to the station when he was taken—Barnet picked him out and said, "That is the man"—he made no reply—he was afterwards identified by Chapman, among nine other people, all brought from the street—when he was charged he said, "Very well"—Margaret Jones failed to identify him, she picked out another man—it was not his
brother—it is not quite a quarter of a mile from Little Turner Street to Mr. Bar-net's and to Margaret Jones's, they are about two minutes' walk from each other; from 100 to 150 yards.
Cross-examined. When I charged the prisoner with highway robbery with violence, he said, "Do you mean assault?"—the words in the depositions are, "What! you mean assault"—I know Pennington Street—I should think it would be very little more than a quarter of a mile from Little Turner Street to Pennington Street; it might be a third of a mile—it would take about 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour to walk at a policeman's tread—a coat was dropped when the man ran away; I do not know who picked it up—I have it (produced); I received that at the station, and a hat which fits the prisoner—I have made inquiries about him; I did not find he was in MESSRS. Stoke's employ—this is the first time I have heard that he had been at a place in Wales as dairyman—I have heard he has been employed at the Waste Metal Company's Works, Green Bank, Old Gravel Lane—those premises were burnt down—he was employed up to 13th May; they are now being rebuilt—I do not know that he is going back when the premises are rebuilt.
Re-examined. I heard two accounts as to how long he had been employed at this place, one from the foreman and one from the foreman's master—I do not think the master has come—I do not find that the prisoner has been in his employ since May 13th—the prisoner informed me that he had been before at Mr. Merringdale's, the sugar refiner, and I saw the foreman there, who has not got such a name on his books, and does not know the man at all.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was that he could prove that he was at home at 10 minutes past and half-past 9 reading a book with his uncle.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOSEPH SILBY . I live at 106, Pennington-Street, St. George's-in-the East—I am a stevedore at the wharves—only my sister and another person upstairs live in the house; I am the prisoner's uncle—my sister is his mother—I remember the Thursday the 1st of June—it was two days before the prisoner was taken into custody—I got home from work about 5.30; he was then at home—1 stayed at home all the evening and never went out—I went to bed a little after 10—from 5.30 to 10 I stayed upstairs in my own place—the prisoner was upstairs reading this book, "The Children of the Forest"—he stayed with me all the time till 9 o'clock, when I sent him out for a pint of ale; he was gone about five minutes—we drank the ale and he never went out afterwards—he got the ale in the "Kettledrum"—I had some of it—he was gone just about the lime it would take to fetch it—it would take about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes to go from my house to Little Turner Street and back—he has worked for some time at the Waste Metal Company's, down Wapping—he left there about a fortnight before he was taken; he left because the place was burnt down—he was going back when the place was rebuilt I believe—he has always been a most respectable boy—the hat and coat produced are not his.
Cross-examined. He has worn a hat like that—there has been a friendly lead to raise funds for his defence; I cannot say where he was on the Wednesday or on the Tuesday—he came up to my room about 6 o'clock—he went out about 9—my clonk which is in my room struck nine when I sent him out—I did not hear of the robbery before he was taken on the Saturday.
LOUISA SCHRÔDER . I have been a widow 22 years—I do washing and ironing for a living—the prisoner is my son; he is 22 years of age—he has always lived at home with me—he has been a good son—be has been in pretty constant work; the foreman is so busy he cannot come to speak for him—on May 13th the place where he worked was burnt down, which is the reason he has been out of employ; he is waiting for it to be rebuilt, when he was going back—I was too poor to pay for his defence—I believe it was between 5 and 6 o'clock he came in on the Thursday; he went out again about 7 o'clock, and he never went out again till his uncle sent him for some ale, and I did not know his uncle had sent him out; I was washing—his uncle told me he was reading a book with him—I was in the wash-house at the back of the house; I can hear anybody who comes in and out—there is a bell at the door—it was riot my beer the prisoner went for; I did not have any—when he went to fetch the beer he could not have been more than five minutes; I saw him come in through the yard—it must have been b minutes past 9—I did not see him go out—he had his hat on when he came in; he had not the beer in his hand; he had left it upstairs—he did not go –out again after that; he went to bed about 10 o'clock—I did not see any beer—he has not a very large wardrobe—I do not know the coat or the hat—the coat he has on is the only one he has got, except one that is put away, for which I pay the interest.
Cross-examined. When he went out at 7 o'clock he came back in a short time; it was not then he fetched the beer—he stayed out about half an hour—I saw him come back and go upstairs—if his uncle swore it was 7 o'clock it is a mistake; he did not bring any beer through the yard at 5 minutes past 9 o'clock; he could not go any other way—he was coming in when I saw him.
Re-examined, It is the yard where the wash-house is—his uncle's room is on the first floor—you can get there from the street door up the steps—there is no necessity to go out at the back of the house—I have no way out of my yard into the street.
The prisoner received a good character
GUILTY of robbery without violence. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
669. ALFRED SMITH (18) PLEADED GUILTY ** to attempting to break into the dwelling-house of George Frederick Martin with intent to steal therein, having been twice convicted of felony. —Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WHITE Prosecuted.
have been before—I was there all the evening—my coats were all right in the hall—these two oats (produced) are mine—they were on the rack in my hall—their value is about 6l.
Cross-examined by Smith. I did not say 1 locked up the doors myself—I did not say I secured them—the coat is exactly the same description, shape, and material, and same degree of wearing.
LUCY TORRENS . I am in Mr. Collins's employ—on Thursday night, May 18th, I locked up the house—the front door was shut and latched—a person with a latch key could come in—no one went in or out of the house after 7 o'clock that night—I was upstairs by 10.30—10 to 10.30 was the last time I was in the hall—the coats and hats were in the hall all safe at that time—I came down at 6 o'clock or earlier—I saw a hat lying in the hall, nothing else—there were two coats the previous night—I knew them well—I have been three years in the prosecutor's service.
JOSEPH JARMAN (Police-Sergeant S 441). On May 19th, about a quarter to 4 a.m., I took the prisoners—Jackson was wearing this overcoat; he was in Keppel Street, Russell Square—that is a very short distance, about 5d. yards, from Torrington Square; it passes at the bottom—James was with them; he dropped three keys; Tartland picked them up—he took James—the other officer is not here—I did not bear the prisoners say anything.
GEORGE TARTLAND (Policeman SR 7). I was on duty on the morning of May 19th with James—he called me to take Smith, and I did so—he was wearing this coat and an overcoat that had been stolen—I did not say anything to him until after the charge—we told him we should take them off him; they were supposed to be stolen coats—he said it was not; it was one he bought—when Smith and Jackson were arrested James was a few yards behind, in the road—he dropped these three keys, one skeleton and two Bramahs—I picked them up—Scandrett took one of the keys to 61, Torrington Square.
JAMES SCANDRETT (Detective E). On the morning of May 19th I was with the last two witnesses—Tartland gave me these three keys; I took them to 61, Torrington Square—I fitted one to the door—the Bramah opened it easily.
Cross-examined by Smith. I did not try td see if it would open any other, door—I only went to 61—I went there because the coats had been stolen—I tried the key on the 20th.
Smith's Defence. I bought the coats for 30s. It is a case of mistaken identity. The prosecutor has given incorrect evidence as to the value of the coats. They were of very common make, and the prisoner was a dealer. I did not know they were stolen.
Jackson's Defence. I was with Smith when he bought the coats in a public-house; he gave 30s. for them.
James's Defence. I did not know anything about the coats. I met the other two prisoners in the Euston-Road. You can buy hundreds of keys at a ragshop that would fit the door; and because the one I had fitted it, that was no reason that I should be brought into it.
Jackson and James then PLEADED GUILTY to former convictions, Jackson in December, 1872, and James in July, 1881.
SMITH— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
JACKSON**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude
JAMES— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ELIZABETH WILLS . I live at Bishop's Wood Road, Highgate—I am a nurse in Mr. Simmonds's employment—on Sunday night, 28th May, Mr. Simmonds was not at home—I locked the door at the head of the stairs about 10 o'clock to go to bed—the cook came down next morning at 7 o'clock and called me—I found the door that was locked on the previous night open—I went to other parts of the house; I found a cupboard in the dining-room had been forced open—one of the thick iron bars in the scullery had been forced out, and the window was open; it is always left open at night, I am not sure how far—a man could not get in unless he pulled it down—the door at the head of the stairs parts the lower part of the house from the dining-room floor—I missed a pair of my boots, two coats of my master's, and a pair of boots of his daughter's; I identify these three pairs of boots—Jane Downs is cook; there is a pair of hers—these coats (produced) are my master's.
Cross-examined. Jane Downs and I do not sleep in the same room—she got up at half-past 5 o'clock, but she did not go downstairs till about 7 o'clock—I did not go down till 7 o'clock.
JANE DOWNS . I am cook to Mr. Simmonds at Bishop's Wood Road, Highgate—on Sunday night, 28th May, I looked round the inside of the house to see the doors and windows shut before going to bed—the scullery window was left a few inches open for ventilation—outside the scullery window there were iron bars; no one could get in unless they forced away one of the bars—I went downstairs about 7 o'clock in the morning; I was up about half-past 5 o'clock—I was dressed when I came down—my room is at the top of the house; I could not tell whether anybody was downstairs—we missed 18 table-knives, three forks, and some boots, one pair of mine; these are they; also the contents of a missionary box, a purse, a leather bag, this Apostle spoon (produced), and a fish knife and fork in a case.
WILLIAM FIELD . I live at 24, Park Road, Hendon; I am a milk boy to Mr. Allen'—on the morning of 29th May about 10 o'clock I was passing through a field of my master's at Manor Farm, Highgate, about half a mile from Bishop's Wood Road, and I saw a black bag and two coats in the hedge—I saw Mr. Wallis, and spoke to him about them—he searched in the pockets of the coats.
Cross-examined. I was not going to work; we were going to get oak apples—any one could see the things in the hedge.
JOHN WALLIS . I live at Mansfield Grove, Nottingham—I had been staying with Mr. Allen, my uncle, at Highgate; he has a large farm and fields—on the morning of the 29th I was going through Mr. Allen's fields—a boy showed me the bag and the coats—I turned the things out; there was nothing but knives and forks and four pairs of boots and shoes—I took them towards the house, and examined them again.
Cross-examined. We found in one pair of boots "Simmonds" indistinctly written—I went a few minutes after with Mr. Allen's clerk and gave information—I afterwards went back with Sergeant Allcock and replaced the things in the hedge; we put the knives and forks at the bottom and the shoes and coats at the top, nearly in the same position as we found them, and covered them over with brambles—the field is a good
quarter of a mile from the main road—there is a private path 60 or 80 yards from where these things were found—no one except people employed on the farm have any business in the fields, especially at that time; the grass was growing—the fields stretch away close to Mr. Simmonds's house.
Cross-examined. I did not bring these things to Mr. Simmonds—we gave information about 11 o'clock—we put the things back in the afternoon about 3 o'clock or half-past—from 11 to 3 o'clock they were at Mr. Allen's house—there is more than one field between the hedge and the main road, three hedges at least.
ALFRED ALLCOCK (Detective Sergeant Y). On Monday, 29th May, I saw Mr. Wallis at Mr. Allen's farm, between 1 and 2 p.m.—he showed me the bag and coats, knives and forks—the Apostle spoon was not in the bag; it was not in the pocket of either of the coats—I put the knives and forks and the boots into the bag. and took the coats and went with Mr. Wallis to the field he pointed out, where they were found—we placed them back in the hedge—I kept observation on Monday evening, the 29th, and again on Tuesday till 8 p.m.—I saw the prisoner and a man not in custody come across the field from Barnet Road and get over the gate into the next field—they looked about in the ditch and hedge, and walked down to the spot where the property was—Day sat down by the hedge, the other man stood in front of him; they looked about to see if anybody was about; I could not see what his object was—the prisoner took the coats out of the hedge, handed them to the other man, then took the bag out of the hedge, got up, and returned back to the gate—the prisoner got over the gate, and Sergeant Tyler seized him—the other man dropped the coats and ran away—we shifted where we were watching—I chased the other man, but could not catch him—nothing had been said to the man who ran away—I was cramped up; I had been lying in a hedge from 8 till 10 o'clock, and was not in much form for running—I was at the police-station when the prisoner was searched—he was wearing a sort of pilot coat or jacket—Sergeant Tyler searched him—from his right-hand coat pocket I saw him take this spoon (produced)—he asked the prisoner how he came by it—he replied, "I took it out of the bag;" then he said. "No, it dropped out of one of the coat pockets on to the grass; I picked it up, and put it in my coat pocket. "
Cross-examined. I was watching from about 10 till 8 before I saw the prisoner—during that time I saw three other persons come in the field in the direction of the hedge; they got over the fence about 20 yards from where the property was; they had something with them; they walked up to the gate, where they got over—they came up to the property; they did not take it—this was grass land—it was long grass—it was about a quarter of a mile to the road—it was almost directly after the prisoner said he took the spoon out of the hag that he contradicted himself, and said he dropped it out of the coat, and picked it up off the grass, almost in one breath—the inspector on duty was at the police-station when the prisoner was searched, and I and Sergeant Tyler; no one else—I was standing by—I did not assist—Tyler did not search the coats—I searched them at Manor Farm—I put my hands into the pockets.
Re-examined. When the men came in the middle of the day, when they got to where the property was hid, there was a whistle and a shout appearing to come from the road—the three men then made off some distance—I saw them standing apparently watching about.
WILLIAM TYLER (Police Sergeant Y). On the Tuesday I was watching with Allcock in the field at Manor Farm—we were both concealed—about 8 o'clock I saw the prisoner and another man come into the field from the direction of Barnet Road—they went towards the property, looked round in the hedges and ditches, then went direct up to it; the prisoner sat down on the grass, and took the coats from the hedge—the other man was close by—the prisoner gave the coats to him—he then took the bag, got up, and came to where we were, got over a gate, and I went towards him, when he dropped the bag—I got hold of him, and he wrenched himself away from me—I had not a firm grip of him—I then got hold of him again, secured him, and said, "I shall charge you with burglary"—he only said, "Do not knock me about"—going to the station he said, "Me and two other men were round gathering flowers this afternoon when we saw the property in the hedge; me and the other man came back"—I said, "Do you know the other man?"—he said, "No; I met him in a public-house at Kilburn; they call him Bill at the shop; he works with me, but I do not know where he lives"—at the station, when searching him, in his right hand coat pocket I found a spoon called an Apostle spoon—his coat was buttoned up—I said, "How do you account for the possession of this?"—he said that was in the bag—he then immediately said, "It fell out of one of the pockets of the coat as I was taking it out of the hedge on to the grass, and I picked it up and put it into my pocket"—his coat was buttoned when I caught hold of him—he gave the name of Robert Day, but refused any account of himself.
Cross-examined, I have been unable to ascertain his address—1 do not know that he has given it to the officials—I was on the side of the hedge, outside it; it is a thin, broken-down hedge—I was looking through a gap—I was not in the ditch—the ditch was the other side; the same side as the prisoner—I was about 20 or 30 yards from the property.
Re-examined. I could see everything perfectly distinctly.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was that he knew nothing at all about the robbery; that they saw the things in the field, and walked away and did not touch them, but went back to the place, and saw the bag open with the boots in it, picked tip the spoon, which was wrapped in paper, and lying just inside the hedge, and were coming away with the bag when the police earns up.
GUILTY of larceny. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1882.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
672. FREDERICK SOHWELM (28) was indicted for unlawfully publishing, on 27th May, in a newspaper called the Freiheit, a scandalous and malicious libel in the German language, tending to encourage persons to murder the subjects of the Queen.
The SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with MESSRS POLAND and A. L. SMITH, Prosecuted; MESSRS. BENNETT and W. THOMPSON Defended.
HENRY WILLIAM TUSON . I am a printer, at 69, Greek Street, Soho—I know the prisoner—I saw him on Saturday, 20th May, he called at my printing office—I don't think there was any one with him—he said "I want you to print 1,600 copies of the Freiheit"—I agreed to print
them for 20s.—I said "Is it all right? I think I should have a copy of it before I print it, to see if it is all right"—I think I must correct myself, there was a man accompanied him—Schwelm said it was all right, and the man who accompanied him said it was all right, and also said "What do you want a copy for, can you read German?"—I said I could, meaning that I could have it read—I cannot in fact read German—that was all that passed—the type was in the place at this time; I did not see who brought it in; it was there when they were speaking; the paper was to be brought—I forget who said that; I understood that it was to be brought, but I don't recollect who said it, perhaps myself—I don't think anything occurred alter that; only I printed the paper—the prisoner did nut give me any name or address at that time, nor did the other man in his presence—it was arranged that the paper when printed should be fetched—the type was brought all ready set up, and the paper, was brought—I then machined it and printed off 1,600 copies—they were fetched a way, by some person, I do not know who; the type was also fetched, away—this (produced) is my bill for printing it, and this is the receipt signed by my apprentice, Burton—I saw the prisoner again that day week, the 27th—he then said "I want you to print 2,000 of the Freiheit paper"—I won't be sure that he was accompanied by any one at that time—I said I would print them for 22s.—that was agreed—that was the next week's number—the type was brought as before, ready set up, and the paper also—I did not see who brought them—I printed the 2,000 copies—at that time I had a man named Frederick Fenn in my employ; he did the machining—the 2,000 copies were fetched away on the same day; I do not know by whom, I was not there at the time—to the best of my recollection I did not see any one—this (produced) is the bill for printing the 3,000 copies, 22s.—it is "1,000" on the bill; that is my daughter's writing, but it relates to the 2,000—I was not paid personally for it—these two bills were produced before the Magistrate by the prisoner's Counsel, and I was questioned about them—I saw the prisoner again on the Thursday, following, 1st June, at my office—he then said "I want you to print 2,000 Freiheit"—he did not say of what number—I imagined it was for the following Saturday—I Said I would do them for 22s.—I don't recollect anything further—the type was brought as before, and I printed it.
Cross-examined. I have my day-book here (produced)—these entries were made at the time the orders were given, except the name "Schwelm—they are my writing—to the best of my recollection the name was put in on the third occasion, on the Thursday—I then ascertained the way of spelling the prisoner's name—it was only the name that I added afterwards—I believe everything in the first entry of May 15th to 20th was made at the time the order came in, except the name, because I did not know how to spell it till the third occasion, and then 1 entered it in both cases—the entries were made week by week—I don't recollect from whom I heard the name Schwelm—I swear that I heard it and was told how to spell, it before I saw Inspector Hagen—I made the entries before I saw Hagen—I heard the name before the third occasion, but I did not know haw to spell it—I can't recollect when I first heard the name; it was before the Thursday; it was not before the first transaction—I did not know his name when ho first came to me; I heard it afterwards, I don't recollect when—it was on the first occasion, not at the
moment, but afterwards—I don't think it was on the same day; it was the next week—I can't exactly recollect when I heard it—I said at the police-court "I understood that his name was Schwelm on the first occasion, but I did not know how to spell it"—the 20th May was the first occasion—I can't be positive whether it was on the first day—if I said at Bow Street that on the 20th he gave me his name and address, it is incorrect—I have not said today that he did not give me his name; I said I did not know how I got his name at the moment, I had forgotten it—I believe these entries on the 20th and 27th were all entered at one time—the whole of the entry of the 1,600 Freiheit was made at the same time as the 2,000—the third entry of 2,000 was all made at the same time—all these entries were not made at the same time—each entry was made within the week to which it relates—the two first entries were made before the 27th May; I believe so—the entries were generally made in the book at the time of the transaction, as the orders came in—I did not enter the name at. the time—I did not include the name when I said each entry was made at the time—it was all written at the time except the name—I have stated that on Thursday evening, 3rd June, some person told me how to spell the name of Schwelm—I do not know who that person was; he was a stranger to me—a man connected with the Freiheit came to my place, and I asked him how to spell the name—I might recollect him if I saw him. (Frederick Boins was called in)—that is not the man—I do not know the Hercules Arms—I went to the Hercules Pillars—I remember going there with Inspector Hagen on Friday, 2nd June—Hagen did not tell me how to spell the name Schwelm—I stated so at Bow Street at your suggestion, but I can swear now decidedly that he did not—on the Thursday evening a man called connected with the Freiheit or the club, to speak to me about printing the Freiheit, and during the conversation I said "The name of Schwelm, how do you spell it?" and I wrote it down on a piece of paper and said "Where does he live?" and the man said "Somewhere at Bow"—I recollect that now; at Bow Street I had forgotten that circumstance—no one has revived my memory of it—Hagen afterwards reminded me of the circumstance, of my telling him the name, not his telling me; it was written on a piece of paper, and I showed it to Hagen—I have not got it here—I don't think it is preserved—I wrote it in my office on the counter, in the presence of the man from the Freiheit or the club—that was not the same man that came with the prisoner on the first occasion; that was Boins—it was he who said "What do you want a copy for?"—he had been in my employment—I suppose he said it in a jocular way—he and Schwelm were together at the time—I did not think of that at Bow Street—I never saw the prisoner with the type formes in his hand or the paper—he brought the money to me on the third occasion—I am quite sure it was not one of the other men—altogether three men came to see me in this way, the man who came on the Thursday evening, Boina, and Schwelm—the other two did not bring money—I know there is a Social Democratic Club in Rose Street—I imagined those men came from the club—I asked the prisoner to give me a guarantee—that was on Saturday, 3rd June, when I was paid for the printing—he said he could give me no guarantee, because he would make himself responsible, and that I must apply to the committee—it was on the 2nd June that I saw Inspector Hagen—I had known the prisoner's name on Thursday, the
1st—Boins did nut introduce the prisoner to me—they came together—the receipt forms produced do not bear the name of Schwelm.
Re-examined. The prisoner asked me if I would undertake to print the Freiheit for 12 months, and it was upon that I said I should expect a guarantee, and he said it would make him responsible—I kept one copy of the numbers I printed, and gave them to Inspector Hagen; they were copies of the 20th and 27th, these are them (produced).
FREDERICK FENN . I am a machinist in the service of Mr. Tuson—I printed three copies of the Freiheit, viz., on Saturday, 20th May, Saturday 27th, and 3rd June—the first was dated for the 20th, but was not sent in till the Monday—the type was brought to the office, and I put it into the machine and printed it—I can't say for sure whether I saw the prisoner on the first occasion—I saw him on the 27th; he came with another person who I cannot recollect; he brought the forme in a truck; I mean by the forme the type set up, and they then went and fetched the paper on which to print—the prisoner said, "Get them off as quick as you can"—I said, "Very good, Sir"—I printed off 2,000 copies—the prisoner and another man to the best of my belief came and fetched them—I saw the prisoner again on Friday, 2nd June, on my master's premises—the prisoner and another man, to the best of my belief, brought the paper on that occasion—I have a slight doubt on the point; I can't say who brought the type on that occasion.
Cross-examined. I have only seen the prisoner on two occasions—on each of those occasions, to the best of my belief, he was accompanied by somebody else—I am acquainted with, the regulations of a printing office—a machine boy would generally be sent to perform such work as the prisoner performed here, merely taking the formes; they don't send editors or leader writers—I stated at Bow Street that I heard of the prisoner's name at the Hercules Pillars; I don't know how it came about, I merely went over with him to have a little refreshment; he invited me to go over with him—I have never known the case of a man bringing the forme also bringing the money—I never knew a messenger bring the money beforehand; I have no connection with the monetary part—the forme is very heavy—a small slender person could not carry it.
Re-examined. It is generally brought in a truck.
CHARLES RICHARD BARTON . I am a compositor; I was working for Mr. Tuson on 22nd May last; I was in the shop that day—Mr. and Miss Tuson were both out—I made out this bill (produced) for printing the Freiheit nobody told me to do it; I was called by the machine-minder to make it out—the prisoner paid the money 1l., and I gave the receipt—I did not know his name, it was made out without any name.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was alone when I took the money, I did not see any one else—it was not at the same time that the forme was brought—it is not usual for the. money to accompany the forme; it is a cash transaction as a rule, and a messenger brings it.
SARAH TUSON . I am the daughter of Mr. Tuson; I know the prisoner—I have seen him at my father's shop—I remember his coming on 27th May; he asked me for the bill for printing the Freiheit, I gave it him, and he gave me 1l. 2s.—this is it, I gave him this receipt.
Cross-examined. I saw one other man connected with the Freiheit at my father's office—I saw them bring the forme on the first occasion, the money did not come with it, it was stmt alter by one of the messengers.
Re-examined. I did not see the forme brought on the occasion when the prisoner gave me the money—I saw the forme on the first occasion—I received the money on the third occasion—I knew him again, I did not know his name.
CHARLES HAGEN . I am chief inspector of the Metropolitan Police—the prisoner was apprehended by my direction—I saw him first at Tottenham Court Road Police station, on 4th June—I read the warrant to him and, explained it to him in German, and then said, "I have to arrest you on this warrant"—he replied, "I know nothing whatever of. the Freiheit, and have nothing whatever to do with the Freiheit"—I searched him and found on him these two copies of the Freiheit of 3rd June, and a book of German songs—I then went to his house and searched it with Inspector Radcke—we found there a number of copies of the Freiheit from its first appearance up to 3rd June last; there were some numbers missing—I also found a copy of the Freiheit of 20th May, wrapped up in a postal wrapper and addressed to a person at Berne, Switzerland—these produced are copies of the Freiheit of 20th and 27th May, which I received from Mr. Tuson.
Cross-examined. I was a witness in Most's case, and I assisted in apprehending Mertins—I do not know who the publisher of the Freiheit is, or who was the publisher—the name of John Neave, 32, Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road, appears on the copy of the 13th May—it says, "All letters and money to be sent to Jno. Neave," at that address—I know Neave by sight; I don't know where he lives now, he did live at 32t Percy Street—I don't know it of my own knowledge, I know no more than is in the paper—I don't know whether he was the publisher and printer at the time of Most's case—I remember his coming to Scotland Yard—he sent some one for the type that was seized in Most's case; the order for it was signed "John Neave"—I refused to give it up without such an order—I believe the order is here; that occurred a year ago—I can't say the date when I last saw Neave; it was immediately after the conviction of Most—I have never seen him since—I don't believe he if the publisher, and never was—I don't know any one as the publisher.
JOHN WILLIAM GOEDBLOED . I am a newsvendor, of 29, Foley-Street, Portland Place—among other things I sell German newspapers, and among those the Freiheit—as far as I can remember I had five dozen of the number of 27th May, and sold them.
Cross-examined. Before the first prosecution I used to sell two or three numbers a week—I do not know the defendant; he did not sell them to me.
HENRY RADCKE (Police Inspector). I went with Hagen to the prisoner's lodging, and found a number of copies of the Freiheit, and these three letters. (One of these was addressed to Mr. F. Schwelm, Freiheit Printing Office; and one to Mr. A. Schwelm, Freiheit Office, 56, Charlotte Street, Fitiroy Square; and one to Mr. F. Schwelm, Compositor, Freiheit Office, 252, Tottenham Court Road.)
