CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FOURTH SESSION, HELD JANUARY 28TH, 1884.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
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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, January 28th, 1884, and following days.
Including cases committed to this Court under Order in Council pursuant to the Winter Assize Act of 1879.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., and the Hon. Sir CHARLES JAMES WATKIN WILLIAMS , Knt., two of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; DAVID HENRY STONE , Esq., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., and Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JOHN STAPLES , Esq., POLYDORE DE KEYSER, Esq., and HENRY AARON ISAACS , 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.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
FOWLER, MAYOR. FOURTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, January 28th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM THICK (Police Sergeant H). From information I received I went with Bolton to 59, Wentworth Street, Whitechapel, about half-past 4 in the afternoon of 16th January—we went to the back room on the third floor; the door was shut, I pushed it open and found the two prisoners there sitting at a table near the window, upon which was a quantity of counterfeit coin spread over—Christy had this small file in his hand, and was filing the edges of the coins—he had a coin in his hand—when I went in he jumped up and rushed to the window, and threw something out; the window was open—in getting up some of the coin was swept off the table on to the floor, I should think he did it with his hand—I rushed up to the window after him—I could not say where what he threw out fell—I heard something rattle; it appeared to rattle down in the yard below—I held Christy—Donovan rushed out of the room and downstairs—she had been sitting in a chair at the table, doing nothing—I called out "Stop that woman," and she was brought back by Inspector Peters—I searched the room: I found 22 counterfeit florins in different parts, some on the floor, and two or three on the table, and a small piece of metal—I did not make any further search at that time—I left Bolton in the room while I had the prisoners taken to the station—I said to the prisoners "How do you account for the possession of the 22 counterfeit florins?" Christy said "They don't belong to me, I have been to work ail day, they were made in my absence by a man I don't know;" Donovan said "I know nothing about it, I was not in the room"—when I took possession of the coins some of them were warm—there was a bright tire, just getting down a little—on the 18th I was present when Bolton found a florin mould dated 1871—the date of the florins is 1871
—the mould was found on the roof of an outhouse or pothouse of the Carpenters' Arms Tavern adjoining—it was quite possible for anything to be thrown there from the prisoners' window; it was about seven or eight yards, and much lower than the window—the prisoners were searched at the station: one good shilling was found on Christy, and one good shilling on Donovan.
Cross-examined by Christy. When I came in I put my hand on an old pair of trousers hanging on a line, and searched the pockets; they were stiff and rather greasy—you did not say "You are not looking for that, perhaps you are looking for these things which I picked up in the yard this morning"—a spoon was found by the officer, but not in my presence.
Donovan. I was not in the room at all, I was on the landing.
Wïtness. She was in the room, sitting at the table—I produce the mould; it is made of plaster-of-Paris; it does not weigh 1/2 lb.
ALFRED BOLTON (Policeman). I went with Thick; he went into the room first, I followed—I saw Christy throw something out of the window—I ran downstairs, and picked up this florin in the yard; it is dated 1871—I saw the prisoner sitting at the table when I went into the room—Donovan was sitting at the table—I returned to the room, and while Thick and Inspecter Peters were taking the prisoners to the station I made a further search—I found this file under the table, and this spoon, covered over with some coal in the corner—at the station I said to Christy 11 How do you account for this file and spoon being there?" he said "I know nothing about it;" Donovan made no answer—on the 18th I made a further search in company with Thick; I got a ladder, got on the pothouse of the Carpenters' Arms, and found this mould wrapped up in a piece of rag.
JOSEPH PETERS (Police Inspector H). On 16th January I was with the other two officers at 59, Wentworth Street—I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, I heard Thick call out "Stop that woman," I saw Donovan coming down fast—she said "I was not in the room"—I took her back, I was at the bottom of the stairs—the prisoners' room was on the third storey.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am assistant to my father, who is inspector of coin to the Mint—these twenty-two florins found in the room, and the one found in the yard, are counterfeit and from the same mould, and in an unfinished state—I saw the remains of a mould, it has on it the same date as the coins, and from it the coins have been made—this spoon has the remains of metal on it—it is a thing that is used in making counterfeit coin, and so would these files—this piece of metal would be used for making the coin—counterfeit coins would have to be filed down; these coins have not been in the battery, they have taken the gets off.
Christy's Defence. I got up at a quarter to 6 and went down to the yard; I kicked against something, I thought it was a purse of money. I took it upstairs and opened it and saw these things in it. I thought nothing of it till the constables came. I had been out all day and was just sitting down smoking my pipe. I have been a hard-working man for twelve years, and never had a thing against me.
Donovan's Defence. I know nothing about the things; I had been out all day, and on coming back the officers came.
GUILTY . CHRISTY— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
DONOVAN— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
KEEFE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
ELIZA SWAIN . I am assistant at a provision shop kept by my husband, 10, Minories—on 30th November, about a quarter past 1, Bull came for a pennyworth of bread, and tendered a coin in payment—I thought it was bad and took it to my husband and saw him give it to the constable.
JOHN ROGERS (City Policeman 824). On 30th November Bull was given into my custody for uttering a counterfeit shilling—he gave the name of George Sampson, the shilling was given to me by Mr. Swaine in his wife's presence, I produce it—it is bad—he was taken to the Mansion House Police-court, remanded to December 4th, and then discharged—6 1/2 d. in good money was found on him.
KATE WHITE . I am barmaid at the Falcon in Wardour Street—at a quarter past 12 on the morning of the 2nd January Keefe came for half a pint of four ale and put down half a sovereign in payment—I found it was bad, and took it to my father at the other end of the bar—Keefe was alone—he was given into custody in the house—I know nothing of the other two prisoners.
GEORGE JOHN WHITE . I am manager of the Falcon public-house—about a quarter past 12 on the morning of the 2nd January my daughter showed me a half-sovereign—I found it was bad—she pointed to Keefe—I told the potman to hold him whilst I went for a constable, and I gave him the coin.
GEORGE EARLY (Detective C 246). About ten minutes past 12 on the morning of the 2nd January I saw Police-constable Earnshaw in Compton Street—I saw the three prisoners in company with another—I saw Burr bring his right hand from his breast pocket and pass something to Keefe—we followed them to the Falcon—I saw Keefe go in, the other three walked away—we looked in the public-house and saw that Keefe was detained by the potman—we went after the other three—Mann went into the Falcon, I took Burr into custody, and Earnshaw took Bull—we lost sight of the fourth man—I told Bull and Burr that we believed they were uttering counterfeit coin, and we should take them back to the Falcon—Burr said "We have been to the Pavilion, we know nothing about it"—I had said "We have suspicion that you are concerned with the man detained at the Falcon with uttering counterfeit coin"—we did not know what the coin was at that time—I searched Burr and found three good shillings on him and a new farthing—they were charged at the station, they made no reply.
THOMAS EARNSHAW (Detective C 134). I was with the last witness on this night about 12.15—I saw the three prisoners in Compton Street with another one—I followed them; one of them went away—Keefe went into the Falcon—I looked in and saw him detained there; I went after the other three—I found Bull and Burr together—I took Bull into custody; I told him we had suspicion that they were uttering counterfeit
coin, and he would have to go back with me to the Falcon, where the man was detained—he said "I have only seen the fellow three times in my life, and he asked me for his keep," that is his lodging-money—I took him back to the Falcon and he was charged with Keefe and taken to the station and searched—I found a two-shilling piece and 2d. in good money—I asked him for his address; he refused it, but I knew where he lived, 45, Dean Street, close by—I went there and to the first floor, where he was living with a woman—I there found a bad half-crown just outside the landing window, wrapped up in this brown paper—I had seen him come out of that house several times.
JAMES MANN (Policeman R 27). Keefe was given in my custody by Mr. White for uttering a counterfeit half-sovereign—he said they were given to him by two men outside, that one of them looked quite a swell, and he thought it was all right—I found nothing on him—the other two were brought to the station in about a minute afterwards—when the charge was made they made no reply.
The prisoners Bull and Burr, in their defence, stated that they had accidentally met with Keefe but knew nothing of the counterfeit coin.
BULL and BURR— NOT GUILTY . KEEFE— Six Months' Hard Labour.
TROWBRIDGE also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in August, 1868.
STANDEN— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. TROWBRIDGE— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
250. JOHN GRIFFITHS (38) to four indictments for feloniously forging and uttering endorsements to orders for the payment of money, with intent to defraud, having been before convicted at this Court in June, 1871.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
GORMAN PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.
DOWLIN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
GORMAN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
252. CHARLES SMITH (42) to three indictments, two for feloniously forging and uttering receipts for the payment of money, and one for unlawfully obtaining money by false pretences.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. COWIE, Q.C., and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted.
EDWIN BUTLER . I am a police constable attached to the General Post Office—in consequence of complaints with regard to the water-closets in the newspaper branch of the Post Office I was set to watch—the water-closets had been found to be choked up almost every other day with covers of packets and other things—on the morning of 11th January, shortly before 6 o'clock, I was watching—I saw the prisoner go into one of the closets—I watched him; he sat down on the seat, fully dressed, and took
from his pocket this packet and commenced to break it open—I immediately rushed out from where I was secreted and burst the closet door open in which he was—I found this packet by his side—I said to him "What are you doing with that packet?"—he said "Nothing"—I said "Come out"—he refused—I took hold of him and dragged him out, and in the pan of the closet I found this label addressed to Miss G. E. Frimley, Bagshot, Surrey—it was quite dry; it bears the postmark of Millom of January 10th—I asked if he knew me; he said "No"—I said I was a police-constable, and I took him to the police-constables' room—there was a letter inside this—that was with the cardboard box and the cotton wool on the seat—on the way to the constables' room Mr. Frazer, one of the overseers who was with me, stopped, and pointed to a window ledge which we were passing—I looked, and picked up this packet—it is addressed to J. H. Glasse, Esq., Jubblepoor, India, bearing the postmark of Bridgnorth, January 12th—in the constables' room I searched the prisoner, and in an inside coat pocket that he was wearing I found these two packets, one addressed to Miss Goddard, The Lodge, near Lothbury, Leicestershire, the other to Mr. Hancock, Dartford, Kent, bearing the postmark of Paisley of the previous day—those two were unopened—I said to the prisoner "Can you give any explanation of having these packets in your possession?"—he said "I dont know how they got there, I did not know they were there"—I asked him where he lived—he told me 18, B block, Peabody Buildings—the packets were both opened by me before the Magistrate—the first contained some wedding cake, and the other some labels, and the third a pocket book and memorandum book—I went to his address, and to the rooms which he said he occupied—I made a search, and found under his bed a quantity of articles, a lot of letters open, and in different places in the room, in boxes and elsewhere, I found a large number of articles, of which this is a list, and I have the property here—there were four boxes altogether—when he said he did not know they were in his pocket I said "If you did not know they were there why were you so anxious to throw away one?"—he said "Because I wanted to get rid of it"—he was perfectly sober—it was 6 o'clock in the morning; he had been on duty since 4 or 5, and he did not leave me after that.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I could not say whether you appeared as if you had been drunk the night before—you asked me to give you a pint of beer, as you were very dry, and to convince me you showed me your tongue, which was in a very bad state—I never saw a man in a state of delirium tremens—I had no hindrance in searching your place—every letter I found was open—they were from different towns in the Eastern Counties—the value of the articles altogether was about 20l.
JOSEPH FRAZER . I am an overseer at the General Post-office—I know the prisoner—his duty was to turn out the bags, and make a collection of the letters and packets that should be transferred to the foreign branch, and general duties—I was at the office early on the morning of the 11th with Butler when he took the prisoner into custody, and I accompanied them to the room where he was searched—on the way I noticed the prisoner take from his pocket a packet and place it on the window sill—I drew Butler's attention to it, and he took possession of it—I saw that it was addressed to J. H. Glasse, Esq., for India—the prisoner was perfectly sober—I afterwards went with Butler to the
prisoner's lodging—I have heard his account of what he found there—it is correct.
MARY ANN SMITH . I live at 3, Bay View Villas, Millom, Cumberland—on 10th January I made up a cardboard box with a silver cloak clasp in some cotton wool, wrote a letter, which I put inside, and addressed a label to Miss Frimley, Bagshot, Surrey—I gave it to the letter carrier about a quarter past 7 that evening to go by the 8 o'clock mail.
JOHN WILLIAM BURN . I am postmaster at Millom—Miss Smith handed me this packet on the evening of the 10th—it bears the Millom postmark; I stamped it myself, put it in the bag, and sent it off from the station.
The prisoner called the following witnesses:
JAMES WHEELER . I am assistant superintendent in the General Newspaper Branch of the General Post-office—it has been reported to me on several occasions that the prisoner has been absent from duty, drinking in public-houses—I have seen him under the influence of drink—he wrote a letter asking forgiveness, and pledging his word that he would never go into a public-house to drink again—it was also reported to me that when the worse for drink he had struck some one in the public-house—the last time he was before me for being drunk he was put off duty—that was not long ago—I have said that if I was the head of a private firm I would not have kept him on—I submitted his letter to a higher authority, and the comptroller said he might have another trial—he was perfectly sober on the morning of the 11th.
JOHN FLEETWOOD . I am an inspector of the newspaper department in the General Post-office—I cannot say how many times I have seen the prisoner the worse for drink; not very many—I have noticed after his pension day that he used to indulge in drink a little—I have always found him perfectly able to do his duty.
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that he had served Her Majesty 21 years in different parts of the world; that in 1866 he had a severe sunstroke in India, since which when drinking to excess he knew not what he was doing; that the Post-office authorities knew his failing, and by repeatedly overlooking it he considered they were morally responsible for the crime he had committed.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, January 28th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
THOMAS GARRETT . I am manager of the White Lion, High Street, Bloomsbury—on 5th November the prisoner and another woman came in, and the prisoner asked for half a quartern of rum, which came to 2 1/2 d.; the other woman gave me a bad florin—I gave them both in charge—they were remanded for a week, and then discharged.
foreign provision shop in Old Compton Street, Soho—on 18th January, about 9 p.m., I served the prisoner with two smoked fish, price fourpence—she gave me a florin—I put it in the till—there was no other florin there—I gave her the change and she left—she came back in a quarter or half an hour for a tin of sardines, price sixpence, and put down another florin; I put it into the same till—there were no florins there but those two—another woman came in immediately afterwards for two smoked fish, and paid with a florin; I put it into the same till, and shortly afterwards she came again for two more fish, and paid with another florin—those were the only florins I took that evening—my master came home just before 10 o'clock—no one else had access to the till, and no one served after me—I was upstairs when he cleared the till—he called me down, and called my attention to these four florins in the till, which were all bad (produced)—next day the prisoner came again about 4.30 p.m. for a tin of sardines, price sixpence; before I served her I went and spoke to Mr. Lingner—I am sure she is the same woman—she put down a bad florin—I said "You are the same person who brought in two last night"—she said "I was not here on Friday night"—I said "I have taken four, and the other person brought in two, no doubt she has some connection with you"—she said "What is she like?"—I described her—she said she did not know such a person—she did not offer me good money—I gave her no change.
WILLIAM LINGNER . I am a provision merchant, of 46, Old Compton Street—on 18th January I went home about 10 o'clock, cleared the till, and found about twenty-seven shillings and half-crowns, sixpences and shillings, and four bad florins—I gave them to the police—I was in the shop next day when the prisoner came in, and my shopwoman told me something—I examined the coin the prisoner had passed and found it bad—I said "The young lady in the shop says you are the person who passed two bad coins last night"—she said that she had not been there.
SAMUEL GOODLIFF (Policeman). Mr. Lingner gave the prisoner into my custody with this florin—she said she did not know it was bad—I said "Have you any more about you, or any other money?"—she said "Lock me up and find out"—going to the station she said "Look round, and keep your eyes open, and see I don't drop anything"—four-pence halfpenny was found on her at the station—I produce the five florins.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had asked the prosecutor to walk on the other side of you to see that you did not drop anything when you made that remark.
THOMAS GUTHERIDGE (Re-examined). On 19th August I was called to Caroline Bute's sweetstuff shop in Little Pulteney Street—she has removed and I cannot find her—she said that the prisoner came in for two ounces of sweets and gave a bad shilling in payment, giving me this shilling (produced)—the prisoner said she did not know that it was bad—I took her to the station—she was remanded at Marlborough Street to the 23rd and then discharged.
Prisoner's Defence. I went in on Saturday but not on Friday, and I did not know on Saturday that the money was bad. It was given to me.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
FREDERICK GRAY . I am barman at the Railway Tavern, Fenchurch Street—on 15th January, about 3.30 p.m., the prisoner and two other men came in—the prisoner called for a pint of ale, and gave me a florin—I gave him 1s. 9d. change—I intended the florin to go into a half-pint pewter measure, but it went on to the refrigerator—a few minutes afterwards the prisoner asked for half an ounce of tobacco and gave me a florin—I said "What do you call this?"—he said "A two-shilling piece"—I said "It is made of pewter pots; Frank, give me a knife"—the barman did so, and I cut a piece out of it before the prisoner—I then found the one on the refrigerator was also bad—he said nothing—I went round the counter, laid hold of him, and said "I shall detain you"—he tendered a good sixpence, but I did not take it—I sent for a constable—the other man had gone out—I said to the prisoner "What made you put down two florins in succession?"—he said "Oh, any one might do that"—a man who gave his name as Doon followed the prisoner to the station, but he was discharged—I gave the two florins to Rose—I cut a piece out of the second.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There were from 12 to 16 people in the bar—some of them paid with silver, but not with a florin.
HENRY ROSE . On 15th January Mr. Gray gave the prisoner into my custody for uttering two florins—I heard him say to the prisoner "Why did you pass those two florins when you had plenty of small change?"—he said "Any one might do that"—Davis followed us to the station and he was ordered into the dock—he was remanded for a week and discharged at the Mansion House last Tuesday, and the prisoner called him as a witness—when I went into the public-house Davis offered me a sixpence—the prisoner made no answer to the charge—I found on him three shillings, three pence, three halfpence, and a farthing.
The Prisoner called:
JOHN DAVIS . I am a labourer—I was charged with the prisoner at the police-court, and remanded for a week and discharged—you went into the public-house and paid for a pint of ale with three penny pieces—you then said "I must have some tobacco, as I am going away in this rain"—you called for it and threw down a florin.
Cross-examined. It was a little after 3 o'clock—no one was with me—Smith and I were alone, no one else drank with us—we did not have any more drink—I only saw the barman produce one florin—I did not hear him say he had passed two florins when he had small change, or hear Smith say "Anybody would do that."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know the florin was bad. He took a knife and cut it, and took another coin from the refrigerator, and said that I had given it to him. You don't suppose that I should go and tender him a bad coin, and another two minutes afterwards, knowing that it was bad.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
ALICE WILSON . I am barmaid at the Old Bell, Knight Rider Street—on 5th January I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, price 1 1/2 d.—he gave me a shilling—I put it in the till and he loft—there was no other shilling there—I took it out a few minutes afterwards and gave it in change to Mr. Nash, the proprietor's brother—there was only gold, six-pences, and one shilling in the till—Mr. Nash brought it back and I found it was bad—this is it (produced)—the prisoner came in again on the 7th, about 4 p.m., for a glass of ale—I recognised him directly—he gave me this shilling (produced)—I bit it and gave it to Mr. Nash, the proprietor, who gave him in charge.
WILLIAM JOHN NASH . I keep the Old Bell—on 7th January Wilson handed me this shilling—I found it was bad and sent for a constable, and when he came I said to the prisoner "What is your game, my friend?"—he said "I am waiting for my change of a shilling"—I had the two coins in my hand, and said "Do you expect change for this?"—he made no answer—on the Saturday before that I was in my bar, and Miss Wilson gave my brother some change; he examined it, but did not touch it—he found it was bad—on the way to the station the prisoner said he received both the shillings in Whitechapel in change for a half-sovereign.
JONATHAN NASH . I am the brother of the last witness—on 5th Jan. Miss Wilson handed me in change for a florin, a shilling, a sixpence, and twopence—the shilling was bad, and I handed it to my brother.
GEORGE PARTRIDGE (Policeman 438). I was called to the Bell on Jan. 7th, and Mr. Nash asked the prisoner what he meant by passing so many of these—he said "I know nothing at all about it"—he was given in custody—I asked him where he got the bad shilling—he said "In change for a half-sovereign"—I asked where he got the one he passed on Saturday—he said that it must, have been given to him in the same change—I took him to the station, searched him, and found 5d. and a watch—he gave his address 16, Queen's Court, Valentine Row, Black-friars—I have inquired, and there is no Queen's Court in Valentine Row.
Prisoner's Defence. If I had been guilty I should not have remained 10 minutes in the place till the police arrived. It looks very strange that the brother should receive the money, and I think it is got up. I have got my living by hard work for 21 years.
GUILTY of the two utterings. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, January 29th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. COWIE, Q.C., and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
EDWARD ALEXANDER KIRBY . I am a clerk attached to the General Post-office—on 9th January, in consequence of complaints at the Stoke Newington Office, I received instructions to make inquiries—on that day I made up a packet and enclosed in it a cardboard box containing an Abyssinian gold chain—I marked the chain so as to be able to identify
it—I addressed the packet to Mr. Francis, 13, New Road, Winchmore Hill—the outside of the packet was of a buff colour—I handed it to Mr. Wooder, a clerk in the same office, about 3.45, with instructions to post it in a pillar box—I had previously shown it to Mr. Price, the overseer at the Stoke Newington Office.
FREDERICK WILLIAM WOODER . I am a clerk in the Inquiry Office of the General Post-office—on 9th January Mr. Kirby handed to me a packet addressed to Mr. Francis at 3.45; it was in buff-coloured paper—I posted it in the Lordship Park pillar-box at 3.50.
HUGH EDWARD SHAYLER . I am a police officer attached to the General Post-office—about 3.45 on the afternoon of 9th January I was in Lord-ship Park and saw the last witness post the packet—I afterwards saw the prisoner in Lordship Park about 10 minutes or a quarter past 4—I saw him clear the pillar-box.
Cross-examined. On a subsequent occasion I had the prisoner's keys; they were given to me about half-past 9 that night—he described to me to which drawers and boxes the different keys belonged—he gave me every facility for searching—he gave me his address as? A. Righton Terrace, Northwold Road, the back room first floor; it adjoins a corner house—the landlady is Mrs. Lathleen—I did not see her son—there were two beds in the room—the prisoner was not taken into custody that night—he had been watched before—I watched the house and the overseer's room at the Stoke Newington sorting office—I went to the prisoner along with Mr. Kirby while the prisoner remained at the office—when we returned he was told that he might go home—Mrs. Lathleen is a very respectable person.
EDWARD PRICE . I am an overseer of the Post-office at the Stoke Newington Office—the prisoner was attached to that office—I had some communication with Mr. Kirby about, 9th January—the prisoner was on duty between 3 and 4 in the afternoon—it was his duty to clear a certain number of boxes, Lordship Park among the number—having cleared them he was due at the office at 4.24—I remember his coming to the office that afternoon after making his collections—I did not take notice of the time my attention was called to him in particular—I suppose it was about the ordinary time; it might be a little later—when he came in he turned his collections out of his bag on to the table in the usual way—I took particular notice of the contents of the bag—I did not see the buff packet—I knew the name and address on it—after the prisoner turned out the contents of his bag he divided the newspapers from the letters and then faced up his letters—after that he brought a portion of them to the stamping-table, also some packets, leaving about ten or a dozen letters on the table—that was in the ordinary course—I was about two yards from him at the time—I called him to the stamping duty, and I went to the table where he had been and faced the letters up myself, and I saw that the buff packet was not there—if the prisoner had turned it out from his bag I should certainly have seen it—I watched the prisoner all the while he was in the office—I saw nothing whatever of the packet all the time—he left the office directly after his sorting duty was done—he then had to make a second collection—I was in the office when he returned again—he was due at 5.17—then he turned out his collections in the usual way—I did not see the buff-coloured packet then—I never saw it in the office all the while
he was there—he next left the office about 5.40, and was absent till a quarter to 8—he would be going to his tea at that time—I saw Mr. Kirby that evening about a quarter to 5—that was when the prisoner went to make his second collection—on the Thursday night following Mrs. Lathleen came and made a communication to me, and I wired to Mr. Kirby next morning.
Cross-examined. At some of the collections there would be seven pillar-boxes to collect from, at some five, and some four—the prisoner would not have seven to collect from the second time—it would be quite a different set of boxes at the second collection from the first; he would only have one receiving house to collect from at the first collection, and two on the second—there are about 52 men at work at the Stoke Newington office—the bags are made up nine times a day, and there are six deliveries—the stamping table is a different one from the sorting table—there are divisions of about a yard between the men who are sorting, merely an iron bar—the face of the table is quite open; the table goes against the wall—the prisoner's proper time for coining in from his first collection would be 4.24—I said before the Magistrate it was 4.19; it was a mistake, I was confounding the two collections—I knew he was late—another man was doing his duty and stamping; that man was slow—I don't think I said when the prisoner came in, "Here is Nicholsburg, he will do it in no time; "I dont believe I said so—he did begin stamping when he came in; he stamped very few, and then went to the sorting again.
EDWARD KIRBY (Re-examined). I saw the prisoner again about 8.45 at the Stoke Newington office as he was starting to make a delivery—he had been stopped by Shayler by my instructions—I said to him, "I am from the Secretary's department of the General Post-office, and in consequence of numerous complaints of the loss of letters containing valuables passing through this office I have been directed to make inquiries; this afternoon at 3.50 a packet enclosed in a buff-coloured paper, containing an Abyssinian gold chain, was posted in the Lordship Park letterbox, a collection from which was made by you afterwards"—he said "Yes"—I said, "The packet was addressed 'Mr. Francis, 13, New Road, Winchmore Hill;' I am informed it is missing; have you any recollection of it?"—he said, "I recollect seeing a packet like the one you have described, I cleared it away from the box with my letters, which I took to the post-office"—I said, "What did you do with the contents of your bag on arriving at the office?"—he said, "I turned them out on the table"—I said, "Did you then see the package?"—he said "No"—I said, "Did you face up your letters?"—he said, "A portion of them; I separated the packets, I put them on the packet table and placed the newspapers on the side, after which I was called away to stamp the letters"—I then said, "Have you about you any articles that do not belong to you?"—he said "No"—I said, "Have you any objection to be searched?"—he said "No"—he was then searched by Shayler, but no trace of the missing packet or its contents was found—there were a number of postage-stamps, seven penny ones and two halfpenny ones, all unobliterated—they appeared to have been removed from a circular or letter—I asked him to account for the possession of them—he said "The penny stamps I have taken off letters of my own which I have not sent"—I said "As
regards the two halfpenny ones, how many were there?"—he said "I got them off circulars which I had to deliver; the stamps were loose, and I thought it no harm to take them"—I then proceeded to the prisoner's lodging in company with Shayler—I there made an examination, and found several articles of jewellery, among which were ladies' rings, brooches, solitaires, and articles of a similar kind—I produce a list of the property—I did not find the Abyssinian gold chain or anything relating to the packet—I then went to the Stoke Newington Post-office where the prisoner was detained—I asked him what he did when he left the office at 5.45—he said "I went home and had some tea"—I said "Did you go into your bedroom?"—at first he said not; ultimately he said he did for the purpose of washing—I then suspended him from duty—I did not give him in custody then—on Friday morning at 11 o'clock, in consequence of a communication which I received, I went to the house adjoining the prisoner's lodging—I saw Mrs. Willis, the landlady, and she handed me this Abyssinian gold chain, which I identified as the one I had put in the packet on Wednesday, the 9th—I then went into the prisoner's lodging and saw him, and said to him "I have called on you with regard to the packet about which I spoke to you on the 9th; I have had information that a chain had been found in the next garden by the proprietor of the house; I have seen the chain, which I have identified as the one enclosed in the missing packet"—he said "I know nothing about it, but I must say it looks very black against me"—I said "It could easily have been thrown from the window of your room to that place where it was found"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I then gave him into the custody of the police officer, Beck, who was with me.
Cross-examined. The prisoner gave the keys to the officer who was with me, and described to which drawers and boxes they belonged—we found a receipt for 3l. for the diamond ring which he was wearing—he was not charged with stealing any of the articles of jewellery—I was not aware that he partly supported his mother and sister—it would be easy to throw anything from the road into Mrs. Willis's garden. (The witness read a list of the articles of jewellery found at the prisoner's lodging.) He said he had bought some of them, and others had been given to him as presents—his wages were 17s. a week—there was a watch among the things—as a letter carrier he would require to have a watch—I have included in the list all the things found on him, as well as those found at his lodging—the letter carrier would collect his Christmas boxes just after Christmas—I found he had a banking account for 6l.—his share of the Christmas boxes would amount to over 8l.
RUTH LATHLEEN . I live at 1A, Northwold Road, Upper Clapton—the prisoner had been lodging there for about nine months—he slept in the second-floor back room—the window of that room overlooks the garden of the adjoining house, which is a corner house, 87, Righton Road, occupied by Mrs. Willis—on the morning of 9th January the police officer came to our house—I heard what they were looking for—on the morning after they had gone I went in and had a chat with my neighbour, Mrs. Willis—I told her about the police having been to the house searching, and next morning between 10 and 11 o'clock she sent for me and showed me this chain, and told me something about it—after that I went to the post-oftice—I saw Mr. Price at his own house—the prisoner slept in his own room that night after the police officer had been.
Cross-examined. My son is a letter carrier in the same district office—he slept in the same room with the prisoner—they did not go to bed at the same time; sometimes there is a difference of two hours between them—they get up at 6 in the morning, and were on their duties on and off in the day—they come home in the middle of the day sometimes for two or three hours—they come home to breakfast—after finishing their duties—the prisoner used to come home about 10, and my son would be off duty about the same time—they both wear uniform.
Re-examined. My son had come home to tea on the 9th, and had come home to sleep afterwards.
HENRY WILLIAM LATHLEEN . I lodge at my mother's house in the same room as the prisoner—I am also employed in the Stoke Newington office—on this afternoon I was on duty on the 3.45 collection, and was back in the office at 4.20—my district is quite apart from the prisoner's, at the other end of the district altogether—I took my keys to the office, and turned out my letters—I am positive I was back at the office in the afternoon about five minutes before the prisoner—when he came in he began sorting at the different tables.
JAMES WILLIS . I am a grocer, of 87, Righton Road, Upper Clapton—on Thursday morning, about a quarter to 9, I found this chain in my garden; I gave it to my wife—it is quite possible for that chain to have been thrown from the prisoner's window to where I found it.
Cross-examined. It could have been thrown from the road.
MRS. WILLIS. I am the wife of the last witness—my husband handed me this chain, and I gave it to police-constable Beck.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I didn't take the box away from the office. I cleared it from the pillar letter-box, as stated. I faced some of the letters up after turning out the collections, and before I had time to fill them up I was called to the stamping table by the officer."
NOT GUILTY .
258. HENRY BAILEY (64) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously receiving a bag and 37 Russian bonds, 420 Napoleons, and 24 half Imperials, knowing them to have been stolen, having been before convicted.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. The COURT made an order of restitution.
259. EMILY CHEEK (33) to feloniously forging and uttering three receipts for money; also to other indictments for stealing articles of Ernest Alfred Brown, her master.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, January 29th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
SARAH EDMONDSTON . I am shopwoman to Mr. Alcroft, a confectioner—on 16th January, at 1.30, I served the prisoner with some acid drops—he gave me a bad shilling; I bent it in the tester, and utterly spoiled it
—I then gave it back to the prisoner, who said it was given to him where he worked—I spoke to Mr. Alcroft, who went out after him.
FREDERICK ALCROFT . I am a confectioner—on 16th January, about 1.30, the last witness showed me a bad shilling—I saw her bend it and return it to the prisoner—I went out at a side door, but he did not see me—when he came out I followed him to Foley Street, where he joined two young men; they went to the corner of Ogle Street, stopped a few minutes, and then went to the top of the street, and returned and went to the corner of Union Street—I then missed the prisoner—I looked into several shops and saw him coming out of Mrs. Dean's shop with some coppers in his hand—I pushed him back into the shop, and asked Mrs. Dean what he had given her—she said "A shilling," and showed it to me—I saw that it was bad, and told him I should charge him—he said that two young men gave it to him in change—I said "You have just uttered one at my shop"—he said that he could not help it, the two young men had given it to him.
ELLEN DEAR . My husband is a labourer, and I keep a small chandler's shop at 14, Union Street—on 16th January, about 1.45, I served the prisoner with a halfpennyworth of blacking; he gave me a shilling; I put it in the till, and gave him 11 1/2 d.—Mr. Alcroft was on the doorstep—he did not push the prisoner in; he was in the shop—he had not left the counter—Mr. Alcroft asked me what I had taken—I showed him the shilling—he said that it was bad, and said "I shall give you in charge"—he said that two men gave it to him—this is it; it is quite new, and it was not bent when it was given to me—it is slightly cracked now.
WILLIAM WILSON (Policeman E 360). I was called, and Mrs. Dean told me the prisoner had passed a bad shilling—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "Two men gave it to me; I don't know who they are or their names, but only by sight"—I found nothing on him.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTEB . I am the son of the Inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint, and assist him—this shilling is bad—a good coin cannot be crumpled up unless by an instrument; it would bend in a tester with a strong hand, but I never heard of a shilling bent into a ball, being straightened; it would always leave a mark.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his good character. — Four Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HENRY LEA . On 23rd November I was barman at the Prince of Wales, at the corner of Drury Lane—the prisoner came in with another woman, who asked for a quartern of rum and put down this bad shilling—I told them it was bad—they both said "A gentleman gave it to us"—they were given in custody, and discharged on 26th November.
ROBERT LORD (Policeman E 229). On 29th November I took the prisoner and another woman at the Prince of Wales—they were remanded till the 26th, and then discharged—I received this shilling from Lea.
CHARLOTTE LUXTON . My stepfather keeps the Cloudesley Arms, Islington—on Saturday, 19th January, about 9.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with twopennyworth of whisky—she gave me a half-crown; I put it in
a drawer where there was a florin only, and gave her two shillings and fourpence—when she left I looked at tho half-crown, tried it in the tester, and bent it—I gave it to my mother—the prisoner came again about a quarter of an hour afterwards for twopennyworth of whisky—I recognised her—she put down a half-crown, I tried it, and it bent easily—I called Mr. Elliott, who took it, and I said to the prisoner "This is a bad one"—I don't think she answered—she was given in custody—these are the coins.
JOHN ELLIOTT . I keep the Cloudesley Arms—Miss Luxton is my stepdaughter—she gave me a half-crown on the 19th January, and I said to the prisoner, who was in the bar, "You passed one previously, and this is the second"—she said that she had never been in the house before—I gave her in custody and took the coins to the station—this is the second coin, here are my teeth marks on it—I had cleared the till three minutes before.
The Prisoner's Defence. The half-crown was given to me, I did not know it was bad. A woman took me in and gave me some rum and changed a shilling. I was discharged for that.
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
The Jury, being unable to agree, were discharged without a verdict. (See page 465.)
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM THOMAS MITCHELL . I keep the Anchor and Hope, Horseferry Branch Road, Ratcliff—on the 2nd January, about 12.30 a.m., I was closing my house when the two prisoners came in—Sullivan called for a pint of ale, and gave me a florin—I said "This is a bad one," and went into the bar parlour to some friends and asked their advice—I then went outside and walked in between the prisoners and the door—I asked Sullivan if he had got any more money, as it was bad—they both said that they had no more—while I was calling a constable, Harris slipped out—Hope came in, I showed him the florin, he said that it was bad—my wife said "I served those two men with a pint of stout half an hour ago, and Harris gave me a two-shilling piece"—she said that before Harris slipped out, but she repeated it when the policeman came in—I gave Sullivan in charge—he said that he did not know that the coin was bad—I then searched the till and found another bad florin—there were other florins there—I examined the two florins and found that they were of the same shape and mould—I saw Harris a week afterwards at Shoreditch Police-station
among seven or eight others, and picked him out at once—he said that he was not the man.
Cross-examined by Sullivan. I asked you where you got it, and you said "I carried a gentleman's portmanteau to the docks."
JOHN HOPE (Policeman H 220). On the 1st January, about 11.40 p.m., I saw Sullivan and a man who I cannot swear is Harris, near the Anchor and Hope public-house—Sullivan said to the other man "He is narking of us," meaning "watching us"—I afterwards saw them come out of the public-house, and they were in conversation under a railway arch—the landlord came out, and then they went in again—it was then 12.20 or 12.25—I whistled to the landlord and he spoke to me—I went in and the landlord showed me a florin, and said "What do you call this?"—I said "Bad money," and asked Sullivan if he had got any more—he said "No"—the landlady said "Constable, I have served these men before this evening and took a florin from one of them"—I said "Well, lock at your money"—she put the money on the counter, and I saw several florins, half-crowns, and shillings, and among them this half-crown (produced)—Sullivan only was there then—I searched him but found nothing—about 4.30 a.m. I went to a coal shed near the railway arch, about three yards from the private bar, and found an old pocket-handkerchief with a number of bad florins in it and seven bad shillings—I had seen the prisoners close to the coal shed.
