CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION, HELD APRIL 21ST, 1884.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
SESSIONS VII. TO XII.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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, April 21st, 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 JAMES FITZJAMES STEPHEN, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Bart., and WILLIAM McARTHUR , Esq., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JOHN STAPLES , Esq., REGINALD HANSON , Esq., JOSEPH SAVORY , Esq., POLYDORE DE KEYSER , Esq., and JAMES WHITEHEAD , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CLARENCE SMITH, Esq.,
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
FOWLER, MAYOR. SEVENTH 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, April 21st, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
455. CHARLES ABBOTT (23) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a warrant for the payment of money, with intent to defraud; also to stealing an order for the payment of 10s.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
456. GEORGE THOMAS CLARK (25) to destroying three letters, the property of the Postmaster-General containing Valuable securities and money he being employed in the Post-office.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
457. WILLIAM BARTIE (21) , Stealing three letters containing postal orders for 3s., 2s. 6d., and 1s. 6d., and one containing 101 penny postage-stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed in the Post-office.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
KATE CLARK . On 25th March I was living at the prisoner's house at Brentford End with my husband and children—I had had a few words with the prisoner's wife and her mother—between 1 and 2 o'clock that day I was going indoors and saw the prisoner's wife standing in the doorway; the prisoner was standing behind his counter; the wife stood between me and the door—the prisoner's mother-in-law ran out from the kitchen with a knife in her hand—the prisoner took the knife from her hand and stuck me in the side of the face with it—I said, "Oh, Tim, you have done it"—he said, "Let me find the knife again, and I will stick the b----sow again—I stood at the door while other people went and got a policeman—the prisoner had kicked me on the previous night.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say that I would swear your life away, or that I would burn the house—I never had a cross word with you before—the knife was only used once.
EMILY STOBBS . I live at Brentford End, just opposite the prisoner—on 25th March, between 2 and 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I saw a disturbance outside his house; I heard screaming going on with some little
children—I went over and saw the prisoner strike Mrs. Clark with a knife in his hand—I saw blood flowing from the left side of her face—I said, "Oh, my God, he has stabbed her with a knife"—I saw the mother-in-law jumping on Mrs. Clark and kicking her very much, and the prisoner's wife was trying to get the mother-in-law away with her hands entangled in her hair—the police were sent for—I distinctly saw the knife in the prisoner's hand.
Cross-examined. I did not see you strike her with the knife; I saw you strike her as if you had the knife in your hand—there was such a lot of scuffling I could not see whether the knife struck her, but you struck her with the hand that you had the knife in—I could not see which hand you had the knife in—I did not say on the way to the station that you had not done it, that it was your mother-in-law that had done it all and ought to be taken as well as you for jumping on the woman.
RICHARD VOLLER . I am a labourer at Brentford End—on 25th March, about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, I was going by the prisoner's house—I heard screams and stopped—I saw the prisoner either push or knock the plaintiff down and kick her—I saw no knife—when the woman got up I saw blood flowing from her cheek—I could see there was a cut, what it was done with I don't know.
HENRY WALKER (Policeman T 670). On 25th March I was on duty at Isleworth—from information I received I went to the prisoner's house—I there saw him and the prosecutrix—she pointed to the prisoner and said, "This man has stabbed me with a knife"—I looked at her face and saw blood flowing freely from a wound Just below the left ear—I took him to the station—on the way he said, "I am as innocent as you are, I never had nothing at all to do with it, what was done was done by my wife and her mother"—I afterwards returned to the prisoner's house and found this knife where the scuffle took place.
Cross-examined. I did not see any blood on it—I found it near the counter where you had been standing.
HENRY BOTT . I am divisional surgeon of police—on 25th March I went to the station and there saw the woman Clark—she had an incised wound on the outer side and below the left ear, about an inch and a quarter long; it was a perfectly clean-cut wound about three-quarters of an inch deep in the deepest part; it must have been done by some sharp instrument, there was no bruise—a knife would be a likely instrument to have caused it—it could not have been done by glass, or by a blow with the fist; if by a blow there would have been a bruise, and if by glass the wound would have been jagged.
Cross-examined. I do not think glass would cause such a wound.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MARY BRETT . I am married—I am living at Petersham at present—on 25th March I was living at the prisoner's house on the second floor; Mrs. Clark had the top floor—about half-past 1 or 2 o'clock that afternoon I saw Mrs. Clark smash the prisoner's counter and smash a paraffin lamp which was standing there not alight, a milk jug, also some glass containing sweets that were in the window—she said, "I will have satisfaction out of you for summoning me and giving me notice to leave your house"—she was under notice to leave at the time—the shutters of the shop window stood in the shop, and she took up one of them and threw one towards the prisoner, and the other towards his mother-in-law—she then
took up an orange-box and threw it across the counter, and she fell across the counter and cut herself with the nails and the broken glass, and when she rose up her face was bleeding—Mrs. Donovan told a little girl to go for a policeman, Mrs. Clark did not send for one—a policeman came; he asked what was the matter, and Mrs. Clark said, "They have knocked me about"—she did not say that the prisoner had knocked her about—the policeman asked her who had knocked her about, and she then pointed to the prisoner and said, "That man struck me with a knife," and he was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. I swear positively that no knife was used—I used to see this knife in the shop; the prisoner used it to cut vegetables with—he is a greengrocer—when Mrs. Clark charged the prisoner with stabbing her he denied it—the prisoner did not strike her at all—the parties were all strangers to me—the mother-in-law scratched the plaintiff's face and dragged her hair; she had no knife that I know of—the prisoner was is the kitchen at that time—I saw Mrs. Stobbs outside.
Re-examined. To the best of my belief Mrs. Clark was drunk—I did not see the mother-in-law knock her down, but she scratched her face.
By the COURT. I did not hear the prosecutrix say that the prisoner had stabbed her, she only said he had been knocking her about—she afterwards told the policeman that he had stabbed her, and the prisoner said, "I am as innocent as the child unborn"—I did not hear him say, "What is done was done by my wife and her mother"—I swear positively that no knife was used—what the prosecutrix has said is false, and what Mrs. Stobbs has said is also false.
HENRY FREDERICK CHARLES VAYNHAM . I live at Isleworth—about 20 minutes past 2 on 25th March I was within 200 yards of the prisoner's house—seeing a crowd of people outside I walked up to see what was the matter—when I got into the prisoner's house I saw the prosecutrix standing outside the door using abusive language to some persons inside—nothing was the matter with her, she was not bleeding—she gradually got into the shop, and was met by the prisoner's mother-in-law, I believe, and the prisoner's wife—there was a scuffle between them, and the prosecutrix was knocked out of the shop into the road—she then ran into the shop, pushed down the counter, picked up two paraffin lamps which were hanging up over the counter with glass globes to them, and threw them towards an inner door where the prisoners mother-in-law and wife were standing with the prisoner behind them—as she was throwing the lamps the prisoner's mother-in-law ran out towards the prosecutrix, pushed her down, put her knees on her chest, pulled her hair and scratched her—I don't know whether she had anything in her hands, but she scratched and marked her face as fast as she could—the prosecutrix got away, came out in the street, and said, "Look where I have been stabbed"—she was bleeding from a mark on the left side of her face—about 10 minutes after a policeman came up, went into the house, and eventually brought out the prisoner—as he was taking him away from the door Stobbs called out to the policeman, "It was not him, it was his mother-in-law who did it"—it is untrue what she has sworn to-day, that she saw the prisoner go and strike the prosecutrix—I saw no knife—the prisoner did all he could to keep the two women back from the prosecutrix.
Cross-examined. I swear Stobbs did not say, "The mother-in-law is as bad as him"—I believe I saw the beginning of the disturbance—the
prosecutrix had no marks when I saw her get away from the grasp of the old woman—I heard the charge of stabbing—I did not say anything to the constable, I did not see any occasion to—I did not know when the prisoner was taken away what he was charged with, it was the next day I heard the charge—I heard the woman say, "This man stabbed me"—I never said a word.
By the COURT. I did not hear the prosecutrix tell the police that the a prisoner had stabbed her—she came to the door and said, "Look how I have been stabbed"—I heard no charge made to the policeman; he went after the man into the shop—I was summoned to give evidence for the prosecution.
ELIZA DRISCOLL . I live at Brentford—on 25th March I was in the room—when the fight commenced Clark came in and caught the prisoner's wife by the hair of her head, and she called out to me for God's sake to come down to save her—I was upstairs and then came down—she freed her hands out of her hair, and the prisoner's wife went away and left me holding her—she had hold of my apron with her teeth—when I got free she pulled the handkerchief from my neck—she got to the shop and broke the counter, and the prisoner told me to come away and said, "For she will give you a mark that you will carry to the grave"—she broke up what was in the shop, and pulled down the lamp to throw it—the prisoner would not let her come out, and when she did she was cut—she put up her hand to where she was cut and said, "I am cut, it was you, you struck me with the knife"—she got that cut by falling down inside the shop when she was pulling down the lamp; she fell on the counter and broke all the glasses that the man had his sweets in—she was not sober; she had been drinking all day with another woman from the morning till 10 o'clock—I was not with her all the time, but I know she was not sober—I did not see a knife; I cannot call to mind that I took notice of this knife—I am married and am a grandmother.
Cross-examined. I was in the house when this took place—I am Donovan's Brother-in-law—I did jump on the prosecutrix—I had no knife in my hand—I cannot say I saw a knife with any one—I heard her say to the policeman, "This man has stabbed me," but she fell in the shop and stabbed herself—she was drunk, she is always drunk—I saw a cut on her face when she came out, after falling, but not till then—the prisoner sent for a constable, who came to the house, and after he had taken my son-in-law to the station he came back to the house and found a knife.
By the COURT. It is not true that I ran in with a knife, which the prisoner took from me—it is not true that the prisoner struck the prosecutrix in the cheek with a knife, it wasn't done.
By the Prisoner. You struck at her as you had a knife in your hand—I cannot say what sort of a knife it was, nor which hand it was in.
By the Prisoner. You said on the way to the station that you were innocent.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had given the woman notice to leave three weeks before, and she would not go; that on this night the had been drinking a little, and came in, threw the counter over, smashed the lamp, and threw the window shutter at hit wife; that hit wife and mother-in-law then ran at her and fattened their hands in her, and it was possible the wound might have been inflicted then.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 21st, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. RIBTON defended Chapman.
GEORGE BECKWITH . I keep the White Hart, at Tottenham—on 9th February Chapman came in about 10 minutes or a quarter to 11, and stopped there some time—when the gas was turned down he asked me for some tea and twopennyworth of gin in a bottle for himself, and half a quartern of whisky for a woman who was with him—he had been drinking for some little time before that at my place—the girl Stubbings had served him, and he had paid for that—what he had from me came to 2s. 6 1/2 d.—he gave me half a crown add a halfpenny, and left immediately—as soon as I took the money I had some doubt about it, and directly he left I found it was bad—this is it (produced)—it has got discoloured since—I gave it to Miss May to take care of, and on 8th March I asked her for it, and gave it to Boothman, and marked it—on 8th March the two prisoners came to my house about 20 minutes or a quarter to 11 o'clock—they had some refreshment, which I believe Chapman ordered of Miss Stubbings—when I came up Michsell had ordered a quartern of gin in a bottle—the gas was then turned down—Michsell gave me this bad shilling (produced) in payment—Chapman was near to Michsell—I said "You have given the girl a bad shilling"—Michsell said "No I have not"—I said "You have," and I bent it before him—he then used very bad language, and wanted to go—Chapman came up and said "Hold your tongue, don't call the man names like that; I was not in with him"—I said "Yes you are, you are both together"—Chapman said "Yes, he is my friend," and advised him to leave off the foul language, but he kept on—I sent for a policeman and gave them in charge, with the shilling, and said "This is the man that gave me this bad shilling, and a fortnight ago the man beside him gave me a bad half-crown"—Michsell asked to look at it—the policeman handed it to him, and he looked at it and threw it away—the policeman picked it up.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The first time I saw Chapman to my knowledge was on 9th February—I do not know where he lives—I do not know that the prisoners are brothers-in-law—I appeared three times before the Magistrate—the first time I stated it was the 16th instead of the 9th February; I rectified it on the next occasion, and said it was the 9th—on the first occasion the 23rd was put down; that was altered to the 16th on the second occasion, and then to the 9th on the third—I did not say the 23rd, I merely said "Last Saturday fortnight"—I do not know that the Mint authorities declined to prosecute till after the Magistrate
had committed—I said I was sorry the matter had occurred—I had not seen the prisoners in my house before February 9th, nor between February 9th and March 8th—I think only Chapman had been in—to the best of my knowledge the half-crown had not been in the house before February 9th—it was not rubbed by a great many hands after February 9th—the atmosphere would discolour it—I did not see it between February 9th and March 8th—it was in Miss May's possession—she had put it in a box in the cupboard—Chapman's wife was with him on the first occasion; she left before he did—I have heard that Michsell's house was burnt down on the Saturday night after they came in and gave me the half-crown—when they came in on 8th March, Miss Stubbings was in the bar—the prisoners were drinking together—I did not see him take the shilling out of his pocket—the gas was down—the two prisoners were the only customers in the house at the time—they would have had 6d. change—we close at 11 o'clock.
MARY ANN MAY . I am manageress of the White Hart Inn—I did not see or serve the prisoners on a Saturday evening in February, but after the house was closed Mr. Beckwith spoke to me and called my attention to a half-crown, which I examined, and found was bad—I put it in a small tin box by itself in the bar parlour cupboard, which is under my own lock and key—I saw the coin again on the 8th of March-Mr. Beckwith then asked for it, it had not been moved, I found it as I had put it—this is it—I handed it to him—I saw the two prisoners in the bar on the 8th of March after they had been served—I heard Michsell abuse Mr. Beckwith, and use very bad language.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. He abused him before and after he said anything about the half-crown; he appeared very excited—the half-crown was not so black when it was given to me—I never saw either of the prisoners till the 8th March—I never heard that Chapman lived near the place.
AGNETTA STUBBINGS . I am barmaid at the White Hart, Tottenham—on Saturday, February 9, Chapman came to the bar about 10.45, with his wife—I had known them before as customers—I served them with a half-pound of tea—Mr. Beckwith served them with some drink—Mr. Chapman paid for it all together—I did not see any coin pass—it was just before Christmas when Chapman first came, and I had seen him three or four times since—on March 8th I saw the two prisoners about 10.40—about three minutes to 11 the gas was turned low—Chapman and Michsell had several drinks, and the wife was there too—Mr. Chapman gave me half-a-sovereign first, and I gave the change—about 10.50 Michsell called for half a quartern of gin in a bottle, he held his hand over the gateway in the bar and I took a shilling from his hand—I found it, was bad, and when Mr. Beckwith came in I gave it to him—when Michsell saw I was examining the money, he hurriedly said "Put that gin in paper, Miss"—Mr. Beckwith told me to fetch a policeman—I think Chapman had been in the house once or twice between 9th February and 8th March, he paid with good money—I knew then that the half-crown was bad—on 9th February he paid me with good money after—Mr. Beckwith had not seen Chapman in the bar between those dates—Michsell was abusive on the 8th March to Beckwith before anything was said about the half-crown.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Chapman changed a half-sovereign on,
the 8th March—I do not know what change I gave him, I am quite sure I did not give him this shilling among it—Michsell gave the bad shilling—Chapman's wife was with him—they had left about a minute before my master said anything to me—we shut up About 11, it was about twenty minutes before we closed.
Cross-examined by Michsell. I did not give you change for anything.
Re-examined. The half-crown I took on the 9th of February I knew was bad as I was closing the door—it was very dark when that was tendered—I have no doubt Chapman was the man there on the 9th February.
ALFRED BOOTHMAN (Policeman Y 581). I was called to the White Hart on the 8th March at 11 p.m.—I found the two prisoners in the front of the bar, and no other customers—Mr. Beckwith said "This man," indicating Mitchell, "has just passed a bad shilling"—he showed me this shilling (produced)—I found it was bad and said to Michsell "Have you passed this shilling?"—he said "I have"—I searched him and found on him two half-crowns, two shillings, two sixpences, fourteen pence, three halfpence, and a farthing, all good—he said "Let me look at the shilling"—I handed it to him, he threw it on the floor and said "D—the shilling, do you think I would do such a thing if I had known? I am as sound as a roach"—one of the barmaids then drew Mr. Beckwith back and spoke to him, and he came up and said to Chapman "Oh, you are the man that passed a bad half-crown on me on Saturday week, I remember you now my barmaid reminds me"—he said "What, are you going to bring me into it now?"—I said "Are you sure this is the man, Mr. Beckwith?"—he said "Quite sure, I remember him perfectly now my barmaid speaks of it"—I searched Chapman and found on him three florins, a half-crown, five pence, and three halfpence, all good—I said "Shall you charge the man, Mr. Beckith?"—he said "Yes"—I got the barmaid to fetch another constable, and he took Michsell and I Chapman to the station, where Mr. Beckwith charged them—this (produced) is the half-crown—Michsell was abusive all through the affair to Mr. Beckwith, he was violent before we started to go to the station, but went quietly after that—they were asked for their addresses at the station—Chapman said "The only address I know is 11, Tweed Terrace"—Michsell said he knew of no other address than that, "I am staying with Chapman"—we went to 11, Tweed Terrace after the charge was taken, and found that was the house that had been burnt down about three weeks previously—we afterwards found Chapman was living at 11, Chameleon Road, which adjoins the house burnt down.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Michsell had occupied the house which was burnt down—we found Chapman's address was Chameleon Road, we went there and found Mrs. Chapman there—we have been told that after the fire Michsell went to live with Chapman, his brother-in-law, for a time—Chameleon Road is three-quarters of a mile from Mr. Beckwith's—I dare say you could walk from the public-house to the house burnt down in five minutes.
Re-examined. The house was burnt down before the 8th of March.
Cross-examined by Michsell. Chapman's house is one hundred yards from yours—I will swear it is more than twenty yards.
THOMAS HART (Policeman Y 26). I was called to the White Hart on 8th March—the two prisoners were being detained when I got there—I took Michsell—Mr. Beckwith said when I entered the house that Michsell had tendered a bad shilling—Michsell was very excited and abused the prosecutor—I cannot recollect what he said.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Witnesses for the prisoners were at the police-court—I cannot say if any were examined.
By MR. RIBTON. I don't know that the Mint authorities were asked to prosecute by the Court, or that they declined to prosecute.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . Both these coins are bad—by the discoloration of the half-crown it has evidently not been in circulation for some time—a counterfeit coin lying by in a box would get discoloured and darkened in a time—friction would keep it bright.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I do not know that the Mint would not prosecute.
Michsell, in his defence, stated that he received a half-sovereign from his brother-in-law and changed it at the Olive Branch, and did not know whether he got the shilling in change.
The prisoners received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
STEPHEN JAMES KELSON . I am barman at the King Lud, Ludgate Circus—on 12th April, about 8 p.m., the prisoner and two other men came to the bar—one of the others ordered a pot of ale and gave me a shilling—I found it was bad—he said, "Oh, you can look at it, it is made of lead"—I said, "If you know what you are saying, you know it is bad"—he tendered me another shilling, and that was bad also—they all drank out of the same pot—I gave the coins to Miss Hockley—the prisoner said to his companion, "Oh, you changed a sovereign to-night"—the other said, "No, I did not"—the man who had paid then gave me a good sixpence—the beer came to 4d.—Miss Hockley broke both the coins in the tester, and the men went out.
ANNIE HOCKLEY . On Saturday night, 12th April, Kelson gave me a tad shilling—I saw the prisoner and two other men in the bar drinking together—Kelson showed me two bad shillings; I broke them; these are the pieces (produced)—I told the prisoner to go out.
WILLIAM PALMER (City Detective). On 12th April, about 8 p.m., I was with Holmes watching the King Lud public-house—I saw the prisoner leave—he went through several streets, and I stopped him and said, "Where is that money you have in your possession?"—he said, "What money?"—I said, "Counterfeit money"—he pulled out his left hand and showed me some silver and bronze—I said, "I don't mean that, I mean what you have got in your right trousers pocket"—he said, "I am a cripple, that is the reason I carry my hand there"—he pulled it out, and as he did so a bad shilling fell to the ground—I found in his left hand a piece of paper containing three counterfeit shillings—the paper was torn in the struggle—I took him to the station and found on him
8 1/2 d. and a packet of papers—Miss Hockley gave me these pieces of two shillings.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you pick up something in the bar—I did not know who had passed the coins.
Prisoner's Defence. I went into the public-house with two men who were perfect strangers to me. One of them tendered a shilling. The woman said it was counterfeit, and we made off. I picked up some tobacco and put it in my pocket, but I did not know that there was money in the tobacco, nor that it was bad.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of a like offence at this Court in April, 1872.— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 22nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. COWIE, Q.C., and MR. BAGGALLAY Prosecuted; MR. WILDEY WRIGHT
EDWARD ALEXANDER KIRBY . I am a clerk in the Confidential Inquiry Department of the General Post-office—on 3rd April I received instructions with regard to the Northern District office—on that day I made up a letter and addressed it to Miss Bignell, 28, Cardell Street, King's Cross Road, London—it contained a half-sovereign, a shilling, and 19 penny stamps—I marked them all with a private mark, so as to be able to identify them—the date of the half-sovereign was 1842—I posted the letter at the Northern District office at 5.20 the same afternoon in the ordinary letter-box—I spoke to Mr. Carman, the inspector of that office, with regard to it—next day, 4th April, I saw the prisoner at about a quarter past 10 in the New North Road—I said, "Your name is Marston, I believe?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "You are an auxiliary letter-carrier employed at the Northern District post-office?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "I wish you to accompany me to that office"—he went with me—on our arrival there I said to him, "I am from the Confidential Inquiry 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; on Saturday afternoon I posted a letter in the letter-box at this office addressed "Miss Bignell, 23a, Cardell Street, New North Road, King's Cross, London;" it contained a half-sovereign, a shilling, and 19 penny postage-stamps, all of which bore my private mark; the letter was sorted before you, with others at half-past 5 this morning, and it is missing; have you any recollection of it?"—he said "No"—I said, "Have you about you any stamps or other articles which 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 Police-officer Brooks, who was with me—he took from
one of his pockets a half-sovereign, a sixpence, and 5 1/2 d. in coppers—I identified the half-sovereign; the date of it was 1842, and it bore my mark—I told the prisoner I identified it—he said, "It is mine, I received it for work done; I do not know how long I have had it, or whether I received it from the Post-office as wages or for work done at my trade as tailor"—nothing else in connection with the letter was found on him.
Cross-examined. There is no Miss Bignell that I know of, there is a 23, Cardell Street—I have been engaged in this particular class of work a little over two years—each man has his own private mark—there was nobody present when I marked the half-sovereign—when I spoke to the prisoner, he answered without the least hesitation; and when I suggested that he should be searched, he had no objection—there is only one letter-carrier that delivers in Cardell Street at that time in the morning—he is here—if a man finds among his letters one that does not belong to his walk he should throw it aside—there were people going up and down stairs from the place where the letters were sorted to where the prisoner was in the basement—the half-sovereign was marked back and front with the same mark—the prisoner was watched during a portion of his round, the person who watched him is here.
Re-examined. The letter was addressed 23A, Cardell Street—there is no 23A.
JEREMIAH CARMAN . I am Inspector of the Northern District Post-office—the prisoner was engaged there as an auxiliary postman—on 3rd April, about 20 minutes past 5 o'clock in the evening, my attention was called to a letter posted by Mr. Kirby at the office—next morning I took it out of the letter-box and stamped it with the office stamp and put it before the prisoner with several others to sort; that was about 5.30—if the prisoner found it to contain coin he should give it to the overseer; if he did not discover it he should give it to Isaacs, the postman who delivers in Cardell Street—while the prisoner was sorting, I saw him leave his place in the office and leave the room; and while he was gone I went to his place and examined he letters and found the letter in its place—that was about 6.45—I saw him return to his place—he left the office about 10 minutes past 7 for his delivery, and I saw nothing more of the letter—the prisoner's wages were paid weekly, he would have been paid on the next morning, 5th April—he was paid on the previous Saturday, 29th March.
Cross-examined. He began sorting his letters on the morning of the 4th, about 10 minutes past 6 o'clock—he went downstairs about half-past 6 o'clock, and he remained down about a quarter of an hour—when he came up he went on arranging his letters for going out, and finished sorting them about 7.10—if he had kept back any letters in his district the proper man to give them to is Isaacs—it is a common thing for a man if he finds a letter belonging to another street in his district to give it to the postman who he thinks is going to that street, without handing it to the inspector—I know that the prisoner is a tailor by trade—I did not follow him on his beat—he was not late in leaving that morning, all the men left about the usual time.
FREDERICK BROOKS . I am a police-officer at the General Post-office—I was with Kirby on 4th April at the Northern District Post-office—I searched the prisoner with Kirby and found on him a half-sovereign,
sixpence, and 5 1/2 d. in bronze—I gave the half-sovereign to Kirby—I examined it myself—this is the one.
HENRY CHARLES ISAACS . I was on duty at the Northern District Office on the morning of 4th April, I had to deliver in Cardell Street—the prisoner was delivering that morning, but not in Cardell Street—he did not hand me any letter to be delivered in Cardell Street.
Cross-examined. There was only one man delivering in Cardell Street that morning—the next delivery would be an hour or an hour and a half afterwards—the man who does the next delivery would not be in the office when I left—there is no 28a or 3a in Cardell Street—it is not an unusual thing for a postman to get hold of a wrong letter.
Re-examined. If he does it is his duty to give it to the right man.
ROBERT WHITE . I am overseer at the Northern District office—I was there on the morning of 4th April when the letters were being sorted for the first delivery—it is the duty of a postman if he finds a letter containing coin to give it to me—no letter containing coin was given to me that morning by the prisoner addressed to Miss Bignell, Cardell Street.
Cross-examined. If a man finds a letter containing coin he may give it to the postman going to Cardell Street—the same man goes to Cardell Street at the same time every morning if he is on duty—the same man is on duty for the same delivery all through the week at a particular hour—the prisoner never handed me a letter containing coin before to my recollection.
GUILTY .— Five Years Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. COWIE, Q.C., and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.
THOMAS RHENISH BRYOE . I am a sorting clerk at the Cardiff Post-office—this order for 1l. 3s. 10d. was issued by me on 13th March—at the same time I sent a letter of advice to the office in Oxford Street, London, to pay it—the order was payable to W.D. Cubitt and Sons, and the sender was James Matthews—if it was posted at Cardiff about half-past 5 o'clock it would leave about 9 o'clock in the mail bag for London.
JAMES MATTHEWS . On 13th March I was at Cardiff—I obtained from the post-office there this order, and enclosed it in a letter and posted it, addressed to Messrs. Cubitt—the letter bore my signature, "J. Matthews"—I know Messrs. Cubitt—this signature to the order is not theirs.
ROBERT MUMFORD HOSE . I am overseer at the Western District Post-office—a letter posted at Cardiff before 9 o'clock p.m. on the 13th would arrive at our office at 2.50 a.m. on the 14th and would be delivered, about 8.30.
Cross-examined. Our office is in Vere Street—there are a large number of employees there—there are constant complaints of letters missing—a letter from Cardiff would not go through many hands in its transit.
PAUL KEY . I am manager at the post-office, 191, Oxford Street—on 14th March, a few moments after 10 o'clock, when the office is opened for money-order business, the prisoner presented this order, signed as it is now—I said "Did you sign this yourself?"—he said "A man outside gave it to me to bring in to get change"—I asked him the name of the
person—he said "Matthews"—I had received the letter of advice—as I knew this was not the signature of Messrs. Cubitt, I asked the prisoner where the man was who had given him the order—he said the man was outside—I told him to go and fetch the man—I followed him down the shop—he went outside and looked about, and when he saw me looking he came back and said he could not find the man—I told him I cold not believe his story, and he would have to go round to the firm in Marlborough Street and see Mr. Cubitt—he went with me, and Mr. Cubitt stated that he had never received the order, that it was not his signature, and that the prisoner would have to go to the station—we went to the station, and the Post-office authorities were communicated with.
Cross-examined. I do not know that the prisoner has been for a long time in respectable employment; I know nothing at all about him—I have not made any inquiry—there may have been other persons in the shop when he came in—when he went out to look for the man I was a little way behind him—I did not follow him out into the street, I stood at the shop-door—he was not lost to my view at all—he went as far as Blenham Steps, about 20 yards perhaps—he looked down the steps—he was about two minutes looking about, and then he came back—he went with me to Mr. Cubitt's when I told him he would have to go—I don't think he suggested going—I cannot say whether I or he mentioned it first—he volunteered to go to the station—he made no attempt to escape—Mr. Cubitt's is about three minutes' walk from our office—I saw no letter—he was searched at the station, nothing was found on him.
WILLIAM DUNCAN CUBITT . My firm is W.D. Cubitt and Sons—we are mechanical instrument makers, in Great Marlborough Street—Mr. Matthews is a customer—the signature to this order is not mine, or that of any member of my firm, it is a forgery—our letters are delivered by the postman in an outer letter-box, which is opened by Dewen, and then placed in an inner box belonging to us.
Cross-examined. At this time I had only a lad in my employ besides my partners—there have been three or four complaints of letters miscarrying by post—I had an errand-boy two or three months ago who was dismissed on account of not doing his duty.
WILLIAM DEWEN . I am in the service of John Brown and Co., of Great Marlborough Street—our premises are within the same outer door as Mr. Cubitt's—it is my duty every morning to open the outer door letter-box, to take out the letters, and put Mr. Cubitt's in his letter-box in the inner door—on 14th March I did it in the same way—as a rule I do it at half-past 8 o'clock, but being very unwell that week I was not there till half-past 9 o'clock, but I found the box as I always did, locked, when I took the letters out—there were very few letters for Messrs. Cubitt that morning—a key of the box is hung up in Mr. Brown's office; I found it there.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for uttering the said order, upon whteh no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. BESLEY and TICKELL Prosecuted.
ANN HILL . I live at the Circus, Greenwich—the South Metropolitan Company supply me with gas—on 30th May, 1883, the prisoner called on me—he said he had come from the Gas Company, that they wished to recommend a new duplex burner that was very much better than what I had, as they would give a better light with a smaller consumption of gas—I said they had never before interfered with my gas burners—he said "That is very true, but now we want to fight the electric light by giving better money's worth"—he counted my burners and said it would cost me a guinea the set—I did not like to spend so much, but as I was interested in fighting the electric light, being a shareholder in the Gas Company, I was disposed to take them—he said "I am sorry you did not name that before, but I am glad you have done so now, as we take off a percentage to shareholders, and you shall have them for 18s. 6d."—I then consented to his putting on the burners, but I said "Suppose these new burners should not turn out so well, where shall I write to you?"—he said "To the office of the Gas Company"—I said "Is that the office of the South Metropolitan Gas Company in the Old Kent Road?"—he said "Yes, I have an office there, though I travel about as a sort of agent for them"—I paid him 18s. 6d., and he signed this receipt in my presence—I believed his statement or I should not have let him into the house or have bought the burners—I gave one of them to Inspector Morgan.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said you came from the Gas Company, and as there is only one company in our part, I of course took it for granted that you came from that, and you afterwards told ma that you did—you showed me the difference between my burners and yours; I approved of yours—you showed me the way to regulate my meter.
MARY ELIZABETH JONES . I live at 123, Inverness Terrace, Bayswater—I get my gas from the Gas Light and Coke Company—on 2nd October the prisoner came to my house; my cook let him in, and I went to him in the hall—he said "I have come about the gas, and have you received the Gas Company's letter about it?"—I said "No, I have not received any"—he said "It does not matter"—he said he had come about the gas, there were so many complaints about it—I had not written to the Gas Company—I said "It has been very bad and dirty, I shall be very glad to have new burners"—he went into the kitchen with me and looked at the burners and said they were very bad—he took out a florin and put it in the gas and it became black—then he took off that burner and put on his and then the florin did not become black—he showed me a kind of duplex burner and said that by using his I should bum so much less gas and have a better light, and we were to turn off the gas over the house and use less in consequence—the object of his coming was to induce people to use a great deal of gas for everything because of fighting the electric light—I agreed to have burners put on every light—I paid him 1l. 13s. 6d.—he said if he did not change all the burners, and some old ones were left, they would injure his new ones—he also told me I could have a stove in my greenhouse, and the company for which he was acting would put it up and charge me 6d. a quarter for it—he did not say which company; I concluded it was the Gas Company all through—I asked him to give me a receipt after I paid the money, and he said "Oh dear
no, we never give receipts, we are not likely to call on you for the money"—he always spoke as "we"—I believed he came from the Gas Company who supplied me with gas—this was the Tuesday, and on the following Monday we had all the burners removed, we were afraid to use them on the Sunday, they made the pipes so hot we could hardly turn off the tap—the prisoner told me my burners were hardly fit for a butcher's shop, but his were very first-rate—20 or 24 were put on—I cannot remember if he said what each burner was to be charged at, the 1l. 13s. 6d. was for them, not for work—he was there about two hours putting them on—he went all over the house.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said you had come from the Gas Company about the gas; you did not say you came from the Gas Light and Coke Company—you asked to be allowed to put the burners on and I paid you—I know nothing about your stopping several escapes of gas—the servant went through the house with you.
EDWARD RUFF . I live at Upper Hamilton Terrace—the Gas Light and Coke Company supply me with gas—the prisoner called on me and said the Gas Company were determined to compete with the electric light as much as possible, and they had sent him with improved burners that consumed much less gas, and then the difference between the two lights would not be much—he took off an old burner and put on a new one, and in the daylight it appeared an improvement, and decided me to have more put on—altogether he put on 24, and I paid him 25s.—I believed his statements, and that he was connected with the Company—the new burners were decidedly worse—we kept them on for one or two days, and then threw them away I believe—we were told by a gas-fitter they were perfectly valueless.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't know if you used the words Gas Light and Coke Company—you simply said you came from the Gas Company—you pretended to put a gas stove in order, but did no good to it; you did something to it—I do not think you cleaned the gas globes.