GUSTAV REINICKE . I am German master at King's College School—I have compared this translation of the article of 27th May with the original—it is a correct translation; the translation of the article of 13th May, set out in the indictment in Martin's case, is also correct. The articles in question were put in and read. That of the 13th May was headed "Against Tyrants all means are legitimate," "The Rebel' Answer,
alluding to the recent murders of Lord Frederick Cavendish and his under secretary, Mr. Burke, in the Phoenix Park, Dublin, described it as "an execution, an admirable deed, heroically bold," &c. The article of 27th May, upon which the prisoner was indicted, was follows:—"Against Tyrants all Means are lawful—Revolutionary Manifestations in London.—Had the international gang of rogues imagined—that it would suceed through the prosecutions instituted against the Freiheit in silencing the London social revolutionists, then it has made a mistake. Hardly had the arrest of comrade Merten become known when, still on the same evening, a meeting of members of the party took place in the provisional meeting-place of the first section of the Communistic Works. men's Education Association, in, the course of which it was determined what should be done in the face of the latest act of violence of the English Government. A party meeting likewise took place a few days later in the meeting-place of the third section, in which also a position was taken with reference to the conduct of the police. On the part of this meeting an enormously important resolution was taken, which determined that the future attitude of the Freiheit must be just as radical and just as revolutionary, as it had hitherto been—even, if posible, still more radical and still more revolutionary. This resolution is to be greeted with so much the greater joy, as through it, once for all, a bolt is pushed before the meaningless chatter of those who, as soon as any danger shows itself near, suddenly come with a lot of so called. good advice as to bow it is to be managed in order to evade such dangers. With full right, and with a right estimation of contemporary circumstances, did that meeting recognise unanimously that the Freiheit, if it should have the right to existence at all, must remain so as it hitherto was. Notwithstanding that the complaint laid against the Freiheit founds itself upon the published article 'The Rebels' Reply, on the occasion of the execution of Lord Cavendish-and Mr. Burke, not with standing it must; have therefore appeared dangerous and hazardous at the same time to treat publicly of this 'ticklish' theme again, and, indeed, entirely in the sense of the incriminated article, this, nevertheless, happened; and indeed in an assemblage of the people on Monday, 22nd of this month, with the order of the day 'The Attempt in Ireland' In what sense the different speakers who took the word in this assemblage expressed themselves is best shown from the following unanimously adopted resolution:—-'In view of the unreasonable oppression of the Irish people by the English Government, in consideration of the nameless cruelties and crimes with which England has burthened itself with respect to unhappy Ireland in the course of centuries until into the latest times, this day's assemblage declares that it discovers in the setting aside of Lord Cavendish and Mr. Burke by the gallant Irish rebels no crime; but a deed of daring popular justice, a deed of rightful self-defence, which was all the more opportune as it happened just in the same moment when the former leaders of the Irish agrarian movement were; on the point of concluding an abject agreement with the English Government. For these reasons this day's assemblage of London Social Revolutionists. declares itself at one in reference to that deed with the Irish revolutionists, whom it offers its hearty brothers' greeting. A resolution couched in the same sense was already, on Sunday, the: 3 th of this
month, also with unanimity adopted in the regular club meeting of the first section, but was, on Merten's arrest by the English police, confiscated in type, and could, for that reason, not be published by us earlier. This short sketch of the last manifestations of the revolutionary spirit in London shows the foreign comrades that here we immoveably adhere to the revolutionary principle, and that nothing is in a position to turn us from the once-chosen standpoint. May, therefore, the comrades even—where do their duty! May they take it to heart that it concerns itself here, not only with one prosecution of a single revolutionary organ, but with prosecutions against the revolutionary principle as such, that it does not concern itself solely with one dealing of the English police, but with a common action of the international fraternised robber band against the fraternised proletariats. Whoever has been lukewarm hitherto, become warm; and whoever has so far done his duty, let him do it henceforth in greater measure, in order that we, supported by our comrades far and near, may be now, as well as then, in a position to hold on high the defiant banner of the forcible revolution, in defiance of the enemies', fur the protection of friends. "
Witnesses for the Defence.
ALFRED BOINS . I am a compositor; I worked for Mr. Tuson; I ceased to do so about two months ago—I have assisted in carrying Freiheit formes to be printed there—I know the prisoner; he is an ordinary compositor, to the best of my belief, the same as myself.
Cross-examined by the SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I got the formes from 54, Whitfield Street—I have not worked there as a compositor in setting up the type; I found it set up—I have worked as a compositor with the prisoner on the English Freiheit when it was in existence; it is not in existence now; it was 12 months ago at 252, Tottenham Court Road—I ceased to work there then, when the English Freiheit ceased—I have not worked with him since—I believe he has been working at Wyman's in Great Queen Street—he was at Whitfield Street when I fetched the type from there to take to Mr. Tuson's—he did not ask me to go—I found him there—they set some type up there, but not much, being a very small place—I should not think they would set up as much as a number of the Freiheit, from the size of the place—I have never been in it but once—I saw type about there—I don't know who had been engaged in setting it up—I saw one other compositor there besides Schwelm that was a perfect stranger to me, I never saw him before or since—he was setting up pye at the time I was there—I have taken the type set up, to Mr. Tuson's on two or three occasions—the prisoner only accompanied me on one occasion—I have seen him on many occasions—I have often seen him in the Social Democratic Club; it is not in existence now; I was a member of it; it ceased to exist about two months ago—it was previous to the issue of the 27th that the prisoner helped me to take the forme to Mr. Tuson's—I have only taken it twice; the other occasion was the last time that Mr. Tuson printed it, somewhere about 1st or 2nd June—I did not take it on the second occasion.
Re-examined. I always knew the prisoner as a compositor, nothing more, earning his money in that way, getting occasional jobs in one office or another; that is very common with printers—if a printer is ordered to take a forme to be machined he is bound to do so—it is also customary to take the money occasionally.
By the COURT. I never took any money to pay for this printing; I don't know that the prisoner did—I saw him pay Mr. Tuson money on one occasion; that was the last occasion—I can't say where he got the money from; I did not see him get it; he did not tell me where he got it from, and I did not know—on the first occasion I believe one of the principals made the bargain with Mr. Tuson—I was the first one that asked Mr. Tuson would he print the Freiheit—I was asked by Mr. Neave to do so—I do not speak German or understand it—I believe the prisoner was instructed by the committee afterwards; I was not present; the prisoner told me that he was instructed by the committee—I was not at a meeting of the club when it was resolved that the future tone of the Freiheit should be as radical as it had hitherto been.
KARL SCRUPIN (Interpreted). I never worked at a printing-office—I have taken the formes—I saw the prisoner once; he is a compositor—I carried the formes to Mr. Tuson's on 27th May; no one was with me.
Cross-examined by the SOLICITOR-GENERAL. It was on 27th May that I saw the prisoner; it was at the Company's printing office in Whitfield Street.
By the COURT. Mr. Neave gave me the order to take the formes; as I had no work to do, he told me to carry them there; he gave me the order in my lodging—I went from there to 54, Whitfield Street—1 saw nobody but the prisoner there; the formes were ready prepared and were standing there, and I took them myself.
CHARLES HAGEN (Re-examined). When I apprehended Mertens I said "I want you, Mr. Neave"—that was a slip I knew him well, and I knew Neave—Neave was not the principal man I was in search of; I was not in search of Neave at all at that time, or at any time—I was familiar with Neave in the apprehension of Most; Neave came bothering me at the office very often, and his name was more familiar to my tongue than Morten's—I never knew that Neave was the responsible printer of the Freiheit—I don't believe that I so said in Moat's case—I will not say I did not, but I don't believe I did, because Neave was entirely unknown to me in Most's time, except that I saw him there—I believe there was a warrant out against Neave at the time Martin was apprehended; I have never seen it—I can't tell where it was issued—I was not in Percy Street watching Neave's house—I met Chief Inspector Yon Tornow in Whitfield Street when Mertens was in custody—I believe from hearsay that efforts have been made to apprehend Neave, but I have not made any, and I know nothing about it.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
DAVID JENKINS . I am a fish-porter, and live in 11, Chancery-Place, Shadwell—about 6.30 p.m. on 29th May I was walking with my friend and a little boy in Ratcliff Highway—we met the prisoner and two more—the prisoner made a snatch at my watch, and I shoved him away—I
had the watch inside and the locket outside my waistcoat, but not enough out for him to get his hands on—I told him I did not want any bother with him—his companion made a snatch at it—I shoved him off and told War to go about his business—I said "I am out for a walk, I do not want any bother"—the prisoner made a third attempt and failed to get it—I saw a crowd gathering—I and my friend went into the Hoop and Grapes public-house for protection—I gave my watch to the young lady behind the bar—the landlord told me and my friend to jump over the counter, which I did, and he took me into a room at the back of the house and locked me up for about half an hour—the prisoner and his companion struck one in the public-house in the face, with his fist; and I was hurt very badly—when we came out a good many people were in the street, but the prisoner had been given into custody.
JOSEPH ROBINSON . I live in Wells-Street, White chapel—I am a sailor—I was with Jenkins on 29th May, in St. Georges Street, Ratcliff Highway, about 6.30 p.m.—I saw the prisoner and two more the prisoner made a snatch at Jenkins's watch—Jenkins shoved him away—a companion of the prisoner made another snatch at the watch and did not get it—the prisoner made a third attempt and failed—we took refuge in the Hoop and Grapes—the prisoner and his companion came in and beat us about and kicked us awfully—the prisoner struck me in the face and I fell, and then his companion came up and kicked me, and we jumped over the bar at the landlord's request—the landlord took us into a back room and locked us up for about half an hour—the prisoner was given into custody—I am sure he is the man.
HENRY JOHNS . I keep the Hoop and Grapes at 112, St. George's Street—on the evening of the 29th May the two coloured men Jenkins and Robinson took refuge in my house—the prisoner and two others followed—they attacked the coloured men, backed up by the crowd outside—the prisoner struck them about the head and, made several kicks at them—the men were repulsed from the house three times and renewed the attack—I asked the coloured men to jump over the counter, and took them to a back room and locked them up—I saw the prisoner and his companions pass the doors from east to west to go round the house—a cry of "Slops" was heard, the crowd retreated, the police arrived, and the prisoner was secured and dragged into the house—I cleared the house and left the prisoner to be handcuffed—when the coloured-men were in the back room the prisoner said "They have gone out at that door; round, boys!" and they went round and returned—only the prisoner was taken into custody then—a man was arrested last night on suspicion—the prisoner also said "I know the black s—s are in the house, and I will have them out;" and he commenced kicking a pair of doors of a disused room, until his friend had dragged him away just as the cry of "Slops" took place—that means "Police"—I saw Robinson knocked down, and a. number of blows were showered on the men from time to time—I was obliged to shut up, till the prisoner was given into custody.
WILLIAM LAYTON (Policeman H 375). About 6.40 p.m. on 29th May I was with Thompson, and saw a disturbance in St. George's Street—I saw the prisoner and another man in the attitude of fighting—I went up and dispersed the crowd, and the prisoner struck me a blow with his fist on the left tide of the head—I then caught hold of him—he said "You b—,
you don't take me," and both fell on the ground, when he kicked me over the left ear, causing the blood to flow—Thompson came up and caught hold of the prisoner, and we all three fell in the struggle—we were surrounded by the mob—the prisoner was very violent; he kicked Thompson on the right jaw—we got a little farther and fell again, when the prisoner kicked me on the right ear—I received several kicks from the crowd, I could not say by whom—we then got towards the public-house door, when a rush was made to prevent their getting in—I then fell in the doorway—we got the prisoner in the bar, the door was shut on the crowd, and after a good deal of struggling we handcuffed the prisoner—another constable came and we took the prisoner into custody.
WILLIAM THOMPSON (Policeman HR 30). I came up at the time and another constable came some time alter we got the prisoner into the house—I have heard Layton's evidence and speak to the same, facts—we got the handcuffs on the prisoner—I never saw a man more violent—we got him to the station—he kicked me under the right jaw—I feel pain from it now; I cannot eat any solid food—it raised a large lump the size of a hen's egg. The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing at all about the prosecutor. I was with a young woman. "
Witnnesses for the Defence.
MARY ANN BROWN . I am an unfortunate, and live at 5, Albert Street, Shadwell—the prisoner was with me about 6.30—there was a row outside the Hoop and Grapes—the two coloured men were fighting another man—We were going home to tea, when one of the coloured men struck the prisoner with his fist in the stomach, and knocked him into the middle of the road—the other struck me under the chin—the prisoner got up, and both ran into the public-house—two young women came up to me and said "Mary Ann, come away; come home," and I saw no more of it—I never saw a watch and chain—I never saw the prisoner snatch it.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The prisoner went into the public-house—he had no companion—there was a crowd—the man the coloured men were fighting with was a tallish thin man.
Evidence in Reply.
JOSEPH ROBINSON (Re-examined). It is not true that before the prisoner attempted to seize Jenkins's watch that Jenkins knocked him down, nor that I and Jenkins were fighting with another man—we did not—fight till the prisoner attempted to steal the watch—there was no female with the prisoner.
GUILTY **. —Two Years Hard Labour.
MR. RAYMOND Prosecuted.
ROBERT ALFRED HARDMAN . I am a marine store dealer of 2, Edward Street, Barnsbury Road—on the 7th June I closed up my shop between 10.30 and 11 p.m., and retired to rest about 4 a.m.—I was awoke by a dog barking—I got up and went downstairs—I found the back door secure—at the front of the house I saw two pieces of shirting lying on the
pavement in the street—in the shop one shutter had been pulled down from the top—I looked over the top of the shutter, and a man's face met mine—I called out "Police"—some of my neighbours came to my assist ance, and a constable came—I called out into the shop for the prisoner to surrender, and went with the constable and got through the back into the shop—we searched, and the policemen found the prisoner in a cup board—this shirting is mine; there is about 20 yards.
FREDERICK WARD . I reside at 1, Edward Street, Islington—I was aroused on 8th June by the prosecutor about 4 a.m.—when I got down stairs I saw the shutter was forced out, and this shirting was lying on the pavement—I assisted in taking the prisoner to the police-station—I stood at the door when the constable came up—I saw the policeman bring the prisoner out of the shop—I saw him distinctly.
CHARLES LAMBERT (Policeman G 304). I was called to the prosecutor's shop—I saw eight or nine people there, and one of the shutters wan down; the shutter bar was rather loose—I went in at the front door into the back premises, through the back kitchen into the shop—the prosecutor pointed out a cupboard to me; I looked inside, and found the prisoner he said, "All right, Governor; I am not doing any harm"—I pulled him out, and took him to the station—I searched him, and found nothing on him.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MASTERS . I am manager to James Benton, who keeps the George the Fourth public-house, Pentonville—the house was safely shut up at 12 o'clock on Saturday night—there is a cellar-flap, which was closed, but not properly fastened, and could be easily opened from the outside by the hand—the cellar communicated with the house and with the wine and spirit cellar, and contains ales and porter—I and the constable searched the cellar—nothing was missing—a basket of corks was knocked over.
HENRY MORLEY . I am a French polisher, of 38, Corporation Buildings, Clerkenwell—about 2 a.m. on Sunday, 11th May, I was near the George the Fourth in the Pentonville Road—I saw the flap move—a man came out—I caught hold of him and tried to keep him, but he broke away and ran off—then the prisoner came out—I held him till a policeman came up, and took him into custody.
FRANK COUSINS (Policeman GR 9). I found Morley holding the prisoner—Morley said, "I saw him come but of the cellar flap of the public-house"—the prisoner said, "I did not"—he was sober—I found the flap would lift up—I lifted it up before I aroused the inmates.
Prisoner's Defence. He must have made a mistake; I saw the other man run away; and then he said it was me, but I know it was not.
GUILTY.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILME Prosecuted.
I shut up my house at 9.30 on the 21st inst.—my room is ventilated by a skylight, which is fastened by a strong cord, and which was open about two inches—my wife awoke me about 3 a m.—I got out of bed, and saw the cord was broken, and a man about half way in; his feet on the leads, and his knees on the sill of the skylight; his head and shoulders were in the room—I said, "Halloa, what are you doing there?"—I pulled the cord of the skylight against the prisoner; he said, "All right, Jim; all right, Jim"—I knew the prisoner; he was brought up in the same neighbourhood—he slipped down the pole; I could see the pole from the window-—my room is seven feet high—I went to my young man's bed-room, which adjoins mine, and opened the window on to the kitchen roof—I said, "All right, old man; I know you; I shall hare you"—Mr. Row went out to the front—the prisoner slipped down the pole into the creek at the back of my wall; the tide was coming in, but had not reached the wall, and it was pretty dry—he walked along the bottom of the creek, and got on to a chalk-barge which was lying outside; he then jumped from the barge to the lime wharf—that was the last I saw of him till I saw him in custody—the pole looked like a flag-pole, and was 18 or 20 feet long.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You would not get in the mud, there is a lot of straw, wood, and ashes against my wall; there is mud against Mr. Row's wall—people walk about the bottom of the dock and pick up old wood, sometimes in clothes and sometimes without.
EDWARD Row. I am a bookseller next door to the prosecutor—on June 22nd, about 3 a.m., I was awoke by a noise and went to the back door—I saw something like a bundle of rags thrown out of the window and the head of the prisoner; I could not see his legs or arms below the pole—he got over the wail, and used the pole to prevent his falling into the dock—I heard Mr. Gibbons say "I know you, I know you"—I said "What's the matter?"—he said "Look, look; there's a thief," and then I looked and saw this figure sliding on the wall, and I could see him on the bottom of the dock; it was about 14 feet down—the pole was about 20 feet long—I looked at the prisoner over the wall; he was in an upright position then—he looked very defiant at me, but never spoke—undoubtedly it was the prisoner—I said "You thief"—he ran away—there was no mud for him to stick in, it is covered with straw—I then went to the front door and called "Police"—two were on the spot—I next saw the prisoner in custody—I identified him at the police-station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you in the dock about two and a half minutes after Mr. Gibbon spoke to me.
ROBERT PETHETJOHNS (Inspector K). From information I received I went to the prosecutor's premises about 3 a.m. on 22nd instant—I saw K 491 at the pack of the limekiln dockyard adjoining the limekiln wharf at the back of these houses—I went over the wall into the limekiln wharf, and saw the prisoner running across the wharf in a very hurried manner about 10 yards off—we ran after him and stopped him—I said "What are you doing here?"—he replied "Going to look for a job"—I said "It is rather an unusual time to look for a job; I shall charge you with breaking find entering Mr. Gibbons', 88, Three Colt Street"—he said "All right, governor, if you had been a minute sooner you would have caught the right party"—we brought him into the Street—he was seen by the two last witnesses, and they said "That is the man"—we all
went to the police-office together—I afterwards went to the premises—I found the pole in a slanting position from the limekiln creek to the kitchen flat—the pole was 18 to 20 feet long—the cord or sashline that secured the window was broken.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about this charge. I was on the limekiln wharf; that is the only thing. "
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was hard up and looking for a job, and went to a warm limekiln to sleep, and that he did not get over the wall.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1882, at Stratford.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
677. JOHN GUINEA (28) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Mary Roome, and stealing one coat, two waistcoats, and other goods, and 1l. 2s. 6d., the property of Henry Roome and another.
HENRY ROOMR . I am a news agent at 69, Cannon Street Road, St George's-in-the-East—on Sunday, June 11, I shut up my mother's home at 11 p.m.—I was the last person up—my mother called me at 4. 40 a.m.—in consequence of what she said I went down, and found the street's door and the window open—I had been sleeping in the parlour—I missed this black diagonal waistcoat, containing 1l. 2s. 6d. in silver in the left-hand pocket, a jacket and waistcoat corresponding with the trousers I have on, and a new shirt—a knife and a pipe were in the left hand jacket pocket—the skirt is my mother's—I was shown this waistcoat at the Leman Street Station on Wednesday afternoon, June 14th, at 5 p.m.—I knew the prisoner; he resided with us about six months and knows the house—he lodged in the back room about a twelvemonth ago.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You could have robbed the house long ago, but at that time you had work—there is a lock to the street door, but no lock to the back door.
WILLIAM THOMPSON (Policeman H 84). On Wednesday, June 14th, I was on duty about 5 p.m. in East Passage, St. George's-in-the-East—I saw the prisoner—I said "John Guinea, I shall take you into custody on suspicion of committing a burglary at 69, Cannon Street Road "—he said "Not me, governor, you have made a mistake"—I said "No, I have not; you have a portion of the stolen property on you now; that waistcoat is a portion of the stolen property that you are wearing; what did you do with the other coat and waistcoat?"—he said "We destroyed them in the lodging-house"—I said "What did you do with the 22s. 6d. that you took out of the left hand waistcoat pocket?"—he said "I spent it"—I said "Who was with you?"—he said "No one; I done it myself"—I then took him to the police-station—I searched him; I only found the waistcoat and the stolen property that he was wearing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say to you when you came out of the lodging-house "You b—, I am on you; I will take you to the station;" nor "I have been on you some time."
By the COURT. I never threatened him in any way.
He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in March, at the Thames Police-court— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY was entered.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
MR. BESLEY moved to quash the Indictment on the ground that on the face of it it was bad, not showing that the oath was taken before a person who had (awful authority to administer it, or who had any jurisdiction at all.
The COURT, after hearing MR. POLAND, held that the indictment was bad, end it was quashed accordingly.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1882.
Before Mr. Commissioner Kerr.
MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.
HARRIET ROW . I am married, and live at 59, Upper Park Road, Haverstock Road—I am the chapel-keeper of Albany Chapel—I was present in August, 1855, at a marriage between John Burke and Ann Louisa Bishop——I produce this certificate from the register—I fully recognise the prisoner; I did not at first.
REBECCA. DAVIDSON . I am the wife of James Davidson, of Kentish Town—the prisoner is my sister—T knew John Burke—the prisoner told me John Burke was her husband—they only lived together a short time; they did not live happily—until the second examination before the Magistrate I had not seen John Burke for years.
JANE BISMAR . I am the sexton's wife at St. James's Church—I produce a certificate of the marriage between John Lovell Peak and Ann Louisa Burke—I was present at the marriage—I have compared this certificate with the register; it is correct.
JOHN LOVELL PEAK . I live at 11, Waterloo Place, Newington Butts—I was married on the 14th March, 1869, to the prisoner—she said she was a widow; I had no idea she had a husband living; I did not discover it until a few weeks back, after I had been convicted of assaultiug her, and sentenced to 21 days' hard labour—several of her friends told my brother while I was away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you were taken into custody I said I had reason to believe you had a husband alive—I did not go to a Mr. Rensham's before we were married—I did not ask if your husband was for certain dead.
By the COURT. I gave her into custody—the police constable took her.
JOHN TAYLOR (Detective Y). On Wednesday evening, the 7th of this month, I took the prisoner into custody—I told her I should take her for bigamy—she said, "You will have to prove it"—I acted on her husband's, Mr. Peak's, information.
The prisoner, in her defence, stated that she and her first husband separated by agreement, and had never seen each other for 12 years; that Peak knew she had husband, and had made inquiries of her brother about him, and that he was living with another woman.
of the brother is entirety false—I have been living with another girl, but not till I had separated 12 months from the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
BUCK PLEADED GUILTY to the robbery, but not to the violence.
MR. WEINGOT Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.
MAJOR GEORGE WILSON . I am a sign writer and decorative artist—I live at 38, Mansell Street, Aldgate—on the day of this robbery, at about half-past 8, I was standing at my door—I had a small canvas bag in my hand containing half a crown—as I stood there Phillips came up and snatched it away—I ran after him—two persons came behind and got me by the neck, and dashed me down on the stones. in the middle of the road—it felt like two persons; I could not identify them—I did not hear any one following—I fell on my face, cut my nose, and nearly broke my. neck—I have been ill ever since—I could not have pursued Phillips if I had got on my feet, I was so stunned—I raised a cry of "Stop thief. "
Cross-examined. I remember in my evidence at the police-court, saying, "Last evening, the 1st of June, about half-past 8, I was standing at my. door. "
WILLIAM ANDERSON . I am 12 years old—I live opposite Mr. Wilson in Mansell Street—I saw Mr. Wilson standing at his door on this night between half past 8 and 9 o'clock—when he was running I saw two men come behind him and pitch him to the ground—I do not know as to Buck whether he was there—I saw Hearn waiting over the road in White chapel a little before he did it; it was about a quarter to 8 o'clock; I fancy it was him, but I am not sure—I did not pee Buck knock him down; I saw another man; the other man had a long overcoat—I did not see Hearn with them—I went to the police-station when the men were in custody; I saw Phillips and Hearn there—at 11 o'clock they came and fetched me out of bed, and made me go and identify them.
WILLIAM REED (Policeman H 32). On the 1st of June last I was in plain clothes in Mansell Street, Aldgate at about 20 minutes to 9—I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the three prisoners coming towards me—I was on the opposite side of the street; I crossed over—they were all running; Phillips was in front and the other two behind—I tried to stop Phillips; he ducked down, and then darted past me to Half Moon Passage; Iran alter him—the other two were about 30 or 40 yards behind him—I saw them again after I got Phillips—I struggled, with him; he was violent; he hit me a punch in the jaw—the other two came up; one either kicked me or struck me—we both fell to the ground together—I have a scar now—I have no doubt as to Hearn being one of the men; I saw him standing there—he took no part in the assault—I was fetched off my heat to identify him at Leman Street Police-station; I identified him by his general appearance—there were six others there; I picked out Hearn—the lad Anderson was there before I got there—I have not the slightest doubt about Hearn being the man—I never saw him before.
Cross-examined. I did not see the robbery—I was present at the police-court when the lad Anderson was brought there—he went down with the other witness—he was called up at night, before I got to the station—I
was not the constable who said to the lad, "Can you pick out any more?"—I was not there at the time—I was not at the station when the men came in and said, "The wrong man is in custody "—I was in bed; I believe the name of the person has been given and that –the man is in prison—the inspector made inquiries and found out he gave the name of Gobbling—he found out there was no such name at first; he afterwards found out a man named Murray, and afterwards found his name was Gobbling—he found out he was in the habit of wearing a brown coat—I was present at the police-court when this man made the statement.
WILLIAM ANDERSON (Recalled). At the police-station the constable paid to me, "Can you pick out any more?"—I said, "No,"—the inspector said, "You have got your eye on the corner one"—I had ray eye on the corner one, that was Hearn; until Constable 32 picked him out I was not sure.
Cross-examined. I think there were 12 men—I was not quite sure about the corner one.
DAVID GRIFFITHS (Policeman H 108). I apprehended Hearn on the night of the 1st of June, about half past 11 in the Commercial Road; he was in the company of some other men—I charged them with being concerned with Phillips in robbing and assaulting the old gentleman—Hearn said, "I can produce evidence where I have been all the evening. I am sure I know nothing about it"—I took him to the police station; Anderson was sent for—seven others were placed with Hearn—I saw Police-constable Reed pick him out; Anderson was there before Reed—he failed entirely to pick out the man.
ARTHUR SOYER . (Policeman 69 H). I was at Leman Street Police-station on the morning of the 9th; after midnight—at 20 minutes paste 12 o'clock, Buck came to the station and said," I want to give myself up for being with another man stealing a bag in Mansell Street, on Thursday the 1st June"—he said, "The other man is the wrong man"—I took down his statement—he said, "They have got the wrong man. I was with the prisoner that was taken, whose name is Goddard, I do not know what name he has given; I did not steal the bag myself; I tried to get Goddard away from the man that took him in Half Moon Passage. Goddard was the man I was with. The man they took afterwards is the wrong man. I may as well stand to it, or I shall only be in something else"—he only mentioned Goddard as being there.