WILLIAM PECK (Police Sergeant H). On 7th January, about 9.30 p.m., I took Harris at a common lodging-house, 19, George Street, Spitalfields, and told him the charge—he made no reply—I took him to Shadwell Station, where he was placed with five others, and the prosecutor identified him—I have seen the two prisoners together repeatedly.
Cross-examined by Sullivan. I have seen you together in Dorset Street—you both lived in a kitchen at 4, Dorset Street, for several weeks—I have also seen you in the Carpenters' Arms together—I cannot fix any date.
Sullivan's Defence. I am entirely, innocent. I was never in the man's house before that night, and I told him I got it for carrying a gentleman's portmanteau. In the evening I called in again for a pint of ale, and he went into his private parlour and then into the street and came round and gave me in custody. Nothing was found on me. I am a hawker, and am likely to take bad coin. I never saw this man (Harris) in my life.
GUILTY of uttering, but not of having counterfeit coin in their possession. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, January 29th, 1884.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted; MR. MUNDAY Defended.
WILLIAM LACHLAN COWIE . I live at 8, Norfolk Street, Strand—at present I have no occupation—on 12th December I saw the prisoner in company with a man named McVay—the prisoner asked me if I would change this cheque (produced) for him, which he showed me, together with this letter (produced)—he said he had received the cheque from the writer of the letter, an old friend of his father's, Mr. Waddy, living at Harley House, Bath—he said the cheque was a good one, and was given him to defray the expenses of his outfit, as he was going to the Congo—I said if he would come back again for it I would let him have the money—he came back to my rooms in the evening of the same day, bringing the cheque to mo, and I gave him 1l. against it; it was all the change I had—next morning I saw him, and he asked me if I could change the cheque then; he had left it with me overnight—I said I could not change it myself, but I asked my landlord to change it for me, and my landlord gave me an open cheque of his own for 10l.—I said "Will you bring back the 1l. when you change this open cheque?"—I was induced to part with the 1l. and the cheque for 10l. by the assurance on his part and his friend Mr. McVay that the cheque was a good one—I handed the cheque to my landlord, who afterwards made a communication to me about it—I next saw the prisoner on 29th December—I said "What about that cheque; are you going to settle it?"—I did not tell him that the cheque had returned marked "No account"—he said "If you give me time some arrangement will be made"—no arrangements having been made I afterwards gave him into custody—during the interval he told me he lived at 15, Red Lion Square—I went there with Sergeant Gregory and made inquiries—they knew him there; he was not living there—I took out the warrant on the 2nd—I am not certain what date he was taken in custody.
Cross-examined. I had had one cheque transaction with the prisoner before—that cheque was drawn in my favour, and the prisoner got his friend to cash it for me—I had no other transactions with him—I parted with my money on his assurance that the cheque was a good one—I should not part with money to any one who assured me of that—I went to two addresses at Croydon—the other prisoner said that if the cheque were re-presented it would be all right—it was not re-presented; I don't present cheques marked no account.
OLIVIA COWIE . I am the last witness's wife—on 12th December the prisoner called at our rooms in Norfolk Street at 8.30—he asked my husband if he would cash the cheque for him; I saw it in a letter—my husband asked him if it was all right, and he said certainly it was—my husband told him to call the next morning, and he gave him a sovereign that night—the prisoner called next morning about 10.30 or 11; my husband was ill in bed, and I asked the prisoner if he would go and see him—he went in and saw my husband, who gave me the cheque and asked me to ask the landlord if he would cash it for him—the landlord gave me an open cheque for 10l., which I gave to the prisoner.
McVay, whose account was closed on 10th December—we have no customer of the name of Waddy, of Harley House, Bath.
JAMES THOMAS (Policeman E 234). I arrested the prisoner on 10th January outside the Temple Bar Restaurant—I told him the charge—he said "All right; I will go quietly"—as he was entering the Bow Street Police-station he called Mr. Cowie's attention to something; I did not hear what it was—he made no answer to the charge.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL. Prosecuted.
GRACE CROOK . I am the wife of William Crook, of 81, Benwell Road, Islington; he works at the Great Northern—on the morning of 14th January I and my son, Charles Manning, closed and fastened up the house and shop and went to bed—about 20 minutes later I heard the rumbling of something and a knocking at the doors and shutters—I first heard the sound of a barrow moving round towards the stables—I called out to my son on the top stairs—he went downstairs and I followed him—before we got to the bottom of the stairs I heard a crash of glass—I next saw my son struggling with Spicer in the road, and boots out of our shop were on the pavement—I picked them up—a couple of policemen came up and took Spicer from my son—from my shop I missed eight pairs of odd boots, of the total value of 3l. 4s.—Edwards was standing by with another man—I identified him among many at the police-station—my son was lying in the road very much knocked about.
Cross-examined by Spicer. I should think you were struggling with my son for 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour before the policemen came—I came directly behind my son—I assisted him to keep you down—some one hit you in the eye with a stick—you hit my son with your arm.
CHARLES MANNING CROOK . I am the last witness's son—in the early morning of 13th January I assisted my mother in closing the shop and house about a quarter past one o'clock—I went to bed about half-past I—when I was upstairs in bed my attention was excited by a noise down-stairs—I got out and looked out of the back window—I could see nothing—I opened my bedroom door, the noise increased—I ran downstairs in my night-dress, and when on the last flight of stairs the window was smashed—I got into the shop and saw the window wide open, and three men, of whom Spicer was one, standing in the front at three squares of glass—I unlocked and unbolted the door at once, and got outside and put my hand on Spicer's shoulder—he had got his arms full of boots—as soon as I put my hand on him he said "Oh, G—!" and tried to run—I kept hold of him, and we wrestled, he struggling to get away, till the constable came—I was very much knocked about, and in bed a week.
Cross-examined by Spicer. You were standing on the pavement, with your head and shoulders inside the window, taking the boots out—the other two men were each at another square—I caught hold of you because you were nearest to me—you had as many boots in your arms as you could hold—we fell in the road, about 10 yards from the pavement—I
should think we struggled for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—my mother came down immediately after me, and the lady and gentleman living in the house came down and saw the struggle—I did not kneel on the glass.
Cross-examined by Edwards. I don't distinguish you.
JAMES SMITH (Policeman Y 480). At 1.30 on the morning of 13th January I was in Liverpool Road, in company with Keen, and heard shouts of murder and police, and ran towards Ben well Road, and heard shouts again—at 81, Ben well Road I saw Mr. Crook struggling with spicer on the ground, and some boots lying about—the bar of tht shop shutters had bten forced out, and one end broken—the shutters had been taken down and four panes of glass had been smashed into small pieces—the divisional surgeon was called to Crook at the station.
Cross-examined by Spicer. You were lying quiet when I came up, because the prosecutor was on the top of you.
Cross-examined by Edwards. I know nothing about you.
WALTER TARGET (Sergeant Y). I arrested Edwards on the morning of 24th, at 11 o'clock, in the Liverpool Road, and charged him with being concerned with Spicer in breaking and entering 81, Ben well Road, on the night of the 12th—he said "I know nothing about it"—I have seen Spicer and Edwards together—I took him to tile Hornsey Road Police-station, where he was placed among seven other men, and if Mrs. Crook and the other witness picked him out—she said to the best of her belief—the answer he made was he knew nothing about it—when he was charged ho said "I didn't break the window, Burke broke the window; when the shutters were taken down we came away; I did not break the window and steal the boots."
Cross-examined by Edwards. I asked you nothing on the way to the station—I have seen Spicer in your presence at a public-house.
SPICER— GUILTY **.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
EDWARDS— NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACWELL Prosecuted.
JOHN PAYNE . I am a greengrocer of 24, Sloane Terrace, Chelsea—I have knowu the prison or several years—on 14th January my mare was locked up in the stable at Cotton's Yard, George Street; I had seen it at 8 o'clock, I did not see it locked up—on the morning of the 15th I went to the stable—my mare was not there—I found the chain prized open and one of the large links of iron broken—the padlock was still locked on the staple—I gave information to the police, and on the following morning saw the mare at the Milestone slaughter house.—she was worth about 20l.—I put her at 12l.
THOMAS TAYLOR . I am a horse-slaughterer of Wallace Cottage, Garrett Lane—on the morning of 15th January the prisoner came and said he wanted a horse killed, which he brought with him, and he wanted to take back the off fore foot—"he said his father was dead and the horse belonged to his mother, who was in the hospital, but lived at Lawrence Street, Brompton—I made a communication to my master and afterwards went with the prisoner to Lawrence Street, Chelsea, to sea whether the horse did belong to his mother—I could not find his mother there—the
prisoner said I had better go round to his sister in Flood Street—I did so, but could find no one there to give me information—I cannot say what name the prisoner gave me, it was not William Miller—I took him back to Garrett Lane and afterwards went for a policeman.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said it chucked "your" mother off the cab at 2 o'clock, not "his" mother, and that it killed "your" father six weeks ago, not "his" father.
ARTHUR STANDING (Policeman W 121). I was Detective Sergeant B on the 15th January, when the prisoner came in Taylor's company to the station and was detained on a charge of stealing the horse, which was afterwards identified by the prosecutor—I and the prosecutor went and fetched the horse with his halter from Garrett Lane.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I didn't know the horse was stolen; if I did, does it stand feasible I should go to the station to have the book signed?"
The prisoner in his defence stated that on the morning in question he was walking towards Earl's Court, about a quarter to three, and saw a four-wheeled cab with two males and a female riding on the box. The horse fell, broke the shafts, and pitched the woman off, who said "Blast the horse, take it and have it killed, that is the way my poor father met with his death. The horse was led into Pont Street, and one of the gentlemen asked him to take the horse to be killed.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony in October, 1883.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
COX* also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony in January, 1882, in the name of Harvey Dixon, and HARDING** to one in September, 1882, in the name of William Peck.
COX— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
HARDING— Two Years' Hard Labour.
ATKINS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
270. JOHN SHORT (21) to uttering two forged orders for the delivery of two watches, the goods of William Milton, with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, January 30th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
(For the case of Robert Plampton see Surrey Cases.)
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY
Defended at the request of the Court.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, January 30th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Watkin Williams.
MR. ISAACSON Prosecuted.
MARGARET ANN BISHOP . I am a single woman, of 62, Russell Road, Holloway—on Sunday night, the 20th inst., between 10 and 12 o'clock, I was in Izant Road, a turning out of the Hornsey Road, when I saw the prisoners on the same side—Bryant put his arm round my neck; I released myself, and then he followed me and put his arm round my neck again—Dean came up as if he were going to protect me, and asked me what he was doing to me—I put my hand up and found Bryant had my brooch in his hand—I said "You have made a mistake, it is only a common one," and then he let go a bit, but he never took his arm away from my neck the second time—by that time we had got into the road where I lived, and one of them said "Now let us seduce her"—they did not effect their purpose—they got me against the railings on the opposite side—my dress pocket was turned inside out and the things gone, consisting of a silk handkerchief, bunch of keys, one large key, a purse, and two sixpences wrapped in paper in the purse—I ran down into a neighbour's place and told them what had happened, and two gentlemen came up the steps with me but could not see anybody, and they took me home—that was about fifty doors from where I lived—I told my mother and brother what had happened, and went to the station to give information—I next saw the prisoners at a florist's in the Seven Sisters' Road, nearly opposite our turning—I identified them and gave them in custody—I went to the station and saw them searched—two sixpences in a piece of paper were found on Bryant, and a silk handkerchief on Dean—the keys and purse were thrown away—I am sure the prisoners are the men.
Cross-examined by Bryant. When the sixpences were found they asked me whether I could swear to them—I said "No," but when I saw the piece of paper fall I said I could swear to that, and they asked me what was on it, and I said "Something about theatres," and they said "That is all right."
By the COURT. When I was in the passage with my friends they said "You are only frightened; you have not lost anything"—then I looked and found I was robbed.
CHARLES SQUIRE (Policeman Y 313). I was on duty in the Seven Sisters' Road, and met the prisoners walking together—Bryant asked me some questions immaterial to this case and passed on—I went to Russell Road—I saw the prosecutrix's brother standing at the gate with her; she was crying—they called me over and told me the circumstances of the case, and gave me a description of the men, and from the description of Bryant I said I had just passed that man in the Seven Sisters' Road—I returned to the Seven Sisters' Road, and at the corner of Russell Road I saw the two prisoners—Dean was on the opposite side—I then saw Bryant cross the Seven Sisters' Road and try to push a woman in a dark gateway—I crossed over and the woman complained to me of their conduct—I asked the prisoners for their names and addresses—I kept them in conversation, asking them where they lived and where they were going, before I could see the last witness with her brother, and then I signalled for her to como back—I called her by her name—she was about 200 yards farther down the road with her brother—I turned my light on and she came up—I asked her if she could identify either of those men for robbing her—she pointed to Bryant and said "That is one"—I asked her if the know the other man, and she said "Yes,
that is the other one; that is his companion"—I told them they would have to go to the station with me—they made no answer—the prosecutrix's brother assisted me—Bryant went quietly, but Dean got obstreperous, and I had to knock him down twice with my first—I had my stick drawn and told them what I should do if they attempted to get away—I took them to the station and they were charged with stealing a purse, two sixpences in a piece of paper, a silk handkerchief, a bunch of keys, a large key, and a brooch—I searched them and found two sixpences in the left hand trousers pocket of Bryant—on pulling out the two sixpences this piece of newspaper came out and fell on the floor (produced)—the prosecutrix told the inspector before that the sixpences were wrapped up in paper, and also told what was on the paper—the paper was shown to her and she said that was the paper which her sixpences wero wrapped in—I then found 8d. in copper in Bryant's watch-pocket—on Bean I found 3s. 6d. in silver and 3 1/2. in bronze, and in the right-hand coat pocket a silk handkerchief with the initials which the prosecutrix told the inspector were on it, "J. A."—the bunch of keys were brought to the station by a person who picked them up on a footpath near an empty house—I looked for the purse but could not find it.
Cross-examined by Bryant. You asked me where there was a place where you could do what you wanted—I did not tell you to go down there—I struck you outside the station—I did not say "I will get it up for you"—the woman you pushed into the gateway came to the station—she is a prostitute and gave her name when she came to the police-court—she did not stop you, but you stopped her.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Bryant says: "It is all false; I am not guilty." Dean says: "The lady has made a mistake; I am not the person who robbed her; I was not in that road."
Bryant, in his defence, said that he had never seen the prosecutrix till he saw the policeman, and he knew nothing about the bit of paper.
Dean, in his defence, said lie had never seen the prosecutrix until he was given in charge, and the money lie had on him belonged to him, and that the handkerchief must have been placed in his pocket on going to the station.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. GREENWOOD Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
JAMES FLETCHER . I live at 3, Albert Terrace New Church Road, Camberwell, and am a night hall porter in the employment of the Times, Printing House Square, where I have been for 23 years—on Sunday, 2nd December, the prisoner was employed in the engineers' department at the Times office, having to look after the electric light—in consequence of instructions I received I went to the prisoner at about 11.45 p.m. and told him that I had been informed he had insulted one of the overseers, and it was simply my duty to see that he immediately left the office—he told me iu reply that he had not insulted the gentleman—I told him I did not wish to have any argument with him, I had only to see that lie left the office—he requested that I should allow him to go or send upstairs for his character, but I persisted in not doing so, and he repeated that I should allow him to go up—I told him he must go—he asked me if I would allow him to finish his supper—I said, "Yes, but go immediately
after"—I left him for a few minutes, and then returned and said, "Come my good fellow, come along"—he rose from his Beat and followed me up the staircase to the wicket-gate—he then made a firm stand, and persisted still that ho should be allowed to go ups'airs, but I remained firm and would not allow him, and he said, "You aro no man"—I called on the messenger to pull the catch to open the wicket-gate—the prisoner passed out, and I followed him to the folding doors inside the office—he then made a firm stand, still persisting in his demand to be allowed to go upstairs—I still refused, when he made use of a vile expression, which I cannot remember, and called on me to come outside—I did not go outside—I felt a blow in my groin immediately those words fell from his lips—I raised my arm, and felt two stab wounds in my left shoulder—I called out to George Putnam at the wicket-gate, "George, I am stabbed"—as I staggered round the prisoner followed me up with another blow in my back—I fell to the ground and partly lost consciousness—Putnam put me into a cab, when I was taken to Bartholomew's Hospital, where I was an inmate for 16 days—I still feel very low, and am an out-patient of the hospital—I have not been able to resume my duties.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner's age—I should say he has not been in the office more than six months—as a rule inquiries are made before persons are taken into the Times office as to their character—he told me he was taken in without a character—I had no quarrel with him and he had no animosity against me, except that I persisted in his not going upstairs—if he said I came down and began hurrying him and hustling him about it would be quite untrue—"Come, my good fellow," were my words—he asked me to go upstairs to ask the overseer for his character, which I refused—I dare not attempt to go up and trifle with the head overseer to ask such a question—I had received my instructions, and I knew I must abide by them—I did not say to him, "No. not likely, you cannot have a character"—I did not say, "I won't go"—I never put my hands on him—I did not make a blow at him—I did not notice any instrument in his hand when he was taking hit supper—there was no struggle between us.
Re-examined. When he asked me to go upstairs for his character I said "Go, there's a good fellow, and I will speak for you in the morning," meaning when the head gentleman was not busy—Mr. Killburn is the overseer.
GEORGE PUTNAM . I live at 6, Wales Terrace, Finsbury Park, and am a night messenger in the Times office—I was on duty at the time in question wheu the prosecutor and the prisoner came together to the door—it is my duty to open the door—the catch is attached to a wire like a bell wire—they were standing inside the barrier, just behind the desk—the entrance hall leads out into Printing House Square—the wicket-gate was closed—I was standing behind—the prosecutor had given me instructions to keep the door shut before he went downstairs, and when he came upstairs I heard them talking, and Fletcher said "Come, my good fellow, now go quietly," and he said "Pull the string," which I did, and the prisoner and Fletcher passed through the gate—Fletcher followed the prisoner to the outer door leading iuto Printing Home Square, and I heard the prisoner say "Are you still determined not to go up for my character?" and before he could answer I saw the prisoner strike him or give a blow in
front—with that Mr. Fletcher put out his arm, and I saw two more blows como on his arm—Fletcher called out "George, I am stabbed, I am stabbed"—with that he twirled round and came against the wicket-gate, and the prisoner followed and gave him another blow in the back—I went round and assisted him in—he was very much exhausted—I found his arm was bleeding—the prisoner went away—Fletcher was taken to the hospital—I had seen the prisoner about an hour before—I thought he had been drinking.
Cross-examined. He was rather florid—I have noticed a kind of dazed appearance in him, and he has looked very odd indeed—he struck me as being a queer kind of boy.
BENJAMIN OLDMAN . I live at 17, Morrison Buildings, Commercial Road East, and am in the engineers' department of the Times office, where I attend to the electric lights—up to 2nd December the prisoner was employed under me in that department—about 11 o'clock on that night he came to me and complained about the work, meaning that he was doing it all, and that I was doing none—I then said "If you do not like it leave the office, and come and make your complaint to Mr. Carroll to-morrow"—he is manager of the engineers' department—I noticed the prisoner was in drink—he went to the bench, and said "I shall want two hours' pay, from 9 till 11. If I get the sack from this office you will remember me the longest bleeding day you ever lived"—that was in the engineers' shop, within two yards from where the tools are kept—I then said "You shan't touch another electric light here to-night, so you must leave the office"—I then went upstairs in the composing department to look after the lights, as the prisoner had knocked off, and I remained there some minutes, and then came down, and the prisoner was within about five or six yards of me—he said "If I go upstairs again I will punch Masson on the b——nose"—he is an overseer upstairs—I immediately complained to Mr. Kilburn and to Fletcher as I passed the door, and said to him "Do not let him go upstairs any more to-night, as I have asked him to leave the office"—shortly after a policeman came and brought me this tool (produced)—it is called a rimer—it is sharp-pointed and tapers—there would be plenty of them in the engineers' shop—it was not the prisoner's duty to use such a tool or to carry one with him.
Cross-examined. These small tools are only used in the electric part—tools are occasionally left about.
Re-examined. It has nothing to do with the engineers' department, but the electric lights.
WILLIAM PERRIN (City Policeman 504). I was on duty in Printing House Lane at the time in question, when I found this instrument (the rimer) about 10 yards from the Times office—at about 12 o'clock I took it to the office and gave it to the last witness—it has since then been in the custody-of the police.
CHARLES ARTHUR MORRIS . I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and am house surgeon at Bartholomew's Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there about 12 p.m. on the 2nd December—I examined him, and found four small punctured wounds, which were bleeding slightly—one was in the right groin, two on the left arm, and one in the back—they were about half an inch deep, and might hare been produced by such an instrument as this—they were not dangerous
—the prosecutor was under my charge until the 18th December—he suffered a good deal from nervous shock and bronchitis, and we thought it best to take him in—he is now an out-patient.
Cross-examined. It would not require much force to produce those wounds—if any violence were used such an instrument might go very deep.
Re-examined. I did not take his clothes off—I have a dresser who does that sort of thing—I have no idea what he had on.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I wish to say nothing now."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.
CAROLINE FRETTER . I live at 29, Cedar Road, Walham Green—on the 27th inst., at I am., I was with my husband in the Greyhound Road, when five men rushed out—one struck my husband, and the prisoner struck me in the eye and kicked me and knocked me down—I screamed out, and the prisoner caught hold of me and said "You b——cow, I will choke you"—my purse was taken from me with 8s. 6d. in it—the prisoner ran away—I got up and followed him, and two policemen came along—a policeman brought the prisoner to me, and asked me if he was the man, and I said "Yes"—both I and my husband were sober—I have no doubt of the prisoner's identity.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You kicked me in the mouth—I did not know you before—I am sure you are the man, because you pushed up against us at first—I should know one of the others.
GEORGE FRETTER . I was with my wife—as we passed the Greyhound public-house five men rushed out of the doorway—one came up against me—I asked him what he was doing, and he said "Who the d—hell are you?"—I said "You had better let us alone, we are going home"—he then struck me on the side of the head, and the prisoner went up to my wife and struck her in the eye, and knocked her down in the road and kicked her in the mouth—we called "Police"—the prisoner ran away for about 20 yards—I did not lose sight of him till the police came—I am sure of him—we were sober—we had been to Hammersmith to see a friend—I am a labourer—I never saw the prisoner before—it is rather a lonely road, but there is a lamp just where he was standing, by the public-house—I saw the policeman take him on a little piece of waste ground—the policeman turned his bull's-eye on, and there he was, trying to get away, not 20 yards off—as soon as I called "Police" the man who attacked me ran away.
GEORGE THURLOW (Policeman T 632). I was on duty near the Greyhound public-house when I heard soreams of "Police!"—I saw the prisoner turning round into the Lily Road followed by the prosecutrix—when he observed me he turned off the main road on to a piece of waste ground—I caught up to him, and he tried to scale a wall—I asked him what he was doing there, and he said "Nothing"—I said "You will have to come with me to the main road—by that time there were four others collected and the prosecutrix—I put the prisoner between them, and the prosecutrix picked him out, and said "That is the man," and charged him with assaulting her and stealing a purse with 8s. 6d.—he
said "I know nothing at all about it"—he was searched at the police-station, and a shilling in silver and threepence in bronze were found on him.
Cross-examined. There was no occasion for you to go on to the waste ground to get where you lived.
By the COURT. He gave a correct address—he could have gone that way to his house, but it would have been a long way round—the wall to tried to scale was brick; about 5 feet high.
By the JURY. The prosecutrix could have seen the prisoner from where she was.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing of the case at all, and have no witnesses to call."
The prisoner in his defence said that he was ntt the man; that he had been in employment, making twelve to fourteen hours a day, and that the money found upon him was his own.
GUILTY of robbery. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, January 30th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LILLEY Prosecuted.
PATRICK WHITE . I live at 5, St. George's Chambers, Ratcliff High-way—between 12 and 1 o'clock on 6th January I was in Brick Lane, going down the street to get a lodging, for it was too late to go home—I saw the prisoner standing at the corner with a young man and woman—as I stepped on the kerb he left the young man and woman and hit me on the face and knocked me down—I got up again and faced him—he caught hold of me and knocked me down again, and took three-pence out of my right-hand pocket—we struggled with one another, and he got mo down again the third time, and then took 2 1/2 d. out of my left-hand pocket—I got up again and faced him, and he knocked me down on my left side—I was only hurt on the elbow—I got up and walked up Brick Lane and spoke to a policeman—the policeman went towards him, but did not see him—I had never seen the man before to my knowledge.
Cross-examined. I did not see that you were drunk—I did not hit you.
WILLIAM GREGORY (Policeman H 70). I was on duty on the 6th January, between 12 and 1 o'clock, in Brick Lane—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor struggling together; I went to get hold of the prisoner to take him in custody, a lot of women got in my way and I could not get at him—he ran away down Flower and Dean Street—I called after him "All right, Finnigan, I shall have you before the morning"—I had seen him about the neighbourhood before—I found a bat near the spot—I gave information to Nichols at once, and saw the prisoner about a quarter of an hour afterwards in Nichols's custody—the prisoner then had no hat on—I asked if that was his hat, and he said "Yes; you will find some spots of blood on the lining, what I had from Saturday night"—there was blood on the lining—I accompanied him to the station; Nichols searched him in my presence.
Cross-examined. I was near enough to see the struggle—I was a little distance off—the prosecutor did not walk up to me afterwards—
I came on the spot only in time to see tho prosecutor full once—I did not put the prosecutor up to tell this story—when going out of the dock you said to the Magistrate "May I have my hat, sir?"—you were not drunk; you had been drinking.
THOMAS NICHOLS (Policeman H 218). I was on duty in the neighbourhood of Brick Lane on the morning of 6th January, between 12 am) I, and received information from Gregory, in consequence of which I arrested the prisoner about a quarter of an hour afterwards—he had no hat on—I told him I should take him into custody for assaulting and robbing a man in Brick Lane—he said "All right, I will go quiet; I know nothing about it"—on the way to the station he said "He hit me, and I hit him"—Gregory produced the hat, and asked him if it was his, and he said it was, and that there was a blood stain on it—I searched him, and found 5d. in bronze on him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You asked what I locked you up for, and when I told you you said you knew nothing about it—you said your hat had a spot of red blood in it—you said you got 15d. from some man in the market—you had been drinking, but were not drunk.
Prisoner's Defence. I am quite innocent. I work in the market. They have got a spite against me.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1880.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BESLEY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, January 30th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
JOSEPH GILES . I live at 30, Betterton Street, Endell Street, and am 16 years old—I work at Nixey's blacking place—I have known the prisoner about five years—on 10th January I was in Betterton Street about 12 o'clock, and saw the prisoner with another boy about my age—the prisoner said "Joe, I want you"—I went with them to the Serve Quick coffee-shop, Drury Lane—they gave me something to eat—the other boy paid for it—the prisoner and I went out, leaving the third boy there—we went to a grocer's shop—before we got there Cummins said "Go and get us 3s. worth of stamps"—I said "All right"—we were then opposite the shop—he said that he had a bad leg, which was why he did not go himself—we had walked for five minutes from the coffee-shop, and he walked a little lame—ho gave me a half-crown and sixpence in copper to get the stamps—he pointed out the shop, Mr. Glennister's, and told me I should find him at the corner of Bloomsbury Street—I put down the same money in Mr. Glennister's shop—he said that the half-crown was bad, and asked me who sent me—I said "The boy on the opposite side," and pointed out the prisoner—he told me to stay in the shop, and I saw him go across and speak to the prisoner—he came back to the shop with the prisoner and two policemen, and I was taken in custody, and taken before a Magistrate next day, who took me out of the
dock and put me into the witness box, and I gave the same evidence as I have given to-day.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said that I was afraid to go home because I had left my work.
WILLIAM GLENNISTER . I am employed at the grocer's shop and post-office in Russell Street—on 10th January Giles came in for 3s. worth of stamps, and gave me this bad half-crown (produced) and sixpence in copper—I asked him who sent him—he pointed out Cummins, who was on the other side of the road, and told me his name—I left him in my sister's charge, went across, took hold of the prisoner, and asked him to come with me—ho said nothing—I took him 100 yards, to Tottenham Court Road, where a constable is stationed, who I called, and who took the prisoner back to the shop, and Giles said "That is he"—we went to the station, and the inspector ordered Giles to be charged at the same time.
Cross-examined. You did not make the least resistance, nor did you attempt to run away—I took you by the arm, and you said you had a bad leg and could hardly walk, but I did not notice that you walked lame.
JOSEPH TAPPING (Policeman E 469). On 10th January I was on point duty at Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street, and saw Mr. Glennister holding the prisoner and beckoning to me—I came across the road, and he said he wished to give the prisoner in custody for sending to his shop a bad half-crown—ho made no answer—I took him back to the shop, and found Giles detained there, who said "That is the boy who sent me to the shop"—the prisoner said "I don't know the boy"—a second policeman had followed me—we went to the station, where the prisoner and Giles were charged—neither of them made any answer—the Magistrate discharged Giles, and he was put in the witness box on the remand—I found a pawn-ticket on the prisoner, but no money—Mr. Glennister gave me this half-crown—Betterton Street runs into Drury Lane; it is 600 yards from Mr. Glennister's shop, which is 100 yards from Tottenham Court Road—I did not notice the prisoner was lame.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am not the young man who sent Giles into the shop."
Prisoner's Defence. I was coming from Covent Garden, where I am apprenticed, and met Edward Browning, who had just left his employment at Scott's Hotel, Haymarket; he gave me dinner at a coffee-shop, where we saw Giles, who said he was afraid to go home. Browning said he wanted to send his wife some stamps, and asked me to get them while he wrote the letter. He gave me half-a-crown and 6d. in coppers. Giles went with me, and I said to him "Will you go on first? you can run quicker than I can, as my leg is bad, and I will wait here for you, and gave him the money, and the gentleman came across and said "You come along with me;" I did so, and it was I who put my finger up and called the policeman across. I did not know the half-crown was bad.
GUILTY . (He had been tried for a like offence in November, 1881, and acquitted. (See Vol. XCV. p. 11.)— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
ARTHUR ATKINSON . I am manager to Mr. Hyams, who keeps the Builders' Arms, Dane Street, Islington—on the 10th January, between 7 and 8 p.m., Jones and a man who is not here came in together, and Jones called for a pint of ale and put down a coin—Morris, who served them, took it up and passed it to me—it was a bad shilling—I said "This is a bad shilling"—Jones said "We have taken it at a house close by, if you will let us take it back they will give us a good shilling for it"—it was bent a little, and I returned it to them, as I thought they were working men—I think it could have been straightened again—I rang it and there was no sound in it, it bent easily and it was smooth and gritty—the other man paid for the ale—about midnight the next night the two prisoners came into a different bar with the man who was there before—I saw the barman serve them, and saw Jones put down something, and the barman brought me a bad shilling and said in their hearing "These are the same men who were here last night"—I said "Why, you tried this game on last night"—Jones said "No, I have never been in the neighbourhood before"—the shilling was put on the counter, Jones snatched it up, the man not here threw down 2d. and out they all went—I followed them to the Britannia, they looked in but did not go in—they then went into Mrs. Jones's fried-fish shop—I went for a policeman but could not find one, and when I got back they were gone—I next saw them at the police-court with ten or twelve others, outside the cells, and picked them out—I am certain the prisoners are two of the three—the second shilling was smooth and I put it in my mouth and bent it easily.
Cross-examined by Jones. I saw you come out of the fish shop, but lost light of you—the policeman did not point you out to me as you got out of the van.
Cross-examined by Johnson. I saw you in the fish shop—I picked Jones out first from ten or twelve others, and you second—it is not true that only one man was put with you two.
LOUISA JONES . My husband keeps a fish shop in Dane Street, Islington—on the 12th January, about 12.15 a.m., the prisoners and another man came in—the one not here called for fish and potatoes for three, and put down a shilling—they called my attention to the quality of the fish, and said that it was cold—I kept the shilling in my hand—it was smooth—I then put it to my teeth and found it was soft—I said "The shilling is bad"—the third man said "How do you know it is bad?"—I said "It wants no explanation, it is a bad one"—I had put 6d. change on the counter, and he took it up—I said "I am only a poor woman and cannot afford to lose it"—he gave me the 6d. back and I gave him the shilling—he said that he would take it to the publican where he took it—they did not touch the fish, they only peppered and salted it—Mr. Atkinson then came in and said something to me.
ALICE TURNER . I am barmaid at the Hanbury Arms, Arlington Square, New North Road—on 11th January, about 12.20 a.m., shortly before the house closed, the prisoners came in, and I served Jones with a pint of ale—he put down this shilling (produced)—I bent it in the tester and passed it to Mrs. Dalrymple, she handed it to Mr. Dalrymple, and they rushed out and he after them.
pint of ale and tendered a coin, which the barmaid passed to my wife, who passed it to me, and I said that it was bad—the third one left as soon as the barmaid detected the coin, and as I raised the counter the prisoners ran out—I went to the door, a constable came up, but they had eighty or a hundred yards start of him—ho brought them back and I gave them in custody with the shilling.
JOHN POTTER . (Policeman N 161). Mr. Dalrymple called me after 12 o'clock on 11th January, and I saw two men running away—I ran after them, caught Johnson, and handed him over to a person in the street, and then pursued Jones "for 300 or 400 yards, caught him without losing sight of him, and said "What did you run away for?" he did not answer—I said "I shall take you back to the Hanbury Arms, where you will be charged with uttering bad money;" he said "It is not much of a charge, only one piece"—I took him back, searched him, but found nothing—I searched Johnson at the station, and found six sixpences and 2s. 1d. in bronze—Mr. Dalrymple handed me a bad shilling—I had seen the prisoners and another man enter and leave the Hanbury Arms about midnight of the 10th or the morning of the 11th—they had not been in there long on the Friday night when the third man came out and walked away, and then the prisoners rushed out and ran away—Jones was placed with 8 or 10 others at the station on the 16th, and Mr. Atkinson identified him, and he identified Johnson in Count—on the first occasion the prisoners were remanded to the 16th while I made inquiries—the Hanbury Arms is 300 yards from Mr. Atkinson's and the fish shop—it would take about two minutes to get from one public-house to the other.
Cross-examined by Jones. I did not point you out as you got out of the van; there was only one other man in the van with you—the men you were put with were fetched out of the street.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Assistant Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this shilling is bad—I have heard Louisa Jones's description of the feel of the coin she took, and that her teeth went into it—those are signs of it being bad.
Jones's Defence. I acknowledge the shilling, but the other witnesses never saw me in their lives, it is very hard to have false witnesses brought to make the case worse.
GUILTY** on the First and Fifth Counts. Both prisoners had been convicted in 1867 of a like offence, and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude, but owing to the time which had elapsed they were not charged with the previous convictions. JONES— Two Years' Hard Labour. JOHNSON— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT recommended the officer Potter to the notice of his superiors in consequence of his admirable conduct.
MR. GHOSH Prosecuted; MESSRS. FULTON and BURNIE Defended.
EMMA IMEELL . I am the wife of John Imeell, of 1, John Street, Portland Town—in December last I was engaged as nurse to Mrs. Campbell, of 39, Grove Road, St. John's Wood, who was ill at that time, and I slept in the same bed with her—on Thursday morning, 26th
December, she awoke me about 2.30, and I saw the prisoner hanging over the foot of the bedstead—she said "Get out my room; how dare you here, Sir?"—he went out quickly—there was gas alight in the room—I went downstairs after him and saw him go out at the side door—I did not see his face again, but I know it was the prisoner; I did not lose sight of him—I then woke the servant up who slept in a room opposite the door which was found open—I went to the dining-room with her and missed a carriage-clock, which I had seen the previous evening before the doctor left—I then went back to my mistress.
Cross-examined. I only knew him by seeing him there that evening; if he has been acquainted with Mrs. Campbell for nine years that has nothing to do with me—I do not know that he was there on that night as a friend of the family enjoying himself—I passed through the room on Christmas night and saw him sitting there, and nobody there but a servant—I didn't inquire what he was doing—when I saw him in Mrs. Campbell's room I recognised him as the man I had seen sitting down—Mrs. Campbell is not here; I have not seen her to-day—I saw her yesterday; she was not in bed then; she was better, she is convalescent—I am not aware that the house is a brothel; I never saw anything wrong to compute it as such, and never heard anything of the kind—they are perfect strangers to me—the servant omitted to bolt the side door that night—I never heard that the prisoner is a hair dresser and had been in the habit of dressing Mrs. Campbell's hair—you must ask the doctor what is the matter with Mrs. Campbell; she was not suffering from excessive drunkenness that I know of; you must ask the servant—I did not go to nurse her after a drunken bout—I heard that sometimes she takes a little—die takes a glass of brandy and water, but I never saw her in a state of drunkenness—she has been able to come downstairs for about a fortnight—the household consisted of Mrs. Campbell, Mary Ann Taylor, and myself—I do not know that Mrs. Campbell was sometimes known at 39, Grove-end Road as Miss Clarke; that might be her maiden name—I never saw a Miss Campbell—I never saw any person of the male sex about the place except the doctor—these letters (produced) are all in one writing—I cannot say that they are Mrs. Campbell's—I cannot say whether this envelope "F. Fredericks, Esq., 33, Cochrane Street, St. John's Wood," is her writing; or this this envelope "Mr. Fredericks; immediate"—I don't know either of them.