CHARLOTTE HENSHALL . I am Mr. Buff's cook—on 16th January I opened the door to the prisoner—he said he had called respecting a letter he had sent a fortnight ago from the Gas Company—I heard nothing more before Mr. Buff saw him—afterwards the bell rang for me to bring some methylated spirits for the prisoner to show me how to clean the globes, and he did show me.
AMY HOLMES . I live at 86, Lancaster Road—the Gas Light and Coke Company supply us with gas—on 5th March I saw the prisoner at my house—he asked me if I had received a circular about the reduction in the price of gas from the Gas Light and Coke Company—I said I had in January with one of my bills, but had taken no further notice of it—he said a further notice had been put through my letter-box—I said unless addressed to me personally, my servants had orders to throw all circulars away—he said another should be sent, as there were so many complaints about the badness of the gas—he was sent to see if there was any leakage or fault or anything the matter with our burners—I allowed him to go over the house and went with him—he said the burners were very bad and only fit for a fishmonger's shop, and that they made a great flare with only a little light, and that his were very much better—he showed me different apparatus—he stopped a leakage in one room—I had 20 burners at 1s. each and paid him 1l.—I did not ask for a receipt—he
said he would call again in a couple of days; I never saw him again—I believed most firmly he did come from the Gas Company—I kept the burners on a short time, but found they were so bad that we had to take them off again after two days—he said he would bring me another notice from the Company about the reduction in the price of gas.
By the COURT. I am perfectly sure that when he first came in he said he had come from the Gas Light and Coke Company.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You first fitted on one to show the difference, and I approved of it—you asked to be allowed to fit them on and I allowed you to do so—you asked me to show you if there were any escapes of gas—I showed them to you—you said you thought a gas stove in the drawing-room would be a good thing to have, and you wanted to let one of these little boiling stoves from a book which you had in your hand—you wrote down the number of the stove and the amount of tubing required.
Re-examined. He said I could get the little gas stove from the Army and Navy Stores, but I could not.
ELLEN MARY LOCK . I live at 49, St. Petersburg Place, Bayswater, and am the wife of Thomas Lock—on the 18th March the prisoner called on me and said "I have come about the gas"—he first told my servant that he came from the Engineering Gas Company—when I went upstairs he asked me if I had received a letter some time before—I said "No"—he did not say where the letter came from; I supposed ho meant from the Gas Company—he led me to suppose he was from the Gas Company—he said we, burnt a great deal of gas—I said I thought there might be something wrong with the burners or meter, and he asked me if he should look at them—I allowed him to go down and look in the meter—he said I had got it turned too full on—he fixed one burner upstairs, and I asked him the price—he said 10d.—I said I thought they were only 2d.—he looked at all the burners and said they were very old, and he put a little water in one in the dining-room—while there Mr. Dillon, the inspector of the Gas Light and Coke Company came up—I did not pay him any money.
Cross-examined. You did not say to my knowledge that you came from the Gas Light and Coke Company—I said we were getting a bad light—you recommended me not to have a burner upstairs because there was a good light—I said there was a very bad light in a room let to a gentleman, and I allowed you to fix one there—the gentleman down-stairs asked me if I sent for you—you said "No"—he asked you if you came from the Gas Company—you said "Certainly not"—you told him you came from some company, but I cannot recollect the name.
ROBERT HEY DILLON . I am one of divisional inspectors of the Gas Light and Coke Company—there is no other Gas Company in Bayswater—I called at Mrs. Lock's on this day, because I was informed that the prisoner was changing burners there, and I had been trying to see him for two years—he was confronted with me in the dining-room—I said "Who sent you here to do this work?"—Mrs. Lock said she did not—he said "I come from the gas engineer's"—I said "What gas engineers; you do not come from the Gas Company, do you?"—he said "No; I come from the gas engineer's," and then he gave me the name of some firm in the City which I forget at present—I said "There have been a great many complaints from consumers as to people changing burners
and charging exorbitant prices for them; I shall want your name and address before I part from you, in case I want you again"—he said he was agreeable, and gave the name of John O'Loghlin; I forget the address at the present moment—I wrote it down at the time—I then asked him "Is there any one in the neighbourhood who can authenticate this being your proper address in case I want to find you again"—he said "No"—I said "Will you come to the police-station with me to have it verified?"—I called a cab, and he went to Paddington Station with me, where I spoke to Morgan, who took the matter in hand—he gave an address there, and was taken in custody—I was not aware a warrant with regard to the South Metropolitan had been out for some time—they do not supply gas north of the Thames—Morgan had shown me the burners from the different people—they are an inferior obsolete class of burners, and would cost wholesale about 4s. 6d. per gross—they are a very bad form of burners—I did not know the prisoner before—he has not been connected in any way with the Company.
Cross-examined. You did not say you did not come from the Gas Company; you said you came from the gas engineer's—you went most willingly to the police-station—I did not say I took you there for falsely representing you came from the Gas Company; I said it was to get your address authenticated—you did not know I came from the Gas Company.
By the COURT. No name was on the burners—I could not tell where they were bought; they are not patented—he gave the name of the gas engineer's, but did not say that he got the burners there—I have not inquired if the name he gave is that of an existing firm.
DANIEL MORGAN (Inspector X). I went outside the station when the last witness arrived there with the prisoner in a cab, and told him I was an inspector of police; that I had had a complaint that he had been attempting to obtain money at 49, St. Petersburg Place, by selling bad gas burners—I asked him his name, address, and profession—he said John Thomas O'Loghlin, 33, Toronto Road; that he travelled on commission for the sale of gas stoves for Messrs. Milne and McFee, 2, King Edward Street, Newgate Street—I told him he must accompany me to 49, St. Petersburg Place; he did so, and after hearing Mrs. Lock's statement in his presence I told him I should arrest him for attempting to obtain 10d. by false pretences—I took possession of a gas burner that he pointed out to me as having been fixed by him, and for which he charged the 10d.—when I took it off he pointed out to me a small portion of wool that he had put in the pipe underneath the burner to improve the light—I found in his possession a large number of similar burners, two or three tools for putting on and taking off burners—at the police-court in reply to a remark I made that I had been to Messrs. Milne and McFee, and they denied all knowledge of him, he said he never said he had been their agent, that he had had no connection whatever with them—they admitted he had connection with them as a casual customer buying burners—he said that after I had been there—he said he had been there buying stoves on commission—I afterwards got burners from Ruff, Hill, Lock, and the others—these were the burners I showed to the last witness.
Cross-examined. I searched and found on you what I should have found on any other working men, the ordinary tools of a gasfitter, and a price list of gas stoves—I did not keep two of the circulars—I gave all the; burners and tools back to you.
By the COURT. At the police-court, after he found I had been to Milne And Co., he said "I did not say I travelled on commission, I simply called as a customer to buy burners"—I am quite sure he said he travelled as agent for that firm—the burners from Mr. Ruff, Mrs. Jones, and the others are all alike.
JOHN KENNEDY . I come from the firm of Milne and McFee, of 2, Edward Street, Newgate Street—the prisoner has never represented that firm in any way or travelled for them—these burners are our make; 6s. per gross is what we sell them at wholesale.
CHARLES HOWARD . I am chief inspector of the South Metropolitan Gas Company—the prisoner has never been connected with our Company—our office is in the Old Kent Road—there is no other gas company's office in that Road—there are only three gas companies in the metropolis, the Gaslight and Coke Company supplying this side of the Thames and a small portion of the other, the South Metropolitan supplying the other side, and the Commercial supplying the East End of London—there were several complaints, and a warrant was obtained against the prisoner in the names of Jones and Hill for representing himself as an officer of the South Metropolitan and so obtaining money.
The RECORDER intimated that the charge of false pretences had hardly been substantiated. MR. BESLEY submitted that there was a case to go to the Jury.
The Prisoner in his defence denied that he represented himself as coming from any gas company, but that he was selling the burners on his own account.
The RECORDER left the case to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
SAMUEL MAY . I am a farmer, and live at Truro, Cornwall—I am one of the executors of the will of the late Martha Beard, formerly the prisoner's wife—she lived at 14, Jermyn Street after the divorce—I came to London to have the will proved, I did not know the prisoner before—on Friday, April 4th, about 3.30 p.m., we read the will to him; Mr. King and Mr. Cutler paid him his wages and sent him going—after a quarter of an hour he returned and looked for a pair of shoes—I told him he should have them as quick as I could get them—in a quarter of an hour he returned again, but a policeman came round and said "If you have any disturbance you call for me"—the prisoner had turned into the fish shop opposite, and directly the policeman passed he came again and demanded his shoes—he had a walking-stick in his right hand, he drew a dagger from it and made a proper thrust at me—it went through my clothes and wounded my body—it was merely a small place, I could not say if it bled—then he made a second attempt directly—I grasped him by the throat and took the sword from him and gave it to the policeman—the second thrust touched my hand and made it bleed—there is a hole right through my clothes here—he had asked Mr. King for his sword-stick when he came back—I did not hear him—I had not touched him or given him any provocation—he was not the worse for drink, he had had a drop, but knew what he was doing—if I had not had nerve I should have been killed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not throw you down the steps
with your head on the pavement—I never touched you till after you had run the sword at me, I then fell on you to defend myself.
By the COURT. He did not say anything when he made this attack—there was a spot from the first stab for about ten days afterwards—my hand bled a good deal, I had trouble to stop the bleeding.
RICHARD FLEMING . I live at 3, Crown Court, Pall Mall—about a quarter past 4 on the afternoon of the 4th April I was at 14, Jermyn Street fitting a lock on the street door—I saw the prosecutor standing on the doorstep and the prisoner with this swordstick in his hand—the prisoner asked for a pair of boots, and to come in and change his boots—the prosecutor said he should not come in to change his boots, he would give him all those things presently—the prisoner said nothing, but drew this dagger from the stick and made a desperate plunge at the prosecutor—I saw a great deal of blood flowing from the prosecutor's hand—I could not say after which blow that was—he made two blows—the prosecutor then seized the prisoner by the throat, a constable was sent for, and the prisoner given into charge.
Cross-examined. You were thrown down after you had used the sword-stick.
JOHN STRIPLING KING . I am clerk to Mr. Cutler, of King Street, and am an executor of Mrs. Beard—I saw the prisoner in Jermyn Street about a quarter to 4 on this afternoon—he had previously been paid 2l., his salary, and board wages up to the end of the previous week—I told him to go away, he would not—I took him to a constable outside but did not press the charge—about twenty minutes afterwards he came back with the constable, I opened the door, he asked for his stick—I said "Is this your stick?" and gave it to him—I did not know it was a swordstick—the prisoner then went away with it—I did not see the assault afterwards.
WILLIAM BROOKS (Policeman C 245). About a quarter to 5 o'clock on the 4th April I saw the prisoner fall in Jermyn Street—I helped to pick him up—he was given into custody for wounding the prosecutor—he said "It is all over now, such things are very handy in crossing the Alps," pointing to the stick—he appeared sober, he walked to the station quietly—the prosecutor's hand was bleeding rather much—I saw his clothes, they were cut through—the stick was closed up when I got it.
Cross-examined. I did not see that your head was cut open—there was a little bruise.
FREDERICK KING (Policeman C 9). About 3.30 I was called to 14, Jermyn Street to eject the prisoner, he had been discharged from service, and was ringing the bell and knocking at the door—he was given into custody for that—I did not take him to the station, but told him not to go near the place, or I should take him into custody—he said "All right, my boy, I won't go near the place, but I want to get my stick, as my poor old feet are so bad I can hardly walk"—I said I would get it, and I got it and gave it to him—I did not see the assault.
The prisoner in his defence stated that his wife had made her money from capital he had supplied her with, and had left him nothing; that he wanted some of his things and was thrown down the steps, and supposed in the anger of the moment he must have drawn the sword.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — One Month without Hard Labour.
465. HENRY BURTON (35) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from the Hearts of Oak Friendly Benefit Society, money with intent to defraud, and to other indictments charging him with feloniously obtaining money from Thomas Marshall, secretary of the Hearts of Oak Society, by means of a forged sick list, and for demanding by threats money from Thomas Marshall.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
466. WILLIAM DUNKIN (19) to burglary in the shop of Maximilian Ullman, and stealing 17l. 10s., also to a previous con-viction in October, 1881; in the name of William Duncan.— Twelve Months' hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, April 22nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.
ELLEN MARY HARWIN . I am manageress at the Holborn Viaduct Restaurant—on 3rd March the prisoner came in and tendered 1s. to the barmaid Ward, who gave him 10d. change—he said that she had not given him a sixpence, but she insisted on it, and I told him to look on the floor as he might have dropped it; he looked down and found it—a little while afterwards I found a bad shilling in the till; there were other shillings there, and I could not identify it as the one the prisoner gave—I broke it easily in the tester, and threw away the pieces—en 5th March I saw Miss Still serving the prisoner, but did not see what he put down—on 8th March, about 3.30, I saw him there again—he spoke to Miss Still, asked her for a glass of beer, and put down a half-crown—I said to her, "Don't touch it"—I took it up and said, "This is a bad half-crown, and this is the third time you have been here this week, I shall lock you up"—he did not answer, but offered me a good shilling—I sent for the manager, who gave the prisoner in custody with the half-crown and shilling.
KATE STILL . I am a barmaid at Holborn Viaduct Station—I saw the prisoner there on 3rd March, but did not see what coin he tendered—there was a dispute about his change, but I did not hear what was said—on 5th March, about 3.30, the prisoner came to the bar and asked for a glass of stout, which came to 2d.—he gave me a shilling, and I gave him 10d. change and put the coin in the till, but among the sixpences, which were on a separate side of the till to the shillings, and while he was going out I looked at it, found it was bad, and gave it to Miss Harwin—on 8th March I saw the prisoner there again, but only through the window as I was going to bed; I don't know what passed.
Cross-examined. I am certain this is the shilling you gave me because it was a bent one and I put it among the sixpences.
JOHN HARTWELL (City Policeman 268.) On 8th March, about 10.20, I was called to the Holborn Viaduct Restaurant, and the prisoner was detained in the bar—Miss Harwin said, "This man has been here on Wednesday night, and on two previous occasions, and uttered bad money, and now he has uttered a bad half-crown, and I shall give him in charge"—he said nothing to me—I searched him there and found a
good shilling in his right hand—he gave me his correct name and address at the station.
The Prisoner called
AMELIA SCOTT . I have been a widow 11 years, and live on what my family allow me—on Wednesday, 5th March, between 5 and 6 o'clock, the prisoner came downstairs in his shirtsleeves when my niece was there and borrowed 6d. of me—I do not know whether he had been indoors all day—I did not see him again till 9 o'clock, when he went out with his wife—my niece is not here, but she could only say the same.
Cross-examined by MR. LLOYD. I live at 7, Britannia Street, City Road—the prisoner occupies the second floor back room unfurnished—I occupy the parlour; I am the housekeeper—he does not do any work that I know of.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was not out of doors on the Afternoon of 5th March, and that he had had his case postponed for five Weeks to give him an opportunity of proving an alibi, remaining in prison all the time; and as to the half-crown, he had received it for his work.
He them PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin in September, 1879,when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. LLOYD and BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
HANNAH RICHARDSON . My husband is a silver plater in Gray's Inn Road—on 25th March, between 8 and 9 o'clock p.m., the prisoner called And wished to see the top floor of the house—I showed it to her, and when require a deposit"—I said "Yes"—she said "I will give you half a crown"—I had got 7s. on the table, which I gave her, and my husband gave her sixpence, and she gave me the half-sovereign—I afterwards gave it to my husband, and we kept it till the police made inquiries.
ELIZABETH ANGELONI . I am the wife of Joseph Angeloni, of 2, North Crescent, Bedford Square—on Saturday, April 12th about 5.30, the Prisoner called and asked me what apartments I had—I showed her the first floor, and she agreed to take it at 25s. a week for a widower—when she got into the passage she said 'It is usual if you require the apartments to leave a deposit?' and produced a half-sovereign, saying "I have brought it out to market, I can only spare 2s. if you will give me 8s. change," which I did, and she gave me this coin—I tried it immediately on the umbrella stand and it rang badly—I went out but could not see her, and I took it to the police-station—I saw her next on the Tuesday following.
MARY ANN STARR . I am the wife of John Samuel Starr, of 7, Albion Road, Holloway—on 14th April, about 8.15, the prisoner came and asked What apartments I had to let; she said they were for her uncle, a retired Wine-merchant, and she thought they would suit him very nicely—she
asked if she should leave a deposit—I said "If you wish to secure the rooms you had better do so"—she said "I have not any small change, but if you will give me 7s. I will give you a half-sovereign," which she did—it felt light, and I bent it easily between my fingers—I said "This is a bad one"—she said "It can't be bad, for I have just taken it at the grocer's round the corner"—I said to my little girl "Take this down and ask your father if it is not bad"—she did so, and he came up directly with it and rang it on the umbrella stand—she said "Oh dear me, I can see it is bad now, I have heard of bad silver but never of bad gold"—she put it in her purse, and I let her out at the front door—I had bent it backwards and forwards before the girl took it down to her father—my husband went out at the side door and followed her.
JOHN SAMUEL STARR . On Easter Monday my daughter came down to me in the breakfast parlour and brought me a coin—it was very light, and I ran upstairs quickly and saw the prisoner there—I said "This is a bad coin"—she said she did not know there was any bad gold, although there was bad silver, and she got it at the grocer's shop round the comer—she put it in her purse, and my wife let her out at the front door—I went out at the side door to see if she went to the grocer's; I followed her up and down for 10 minutes—she went into a pastrycook's and came out eating something, looking each way to see if any one was watching her—I walked close to her; and as she stepped across the road, I took hold of her arm and said "Allow me to introduce you to this policeman, I want to know something more about this coin"—I told him she had tendered it for some apartments—he did not seem inclined to take the charge—I said "You had better produce the coin to the policeman and let him see it"—she took her handkerchief out of her muff and shook it and said "Dear me, I must have dropped it somewhere"—she admitted to the policeman that it was bad—I asked her where she she lived—she said "Hornsey road"—I said "What number?"—she said "That has nothing to do with you"—I said "What is your uncle's name?"—she said "I shan't tell you, you are not my judge."
WILLIAM BRAYBURY (Policeman, Y 186.) On 14th April, about 8.30 p.m., Starr gave the prisoner into my custody—I said "Where is the half-sovereign?"—she said "In my purse; here you are, look for yourself"—I looked in her purse and saw a threepenny piece and 3 3/4 d. in coppers, but no half-sovereign—she said "Oh, dear me, I must have pulled it out with my handkerchief, "and looked on the ground, but there was nothing; she denied having any other money on her—Starr asked her name and address—she said "I shan't satisfy you, but I will tell the officer; I live in Hornsey road"—she said "I have an uncle, and I am taking apartments for my uncle," but she did not tell me his name.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These coins are both bad; they are made of white metal gilt—it is possible to break a good half-sovereign with the fingers, but it would want a little strength—I suppose Mrs. Starr used both hands if it bent easily—it is bad, but I have known instances of good ones being broken.
Prisoner's Defence. When these coins were given me I was told they were as valuable as half-sovereigns. The young man who gave them
to me said if I got into a trouble he would say that I Was innocent. I don't know his name; he was always watching me to see that I did not get into trouble. I wanted to have one tested once, but he would not let me.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Month's Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and BLACK WELL Prosecuted.
FANNY SIMMONS . I am the wife of William Simmons, and assist my father, who keeps a confectioner's shop in Fulham Road—on 22nd March the prisoner came in between 2 and 3 p.m., and asked for two buns, and gave me a half-crown; I gave, him a florin and fourpence—it was very light, and I said "It is not a bad one, is it?"—he said "No, but there are a great many of them about"—after he had gone I found it was bad, and laid it on one side, and afterwards gave it to a policeman—I saw the prisoner again at Hammersmith Police-station, and picked him put from twelve others.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not hesitate before I picked you out—did not say I thought you were the man; I said "This is the one"—I said at Hammersmith that I hesitated because you had a top coat on, but as a fact I did not hesitate—the constable did not give me any idea of the man I was to pick out.
WILLIAM SLAUGHTER . I am a tobacconist, of 178, Fulham Road—on 24th March, about 7.45 p.m I served the prisoner with a twopenny cigar; he tendered a half-crown; I bent it in the tester, told him it was bad, and gave it back to him—he said he was not aware of it, and gave me a stilling, and I gave him tenpence change—he dropped the half-crown on the mat as he went out and I picked it up—this is it (produced)—I found him fifty or sixty yards away smoking, and told him he had dropped the half-crown he had tendered to me—he said it must have dropped put of his pocket.
HENRY CUNBBAGE . I am a gardener, of Ash House Nursery, Parson's Green—on 24th March I was going into Mr. Slaughter's shop and saw this half-crown on the mat; I gave it to him, and went with him and saw the prisoner standing about fifty yards' from the shop—Mr. Slaughter asked him whether he was aware he had lost the half-crown—he said "No, it must have dropped through a hole in his pocket—he was given in custody—he shammed intoxication but afterwards he began blackguarding me.
Cross-examined. I am sure you were shamming—I do not know that the constable said that you were tight.
CHARLES BRADSHAW (Policeman T 649.) On 24th March Mr. Walker gave the prisoner into my custody, and I asked him if he had got the half-crown—he said it must have fallen through a hole in his pocket, and that he got it from his masters, Messrs. Petter and Galpin, of Ludgate Hill—I made inquiries there, and I also went to Martin's Chambers, the address the prisoner gave—I found on him a cigar besides the one which he was smoking, a betting-book and paper, a sixpence and fivepence half-penny—he had been drinking, but he was not drunk.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he had given Mr. Walker the half crown, but did not know it was bad or he could have got away; that he had applied for a situation at Messrs. Peter and Galpin's, and gave his address there being rather under the influence of liquor, but he denied being in Fulham Road.
GUILTY .— Nine Month's Hard Labour
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CUSSENS (Police Sergeant V.) On 1st April, about 4.30 p.m., I was with Morley in the Broad Sanctuary and saw the prisoner Walking very fast on the other side of the road—we stopped him, and I said "We are police officers, I shall take Youin custody on suspicion of having counterfeit coin in your possession"—he said "I have not got any," and struggled violently—after going a short distance he said "For God's sake don't lock me up, I have a few pieces in my possession, I don't know whether they are good or bad"—when we got a little farther The said "I was going to take them to the police-station"—we took him to the station, and in his left trousers pocket a constable found these five half-crowns wrapped up in paper with paper on each—he asked me at the police-court if we did not see him pick up something from the gutter, and whether he was not jinking it on the kerbstone to see whether it was good or bad when we stopped him—that is not true, he was walking very fast—I had him under half an hour before he went into the public-house which we were keeping observation on.
JAMES MORLEY (Detective V.) I was with Cussens and saw the prisoner walking very fast—I watched him nearly half an hour and stopped him in the Broad Sanctuary—no one was with him—I searched him at the station and found five coins if his trousers pocket wrapped up in paper—I have heard cuseens's evidence—it is correct—I did not see the prisoner pick up anything.
Prisoner's Defence. I picked up the paper containing the coins and saw the detectives watching me. I told them I had just nicked up the coins.
GUILTY .— Twelve Month's Hard Labour.
MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.
ALICE WARD . My father keeps the Globe at the corner of Seymour Street and Drummond Street—on 12th April I served' the prisoner with half a pint of beer—she put down a half-crown—I saw that it was bad before I picked it up—I told my father, who asked her if she had any more with her—she said "I don't know what you mean"—he told her it was bad—this is the coin (produced)—I bent it in the engine.
WILLIAM WARD . I keep the the Globe, Seymour Street, Euston Square—on 12th April my daughter gave me a bad half-crown and said, "This woman has given it to me"—I said "This is a bad one, Missis"—she said "I don't know what you mean"—I bent it under the beer pull—she said "You are most mightily mistaken it' is not bad"—I called my potman and said "Have you seen any one with this woman?"—he said "I saw three men with her outside"—there
was a dog with her in the bar, which went away with the three men when the policeman took her.
GEORGE PUGH . I am potman at the Globe—on 12th April, about 17 minutes to 2 o'clock, I was cleaning the lamp outside—three men came and stood outside, and the prisoner went up to the tallest and said "Are you afraid?"—he said "Yes," put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out some money and gave her a half-crown—she walked down to the chandler's shop at the corner of Little Drummond Street—I could not say whether she went it, but while she was gone the three men went into the Globe—I did not see her come book; but my master called me two or three minutes afterwards and I said in her presence that she was with the three men, and she was given in charge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The three men went into the public-house while you went to the chandler's shop, but they were not in the bar when I went in three minutes afterwards.
JOHN CHAPPLE (Policeman.) On 12th April, about 1.45, I was called to the Globe, and the landlady gave the prisoner into my custody with this coin for attempting to pass it—she said that it was given to her by three men—she gave the names of two of them at the station as Johnson and Jones—the inspector asked her where she lived, and she told him to go and—nothing was found on her.
The prisoner in her statement before the Magistrate and in her defence said that she met the three men and asked one of them to lend her a shilling, and he gave lur the half-crown to get change.
She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of uttering counterfeit coin at this Court in March, 1883.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, April 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LILIEY Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY defended, at the request of the Court.
CATHERINE FITZGERALD . I am the prisoner's wife—I have lived apart from him for two years, and worked daily work to support my two children—for the last six weeks I have kept a shop—the prisoner has from time to time applied to me for money—on 12th April I received a message from him—about 5.45 that day I was sitting in a low chair at my tea with my daughter-in-law, Ann Fitzgerald, and my little daughter—a man came in for some ginger beer, which he partly drank, when the prisoner pushed open the door, rushed in, and kicked me in the face and knocked me off my chair on to the floor—he then shook his right arm and a knife came out of his sleeve; the blade came first—it was a white-handled
knife—he struck me in the side of the head first, and then by my eye—he ordered all the people out of the room—they ran away when they saw me bleed—he then took me by the hair of my head and drew me across the counter into the corner, put one hand on the door and the other on the counter, and kicked me in the face as fast as ever he could lift his foot for about ten minutes, and left me senseless—my daughter-in-law begged of him to let loose of me, and so did my child—at last he left me—I crawled to the door on my hands and knees, and my neighbours assisted me and took me out—a policeman was sent for, and I gave him into custody—a doctor examined me, and I was sent to the hospital, where I attended daily.
Cross-examined. I went to America last September twelve months, when my husband had six months'—my sister paid my passage, but I was not allowed to stay there with my two children without my husband, and I came back in November—the prisoner got an injury to his face on this occasion; a young man pushed him down as he was running away, and he cut his chin; that was after he had assaulted me—he always gets me turned out of my work and employment because I will not live with him; he kicks up a row and gets me discharged—he sent to me for money several times—I never gave him any—at the time he came into the shop there was George Whitman there, a costermonger chap, buying some bloaters, Mrs. Sullivan, a neighbour, and the man having the ginger beer, besides my daughter and daughter-in-law, but they left me when he ordered them out except the young woman, and she did nothing; she was frightened at the knife—they did not find the knife; he threw it over some ruins—I have never seen it since.
ANN FITZGERALD . I am daughter-in-law to the last witness, and live in Shelton Street, Drury Lane—on 12th April, about 5.46, I was taking tea with her; George Whitman came in to buy a box of herrings—the prisoner rushed in and kicked his wife two or three times in the face, and kicked her off her chair on to the ground, and then stabbed her in the eye and head about three times with a white-handled knife which he shook down his sleeve—he then dragged her from one side of the room to the other by the hair of her head, put one hand on the counter and the other on the door, and began looking her again four or five times—I asked him to leave her alone—he was coming to hit me or the little girl, and with that she got out; he followed her down the street and he was pushed down—about half an hour before this happened he sent for me to the corner of Parker Street and asked me to go and ask his wife for eightpence—I went and asked her, and she would not give it him—I returned and told him what she said, and he said he would do for her before night.
Cross-examined. I have been living with my mother-in-law about ten years, and in this shop about six weeks—I saw the prisoner pushed down just as he was coming away from the house—his wife was standing behind him.
ALFRED GALE . I live at 30, Shelton Street—about 5.45 on this evening I went to Mrs. Fitzgerald's shop to buy a bottle of ginger beer—while I was drinking it the prisoner came in and kicked Mrs. Fitzgerald; she was sitting down by the table drinking tea—she fell down on the floor—I saw him pull a knife from under his sleeve and stab her two or three times in the head—she was shrieking out—he ordered us ail out of the
room—after seeing the knife I went out and stopped outside till he came out—she was in the room when he came out—he walked down the street; a number of people assembled and he made off to run and I shoved him down in the dirt—he got up and made off again, but he was surrounded and stopped by the neighbours and taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I saw him stab her about twice before I left the room—I said before the Magistrate "I only saw the action of his arm once;" that is true—I think I said "Once or twice"—I did not exactly see him stab her twice—directly I saw the knife I went outside—he was about half-way down the street before she got outside the door.
Re-examined. After he stabbed her I saw blood rushing from her eye.
ALFRED EDWARDS (Policeman E 55.) About 6 o'clock in the evening of 12th April I received information and went to Newton Street, Holborn, where I found the prisoner detained by a crowd—I also saw Catherine Fitzgerald there—she had a wound on the left eye, and blood was rushing down her face—she charged the prisoner with assaulting and stabbing her—I asked him if he had done it with a knife—he said "No"—he had no knife in his hand—he said it served her b----well right—on the way to the station he asked me to loose him and he said he would polish her off—Mrs. Fitzgerald was following behind—he was sober.
Cross-examined. I searched him—no knife was found on him or at the house—it is a shop with a counter—I did not see any knife on the counter—when I went up to the prisoner at first I said "You will have to go to the station with me"—he said "All right, I will go with you," and he went quietly all the way to the station—I said "Did you stab your wife with a knife?"—he said "No, I done it with my fist, and it served her b----well right"—a crowd of 200 or 300 followed to the station hooting at and hissing him.
RICHARD HASSARD . I am a surgeon of 3, Southampton Street, Strand—about a quarter to seven o'clock on the evening of 12th April I examined Mrs. Fitzgerald at the station—she had an incised wound on the top of the left side of her head about three-quarters of an inch long, and it bled profusely and went right down to the bone—she also had a lacerated wound on the left temple nearly an inch long and right down to the bone—they bled considerably—the wound on the top of the head was certainly inflicted with some sharp pointed instrument—the other might have been caused by falling against any tolerably sharp instrument, such as a chair, or the back of a knife, not the sharp part—her lower jaw was very much swollen and bruised on the left side—a kick would inflict such an injury—on the following Monday she was suffering from erysipelas all round the left eye, and the wound on the left temple was suppurating—there must have been very considerable violence used—I examined the prisoner—he was suffering from a lacerated wound on the right side of the under jaw—I concluded that was the result of a fall on the ground, because it was full of dirt.
Cross-examined. I am perfectly certain that the wound on the top of the head must have been caused by a knife or some sharp instrument—she had lost a great quantity of blood from that wound—I found four or five slight bruises on her left arm.
ANN FITZGERALD (Re-examined.) There were two or three knives used in the shop—they were kept in a cupboard, not on the counter—they had black handles—I did not find any knife that did not belong there—I
don't know where the prisoner put the knife after he struck my mother with it, I saw no more of it.
GUILTY** of unlawfully wounding. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN
ELIZA NICHOLSON . I am the wife of William Nicholson, a commission agent, of 165, Ossulton Street, St. Pancras—we were lodgers in the same house as the prisoner—he is a hair-dresser—he rents the shop and parlour—he has lived in the house about a year—on Wednesday night, March 26, a little after 10 o'clock, I was sitting in my room on the first floor with a friend—I smelt paraffin—I went down stairs and saw a light under the prisoner's back parlour door—I knocked at the door—no one answered—I tried the door; it was locked—I then went to the street door and saw the prisoner outside his shop—I told him I believed his place was on fire—he said "I can't help it"—the shop door was shut, I can't say whether it was looked—I asked the prisoner to open the door to let some one put the fire out—he said he could not open it—I then went upstairs to raise an alarm as there were other lodgers—there was an old lady 105 years of age, and I had three children in bed and asleep over the prisoner's shop—the prisoner's parlour door was broken open, and I saw the fire in the back parlour—the fire people came and the fire was put out—the prisoner did nothing to help put it out—I did not see what became of him—the next time I saw him he was in custody—he had no family there, he is not married.
Cross-examined. When I saw him outside the shop he was quite quiet; he didn't attempt to run away; there was nothing to prevent him from doing so—he rents the shop and parlour—I have been in his shop—there was some furniture there; it was a dirty place—there was not much in it—he slept in the parlour—when I saw the smoke and flames I didn't go in; I went to look after my children—I have known the prisoner twelve months—I never noticed that he was eccentric; I never took any notice of him.
Re-examined. He had no servant or shopman that I know of.
HENRY DAVY (Police Inspector.) On the night of 26th March I heard a cry of ire—I went to 165, Ossulton Street; I got there at 10.5 or 10.7—I went into the passage and noticed under the back parlour door the reflection of a fire inside—I tried the door; it was fastened, and I burst it open—I found the place was on fire—the cupboard on the left-hand side of the fireplace was on fire inside—there was a lot of old rags or clothes on the shelves all burnt to tinder, and they smelt very strongly of paraffin—the bed clothing at the foot of the bed was also alight—that was about five feet from the cupboard, and on the opposite side of the room—there was no connection between the two fires—the bed was also burning; it was an old flock bed, and it was saturated with paraffin—I had previously obtained some pails of water, and the moment the door was opened we dashed it on, and got the fire out before the engine came—I afterwards examined more carefully—the bed had caught fire, and shavings were protruding from it—I produce some of them—there was no fire in the grate nor any lamp burning—on turning over the bed I found a pillow
between the bed saturated with paraffin, and this, pickle bottle full of paraffin was on a little table in the shop; it contains about a pint of paraffin—I found three small handlamps; neither of them were alight, and they were empty; two in the shop and one in the back parlour—next morning I found this half-gallon jar standing in the corner of the shop; it was empty—it smelt of paraffin—the value of all the things in the shop would be about 2l.; they were very old and dirty—I served a notice on the prisoner to produce his policy on the 31st—after he was in custody he said "I left the policy in the room"—I had searched the room, but didn't find it.