Witness for Hearn.
ROBERT BENT . I manage the business of a grocer, at 69, Ellen Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on the 1st of June, I was in Hearn's company at Aldgate about half an hour—the time I first met him was from a quarter past 8 to 20 minutes past 8, at Goulston Street, or Middlesex Street—I left him there outside a public-house.
Cross-examined. I left him about 20 minutes or a quarter to 9 outride a public-house—he was in company with Kate Sutton—she was with him in the public-house during this half-hour—it was my night out—I got home about half-past 12—I had to go on business for my father over the water; 1 could not swear it was half-past 12—I arrived over in the Borough about half-past 9 or a quarter to 10—after leaving, the prisoner
I went straight across the water—I did not hurry myself, it was not necessary.
Before the Magistrate Phillips and Buck stated that Ream was innocent, Hearn said, "I was not there. "
HEARN— GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY to three previous convictions. PHILLIPS and BUCK— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. HEARN— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted. THOMAS SPIKINGS. I live at 38, Short's Gardens, opposite Nottingham Court—on the day this occurred I was in Neal Street, between 9 and 10 at night—there was a disturbance there; I saw Constable Hewett and the prisoner there—prisoner had an iron pickaxe in his hand, which he threw at the constable—before that he broke the handle from the handle—it was an axe like that (produced); it caught the constable on the side of the head—the prisoner was three or four yards off the constable—I had known the prisoner before three or four weeks playing round the street—I gave a description of him to the police—I saw two other men, Barry and Fitzpatrick—I gave evidence against them before Mr. Justice Hawkins; they were convicted (Seepage 4)—after the prisoner threw the axe he ran away with the others—the constable was struck on the right hand side of the head by other persons—these sticks (produced) were used at the time by the other two that were taken a little time ago—the prisoner was present when the sticks were used—Fitzpatrick was in Hewett's custody all the time; he kept hold of him till he was knocked down.
By the COURT. The prisoner threw the iron pickaxe.
CHARLES BURTENSHAW . I live at 23, Neale Street—on the night of the assault I saw the prisoner there—I saw him stick the pickaxe in the ground, break the handle off, aim it at the policeman, and hit him in the forehead—this (produced) is the pickaxe—I gave evidence against Barry and Fitzpatrick—I saw the constable on the ground—he was about three or four yards from the prisoner when prisoner threw it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I said Michael Dunsey struck the constable with a stick—I did not say he struck him with the iron part of the axe.
GEORGE DAUN (Policeman F 17). I took the prisoner into custody on the 21st June, at midday—I told him the charge, of assaulting the police constable—he denied it—he said he knew nothing at all about it.
Cross-examined. It was some time after I took you you told me it was another chap, whom the constable had removed from the outside of a public house, and who had threatened the constable he would mark him—you never said that when I took you in custody.
WILLIAM DUDD (Policeman E 362). When Barry was charged, the witnesses gave me a description of the three men who could not be found—one description agreed with the prisoner exactly—I saw Hewett in the hospital afterwards—he had a jagged wound in the forehead—I was on duty in the neighbourhood on that night—I did not see the prisoner that evening—I saw him two or three days previously in the neighbourhood—I have not been able to see him since.
By the COURT. He has a father and mother.
CHARLES ROBINSON CRANE . I am house surgeon at the Charing Cross Hospital—on the night of the 10th April I saw Constable Hewett there—he had a deep wound over the temple, extending down to the bone, three large bruises, and other injuries—he was quite insensible at the time he was brought in.
SAMUEL MILLS . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police—I saw Hewett suffering from injuries in the head—he is still on the sick list, and complains of pains in the head and inability to resume duty—about the 14th June I was constantly called to him—he was suffering from acute homicidal mania.
Prisoner's Defence. I never aimed the axe at the constable. Another fellow did it. They said he would go to America after he did it.
GUILTY.— Six Months' Hard Labour,
MR. MEAD Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL and MR. COOPER WILDE Defended.
MARY EDWARDS . I am a widow, and live at 8, Bird Street, St. George's in-the-East—for 13 months previous to August, 1880, a man named Pritchard had been my lodger—he had one room, and paid me 5s. a week—I saw the prisoner on the 31st July that year—he came to my house to visit Mr. Pritchard—on Monday morning, the 2nd August, I heard some conversation between them—he said "That will be right, give the cheque to Mrs. Edwards "—it was the cheque which is now produced:" N. L. 39576. Foster Place, Dublin. Pay Pritchard or bearer 5l. 5s. John Melvin."Endorsed, "Mary Edwards." Refer to drawer. "—when the cheque was given, Mr. Pritchard asked me if I could cash it—I said probably I could, "Iam well known in the neigh bourhood"—I took it to Mr. Burfoot—he said "I cannot cash you this cheque unless you put your name"—I said "Well, I do not think there is anything wrong in doing so, Mr. Pritchard has lodged 13 months with me"—he gave me 5l.—I came back—I saw the prisoners, they were both in the bedroom—I gave the money to Pritchard—he gave Melvin part, and he returned me half a sovereign in part payment of what he owed—he owed some 7l. for lodging and—clothes I had got for him—Pritchard left me the next morning, Tuesday, without notice—they left both together—he came back on one occasion and changed his linen—a month elapsed, then I went and found Pritchard in the neighbourhood of Bow Street—he was given into custody—I have not received the money for the cheque since.
Cross-examined. I did not notice at the time, the date that was on the cheque—I can hardly see the date—it is the 29th of July—I do not see any figures underneath the "29th"—I cannot see the figures "31" underneath—I gave the money to Pritchard—I cannot say how much he gave to Melvin.
GEORGE BURFOOT . I am a beershop keeper, and live at 31, Old Gravel Lane—there was a cheque received and cashed by me on the 2nd August last twelvemonth—I paid it into MESSRS. Charrington and Co., brewers—it was returned to me with the words "Refer to drawer" on it—I returned it to Mrs. Edwards—when I paid the money on it I believed it to be genuine.
Cross-examined. I see the date on the cheque; I did not notice any alteration of the dates; it looks like an alteration.
WILLIAM SAMUEL BARON . I am manager to Mr. Henry Lopez, engineer, at 82, Southwark Street, Northampton—I know a man named Pritchard; he was in the habit of selling some of my employer's machines under commission—he came to me on the 13th August about cashing a cheque—I declined to cash it—I do not remember advancing 105. on it—I had suspicions about it—I think he had a loan from our office of 10s.—I am inclined to think it was on account of the cheque.
WINTER. I am in the accountant's office of the Royal Bank of Ireland—the head office is Foster Place, Dublin—a man named Melvin had an account at the Bank opened in April, 1879, with the sum of 205l.—this is one of our cheques—on the 21st May, 1879, the balance was 4s. 7d.—there has been no money paid in since to that account—I cannot say if a cheque was dishonoured on the 22nd May, 1879—there was no money on that date.
Cross-examined. I did not arrest the prisoner in the first instance—he was arrested by an officer in the Liverpool police—I made no inquiries as to what the prisoner was doing at the time of the arrest.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT—Friday, June 30th, 1882.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JACK HENRY WATFORD . I am a dentist, of 6, Seaside Road, East-bourne—about the beginning of April I advertised for a servant, and received several answers, and one from Herbert Lay, which is destroyed, but I afterwards had a conversation with him on the contents of the letter—in the letter he offered himself as my man servant, giving a reference to Mr. Herbert, of 6, Charlotte Street, Portland Place—I then wrote to him, requesting him to come to East bourne, which he did, and told me that among other persons he had lived with Sir John and Lady Macleod; but that he had lived last with Mr. Herbert, who he had mentioned in his letter, whom he was leaving as he was going abroad—I was satisfied, and arranged for him to enter my service that day week if his character was satisfactory—I paid him 12s., the amount of his fare to East bourne and back, and ho left—I then wrote to Mr. Herbert, and received a reply purporting to come from him, and giving the prisoner a character in excellent terms; but I had seen the prisoner's writing and noticed a similarity in the letters, in consequence of which 1 came up to London to make inquiries, and found that Mr. Owen lived at 61, Charlotte Street—I went there, Mr. Owen opened the door, and I had a conversation
with him; after which I was shown into a room, and asked for Mr. Herbert—the prisoner came down, and I expressed surprise at seeing him there, as I thought he lived at Hampstead, where his letter was dated from; he said that Mr. Herbert had written to him to come and assist in his packing, as he was leaving sooner than he expected; I said, "I will wait to see Mr. Herbert"—he then said that he had decided not to take my situation, as he had been in correspondence with a gentleman at the West End, whose situation he preferred to mine—I said that he might do as he liked, but I should see Mr. Herbert—he left the room, and I called Mr. Owen, had a conversation with him, and he went up and brought the prisoner down again—I then said, "I have a suspicion that you have written your own character, and I shall communicate with the police"—I demanded the return of the money I had paid fur his expenses, for which he subsequently sent me a post-office order—he said that he was very sorry, but meant no harm.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I appear as a witness on compulsion—the case is prosecuted by the Public Prosecutor.
RICHARD OWEN . I live at 61, Charlotte Street, Portland Place—on 10th February a person called Nelson Lay took lodgings at my house in the name of Nelson Herbert, and remained there nearly three months—he was visited there by the prisoner, his brother, and by another brother named Charles Lay—this (produced) is a photograph of the man who passed as Herbert—I remember Mr. Watford coming from East bourne, and asking to see Mr. Herbert—I went upstairs, and found the prisoner and his brother Mr. Herbert there—Nelson Lay told the prisoner to go downstairs to see who it was; I showed him into the parlour where the gentleman was, and they were there seven or eight minutes alone—the gentleman said in the prisoner's presence, "Are not they brothers? Is he not the brother of Mr. Herbert upstairs?"—the prisoner then left the room, and I had a conversation with Mr. Walford—I then fetched the prisoner down, and Mr. Walford said, "How is this? I find out that you are brothers "—he said, "Oh, no; we are not; he is my step brother"—he said, "I shall see into this"—he was very put about, and said that he should put it into somebody's hands—after they left, Nelson Lay came down half-dressed, and said, "For God's sake open the door and let me out"—he went out, and returned in an hour—he stayed in the house some time after that, and then I did not see him again till he was in custody.
Cross-examined. Mr. Herbert, alias Nelson Lay, stayed in my house some few days after that.
WALTER ANDREWS (Police Inspector). On 31st May, between 2 and 3 a.m., I found the prisoner at the police-station—I read this warrant to him—he said "I thought I had compromised the matter with the gentle man at East bourne. I paid him the money he had paid me, and I thought there was end of it. "
The prisoner, in his defences contended that there teas no evidence against him, the letter not being produced, and stated, as he could get a character from many ladies and gentlemen, it was not worth his while to endeavour to obtain a situation by a false character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1882; and
OLD COURT.—Saturday, July 1st, 1882.
Before Mr. Recorder.
687. HENRY MACNAMARA (35), FREDERICK BODE, ALBERT CULLIFORD (31), EDWIN WILLIAM BASS (37), and JOSEPH WILLIAM RODWAY (26) , were indicted for procuring to be forged the trade mark of MESSRS. Moet and Chandon and MESSRS. Heidseick, and causing the same to be applied to certain bottles of wine not being the production of the same firms, with intent to defraud. Other Counts for conspiracy, to which MACNAMARA, BODE, and CULLIFORD PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. E. CLARKE, Q. C., and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted;
MR. FULTON appeared for Bass, and MR. KEITH FRITH for Rodway. WILLIAM OSBORNE (City Police Sergeant). On the 27th April, about 4. 15, I went with Inspector Andrews to Mr. Bavington, a pawnbroker in Wardour Street, and saw Culliford there—we had some conversation, and Andrews searched him in my presence and found a cheque among other things—I have been engaged 15 months in watching the prisoners, and have seen Culliford and Rodway together twice about a month previous to May 2nd at the Railway Tavern, Liverpool Street, where the others used to frequent—there is a billiard room there—with the exception of Rodway, I have seen all the prisoners there, and also at another billiard room, the Crown and Cushion, London Wall, for two months right off—I have seen Bass with the others on several occasions from 11 a.m. till midnight for 12 or 15 months—Culliford and MacNamara were not there so frequently, but they have been at both of these taverns at times—I know Bass, Bode, and MacNamara by name, but I do not know the names of Culliford and Rodway—I knew Culliford as Williams, and MacNamara as Wilson, but I afterwards found who MacNamara was—on the second occasion that I saw Bode and Culliford together they met outride the tavern in Liverpool Street, and went into the bar—on 2nd May, in the afternoon, I saw Rodway at Middlesex Sessions prosecuting some person—Sergeant Godden was with me, who had the case in hand—I said "Your name is Rodway"—he said "Yes"—I said "I am a policeman of the City of London, and I am making inquiries respecting the champagne frauds; you moved a lot of champagne yesterday; where have you moved it to?"—he said "I removed nothing yesterday; I moved no champagne"—I said "Yes you did; you moved a load from Sherwood Street"—he said "I never moved anything"—I said "I must tell you
I have Been your wife this afternoon, and she said that you moved a load of something, but what she did not know, nor where you moved it to; but you will surely remember, because that was the only load you moved yesterday and for some time before"—he said "Oh, I moved three or four loads of stuff yesterday "—I said "You might as well be careful, because it is a particular matter, and she said it was only one load "—he said "I did remove a load of stuff, but it was from the City"—I said "What was it?"-—he said "Oh, a lot of empty boxes and rubbish"—I said "There was some champagne too "—he said "Yes, there were six or seven cases; I opened a bottle last night and got the headache all day through it" I said "Where did you remove that to?"—he said "My address where I live, down where you saw my wife"—I said "I wish you would accompany me there to see it"—he said "I can't get away; I am prosecutor here"—Sergeant Godden said "He can't leave, for he has a case here, and it is likely to come on next"—I said "Well, who did you remove that for?"—he said" For a man who I never saw before, and I don't know where I fetched it from; but it was somewhere in the City. He met me and went with me"—I said" When is he going to fetch it away, if it is at your place?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "Am I to understand that for a stranger you moved a load of stuff from a place you do not know, and took it to your place, and do not know when it is to be fetched away, or what you are to be paid for it?"—he said "Well, I suppose I am ware housing it"—I said "I will make further inquiries about it, will you give me a note to your wife, so that I might see this case and its contents?"—he said "I can't write."—I then wrote "Let bearer see cases of champagne upstairs and contents," and said "Will you put your cross to that?—he said "Yes"—a witness who was present in his case, Mr. Leman, put his name to it, and I afterwards, in company with Mr. Richards, went to 335, Burdett Road, the address he gave, and in the front room I found a corking machine,-which weighs 3 cwt. and is not here, these branding irons (produced), and a few corks and labels with the impressions on them—these irons are for the cases, also some leaden plumbs for the bottles, over the corks of Moet and Chandon—the inspector was with me—we waited until Rod way returned—I also found some of Moet and Chandon's labels, and labels of Heidseick's dry Monopole—the place was stocked with bottles in good condition—it is a six-roomed house, a greengrocer's shop with a parlour at the back, cellars beneath, and bedrooms above, but these things were all in a first floor front room over the shop—I found on the mantelpiece in a box a number of cards of Evans, the George IV., Clare Market, and some other cards with the name of Stan hope on them—I have seen all the prisoners at 64, Basinghall Street—"F. Matthews, Johnson's Canterbury Ales" is over the door—I have traced a large number of cases of wine to different customers who are here, and also to 2, Finsbury Square, a basement taken by Bode—I traced wine to Martin, the "Black Swan," at Bow, to MESSRS. Up cross and Harris, of Albany Street, and a number of others—the wine found in the cellar at Basinghall Street has been examined and pronounced spurious—it purported to be Heidseick's, and some purporting to be Moet and Chandon's is also spurious;—I have seen Bass at Basinghall Street smoking, and be had a van there and waited two hours and went to Sheen's public-house, London Wall, and then to the Crown and Cushion, London Wall, and to the Railway Tavern, and stopped there till closing
time, when he had to run to catch the last train, and when he left the house he stopped and loked round; so that we had to go another way to watch him, and therefore it took a fortnight to get his address—I remember his coming to the Old Jewry prior to April 19th, 1881, and having a conversation with me in the presence of Inspector M 'Willan who pointed to Bass and said "This gentleman has complained of you He states that he is a wine merchant, and that you have made inquires at different public-house customers of his, which has interfered with his business"—I said "At one place there was no licence, but I have only made inquiries in the usual way"—Bass said to me "If you had come to my store as a man, I would have told you all you wanted to know "—I said "With the inspector's consent I will come out and speak to you"—I did so—we went into the street—he said "We will go somewhere"—we went to Smith's public-house and had liquor together—he said "Why did not you come to my store as a man, and I would have told you all you wanted to know about the labels and the working of the whole thing? I have seen the solicitors to the two firms; there are two 500l. 1s. offered, and we could have divided that between us. You don't know where it was done or where the labels were put on, do you?"—I said "You can tell me what you like, but I am not going to answer questions, if you can do any good I will see you again"—we parted, and I instructed a detective to watch him—on 6th May, 1882, I laid an information at Marlborough Street, and went with another officer to see Bass at Finsbury Pavement—I said "Mr. Bass, I am going to arrest you on the charge of being concerned with others and obtaining 92l. by false pretences of MESSRS. Bravington, of Wardour Street"—he said "Have you got a warrant?"—I said "I have not; a Metropolitan officer has it, and will read it in your presence"—he said "There is no money at home," and produced 2l. 10s.—I allowed him to send that to his wife by his clerk with a message—that is the cheque found by Andrews on Culliford, "Pay J. W. Rodway re T. R. 29l. 3s. 7d. Obernit," endorsed "J. W. Rodway."
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Bass was living at Walthamstow in 1881 with a person who represented herself as his wife—I found he left there without paying his rent—I don't know that any reward has been offered for the persons who are selling the false champagne—none was offered to me—I received this gold watch in May, 1881, from Mr. Richards, the chief of Heidseick and Co.—I was day and night making inquiries it was sent to Colonel Fraser first, after which I received it—I do not know that there is also a reward of 1,000l. for any information which will lead to the conviction of the persons making the false champagne—I told Mr. Richards that Bass said so, and he seemed to pooh pooh it—I saw Bass for about two months with the other prisoners from 11 a.m. till 12 p.m.—I was devoting my whole time to them—they were playing at billiards—I saw them at the window with their coats off, chalking the cues.
Cross-examined. Rodway's room was not locked, any one could go in if his wife allowed them; you have to go through the shop in which she serves—I saw a boy and girl there—there were some empty wine cases in the back room; the back room does not adjoin the police-station, it is some distance from there—I went into the back yard, you cannot see the police-station there—I first saw Rodway with Culliford a month or two before his arrest, it was at the end of January or
February at Liverpool Street, and the corner of Broad Street, they went into a tavern—I did not see them come out—I saw them again a few days afterwards; I had an inquiry in that neighbourhood which caused me to go there—when I went to the Middlesex Sessions I spoke to the sergeant and lie called Rodway down from the gullery—when I asked him if he had received any champagne he said, "Yes," the third time I asked him—the corking machine was not packed, but there was a piece of canvas round it, and the furnace for the branding irons was open—these things were in boxes without lids, so that they were easily seen—he has never told me where he got the goods, except that they came from a stable, but I found that they came from Sherwood Street, Golden Square.
WILLIAM BOND . I am a carman at Hertford Road, Kingsland—I know Bass, Culliibrd, MacNamara, and Bode—I have always known Baas by the same name, but they traded under the name of Lister and Co., and I have heard Bass called Mr. Lister—I never knew Culliibrd by any other name but Oliver till within the last 12 months; that was at 64, Basing-hall Street—I have not known Bode or MacNamara by any other names—I was employed by Bass at Bevy's Court, Basinghall Street; I went to them in August, 1879, as near as possible, and remained about 12 months—I saw Culliford there frequently, and after a twelvemonth I went to Basinghall Street, where the businesss. was carried on by a man named Adolphe Salmon and Bode; they traded under the name of F. Matthews and Co., aud occupied two kitchens converted into a cellar—they were there about 13 months; I left about September, 1881—while 1 was there Bass, Culliford, and MacNamara used to come there occasionally and smoke a cigar and drink a bottle of champagne and talk about business—I know a Mr. Botwright, I always supposed he was a solicitor; he is a clerk to Mr. Vernede—the business carried on in Basinghall Street was that of a wine merchant's and just selling brandy from samples—there were also premises at 2, Finsbury Square; I went there very seldom—there were two kitchens there, front and back—no name was up—I used to see Bode there, and a man not in custody, named Salomons—at Finsbury Square sparkling wine was received from Hills and Underwood, and there was a corking machine and all the implements for altering the character of the wine, brands for the corks and the cases, and labels and wrappers—when the wine came in it was manipulated by Bode and Salomons—the corks were drawn and fresh corks put in with Heidseick's brand on, and labels attached and wrappers put on—having so become Heidseick's wine it went out in that capacity t about 300 dozen altogether went out—I know two or three places where it went to: Wright's in Old Street, and Reed's Wharf, and Cambridge Road, and some went to the Star public house at the corner of Old Street Road—the transformed wine did not go to Basinghall Street—in September, 1880, Matthews and Co. became bankrupt, and I left at a month's notice because they could not pay me my wages—Salomons took away the corking apparatus, in fact it was his money started the business altogether; MacNamara afterwards came to my house and engaged me, and I went to some premises at Clerken well where I saw the corking machines and the branding irons—I did not go to work there; directly I found them out I sent them a letter in a few hours declining to have anything to do with it, and telling him he had better look out, as he was being watched—I remember having to
take some of the spurious is wine to Steadman's, Bethnal Green Road—I got a truck in Bishopsgate Street; they were put into another truck in Steadman's shed, I got a delivery note signed, and on going back with it there were several people in the cellar—I saw Bode that night and he said, "There is a signature, what do you call that?"—I said, "Well I can prove I saw him sign it"—I remember Steadman bringing the wine back, and it was taken to the cellar in Finsbury Square next morning, because it was considered dangerous to keep it at Basinghall Street for fear of it being seen—Bodé said "You had better take them away at once," and to the best of my recollection they went to Finsbury Square that night—I remember fetching some of the spurious wine from Hillyer's, in Hare Street; that went to Finsbury Square; no one was there—when I went! to Basinghall Street to get the wine, some one, who I believed to be Elliot, and Bodé, and Bass were there—while it was being delivered to the carman, Bodé directed it to be taken to his place; it was all made up into a parcel and taken to Wright's—I was only in MacNamara's service a few hours—I told Bass that I had left him, and he said, "It is very wise of you"—there was no spurious trade carried on while I was with Bass—my first experience of this illegitimate trade was at Finsbury Square and Basinghall Street; Base came and smoked cigars and drank champagne, and other persons did the same—Bass had nothing whatever to do with the champagne or with the corks.
HENRY WARREN JONES . I am one of the firm of Nicholls, Son, and Jones, solicitors, 39, Lime Street—Simon and Dale are the agents of Moet and Chandon, and in August, 1880, Mr. Dale called on me with MacNamara, who told me that he would give me the best information he could with regard to the discoveries I was trying to make—he told me that the wine which was said to be spurious came from a man named Matthews—I told him that he should be paid for what he did and gave him 2l., but never had any further information; my servant afterwards served a notice on the firm of F. Matthews and Co.—on the 16th Sept., 1880, MacNamara called again with a man named Fennell, and I accompanied them to MESSRS. Simon and Dale; it was arranged that they should be furnished with the genuine labels and corks, and I believe Mr. Dale gave them a bottle of the spurious wine—in consequence of a com munication from Mr. Dale and with Mr. Johnson, Johnson and Bass, came to see me, I think it was on 1st December; Mr. Langham's clerk called alone, and next day he called with Bass, and next day, 2nd December, he called with Bass, who said, "I can put the whole gang into your hands"—something was then said about a reward, and I said that MESSRS. Moet and Chandon would pay very liberally for the result, and I explained that to mean that he must convict some of the principal offenders and not mere outsiders—something had been said about 1,000l. reward, but not on that occasion—I was to communicate with my clients and ascertain what reward they would give, and Bass gave me a bottle of the spurious wine, which I have here—I then communicated with Simon and Dale, and subsequently with Langham; and on December 6th Bass and Johnson called again, and I said that MESSRS. Moet and Chandon were willing to give 250l. for the conviction of the principal offender, and 50l. per head for every subsequent conviction, so that the whole amount should not exceed 500l.—Bass said he wanted 300l. for the first,
because he expected to convict fire, and so get 500l.—he laid that some thing of the same kind was being done with MESSRS. Heidseick's wine—I said "I know MESSRS. Heidseick's agent"—Baas gave me his address at Walthamstow on the second occasion, and said that he was a wine merchant.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I did not direct the detective to watch Bass—I had had considerable correspondence with MESSRS. Langham.
SAMUEL MOORE RICHARD . I am one of the firm of Theodore Satow and Co., the sole agents in England for MESSRS. Heidseick—I know their labels and brands perfectly—I saw some wine found at Mr. Bravingtan's house which purported to be Heidseick's—I examined the label, drew the cork, tasted the wine, and found it was spurious—I happen to know that it coat 21s. a dozen, but before I knew the price Mr. Newton asked me, and I valued it at 25s.—Heidseick's wine is sold to the trade at 66s., duty paid and delivered, and I think it may be done for 66s. 6d.—I saw some wine at Rodway's place, and some corking apparatus and cases—the wine was exactly the same, and valueless—I have had specimens of wine found in the possession of Vaughan and of Hopkins and Hay, and of Porter and Son, Morton, Alder, Miller, Wetherley, Wright, Attenborough, and Hoare—I have been to all of them, and I went with the police to a dozen or more of these places, so that there was no risk of the wine being changed—I valued my health too much to taste it all, but the labels and the corks were forged in every instance.
JOHN DALE . I am one of the firm of Simon and Dale, agents for Moet and Chandon—I know MacNamara; he called on me in July or August, 1880, in reference to the sale of spurious wine, and mentioned Matthews and Co., of 64, Basing hall Street, as the firm from whom he had it—I accompanied him there, and saw Bodé, who said that he had received the spurious wine from H. Williams, a commission agent, and showed me a receipt purporting to be signed by Williams—I said that the receipt would not do, Williams must be produced—he said that he did not know his address, but he had done business with him before, and had frequently called there—I subsequently called again, having a genuine label of MESSRS. Moet's wine with me, and pointed out to Mac-Namara the difference between the false and genuine label; the imitation was not exact—I have seen in the possession of the police a large quantity of wine with Moet and Chandon's labels—I examined the corks, and everything there were all spurious; the wine was spurious and the brands forgeries.