Re-examined. I don't know whether the servant usually locked the front door; I never slept there before that night; that was the first day of my engagement—I had been to and fro, and she was so poorly she asked me to stop all night—I have repeatedly seen Mrs. Campbell writing, but I have never seen what she has written.
WILLIAM LEONARD . On the morning of 28th December I went with Sergeant Lawless to 33, Cochrane Street, St. John's Wood, and saw the prisoner there—that is about five or seven minutes walk from Grove-end Road—I said "You have been to 39, Grove-end Road this week"—after thinking a few minutes he said "Yes; I was there on Wednesday evening about 7 o'clock"—I said "We are both police-officers; are you sure you were not there any other time?"—he said "No; I was not"—I said "A clock and some forks and spoons have been missed from 39, Grove-end Road, and you will be charged with it"—he said "I am surprised at Mrs. Campbell charging me with that; it won't do her any
good"—I took him to the station and he was charged—he said nothing—I searched him, and found a pair of curling tongs and 23 pawn-tickets, not relating to this charge, which were given up to him—I found two of the tickets there—33, Cochrane Street, is let out in apartments, and he lived in one room there—I have been to Mrs. Campbells house; it is respectable as far as I know.
Cross-examined. I made inquiries there with Sergeant Lawless—I have not been in the neighbourhood—she has not been in the place long, and there is only one house adjoining—the prisoner told me he was a hairdresser to prostitutes.
MARY ANN TAYLOR . I am in Mrs. Campbell's service—the doctor came to see her on 26th December, and it was about 11.30 p.m. when he left by the front entrance—I opened the garden gate, and came back through the garden and entered the house by the front door—I generally sit in the kitchen—there is a back door, side door, and a front entrance—the back door comes round through the garden, and the side doors is where tradespeople come to—it was my duty to shut and lock the doors at night—I locked every door that night but the side door—the child was very troublesome, and I omitted to bolt the side door—I fastened the garden gate after the doctor came in—the nurse awoke me about 2 a.m., and I went into the dining-room and saw the plate-basket empty on a chair by the side of the couch, removed from the recess—I went to see what o'clock it was by the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, and it was gone—every door was fast except the one which I had omitted to bolt; that was wide open when the nurse called me—it could be opened from the outside by turning the handle—I did not see the prisoner, but I saw him on Christmas night, when he came with a bottle of toilet vinegar, which I paid him two shillings for, and showed him into the dining-room; he sat down and remained ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I was in the dining-room with him; the nurse came in while he was there—my mistress was was upstairs in bed, and he did not see her that night—he had seen her a week before, when I opened the door to him and asked him his name before I admitted him, as he was a stranger to me; it was Fredericks—I have known Mrs. Campbell fourteen years, but had not seen her for eight years—I have been in her service four months—the prisoner stopped in the dining-room about an hour—I was in and out of the room all the time he was there—Mrs. Campbell was very ill with dropsy, diabetes, and bronchitis—she was upstairs all Christmas Day and Boxing Day—I sleep on the ground floor—it would be possible for anybody to come in at the side door without disturbing me.
Cross-examined. There is no Mr. Campbell, and there never was—I have known her 14 years; there is no Mr. Clarke—my mistress is not equal to coming out—she has had a subpoena to come here on behalf of the prisoner—the dropsy, diabetes, and bronchitis have not been brought on by excessive indulgence in stimulants—she never took too much to my knowledge—she may take stimulants if the doctor orders them—the prisoner was with Mrs. Campbell a week before Christmas—he was not dressing her hair and making her smart; he was speaking to her—she says that he has known her eight or nine years—I don't know her writing in many instances, because she can write two or three different hands—when she was ill it was not the same writing as when she was all right—this envelope "Mr. Fredericks, 33, Cochrane Street; immediate,"
is something like her writing; the other, "J. Fredericks, Esq., 33, Cochrane Street," is not in her writing—she sometimes signs "J. Clarke; "that is one of her names—she was baptized "Jane Campbell"—Clarke was her husband's name, but she has had no other names—I never saw her husband; I understand he is dead—she has not had a good many husbands during the time I have known her, nor somebody who does as well—no men visited her house while I was there except her agent, Mr. Carter, a solicitor, and the gardener—Mr. Carter is not the man who finds the cash to keep this place and the grounds; it is her property—the doctor also came there, and Mr. Leonard, the detective—I understood that she had a house in Liverpool—I was in Scotland before I went to her—the prisoner was not in the habit of dressing her hair—she told me that it was four years since she had seen him till the week before Christmas—she was not in the habit of having her hair dressed; I do it when she has the rheumatics—she was in bed ill when I came away to-day—this letter is in her writing; it is from her to the prisoner, and is marked "Immediate."—(This was dated April 17, 6, Blandford Street, Liverpool, and stated: "If the young lady is still in the mind for coming I will at once forward you the money.") I do not know that 6, Blandford Street, Liverpool, is a brothel, and that the prisoner was to send a young lady there—Mrs. Clarke is not a common prostitute.
By the COURT. The little child is the adopted child of one of her servants—I took her to sleep with me on account of Mrs. Campbell being ill.
MR. FULTON called
FREDERICK BELGRAVE . I am a managing clerk to Mr. Holroyd, a solicitor, of Finsbury Pavement—I am conducting this defence—I personally served on the prosecutrix a Crown Office subpoena to attend this trial.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, January 31st, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
280. HENRY TODD (17) , Feloniously wounding Thomas John Merritt, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm. Third Count, with intent to resist and prevent his lawful apprehension.
The prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to the Third Count.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted;
MR. BLACKWELL Defended.
CHARLES SLOPER (Policeman X 95). On Saturday, 12th January, at 9 at night, I was on duty at Kilburn market place—I saw the prisoner there making a great noise and disturbance, and making use of very bad language to the annoyance of the public—he was not quarrelling with anybody—there was nobody with him—I requested him to go away—he refused; he said he should not go for me—I requested him again to go away, and I had no sooner done so than he drew a knife from his pocket and made a running jump at me, and said "I will do for you," and he struck the edge of my helmet with the knife—I had not touched him—I could not say for certain whether the knife was open or shut when he drew it from his pocket—the blow out the ridge of my helmet and knocked
it off, and it glided from the helmet into the breast of my greatcoat and through my greatcoat and under coat, not quite through my tunic, just to the lining; constable Merritt came up to my assistance, and the prisoner stabbed Merritt twice in the arm—I did not see him do that—Merritt caught him by the neck and threw him and I went down as well—I and the prisoner were down; Merritt was not exactly on the ground; he was over him, holding him—I never saw anything that the prisoner did to Merritt—I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand while he was on the ground—when we got up he was taken to the station by me and Merritt and some private individuals—he was very violent all the way to the station; we had to carry him face downwards.
Cross-examined. We gave him what is called "the frog's march"—I was alone when I first spoke to the prisoner—he had had a little drink; he was not so drunk but that he knew what he was about—he was a little bit fresh; I can't say whether he was drunk or not—I believe I have said before to-day that the prisoner said "I will do for you"—I believe I said so before the Magistrate—I heard my deposition read over; I believe I heard those words read over—I did not see the prisoner strike Merritt—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner deliberately struck him twice on the left arm with this knife—I said so because directly Merritt came up he said that he had been struck twice in the arm—I have been 17 years in the force—I have been told that I must not give as evidence what somebody else has told me—I did not push the prisoner when I went up to him; I never put a hand upon him—I believe he opened the knife when he took it from his pocket.
Re-examined. The knife was handed to me by Beasley—it was a similar knife to this.
MORRIS JOHN MERRITT . (Policeman X 586). On this Saturday night I went to assist sloper—I saw the prisoner stab him through his police clothes in the left breast—I ran to his assistance, caught him by the throat, and threw him on his back—a great struggle took place, in which Sloper recovered from his fall—I had great difficulty in getting the knife from the prisoner—he stabbed me twice through the left arm with this knife before I took him by the throat; I saw it in his hand—he said "There's another b——I will settle you"—I then put my left arm on the prisoner's right arm that the knife was in, and the witness Beasley put his foot on the prisoner's arm and took the knife from his hand—before that the prisoner had attempted to stab me in the left ribs, which penetrated through my clothes—he was lying on his back at the time—both stabs were on the left arm, close together—the clothes are here that I had on; the doctor has seen them—we took the prisoner to the station with the assistance of two private individuals.
Cross-examined. I was walking past, about sixteen yards from the spot—I was in front of Sloper and behind the prisoner, almost opposite them—Sloper did not see me coming up—I did not seize the prisoner till after he had stabbed me—he turned round and saw me coming up and made use of that foul expression—I was then close to him and rushed in at him—I don't think Sloper could have seen the blows that were struck at me; he was lying on the ground at the time—Sloper went down before the prisoner; he went down when the prisoner struck him with the knife.
the shop, and saw the prisoner there and Sloper speaking to him—the prisoner was standing in the market-place; I did not see him doing anything—I could not hear what Sloper was saying to him—he was walking backwards, and Sloper was following him up—I saw the prisoner pull off his own hat and fling it up in the air, and make a jump at Sloper and strike him—he had a knife in his hand—he struck him on the helmet—the blow cut the helmet, which fell off—I then saw them close and fall to the ground—I ran up—I saw Merritt come up—I saw the prisoner's arm flinging backwards and forwards as he was lying on his back—he had this knife in his hand—I put my foot on his arm and took the knife out of his hand—I saw blood on it—I put it in my pocket, and afterwards gave it to Sloper—I saw the prisoner taken to the station by the two constables.
Cross-examined. Sloper closed with the prisoner and threw him down—they all fell down together—when the prisoner was on his back he was flinging his arm backwards and forwards with the knife in it; he appeared to be striking the policeman—I saw Merritt come up; Sloper had not thrown the prisoner then—they all went down together.
WILLIAM BRADLEY . I am a railway porter living at Kilburn—on Saturday night, 12th January, I was in Kilburn Market-place, and saw the prisoner struggling with Sloper on the ground together—that was the first I saw of them.
WILLIAM MULLER . I am divisional surgeon of the police, and live at Kilburn—I was called to the station about half-past 9 o'clock on Saturday night, 12th January—I there saw Merritt—I found on him two wounds; the first was about two inches under the left shoulder, two inches in length and two inches deep; the probe touched the bone—the second wound was an inch lower down, about half an inch in length and two in depth—I probed them both down to the bone—next day, on examining them, I found that the probe had passed entirely through both wounds—the incisions had been carried entirely right through the arm—those wounds were about 4 or 4 1/2 inches in length—this knife would produce saw wounds—I saw the clothes which Merritt was wearing, and found cuts entirely corresponding with the wounds—Merritt is still on the sick list.
GUILTY on Second Count** — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. POLAND and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH BRICE . I am the prisoner's wife—I was married on March 9th, 1857—I lived with him up to some time last year—he was very spiteful to me—we were always quarrelling and fulling out; I don't. know what about; it was money affairs in general—we were both sober, I think; I am quite sure of it—in September last I took out a summons against him and gave evidence against him at the police-court, and he was sent to prison—he was ordered to find a surety to keep the peace, he could not find one, and went to prison instead—at that tune we were living at 91, Regency Street, Westminister—he is a cordwainer by trade—I work in the Army and Navy Clothing Factory, and have done so for 20 years—I continued to live in Regency Street while he was in prison, until the landlord put in a distress—I don't know whether the things
were sold; I left them there and went away—I made no inquiries about the goods afterwards—they were distrained for 8l—they were not worth much—I don't think they were worth 10l—I made no inquiries as to what had become of them—my husband had always been upbraiding me about the home—I went to Hugh Place after that—I am not living there now, I am an in-patient of St. Thomas's Hospital—I saw my husband after he had been in prison, I don't exactly know when—I saw him one dinner time when I was going to my dinner—I have no recollection when it was; perhaps it was a week or a fortnight before this occurrence—I met him quite accidentally, in Cornwall Street; he wanted me to go back and five with him, and said if I did not he was going out of his mind, and would be put in an asylum—I could not promise him to do so, there was no home to go to—he walked round the street with me, and he went into the Builders' Arms and paid for two pennyworth of whisky for me; we had two two-pennyworths—he wished me to stay out that afternoon—I did not; I told him it would not pay me to stay out, I had my living to get—I went back to my work—I saw him again a day or two afterwards by accident—I always meet him by accident—he repeated that he wanted me to go back and live with him, and I told him I could not unless he provided a home—upon the evening before I was shot he came to where I was lodging—I had not told him where I was lodging, someone must have done so—it was at No. 5, Shepherd's Place—he had some supper with me that evening—he seemed very excited—he wanted me to go back and live with him again—I told him I could not unless he provided the home—he left, and I walked over Vauxhall Bridge with him—we had some drink together at a public-house, and he left me there—there was not many angry words, we parted without saying anything—I didn't make any arrangement to meet or see him again—the next night, Thursday, the 20th December, between a quarter and half-past 6 o'clock, I met him on Vauxhall Bridge as I was returning from my work—I said "Halloa! what brings you this side again to-night?"—that was the Surrey side, where I was living—he said he had been over there all day, he hadn't any work to do—he walked on a few steps in front, of me in the same direction I was going, towards home, and then he turned round and fired at me—I didn't see him present anything at me, but I saw the flash and heard the report—I felt a blow at the back of my neck, and I staggered and fell on the pavement—I remembered nothing else till I got to the hospital—he was within a step or two of me when he fired; he was very close to me—he had not said anything to me before he fired but what I have stated—I had never seen any revolver in his possession before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have received rent from the lodgers many times—I didn't always tell you I had it—if I were to say I had no drink I should tell a falsehood—I didn't as a rule take more than was good for me; sometimes I did; if I had one drop it made me silly—I did not to my knowledge come home on a Saturday evening between 1 and 2 o'clock drunk—I have come home and have not had the chance to come in; I have been shut out in the street—I was outside speaking to a gentleman one night, because I could not get in—I was speaking to one of the policemen on duty; I was not talking to any other man while you was at home—I have seen a man named Bill Gimm—I have no recollection of falling down outside the Britannia
and being carried home by Gimm about 12 o'clock on Saturday night; it may have happened; I think not—Gimm did not bring me home drunk, I swear it—I don't wish to speak against you—I may have come home drunk—I don't recollect this happening a fortnight before I took out the summons against you—the landlord of the Telegraph has politely handed me out of the public-house when I have gone in to you to get some money—I have been turned out of the Telegraph; you asked the landlord to have me turned out; I was not drunk there—the Telegraph is in Regency Street, not far from where I was living—I have been turned out two or three times from the house by the potman and the landlord—I have not been turned out of the British Stores; I have walked out; I was told to go out because I went in there to ask you for some money; that was only once—the landlord said he would not have me there upsetting the customers—I have fallen on my back outside the Telegraph—I have come over giddy momentarily and fallen, when perhaps I have taken nothing—tobacco blown in my face would make me giddy—I have not fallen from being tipsy unless I have been hit down—I have been hit down many times by you—I have not received the rent and spent it; I have sometimes had a few shillings of the rent when I could not earn it, and when you would not give me any money and I had to starve—you have said that if I would come back you was willing to make up a home, and I said I would go if you could get a home provided and would keep me from going to work, but I would never go back and live with you and turn out to work, because while I am at work you 'would be playing—I have not become acquainted with any other man, I have had quite enough of you—I never told you I had one of the Foot Guards who would make two such men as you—you told me that I was with a soldier at the Standard; that was not true; at the same time I do love soldiers and sailors, because I get my living by them.
Re-examined. When I am at the Army and Navy Clothing Stores I have to be in by 9 o'clock in the winter and 8.30 in the summer; and I leave at 6 o'clock—I earn from 12s. to 14s. a week on an average; some weeks less some weeks more; that has been so for the last 20 years.
EDWIN GIBBS . I am a mechanic in the building trade—on the evening of the 20th December, about 6.15, I was crossing Vauxhall Bridge towards the Surrey side; when about the middle of the bridge I heard a small report; I looked round and saw the prisoner and the woman in the road on the right side—they were about an arm's length from each other—his arm was extended towards the female—I then saw a flash and heard a very loud report—the woman reeled and staggered to the side I was standing on; she squatted herself down on the verb and buried her face in her hands—the prisoner walked round her and kept firing—I fancy he fired five times in all; three times while she was sitting down I think, but I am sure two—he was as close to her as he could possibly get—I saw something in his hand pointed towards her—a van was coming by and I ran and got a policeman and came back with him to the spot—the prisoner was taken to the station, and while he was going along he said "I suppose I shall be hung."
JOSEPH HAYNES . I am a carman—I was passing over Vauxhall Bridge on the night of 20th December about a quarter past 6 with my cart—I saw the prisoner and the woman; he laid hold of her arm and shot her—I heard three shots—he was as close to her as he could possibly get—I
saw a revolver in his hand—the woman reeled on to the other side of the pathway and sat down—I said to the prisoner "Hold hard, old man"—he said "You stand back; you know nothing about it; she has brought all this trouble on my mind"—after he said that he fired twice at her; then he put it up to his own ear and pulled the trigger, but it did not go off—I heard the click of the hammer two or three times—I laid hold of him and took this revolver from him.
WILLIAM DOUGAL (Policeman B 476). From information I received I went to the middle of Vauxhall Bridge—I saw the prosecutrix sitting down on the kerb bleeding from the left side of the head—the prisoner was detained by the last witness, who handed me this revolver—I assisted the woman into a cab; she seemed in a kind of unconsoious condition—I went up to the prisoner and said "Did you shoot that woman?"—he replied "I did; she has caused me a lot of trouble, taken to drink, and sold up my home; I also fired at myself, and wish the shot had taken, effect, as I am tired of my life"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found 34 loaded cartridges in the breast pocket of his overcoat; they would all fit that revolver—he seemed quite sober—I gave the revolver to the inspector.
WILLAIM JEFFCOAT (Police Inspector B). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I took the charge against him—I do not produce the charge sheet—he said "I wish the bullet was in my skull; I prefer death before living; I have been taking sleeping draughts for some time"—I examined the revolver; there were six chambers all recently discharged.
GEORGE DAVOD JOHNSTONE . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—I saw Mrs. Brice on the evening of the 20th December, between half-past 6 and 7—I found a wound about two inches above the left ear about three-quarters of an inch in diameter, going down to the bone, and the sinus running up from the bottom of the wound, upwards and forwards, for about two inches and a half under the scalp—at the side of the sinus I found this bullet which I produce, it is similar to these in the cartridges—there was a graze on the back of her neck that might have been caused by a bullet or by a scratch of a nail—there was a mark of powder smoke about the angle of the mouth on the left side—there was no powder actually on the skin, it was simply a black mark of smoke; that might have been caused by the explosion of a pistol near her—she is still an in-patient—she has has not been in immediate danger—she has been kept some little time longer than usual because she is going to a convalescent home, as she has no home of her own—the danger was erysipelas setting in or some serious brain mischief—there was bare brain at the bottom of the wound.
GEORGE PEARCE . I am divisional surgeon and live at St. George's Square—I examined the prisoner on the evening of the 20th about 9 o'clock—he seemed in a nervous excitable state—he said that he had met his wife and wished to make it up, that he said "Liz, come, give us a kiss," and she replied "I will have none of that," and he said it should be either the gailows or a comfortable home—he told me that he had fired three shots at her and he had saved two for himself—he directed my attention to his ear—I found an old cicatrix from a scratch, that was all—he seemed to be suffering from the effects of drink—there was a tremulous motion about his bauds, I didn't perceive any smell of liquor—he was very much depressed and in tears for a short time.
JOHN DANIEL . I keep a fish shop at 89, Regency Street, Westminster—I have known the prisoner and his wife for some years, they lived next door to me—from what I have seen for the last five years, the conduct of the prisoner to his wife has been very good; I have never seen him ill-use her in any way—I have always known him to be a very hard-working man who studied his home—I have seen the wife out as late as 2 o'clock in the morning, and she would not come inside for her husband; many times he has asked her to come in—the last time was about September, about a month before he was sentenced for six months—I have seen her the worse for drink—during the five years I couldn't say that I have seen him the worse for drink five times.
Cross-examined. I have seen you very little given to drink—I have repeatedly seen your wife brought home drunk in the afternoon and a mob of people round the door—I brought her home one Saturday afternoon about 4 o'clock—I had to bring her from the Telegraph; she fell down once, and the people were crying "Shame on her;" in fact all the people where she works dislike her.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I can say this, I have been suffering from my head a great deal ever since she put me away to prison for six months, and I scarcely know what I am saying or doing half my time. When I was in Clerkenwell I was in the shoemakers' shop, and was going to cut my throat, when the master shoemaker came and prevented me. After I had been in Clerkenwell and was bailed out I went to St. Thomas's Hospital and complained about my head to one of the doctors there. I had two bottles of medicine, one of quinine, and one of cod liver oil. The doctor said I was very low and weak, and was to live as well as I possibly could. After that I went to Westminster Hospital, and had medicine there; and I went to Dr. Sylvester and paid him 1s. for a bottle of stuff, and to Dr. Fenton and paid him 1s. for a bottle of stuff; and to Dr. Suntler, of Regency Street. I visited him for medicine. Nothing seemed to do me good; I was like deranged in my mind altogether. I did not know what I was doing. At Clerkenwell I had medicine two or three times a day from the doctor for my head. I seem pretty well in the daytime, but it is when I go to bed; I have not six hours' sleep in the week."
The Prisoner. I should like to call my doctor from Clerkenwell.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Her Majesty's Gaol, Clerkenwell—the prisoner has had medicine two or three times a day for his head; he has taken it on and off ever since he has been in prison—he has had sleeping draughts—I can't say whether he has lost weight; I have not noticed it—he has complained of not being able to sleep and restlessness at night—I had him watched, and found it was so—I saw nothing particularly wrong with him—I saw no symptoms to show that he did not know what he was about—I had no reason to suppose that he was not perfectly sane—there was nothing to enable me to form a conclusion as to what had brought about the sleeplessuess, except the worry of having this trial on his mind; I know of no other reason—I saw no trace of drink about him—he was nervous and depressed when he came in—that might arise from drink—there was nothing like delirium tremens about him, nor any trace of habitual drink.
Prisoner's Defence. I have been married to my wife a good many years, and the last few years I have had a great many troubles through her
drink. This has been the cause of my home being upset, and the cause of my mind being as it is; it is nothing at all but worry of mind has caused my brain to be affected like this; in fact, I would rather be dead than alive, for my life is no pleasure to me. I can do very well in the daytime, but I cannot sleep at all at night; last night I never slept one minute, I had no draughts or anything last night. I am very sorry to think what has happened, but it cannot be helped. I didn't intend to kill her, only to frighten her.
GUILTY on the First Count. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the provocation he had received. — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, January 21st,. 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Watkin Williams.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MR. LYON Defended.
EDWARD BULL . I am a painter, of 15a, Green Street, Chelsea—Matilda Sainsbury was my landlady, she was a widow and was forty-four years old—she had been ill for a long time and had been attending some dispensary, but had not obtained much relief—she was suffering from cold and difficulty of breathing, and complained that she was almost strangled in the night with phlegm, so she asked me to go to the prisoner and get some medicine for her, because her son had been under him with a bad cold—he had also given me medicine when I was ill—on Monday, the 10th December, I went to the prisoner's shop, 34, Bath Street, City Road—he is a herbalist—I told him that Mrs. Sainsbury had been under medical attendants three months, and they did not do her any good, and she was very weak, and not able to get out, that she was choked with phlegm, and that if he could give her some stuff to get rid of it I thought she would be all right—he gave me a phial filled with some fluid which he said was an emetic—it had written on the label "From a teaspoon to two table-spoonfuls"—he said that the whole of it would not hurt her—he then gave me some powders, and some plasters to be applied to her chest and back, and some pills—I paid him half-a-crown—he did not say how often the medicine in the bottle had to be taken—he said it would make her sick and remove the phlegm—the plaster was applied about 6 o'clock, and a little before 11, before she went to bed, she poured out in a wine glass what she considered was a table-spoonful of the medicine in the bottle—what she took was just down to the top of the label at the shoulder of the bottle—she only took one dose—her son was not present, he went upstairs shortly before she took it—about ten minutes afterwards she was taken with diarrhoea and used the utensil—she asked me to get her a little brandy and water, I did so, and she put it to her lips, but did not drink any; she handed it to me and sat in the arm chair—I turned to put the brandy on the shelf, and she got up and staggered—I caught her in my arms, she was unconscious—I called for her son, who went for a doctor, and I sent for my mother—I then put Mrs. Sainsbury on the sofa, my mother said "You can lay her
down, for she is dead"—I noticed a quantity of phlegm in her mouth and took it from her—Dr. Whitmarsh came in and pronounced her dead—I gave the bottle to his assistant but not the powders.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I removed the phlegm from her mouth before the doctor came—she told me before I went to the prisoner that she was nearly strangled in the night—she appeared to be suffering—her son and I had both been taking decoctions of herbs which we got from the prisoner—I had been to a hospital and a dispensary—I went to the hospital when I was blind, and they could not cure me, but Mr. Wallis did, and I thought very well of him—I have taken similar powders to those that were sent to Mrs. Sainsbury, it was the very same staff; each time I took a phial full, and I hope I am all right now—my brother was laid up with bronchitis for two months at St. George's Hospital—he was not an indoor patient—he continued to suffer, and went to Mr. Wallis, and in eight days he was cured, and he has been all right ever since—he had some emetics and powders and pills.
Re-examined. I took a full bottle for a dose; it made mo sick for half an hour, I never took it when it did not make me sick, and I do not know what the effect would be under those circumstances—I was suffering from gout and nervousness, and my brother with bronchitis, and the same medicine was given to each—I saw my brother take some, it made him sick, he took a phial full—I do not know whether it was stronger or weaker than this.
JAMES WILLIAM SAINSBURY . I am the son of the deceased, and lived with her and the last witness—she was suffering from phlegm on her chest, which she could not get rid of—I remember going up to bed on this night—I dozed off to sleep, I cannot say for how long—I was called down and went for a doctor and for my sister-in-law—I was away about forty minutes.
Cross-examined. My mother had been suffering for months, especially in the morning—she could hardly speak in the morning—she appeared easier after the plasters were put on her back—I have not been under the prisoner; it was another brother.
JOHN LLOYD WHITMARSH , L.R.C.P. I live at Fulham Road, South Kensington—about 12.15 a.m. on 11th December I was fetched, and saw Mrs. Sainsbury on the sofa—I examined her, and in my opinion she had been dead about half an hour—she was cold, flabby, and covered with cold sweat—her pupils were rather dilated—I was shown this bottle, and took possession of it—exactly half had been taken from it, which would be a little over two table-spoonfuls—I tasted it, and so did my assistant, and came to the conclusion that it was hellebore—I sealed it up, and gave it to Dr. Stevenson—I made a post-mortem examination on the 13th, and found in the right lung adhesions to the chest, and she was suffering from chronic bronchitis—the left lung was very much contracted from disease, and almost gone, condensed—the brain was congested at the posterior portion, but not very much—the inner coat of the stomach was inflamed, and the bowels also—I took a portion of the stomach and a portion of the bowels, with their contents, put them into a jar, sealed it, and handed it to Dr. Stevenson—I tested the contents, and came to the conclusion that it was hellebore—I found some granules in the stomach, and handed some of them to Dr. Stevenson—the effect of hellebore would be almost the same as lobelia—the cause of death was collapse, syncope,
and my opinion is that she died from an irritant poison acting as a depressant on the heart's action and causing syncope—I have since heard that the stuff is lobelia; that is used as an emetic—I have never done so, but I use it very frequently as an expectorant—I use the tincture—I never use the powder or the seeds—there is a tincture made with spirits of wine and one made with other; that would be quite clear, and free from seeds—lobelia is Indian tobacco—about three grains of the dried seeds would be a dose—that is the way the prisoner uses it—I use from 10 to 30 drops of the tincture—30 drops would be equal to about four grains of the dried seeds—I should consider 28 grains a dangerous dose—if such a large dose fails to act as an emetic it would act as a depressant of the heart's action, bringing on faintness, and the appearance of the corpse was consistent with that death.
Cross-examined. I made a mistake as to what had been taken; I thought it was hellebore—that is a poison which I believe is in the list of poisons forbidden to be sold—lobelia is not included in the list—I said before the Magistrate "The posterior portion of the brain was much congested"—I left out the word "much" to-day—there has been a great deal of discussion as to the properties of lobelia in medical works, and certain extracts from them were read to me at the police-court, with which I did not agree—I would give 30 drops of the tincture to a grown-up person—I do not agree that "In cases of diarrhoea a drachm of the powdered herb and seed of lobelia would be a proper dose"—I do not know Dr. Skelton, and have not known his books as an authority—I do not agree with this: "What is the form of the disease which we are called upon to treat must be the first consideration; if it is simply diarrhoea, prescribe lobelia, powdered herb, and seed, one drachm; capsicum (powdered cayenne) 10 grains; podophyllum peltatum (powdered mandrake), 20 grains"—that is a dangerous prescription—I understand the expression "powdered herb and seed"—in proper doses it is a proper remedy in cases of spasmodic asthma—I never heard of Dr. Elliottson, and do not know that he is considered a very great authority in the medical profession; I never heard of him—I agree that lobelia inflate is a most important medicine in proper doses—I have not heard of Dr. Kinglake as a medical authority—I agree with this if the patient is watched during the process of vomiting: "In some instances of difficult respiration it proves beneficial without occasioning nausea, but when sickness results from its use, so far from that being a reason for discontinuing it, it is an additional inducement for pressing it until full vomiting and additional relief is obtained"—I do not agree with this: "No particular heed need be entertained of its acting deloteriously;" nor with this: "It may, therefore, in cases of oppressed respiration, especially when of the spasmodic character, be fearlessly administered"—I do not know that Dr. Elliottson introduced it into Europe—I do not agree with this (From Breach's "Materia Medica"): "When a man is so sick as to be past cure, this emetic will relieve him and cause him to live longer and easier except in mortification, "I think it would act as an extinguisher—I do not agree with all American authorities—the books you have brought forward are probably herbalistic books—herbalists are not very popular with the medical profession as a rule, not being qualified men—homoeopathists are qualified men—I agree with homoeopathy to a certain extent—chloral hydrate is used to a great extent; it is dangerous—I prescribe it very often—it is often used by City gentlemen
when they want a night's rest; they get a bottle and take it—I think people who deal in stocks and shares are the people to take it, and gentlemen who cannot sleep without it—fatal mistakes very often occur through it—if the lobelia does not produce vomiting I should not expect death to be instantaneous; the time would depend upon the state of the patient—the deceased's lungs were in a very diseased state, but the other parts were pretty healthy—you often get congestion of the brain during the death—I said at the police-court that the woman was in a dangerous state of health; that is true—the immediate cause of death was syncope; that means collapse.
Re-examined. I consider lobelia a poison, but according to the manner it is used it may be a poison or a useful medicine—there are many dangerous poisons not included in the prohibited list, carbolic acid for one—it is not conclusive as to the poisonous nature of a substance if it is not in the list—I do not know Dr. Elliottson as a professor of mesmerism, he was before my time—I know that a man named John Stephens was tried here for administering lobelia with fatal results—I was not here—I have heard of John Stephens as a medical author of repute, not of good repute—Dr. Alfred Swaine Taylor is an authority on poisons—I agree with this: "Within the last few years there have been several inquests and trials for manslaughter in this country as the result of the improper administration of the leaves of the Lobelia inflata by ignorant quacks calling themselves medical botanists and dealers in vegetable medicines. The medical evidence given on these trials showed that in large doses lobelia is a most noxious drug. Those impostors who profit by the prescription and-sale of this drug among the ignorant poor, maintain the doctrine that it cannot kill, and never has been known to destroy life. From inquiries recently made I have reason to believe that deaths from lobelia still frequently occur in northern countries. The noxious medicine is taken in secrecy under the direction of quacks, and any death arising from it is either concealed or referred to other causes." I agree with that—I know Woodward and Tidy on Forensic Medicine and Toxicology—Dr. Tidy was often called as an expert in prosecutions by the Treasury—speaking of Lobelia inflata he says: "It is imported from North America in the form of compressed oblong cakes, which are sent over by the Shaking Quakers of New Lebanon, and are principally used by the quack botanist doctors who revel in the ominous name of 'Coffinites.' Coffinism is no innocent, harmless system; its absurd theory is that 'Heat is life, and the want of heat, disease,' and so cayenne pepper and lobelia are the two principal medicines of its professors, which they administer with no cautious or measured hand. Over and over again they assert what has over and over again been disproved, that lobelia cannot kill." I agree with that—I have known of many deaths from taking chloral incautiously.
THOMAS STEPHENSON , M.D. I am Professor of medical jurisprudence at Guy's Hospital—on 18th December Dr. Whitmarsh gave me a bottle and jar, one containing human stomach, the other one ounce of fluid matter; up to where I have marked the bottle—some is in the bottle now—I analysed it, and found it to be an acetic solution of lobelia very turbid, and there was a deposit of the herb, the seeds, and remainder of the leaves—the bottle when full would contain two and a half fluid ounces; a tablespoonful would be half an ounce—supposing it to have
been full, half an ounce was missing—the strength was 28 grains of the seeds and leaves to an ounce—there would have been 70 grains if the bottle had been full—I examined the jar containing the stomach, and found a quantity of the lobelia and fragments of the leaves—the fluid shown to me contained six grains of lobelia in the half, which would be equivalent to 12 grains in the whole—the granules Dr. Whitmarsh spoke of were in the stomach, they were lobelia seeds—I found the stomach reddened, and the symptoms I heard during life are what I should expect in a case of death from lobelia—the stomach was congested, and if she had lived longer it would have gone to inflammation—it appeared as if some irritant had been given, and lobelia is an irritant—I should add that the acetic acid in which the lobelia is dissolved would also act as an irritarit—I do not think the death consistent with her having been choked or suffocated with phlegm—I have heard the post-mortem appearances and the mode of dying, and it does not appear a case of suffocation—there was no appearance which I should expect to meet with in death by suffocation—two table spoonfuls of lobelia would not be a proper dose of lobelia such as you have here, but I think there would be no particular harm in a teaspoonful; I mean medicinal tablespoons, the old-fashioned tablespoon—a teaspoonful would contain 3 1/2 grains of this mixture of lobelia; that is the full medical dose—3 1/2 grains is the maximum dose of the British Pharmacopoeia—I have seen people suffer from great depression from full medicinal doses when they have not vomited—it is stated on high authority that thousands of deaths occurred from it at that time in America—it is well recognised among medical men as a very potent medicine and a poison—its bad character is not confined to England; it was introduced in America, and there have been trials there for murder and manslaughter by it, and there are works of authority upon it—some powders were handed to me; they were harmless, and the pills and capsicum were harmless in the dose in which they were given—the object is to cause vomiting when the drug is given in large quantities, but it is never so used by respectable medical authorities; they have given it up, owing to its dangerous character—if it does not act as as an emetic there is danger to life on account of its powerful depressing action.
Cross-examined. I never saw a person die from lobelia—I have not tried it on animals—I said before the Magistrate "Whatever authority might be quoted to me, I must retain my opinion that 28 grains is a dangerous dose."
By the COURT. These are the seeds of the plant, this is the insoluble part—the acetic acid renders it more soluble; it extracts the potent or active part, and it remains in the solution and has no effect—the active principle is the alkaloid lobeline—of the 28 grains I speak of in an ounce of this compound some are in mechanical solution and others are chemically dissolved—in one ounce there are 28 grains of seed and leaves, mostly seed—I took a certain quantity of this and washed away the watery part and dried the remainder, some of which I have now in my pocket, and ascertained the weight of it—this is from the medicine; this does not weigh exactly 28 grains, but I took some and extracted the acetic acid—I wish to put it clearly if I can; I mean that in 1oz. of that fluid, 28 grains of the solid plant, leaves, seed, and fragments of the stem had been employed in making it—3 1/2 grains are the solid matter—the
seeds, leaves and plant are all pounded together, and that is what I call lobelia—I never describe the active principle of the plant in grains, only the solid—it is a kind of snuff or powder made from the plant.
WILLIAM RYDWOOD . I am the Coroner's officer—I was present at the inquest on Matilda Sainsbury—the prisoner was examined as a witness and was first cautioned by the Coroner—he expressed a wish to be examined—his deposition was taken and read over to him, and he signed it—this is it (produced).
HENRY MARSHALL (Police Inspector B). On 4th January, in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner in Old Street, St. Luke's—I told him I was an inspector of police and should arrest him for causing, on December 10th, the death of Matilda Sainsbury by administering to her a poisonous dose of lobelia—I made this note of what he said: "I sent her lobelia, but it is a lie to say I killed her or that it is poison; my wife here has taken double the quantity. That fool of a doctor who gave evidence yesterday knows nothing about it; the medical science of this country is a fraud. She died of her ailments. God made the world and supplied it with herbs for every complaint, but those fools of doctors don't know how to use them; I do, they are enemies of mine"—he added that lobelia was struck out of the list of poisons by a Committee of the House of Lords either in 1857 or 1867—I went with him to his shop, 34, Bath Street—there were bottles and drawers there, just the same as a chemist's shop.