Cross-examined. There was a door leading from the parlour into the passage which was for the other persons in the house—there was also a door from the back parlour into the shop; that was fastened—it didn't appear to have been used.
JOSEPH THOMAS BENNETT . I am a fireman of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade at St. Pancras—on the 25th of March I had a call to this fire at 10.17, and I arrived at the prisoner's shop with my engine at 10.24—I found there had been a fire in a cupboard which had been put out—the left-hand side of the bed was still burning—I put it out with buckets of water—the bed smelt of paraffin all over—I found this pillow in the middle of the bed, so placed as to allow of a current of air to come in—there were some loose shavings in the mattress at the bottom—there were two separate fires, one in the cupboard and one in the bed—if the fire had not been discovered in less than five minutes the house would have been well alight—the woodwork of the cupboard was partly burnt.
Cross-examined. The flame from the bed would not be strong enough to char the cupboard, nor could any sparks from the cupboard have gone to the bed—the paint outside of the cupboard was not blistered, it was charred; that was from the fire inside.
HENRY SPENCER . I am manager to Mr. Gosling, an oilman, of Charrington Street, Somers Town, a few doors from the prisoner's shop—he has been a customer for paraffin—he generally bought a quart at a time—about 4.30 in the afternoon on the day of the fire he came with this half-gallon jar for two quarts of paraffin, for which he paid and took it away.
Cross-examined. He had brought that jar before for paraffin.
OLIVER WALTON . I am a clerk at a solicitor's, and live at 75, Shaftesbury Road, Crouch Hill—I am landlord of the house 165, Ossulton Street—the prisoner was in possession of the shop and parlour when I bought it in May last—he carried on business as a hairdresser—he remained as my tenant till the night of the fire at 11s. a week—there were two weeks' rent in arrear—I saw some property in his shop—there was very little I should say; about 25s. worth at the outside—I saw it on the Monday night previous to the fire—I was never in the back parlour till after the fire; I saw it then, and took the value of both shop and parlour to be about 2l.
Cross-examined. There was one week in arrear at the time I took possession of the place—the two weeks' had been owing for some time previous, with that exception he had paid up properly—I have not sold the things.
JOHN EDEN . I live at Evans Cottages, Rotherfield Street, Islington—I am agent for the Era Industrial and General Fire Insurance Company, Limited—on 15th October I called on the prisoner in his shop and asked whether he wished to insure, and he said he did, and I made him out a
proposal—I had one of our forms with me, and I wrote this out from what he told me, and he signed it in my presence—the insurance was for household goods, &c., 40l.; and stock and trade, 14l.—the premium was 2s.—he paid 1s. deposit—I submitted the proposal to the company, they accepted it, and I afterwards handed him the policy—he paid me the remaining 1s. for the premium, and I left the policy with him—this (produced) is a copy of it.
JOHN EDEN (Cross-examined). The prisoner was in the shop when I saw him—I didn't think 10l. excessive for the stock—I didn't see what was in the parlour—I saw two chairs, a washing-stand, and two basins—I should say that the chairs would be worth about 4s. each, and the washing-stand 7s. or 8s.—there was a certain amount of property there, and the man might increase the business—there might have been things covered over, and things in the cupboard.
CHARLES DAY (Policeman). On 31st March, at half-past 8 o'clock, I went with another constable to 19, Ossulton Street—the door was opened and I walked into the back parlour, and found the prisoner there underneath the bed, on the floor—I pulled him out, and told him he would be charged with setting fire to the dwelling-house, 165, Ossulton Street, and I cautioned him that what he said would be given in evidence against him—he said "I didn't do it, but I can bring people to prove who did."
Cross-examined. The place I found him in was in the same street as where the fire took place, about 400-yards away from it—I have made inquiries about the prisoner—I don't know that he has ever suffered from sunstroke.
At the request of MR. GEOGHEGAN the prisoner was allowed to make his own statement to the Jury, as follows:—"On the Sunday evening previous to the fire a man whom I employed as an assistant on the Wednesday, as a casual hand, came and asked if I wanted him; I told him I shouldn't want him on Saturday, but he could come on Wednesday evening. He did come, and I left the premises in his charge. He knew I had some money on the premises, and a few valuables. I went out about half-past 7 o'clock; I came back about 9.30. I opened the front door and a cloud of smoke nearly took my breath away. I went to the parlour door, that was locked inside; I went again to the shop and rushed to the place where I kept my bank-book and money, and a few valuables, and they were all gone. I immediately suspected that the assistant, during my absence, had helped himself to what there was, and set fire to the place."
GUILTY .— 'Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, April 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN appeared for Kemp, and MR. KEMP, Q.C., and MR. GRAIN for Craddock.
FREDERICK MEAD . I am one of the firm of Horse, Mead, and Son, woollen warehousemen, 19, St. Paul's Churchyard—Kemp has been in our service 16 years—he was the head of the pattern department—we had the utmost confidence in him, and allowed him to order pattern cards, which were delivered with invoices, which he had to tick, they then went to the counting-house for payment—we have never checked his dealings with Craddock in any way—between March 7th, when he was taken into custody, and March 20th, we made inquiries as to his conduct, and in consequence of what came to our knowledge we sent for Craddock, who came on March 20th—I knew him to be Craddock, the pattern maker, of Kingsgate Street, Holborn—I said to him "Do you know that Kemp is in custody?"—he said "Yes, I do"—I said "Have you any information which you think we ought to have respecting him?"—he said "I have not"—I said" Have your transactions with him been bona fide?"—he said "They have"—I said "Have you ever lent him any money?"—he said "I have, on two or three occasions"—he mentioned the sums—two of them I believe were 9l. and 4l., and he said "I hold I 0 U's for those amounts"—I said "Have you ever given him any money?"—he said "I have, a trifle"—I said "How much in the course of a year?"—after some consideration, he said "Well, perhaps 10l."—I said "Are you sure it is not 50l.?"—he said "I am sure it is not"—I said "Are you sure it is not 40l.?"—he said "I am sure it is not 40l."—I said "Are you sure it is not 30l.?"—he said "No, it is not 30l."—I said "Are you sure it is not 25l.?"—he said "Well, it might be from 20l. to 25l."—I said "Why did you give him that amount?"—he said "Because he asked me"—I said "Was it given as commission?" he said "Certainly not"—I said "Where did you give him these amounts?" he said "Generally in the warehouse, when I was taking orders"—I said "Have you made an entry of these amounts?"—he said "No, not at all"—I said "Have you a book in which any of them are entered?"—he said "Yes, some of them"—I asked him to fetch the book, but before he left I handed him the small card marked "A," which is for putting patterns of woollens on—I said "How much did we pay you for these cards?"—he said "21s. a dozen"—I said "Do you consider that a fair price?"—he said "Well, it might be done for less"—I said "How much?"—he said "14s. a dozen"—I said "Suppose we know that that is double the amount that it should be?"—he said "Well, I don't think that"—I showed him this estimate, which we had received from Messrs. Hancock, but turned down their name; it says "We shall be happy to supply you with show cards at 9s. 9d. a dozen the small and 7s. 3d. a dozen the large; we enclose you the cloth, which is superior to yours and stronger"—he read it and said "I don't understand it, the cards are charged less than they used to be"—he then left and returned with this petty cash-book and day-book—I looked through the day-book and found that instead of the prices being less, he had increased them from March, 1881—the prices formerly were 18s. for A and 24s. for B; the 18s. has been increased to 21s. and the 24s. to 27s.; and in February, 1884, another 6d. was put on to B—I said "You remember you told me that the prices were less than they used to be, how do you account for that?"—he said "I can't account for that"—I said "How do you account for the increase from that date?"—he said "I was told to charge the amounts"—I think some of the invoices supplied to us by Craddock are in Court,
and they agree with the book—these are Kemp's ticks on them to the best of my belief—the payments are made on the statements if they agree—this is an invoice of February, 1883; the large cards are charged 27s., and the small 21s.—there are six invoices in January and three in February; the items are ticked, but I cannot positively say by Kemp—this January, 1883, is a mistake, it ought to be 1884—there are five of January, 1884, and three of February, 1884, showing a rise from 27s. to 27s. 6d. for the same article—for the year ending 31st December, the total number of A cards was 121 1/2 dozen, and of the large cards 5 dozen, total 134l. 9s. 6d.—those amounts were paid—the invoices would go to Kemp and the monthly statement would go to his department; he should pass them as correct by ticking them—this if the counting-house tick on the right side—if the invoice and statement agree, the counting-house pays without further inquiries, but not without the tick—the counting-house would not make both ticks—turning to the petty cash-book I find various entries to the initial K; they are almost monthly; they vary in amount; here is 1l. 2s., 1l. 8s. 2l., 1l. 2s. 6d. and so on, all to K—I asked him if the K meant Kemp—he said "Yes"—the dates are not in the cash-book, only the month; here is a full copy of the invoices supplied by Craddock; there were six or seven orders a month, and statements once a month—I called his attention to the payments being almost monthly and to the varying sums, and said "Does not that show that it is for commission?"—he said that it did not—I said "How do you explain the varying amounts?"—he said "I gave him what I had in my pocket, and not always what he asked me for"—I said "Is that the only explanation you can give?"—he said "It is"—I said "You had better think the matter over and come and see me again to-morrow morning," which he did—I then said "Can you give me any further explanation?"—he said "I cannot, but I should like to settle this matter; I have a lot of cards which I have prepared for you, which are perfectly useless to me, and I shall be glad to let you have them at your own price"—I said" At 1s. 3d.?"—he assented—I said "The matter is far too serious to be dealt with in that way," and I declined—the cards are useful to anybody in the woollen trade; there is no trade mark of ours on them—those charges are exclusive of lettering—we paid him about 250l. a year altogether—we had been ordering the same cards of others—I sent for an estimate to Wright's, and also to Craddock's, and received these cards (produced)—they are about the same quality as mine—Hancock's comes to 46l. 9s. 7d., and Wright's to 45l. 0s. 6d.; the total amount we have paid from July, 1880, down to 1883, on these two cards, is 232l.—we pay roughly 250l. a year—Kemp never said anything about increasing the prices from 18s. to 21s.—the first intimation we had of it was looking through his book; nor did he say anything of altering 27s. to 27s. 6d.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Joseph Mead, the stationer, is a cousin of mine; he has supplied me with envelopes some years—I cannot give you the price—I aid not take the contract for envelopes from him and give it to Mr. Wilson, of Cheapside—I got envelopes both from Mead and Wilson—I don't think the difference was something like 10s. between them—Wilson did not supply them at 9s. per 1,000 and Mead at 24s.—I do not know whether Mead charged 24s., or what Wilson charged; it is hot part of my business to know—it is impossible in a
large house, to investigate everything—Mr. Wilson works for us now for brown paper; I cannot say about envelopes; the head of the department, one of the clerks, would give the orders—Mr. Wilson or Mr. Davis, they are not here, nor is Joseph Mead—he never sent me an estimate for pattern-books, I don't think it is his business—the invoices would go into the department, and seven or eight of the clerks would see them.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. I have dealt with Craddock since 1880, but I only knew it from his word—before that Lindsay and Craddock supplied us with goods—they charged us 18s. and 24s., just before Craddock commenced—I did not look further back—he did not say that old Mr. Lindsay had told him he was not charging enough—I asked Craddock when he took Lindsay's business—he said "In June, 1880"—I said at the Mansion House that Craddock said he was told to charge more by Mr. Lindsay, but on thinking the matter over I do not think so; I think that suggestion came from Kemp—Craddock brought me his books; I could not have got all the information without them, or that he paid Kemp a farthing except from what he told me.
Re-examined. I was not asked questions about envelopes at the police-court—Mr. Tattershall was present for Kemp, and Mr. Geoghegan was in Court—the entering clerks have no control over the heads of departments—Kemp was the head of a department for these cards, and it was far away from the counting-house at the extreme end—Mr. Lindsay's charge never went up to 21s. and 27s.
JOHN MORGAN . I am manager of the pattern card department at Hancocks Brothers, 27, Wood Street—this (produced) is an estimate in reference to these pattern cards produced—we supplied these cards—we did not know for whom the estimate was given—those prices allow a profit to our firm.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. They are made by hand—I don't think it is fair to ask the cost price; I can simply say that we should get about 20 per cent, profit out of the order—we use leather, cloth, and cartridge-paper, and we make a charge for making, cutting, and printing—the contract is for a gross of each size—we thought it might lead to other things—some West-end houses charge a little less than we do, and some more—we have a stationer's shop, and do these cards ourselves—we did them in 1880.
THOMAS JOHN WRIGHT . I am a pattern-card maker, of 69, Bartholomew Close—I was asked to give an estimate for what we call "throw-out cards," A and B, and gave this estimate (produced)—here are 20 other cards—we supply the A cards for 7s. a dozen, and the cards for 10s.—those are fair and proper prices, and what we have supplied other firms at.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Mr. Joseph Mead is not well known in this trade.
The RECORDER considered that there was no case to go to the Jury on the first Count.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HUTCHINSON. I am one of the firm of Speller and Preston, wholesale stationers and pattern-card makers—our estimate for these
smaller cards was 21s. a dozen—we did not give an estimate for the larger ones—that is a reasonable price for a small quantity—if you wanted to get into a house you would give a low quotation.
Cross-examined. We have made none this year—I don't know how many we made in 1883—I do not know Craddock—we communicate with the heads of departments, but do not give them money—lending them money on I O U would depend on what interest they were going to pay me—we do not raise our price without communicating with the principals.
Re-examined. I should make out the note to the buyer, and address the envelope to the firm.
WIGHTMAN. I am manager of a fancy box business—21s. would not be an unfair charge to make for these smaller cards—I should make a difference in the price if I wanted to get into a house.
Cross-examined. I have been in business 16 years—I have not made any cards since January—I only made larger cards in the last quarter of 1883, and usually in grosses—I do not make presents to the heads of the departments.
Re-examined. I have heard of it being done—the larger the quantity the less we can do them for.
NOT GUILTY .
477. EDWARD KEMP was again indicted for stealing 2 1/2 yards of cloth of Frederick Mead and others, his masters. Second Count, embezzling 1l. Third Count, stealing within six months two pieces of cloth and a bag of his said masters.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Detective). I began to watch the prisoner on 28th February, and saw him leave Messrs. Mead's premises every night between 7 and 8 o'clock—I did not see him leave on 7th March, but I saw him in Knight rider Street carrying this bag—he went into the White Horse public-house, and I watched till he came out about 10.15 still carrying the bag—another man was with him, Bowley—they went to the Skinners' Arms public-house, opposite the Mansion House Station—they were there a very few minutes, and left together—Bowley then had the bag; he crossed to the railway-station, and Martin and I followed—Martin had joined me about a quarter to 8—we both went by railway to Victoria, where I took Bowley in custody and took possession of the bag, and found in it these two pieces of cloth (produced)—we then went to Kemp's house, 55, Cloudesley Road, Barnsburv, and got there about midnight—he had not gone to bed—Martin said, "We are City police-officers; we have a man named Bowley in custody, have you sold him any cloth to-night?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "How much did you sell it for?"—he said "10s."—I said, "Is it entered in the book?"—he said, "Yes, I paid Elmar 8s. for it"—he said that it was entered in Elmar's book—I took him and charged him with stealing the cloth—I was at Bridewell Station when Kemp and Bowley were there—Martin was standing behind them, and I was two or three yards off—I heard nothing said because they spoke low.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN I said, "When did you buy it?"—he said, "Yesterday, and it was entered in the books by Mr. Elmar"—he was not charged at the Mansion House with stealing the bag, simply the cloth—Bowley was charged with receiving, and was discharged by the Alderman.
BENJAMIN MARTIN . I was close to Bowley and Kemp when they were charged at Bridewell Station—Kemp said very low to Bowley, "It's all over now"—that was at the finish of it, when Detective Taylor was looking over the property.
Cross-examined. I gave that evidence at the Mansion House, and the Alderman discharged Bowley—Kemp made no answer—I was behind them looking over the desk—Taylor was at the desk about three yards from the dock—Kemp spoke in a very low voice—I searched Kemp and found a watch and chain, over 2l., and several papers; I did not make a list of them—I don't think I found a small memorandum book.
JOHN HIBBERT . I am a packer in the service of E. McNorman and Co., St. Paul's Churchyard, and live at Rotherfield Street, Islington—last October I selected some cloth for a great coat at Messrs. Howse, Mead, and Co.'s—Mr. Kemp and several others were present—Kemp charged me 1l. for it and I had it made into this great coat which I am wearing.
Cross-examined. I inquired of the tailor, who told me it was in October—I paid for it three days afterwards—I said at the Mansion House that it was five or six months ago; it might be seven months ago.
WILLIAM ELMAR . I am warehouseman to Howse, Mead, and Co.—Kemp was the head of their pattern department—the men are paid their wages a month in advance—we are allowed to buy cloth for our own use—it was not taken away till it was entered and paid for—these two pieces of cloth are the property of the firm—the value at cost price is 12s. 6d. for the two—on March 7th I left early, before Kemp—he had said nothing to me about taking out cloth that night—there is no entry in the book of any sale on that date in reference to this cloth—a Mr. Graham supplies these bags to the firm for the use of the travellers, but I cannot say whether he supplied this bag—after Kemp was committed for trial I found these remnants (produced) which match the cloth, in a pile just behind where he worked—this piece is 1 1/4 yards—it has been severed with a knife, not cut with the shears.
Cross-examined. I am told that an anonymous letter was the origin of this prosecution—Kemp's place is filled up—I know that the men have had goods and not entered them till the first of the month—those persons are still in the firm's employ—Mr. Hewson is here, he is not a witness for the prosecution—it is his duty to enter in the books in the sixth department and I enter for the third—if a person selected some cloth after I left he would have to wait till the next morning before I entered it—I know Kemp's writing—this memorandum is not his, I think not—Mr. Horner, our clerk, would know whether this sovereign was paid over—he is not here.
Re-examined. No employe of the firm has a right to buy cloth except for his own use—if I left early, no servant had a right to cut off goods without entering them—he was in my presence for hours before I left and had plenty of time to tell me.
FREDERICK MEAD . I am one of the firm of Howse, Mead, and Co., St. Paul's Churchyard—this cloth measures about 2 1/2 yards—there is no entry in the books of 2 1/2 yards of beaver in the name of Hibbert or Kemp or of 1l.—we only allow our servants to have goods for their own use, not to carry off goods without payment—I never knew them taken out without an entry being made.
Cross-examined. I do not know that they were in the habit of taking
goods at the middle of the month and paying for them at the end—they are still in my service—here are four entries of cash without a name—I have taken out the whole of Kemp's purchases from January, 1883, to this time—I have not cast them up, but I was surprised to find how many there are—they are taken from our book—the two entering clerks are Horner and Eden.
Re-examined. There are nine entries since October, and the total is about 6l. 10s.—one of them is for 1l.—that is for five yards of lining at 4s. in February, 1884—that could not be for a coat which was made in October—I have paid for bags similar to this which was ordered by Kemp; they cost about 10s.—Horner would be the person to receive the sovereign.
MR. HORNER. I cannot swear whether the prisoner ever paid me a sovereign for enough olive-green cloth to make an overcoat—he has paid me for no more than are entered in this book; in fact he has not paid me for all that are entered, therefore he had decidedly not paid me for this cloth—Mr. Elmar enters the sums in one department—I have entered four yards at 2s. which have not been paid for.
Cross-examined. I am supposed to receive the money when the goods go out, not when the men's wages are paid—I cannot tell you the date of the entry, it was not entered by me—Mr. Eden keeps the book, he is not here—on the Friday evening as Kemp was leaving I said "There is something entered to you in the ready money book," and he said "I will pay you for it"—he did not do so, because I do not carry the cash-box in my pocket.
Re-examined. I can't say whether that was Friday, March 7th, but it was the night before he was taken in custody, shortly before he left—it was not as to a prior entry that I asked him for the 8s., but in reference to 8s. in the ready money book—he did not tell me he was taking out a bag with any property—I cannot say whether it is Mr. Elmar's entry.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. BUCK Defended.
THOMAS ALEXANDER DAVIS . I keep the Kettledrum, St. George's-in-the-East—on 4th March I sent a postcard in answer to an advertisement for a barman in the Morning Advertiser, and on the next day the prisoner came with my postcard in his hand—he said that he had been working at the Clarendon, in Hackney, for eight months, and he left five weeks before because the house was sold, and that Mr. Amos was the landlord that I should find him at the Duke of Cambridge, Great Cambridge Street, at any time that I would mention—I said that I would send my manager there from 4 to 5 o'clock that day, and I sent Mr. Knight, who repeated to me what he had been told about the prisoner's character, and I engaged him to come on Thursday at 6 o'clock—I referred to the Licensed Victuallers's Gazette and found that the house had been transferred from the name of Amos—I was not there when the prisoner came on the Thursday, but I was there at 2.30 p.m. when the manager made
a report to me—I then went to the till where the prisoner had been serving, and actually found 6d. less than the manager should have left there, although the prisoner had been taking money to the till—I then made arrangements with a detective, and some money was marked—I was sent for on Friday, about 2 p.m., from my other house, and found a policeman there, who came behind the bar by another door as I entered, and requested the prisoner to step upstairs—he was asked what money he had about him—he produced a florin, and said "That is all I have about me"—he was asked whether he had any money upstairs—he said "11s. 6d."—I saw his bag opened and a knotted handkerchief taken out of it, from which Mr. Knight selected some marked coins—the prisoner said nothing—he was taken in custody.
Cross-examined. Four persons were employed in the bar—the prisoner was with me twenty-six hours—we always leave five shillings and ten sixpences in the till—I had not checked the amount taken—13s. 6d. was found in the prisoner's bag tied up in a handkerchief—I prosecute this case through the Licensed Victuallers' Protection Society—if the prisoner had sold 10s. worth of things, and taken gold, the gold would be put in a glass at the back and silver would be taken from the same place—no one keeps a watch on the gold; that would be missed at once—the tills are not locked, any one behind the bar can get at them.
Re-examined. Giving change does not reduce the amount in the till; it ought to raise it.
WILLIAM KNIGHT . I am manager to Mr. Davies; my wife assists me and two barmen—I went to the Duke of Cambridge between 4 and 5 o'clock on Wednesday by Mr. Davis's directions, and found the prisoner outside the bar—he called for Mr. Amos, and a man came, who I should know again if I saw him—it was not the witness Amos—he said "I am glad you have come, for I want to get away"—I was asked into the bar-parlour, and he said "You come about the man's character here, George"—I said "Yes"—he said "He has lived with me eight months at the Clarendon"—I asked when he left—he said "About five weeks ago"—I asked the reason—he said "Through my selling the house, and there was a change"—I asked if he was honest, sober, and respectable—he said "Yes, during the eight months he was with me I had no reason to suspect him at all"—the prisoner came next day, Thursday, at 11.45, and brought the bag which was afterwards searched—he was serving till I went to take a rest about 2.50—Mr. Davis had come in about 2.30—before I went away I put five shillings and ten sixpences in the till which the prisoner was serving at—when I came down Mr. Davies called my attention to the till, and said that there was 6d. less than I had left there, but I did not see the till—I saw the prisoner giving change with his left hand and passing his right hand towards his waistcoat pocket—I was present when some coins were marked and put in the till; some of them were missed—two marked florins were put in, and I missed them in the morning, and at dinner time I missed some more and communicated with the police—before I went up to dinner I placed five shillings and ten sixpences in the till—some of the shillings were marked—I missed two of the marked shillings while the prisoner was at dinner, and sent for the police—I then told the prisoner I wanted to speak to him upstairs, and asked him what money he had—he produced a florin, and said "That
does not belong: to you"—it was not marked—I sent my wife up for his bag—he said "I will open it"—I said "No"—he handed the key to the constable, who asked him how much was in it—he said "11s. 6d.,"but 13s. 6d. was found in it, and I recognised the florin which I had marked the night before—he was given in custody.
Cross-examined. I have been manager close upon eleven months—Mr. Amos came from the bar parlour at the Duke of Cambridge—there was no one behind the bar—the landlord, I suppose he was, was there a great part of the time while the character was given to me, but he took no part in the conversation—that was not the Mr. Amos who is here to-day—the man who gave, the character said "He will serve you as he served us, no doubt"—I asked what money he gave him, he said "14s."—I said "What, 14s. a week?"—he said "Yes"—the prisoner could not hear that—when I saw the prisoner pat money in his pocket I did not stop him because the money was not marked then—I have no doubt that he was stealing the money—a barman was there with him and my wife and myself—two half-crowns, two florins, four shillings, and one sixpence were marked on Thursday night, some of that probably reached some of the customers' pockets—I never saw the prisoner give change out of his own pocket—I never did so myself—he had his dinner with my wife on the Thursday while I attended to the bar—he refused to give me the key of his bag, but he gave it to the constable.
He-examined. I put the marked money in the till at 9 a.m. on Friday, and the prisoner left the bar at 10.30; I looked and saw that the florins were gone before he went upstairs.
RICHARD GULLY AMOS . I managed the Clarendon public-house, Hackney, from November 30th till January 20th; the licence was in my name, and transfer was then made; the prisoner was not in my employment, I never saw him before—my nephew does not keep the Duke of Cambridge, Great Cambridge Street, Hackney—I was never in that house—I do not know it at all.
Cross-examined. I do not know who keeps it—there are other Mr. Amos's in the world besides me.
Cross-examined. I marked two half-crowns, four florins, four shillings, and a sixpence, and handed them to the manager—I have not seen them since—I have used the same mark about three times within the last twelvemonth—I have marked about 25s. worth of money during that time.
JOSEPH FOOLS (Policeman E 403). I was called to take the prisoner on 7th March about 2 p.m., he gave me a florin not marked—he told the manager he had 11s. 6d. upstairs, but I found 13s. 6d. knotted in a handkerchief, among which Mr. Knight picked out a florin.
Cross-examined. I said at the police-court that I found 13s. 7d., there was an extra penny.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, April 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
479. FREDERICK GOLDSTONE (28) and GEORGE KEEN (42) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling house of Henry James, and stealing 1l. 12s. 1d., moneys of the General Apothecaries' Company, Limited. Keen received a good character, and the Managing Director stated that he had no with to press hardly against the prisoners. GOLDSTONE — Eight Months' Hard Labour. KEEN— Six Months Hard Labour. And
MESSRS. B. HICKS and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
LILLIAN EMILY DALTON . I live at 15, Catherine Street, Strand, a dairy kept by my brother, Joseph Dalton—on or about 10th March the prisoner came in about 8 p.m. for two eggs, they were five farthings each—he took a half-crown, a florin, 3 1/2 d. in bronze, a shilling, and a sixpence out of his left trousers pocket, and held them in his hand, and then tendered the half-crown, which made me suspicious—I could see it was bad as he bounced it on the marble counter—I bent it very easily—I said "This is bad," and took it to my brother, who had witnessed it through a glass door—when I said it was bad, he said "Give to me to back"—I said "No, it is not the rule to give up a bad coin"—this (produced) is the half-crown.
Cross-examined. I was not called before the Magistrate—I was first asked to give evidence on the 1st of April, after the prisoner was in custody—I have never picked him out from others—I have not the least doubt about him, I knew him as soon as I saw him—my brother said he had been to the police-station—he gave no description of the man he had picked out—nobody took down what I was going to prove.
Re-examined. I have seen no one from the prosecution since I was subpoelignaed—before I took the coin to my brother I said it was bad.
JOSEPH DALTON . I keep a dairy at 15, Catherine Street, Strand—my sister brought me a bad half-crown; I cannot specify the date—I went into the shop and saw the prisoner there, showed him the half-crown, and told him it was bad, and that I should charge him, and I said I supposed he knew what risk he was running, and that the best thing he could do was to get away as quickly as possible—he said he was not aware it was bad, and would I give it back to him—I kept it; it was bent; this is it—he paid for the eggs with a good sixpence, and had his change and went away—a fortnight or three weeks after I was sent for to the station; I saw eight or ten men there, from whom I picked out the prisoner at once—I afterwards gave Gregory the half-crown.
Cross-examined. I went to Bow Street twice—I saw Mr. Leigh there on the first occasion—I did not see men placed for identification on both occasions—I did not not go in with Leigh to pick the prisoner out—Gregory was in the corridor where the identification took place—I did not first point to a boy with red hair, something resembling the prisoner,
standing on his right hand—the officer did not ask me if I was sure, and did not say "I am certain, and can swear to it"—there was no boy with red hair and nobody resembling the prisoner—I looked carefully to see I was making no mistake—Leigh was not there on the first occasion—I will swear Gregory was not standing nearer the prisoner than he was to any other—he was four or five yards from the prisoner—Gregory had asked me what kind of a man the prisoner was and I gave him his height—on 24th February I came from one of the rooms where I had been waiting with Gregory—we had not been talking the matter over.
Re-examined. I did not give Gregory a description of the prisoner because I did not think it necessary—I could have told him more than the height.
CHARLES SIDNEY LEIGH . I keep a hosier's shop at 113 and 114, Strand—on 12th March, shortly after 7 o'clock, the prisoner came into my shop and asked for a pair of sucks, which came to 1s., and he tendered a half-crown—directly I took it in my hand I saw it was bad, and I said "Are you aware what you have given me?"—he said "Yes, half-a-crown"—I said "Do you know it is a counterfeit?"—he said "No"—I said "I feel so strongly about the matter, that ware I not pressed for time in the morning I should lock you up at once"—he then tendered a good coin—I took the goods out of his hand and ordered him out of the shop, and told him he might tell his confederate outside what I had told him—I saw the case in the papers next day and communicated with the police, and on the following Monday picked the prisoner out of ten or twelve others at Bow Street—I did not pick him out at once, as I was in hopes I should see the man whom I had seen with him on the Wednesday when he came in—a gentleman was then being served by my assistant, and put down two half-crowns and sixpence; the prisoner walked up and put his bad half-crown between the two good ones, and I picked it out at once and gave it to Gregory—this was 7 or 7.15 on 12th March—I notched a piece out of it with my penknife—I followed the prisoner out and saw him join the other man.
Cross-examined. There were no policemen in the passage when I picked the prisoner out—the gaoler was there—I did not walk up and down the line and say "The man is not here"—I said "The man that was outside is not here; this is the one that came in the shop"—he said "Look them well up and down the line"—I was then told to go into an adjoining passage, and I believe some one else was called—they were ill-assorted men; I went up and down the line before I picked him out.
ALBERT GREGORY (Detective Sergeant E). In consequence of information received, on 12th March, about 10.45 p.m., I went to the Fountain public-house, Eagle Court, Strand—I looked in and saw six men, among whom was the prisoner, and women in the bar—I got Payne and another officer to help me, and went in and said "I believe you have got some bad money; I shall search you all"—they made no reply—I searched one and found nothing on him; I then searched the prisoner, and found in his outside breast coat pocket seven half-crowns in paper, with newspaper cut in long strips between each—there was nothing else in that pocket—I said "You will be taken into custody for being in possession of these"—he said "I didn't know they were bad, and I don't know how they came there"—they had some black-looking greasy substance on them—a man named Bold was there—they were all
sitting at a table talking together when we went in—the prisoner said "You know I am not doing that now"—the other people were searched; the prisoner was the only one on whom coins were found—at the station he said to me "You know you put those coins in my pocket"—the charge was read to him; he made no reply—I also found on him besides, a florin, a sixpence, 6 1/4 d. in bronze, and a five-franc piece all good, and a tobacco-pouch—Payne could see me take the money out of his pocket.
Cross-examined. I came to the public-house twice that night—the landlord did not ask me to have anything to drink—I came back in about twenty minutes and found the prisoner still there—I did not notice him when I first went; there were a lot of men sitting down—I searched the man nearest me first, and then walked up to the prisoner; he waited while I searched the first man—I will swear nothing else was in his coat pocket—I will not swear it was not the first pocket into which I put my hand—I think the vest pocket was the first—I remember another case in which I found counterfeit coin in the outside breast pocket; I cannot remember the name of it—I don't believe I said "Here they are"—I will not swear I did not—I said "These are bad"—after that I searched the company; I did not find anything else—at Bow Street Station I charged him with having these coins in his possession—I knew nothing about uttering—the inspector said nothing about uttering—I have instructions to take down what prisoners say in some cases—I did not in this case, where there was only a word or two—I was not closeted with one of the witnesses in a private room before he gave his evidence; I was with Dalton in the consultation-room; I am not certain if we were alone—I was present at the identification; I nearly always am when I have a prisoner in custody, to see what goes on—I have not heard that I ought not to be—another man was brought there to identify the prisoner; he did not do so and is not here to-day; that was Mr. Fletcher, manager of the Wellington public-house—I don't think I mentioned Bold's name before the Magistrate; I said there were two or three there I know—I have been told he is a lodger in that house.
Re-examined. I did not put the money into the prisoner's pocket—I did not point him out to either of the witnesses.
CHARLES PAYNE (Policeman E 143). I accompanied Gregory to the Fountain on 12th March at 11 o'clock, and saw him search the prisoner and find these seven base half-crowns—I heard the prisoner Bay in the dock at the station "They were not there till you put them there"—they were wrapped in paper.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am assistant to my father, Examiner of Coins to Her Majesty's Mint—these half-crowns are all bad—the one passed to Miss Dalton is from the same mould as two of the seven, and the one passed to Mr. Leigh is from a different mould, but the same mould as some others among the seven—there are three moulds altogether—it is usual before bad coins are passed to blacklead them and wrap them up in separate paper, and then the blacklead is rubbed off before they are uttered.
The prisoner stated that he wished to withdraw his imputation that Gregory had put the coins into his pocket.