FREDERICK BODE (the prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this indictment, and am under sentence in Coldbath Fields—I have pleaded guilty to what transpired in 1880—I know all the prisoners except Rod way—I made Bass's acquaintance in 1879, when they were in Bevis Court, Basinghall Street—he was in business with MacNamara, and I had some transactions with them; they carried on business as J. Lister and Co.—I commenced selling brandy for them on commission, and when they got into difficulties I took a cellar, and started in business for myself at 64, Basinghall Street, in joint occupation with Johnson and Co., the Canterbury brewers—I opened it by myself in the wine, spirit, and beer business in my own name—Bass frequently came there—he was not carrying on business at Bevis Court then; he had taken a place at Waltham sow—the business of F. Matthews and Co. was started a considerable time afterwards, when I was joined by a man named Salomons
—I was first introduced to this champagne by Salomons—I afterwards found out that it came from a person named Wilkie—I heard afterwards that it was forged—I did not know it at first; I think I knew it about six months after I had been at Basinghall Street; that would be in the summer of 1880—we then began to manufacture it, and for that purpose employed Bond, who I had known as working at Bevis Court for Bass—lie got the brands from Salomons; he suggested that we should do it on our own account—the difficulty was in getting the brands—Salomons informed me that he knew of a party near where he was residing at Islington, who would manufacture the brands, and that was Madden—the brands were then made by Madden, both for Heidseick and Moet and Chandon—he did both about the same time—the labels and wrappers were printed by Norris; I went to Norris and ordered them—Salomons had previously had some plates made by some friend of his who I did not know, and they were printed from them—we got a bottling-machine from Farran and Jackson's—those were got previous to employing Bond—we were under a difficulty; we did not know how to proceed in the matter, and Bond was employed to teach us—at this time we were intimate with Base, and he was a constant visitor at 64, Basinghall Street when we had the apparatus there—Salomons brought the brands from Madden's to Basinghall Street, and they were eventually taken on to Finsbury Square—the operation of changing the labels and the corks was performed at Finsbury Square—we got the wine from Hills and Underwood, and when the labels and corks were altered we delivered the wine from Finsbury Square—I sold the first parcel to Bass—I told him that we had portions of this wine—we did not actually inform him how it was got up; we took it for granted that he knew; it was palpable; the cases were so different; and the landlord of the Windmill, alter he had tried it, told him what it was—I do not know the landlord personally—I have been to the house—I think it was about July, 1880, that we sold the first parcel to Bass; we sold it at something near 50s. a dozen, 41s. odd; in fact it was lest, because we did not get paid for it—we eventually got payment of it from Bass, 30s. odd a dozen; we got it by pounds at a time, extending over a considerable period—he declined to pay—he sent a carman for the wine—Bass told me that he knew really what it was; he told me it was not Moet's champagne, and the landlord wanted him to take it back—we laughed at him, I and my partner did—Bass wanted some more of it—we offered to let him have it at a certain price, provided we were allowed to deliver it and receive the money and hand him the difference—we declined to let him have it without the money being, paid right down or being paid to us, and we to hand him the price it realised—I think we offered it to him at 44s. or 45s.; I can't exactly say to a shilling; it was Moet's wine—we found it was not good enough, and we stopped manufacturing Moet, and we then commenced manufacturing Beidseick's—that is, we begun to use Heidseick's corks and labels, and a different wine, a better class; it cost 44s. a dozen—Bass came, and wanted 100 cases of this new wine—we informed him that we had stopped the Moet's and had commenced with Heidseick's—we told him we could not let him have 100 dozen; he could only have it in small quantities—the difficulty was that Moet's cases are so much larger than the usual cases in which champagne is packed, and we could not get any of the same size as Moet's—Bass knew that, because he had told me that he had compared the cases that
their wine was packed in, with MacNamara's oases, and he found a great difference in them; I spoke to him about it; it became known generally—there was no secret in the matter—I mean there was no secret about the wine; that the labels were false—Bass knew that the labels and brands were false—I did not go on supplying him with wine after that—he got us one or two orders after that, which we delivered ourselves—one parcel of 20 dozen was' sent to a person of the name of Steadman, who came to us for it, and it was sent to his, house, and Steadman and Bass took it to a party named Hill in the Borough—I can't say whether he got us further orders—several orders were got from a publican named Med worth, which we delivered ourselves according to arrangement; whatever difference there was we paid to him—I did not employ a man named Carter to deliver any of this wine; I don't know the name—we employed principally a man named Harris—I do remember a man named Carter from the Cock and Hoop who delivered wine to Weatherley's—I used to see Bass every day—I first knew that we were under suspicion, and that this was being inquired into, some time before—we received a notice from MESSRS. Jones, the solicitors for MESSRS. Heidseick—about a week previously we received information from Wright, of Broad Street, to whom wine had been sold; I think that was about November, 1880—the operations, I think, only lasted about four months; I mean the alteration of the corks and labels of Heidseick—Wright of Broad Street sent on to me at Basinghall Street wishing to see me, and I went to his office, and he then told me that he had some intimation about the wine not being genuine—I don't think we saw Bass that night, or if we did he was informed directly we saw him of what had transpired—I can't say what he said previous to that—we had had some slight intimation that the parties knew about it—we did not know whether it was Bass or MacNamara who had given information, and we accused them both of having done so, but we found out afterwards that Bass was the party who was negotiating to get a reward for giving information; he denied it—this happened in a private room at the Crown and Cushion; the landlord was a general customer of ours, and we asked him to let us go into his private room to settle a little dispute there—there was Salomons, Bass, MacNamara, and myself there—we thought at first it was MacNamara who had given information, but we found afterwards that it was Bass—they both denied it, and as we had no positive proof, the matter dropped—Bass advised me to get back the labels and plates that Norris had, and he went there with me and we got them, and I destroyed them—the transactions with Bass went on for about four months on and off.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. The first time I had an acquaintance with the spurious champagne was in the summer of 1880; Salomons, my then partner, introduced it to me—I had previously bought champagne through Salomons' introduction, but that was genuine, and I sold it again—after he became my partner we started these transactions at his suggestion—the labels and corks were manufactured in Finsbury Circus—none of it was ever at Basinghall Street—there might have been a few cases of it there, I can't exactly say; we had samples there—the first parcel sold to Bass was taken to the landlord of the Windmill—I did not sell him that by sample—we had some Moet to sell, and he wished to buy it—we did not exactly tell him in words it was spurious, in fact the
word "spurious" was never used among us—we told him we had a parcel of Moet at 40 odd shillings—he paid us for it eventually in part that was what we termed "White Dry Sillery, Moet's first quality"—the wholesale price at that time was 55s.—Bass said he knew what the wine was; in fact we candidly admitted what it was; we took it for granted from his experience that he would know without our actually telling him—he said he knew that the cases were different—any one who saw the cases would know directly that it was not Moet's—we sent the first lot to his place of business at Walthamstow, by train, but it ultimately went to the Windmill—he did not refuse to pay for that wine, he paid us off; he showed us a cheque he had received, and said as soon as he got it cashed he would pay us—I think that was about July, 1880—we did not sell him any more of the Moet; the sale of that stopped within a week or so afterwards, but directly afterwards we told him he could have Heidseick's instead, and he began asking us to let him have parcels of it—we kept books; they are not here, Mr. Salomons destroyed them—we kept them until we received an intimation from Wright, then they were destroyed; no documents were kept—I was not present when Salomons destroyed them—I did not disapprove of it; I quite approved of it—we first heard that somebody was in communication with the solicitors a month or six weeks before—we actually stopped our transactions somewhere about November—we did not supply any more Heidseick to Bass after that—we supplied two parcels to him directly, and about 30 or 40 dozen indirectly—that was done principally through Medworth—he gave the orders; Bass told me the orders, and it was sent to Med worth's, and from there some of it went to the Knave of Clubs, Chapman's, in Bethnal Green—when we found that somebody was giving information we began to get very cautious, in fact we began to give it up—Bass was never at Finsbury Circus; no one was allowed there but Bond, Salomons, and myself—I had sold for MacNamara and Bass when they were in business together some years ago, for which I never got paid—Bass and I were friendly till this trial commenced—I was selling for him for six or eight months when he was with MacNamara—we had an arrangement in this way: I was to sell brandies and wines for him, and the difference between the cost and the price realised was to be divided between us—I cannot tell how much it came to—it was about £13 in the last transaction I had with them—they paid me considerable sums from time to time, but afterwards I found out that instead of giving me the actual cost-price of the brandies, they had added considerably to the cost-price, and only divided the extra price with me—that matter went to arbitration, and it was given against me by Mr. Cameron.
Re-examined, Mr. Cameron is now at Millbank in penal servitude—I made Bass's acquaintance in 1879 through calling at different houses—Moet and Chandon's brand is well known in the trade—if this had been real wine of the quality represented I should have realised 55s. for it without any difficulty—both MacNamara and Bass were accused of having given information, and both denied it—nothing was said about the nature of the information that had been given, simply that information had been given that we had been selling this wine to the public as genuine by means of these false labels—MacNamara was the principal spokesman in the matter; we chiefly suspected him, but they both denied it—it was at Bass's suggestion that we got the labels and plates
from Norris and destroyed them—Bass went with me there, but he waited outside while I went in—I took them home and destroyed them—that was not in the presence of Bass; no one was present.
WALTER ANDREWS (Police Inspector). I have been making inquiries into this case in conjunction with Osborne—I have several books of Bass's that were found at his house—one has some leaves torn out; it purports to be a ledger—I found in the index the name of Matthews and Co. with a reference to a folio 14; that leaf has been torn out, and that is the only instance in which anything is torn out of the book.
HENRY MACNAMARA (The Prisoner). I know Bass; I was introduced to him by a Mr. Rawlings, a friend of mine—it might have been in 1878 or 1879, I could not tell for certain; I could only tell by the date when the cellars were taken in Bevis Court—I knew him as a wine and spirit merchant in Bevis Court, in partnership with his aunt, I believe—he asked me if I could influence any business, and whether I could bring any capital into the business; I joined him there—that business was shut up in 1879, and I took an office myself in Fenchurch Street—I know nothing about any cellars in Finsbury Square—I knew that Mr. Bode had got a business at Basinghall Street—I sold a parcel of wine for Bode to a Mr. Coley, and on going another time to sell him another parcel Mr. Coley told me it was spurious; I laughed at the idea; I did not believe it—Mr. Coley told me that Messrs. Simon and Dale had told him that it was so, and that if I would call in three or four days he would know more about the matter—I did call, and went with him and saw Mr. Dale, who asked me where I got the wine—I at first refused to say where I got it, but on Mr. Dale saying if I did not tell him he should give me in charge, I told him that 1 got it from Matthews and Co.—I met Bass on several occasions after that, sometimes in the street and sometimes at his place of business in Walthamstow, and sometimes at the Crown and Cushion, London Wall, as mutual customers of Bass and mine—when we were in Bevis Court we did business with Mr. Medworth of the Crown and Cushion to the extent of some 500l. or 600l.—Bass has been in the wine trade for years; I believe he used to be with a gentleman named Hoffman.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I simply employed Rodway to remove the things, and I told him to keep them in his house for me—I think he was too ignorant a man to know what the things were at all; he is not able to read and write, I believe—he moved the things openly in his own cart, and even marked with his own name, in broad daylight—I merely made use of him as a carman; he was not cognisant of any fraud—I had never seen him before—he knew nothing of my transactions.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. When Bass carried on business with his aunt it was a perfectly legitimate trade—I had known Bode for some months previously—I did not know that he was engaged with Salomons in altering the corks and labels—he did not mention it to me when I first went there—the first I knew of it was the complaint made by Mr. Coley—I used to go to the place in Basinghall Street frequently—I did not know from him of the sale to the landlord of the Windmill—I was present at the Crown and Cushion when an accusation was made against me; that was December, 1880, I think—when Salomons brought the machinery for concocting the corks and labels Bass had nothing to do with that—I do not know that he had been giving information to Messrs.
Jones, the solicitors to Moet and Chandon—he had not told me about it—I never heard it till 1 heard it in Court to-day—I asked him one day at Mr. Foster's whether he would bring a few cases of Heidseick, and he said no, he would have nothing to do with it—that was some time about February; that was the only time I had offered any to him—I had not seen him then for a couple of months probably.
Bass received a good character
RODWAY— NOT GUILTY .
BASS— GUILTY .— Judgment on all the prisoners respited.
688. FANNY STEVENS (24) and ARTHUR BARBER (27), Unlawfully abandoning a child under two years of age, whereby its life was endangered. Other Counts for conspiracy to abandon the said child. The prisoners PLEADED GUILTY to the conspiracy count.— To enter into their own recognisances in 50l. each to appear for judgment.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, July 1st, 1882.
Belore Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. PURCELL, for the Prosecution, proceeded on the uttering only.
WILLIAM RUSSELL . I am a checker in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—on Saturday, June 3rd, between 1 and 2 o'clock, the prisoner came to me at No. 2 office, and said "Is there any fish?"—I said "No, not yet; it won't be here till 3 o'clock"—he went away—I saw him next on the Monday morning following at King's Cross with other men outside the fish market, and picked him out.
SAMUEL TOYNTON . I am timekeeper at the goods yard, King's Cross-on June 3rd I was on duty about 2 a.m., and the prisoner brought me this note: "Please let bearer have five barrels of my herrings. Joseph Marshall"—I have not the shadow of a doubt that it was the prisoner—he said "Where can I get the fish?"—I directed him to No. 2 office, gave him the note back, and he went in that direction—I went to Billingsgate the following Monday, saw about twenty men there, and picked the prisoner out directly I clapped my eyes on him.
GEORGE ROCHESTER . I am chief foreman at the goods yard, Great Northern Railway—on June 3rd the prisoner came there about 2 a.m., and said "I want some fish "—he handed me this order—I read it, and handed it to Mr. Bevis, our night superintendent, who sanctioned his having the fish, and directed him where to obtain it—a man named Windsor had the fish, and the prisoner went in that direction—Windsor came to me in a few minutes—I next saw the prisoner in custody at Clerkenwell—I have not the slightest doubt of his being the man—I have seen his face before at the Great Northern Railway of a Sunday morning.
HENRY WINDSOR . I am a fish checker at King's Cross—on 3rd June, at 2 a.m., the prisoner and another man came with a barrow, and in consequence of instructions from Mr. Bevis, I allowed the prisoner to take five barrels of herrings, consigned to Joseph Marshall, of Billingsgate, and he left the yard with the other man—the herrings came from Stornoway, in Scotland—I afterwards saw the prisoner at the police-station, and have not the slightest doubt of his identity.
JOSEPH MARSHALL . I assist my father, Joseph Marshall, a fish salesman at Billingsgate—he can neither read or write; I did not write this document—the bill head is printed, but it is not one of ours, ours have black stripes and large letters—I did not authorise any one to write it—I have worked with my father all my life, and never saw a bill head like this—I have seen the prisoner in the market with a barrow—he has never been to our place to my knowledge—we had 17 barrels of herrings consigned to us that morning.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not sent you home for herrings or to take herrings and a van; to my knowledge I never gave any work to you; I have seen you sometimes dressed like a gentleman and smoking cigars, and sometimes in rags.
By the JURY. Our bill heads are not all printed at one house, we used to have them done at Johnson's, but the last were done at St. Mary at Hill, four months ago.
JOSEPH MARSHALL . I am a fish salesman at Billingsgate; I cannot read or write—these herrings were consigned to me—I never saw a document like this—this (produced) is one of my bill heads—I did not authorise any one to take this document to the market and get the barrels—I know the prisoner by sight, working with a barrow.
JOHN ROGERS (Detective Officer G. N. R.) On 5th June, about 10.30, I went with Toynton to Billingsgate Market, and saw 100 or 150 fish porters, among whom Toynton pointed out the prisoner—I said to him, "Five barrels of herrings have been obtained of the Great Northern Railway on the morning of the 3rd by a forged order, and this man points you out as the man"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to King's Gross Station, placed him with nine other men, and Russell picked him out.
Cross-examined. You were not standing by yourself, you were smoking, with a lot of barrow men round you—the place was very crowded; there is not more space than is wanted.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am innocent of the crime. "
Prisoner's Defence. I never had the bill in my hand in my life. I can neither read nor write, and am as innocent as a child; I was in bed that morning at 2 o'clock. I have worked in the market 18 years and never committed myself.
GUILTY of uttering. — Twelve Months'Hard Labour,
OLD COURT.—Monday, July 3rd, 1882.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MESSRS. BESLEY and PURCELL Defended. EDWIN AUSTIN GERALD SHRIPTON. I live in Essex Road, Islington—in March I saw this advertisement (produced) in the Era newspaper,
and wrote to 49, Newman Street, the address there given—I received an answer, and on a Monday at the beginning of April went to 13, Berners Street, and saw Jacobs—I said, "I have come in reply to a letter I have received from Mr. Culver"—he took me into an office where I saw Culver, who said, "The advertisement to which you replied has been filled up, but I will soon get you something else, my terms are 5s. booking fee"—I laid 5s. on the table, and I believe Jacobs took it up; he said that Jacobs would enter my name in the book, and I should hear from him in a day or two—I left and a fortnight afterwards I received a post-card, which is destroyed—it said, "Call down at 13, Berners Street, this evening before 8 respecting a London engagement"—I went, Jacobs opened the door and took me into the inner office, and I saw Culver, who said, "I have taken the Garrick Theatre and can offer you an en gagement there"—that is in Leman Street, Whitechapel—I said, "I shall be very glad to accept it"—he said, "It will be to prompt and play a responsible part, the terms are 1l. a week salary; Jacobs will draw up an agreement," which Jacobs did and said, "You know Mr. Culvers terms?"—I said, "Yes, he will take my first week's salary as his commission"—Jacobs had told me that before—he said, "In advance"—I said, "Oh, not in advance, I do not think it is in advance; I am quite willing to pay his terms when I have earned it, but I have not got it and therefore cannot give it to him"—Jacobs said that he would go to Culver and tell him—he went out of the room and returned and said that the engagement should be kept open for a day or two for me, if I could pay a sovereign—I went away and went again a day or two after and saw jacobs and said that I could not pay the 1l. in advance; he should have it when I had worked for it, if not I must decline the engagement—he went upstairs, came back, and said that Mr. Culver would accept half the money in advance, and stop the other half froms. my first week's salary—I said that I would try and get the 10s.—I borrowed it and have it to Jacobs—he then wrote this document: "I hereby accept the engagement to prompt, &c, at 1l. a week," and I signed it Austin Jerome"—that is the name in which I play—Jacobs said" You will hear from me in a day or two about the rehearsals "—I did not hear, and in a week I went and saw Jacobs, who said "We have been a great deal bothered about the scenery at the Garrick Theatre"—I said "I don't see how you are going to produce a piece if you don't begin rehearsals very quickly"—he said "Well, they will begin in a day or two"—I went several times, and the last time he told me that there would be a reading of the play on the 25th—Jacobs had told me that the play was to be "Amos Clark," but no particular part was mentioned for me—on May 25th I went to the office with Miss Clayton to attend the reading—we met Jacobs at the door, who said that the reading would not take place that day, as the scenic artist could not get the scenery ready in time—I then went straight to the Garrick Theatre and saw a board outside saying hat it was to let—Mr. Bothers' name was on the board, and I went to 15, Little Adye Street, Whitechapel, and had some conversation with him—I went to Berners Street again the same evening and saw Jacobs, and said "Can I see Mr. Culver?"—he said "No, but you can see him tomorrow at 12 o'clock"—I went at 12 o'clock next day and saw Culver; he said "I am very sorry to have kept you waiting, but I have been so bothered about the scenery for the theatre"—I said "You need
not tell me anything more, because I have been to the theatre and have found that everything you have told me is a pack of lies; you have not taken the theatre, and there are no preparations going on, and no scenery painting, as you told me"—he said "Then I have been as much deceived as you have; I was commissioned by a gentleman to engage people for the Garrick Theatre, and I believed that it was taken, that the scenery was being prepared "—I said "Then you acknowledge that you have not been to the Garrick?"—he said "No, I did not think it was necessary "—I said "It is not only the money you have taken from me, but you have kept me from looking for an engagement while I have been dancing about all these weeks—he said "What, then, do you expect me to do?"—I said "That you will pay my salary to the time the Garrick Theatre opens, or that you will find me a London engagement equal to the one you have promised me "—he said that he would do so, and I left—this was Thursday or Friday—I went again on the Saturday week, when my salary was due, and saw Jacobs, who said that Mr. Culver was out—I said "I have come for my money "—he said that he had no money for me—I said that I would call the next Monday, and should expect to see Mr. Culver, and to have my money—I went the following Monday—it was then June—Jacobs said that Culver had gone to Croydon and would not be home till night—I said "I don't believe it"—I went out, walked up and down, and in half an hour I came face to face with Culver in Berners Street, close to his office—he said "Do you wish to see me?"—I said "I do "—he asked me inside the passage leading to his office, and said "What do you mean by coming here, Mr. Ashley and you, and making a rumpus about your money?"—I said "If you wanted money as badly as I do, perhaps you would make a rumpus; will you pay me my money? if you don't I shall go somewhere and try if I can get it, because I won't be fooled any longer about it"—he said "No, I have forwarded the salary list to the gentleman for whom I engaged you, and when I receive the money you will get yours"—the gentleman's name was not mentioned—he said that he did not care a snap of the fingers where I went or what I did—I left, and went to a Magistrate on Monday—I received this post-card the next Wednesday, June 7: "13, Berners Street, June 6, 1882. Sir,—The 10s. you left with Mr. Culver as deposit will be returned to you on Saturday next, when he hopes to make some arrangement as to the salaries. M. Jacobs. "—I did not go—I have never received my money back—I parted with it because I believed that Culver had taken the Garrick Theatre, and that I was to appear there.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I said before the Magistrate "I parted with my 10s. believing that I was to be engaged at the Garrick Theatre "—that is true, it came to the same as saying that I parted with it because Culver said that he had taken the Garrick Theatre—I paid the 10s. before May 4—I signed this agreement at the same time that I paid the 10s.—I first saw Jacobs in March, as you will see by the Era, which was issued on Saturday (March 25), and I went the following week and several times afterwards—I saw Jacobs on 25th May, and then went to the theatre itself—I told Culver that I never heard of a third person, and I looked to him for my money—I treated him as the only person with whom I had any transactions in the matter of paying salary—Jacobs was not the principal, I looked on him as the clerk—I told Culver that I should get advice—I told Mr. Newton that other people had suffered, and he said
" You had better bring them with you "—I did not say to Mrs. Bull "If you do not come and join in this prosecution I will get you imprisoned;" nor did I threaten her if she did not join; there was no need to threaten her—she was the first witness examined at the police-court—I heard her say that she was sorry she had anything to do with it, sorry she had ever seen Mr. Culver—I did not understand her to say that she was sorry she bad given evidence against the men—she did not say in my presence that Jacobs told her that the theatre was not actually taken, but negotiations were pending; nor did I ever tell her so, or tell her that Culver had not taken the theatre, but intended doing so—she told me she believed neither Culver nor Jacobs had the slightest intention to commit a fraud—that was after Culver wrote to her, and after we had been before Mr. Newton—Culver never offered to give me back my 10s., except through a post-card—he never said "I will give you the deposit, but I will not pay you the salary"—I only wanted the 10s. deposit—I have only known him from the time of the advertisement; he is an actor, and I remember his being at the Olympic Theatre a long time ago—"Dramatic and Musical Agency" is put up at the office, and Culver's name only—I never saw these circulars and press opinions there (produced)—I did not take one home.
Re-examined. I asked Jacobs if they had engaged all the people for the Garrick Theatre—he said "No"—I said, "Because I know a lady who is out of an engagement"—he said, "I will tell Mr. Culver, if she will come tomorrow," and I told her that if she went down, probably she would get an engagement.
SARAH BULL . I am the wife of Benjamin Bull, of 9, Packington Street, and am in the theatrical profession—I had a conversation with Mr. Shrimpton, in consequence of which I went to Culver's office—Jacobs opened the door—I said to Culver, "I am Miss Clayton; I think Mr. Jerome has spoken to you about me, and I have called to see if you can give me an engagement"—he said, "A gentleman has taken the Garrick Theatre, and we are going to open it; 1 am merely the business agent to engage the actors and actresses; I suppose you have not had an engagement through an agent before?"—I said "No"—he said,"Perhaps you don't understand my terms?"—I said, "Oh yes, I do, Mr. Jerome has explained them "—they were 5s. entrancefee and a week's salary in advance, which he paid was because he had been swindled out of his money when he used to take a commission—I said that I was willing to conform to his rules—he said, "Then Mr. Jacobs will draw out the agreement," which he did; this is it: "May 9. I hereby engage Miss E. Clayton to play second heavy parts, subject to playhouse rules.—Dibdin Culver—I was to have 30s. a week, and I paid £1 on account; I paid 25s. altogether—I asked Jacobs what the play was to be—he said he thought it would be "Amos Clark," and he thought I might have the part of Mildred Vaughan—I received a postcard from Jacobs, and went to the office for the reading of the play, but Jacobs said that it was postponed—they both said that the scenery at the Garrick Theatre was in a very dilapidated condition, and they could not get it ready—on the morning I was to give evidence before Mr. Newton I received this letter: "Dear Miss Clayton,—Kindly try and remember that your deposit was never refused you or Mr. Jerome, and that I stated if the engagement fell through the money would be returned, as I shall be able to
prove on Wednesday, &c.—DIBDIN CULVER."—I saw Culver that morning at the police-court, and said that I could not remember what he said in the letter, as he said it to Mr. Jerome, not to me—he said nothing, but he appeared distressed—I saw him again last week, and he said, "Can't you remember that I offered you the money back?"—I said," No, but you sent that message through Mr. Jerome"—he said that it had made his mother very ill, and that it was a great blow to him after the years he had been working in the profession that such a charge was brought against him—I said that I was obliged to speak she truth—Miss Norman, a friend of mine, was present—Mr. Vernon, a friend of Culver's, has also spoken to me about it—I parted with my money because I thought I should have this engagement at the Garrick Theatre, and I bought a dress for the part.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Mr. Jerome put no pressure on me to go to the police-court to give evidence; he did not threaten to have me imprisoned if I did not—he told me to be careful for my own sake to speak the truth, or I might find myself unpleasantly situated; he said that often; he said it last Saturday; he did not say it before I gave my evidence; he said it the last time I was before Mr. Newton, when I said that I was very sorry for Mr. Culver—I had had this letter that morning—I also received another letter, and gave it to the Public Prosecutor—I did not know the prisoners, but I had heard Culver spoken of as an actor—I do not know that Jacobs has been employed at the Queen's Theatre—I looked to Culver as the proprietor of the agency—I have not seen these circulars—this letter written by Jacobs was produced at the police-court (Stating that Culver would return the money)—I think I received that, on the morning I went to the police-court—I understood that the theatre was taken, not that negotiations were pending—it was said that the previous occupier had carried off the best part of the scenery, and that there was considerable delay in consequence of the scenery being so dilapidated—I said before Mr. Newton that I did not believe for a moment either Culver or Jacobs intended to defraud me if they had had time given them—I never went to ask for my money back—Mr. Jerome did not tell me before I saw Culver that he thoroughly understood from Culver that if the engagement foil through, the money would be returned—he said that Mr. Culver said that I was not to be uneasy, as if the Garrick Theatre did not open he would find me another engagement—from the time the Public Prosecutor has been in the case I have had no desire to continue in the prosecution.
Re-examined. I have not received my money back, or been promised it, only in the letter he said he would get me an engagement.