The Prisoner's Deposition before the Coroner. "JAMES WALLIS, duly cautioned and sworn, said: 'I live at 34, Bath Street, City Road, St. Luke's. I am a herbalist. I remember a young man coming to me on Monday, 10th December, and asking for some medicine for a woman at Chelsea. I gave him some pills and powders and a plaister for the back and chest, also a small bottle of an expectorant, as he said she was choking and could not get up the phlegm. In the bottle was the acid tincture of lobelia. I told him to give her a teaspoonful as an expectorant, but she might take the whole bottle if she liked, it would not hurt her. I have given it to all ages, up to 80 years of age. On the bottle I wrote a tea-spoonful as an expectorant, but she might take a tablespoonful or the lot, it would not harm her. I have taken double the quantity myself; besides, the young man knew the use of it; he had taken it himself, several doses. There was no bottle like the bottle of lobelia near it, except there are two sorts, one weaker for children, and I think it was that sort I gave her. They are both acid tinctures. I keep no poisons in the house, so I could not have given her any. I do not keep any hellebore. I have been practising 34 years. I put down in a book what I gave to the woman. I knew the young man before; he came to me when giddy and when he had the gout. I buy my herbs and powder from the wholesale herbalists. The stuff I gave him to be made into a plaister was also lobelia and balsam of sulphur. I gave him the ingredients; I made the tincture myself from the lobelia seed powder. It was a fresh made lot that I gave her from.'"
Evidence for the Defence.
THOMAS STOWELL , M.D., M.R.C.S. I practise at Brighton—I have been in practice over 32 years, during which period I have been in the habit of prescribing Lobelia inflata daily, and have taken it myself in three-drachm doses—I have watched its effects and properties in different cases—it is not a poison, most emphatically not—I have administered it
to innumerable patients during the past 30 years, I can hardly give the number—I have a large practice—it is an invaluable medicine; there is nothing like it in the whole Materia Medica—it is the most valuable medicine in the British Pharmacopoeia and in the whole of the books of medicine, either American or European—I have taken it myself in powder, in pills, and iu drachm doses; I have taken it in the Pharmacopoeia tincture and in syrup—I have administered a table-spoonful of the syrup every three hours with much benefit to a child very delicate and in a dangerous condition—when I have wished to produce emesis I have given three-drachm doses of Lobelia inflata, of the thing described as such a dangerous drug, which I utterly deny; half seed and half plant—it is a tonic, an expectorant, and a pseudoretic, it is in my judgment the best emetic, and Mr. Bravo would have been alive now if he had used it—I have tried to poison animals with it—when the poison Bill was brought into the House we got guinea pigs from Covent Garden Market and tried to kill the little wretches, but they would not die, they grew fat instead, and Professors Clark and Jones struck it out of the poison list—I have heard the account given to-day by Doctors Whitmarsh and Stephenson that the unfortunate woman died from syncope—I come to that conclusion also, but she died from other things as well: from exhaustion, arising from long continued disease, having nothing to do with lobelia—no doubt the mucous accumulation in the bronchial tubes lessened the heart's action and caused fatal syncope—I have heard that she complained of being almost strangled, and that one of the witnesses had to pull some of the phlegm out of her throat; that is confirmatory of my views—the mixture given by the defendant containing 28 grains to the fluid ounce, if she had taken the whole bottle and there had been sufficient strength to throw off the accumulation of phlegm, the woman might have been alive now; but the table-spoonful which we know she did take would be perfectly innocuous in my opinion—in my judgment and experience I do not believe that the dose of 30 grains could in any way have accelerated her death.
Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. I consider that there are no dangerous properties at all in the drug; it is impossible that there can be an excessive dose of it so as to endanger life—I know Dr. Taylor's book on poisons, but do not agree with him on this subject—I attribute the opinion of that eminent doctor to the copies of American writers, and the prejudice in the profession has caused all the bother and these many trials—the extract from Dr. Taylor's book ("Within the last few years," &c., as before) is not a medical opinion but an assertion—it is doubtful whether 10 to 20 grains of lobelia would act as au emetic in all cases—I have had to give a drachm dose every ten minutes until I got emesis, until the emetic effect was produced; it is so uncertain that you must watch it, there is such a difference in the constitution of individuals, idiosyncrasy I call it—it operates in one way on one and in one way on another—you have to give repeated doses until it produces emesis, but of course if you did not want an emetic I should not give you one—it is doubtful whether "When administered in 10 to 20 grain doses, lobelia acts as an emetic," I have never known it to act deleteriously in the largest doses—I never found any quantity to produce fatal effects in my 30 years' experience.
By the COURT. I have never gone as high as half a pound, but
perhaps four drachms for a dose; throe generally produces it—the largest dose I have given of the seed and herb is 60 grains—I generally give 60 grains for an emetic, and if that does not do I give another, until it acts as an emetic—I usually stand by to watch its effects on the patient so that there shall be no alarm, but not because of its uncertainty.
By MR. MEAD. That is because I wish to repeat the dose if the first, the second, or the third fails—I always take that precaution if lam not called away suddenly to any other case—my instructions are that if I am not present the patient is to continue taking repeated doses until emesis is produced.
By the COURT. Supposing emesis is not produced after four doses there is not the slightest danger—according to me it may be administered with impunity—if it is not thrown off it passes through the bowels as a gentle aperient—it has no special effect on the heart, not mischievously—I have not found it in my practice to have any action on the heart; the books say so, but it is not true—I pledge myself as a man of science that, failing to act as an emetic, it is not true that it acts upon the heart; I flatly contradict that—t, act as an emetic it would act, not on the heart but on the stomach—if it acts as an emetic and is rejected its action on every organ is stopped, but if it is not ejected it passes through the bowels.
By MR. MEAD. I know Dr. Woodman and Dr. Tidy by reputation—I do not know whether they are able to give opinions unbiassed by medical prejudice—I do not agree that in small doses lobelia acts as an aperient, but that it is poisonous in large doses—it did not kill the guinea-pigs, they got fat on it—it is obtained from the Shakers of Lebanon—I get mine from my wholesale druggist—I do not ask for a weaker sort—there are about 30 lobelias, but this is a distinct plant—there is one uniform sort, there is only one Lobelia inflata—it is imported in this form, and it generally has "Lobelia inflata from Mount Lebanon" on it—the majority of Dr. Tidy's statements are correct, not all—intense prostration and headache depends on the idiosyncrasy of the patient.
By the COURT. Q. Does it produce "severe vomiting followed by cold sweats, convulsions, and death"? A. Sometimes we get a very warm sweat; I do not advise it to be used by the hands of ignorant men; as I do not advise non-qualified men to be dabbling in medicine—as to there being more harm in it than castor-oil, one brings up and the other carries down—I think an ignorant man might dabble in this as much as in castor-oil, but I should think he had better keep to his own business.
By MR. MEAD. If there were a number of children suffering from croup I should say always keep it in the house; it is one of the best remedies for croup in creation—I say that the death was from syncope produced by mucus in the air-vessels, and that the woman was suffocated—I should therefore expect to find blueness of the face and dilated pupils, and there would be a liability to the brain being congested in all its parts—I should be very much surprised if there was no congestion—it may vary.
By the COURT. I should expect to find general congestion of the brain, and not confined to the posterior lobes, but it would be according to the struggle in the hour of death—I should expect to hear a choking noise—lying in a recumbent position shortly after death would account for the
accumulation of blood at the posterior part of the brain—if the death was by suffocation I should expect to find the lungs gorged with blood.
Re-examined by MR. LYON. I wish all men who deal in medicine to be educated—in my judgment it would not be more unsafe for the father of a family to keep lobelia in the house than castor-oil—the symptoms of strangulation and simple suffocation are very much alike—a person suffering in the manner described with lung disease and chronic bronchitis would be suffocated in a shorter time than a person in good health—if I gave 60 grains of Lobelia inflata to a patient, and it did not produce emesis, it would act as an expectorant and there would be slight nausea; it would, in fact, produce premonitory symptoms of vomiting without the actual vomiting, and I should give another dose of equal quantity if I found it was required—I never heard of it being dangerous to any constitution in any instance.
CHARLES LAKING , M.D. I am a Licentiate of the College of Physicians of London, Glasgow, and Dublin, and am in practice at Leeds—I have been in practice eleven years, during which time I have been in the habit of prescribing Lobelia inflata to my patients—I have heard Dr. Stowell's examination and agree mainly with him as to its properties—it is a tonic, a sudorific, and an expectorant, and one of the most valuable emetics known to the British Pharmacopoeia—I have prescribed as much as 60 grains of it—the 28 grains taken by the deceased was not in my opinion a dangerous dose—I did not hear the evidence of her state as described at the post-mortem—I do not believe 28 grains would be a dangerous dose to a woman whose left lung was so contracted by disease as to be almost gone, the right lung adhering in many places, with congestion of the liver and of the posterior portion of the brain, and suffering from chronic bronchitis and nearly suffocated by phlegm, even taking the extra fact that she died ten minutes after taking the dose—I do not believe that that dose of Lobelia inflata accelerated her death.
Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. The cause of death so far as I have heard was syncope, failure of the heart's action, produced by the weak condition in which she was and the amount of disease and that alone—I consider that that would be sufficient to account for death—I have not known lobelia to affect the heart—I do not think it possible that that dose of lobelia could have affected the heart so as to have caused syncope—I am speaking from my personal experience alone—I should, be guided by the opinion of eminent authorities with regard to lobelia and its effects—I have read Dr. Taylor's work and recognise him as an eminent authority—great weight is due to his opinion—it is not my experience that "the medical evidence given on those trials shows that in large doses lobelia is a most noxious drug"—I do not think that worthy of weight against my experience—I have not observed it to act deleteriously when administered in larger doses than from 12 to 20 grains—I should say that there is such an excessive dose as would be dangerous just as much as you may take a large amount of common salt and inflame the stomach and the person may die—I have known a patient take a tablespoonful of Lobelia inflata in a dose, not of the tincture, but of the powder; that would be from three to four drachms, 240 grains, and with beneficial results, and that person was my mother—whether that is as potent as the tincture supposing the same quantity of material is used, depends on what you make the tincture with, not if you make it with acetic acid—a little water would have to be added to the 240 grains in a solid form, for it to be
taken into the stomach—water would not extract the solid principle in a short time—a tincture made with acetic acid which would take out the alkaloid would act more powerfully; there is no doubt about that—what I wish to show is that a large quantity could be taken—I do not say that an unlimited quantity would not do harm—sometimes an excessive dose would be more beneficial than a small dose, because vomiting is what we want, but if it fails to act as an emetic I do not consider there would be any danger; it would pass through the bowels—I have not noticed that as it passes through the bowels it might do mischief as a depressant on the heart; I cannot say that it would not—it is uncertain in it a action; some people require more than others—you have no occasion to watch its action very closely—there is no danger if you do not—28 grains of the tincture is not unsafe in a suitable case—there is such an expectorant action that in some cases I should not give so much—in the deceased's condition I should not order the whole of this bottle-ful, 70 grains, to be taken without being by to see what its action was, for fear; not exactly for fear, but in case it did not have the emetic action—I should give it in smaller doses, twice instead of once; you cannot give all patients alike—if it was given all at once we might obtain more emetic action than we required, the sickness would be heavier—I have not observed any action on the heart; I do not think I would pledge my reputation that it has not—I said that it might be dangerous in an excessive dose, and it would be more so in the case of a weak person—if a person was nearly suffocated by phlegm, and had gone from dispensary to dispensary, and seen doctor after doctor, I should think it prudent to see the patient; and in any case. Q. Some of the authorised books give warning about lobelia being an uncertain and dangerous thing; would you think it right to run the risk of sending a bottle of that size to a patient you had never seen, a perfect stranger, knowing nothing at all about her; would it be safe to send her that bottle fill in the face of that warning; would you feel justified in risking it when you did not know the patient, and when she was in the state this woman was? A. The label on the bottle was two teaspoonfuls for an emetic; that would not be too much.
Q. In the face of some of the medical books warning you, would you think it safe to send such a medicine? A. If we take notice of all the books I should say "No"—I should prefer seeing the patient before sending the medicine—I would not run the risk.
Re-examined. I do sometimes prescribe for patients without seeing them, but in the majority of cases I visit the patient and diagnose the symptoms—the powder which my mother took 240 grains of, was the whole plant ground up together; if she could take that with impunity I think she could take the equivalent in tincture with impunity—I don't think, assuming it to be an irritant poison, 240 grains of the powder would be more deleterious than the tincture—the more fluid you can get into it the sooner it acts—the tincture would act sooner than the scalded herb—I don't think it would act more deleteriously in the tincture than in the powder, the quantity being the same—I do not say dissolved in acid; when we speak of tincture we mean spirits of wine—acetic acid will extract more of the strength, more of the active principle, than if it is infused in water—it would have less power in my opinion in boiling water—240 grains in the powder would be a stronger mixture in my opinion than 70 grains of the acetic tincture—the dose which my mother took of
240 grains of powder would be more powerful than the whole dose in this bottle.
WILLIAM HENRY BLUNT . I am a wholesale and retail herbalist, of 46, Snow Hill, Birmingham—I have sold lobelia as a medicine in large quantities—I do not consider it at all dangerous to life—the largest dose I ever took was a large teacupful one morning before breakfast—I am not prepared to say how many grains it contained, but it was made with 2 1/2 ounces of the herb and seed to one pint of malt vinegar—my father made it, and I took it by accident—I have taken a teaspoonful, a drachm of it, as an emetic, and not by accident—I measured it myself—each tea-spoonful contained about 60 grains of the powder—I have taken that So many times that I am unable to say how many.
Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. I took the powder—a half-tea spoonful had no effect on me only to act on my bowels—that is eighteen or twenty years ago—it did not act as an emetic.
GEORGE STEPHENS . I am a medical herbalist, of Old Market Street, Bristol, and a brother of the late Dr. Stephens—I have had upwards of 40 years' experience of the properties of lobelia, and have prescribed it in a number of instances, and taken it myself—I have prepared it myself from the herb, and taken 60 grains of it for a dose when I wanted an emetic—it is more than forty years since I took it first.
GEORGE BECK . I am a medical botanist and herbalist, of 98, Dale Street, Birmingham, and have had experience of the properties of lobelia for 26 years, and recommended it and sold it to hundreds, and taken it myself frequently—the decoction I have taken I prepared myself, from the herb and seed, and I took one drachm every ten minutes until I had taken an ounce, without any injurious result—I have frequently taken it in small doses for irritable stomach and dyspepsia after dinner and tea.
Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. I have no recognised qualification—I served my time with two qualified surgeons in Birmingham, as an assistant—I went as a youth, and stayed till I was 22—I have not attended hospitals at all—I have prescribed lobelia much—I seldom use less than half a pound a week of the lobelia itself—I have heard it stated that it is a poison'and read it too—it is generally known among herbalists that it is attacked by medical practitioners—I know that it is asserted that a number of deaths are caused by it.
GEORGE BROWN . I am an American physician, practising the herbal system of medicine at Kochdale, and have had 25 years' experience in the properties of lobelia—I have prescribed it on many occasions, and have taken it myself, but very little—it is prepared by me—I have taken a drachm of the grain, and repeated it in 20 minutes to cause emesis, and when it has failed I took a second—I felt very depressed, and took a drachm more, and then 60 grains more, and after that of course vomiting was produced—my age is 60, and I enjoy most excellent health.
Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. Supposing I took two drachms, first one and then another, it would pass off neutral—the first and second doses caused me to feel poorly and depressed—I do not think that was the action of the drug upon the heart, it was nauseousness of the stomach—it has no action on the heart at all—my University is the School of Cincinnati, Ohio—I was examined and registered.
Re-examined. I passed my examination.
HENRY PEARSON . I live at 25, Battersea Park Road—when suffering from severe cough and tightness of the chest I have taken 960 minims or drops of lobelia prepared by Dr. Davis, who has just gone away to see a patient—I have not prepared it myself, but I have dispensed that quantity—I mean that I have measured it—the prescription is from 60 to 70 grains—I am a student in medical botany—I took that from the bottle.
The COURT considered that to make the prisoner guilty of manslaughter there must be criminal negligence with an utter disregard of human life.
NOT GUILTY, but the Jury recommended the prisoner to be more cautious in the use of drugs.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, January 31st, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS and BURNIE Prosecuted; MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and PURCELL Defended.
JOHN SCOTT . I am a potato salesman, of 6, Russell Street, Covent Garden Market—the prisoner was in my employment about three years ago as salesman and manager—in the course of business he would have to write in my books—he went to Jersey on business, and while there wrote these seven business letters to me—the first was on July 5th, 1883, and the last July 13th, 1883—when he came back he brought a woman to the place, he said his and her father were friends—I came home once or twice and found her in the room with him having tea, and I said she should not hang about the place—she went away, I saw her outside again afterwards—that was the end of the discussion at that time—the prisoner left my service in October, I think—with the exception of that discussion we were on friendly terms—between that time and the 20th December I saw him fiye or six times, I should think—my father died on the 23rd of November—between 11 and half-past 11 on the morning of the 20th of December I saw the prisoner in Covent Garden Market—we and some others went into the wine bar attached to Roberts's Hotel—we stayed there a long time, but the prisoner only stayed about two minutes; he had one drink and then said "I have an appointment, I am in a hurry," and went away—the next morning, Friday, 21st, I received this letter "A" (produced) in this envelope, with the postmark Rugby Station—my mother gave me this letter "C" on the Sunday—when I received my letter I thought it might be some fun on the part of my friends, and I took it round the market and treated it as a lark, until I heard that my mother had received one as well as Mrs. Stafford—after I had received my third letter on Saturday morning I sent a man to Scotland Yard—I made inquiries at Euston, and about a week afterwards I got a photograph of the prisoner from Mr. Davis—on the Saturday week after receiving the letters, I saw the guard Hunt; he gave me a description of the man who had given him the letters to post anywhere out of London—after he had given me the description I showed him this photograph (produced), which he identified—the Monday after that identification at Euston I consulted my solicitor—I went to an expert the day after receiving the
letters and submitted them to him. (The letters in question abused Mr. Scott and alleged that improper intimacy existed between him and Mrs. Stafford.)
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate "I never to my knowledge had a quarrel with the defendant, he always treated me with friendliness and respect"—I offered a reward of 1l. to the station master on the Saturday after I received the letters, for the identification of the person who gave the letters to the guard; it was not put up—the notice was simply for the guard to come forward—that was a week before I saw the guard—I gave the guard 1l. after I had shown him the photograph—he gave the description and I showed him the photograph, which I had with me, at the same interview—he said the man had a largish nose and a thick black moustache—I asked him to come and have a drink—he was a teetotaller and drank coffee—then I showed him the photograph—I said "Is this at all like the man?" and he said "Yes"—I saw him on the Tuesday or Wednesday after that, and just spoke to him—I met him nearly every day that week—I went to watch him—I do not trust anybody—everybody has his price.
Re-examined. I got Mr. Inglis's report as to the handwriting on the 29th, the Saturday week after getting the letter, that was before getting the photograph—the guard said he should know his voice if he heard it—I went to the station master on the 22nd, the day after receiving the letters—I did not see the notice, it was put up by the station-master—I never saw any notice of reward—I watched the guard because the prisoner had been round to two of my witnesses, and I thought he might try and get the guard.
By MR. WILLIAMS. That is what the witnesses Mrs. Stafford and Mr. Norwood have told me.
WILLIAM NORWOOD . I live at 15, Whitehall Place—I have known Mrs. Stafford fifteen or twenty years; she is a widow—I know nothing of the prisoner or Mr. Scott—I received this letter marked "B" and the envelope "B 1" on the morning of 21st December—I saw Mrs. Stafford and then went to Mr. Scott and put the letter into his hands with the envelope—on Saturday, 22nd December, I went to the place mentioned in my letter as "Tom Andrews, 96, Spitalfields," and saw the prisoner there—I said "I have come under rather unpleasant business; I don't know you or you me"—I told him what was in the letter, that I was asked to come and see him, and he would tell me something further, and that it was a seduction case concerning Mr. Scott—he said "Nothing of the kind; I know nothing of it; I have always found Mrs. Stafford quite respectable; I saw Mr. Scott only the day before yesterday, and he seemed all right to me then; I cannot make it out; I haven't written the letters, and know nothing whatever about them; if I had been you I would have torn it up and put it in the fire"—I said I had gone to Mr. Scott—the prisoner made an arrangement with Mrs. Stafford and me to meet him; he was in a cab; it was on the following Sunday weeklthink—I won't be sure whether he had been summoned at the police-court at that time very few words passed then; he said he hadn't written the letters, and if I didn't come to the Court he would subpoena me—I told him of course would come, as the matter did not concern me.
Cross-examined. I went to him because the letter said if I wanted to know anything further I had better go to Tom Andrews, and when I
told him the charge brought against the lady he gate her the highest character.
ELIZABETH STAFFORD . I am a widow living at 27, Grafton Street, Soho—about sixteen months ago Mr. John Scott, 6, Russell Street, Covent Garden, employed me as charwoman to cook his breakfast and clean his rooms—I went about 8 in the morning and left at 10 or 11, and went again at 5 in the evening and left at 6 or 7—I saw Andrews there from time to time—he lived there and took his meals with Mr. Scott—I waited on him the same as on Mr. Scott—on Friday afternoon Mr. Norwood brought a letter to me, which I read—there is not the slightest foundation for the charge made in this letter—at the Bow Street Police-court the prisoner spoke to me, but I forget what he said; he wished me good morning.
GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I have made the formation of handwriting my study—I have been a facsimilist for thirty years, and since Mr. Chabot's death in 1882 have been employed by the Treasury as an expert in hand-writing—the letters 1 to 7 and "A," "B," "C," with the envelopes" A 1," "B 1," "C 1," were given to me—this (produced) is a facsimile tracing from the letters "A," "B," "C," of particular words, and side by side the same words from the real handwriting of the letters 1 to 7 from Jersey—in "Russell" on the letters 1 to 7 and on envelope "A 1" the "R's" are alike, the "11's" are the same, the space between the "e" and "11" is similar—the word is done with one operation of the pen in both cases; the hand is not lifted from the paper—the figure "6" on 4 and 7 is identical with the figure "6" on "A 1"—the capital "8" of street on 4, 6, and 7, and "A 1," is begun about half way of the letter, and at a distance to the left of the downstroke; the top loop of the letter is small—the capital "C" in "Covent," 4 and "A 1," is a small "c" enlarged, and the "o" is very open—the capital "D's" in "Dear" and "December" in "A" and "B," and 1, 4, 5, and 6, have the top of the "D" carried on with a sweep of the pen to the next letter, "e"—the final "k's" are carried below the tail—in the word "better" there is the same curve to the "b" and the same "r," only one is more perfect—"one" in "A 1" and in 2 and 4 agree—under the "r" and "rs" of "Mr." and "Mrs." there is a slanting line or dash—there is a habit of compressing a word at the end of a line and running it down—the capital "E's" are of the same formation—in "A 2" and "B 1" and 4 and 2 in the word "told" there is an extra space between the "o" and "1," and the "1" is under the crossing of the "t"—in every instance the pen is not lifted from the paper—my opinion is that the same person wrote the letters and envelopes "A 1" and "B l"—after I pad made my report I saw Mrs. Scott's letter, and that confirmed my judgment.
Cross-examined. I have been an expert since I first gave evidence in Court in October, 1882—I am not prepared to say that experts in hand-writing are not sometimes wrong—I know Mr. Netherclift has been an expert for many years—I am not at all surprised to hear he differs from me entirely.
RICHARD JOHN HUNT . I am now a guard, and have been in the employment of the London and North-Western Railway for 12 or 13 years—I am a teetotaller—on 20th December I was the guard working the train from Euston to Stafford, at 12.20—before starting a man on the
platform asked me if I would mind posting those letters as I wont down, handing me three lettors—two of them wore in the name of Scott, I noticed afterwards—I told him I could not post them till I got to Rugby, because there were no boxes on the platforms of the stations we stopped at—he said that would do, and gave me a shilling for posting them—I took the three letters and posted them on our arrival at Rugby, where there is a pillar-box on the platform—a week after receiving them I saw a notice as to posting them, in the guard's room, and reported to the station-master—I saw Mr. Scott the same afternoon on the platform, and gave a general description—he then showed me a photograph—I said it was vory much like him, but he did not look exactly like that on account of his being in a dress suit—I was told to attend at the police-court on 14th January, and was examined on that day—while waiting for the case to come on I noticed two gentlemen talking, and a third person joined them—I thought, that is the man that gave me the letters—the prisoner is that man to the best of my belief.
Cross-examined. That was after I had seen the photograph—I don't consider the photograph corresponded with the man—I have frequently posted letters for people on the line.
Re-examined. I saw the photograph on 29th December, and the prisoner on 14th January—I had not seen the photograph in the mean time.
Witness for the Defence.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have been an export in hand-writing for 35 years—for many years I have been engaged at the British Museum as facsimilist, and have published several works on autographs—I attended at the solicitor's and examined the letters in this case, and drew up a report—in my judgment the handwritings of the admitted and disputed letters have some similarities, but so have all writings—when a man writes a series of anonymous letters ho uses different styles—these look to me like a handwriting not disguised—there is a similarity in all the anonymous letters; the "Andrews" is precisely alike in all the libels, and is spelt with an" s," whereas Andrew spells his name without—I should attach no importance to what Mr. Inglis has pointed out—the sloping down at the end of the line is done by all people—the turns of the "k" are not all alike—I should not depend on one of the things he has pointed out—the figure "6" is as common a 6 as you will find—the "s's" are not alike in Russell; the "R" and, "H" are very common, the "D" is not joined, it is separate; the "C" in "Covent" is a very common form of C; the "r" and "o" are not alike in the different letters—the bottoms of these "D's," in Dear, are very different—the words "better" are not alike, the final "r's" are very different; the words "one" are not alike, because the final "e" turns round with a curl, and the other one is dragged out—I don't know if the "Mr." is put forward as being like Mrs.—there is no rosemblance—here there is only one dash, and there there are two—I don't consider the capital E's alike, one begins with a nice upstroko, the other is twisted round with a general flourish—the "o's" in the anonymous letters are sometimes made like a "v"; some of the disputed "o's" are open, and one closed, and in the admitted letters the "o's" are closed—the "Andrews" would not bo so aliko in a disguised handwriting—the anonymous differ from the admitted letters in the letter "f" and a particular kind of "p," the top of "i," and "t"—I should expect to have always found those in his handwriting—I have seen the
prisoner write—you may take all the final and commencing letters and find them differ very much.
Cross-examined. I believe I was first spoken to after the prisoner had been examined before the Magistrate—I did not see the tracing till I saw it at the Old Bailey last Monday—I examined the papers at Bates and Co.'s—I made a study of the prisoner's handwriting before I went—I was at the Old Bailoy an hour—I was called on to give an independent opinion—when. Andrew came I told him he came to me at his peril, and if I found him out he would only be throwing his money away—the anonymous does not differ from the admitted only in being more upright—I think "E" in "Kussell" is not formed alike in both cases, and the "r" in "better" is different—I cannot swear that the word "better" was not written by the same man as wrote the memorandum—I was a witness in Sir Francis Truscott's case—I gave my best opinion that it was his writing.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, January 31st, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted.
IMRI SANDERS . I keep a coffee-house at 69, Drummond Street, Euston Square—on 5th December last, between 1 and 2 a.m., I was in bed—the bell was rung, and I got up and let the prisoner in—he said "Pay my cab for me, I have been hunting all day, and am short of cash; I will give you a cheque in the morning"—I did not know him—I paid the cabman 2s. 6d.—between 9 and 10 next morning I went to his room—he said "Give me a pen, paper, and ink, and I will write you a cheque," and he wrote this cheque in my presence (produced): "Capital and Counties Bank, Trowbridge, Wilts. North Wilts Banking Company. On demand, pay Mr. Imri Sanders the sum of 10l., Thomas Barnes"—it was not crossed—he then owed me 6s. 6d.—I said "I shall telegraph to the bank before I part with any money," and he said "Do so, to Mr. Muspratt, he is a particular friend of mine, the manager of the bank"—I telegraphed, ana the next day I got this reply "Your telegram as to Barnes's cheque is to hand. I cannot roply, as I cannot see Barnes's signature to identify it. If he will send cheque for inspection, if correct I will pay it over"—I gave him 8l.—he then owed me 2l.—I sent the cheque to the bank, and it was returned with this endorsement, "No account," and I said I must get a warrant—he said "I have done wrong; this is the ruin of me"—I applied for a warrant—I did not get it on that day, but on the following day—he was then gone—he did not say he was going; he borrowed a walking-stick of me, and said "I am going out for a walk, and will be back again"—he never came back.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you came to my house on 10th December you, were sober—a female with a sealskin jacket was with you—the female stopped with you at my house until the cheque was returned—she did not call at my house again one evening during the next week—I took your overcoat as security for the night's lodging—when I went up to your room between 9 and 10 I did not remark that you had
been drinking very heavily, and that you were in a very shaky state, and bordering on delirium tremens—you had two bottles of lemonade, but no whisky—I have not a spirit licence—I did not see you drink the lemonade and half a pint of whisky mixed with it—I saw you drink the lemonade—I do not keep bottled ale in the house.
By the COURT. He gave me the money for the bottled ale on Saturday night, and I fetched it from the public-house for them the next morning.
By the Prisoner. I went to your room between 1 and 2 the following day, and said "Here is your overcoat, and if you like to go out you can go"—I did not take you in a hansom cab to Smithfield Club Cattle Market—I took you to Wimbledon, to your brother's residence, at your wish—we only stopped at one public-house on the road, I do not know the name of it—we pulled up at the Green Man to let the horses hare a drop of water—we had no whisky there—we did not have whisky when we got to the Dog and Fox—we returned to my house between 2 and 3 the next morning, sober—you did not stop with me from 5th December until 19th December—I could not say on what date you left my house—I was not surprised at your not returning.
RICHARD MACEY (Police Sergeant 8). From inquiries made I communicated with the police at Wimborne—I went there and found the prisoner in custody on 3rd January—I had a warrant for his apprehension—I read it to him, and he made no reply—I asked him if his name was Henry Compton, and he said "Yes."
By the COURT. I had been looking for him before 3rd January—the warrant was issued on 24th December, and I had it on the 26th.
THOMAS BARNES . I live at Trowbridge, Wiltshire, and am a woollen cloth merchant—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—this cheque is signed in my name, but it is not my writing—I have an account at the Capital and Counties Bank, Trowbridge, in the name of Barnes and Co.—I have not any account in the name of Thomas Barnes—it was not signed by my authority.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not recognise that as your hand-writing—I have not seen your writing now for some years.
FREDERICK MUSPRATT . I am manager of the Capital and Counties Bank at Trowbridge—I got this cheque from Mr. Sanders—he telegraphed to me to know if it would be paid when presented—I did not know the signature—the prisoner has no account at our bank in any name.
By the COURT. I cannot say I do not know the prisoner—I know his family very well, but I have not seen him for many years—I wrote this memorandum in answer to the telegram.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had been drinking heavily for some days, that he was making his way along the street, and was accosted by a woman, who took him to Sanders's house, which was one of those coffee-houses used by men and women, that he stopped there from the 5th December till the 19th, drinking heavily, that he did not remember receiving 8l. from the prosecutor, or know what had happened till he became sober, when he found he was being led more and more into wickedness, and that was his reason for going away.
IMRI SANDERS (Re-examined). The prisoner stopped with me eight or nine days—the woman slept with him—they came in as man and wife—I never saw the woman before or since—she was very respectably dressed
—I am not in the habit of taking men and women in at night—I take in regular customers and travellers on business—I did not Know that the woman was a prostitute—when he went away I thought he would return.
NOT GUILTY .
Second Count for receiving the same.
MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN defended Hales.
ALFRED ALGER . I am an upholsterer, of King's Square, Goswell Road, and am in the employment of Mr. John Morley, of the Strand, who has a workshop at 16, Clare Street, Clare Market—on Christmas Eve I was engaged on 12 chairs, two easy chairs, and a couch at the workshop—I left off work between 3 and 4 p.m., and locked the place up safely—I took the key to Mr. Morley—I returned to the workshop on the 28th at about 9.45 a.m., having previously got the key from Mr. Morley—the entrance would be the side door, because the front door is barred inside—I found the padlock had been wrenched off the side door—I could see the things inside were not all correct, and I went over to my brother to enter the premises with me—he was not there, and one of the porters did so—I then missed 10 small chairs and one easy chair—I went over to Mr. Morley, but he was not there, and his manager advised me to go to Bow Street and give information, which I did—these are samples of the chairs (produced)—I had not seen either of the prisoners about the place.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I do not know Mr. Wheeler's fruit shop—there is a fruit shop there—I do not know that Hales was working there—my master has had the workshop for a few weeks—I do not know that the place was previously broken into—it was a place of no security, but my master had it secured—I heard it was used for various things—I do not know that the children in the neighbourhood were in the habit of running about in the shop before my master had it—the street door is left open sometimes—in addition to that there is a door that opens on to the street, which is secured inside.
Re-examined. The street door leading to the passage is sometimes open at night.
JOHN HUBBLE . I live next door to the workshop, and was going homo on the 28th December at about 1.15 a.m.—when I got to my door I heard a noise and saw a light in the workshop, No. 16, and was putting my hand in my pocket for the key when Hales came to the aoor—I fancy he unfastened it, at any rate he opened it—I saw some others there but could not recognise them—Hales shut the door and went in again—I unlocked my door and went into my house.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Hales is pretty well known in Clare Market as "Jimmy Hales"—he was originally five feet seven inches in height, but has shrunk down to his present size, his legs being bowed out—I have been in my shop 12 months—I cannot say how many people have occupied the workshop during that time—there was a fat
woman on show there—I remember some dispute or the show being broken into—Hales and his companions used to go into the shop before Mr. Morley had it, and caused a great nuisance by the noise they made—I know there is a fruiterer's shop there, but I do not know thtit Hales works there—I know he has a potato can and stands outside the Artichoke public-house.
Re-examined. I cannot say whether Hales and his companions went into the place before the padlock was put on the door, I noticed there had been less noise of late.
JOHN GODWIN . I live at 17, Clare Street, Clare Market, and was with the last witnes on 28th December shortly after 1 o'clock—as we were going into the house I heard a noise and saw lights through the fanlight of No. 16—I did not know what it was, and being rather inquisitive I went to look over the fanlight, and as I was going to get up, Hales opened the door—he shut the door again and stopped inside for a few minutes, and my uncle, Mr. Hubble, went upstairs—I stayed outside—Hales came out and said "Are you going upstairs?"—I said "Not just yet"—he said "Good night, my sonnie" and went down the street and I went upstairs—I also heard heard him say "good night" to somebody inside I thought—I did not hear anything about it until the next morning—I did not know that the shop was occupied.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Our shop is divided by a passage from No. 16—our street door is next door to No. 16—I do not know the passage where the padlocked door is—I have never been inside—I know Hales, and that he has a potato can—my house is a shop and dwelling-house and so is No. 16.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Police Sergeant E). Between 10 and 11 o'clock a.m. on 28th December I went to 16, Clare Street and examined the door in the passage which leads into the shop—I found the flaps and padlock had been forced off, apparently by some instrument—in consequence of inquiry I searched for Hales, and found him at about 9 o'clock the same evening in the "Sun" public-house, Clare Street—I said "I shall take you into custody Hales, for being concerned in breaking into the shop, No. 16, Clare Street, and stealing 11 chairs, value 20l."—he said "You have made a mistake"—I then took him to the station and placed him with seven other men, and he was picked out by Hubble as the man he saw in the shop at 1.15 a.m.—he was then charged—at about 9.45 the same evening I was in Stanhope Street, Clare Market, when I saw Varnell wheeling a costermonger's barrow up the street, with something on it covered over with a rug—I stopped him and said "What have you got there?"—he made no answer, and I pulled this rug off and found four of the chairs on the barrow which had Been stolen from the shop—Detective Kenna was with me, and he had some conversation with him and he took him into custody—I afterwards found all the other chairs at 39, Lower George Street, Chelsea, a secondhand clothes shop.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I put Hales amongst others to give him a fair chance—I got my information from Hubble and Godwin, who mentioned his name and said they knew him—they did not say "James Hales the cripple"—the Sun public-house is only a few yards from the workshop, just across the road—I do not know that Hales works for Wheeler—Wheeler's shop is on the opposite side in the same street—
Hales lives in Stanhope Street, and I believe with his mother—I do not know that he supports her.
JOSEPH KENNA (Detective E). I was with the last witness when he took Hales into custody, and also when we saw Yarnell wheeling a barrow with something bulky—Partridge stopped him and asked him what he had on the barrow—I do not think the prisoner replied—then Partridge took off the rug, and we saw four chairs which answered the description of the chairs stolen, and which have since been identified—I said to Varnell, "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with others in breaking and entering 16, Clare Street and stealing therefrom II chairs"—he said, "I do not know anything about them, some man told me to push them up here"—I said, "Where is the man?" and he said, "I don't know"—I then said, "Where were you going to take them to?" and he said, "I don't know"—I took him to the station and he was charged—he said nothing at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. There is access to the workshop from the upper part by a door, but it is kept locked.