GUILTY ;*— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
CATHERINE ANN LOVETT . I am a widow, living at Whetstone—the prisoner is my daughter by my husband before I Was married to him—prior to February last she had been living at St. Albans for six weeks, and on 4th or 5th February I took her back to live with me—about 7.30 on March 23, Sunday evening, she left home, and next morning I missed these two black skirts (produced), and a pair of boots, which I afterwards saw on her feet at the police-station, and which she has on now—I did not give her leave to take them—I thought she was only going to the gate to talk to Ann Gilbey, and expected her to come back again—I next saw her at the police-station on 25th March—I gave information to the police when I missed the things.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I lent my boots to Lilly—I told you you should not have my skirt—I didn't tell you and Lilly to go to New Barnet, or lend you my things before you went—I am certain I did not say I would put you away on account of a young man you were keeping company with.
By the COURT. I have once or twice lent the prisoner a print dress; not these things—this was a new skirt—Lilly is my youngest girl.
JOHN JONES (Policeman s 424). I received information on 24th March from the last witness, and made inquiries for the prisoner, and met her alone at 8.45 on the night of 26th March at New Southgate crossing the railway bridge—that is about a mile from Whetstone—I told her she was wanted for stealing wearing apparel belonging to her mother—she replied "All right, I did take them"—I took her to the police-station at Whetstone, calling for her mother on the way—at the station the mother identified one of the skirts and the boots which the prisoner was wearing—about 11 o'clock the same night I looked over some empty houses where I had found the prisoner sleeping with a young man some two nights previously, and found in the water-closet, at the rear of the house, this other skirt—at the police-station, in answer to the charge, the prisoner said "I had sooner be in prison than out; they always use me well there; I am a general favourite at St. Albans."
By the COURT. The prisoner said to her mother "I did take them, but I should have brought them back if you had allowed me to come home"—she was going towards home, she said, but she was going in the opposite direction.
The prisoner in her defence stated that her mother gave her the skirts, and told her to go and see if she could not get work at Colney Hatch Asylum.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, April 24th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
MATILDA BROWN . I am in service in Jermyn Street, St. James's—I am single—on 22nd October I was confined of a female child in Queen Charlotte's Lying-in Hospital—its name was Adeline Dorothy—I was attended there by Dr. Edglow—I remained there about fourteen days
I suckled the child—it was quite healthy when I left the hospital—I then went into a lodging at 54, Yeldham Road, Fulham, for a week; while there I weaned the child—the prisoner was living there with her husband, an old man about eighty, partially paralysed—before leaving there the prisoner asked me to leave the child with her as it would be a little money for herself—she was doing nothing at that time—I agreed to leave it in her care, and to pay her 7s. a week, and to pay for all extras—she had no other children to take care of—I bought two bottles for it, with condensed milk and sugar and water—the prisoner saw how I used to treat the child—it took the bottle very well—after this I always went to see the child once a fort-night—it wan getting on all right at first—I told the prisoner to call in Dr. Cooley to see it—I think that was in December; that was because it had bronchitis—I did not see the doctor myself—when I visited her again she told me she had had a doctor to see it—she told me it was getting better—I did not see much difference in it—on 15th January the prisoner moved from Yeldham Road to Mrs. Knight's, at Radnall Terrace—up to that time I had paid her all—I saw the baby at Mrs. Knight's; it was dark when I went in, and I could scarcely see it—the prisoner had just moved there—I think I saw it once at Mrs. Knight's; it seemed just about the same; it was asleep—the prisoner only stayed eight days at Mrs. Knight's—I forget the name of the street she moved to; it was close by—on 25th January, in consequence of a letter I received, I went and saw the prisoner—the child had not then been washed—it was in the morning—the clothes it had on were all wet—it appeared just about the same; it did not appear to get any better—I then took it away from her and took it to Mrs. Pitman, a widow, living in the neighbourhood—I had always paid the prisoner the 7s. a week, besides 1s. or 2s. a week for extras—I paid her 1l. 4s. 6d. on the 25th, clearing up everything—I did not say anything to her when I took the child away—I simply told her to dress it and took it away—I first noticed the child getting ill after the bronchitis; about a week after I left it with the prisoner—I did not see any change in it as I visited it from time to time—she said it took its food very well—it looked pining away every time I went—I asked her why it did not get fatter—she said it was going on very nicely—it died on 31st January at Mrs. Pitman's—I saw it dead—I afterwards gave evidence at the inquest.
By the COURT. The child was born on 22nd October, the same day I went to the hospital—I do not think I went more than once a fortnight to see the child—I went every time I got out—I did not see that it got any better—Mrs. Jones told me she got better—a person wrote to me on the 24th January, and said if I wanted to save my baby's life I was to take it away—I took it away on the 25th—it was very ill then—I saw it at Mrs. Knight's once, when it was asleep; it was nearly dark, and I could not see what it looked like—I questioned the prisoner about it—she told me it was getting better—I was satisfied with that—I thought Mrs. Jones knew more about it than I did—it was my first child.
ELIZABETH GORE . I live at 54, Yeldham Road, Fulham, and am married—I remember the last witness coming to lodge at that place—the prisoner lived with her husband in one room—after the prosecutrix left, the baby was left in the prisoner's care—it seemed to be delicate and small, but I did not perceive anything particular—the prisoner continued to
lodge at 54, Yeldham Road for two months—she had care of the child for rather more than three months—I saw her from time to time—she was frequently the worse for liquor—I did not speak to her about the child—she used to take it out occasionally, but I was not at home all day excepting Saturdays and Sundays—I did not notice that the child got on at all, it always seemed the same—she told me it was ill once, and called me in to see it—it had a very bad cold—I cannot fix the date—I never saw it fed—I never saw the child in her arms when she was tipsy.
MARY ALBERTA . I live at 54, Yeldham Road, and am married—I was living there all the time the prisoner had charge of the child—my room is at the bottom of the house, and the prisoner's was the first floor—I did not notice anything particular about the child—it cried sometimes—she always treated it very kindly, and appeared to keep it clean—she fed it on dairy milk, and sometimes she had condensed milk; I do not know whether she fed it on that or not—I was always at home—she took the child out two or three times a week—she was not at all a sober woman—sometimes she was sober—I have seen her the worse for drink sometimes in the middle of the day and Sometimes when she had the child with her.
ELIZA KNIGHT . I am the wife of Charles Knight, of 44, Radnall Terrace, Church Lane, Hammersmith—the prisoner and her husband came to lodge there on 15th January—he is an old man of 81, paralysed—the prisoner brought the child with her—they had two rooms—when I first saw her with the child she was carrying it with its head downwards—she was very much intoxicated and could hardly stand, and she fell down once with the baby in her arms—I saw her several times in a state of intoxication—she lodged with me until the 22nd—she was intoxicated the whole time she was with me—the child was a poor, miserable little thing, and constantly crying night and day—I never saw it fed—I only saw the bottle once or twice, when it had some sugar and water in it—the bottle was filthy dirty—it had no bottle, when it came first, and the next morning an old bottle was produced with no teat to it, but only an elastic tube for the child to draw through—I spoke to her several times about the baby, and she told me it was her business as to how the baby was and not mine—I did not know whose baby it was—I remember constable Buckley coming to her—he told her to mind what she was doing with the baby and to hold it properly, but she refused to do it several times and told him to mind his own business and to give her his number—the relieving officer came on the following Saturday—I fetched him—the old gentleman called me upstairs on one occasion to see the child—it was on a box hanging head downwards—the prisoner was not present—I attended to the child—I could not keep the prisoner in consequence of her behaviour, and she left on the 22nd and went to lodge at No. 20, Heldreck Street.
By the COURT. I spoke to her several times about the matter—her drunken habits were an annoyance to me and also the crying of the child—she struck me twice or three times when I spoke to her about the baby—I did not strike her, but only sat her down on the bed and once on a chair—that was just before I ceiled in the policeman—she was then knocking her husband about, and he was calling "Murder"—the child had a very bad cough indeed.
15th January, between 5 and 6 o'clock p.m.—the prisoner was upstairs in the back room drunk—she was holding the baby in her arms in a careless manner—one time she held it head downwards—I said she ought to be very careful what she did in case she got into trouble with it—she said it was not my business and would take my name and report me—I Was called in on account of the disturbance with the prisoner and her husband.
ELIZA DUPLING . I am a dressmaker, of 19, Park Green Road, Hammersmith, and am single—I have been in the habit of seeing the prisoner and her husband, and have gone there to pay him some money from a sick fund—I first saw the child at 54, Yeldham Road, as early, I think, as the 7th or 8th November—I saw nothing striking in the child, I always considered it very ill, but it appeared to be strong—I noticed a slight bruise on its forehead, and a scratch through the centre, and a scratch on the right hand—I told the prisoner that the child required proper medical treatment—occasionally it seemed better, but I consider it got worse and worse—I saw it on the 17th and 20th of January—on the first occasion it looked very much neglected and very poorly, and was a great deal thinner than usual—it was early in the morning—I promised to go on the 20th, hoping to see the mother—the child was then very clean indeed, and everything seemed to have been done that could be done—I wrote to the mother about it, and she came on the 25th—the child had a cough and cold, and just the same symptoms as before—I told the prisoner I should write to the mother and say that I was sure any one with her intemperate habits could not take care of the child—after the 25th the child was taken to Mrs. Pitman's, and I saw she was taking care of it—I saw it several times from the 28th.
By the COURT. I should say it nearly always had a cold—it was sometimes better and sometimes worse—I do not think I was ever struck with its being very dirty except when I went early in the morning—I felt sure the child would die unless it had proper medical treatment, and I was also anxious on account of the prisoner's intemperance—the child was fed in my presence with condensed milk, and had enough as far as I know.
SARAH PITMAN . I am a widow, of 31, Hetherington Street, Fulham—I have no children—on the 25th January, Matilda Brown brought me a female child between 1 and 2 o'clock p.m.—I have taken in children before, and I undertook the care of this child—the doctor was sent for and he arrived while I was dressing it—everything on it was wet with its urine, and its napkin was used—the child had a dreadful cough and was very thin—the doctor told me to send for some medicine directly—I tried it with corn flour and condensed milk, and Robb's biscuits, and Melling's food, and then I gave it cow's milk and brandy, which was the last thing I gave it—the child did not retain the food, and it died at 6.30 a.m. on January 31st—Dr. Cooley saw the child every day.
PERCY EDGLOW . I was resident medical officer at Queen Charlotte's Lying-in Hospital, Marylebone Road, at the time in question—Matilda Brown was confined there, and I saw the child there on the 28th, and from time to time till she was discharged on the 5th November—the child was healthy, and of the average weight, 6lb.—my nurse said the child got on well.
JOHN EDWIN COLLEY . I live at 15, Queen Street, Hammersmith—I went to Mrs. Alberta's on the 24th November to see the prisoner's husband, and saw the child there—the prisoner was sober—the child was perfectly healthy and cooing—I went again on the 26th to see the old man and found the prisoner drunk, and beating him—he had a black eye—that was about 2 o'clock—the child was on the bed—I did not go and Took at it—I went again on the 8th and 10th—the prisoner could give me very little information about the child—she seemed to have been drinking, she smelt of it—the child had a little bronchial catarrh, a little cold, and seemed badly cared for, and, from the woman's own statement, to have been improperly fed—it was dirty and seemed as if it had been always in the same clothes—she had been feeding it on lumps of biscuit and bits of soft bread, bread and water, and condensed milk, everything but the right thing—she said "I have fed it on rusks and biscuits, and bread, and condensed milk"—its proper food should have been one-third of good cow's milk, and two-thirds of water, or even condensed milk, but sweetened and properly warmed—I gave her minute directions, and to feed the child every two hours, and gave her some medicine for the bronchial catarrh—I observed the medicine bottle was nearly full, and I remonstrated with her and told her I should not call again, and asked her to communicate with the mother, as otherwise I should not care to treat the child, for I knew that neither she nor her husband would pay me, and I told her to call on the parish—I saw the child again on the 10th, it could not be expected to improve, and it had not—with ordinary care the bronchial catarrh would have got well—on the 10th the prisoner called on me 2nd asked me to attend to the child, and said it had improved—I declined, and told her to write to the mother—I called again on the 25th of January, in consequence of something that had occurred at Mrs. Pitman's—the child was being undressed when I saw it, the clothes were not those generally worn by infants, and were quite wet and sodden with urine—the child was dirty, thin, pale, and emaciated, and had an old, wizen look—it had bronchitis slightly, but was suffering from debility and exhaustion, so I at once pronounced the symptoms Very grave, and did not expect the child to live—I recognised it as the same child that I had seen before—I saw it again in the evening, and it had diarrhoea and vomiting—it had a peculiar acrid odour, such as is met with in people who die from starvation, or who are suffering from starvation—I attended it every day, and sometimes twice a day—Mrs. Pitman appeared to take proper care of it—at first it did not take its food, but latterly it used to go into its mouth and out again—at first it used to vomit it out—it died of exhaustion on the morning of the 31st, at about 6.30—I made a post-mortem examination, it weighed 6lb. 6oz.—in December it weighed about 7lb. or 8lb., and in November it was about the same weight—in my judgment the cause of death was exhaustion produced by neglect and starvation—there was slight inflammation of the bronchial tubes—it did not die of bronchitis—the organs were all reduced in size and free from fat, but healthy—inflammation of the bronchial tubes was not sufficient to cause the reduction of size of the organs—the child had, as it were, lived on itself, and that accounted for the reduction—if it had had proper food, care, and attention, no doubt its life would have been prolonged.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know of Dr. Yorke attending
the child in consequence of my refusing—this is the first I have heard of it.
By the COURT. Children with bronchitis of that tender age do not lose their fat, nor would it have anything to do with the redaction—it is usual to have a peculiar acrid odour in bodies that die from starvation—I have been through the famine in India, and was there for eight years—the smell was present after the child was washed—it is a smell never to be forgotten when once smelt—I was in the north-west of India, in Rajpootana, where the famine was at its worst—that was in 1870 to 1873—the child had an insufficient amount of proper food and had improper food: for instance, sugar would produce starvation; it does not produce fat, and only gives warmth.
JAMES ROSE (Policeman T 52). After the inquest I took the prisoner into custody on the 12th February—I told her I should take her into custody for neglecting to provide nourishment for Adeline Dorothy Brown, and that a verdict of manslaughter had been returned against her by the Coroner's Jury—on the way to the station she said "I am innocent; I never neglected the baby. The baby was well cared for; I loved it with a mother's love."
CHARLES EDWIN LUCAS . I am the Coroner's Officer, and was present at the inquest when the prisoner was cautioned by the Coroner. (The depositions taken before the Coroner produced.) I do not think she signed it because she was committed, I think, on the day the Jury returned a verdict of manslaughter, and then she was taken by the police, and when the witnesses signed the depositions the prisoner was in custody—I was in the room most of the time when she was examined.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have done my duty to the child."
The Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent of the charge. I did my best for the baby, and when Dr. Cooley refused to come I called in Dr. Yorke. That was the last doctor I had, and he visited the baby for three days. A fortnight after the child was taken away.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for a misdemeanor, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, April 24th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The Jury being unable to agree, were discharged, and the trial postponed to next Sessions.
MR. BUCK Prosecuted.
JANE WOODLAND . I am a widow, of 2, Paradise Place, Brentford—the female prisoner is my daughter, and the male prisoner is her husband—she sometimes comes to my house to make up the fire—on 24th March
I went out to a shop close by, and when I returned she was there—she said she was going to make up the fire—I afterwards missed 7l. 10s., which was in a purse pinned up in paper which was wrapped in a piece of calico under my bed—I went to her house and said "Mary, you have got my money"—she said that she had not—my landlady gave her in charge.
ESTHER SEASRS . I live at 8, Paradise Bow, Brentford—on 24th March, between 6 and 7 o'clock, I saw the female prisoner go into her mother's house, and saw her mother go in afterwards, and then the, daughter went out.
HUBERT DUCK (Detective Officer). I searched the female prisoner's house, and saw a piece of paper and some money under the floor—I got the plank taken up and found a paper containing 2s. 4 1/2 d., and by it this purse containing 4s. and a number of coppers—she denied that it was hers—I went to the Rose and Crown public-house and was told something, in consequence of which I took the male prisoner, and found on him a half-sovereign and 1s. 6d. in silver loose—after he was committed he said that his wife gave him the money, and he spent some of it in drink.
KATE HILLS . I live at the Rose and Crown public-house—I saw the male prisoner there on 25th March—he gave me six sovereigns, which he said was his pension money, and asked me to mind it for him till next morning, when he came and asked me to give him a sovereign, which I did.
Maria Boddy's Defence. I went to her house and saw it on the floor; I gave it to my husband and told him to mind it. I did not tell him who it belonged to. If my mother had been in her proper senses I should have given it to her; she was drinking all day long; she commenced with some gin at 7.30 a.m.; my little girl fetched it. I produce my marriage certificate.
Samuel Boddy's Defence. It is my first offence.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour each.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, April 24th, 1883.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
486. WILLIAM HARVEY (30) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of William McTurk, with intent steal therein; also to a previous conviction in September, 1882, at this Court, in the name of William Holloway.—** Seven Years Penal Servitude. And
487. AUGUSTUS SHEATH (33) to unlawfully obtaining from Alphonse Levy 12 jackets, and from Frederick William Blackburn 24 cloaks, by false pretences, with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] The prosecutors recommended the prisoner to mercy. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON defended Southwood and Harding.
JOHN BEDMAN . I live at 11, Chenies Place, Somers Town, and am a signalman in the Royal Navy—on Sunday morning, 16th inst., I was on furlough, and walking up the Crowndale Road, St. Pancras, with Smith between 12 and 12.30, when two girls came up the road singing and dancing, and pushed against me—I pushed them away and walked on, and the girls walked on—immediately afterwards three men attacked me from behind, and pulled me down backwards; I struggled with them on the ground—when I regained my feet I saw the three prisoners; not till then—I then found Hopkins's hand in my pocket—I struggled, knocked his hand, and the money went on the ground—I had 4s. and some coppers in the outside pocket of my overcoat, which I had on over my uniform—Hoskins ran away and escaped—I saw a constable coming up the road—I turned round and ran for him, and he arrested Southwood and Harding, who were standing on the spot talking—I saw Hoskins on going to the Cerkenwell Police-court—a policeman afterwards brought him into the courtyard, and I identified him—my face was scratched while I was down—I saw the three men standing over me while I was down.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I had been in High Street, Camden Town, since 8 o'clock—I had not been in more than one public-house, the Southampton Arms—I was there about fifteen minutes, not more—I had Nothing to drink at any other place—I had never seen the prisoners before—my money was in the small pocket on the right side of my overcoat—South-wood was going to walk away when he saw the constable coming—the constable was quite close when I went to fetch him—when I was struggling with Hoskins the constable was coming up the road—Southwood and Harding did not attempt to get away, there was not sufficient time for them; they were not being attacked, and they did not attempt to get away—I had never seen the two girls before—they were present when the conflict took place—no attempt has been made to bring them as witnesses—I did not get my money back—I saw Hoskins picking it up—I gave the men no provocation—I did not push the girls away with any violence, or against the wall—it was two or three minutes afterwards I was attacked—I was walking on very slowly—the girls were going the opposite way—I cannot say who pulled me down—as I was falling I saw the three—I looked back over my shoulder—it was dark—I could discern them—I was astonished—I said before the Magistrate that I saw Southwood standing close to me, but I could not say if he touched me—I heard no conversation between the men—there was a woman passing on the other side of the road; I did not see anybody else about—it is a large street—I was between the corner of Crowndale Road and Bayham Street; the constable was on the other side of the way, just past the church—he was coming towards me as I went towards him—I left Smith with Southwood and Harding; they seemed as if they had been drinking a good deal—I went on to the station with them—I think the girls came back when they saw the prisoners attacking me—they tried to keep the third man off—they were there when the policeman arrived—my friend did not help me; he had walked on some distance, and I was down before
he noticed it—he was a yard or two in front when he heard the girls laughing and dancing in front of me—he stood still on the kerb facing the road for me to catch up—I was on the pavement; he was sideways to me—we were not walking abreast—I was walking on to him when I was pulled down—the girls did not touch him.
Re-examined. I saw no one else but the prisoners, my friend, and the women—while I was down I felt a hand scratch my face.
EDWARD ROBERT SMITH . I live at St. Pancras Vestry Hall, St. Pancras—I was with the prosecutor in Crowndale Road on this Sunday morning when we were attacked by two girls—they began singing and dancing in front of us—my brother was also with us, he did not interfere at all—one of them pushed up against the prosecutor, he pushed her away and moved to go away from her, when, before I was aware of anything else the three prisoners rushed at him without any provocation and threw him to the ground—Harding, I am certain, ran at him head first, and caught him by the legs and threw him to the ground—he came sideways at him—I was on the kerb, standing sideways—the prosecutor struggled to his feet, and then I heard some money fall—the prosecutor then disappeared and came back with a constable and gave Hoskins and Harding, I think, into custody, the other one escaped—I went with them to the station—I can only identify Harding—the scuffle did not take five minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. The girls came up in front of us—I do not know whether they scratched the prosecutor's face, it was bleeding—the girls did not go away at all, they stopped there the whole time—it could not have been a minute from the time the girls first came up and began annoying my friend to the time the prisoners assaulted him—I don't suppose he had taken half a dozen steps—I was about three yards in front of him when the people pulled him down, standing on the kerb; I was not facing him—I could see him—when I next saw him he was on the ground and the two prisoners with him—when I turned 'round one of the prisoners ran head first at him, and threw him to the ground—the prisoner was in front of me, I was on the kerb—he was on the pavement—I should say the prisoners came from High Street—as I passed by a lamp-post I saw three men standing there—I cannot say whether they were the prisoners, it was very dark—I was under the impression that the two who went away were Hoskins and Harding—the place was so dark I could not identify them by their faces—I did not go close to them—I said at the police-court I could only identify one by his trousers and clothing—Bedman disappeared for a few seconds to fetch the constable—I did nothing at all then—the three prisoners stood with their backs to some bushes which overhung the pavement—the girls were trying to quiet them—they were not trying to run away—when the constable came up one ran away, and the other two stood there and were taken into custody—I believe the prosecutor pushed one of the girls after she had pushed up against him—I cannot say if he pushed the other one—Harding went down with the prosecutor—he was the only one with light trousers, and he was taken into custody, and the only one I identified—I did not help my friend at all—we had been up High Street and Camden Town that evening, and had been in five or six public-houses, stopping about five minutes in each-we had not spent the greater part of the evening in public-houses, as we got thirsty we went in—I was certainly
not tipsy or a little bit muddled—I had some lemonade and some Scotch whisky, no beer or porter—my friend had three or four drops of rum, and then lemonade, nothing else—he had been into the fire public-houses with me—I cannot say I saw Southwood interfere at all in it—I do not think either he or Hoskins made any attempt to leave.
By the JURY. I did not see either of the prisoner's hands in the prosecutor's pockets—my brother met us at 10.30, and was with us walking down the Crowndale Road—there were three of us—I did not see him afterwards till we got to the station.
GEORGE EVERETT (Policeman Y 17). At half-past 12 on Sunday morning I was in the Crowndale Road, and was called by the sailor, who came running to me and told me something, and I went and saw Harding and Southwood—I seized Harding, he slipped his coat and tried to get away, but did not succeed—Southwood was walking away—I told the prosecutor and his friend to prevent him, and took them to the station—I did not see Hoskins then, not till the 17th, the day after—I took him in custody from a description the prosecutor had given me—I told him I should charge him with being concerned with two others in assaulting and robbing a man on Saturday night or Sunday morning—he said he knew nothing about it, that he did not know the other prisoners—he afterwards said he was with them in High Street on Saturday night, but left them at 11 o'clock, and saw no more of them—I searched them; on Southwood I found 4s. 9d., and on Harding 9d.—the prosecutor and Smith were quite sober—the prisoners were sober also.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I was about 70 yards away when the scuffle took place—I was not in sight of it—I do not know that it was a very dark night—Southwood was making away—the two women were very disorderly—when I came back with Bedman, Smith was standing in the roadway with another young man, who I heard was Smith's brother—I did not try to bring him as a witness—I have not seen the women since, and do not know their address—they went to the station, but were not charged—I set off to the station with the two prisoners, Smith, Bedman, and the two girls, and half way, about 500 yards, I met another constable—I have made inquiries and can find nothing whatever against Smith and Harding; Smith has been working for the Midland Railway about five years, and discharged himself from their service—Harding is a hard-working young man, he is a bricklayer's labourer at Kilburn.
Re-examined. The prosecutor was bleeding from several places in his face where pieces of skin were scratched out.
By the JURY. Two men were with the sailor.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Southwood says: "I am not guilty, I will reserve my defence." Harding says: "I was there and saw the sailor on the ground, and he was trying to get up; and the chap that got him down would not let him get up, and I pulled the chap off, and the sailor got to his feet, and the sailor took off his coat to fight this chap and threw it on the pavement, and the money fell out of his coat pocket." Hoskins says: "I am not guilty. I left Southwood and some more at the Stag public-house, Hawley Road, at half-past 10 to 11 o'clock, and I went down Hawley Road home and was indoors at five minutes to 12 o'clock.
Witnesses for the defence of Hoskins.
our house five minutes before 12 and never went out of doors afterwards till Sunday, after dinner—I give you a good character—you worked on the Midland for seven and a half years.
Cross-examined. I did not hear he was in trouble till the Monday night between 7 and 8 o'clock—I did not go to the police-court, as I was taken bad and laid up—my wife was laid up too—my room is down stairs and she sleeps upstairs—there is a clock in each of those rooms—they were both five minutes to 12—I heard him come in, he slept with me—there were lodgers in the house—Mr. Jackson, one of them, came in at the same time with two others—they all went to their own rooms, I heard them—I did not see them, only my boy.
By the COURT. I live at 29, Prebend Street, Camden Town, about a quarter of an hour or 10 minutes' walk from Crowndale Road—my son was working somewhere up the Grosvenor Road when this took place.
ALFRED JACKSON . I am a plasterer, and lodge at 29, Prebend Street, at the last witness's—on Saturday night, 15th March, I came home at five minutes to 12 o'clock—Alfred Hoskins was in the house and in the act of going upstairs to his father's bedroom—my wife and son were with me—I looked at the clock and saw it was five minutes to 12.
Cross-examined. I heard of this on Sunday evening or Monday morning from his mother—that was after he was charged—I did not go to the police-court till I was asked to—I gave evidence before the Magistrate.
The COMMON SERJEANT here intimated that he considered it would hardly be safe to convict on such evidence as had been given.
NOT GUILTY .
There teas another indictment against the three prisoners for an assault, occasioning actual bodily harm, upon which MR. RAVEN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
EDWARD FITZGERALD . I am a hair-dresser, of 89, Marchmont Street; Burton Crescent—on the night of 17th March I went out leaving the house safe, securely locked up—I have a shop, a parlour behind the shop, and there is a side door which was locked—I left nobody in there—I came back about 1 o'clock on the morning of the 18th and found the side door open—I closed it and went to bed—about an hour afterwards I was awoke by a knocking at the street door; I went down and found a constable—the side door leads into a passage into which the parlour door opens—I found a portion of the parlour door had been forced away and the door opened—from the passage I missed a coat and a pair of trousers—in the trousers was this ticket (produced) of a workman's club in St. Pancras—this coat and pair of trousers are mine—the ticket was in this pocket—I saw the prisoner at Baker Street Police-station and charged him—he made various statements saying it wasn't him.
EPHRAIM TROTMAN (Policeman E 184). About 1 o'clock on the morning of 28th March I was on duty in uniform in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, and met the prisoner about half a mile from the prosecutor's—he had a coat and pair of trousers loosely on his arm—I said "What have you got there?"—he said "That is my business, not yours"—I said "Well, but it is my business; you will have to accompany me to the
station"—at the station I found this ticket with Mr. Fitzgerald's name on it—I went to the club, got his address, and went there about 2 o'clock—I knocked at, the door; he came down—the shop door was open—I went into the passage with him, and saw the parlour door had been broker open—on the prisoner I found two pipes, a silk handkerchief, 6 1/2 d. in bronze, and three latchkeys, one of which fitted the prosecutor's side door—at the station he said the clothes were handed to him by some other man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were coming towards me, and towards Oxford Street—you gave your father's address—he said you had not been living there for some twelve months—you made no resistance because I had the assistance of another constable.
ALFRED HANSON (Inspector E). About 3 o'clock on the morning of 18th March I read the charge to the prisoner—he said "I know nothing about it as some other man gave me the things to carry"—I went with Trotman to the house in Marchmont Street and tried the key; it fitted the lock and opened the door—it was an ordinary key.
SAMUEL EVANS (Policeman E 291). I was on duty in Marchmont Street on the night of the 17th or the morning of the 18th—during the night I examined Mr. Fitzgerald's shop and side doors—at 12.15 they were securely fastened.
HARRIET MANTON . I am female searcher at Baker Street Police-station—on the night of 17th March, about 12.20, I was out, and saw the prisoner by himself come from Tavistock Place, which leads to Marchmont Street, and go down the passage to Mr. Fitzgerald's house—he came back, and went to the corner of Tavistock Place again in company with a man in a light suit—they came back again—when I came from the station I saw them come from the court way from Mr. Fitzgerald's private door; the prisoner with the coat and trousers over his arm, and the other man with the overcoat over his—that was 12.40 or 12.45—they turned down the mews, and as I went down there they came up, and the one in the light suit asked me if I had seen a man in his shirt-sleeves go down the mews—the prisoner had the things over his arm, and staggered as if he was drunk—he was not drunk, because I had seen him go down the mews previously.
By the JURY. I saw him come out of Mr. Fitzgerald's private door down the passage—I was not near enough to see him go in.
Cross-examined. I was standing at the corner of the mews—I was coining along by the shop when I saw you go in—I did not raise an alarm because I did not know you were not a lodger—I identified you at the time—I had known you before.
The prisoner in his defence stated that a man had offered to sell him a coat and waistcoat for 7s. 6d.; that he had agreed to buy them for 5s., and had waited at the corner of Whitfield Street while the man fetched them, and that he was carrying them home when arrested.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
EDWARD NATHANIEL BRADSTOCK (The witness was deaf and dumb, and his evidence was given by signs and interpreted). I am a shoemaker, living at 78, Flood Street, Chelsea—on Sunday night, 80th March, about 12 o'clock, I was walking along Franklin Bow with my arms folded, when two soldiers came up to me—I told them that I was deaf and dumb, and did not know them—they had not spoken to me before—the prisoner is one to the best of my belief—I will not swear to him—if he is the man he walked along by my side taking hold of my right arm—we went to Queen's Road, when he snatched my watch and steel chain from my watch-pocket; he next put his band in my right trousers-pocket, and snatched my purse containing 6s.; two florins and two shillings—the other soldier knocked me to the ground—I struggled on the ground with him—he was wearing a tall bearskin cap, this chin-strap of which I laid hold of, and when the soldier ran away I retained the strap—I do not know which soldier the strap belonged to—one of them ran away, and I was struggling with the other to whom the chin-strap belonged—afterwards I went to the barracks with the chin-strap, and saw the prisoner there—he was then wearing a forage cap—I had been into a public-house that evening—the men were both wearing the same uniform and medals, and bearskins.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I would not like to swear to you, but to the best of my belief you are the man.
WILLIAM MORLEY (Policeman B 143). About 12.10 on Sunday night, 30th of last month, I was going along Franklin's Bow, where about 12.5 I had seen the prisoner and another soldier with the prosecutor—from the statement another constable made to me I followed them along a little way, and saw nothing, to cause me to interfere—they were walking in file, the prosecutor at the side between the two soldiers next the wall—the place was well lit up—I had a good look at them—I went to visit another man, and had not left the constable who first drew my attention more than two minutes before I heard a moaning noise—this spot is a square, with a waste piece of ground in the centre with roadways running across it, and they walked round the square—I went the opposite direction they were going, to the direction the sound was coming from, and I saw the prosecutor and a soldier on the ground and the prisoner bending over them—I am quite sure it was the prisoner—he turned and walked in one direction rather sharp; the soldier on the ground and the prosecutor got up, and the soldier ran as hard as he could pursued by the prosecutor—I stopped the prisoner and said "What is the matter with that man making that noise?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "I saw you in his company two or three minutes ago; if your reply is not satisfactory I shall take you to barracks"—he was wearing a bearskin; it was secured by a chin-strap—I took him to the barracks, and saw the sergeant of the guard, and explained what had taken place in the prisoner's presence, and asked for his name in case anything should transpire, as I did not know what had happened—he gave me his name—the sergeant asked me my opinion as to whether the prisoner was drunk or sober—I said "I am under the impression he is drunk"—he replied "I think he is sober; what do you think?"—the prisoner was allowed to go to his barracks, and I was about to leave when the prosecutor turned and made signs to his watch, touched his trousers pocket, and I noticed he had got a nasty wound on his chin
and some blood—I went back and asked the sergeant of the guard that the prisoner might be handed over to me—I took him to the station, and got the prosecutor to write his name—he wrote the address of his landlord—I went there, and ascertained that the landlord could interpret the deaf and dumb language, and brought him to the station, where he interpreted the charge—on the way to Flood Street to fetch the landlord I examined the spot where I had seen the two struggling, and the first thing I discovered was two or three spots of blood and this tobacco-stopper, which the prisoner has identified as his, and these two hooks which would hold the strap on the busy—the prisoner was searched; the only thing found on him was this purse containing 13s. 6 1/2 d.—the prosecutor has not identified that; the coins are a half-crown, a florin, two shillings, a sixpence, and 6 1/2 d. in bronze—there was blood on the prisoner's shirt-front, and he appeared very excited, as though he had just come out of a struggle—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I did not see you assault or rob anybody; I did not know what had happened—I explained to the sergeant what I had seen—the prosecutor could not write out his statement; to my opinion he had been drinking, he states he had not—it might have been excitement—there was a young man came up and made a statement that would almost have justified me in taking him up—he went to the barracks and stated it to the sergeant—he gave a false address, 26, Gurleston Terrace, Battersea.
By the JURY. The square was dark; it is part of old Chelsea College, where the police drill—I could see the prisoner's face because the constable drew my attention, and he turned his face round—I had a full view of his face under the gas-lamp—there was nothing then to justify my interference, because I did not know what he had one—Franklin's Row is parallel with Durham Place.