RICHARD HENRY HEATHER . I am a land agent, of 15, Adye Street, Whitechapel—I represent the freeholder and leaseholder of the Garrick Theatre—there has been no performance there for the last 12 months—I do not know the prisoners—neither of them took, or applied to me to take, the theatre in May or June—my name is upon the board as the person to be applied to—I have not mentioned to either of them that the scenery was in a dilapidated condition—I never saw them.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Mr. Laurence Le ey was the leaseholder—they may have applied to him.
Theatre is part of his estate—neither of the prisoners took the theatre in April, May, or June.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I received a letter signed Culver, which I answered, and then he called and brought me my letter, which Mr. Pollard now has—I had advertised the Garrick Theatre, and Culver's letter to me was to know the terms—I said that thirteen weeks' rent was to be paid in advance, and then one week in advance, which was 7l. per week—he wanted me to take six or eight weeks' rent instead of thirteen; I said that when the theatre was open we had to pay 40l. insurance, and therefore I should like to have money in hand—I think my letter was dated in February—it might be in May when he came the second time, and I think he showed me a letter from a lady who had 200l. to put down—he said, "I think I shall be able to have your theatre; I have a lady coming up with 200l. "—I said, "When you have got your money you shall have the theatre. "
Re-examined. He never brought the money, and I never let the theatre.
JOHN ALFRED HARLOCK . I am householder, of 13, Berners Street, and let it out in offices—early last year Culver took five rooms of me, and I have seen Jacobs there—there was a plate on the door—there were other tenants.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Culver gave me a reference—I inquired, and found it very satisfactory.
WILLIAM JAKES KENT . I am a newsagent, of 49, Newman Street—I am in. the habit of inserting advertisements for Culver, and I inserted this one in the Era for him—it was brought from his office; I forget by whom—the answers came to my house, and were fetched by somebody from the office; not Jacobs.
ALFRED BROWN (Police Sergeant). I took Jacobs on 7th June, and read the warrant to him at the station, which was for obtaining 35s. from Edith Jane Clayton and 15s. from Mr. Jerome—Culver, who had been brought by another officer, said, "How can she say that, when we offered her the money back? I have been living there two years, and am a respectable man, and can prove it"—Jacobs made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I found some pawn-tickets on Jacobs. The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Culver says: "I am entirely innocent of getting the money by fraud. The money was got by way of deposit without any intention to defraud, as I can prove. "Jacobs says:" I acted as clerk to Culver. I did not have a single sixpence of the money which was obtained. "
Witnesses for the Defence.
BENJAMIN SYKES . I am a journalist and reporter, of 40, Camden Grove, Peckham—in March and April I was in communication with Culver about the Garrick Theatre—I saw him several times about taking the theatre—a syndicate was to be formed, of gentlemen to contribute towards conducting it financially as a going concern—Culver was to supply pupils from his agency, to which persons would, in the natural order of things, apply, and if he could engage novices, knowing them to be so cheap, we believed it could be made a going concern—a difficulty arose as to the scenery—I proposed to contribute—the rental was to he 7l. a week—I saw a letter stating that the theatre was to be let—it was to be taken for a term of six or twelve months—I had known Culver
three or four months, and previous to that by reputation as an actor—I know he played at the Prince of Wales's, the Olympic, the Gaiety, the Opera Comique, the Queen's, and St. James's—his agency was "for aspirants for dramatic fame."
Cross-examined. I was about to subscribe 50l., and was in negotiation with friends of mine for a further amount—I was prepared to write the pieces—I partially authorised him to engage a company—he did not return me the salary of the applicants—I received none of their money, and did not know that Culver had till afterwards.
MARIE BRIGHT . My professional name is Marie de 1'Espar—I reside at 19, Brunswick Road, Liverpool—I have been in correspondence with Mr. Culver two or three years—I have corresponded with him as to the Garrick Theatre—there was a design to engage it, and Culver was to make a company—200l. was mentioned last March as the amount I was to contribute towards carrying out the plan—my father was to supply the money—some business difficulty prevented his giving the money at the time, and that was the reason the suggestion fell through—he is still willing to provide the money—I have been on the stage—I was to perform with the company.
Cross-examined. My father is not here—my part was not spoken of; I was willing for anything—I was not asked to give the first week's salary in advance—my salary was not decided—I acted at Liverpool some years ago.
Cross-examined. I paid a sovereign—I got it back a week before the prisoners were at Marlborough Street—I applied for it.
Re-examined. The engagement depended upon the Garrick Theatre opening and the money being forthcoming.
JOHN EENRY ALLEN . I live at 10, Hunter Street—I have had thirty or forty years' experience in the theatrical profession—I take pupils for the stage—I have known Culver seven or eight years as carrying on a musical and theatrical agency—he asked me on several occasions to test the accuracy of his pupils—he was at 13, Berners Street, and at No. 30 five or six years ago—I have seen some circulars or press notices like these produced, but only casually, and cannot say whether they are the same—Culver bears a good character; I know nothing against him—he is an actor—I have known Jacobs as long as Culver; he was Culver's clerk.
CHARLES DICKENS . I am an actor—I have known Culver about a year carrying on a musical and theatrical agency—Jacobs acted as his clerk—Culver has obtained several engagements for me, which were written by Jacobs and signed by Culver—his conduct towards me was honourable and satisfactory—my last engagement was in Scotland five months.
Cross-examined. My professional name is Charles Vernon.
Re-examined. Jacobs was reputed to be acting manager of the Queen's Theatre—this is an engagement of Mr. Culver. (Headed 13, Berners Street, &c. "I hereby agree to engage Mr. Charles Vernon, on behalf of R. Veville, Esq., lessee and manager, to play responsible parts, at a salary of 2l. 2s., subject to the rules of the theatre. Dated this day, December 22nd, 1881. Dibdin Culver.")
DAVID HARRY SMITH . I live at 48, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—I have known Culver about eight years—I have taken several lessons from him—I used to be fond of amateur acting—I found him honest—I can speak to his carrying on an agency; people came there by dozens.
MINNIE BEDMAN . I have been for some time a domestic servant employed by Mr. and Mrs. Culver, at 13, Berners Street, where the business of a musical and theatrical agency was carried on—I was once present when Shrimpton was there—I heard Mr. Culvor say "You can hare the deposit, but you shan't have the salary. "
CULVER— GUILTY .— To enter into recognisances of 50l. to come up for judgment when called upon.
JACOBS— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted;
Defended The prisoner received an excellent moral character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 4th, 1882.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
THOMAS DALGLISH . I am an accountant and live at West Hackney—my father lives at Glasgow—on 16th February I received from him this advertisement, cut from a newspaper. (Advertising a new remedy for disease called" Hypophosphite of Phosphorus," and stating that the 4th edition of the book was published, dedicated to Sir John Fleming, M. D.; that copies might be had post free at 2s. 2d. each, and giving favourable extracts from reviews in the Lancet and other medical papers.) I went to the address mentioned in Compton Street on 17th February; it is a newspaper shop—the name of Brownrigg is over the door—I went in and saw the defendant Brownrigg; I said that I had called in reference to a book advertised in the Glasgow newspaper, as a friend of mine had sent 26 penny stamps 10 days previously, and received no reply—he said that the book was in the printer's hands and he expected it to be ready in a week or 10 days, and it would then be sent on with several others, and that a letter had been sent off that day explaining the cause of the delay—I left, called again on 22nd, saw Brownrigg, and said that I had called again as no reply had been received, and I was not satisfied with the explanation which had been given—he disappeared at the back of the shop and returned with Sutton, who said, "I believe you have called about the book?"—I said, "Yes "—be said, "It is in the hands of the printer's, Adams and Son, or Adams and Co., St. Mary Axe "—I said that I wanted to be clearly in formed that you have received the money—he said,"No"—I said that Broworigg had already admitted it—it was finally agreed that it had been received, and Brownrigg pail me the 2s. 2d.—I wrote a receipt and gave it to Sutton.
Cross-examined by Sutton. The money was returned on the 22nd—I
have not inquired about Adams and Co.—after the money was returned you said that as soon as the book was out you would send my father a copy free.
WILLIAM FRANCIS . I am a schoolmaster, of Framlingham, Suffolk—in the beginning of February I saw this advertisement in the Bedford and County Record—I cut it out. (This was the same as before.) I wrote a letter on February 6th to Mr. Brownrigg, Compton Street, London, enclosing 26 stamps, but received no reply—I wrote again on 11th and 14th and received this reply. (This was signed Brownrigg and Son, Feb, 17th, stating that the 4th edition of the book was in the press and should he forwarded.) It never came—I wrote again and received this letter: "Dear Sir,—We are sorry for the delay and if you really desire it you can have your stamps returned, or if you wish I will send you a bottle. "The stamps were not returned, nor was the book sent—I sent the stamps believing the advertisement was genuine—I afterwards received this letter: "Dear Sir,—Our secretary has written to you. I am the publisher, and have been in my present business over 30 years. Yours faithfully, Brownrigg and Son. "
Cross-examined by Sutton. I saw an account of the inquiry before the Magistrate in the paper, and communicated with the police.
CHARLES HINDS . I am a gardener, of Hampton Manor, Nottinghamshire; I saw an advertisement in the Bedford and Gainsborough Times, of the hypophosphite of phosphorus, and wrote a letter addressed to the Phosphoric Institute, Sidmouth Street, London, and enclosed 60 stamps for the book dedicated to Sir John Fleming, and a small bottle of medicine which was advertised at 2s. 9d.—I waited several days and then wrote again, and a few days afterwards received this letter. (This was dated January 8th, stating that the 5th edition of the work was in the press, and a copy should be duly forwarded, and that the medicine would leave that day.) I did not receive the medicine or book, but a few days after I received this letter. (Expressing regret that the medicine had not been forwarded and sending an 11s. bottle, as the carriage was the same, and requesting that a post-office order might be sent for the balance.) I wrote by return of post asking them to send what I had ordered, a small bottle, and a few days afterwards the small bottle came, for which I had to pay the carriage—I handed it over to the police—I never tasted it; I never received it back—I sent the stamps believing the advertisement to be genuine.
Cross-examined by Sutton. The price was not marked on the bottle—I have not seen it since.
THOMAS RIDGWAY . I live at 60, Lichfield Street, Tamworth—I saw an advertisement in the Tamworth Herald, in consequence of which I wrote this letter enclosing 2s. 2d. in stamps, and asked for the book—I did not receive it, and sent other letters on April 14th and 19th and May 2nd—I received no reply and no book—I parted with my money because I thought that the advertisement was genuine, and that I was going to be prescribed for by Sir John Fleming.
Cross-examined by Sutton. I sent the stamps to Brownrigg and Co.—these are my letters (produced).
WILLIAM COOKSEY . I live at 7, Eagle Row, Great Bridge, Tipton, Staffordshire—I saw an advertisement in the East Bromwich Free Poet, in consequence of which I enclosed 2s. 2d. in stamps to Brownrigg and Co. for the book of phosphorus—I received no answer, and on 27th April I wrote
again, enclosing a stamp for a reply—I got no reply, and wrote a third letter, which was returned to me through the Dead Letter Office—the book never came—I never got the first stamps back or the second; the third came back in the dead letter—I parted with my money because I believed it to be a genuine book.
Cross-examined by Sutton. All these letters (produced) were found on Brownrigg's premises.
ELIZABETH HEIN . My husband lives at 22, Sidmouth Street, Gray's Inn Road—that is the address given of the Phosphoric Institute—in November last I had a bill in my window, and Sutton called and took the second floor back-room at 4s. a week unfurnished—he said that he was the inventor of a patent medicine, and wanted it for manufacturing purpose—he did not look at it—he paid 1s. deposit—on 23rd November he brought Mr. Richardson, who he said was his friend and partner—he paid me 3s., which, with the 1s. deposit, made a week's rent, inspected the room, and agreed to take it—he said that a number of letters would come, and asked me if I would take them in—he did not give me his name—he asked me to send them to Mr. Brownrigg, his publisher, to Compton Street—no manufacture went on, but a number of letters came, and. I spoke to him about there being no property in the room, and he agreed to pay in advance—I never saw a bottle of medicine in the room; it was empty the whole time—from 50 to 100 letters came every day for a fortnight or three weeks—they were addressed "MR. Brinsley Richardson, Phosphoric Institute," at my house—sometimes Sutton called for them, and sometimes Brownrigg—Sutton introduced Brownrigg to me, that I might give the letters to him in case he was not well and could not come—they have paid me 12s. in all—I reckoned the rent to the end of January, and then not receiving it, I detained some of the letters and then received this letter. (Requesting the witness to send word how much rent Mr. Richardson owed. Another letter was also put in signed "B. R. Richardson" requesting the witness to open the letters and send them on, retaining the stamps.) In consequence of that I opened the letters; they contained no money—there was 5s. worth of stamps in one letter, and 2s. 6d. in another—on 11th January I received this letter: "Dear Madam,—Please send letters; open them and keep stamps"—that was to pay the rent, and I did so—he sent for the letters by a messenger, who said he was a porter in the office—about the middle of January the police communicated with me, and I did not see either of the defendants again to my recollection—besides the letters, patients called, wanting to see the doctor; but there was no doctor, and I referred them to the publisher in Compton Street.
Cross-examined by Sutton. I never heard that any trades people complained of being defrauded—my place is about 200 yards from Brownrigg's shop—I do not know that 5,000 circulars were sent to the chemists and druggists about the medicine, and that these were the replies—I saw the advertisement, and took it as a recommendation—I heard something about No. 4 below me being taken for the purpose of an address—you promised me 6d. on every wholesale order I received, but I did not get it—I had an order from Mr. Newberry, the chemist—Richardson did not pay me a month's rent in advance, only a month altogether, first one week and then three weeks—you said that you did not wish my other lodgers to be annoyed, and I said that you could have a back kitchen if that would do as well, as
it would be more accessible for the water for washing, but my husband refused to let you have it—he said as you had the room and paid for it we would keep it empty for you.
Re-examined. I was to receive 6d. on every order according, to the size of the bottle, but I did not receive anything—no trades people supplied anything to the prisoners there.
BICKNELL. I am junior clerk at the Lancet Office—I produce the issue of October 8th, 1881—it does not contain any notice of Sir John Fleming's book on Hypophosphate of Phosphorus, nor does it contain the paragraph quoted commencing "Certainly we are of opinion that it is the most scientific work we have had the pleasure to review for some time "—we have searched and failed to find that review—I have never heard of Sir John Fleming.
Cross-examined by Sutton. I was not called at the police-court—I have seen you write when you were acting as a solicitor's clerk at Judge's Chambers taking out summonses and affidavits in a variety of suits three years ago—there is no possibility of my being mistaken—you were acting as clerk to a solicitor named Grayson.
ALFRED ROWS (Police Sergeant E). In consequence of instructions I received I kept observation on 22, Sidmouth Street from 19th December to the end of the month, and again in January—I saw both the prisoners call there, and once they were together—I saw them receive letters from Mrs. Hein and take them away—on 27th December I went to 27, Compton Street, and saw Brownrigg—I produced this advertisement, and asked him for the work on hypophosphate of phosphorus—he said, "I have sold out; I have not a copy by me; will you call in a week's time?"—I called in a week, and saw him—he said, "The book is not ready; if you will leave your address I will send it to you "—I did not leave my address and did not apply again for the book—I have seen Sutton receive letters and go to Brownrigg's shop, and I have seen both prisoners opening the letters on several occasions—I heard Mrs. Hein say, "I shall not give you any more letters until you have paid your rent"—a warrant was applied for, and the prisoners were taken on May 4—I found them at Hunter Street Station, and read the warrant to them—Brownrigg then said, "We had no intention to cheat or defraud any one"—Sutton said, "So far as I am concerned, I have not received a penny from any one, and the book that was advertised, upon which the charge is based, was handed over by Brownrigg to Mr. Chate, 15, Viceroy Road, South Lambeth, early in February; that negotiation fell through, and it was handed over to Mr. Adams; that negotiation fell through; they retained the manuscript 14 days; and I, finding that Brownrigg failed' in his efforts to bring the book out, left him on or about 10th March; I took the manuscript from Adams, having offered him 10l. to produce it, and handed it to Mr. Chate on my own account, and paid him 10l.; the stereos are now complete, and are lying at Sharrow and Anderson's; the proof of the last page was handed in last night, and would have been in the press in 48 hours—I have been to the College of Arms, and searched the register for 200 years back, but find no baronet or knight of the name of Sir John Fleming—there is no such paper as the Medical
Review or the Medical Reformer; the Medical Circular has ceased to exist for 20 years; the Medical Times and the Medical Gazette are one paper.
Cross-examined by Sutton. I had the warrant in my possession some time, but could not execute it—Brownrigg has been in business some time as a newspaper vendor, but not as a publisher; he and his son carry on the business.
CHARLES TOWNER (Police Sergeant E). On 4th May, about'3.30, I saw Sutton in a public-house, and said "Sutton, come outside, I want you;" I then told him I should arrest him for fraud in connection with the Phosphoric Institute—he said "Oh, very well"—I took him to the station and then went to 27, Compton Street, saw Brownrigg, and told him I should have to arrest him for being concerned with Sutton in defrauding people in connection with the Phosphoric Institute—be said "I am only the publisher of the book; Sutton wrote it, and I have papers showing that we were going to publish it; Sutton lived here six months at my expense; that is all I know about it; some people complained about not getting the book, and we sent them the money back "—I took away two bundles of papers, and Brownrigg's son handed me some letters, among which were letters from Shaw, Cooksey, and Ridgway.
Cross-examined by Sutton. I have them all here—I do not find one from you to Brownrigg—I have seen you in the neighbourhood of Guilford Street several years—you lived in Regent Square at one time—I do not know what you were—I have known Brownrigg in the business about 12 years—these circulars were found on his premises.
Sutton in his defence stated that he had never been a lawyer's clerk, but practised medically at 64, Guilford Street, down to 1879, when he published a book on phosphorus, a copy of which he produced, from which he read extracts. He stated that Dr. John Fleming was a medical officer in India; that he never received a penny of the profits; that Brownrigg assaulted him and gave him a black eye, in consequence of which he left him; and that Mr. Chate had undertaken to print the book.
Witnesses for Sutton.
JOHN CHATE . I am a printer, and now live in Viceroy Road—in 1881 I lived at 15, Methley Street—about Easter Monday, 1881, Sutton had about 16 pages printed of his book on phosphorus; I kept the manuscript till 18th January, but declined to do anything with it till 2l. 12s. 6d. was paid me for the first 16 pages—on 22nd December, 1881, I saw a person named Brett, who told me he had invested his money in these circulars and advertisements, and was going to bring out the work and the patent medicine, and was going on with the work immediately after Christmas—this is part of the matter which I set up in 1881—Brett was to pay me 5l. immediately on his return from his holiday—I then saw Sutton at Brownrigg's, and inquired if he had seen Brett—Sutton told me that Brett had given up the matter—I received a letter from Sutton on 16th January, asking me to return the manuscript to Brownrigg, and he would pay me 2s. 12s. 6d., my lien on the work—an arrangement was made between me and Brownrigg to print it, for which purpose I introduced him to Mr. T——, 50, West Lane—I was to print the book with a new fount of type on Brownrigg's premises, for which he was to pay; and Brownrigg and I attended at Sharrow and Anderson's and looked out the type, and he agreed to pay 2l. when the type was delivered, and the balance in a month—that arrangement fell through—I have
known Sutton to pawn his clothes, and went with him once—he seemed in abject poverty—he told me to keep the money to secure myself—I saw him every day up to the time he was arrested—he was suffering from acute rheumatism—he paid me 11l. to get on with the book after I had 20 or 24 pages in print I called on Brownrigg about the middle of April, and saw him and his son, who told me that Sutton had left—I did not see Sutton with a black eye, but I know Brownrigg gave him one—Brownrigg asked me if I could print the book for Sutton, as he had left—he produced these letters and orders for the medicine which he had received from wholesale houses—he said that his son had seen Sutton make up the medicine, and thought he could do it as well—I bought this book at Murray's, it is dedicated to Sir John Fleming, and published in 1871; it is the History of Persia, by Sir John Malcolm—I have searched the roll of the College of Surgeons from 1849 to 1868, but can only find the name of John Fleming, M. D., F. R. S., connected with the Madras Army—after the first hearing at Clerkenwell Police-court I wrote Mr. Wontner a full statement of the facts on my own responsibility, as far as I knew them—I called on Mr. Cunningham, the printer, but could not see him—there is not a word in this book which professes to be written by Sir John Fleming; it was written by James Sutton and dedicated to Sir John Fleming.
Re-examined. I never published anything for Sutton except these few pages.
WILLIAM BENNETT . I live at 4, Sidmouth Street, Gray's Inn Road—I know Mr. Brett—in August or September last he told me that he was about to invest money in a patent medicine and in bringing oat a book, and asked me to permit him to use my address, and all this printing and four large parcels came there addressed to him—I objected to it afterwards—there is no question about his existence.
Cross-examined. His address is 217, Junction Road, Holloway.
FREDERICK PIDDINGTON . In January and early in February I was errand boy to Mr. Brownrigg—I remember a lot of medicine being made up there—I used to fetch the bottles—I have taken between 50 and 100 bottles from Mr. Brownrigg's—I have seen Mr. Brett there; I do not know him—I remember Sutton having a black eye—I do not know who gave it to him.
Brownrigg's Defence. He asked me if I would allow the book to come out in my name, and I said, "Certainly," and undertook to be the publisher, and some letters came with stamps in them, which I took care of, and en-deavoured to get the book out as soon as I could to send it away, but was unable to do so. Had I not been taken up, the books would have been sent several days ago.
Sutton's Defence. I think I have proved my perfect bona fides in paying ray printer 11l. I am the victim of others; men who join in a fraud generally participate in the profits, but I have not participated to the extent °i a penny. My only hope of recovering my position was that book which Brownrigg failed to get out, though he could have done so if he liked. No human being could have contemplated such a fraud, because the book was in existence in 1881, therefore I had good reason to expect it to be produced I have been deprived of the produce of my brains, and I hope you will say that I have not conspired with Brownrigg to defraud any human being.
GUILTY . They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, SUTTON** of obtaining goods by false pretences in 1879, and BROWNRIGG of felony in November, 1877.— Fiv Years' Penal Servitude each.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
693. JAMES PERRY (21), WILLIAM TURNER (19), WILLIAM BROWN (22), and THOMAS MICHAEL (19) , Burglary in the dwelling. house of James Francis Jones, and stealing 9 boxes of cigars and other goods, his property.
JAMES FRANCIS JONES . I am the landlord of the Grove Tavern, Walthamstow—I was aroused on Friday, 19th May, about 4 a.m., by Constable Reynolds—I ran downstairs—I saw some one at the main entrance to the house—the cellars and the back doors were open—I had fastened the bolts the previous night—on Saturday, 13th May, I had noticed the kitchen door was open—I missed a coat, a hat, a box of cigars, and half a pint of gin, which had been taken from the bar and the bar parlour—I found the colt in the back yard and some cigars lying by the. back door, some inside and some out; a bottle of gin inside the back door—I identified the things-Turner said, "You cannot swear to the hat "—I can swear to this hat (produced); I have worn it 18 months.
JOSEPH REYNOLDS (Policeman M 331). At 4. 20 a.m. on Friday, 19th May, I was outside the prosecutor's house—I discovered the cellar flap had been tampered with, one side was up about two inches; I took hold of it and found it came right up—I rang the bell and heard a shuffling sort of noise inside and towards the back, like the footsteps of two or three persons; I pulled the boll repeatedly and sprang my rattle—the house is at the corner of the road, and there is a yard with a gateway and a stonemason's yard on the other side—I saw the gate of the public-house yard move and Perry peep out; I rushed to get in, but the gate was shoved to with the force of more than one inside, and the bar fastened down—a minute after the landlord came from the back door and opened the gate—I went in quickly; I saw a ladder placed against the wall at the other side leading into the stonemason's yard—we found outside the back door in the yard this coat, a couple of cigar boxes, and inside the door several cigar boxes, a quantity of tobacco in this bag, and a bottle of gin—I searched the premises—I found this hat in the bar parlour, which the landlord said did not belong to him, and in the next yard immediately under the ladder I found a hat that was owned by Perry at the station—I followed the track from the public-house to the station by picking up 45 cigars—I gave information at the station on May 20th, from information I received, I went with Deacon to a common lodging house in the City Road, and arrested Michael and Brown—I had seen Michael outside the public-house and he had roused my suspicion; when I went near him he walked quickly away.
THOMAS DEACON . (Policeman N 17). About 5 a.m. on 19th May Reynolds spoke to me at the station—at 5.50 a.m. I saw Perry and Turner pass, the station; I called a constable and ran out and followed them down the.
road, stopped them and questioned them; their answers not being satisfactory, I told them I should take them into custody for committing' a burglary at the Grove Tavern, Grove Road, Walthamstow—I took Perry to the station and Turner was brought in shortly after by another constable—Perry was wearing this old hat, and carrying an" old wicker basket, which I subsequently ascertained had no bottom—I searched them—on Perry I found 2s. 6d. in silver, a pawn ticket, and two keys; on Turner 22 cigars, two half-ounces of tobacco, 2s. 6d. in silver, 2d. bronze, two pawn tickets, and a match box.
DANIEL NEWBOLD . (Policeman M 478). About 6 a.m. on 19th May I met Turner and Perry in the Lea Bridge Road—I had received information of this robbery—Turner started to run away and I ran after him up the Albion Road; he got over a fence at the rear of No. 6, and I went after him and caught him—he said, "What are you running after me for?"—I said, "On suspicion of having committed a burglary at the Grove Tavern, Walthamstow "—looking down I saw seven cigars lying at his feet, or two yards away; I picked them up—I conveyed him to the station and he was charged—these are the cigars.
ARTHUR WOODLEY (Policeman M 561). About 12.30 on 19th May I was on duty at Orford Road, Walthamstow, about 200 yards from the burglary—I saw the four prisoners together coming towards me—seeing they tried to hide their faces, I took a step towards them and got a full view of them as they passed under the lamp—I passed them at 3. 10—I saw Brown loitering outside the Grove Tavern—I spoke to Reynolds—Brown made off down the Grove Road, towards Hoa Street Station—I aferwards saw Perry and Turner in custody, and identified them as among the four I had seen together.
MARY COLEMAN . I am a widow, and reside next door to the Grove Tavern—on May 19th, between 3 and 4 a.m., I was standing at the window, of my bedroom—I observed three men come over the wall from Mr. Jones a one after the other—they passed through our yard into the next garden—ours is a business yard—I saw them go down the mad—the last one dropped his hat, and made an attempt to pick it up, but did not succeed—I afterwards gave it to the constable—the last one wore a long coat—Brown is like the style of one, but I could not swear to them—the last one stumbled, and made me take more notice of his dress.
Perry's Defence. There is nothing there that I stole, and no burglar's implements were found on me.
Turner's Defence. I was coming from the Rising Sun when a young man asked me to buy some cigars for 3s., and I gave him 2s. 6d. for them. I should not have come past the station if I had known they were stolen.
Brown's Defence. I have had the hat 15 months. The publican swore to his hat and then to mine.