Re-examined. I do not know how the people get up to their rooms; I have not been to the upper part of the house—there is a private entrance from the street, I believe, leading to the upper part of the house—from the private entrance there is access to the shop—they can get to my shop by unlocking the side door I have referred to.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Re-examined). Persons live on each floor of No. 16—there are two folding-doors which lead into the shop and outside into the street—when they close the shop at night they close those folding-doors and put a bar across inside, and go out at the side door I spoke of before into the private passage of the house, and lock that by a padlock.
The Prisoners Statements before the Magistrate. Hales says: "I was drunk, and saw a light in the place, and then looked in and saw one of these gentlemen there. If I had been sober I should not have been there. If I had known what was going on I should hare been the first to stop it. I never laid my finger on anything; I would not do anything. I have witnesses to character." Varnell says: "I was woke up and told to come downstairs and get 10 chairs out, which I did. I did not know where they came from."
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that even if he conceded the house to be a dwelling-house the charge of burglary was not made out. The COURT allowed the objection in regard to the house not being a dwelling-house, and left the case of larceny to the Jury.
HALES— NOT GUILTY .
VARNELL— GUILTY of receiving. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, February 1st, and Saturday, February 2nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JORDAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. GRAIN and TICKELL Prosecuted; MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and STRODE appeared for Clarke, and MR. GULTON for Williamson.
WILLIAM FRANCIS DEWEY . I am Vestry Clerk of the parish of St. Mary, Islington—I have held that position since March last—on 25th March a contract was made between the Vestry and the defendant Williamson with reference to the supply of flints and other road materials—I produce the contract—since that date he has been the contractor for road materials—Clarke has been surveyor to the Vestry for a number of years, and was so up to 6th November last—Jordan was principal clerk in the Highways department; Clarke was his superior—there is a High-ways Committee of the Vestry for the purpose of controlling and conducting tho business of the highways of the parish—for the purpose of the roads and highways the parish is divided into two districts, the eastern and western—for the eastern district there are three road foremen, Ward, Byford, and Barber, each having a certain section of the roads under his sole control—the Highways Committee usually meet for business once a fortnight—when materials were required for the repair of the roads the foreman gave information to Clarke or Jordan as to his requirements—it was Jordan's duty to enter those requirements in a book called the Surveyor's report book, which book was placed before the Highways Committee, of which Mr. Bradfield was the chairman—Clarke would always be present when the requirements were discussed, and since I have been Vestry Clerk I think I have always been present—discussions would frequently take place between the members of the Board and Clarke—when the materials were passed, the book was initialled or signed by the chairman—a bookwas kept called the Road material order book—this is it (produced)—it was Jordan's duty to enter in this book the amounts required of the contractor to each road, on the order and on the counterfoil—the surveyor would be the authority, and his signature would be required to the half that was torn off and taken away—I have the order of 11th October before me—the counterfoil is in Jordan's writing, and the initials at the bottom are Clarke's—I am dealing with the Cottenham Road only; there are two orders of the same date—there is an order for Cottenham Road, 250 yards; Andover Road, 200; Fairbridge, 95; College Street, 80; Charles Street, 50; Giffard Street, 50; St. Pancras Eoad, 100; Hilldrop Crescent, 150; Tufnell Park Koad, 150—I have here the flimsy of 11th October—I recognise Jordan's writing on it and Clarke's signature at the bottom—it bears the same date as the counterfoil, 11th October, 1883—in the flimsy it is: "J. Williamson, Cottenham Road, 200 yards of flints; Andoter Road, 150; Fairbridge Road, 75; College Street, 50; Charles Street, 40; Giffard Street, 30; St. Pancras Road, 80; Hilldrop Crescent, 150; Tufnell Park Road, 50." There is a printed notice at the bottom of the counterfoil: "N.B. No account will be recognised unless the order is given before the delivery of the goods or the commencement of the
works, on a printed form signed by the surveyor." When the actual order is written out, a press copy of it is taken by the clerk—there is a foremen's room in the Vestry Hall—the flimsy, which ought to be an exact copy of the press copy, is sent to the foremen's room in order that the foremen may learn what quantity to expect on their respective roads, and after they have taken the quantities I understand the flimsy was destroyed—the accounts were sent in monthly, and were placed before the Highways Committee—I always understood that Jordan and Clarke were present before the Committee, but I was never present myself, so I cannot speak to having seen them there—I have before me the September account for the eastern district, which was passed and paid, and it is signed "Correct as to quantities. B. W. Clarke, Surveyor"—that account appears to have been passed by the Committee—it was paid in another cheque for a larger amount—I have that cheque and Williamson's receipt for the amount—on Nov. 6 there was a meeting of the High-ways Committee at the Vestry Hall, at which Clarke was present—Jordan was in attendance in the building, ready to be called if necessary—the surveyor's report book was placed before the Committee by Clarke, showing what materials he required for the parish; a discussion arose between himself and the Committee asto certain materials—I did not take much notice of it until a question arose as to 50 yards of flint said to be required for Cottenham Road; upon that he was asked by some member of the Committee what quantity of flints he had already had for Cottenham Road—he replied 250—the foreman, John Barber, was sent for, and he was asked what quantity of flints had been delivered on Cottenham Road—he replied 200—Clarke was then asked to produce the Road journal—he left the room with a view of getting Jordan to find it, or finding it himself—ultimately the Road journal was produced; Cottenham Road was referred to, and there were found debated to Cottenham Road 250 yards—then certain tickets were sent for, and were brought up I think by Jordan—I remember distinctly this packet of 23rd October—this bundle of tickets particularly attracted my attention, because the foreman Barber was asked how many yards he had had in Cottenham Road on 23rd October, and he referred to his green memorandum book, and he stated that 18 yards were delivered on that day—he was then shown this bundle of tickets, and asked to look at the endorsement—he appeared quite surprised, and said he could not understand how the 48 came there—the endorsement shows 48—he was quite taken aback—he offered no explanation; he simply said he could not understand it—Jordan was in attendance during this time, and he and Clarke were asked if they had any explanation to give—I do not know that Jordan said anything; I am not positive—Clarke stated, as far as I remember, that he knew nothing about it, or could not understand it, or something to that effect—the Committee suspended them forthwith, and directed me to take-over their papers and the keys of their office and desks—I think Clarke gave me his keys in the room where the Committee were sitting—I went downstairs with Jordan; he took out of a locker in his office, which was unlocked for the purpose, the remainder of the October tickets; that account not being passed, he had them locked up in his desk—I asked him for them, and he gave them to me and his keys—I have had the tickets ever since, except when they were being examined—I then locked them up in the office of Clarke and Jordan—Clarke's room was away
from what we call the Highway Office—we also impoundod the foremen's books—I returned to the Committee, and the meeting broke up in confusion—I caused a further examination to be made of Jordan's office next day, and also of Clarke's room—I handed Mr. Henderson the keys of Jordan's desk, and he brought them back during the day—when I looked through the books I found these pieces of black paper (produced)—a few days afterwards Mr. Henderson handed mo this stylus—as far as I know, Jordan and Clarke had no use for that or for the black paper in the ordinary legitimate business of the Vestry—I see on the black paper "10 yards flints" very distinctly, and under it a name, which has been destroyed since I first saw it—when I first saw it, it was Thurlow—J. Thurlow was one of the foremen of the western district—I can see the name with this glass—this (produced) is the ticket of October 18,1883, signed by Thurlow—it is endorsed, "10 yards of flints, Giffard Street, J. Thurlow"—I discover on the papertraces of that endorsement—I have in the same bundle what I take to be the genuine signature from which it has been traced—there are the marks of the stylus distinct upon it—there is a mark as of a thumbnail across the name Thurlow since I found it—on November 7, by the order of the Committee, I sent for Williamson to the office and told him the Committee required his October account—he came, and at that interview he produced, not the account, but this statement in Jordan's writing, which be gave me to understand he was to make his account from—I asked for the counterfoils of his delivery tickets for October, and for the original orders—he gave me a heap of counterfoil tickets but no orders; I think he said he did not keep them—the Vestry have nothing to do with the tickets; they are provided by Williamson—I don't think the Highways Committee were aware of the flimsies at all—these are the counterfoil tickets of October 11: Andover Road, 9 yards; there are 5 tickets, 4 twos and a one, and in the account in Jordan's writing 38 yards of flints are charged on October 11—Williamson's tickets for October 12 are missing, but on October 13 here are 16 of his tickets for 32 yards of flints, 28 in Andorer Road and 4 in Fairbridge—the statement says 52—the tickets found in Jordan's desk are 26 for Andover Road, showing 48 yards, and 4 yards for Fairbridge, making 52—looking at the endorsement I find "13th October, 1883. Andover Road, flints, 48 yards. J. W. Barber"—as to the 4, something has been erased, and the 4 or part of it has been substituted—I find a mistake has been made in the heading of some of the tickets, and 15th October has been put for 13th—on 15th October Williamson's counterfoils add up 44 yards, and the 44 yards in Jordan's account is correct—I find that on the 16th the delivery ticket brought me by Williamson corresponded with what is charged in Jordan's account, and the same answer applies to the 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, and 22nd—I see no alteration in the figures or any mark of the stylus; the initials are signed by an ordinary pencil—Williamson's tickets for the 23rd represent 18 yards, and the statement is 48 yards—Jordan's bundle says "23rd October, 1883. Cottenhani Road, flints, 48 yards. J. W. Barber"—I see signs of an erasure on the 4—there are 26 tickets—certain of the gangers' initials appear to have been traced with a sharp-pointed instrument which has marked through to the back—on the 24th and 26th the accounts tally—on the 26th Williamson adds up 83 yards; there are 17 tickets, 6 are ones and the others twos—the account for the
26th is 53 yards, and Jordan's bundle says "Flints, 53 yards"—the 5 is an alteration—the ganger's initials appear to be marked with a different pencil, and there is a similarity about the writing—the 30th tallies—on the 31st Williamson handed me four tickets representing 7 yards of flints in Canonbury Square, but the statement shows 27 yards of flints, and Jordan's tickets show 27 yards; the alteration is not so palpable because there is no erasure, but I am sure there has been something because the incline of the figures is different—the day journal for October agrees in every case with Jordan's tickets—each road is debited in the Road journal, and the total amount debited in October to each road corresponds with the additions of Jordan's bundle of tickets, and in the accounts in Williamson's hands, and with the counterfoil orders—I went into the strong room and found a number of tickets relating to the delivery of flints at the eastern district in September; there are none on September 1, but there ought to be, as there was a delivery I know—on September 3 I find 54 tickets corresponding with the September account, and 54 are charged and paid for—there are none for September 4—on September 5 I find tickets representing 44 loads charged for and paid—I find 10 tickets for September 6 representing 20 yards; there are two endorsements, one by Ward, the road foreman: "6th September, '83. Brand Street. 20 yards flints. E. Ward," and the other, in Jordan's writing: "6 yards hoggin, 44 yards flints"—44 is charged and passed and paid for—on September 71 find nine tickets representing 18 yards, and another bundle of five representing 10 yards—the endorsement on the first lot is "September 7, '83. Brand Street, 88 yards flint. E. Ward," and o'n the next, "10 yards flints, Compton Road. T. Byford;" and another in Jordan's writing, "6 yards hoggin and 56 yards flints"—56 yards are charged and paid for; some of the tickets are gone—Jordan makes the final summary—I find on the 10th eight tickets representing 15 yards; the road foreman's endorsement is "13 yards flints, Alwyne Road. J. Byford"—the summary in Jordan's writing is "2 yards hoggin, 64 yards flints," and 64 are passed and paid for—September 11, 12, and 13 agree; there are no tickets for the 14th, but 39 yards are charged in the account—the 15th, 16th, 17th and 19th tally—on September 20th here are two tickets, "Durham Boad, flints, 4 yards. W. Barber"—the endorsement is "8 yards hoggin," and 60 yards are charged in the account and paid for—September 21st and 22nd are correct—on the 24th here are 15 tickets for Lennox Road, representing 30 yards, and four for Windsor Road, representing 88 yards—the endorsement is "Lennox Road, flints, 30 yards. T. W. Barber"—the summary is 1 yard hoggin; 75 paid for—on 26th September there are no tickets, but 94 yards are charged for—on the 27th there are nine loads, five tickets, there being a one—the endorsement is "27th September," 1883. Windsor Road, flints 9 yards. J. W. Barber"—the summary is 65 yards flints charged and paid for—September 28th and 29th and October 1st tally—there are 1,278 charges on Williamson's account as the total delivery to the eastern district charged and paid for, that is calculated at 7s. 4d. per yard; and there is an overcharge of 117l. 6s. 8d. for flints in the eastern district in September—I produce three of Williamson's tickets tied together, which purport to be receipts for ballast on roads; they were found in Henderson and Jordan's locker—they are apparently genuine and are initialled "G. R." by the ganger—15 tickets were found
in Jordan's desk with the others, representing 2 yaids of ballast, saved apparently by the carmen, but no initials of gangers—one is dated November 5th, and on the back of the three genuine tickets the endorsement in ink is "5th November, 1883. Drayton Point, 6 yards ballast. E. Ward, N. R."—that means new roads—before the 6 there is a 3 in pencil, which corresponds with the number of yards on the three doubtful tickets, so that if it had been entered over it would have represented 36 yards instead of 6.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I should say that Clarke's duties would be principally out of doors—St. Mary's, Islington, is a very large parish; I cannot give the mileage, but it is 1,030 Statute acres, and I have the superintendence of all the roads in the parish, and visit them to see what is required according to their state of repair—Clarke's were principally outdoor duties—250 yards are ordered on a certain road; the tickets come in for three weeks by instalments, and until the whole of them come in and are seperated to the particular roads you cannot compare them with the order—if it is an honest transaction they would correspond with the tickets and with the amounts in the counterfoils—it was Clarke's duty to initial the counterfoils, and the bodies of the orders ought to correspond with them—it was also Clarke's duty to write his signature in the corner of the original order—the whole oi the writing, with the exception of the initials on the counterfoils and the signatures in the corner, is Jordan's—a flimsy is supposed to be a counterfoil of the original order, and also repeating Jordan's writing, except the signature—if Jordan had destroyed the original order and substituted a false one and took the flimsy, he would not have had Clarke's name on the flimsy and the flimsy would not show the number—if he had made a false original he could have taken the whole of the body without the signature—it would be possible to do it if the other portion was covered with a piece of paper—there was nothing to prevent Clarke perfectly bond fids when he saw the counterfoil was correct, or believing it to be correct putting his signature in blank before the original was filled in, if he trusted Jordan—I should say the Committee, at the end of each month, would go through the tickets and see that they corresponded with the amount in the counterfoils, but I am not positive—I know that it was Clarke's duty, but I do not suppose the Committee did so to the same extent—I do not think lean say that it was their duty, and I do not knot whether they did so or not—Jordan produced the October accounts from his own room and locker; they were in his custody—I cannot say whether the October tickets had ever passed into Clarke's possession at the time of the inquiry—Clarke voluntarily gave me his keys—this order-book was, I think, found in his room.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. When I saw Williamson on 7th November he produced for my inspection the account produced in Jordan's writing—I should call Williamson an illiterate man—I should hardly like to say whether he is capable of making up such an account as this—some of the contractors are men of education—when they were illiterate it was not the practice for Jordan to make up their accounts for them—I understood Williamson to say that his account would be made up from a statement furnished him by Jordan—I do not think he said anything about whether it had been examined by him or by any one acting for him—the interviews took place at my office, and I think he
produced it—I had written a letter asking him to bring the accounts and tickets with him, and he produced the October counterfoils—those were the tickets which his man would keep, the other counterfoils being given to our servants—this contract of Williamson's dates from 25th March, but he had acted on contracts previously.
Re-examined. The September account is in a clerk's writing, not that of any one in the Vestry to my knowledge; I should take it to be one of Williamson's employees, he writes a very fair hand and can endorse his cheques and receipt accounts.
By the COURT. I cannot say whether the counterfoil of the order was written first, or the other way, I never saw it done—I should say that the order is the original—my practice in my office is to write the order first—a false order would not have the filagree work, but that would not be taken off on the flimsy, so that if the order was not produced we should not know where it came from—no order could go with validity except from this book—a clerk could not sign an order without seeing if it was not from this book, and they must not destroy them because they are consecutively numbered—I should think if the right figures were underneath and a piece of paper placed over them there would be nothing to prevent the tissue being then taken.
JOHN WALKER BARBER . I am a road foreman of the eastern district of the Islington Vestry—there are two other foremen, Byford and Ward, who act with me on that district—I keep a memorandum book—there are several roads for which I am responsible, and which I overlook—I have gangers under me who receive the actual loads of flints as they arrive—they receive two tickets for each two loads, and initial them, handing one back to the carman and retaining the other till the end of the day, when they bring them to me—I tie them up according to the roads, endorse the last ticket on the back, and make a copy in my memorandum book of the endorsement which contains the number of yards—I then give them up in the morning to the Highways department, Mr. Jordan—if he is not there I lay them on his desk—I should say he was there more often than not—on or about the 28th September I asked for a certain quantity of flints for the Cottenham Road, which is a road in my district—it is the practice and duty of my foremen to look round the roads from time to time and estimate what quantity I should want to keep them in repair—I make the estimate on a sheet of paper and hand that requisition to Mr. Jordan—I made out this requisiton (produced) for the Cottenham Road and handed it to Mr. Jordan—I asked him for it back on account of extra yards of hoggin, and made a copy of it, which I gave to Jordan—this he left with me, it bears the impressed stamp of the Vestry—it is dated 28th September on the stamp, and shows 250 loads are required for the Cottenham Road—that is the quantity I estimated—the road foremen go to the foremen's room at the Vestry to look at the flimsies to see what quantities are passed—I saw this flimsy of the 11th October in the road foremen's room, and found from it that 200 yards had been passed—I made a requisition for 150 for the Andover Road, and found according to the flimsy that 150 was granted to me—I asked 75 for the Fairbridge Road, and found 75 granted by the flimsy—I had not asked for 200 for the Andover Road, nor 95 for the Fair-bridge Road—when I saw from the flimsy that only 200 were allowed for the Cottenham Road, I crossed it through and wrote 250. (MR.
GRAIN desired the witness to turn to his memorandum book. MR. FULTON objected to the witness refreshing his memory from that book, as the entries were merely made from tickets which were in existence. The COURT considered that at present the book should not be used. My endorsement on this ticket was "11th October, 1883, Andover Road, flints 8 yards," I read upon it now 38, the 3 is not is not in my handwriting, the 8 is—I did not receive 38 yards on the Andover Road on October 11th—on the 13th October the endorsement is 48 yards—the 4 is not mine, the 8 is—I should not think I received 48 yards on the Andover Road on that day—on this bunch of tickets for the Fairbridge Road the endorsement is 4 yards of flint, which I received, there is no Iteration in that endorsement—on the 23rd of October the Cottenham Road endorsement is "23rd October, 1883, Cottenham Road, flints, 48 yards," signed by me; the 4 is very like mine, but it is not so—I cannot tell how many I received without referring to my book—"26th October, 1883, Cottenham Road, 53 yards," is signed by me; the 5 is not in my writing, or a portion of it—I believe it was 33 I received—I went away for a holiday in September. (MR. GRAIN submitted that as the tickets for September were missing, the book would he admissible. MR. FULTON argued that there was no evidence that they were missing. MR. WILLIAM asked that Mr. Dewey should be recalled and asked as to what became of the tickets.)
W. F. DEWEY (Re-examined). After Clarke's and Jordan's suspension on the 6th November I searched for all the tickets of September in the strong room of the Vestry Hall, where they ought to be, and in Jordan's desk—I found no others than those I have mentioned in my evidence in chief.
JOHN W. BARBER (Continued). From the 1st to the 8th September inelusive, no flints were delivered on my roads—I was not present then—it is from my book—I went away for my holiday on the 1st and returned on the 10th—on the 10th I have 9 yards in my book at Durham Road—that is all on that day—on the 11th, 25—on the 14th, Durham Road 5, Windsor Road 4—according to my book I did not receive 39 loads on that day—on the 20th September, Durham Road 4, Lennox Road 6,10 altogether—I did not receive 60 for those two roads on that day according to my book—on the 23rd, Lennox Road 20, Durham Road 31, and Windsor Road 8, that adds up 59 altogether, not 79—on the 26th, Elthorne Road 63, Kingsdown Road 1, that is 64, not 94—on the 27th, Elthorne Road 6, Windsor Road 9; 15, not 65—the totals I got in September were Durham Road 200, not 250, Windsor Road 70, not 90, on Lennox Road 170, not 220, on the Kingsdown Road 100, not 150, on the Elthorne Road 150, not 200.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Perhaps from 20 to 200 lineal yards of road might be under repair at one time—at one part men would be picking up, at another receiving, and at another spreading—from four to ten men were employed on the Cottenham Road—sometimes I had two lengths to attend to at a time; it may be in neighbouring roads, and I would go from one to the other and see they were properly picked, then spread and rolled—the ganger would superintend the delivery of the flints—I merely know of the quantity received by the endorsement on the tickets and the tickets I received—my duty was merely to receive the tickets and endorse them—this matter was brought to my knowledge on 6th September—I should have no personal recollection of what was
delivered at any particular day unless I referred to my book—the reason I have beon able to give my answers is because I was permitted to look at my book at the police-court and before I went there—I was first asked about the matter before Committee, and my book was before me—the "3" of "38, Andover Road, 11th October," is not my writing—I could have sworn it was not my "3" without having looked at the book—I could have pledged my oath the "4" in "48" on 13th October was not mine without looking at the book—on 23rd October the "4" is not mine, and it is scratched; I never scratched; if I had made a mistake I should have written it over again on another ticket—I believe the chairman on 6th November suggested I should hold it up to the light and see if it had been scratched—I should say the "4" is like mine—I never made the "5" on 26th October—I estimate the amount of flints required in my district, and other foremen in their districts—my estimate is to take the length and width, and calculate up by figures—I don't depend on the calculation within six yards at all times—an overplus would be added on to the next road repaired—they would go into the order I had given into the Vestry in the first instance—Byford took my place when I was away in September—I have no knowledge of what occurred at that time—I saw Mr. Dewey perhaps twice in connection with this matter after the interview at the Vestry, when the chairman drew my attention to these tickets—I once saw Mr. Bicketts, the prosecuting solicitor, at Mr. Dewey's office—my statement might have been taken down; I signed no document.
Re-examined. Looking in the book after looking at the tickets, only confirmed my impression.
THOMAS BYFORD . I am another road foreman in the eastern district of St. Mary's, Islington—when I require flints I make out an estimate, and send in a requisition, and then go to the foremen's room to see what is granted—I make a note of the amount granted in this memorandum-book (produced)—the endorsement of these tickets is "31st October, 1883, 27 yards flints, Canonbury Square, J. Byford"—the "7" is my figure, but not the "2"—I remember I received seven loads on that day for Canonbury Square—in my book I have an entry on 6th September, "Compton Road, 4 yards;" on 7th, "Compton Road, 10, Alwyn Road, 8 yards;" on 10th, "Alwyn Road, 15."
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I am in precisely the same position as Barber, and my duties are the same—my ganger receives the loads, and at the end of the day he gives me the tickets representing the loads delivered—I have a knowledge of the quantity delivered apart from the tickets; I could not tell to a yard or two—I don't count them as they come on—from the tickets I am able to tell the number of loads delivered—on 30th October the "22 yards" at the bottom is not in my writing; the "22 yards" at the top is—I think I could pledge my oath that 27 yards of flints were not delivered on 31st October without the memorandum-book; I was on the works a great deal myself—Mr. Dewey first spoke to me about the deliveries on these roads—he did not, I think, show me the tickets then—I was shown that endorsement "27 yards" about a fortnight after I referred to my book—it was not exclusively my book which enabled me to say it was not my entry—it was not my figure—I depend on my book to a certain extent.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I delivered the tickets back to Jordan.
EDWARD WARD . I am another road foreman on the eastern district, and also keep a memorandum-book—on 1st September I received on the Selborne Road 9 yards flints; on Hunslet Road 8 yards; 17, not 37, that day—on September 4, Hunslet Road, 9 yards, Shelborne 8; 17, not 57—16th September, Bran Street 20 yards, and on 17th September Bran Street 18 yards.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I delivered the tickets back to Jordan.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I have said nothing about October.
JAMES YOUNG . I am a ganger under Barber, the road foreman—two carts generally come at a time bringing the loads, and one carman with two tickets with the two loads upon each—he hands the tickets to me after shooting the load—I sign both, and give one back to the carman and keep the other, and at the end of the day give all the tickets I have so collected up to Mr. Barber—I sign my initials "J. Y." with a small piece of lead pencil—a lot of these tickets, 11th October, Andover Road, are not mine; they are like mine, but are not like my handwriting; they are too much through the paper—I didn't have 38 loads, I had 9—of these of 13th October more than four are mine, but there are a lot not mine—I didn't have as many as 52 loads on that day on two roads—I see many on the 23rd not mine; some of them look dirty and some clean; I put mine in my pocket, some of them—on the 23rd I had 13 loads, nine tickets, not 48 loads—on the 26th I was working only one road, and was there when they came—some of these tickets don't look like mine—I had 150 loads on the Andover Road on 15th October, four on the Fair-bridge Road, and 200 on the Cottenham Road.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I gave the tickets to Barber.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I leave the endorsement to Barber, and am not present when he adds them up—when we are working two roads mostly the spreader would take the ticket and hand it to me, or else he would tell the carman to keep it, and he would count them—tickets are not lost—the spreader never lost any—he always put on a piece of paper how many he received—I have never lost a ticket since I have been on the job—about a fortnight or three weeks after 26th October I saw Mr. Dewey at the Vestry; he only wanted to know whether I knew anything about the tickets—he afterwards showed me some—I could recollect some days the stuff I had had—I don't think my attention was drawn to these 53 loads on 23rd October, or that I saw them before I did so at the police-court—the "J. Y." on the tickets for 11th and 14th October is cut too far through the paper for it to be mine—this is the pencil I used for marking all of them—I don't suppose I have sharpened it for a month—I don't know that I have sharpened it since 11th October—I always have it in my pocket and never borrow anybody else's—I never had it sharper than it is now—the "J. Y." is not exactly like mine—lean tell better from the front than from the back—Mr. Dewey showed me that stylus and a piece of black paper—it was not his suggesting that the "J. Y." had been made with those that made me look at the back—I had seen it before.
JOHN CLARKE . I am ganger to Byford the road foreman—when I receive the loads I receive two tickets, which I sign with my full name and give back one to the carman and keep the other myself—at the end of the
day I give Bjford all I have collected—I do not sign for loads without the tickets—the first two and last two tickets, 31st October, Canonbury Square, are signed by me; the other tickets on that day are not—I use a soft pencil.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. My pencil is now as I usually use it; sometimes I borrow somebody else's—I sign my full name—sometimes I pat the paper against a brick to do so, or sometimes have a board—the pencil is never sharp enough to go through—I believe my attention was called to this matter a week or so afterwards—before I told Mr. Dewey the first and last two were written by me, he had not shown me the stylus.
ARTHUR JAMES HENDERSON . I am a clerk to the Highways department of the Vestry—during the summer of 1883 up to September I was a good deal out of doom—in September I became more indoors at the office—Jordan was chief clerk there under the surveyor—in September my attention was called to some books, &c, and I gave instructions to Mr. Major, a clerk in our department, and Mr. Findlater, clerk in another department—I received from Mr. Major the flimsies dated 11th October, and I handed them to Mr. Adams, a member of the Highways Committee, with a statement made by me—when an order had been passed by the Highways Committee in the surveyor's report book, Jordan made out from that book an order with a counterfoil—Mr. Clarke had a separate room—the road journal, which has an account to each road, was kept in the office, and the day journal, with what was delivered every day, in Mr. Clarke's room—the road ledger was posted from the day journal—when the body of the order had been written out, the next step was to have it signed by Mr. Clarke, and then send it off to the contractor, and a letter was sent to the foreman's shed as instructions what they were to receive—I had not access in September or October to any of Williamson's tickets which were handed over, or to the Road book or day journal; only Mr. Clarke and Mr. Jordan had access to them—I had not access to the surveyor's report book—I received some keys from Mr. Dewey on 7th September with certain instructions—I went to Jordan's desk and found a marble-covered book with some black paper between the leaves—the October package of tickets was in the locker—I found on another search the stylus in Jordan's desk; also the three tickets showing six yards of ballast for Drayton Park, and six other tickets for two loads each—the Vestry strong-room is locked; the key hung up in Mr. Tutton's charge—I have made experiments with this stylus and black paper, and I can do the tracing.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. The tickets would be tied up in bundles and preserved by Jordan until the account was passed, and then sent down to the muniment room.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Jordan was the head of the department; I have seen the account sent in by him—I do not know that it was done in the office, or that Jordan was in the habit of making up Williamson's account—I have heard illiterate men come in and ask Mr. Jordan whether he had got their statement ready, not in this contract but in a previous one—there are several contracts besides Williamson's.
Re-examined. I say that I have never seen Williamson call for it since the present contract; I mean since March 25 last year—I keep the
Road ledger; I make it up from the Road journal—I ought to make it up every week, but I was taken off that that work twelve months ago and put on other work and have made no entries since—if any statement was made when Williamson sent in his account I should have nothing to do with it; Mr. Jordan kept all those books under lock and key.
WALTER MAJOR . I am a clerk under Mr. Jordan and Mr. Henderson at the Vestry—I only drew out the headings on the road journals kept by Jordan—I entered the days and roads—I received some instructions from Mr. Henderson, and on 11th October kept from the foreman's room the two flimsies of 24th and 11th October—I took them down after they were made; I did not make them—Mr. Jordan gave it to me to take down—in consequence of instructions I saw it was not destroyed and gave it to Henderson.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Mr. Williamson several times came in and asked me for a statement—I know Jordan was in the habit of making up Mr. Williamson's account that it might be copied and sent in—I have seen Jordan making up Williamson's statement in the office—this is the statement—I think it was made up from the day journal, which was before him in the office—Williamson often came perfectly openly, to inquire about contracts and other matters.
Re-examined. He used to come in the ordinary course of business and ask questions—his accounts were monthly; he would come in and say 'Is my statement ready?"—if I were there he would speak to me, or he would ask Mr. Jordan if he were there—Jordan kept the books from which the accounts were made—I had no access to the books, and never made out an account for Williamson—Jordan has never asked me to make one out from the books—I saw the accounts in the office after they had been investigated by the Highways Committee and passed; they were always in another handwriting, not in Jordan's—this September account is not in Jordan's writing; it is a strange handwriting to me.
By the COURT. I know of other contractors having called and inquired about their statements—Williamson has done it since March, since this contract has been entered into.
JOHN GREEN FELL . I am a member of the Vestry of St. Mary's, Islington, and of the Highways Committee—the surveyor's report book was laid before us by our clerk, stating the quantities required for different roads—we discussed the matter, and if the quantities were approved the chairman appended his signature and some of us as well—the accounts were checked monthly—Clarke, the surveyor, was then present, and certified as to the quantities—we never passed it without liis certificate being on it—the packets of tickets were always before us at our monthly meetings—they were not examined, but the endorsements were always looked at—the contractors' accounts wore before us, and compared with the endorsements of each day—if they corresponded the account was passed to be paid—that would go to the Accounts Committee; I cannot say if ultimately to the General Committee before the cheque was drawn—I was present on 6th December when Mr. Clarke was there—other members were present—we each sign an attendance minute book.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. The book with the counterfoil was
not examined with the tickets at all—I know nothing about the counterfoils.