ALFRED RUSSELL (Policeman B 258). On Monday morning, 31st March, or Sunday night, 30th, about 5 minutes past 12 o'clock, I saw the prosecutor at the comer of St. Leonard's and Franklin's Rows, sitting on the coping of the College fields railings—I stood there a few minutes, and saw two soldiers, of whom the prisoner was one, come from the direction of Smith Street and take the prosecutor by the arm and lead him away towards Smith Street—I lost sight of them for a few minutes, and then falling in with Morley, I told him what I was following them for—I went back to my beat again, but before I got there I heard screaming from the direction of Queen's Road, as though some one was being strangled—I went to Queen's Road, and saw the prisoner being taken to the barracks by Morley, whom I assisted—we took him to the barracks, and then to the police-station—he was wearing a bearskin on his head—the prosecutor appeared the worse for drink, that was why I followed him—I swear I saw the prisoner in the prosecutor's company.
Cross-examined. I did not make a statement at the station—I was sent back to my beat—I was not called before the Magistrate next day—I gave evidence on the remand as soon as I was called.
By the JURY. I am sure the prosecutor was the worse for drink—the prisoner appeared to have been drinking, but not to be absolutely drunk.
ALFRED SMITH . I am a carpenter, and live at 78, Flood Street—the prosecutor has resided with me twelve months—he is a shoemaker, very sober, deaf and dumb—I understand him, because I have three children
afflicted in the same way—on Sunday, 25th March, he dined at home, at 2.30—he was quite sober, and wearing his watch and chain—after 4 o'clock he went out—I went to College Row Station and saw the prosecutor at the dock—he made a charge in the deaf and dumb language, which I translated to the inspector—the prosecutor's sister lives in the neighbourhood of where this is said to have taken place.
Cross-examined. When I saw the prosecutor he looked as if he had been drinking.
GEORGE BRAGG . I am a sergeant in the Coldstream Guards—this is a guard's bearskin chin-strap—the Guards wear their bearskins on Sundays—no chin-strap has been missed from the stores—they have not been examined to see—the prisoner is in my company; his was examined, and was present—I haven't heard of a man in my regiment having a hin-strap missing.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "It seems curious that I should be apprehended by two policemen and taken to the barracks, and there charged with being drunk. The sergeant of the guard did not think I was drunk, and sent me to bed. If these policemen had seen me do anything they would have taken me to the police-station. Two soldiers fetched me from the barrack-room and told me I was wanted again by a policeman. I was then charged with stealing a watch and some money. I never saw the prosecutor in my life before. I am quite innocent of the charge; I know nothing about it. I wish you would call the prosecutor. I was never in his company in my life."
The prisoner in his defence repeated in substance the above statement.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, April 25th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. BUCK Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner, on which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
492. SARAH HEATH (36) PLEADED GUILTY to sending to Stevenson Arthur Blackwood a certain letter threatening to kill and murder him, two Other Counts varying the form of charge.— Discharged on her own recognisance in 25l. to come up for Judgment if called upon.
NEW COURT.—Friday, April 25th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. BLAOKWELL appeared for Hooper.
JAMES HOARE . I live at 208, Goswell Road—on 12th March, about 7 p.m., I was at the corner of Pear Tree Street, and the prisoner Hooper dashed in front of me and snatched my watch chain; the swivel broke—
I attempted to follow him, but Marshall and two other men attempted to stop me, and Hooper turned round and knocked me down, butting my forehead with a ring on his finger—I jumped up and pursued Hooper; Marshall and the other two followed me and endeavoured to knock me down, and when we got half way down Pear Tree Street they did so, and Marshall kicked me on the thigh while I was on the ground, and another man kicked me to the knee—I feel the effects now—I got up and followed Hooper—Marshall and the other man endeavoured to knock me down again—I did not lose sight of Hooper; I followed him calling "Stop him! police! murder!" and a policeman stopped him—my chain was worth 25l.; I have recovered a portion of it—I am positive Marshall is the man who kicked me and knocked me down.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. It was not exactly dark; the public-houses had just lit up—there is a slight bend in Pear Tree Street, but no corner—when I turned the corner into Central Street he was in sight again, and the policeman was after him then—my statement that I did not lose sight of him is incorrect to a certain extent.
Re-examined. When I turned the corner he was still running, and I called to the policeman to stop him.
Cross-examined by Marshall. You endeavoured to stop me, and as you could not Hooper knocked me down while you and the other man were struggling with me—I could see you and keep my eye on Hooper too—it was not dark and I am not mistaken.
ENOCH CULLEN (Policeman G 207). On 12th March, at 7 p.m., I was on duty in Central Street, heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and saw Hooper running at the top of his speed; I caught him, and Mr. Hoare ran up at the same moment and said "I give that man in custody for stealing my chain'1—he said "I was running after the man who robbed the gentleman"—a number of persons were in pursuit, but I saw no one running in front of Hooper.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. Persons did not call out "That is not the man; he has gone up Central Street"—persons wanted to come into the station to tell the inspector that Hooper was not the person—that is a common occurrence.
WILLIAM THICK (Detective Sergeant). On 19th March, about 12.30, I took Marshall at a common lodging-house at Flower and Dean Street, Spitalfields—I said "I shall arrest you on suspicion of being concerned with a man named Hooper in custody in violently assaulting and robbing a gentleman on the 12th in Goswell Road"—he said "You have got a good charge; if I had had a knife I would have cut your b----throat; there are two men you know well had more to do with it than I did; I shall not go with you"—he became very violent and called all the roughs to rescue him, and with great difficulty I retained him till the arrival of several constables, and he was taken to the station—I knew him before and Hooper also, and had seen them together two days previous to the robbery—Marshall was put with seven or eight others at King's Cross Station, and Mr. Hoare picked him out.
Cross-examined by Marshall. Two other constables remained outside the lodging-house—in all probability I put my finger in your throat—I did try to make you cremate yourself.
and gave him a receipt for it—I gave it up next day on the prosecutor identifying it—I do not see the man here.
Marshals Defence. I was not taken near where the robbery was committed. The policeman does not identify me, and as the prosecutor did not see me for five day afterwards, is there not room for a doubt, as there is nothing which tends to cremate me?
They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, HOOPER in June 1877, at Westminster, and MARSHALL in November, 1882, at clerkenwell.—HOOPER**— Eight Years' Penal Servitude. MARSHALL**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. BLACKWELL and HOPKINS Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
The original summons being lost, and the filed duplicate not being in Court MR. WILLIAMS contended that the Magistrate jurisdiction could not be proved, and therefore that the case could not proceed. The RECORDER concurred, and directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HICKS Prosecuted.
JAMES RABTON FAITHFUL . I am a chemical agent, of 50, Mark Lane—on 17th March I had been dining with some Mends at Forest Gate, and got to Liverpool Street about 11.30—I had had rather too much drink—I was wearing a watch and chain value 5l.—when I got to Aldgate two women spoke to me and wanted me to stand some drink—I fancy they asked me the time, and I looked down and saw my watch and chain in my possession—I do not remember going down a court—a policeman spoke to me, and I looked, and my watch and chain were gone—I went to the station, and gave a man and woman in charge for stealing it—this is it (produced)—I did not give it to the female prisoner.
Cross-examined by Emily Myers. I do not remember having some drink with you and being turned out—I had a frock-coat on, but do not know whether it was buttoned.
GEORGE LIPLEY . I am a porter, of Cook and Hoop Yard, Houndsditch—on 18th March, about 1 a.m., I was going home, and as I passed Aldgate Church I saw Mr. Faithful the worse for drink—I saw he had a chain—just as I went by a female, not in custody, asked him if he was going to treat her, and she called the female prisoner—I passed on, and first as I got home I saw Mr. Faithful and the two women go up the yard where I live, which is no thoroughfare, and the male prisoner a little behind—he stood at the bottom drinking a bottle of beer—I went into my room, and came out and saw him in the same position—he whistled, and called "Jack"—the two women were then close to the prosecutor, talking to him—I then went on an errand for my wife, and saw the female prisoner in custody of a detective, who asked me to get a constable, which I did—I will not swear whether Mr. Faithful's coat was done or undone, but I saw his chain distinctly—I followed the male prisoner to the station—he did not attempt to go in—I spoke to a polios-man, who took him in.
Cross-examined by James Myers. I said at the police-court that I thought the gentleman's coat was buttoned two buttons—I did not notice whether his hands were in his pockets, but I saw his chain.
CHARLES FINNEY (City Detective). On 18th March I was in Hounds-ditch in plain clothes, and saw the prisoners with another woman—I watched them, and saw the woman not in custody hustling Mr. Faithful up against the wall—the male prisoner was further up the court watching one of the private houses near Lipley's door—Lipley entered the court, and about two minutes afterwards came out again—the woman, the prosecutor, and the man left the court and came into Houndsditch, and as soon as Lipley left one woman took hold of each of Mr. Faithful's arms, and forced him back into the court—about a minute afterwards the female prisoner ran out, followed by the woman not in custody, and the prosecutor last—I ran after them—the one not in custody escaped—I followed the female prisoner, who ran as fast as she could—I took hold of her, and asked what she had got—she said "I have got nothing," and wrenched her arm away—I took hold of her again, and found this watch and chain in her left-hand—I took her to Cook and Hoop Yard, where I saw Mr. Faithful and the male prisoner, who said "What are you going to do with my wife?"—I said "lama police-officer; I am going to charge her with stealing a watch and chain from this man"—he said "Oh, we are all friends together," and tried to persuade Mr. Faithful not to go to the station—I asked Lipley to fetch a constable, which he did—as we went to the station the male prisoner walked by the woman's side all the way, and when we got to the station I told a constable to bring him in, and he was charged—the woman said that the watch was given to her three or four hours Previously—Mr. Faithful had been drinking, but he knew what he was doing.
Cross-examined by Emily Myers. You did not give me the watch and say that the gentleman gave it to you—you wrenched your hand away.
James Myers's Defence. I was going home, and saw my wife with another woman. I walked behind; they were down a court some time, and I asked her to come out; I walked to the station and was charged. I know nothing about the watch or I should not have stopped there.
Emily Myers's Defence. The gentleman gave me the watch. He put it down my neck. My friend said she had apartments in Murray Street, and we were going to get a cab to go there.
JAMES MYERS.— six Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, April 25th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PURCELL. Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
warrants of distress for rent against Mr. Cooke, for the purpose of obtaining the prisoner's signature—the warrants were in duplicate—I saw the prisoner, his right hand was in a sling—I asked him to sign the warrant—he said "I do not think I can sign it"—I placed the document before him, he took up the pen, his fingers were tied up, and I guided his hand to write the signature—this is it (produced)—later in the day I handed the document to Mr. Bacon, the broker—later in the same day, after a levy had taken place at Mr. Cooke's house, I saw the prisoner again in the Fountain beer-shop, and said "Mr. Bacon wants to see you in Mr. Cooke's house"—he came with me to Mr. Cooke's house—Bacon, Cooke, and Bartlett, the man in possession, who first introduced me to White, and showed me his house, were present at Cooke's house—Bacon said "Mr. Cooke tells me that this distress is illegal, can you identify any of the things?"—the prisoner said "Yes," and he identified certain articles—they went over the place, and when they came back Bacon said "It is rather a curious case, and I shall want an indemnity"—the prisoner said "Very well"—he went away, and Bacon and I went out, telling Cooke we should be back in half an hour—I and Bacon prepared a document and took it to the prisoner the same day to the Fountain—in the private bar the document was produced, Bacon, myself, and the prisoner being present, and I read it to the prisoner, and asked him if he would sign it—he said he wouldn't sign it then, his hand was worse than it was in the morning—I asked him to make his mark, and after he did so I put my name as a witness, and turned round to Mr. Gibbs, a gentleman standing there, and asked him if he would sign it, and he did—this is the document (produced)—it is all my writing except the mark and Gibbs's signature—it was written in a dairy shop in West Green Road—a man named Smith was also present when it, was executed, and I think one or two Men—the document was given to Bacon—I was present at the police-court on the hearing of a summons against Bacon for assault—the prisoner was called as a witness, I saw him sworn—this document, the indemnity, was shown him. (MR. GEORHEGAN submitted that the Magistrate's Clerks note would be the best evidence of what took place at the police-court. MR. PURCELL contended that that would only be hearsay evidence, and therefore no better than that which this witness could give, and that perjury was not assigned to have taken place at the police-court, but at the County Court.) At the police-court I believe the question asked the prisoner was "Did you give that document (the indemnity) to Mr. Bacon?"—he answered "Yes"—he was then asked if that was his mark—he said "Yes"—I think he was asked no further questions about it—the objection was raised that the Magistrate had no jurisdiction, and the summons was dismissed—I was not present at the County Court.
Cross-examined. I knew Bacon before the 26th October—Bacon and Co. is himself—I was in possession of the warrant because I was in Bacon's office at the time—I was out of employment—I am a solicitor's clerk—I was not professionally engaged—I was not in employment at the time I got this warrant signed—I am in some one's service now—I had been out of employment since August—I am quite sure I had never done anything for Bacon before—I have been down to the County Court for him to see if anything has been paid in—I had not acted for Bacon before the warrant was signed—he only paid my expenses down, my railway fare, I worked for nothing—he is my brother-in-law—Smith and Gibbs
are not relations—I will swear Gibbs was not drunk when he signed this—I swear there were no signs of liquor on him, I should not ask a drunken man to witness an indemnity—I would not say Gibbs was quite sober, he was not the worse for drink—it was 1 o'clock when I guided the prisoner's hand to sign the warrant in his kitchen—it certainly was not as late as half-past 5—I knew the effect of the indemnity was to make him liable for any charges my brother-in-law incurred—I asked him to sign, he said his hand was worse, and I told him his mark would do equally as well—I did not press him to sign it in his full name, I trusted to him—I read it over to him—it was no interest to me one way or the other—I get nothing for what I do for Bacon, only my railway fare—I think he gave me 1s. before I left—Bacon is a general commission agent—I was only at the police-court on the assault case—I was not present when Bacon's evidence was taken—I know the street where Bacon is living, I have been there to see some one he is lodging with—Bacon and the proprietor were at the dairy shop, I believe, when I wrote out the document—then we went to Cooke's and then to the Fountain—I think I got the document—I cannot positively swear who carried it to the Fountain, I think Bacon put it in his bag, he had a bag—I will not swear that—I cannot say who gave me the pen and ink at the Fountain, I think it was a woman; there was a man and woman behind the bar—I have been to the Fountain years ago—it is not the same proprietor as it was then—I do not know who is proprietor now—I had something to drink—I did not pay—I do not know who did—I think the question at the police-court was "Did you see this document?" I should not like to swear it—I remember his answer was that he did give the document—there was a good deal of confusion at the Court, and it is a good while ago—I do not pledge my oath more than I have said—I believe the question was whether he had given that document to Mr. Bacon—I should not like to swear it—I was not a witness in the civil suit at the County Court between Mr. Bacon and the prisoner—I know nothing of for whom the verdict was given.
Re-examined. A question was asked at the police-court as to whether that was his mark—his reply to that was "Yes"—I have no doubt about it.
ROBERT WALTER BACON . I am a general business agent, a house and estate agent, and live at 17, Hartham Road, Tottenham—in October the prisoner employed me to levy a distress—I received the warrant, and levied the distress on Mr. Cooke's goods on 26th October—in consequence of what Mr. Cooke said when I did so I sent Mr. Barrett to the prisoner, who came to me at Mr. Cooke's house—I said "Mr. White, Mr. Cooke says he never was your tenant, he does not owe you any rent, and if that is so this distress must be illegal"—the prisoner said "Cooke was my tenant"—I then asked him if he could point out any goods that were on his premises—the house was gone over and certain goods pointed out, and ultimately I told the prisoner that Cooke had sent me a notice that he should hold me personally responsible for any damage, and that he might bring an action against me, and that I should like him to give me an indemnity to recover any costs—the prisoner said "Yes, I will do that, come outside and write it out"—I said "I will come outside and write it down"—Cooke then requested for some little time to get the money—I went outside with Mr. Barrett to a dairy shop in the West
Green Road kept by a friend of mine and wrote out the indemnity—we then went to the Fountain, and I saw the prisoner there—either myself or Barrett read the document to him, and the prisoner put his mark to it with his left hand—I think his right hand was in a sling at the time, I know he did not take his hand out of the sling—Barrett and Gibbs signed it, and Smith was present—we then went back to Cooke's house—I was present at the police-court when a summons brought by Cooke against me for assault arising out of this distress was heard—White was sworn as my witness—the indemnity was handed to him, and the Counsel said "Did you also give the defendant this indemnity?"—he said "Yes"—I was at the County Court when there was an action between myself and the prisoner—these (produced) are the proceedings, the summons and the counter-claim—Cooke brought an action against me for the money realized from the distress, and I set off that—I had put it in in pursuance of the indemnity which I had been given—I admitted that I had received the money—I was called to support my counter-claim—the indemnity was produced, and the prisoner was called as a witness and sworn—the indenty was put into his hands—his solicitor asked him "Is that your mark?"—he said "No"—he was asked if he had ever seen it before—he said "No, I have never seen it before to-day"—that was 26th Feb.—then he was asked by my Counsel in cross-examination if he knew the two attesting witnesses, Barrett and Gibbs—he said "No, he had never seen them"—the Counsel said "Do you swear you don't know Thomas Gibbs, a mineral-water man?"—he thought for a moment and said "Yes, I do, he is a friend of mine"—the Judge directed the indemnity to be impounded with other documents.
Croat-examined. I have no partner now, I had—I am a general business agent—I have a house estate agency business—I am an accountant, and my partner was a law stationer—I have been doing solicitor's work, acting as solicitor's clerk. (MR. GEOGHEGAN asked the witness whether he had practised in Edmonton County Court. The witness declined to answer.) I have brought actions in Edmonton County Court as plaintiff, sometimes I have had a solicitor—I object to say whether I have ever signed the rolls at Edmonton County Court—before a solicitor can practise at the County Court he has to sign the rolls, and any one so signing holds himself out as a solicitor—I am married—I live at 17, Hartham Road—I let part of that house furnished—the furniture is not all there now, my wife has it—I object to say where my wife is—I have had a lot of litigation—I lost my home—the furniture belongs to my wife under the marriage settlement—I saw my wife yesterday morning—I slept last night at St. Thomas's Place, Hackney—I have not been home this week, I was there on Saturday night—I was charged at Lambeth with larceny when acting as a broker, I was discharged—I was not connected with a long firm, only as a witness—I had none of the goods—I sold a grocer's business for one of the prisoners—Mr. Tiddyman was my solicitor at the County Court—I drew up the brief and the instructions, I always do—Mr. Tiddyman's clerk went through it and added what was necessary—I have not offered through Mr. Bambridge, who keeps a public-house next to Edmonton County Court, to square this matter for 7l.—I knew he was going to the prisoner, I did not send him—I prosecuted by the County Court Judge's order, and at my own expense—I did not communicate with the Public Prosecutor—after the prosecution was instituted I offered White to settle the matter if he would pay the costs, nothing besides, and
with the sanction of the Court—I fixed the costs at from 7l. to 10l.—I claimed 15l. as my set-off, the Judge gave me 12s.—there was a verdict for the plaintiff for the full amount, and a verdict for 12s. out of 15l. for the defendant—he said one of us must be committing perjury—I admitted his debt of 4l., and claimed 15l.—the 12s. would be deducted from 4l., I have not paid it yet—if the verdict of the Jury to-day is that there was perjury I shall move the Court to set aside that judgment—I only know Mr. Coleman, proprietor of the Fountain, through this case—I believe he gave me the pen and ink—this gentleman is the father—I will not swear he was there when the ink was given, I am almost certain he was not—letters "k" in "mark" and "look" are not alike, but they are written by the same person—they are alike—I think there was something to drink at the Fountain, I did not have anything before this was finished—I should say Mr. Gibbs was quite sober, he had no appearance of drink—it was the first time I had seen him—this was signed in the public bar—Barrett made a mistake if he said it was the private bar—I could not say who carried the bag from the dairy shop to the Fountain—I had a bag, and might have carried it in that—I sent three documents on the same day to Somerset House to be stamped—I added nothing to the document then—I swear "R.W. Bacon" was not added after it was stamped—I got the distress warrant about 6 o'clock—I was told Barrett got it signed about midday—I was not there—Barrett is my brother-in-law—I slept at his house last night—I did not tell Mr. Philip Gunter in effect that I would settle the matter if 5l. wore paid me by 6 o'clock the following Saturday.
He-examined. After I was charged at Lambeth I brought an action against the prosecutor for malicious prosecution—I have had nothing to do with this prosecution since the Magistrate committed the prisoner—I should be glad to have nothing to do with it.
THOMAS HENRY GIBBS . I am a licensed victualler, of 146, Holborn—I was at the Fountain in October with Smith, and saw Barrett and Bacon there talking with the prisoner about levying on some goods—I saw this document, I believe, produced in front of the bar in the public compartment—I recollect signing a document, I believe this is it; this is my signature—I did not hear the document read—I am not quite certain whether I saw the prisoner do anything to it—I don't recollect Barrett's name being on it—I believe this mark Thomas White was on the paper when I signed it—I am not quite certain about it, I suppose I signed as a witness to the mark; I do not think I should have done it if the mark had not been there—I couldn't say for certain he signed it, he had his arm in a sling—I signed my evidence at the police-court—I don't think I said at the police-court "White was present, and he signed it with a X"—I won't swear that now.
Cross-examined. I had been delivering mineral water that day, and this was the last on the round—I had been to 30 or 40—people would be offended if I did not have something—I did not offend any one—I have not a very vivid recollection of what happened—I should not like to swear either way as to whether the mark was on the paper when I signed—I answered at the police-court as I do now—I had not seen Bacon before that night, and took no interest in what was going on; some one just asked me to witness it, being there—I cannot recollect whether Barrett was present—I was busy serving mineral waters—Mr. Coleman was present
on the other side of the bar when I signed—I do not know if he was present when I was asked to sign.
FREDERICK SMITH . I am a journeyman cabinet-maker, and am now living at 17, Hartham Road—I was at the Fountain, public-house with Bacon, Barrett, Gibbs, and the prisoner—I saw this document produced—it was read in the hearing of Gibbs, and the prisoner put his mark to it—Gibbs was asked to sign it, and he and Barrett did so—I had been out with Gibbs and had had something to drink—I was moderately sober—I and Gibbs were not intoxicated—I was at the police-court on the hearing of the summons—I saw the document handed to the prisoner, and he was asked if he knew this paper—he said "Yes"—I was at the County Court on the 26th, when the action was heard between the prisoner and Bacon—I saw this document handed to the prisoner—after he was sworn he was asked if he knew the paper—he said "I do not, I have never seen it before"—he was asked "Do you know Mr. Gibbs?" and answered no at first, and then he said he did some months before—he was asked "Is this your mark?"—he said he had never put it there, and that he had only once in his life put a mark, and that was at Kingsland Eoad—the Judge directed the document to be impounded; I cannot say if he questioned the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I am not in Gibbs's employment; I go out with him casually—I live at 17, Hartham Road now; Bacon resides there—I pay him 7s. a week—I owe him nothing—he only employed me as the man in possession on that occasion—I have not worked for Bacon before or since, only in these proceedings coming here—I have not been paid for that; I hope to be by Mr. Bacon for giving evidence here to-day—Gibbs must have heard the document read over—I cannot say he made any observation to show he heard if—I can't say if he or Barrett signed it first—the prisoner when he signed it said that he intended to remove the man's furniture away—I believe Mrs. Coleman, the landlady, was behind the bar then—I can't swear whether Mr. Coleman was—it was Mr. Bacon's own pen; I can't say about the ink—I know he carries one of those little things in his pocket—I believe the barmaid was asked for a pen and ink, but the pen, I think, was not used—I have known Bacon some 12 months—when this was signed I lived at 2, Gilpin Grove, Edmonton—I do not expect Mr. Bacon to pay me for my evidence to-day—I have never been a witness here before, and do not know that the County pays expenses.
HENRY RIBTON COOKE . I am a lecturer, living at 3, Grove Park Road, Tottenham—on 6th October a distress was put in my house by the prisoner—Bacon was the broker employed—I objected to the illegality of the distress—Bacon sent for the prisoner, who came to my house—he said he was the landlord of the place, that the rent was due to him, and he told Bacon to remove the goods—Bacon told him to be very careful what he was doing, and said "You must give me an indemnity"—the prisoner said he would have the goods removed if it cost him 50l. and he would give him an indemnity—they then left the house together—I summoned Bacon for an assault at the police-court—the prisoner was sworn as a witness—he was first shown the warrant, and he said he signed that, then he was handed the indemnity and was asked "Did you sign this indemnity?"—he said "Yes"—at the time of the distress the defendant's
right arm was in a sling—both the warrant and indemnity were put into his hands.
Cross-examined. I did not owe him any money—the distress had nothing to do with the house I was in then—I lived before at 13, Braemar Road for five months—I paid the first quarter's rent, and then moved at mid-day on 11th September—the landlord knew I was going—some people afterwards came to my house to levy 7l. for rent due for the house in Braemar Road—I did not pay the money—the goods were seized, and I believe sold—I don't know who by—the prisoner said that "John White" was his signature to the distress warrant—then he was handed the indemnity, and asked "Did you sign it?"—he said "Yes"—he handed the warrant back before the other was put to him.
GEORGE VOSS , M.R.C.S. I am house surgeon at the Tottenham Training Hospital—the prisoner came there as an out-patient on 12th October, suffering from a lacerated wound in his right hand, at the base of the forefinger—he paid fourteen visits up to some time in November—I ordered him to put his hand in a sling.
Cross-examined. It was a lacerated wound; it healed very rapidly—I think I saw it at its worst when I first saw him—if he could write his name three hours before by having his hand guided he could do it in the same way then I suppose—I don't know Mr. White personally.
Re-examined. A wound is more painful at one time than another.
THOMAS ASHLEY BARRETT . I am Bacon's clerk, and live at 9. St. Thomas's Place, Hackney—I was at Edmonton County Court on 26th February during the hearing of the case of White and Bacon—I heard the prisoner sworn—the indemnity was shown to him and he was asked "Have you seen this document?"—his answer was "Never saw it in my life until to-day"—the next question was "Did you put your mark to it?"—he said "No."
Cross-examined. I am Bacon's nephew—I live at 9, St. Thomas's Place, Hackney—Bacon comes there sometimes—he was there last night, I can't say if he was there on Monday and Tuesday or how often last week—I do not know why he does not go to his own house—I am in his service—I go about with him and do things for him—he collects money, he does not act as a solicitor sometimes to my knowledge—I was called as a witness at the County Court in mistake for my father—I did not help my master to draw up these particulars for 15l., I should say my expenses were included in that amount—I got no part of it—I got my wages—I was not put in the witness box to prove the expenses I had been put to.
Re-examined. I was called in mistake for my father.
LEONARD VAN BOOLEN . I am a financial agent, of 26, Sandringham Road, Dalston—I know the prisoner—I saw him make his mark on this document (produced) on 27th October in my office—he had got his arm in a sling at the time.
Cross-examined. I know Bacon—the prisoner was security for Tomlinson for 5l. which I have not got back—I did not go to the police-court on purpose to get my money, there is an action pending—I went to the County Court from information I received.
By the COURT. He made the cross with his own hand.
—he said "All right, old boy, I will go along with you, I am innocent."
Cross-examined. I have known him for some years—he has been a resident in Tottenham and Wood Green for a number of years—I know nothing against his character—he came willingly enough with me.
Witnesses for the Defence.
CHARLES COLEMAN . My son is proprietor of the Fountain, and I live there—I have known the prisoner for seven years—he has always borne the character of an honest and truthful man—on 26th October, Bacon, Gibbs, White, and Barrett came in, I don't remember Smith—there was no paper or indemnity produced or read—I was serving there from half-past 2 to a quarter-past 10 o'clock—no pen and ink was asked for, I am certain—Mrs. Coleman, my daughter-in-law, was there—I did not leave the bar five minutes during that time—I think the bar runs round about 37 feet.
Cross-examined. I did not see Gibbs sign a paper, I never saw him write in my life—I did not see Barrett sign—there was no paper signed in that house that day, I am certain, from 2 to half-past 9 o'clock—that was not the only time Gibbs delivered mineral water—the prisoner comes to the house occasionally, Bacon does not—I have never seen Bacon there at all since 26th October, he might have been there—I saw him there before 26th October—the mineral-water was put under the private counter and taken to the back—Mrs. Coleman was looking after that—I could not tell how many people there might be in the bar—I know Barrett by sight, I don't know his name—they were in the public bar for part of the evening, and then I think Mr. Gibbs came into the private bar later on—there were other customers there besides those mentioned—I might exchange a word with a customer—I was not called as a witness at the police-court—the first I heard was when I was served with a subpoena this day week to come here—I didn't know what they wanted me for—I saw the prisoner after he was committed for trial—that was after I got the subpoena, I think—we have had no serious talk over the matter—I never read in the paper that the prisoner was charged with perjury—I went and heard it, and heard them say they wrote a document in my bar—I knew it was false.
Cross-examined. I thought the case did not concern me much—I know it was the 26th when Bacon and these people were there because of a circumstance that happened on that day, it was a Friday—I was bound to see if papers were being signed—I must have seen it if a paper was put on the bar, I didn't see one.
By the COURT. I had my dinner before I went into the bar, and I don't have any tea.
Re-examined. I know Bacon and White—I am certain it was never signed in our bar or house.
ELIZABETH COLEMAN . I am the last witness's son's wife; my husband keeps the Fountain public-house, Tottenham—on 26th October White and Bacon came in—I was serving behind the bar, Mr. Gibbs was delivering mineral water—I am quite sure none of them asked for pen and ink—I and Mr. Coleman were the only persons behind the bar, the barmaid was not serving—I saw no paper signed.
Cross-examined. We generally keep ink in the bar-parlour, and have to fetch it if it is asked for, which is rather an uncommon thing—I do
not often see the prisoner and Bacon in the house together—I don't know Barrett by name, I don't remember seeing him there—Smith was helping Gibbs to serve the mineral water—they were in the public compartment—a few other persons were there besides them—I may have seen Bacon once or twice, I think I have seen him once since the 26th October—I would not like to say the 26th October was not the first time he has been in the house—I was not at the police-court when the prisoner was committed—I heard he was charged with perjury, and something about it was for a document written in the bar—I did not think I should be interested in the case—I cannot say when I was spoken to about the pen and ink—I was subpoelignaed on Saturday night, I may have been asked about my recollection of the 26th October, I can't remember—there was a sale at West Green Road on that day, which caused us to be rather busy and to recollect the date—I can't say when I last lent ink to anybody—I did not lend ink to any of the gentlemen at the bar, I am quite positive about it—I can't swear whether I lent ink to anybody last week.
Re-examined. I sent the barmaid home to her mother and served the whole day myself—I remember perfectly well seeing Bacon and White in the house together that day, which was the day of the sale.
By the COURT. I was continuously in the bar—we don't sit down to tea, we run in and out and have it as we can.
JOHN BAMBRIDGE . I keep the Eagle, next to the Edmonton County Court—I have known the prisoner for four years—as far as I know he is an honest and truthful man—I spoke to Bacon at the County Court respecting his cheque, which was dishonoured—I pressed him for the money, he said he was in very straitened circumstances, and didn't know how to find the money to prosecute White, and he said if he could get back his expenses he would withdraw the prosecution—I went and told White, he said he would do nothing of the sort, he would stand his trial.
Cross-examined. Mr. Bacon was not a witness for the defence in an action in which I was plaintiff in the High Court.
Re-examined. I have been four years at Edmonton.
MR. PURCELL proposed to put in evidence the notes of the County Court Judge who tried the action, verified by him. MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that the notes could not be put in evidence unless the Judge himself was present and was subjected to cross-examination; otherwise there would be no evidence that the notes had been correctly taken. There was no Statute to make the Judge's notes evidence in his absence. At a meeting of the Judges it was decided that Judges would not attend to prove their notes, and that the matter must be proved other than by their notes. The COMMON SERJEANT, having consulted MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN, ruled that the notes were not admissible.
WILLIAM GYE . I live at at 23, Evershot Road, Torrington Park, builder—I remember 26th October last year by a sale at West Green Road—I had business dealings with the prisoner on that day, and he gave me this receipt—I wrote the receipt and he signed it—I had not to guide his hand in the least; that was between 1 and 2 o'clock.
Cross-examined. That was in the sale rooms in the West Green Road, about two minutes' walk from the Braemar Road—he had not got his
arm in a sling—I did not see him later in the day—I saw him after the 26th October; he had not got his arm in a sling, I think; he might have had and I might not have seen it—it was not in a sling on that morning—he signed with his right hand—I should think there were twenty people at the sale' when he signed—there is nobody else here that I am aware of—I was not called to the police-court; I was there with this receipt—I received notice to attend here this week—I was not at the County Court.
WILLIAM BARTLETT . I am a traveller—I was with Barrett on 26th October, and went with him to the prisoner's house—this piece of paper (the warrant), to the best of my belief, was produced by Mr. Barrett to the prisoner about 5 or 5.30 at the Fountain, and he was asked to sign it—Barrett, Bacon, Barrett, jun., and the prisoner adjourned from the Fountain to the kitchen in the prisoner's house, and he signed it there—Barrett guided the prisoner's hand at first, and then the prisoner told him to leave hold of his hand as he thought he could do it better himself; that was between 5 and 6 o'clock—I have known the prisoner about eighteen months.
Cross-examined. I travel for Messrs. Leverett and sleigh—I was not the man in possession—I went in shortly after possession was taken—Bacon was there, and when he went away Barrett, jun., was left with me—I did not hold the warrant—it was 5.40 when I went to Mr. Cooke's house—I was not a witness at the police-court—the "J." was signed when Barrett had hold of his hand, but the "White" the prisoner signed without any guidance—I am not certain if his hand was in a sling or in his coat; his hand was hurt in some way—I don't think I saw him earlier that day, or on the Saturday—the goods were removed from Cook's house on the Friday night and taken to an empty house; I was not in possession of them—I would not swear I saw his arm in a sling from the 26th to the end of October.