Michael's Defence. As I told the policeman, when he came to apprehend me in bed, I know nothing about it. Nothing was found on me at all.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
695. CHARLES RAITH (34), SAMUEL SCOTT (50), and JOSEPH ROWLAND (20) , Unlawfully attempting to enter the dwelling-house of Edward Tuck, with intent to steal therein, and with being found with certain housebreaking implements. SCOTT PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HEWICK Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN defended Rowland. WILLIAM PEGRINE (Policeman K 471). At five minutes past 6 o'clock on Saturday evening, May 28th, I was on duty in Romford Road, Ilford—I saw the three prisoner?—I watched them—I saw Rowland go up to the house of Mr. Tuck, a schoolmaster, push the door, and then return to Scott—they were not all three together then—Scott and Rowland walked down the road about 150 yards, and then returned to the house—Rowland went up and knocked at the door—he received no answer—he then looked at the window and on both sides of the door—he then returned into the road to Scott—they walked down to a brickfield for about ten minutes, then looked up the road, and went again to the door the third time—Rowland tried to open it with a jemmy—Scott was standing in the road watching—he lifted his hat up—they then went down the road for ten minutes and leaned up against the fence—then Rowland went back to the house—Scott lifted tip his hat again and whistled, and Rowland returned—I saw Police-constable Ball—the prisoners then walked up the road in the direction of London—I and Police-constable Molyneux followed them, and saw them go into the Coach and Horses public-house—first we saw them at a quarter past 6—it was about ten minutes to 7 when they first went to the house—I was watching them for nearly two hours—when they went in the Coach and Horses, I and Molyneux stayed outside—they were there about an hour—when they came out into the road I took them into custody—they were going towards London—they did not say anything—I searched them at the police-station—I found on Scott two pistols, loaded, capped, and half cocked, one piece of crape, a mortice chisel, and a key—a percussion cap was found on Rowland—I did not find it—nothing was found on Raith.
Cross-examined by Raith. I saw you in their company three-quarters of an hour sitting down talking.
By the COURT. Raith pointed out the houses to them, and then he left them—he went towards Romford—he did not join them afterwards—they were all three together—Raith was the one who attracted my attention, knowing him—Raith was not present when the walking up and down took place.
JOHN WEST (Police Inspector). On Sunday, May 28th, at 6 o'clock, I met the prisoners—when they got past me about 20 yards I saw them halt—I saw Constable Pegrine in plain clothes in advance of me, and I directed him to watch them—I gave certain directions, and went, being in uniform—I saw Scott and Rowland searched—they were charged with having housebreaking implements in their possession without lawful excuse
—the instruments were found on Scott, with the exception of one percussinon cap, which was found on Rowland—I examined Mr. Tuck's premises the next morning—I found two impressions on the door, which corresponded with this mortice chisel—I charged them with attempted burglary.
Cross-examined. I cannot say it Rowland went to the door—I examined the door; it had been forced; the paint was grazed between the door and the jamb on the other side to the hinge side; the wood was bruised—it was an oaken door.
EDWARD TUCK . I am a schoolmaster, and reside at Romford Road, Ilford—the house stands entirely by itself—on the 28th of May the whole of my family were at church—I saw the house locked up safely—from information I received from Inspector West we both examined the house together—his statement is correct—I had valuable property in the house—I do not know the prisoners.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Rowland says: "I plead guilty; I was at the door."Raith says: "I am not guilty. "
SCOTT—GUILTY.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ROWLAND— GUILTY.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
RAITH— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. EDWARD
CLARKE, Q. C., and MR. FULTON Defended.
FRANCIS BANNISTER . I am a solicitor, living at Blackheath—my offices are 13, John Street, Bedford Row—on Thursday night, 25th May, about 10 minutes to 12, I was going up the hill from Blackheath towards the Princess of Wales public-house; when I got nearly to the top of the hill I heard the report of fire-arms just behind me; 1 looked round and saw somebody running down the hill towards the village—the inspector and a constable came up in a very few minutes afterwards; I made a communication to them; while speaking to them I heard a second report some little distance off on the other side of the road by the church—we went to the Princess of Wales about five minutes afterwards, and saw the prisoner there in the private bar—I have known him a long time—I told him that I had had a bullet unpleasantly near my head—he said, "Oh, it could not be," or "Nonsense"—he was very drunk—I did not hear any bullet whizz or see any flash; it was behind me—I did not see who it was that fired.
Cross-examined. The second report must have been a good way off, I should think about 100 yards—I have known the prisoner a good many years; he lives with his father in Morden Road; I know some of the family; he is the only son—I have constantly seen him about Blackheath, and going up in the train—I have always been on terms of friendship with him, there has not been the slightest difference between us—he has always behaved himself like a gentleman when I have seen him—he was sitting down at the Princess of Wales—I and Mr. Griffin went in together—we left him there sitting down in the same place—it was rather a dark night.
By the COURT. The first shot must have been very near me, I could, not
judge how near, I should say certainly within 10 yards—I turned round and saw somebody running down the hill; I cannot say it was him; be was within 20 yards of me then—the Princess of Wales is about 100 yards from there—I did not run after the person; I did not think I could catch him.
ALFRFD JOSIAH GRIFFIN . I live at 18, Vanbrugh Park, Blackheath—on this Thursday night I had come from New Cross, and about 10 minute to 12 I was going up the hill—I had travelled down in the same carriage with Mr. Bannister, but did not speak to him—I was four or five yards in front of him going up the hill—I heard a report of firearms; it appeared to be very close, I imagine about 20 or 25 yards—I turned round immediately; I spoke to Mr. Bannister, and within a few minutes saw the inspector, and while talking to him I heard a second shot in the direction of the church, which was some 100 yards off—Mr. Bannister and I took a cab and went to the Princess of Wales, where I saw the prisoner—I have known him for many years—he was very much the worse for drink—I mentioned to him about the shot, but he appeared to be too drunk to carry on any conversation—I said that we had been fired at coming up the hill—I think he said it was all nonsense—I replied that he had better go and try it, or something to that effect—we left him there and drove home.
Cross-examined. I have always been on friendly terms with him—he has always behaved himself well where I have seen him—I cannot say anything to the contrary as to his being sober by habit—I had not seen him previously to this for three or four months, with the exception of one day in the City in passing.
WALTER FROST (Police Inspector R). A few minutes before 12 on the night of 25th May, I was on Blackheath—I heard the report of fire-arms, and saw the two gentlemen, who made a statement to me—I then heard another report about 100 yards off on the heath—I did not see the flash—about 12.45 I saw the prisoner standing under a lamp on Blackheath, close by the Princess of Wales public-house—Constable Esdale was with me—we were in uniform—we went towards the prisoner—when we were within about 20 yards he turned round and pointed a revolver in his right hand and fired at us—he raised his hand to his shoulder and pointed right at us, facing us—after firing he immediately ran away across the grass towards Morden College—I followed him; he was stopped by another constable outside the college gates—I told him I should take him into custody for firing at me and a gentleman on the heath—he said "I heard the report of fire-arms, and it appeared to be over there," pointing across the heath—I asked him if he had anything about him, and then secured his arms—the other constable searched him, and took from a pocket at the back of his trousers this five-chambered revolver (produced)—it was in a pocket on the hip, an American style of pocket, made for a pistol—I examined the revolver at the station, and found that it contained three empty and two loaded ball cartridges, which I produce—the prisoner was much the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. I should say I was from 15 to 20 yards from him when the pistol was fired; I am not able to say exactly—it was a little cloudy at that time, but there was a moon; it was not a dark night—I never lost sight of him; I ran after him—I did not see him put the revolver in his pocket; I did not take much notice of that; I merely kept
his figure in view—he ran in the direction of his own house—Esdale passed me on the road; he was a faster runner than I was—we both ran together till we got to the lamp, then there was a difference, of opinion as to which way he went, and I was behind—I followed him up—there was no other man—I did not call out as I was going by before the shot was fired—I was walking quietly along across the grass.
Re-examined. It was quite light enough for me to see him present there.
By the JURY. I saw him level it—the barrel is very bright; I could see it shining—it was pointed directly at us.
GEORGE ESDALE (Policeman R 113). At 11. 45 on the night of 15th May, while I was on duty near the Orchard on Blackheath, I heard a shot tired, and then another—I met the inspector and searched about the grass near the Princess of Wales—later on, at 12.45, I saw the prisoner under a lamp near the Princess of Wales, and saw something shining in his hand like a pistol, and I mentioned the fact to the inspector—we went towards him—when within 20 yards he turned round and faced us, and immediately raised his right hand and fired direct at us—I heard like the whizz of a bullet pass by me—the prisoner ran away—he was stopped by Constable Worman near the entrance of Morden College—the inspector then held him, and I searched and found this revolver in a pocket at the back of his trousers—he had been drinking.
Cross-examined. He was not drunk—I lost sight of him the moment he passed out of the light of the lamp—the inspector and I differed as to the way he went, and I knelt down on one knee and could see the reflection of the man's legs running towards the lamp—the inspector was right and I was wrong.
JOHN WORMAN (Policeman R 122). I was on duty near Morden College, which is about 300 yards from the Princess of Wales—I heard a report of fire-arms, and went in the direction—I met the prisoner running towards me—I stopped him and said "I thought I heard the report of fire-arms; did you hear anything of it, Sir?"—he said "Yes, by gad I should think I did"—I said "What is it? who was it that fired?"—he said "I'm d—d if I know "—I said "You must know something about it; you heard it"—he said again "Yes, by gad, I should think I aid "—at that moment Inspector Frost and the constable came up—he was laid hold of and searched, and the revolver taken from him—he said to Frost, "I heard the firing; it was out there," pointing in the direction from which he had run.
Several witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
698. WILLIAM HAMILTON (50) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Demetrius Petrides, and stealing his goods. He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been previously convicted.— Eighteen 'Months' Hard Labour.
HARRIS PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted;
MR. Monies Defended.
WILLIAM HERBERT HARRISON . I am storekeeper at Her Majesty's Stationery Office, Westminster—Harris has been in the employment of the office for about four years as porter—it was his duty to go with a van to the different offices and fetch from them the waste paper, and deliver it to the stores at the Stationery Office, and to assist in loading and unloading the carts—on the 18th May I went to Winter's premises, and there saw a number of bugs containing waste paper, except one of scraps and one of millboards—there were 38 bags of waste paper, the property of Her Majesty, from the post offices—they were not marked—we advertised for tenders for the purchase of waste paper about two years ago, and we received tenders for tearing up the waste paper and sorting it—the conditions were furnished to each applicant, I believe—Winter tendered.
Cross-examined. The paper collected should have come back to the Stationery Office—about nine-tenths of it is sent to a couple of Her Majesty's prisons, to be torn up and sorted previous to sale, and about one-tenth is disposed of in another way—if it consists of new forms it is cut into two, and sold as waste paper—I found a little over one ton of paper at the place in question—I should estimate it worth from 9l. to 10l.—I have been connected intimately with waste paper for eight or nine years—for sorting I should think the price would be 5s. or 6s. a ton—if it were what we call rubbishy or mixed, it would be a little more—a portion of it consisted of newspapers that did not want any sorting—the vans it is collected in are four wheeled covered vans, with a large "V. R."on them—there are four porters engaged in that work and six vans, with six carman, and four, as you may call them, assistant porters—those vans would not always necessarily be used—we should probably use one of Pickford's vans—for instance, at Deptford dock there might be 40 or 50 tons of waste paper to fetch away, and we should employ Pickford's vans in addition.
HENRY CURTIS . I live at 10, Borrit Road, Surrey Gardens, and have been for two years and a half, foreman to Winter, who is a waste paper dealer in Lambeth—he kept no books—I know Harris by the name of "Curly" for the last eight months—he has been in the habit of bringing waste-paper to Winter's—about 10 weeks before he was arrested I asked "Curly" what he was, and learned for the first time that he was a porter in the Stationery Office—Winter gave me general instructions to purchase what paper "Curly" brought, and I did so, and I paid him for what he brought—on the Saturday the charge was made "Curly" came with a van with "V. R."on it, and some paper was delivered by him—I cannot tell you the weight—I weighed it and paid him 2l. 8s. 3d. for it—the paper was in bags and parcels, and consisted of sheets and rubbish—I asked my master if I was to take it in, and he said "Yes "—I did not take any receipt—I paid for it out of wages money, and Winter refunded it to me afterwards—the prices settled were, 5s. 6d. for mixed paper, 3s. 6d. for rubbish, and 7s. for letter paper—the paper was sent off weekly from our premises to Charles Davidson and Co., paper-makers, and to Carrington, of Union Street, Borough—the paper he brought to me on the 13th I believe was blue, with a crown stamped upon it—Winter was outside the warehouse when it came—I knew "Curly" from having seen him sell programmes at the South London Music Hall—about two years ago I
wrote a letter for Winter making a tender for a contract with the Government for waste-paper—I have since known a man named Fell, who is also charged with stealing paper from the Government stores—he was also in the habit of bringing paper to Winter's—I paid him on the same scale, by my master's directions—some of it was Government paper—it was all mixed—my master received paper from Harris for eight months, and for about the same time from Fell.
Cross-examined. I have been with Winter two years and a half, and have managed his business during his absence—he has been absent a good deal through illness—about seven months altogether—I wrote a letter which was a tender for a Government contract, and signed it—the paper that has been referred to came in the usual way in the course of business—there was no secret about it—it was brought in the open day—I cannot say whether the price I have stated is a well-known price in the trade—we buy as cheap as we can—the lowest price paid for sorting is 10s. a ton, or 6d. per hundredweight—you can go as high as 1s. 6d. and 2s., according to the class of stuff—the prices go higher than 6d. for mixed paper—the price we received for packing, sorting, and everything which was done, was not more than 2l. 10s. a ton—then there is labour out of it—it is bought at 7l. a ton, and prepared for mill purposes by our people, and then fetches 9l. 10s.
By the COURT. It goes to the paper mills for the purpose of turning it into pulp.
GEORGE HARRIS . (The Prisoner). I am a porter in the Stationery Office of the Government, and have pleaded guilty to the charge of stealing three bags and a few bundles of paper—I first became acquainted with Winter about two years ago—I was employed in selling programmes at the South London Music Hall, where I was known by the name of "Curly"—it was there I first saw Winter—shortly afterwards I had some conversation with him in the Stationery Office—he said "Have you left the South London t"—I said "No, I still work there in the evenings and here in the daytime "—he said "Then you are lucky; you are doing two places "—I saw him two or three nights after that at the South London—he said "Now I can tell you the way to get a 10l. note "—I said "How? it is according to how I have to get it"—he said "It is very easy," and he asked me the way they conducted their business in the Stationery Office, and how we brought the waste paper in and sent it out, and all the routine of the business—I told him there was hardly any check on us for waste paper—he said "Suppose you bring me a ton; bring butter paper, not rubbish"—I said "What is butter paper?"—be said "Clean paper; we call it heavy letter waste"—I said "I shan't do anything; I am sure to get caught at it"—he said "What nonsense, you will never get caught at it; they have got no check on you "—I constantly saw him in the South London, and every time I saw him he asked me if I was not going to bring him a load to-morrow—he said "I am starving; I must have some somewhere "—he used to give me a shilling or two shillings, and always treated me, and wanted me to go to the bar and have something to drink with him—I afterwards took him a load—I do not know the weight; they would not weigh it in my presence, but said I must wait till Winter came—I think I got about 38s.—Curtis said he would not weigh it till Winter saw it—I took him a rare lot of newspapers which I had collected;' out of the Government
waste-paper holes: papers which the clerks had brought—I took paper there eight or nine times—he paid me at the rate of 7s. for letter waste and 3s. for rubbish—it was my duty to go to the different Government offices to collect the paper and take it to the Stationery Office—it is never weighed in at the Stationery Office, but it is weighed out—I have been in the Government employ nearly four years—I know Fell; he is a fellow porter—I have not spoken to him for 18 months until I met him in the cell at the Southwark Police-court—I do not know anything about his transactions—he was working in a different part—the paper I took on the 13th I was paid 2l. 8s. 3d. for—I think Curtis paid some of it, and he went into a public house for Winter, and Winter paid me the rest—I think it weighed 7 cwt or 8 cwt.—I took it in the Government van with the letters "V.R" upon it.
Cross-examined. I saw Winter at my place when he came about the Government contract—I then knew he was a paper dealer—when I took him the paper I was sometimes paid a portion and the rest afterwards—I received the money once or twice at the South London—I used to grumble at having to wait for the money—I used to think I was cheated, and insisted on the paper being weighed.
By the COURT. I went round with the van and helped load the van, and having done that, instead of taking it back to the Stationery Office I took it to Winter.
GEORGE HARVEY (Detective Sergeant M). On the 18th May I went to 2, Granville Villas, New Maiden, where Winter lives—I said, "I am a police officer"—he said, "I know you are, mate "—I said, "I am going to arrest you for receiving paper stolen from the Government office"—he looked at me a minute and said, "Could not you manage to take something and let me go?"—I said,"No "—he said, "If I were away for a day or two, I could make it all right"—I said, "I cannot do it"—he said, "lama respectable man, and have been 14 years in one place, and now I am ruined: I shall have a good try to get out of this, make it as pleasant as you can for me, for I have been very ill. You need not repeat what I have said to you; I have given 6s. for it and sold it for 7s., and I have given 7s. and sold it for 10s: I would have bought a ton of it if they had brought it to me. "
Cross-examined. I put that conversation down directly I got back to the station, which was in about half an hour or three-quarters—I could not make a note of it at the time, as I had him to look after—I swear he said all that—I have it here and will read it from my book if you like (produced).
MATTHEW FOX (Police Inspector M). On 18th May I went with Harrison to Winter's premises, and in the yard at the rear of 4, William Street, New Cut, I found 38 full bags of paper, which were identified as the Government property.
Cross-examined. I had no difficulty in getting in.
Witness for the Defence.
WALTER YATES . I am a paper dealer and have been for 14 years—Mr. Fox showed me the samples just now—I have not seen them before—the fair market price for this bundle before sorting I could not tell without weighing—this kind would be 4s., and that 4s., and that 9s. to 10s. 6d. (Referring to the samples)—if I gave 6l. or 7l. a ton for it, I should
reckon it a fair price—there would then be the sorting, which I should say would be about 10s. a ton—sometimes it is considerably more—for instance mixed paper or rubbishy paper—I usually buy it at 7l. a ton, and it is sold for 9l. 10s. after sorting, and I am doing a large business at it.
Cross-examined. The paper I buy is generally weighed for me—it is often weighed whem I am not there—it says on this paper "Post-office Telegrams," there is no Government mark on it that I can see—if you open this you see, "On Her Majesty's Service"—if you do not open it you do not see it—I do not investigate every bit of waste paper I buy.
WINTER received a good character.—
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
HARRIS—Recommended to mercy.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
700. DAVID WINTER was again indicted, together with JOHN FELL , for stealing and receiving 30 bags of paper the property of the Queen. FELL PLEADED GUILTY and was recommended to mercy. — Four Months' Hard Labour. No evidence was offered against Winter on this indictment.
MESSRS. BESLEY and BURNIE Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
GUILTY on the Second Count — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
702. JOHN WILLIAMS () PLEADED GUILTY to stealing some tools, the goods of William Hoppins and another, having been convicted of felony at Greenwich on September 10th, 1881.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerry Esq.
MR. FOSTER REID Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended. RICHARD STEGGLES (Police Inspector M). At 11 o'clock on June 8th Cyrus Byrn called upon me and made a statement—I afterwards went to Collinson Street and saw the prisoner—I said "Your husband is saying you are living with a policeman are you married to him?"—she said "Yes," and showed me this certificate. (Read: To the effect that a marriags was solemnised at St Mary's Church, Lambeth, on August 25th, 1877, between William Tilley, police-constable, widower, and Emma Eliza Bryanston, widow)—I asked her if she had a certificate of her marriage with Byrn, and she produced at once this certificate (of marriage between Cyrus Byrn and Emma Whitely on April 16th, 1854, by banns)—she said "At the time I married Mr. Tilley I thought my husband dead; he was a brute to me, and I ran away from him."
Cross-examined. Tilley is one of my constables, and a very good one—I thought it my duty to act on Byrn's statement—he said she was cohabiting
with one of my constables—I said "Well, after all these years there is not much good moving in the matter unless you have some prospect of getting married," and he said "Yes, that is what I have; a very good one too. "
MARIAN PIPER . I am the wife of Thomas Piper, a waiter, and live at 22, Ashburnham Road, Greenwich—the prisoner is my sister—I was present when she was married to Cyrus Byrn at St. George's in the Borough in 1854.
Cross-examined. I last saw Byrn living with my sister eight or nine years ago—she left him in the night, on account of his brutality—I went to protect her—I next saw Byrn about a twelvemonth back; last September—we had not heard of him for a long time.
CYRUS HENRY BYRN . I am the son of the prisoner and Henry Byrn—I live at 53, Victoria Road, Ful h am—my mother has lived with Tilley as his wife—I was not present at the marriage—I lived with my father and the prisoner up to the time she left him in 1873 or 1874.
Cross-examined. Mother left on account of his ill-treatment, knocking her about with his fist, and on one occasion he broke a mahogany chair over her back, and that once I interfered—on the night she left him I was awoke by the noise in his room, and went in and found him knocking her about—he went upstairs—I protected my mother—she went to sleep in a chair—he came down about an hour and a half afterwards and struck me in the face with his fist—he threatened to do her some harm if she did not leave the house, and we walked the streets till between 5 and 6 o'clock in the morning, when we went to our grandfather's, to get away from Byrn's violence—the next day we found the doors fastened—a few days afterwards Byrn made away with the things—we did not hear of him again till the latter part of 1876 or the beginning of 1877—in 1875 or 1876 I heard he was dead, and the matter was discussed—I believed he was dead—my mother was with me when I heard it—that was about 12 months before she married Tilley—she is living comfortably with Tilley—I saw my father about three weeks before these proceedings, and told him there was a report of his death—he said that he had heard it himself, and that his foreman, on being sent to him for some work, had said he heard he was dead.
NOT GUILTY .
THOMAS EDWARD SCOTT . I live at Chapel Road, Bexley Heath—am employed by Williams and Co., of 68, Blackfriars Road—on 2nd May a fellow-clerk spoke to me, and showed me this cheque—I went into the warehouse and saw the prisoner and Thomas Scott, who had spoken to me—I told the prisoner the cheque was unendorsed—he said, "I can endorse it"—I then gave it to him and a pen, and he endorsed it, J. Soderberg"—this is the cheque (produced, for 11l. 18s. 6d.)—he said he had been in the City to cash it, but was unable to see Mr. Soderberg, and he had to pay 3l.—I made inquiries as to whether he was with Mr. Soderberg, and I gave him the change, 8l. 18s. 6d., and a receipt for 3l. paid in Mr. Soderberg's name, placing the amount to Mr. Soderberg's credit—the cheque was paid into the bank the same day, and returned marked, "Orders not to
pay "—being Mr. Soderberg's servant I supposed he had authority to endorse the cheque.
Cross-examined. I have not the slightest recollection of your saying, "Shall I sign my name or Mr. Soderberg's?"
JOHN SODERBERG . I am a tailor, of 318, Kennington Road—this cheque is endorsed in Mudd's writing—I gave him no authority to endorse it—he was not in my employment at the time—he obtained that cheque, and I had no knowledge of it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am your brother-in-law—I have known you about 13 years—you get drunk now and again—I sent a boy last February to ask you to come and work for me in my shop—I had sacked you a fortnight before, not for getting drunk, but for not getting my work done—I got another man for a few days; he did not suit, and I sent him away—you commenced work on the Monday morning—I introduced you to my customers as a partner, but I said it was so that they might have confidence in you when I was not able to call upon them, and I introduced you to Mr. Charles and Mr. Robert Waller as my working partner, and made them understand it was a matter of business facility—I have not written to those gentlemen telling them the partnership had ceased to exist—you were in my shop on Monday, 1st May—I had not said anything about your leaving up to dinner-time—in the afternoon I asked you to leave my shop as you were not fit to be there, being so drunk; you would not go, and I had you taken out by a constable—you got a cheque from Charles Waller before you paid it.
Re-examined. There is no partnership whatever.
NOT GUILTY .
705. The said THOMAS MUDD was again indicted for forging a request for the delivery of a coat; also obtaining by false pretences a valuable security with a like intent MR. FOSTER REID , for the prosecution, offered no evidence. NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
EMILY STANLEY . I am barmaid at the Wellington Arms, Waterloo Road—the prisoner came there on the 20th May about 5 o'clock—he asked for half a pint of mild and Burton, and gave me a florin—I gave him 1s., 6d., and 4 1/2 d. in change—I put the florin in the till—there was no other florin there—there was a shilling in it—the prisoner took the change and left—10 minutes afterwards he came again, and asked for 2d. worth of whisky in cold water; he gave me a second florin—I looked at that, and found it was bad; I looked at the first one, and found that was bad—I said, "You have given me two bad florins;" he said he had not been in the house before—I called the landlord in, and said in his presence, "This man has been in the house before and given me a bad florin, and he has come in again and given another"—I gave both the florins to the landlord, Mr. Price—the second one I did not put in the till—I am sure the prisoner is the same man—I knew him when he came in the second time—he had paid for the whisky with a good florin to the landlord, and he gave him change—Mr. Price asked him where the change I gave him was—he said he had not got any more money; he bad not any change about him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There are no particular points about you that I identify you by; I thought you were a rough-looking man.
JOHN PRICE . I am the landlord of the Wellington Arms—on the afternoon of the 20th May, about 5, the barmaid gave me two bad florins; the prisoner was present—she said, "This man has given me two bad florins "—he said he had not been in the house before; he gave one florin about 10 minutes previously to the other one—I did not say anything about the change—I took 1s. 10 1/2 d., because he had 1s. 10 1/2 d. from the first florin—I gave the two florins to the constable, and the prisoner tried to escape—when I went out at one door he went out at the other—he said, "I will go after the governor"—he walked sharply down the street, and the constable fetched him back.
JOHN MCGUIRE (Policeman L 87). I was called to the Wellington Arms—the prisoner was about 25 yards from the door, I went after him, and took him into custody—he said, "I went in for 2d. worth of Irish; I put down the 2s. piece; the girl tested it; she said it was bad; I said I had it from a man at the Commercial Docks; I know nothing about the other; it is the first time I have been in the house"—I found a penny and two halfpennies in his left-hand trousers pocket; that is all I found on him—I took him to the station—he refused his address—he said, "I have been to a tobacco-shop underneath an archway in the Waterloo Road for some tobacco"—he said, "I put down the 2s. piece; the girl had no change; I then left and went to the public-house"—he said he had been working a couple of days at the Commercial Docks; he did not say for, whom—there is a tobacco-shop underneath an archway in the Waterloo Road, about 30 yards from the Wellington Arms—Mr. Price gave me these two bad florins (produced).
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I went to the tobocco shop to inquire if there had been a man with bad money, and saw Alice Weedon—she said thore had—she did not come to the police-station and recognise you—she took her oath at the police-court that you were not the man—the other constable who was with me when I took you into custody was No. 123—I was not talking to the landlord when the other constable was talking to you.