CHARLES KENNEDY JORDAN (The Prisoner). I am 28 years of age—I have been a clerk in the Vestry 10 years; I went there soon after Clarke became surveyor—I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—I recollect a conversation with Mr. Clarke about 12 months ago—he broached a certain subject to me; he suggested the idea of charging for more stuff than was put upon certain roads—he also said, in consequence of the Vestry not giving him an increase, which they had almost resolved to, that I ought to help myself, conjointly with him—I had asked for an increase of my salary from the Highways Committee; they referred it to the Vestry, and the Vestry refused it, and then this conversation took place—I don't know that the mode of doing it was suggested at that time—he broached it on several occasions to me before I fell in with the idea—the idea was to put more stuff before the Highways Committee than the foremen were to have afterwards allowed them—the "works required" book, that is the report book which was put before the Committee, showed say a certain amount, and if that was passed by the Committee the counterfoil was made to correspond with that, but the order should be so much less—I cannot tell you the date when we began to do anything in furtherance of this scheme; it was within the last year, about the end of July or August—some of the initials upon these tickets of 11th October were traced by me—sometimes I used the pencil; I used to have a hard pencil—the tickets were brought to me; I cannot always say who brought them; my messenger has given them to me; they have been left in the office& they would not come to me properly; no doubt they oame from Williamson—sometimes Clarke has handed them to me, and sometimes my own messenger at the office has given them to me—these tickets of 23rd October are the same; the initials were traced by me—the endorsement is in Barber's handwriting—I altered the "4" into 48—in some of these tickets the figures have initials pat on by me, and the endorsement altered by me—when Clarke brought blank tickets to me he said, "These have been left for you this morning by Williamson"—these 26 are the same; the initials put on by me, and the endorsement altered from 33 to 53 by me—these of the 31st have been altered in the same way, and the endorsement is altered by me from 7 to 27—when the Highways Committee had passed certain quantities for different roads an order was made out by me next morning—I first wrote the counterfoil, and then wrote the order out on the other fiide—the counterfoils were not initialled or the orders signed in full by Clarke in blank to my knowledge—after I had made out the counterfoil and the order I obtained the initials of the counterfoil and the signature to the order from Clarke; I made both parts out in his presence—I learnt from him what to put on the body of the order—I have before me the counterfoil of 11th October, and on the counterfoil is "Cottenham Road, 250 yards," on the flimsy "200" only—Clarke told me to put the "200" there—Andover Road on the counterfoil is "250," on the flimsy is "200"—Fairbridge Road is "95" on the counterfoil and "75" on the flimsy—I got that quantity from Clarke—I copied the order of 11th October myself after Clarke had appended his signature to the order—he signed it in my presence—the order was still in the book when he signed it, it tad not been torn out—I have before me the order book of 25th July—
I see Alwyne Road on the counterfoil, 45 yards of flint—an order would be made out on a piece of paper for that, corresponding with the counterfoil, excepting the quantity—that order was filled up in the same way as that of 11th October—speaking from, memory I should say that the same quantity was not put on the order as appears on the counterfoil; it would be less on the order than the counterfoil—I obtained the quantity to put on the order from Clarke—the Road journal was always kept in Clarke's room, and the Day journal also—I made entries from the bundle of tickets into both of those books—I made the entries in the Day journal from the tickets in the clerk's office, and I put on the initials there—Williamson's accounts were sent in monthly—he used to get them written out for himself from the rough statement supplied by me—I have done that pretty well since his contract commenced—the plan of charging too much was done principally through Clarke—I have had conversation with Williamson about it—I cannot call to mind what the conversation was; it was that he should supply the tickets and then charge in his account so much extra, that he should furnish blank tickets, and charge ultimately for the amounts entered upon them—I recognise this September account, which was paid for in October—I do not know the handwriting—I forwarded Williamson a rough statement—the accounts would be delivered by hand, and it would be Clarke's duty to check them—the book would no doubt be laid upon the table—Clarke would see it—it was put in a pigeon-hole in his room until it was really wanted to be used for checking and signing—he would check it with the tickets—I had the custody of tne tickets until the accounts were rendered, and then they were put in Clarke's room in the pigeon-hole—this is Clarke's signature "certified correct as to quantity"—I should say that September account has been paid—the cheques don't pass through my hands; I never saw anything of the money—I have received money for the overcharge from Williamson after each account has been paid; it was generally handed to me in notes—I have had it handed to me at the Vestry—I cannot say that I have seen Clarke and Williamson together after an account has been passed and paid—I have had conversation with Clarke after accounts nave been paid—they have had reference to the smallness of the amounts of money—he has asked me how mucli the amount of overcharges has been, and I have told him, and then he has remarked that it ought to be so much each, not so much to divide among three—a cheque was given for the account of 23rd October—I could not say that I had any conversation with Clarke after that—I was suspended on 6th November—I can't say that I had any conversation with Clarke in reference to any of these matters after 23rd October—this statement of the October account is my handwriting; I gave that to Williamson on that afternoon, before the Highways Committee met—I can't say that I had any conversation with Clarke about that October account—nothing more than usual passed between me and Williamson when I gave it to him, only that that was his account to be made out, nothing else—after the accounts had been passed the tickets were put in the basement in the Muniment Room—a messenger put them there—they were thrown in the Highways Department, and he tied them up in brown paper, and he took them downstairs—some of the September tickets were burnt; I believe I burnt them—Clarke was present—they were burnt in his room, so as not to show the overcharge
if any one looked at the amount upon them—I had no conversation with Clarke before they were burnt; they were burnt directly after the Committee had broke up when they had passed the September account—I had no conversation with Clarke except that the tickets were to be burnt—he held the door, and I burnt them while he held the door—I had burnt tickets before that—I don't know that he was present on previous occasions—they were always burnt in his room; at least, I beg pardon, once I believe I burnt them in the furnace downstairs.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I pleaded not guilty to forgery yesterday—I don't know whether you term altering the tickets forgery; I did alter the tickets; I can't say that I know that that is forgery; I did not know that it would be constituted forgery—I changed the figures on the endorsements; I did not look upon that as forgery—I thought when I pleaded not guilty to forgery that I was telling the truth—I understood from my Counsel yesterday that I should be called as a witness; that was the first time I had made up my mind to be a witness—I do not expect to get anything by doing so—in a great measure I did it to further the ends of justice—I have not furnished a statement to the prosecution—I have not written a statement; I have not made any statement whatever—I have not seen anybody as to what statement I was to give; I was only asked by my Counsel to give evidence, nothing else—it was Clarke's suggestion that as I was not to get a rise in my salary I should do the best I could to help myself, and I did help myself conjointly with him—I can't say that I have ever seen Williamson hand Clarke a single coin—I spent the money I had; I can't say that I spent it all on myself—I have given money to Clarke—I don't know why I did not tell Mr. Grain so; he did not ask me, that was the reason—I gave the money to Clarke at the time I received it, in notes and gold I believe; I can't say particularly where; sometimes I have handed it in his room, another time I recollect giving him some in the Florence public-house, which is next door to the Vestry Hall; I could not say anywhere else—there have been people by when I have given it to him, but they have not known what I have given to him—people were standing by on the occasion in the Florence public-house; I could not name them—I handed him notes; I could not tell you the amount; it may have been 40l.; I could not say the exact amount; I gave him a third, not a third of what I received from Williamson, half of what I received, a third of the whole amount—I could not say how often I have handed money to Clarke, four or five times it may have been—I do not keep a pocket-book or note-book; I kept a record of the amounts per month on a piece of paper—it is not in my possession; I could not tell you where it is; it was left at the Vestry Hall when I was suspended; in Mr. Clarke's room, by the side of the cabinet, under other papers—I believe there were one or two months' records there—I say there are at the present time, if they have not been destroyed, one or two pieces of paper with records on them—I believe they are in my handwriting; I last saw them there on 6th November, the day I was suspended—I did not go back to Clarke's room after I was suspended—the keys were taken away from Clarke at that time, and from me as well—at that time these pieces of paper were in that room—I don't suppose they would show that Clarke had received a share; it was merely a record of what quantities we put on in the month, and stolen; I don't think I stole them—there would be nothing on the face of the papers to show that I had not received it all myself—
there would not be anything upon the paper to show than anything had been received—there was nothing upon it to show that there had been a division of the profits of this fraud between us three, nor was there anything to show that the money had not passed entirely into my pocket—it was a record of the overcharge that Williamson had made; it was just rough scribble; it would be in my handwriting entirely—I will swear that Clarke held the door while I burnt the tickets—the tickets could have been taken away; I could have carried them away in my pocket, and so could Clarke, or thrown them down the water-closet—I first wrote the counterfoil from his book and then I wrote the body of the order—I took the impression of the whole of the order from the flimsy; I will swear that I did not take an impression of Clarke's signature alone; he was the person who suggested the whole fraud to me—I have been under Clarke for ten years—I could not fix the time at which he first made the suggestion to me; it was about a twelvemonth ago I should say—he said that the Committee having recommended my increase, and the Vestry not sanctioning it, it served me right; that I should help myself, and he suggested that we should both do it—it could not be done without his assistance—he said it would have to be done, and he could not do it without my assistance, so he had to unfold the scheme to me, he unfolded the whole scheme to me and the manner in which it should be done—I was very unwilling at first; he persuaded me, having known him so many years—it didn't require a great deal of persuasion that I know of, my small salary and the prospect of making more money otherwise induced me to join in it—I cannot say that I required such a tremendous lot of persuasion—I thought it would be a very risky thing, and I told him the risk that we ran, and he remarked to me that he could guard off any inquiries if it should arise, and then I consented—I did not consent when he first broached it to me, in fact I didn't understand what he meant—we had one or two conversations before I consented, then I could not help understanding him, he made it so plain—it was all by conversation, not by writing—he didn't sketch out in writing any manner in which the fraud was to be practised—I do not know that there is any piece of writing in possession of the Vestry connecting Clarke with these frauds—pretty well every document is in my handwriting, except that he signed all the orders—I don't think that there is any other document in his writing; it is all my writing except the foreman's requirements—when I had supplied the forged tickets they would correspond with the counterfoil of the order—if he had known that the tickets were forged and had compared them with the counterfoil thoy would no doubt have corresponded in the total-Clarke suggested the stylus, that I swear, and he wrote the order for it in his own handwriting—the stylus was not an instrument belonging to the Vestry; there was one about eight years ago, but that has been missing up to the present time; I know one was ordered, the Vestry paid for it, it would be necessary to have it—the piece of black paper was suggested by Clarke—I was not innocent of the whole mechanism of the fraud, I knew all about it—I didn't suggest the stylus—I used a pencil previously—I didn't suggest the black paper, I knew it would have to be necessary—I cannot sad that it was taught me; it was the subject of conversation between the two of us, it was concocted between us—the stylus was found in my desk, also the black paper and all the implements.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. This fraud was suggested to me on several occasions—it did not begin at the end of July or the beginning of August, it was suggested some time previous; I could not state the time it was first suggested, we began it as regards this contract at the end of July or the beginning of August—Williamson's contract commenced in March—I have stated that I prepared Williamson's account pretty well since his contract commenced—I supplied the rough materials, and in fact supplied the account that was sent in, except that it was afterwards copied by some person, I don't know who, a clerk I suppose—the only statement which the Vestry received was mine, except that it was not in my handwriting—Williamson only had the contract in March—I had been in the habit of making out statements for other contractors as well, pretty well every one of the contractors—there was no fraud about those—I got a little pecuniary advantage for making out the accounts, I don't suppose that it was known to the Vestry, I didn't make it known to them; I have no doubt many of them did know it, Mr. Henderson and Mr. Major knew it—the accounts are very difficult to make out—I cannot eay that the contractors are illiterate men as a rule; some of them employ clerks—Williamson is in a measure an illiterate man, I should say; he was able to make out such accounts as these; he is able to read and write—I should say that the September account which was sent in was a copy of mine—that contains charges for material supplied on 25th July—I cannot speak for certain whether that was the first account that contained the overcharges; as near as I can tell it was the first in this contract—I believe the October account has never been paid, I cannot speak for certain—I never had any of that money—money has been handed to me by Williamson I should say three or four times—I could not tell you the date of the first occasion; I could not fix any time—it may have been in the four months, July, August, September, or October—I cannot tell the month in which I first received money from Williamson, and I should not like to swear to the place; I should say that it was at the Vestry Hall, but I cannot recollect—he has given me money at other places, once at the corner of Park Street, Islington; he met me—I couldn't tell you the month it was in, it would be impossible for me to tell—I cannot say that the September account was the first fraudulent one that was sent in in connection with Williamson's contract; I couldn't say without reference, to the best of my knowledge it was—if I had the books in front of me I could tell you very likely—the September account was not paid till the 23rd of October, according to this—I should believe this to be correct. Q. If the September account was the first fraudulent account rendered by Williamson, and that was not paid till the 23rd of October, do you mean to suggest that you received money from Williamson in July, August and September?—A. I could not say that it was so—I could not say that the September was the first account, I cannot say without references; to the best of my knowledge it was—I had all the papers in front of me when Mr. Grain was asking me—I cannot without reference to the books tell you whether the September account was the first fraudulent one under this contract—if the September account was paid on the 23rd of October I should say I received the money in respect of that on that day, but it is getting on for six months ago, and I cannot recollect—I was suspended-on the 6th of November, and I have had no access to anything from that day—I should say this
matter has not occupied my mind and attention—I was represented by an experienced solicitor before the Magistrate—I didn't furnish him with information with reference to these accounts, no dates whatever, just a resume' of the case—I was counselled yesterday as to giving evidence—I had not considered the matter before that—I had not suggested to any person that I was guilty of these forgeries—my relations have known it, my brothers have known it, but no other person; not my solicitor—I could not say when I first had a conversation with Williamson about these matters—I cannot fix any time—it was some time after his contract commenced—I couldn't tell you the month, I should say it was before the end of July—it is impossible for me to say where it was, I should say it was at the Vestry Hall—it was not at his private house, because I never went there—I occasionally saw him about in the street; I met him casually, as I should meet anybody else—I didn't suggest this to him—I couldn't fix the date when I first had any conversation about money in connection with these contracts—I have no doubt Clarke was present, nobody else—I have received a pretty fair education—of course, the conversation was about this matter, that there was so much to be put on and charged for—I have no doubt all of us spoke in turns—I couldn't tell you who poke first; I have no doubt it was Clarke—I don't know what part I took in it, or what part Williamson took in it—we all talked on the purpose; there is no doubt about it—I couldn't tell you when or where it was; no doubt it was at the Vestry Hall.
Re-examined. There would be an account of Williamson's paid in August and July—the August account would be paid before the September one, and the July one in August—I am not certain about the date when the first frauds were committed, without referring—it is the Report book that I wish to refer to (It was handed to the witness)—this book does not help me.
By MR. WILLIAMS. After the first account had been passed Williamson and Clarke and I were not together to divide the money—we were together on hundreds of occasions.
By MR. GRAIN. I could not say whether I put the ganger's signature or initials upon any tickets before September without seeing them—I couldn't tell you when the stylus was ordered—before it was ordered I used a pencil to put on the initials—I have frequently been to the Florence public-house with Clarke—I cannot say that I used the stylus for legitimate purposes, not this new one; I have the old one, that was eight years ago—for eight years no stylus was required, except for, the Sewers department—Clarke said the stylus would be better than the pencil because it made it more sharp—the paper that I left behind me contained nothing but figures—it was a paper about three-quarters the size of a sheet of foolscap—there is the name of the road and the quantity of flints, but no figures about money, I think; there may have been, I could not speak for certain—I never saw Clarke take the bundles of tickets and compare them with the totals; that was never done—the accounts were checked from the tickets—Williamson was the only contractor for flints; he also contracted for gravel and ballast, all the materials for the roads; he was the only contractor, except for granite blocks—nobody except Williamson had anything to do with the frauds—I couldn't say
for certain how many times I have paid money to Clarke, it might have been two or three times.
Several witnesses deposed to the good character of Clarke and Williamson.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each. JORDAN— Six Month's Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Mr. Recorder.
289. REGINALD SLAUGHTER (21) , Feloniously shooting at Catherine Pole the younger, with intent to murder. Other Counts, with intent to do grievous bodily harm, and for shooting at Catherine Pole the elder, and Catherine Pole the younger.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted.
CATHERINE POLE . I live at 2, Albert Villas, Albert Square, Stratford—I have known the prisoner and been keeping company with him about three months—he is a painter—he has visited me at my mother's house—I had a quarrel with him on the Sunday night, the 13th January—on the 14th I met him outside the place where I work as a machinist, in Myrtle Street, St. John's Road, as I came away from my day's work—I had told him on the Sunday not to come down—he was the worse for drink—I said "What do you want with me? I told you not to come down"—he made no answer—we walked on together till we got to the corner of Great Eastern Street—I then told him I would not go out with him any longer—I then went home—about a fortnight before he had said "If you give me up I will blow my brains out and throw myself on the lines"—about 9 o'clock the next evening I was at Maryland Point Station with my mother—I saw him there and asked him" What do you want with me?"—he said "I want to speak to you"—my mother then came up from another part of the platform, and the prisoner said nothing, but walked away down Forest Lane—I and my mother went down Forest Lane in the direction of our home; the prisoner was in front of us—we proceeded a short distance till we got to Albert Square, at the corner of which the prisoner was waiting—my mother then said "If you molest her, I will see what I can do"—I don't think the prisoner replied—this was a very short distance off our home, in the direction of which I and my mother went—I was a few yards from the door when I heard the report of fireAnns; I turned round and saw the prisoner, who had got the revolver pointed at me, down Albert Square—he was about 20 feet from me then. (The witness then pointed out the distance, which was about 12 yards.) I heard another report and saw the flash as soon as I turned round; and immediately afterwards I heard a third report, and then the prisoner fell down himself—I was much frightened and came over faint and fell down and my mother took me indoors—I know nothing of what occurred
after that—he gave me this address marked D about three weeks ago—I think this is his writing—I did not see him write.
CATHERINE POLE . I am the last witness's mother, and live at 2, Albert Villas, not with my husband—the prisoner came to my house nearly every evening and kept company with my daughter—on Tuesday evening, 15th January, I was with my daughter at Maryland Point Station—when I got out of the station and was going homewards I saw the prisoner in front; as soon as he saw us he turned up Forest Lane, the way to our home—when we got to Albert Square he was standing there against the wall; I said if he molested my daughter I would see what could be done—that was two or three yards from our house—I took hold of my daughter to go indoors because she was not well, and I heard the report and saw the flash—I turned round and saw another flash and heard the report, and then at the third one he fell down himself—my daughter fell down unhurt—I took her indoors—I went to the police-station and saw the prisoner there—he appeared to be sober that night—I never saw him the worse for drink.
HENRY ROBERT NEWTON . I live at Dalkeith Villa, Maryland Point, Stratford—about 9.30 on the evening of 15th January I was coming from Albert House, where I had been to see some friends, when I heard the report of firearms—I looked across the road and saw the prisoner with a revolver in his hand—the prosecutrix and her mother were a little more than 10 yards from him—he was pointing the revolver at them and then fired another shot—I saw the young woman fall and I went across to the prisoner—I don't know if he saw me; he turned round, pointed the revolver as though at his own head, and fired a third shot—I saw the flash pass his head straight into the air—I seized hold of his wrist, he fell to the ground, I took the revolver from his hand with the assistance of other people who came up—we took him into the Albert public-house and placed him on the table—a doctor and policeman had been sent for—Dr. Hamilton came—we then took the prisoner, apparently unconscious, in a cab to the station-house—I gave pistol to Inspector Stiles in the condition in which I took it from the prisoner—I know nothing of what occurred inside the station.
ELIJAH LAMPARD (Policeman K 279). I was was called on the 15th January to Albert Square, and found the prisoner lying on his back on the pavement apparently unconscious—Dr. Hamilton was attending him—we took him in a cab to the police-station, and sent for Dr. Bogono, the divisional surgeon.
WALTER ATKINS BOGONO . I am divisional surgeon of police at West Ham—about 10.30 on the night of 15th January I was called to the police-station to see the prisoner; he was lying on the floor—I examined him—he was apparently insensible—his appearance was not that of a person in a genuine fit—I came to the conclusion that he was shamming—I told him if he did not get up I would use the galvanic battery—he got up immediately—he was perfectly sober—I examined his person—there were no marks at all upon him.
JOHN STILES (Inspector, West Ham). I was on duty at the station about 10.15 when the prisoner was brought in in Lampard's custody, and accompanied by Newton, who handed me the revolver—it is a six-chambered common revolver—there were four chambers recently exploded, and two were still loaded with ball cartridges, which I drew—
I had him searched—I found on him a photograph of the prosecutrix and two pieces of paper—one is: "Kitty Pole has been a true lover to me; she was shot by me;" and the other, "14-1-83. Dear friends, I hope you will forgive me for what I have done, as me and Kitty will never part. R.S. This day is our last. R.S."—this paper I handed to him next morning, and asked if he wanted to see any one—he said "Yes"—I said "Well, write on this who you want to see, and sign it"—he did so—I compared the writings, and in my opinion they are the same—he made no answer when the charge was read to him.
By the JURY. This revolver would cause death at 20 yards.
NOT GUILTY .
290. REGINALD SLAUGHTER then PLEADED GUILTY to an indictment for a common assault. To enter into his own recognisances in 25l. to appear for judgment when called on, and to keep the peace for twelve months.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
ELIZA RUDLAND I am Walter Herbert Rudland's wife, and live at 11, Morley Terrace, Leytonstone Road—on the morning of 8th January, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I was in the shop behind one of the counters—the three prisoners ran in behind the other counter and took the till and ran away—I was behind the greens—they could not see me—the till was at the other end of the counter; on the counter—I saw Della take it—there was about 3l. in it—as soon as they got it they all rushed out—I recognise Donovan and Fox—I ran out, and our boy was coming in at the time, and another boy saw them through the window—he was watching them—Della was brought back to the shop by a policeman and another man—this (produced) is the till—I told Della he had stolen the till—he said he knew nothing about it, or something of that kind.
JOHN ANDERSON . I live at Jane Cottages, Leytonstone—on 8th January, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I was passing Mrs. Rudland's shop, and saw Della go in and take the till, and the other two standing outside—when Delia got to the end of the counter and Mrs. Rudland came out the other two said "Put it back, Joe"—they ran down Jonson's Lane, Della and Fox in front; I followed, and saw Della empty the till into his hat—they threw the till down, and I picked it up, and ran on following them—when I got to one turning one of them put up his fist to me—then I ran down St. James's Road, where I saw a man giving out bills; I told him they had stolen a till—he ran after them—they ran down St. James's Road and across the railway, this man following them—I did not see them taken—I am quite sure these are the three men.
Cross-examined by Fox. Della went inside the shop; you did not; you were outside—you and the other one crossed the railway.
errand boy—on 8th January I was at Stratford—just as I was going into Mr. Rudland's shop I saw Della grab the till, and I went to stop him, and he put up his arm so that I should not stop him—one of them said to Della "Put it down, Jack," or some such name—I saw Fox and the other prisoner—they all ran down Jonson's Road—Della gave the till to Fox then—I followed and saw Fox, I think, empty the money into his hat and throw the till behind him—they went down Cruikshank Road sharing the money, and then round St. James's Road, and Della I think ran across the train lines—I saw Donovan caught; he was let go again—I saw no more.
Cross-examined by Fox. I only saw Della in the shop.
By the JURY. The money was divided between all three.
THOMAS HENRY TIPPETT . I live at 34, Gray's Road, Stratford, and am a photographer—on the 8th January I was at the bottom of the Gurney Road, Forest Gate, and saw the prisoners there—from information I received I gave chase—I caught hold of Donovan, he said "I can't catch them, I have been running and am out of breath"—I said "Well, I shall have to catch you"—he said "I have not got any of the money, G—strike me blind"—I held him for some time, he turned out his trousers pockets, he said "That is the one that has got the money over there," pointing to Fox, who was just getting up from behind the house—I left Donovan and ran after Fox, and just before I got up to him he threw the money out of his pocket—I stopped and picked it up, it was 1s. 5d. in bronze—I ran after Fox again, but missed him—I looked round and saw Della running up the lane—I ran up and caught him and told him I should take him to the police-station.
WILLIAM JOHN DUNHAM (Policeman K 62). On the 8th of January I was in the Leytonstone Road—Tippett told me that Della had stolen a till from Mr. Rudland—I took him back and Mrs. Rudland identified him at once and said he was one of them—on being charged at the station he said "I know nothing about it, I did not throw any money out of my pockets"—I saw Fox in a public-house in Baker Street, Stepney, at 7.30—I said I wanted him for being concerned in a till robbery at Stratford—he said "All right, but if you want the other one he is a long way away"—I took him to the station, where he was identified and charged; he said nothing—on the 24th of January, 1884, I went to Devonshire Street, Shadwell, and found Donovan in bed—I said I wanted him for being concerned with two others in stealing a till—his father said "Do you know anything about it?"—he said "Yes, I was with Jack Delia and Joe Fox in the Leytonstone Road"—he said "Why didn't you tell me from the first, we could have b——well have got out of the window and over the wall"—on the way to the station he saw Tippett, he said "That is the man that caught me."
DELLA'S DEFENCE. I am very sorry, it is my first offence, I hope you will give me a chance.
GUILTY .— Seven Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Mr. Commm Serjetnt.
MESSRS. Lloyd and HICKS Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH LAMBERT . I am the wife of Edward Lambert, a stationer, of 20, Renfrew Square, Woolwich—on 5th January, between 7 and 8, the prisoner came in for a twopenny New Year's card, and put down a half-crown—I said "It does not look good, and I have to be careful as I took one before"—he said "I should not like to take one"—I kept it and gave him 2s. 4d. change—when my husband came home I showed him the coin, and in consequence of what he said I kept it separate till yesterday, when I gave it to the constable—I picked the prisoner out at the police-court from six others and am certain of him.
MARY ANN OLLIVER . My husband is a hatter and hosier, at 58, Plumstead Road—on 5th January the prisoner came in for a cheap handkerchief, and chose one at 4 1/2 d.—he put down a half-crown, and I put it in my pocket, where I had two new half-crowns, and gave him a florin and 1 1/2 d.—my husband saw it that night when I turned my money out and we found it was bad—he kept it in his desk—this is it (produced).
THOMAS CHARLES OLLIVER . On the 5th January my wife was turning out her pockets and I saw three half-crowns, two new ones and a had one—I put the bad one in my desk and locked it till the 5th, when I took it to the police-court, brought it back, and gave it to my wife yesterday—this is it.
ELIZABETH PICKETT . My father is a tobacconist at 40, Plumstead Road—on 5th January, about 8.80, I served the prisoner with a two-penny cigar—he laid down a half-crown; I told him it was bad—he gave me a florin and told me to see if it was good, and it was—I called my father, who gave him in custody.
ISSAC PICKETT . On 5th January my daughter showed me a bad half-crown—I asked the prisoner where he got it; he said "In change at the railway station"—I gave him in charge; he said "Don't look me up, I had rather give you anything than you should lock me up"—I said that I had taken one before that week, and put them both on the counter, and the constable took them up and marked the one my daughter gave me.
JOHN KELLY (Policeman R 321). I was called to Mr. Pickett's shop and searched the prisoner, but only found this good florin on the counter—there was a half-crown and a florin on the counter—he said "I am very sorry, I was not aware it was a bad half-crown; I took it at Cannon street Station in change for a half-sovereign"—I also received this one marked with a cross, from Mrs. Lambert, this other from Mrs. Oliver, and this from Mrs. Pickett—it is about five minutes' walk from Beresford Square to 40, Plumstead Road.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was never is any of these shops."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not say "I will give you any money to let me off." I said "Don't lock me up, I did not know it was bad."
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted; MR. GURNEY Defended.
THOMAS HENRY PARRY . I am a tailor, of 2, Broadway, Deptford—I was aroused at about 2.30 a.m. on the 2nd inst. by my son—I looked out of my window, and saw Police-constable R 153 on the roof of Gothic Hall—I went downstairs, and let in Police-constable B 286—he came upstairs, and went through the back bedroom window on the back part of the roof—I afterwards saw the prisoner brought from the roof—I had seen him the night previous standing with his back to the Centurion public-house, opposite my place, taking a survey of the premises at about 8.45—there is a skylight over the back drawing-room door, about 5 feet long and 2 feet 6 inches wide—I had seen it on the night of the 1st, between 11 and 12, in good condition—when I saw it on the morning of the 2nd one pane of glass was broken and taken out—the woodwork which went down the length of the skylight was half cut through—there are only two panes in the window—when the prisoner was brought down I told him I had seen him survey the house the night before—he said "Yes, but he did not mean to break into the house then."
Cross-examined. He had an overcoat on—he was perfectly sober—he could walk straight and knew what he was talking about—he did not look excited—I could not see from his appearance whether he had been drinking for some time past.
GEORGE WILSON (Policeman R 153). I was in the Broadway at the time in question when I met a man, and in consequence of a communication from him I went with him to the bottom of Tanner's Hill—he whistled and I rang Mr. Parry's bell—no one answered—I went into the middle of the road, when I heard a scrambling on the roof—I then went to Gothic Hall and got on the roof, where I saw the prisoner on the top of part of Mr. Parry's house—I said "What are you doing there?" and he said "I know what you are after"—I was in uniform—I then saw Policeman R 286—he was round the back of Mr. Parry's house on the roof when I first saw him—the prisoner was just getting in at the garret window—Mr. Parry and the other constable were there.
Cross-examined. I was about ten or twelve yards from him when I saw him standing on the front portion of Mr. Parry's house—he was perfectly sober—I should say he had not been drinking very heavily for some time previously.
ANDREW CRANSTON (Policeman R 286). My attention was called to Mr. Parry's house at the time in question—he came down and opened the door—I went upstairs and got out on the roof at the back of the premises, where I saw the prisoner—I also noticed the skylight over the back drawing-room was broken—I said to the prisoner "What are you doing here?"—he said "I know what you have come for; I will settle you," and he made two blows at me with a knife he had open in his hand (Producing a pocket knife)—he had one of his boots in his other hand—I had my stick drawn and made two blows at him and missed him—he was about three feet above me—I went up another flight of stairs and got out at the attic window—I called out to Mr. Parry for a revolver—the prisoner then said "Don't hurt me; I will give in"—I told him I would assist him down if he would shut the knife and put it in his pocket—he
was putting his knife in his pocket when I sprang off the parapet and caught him by the leg and arm—he was taken to the station and charged—he said "I was there for no attempt to do what I am charged with"—the following morning I examined the skylight window over the drawing-room—the woodwork was about half cut through—the marks were such as might be made by that pocket knife—the body of a man could get through the window.
Cross-examined. I inquired about him at Brockley where he lived—he gave me a wrong number—I saw the foreman where he worked, and got a good character of him, that he was an honest, upright man, but occasionally drank.
By the COURT. He was in actual employment at the time.
SAMUEL MILLER . I am the keeper of Gothic Hall lodging-house, Deptford—the prisoner took a bedroom there on the night of the 1st instant—he went upstairs about half-past 10 o'clock—at 11 o'clock we heard a pane of glass fall into the shop from the roof—I went up to see if anybody was on the roof, but could not find anybody there—there was no one in his room, and the window was open—he had a coat on the bed, and the bed was not used—there was some rope in the pocket of the coat—it is a flat roof, and a person could get on to it from the window—I went on to the roof, but could not see anybody—I had never seen the prisoner before—he looked as if he were sober—I shut the window and looked all round, but could not find anybody.
Cross-examined. He did not seem like a person who had been drinking for some time past—the piece of rope was about two yards long, and might be used to tie up a trunk (produced)—the roofs are all the same height.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had no intention of committing a burglary."
Witness for the Defence.
BENJAMIN HILL . I live at 26, Woodbine Grove, Penge—the prisoner lodged with me for 18 months, and I always found him a very honest, upright, and straightforward man—he is a bricklayer's labourer—the week before Christmas he had a week's holiday, and he started drinking on the Saturday night—on Wednesday night he came home and wandered about the house, and I had to put him to bed—the following night he fell downstairs and we had to get him to bed—on Sunday I told him I could put up with it no longer, and gave him a week's notice—on Monday he went to work, and on Tuesday he came home and had no tea—he was away about half an hour, when he returned with a cab, and said to me "Can I take my boxes away?"—I said "Yes, by all means, mate"—I called my little boy and said "Take a light upstairs," and the cabman went upstairs and the prisoner too, and brought the boxes down the back way—I said "Take them out at the front, that is the nearest"—the prisoner called dawn to my missis "I will pay you when I get them out," and after he got them out he came round the back way and said "What do I owe you?"—this was New Year's night—my wife said "You can't see there, come round to the light," and he walked half into the kitchen and snatched the slate out of her hand, and away he went about a hundred yards off from me—I said to the cabman "He is not going away like that, he has not squared up yet"—the cabman said "What shall I take for my fare?"—I said "You have one box and I
will have the other; we shall find him"—the cabman found him outside the Penge Police-station—a detective came to me to inquiry, for him—he left behind him his dress waistcoat, a pair of trousers, a pair of boot., and a watch.
Cross-examined. He left my house about 7.45.
JOHN CHAPMAN . I am a cabman—the prisoner engaged me on the 1st inst. at 6.30—I went to 26, Woodbine Grove—he got out of the cab and said "Come and help me with my boxes," and I followed him—the boxes were put on the cab and I was waiting for him to come out, and he come running out with a slate in his hand, just as the landlord was shutting the door—he said "Come along" and he ran down Woodbine Grove—the landlord said "Where is he gone to? he has taken the slate and not paid me the money yet; he is going to try and rush me, I suppose; I can't stand the loss of it, you take one box and I will take the other"—we followed, he ran for a mile before he stopped and when he stopped he had the slate in one hand and a sovereign in the other—he said "I knew he meant mischief, I could see by the look of him"—he did not say what he meant, and mentioned no names—I persuaded him let me have the slate to look at it—I said "Where do you mean to go to?"—he said "I don't know," and then he said "Take me to Penge Station"—I said "Which station, the Chatham and Dover line or the Brighton line?" and he said "I want to go to, London"—I said "They both go to London", and he said "The Brighton line," and I left him there, and then he said "Is he coming?"—I do not know what he meant.
SEPTIMUS SLATER . I live at 13 Meyrick Road, Brockley, and am a labourer in the employment of Mr. Stapleton, where the prisoner also works—I was at work with him on 1st January—he was then very queer, and said "I feel very queer to-day, Slater;" I said "You look like it," and in the afternoon when he was on the scaffold with me he would have walked straight off it if I had not caught hold of him—he would make mistakes, and go for bricks when he wanted mortar.
By the COURT. He was able to carry a hod.
The prisoner received a very good character.
NOT GUILTY .
The COURT. informed Police-constable Cranston that the Grand Jury had made a presentment highly commending his conduct, in which the Court and Jury concurred.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
EDWARD KEMP . I live at 1, Straits Mouth, Greenwich—I am a labourer—I have been in the Prisoner's employment about 17 months—he is a carman—I went to see him on Friday night about some money that he owed me, and saw Rainberg, the foreman of the works at Greenwhich Chruch—I spoke to him—I saw the prisoner cross the road to the Mitre public-house about 6.20—I said to him "The forman at the church has been down to your house"—he said "Where is he?"—I said "He went to the church"—the prisoner
went over to him, and they both returned and went into the Mitre—before they went in I saw the prisoner put his hand in his pocket and give Rainberg some money—Rainberg then left the public-house—the prisoner came out and went on the other side, and Rainberg and another man went in at the same side—they came out leaving the prisoner there—when he came out he asked me whether I had seen his son-in-law go down home—I said "No"—he said "I expect him home with a load of rough hay or clover"—he told me to get up on Saturday morning, as he had a job for me, by 5.30 or 5.45—I got up and went round to the stables, and he gave me the key—I put the horse in the van, and he told me and the other carman, Harris, to go to Greenwich Church and we should see two men there—we did so, and they brought some lead on their heads from the side of the church, gave it to me and Harris, and we put it in the van—the prisoner was then standing by the Mitre, which is next door to the church—he told me to bring it round to his place; we did so—he followed us—when we got there we took the horses out of the van, took out the lead, and put it into a dustcart—I and the prisoner helped to put it in—he told us to take it to Robinson and Farmer—they are metal merchants in Old Woolwich Road, about half a mile from the prisoner's—the prisoner weighed it; it weighed half a ton—he went with me to Farmer's; Mr. Farmer refused to take it in—the prisoner told me then to bring it home, and I did so—he afterwards told me to go back and see Mr. Robinson, and to tell him there was about 12 cwt.—I went and Mr. Bobinson said if it was all right he would buy it—I went back and told the prisoner, and he said "Take it to Bobinson and I Will follow; if anybody stops you and asks you where you got it, say you got it at Beckenham, and borrowed the money of me, 3l. 10s.—as I went along the police stopped me, and I was taken in custody—on Thursday the 20th the prisoner came to see me in prison twice—he said somebody had opened their month, that Greenwich men were no good, and he would get me a London lawyer, if I swore I bought it at Beckenham—I said I wanted no lawyer—he said he didn't want to be seen in it, he had to study his character—he told me I should get three months—I believe he came to see me of his own accord—I did not send for him—I had been to the same church before with a van, four times altogether, after lead, and I brought the lead away—the first time was a few minutes past six in the morning—the prisoner went along with me, and two men brought the lead from the side of the church—I took it home and shifted it from the van into the cart in the same way—I took it to Robinson and Farmer—the prisoner followed behind—the lead was weighed and handed out of the cart—Mr. Robinson gave me this cheque—I cannot write, and Mr. Robinson endorsed it for me—I took the horse and cart home—I went to the bank with the cheque; they would not pay it, and I took it back to Mr. Robinson and his son wrote the other endorsement on it, and I then went back to the bank and got the money and gave it to the prisoner outside the Mitre Public-house—he gave me two shillings that morning—the second time I went to the church the same thing happened—I went to the yard about 6 o'clock in the morning and found the prisoner there alone—I put the horse in the van by his orders, and went with Harris to the church—we got some more lead—the prisoner was standing by the Mitre and could see what we were doing—we took the van to the stable, and put the lead into
the dustcart, and took it to Robinson and Farmer; the prisoner followed behind—on that occasion I got a cheque for 1l. 10s. 5d. and a sovereign—the prisoner asked Mr. Robinson for change for the sovereign; he got change, and he gave one of the men a shilling—he told me to take the cheque to the bank; they gave me the money for it, and I gave it to the prisoner—on the third occasion the same thing occurred—I got 2l. 7s. 6d. in cash, which I gave to the prisoner—Harris was with me three times out of the four.
Cross-examined. I know Sergeant Forth—after I had been remanded a week he told me I was a foolish young fellow—that was before the prisoner came to see me in the prison—I had told the police what I have stated to-day before that—Forth did not tell me that if I gave information I should not be be punished; he said it would make it better for me if I gave information, and I did give it; and after that I was out on bail, and after that the Magistrate discharged me—I swear positively that I saw the prisoner give Rainberg some money, and that he told Harris to go to the church and get some lead—he was speaking to Mr. Farmer for three or four minutes; they went into the shop and I saw them come out together—I knew that this lead did not come from Beckenham; I knew it was a lie; I only did what my master told me—when I was taken into custody I said it came from Beckenham—I did not know whether I was doing wrong or right, throughout—I knew that telling a lie was wrong—I did not know it was wrong to try and sell the lead—my master was behind me—I knew that he was drawing bricks to the church; I thought he had either bought the lead or was changing bricks for lead.
JOHN HARRIS . I am a labourer, and live at 12, Hale Street, Deptford—I have been working for the prisoner driving a horse and cart—on Saturday, 8th December, I was going up Roan Street towards the prisoner's stables; I met Kemp—he said something to me and I went with him to Greenwich Church; he had a van with one horse with him belonging to the prisoner—I found two men at the church—I went inside the church-yard and they handed me some lead rolled up in pieces; it came from a hole by the side of the church—they put it in the van—we took it to the prisoner's stable—I there saw the prisoner—that was a good 100 yards from the church; he was near the Mitre, which is next door to the church—he told me to go somewhere for a load of sand—I believe the name of Eldridge was on the van—I don't know whether the van belonged to the prisoner; the horse came from his yard.
Cross-examined. There is a churchyard between the church and the Mitre—I had no conversation with the prisoner before the lead was loaded—it is not true that he said to me "Go to the church and get a load of lead"—I don't know if he could see the church from where he was standing—he was in the habit of going to the Mitre every morning for drink—he used to let out his horse and van to any one—I have seen Kemp with them—I thought it was on his own account.
CHARLES ALEXANDER ROBINSON . I am a member of the firm of Robinson and Fanner, metal dealers, of Old Woolwich Road, East Greenwich—I have known the prisoner some time—I know Kemp; I did not know whether he was working for the prisoner or not—on the morning of 29th November, between 7 and 8 o'clock, Kemp came with a cart with 4 cwt. 1 qr. 18 lb. of
lead; it was weighed and I bought it of him, and gave him this cheque for 2l. 2s. 6d.—I think I endorsed it for him—this "H. E. Kemp" is my writing—later in the day Kemp brought it back to me and I told my son to endorse it "E. Kemp"—I had not to my knowledge seen the prisoner, before the lead was brought that morning—he has brought things to our premises; I can't remember the dates; he has been in the habit of dealing with us on several occasions; I have known him for years—I was examined before the Magistrate—I did not to my knowledge see him on the morning of the 29th—I should not like to swear whether I did or not—I believe I did not have any conversation with him about lead before this—I believe I did before that morning; there was a conversation about lead, I can't say whether it would be that morning or no—I had told him I could not give more than 10s. a cwt.—on 1st December Kemp brought in his cart 5 cwt. 21 lb. of lead; the prisoner came about half an hour afterwards, while Kemp was there—the price of that lead was 2l. 10s. 5d.—I gave Kemp this cheque for 1l. 10s. 5d. and a sovereign—Kemp asked for silver—I did not see the prisoner at that time; I don't know where he was; I saw him afterwards standing outside the door—I did not see him give my men a shilling for weighing the lead—I gave silver for the sovereign—on 4th December I bought 4 cwt 3 qr. 19 lb. of lead of Kemp and paid him in cash—on Saturday, 8th December, Kemp came about 8.30; he spoke to me—I then refused to buy the lead and he took it away—he told me it came from Beckenham—the prisoner was not present.
Cross-examined. I thought they were partners—on one occasion the horse fell down and I helped it up—McDowell is in my service; he helped the horse up too—that was when I gave Kemp 1l. in cash—I don't know whether the prisoner gave him anything for his assistance—Kemp asked me to endorse the cheque—I thought I was dealing with Smith and Kemp all though the piece.
HENRY MCDOWELL . I am employed by Messrs. Robinson and Farmer as a rag sorter—I know the prisoner and Kemp—one morning about the beginning of December I saw Kemp at our warehouse by the scales—three or four men carried in some lead—there was a cart waiting outside—after the load was carried in the prisoner stood inside the gates—I weighed the lead and called out the weights to Mr. Robinson or Mr. Farmer, I could not say which, they were both there—the prisoner said to Kemp "You had better give the chaps a drop of beer"—after they received the money the prisoner gave me a shilling, and he and Kemp went away together.