Rebutting evidence called by MR. PURCELL.
HENRY RIBTON COOKE (Re-examined). The goods were taken possession of about 530 by Barrett, jun., first, then by Mr. Bacon, and then by the last witness Bartlett—Bacon had the warrant of possession, and when he went it was given to Bartlett, and he remained in possession of the goods part of the time—I saw the prisoner at my house; he had his arm in a sling, a large black silk handkerchief or necktie, to cover all the arm from the elbow to the hand.
NOT GUILTY .
497. BENJAMIN NEWMAN (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing one pound of tobacco, a bottle of wine, a bottle, and 2l. 10s., the goods of James Bradbury. The prosecutor recommended the prisoner to mercy.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, April 26th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. BESLEY and GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. CRANSTOUN Defended.
Court of Justice—I produce an affidavit of Gennarro Fagnani, dated December, 18th, 1883, and filed on January 1st, 1884. (In this the defendant swore that he personally served a copy of a writ on the defendant in the action of King v. Harris.) I also produce an affidavit sworn by Gennarro Fagnani and Mr. Marsden, solicitor, on 21st January, 1884. (In this the defendant swore that he had read a copy of the former affidavit, and that the person on whom he served the writ was the same person on whom he served the summons, and who he believed to be Mr. Harris's niece; that he asked her if she was H.M. Harris, gave her the copy, and she said "I suppose about the shop."
CHARLES HENRY CRANE . I am a commissioner to administer oaths—on 18th December, 1882, my office was at 3, Searle Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields—this is my signature to this affidavit—it was sworn before me by the person signing it—he either signed it in my office or acknowledged the signature as his—I know the defendant's writing, he is not the party who swore it.
THOMAS PATTESON YOUNG . I am a commissioner to administer oaths, of 29, Mark Lane—this affidavit was sworn before me—the signature of Fagnani was not appended in my presence, nor do I know it, but it was acknowledged by some person present there with Mr. Marsden.
Cross-examined. I do not swear to the signature or identify the person.
CHARLES HENRY RANK (Re-examined.) To the best of my belief this is Fagnani's signature to this affidavit of 21st January. (MR. CRANSTOUN here called upon Mr. Marsden to produce the original writ, that being the foundation of the action, but it was stated to be filed.
FREDERICK HARRIS . I am clerk to King, Marsden, and Bryden—I have had the conduct of the case of King v. Harris—Mr. Benjamin Marsden is the person who made the joint affidavit—I was present when this order was put in, it was in this very case—either I or some one under my directions procured a writ from the High Court; it came into my possession some time at the end of last year—I may not have seen it till after the service—Fagnani was given the writ and the copy in the office for the purpose of service—I have no doubt this (produced) is a copy of the writ—it is in the writing of one of the clerks in the office—I can get the writ in 30 or 40 minutes; it is either on my table or else with Mr. Dickens, in the Temple.
HARRIET MERCY HARRIS . I am single, and live at Park Cottage, New Park Road, Brixton, with my aunt—in November last, about 8 a.m., the defendant called, and I opened the door to him—I was alone—he said "Is Mr. Harris in?"—he did not serve me with a writ, or a paper or document of any kind—he has served me with a notice of inquiry.
Cross-examined. It is my brother Henry's house; my sister and my aunt live there as well as me—my aunt does not keep me—we are juvenile outfitters, and supply shops—when I opened the door to the prisoner I asked him to call again—he had nothing in his hand—he called again at 8.30, but I did not see him then or hear him speak—my aunt opened the door, and he saw one of my brothers—I knew that my brother went to King, Marsden, and Ryder, I asked him to go—I don't know the date—the shop was to be taken for me—I had been in business with my
aunt previously—I saw Mr. King about the shop, and my aunt and my brother Henry were present—that was in May, I believe—I was going to take the shop, but I did not tell Mr. King so; I did not speak to him—my brother did not say that the shop was for my aunt; I swear that; I did not hear him—I have means—that is Mr. King—I had met him before, but he is not acquainted with my family—he does not know my aunt that I know of—my brother said nothing to me when he got the writ on the morning of the 27th, but he told me that day or the day after that the prisoner was coming to serve me with a writ, and I was to stay at home—I have not heard that my brother went and offered terms to the solicitor to settle the business—I did not get a letter from King and Marsden on 7th December—you showed me one of my brother's letters at the police-court—my brother was served with a writ, and I may have said before the Magistrate "I gave my brother instructions to see to that on the 1st December"—I gave those instructions because a writ had been served at the house previously—I have never seen any writ, but I was told there was one—I believe I have mentioned in my affidavit that a writ was put in the letter box—I do not know whether I did or not, it did not come to my knowledge till some time afterwards—no mention is made of the writ in the letter-box in any affidavit; it was not mentioned to my-knowledge till I was at the police-court—my aunt told me about it—I am quite sure of that—I did not take much interest in the proceedings at the time, I was not well, and I left it to my brother. (The RECORDER here stated a second time that this examination was irrelavent.) I am prosecuting the defendant because he never did serve me with a writ, but he did serve me with a writ of inquiry on the 11th January between 7 and 8 p.m.—Geneva Road, Brixton, where he lives, is more than ten minutes' walk from our house.
Re-examined. When the notice of inquiry was served I asked whether it was about the shop, but I never was served with a writ.
ARTHUR HARRIS . I live with my aunt and sisters—on the 27th November I was called down to see the defendant about 9 a.m.—he said that he came from Messrs. King and Marsden, and handed me a copy of a writ, saying, "Mr. H. Harris?"—I said "No, my name is Arthur"—he said "Is your brother in?"—I said "Yes, he is upstairs"—he said "When can I see him?"—I said "To-morrow, at 9.30," and he left the paper with me—he did not call next day—I saw him again that day in the City, and pointed him out to my brother as the person coming to see him next day—I saw my brother go and speak to him, and when he came back I went to King and Marsden's, the solicitors, and saw Mr. Marsden—that was in consequence of the prisoner not having called.
Cross-examined. I am the brother of the last witness—I was a solicitor's clerk about five years ago—I was with Mr. Croft, a solicitor, three years—I am now an auctioneer and estate agent, at 462, Brixton Road—my sister is generally in delicate health—I never saw the defendant till he served me with the writ—I never met him as a process-server—the document was doubled up, and I did not look at it before he went away, because the interview only lasted a minute or two—I did not see that the name was H.M. Harris—my brother had no litigation with Messrs. King and Marsden—I put the paper in my pocket, I did not show it to my brother Henry—he was not there when I left—I did not tell my sister or my aunt—I called on Messrs. King and Marsden three days afterwards,
not in consequence of my sister's instructions, but on my own account—I had not the management of the business, my brother had—I went to tell Mr. Marsden that I was served with a writ—I took it as a service on me. (The RECORDER considered this cross-examination perfectly irrelevant.)
Re-examined. I said to Mr. Marsden that my sister had not been served with a writ of summons—he said "Who is the defendant?"—I said "My sister, Harriet Mercy Harris"—he looked at the writ and said "The man has endorsed it"—I said "Yes"—he said "He is just the man to stand by it."
Cross-examined. I was a solicitor's clerk for twelve years—I am doing nothing now—I negotiated the agreement with Mr. King—I saw the defendant in Cannon Street that day—my brother did not show me a writ that morning, but he said he had got one, and King was the plaintiff and King and Mansfield the solicitors—he showed it to me that day—I do not think I made any affidavit respecting that business till the 21st February—I allowed the case to go on without interfering—I do not know the prisoner by sight, or that he lives at Brixton—I have known King and Marsden several years, and have had several Chancery and common law matters with them.
Cross-examined. I opened the door for the prisoner on the morning of the 27th, he merely said "Mr. Harris"—he had been before—I heard afterwards that he left a copy of a writ there that day, but it was not shown to me—another writ was left at the house four or five days or a week afterwards—I told my niece about it, but not that evening, because I did not know it immediately—it was at the end of January he called, I believe the 27th. (MR. AVORY here produced the original writ, which had been sent for.) The prisoner received a good character, but his witnesses admitted that he had been tried for a similar offence and acquitted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LOUIS Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY HARDING . I live at Vicarage Farm, Hounslow, and am bailiff to Mr. Phillips, whose farm it is—on the morning of the 21st March I missed a truss of clover hay which had been separated from the rick and tied up—I gave information at the station, and on the 22nd a constable came, and he and I traced the hay across the stack yard to a gate leading to the meadows, over which it had been thrown, and across two meadows—at the farther end of the second meadow there is a stile, and we saw traces of the clover being thrown over into the Green Lane, and about 50 yards down the lane into and across a turnip field to a large ditch which parts two farms—we saw heads and stems of clover where the truss had been thrown across the ditch; we went across another field into the Bath Road—I left the constable to follow it up, and returned home—these are some of the pieces found, and these are pieces from the stack (produced); they are the same sort of clover, only this is faded from lying on the ground—I had not sold or given the prisoner any hay.
Cross-examined. The clover might have been bought of some one to whom I sell clover—the prisoner has a horse and would require clover or other food—I have known the prisoner ten years and know nothing against his character, he is a hard-working respectable man.
By the JURY. There is no right of way across the two meadows, it is private property—the clover laid three days in the open and had faded—this which I produce is from the centre of the stack—throwing it over the stile and a deep ditch would cause long stalks to fall from it.
JOSEPH BRACKEMNURY (Policeman T 133). On Sunday, 23rd March, about 12 o'clock, I went with Harding to the hayrick, and he pointed out where the truss had been stolen—we traced the pieces over four fields, hedges, and ditches to the Bath Road, Hounslow, and then to Dockwell Lane—Mr. Harding left me there, and I continued to trace it up Dock-well Lane, and across the road to the rear of the prisoner's house, where I found about three parts of a truss of clover covered with a sack—this is a portion of it, and this is a sample from the stack—I knocked at the prisoner's door, he came, and I said "I want to see you"—I took him to the stable, pointed to the clover covered with a sack, and said "How do you account for this clover being here?"—he said "I bought it"—I said "Where did you buy it?"—he said "Up the road"—I said "What do you mean when you say up the road?"—he said "Well, I bought it at Kew Bridge"—I said "Who did you buy it of?"—he said "I don't know, I bought it of some man with a horse and cart"—I said "This truss of clover belongs to Mr. Phillips, I have traced it right away from the stack across the fields, right up to your stable"—he said "Oh, I know nothing about it, I don't know how it came there; some one else must have put it there"—I looked into the stable and saw that the prisoner's horse was eating some clover similar to what I found, and there was no other clover there except the truss—I took him in custody, and took him to Mr. Harding with the clover, which Mr. Harding identified—the stable door was not locked—the prosecutor's farm is over a quarter of a mile from the prisoner's house.
Cross-examined. I made no note of the conversation—he was admitted to bail—I have known him about eight years, and I do not think he has ever been charged with any offence.
By the JURY. The clover had been tied up and opened, I could see that it had been in a truss—I found pieces all the way from the stack to the stable.
THOMAS JONES (Policeman T 48). On 25th April I went with Brackenbury and Mr. Harding to Phillips's farm—we went with Mr. Phillips over two fields and two meadows, and picked up these portions of clover between the rick and the Bath Road—I asked the prisoner if he slept at home that night; he said that he did not, he slept at the White Bear, Hounslow.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
took the last bus in at 11 o'clock, went home, and had supper, and then returned to the mews—on my way I went into the Britannia public-house and saw the prisoners and three or four others—one of the strangers said in their presence that Scotty was sent to the Swan public-house, and that he intended settling two that night, but he hoped he would think better of it—Scotty is Hazels—I went down the yard about 12.8 or 12.10, and was near the corn bin with my bus—the two prisoners came in, and I said to the boy "Here come Scotty and George, whatever do they want?"—they had nothing to do there—Wells came into the doorway and said "I want hands up with you, old man"—I said "What for?"—he seized a shovel, smashing me with every blow he struck, and he cut my knuckles after I was down on the ground asking for mercy—I crouched down in the stall asking for mercy, and Wells said to Hazels "The old s—has got more than he will settle this time, and we will serve the young b----the same"—I staggered up and got into a water-closet belonging to a cottage, and the two returned, and Wells said "We will settle the old s—before we leave"—they went into a stable, and I got on a dustbin and threw myself over about 14 feet into a gentleman's garden—I fell three times, and fainted from loss of blood—I was taken to St. George's Hospital—there had been an inquiry about cruelty to animals, and I had to check the prisoners on several occasions.
Cross-examined. There are 21 stalls on one side, it is a very large place—three gas lamps were turned up—I was in the second stall when Hazels caught hold of me—he did not say when he first came in "What, do you mean to say that my horses are dirty?" or "have something the matter with them?"—when he said "Hands up, old man" he rushed at me, and I closed with him, and was disabled and fell, and I believe he fell on me—I was struck with a shovel, and kicked while I was on the ground—my boy came to help me, and took up a shovel to try to protect me, but he could not get near me—I have heard that Hazels's head was cut with a shovel while he was struggling—when I got up I did not see my boy and Hazels fighting with shovels, I should only have been too pleased if he could have chopped their heads off—I saw Wells with a shovel—I did not see them chopping each other—there was plenty of light—I was standing at the cornbin and my boy by my side when the prisoners came.
EDWARD SETTERFIELD . I live with my father the last witness at 7, Stamford Road, and am employed at the stables of the London General Omnibus Company—I was with my father, about 12.20, on this night—Hazels came in, came up to my father, and said "Hands up with you, old man," and he dashed at him, and closed with him—my father held him, and Wells came in with a shovel—my father fell, and he started kicking him—Hazels hit my father with a shovel several times—I tried to pull Hazels off, but Wells cut me across the head with a shovel and knocked me down, and said "If you offer to interfere I will kill you"—I got up again—I thought if I could keep Wells back my father would be able to manage—Hazels was wrestling with my father on the ground, and kicking him—I ran to the end of the stable and got a shovel, and Wells chased me—we struck at each other, but he was like a mad fellow—I could do nothing with him—I ran home first, and then for the police, and coming back Wells was standing by a gate—he ran after me, but
could not catch me—I saw my father, he was out about his head and eyes—he fell from loss of blood.
Cross-examined. I tried to pull them apart in one of the stalls—the gas was alight—Wells cut me across the head with a shovel; I got hold of a shovel, and we went chopping at one another, but I could not get near him—it was too dark for me to see whether Hazels's head was bleeding.
Re-examined. I did not take up a shovel till I was cut on the head with a shovel—this (produced) is the kind of shovel my father was struck on the head with, and the kind of shovel I had—Hazels struck him with the shovel while he was on the ground; he kicked him, and used the shovel afterwards—neither of them had a shovel when I tried to separate the two—Wells cut me across the head with a shovel while I was trying to pull them apart, but Hazels used a shovel on my father before that.
WILLIAM GREEN (Policeman PR 34). On 26th February I went to 17, Stamford Road, about 1 o'clock, and saw the prosecutor lying on a bed smothered in blood, and his son with a large out on his head, which was bleeding very much—Dr. Egan arrived while I was there—I went with the son to 17, Staley Road and took Wells—he asked what it was for—Hazels was afterwards brought to the station.
THOMAS STRONG (Policeman T). About 1.50 on 26th February I went to Stamford Road, and saw Walter Setterfield in bed in a pool of blood, and the boy bleeding from the head—I fetched Dr. Egan, and another constable took Walter Setterfield to the hospital—I was present when Wells was arrested—I went to 24, Hammett Street, and saw Hazels in bed—I said that I should take him for a violent assault with a shovel—he said "I did not use the shovel, the boy used the shovel"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I went to St. George's Hospital, and heard that he had been there and had his head dressed—he had got a cut with a shovel.
FRANCIS EGAN . I am divisional surgeon of police, and was called to see W. E. Setterfield, who was suffering from a severe wound in the head—the skull was grazed, and he was in very great danger—I sent him to the hospital at once.
CHARLES COATES . I am house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—the elder Setterfield was brought in there at 2.15 on the morning in question—he had three scalp wounds, one about three inches long with the bone exposed—the wound had penetrated the periostum—his shoulders were bruised, and his hand and ankle cut, exposing the tendons; the third knuckle of the right hand was cut—the wounds were such as might be inflicted by a shovel, and he was much exhausted—he remained in the hospital till the 13th March, when he left, although he was advised not to.
Cross-examined. There was another scalp wound in the hospital the same night—I was not able to recognise Hazels.
JOHN BROWN (Police Inspector Y). On the 26th February I saw Setterfield at the London General Omnibus Company's Offices, Fulham Road—he made a statement to me, which I took down in writing and read to him, and he signed it—I saw Wells at the station at about 5 o'clock, and road Setterfield's statement to him—Wells made a statement, which I took down in writing. (Read: "Edwin Setterfield, odd horsekeeper at London General Omnibus Company, at stables in Garden Row, Fulham Road, says, that at about 12.20 I and my father were standing at the
cornbin in the stable, when in came Scott, looking white with passion, and caught hold of my father, and said 'I am going to have hands up with you.' He caught hold of him, and threw him on the ground, and then caught hold of a shovel and began to knock him about with it. I said to him, 'For God's sake, what are you doing?' He replied, 'You b----, I will kill you.' I saw my father catch hold of the shovel Scott was using, and as I was about to assist my father, Wells, another horse-keeper, came in, and said to me, 'You b----, I will kill you.' He had a shovel in his hand, and he struck me on the head with it. I got Scott's shovel to protect myself. Wells chased me about the stable. I tried to use it as well as I could. He kept chopping at me, and I was obliged to run out of the stable. When I got into the yard, Wells went back. I afterwards went into the stable, and saw both Scott and Wells and my father struggling together. Wells was knocking my father on the head with a shovel. I went and tried again to assist him, and Wells again knocked me down with the shovel. I got up and he chased me up the Fulham Road. I went home and told my mother, and then went in search of a policeman. I saw Wells standing in Fulham Road, and as soon as he saw me he ran after me with a shovel again. A policeman came to my house and took my father to the hospital, and brought a doctor to dress mine and my father's head. Signed, Edwin Setterfield.") George Wells said "I never touched his father—when I went into the stable Scott was on the ground, and his father was on the top of him—I told the man to let him have fair play, and not hit him when down, and the boy turned round and hit me on the head with a shovel, then and there, before I could move, and then ran away, and I never saw him any more until I saw him with a policeman"—I told Wells upon that statement he would be charged with unlawfully wounding the second Setterfield—he was put in the cells, and nothing more was said—I saw Hazels about 12 o'clock, and read the same statement to him—the name Wells on the back of this statement (produced) should be Hazels—he said when charged "What about the boy? he has wounded me, and I have been to the hospital; I will charge him."
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, April 26th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ELGOOD Prosecuted.
CHARLES HAREKE . I am a clerk, and live at 38, Beresford Road, Highbury Park—a little after midnight on 23rd March I was walking along Pentonville Road, when just opposite the reservoir I saw six or more men standing on the footpath—not liking to go through them, I went in the road to avoid them—one of them pushed another against me—I put my hand before me or I should have fallen; he had been pushed so hardly against me that he fell down—he sprang up and the others were all round me at the same moment, held me fast, and stripped my pockets, taking 3l. and my purse, which it was in, and bunch of keys—I
could not say who took the things—after that they let me loose and I was going to fetch a policeman, when Wheeler, a stranger, accosted me—he went away and I was standing for a moment, and then they rushed on me again and held me and tore off my coat and got my watch and chain, preventing me from calling at the same time by putting their hands over my mouth—as soon as they got the watch they left me, and in a moment I snatched the watch back from the hand of the man who had got it—the chain was left in his hand—Wheeler and the policeman then came round the corner, and we ran after all the men—they had gone in a side street—I did not see the prisoner taken; I saw him next morning among five or six—he was one of those who attacked and held me with the others; what he did I could not say—I cannot identify him as the one who seized my watch; I will swear he was one who assaulted me.
By the COURT. I was not much Hurt; I did not fall to the ground, nor was I knocked down—I think I had three sovereigns and a small amount of copper and silver.
FRANCIS HENRY WHEELER . I live at 5, Palmer's Place, Railway Road, and am in the employ of the General Post Office—a little after midnight on 23rd March I was passing along Pentonville Road towards the Angel, and on the left-hand side corner of Penton Street I saw eight or nine roughs taking up all the pavement—the prosecutor was in front of me and had to go into the road to avoid them—two of the roughs left the others, went behind him, and hit his hat over his eyes and drew him into the mob—they pulled his clothes open in way the of robbing him and knocking him about, punching him and knocking his hat about and hitting him on the head—I heard some money drop from his pocket; they let go of him to scuffle to get the money, and some of them went on the opposite side of the way and some round Penton Street—I saw the prisoner helping to pull the prosecutor's coat open, nothing else—I spoke to the prosecutor and fetched a constable—when I came back with one I saw the men run, and we went in pursuit of them—we caught the prisoner; he had the prosecutor's hat in his hand, and I recognised him as one of the men who had been attacking him a few minutes before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You threw the hat away and the constable took it up—I ran after two others—the hat was not near the other two men.
Re-examined. The prisoner had the hat in his hand and threw it on the ground—it was not five yards from him—I saw it leave his hand.
DONALD MILLER (Policeman G 179). I was called by Wheeler—I went with him to Penton Street, and saw the prisoner and five or six others run along Penton Street—I ran after them; they turned down White Lion Street, and when I was about three or four yards from the prisoner he dropped the prosecutor's hat—I took him into custody—the prosecutor came to the police-station and identified the hat in the prisoner's presence—before I took the prisoner into custody he said "I don't know anything about it"—he was quite sober—I took two others at the same time; they could not be identified; they were running.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "On the night I was taken into custody there were three others besides me, and two of them were taken by the constable besides me, and they were let off and weren't searched. I was searched and nothing was found on me."
Prisoner's Defence. On this night I was going down White Lion Street with my brother-in-law, when the constable came up and arrested me, and then picked up a hat some yards from me; when the prosecutor came in to identify, the inspector said "This is one of them," and the prosecutor said, "I believe it is."
DONALD MILLER (Re-examined by the COURT). Nothing was found on the prisoner when he was searched—I picked up the hat—the prosecutor was called out of the waiting-room, and said "This is one of them"—I did not call his attention—the prosecutor drove away in a hansom after being assaulted, and came down to the station on Sunday afternoon and complained, and on Monday he was taken to the police-court, and identified the prisoner, who was put with others—I called the prisoner outside the waiting-room—there were other men there, and the prosecutor identified him—I don't think he saw me call him out—there were a lot of others standing outside—the prosecutor could not see him put among the others.
NOT GUILTY .
502. WILLIAM MORTON, Unlawfully obtaining 18s. from the trustees of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society by means of a forged sick list, with intent to defraud. A Second Count charged obtaining from Frederick Jenkins, a clerk of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended at the request of the Court.
JOHN STRATTON . I am chief clerk to the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society, 17, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—it has 120,000 members—10s. a quarter is the subscription—it is a pure benefit society—we give 30s. on a member's wife's confinement, and on death a grant of 20l.—30s. on the birth of a child born in wedlock—10l. to the husband if the wife dies, and if the member dies 20l.—if a man has only been a member three months he only gets 2s. 6d. a week sick pay, if a member for 12 months or more 18s. a week—the prisoner had been a member more than 12 months—the money could be sent to the house if the member pleased, or he could call for it on Friday evening or Saturday morning—this is a declaration on the fund of William Morton, No. 31198, of 90, Copenhagen Street, N., dated Oct. 23, stating that he is afflicted with rheumatism and cough, and unable to follow his occupation—this (produced) is a book of the rules of the society (Rule X. stated that when a member declared on the sick fund two other members resident within two miles should be required to call and see him, and sign the sick list every week)—the first persons appointed as visitors to the prisoner were Wigery and Norris—I produce two genuine sick lists, marked "A" and "B," going from October 25th to December 15th—the weekly payments were made on them—this (produced) is a declaration by Morton, and a medical certificate that he will be able to resume work on February 24th, 1884—the last money was paid him on 1st March—I was present at the committee meeting on 5th March, when the sick lists "C," "D," and "E" were put before the prisoner, and his attention directed to the signatures Wigery and Norris from 27th December to 19th January, and then to the signatures Brown and Cresswell on "D" and "E"—I said to him "Who wrote them?"—he said "I did," in effect, "My landlady objected to so many visitors calling at the house"—the committee
said they would let him know the result of their decision, and he went away perfectly satisfied—before he went the chairman said to him "You are liable to prosecution"—he then said "I hope the committee will not go to that extremity, but that they will deal leniently with me on account of my wife and children"—this prosecution was afterwards ordered by the society—I have got the sick-pay book here—Mr. Jenkins made the payments—no money would be paid without the genuine signatures of visitors—that is one of the principal provisions against fraud.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been a member for 13 years—I have not got the date of his admission—I did not inquire how long he had been a member before I instituted the prosecution—he may have told the committee he had been on the books 13 years—aged or afflicted members, by Rule XXX., can withdraw from the society, and be paid for their interest in it—the interest would depend on the state of health—I have been chief clerk about 16 years—I could not say what would be paid the prisoner if he withdrew; it depends on his health—the Hearts of Oak did not inquire how long he had been a member, his age, condition, or the interest he had in it when they prosecuted—when a member has been more than eight years in the society he is entitled to a superannuation allowance of 4s. per week, and allowed to earn 12s. a week as well if he can—I took no note of what the prisoner said before the committee—he was asked questions by the chairman—he is not here—I cannot say if the prisoner was cautioned first—I can't recollect if he was first questioned about the landlady, or what his exact words were—he said she "objected to so many visitors calling," or "to the visitors," or words to the effect "that the landlady would not like being bothered by so many visitors"—the landlady was not called at the police-court—her husband was there—he was not called—if the visitors had signed these pay sheets the prisoner would have been entitled to the allowance—if sick members violate the regulations, and make irregularities in their declarations and signatures, they are liable to fines and stoppages—I believe he was in the House of Detention for several days—I did not know he was suffering from bronchitis—since his committal he has been allowed out on his own recognisances by the Magistrate.
Re-examined. That was on the invitation of our Counsel to let him out—he has received sick pay before this; I don't know how much—health increases the amount a man is entitled to on going out—I am not aware he made any application for that—to entitle him to the 4s. a week he must previously run through 52 weeks sick pay—we have a great many forgeries on our society.
FREDERICK JENKINS . I am a clerk in the office of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society—I produce the sick-pay book—prior to 27th December, 1883, nine payments were made to Wm. Morton 81,198, and ten payments after that date up to 1st March—it would be my duty to give the prisoner a slip, which he would take to the treasurer—I have seen the prisoner himself—from 28th December there are 10 signatures "H. Brown" in respect of sick pay—I have myself seen him sign that name.
Cross-examined. Sick members may draw their own sick pay—I was giving out slips to others when I gave the prisoner his—it was Friday, a great many call then or Saturday morning—I do not take particular notice of each person to whom I hand a slip—they mention the name and
number of the sick member, and I write out the slip—there is only a counter between me and those who call—we always see everybody—I could not swear to anybody.
Re-examined. They sign when I give the ticket—I can swear I saw the prisoner sign "H. Brown" opposite the name Morton—any friend who produces the book of rules and sick list may take the money.
JOHN WIGEEY . I am a carpenter, of 170, Copenhagen Street, Islington—I am a member of the Hearts of Oak—I was appointed with Mr. Norris to visit the prisoner—we went many times to 90, Copenhagen Street—I find my signature in sick lists "A" and "B"—in "C" my name appears signed 10 times after 27th December—those are not mine—after I last signed the list the prisoner came over to my house the following evening, the 28th, and said he was going to declare off and I need not call again—in consequence of that I ceased to call—I did not know that he was signing my name.
Cross-examined. He looked very bad—I thought he was unfit to declare off, but thought he knew himself best.
WALTER NORRIS . I am a railway-waggon maker, and live at 225, Caledonian Road, and am a member of the Hearts of Oak—I was appointed to visit the prisoner, and did so a great number of times between 25th October and 15th December—these are my signatures on sick lists "A" and "B"—of the 10 times my name appears on "C," those up to 27th December are genuine, and those after that date are not mine—an attempt has been made to imitate my writing—on 27th December the prisoner called at my house and told me he was going to declare off the sick fund and that he thought of starting work again, and after that I did not call.
Cross-examined. I thought he looked very ill and unfit to declare off, I did not tell him so.
THOMAS HENRY BROWN . I am a warehouseman, and live at 10, Copenhagen Street—I am a member of the Hearts of Oak—in January I was appointed with Mr. Cresswell to visit Mr. Morton—on 21st January I received a message, and in consequence went to the prisoner's house the following evening—he said "I called round at your house to tell you not to call, so of course I did not expect you; it is no use your calling any more, as I have declared off the fund"—that was my first call—he said he had sent the list to the society's house because he had declared off—I was never, asked to sign the list at all—I see my name and Cresswell's on this list "D;" it is not my writing—I did not visit him as a sick member on those dates and never gave him authority to write my name.
Cross-examined. When he said he had declared off, I said "You don't look up for much; if you are not fit to go to work you had better not declare off"—he said he had got no work to go to.
HENRY CRESSWELL . I live at 90, Outram Road, and am a cabdriver—I am a member of the Hearts of Oak—in January I was appointed with Brown to visit a sick member—in consequence of some message I did not go there—none of these signatures "Cresswell" on "D" are my writing, and the signature on 21st February, on "E," is not my writing—I did not visit the prisoner on any of those dates.
Wigery and Norris calling—I never said anything, to, him to object to any of the Hearts of Oak members coming to my house—I never made any complaint at all at any time.
Cross-examined. I have one other lodger and his wife in the house—the prisoner has a wife and three children—I have no children—I attend to the house, and occasionally have a person to assist me.
ISAAC JACOBS (Policeman C 201). On 13th March, about 8 o'clock, I went to Mr. May's house, saw the prisoner, and told him I had a warrant—after I had read it he said "I am very sorry, I don't know why I did it."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I plead guilty to signing the names. I have done no work from 20th October up to 28th February. I implore the gentlemen to be as merciful as possible to me, for I have a wife in a sick state and a young family. Having so many visitors to the house, the landlady did not like it, and I wished to save them the trouble of visiting."
There were other indictments against the prisoner, who was discharged in his own recognisances in 50l.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
SARAH HOLIDAY . I live at 20, Turk's Bow, and am an unfortunate girl—on the morning of 9th April I was in George Street, Chelsea, alone; I met the prisoner, whom I aid not know before, with' his father and brother, he said they were—he asked me to take a walk with him—I said "I don't mind"—I called my friend, Elizabeth Noble, across and asked her to wait a few minutes for me—the prisoner's father put his arm round her waist—she said "You had better go home to your wife"—the prisoner turned round and said "That is my father, you had better mind what you say"—Noble said she would say the same whoever it was, and then the prisoner struck her two blows between the breasts—she fell to the ground—I saw the prosecutor and Thompson come across the road, and Maddigan picked her up—the prisoner said "If any one picks this woman up I will stab him to the heart"—that was before Maddigan had touched her—Maddigan immediately picked her up end put her on her feet—I next saw the prisoner and prosecutor pass into the middle of the road scuffling; a blow was struck, they both fell to the ground; the prisoner got up and drew his sword; Maddigan had got up—I then saw Maddigan's hand was bleeding at the wrist—he called a constable—the prisoner ran away, and the policeman went after him—I saw, nothing between the prisoner drawing his sword and the prosecutor's wrist bleeding.
Cross-examined. This was between 9.30 and 9.45—Maddigan and Thompson were standing opposite a side street, not on the same side as Noble—Noble had been on the same side, and then she crossed the road to the prisoner and his father, she accosted the prisoner—she was perfectly sober I think—I had left her five minutes before this happened—I was with the prisoner, coming up the same street—Noble said she had known the prisoner previously—she did not appear jealous when she saw me walking with him—Noble lay on the ground, 10 minutes insensible—I swear the whole of this affair lasted 10 minutes,
during which time Noble was insensible on the ground; she could see nothing of what happened—the prisoner was the worse for drink, he was not drunk; he could not walk very straight—when the sword was drawn his brother said that I and Noble tried to steal his watch and chain—I did not see that his chain was broken, or that he showed it to the police sergeant—he said at the police-court we tried to steal his watch and chain—he said he must say something to get his brother off—he told the Magistrate so—he said to the Magistrate "I must say my chain is broken to get my brother off"—he did not tell the Magistrate that he found part of his chain on the ground and part in his pocket—there was no one else there besides Maddigan and Thompson—I did not see the prisoner's brother's eye bleeding, I saw it bound up at the police-court—I did not hear his brother say that he had been kicked in the eye by some one—I did not hear him complain that the sergeant had been assaulted, and that for that he had interfered—when he drew his sword all he did was to brandish it about to keep Maddigan away—I saw the wound on his arm, it was a mere scratch on the inside of the forearm—I did not hear him say there were four of them on him, or that there were four to take the woman's part—I do not read very well, I make a mark—I did say at the police-court "Hayman said there is four of you to take her part"—he did say there were four persons on him—Turk's Row is about three minutes' walk from the barracks, and George Street about the same—I and Maddigan live not far from each other—Turk's Row is about three minutes' walk from Church Street—I did not see Thompson or any of them before that evening—I saw Thompson at the court, I have not seen him since—the prisoner struck Noble just below the breast when she was with his father, she fell on the pavement—the prisoner was facing her up and down the street—what he did was to thrust her back with his fist, I was standing at the side—Noble is a friend of mine—the prisoner ran away at once the moment he saw the policeman—Gatliffe's Buildings are close to the barracks, I believe.
Re-examined. Noble did not insult any of them when she met us—I did not know the prosecutor or any of the parties before that night—it was about 9.45 at night.