ALICE WEEDON . I manage a tobacconist's shop at 79A, Waterloo Road for Mr. Carter—I was there serving in the shop on the afternoon of Saturday, the 20th, of May—I was there all day—I remember a man coming in that day about 4. 55, and offering me a bad florin—I refused to take it—the prisoner is not the man—I do not know who the man was—I never saw the prisoner before, till I saw him at the police-court—that is the only tobacconist's under the archway.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The man was not anything like you—he was about your height, but dressed differently.
The prisoner, in his Statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he received 4s. 5d. for work done at the Commercial Docks, and that he first tendered a florin of the money in payment of some tobacco, but the woman who served him having no change, he topic it to the prosecutor's shop; that he had been in India a number of years, where bad money was seldom seen, and that in England he had handled money with the same freedom as in India, without the slightest thought of his having bad.
NOT GUILTY .
708. FREDERICK WRIGHT** (50) to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Otto Hund a photographic album, having been before convicted.— Two Years' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
709. CHARLES ARTHUR JEYNES (22) to feloniously forging and uttering a cheque for 31l. 5s. 6d. with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. — Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
710. ARTHUR HALES (19) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Albert William Wyatt, and stealing therein a number of cigars and 7l.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ISAAC ISAACS . I am a woollen merchant at 100, Bishopsgate Street Without—my firm has an account with Mrs. Levy, a tailor and clothier at 63, Hackney Road—on Friday the 26th of May the prisoner came to me with this order for five yards of black doeskin, and five yards of grey Derby, purporting to be signed "S. Levy"—he only had five yards of one and three-quarters of another—it came to 3l. 8s. 11d.—he carried them away with him—I believed he came from Mrs. Levy—I do not book such small things—he signed a receipt—I am certain he is the man—Mrs. Levy was a customer of mine.
RICHARD LAKIN . I am manager to Mrs. Sarah Levy, tailor and clothier, of 63, Hackney Road—the prisoner was in Mrs. Levy's employment about a fortnight before the 26th of May—on the 26th he was not engaged to work, but Was in the shop during some part of the day—this order is not in Mrs. Levy's handwriting—I did not give any authority for it to be signed; I had no power to do it—I did not give any authority to any person for goods to be obtained—this order is in the prisoner's handwriting—I know his writing—Mrs. Levy has not received any of the goods mentioned in the order.
SARAH LEVY . The prisoner was in my employ about a fortnight—casually after that—this order is not in my writing or written by my authority—I do not know whose it is—I gave no authority to any persons to obtain the goods—I Hid not receive any of the goods.
CHARLES CUSHION (City Policeman 949). On the 31st May, about half past 2 o'clock, I was called to Mr. Isaacs' shop—the prisoner was told he would be charged with obtaining goods by means of a forged order on the 26th May—I said "You will have to come to the station with me to hear the charge"—he said "Yes, I was drunk all the week, and remember nothing of it"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him some brokers' duplicates, nothing to do with these goods, two sample of goods, and sundry other email things; no money—he was under the influence of drink; he knew what he was about.
Prisoner's Defence. This was Derby week. I was engaged by Mrs.
Levy to do the cutting out in her business, and if I got any orders on my own account I was to share the profits. I had orders on my book for the goods I made out the order for. Mrs. Levy being away at the Oaks, and fearing the shop would be closed next day, and I should not be able to complete some of the orders I had promised by the Monday, I made out the order for the goods in the same way as I had done when Mrs. Levy wanted material, without any thought of anything except legitimate business. I was interested in the racing, and had been out a great many times to get the "tips" respecting the race, and was under the influence of liquor. I pledged the goods intending to redeem them the next day. I should not have parted with the goods if I had not been under the influence of drink.
SARAH LEVY (Re-examined). The prisoner had an arrangement with me that he should share the profits on the orders he brought, but when the orders were to have been booked there were none forthcoming—I never authorised anybody to get goods in my name, with the exception of my manager—he had not previously given any orders in my name—he went once and the cloth was sent home to me, because they would not give it without paying, but I never authorised him—this signature is like mine.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury, — Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
CHARLES JACK . I was at the time of the robbery a commercial traveller—I live at 91, Great Suffolk Street, Borough—on the 2nd of June, at about 20 minutes past 11 o'clock, I was passing over Blackfriars Bridge—I had gone about 30 yards, when all at once an arm came round me, a leg underneath, and down I went—it was like a lot gathering about me—the prisoner McMahon jumped upon me, and his hands were in my throat—I was looking at him for a minute—he then screwed my finger ring off my hand—I did not see him screw it off—directly they released me I rolled over and tried to clutch hold of the other prisoner—they all ran away—I could not swear Mead had bold of my hand—I did not know that my pin was gone, but one of the witnesses said "You have lost your pin "—I said "They have taken my ring"—my pin and ring were both safe up that time—I ran after the prisoners and seized them, and kept them till a constable came—I gave them in charge—I have no doubt that McMahon is the man who knelt on my chest—I have a doubt about Mead.
Cross-examined. It was about 11. 20—1 was late at business that day—on my way home I called at a house in the City where I get lunch and had a glass or two—I did not have more than I usually take—I knew what I was doing—at the police-court I was under the impression that Mead was one of the attacking party—after further consideration I have some doubt about him.
ROBERT LARKIN . I live at the Travellers' Club—I was passing over Blackfriars Bridge about 20 minutes past 11 on this night, in company with a lady—I saw McMahon on Mr. Jack's chest—I did not take much
notice at first, I thought it was two or three men who knew one another—when I had gone a few yards, I saw Mr. Jack run in front of me and holding these men—I recognise McMahon, but I cannot recognise the other—I passed on, so that I only saw the prisoner kneeling on Mr. Jack.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prosecutor; I never saw him before.
GEORGE FULCHER (City Policeman 491). I was on duty at Blackfriars Bridge on the night of the 2nd of June, at about 20 minutes past 11—I saw the prosecutor, and from what he said I took the prisoners into custody—I did not see the assault—the prisoners did not say anything.
Witness for the Defence.
DAVID DEAN . I live at 19, Brunswick Place, Grosvenor Park—I passed by on Blackfriare Bridge directly after this affair took place—I saw the prosecutor and the prisoners talking; I thought the prosecutor was drunk—be was very excited; so much so that I thought he hid knocked against them and was accusing them of it—Mead shook his arm and laid, "Leave go my arm at once "—McMahon said,"Never mind, Tom, it will be all right"—they did not seem to apprehend that so serious a charge would be brought against them—I did not think so either.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prosecutor knocked down—I know nothing whatever about the matter; I am only stating the demeanour of the prisoners at the time—I should not have taken any interest in the matter, but I found they were sent for trial, and I felt it my duty to come forward—I did not see the policeman—I did not see any of the other witnesses for the prosecution—there might have been two more persons round when I first came up—there were no more.
McMahon received a good character.
McMAHON— GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MEAD— NOT GUILTY .
MR. ISAACSON Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH appeared for Jones.
GEORGE AXTELL . I am a schoolmaster, and live at Blindley Hall, God stone—on the evening of the 17th of July I was standing in the opening opposite Walbrook, near the Mansion House, with my brother-in-law, and as the cry "The Prince has come" came along, I felt myself shouldered on my right side; my brother-in-law was pushed on one side, and immediately after I felt a tug at my watch, and my hat was in my hand—I turned round and said, "That man has got my watch," supposing my brother-in-law was close to me—the chain was hanging down—I saw Matheson on the left-hand side struggling with the officer who took him—I saw the watch in his possession—I saw Jones, side face on my right—he pushed and shouldered me towards the other man.
Cross-examined. There was not a large crowd just there—I do not think I was pushed or shouldered by other persons—I probably said before the Magistrate, "I was pushed on one side by the persons who stood next to MR. JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective). On Saturday night, the 17th inst.,
at 7 o'clock, I was in Princes Street, in company with Sagar, another officer—I saw the prisoners and two other men not in custody, together and we suspected them—I did not know who they were—two of them left the prisoners—we followed the prisoners and the two other men out of Princes Street into Mansion House Street, where there was a large crowd waiting, expecting the visit of the Prince of Wales—the two prisoners walked into the centre of the road; Jones placed himself on the right hand side of the prosecutor, Matheson placed himself on the left—Jones then placed his hat on the left-hand side of his face nearest the prosecutor, stooped down his head, and pushed the prosecutor with his left shoulder towards Matheson—they wedged the prosecutor between them—Matheson then took this watch out of the prosecutor's waistcoat pocket, and broke it from the chain—the prosecutor's coat was open when I saw it—the prisoner was going away at once and I took him into custody on the spot—he struggled, we fell to the ground; I took this watch out of his left hand—he said, "Some one put it into my hand. "
Croat-examined. There was a large crowd of persons—we were standing on the footway—there were two crowds—there was a division to allow the carriages to come up; in the centre of the road was another crowd, and in the rear of the crowd were the prisoners—there was no one behind them—between the centre of the road and the kerb there were people passing and repassing—I was immediately behind the prisoners, not a yard from them—there was a good deal of excitement; I saw several crowds of people going about together.
ROBERT SAGAR (City Detective). I was in company with the last witness; I saw Matheson and Jones and two other men together—I know the other men by sight—I saw Matheson place himself on the right hand side of a lady standing outside the European public-house and open a bag, Jones standing close by—in reference to this charge, I saw Matheson place himself on the left-hand side of the prosecutor and Jones on the right—after being there a few minutes I seized Jones, the other officer seized Matheson—Jones said, "What is the matter?"—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for being concerned in stealing a watch"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I saw Matheson seized with the watch in his hand.
Cross-examined. I was standing side by side with Davidson—I saw nothing of the actual robbery—Davidson was nearer Matheson—he was close to me—watching Jones prevented me from seeing the actual robbery.
JOHN MATHESON (The prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this charge—I did not steal it in concert with Jones—there were two more men with me—this man was not with me at all; we were never seen in company before—I do not know him—I defy any one to say I know the man.
GUILTY. MATHESON also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony on December 5th 1881.— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
builder's foreman, living at 81, Warner Road, Camberwell, with my mother, and three other children younger than I—there are others older who are not living at home—about a month before May 18th I was alone in Camberwell New Road, walking rather fast, about 10 minutes' walk from my father's house, when the prisoner spoke to me—he said "I bet I will race you to the bottom of the road," and he walked beside me some distance as far as the end of Warner Road—he left me there—an evening or two afterwards I met him accidentally—we simply stopped and spoke—he then made an appointment to meet me, but did not keep it; I did, but he was not there—I met him eight or nine times after that and walked with him on several occasions—the longest time I was in his company was not more than an hour, and sometimes he left me in the next street to ours, and once he came into the same street—he knew where I lived—I told him that I lived with my parents—he said nothing about his being in business; he did not tell me he was anything—from his conversation I imagined that he was a gentleman—I told him that my father was a builder's foreman—he talked of marriage the week before I went away with him—he said he would take me away with him and marry me—he said he would go first to Jersey or to Dieppe, and after it was all hushed up we would come back to England and be quietly married—I believed him—I met him by appointment on the Thursday before the Saturday when I went away, at the Triangle, Denmark Hill—he said if I did not keep my appointment I should make him the most miserable man in the world—I said he need not fear my disappointing him—I was to meet him on the Friday evening, and on Saturday at 6 I was to meet him at the Vauxhall Station—he said I was to take a change of linen with me—I had half a sovereign in my possession when I left home and a silver watch—I left home on Saturday about half-past 5—I had said nothing to my parents about going away; he told me not to do so, or any one else—I met the prisoner at the Oval—he said, "I was so afraid you would not come"—we walked to Vauxhall Station and then took: a cab to Bishop's Road, and took tickets to West Drayton; he paid for them and the cab—we got out of the train at West Drayton, and walked to an hotel at Longford, called the Peggy Bedford, a distance of three miles—I was present when he took a bedroom there—I did not hear him say who I was—he simply said, "Can you give us accommodation for the night?"—he wrote our names in the visitors' book, "Mr. and Mrs. Churchill; "I saw what he wrote—we remained at the hotel till Monday morning—I was in his company the whole time, except that he had a gentleman, a friend of his, down there with him on the Sunday; he went away, but he wished to stay—I slept in the same bed with the prisoner those two nights; I did not know that he was going back on the Monday—I did not know that he was employed at a gas company's office; I thought the was an independent gentleman—on the Monday morning he said, he had business to attend to—we came up to London on the Monday morning about 1 o'clock; he paid the hotel bill and the fare to London—we slept that night at a coffee-house in Vauxhall Road; his friend had told him of it; he did not sleep with me any night after that—he went home each night—I did know that he was married until the Saturday—this letter (produced) came to me by post on the Saturday morning; it is his writing; I saw him write twice, once in the book at the hotel, and When he wrote the address on a piece of paper—in this letter he speaks of an
appointment at 9 o'clock on Saturday evening, to take me home—I had another letter from him, which I destroyed—I got that during the week—I met him on the Saturday evening at 9 o'clock opposite the Horns at Kennington, not far my father's house, and it was while we were walking towards home that he told me he was married—I said I should drown myself if he did not take me home—that was on the Friday, and on the Saturday he agreed to take me home—he left me in the next street to my father's and went on; I did not wait for him; I went home voluntarily—I found my father and mother at home—I have since been staying at Worthing with friends of my parents, with their consent.
Cross-examined. I don't suppose I was eight hours in the prisoner's company before I agreed to run away with him, because I was not an hour in his company each time—he was the only person who was in my company without being properly introduced—I had no idea when I went away that I was to return on the Monday—I did not think I was going home any more—I went away under the belief that the prisoner would remain with me—I said at the police-court "He told me in the cab that I should have to return on the following Monday"—he did tell me so, but he said afterwards "Don't flurry yourself about it; you know I don't mean you to return on the Monday "—I destroyed his second letter, because there were statements in it that I should not care for anybody to read but myself—I wrote a letter to my parents, to make, as I said, a full and true confession—that letter was a tissue of falsehoods; it was not my own composition; I was not a consenting party to it—I said "Do you think my father will believe such an incredible tale as that?"—he said "Yes; if it is any ordinary commonplace affair he won't believe it "—when he said I should make him the most miserable man in the world if I did not turn up, I said "You need not think I shall disappoint you, because I should be disappointed myself if you did not take me away "—I don't think he appeared backward in wanting to take me away—he said to me "I don't believe you want to go away "—I knew that he was going for his holiday during the summer; I did not know that he was going then—I said "Why need we go out of England at all, or out of London, in-fact?"—he said it would be better to do so—I did not ask him why—he knew that I lived with my father and where it was; he had parted from me next door but one to my father's—he never called me Lottie Barker—he sent a letter to me in that name.
Re-examined. The letter I sent to my father was the prisoner's composition—this is it. (This was dated 19-5-82, addressed "My dear father and mother," and purported to contain an account by the witness of her supposed marriage to Sir Philip Nugent, giving extravagant details of her fine dresses and grandeur, and asking pardon for her misconduct in leaving home.) The whole of the letter was the prisoner's invention.
JOHN STEWART . I am a builder's foreman, and have lived at 81, Warner Road, Camber well, 18 years—I produce a certificate of my daughter Bessie's birth. (This stated her to have been born on 16th July, 1866.) Up to the time of her going away on Saturday, 13th May, I had never seen her in company with any man—I never saw the prisoner till the night he brought her home—about 11 o'clock that night he knocked at the door; my little son opened it, and called me to the door saying "A gentleman to tell us something about Bessie "—I had been in great distress about her during the week, and had used every endeavour
to find her—she was not away with my consent—I saw the prisoner in the passage—he said that he was a gentleman, and coming home he saw her in distress on Westminster Bridge, and as a friend he had come home to ask me to forgive her for going away—I said "There is no occasion for forgiveness; where is she?"—he said "Bound in Wellington Road, and he would find her"—I said "I will go with you"—he rather hesitated, and said he would go himself—I would not let him go—I walked to where he said she was, still grumbling and saying "Where is she?"—he said "She is forward here "—at last I said "If I could find Sir Philip Nugent, whoever he was, that took my child away, I would send a bullet through him "—he said "I shouldn't talk so; people would think me silly"—I turned on him and said I would let them know whether I was silly or not—we went round the street; I could not find my daughter—he walked back to my own door with me, and at last I told him I would take him on suspicion till I found her—he said oh, look at his respectability and all that; that I was going to ruin, him—I said "You can proclaim your innocence when I have found my child"—I took him to Camberwell Police-station—he there gave the name of Norris—I left him there and went home, and I hadn't been there three minutes when my girl knocked at the door, and the moment she told me it was that fellow who took her away, I went back to the station and charged him—he said she was old enough, or something to that effect—I told him she wasn't 16 till July—he said I should have to prove that.
GEORGE BACON . I am the son of Thomas Bacon, of the Peggy Bedford Hotel, Longford—on Saturday, 13th "May, a lady and gentleman came to our hotel—the gentleman wrote in the book "Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, Dulwich"—this is the book (produced)—I cannot say the prisoner is the person who wrote that, but he is the man who came as Mr. Churchill, and the witness as Mrs. Churchill—they occupied one bedroom, no sitting room—they stayed till Monday morning, living as man and wife—the prisoner paid the bill on leaving.
EMMA SKINNER . I am chambermaid at 333, Kennington Road, a coffee-shop and hotel—on Monday evening, 5th May, the prisoner and Miss Stewart came together to our hotel; he asked for a room for himself and wife, and they had a bedroom which they occupied for the night—he paid for the room and for tea that night and breakfast next morning.
GEORGE FRY (Police Inspector P). On Saturday evening I was at the Camberwell Police-station; Mr. Stewart and the prisoner came there together—Mr. Stewart said "This man has brought the girl home to the door, and has stated that he met her on Westminster Bridge, and knowing her as a friend, he brought her up to the street; he immediately went out to endeavour to find her, but did not"—he asked the prisoner his name; he said "Norris"—that seemed somewhat to confuse Mr. Stewart, as he understood she had been acquainted with a man named Morris—the station inspector said it was necessary to detain him—he said "What am I charged with?"—1 said "You are not charged at present, you are detained "—he gave his name and address as 24, Danville Road, Denmark Hill—I went there and found his wife, and had a conversation with her—I did not see a child; I heard there was one there—I came back and told him I had seen his wife—he said "Yes, I have a wife there"——he said that he was with his friends at Twickenham on Saturday, Sunday,
and Monday last—I told him that his wife had said that she had forgotten where he was—the inspector asked the father the age of the girl, and he said "Sixteen next July"—the prisoner said "You will have to prove that. "
Cross-examined. He said the girl always said she was 17 or 18 years of age.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
715. CHARLES GOODRIDGE (21) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously breaking and entering St. Saviour's Church, Southwark, and stealing a book, the property of the churchwardens; also to a previous conviction at this Court in February, 1881. It was stated that the prisoner had been six times convicted of similar offences.— Twelve Months Hard Labour.
716. SIDNEY JACKSON (47) to feloniously forging and uttering an endorsement to an order for the payment of 1l. 13s., with intent to defraud. He received an excellent character.— One Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
717. EDWARD PRING** (27) to three indictments for stealing in the dwelling-house, and to a previous conviction at Tanbridge Wells.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM AUGUSTUS OLDER . I keep a school at Carrington Lodge, Marsh Gate, Richmond, and have a house next door in which my masters live——in October last I had a lawn-mower; at the close of the season I placed it under a table in the back kitchen; the box and the shield were placed in a pantry which I do not use, and were locked up—it is an American machine known as the Excelsior, with "Burnett, Weight, Higgins, and Co., London and Paris," stamped on it—this is it (produced)—I purchased it from Mr. Clarke, who is a witness—when I wanted it in May this year it had disappeared, but the box and shield were safe—I employed the prisoner as a gardener—he was last employed at Carrington Lodge on 14th January—he knew where the machine was kept in the winter—on 3rd June I went with Sampson to the prisoner's house, 5, Park Villas, Queen's Road, and there found the machine—these two holes have been made in it since, they are lubricating holes, and a new box and shield have been made to it—I said to the prisoner, "I have lost my lawn-mower, and I understand you have one just like it; I should like to see it"—he said, "I bought it; it is not your machine, Mr. Older; your machine had not a box like that, nor the holes"—I said "No"—the detective then came in and said, "Where did you buy it?"—he said, "Of the firm at their premises"—I said, "I want to know where their premises are"—he said, "In Whitechapel"—I said, "What did you give for it?"—he said, "3l. 10s. "—I said, "I suppose you have a receipt?"—he said, "No, I never had one," and that he sent a post-office order in payment—I said," Do you mean to say that these people did not send you a receipt for your post-office order? how did it come down to Richmond?"—he said, "By the South-Western Railway; you don't mean to accuse me of stealing it?"—I said," No, I don't like to do that, but you will have to show by the books of the firm that you bought it"
—I had not then seen Wallis or the assistant—I said, "Yon hare had an alteration made"—he said, "Yes, the man that did that was named Wallis "—there was a new bolt in the side, and the end of the bolt had been filed—he was afterwards given in custody.
Cross-examined. My servants were not living in that house, but they went over there to do their work; only the servants were allowed access to the kitchen; there was nothing to prevent other persons going there—there is a roadway in front of the house and a garden at the back—the servants would only go to the kitchen to get water—no one could walk into the kitchen without being observed, because a gentleman has a bedroom over it in which he studies—the prisoner has worked for me from the end of last June—I have had the machine since 1879; it has been worn—I knew it by the feel of the action directly I handled it, it was like an old familiar friend—I have tried others; I tried a new one yesterday, that had not the same feel; that is my strong reason—I sometimes saw it two days consecutively—the prisoner is the only man who used it—I know it by its general appearance, the worn handle and the behaviour of it—mine was a little greyer, a darkish grey—this has got a little greyer since it has been in the hands of the police—the prisoner lives not very far from me—I have heard that he has been using it openly in my neighbourhood—he gave me the name of Wallis as the person who put the bolts in, but I had some difficulty in getting his name and address—he said nothing about the box.
Re-examined. He pointed to it and said, "Yours was a different box and shield, and had not two holes in it"—my machine was enamelled, and had some red lines on it—this has been painted over, and I have scratched some of the paint off and found the red line there.
THOMAS CLAEKE . 1 live at Twickenham, and have a place of business in the City—in June, 1879,1 sold a lawn-mower to Mr. Older—it was similar to this; it had "Burnett, Weight, Higgins, and Co., London and Paris," cast on it—I sell machines still—they used to be stamped in that way to the end of 1880; the name of the agents was then left out entirely—that is the agent's name—this is not the box which I sold with the machine—the price of the machine new would be it. 10s. including the box.
Cross-examined. We sell from 100 to 200 machines every week; 150 is the average during the season—each would be the same pattern—Mr. Older's was a 12-inch; that is the medium size—I sold hundreds of them in 1879—they are made in America, and come directly from there to me—we do not sell many second-hand; I have no doubt there are some—I am unable to say that this is the machine I sold to Mr. Older—they are not numbered because all the parts are interchangeable—this is not the same colour now as the one I sold, and there are two holes in it which I did not make—this shank is not in the Excelsior.
Re-examined. I have not seen it since it has been scratched. (Examining it)—this red line would be as we sent it out—we have no agency in Whitechapel.
GEORGE WALLIS . I am a smith, of Mortlake Road, Richmond—the prisoner asked me to alter and repair this machine—there was then no box or shield to it, and these two lubricating holes were not there; it was painted as it is now—it would not cut the grass right, and I packed the sole plate and made the cog right, and made the two lubricating holes—I had a bit of zinc, and I said, "I can give you this and out it just for a
makeshift for a shield"—he asked me where I could get a box; I referred him to Mr. Reynolds or Mr. Pearce.
Cross-examined. I tried the machine before I altered it—Í should say it had been in use two or three years, but not frequently—I have seen other machines like it in Richmond—I have known the prisoner twelve months, and never heard anything against his character.
SAMUEL SAMPSON (Police Sergeant V). On June 3rd I went with Mr. Older to the prisoner at Park Villas—I heard him say to Mr. Older "It is not your machine; yours was quite different; yours had not got a box like this, and it had not got anything like this," pointing to the grass mower—I asked him where he got it—he said he bought it of the farm—I asked him the name—he said "You will see on the machine"—1 asked him again, and he said he bought it in Whitechapel, and tent a post-office order for it, and the machine was sent to Richmond railway station in the middle of February he thought, and he fetched it away—T told him I was not satisfied, and should take him to the station, which I did, and when the charge was being taken he said "I did not send for the machine myself; a man of the name of Hill, who I had worked with several days, I gave him the order, and he sent for it—I asked Hill's address—he said that lie did live at a beerhouse in Red Lion Street.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Two Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Denman.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTÍOU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. DOUGLAS defended at the request of the Court.
GUILTY .— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted;
MR. FRITH appeared for Henry and Griffiths, and MR. COLE for By ham.
MARY ANN CARPENTER . 1 am single—I am known also by the name of Williams—I have known Hyham about 18 months, and have lived with him since the end of March last as his wife at 29, Webber Row—I know Griffiths in the name of Beasley—he came to stay at our place on Easter Monday—we only had one room, and we made him a bed on the floor—I have seen a person who he calls his wife, and some children—I don't think he has had any other place but ours since Easter Monday lots of things and keys of all kinds were found in our place by the police in my presence—I don't know how long they had been there, because I had been away from home for a fortnight—I had seen them there from time to time—Henry and Griffiths sometimes stayed out all night, and took some of the things with them—some of the keys were kept under the head of the bed in parcels, some in the washhand-stand drawer, and some in a cupboard. (A jemmy in two pieces which screwed together was here produced)—May 2nd was my birthday, and the prisoners were at home part of the day—I went out part of the evening and came back again—Griffiths was at home all the time I was at home—he did not go to bed;
he said that he eat up in a chair to prevent overlaying himself, because they were going out early in the morning, and Henry and I slept together—Henry got up about 5 o'clock, and he and Griffiths went out and returned at a little after 6 o'clock with a sack full of things and a mason's basket—they took a quantity of knives out of the sack, and five clocks out of the basket—one was like this alabaster one, and two of the others were alike—they put them on the mantelpiece—they went out in the course of the day, and Henry said that they were going to get somebody to buy the goods—the next two days nobody called, and Griffiths slept there all the time—on the Saturday morning, May 6th, we bad no money, because they were disappointed in selling the goods, and Henry suggested that I should go and pledge some of the knives—I took six black-handled table knives and forks to Mr. Folkard, a pawnbroker in Blackfriars Road, and offered them in pledge—the pawnbroker closed the door behind me, sent for a policeman, and I was taken to the station—I was remanded on my own bail for a week, to appear on the following Saturday—I went to a friend's house in the City Road, and about 12 p.m. went back to 28, Webber Row, and found the prisoners in bed and asleep—I awoke them and told them what had occurred—they did not believe I had been locked up at all, but said that I had pledged the knives and spent the money with my friends—I missed the four clocks from the mantelpiece, and Henry said in the morning that he had sold them—I said "You sold my clock then, because you were annoyed "—he said "No, your clock is in the cupboard, but the others are sold, with some knives "—he had given me the small clock—this alabaster clock was also in the cupboard—at dinner time they both went out, and Henry said that if anybody called they were going to the public-house at the corner of the London Road—they returned at a little after 3 o'clock, and asked if anybody had been—I said "No"—they went out again after 6 and came in at 8—they believed my story then, and Henry said I was very fortunate to get out—I was going to light the lamp, and Henry said "I will light it; you had better get down, as there is somebody coming up to look at the goods "—as I went out of the room, H) ham, who I did not know, and a friend of his who I knew as Bobby Kane, came in—Griffiths came up afterwards with a pot of beer, and they were all in the room together—I went downstairs and sat with Mrs. Gordon, the landlady—they remained for an hour, and then Henry called "Folly," and gave mo 6s—he said that he had sold the things, and they would be settled for in the morning—I had no money at that time, and had borrowed 2s. of the landlady; I went out and returned to supper, and next morning about 9.30, Henry and Griffiths packed the things in a basket and bag, and took them away—they came back grumbling horribly about the price; Henry said, "If you call this thieving, I call it thieving from other people, and I think I shall turn the game up "—I asked who he had sold the things to—he said, "The old Jew "—I said, "Did you sell them to Kane?"—he said no, to his pal, that lives opposite, the old Jew—Henry said that he did not think it necessary for me to appear at the Court on the Saturday, and I took no further notice—on the following Tuesday or Wednesday, the 16th or 17th, I came home and found the prisoners out—I cannot exactly say at what time in the morning they returned, as I had no clock, Henry had pledged it—on Saturday, 27th May, I was taken in custody
on a warrant, and on the Monday, Bank Holiday, I was remanded till Thursday in custody, and after I came up on the Thursday I gave information.