Cross-examined. I did not help the horse up—I believe it fell down—the shilling was given to me for me and some others to have some beer—I could not be certain which got the money from Mr. Robinson, they were both there together.
FREDERICK FORD FORTH (Police Sergeant R). On Saturday morning, 8th December, about 9.30, I saw Kemp driving a horse and cart towards East Greenwich, towards Robinson's—I went behind the cart, and on removing some hay and sacks from the back I found a quantity of lead—I stopped the cart, and took it and Kemp to the station—he was charged with the unlawful possession—there was about 12 cwt. of lead in 14 pieces—Kemp was charged at the Greenwich Police-court on the 8th, kept in custody till the 29th, and then discharged—on the morning of the 8th,
after Kemp Lad been arrested, I saw the prisoner just outside his door—he said "I hear the police have got my horse and cart;" I said "Yes"—he said "What is it for?" I said "Kemp is charged with the unlawful possession of lead"—he said "I thought it was for a sore, or something of that sort"—I said "Have you any objection to us searching your place?" he said "No"—I then searched the premises—I asked him why the name of Eldridge was on his cart; he said "Because I have a bill of sale on them."
Cross-examined. I was at the police-court on all but one occasion—Mr. Farmer was called as a witness for the prisoner, and Mr. Rainberg—they are here to-day.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner till I saw him in the dock at Greenwich Police-court.
WILLIAM ROBINSON (Police Inspector R). Between 7 and 8 in the evening of 8th December I was on duty at East Greenwich Police-station—at that time Kemp was in custody—I had possession of the horse and cart then—the prisoner came to the station, and spoke to me about delivering up the horse and cart; he said they belonged to his brother-in-law, and he came to own it—I gave it up to him, and he signed this book (produced). (MR. POLAND. proposed to ask the witness to compare the prisoner's signature in this book with the endorsement on the cheque of 1st December. MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the witness being treated at an expert, and referred to a case before MR. JUSTICE BLACKBURN in which the evidence of a police-constable was refused on the same point. The RECORDER felt a difficulty in rejecting the evidence, although, of course, it would not go to the Jury with the same weight as that of an expert.) In my judgment the endorsement "E. Kemp" on the cheque is the same handwriting as that of the prisoner in my book.
Cross-examined. I have never given evidence before as to handwriting—the signature in this book is "Noah Smith"—the signature on the cheque is "E. Kemp"—I form my judgment especially by the "m"—that is the only letter—I do not form my opinion on that letter alone, but by the general writing—the writing I saw written was with a steel pen—there is a peculiarity in the two "m's"—the first stroke of the "m" and the second and third parts go down lower, it is not all in the same level—the word "remanded" is in the handwriting of a sergeant—the "m" goes down there, but not exactly in the same way.
WILLIAM WILSON . I am a builder, of the firm of Wilson and Exton, 65, Aldersgate Street—I have seen certain lead at the Woolwich Police-station, which I identify as part of the lead stripped from the roof of the church of St. Alphage, Greenwich—we are contractors for doing the work at that church—the lead is our property, and is of the value of 7l.—I gave no authority to any one to dispose of that lead—we take away the old lead and supply the new—Rainberg was a foreman doing work at the church in December—he is not in our service now.
Cross-examined. He is not the only man who has left our service about three have left since this affair and in consequence of it.
the 28th December at his house in Roan Street, Greenwich, on a charge of receiving this lead—he made no answer.
Cross-examined. I have seen Rainberg here to-day.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at Maidstone in March, 1875, of larceny from the person, after a previous conviction of larceny in 1862.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Hyams, MR. GRAIN defended England, MR. GEOGHEGAN defended Hulls, MR. KEITH FRITH defended Coe, and MR. BLACKWELL defended Goodson.
DAVID SMART (Policeman R 143). At a quarter to 8 on the 10th of January I was in High Street, Eltham, and received certain information, in consequence of which I went to Lime Farm, Eltham, where I got over a fence into a field, and then through a yard to a barn, about 45 feet long, and rather broader in the centre than at the ends—there were two large doors in the front of the barn, and one at the back—the doors were shut and fastened—I looked through a hole in the barn about 4 feet from the ground—I saw seventy or eighty persons assembled—there was a very bright light burning, I could not say what light it was—I saw Goodson and another man stripped to the waist fighting in the midst of the people, about the centre of the barn, with no gloves on—I could not say who the other man was, I only saw his back, Goodson's face was towards me—I could not see the ropes—the people were not all round the barn, some were at one end and some at the other—I sent to the station—five constables came to the barn with me—we examined the front doors and found they were blocked up with stones—we pulled them open and rushed in together—I met Coe in the doorway, he rushed into my arms—I am sure he was inside—I only speak to Goodson and Coe.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I was looking through the hole about five minutes—I heard no calls of time—I did not see the gloves in the barn—at one end of the barn there was hay, and mangold-wurzels at the other—it was a very bright light.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. The moon was shinning—I met Coe in the doorway, he must have come out from the barn—there was a general rush when he came into my arms—he was just inside the barn when saw him—I did not see any persons watching through the chinks—I did not hear Coe say he had heard there was going to be a sparring match, and he had come down but could not get in—it was not said in my presence.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. The hole was larger than my eye—I swear I could see the man's hands, I could not see his face to swear to him—I saw some part of his face.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have been in the force fifteen months—they do not keep boxing gloves, at our Eltham Station—the barn was not half full of mangolds and hay, they were at the end, the people were at the two ends—I said "Some of the seventy or eighty were at one end of the ring; and some at the other, I saw through them"
there were some between me and them—I saw the man's hands above his head, his fist went up.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I came here to prove they were fighting without gloves—I know it is necessary to prove that—I cannot say how long the fight was going on before the door was burst open—I was there about a quarter of an hour before the door was burst open—I saw the fight for five minutes—Goodson had a mark on the left side of his head, a bit of a scratch, on the top of his head, it was bleeding a little and the blood was coming out underneath the hair—I looked at it at the station—Inspector Pratt was there—Goodson had got a fresh black eye, his blind eye was bruised—I did not see any other marks—there was no blood on their faces.
Re-examined. All I saw of Goodson was when I was watching outside, I did not see him again till at the station.
ALFRED MOONEY (Policeman R 59). I was sent for to the barn on Lime Farm—I looked through a hole in the woodwork on the opposite side to Smart—the door does not quite close to, and I got a good view of what was going on inside—I saw Goodson and England stripped to the waist fighting—they had no gloves on—I saw each receive blows; neither of them went down—there were about 70 people I should say, some standing on the ground and some sitting on hay—there was a ring about 16 feet one way, and 18 feet the other, formed with ropes and staples, at the side of the barn—Goodson and England were the only two inside the ring—I watched about a minute—I saw Hulls standing on something at the side of the ring; he looked at his watch and called time, and entered something in his pocket-book, which he had in his hand—he called time twice—when he did so two other men stepped into the ring and wiped the two men down with some loose hay and a cloth; there were two pails of water there—then Hulls called time again, and the two men went out of the ring, and the two prisoners began fighting again—I saw Goodson get a blow on the chin and England one on the lower part of the neck—I saw no gloves while it was going on—I could see their hands quite plainly—I and the constable entered together, and I saw Goodson taken—he had no gloves on when taken—I took Hulls just inside the barn; he was running out, and pulled me with him—he said "Let me go, I am a married man with a large family"—he was very violent—Rosendale came to my assistance—Hulls slipped out of both his coats and tried to throw me down—before Rosendale came I picked up a brick and threatened to strike him if he was violent; I did not use any violence—on the way to the station he got his hand into his overcoat pocket and dropped some papers—I don't know who picked them up, they were handed to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. The people were standing at each side of the ring, at the two long ends of the barn, there was nobody standing in front of me—I heard time called when the men were actually fighting—I have never seen persons fight, nor the rules of fighting—they were large folding barn doors, fastened from outside—I moved the stones and the other constable the wood—we did it very quietly—there was a great rush out, and it was a second or two before I could get into the ring.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. The door I looked through was at tne side of the barn; there was a small chink about an inch—it was more
than a quarter of an inch—I saw no mangold; I saw one truss of hay at the end of the barn, close to the ring—I swear I recognised England at the time; I remember his face—I have no doubt about it—the best part of him was facing me—I watched him for about a minute—I saw the men fighting, Goodson get a blow, time called, and the wiping down, all in a minute, and in addition, 12 to 18 blows struck—it might have been more or less—I ran for other constables—I have not said before that I saw Goodson knocked down—I had never seen England before—there was a gas bracket in the barn; I can swear that, and that it was alight—it was above the hay.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The distance from the barn to the police-station is about three-quarters of a mile—I was on duty at the station when information came, I believe brought by some person whom Smart had sent—I don't know if the fight was going on all that time—Goodson had a mark on his left shoulder, and at the station I noticed a scratch on his shoulder where there was blood, and his left eye was swollen and blackened—I did not hear the Magistrate say he could see no marks of violence on him, it was not said in my presence—I was not in uniform—I caught Hulls by the collar before I said anything to him—his violence consisted in trying to slip out of our hands—I threatened to strike with the brick if he did not desist—Rosendale was in plain clothes too—when struggling I told him I was a police officer—I have seen a glove fight at the Crystal Palace, I have never seen a prize fight—I didn't hear Hulls offer to pay for a cab to the station—Rosendale came and caught hold of Hulls after he had lost his own prisoner—Hulls was carrying his overcoat on his arm; I had hold of one arm; I can't say if Rosendale had hold of the other—he was not so violent going to the station—the papers did not drop out, he threw them away.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Both of the men were wearing drawers—I saw men wearing drawers at a sparring match I went to.
Re-examined. I never heard of a sparring match in a barn with closed doors.
HUGO BELL (Policeman R 358). I went with the other constables to this barn and looked through a hole—I saw Goodson and England in the ring stripped to the waist—I saw England knock Goodson in the left breast and knock him down with his left hand—I saw the ropes forming a ring 16 by 18 feet, I believe—I did not see England receive any blows—I saw Hulls standing against the rope with a book open—I heard shouting, and I heard somebody call time, nothing else—some one who was stripped to the waist the same as the others stepped into the ring and picked Goodson up—time was called before they began—I did not see who called it—they had no gloves on—I did not see these gloves or this cup until next day, at the Woolwich Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I was looking through the double doors on the east side of the barn—time was not called when they were sparring; they were resting—I know nothing of the rules of the prize ing more than I saw—after Goodson was knocked down they rested a minute—I was in before Mooney when we made the rush—I moved some of the wood from the doors—there was a rush out; it was some time before we could get in.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. There are no witnesses here except policemen—we were called in one at a time before the Magistrate—I was not in a public-house before I was called in—I don't know if the others were.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Mr. Hulls was writing in a memorandum-book like mine—it has not been found; the barn and road were searched.
WILLIAM PALTRIDGE (Policeman R 333). I went with the other constables to the barn, and looked through the hole—I saw Goodson and another man fighting inside a ring formed by rope—they had no gloves on—I saw no blow struck—I saw Hulls outside the crowd with a book open in his hand—I and another constable broke open the door—Hyams rushed out; we took him into custody—he said "For God's sake let me go, for the sake of my wife"—I saw no gloves there, nor that cup—the light came from a gas-bracket.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. When I took Hyams into custody there was no one but six constables outside—he was in the doorway, coming out, trying to rush past me—I did not say I was a policeman; I was not in uniform; two of the other constables were, with whom I was.
GEORGE ROSENDALE (Policeman R 350). I was one of the policemen on this night—I looked through a hole, and saw 70 or 80 men round a ring formed of ropes—Goodson and another man in the ring were stripped to the waist and fighting with the bare fists—there were no gloves—Hulls was standing on one side of the ring with a book in his hand—we broke open the door—I caught hold of one man; he got away from me; I don't know if he was one of the principals—I saw Mooney with Hulls, who was behaving very violently—I went to assist Mooney—on the way to the station Hulls put his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out some papers, and threw them behind him—some of them were picked up and given to the inspector; I don't know if all were—I saw no gloves or cup there—I searched the barn afterwards—I saw two pails of water in the ring—the ropes were fastened to staples in posts—the ring was oblong.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I came to assist Mooney after my prisoner had escaped—I took hold of Hulls's collar—he was not violent on the way to the station; not after he knew we were constables—I cannot say from which coat he took the papers—Mooney held him by his arm, I by his collar—his greatcoat was on the arm by which Mooney held him—he took them out of that coat—I saw him put his arm over the coat—I did not find a book—I did not hear him offer to pay for a cab to the station—he asked to be allowed to put on his greatcoat.
Re-examined. I went up to Mooney about a minute or two after the place was broken into.
THOMAS BURNETT (Acting Sergeant R 87). I went with some of the constables to the barn, and looked through a hole—I saw Goodson in a fighting attitude, and another man, whom I could not swear to, in the ring—he had no boxing-gloves on—I was 10 or 12 feet off—I did not notice the gas branch, but it was a very bright light—the doors were opened—I walked across the ring and apprehended Goodson—I took hold of his hand immediately; he had no gloves on; there were none to be seen—I took Goodson to the station—subsequently I went back and searched the barn—about an hour after the fight I found this pair of boxing-gloves about 30 feet from the ring, on the top of a heap of mangold-wurzel—they were quite dry, and laid together—I found no cup there.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I was looking through the hole
about a minute—the large folding doors were opened—a 56lb. weight and a very heavy square weight and two large sticks were laid against the door; there were some stones outside—I saw Mooney taking the sticks and stones away—to my knowledge large stones were not piled against the door—I heard no call of time—the others were nearer where this man was standing.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. There is a mark of blood on these gloves.
Re-examined. I don't know how the blood came there.
JOHN PIKE (Inspector R). I assisted to the station with Coe, and at 8.15 I was at the Eltham Station, when the prisoners, with the exception of England, were brought in—England was brought in on a warrant on the 15th—the four of them were charged at the station, Goodson with being one of the principals in a prize fight, and the other three with aiding and abetting him—Hulls said "It was not a prize fight, it was a sparring match"—I said "The police saw no gloves" he said "There were some there"—eventually a pair of gloves were found—Rosendale gave me some paper, among them billheads of the Sporting Life and a number of sporting memoranda of different kinds—the note-book was not found—I have not heard of any sparring matches or glove matches at Eltham—the police would not interfere with those if it was fair play.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. Mr. George Heath rents the barn, which he uses for agricultural purposes, hay, straw, and putting farm implements in—it is in a farmyard; you reach it through a pair of gates; the gates are not kept locked, they are shut.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. These gloves have been in the possession of the police ever since that night.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Goodson: "We had gloves on." "Hulls: "They contested with the gloves." Coe: "I was not in the barn at all; I saw them sparring with gloves through a crack in the door. I could identify the constable who was in plain clothes." England: "It was a competition with gloves."
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that the Count for a riot would not stand, as this was a private place. MR. METCALFE did not contest that Count. The RECORDER considered that the first two Counts should be withdrawn, and that the ease should go to the Jury on the third and fourth, the unlawful assembly and conspiracy Counts.
Hyams and Hulls received good characters.
COE and HYAMS— NOT GUILTY .
GOODSON, ENGLAND, and HULLS— GUILTY .— Fined 10l. and to enter into their own recognisances to keep the peace.
MR. SIMS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
REUBEN SHUTTLEWORTH . I am a partner in the firm of Hayes, Lloyd, and Shuttleworth, manufacturers and agents of musical instruments and family machinery—we sell organettes—the prisoner was employed by us as a canvasser to collect orders only for our organettes; we have collectors besides—a canvasser should simply obtain orders and deliver goods—he is
paid 15 per cent, on the amount—he would deliver the organette and a deposit would be paid him, which he would receive as part of his commission—after receiving that the agents have no right to receive any more money—the collectors are kept as a distinct set of servants, to collect the money—on 23rd November I had occasion to speak to the prisoner with reference to receiving money of a customer; I complained and discharged him on that account—I paid him what was due then, but since he has been discharged money has been paid on his orders by which 1l. Has become due to him—all the customers have not paid up yet—I cannot say how much would be due to him if they had—Mr. Cooper keeps my books—after the prisoner had left I received information and sent him a telegram, and received this letter from him on 6th December—it is in his handwriting—the prisoner had no authority to represent me or call for money after 23rd November.
Cross-examined. Mr. Richardson, the foreman over the canvassers, engaged the prisoner—Mr. Richardson is not now in my service; he left about a fortnight after the prisoner—I might have said when I discharged the prisoner that I was not satisfied with the orders he was obtaining; I did not say at the end of the interview "You had better go on for a little"—I received orders through Richardson after that; he was supposed to get them himself; it might happen he would get them from a canvasser under him and send them on as coming from himself.
Re-examined. I never knew a canvasser allow his orders to be sent in by another—I have not the slightest reason to believe Richardson gave in any orders which were the prisoner's.
By MR. BURNIE. It would be irregular for the canvasser to collect money for an order he had obtained, and on the commission for which he depended—I should discharge a canvasser who did so.
By the COURT. 19s. or 20s. were due to the prisoner for commission.
The COURT here intimated that a charge of fraud could hardly be sustained upon these facts, and the Jury returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
HESTER PLUMMER . I am a widow living at 9, King Street, Deptford—the prisoner's mother came to lodge with me on June 7th, 1883—the prisoner was living with her and slept in a room with his brother and my son—a box in that room containing baby linen and bedding, and unlocked, had been left in my charge by Mrs. Midwinter—on 8th June I saw a bag in the prisoner's mother's room; I looked in it, and saw pieces of torn-up baby's nightdresses and shirts—I identify them as part of the linen that had been in the box—I went directly to the prisoner and spoke about it, and said "What have you been doing?"—he said "Nothing"—I said "You have been interfering with the articles in the box in your room"—he said it was only old rubbish—I said "I shall have you locked up for it"—he immediately put on his hat and went out—he did not come back to the house to my knowledge—I gave information to the police—while the
prisoner was at my house I noticed him several times go out with bundles—the lady the linen belongs to estimates it at 30s.
By the COURT. I did not see the things torn up; they were removed from his room to his mother's, and were in her room torn up ready for removal.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you go out with three or four bandles under your arm, not very large ones—I never said you stole a bed and bedclothes.
JANE MIDWINTER . I live at 52, Hosier Street, Deptford—formerly I lived at 8, King Street, and left there the night before Mrs. Plummer came in—I left in her care nine lying-in bags, one of which is destroyed—these (produced) are some of the things in the bag which I left with Mrs. Plummer—they are not the same as when I left them—I had seen the things on 2nd June, and next saw them on 8th June; they were all put in the box to go away—on 8th June I examined the linen; they were all safe when I left them—two shifts and three sheets and a dozen diapers and other things are missing out of the bag now.
By the COURT. The nine bags belong to the ladies at the church, and are given me to lend out to the poor; the other eight are quite safe—this is the remains of the one destroyed.
FRANCIS SHAVE (Detective R). I arrested the prisoner on 5th January, and told him he would be charged with stealing a quantity of linen from King Street, Deptford, in June last—he said "I did not steal it; I only tore it up"—information was given to the police in June; he had left the neighbourhood.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I merely tore the things up. I was hungry. I have been knocking about this four or five weeks with hardly a bit of food to my inside, and nothing to eat at all."
Witness for the Defence.
MR. BOUSTEAD. I am the prisoner's mother—he has been a lad of weak intellect all his life; at times he has fits—he is not allowed to work except when I cannot provide him with a home, and then he has to shift for himself—I missed a great many of my own things—he has not been right since he was four years old, when he had a fall.
NOT GUILTY .
300. ANNIE CLARKE (27) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a sheet, the property of George Robert Whittome; also to a previous conviction of felony in 1883 in the name of Annie McCarthy.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosected; MR. CLUER Defended.
MARY ANN DONOVAN . I am the wife of John Donovan—I live at 4, Princess Place, Moss Alley, Bank side, Southwark—the prisoner and his wife occupied one room on the first floor, and I occupy the ground floor and
a room on the top floor—they had been living on my premises since last October—they had three children; two lived away from home, and one lived with the father and mother; she was three years old—on 27th December, about a quarter-past 3 in the afternoon, the deceased came to me, and we went to a public-house called the Blue Pump for the purpose of meeting the prisoner; he was not there—we waited, expecting he would come, up to about 4—while we were waiting there we had a pint of beer, which the deceased paid for; the landlord made us a present of some spirits, which we put into the beer, and we shared the beer and spirits between us—when we had finished the drink we went home, and found the prisoner at the door with a man named Cook—he was drunk; Cook was not quite so bad—we all four went into my parlour on the ground floor—the prisoner put his hand into his pocket, and gave his wife 10s. in silver, and said "You called me a b——tinker, and that has stuck in my heart for you"—she said "Well, I didn't mean anything by calling you so"—he said "If I am a tinker, Mrs. Donovan, you come out with me; it is the first time I have had the pleasure of taking you out since you have been confined; come out and I will treat you"—Cook said "Uncle, what is the good of being cross, what is the good of being foolish?—Cook is his nephew—Cook said "Let's go and have a quiet glass together and treat Mrs. Donovan"—all four of us then went into the Blue Pump, and the prisoner called for a quartern of gin, which I and the deceased shared between us—Cook and the prisoner had a pot of beer between them, which they upset—I am not quite sure who paid for it, but the prisoner paid for the gin—we left the Blue Pump about 6 o'clock, the prisoner and Cook going out together first—as we were going home he asked his wife to get him something for his tea—I believe he had been out before, and he said there was a nice plaice, and the price was 15d. or 16d.—he told her to go and get it, and she said "All right"—he wanted her to go and she wanted him to go and get it himself—she went and came back and told him there was no such thing there—she then went to get something for his tea, and I went to a neighbour's house—I waited there some time and then came back and stood at my door—the prisoner came out of my parlour and asked for his wife; I got him in again and asked him to have a sleep, and I would go and see if I could see her—he went in and I then went and met his wife, who was coming back with a rabbit for his tea—I went out and left them in the parlour and went back to the neighbour's house, where I had been a short time before—they used the parlour as a cooking place—while I was at the neighbour's the deceased came and the prisoner came after her and asked her to come back—he told her to come back home to get him something to eat, that he had had nothing to eat all the day—he was rather angry—she went with him; I didn't see her again that night—I saw him about 11 o'clock asleep in his own room on the floor—I went as far as the door looking for my little boy, and he had got my little boy lying by his side asleep—I had previously put him in his own bed; he must have taken him out of bed and carried him up—I took him away and put him in his own bed—I said nothing to the prisoner—ho was sound asleep; I didn't wake him—his wife was out at that time—I sat up till 2 o'clock in the morning waiting for her to come home; she didn't come home, and I want to bed—I heard no more of them till next morning about 8 o'clock—I then heard them quarrelling, and I heard the prisoner call out "Wait till I catch
you"—she answered him, "Perhaps you wouldn't have it all your own way"—I heard him go out—I didn't see the deceased again till 3 o'clock in the afternoon—the prisoner had been in and out of the house inquiring for his wife several times—about 3 o'clock she came home with Mrs. Roffey—they passed through my room to go upstairs—she didn't speak; she appeared to me to walk all right—shortly after Mrs. Roffey came downstairs with something in her apron and passed through my room and went out—shortly after that the prisoner and Cook came home—Cook stopped in my room to speak to me and the prisoner went upstairs to his own room—Cook followed him shortly afterwards—after that I heard the prisoner ask his wife if there was anything for him to eat—she said "You shall have it presently"—she said she would go and borrow a saucepan to cook the rabbit in—he said "No, you shan't borrow any more things; there's not a thing in the place, not a plate to eat off but the b——woman's downstairs," meaning me—he asked her to go and buy a saucepan; she said she would—he asked her how long she would be; she said "Not long"—he said "What do you mean by not long?"—she was about half an hour gone and then came back with a saucepan—he said "I thought you were going to buy a new saucepan"—the one she brought was not a new one, but a borrowed one—she said "The saucepan that was at Carey's they asked too much money for, and I could get a better one in the Cut"—the prisoner said "I want my supper"—this was between 4 and 6 o'clock in the afternoon—he said he would have a sleep; she said "That is the best thing you can do"—he went to the bed and found that the blankets were gone—he said "Where is my b——blankets gone?"—she said "All right, Robert, you shall have them presently"—he said "Have you pawned the blankets?"—she said "Pawned them; no, Robert; open your big mouth now as usual"—I was downstairs washing the baby at the time, but my door was open, and I could hear this conversation going on in their room—the next thing I heard was, he said "You must give me an account of where my blankets have gone"—she said "I am going down-stairs for the water"—he said "You are not going out of this room till I know where they are gone"—then the door was shut—the next thing I heard was a jostling in the room, and she cried out "Oh, George, George! he has a knife in his hand! Oh, George, he has stabbed me, he has done for me!"—I ran up and met her doming downstairs bleeding from the neck—she went out into the court; I followed her, and fetched a policeman, and when I came back she was gone—I went up to the prisoner's room with the policeman; he was lying on the floor—he gave the policeman the knife, and said "I am a man; I don't deny it; this is what I done it with"—he was taken to the station—I afterwards saw the woman dead in the dead-house at Guy's Hospital.
Cross-examined. I was examined before the Magistrate—I stated there that I heard the deceased say "He has stabbed me, he has done for me"—I said those words—I had a clock upstairs in my bedroom, but it was not going very well at the time—there is no latch to the door; there is a piece of string outside which communicates with the latch inside—I always made it a point for the last who was downstairs to take the string off—I took it off—they were in their own room when I heard the prisoner say "Wait till I catch you"—I think he was in bed by the sound of his voice—they came to my house on the 15th of October—the wife came first for a week—I was on friendly terms with her—she has tippled for drink, but
not what I call drunk—they were good lodgers to me; I had no fault to find with them as regards payment—they were not what I call quarrelsome; they were friendly together—when he said "You called me a b——tinker this morning, that stuck in my heart for you," he said he was never called such a thing before—he was not cross at that time—he went out soon after and went to the Blue Pump—I was here on Monday—I went with the other witnesses to the Blue Pump afterwards; we were not very long there—we were speaking of this trial—I am not aware that I said that I would hang the prisoner; I don't think that I could have said so—I will swear to nothing but what I am sure of; I would rather say that I did not say such a thing, because there is no reason why I should say such a thing—to my recollection I can swear that I did not say those words, but I shall not say—the other witnesses were present and they are here now—it was about 2 o'clock when I removed the string from the door, I never did it till the clock struck 2.
GEORGE COOK . I am a carman at 43, Surrey Row, the prisoner is my uncle—on Saturday afternoon, the 28th December, about half-past 3, I met him in Guilford Street—he asked me to his house, 4, Princess Place, Moss Alley—he was about half drunk I should think—I went with him—his wife was not in when I went there, she came in about a quarter of an hour afterwards—as soon as she came in he asked her if she was going to get him any tea ready, for he had had nothing to eat all day—she said "Yes, if you like to wait for it"—he went towards the bed and sat down on it, and looked the bed over and found that the blankets were gone—he said "What have you done with them?" she did not reply for a few minutes, and then she said "Well, I have pawned them if you wish to know, I might as well tell you that as anything else"—he said "What have you done with the 10s. that I gave you yesterday?"—she said "I have spent it if you must know"—nothing more was said that I am aware of—she was standing against the cupboard as if she had her hands in the cupboard, and he walked over to the cupboard, and then I heard her say "Oh, George, he has done it for me"—I did not see what he did, I saw him as he came over to her like raise his hands to her—I never saw anything in his hands—he was standing very nigh close against her—he went from the other side of the fireplace, he had to take about three or four steps before he got to ber, after that he came back to where he had been standing—I was sitting on a box—I thought he seemed going towards her again, and I jumped up and caught hold of him, and said "Oh, uncle, what have you done?"—I saw blood upon her when she went downstairs—I left the prisoner and went after her, I found her about three yards away from her own door, lying down in front of Mrs. Farney's house—she was saturated with blood—I went for a doctor but could not find one, I came back and she was then gone—I then went up into the prisoner's room, he was lying down on the floor, with his head on the bed—I went up with the constable, he said "All right, I know what you want, you want me; I was always a man, I have done it, and there is the knife I have done it with," and he gave the knife to the constable—he had got the knife in his right hand when I saw him go back from his wife, and when I caught hold of him it looked to me as if it was open—I afterwards went to the hospital and saw my aunt dead.
Cross-examined. I did not think anything serious had happened at the
time, I did not think it was so serious as it was—I did not think he had any intention to do anything like that—I heard that she had been drinking two or three days off and on all the week—she was a woman that took to drink of late years—I had seen her that same morning about a quarter to 11 the worse for drink in the Blue Pump, with my uncle, and he was very drunk as well—I was not drunk, I had only just come from home, I had just had my breakfast—I do not know whether there was any food in the cupboard, I saw none; the prisoner might have thought that there was something there to eat—the deceased had gone there to get the tea ready—they were both the worse for liquor in the morning, and in the afternoon my aunt looked as if she had been drinking, but my uncle had been home and got a sleep and was just getting the better of it when this happened—I did not hear him say "You must give me an account of where my blankets have gone"—I did not hear her say "I am going downstairs for the water," or hear him say "You will not go down till you account where the blankets have gone"—she was standing at the fireplace, and I was sitting on a box, there were no chairs in the room—the room door was open, I did not see any door shut—I am positive there was no door shut in my presence—I did not see the prisoner walk away from the fireplace and shut the door—I have lodged in the neighbourhood almost from a child, and have known my uncle for the last twenty-five years—he has always been a very good provider for home, he always looked after the home, and always had an excellent home—he has taken his wife back on several occasions when she has deserted him for months and weeks—she had been away from home a rare time before October, and he took her back and they went to live along with Mrs. Donovan—he was always wonderfully kind to the children, always looked after them, and well clothed them—I did not know that his wife was always in the habit of pawning things—the prisoner was known all about the neighbourhood as a quiet, peaceful man—he never struck my aunt as I know of.
Re-examined. I had been asleep in the room this afternoon a little while—she had just come in when I woke up, and then the conversation.
MARY ANN ROFFEY . I am the wife of James Roffey, and live at 47, Warwick Street, Blackfriars Eoad—Mrs. Farney is my mother, and she lives at 5, Lad's Court—I know the prisoner and his wife—on Friday, 28th December, I saw his wife at Mrs. Farney's about half-past 12 in the day—she remained there till 2 o'clock—there was a pint of beer on the table—about 2 o'clock the prisoner came in with Cook; he had a wash; he had nothing to drink there—I went away with his wife and Cook, leaving him there—we went to the Noah's Ark public-house; we stayed there about an hour—we had some drink there—I lent his wife 2d. there—the prisoner came in and had some drink there—I lent his wife the 2d. to pay for a pint of ale for him; she did pay for it—the prisoner said to her "Ria, you are a good girl, but you ought to be better; I don't ask you for much, but are you going to get me anything to eat; give me a crust of bread;" she said "Yes," and asked me if I would go and get him a halfpennyworth of crust; I went and bought it, she gave me a halfpenny to do so—I brought the crust back to the public-house and gave it to the prisoner—we left him eating it—he said to his wife "Are you going to get me a piece of pork to eat with the rabbit?" she said "Yes, if you will wait a few
minutes"—she then called me out, and we left the prisoner and Cook there, and went upstairs to her own room—she said "I haven't got any money" and she took a blanket off the bed, and asked me to pawn it—I gave it to Mrs. Carney, and she gave me a pawn ticket and 11 1/2 d., which I gave to the prisoner's wife outside the Noah's Ark, and we went and had a pint of beer together, me and Mrs. Carney and the prisoner's wife—I then went with her to a pork butcher's, and she there purchased a small piece of pork, which came to 4 1/2 d.—we then went to the Blue Pump, where she ordered a quartern of gin and paid for it—we drank it between the three of us—we then went with the deceased to my mother's, where she borrowed a saucepan, and then left me—she had been having a drop at that time; she was able to walk home—she was not sober, and she was not drunk, she could talk and walk—when I last left the prisoner he had been drinking, as he looked to me—I was quite sober; all I had been having all day was a share in the pint of beer and the quartern of gin—the prisoner was not sober—about half an hour after the wife went away with the saucepan she came to my window at 5 Lads Court—I should think it was about 5 o'clock—she knocked at the window, and I went out and saw her lying on the window ledge—I saw blood upon her and a lot of blood down her jacket—Cook was there, and he went away to fetch a doctor—she didn't fall on the ground, because I caught hold of her; then she slipped on to the ground because she was so heavy—she was smothered in blood—a man named Field came with a barrow, and she was assisted into the barrow and taken to the hospital—I went with her—I couldn't tell whether she was dead before she got there—I held her up.
Cross-examined. It was not many minutes after I saw her lying against the window before she was taken to the hospital, I dare say it might have been 10 minutes—I don't know much of the prisoner, I knew his wife, they were on friendly terms together when I saw them that night—I was here on Monday last—I went to the Blue Pump after being here—Mrs. Donovan was there—I didn't hear her say anything about this case because I went out and left her there.
HENRY ROBERTS (Policeman M 119). On Friday afternoon, 28th December, about 4.45, I was called to No. 4, Princess Court by Mrs. Donovan, and I went at once to a room on the first floor, where I saw the prisoner lying on the floor with his head resting on the side of the bed, which was on the floor—I asked what had become of the injured woman—Mrs. Donovan said she had been taken to the hospital—Cook was also present—I asked what it was done with—the prisoner rose up and said "I was always a man, I don't deny it; this is the knife I done it with"—he banded me the knife with his right hand; it was then shut—I opened it and examined the blades—the prisoner said "It was with the small blade I done it"—I found marks of blood upon the small blade—I then told him he must go with me to the station—he said "I will go with you"—I took him there—I afterwards went to the hospital and saw the woman there dead—I examined the clothes that she had on and found these six pawn-tickets in her pocket; two of them are for blankets, one pledged for a shilling on 28th December, 1883, in the name of Carney, one in the name of Ann Plampton for two shillings, one blanket pledged the same day for a shilling in the name of Ann Carney—I also found three pawntickets on the prisoner.
MATTHEW FOX (Police Inspector N). On the afternoon of 28th December, a little before 6 o'clock, I saw the prisoner at the Southwark Police-station—he was charged in the usual way with the murder of Emily Maria Plampton by stabbing her in the neck with a knife—he said "That is right, sir, that is quite right; she ought to be dead years ago"—I saw these three tickets taken from him; one is for a saw pledged on 31st March, one for a coat on 10th September, and the other for a handkerchief on the 11th—I saw the knife—there appeared to be blood on the small blade—he appeared to be recovering, or he had recovered, from the effects of drink—he was then sober.
Cross-examined. He was sober enough to understand everything—I didn't caution him before he made this statement; I didn't speak to him at all—I took the statement down at the time—I produce it.
WALTER DENDY . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital on 28th December, about a quarter to 5 in the afternoon, when the deceased was brought there—I attended to her directly—I found that she was dead—her clothes were covered with blood—I saw that she was wounded—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—I found two wounds, one just under the ear on the left side about half an inch below the lobe of the ear, the other one was farther back, and two inches below the ear—the upper and front one was the more serious—it was such a wound as I should expect to have been inflicted by a stab of a knife—at the lower part it was one eighth of an inch deep as measured by the probe, and about one eighth of an inch in width—it had punctured one of the principal veins in the neck—the other wound was three-quarters of an inch deep, as measured by the probe—both wounds extended downwards and inwards—the second one had not severed any of the principal veins—in my judgment she died from loss of blood—I examined all the organs of the body except the brain—she had not a drunkard's liver—there was no appearance of injury to the liver from drink, it was quite healthy—those wounds might have been inflicted by the small blade of this knife.
Cross-examined. Neither of the wounds would have caused deach necessarily, if they had been attended to directly—if any one had been present who knew what to do she might not have died—if pressure had been put upon the wound it would have stopped the hæmorrhage—I should say from the position of the wounds that they had been inflicted from the side—if very great force had been used I should have expected it to have been deeper—I should say that it had been inflicted by the right hand, because they were on the left side of the neck—I don't think that they were such wounds as I should expect if in a scuffle the woman had fallen against the knife.
By the COURT. Taking the wound itself, if anybody had been present who knew what to do, it would not necessarily have proved fatal—taking the character of the wound, it was calculated to produce death under ordinary circumstances, provided no such medical attention was at hand.
GUILTY. Very strongly recommendsd to mercy, on account of the very great provocation uhich he seemed to have received. — DEATH .
Before Mr. Justice Williams.
MR. KEITH FRITH Prosecuted; MR. THOMPSON Defended.
NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoner for an indecent assault, on which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
JOHN JACKSON . I am a labourer, of Stoke, near Guildford, Surrey—on Saturday, 19th January, at about 11.15 p.m., I was going from Guildford with a young woman named Kate Kingshott—the road leads to Stourton, where the barracks are—I was standing a few yards from the new railway bridge, talking to Kingshott, when I heard one of the prisoners say something about the first civilian they met—what the words were I could not tell—three of them then surrounded me, and the fourth one took Kingshott from me and struck her—Sullivan took the purse out of ray pocket—I had also a watch in my pocket, which I last saw safe on looking at the time opposite the Drummer's Arms—I missed it in consequence of something the drum major said to me when he came up—the prisoners went to the barracks, and we went there with the drum major—I there saw Bryan just leaving the guard room—I made a communication to Provost Sergeant Pine, who sent for Bryan—I next saw my watch on Monday morning, and identified it—the prisoners are the four men.