ELIZABETH NOBLE . I am an unfortunate girl, living at 15, Turk's Row, Chelsea—on 9th of April, between 12 and 1 o'clock in the morning, I was in George Street—I saw Holiday with the prisoner, his father, and brother, walking along on the pavement; I was walking down on the other side; my friend called me across, and asked me to wait for her—the prisoner's father put his arm round my waist—I had not spoken to him at all—I told him to go to his wife—the prisoner said "That is my father"—I told him I did not care if it was his father, or who it was—the prisoner then struck me below the breast with his fist—I fell senseless—he did not hit me hard, only hard enough to send me down—I cannot say how long I was unconscious—when I got up I saw a struggle between Maddigan and the prisoner—that was while I was down—after that I got up—they fell down; when they got up the prisoner drew his sword, and stuck it into the man's arm—I did not see the sword go into the arm; I only saw it bleeding; all I know was, he flashed the sword in the air, and I saw Maddigan's arm bleeding—I did not see the sword put up again—the police came up—the prisoner ran away—I have known him
over two years—I said nothing to him when I first came up—I was on good terms with him—there was no jealousy on my part about Holiday—I know nothing about Maddigan—I had not seen him before that night to my knowledge.
Cross-examined. It was the first time I had seen the prisoner with Holiday—I was senseless for 10 minutes; not the whole time this was going on, the struggle only lasted five minutes—there was no struggle when I got up—the sword was flashed after I did so—when I got up they were just getting up—I saw them struggling to get up—that was the first thing I remembered—I did not see them struggle at all; not fight—I gave my evidence next day at Rochester Bow—the account I gave to-day is the right one; not the account I gave at the police-court that I recollected Maddigan picking me up, and that then the prisoner struck Maddigan and they fought, and the other man fought with the sailor—I simply saw them getting up off the ground—I am sure it was between 12 and 1 o'clock—I did not hear the prisoner say there were four persons attacking him; I heard him say nothing—I was about two yards from them when they were getting off the ground, and close enough to hear anything if it had been said—nothing was said—I saw the sword in the air—there was a crowd—I am quite sure there were at least two dozen people at the time I saw the blade in the air—there was not a great cry when they saw the sword go up—the men called out for the police—I heard the sailor was the prisoner's brother—I did not notice anything was the matter with his eye before the morning—I did not hear anything about a chain before the morning.
WILLIAM MADDIGAN . I am a scaffolder, and am in the service of Major Allen, of the 5th Battalion of Fusiliers Militia—I have been about six years with him, and am a militiaman, and his servant—about 12.45, on the morning of the 9th April, I was with Thompson in George Street, Chelsea, proceeding home from the Coach and Horses; we were sober, and going home quietly—I noticed the prisoner, his father and brother, and two girls on the other side—I had never seen any of them before—when I and Thompson were about thirty yards above them, I saw the prisoner strike the woman two blows just below the breast—she had done nothing—it was as if he was putting his two arms out and she fell, and seeing her not move I went to lift her up—she was insensible—my friend came to render assistance—I said "You should not have struck that woman"—the prisoner said "What has that to do with you? if you raise her another foot I will stab you through the heart"—I then had her in my arms, raising her from the ground—I thought she was dead—then he drew his sword, and made a thrust at me; it went through this coat, and cut me on this arm—he did not do anything before he stabbed me—after that I closed with him to seize his sword—he said "If you attempt to lift me up I will stab you through again," and he made off, seeing a constable come up the street—I showed the constable my arm bleeding, and my coat cut through, and said in the hearing of the prisoner, who was making off, "I charge him"—my arm was bleeding at the time—I had this jacket on—it was not torn before the scuffle; it was stabbed through the sleeve—on the inside are stains of blood.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner ran away there was only me and my friend and the constable, there was no one in the street, all the friends of the prisoner ran off, there were not two dozen people there,
it is a pure invention—it is not right to say I got a blow and tumbled down in the road and then he drew his sword and stabbed me, that is invention—it was between half-past 12 and 1—this woman was lying on the ground insensible five or six minutes, not so long as ten minutes, perhaps from five to eight minutes—the soldier drew his sword and made at me before any blow was struck—that was when the woman was lifted from the ground—she could not have seen the sword till she recovered—he waved the sword to and fro in front of him, it was not a serious wound, it bled a good deal at the time—it was about a quarter of an inch long—I leant back against the shutters or I should have got it further—I was on the side walk—I am an officer's servant when the militia are in training—I am working for Mr. Trollope—I knocked off work about half-past 9 or a quarter to 10 that night—I was at the Coach and Horses three-quarters of an hour or an hour—when I left off work I stood outside my door talking to my mother, and then went to the Fountain public-house about 11; I had some refreshment and then stopped at the Coach and Horses till it closed—the Magistrate asked the constable if I was sober, and the constable said he could not say—I had a pot of four-ale, perhaps two or three pots, between two of us—I did not hear the doctor say that my coat could not have been torn from any instrument—Thompson is a friend of mine, a painter, he is not in the militia—all that happened was that this man brandished his sword in front of him to prevent me coming to him.
Re-examined. It was not to prevent me getting to him—I had the girl in my hand—he used his sword before I attempted to touch him.
EMMANUEL HOMPSON . I am a painter, of 13, Bloomfield Place, Pimlico—on the morning of 9th April I had met Maddigan about half-past 10, and was with him in George Street at a quarter to 1—I was not the worse for drink—I saw the prisoner strike the young women, and then Maddigan and I crossed the road to pick her up—the prisoner said "If you pick her up I shall put this sword through you," or something like that—his brother closed with me and we rolled on the kerb—I saw the prisoner draw his sword, and did not see any more after that—I defended myself as well as I could—the first thing I noticed when I was disengaged was Maddigan saying to me "I am stabbed," and I saw the blood coming from his arm—I saw the sword flash twice in the air, then the police came up, and the prisoner ran away—I was engaged with the brother, who complained about his watch chain—I did not attempt to take it, and I did not see anybody else attempt to do so.
Cross-examined. I heard him complain next day at the police-court that his chain was broken, and that he found one part at his feet and the other in his pocket—at the police-court I said "I saw the prisoner draw his sword bayonet and flash it in the air in front of us"—I did not see the blow struck, I was trying to get away from the brother, who next morning had a bit of plaster over his eye—I do not know if that was my handiwork, I put it down to the scuffle—we were clawing away at each other on the ground three minutes—I did not hear him complain he was bleeding—I met Maddigan at the Coach and Horses, we had half a quartern of gin and some two pints of four-ale—I only paid for two pints, he paid for nothing to my knowledge—I was standing looking on when the prisoner's brother closed with me—I tried to get away—I am not in the militia—when the prisoner ran away there were eight or nine
people, I dare say, the prisoner, his father and brother, the two girls, and me and Maddigan—I would not like to say if there were more than that, it was a dark night—I know the place well, I was born there.
SAMUEL ROBINSON (Policeman B 489). About 12.45 on the morning of 9th April I was on duty in White Lion Street, which is about thirty yards from George Street—I heard a noise up George Street, turned the corner, and saw the soldier and about twenty people—I went up; the prisoner's brother complained of being assaulted; he was bleeding at the eye—the next I heard was the prosecutor saying "Policeman, I have been stabbed by the soldier by his bayonet"—I turned round and saw the soldier; I said "Have you a bayonet?"—he said "Yes"—I could see no bayonet drawn—I requested Maddigan to show me his arm; he pulled up his sleeve and said "Here it is, you see where the blood is"—the prisoner walked away—as soon as I saw the blood I walked off after him and said "Stay a minute, soldier, let us see what is the matter"—as soon as we got into Pimlico he started running, I halloaed "Stop that soldier," and ran along Pimlico Road to Bloomfield Terrace, and then to Commercial Road and Gatcliffe's Buildings—I got the assistance of the landlady, and with a lamp searched Gatcliffe's Buildings—I saw the prisoner and said "Now then, come out"—he said "All right, policeman"—he then went out into the yard and waited while I went down the steps to him—he surrendered—I asked him for his belt and bayonet—he gave it up and said "I will go quietly to the police-station with you"—at the station I noticed there was a little blood on the hilt, and he said "They were fighting my brother and I tried to get them away; no doubt that might have come from the blood running, from his eye"—I asked him what he ran away for when I requested him to stay—he said "Of course I did not want to get myself into disgrace through my brother in the position I am now holding"—when the inspector had read the charge of wounding Maddigan to him he said "I deny the charge, I never used my instrument"—at the police-court he also denied that and said they were hurting his brother and he took his brother's part—his brother wanted to charge some one with assault—he did not summon either of them for assault.
Cross-examined. I believe the prisoner's brother was the first to speak to me—he said he had been assaulted, and that he wanted to give some one in charge—if it had not been for the more serious charge against the soldier, a charge of assault would have been preferred no doubt—when Maddigan said he had been stabbed, the prisoner said, "I never stabbed the man," and at the station and before the Magistrate he said "I never stabbed the man with my bayonet"—Noble and Holiday went to the station that night—Noble appeared none the worse for liquor—I could not form an opinion—Gatcliffe's Buildings is at the farther end of the barracks—I know the prisoner as a sergeant drummer in the Grenadier Guards—he went to the station quietly when he found I was on his track—he was sober—he ran too fast to be drunk—the cut on his brother's eye was bleeding—there were twenty people, when I got there.
Re-examined. I think the prosecutor and the other man were sober—there was nothing to prevent the brother preferring a charge of assault; there was not time for us to consider; I had no time to investigate.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. The only charge against the soldier at the station was that of assaulting Maddigan and Noble.
THOMAS NEVILLE . I am a surgeon at 28, Pimlico Road—about 1.30 in the morning the prosecutor was brought to my surgery; I examined his arm and found a very slight quantity of blood and a very slight punctured wound on the fleshy portion of the forearm—I have examined the clothes—I did not detect anything on the sleeve of the coat; there was a cut through it near the wound, but not corresponding exactly with it—I did not see the shirt: it was rolled up—the wound would be caused by a sharp-pointed instrument—this sword might have inflicted it—I saw the coat was torn; I don't think that was a cut—there had been very little bleeding.
Cross-examined. The muscle where the wound was is very close to the skin—if there had been any amount of violence I should have expected to find the muscle injured—it was a wound in a technical sense; the skin was broken and it was less than a quarter of an inch long—I should not call it more than a scratch—I did not see blood inside—I should not think much violence was used; the wound did not penetrate the muscle—I think the complainant had been drinking.
Re-examined. He seemed as if excited; beyond that I could not say he had been drinking too much—I think he had had a considerable amount of drink.
The prisoner received a good character from a sergeant in his regiment.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday, April 28th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS. BLACKWELL and HOPKINS Defended.
WILLIAM DEMPSTER . I keep the King's Head, Arundel Street, Strand—a man named William Lester brought me this cheque, dated 8th January, for 3l. 10s., drawn by William Roberts on the London and South Western Bank, Holloway Branch—I cashed it—it was returned to me within a week—in consequence of that I went to the prisoner's place in Buckingham Street, Strand, and told him I had had the cheque sent back, and I should like to have the money for it—I saw him several times about it, he always made excuses; I never got my money—I knew Lester before, and knew that he was in the prisoner's employ.
Cross-examined. I spoke to a Mr. Johnson, who I thought had something to do with the law, to see if he could get the money for me, as I could not—I think he is engaged in some firm of solicitors in the City—I don't think he took any proceedings, he wrote—I treated the matter as a debt—the cheque when returned was endorsed "Refer to drawer."
Re-examined. When I parted with my money I believed the cheque to be a genuine one, and that there were funds to meet it.
—in January, 1883, a man named Gorman brought me this cheque for 45l., dated January 19, 1883, drawn by William Robert—I gave him 45l. for it, believing there was money to meet it—I paid it into Coutts's—it was returned, it has never been paid—on 27th January I received a card purporting to come from Roberts, and I saw the prisoner at Gormans shop, in Gorman's presence—he said he was very sorry he could not take the cheque up, but he would endeavour to do so—I asked him how it was that Gorman gave him any of the money from the 45l., as Gorman led me to understand it was for work done, and I said unless he could give me a satisfactory explanation I should go to Bow Street and charge him—he wished me to wait over the Saturday (this was on Friday), and he would go to his solicitors in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and settle it on Saturday for certain—he did not do so—I afterwards heard that he was arrested.
Cross-examined. I did not take any civil proceedings for the recovery of the money.
JOHN CONRAD HABICHT . I keep the Green Man public-house, in Bedford Street—in January, 1883, this cheque for 2l. 4s., signed William Roberts, was brought to me by Gorman, who asked me to cash it—I had known Gorman and his father, they had both worked for me for the last twenty years—I believed that provision was made at the bank to meet the cheque or I should not have parted with my money—I knew that Gorman had not funds to meet it—I paid it in to my bank, and it was returned marked "Refer to drawer"—I never got my money.
Cross-examined. I did not put the matter in the hands of a solicitor.
JOHN GORMAN . I am a carpenter—I did live at Mercer Street, Long Acre—the prisoner carried on business, as a pork butcher in Buckingham Street—on Saturday morning, 19th January, he brought me this cheque for 4l. 5s., and asked me to get it cashed for him—I said "Roberts, is this cheque right? because recollect I have a wife and four children, don't ruin me"—he said "I should be the last man to try and ruin you, the money is there"—I took it to Weiss and Sons, gave it to Mr. Lewis, and got cash for it, and gave it to the prisoner—I afterwards heard that the cheque had been returned, and spoke to the prisoner about it several times—he said "It will be all right, I have got some property at Farnham to be sold, and I will meet them"—I asked him why he made them crossed cheques, why not leave them open—he said it was the best way of doing business—I said I did not understand these things—on 17th January he asked me to cash this cheque for 2l. 4s. for him—I did so at Mr. Habicht's—I was working for Mr. Habicht at the time—the prisoner owed me some money, and I said "Can't you let me have some money, as I am hard up?" and he said "If you can get this cashed you can have a sovereign of it"—I gave him the 2l. 4s. and he gave me a sovereign—I had endorsed the cheque—I was summoned to the police-court about it and charged—I explained the matter and was made a witness—the prisoner told me if I went with Mr. Lewis before the Magistrate and gave information he would make it hot for me, and that frightened me.
Cross-examined. Mr. Lewis asked me it the cheque was all right, and I said "Yes"—all cheques I had had from the prisoner had always been honoured; they were cheques on the Capital and Counties Bank—I have done as much as 50l. worth of work for him, for which I was paid by
cheques, and they were all honoured but these two—I did not tell Mr. Lewis that this particular cheque was for work done, I told him I had been working there.
WILLIAM GEORGE ALLISON . I am a partner in the firm of Allison and Son, meat salesmen, 216, Central Meat Market—on 24th January my clerk Marsh made a statement to me; prior to that, on 2nd January, the prisoner had made a purchase from me, amounting to 1l. 16s. 4d.—on the 24th a man named Lester brought this cheque for 6l., and in consequence of Marsh's statement to me I changed it and directed 4l. 3s. 8d. to be given to Lester, deducting the amount due to me—on the 26th the cheque was returned dishonoured—I endeavoured to see the prisoner three or four times, but could not succeed—I waited for three or four hours at a time watching his premises—I knew he was there—at the time I cashed the cheque I believed there were funds to meet it.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner as a pork butcher carrying on business—the 1l. 16s. 4d. was for goods that he bought in the way of business—the cheque was returned marked "N.S."
WALTS SMALL . I am a cashier at the London and South Western Bank, Holloway Branch—the prisoner had an account there for a short time—I have made an extract of his account from our books. (By this, it appeared that on 15th November, 1882, the prisoner paid in 100l., and on 14th December 16l. 19s. 3d., and that after the drawing out the balance to his credit on 6th January, 1883, was 2s. 7d.) These four cheques were dishonoured, there being no funds to meet them—on 10th January his account was closed by his drawing out the 2s. 7d.—the amount of his dishonoured cheques is between 40l. and 50l.
Cross-examined. His account was not closed at the time these cheques were drawn—they were all drawn between the 8th and 23rd—we did not write to him about it—he was not allowed to overdraw—we do not write to inform a customer that his cheque is returned—I am not aware that it is done by other banks.
JOHN BRINSMEAD . I am a pianoforte manufacturer with my son, in Wigmore Street, Cavendish Square—on 12th October, 1883, the prisoner called with a person that I knew some years before named Batley—he told me, and Batley affirmed that he had bought a house and had furnished it, that he had paid either 500l. or 700l. for the house, that he had bought 300l. worth of furniture at Whiteley's which he had also paid for, and he had let it all well furnished, and that the lodgers wanted a piano—he also said that he had sold a quantity of materials for a rink at Islington and would I take a bill in payment for the piano—I agreed to do so—the bill was 30l. odd—he came next day and brought a bill for 48l. odd—he said he had sold extra goods to this party sine and he had taken this bill, and I could take it and give him the difference when the bill was paid—the piano was to be 35 guineas and 1l. 10s. for a music stool—on the strength of that, I sent the piano and music-stool to his place—a pawnbroker called on me and made a statement and gave me the number of the piano—in consequence of what passed between me and the pawnbroker, I sent three or four times to the prisoner to try and get back the piano—we could not get it, and I have never seen it or the money since, and the bill was returned dishonoured—I parted with my goods on account of his statement that he had purchased the property and paid the money—I considered it perfectly safe, and Batley assured me that it was a fact.
Cross-examined. I had known Batley some years before and had transactions with him—I would not have trusted the prisoner without making further inquiry—I believed that what he asserted was a fact—I should sot have trusted Batley without the prisoner's assurance that he had bought what he said, and paid the money—the business I had had with Batley was as an agent in buying timber, some years before; he acted for me with the timber merchants—I did not make any note of the conversation with the prisoner—the account I gave before the Magistrate was to all intents and purposes the same I have given to-day, if not word for word—I never said that I was not quite certain whether the prisoner, said he had bought the house, or that he was going to buy it—I will swear that he said he had bought and paid for it—we have about 50 transactions a week for pianos; we sell on the hire system—I do not attend personally to all sales, but this particular one I did myself.
CHARLES BARNETT . I am a pawnbroker, of 143, Enston Road—on 15th October a man named Walter Batley called on me, and in consequence of what he said I went that same day to 54, Great Ormond Street—I there saw Batley and one of Brinsmead's pianos—I did not see the prisoner on that occasion—I looked at the piano, and arranged with Batley for an advance of 16l.—he showed me this invoice of Brinsmead's to Roberts, of 12th October, with "Settled by acceptance, due Dec. 9th," on it—the piano was delivered at my place on 15th October—I went to Brinsmead's to know if it was right—on 21st December Batley called on me again, and later in the day he returned with the prisoner, and I then made an absolute purchase of the piano for 23l. 10s., by paying the remaining 17l. 3s., and received this receipt, signed by the prisoner in my presence.
Cross-examines. I did not take any steps to ascertain if the acceptance had been paid—it was not till after I had made inquiries of Messrs. Brinsmead that I advanced the 16l.
WILLIAM SIMS . I am clerk to William Whiteley, of Westbourne Grove—the prisoner did not buy 300l. worth of goods from Mr. Whiteley—I received a letter from the prisoner; I don't know the date of it—in consequence of that letter I sent a man to 54, Great Ormond Street—on 30th September I received this other letter—references were given, and I made inquiries, and in October we supplied goods to the amount of 4l. 17s. 9d.—they were not paid for—they were goods supplied to the housekeeper, who he said was coming in—they were a bedstead, bolster, pillow, and kitchen chairs.
Cross-examined. They were not sent for the housekeeper, but for Mr. Roberts—we gave an estimate for the whole furnishing, which; Mr. Roberts agreed to—we made repeated applications for the 4l. 17s. 9d., but could not get access to the house.
Re-examined. We did not supply other goods—we made certain inquiries, which were unsatisfactory.
WILLIAM COOPER . I am landlord of 54, Great Ormond Street, the prisoner took that house—this is the agreement, dated 21st August, 1883—he was to pay 500l.—he gave this bill in payment to the agent an my behalf, for a deposit of 50l.—thinking it was a good bill, I let him into possession—the bill was dishonoured—he paid nothing.
Street—I told him I was a police officer and had a warrant for his arrest for obtaining money by false pretences from Messrs Weiss and Sons, of the Strand—he said "I never had that money, Gorman had it"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him four 5l. notes and 11s. in silver—I have made inquiries to try and find Batley, but have not succeeded.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at this Court on 28th February, 1876— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
There was another indictment against him, which was not tried
MESSRS POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS GEOGHEGAN and HOPKINS appeared for Jones, MESSRS. THORNE COLE and WARBURTON for Mansfield.
JAMES PARKER . I am a saddler, of 8, Little St. Andrew Street—on the night of 21st February, a little after 8 o'clock, I saw my two ponies safe in some stables in Clerke's Mews—early on the morning of the 22nd they were gone—I went at once to the police-court—on 18th March I went with some detectives to North Bourne, in the Isle of Thanet, between Sandwich and Deal, and there saw my two ponies in a shed—I saw a man named King there—I saw a cart, which I thought was mine, but it was so dark I could not see the colour then—I saw it about two days afterwards, and then identified it as a cart that I had lost the same night as the two ponies—it was a new cart, worth 35l. the harness was worth about 7l.—one pony was worth 20l. and the other 40l.—I had only had the cart about a fortnight—I saw a man named Spain—I had known him all his life; he lived at Ramsgate—he was taken in custody and discharged.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. The ponies were not my own, but they were under my charge—I had sold one of them for 40l.—I knew Spain as a horse-dealer—I had 2,000 bills printed offering a reward—one of the ponies was branded with a B—I never told any one to take the ponies to Mr. Spain—I didn't press the charge against him—I gave no one in charge.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. When I saw the cart again it was a good deal knocked about and damaged.
Re-examined. Both the ponies have been given up to me—one was mine and one I was taking charge of for that evening only—I had sold it—a man named McLean has charge of the stables—I have got back the ponies and cart, but not the harness.
GEORGE MCLEAN . I work for Mr. Parker, and look after his stables—I saw them all right—about 9.15 on the night of 21st February the ponies and cart were there and the stable locked—at 7.30 next morning I found the place had been broken open, and the ponies, cart, and harness gone.
JAMES HENRY DRY . I am a painter, and live at 25, Creighton Street, Wanstead Koad—on 21st February, between 12.30 and 12.45, while I was having my supper, Wanstead came in with another man—they asked me if Mr. Chaff was in—I said "I don't know; I will
inquire"—Joseph Chaff was one of my lodgers—I went up on to the first landing, and called out "Mr. Chaff"—his wife opened the door and said "Who is it?"—I said "A couple of men want to see him"—the other man ran up on to the first landing, and Mansfield followed—the other man asked me to hold the ponies, which I did; one pony was in a trap, and the other tied behind—I heard the other man say, in Mansfield's presence, that he wanted to shove these ponies somewhere till the morning—before they were going away, Joseph Chaff said "No doubt Jones will look after them till the morning"—I have since seen the trap that has been identified by Mr. Parker, it is the same trap I saw—I went to bed, and Chaff went out—he asked me to leave the door on the jar—I heard him return in about half an hour and shut the door.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. I should be able to recognise the other man if I saw him.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The men were strangers to me—I bad seen them before, but never been in their company.
WILLIAM GEORGE SPAIN . I live at Melrose House, Ramsgate—I deal in anything—I know Horatio Chaff—he came to me on Sunday night, 24th February, with three ponies and a cart; one pony was in the cart, the other two were behind—there was a chesnut, a bay, and a roan—he asked me if I had a four-wheeled chaise to sell—I said no, but I knew a man who always had a lot of traps to sell, and I would go and buy a trap with him in the morning—the ponies were put in my stables that night—we went next morning to Mr. King, who lives at North Bourne, near Deal—I introduced Horatio Chaff, and he bought the three ponies and cart—he gave 15l. for one pony, 10l. for the other, and 7l. for the other, and 5l. for the cart, and King gave me 30s. for my trouble—I was afterwards taken in custody about this, but was let out on bail—I told all I knew about it, and was called as a witness.
Gross-examined by Horatio Chaff. What I have said is the truth—I didn't know that the ponies were coming—they didn't come by rail; you brought them—I had no telegram about them.
Cross-examined by MR. HOPKINS. I have known Mr. Parker, and had a good deal of dealings with him.
EDWARD KING . I live at North Bourne—I remember Spain and Horatio Chaff coming to me in February—Chaff asked if I had two four-wheeled traps to sell that I could chop with him for some ponies and cart—I said I had not got such a thing—there were three ponies there, a chesnut, a bluey roan, and a brown bay—after a little while he said "Would you buy the chesnut pony?"—I said I would have a try—I did try him—I asked him how much he would take for it—he said 12l.—after a time he said he would take 8l.—I bid him 7l., and I bought it—he said about his uncle leaving him 300l. or 400l.; that he had spent it pretty closely, and he should sell all out and go to sea—he asked me to buy the cart—I said I didn't think I should buy it, but I had a village cart, and I would chop for it, and I gave him my cart and 5l. for his cart—a little time after that I bought the brown pony for 15l.—he asked 18l.—he then asked me 15l. for the roan; I gave him 10l.—I kept the ponies for about three weeks, when the detectives came and took the brown and roan pony away—I had the chesnut for some little time afterwards; the detectives found an owner for it, and I gave it up.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. You came to my house—I went to him at first, but I found you there when I came back—the brown pony was running loose with the halter tied under his chin—you had two carts—I do not know who the other cart belonged to, it was not taken away for some days afterwards, nor yet the two harnesses—Spain sent for—it was not Spain who said your uncle had died and left you some hundreds of pounds, you said it—I am certain you are the man who sold the things—I did not when I first saw you at the station say that I had never seen you before Spain took the cart away—I supposed you had sent for them—he did not say that he knew anything of you.
JOHN LINGRISH (Police Inspector E). On 18th March, after Joseph' Chaff was in company, he sent for me—he said "Mr. Lingrish, I am going to tell you all about this, because I do not see why I should suffer for the others; have you got my brother? if you have he will be sure to tell you all about it; I mean to turn Queen's evidence, and am going to tell you about Parker's ponies. Two men named Mansfield and Phippins stole Parker's ponies and brought them to my house about 1 o'clock on the morning of Thursday, and called me up and asked me if I could find a stable. They had the ponies with them. I told them to go to Jones in the Old Kent Road. Me and my brother took them to New Cross Gate, and my brother went on with them to Eamsgate to a man named Spain, who was to sell them. They returned to London, and my brother stopped there, and the ponies were sold to an old man named Teddy King, who has got a place between Sandwich and Deal. Now if you are sharp you may get them, as it was arranged with him to shut them up for three weeks. Spain is the son of a big jobber at Ramsgate, and he knew it was crooked. Do you know Joe, who lives close to where Parker's ponies stood? He put the thing up to Mansfield and Phippins. The reason I did not give you this information before was my own brother was in the case, and I did not want to get him into trouble, but when I was taken I thought it was time to tell the truth, as I have a wife and family, and he has none."—I took down this statement from his lips, read it over to him, and he signed it and I witnessed it.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. I had no communication with your brother before he made this statement—I had seen him before he was arrested—I did not offer him 20l. to make this statement, he sent for me, I did not have him brought into the cell in order to make it—he knew me previous to his arrest—I did not treat him in Long Acre.
CHARLES DREW (Police Constable E). On the afternoon of 18th March I went to Ramsgate, and from there to North Bourne—I saw King in a public-house there, and had a conversation with him, in consequence of which I went and saw Spain, and had a conversation with him—he was given in custody and subsequently discharged—on 20th March I found a cart in a stable next to King's at North Bourne—I brought it to London and it was identified by Mr. Parker—I also saw two ponies, they were brought to London, I took them from a stable at North Bourne, which was hired by King—Parker identified them.
JOHN GILBY (Detective). I took Horatio Chaff in custody in Roundell Street, Battersea; I told him I should take him for being concerned with his brother in custody in stealing ponies and carts—he said "Oh, will
you?" and at the same time he struck, me on the side of the face; he then went down on his knees and got hold of nay legs to throw me, and I threw him on the ground and held him there and called for assistance—he got hold of my finger with his right hand, and very nearly broke it—he said "I will break your b----finger if you don't let me go"—I got it away from him and he bit me in the thumb—I struggled with him till a constable came up and he was taken—he kicked the sergeant in the stomach and knocked him, backwards—it took five of us to take him to the station.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE . I saw Jones in custody—as I was taking him before the Magistrate I showed him Mr. Parker's two ponies—he said "Yes, they are the same as were brought to my place and taken away in the morning by the Chaffs."
Croat-examined by Hopkins. Jones is a greengrocer and also a carman—he keeps one or two horses, I believe.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. When I first showed you to Mr. King he said he didn't see any one there that he knew, he didn't say he never saw you before in his life—you were with several other prisoners—Langriah didn't offer you brother 20l.—I had seen your brother on several occasions—he came to me with the intention of giving me information about these stolen horses on one or two occasions before he was arrested—I told him there was a reward of 10l. for his ponies, I never offered him anything—there were printed bills, I showed him one.
WILLIAM READER (Policeman). At half-past 12 o'clock on the afternoon of 3rd March I saw Mansfield in Great Earl Street, Seven Dials, about 400 yards from Mr. Clark's stables—I said "Joe, I want you"—he said "What for, governor?"—I said "For being concerned with others and stealing Mr. Parker's ponies and cart and harness, value 100l."—he said "Some one else has got this up for me."
JAMES PARKER (Re-examined by Horatio Chaff). One of these ponies was a very showy one; it was a particularly fast one—I advertised it as a well-known pony of Lady Lonsdale—you could pick it out of 1,000—it was a very spirited pony, it would take more than one man to hold it; I mean it would take more than one man to put on the harness—it was frisky, nearly thoroughbred.
INSPECTOR LANGRISH (Re-examined by Horatio Chaff). I had an interview with you at the House of Detention—you told me that a man named King had the two ponies, and a mare and a foal; you said you had taken them there, that you rode them down—your brother didn't say that they came by rail.
By MR. COLE. I don't know that Mr. Joseph Chaff is subject To epilepsy—I don't know that the trial was postponed in consequence of that—I have not seen him since he has been in custody.
Horatio Chaff in his defence stated that he knew nothing of the robbery and was only employed in take the ponies to the railway station, as he was told they were going by rail.
On First Count.
The others— GUILTY on Second Count.
HORATIO CHAFF PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in September, 1881.
506. JOSEPH CHAFF, HORATIO WILLIAM CHAFF, JOSEPH MANSFIELD , and RICHARD JONES , were again indicted for stealing a mare, a set of harness, and a van, the property of Edward Hills. Second Count, receiving.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. POYNTER
EDWARD HILLS . I live at Dyson Lane, Edmonton—on 17th Feb. I drove to Wellington Street about a quarter to 5 a.m. and left my van and went into Covent Garden Market—I returned in about a quarter of an hour and found my van and pony gone—I have since seen them in possession of the police—the van was worth from 18l. to 20l., and the pony, which was a chesnut mare, 10l. to 12l.—I have seen my collar since, no other harness, at Jones's—I identified it—the cart was chocolate, now it is green.
WILLIAM BLACKMAN . I live at 410, Old Kent Road, and am a salesman in the Borough Market—on 3rd March I bought a van of Jones—he asked 14l., I gave him 12l. for it—he gave me this receipt, which he brought all ready signed—I saw the van at his door; it was then roughly painted green—I sent it to Mr. Fox, who does my wheelwrighting—Gregory came to me—I told him about it and he got it from Fox.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. I did not see you there when I bought it, it was about 9.30 a.m.—I had the receipt between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon.
ALBERT GREGORY (Detective E). On 20th March Blackman spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said I went to Fox's stables, where I found the van which was subsequently identified by Hills as his property and stolen from him—the van had been roughly repainted green—I went to Jones's stable and found there green paint corresponding to the paint on the cart in one of the pots—Blackman showed me a receipt he said he had received from Jones signed "R. Jones"—I also found in Jones's stable a collar belonging to the stolen harness.
Cross-examined by MR. POYNTER. It was common green paint; it was in the loft—the prosecutor identified the collar.
WILLIAM GEORGE SPAIN . I live near Ramsgate and am a dealer—on Sunday night, 24th February, Horatio Chaff came to me with three ponies, a chesnut, a bay, and a roan—the next day I met King and he Hold them to King—two of them were Mr. Parker's, and this other, a chesnut, was about 10l.
EDWARD KING . I live between Sandwich and,' Deal, at Northbourne—on Monday, 25th February, 8 pain and Horatio Chaff came together to my house with three ponies and a cart; one of them was a chesnut mare—Chaff did not say where he had got them—he said his uncle had left him 300l. or 400l., but he had got short of money—all three ponies were afterwards given up to the police as soon as they asked.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. I had one of them three weeks and a day, and the chesnut longer, because the police never owned it—I don't know that they knew I had it.
Re-examined. The other two I gave up on 18th March.
Cross-examined by Horatio Chaff. We received information principally through your brother that it was down there—I came to see you at the
House of Detention because a request came from you and your brother—at first you said the three went by rail, but afterwards you had nothing to say.
JOSEPH CHAFF and MANSFIELD— NOT GUILTY .
HORATIO CHAFF and RICHARD JONES— GUILTY .
MR. POLAND stated that there were three other similar cases against the prisoners. JOSEPH CHAFF*, MANSFIELD**, and JONES— Six Years' Penal Servitude each. HORATIO CHAFF— seven Years' Penal Servitude.
The RECORDER commended Constables Gilbey and Vagg for their courage, and awarded them 2l. each.
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 28th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
507. JAMES YATES (50) , Unlawfully attempting to carnally know and abuse Mary Ann Tilbury, a girl under the age of 13 years. Second Count, indecently assaulting her on 4th April. Third Count, indecently assaulting her on 18th April.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. POYNTER Defended.