Cross-examined. My real name is Mary Ann Carpenter—I have gone by the name of Williams about four years—I do so when I am with my mother, but when I stay with my friends I go by the name of Carpenter—I knew a man named Ferneux, I lived with him about four years—that is his real name I believe, but he went by the name of Williams he was convicted at this Court of housebreaking on the 18th of last October 12 months, and sentenced to five years' penal servitude, at the time I was living with him—I do not know a man named Fielding to my knowledge—I know Finsbury, but do not know Bowerbank's distillery; it may be that I know a man who was employed there—I know a clerk named Glover in Bowerbank's distillery—I may have told a lie when I said that I did not know Bowerbank's distillery at all—I never lived with Glover, I knew him about three months; he assisted to keep me—we did not occupy the same room; he has his own private residence—I do not say that he has not stayed with me all night—I believe he was prosecuted for embezzlement by his own father and tried here five or six years ago, and got five years' there are several beershops in Prevost Street, City Road—I have never heard of my being charged with stealing a watch from The Hope beershop, the property of Mr. Turner—I knew a man named Shovel by sight, about two years; I did not often speak to him, only for the last three or four months—it is over four months since I have seen him—I have not lived with him or been kept by him, nor lived under his protection—I have slept with him; I only know him as a friend of the prisoners, they call him their friend-—I do not know that he has been in prison for three months—I was discharged by the Magistrate on the charge of pawning this property—before I was discharged I saw Inspector Fox—when I took the knives to the pawnbroker's I did not not know that they were part of the proceeds of a burglary—I did not see any dentist's instruments, they were knives and forks; I knew they were stolen—I called my brother and a friend before the Magistrate to prove that I had these knives and forks six months before—I did not know they were coming to commit perjury; my brother knew nothing of it till 2 p.m., when I saw him at the House of Detention, he only went by what I told him—Mrs. Cummings was my other witness; she is not here; she swore she had seen a parcel similar to this about Christmas, but my brother never swore—he stood bail for me, and as I went out of Court I saw Inspector Fox, but had no conversation with him—I told my brother the truth—I do not expect to get anything by giving this evidence, I think it is my duty to do so—I arrived at that conclusion just lately—when I saw that two innocent men were going to suffer, I thought it was time to speak—it was for the love of justice, but it was after I had been charged myself—I was discharged at Southwark Police court, but I do not know how the case will end, I only know I am speaking the truth and I intend to do so—Griffiths was not a tenant, he was a friend of Henry's—I did not trouble about these jemmies, I knew they had no business there; they did not belong to Henry, they belonged to Griffiths—I knew they were burglars' tools—I had not seen similar tools in Ferneaux's possession, he never kept anything at home; what he did out I don't know—I did not betray him or give evidence against
him, but I do so now for the sake of two men who I never saw till last Tuesday—they were charged at Westminster before I was charged; I did not then make a statement, because I was living with Henry—my love of justice commenced after I was charged.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The man who was convicted of house breaking went by the name of James and by the name of Williams; you asked me at the police-court whether I ever lived with any other persons who were convicted of felony, and I said I did not; I do not know whether the man was innocent, he was found guilty.
Re-examined. When I took these things to pledge they had been taken out of brown paper; we were wanting money, and there was nothing else to pledge; they were taken loose in this cloth—Henry said "If you are asked anything, say that they are your own property"—I did not think there was any harm in it, or I would not have done it—I sent a message to my brother, and he and Mrs. Cummings were called as witnesses for me on 1st June, and Mr. Abrahams, the solicitor, appeared for me and called them—Mrs. Cummings had been to see me in the House of Detention, and I asked her to take a message to my brother—I did not ask her to give false evidence—a warder was present—I got out a fortnight last Thursday—my brother advised me to make a statement and tell the truth, and Inspector Fox told me to go to the Treasury, which I did, and made a statement, after which Mr. Poland called me as a witness, and I have been in the way ever since—I do not know the name of Turner—no charge has been made against me in reference to these knives and forks—as to two innocent men being in custody, I only knew what Henry told me—he read the evening paper to me and said that two men were in custody and had been remanded from Westminster Police-court for the jewellery in Pimlico—he told me the place where he and Griffiths had been to, and that they had a job to get away—I said "What can be done for them?" he said "They will have to put up with it, as we should if we were caught"—they were actually remanded—I have seen them here every day this week—I know that on 16th May the prisoners went out and lost a lot of their tools.
MARY ANN GORMAN . My husband is a labourer, of 29, Webber Row, Waterloo Road—I know Henry as Mr. Williams—he came with the last witness on a Monday at the end of March, and I let them a front room, first floor, at 4s. 6d. a week—they remained there till Henry was taken in custody—he told me that he was a salesman and broker's man, and should be often away, and then his mistress would be over the water with her friends—I saw Griffiths in the house—I remember the day Mrs. Williams borrowed 2s. of me to get her Sunday's dinner—I saw her the same evening in my room for some time, talking—I was only in their room once while they were there.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not see Griffiths very often—I cannot say whether he ever slept there—there was only one bed in the room—he did not sleep in any other room.
MATTHEW FOX (Police Inspector M). On 3rd May I received information of this robbery, and sent notices round to the pawnbrokers that any person pawning the things might be detained—I received notice that Mrs. Williams was detained by Mr. Folkard—she was taken before a Magistrate on Saturday, 6th May—I was there—the knives and forks were produced; she was charged with stealing them, and was allowed to go on her
own recognisances to appear on the 13th—she did not appear—a warrant was obtained and she was arrested on the 27th. taken before a Magistrate on the 29th, and remanded to Thursday, June 1, when a solicitor appeared for her and called witnesses, and she was remanded to Thursday, the 8th, when she was allowed to go on her brother's recognisance, and I saw her join Henry, who was waiting in the neighbourhood, and they went away together—on the same day at 5 o'clock I saw Henry and another man come from Webber Bow and go up Blackfriars Road, and said, "I arrest you for a robbery at Newington Causeway;" he said, "You hare made a mistake this time"—I handed him over to Cox, and went with Inspector Phillips to 29, Webber Bow—we got there about 6 o'clock and found Griffiths sitting on the bed with his hat and coat off, which were hanging behind the door; he was having some beer—I said "I shall arrest you;" he said, "What for?"—I said, "I will tell you when you got to the station "—we searched the room, and found in a washhand stand drawer, a black bag with three large skeleton keys in it, a small jemmy, and two broken files, this nutmeg grater, and some dried liver partly grated, and in a cupboard two chisels, some wedges, this long jemmy, two bits and braces, 28 other skeleton keys, making 44, and this small dark lanthorn—I saw Phillips find this composite jemmy between the bed and the mattress done up nicely in paper—I also found a white handled knife and fork, a steel, and this pawn-ticket, dated May 15, 1882, from Mr. Davison, 145, Waterloo Road, for a timepiece for 2s. 6d., in the name of Henry Johnson—I went to Mr. Davison's, and found that it related to the small clock—some of the skeleton keys opened both the lock and the latch on Mr. Hart's door—I found this rent-book in the room; it is in the name of Beasley, and is for payment of rent at some other house up to 15th April—I directed Hyham's arrest, and was at the station when he was brought there and charged with stealing all this property—he said, "This night month exactly I bought this clock outside Francis's sale-rooms. "
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. Hyham was taken on Saturday, 10th June I have been stationed there 12 or 14 years—I have known Francis's Auction Booms several years, and have seen them open in the evening—I have not inquired whether they were open on that night—I did not communicate personally with Mr. Maule, the Public Prosecutor; I communicated with the Treasury—I did not go to Hyham's house; Cox did—I saw Williams's brother in the street, and had half an hour's conversation with him—I was at the police-court on 15th June before Mr. Bridge but made no communication to his clerk—after Williams was discharged on June 8 I saw her at Webber Bow—her brother was there—1 was there probably half an hour.
Re-examined. The brother and Mrs. Cummings were called on Thursday, June 1st—she was remanded on 8th June and went out on bail and joined the prisoner Henry—while she was out on bail. I met her at the solicitors office for her statement to be taken—she was afterwards discharged and called as a witness.
HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector). I went with Inspector Fox to 29, Webber Street—I found this jemmy in two pieces, and two black bags with skeleton keys, all tied up in a brown paper parcel and laid on the bed rails under the mattress.
Waterloo Road—I produce an American timepiece pawned on 15th May in the name of Henry Johnson for 2s. 6d., to the best of my belief by the prisoner Henry—I hare seen his face—I have the corresponding duplicate.
ARTHUR COX (Detective M). On 10th June, about 12.30, I went to Hyham's house, 1, College Place, Draper Street, Newington Butts, with a search warrant—I found this alabaster clock on the mantelpiece in the front room downstairs—I afterwards saw Hyham in a cart in St. George's Road—I stopped it and said "Hyham, I have got a warrant for your apprehension for receiving a clock and other property stolen from 65, Newington Crescent on 3rd May"—he said "Three weeks ago this evening 1 was standing outside Francis's Auction Booms, and bought the clock of a man for 11s.; a policeman saw me there smoking a long pipe, which they would not allow me to smoke inside"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The parlour faces the court; there are no railings before the window—I might have seen the clock by looking in at the window, and anybody could see it if the door was open—I searched the house thoroughly—I have known these auction rooms several years, but did not know the name—they have sales there two or three evenings in a week—I never saw any sales going on in the day—the clerk informed me that Hyham had dealt there many years.
HENRY HART . I am a china dealer, of 65, Newington Causeway—on 2nd May I locked up my premises at 10 p.m., and next morning at 8 o'clock I found them broken open—I missed 30 dozen knives, eight dozen forks, eight knives, and five clocks, value 30l., and 7s. 6d. from the till—the knives and forks were done up in parcels; these produced are some of them—I identify this alabaster clock by a dent on it, and this other also, and this steel knife and fork—my house was not broken into; the door was opened by skeleton keys.
HENEY and GRIFFITHS— GUILTY . They then
PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions at this Court, Henry in February, 1881, and Griffith in September, 1873.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each. HYHAM— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
WILLIAM JOSEPH SUMMERS . I keep the Gloucester Arms, Bolls Road, Bermondsey—on 30th May, at 11.55 p.m., I served the prisoner with a glass of mild and bitter ale, which came to 1 1l. 2d.; he gave me a bad half crown—I said, "How many coins have you got like this?"—he said, "I have just changed a half-sovereign"—he showed me a good half-crown, two florins, and 1s.—I took the shilling, and gave him the change—he was moving towards the door, and I jumped over the counter, stopped him, and gave him in charge—I heard something drop, and another bad half-crown was picked up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had to go to the other end of the bar to draw the ale, but you put down the piece before I went; I took it up when you came back—you did not then say, "That is not mine; you should be careful not to take other people's money up before mine "—you did not say, "I am quite certain that does not belong to me "—you were very saucy—you did not say where you changed the half-sovereign.
ARTHUR WOOD (Policeman M 117). On the night of 30th May I was sent for to the Gloucester Arms, and met the prisoner coming out in a hurry with the landlord hanging on to his coat-tails—he took his right hand out of his trousers pocket, and I heard a coin drop, and Riley, who was with me, picked up a half-crown—I found on the prisoner two florins, two shillings, three sixpences, and 13 pence, all good—Mr. Summers gave me this half-crown—going to the station the prisoner said, "I did not do it; I cannot help other people putting money down in front of mine," and at the station he pulled out his money and said, "Here is my change of a half-sovereign"—he had lit. 1d. altogether.
Cross-examined. You said at the station that neither of the bad coins belonged to you.
WILLIAM RILEY (Policeman M 116). I was with Wood, and saw the prisoner draw his hand up; something fell, and I picked up this bad half-crown; it rolled, and I stopped it with my foot about 3 feet from the house.
Prisoner's Defence. There is no evidence to prove that either of these coins was ever in my possession. I never placed that shilling on the counter. My shilling was taken up, and I received the right change. It was Whit Tuesday, and I had been to see a publican, and was not sober. I have two excellent characters here.
WILLIAM JOSEPH SUMMERS (Re-examined). He tendered the first half crown before I left his presence; I served him, and then took it up; I am sure it is the same—I had to turn my back while I drew the beer.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a previous conviction
JAMES BOLTON . I am a warder of Holloway Prison—I. produce a certificate of the conviction of William Wood of felony at Middlesex Sessions in July, 1879—he was sentenced tonine months' imprisonment—the prisoner is the man—I was present at his trial—it was for stealing 40 spoons and other articles—he was transferred from Coldbath Fields to Holloway, where he was my own cleaner.
The Prisoner. I deny it totally; I was employed quite differently; it is a case of mistaken identity; I was never convicted of stealing 40 silver spoons in my life.
Witness. You have had notice of this—I was sworn at the police-court, and proved the conviction in your presence.
GUILTY.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
Cross-examined. She denied to me that she was living with the prisoner, and when I found out where she lived she always moved away.
DANIEL NEWELL . I am a bootmaker, of 11, Gurney Street, New Kent Road—the deceased lived in my house with the prisoner about a year and 10 months—I first saw him on 17th May about 10.30; they were indoors;
the prisoner was partially inebriated—Mrs. Smith was sober, as far as I could see—she came into my room, which is on the basement, and he went upstairs to their room, which is at the top of the house—Mrs. Fowls is my housekeeper, her room is in the basement—they went up stairs some time past 11 o'clock, and then I heard her say "For God's sake, Fowls, come upstairs, he has set me on fire!"—I went up to the landing where they lived, and saw her burning; her clothes were flaming up nearly as high as the ceiling—she was partially in the back room and on the landing—they had the front and back rooms, the landing runs between the two; the back room is' on the left, and the other room is straight on—the prisoner was standing between the two rooms in a corner, doing nothing—I wrapped some bedclothes round her, and carpets, and anything 1 could get hold of, and extinguished the flames, and she was sent to Guy's Hospital—the prisoner then went out, and came back again about 1.30 or 2 a.m., but I would not allow him to come in—their rooms used to be lighted by a lamp—I should imagine it was paraffin, but I did not see any lamp—I saw no water on the floor of either of the rooms—I did not look to see, but I will undertake to say that there was none—the prisoner did not assist in putting out the flames or in taking her to the hospital.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Fowls went up first and called for me, and I went up in a very short time—I could not tell whether Mrs. Smith was a foot inside her bedroom or on the landing when I went up; my first care was to put out the flames, and I went into the room and took off the bedclothes—I can't say whether she was in her bedroom when I wrapped them round her—I did not go into the sitting-room before I attended to her—I did not see her put on her bed after the flames were extinguished—I went into both rooms; first into the back room to get the bedclothes, and after the flames were put out into the other room—I did not take the bedclothes back, but I went into the back room again to open the window and let the smoke out—my attention was not drawn to any water spilt—I opened the windows of both rooms, but do not remember which I opened first—I had no motive for going into the front room than to open the window—there was no paraffin alight on the niece of carpet when I got upstairs; nothing was burning but what she Bad been wrapped in—the part of the lamp which contains the paraffin is white china—I did not hear the china break, because there was a floor intervening—Mrs. Fowls was in the basement, in the same room with me, when the first alarm was given; she was as far from Mr. Taylor's room as I was—Mrs. Smith took the apartment herself, when Taylor was in the hospital with a broken leg—I do not know where he was employed, but I do know that he had broken his leg at an iron place—after he came out of the hospital he came to live with Mrs. Smith at my place, and for a long time he was extremely sober—they left off lodging at my place and paying the rent for some months—I never heard Taylor complain of Mrs. Fowls leading his wife astray, and I never heard Mrs. Fowls calling him names; she did not call him an old cripple or an old hypocrite—I do not know that she was antagonistic to him—the expression was "For God's sake, Fowls, come upstairs, he has set me on fire," not "I am in flames"—I should not like to be positive. (The witness's deposition being referred to, stated, "For God's sake, Fowls, come upstairs, I am on fire")
By the COURT. No water came through the ceiling afterwards—there was some paraffin burning in the passage, but there was no carpet to
burn—the prisoner did nothing to put it out—I said before the Coroner that I heard the woman's voice say "For God's sake, Fowls, he has set me on fire "—I thought I said that at both places—I was not before the Coroner and the Magistrate on the same day.
Re-examined. I saw paraffin burning on the board of the landing, but I saw no paraffin spilt in either of the rooms, nor anything burning there, nor anything burning inside—I saw the pieces of a paraffin lamp on the landing—they are not here—I did not take them into my hand—it had a white reservoir.
CHARLOTTE FOWLS . I live at Mr. Newell's house—I was at home on the Wednesday evening—the prisoner came home to tea between 6 and 7 o'clock and went out again—Mrs. Smith was at home until 10 o'clock, when she went out to look for him, and they both came back about a quarter or half-past 11—she spoke to me before she went out; she was sober—I beard a great noise outside the house when they came in, and there was a great crowd when I opened the door—she was then persuading him to come in, and he stood on the step and abused me and everybody, and I fetched Mr. Newell—they then came in, and when she called me I was afraid to go up—their room is at the top—I heard a lot of plates and cups being thrown about and her persuading him to keep quiet—he was using disgusting language, and holloing at her as loud as ever he could, and half an hour after that she called out "For God's sake, Mrs. Fowls, come up, I am in flames "—I went up to the top, and saw her standing on the lauding all in flames about her head, and the lamp lying by her aide broken, and a lot of paraffin by her side on the landing—I called Mr. Newell, who came up directly—I stood on the stairs, and held a light while he got all the bedding he could get hold of and threw over her to extricate the flames—he got them out as well as he could—I saw a lamp broken; it had a bronze stand and a white opal reservoir—it was broken all to pieces, and the reservoir was in little pieces—the bronze stand was in one piece; the top was off—I used to go up sometimes and see her, she usually kept the lamp in the middle of the table in the front room, and the table was in the middle of the room—she was about a yard, or a yard and a half from the door of each room when I went up—the doors are opposite each other—I have known her six or seven years; I knew her before she came to live in my house—this letter is in the prisoner's writing. (This was written from Clerkenwell Prison to Mrs. Fowls, and stated: "Will you be so kind to let me know how my poor wife is? What shall I do; I will be steady the rest part of my life. Give my kind love to my dear wife, and ask her to forgive me all that I have done wrong. ")
Cross-examined. I knew her before I was Mr. Newell's housekeeper—She and I were very good friends indeed, but she had only lodged with me there—I knew that the prisoner had been living with her 13 or 14 years on and oil"—she left him six or seven years ago, and they came together again—I do not know whether he made a complaint of my influence over her—I have never called him names—I was not present when her deposition was taken—I was up in the room until she was in flames—when she spoke of the landlady she meant me—the expression she used was "For God's sake come up, Mrs. Fowls; I am in names "—I instantly went up and called Mr. Newell; and after the flames had been put out, a neighbour came in, and with assistance took her in a cab to the hospital—she was not
put into bed at all—she was got down quickly out of the smoke, in case she should be choked—there was a good deal of smoke upstairs and a stench of paraffin and of burning—all her clothes were burnt off from her boots right up to her waist—she did not tell me that her skirts had caught fire when the lamp was upset; she was too confused—we got back from the hospital about 1 or 1.30—when the prisoner came back I stood there; he said that he wanted his wife—I said," You had better go to Guy's Hospital; you will find her there."and he did not knock again.
Re-examined. I think they lived a most uncomfortable life for the last nine months; they never seemed comfortable, whether they were sober or not—when her clothes came back from the hospital there was nothing but a little bit of them up to the waist, and part of one stocking—they were burnt on one side of her body and her right sleeve—when I first saw her her petticoats were smouldering to her waist, and the prisoner was standing with his hands behind him in a corner—I did not see him do anything while she: was on fire—he went out, and when he came back she had gone to the hospital.
BEVAN LEAVE EASE . I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—the deceased was brought there about midnight on the Wednesday—I did not see her till she was in bed—she was burnt on the legs, and back, and buttocks, and in front, but not higher than her waist, except a little on her her right arm, where the sleeve was loose—she was superficially burnt, not severely—the remainder of her clothes had been taken off when I saw her—she died on the Saturday, from exhaustion from the effects of the burning—Mr. Ellison took down her deposition in my presence on the Thursday, nearly two days before she. died——the prisoner was present, and had the opportunity, of cross-examining her. (The deposition of Mary, Ann Smith was here read as follows: "I am now a patient in Guy's Hospital. I am a widow; I lived at 11, Gurney Street, with the prisoner as his wife. Last evening he came home to tea about 6 o'clock; he was sober then. He went out. We had no words. About half-past 10 I went out after him, and found him in a public-house near the Elephant and Castle. He was then very drunk. I asked him to come home, and he did after a time. When we got. home I poured out some tea for him. All at once he began. The first thing he did was he broke the cup and saucer. Then he broke the lamp. I had put it out of the way on the drawers, and he either threw it or knocked it over; I could not say which. It fell on the mat and blazed up, and I was close against it, and it catched to my dress in a moment. I called out that I was on fire, and the landlord and landlady came up. Before they could get up, Taylor threw a pail of water over me, and then I was brought here in a cab. He is all right when he is sober; it is only when he gets drink. My face was not towards-the drawers when the lamp was broken. The lamp fell on the mat close to me; it did not hit me first. When they came upstairs he was putting water on the fire and on the mat. There was not much bad language used; he had not illused me. No one was in the room. "
Cross-examined. "You tried all you could to extinguish it—you have done all you can to make me comfortable. "
Cross-examined. She was perfectly conscious, but as far as I remember she was questioned a good deal, because she was rather weak—the expression "catched" instead of caught was her own; that was quite voluntary—these are Very nearly the words she used—when she said "putting
water on the fire," I understood her to mean the fire of the paraffin, not that there was any fire in the grate.
MARY CULTRESS . I am the wife of George Cultress, of 7, Gurney Street—on 17th May, about 11.30, I went into this house and up to the top, and saw Mrs. Smith lying on the landing rolled up in things burning—Mrs. Fowls and Mr. Newell were with her, and he was putting out the fire—the prisoner was standing between the two doors—there was no water—I touched her clothes when the fire was put out and they were quite dry, they burnt my hands—I did not see a pail that evening, I did next day.
Cross-examined. I went up with Mrs. Fowls, she came out to fetch a policeman—the place was full of smoke—I laid hold of her shoulders and drew her downstairs—the cab was sent for and I never left her till I took her to the hospital, where they dressed my hand at the same time—they went up and opened the window when I took her down—I did not go into any of the rooms—I was agitated too.
By MR. BESLEY. When Newell had rolled her in the clothes, I went for a policeman, but I did not leave her for a quarter of an hour—Mr. Newell failed to put out the fire at first, and I went for assistance—I saw Mrs. Cultress come on the scene—I stood on the stairs—I did not go into either room then; I did when 1 came back and looked about, but saw no water there, nor did I notice any pail—the drawers were facing the window on the same side; as a chair which was between the drawers and the door, it was from three-quarters of a yard to a yard from the door to the side of the chest of drawers which had its back against the wall—the door did not open against the drawers, it opened back to the wall.
JOHN TILL (Police Sergeant P 11). On 18th May, shortly after 2 a.m., I went to the hospital and saw the deceased, she made a statement to me—I went in search of the prisoner, but could not find him at 11, Gurney Street—I went upstairs and minutely examined the room; Newell showed me the position in which the woman stood—I saw the remains of a paraffin lamp lying on the landing—I saw a chest of drawers in the front room, and a small round table in the centre of the room—there were no signs of water having been thrown in either of the rooms or on the landing, nor did I see any pail or large vessel in any of the rooms or landing—it was 4 o'clock when I reached the house—I made inquiries and found the prisoner at a house in Brandon Street, 300 or 400 yards off, lying on a sofa—the landlord said, "Here is some one come for you "—I was in uniform—the prisoner said, "I know what you want, you have come about the fire?"—I said, "Yes, I shall take you in custody for causing grievous bodily harm to Mary Ann Smith, by throwing a lighted paraffin lamp at her, at 11, Gurney Street"—he said, "I did not throw it"—I took him to the station—he was told the charge, and said again he did not throw it—I said, "I have seen Mary Ann Smith, and this is what she says, 'He got drunk and he threw the things at me, and he threw the paraffin lamp alight at me and it set me on fire'"—he said, "Then I must have pushed her against the table, and the lamp fell on her "—he was charged and made no reply.
Cross-examined. I did not swear before the Coroner that he said, "I know nothing about it," it was, "I know what you want"—I haveno
recollection of saying, "He then replied 'I know nothing about it' "—this is my signature; it was read over to me by the Coroner—the deceased's statement was made after he was in custody, and before he was charged at the station—I first swore that he said, "I know what you hare come about, you have come about the fire," when I gave evidence before the Magistrate—the same day: and to the best of my recollection, that is what I said to the Coroner; it was my intention to say so—to the best of my recollection I told the Magistrate that he said "I did not throw it"—I don't recollect whether I told the Coroner that ha denied throwing the lamp—I saw the deceased at 3.30 or 3. 45 on the morning following the injuries; the nurse was present; she is not here—the deceased did not say "He got drunk and threw the things at me, and threw over the paraffin lamp, and it catched me on fire "—I am positive of that, much more so than before—I had seen the woman when I searched the room—she had told me nothing about any water—there was no special reason for my searching for a pail; there was not a pail there next morning when I was there—the carpet was singed; and when I took the prisoner his hands were blistered at the back—I saw some burnt clothing and fragments of a lamp within seven feet of the chest of drawers.
By the JURY. I said to the deceased "Are you burnt?"—she said "Yea"—I said "How did this happen? you and Taylor were in the room together;" and then she said that he got drunk, and went on—she was not asleep when I went in—she did not appear to be in any great pain—I wrote her statement down as she gave it, in the nurse's presence—this is it.
The prisoner, in hit statement before the Magistrate, said that he broke hit leg, and while in the hospital the deceased removed to Mr. Newells house contrary to kit wishes, as Newell and Mrs. Fowls were living together; and that because they were drunken and he was steady and sober, jealousy arose, and this was the consequence.
The prisoner received a good character, and hit matter, at whose expense he was defended, promised to take him back into hit service.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 31ST, 1882.