Cross-examined by Holmes. It is not a very dark road where this happened—I had been drinking with Kingshott, but not much—my purse contained no money—I did not see my watch taken—I first saw Bryan it the barracks, but did not describe the others to the sergeant of the guard till you three came in—you were all searched, and nothing found on you—I said I had lost my watch and it laid between you four.
Cross-examined by Sullivan. You were thoroughly searched, and nothing found on you.
Cross-examined by Bryan. It was not a very dark road—there might have been two or three other soldiers pass by at the time—I recognised the other three, and Kingshott recognised you—I did not recognise you till I went to pick you out on Monday morning—there was nothing found on you.
Re-examined. I got to the barracks, and saw Bryan and the other three come in together four or fire minutes after.
KATE KINSHOTT . I am a single woman, of Woodbridge, near Stoke, Guildford—I was with the last witness at the time in question, when I heard the prisoners say the first civilian they should upset—I don't know the other words they used—three of the prisoners went round Jackson, and Bryan took me by the shoulders and tried to assault me by pulling my clothes up—I told him if he did not leave me alone I should scream—he told me to scream, and I did scream—he then struck me on the chest—I scratched his face—I identify all the prisoners—I did not see what they did to Jackson—Bryan hit me a second time, and got me down in the road—they then went off towards the barracks—I followed with Jackson, and when we got to the barracks Bryan had been there about two minutes—we took about 20 minutes, perhaps, to get to the barracks—there were no other soldiers going towards the barracks—when we got to the barrack
guard room I saw Bryan coming out with blood on his right cheek, the same place that I had scratched—I heard Provost Sergeant Walter Pine call him back—the other three prisoners came in two or three minutes after, and I saw the prosecutor identify them.
Cross-examined by Ross. Jackson picked you and two others out and I picked out Bryan.
Cross-examined by Holmes. It was not a very dark road where we were standing—I said so before the Magistrate.
By the COURT. If I say in my depositions "It was very dark; I was standing there about ten minutes," it must be a mistake—that is my writing—it was read over to me before I signed it—no, it was not read over to me I am sure.
By Holmes. I had been standing there with Jackson for perhaps twenty minutes or half an hour—I saw some more soldiers pass in the road—I could not recognise them—we were not in company with any other soldier—Jackson and I had been drinking together—I have known him for three months—I am sure that he had his watch before the occurrence, safely attached to his chain—nothing was found on you belonging to Jackson—the sergeant of the guard said "I have thoroughly searched all these men and found nothing on them that belongs to Jackson, and it is impossible for you in such a dark road to tell these soldiers, and therefore must let these men go to their beds."
Cross-examined by Bryan. No other soldier followed us when we left the public-house—we had been at the place of the occurrence for twenty minutes or half an hour—there was a soldier standing a few yards from us—I did not recognise him—you caught hold of my shoulders and tried to put your hands up my clothes, and I scratched your face—there was nothing found on you belonging to Jackson.
By Holmes. I saw you in uniform in the guard-room on Saturday night.
ALFRED SMITH . I am lance-corporal in the Royal West Surrey Regiment, generally known as the 2nd Queen's—on Saturday, 20th instant, at 7.15 a.m., I was going from the barrack room to the guard-room when I found this watch on the ground (produced)—I handed it to Sergeant-Major Warwick.
Cross-examined by Holmes. It struck me that it had been thrown there—the glass was broken—any one might pick it up coming from the guard-room to the barrack room—any soldier going from the guard-room to the barrack-room would have to pass the place where it was found.
WALTER CHARLES PINE . I am provost-sergeant in the 2nd Queen's, quartered at Stourton—on the 19th inst. I was in the guard-room about 11.50, when Bryan came in, and between three and five minutes afterwards the prosecutor and Kingshott came in—all who come into the barracks at that hour go through the guard-room, because it is after tattoo—I have had the spot pointed out to me where the watch was found; that lies at the back of the guard-room and barrack-room—Bryan was in the act of leaving the guard-room and going towards the barrack-room when the prosecutor and kingshott came in following the other three prisoners—Kingshott pointed out Bryan and said "That is one of the men"—I called to him "Come back," but he went towards the open space behind the guard-room and was
gone two or three minutes—I sent one of the military police after him and he brought him back—he could easily have thrown the watch where it was found—I searched all the prisoners and found nothing on them—I took their names and sent them to the barrack-room—Jackson identified the other three prisoners—the following morning I confined the prisoners in the guard-room, and I believe they were again identified in plain clothes.
Cross-examined by Holmes. The sergeant of the guard is not here—he made five minutes' distinction between the time of your coming in and the other prisoners—several other men in uniform came in after you were sent to your beds, and they passed through in the same way as Bryan—they were not searched—every man reports himself to the sergeant of the guard—I heard afterwards of a young man coming in who was deficient of his waistbelt—I know nothing more of it—it is a very dark road where this occurred—there would be one lamp at that spot—it would be difficult to distinguish one soldier from another if they were all in uniform.
Cross-examined by Sullivan. The prosecutor did not pick out any particular man, but said "You three."
Cross-examined by Bryan. The man who brought you back might have seen you if you threw the watch away—I don't remember Kingshott saying she recognised you by your voice; she said she knew you by the scratches on your face—I did not see the scratches—you all crossed the barrack squate when you went to your beds.
Re-examined. Bryan ought to have heard me when I called him back; I shouted loud enough—no other men came in between the time Bryan and the others came in—my attention was not called to the scratches on Bryan's face.
By the COURT. There is a sentry at the gate—I am in charge of the guard.
ROBERT MARTIN . I am a private in the 2nd Queen's—I was with the last witness at the time in question and saw Bryan come in—I heard him call Bryan back; he did not come, and I fetched him—he had got about 100 yards from the guard room—Alfred Smith, who found the watch, pointed out the place to me—Bryan must have passed over it—the right side of his face was bleeding.
Cross-examined by Holmes. Every soldier who comes into barracks at night time would pass the spot where the watch was found, to go to the barrack-room—I was not in the guard room all the time after, and did not see four other soldiers come in—I don't remember a soldier coming in rather excited who had lost his waist-belt, or its being found the next day.
Cross-examined by Bryan. I saw you all thoroughly searched by the sergeant of the guard, and saw nothing belonging to the prosecutor.
Re-examined. I remained in the room about a quarter of an hour after that and I did not see a further party of men come in.
GEORGE PRYOR (Surrey Policeman 24). On the 21st inst. I went to Stourton Barracks, where I found the prosecutor, Kingshott, and the prisoners, who were pointed out to me in uniform—I apprehended them and charged them with stealing a watch, purse, and key from Jackson—in answer to the charge Holmes said "I can prove myself innocent"—the other prisoners made no reply—I took them to the station—on the way Sullivan said "You have taken us by surprise this morning; I know nothing about this watch or purse"—Bryan had some scratches on his right cheek—I produce the watch, which I received from Major Warwick.
Cross-examined by Bryan. You said nothing when I came to the guard-room; only Holmes spoke.
Cross-examined by Holmes. I did not see any one take the watch from me or feel it being taken—the chain was hanging'round my neck—the bow was attached to the swivel.
Cross-examined by Bryan. You were there when I lost my watch; you pulled the good lady away from me.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Ross, Holmes, and Sullivan said: "We don't wish to say anything now." Bryan said: "I should like it to go another week, so that I may get a Counsel to defend me."
Ross, in his defence, said that he was innocent of the charge and knew nothing of it.
Holmes said he was quite innocent, and that he was thoroughly searched by the sergeant of the guard and the sergeant of police, and nothing was found on him, and that he said when apprehended he would trust in God and prove himself an innocent man.
Sullivan said he was entirely innocent of the charge.
Bryan said that he left a public-house about 11 o'clock and did not know hit way; that he met a female and went away with her, and came back and went into the barracks about 11.50; that he had a little drop of drink, and when he came in he was accused, and he had not seen the other prisoners since he had been in the regiment, and as to the scratches on his face, he always had pimples, and the sergeant of the guard said he had no scratches on his face.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
ELLEN GEARY . I am the wife of James Geary, landlord of the Harrow, in Stoney Street—on 15th December the prisoner, who I knew as a customer, came and asked to see Mr. Geary—he was told that Mr. Geary was not in—he then asked to see me, and said would I oblige him by cashing this cheque for 12l. 9s. 6d. (produced)—I said I never cashed cheques in Mr. Geary's absence—he then asked if I would let him have 2l. on the cheque—I said I did not like doing it in Mr. Geary's absence—he said would I oblige him, as he was anxious to get home—I said I knew nothing of the parties—he said "You know him, he is in the market"—he did not say whether it was the Borough or Leadenhall—I let him have the 2l.—he said he should not have thought of asking such a thing if it was not as safe as money—I put the cheque in the cupboard till Mr. Geary came home, and then told him about it—on the Monday morning this note came from the prisoner, on this bill-head: "83, Beehive Passage, Leadenhall Market, Dec. 17, 1883. A. Harrison, fruit and potato salesman, hotels and shippers supplied at market prices. Madame,—If you give bearer the cheque I will send you over the 2l., as I have just seen the man I took it of; he will give me the money for it.
Please put it in an envelope and oblige A. Harrison"—I did not send the cheque back, it was paid into my husband's bank.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner more than two or three years by sight, as a customer; he only used to come occasionally, on market mornings—our house is half a mile from the address on the note—I know nothing about his family—it was after banking hours, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon.
By the COURT. I was induced to part with the 2l. because he begged so hard for it, making out that he was so anxious to get home, and I believed him to be a respectable tradesman; I did not think there was a doubt about it.
JAMES GEARY . I saw the cheque when I came home—I did not like the appearance of it—I put it in the cupboard till Monday morning, and then paid it into my bank—it was returned to me marked "No account"
GEORGE THOMAS MARTIN (Police Sergeant). On 24th December the prisoner was brought to the station—I read the warrant to him and showed him the cheque—he said "It was made out by a friend of mine on one of my forms; it was a betting account, and he said if it was made out on one of my forms it would be just the same; I had two old cheques by me out of a book, and that is one of them"—I afterwards said to him "I believe your account has been closed about a year"—he said "Yes, about last Christmas time"—I went to his house, and there found three books which were issued by the London and County Bank, with paying-in slips, and the entries torn out—I also found this bill-head, which corresponds with the one produced.
HENRY HARRIS HOLLIDAY . I am a clerk in the Southwark Branch of the London and County Bank—this cheque was supplied to the prisoner on 26th August, 1882—he had an account at the bank then; it was closed early in 1883—we have no customer named J. Smith—I know the prisoner's handwriting, I should not like to swear to this cheque being his handwriting.
The RECORDER was of opinion that as it did not appear that the money was parted with on the faith of the cheque, there was no'case to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoner for feloniously forging and uttering the said cheque, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HICKS Prosecuted.
CORNELIUS DRISCOLL . I am a labourer, and live at 38, Goding Street, Vauxhall—between 1 o'clock and half-past on the morning of 12th December I was returning home—I was about three or four doors from my own house when the prisoner sprang from a doorway and seized me by the throat—we had a struggle, I got my back up against a fishmonger's shop—he said "I have you now"—he got his leg behind me and tried to throw me—finding he could not he let go of my throat and went away—I stood talking to Alfonetti, who keeps the fish-shop, for three or four minutes—I then saw the prisoner come back with another man behind him—he came up to me and seized hold of me again and the other man caught hold of me behind; they threw me down and the prisoner knelt on my chest—he had his left hand on my throat and
was striking me with his right—I think he had something in his hand—he said nothing to me—he said to the other chap "Come on, we have him now"—whilst the prisoner held me down the other man was kicking me at the side of my head and beating me with his belt, I should think he kicked me seven or eight times-after that I became insensible and Member no more till I was in the hospital—I was by myself—Alfonetti had his head out through the top window of his sho—I heard him halloaing out, but what he said I could not distinctly hear—I think he was halloaing to the prisoner and the other man—he did not come down to help me—I did not see any other person in the street—I had never seen the prisoner before or the other man, they were quite strangers to me—I am quite certain the prisoner is the man who knelt on me—I should think it was about 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour from the time I was first assaulted till I became insensible; I was facing the prisoner all the time—I was 16 days in the hospital, and I am an out-patient now—I have got over it—I have a little discharge from the ear, but it is getting better.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't know that you live in the same gtreet that I do—I did not pull you away from the door—I did not see you the night before—I never saw you before to my knowledge—I saw you in the public-house the same night, I never drank with you—I did not see you at a coffee-stall at half-past 12 o'clock—I did not strike you and take a purse and 15s. out of your pocket in the street—I had not a prostitute along with me, there was no girl with me—I did not see you stooping down to put the key in your door and tear the sleeves off your Coat.
Re-examined. This was on the night of the storm—the street was qnite clear; I never saw anybody about.
JOHN ALFONETTI . I keep a fish shop at 54, Goding Street—early on Wednesday morning, 12th December, I was in my house upstairs—I heard a noise against my shutters—I opened my window and looked out, and saw the prosecutor and prisoner having a struggle, sparring—the prisoner could not manage him, and he walked away—the prosecutor had his back against my shutters; I talked to him when the prisoner went away—I know the prisoner by sight, by being a customer—he came back with a female—they had another sparring, and then he went away again, and then came back again with two young men, and lie said "Come here, you b——, I will pay you, I will fight you now"—he got, hold of him by the neck and threw him down, and the other parties kicked him, and the prisoner hit him with his right hand—I said "All right, I shall know you again"—the prisoner and the others then ran away, leaving the prosecutor on the ground for dead, I quite believe—four policemen came and picked the prosecutor up, and he was taken to the hospital in a cab—I did not sec the witness Riley, not to recognise him—when I first looked out of window the prisoner and prosecutor were the only two I saw—the police called on me at 4 in the morning, and I gave them information—I saw the prisoner at half-past 8 the same morning at Kennington Lane Police station.
By the JURY. There was gas in my house, and gas at the urinal in the middle of the road—I knew the prisoner by sight and by his voice and his clothing—he lives next door to me—he had a bother with me on the Monday before, and he said he was going to serve me the same—he was intoxicated—he came into my place with two females.
ARTHUR RILEY . I am a butcher, and live at 4, Gonsalvo Road, Walworth—on the morning of the 12th December, about 1.30, I was at Vauxhall with a friend, standing at the corner—I saw the prisoner on the opposite side, walking fast along without a coat, from the direction of Goding Street, and shouting—I could not distinguish his words—he met another man just under the bridge, and they went away together towards Goding Street—I followed after, not longer than two minutes, and saw the prisoner on the path in Goding Street; he had got the prosecutor down, and was kneeling on his chest, and I saw him strike him with his right hand on the face—there was another man standing up using infamous language towards the prosecutor, and kicking him with his right leg in the head, and striking him with the buckle end of a belt—I ran for assistance—I had been talking to a policeman before—I blew a whistle, which called the attention of four different police-constables, who arrived as soon as the prisoner had absconded—the prosecutor was insensible and bleeding profusely from the head—he was taken away by the constables—about ten minutes afterwards I went with a constable over Vauxhall Bridge and recognised the prisoner at once as we were going along, in a cab—I gave him into custody—he was charged by the police with feloniously assaulting the prosecutor—he at first denied all knowledge of the charge—he was taken to the station, and I told the Inspector what I had seen—the prisoner at first denied all knowledge of it—I asked him what about the 15s.—he then said "I will tell you how it was, I was in the doorway of the coffee-house in Goding Street and the prosecutor took 15s. from me"—I had heard about the 15s. when the row was taking place—the prisoner had been drinking, but he was perfectly conscious of what he was about—he walked to the station without assistance.
Cross-examined. I heard you ask the prosecutor to give you back your 15s. when you were assaulting him—I identified another man as the man who was with you, and he was discharged next morning.
By the JURY. There was a woman there, but she was not with either of them, she merely came across to see the quarrel like any other bystander.
JABEZ MUNDAY (Policeman N R 8). On the morning of 12th December, about 1.30, I was with the last witness at Vauxhall—I saw the prisoner coming along Kennington Lane shouting at the top of his voice—I could not distinctly hear what, it was not "Police"—he met another man under the railway arch, and after speaking two or three minutes together they returned towards Goding Street—Riley then said something to me and he followed them—I afterwards heard him whistle, and I then proceeded to Goding Street, where I found the prosecutor lying on the payement senseless—the prisoner and the other man had escaped—I was told something by the bystanders—two other constables came up and took the prosecutor away—I went in a cab with Riley in search of the prisoner—in going along Riley got out and went up to the prisoner—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerred with another man in violently assaulting a man in Goding Street—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, and after the witnesses had stated to the inspector what they saw the prisoner said, "The reason the man was assaulted was because he stole 6s. from my pocket, and I then knocked him down"—I searched him; he had no money on him—he gave his correct address—he was sober; he had been drinking,
but knew perfectly well what he was about—the prosecutor's clothes were searched at the hospital and 10d. found in them.
WILLIAM WARNSBOROUGH . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on the morning of 12th December the prosecutor was brought there—he was unconscious, and continued so on and off about 24 hours—I found a contused wound on the right side of the scalp in front, and considerable bleeding from the left ear, and a certain amount of bruising about the face; nothing material about his body—the most serious wound was that on the ear—I should not think that was likely to be caused by a kick—the other bruises might result from blows—he stayed in the hospital about two or three weeks and then became an out-patient—I should say he is pretty well recovered now; I have not examined him lately—the injuries were very serious; his life was in danger; erysipelas might have come on.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The man followed me to rob me, and did rob me."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not do anything to him till he followed me to the house. I had the key in my hand to open the door, and he knocked me down and put his hand in my pocket. I went away and left him twice. I met Riley and another man, and when I went back he struck me again, and I threw him down. The other man kicked him. I did not know the other man. He had my 15s. and my purse.
GUILTY .— Nine Month's Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
LOUISA BERTHA WALLIS . My father is a confectioner, at 45, High Street, Wimbledon—on 3rd January, between 6 and 7 p.m., Moore (See next case) came in for two buns, and gave me a florin—I kept it in my hand, and gave him the buns and the change—before he left, a constable in uniform came in and spoke to me, and I gave him the florin, as I found it was bad—he went out, and somebody took hold of Moore.
WILLIAM BAKE (Policeman V 140). On the evening of January 3rd I was on duty in High Street, Wimbledon, and saw the prisoner and Moore about 300 yards from the post-office, looking into several shops—Moore went into the post-office—a letter-carrier went in, and Moore came out and joined Thompson—I watched them for half an hour—they went to the corner of Longfield Road, past Mr. Wallis's shop, and Moore looked in, and came back and joined Thompson, who handed him something—Moore then went into Mr. Wallis's shop—Miss Wallis served him—I went in, and she showed me a florin, which she tried and found bad, and gave it to me—Moore was detained there, and I went out and went towards Thompson, who ran down Longfield Road, and I lost him—I went back to the shop and took Moore, and found on him 4s. in good silver—he was charged and detained—Mr. Blennerhasset and another gentleman brought Moore to the station in 20 minutes or half an hour—I searched Thompson, and found on him seven good shillings, thirteen
sixpences, a threepenny piece, 3s. 5 1/2 d. in bronze, and this pocket book with on address in it, 3, New Claude Road—that was the address Moore had given me—he was charged with being concerned with a man in custody named Moore—he said "I don't know a man named Moore."
CHARLES BLENNERHASSER . I live at 12, Homefield Road, in my own private house—on 3rd January, about 6 p.m., I found the prisoner in my back garden, and said "What are you doing here?"—he said "I want to see Mrs. Brown"—I said "No such person as Mrs. Brown lives hete, this is No. 12"—he said "I want No. 31"—I said "This is not No. 31, and I shall find out Mrs. Brown at No. 31 with you"—I walked out with him, and kept close to him—he then said "I want Tiffley" or "Tipley Road"—I said "I think I will take you to Mrs. Brown," and put my hand on his shoulder—he knocked me on the pavement, and ran as hard as he could go—I ran after him, calling; for assistance, and a gentleman stopped him—he was feeling in his pockets, and fearing he had a dagger or revolver, I hit him on his mouth to keep him quiet, and took him to the station—there is no Mrs. Brown and no No. 31; No. 30 is the last house.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were against my servants' entrance in the back garden.
GEORGE FELLOWS (Detective V). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there—I afterwards went to Mr. Blennorhasset's, and found in the next garden a bag with two cakes in it, and "30, Hill Road, Wimbledon" on it—it could easily have been thrown over the wall.
Cross-examined. I placed you with a lot of men, but neither you or Moore were picked out.
By the COURT. It is about 200 yards from Mr. Blennerhasset's to Wallis's, and 500 yards from Hill Road to Wallis's.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am entirely innocent of the charge. As for knowing that that man had the bad coin in his possession, I did not. Is it reasonable I should know what that man bad in his possession when I had not been with him three-quarters of an hour, and had not seen him for such a long time?"
Witness for the Defence.
By the Prisoner. I met you on this day in a public-house—you tapped me on my shoulder, and asked if I remembered you, and said "You used to go to Newington School, don't you remember me, my name was Teddy?" I said "Yes, I remember you now"—you gave me a glass of ale. and said that you were down there to see a young girl—I gave you my, address, 3, New Claude Road, which you wrote down in your pocket-book—you said "I was at the Surrey Theatre with the girl one day last week; if you come a little way up the road with me I will see her, and we can both go home together"—we got to the house, and I said "Go and knock;" you said "No, the signal will be a light in the area window," and said "Don't stand in front of the house"—we walked up the road, and you handed me your tobacco to smell, saying that you could not smoke it—I handed you my pouch, and you gave it back to me—I had had a glass of ale, and felt rather
hungry, and went into the confectioner's shop and bought two cakes—I did not know that I had this coin on me—you did not know whether I had a shilling or a pound—if the policeman saw me hand you anything it must have been my tobacco pouch—I said "Wait a minute," and ran into the shop—I did not tell you what I was going to get.
Cross-examined. I told him to wait, but I don't know whether he did—he could see where I went—I had my discharge from the Royal Engineers on 30th November, and have been out of work ever since—my father has heen assisting me—I was living at 3, New Claude Road, more than two miles from this—I was seeking employment—Teddy was the nickname the prisoner had at school—when I was brought out by the constable I did not know what had become of him—I had 2l. the week before, and I got the florin in change.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he met Moore, who was an old schoolfellow, and they went for a walk together, and Moore handed him his tobacco pouch; that the policeman tried to catch him when Moore went into the shop, but he got into a garden and said that he wanted to find Mrs. Brown, who was the mistress of a girl who I wanted to see.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at this Court in the name of Walter Flowers in July, 1882. (See next case.)
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BAKE repeated his former evidence, and added: I can swear it was not a tobacco pouch that Thompson handed to Moore—I found on Thompson seven good shillings, 13 sixpences, a threepenny piece, 3s. 3 1/2 d. in bronze, some tobacco in paper, and a pocket-book.
Moore, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he met Thompson, who said that he was going to see a girl, and they took a walk together, and he gave Thompson his tobacco pouch and then put it back in his pocket and went to a confectioner's shop and bought two cakes; that Thompson did not know what money he had, and had he himself known the coin was bad he would not have uttered it with the policeman looking in at the window, but that he took it in ignorance.
THOMPSON— Five Years' Penal Servitude. MOORE— Six Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT commended the officer Bake, and wished to call the attention of his superiors to his good conduct.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
HENRY NEAL . I live at 42, Hale Street, St. George's Road, and am a bricklayer—on the morning of 19th January, about 12.57, I was going home, past the Prince of Wales in Hale Street—about five minutes before I had seen the prisoner walking up and down in the New Kent Road; he had
looked me full in the face—I stopped to make water—two men passedme—they came back—one said to the other "Do it quick, Bill"—the prisoner at the bar seized me with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand on my throat, and closed my windpipe, and completely choked me—he was standing at my back; I saw him; I twisted sideways—he put his other hand round my waist—when he said "Do it quick" the other man put his hands to my pockets, and found the money was there, and thrust his hands in and took all my money out—he snatched the watch and chain from my left-hand waistcoat pocket—the prisoner only held me in the same position—then the man that took the money said "Right" to his companion, and I won't be certain if he threw me or if I fell—I was losing my senses, and fell to the ground, and saw nothing more of the prisoners—I picked up my hat from the ground, and two constables came and got hold of my arms—the prisoner was not there—I next saw him at the station about 25 minutes afterwards—I picked him out from a number of others in the room the moment I went in—I charged him—he said nothing to me, but abused the constable and inspector—I haven't seen my watch since—it was worth about 30s.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not placed in the bar till I got inside—there were a lot of other men there—there were a lot of constables there, and I said at once "He is the man"—I was not intoxicated.
JOHN PICKETT (Policeman L 164). About 12.55 on the morning of the 19th I was in St. George's Road with Bryan—I saw Neal going towards Hale Street and the prisoner and another man following some 15 or 20 yards behind—we followed them—Neal turned into Hale Street and stood against the urinal by the side of the Prince of Wales—the prisoner and his companion turned into the street behind him—another gentleman crossed the road from Marshall Street into Hale Street, and the prisoner and his companion walked by Neal about a dozen yards—then they returned, and I saw the prisoner seize the prosecutor by the throat—the otfrer man stood in front of him—the prosecutor was immediately thrown to the ground, and the two men decamped—we rushed at them as they came out of Hale Street into St. George's Road, and missed them—the prisoner turned to the right, and the other man to the left—I ran after the prisoner—he ran down St. George's Road, towards the Elephant and Castle, and then turned into Princess Street, and from there into a mews which leads back into St. George's Road—I followed, did not overtake him, turned back to take him, and fell down—I got up, and saw him stopped, turning out of the mews, by Bryan—I never lost sight of him—I told him I should take him into custody for assaulting and robbing the prosecutor—he said "If there had only been one of you you would not have held me"—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no answer to the charge—2 1/2 d. in bronze was found on him.
Cross-examined. I did not say I would make it warm for you—I did not strike you two or three times—neither I nor the other man struck you.
Prisoner's Defence. When the constable asked me where the other man lived I told him, and he said he would give me 2l. if I told him. They
haven't got the man. They said they would make it warm for me. I never caught the man by the neck, or nothing of that sort.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of felony at this Court in January, 1883.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and PURCELL Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
HARVEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.
CHARLES WIDRINGTON . I keep the Walmer Castle, Peckham Road—about 3.45 on the afternoon of the 18th January the two prisoners and another man were in company together in my bar—they each had something to drink—the one not in custody went out, leaving the other two behind; the other two afterwards went out, and I saw all three together outside—they went towards the Camden Arms.
Cross-examined. I did not see them come in—they paid for their drink separately—men who come to a public-house separately often pick up an acquaintance with one another—one went out and came into another compartment—I said that before Mr. Chance.
Re-examined. He did nothing in the other compartment—he remained about a minute—my wife was in the bar besides me.
HENRY UPWARD . I am the son of Richard Upward, the landlord of the Camden Arms, Camden Street, Peckham—on the afternoon of 18th January Noskery came into the house with another man about 4.15—I served them with a glass of stout and a glass of stout and bitter—I did not see Harvey there then—Noskery went out when he had drunk—I left the bar, leaving my sister there—I had given the other man change about half an hour before Noskery came in—he was the man who came in with Noskery afterwards—when I left the bar Harvey was not there—I came back in two or three minutes; Harvey was on the right-hand side of the bar, Noskery and the other man were on the left—Harvey was inside the bar with the till open, and with his hand in the till—he had got a bag in his hand—I got hold of him—he dropped some of the money from the bag—we had a struggle—I called out for assistance, and my brother came out and Harvey was detained and given in custody—a police-constable was fetched—Noskery and the other man ran out of the house as fast as they could—I saw Noskery again at the police-station.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate Noskery and the other man were both running out of the bar when I began to catch Harvey—Harvey took all my attention.
Re-examined. I had to come about five yards from the parlour to the place where Noskery was; about half the length of the bar—Noskery began to run when I caught hold of Harvey.
LOUISA UPWARD . I am the last witness's sister—on the afternoon 18th January I saw the prisoners in the bar with another man—I was in the bar when my brother left—Harvey was on my right-hand side—I had served Harvey—I did not see him come in—when my brother had gone into
the parlour Harvey asked for a half of cooper and a cigar—I served him—Noskery then called for a cigar; I produced the box containing them—he asked how many for a shilling; then I heard a scuffle; I turned round and saw my brother scuffling with Harvey—I could not see Harvey when serving Noskery with the cigar—he took some from the box—when I heard the scuffle he dropped the cigars, and he and the other man ran out—they left their glasses with the drink on the bar.
Cross-examined. They left half of it—I have never known our cooper left before.
Re-examined. When I heard the scuffle Harvey was inside the bar—he could get there under the flap.
EDWARD CHARLES RAYMOND . I am a carman, of 124, East Surrey Grove—my father has some premises at the rear of the Camden Arms—on the afternoon of 18th January, about 4 o'clock, I heard cries of "Help!" coming from the Camden Arms—I then saw Noskery and another man come out of the farther door; I gave chase, caught hold of Noskery after 200 or 300 yards—he was still running when I caught him—I took him back to the premises—he said "Don't punch me, I belong to the boys; I shall get seven years"—Upward was with me when he said that—I took him to the public-house and then to the station.
Cross-examined. I am sure he said, "I belong to the boys"—I have not spoken about these words to William Upward that I recollect; I will not swear that I have not.
Re-examined. I went to the police-station and gave evidence the following day.
WILLIAM UPWARD . I am Henry Upward's brother, and live at the Camden Arms—I heard my brother call for help on this afternoon; I went in the bar and found him tussling with Harvey, who was afterwards given to a police-constable and taken to the station—I saw young Raymond detaining Noskery, and I assisted to take him to the station—he said on the way "Don't punch me; if you do I am one of the boys; I shall get seven years."
Cross-examined. I have not talked the matter over with Raymond, only referring to the case—he didn't come in that evening to have something to drink—we came back together from the station and had several words.
WILLIAM GRIGG (Policeman P 57). About half-past 4 on the afternoon of 18th January, Noskery was given in custody by Raymond and Upward for being concerned with another man in stealing money from a till—Noskery said "I don't know anything about it"—at the station he was placed in the dock with Harvey—he said "Why do you place me with this man? for I don't know him; he is a perfect stranger to me."
GUILTY . There was another indictment against NOSKERY for a burglary.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
FREDERICK GARDINER . I live at Kingston, and am a labourer in Mr. Fuller's service at the Old Deer Park, Richmond—on Thursday, about the 12th January, about 4.30 in the afternoon, I went to the park—I saw a cream-coloured
gelding pony—next morning at 7 o'clock I went into the park—the pony was not there then—there was no way by which the pony could have got out of the park by itself without having gone through water—there were no marks of its having gone through water—it could not go through without leaving marks on the banks—I went there; I saw no marks.
ALFED CARTER . I live at 80, Cambridge Street, Avenue Road, Camberwell, and am an omnibus conductor in the employment of my father, who carries on business there—at about 11.30 on 9th January I was in my father's stables—the prisoner came to my father bringing a very handsome cream-coloured pony—he said his father had sent him to Smithfield Market to sell the pony, and that his father was hard up—I asked him what his father was—he said a greengrocer at Richmond—he said he wanted 10l. At first—my father said to me "Well, put him in a cart and see what he is like"—my father put him in a cart and went out, and came back and said in the hearing of the prisoner, "It is very good, too cheap to be true; the best thing would be to put him in the stable and send a telegram to your father to see whether it is true or not"—the prisoner said, "It is no use sending to my father because he will be on his milk round"—my father said to me, "You had better put a pony in the cart and drive the prisoner down to Richmond to see his father"—my father cut off some bread and meat for the prisoner—I put the pony in the trap to drive the prisoner to Richmond—we stopped three times on the way to give the pony a rest—on the way the prisoner said he would take 6l. For the pony—when we got to Richmond Green the prisoner got out at Paved Court, and went up the court—he came back and said, "Father has not arrived yet"—I said we would go round the town and see whether we could find his father—I went with him; we were not able to find any one he said was his father—I went toseveral public-houses, and then he said his father had gone to Selby—he asked me to let him go back with me to Camberwell—he ran away from me once—I said, "Tell me where you got the pony from, and I will let you go"—he said, "We will go up Paved Court and see if father is at home"—I said "All right"—he said, "When you see a light in that middle front window father will be at home"—I said, "There is a light at the window"—he said, "Don't go near the woman, for father only engaged the room he sleeps in, and if she sees me she won't let me in"—ultimately I did not see the father, and I gave the prisoner in charge.
Cross-examined. You asked me coming along 8l., and said I could have 2l. for myself.
ARTHUR BUSHELL . I live at Sandy Lane Avenue, Kew, and am servant to Mr. Lucas—I was at Richmond Police-station at 12 o'clock on the morning of 11th January—I saw Mr. Lucas's pony there—I had last seen it before in the Old Deer Park—I used to drive it for two years—I recognised it again.
GEORGE SOMERSET (Policeman F 391). On 9th January, about 3.30, a communication was made to me about a pony—I saw the prisoner; he was present when the statement was made that the prisoner attempted to sell Mr. Carter a pony for 10l.—the prisoner said that a man had given him the pony to sell for 10l.—I took him to the station—he said nothing else when charged—I have seen the prisoner at Richmond.
Prisoner's Defence. I had nothing at all to do with stealing the pony—I was asked to take the pony and sell it, and he said if I sold it he would
give me so much for selling it—I am quite innocent of stealing the pony—he told me to say it was my father's, and I was to ask 10l. for it.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony at Richmond in January, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
313. JAMES COLLINS (37) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a bag and jacket, the goods of Eliza Clemow, a coat and pair of gloves of James Deverell, aud three tablecioths and four knives of Charles Stewart; also to a previous conviction of felony in June, 1883, in the name of James Moore.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
JAMES WESTERWAY . I am an oilman, carrying on business at 21, Peckham Park Road—on 6th December, about 6 o'clock, the elder prisoner came into my place alone—I did not know him—he said, "I want some paper"—he selected some paper and other articles to the value of 4l. odd—he said "I have got a job for Old Peters in Peckham Park Road, I have got a cheque from him"—he showed me Peters's bill head—after I had taken his order he showed me this cheque for 7l. 5s.—I let him have some goods—I noticed the cheque drawn out—I said "Is your name Gurney?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You will have to endorse this cheque"—my lad handed him a pen and ink, and he endorsed it "H. Gurney"—he said "If you will give me 30s. I will take the gall and varnish and brushes with me, and I want you to send the other goods to 2, Hawkestone Road, Rotherhithe, in the morning"—I said "Is this cheque right, Gurney"—he said "Yes, it is"—I parted with my money knowing that Harry Gurney was a customer of mine; I had not seen him for some time, and I believed the cheque genuine—I sent the things next day to the address, he was not known there—the same morning I saw Mr. Peters, and in consequence of what he said I communicated with the police—on the 20th January I picked the elder prisoner out from others at the Peckham Police-station—he said, "Yes, I remember giving you the cheque"—the value of the goods he took away was 1l. 6s. 6d.
Cross-examined. I asked who Mr. Peters was, and you said a boot and shoe maker at the top of the street—Gurney had a shopman who used to attend to the warehouse—you asked if Howse had paid me, he owed me money—I did not know that Gurney had been dead for years.
JOHN BERWICK PETERS . I am a boot manufacturer, at 180, Commercial Road, Peckham, and 208, Drummond Road, Bermondsey—I formerly carried on business at 2, Hawkestone Road—I have that address on my bill heads still—this cheque was shown me by Mr. Westerway, it is not signed by me nor by my authority—I have no account at the London and County Bank, I never had—I know the elder prisoner, he has worked for me, I should think the last job he did for me was between twelve and eighteen months ago.
Cross-examined. You papered rooms in my house in the Commercial Road, and gave me perfect satisfaction—I paid you on the Saturday—you came on the Monday and finished the work.
morning with a boy with some goods—I did not see either of the prisoners there—the goods were returned to Mr. Westerway—on the 9th instant I arrested the elder prisoner at 44, Barnes Road, Walworth—I told him the charge was having forged a cheque of Mr. Westerway's, and obtaining various articles—he said, "I don't know what you mean"—he afterwards said, "I did pass a cheque to Mr. Westerway, my son gave it to me"—his son was present then—I asked him if it was true—he said "Yes"—I asked him where he got the cheque from—he said he found it—I asked him where—he said Kennington Park—I asked him whether he found more than one—he said "No"—on the way to the station the younger prisoner said, "I will tell you the truth, I stole a coat at Beckenham, and in the pocket was a cheque-book; I filled in the cheque for my father. He knew nothing about it. I did it to get my father food. I am very sorry"—he said "The rest of the book I burnt."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was getting into bed, when his ton came and said he had a cheque from Messrs. Peters and some materials to get that night. He went to Mr. Westerway's, and said it teas Peters's cheque, and that he was going to sign as Gurney, because Westerway knew Gurney, and because his son said "You must sign my mate's name, because he knows we have got the job." He gave his son the materials and the 1l., and bade him good-bye.
GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoners for passing a cheque for 2l. 5s.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, FEBRUARY 25TH, 1884.