GUILTY on the Third Count. — Eight Months Hard Labour.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and LOWE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM LOVELAND (Policeman X 343). On 3rd April, about 6.15 p.m., I was at Keyes, and saw the prisoner standing in the road using filthy and obscene language—I said if he used that language again I should look him up—he did say it again—nobody was present—I took him in custody—he said "Don't handle me, I will go quiet with you"—he walked quietly with me for 400 or 500 yards, till we got to a gate, when he struck me on the right breast, saying, "Take that, you—, I am off"—that caused me to stagger into the road, and when I recovered he was over the gate—I had a parcel with me containing some watches and barometers—I overtook him in the second field and said "Come back with me"—he said "I am not going back with you—I will do for you, "and caught hold of me by the collar of my uniform—I caught hold of him in the same manner, my foot slipped, and I dragged him down with me—he drew my truncheon with his left hand, passed it into his right, and began hitting me on my head—I do not know how many blows I received on my head and arm—he said, "I will kill you, I may as well be hung for a sheep an a lamb"—the blood spurted into my eyes, I called out "Murder," and Southam came and pulled him off me—he struggled hard to get away, but I picked up my truncheon and struck him twice on the right arm; he then said he would be quiet, but he laid down on the grass and refused to walk to the station, saying "I may as well make a job of it now I have commenced"—I sent for a stretcher, upon which some constables took him to the station—I became faint from bleeding and went to a doctor, and next day I was attended by Mr. Roberts, the Divisional surgeon—I bad to keep in bed ten days, and am still unable to do duty—here are marks of blood on my
truncheon—he seemed recovering from the effects of drink, but he could walk straight; I think he knew what he was about.
WILLIAM SOUTHAM . I live at Hayes—on the 3rd of April I was in the High Road, opposite the Adam and Eve, and saw Loveland take the prisoner in custody, who was using most disgusting language—there was no one there, but he was standing there shouting so that anybody could have heard—I walked behind them and heard him say something, and then he jumped over a gate into a meadow—Loveland pursued him, I followed, and waited till they both went down—the prisoner was on the top of Loveland beating him with his truncheon over the head—he was in a sitting position, with his knees on Loveland's chest—I heard him say "I will kill you, you,—I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb"—I said "Will you?" and caught hold of him and held him till Loveland got up—he was bleeding very much—I could not see his face for blood; he was very weak and exhausted—the prisoner struggled with me to get away, and Loveland hit him with his truncheon—he refused to walk, and Loveland sent for assisttance and a stretcher.
Cross-examined. You have been keeping company with my sister, but she rejected you some time since—you had had some drink but not much, or you would not have got over the gates and run as you did.
CHARLES ROBERTS , M.R.C.S. On the 4th April I saw Loveland at his house—his hair was matted with blood—there were four lacerated wounds on his head, one on the right side at the top, two inches long, and by its side another wound one inch long—on the left side at the top of the head there was a wound two inches long, and one one inch long on his left eyebrow—there was a severe bruise at the upper part of his right cheek, and a less severe bruise about his left eyebrow—the wounds had been stitched with a wire suture when I saw them, to draw the edges together; that is only done in the case of a deep and gaping wound; a superficial wound would not require it—the wounds might be caused by a blunt instrument such as a truncheon—he was in bed about ten days and is not fit for duty yet—I intend to recommend him for a month's leave.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I don't know what I said at the time; I had had a drop of drink for a day or two. I did not mean to do the man any harm."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know what I was about; I got excited.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Two Years' Hard Labour.
The COURT commended the conduct of William Southam.
Upon hearing the opening of MR. HICKS, for the Prosecution, the COMMON SERJEANT considered that there was no evidence of stealing.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GHOSHE Prosecuted.
downstairs—soon after I went to bed I heard a noise of glass breaking—I went into the private office, but saw nothing, and then went into the general office, and as I was lighting a match I stumbled against the prisoner—my wife, who was following me, ran to the front door, and there stood a policeman, who came in, and then we discovered that a window was open—the glass had been cut by a diamond, and a man could enter—the sill is only 3 feet 6 inches from the ground, but to get there a person would have to get over a gate 9 feet high, which encloses the premises—the window is plate glass—I ran to the Point and sot another constable—when I came back the first constable said "This fellow is only shamming; since you have been outside he has got up on his hands and knees at had a quiet look round."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I believe you were perfectly sober—I told the Magistrate that you shammed drunk.
BENJAMIN BRETTON (Policeman H 219). On the 1st of April, about 12 p.m., I was called to Mr. Riches' office, and found the prisoner lying on the hearthrug in front of the fireplace—I tried to arouse hime, but he did not get up—I stayed by him while Mr. Riches went for assistance—another constable came, and Mr. Riches and I examined the premise—when we came back the constable said, in the prisoner's presence, that he had got up on his hands and knees and had a quiet look round—this is a portion of the glass (produced)—he was very violent on the road to tho station—he gave me an address.
GEORGE COOK (Policeman H 109). On 1st of April, about 11 p.m., Mr. Riches called me to his house, and I found the prisoner lying on the hearthrug and Bretton by him—Mr. Riches and the constable went out while I remained with the prisoner, and after two or three minutes he rose up on his hands and knees, looked round the office, and laid down again—on their return I told them that he was only shamming, and asked him to get up—he did so, and I took him to the station—he was very violent all the way—when I charged him he said "If it had not been for you I should not have been here"—the window was open wide enough for a man to get in.
Prisoner's Defence. I was very drunk. I did not go there with the intent to commit felony. They found nothing on me.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted; MR. COLE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. W. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
HARRY ARCHIBALD WILLIAMS . I live at Park House, Brentford—on 15th of March, about 5.15, I was with a boy named Haynes on the towing-path of the Grand Junction Canal—we saw an artist painting—the prisoner was watching him—we stood there a little while, and when we left the prisoner followed us, and asked if we wanted any birds' nests—we said "Yes," and he gave us five, and said "If you want any more come across the grove with me"—we went a little way along the canal
and across the bridge into Osterley Wood—we came to a stream; the other boy went to get the birds' nests, and came back and said that he could not see them—my watch chain was visible, and the prisoner then snatched my watch from my pocket and undid the chain—I snatched it back again, and he said if I did not give it back to him he would hit me on the head with his stick—I then gave him the watch, and he took it off the chain and ran into the wood—I afterwards saw him at the police-station, and picked him out from others—he was in plain clothes, and the same at the station.
Cross-examined. I identified you by your face and your voice.
HENRY REGINALD HAYNE . I have heard Williams's evidence; it is correct—I did not actually see the watch taken, as I was looking for the birds' nests—I saw that Williams had a watch and afterwards he had not got it—I saw the prisoner both before and after—he was put with other and I picked him out—we went in separately.
THOMAS MUSCOTT . I am a pawnbroker's assistant at Hounslow—on 15th March, about 6.30, this watch was pawned for 8s.—I cannot identify the person, but he was in uniform—I believe it was the prisoner, but should not like to swear to it—there was no chain to the watch.
JOHN CLARKE . I am a labourer—on a Saturday in March I was at the Victoria public-house, and the prisoner came in and said "Do you want to buy the ticket of a watch? I have got one to sell"—I bought this ticket of him for half-a-crown—I afterwards gave it up as I heard the watch was stolen—I am no scholar and cannot tell you the date.
JOSEPH DEAN (Policeman T 349). This public-house is about a mile and a half from where the robbery occurred—Clarke lives about three-quarters of a mile from where it occurred—the pawnbroker's is a mild and three-quarters or two miles from where Clarke lives.
Prisoner's Defence. I bought the ticket of the watch of Frederick Oliver and then sold it to the witness.
He then PLEADED GUILTY†to a conviction at Brentford on 21st June, 1882.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
SIMON MAINE . I am assistant to Isaac Robarts, clothier, of 6, Charles Street, Long Acre—on the night of 4th April I went to bed in a room close to the shop, and about 3.30 I saw the prisoner in the shop; the shutters were down and a ventilator open—as soon as he saw me he rushed to the open front door and dropped three waistcoats in the road, which were my master's property—I then missed them—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined. I saw another man outside the shop, but I only saw you inside.
ALFRED HOOK (Policeman E 425). On 5th April, about 3.30 a.m., I was on duty in Drury Lane, and saw the prisoner running; I caught him and said "Why are you running?"—he said "For nothing"—he was wearing this coat produced, which Mr. Robarts identifies—these boots were in his pockets—I took him back to the shop.
and met the prisoner in Hook's custody—I had seen him leave Mr. Robarts's shop with another man and gave chase till I lost sight of them—I saw the prisoner drop two waistcoats, but I passed them without picking them up.
The prisoner', in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he saw some men running, who dropped the coat and boots and he picked them up.
GUILTY .**†— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 29th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BAYLIS Prosecuted; MR. POYNTER Defended.
JANE BOND . I live at 18, Albert Square, Commercial Road—on 14th February, about 7.15 in the evening, I was in Commercial Street—I had with me a bag containing a purse, a ring, three keys, and 2s.—as I was going along the prisoner put his hand underneath my bag and caught hold of the handle—I struggled with him for about a minute and held it and got it away from him—he then forced me with his hands down on the ground on my back, snatched the bag, and ran away—he hurt my shoulders and my arms and back; I feel it now; I have not been well since—I gave information to the police—I did not see the prisoner again till 10th March, at the police-station, Commercial Street—he was with eight or ten others; I knew him directly; I am sure he is the man that robbed me; I could pick him out of a thousand.
Cross-examined. He got the bag as I was falling—a young lady picked me up—the prisoner had on a peaked hat or cap, and a jacket similar to what he has on now—the cap was on the back of his head—I Could see his face—when I saw him at the station he was with others—they were in working dress; he was dressed respectably—I identified him by his face, because I had a full view of him—it was between the lights—there are no shops about there—it was by Miss McPherson's home—it is a blank wall, very dark, but there was a lamp at the corner, and I had a full view of his face.
GRACE BARLOW . I live at 79, High Street, Whitechapel—on 14th February I was in Commercial Street—I saw the prisoner coming across from one turning to the other, walking beside the prosecutrix, and when he got on to the kerb he snatched at her bag; she drew it closely to her, he forced it against her chest and threw her down on her back, snatched the bag, and ran down Flower and Dean Street with it—I picked her up and stayed with her till two policemen came up—I spoke to them—I next saw the prisoner on 10th March at the police-station in Commercial Street with several others—I recognised him, I have not the least doubt he is the man I saw in Commercial Street.
Cross-examined. There was a lamp which shone on him at the corner where he threw her down—he was wearing a peaked cap which fitted
at the back of his head, the peak went up in front, it did not come over his forehead.
CHARLOTTE WOOD . I live at 79, High Street, Whitechapel—on 14th February I was walking up Commercial Street with the last witness—I saw the prisoner standing at the corner—he crossed over with the young lady—I saw him take hold of her bag—she held it so tight that he threw her down and ran away with it—I ran after him half way down the street—he went into the lodging house or the next house, I am not sure which, and I did not follow him any further—I next saw him at the station on 10th March with 12 or 14 others—I picked him out—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined. I live in the same house as the last witness—I am a general servant, she is an assistant in the drapery business—the prisoner wore a peaked cap.
WILLIAM THICK (Police Sergeant H). On 10th March I took the prisoner into custody—I told him I should apprehend him on suspicion of violently assaulting and robbing a young lady on 14th February in Commercial Street—he said "I was at Birmingham when it was done"—I took him to the station—he was placed with eight others, and was identified by the witnesses—I found on him 12s. 6d. in silver and 9 1/2 d. in bronze.
Cross-examined. The ring has not been traced—the poisons he was placed with were obtained out of the street as they were passing—they were asked to step in, young and old—the prisoner had on a round hard felt hat.
GUILTY .*— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
EDWARDS ROBERT GREY HOPWOOD . I live at 30, Norfolk Street—my wife is an invalid, and has been for some time; she is not here—I know the prisoner—I believe there was some idea that she was to be Mrs. Hopwood's lady's maid—on 14th March the prisoner called, and I saw her—I told her that owing to a discrepancy in the statement she had made as to her character we could not engage her—I received a letter from her on that day—Mrs. Hopwood was at home all day on the 15th—she did not give the prisoner any authority to order the articles in question—I don't know if any parcel was received from Harvey and Nicholls.
Cross-examined. The prisoner gave a reference to Lady Margaret Beaumont—she was applied to and gave the prisoner an exceedingly good character—she had also lived with the Thornhills of Berkeley Square, and had an excellent character from them—the reason my wife did not engage her was because she found that she had not lived with Lady Margaret Beaumont so long as she had stated; her character was very satisfactory in every other respect.
Re-examined. She stated that she had lived with Lady Margaret nearly a year, and we found out it was only three months.
ROBERT HUGHES . I am assistant to Messrs. Harvey and Nicholls, drapers, on Knightsbridge—on Saturday, 15th March, the prisoner came to the counter where I was serving, and said, "I want to see some black cashmere"—I showed her some—she then asked for some Italian cloth, and bought three yards of it, and a yard and half of lawn, a reel of
cotton, and four and a halt' yards of muslin—the bill came to 1l. 5s. 7d.—she said "I wish them entered to Mrs. Hopwood, 13, Norfolk Street"—I said "Shall I send the parcel?"—she said "No, I want to take them away, as they are to be made up this afternoon; I come from Mrs. Hopwood; I am Mrs. Hopwood's maid"—I asked her name, she said "Miss Allen"—Mrs. Hopwood is a customer of our firm—I parted with the goods believing the prisoner's statement that she came from there—on 18th March I went to 30, Mount Street, and asked to see Miss Child—I saw the landlady, I suppose, I did not see the prisoner that day—I saw her on Thursday, the 20th, when I called with a police officer, and she was taken into custody—I was present when a conversation took place between the prisoner and the officer—she said "Do not take me away; what recompense can I give you?"—I saw the articles found in a box, and identified them—they were in the parcel as I sold them—when I first called and saw the prisoner I did not tell her where I came from, I said I came from a friend of hen—that was untrue, it was in order to identify her.
Cross-examined. She did not state at the shop that her name was Ellen Child—she might have said "Miss Ellen"—I knew that her name was Child when I called at the house—I went to Mr. Hopwood, and he knew her address in Mount Street and gave it to me—when I asked her her name at the shop she said "Miss Allen"—I did not say "What address?"—I swear that—nor did she say "13, Norfolk Street, at Mrs. Hopwood's"—she gave no address at all when I asked her name—she said "I have come from Mrs. Hopwood; I am Mrs. Hop wood's maid."
Re-examined. I have a memorandum of what she said, which I made at the time (producing it)—she had a hesitation in her speech, but I understood her perfectly.
JOHN SCOTT (Detective Sergeant B). On 20th March I received a warrant and went to 30, Mount Street, in the evening—the prisoner opened the door to me—I asked for Miss Child—she said "I am Miss Child"—I beckoned to the witness Hughes and Detective Wilson, who were with me, and they came over—I then said to the prisoner "I am a police officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest," and I asked which was her room—I went into a room and read the warrant to her—I cautioned her that any statement she made would be given in evidence against her—she said "Can I recompense you in any way? pray don't lock me up, I will pay the value of the goods; a woman sent me to get them"—Wilson searched her boxes—I found in a drawer these two letters, one dated March 13th, purporting to come from Mrg. Hopwood, declining to take the prisoner as her maid; that was open.
THOMAS WILSON (Detective B). I went with Scott—I told the prisoner that we should wish to search her room—she said "There is no occasion to search my box, I will give them to you"—she opened the box and produced this parcel—Hughes opened it and identified the property as that which he had let her have.
MR. HOPWOOD (Re-examined). This letter is in my wife's handwriting I knew the prisoner was living in Mount Street, and gave her address to the constable—she is of weak mind, and that was why we declined to take her.
GUILTY. Very strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury .— To enter into her own recognisance in 20l. to come up for judgment if called upon.
WILLIAM HENRY PHILPS . On 5th March, about half-past 12 o'clock in the morning, I was outside the Crown public-house, North End Road—a man named Arnetty was there—he put his arm round the back of my neck and gave me a hug; at the same time I felt a violent tug at my watch-chain in my waistcoat pocket—I said "You have got my watch"—I caught hold of him; he begged me to let him go, but I still retained my hold—he then struck me a violent blow in the mouth—I struggled with him for about 30 yards up and down on the ground, when he escaped—I heard a policeman's whistle blowing—this (produced) is my watch and chain—I saw them in the constable's hand when he had the prisoner in custody, after Arnetty ran away—I had seen the prisoner in the public-house, but I did not see him engaged in robbing me—there were two keys attached to the chain; they were broken off, also this link and a swivel—after the prisoner was charged I went back with Detective cracknwell where the robbery was committed, and by his light he found these pieces scattered on the ground, two keys, the link of the watch-chain, and part of the swivel.
Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner before—I knew Arnetty, he was in the same bar where I was—I was not drinking with him—I was quite sober, and so was he—it is not true that I staggered and fell from the kerb, nor did Arnetty catch hold of me to save my watch and chain—this was no drunken freak, it was a very serious one—I did not see the watch passed to the prisoner—Arnetty did not offer me the watch and say "There is your watch," nor did I refuse to take it.
SELINA ROBERTSON . I am a laundress—on the night of the 5th March I was just coming out of the Crown public-house at closing time—I saw the prosecutor, the prisoner, and Arnetty—the prisoner knocked a cigar out of Mr. Philp's mouth, and I then saw Arnetty struggling with him—he hit him in the mouth, and I saw him put his hand over Mr. Philp's shoulder, take the watch, and hand it to the prisoner—I and another witness gave information to the police, who came up and took the watch out of the prisoner's hand and took him into custody.
Cross-examined. He had the watch in his hand when the constable took it from him—he was not struggling at all—the prosecutor seemed to be sober—I did not see him stagger—he and Arnetty fell together—Arnetty did not try to save him from falling, he wanted to fall him.
ANNIE BARRETT . I was at the public-house, and saw Arnetty there—he is called "Slasher," he put his arm round the prosecutor's neck, took the watch from him, and gave it to prisoner, and I and Mrs. Robertson called the police.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was drunk, the prosecutor was half and half—I did not pee him stagger nor see Arnetty try to save him from falling, they were struggling together round the corner.
ELLEN BUCKLEY . I was at the Crown public-house, I saw Arnetty and the prisoner talking together outride, I saw Arnetty put his hand round the prosecutor's neck, take the watch out of his pocket, and hand it to the prisoner, and the constable came up and took it out of his hand.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor was not drunk—I do not know whether he was drunk or sober, it was all over in a moment.
THOMAS POPPLET (Policeman T 592). I was outside the Grown on the morning of the 5th, and my attention was called by a woman to the prosecutor, and Davis and I ran up and saw Arnetty with his right hand round the prosecutor's neck, and with his left hand he handed the watch and chain to the prisoner; he received it in his left hand, put it in his right, and was putting it in his pocket when I took hold of his hand and took out the watch—I handed him to Cracknell, and went in pursuit of Arnetty—I afterwards searched the prisoner—he was wearing this chain, and I found on him a pocket-book, a bracelet, a tobacco-pouch, a brooch, and a pawn-ticket—he said nothing.
Cross-examined. I did not hear that he lost his own watch in the struggle, he never told me that he had a watch—I took this watch out of his hand, he was going to put it in his pocket—it was partly in his pocket—I was the first policeman that came up—the prosecutor was sober—I did not recognise the prisoner on that night, but when I got him to the station I knew him.
GEORGE CRACKNELL (Policeman). On the morning of the 5th March I was in North End Road, outside the Grown—Popplet gave the prisoner in my custody, and told me to take him to the station for stealing a watch—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said "Stealing a watch, eh?" and he pulled this chain from his pocket and said "They have stolen mine"—I afterwards went back and picked up these fragments of the chain.
Cross-examined. I did not hear any one say, pointing to the prisoner, "Is that the man who took it?"—I did not hear any one say the man that took it ran away.
Witnesses for the Defence.
GEORGE MILLS . I am a wardrobe dealer at 8, St. Thomas Road—I was with the prisoner and Arnetty at the Grown on this night—I came out with the prisoner, we were about the last two out—I saw Arnetty struggling with the prosecutor, I thought they were larking—I went behind a cab, and when I came back I saw that the policeman had got the prisoner—I saw nothing of the robbery or the watch—the prosecutor had been drinking all the evening.
CHARLES FOX . I am an ostler at 9, Lordship Place, North End, Fulham—I was with the prisoner on this night—we all came out of the house together—I was holding a horse outside; I saw a struggle—I saw nothing of the watch—I saw the policeman having hold of the prisoner by the arm and blowing his whistle.
He also LEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction on 4th April, 1882, at Newington.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended. BENJAMIN BRITTON. I live at 10, Mornington Street, Beaumont Road, Bow—I am in the employ of Edwards and Co. in the Minories—on Saturday, 5th April, the prisoner was in our stock-room; he was an out-door
tailor in the same service—he wanted a suit of clothes—he stayed there about 20 minutes—he said "The employers are very hard masters to work for, why don't you help yourself?"—I said "It is only fools and horses that work"—he said "There are plenty of people in the firm robbing them, why don't you do the same?"—he then said "Have you got any binding?"—I said "We have plenty upstairs"—while I was talking with him I missed a yard and a quarter of Italian cloth from the counter, and then I missed two gross of braid; I went into the office and spoke to Mr. Phillips, a member of the firm, and then went back to the stock-room—the prisoner came up to me again, and we had a conversation—in consequence of what Mr. Phillips had said I went after the prisoner, and walked home with him—on the way we had something to drink—he told me that he had the two gross of braid; that he had taken it from the firm, and he showed me the braid—he then made an appointment to meet me at the firm at 12 o'clock on the Monday—he mentioned the name of Mr. Goldstein, the foreman in the Commercial Street Branch, and said that Mr. Goldstein had given him she pairs of trousers on the Saturday (Goldstein is not now in the service)—he said the porters would have the blame for losing them—between Saturday and Monday I saw Mr. Phillips, and told him what had occurred, and I went with him to Seething Lane Police-station—on Monday the 7th the prisoner called at 12 o'clock, and came into the stock-room—I had some mohair braid there in boxes on the counter—the prisoner said "I want you to measure me for a suit of clothes for the holidays"—I asked Mr. Edwards if I might measure him—he said "Yes," and I did measure him—he then asked for some gold badges—I went to get them, and left the prisoner alone in the stock-room—when I came back I could see that the binding boxes had been turned upside down—I informed Mr. Phillips about it—the prisoner went out; I afterwards saw him brought back in custody of Harding with the mohair braid that I had missed—I saw some Italian cloth produced at the station—it was similar to that we kept in stock.
Cross-examined. I understand that the mohair braid was marked before it was taken away, but I knew nothing about that—the binding was not marked.
WOOLF PHILLIPS . I am a member of the firm of Edwards and Co., of the Minories—we have another branch in Commercial Street—the prisoner was in our employ as an outdoor journeyman tailor—on 5th April Britton came to me and said said something, in consequence of which I gave him certain directions—I saw him again on Sunday, the 8th, at the warehouse, and I went to Seething Lane Police-station and I saw the superintendent—on Monday, the 7th, we had some mohair braiding in the stock-room in boxes—I identify this produced as our property by these pieces of paper which I placed in the boxes with my initials on the Monday morning—I did that in consequence of what Britton told me—the prisoner called on the 7th, and afterwards Britton said something to me—I didn't see the prisoner leave the shop; I saw him brought back by harding—the prisoner had a parcel under his arm—I saw it opened; it contained some braid and some shirts—the shirts did not belong to us; the braid did—I gave the prisoner in custody—he said something about having bought the braid from different tailors round the lane—we do not sell that.
Cross-examined. I was not certain that he would take the braid—on the Monday I marked it by putting little pieces of paper in between—I
expected it would be taken—I didn't know who by—I marked it that I might know it again, because we had missed some—I didn't suspect anybody but the prisoner.
WILLIAM HARDING (City Detective). In consequence of directions from my superior officer on Monday, the 7th, at 12 o'clock, I went to 123, Minories—I saw the prisoner go in—he came out again in about twenty minutes with a parcel under him arm—I knew him before for years—I said "Bernstein, what have you in that parcel?"—he said "Some braid"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "I bought it from different tailors in the Lane yesterday"—I took him back to the ware-house, and in the presence of Mr. Phillips and Britton I opened the parcel—it contained 5 1/4 gross of braid, which was identified by Mr. Phillips—I saw the private mark taken out—the prisoner was given in custody, and I took him to the station—on the way he said "Would a 10l. Note be of any good to you?"—I said "What do you mean?"—he said "To get me out of this; to make it right for me"—I said "No offer of money from you will prevent me doing my duty as a policeman"—he said "If you go to a man who keeps a fish shop in Brick Lane, Bethnal Green, he will give you 10l.; his name is Lee"—he was charged at the station, but made no answer.
Cross-examined. I did not go to the fish shop—I went to the prisoner's house and searched it—I found five pieces of cloth there, which I produce—it was shown to Mr. Phillips—I don't think Britton saw it unless he saw it at the Court.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at this Court on 16th September, 1878, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, April 29th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN
THOMAS JONES (Police Sergeant T 48). On 4th March, about 8.45, I was on duty in the Bath Road, Hounslow, and saw Richard Burnham, the landlord of the Duke of Cambridge, near his house—in consequence of what he said I stood outside his house with a constable—the house was in darkness, and I saw Burnham break the window with a stick, and directly after several beer bottles and bottles of beer were thrown through the window from inside—the crowd went back, and Burnham and Giffin approached the window, and a hand came out with something in it which struck Giffin on the neck, and he said "I am stabbed; down to the toes I feel the blood running into my boots"—Burnham had tried the door before he went to the window—when I went to the window I saw the prisoner standing on the left with her daughter
Ellen Blake on her right, and her youngest daughter at the window—the prisoner said "There shall be murder here to-night; if any one comes here I will murder them"—I went to Dr. Doyle's surgery, and found the man had a large cut on his neck six inches long—this scarf was given me cut in two, one piece was on the man's neck and the other on the surgery floor saturated with blood—he was taken to the London Hospital—the cut through the window was downwards—I could not see what it was done with—I was two yards from the window—I told the prisoner a man had been stabbed, and it might be serious, and to keep herself cool—it was in reply to that that she said "There shall be murder done here to-night"—the two Blakes and the potman were charged before the Magistrate—I ascertained that they and the prisoner were the only persons in the house—I saw one of them here yesterday.
Cross-examined. I have been stationed at Hounslow 12 months—the prisoner is a hard-working woman, conducting the business of the house as well as a laundry—I do not know that she has a coal business—she is much respected—I am sure she said "There shall be murder done here"—that was after I told her to keep cool—I did not say at Brentford that she said "There will be murder here to-night"—this is my signature to my deposition; I see I did say so, and that was next morning—"shall" was the word she used—my deposition was only read to me once—the plate glass was not so thick as this (produced)—I will not swear this is not the glass—I did not do anything to prevent his breaking the window—he told me he was going to get into his own house and I had no right to stop him—30 or 40 people were there—I tried to disperse them, but they would not go far—I don't know what Giffin had to do with the window; he urged Burnham on before the blow was aimed, but I did not hear what he said—I looked through the window and saw Ellen Charlotte Blake and Charlotte Eleanor Blake, the prisoner's daughters by a former marriage, I did not see the potman—this is the billhook, it appeared to have spots of blood on it—it is in the same state now—I mentioned at the police-court that there was blood on it—I cannot say whether that was after two or three remands—it was rusty when I got it.
JOHN BRACKENBURG (Policeman 133 T). On 4th March I was on duty in plain clothes with a man in uniform in Bath Road, Hounslow—we passed the Duke of Cambridge at 8.45 and saw several persons there, among whom were Sergeant Jones and Giffin—Mr. Burnham was near the house; the door was shut, and the house in darkness—he went and knocked—no one answered—he went to the taproom window and broke a pane of glass near the catch—Giffin went to assist to get the window up—I then beard another smash and saw something come out at the window with a sharp flash—I could not hear what was said—Giffin came to me and said he was wounded—he was taken to Mr. Doyle's surgery and then to the West London Hospital—I saw his neck was cut—I heard the prisoner say "Who is that breaking the window?" and at the same time I heard footsteps come towards the window—Giffin lost a good deal of blood, he was unconscious most of the way to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I have been in Hounslow between nine and ten years, and have known the prisoner all the time as a very respectable hard-working woman—she has been doing all the work of the beerhouse and laundry, and is very much respected.
Road, Hounslow—on 4th March Dobson and I were going along the Bath Road and saw several persons opposite the Duke of Cambridge—I saw Mr. Burnham break a pane of glass—I went to the window to have a look on and received a blow on the right side of my neck, which out it, and the blood ran down to my shoes—I did not see what it was done with—I said "She has given me one; she has cut my scarf in two, and I can feel the blood running into my shoes"—a policeman took me to Dr. Doyle's surgery, and I remember nothing else till the following day, when I found myself in the hospital—I was there seven or eight days—I did not put my head in at the window and cut myself.
Cross-examined. I am not quite such a fool as that—I don't know how the cut was caused—I did not see any one in the house either before or at the time the out was given—I don't know how close my face was to the window, but I was not looking in at the broken pane—I did not pull a portion of the window out—I don't remember having part of the sash in my hand, or whether I touched the window or not—I was cut as goon as I got to the window—I had nothing to do with the house, I went to have a look on—I did not assist Burnham to pull the window out—I don't remember flaying to him "Dick, you are an old apple-woman, let me come and do it"—I don't remember pulling away at the broken glass; I swear I did not.
JOHN DOBSON . I am a market gardener of Bath Road, Hounalow—I was at the door of the Duke of Cambridge and heard a noise and saw Burnham breaking a pane of glass with a stick, and a man named Minns broke the sash with his stick—Giffin and I approached the window—I said "Don't get too close"—he got nearer than me—I heard a woman shriek inside and saw something bright come out at the window, which I thought was a carving-knife—it was a back cut, and it was drawn back instantly—I thought from the clearness of the cut and the man not staggering that it was a knife—Giffin then came to me and said "Jack, I am stabbed"—I took him to a lamp, and a constable and I took him to a doctor's—I did not see him do anything at the window, it was already broken when he went to it—I was near enough to him for the blood to spirt on my neckhandkerchief.
Cross-examined. It would not have been any trouble to me to touch the window; we were both about the same distance from it—about 2 feet 4 inches square of the window was broken, and the sash was broken right out in the middle.
WILLIAM PAINTER . I am a baker of Star Road, Hounslow—on Tuesday, March 4, Mr. Burnham and his stepson David Blake called at my house, and I went with them at their request to the Duke of Cambridge beerhouse—the door was locked, Mr. Burnham knocked, and Mrs. Burnham asked from inside who was there—her son said "It is me, mother; open the door"—she said "I shall not open the door," and after several times he said "Well, mother, open the door, we don't want any disturbance, but if you don't, we must go to the police for advice"—she said "You can fetch forty police if you like; I shall not open the door to-night"—a policeman came up and Burnham went up to him—about three-quarters of an hour elapsed, and then Mr. Burnham went with a small walking-stick and broke one of the panes to raise the catch—he could not get in and Giffin went to his assistance and said "Dick, you are like an old apple-woman, shall I do it?" and to the best
of my belief Burnham gave him permission to do it—Giffin then wont to the window and struck the frame work with hid hand, which partially loosened it, when, quicker than you can tell, several things came through the window at the same time, and among them an arm, with something in the hand, but it was too dark for me to see what the instrument was; it struck Giffin on his neck and wounded him—he came back and said "My God, she has given me one," with his hand up to his neck—he was taken away—I went back in about an hour and saw the prisoner in custody.
Cross-examined. Mr. Burnham broke one pane of glass, and Giffin went to push the window inwards, and at the same time several things came out, and bottles among them—the glass tumbled about as the other things came through—the glass was not near so thick as this, or as thick as this either (a thinner piece).
HARRIET PAINTER . I am the wife of the last witness—I was outside the Duke of Cambridge—I went three-quarters of an hour after him—the house was in total darkness—I saw Mr. Burnham break a window with a stick, and heard the prisoner say "Who is there?" her husband gaid "It is me, open the door"—she said "I shall not, I mean murder, and murder shall be done in this house to-night"—I afterwards saw an arm come out at the window, and the prisoner said "Take that"—Giffin came across to where I was standing, and said "My God, she has given me something, I can feel the blood running down into my shoes"—a constable took him to a gas lamp—I heard the prisoner say several times that she meant murder, and murder should be done—when the constable was taking her from the doorstep she shook her fist at her husband and said "I will have my revenge on you yet."
Cross-examined. There were several people about—there was a noise when the stout bottles came through—they did not come through at the same time as the arm, they came through before and afterwards—the girls were shrieking—it was between 8 and 9 o'clock—I did not hear any man call out in the house—I am not prepared to say she did not say "There will be murder"—I was looking after my husband, I wanted to get him back home.
By the COURT. I knew the prisoner before, and knew her voice, and am quite sure it was her voice said "Take that"—I was on the path—my husband was not near me at all, not close together—I cannot say which of us was nearest to the window, it was so dark.
SAMUEL CARTER (Police Inspector T). On the 4th March, about 10.15, Jones came to the station and made a statement, and I went with him to the Duke of Cambridge beerhouse, which was in darkness, and there were ten or twelve people in front of it—the doors were closed—I went to the step and put my lump over tho window—I was able to see into the house, the door being half glass—I saw the prisoner lying in the passage with her shoulder and head against the wall near the tap-room door, apparently asleep—this billhook (produced) was in her right hand, and her daughter Eleanor was behind her, lying in the same position, with this chopper (produced) in her hand—I turned the lock and knocked at the door: they then rose up from the ground very excited, and came to the door with these things in their hands—I turned my light on and could see them—a woman's voice said "If you come in hero I will murder you"—I took it to bo Mrs. Burnham's voice—I said "I am an
inspector of police," and threw the light in, and Mrs. Burnham said "No one is coming into the house to-night"—I said "If you don't let me in I will burst the door open"—I tried the lock several times, but could not burst it open, as there was a big iron bar across it—Ellen Blake opened the door and gave me the axe, and the prisoner had this billhook in her hand—I took it from her, went into the house and found these tongs on a table opposite the broken window—I saw what I took to be a spot of blood on the billhook—March 4th is the general annual licensing day—I took them all in custody, and they were committed for trial, but the Grand Jury threw out the bill against the others.
Cross-examined. I gave evidence the next morning about the spot of blood—I will not say that it was taken down, but I mentioned it on the first occasion—this is my signature to my deposition, but it if not here—I did not mention it again on the 8th, as I did not know it was not there—Mr. Glossop was in the chair—I do not remember his alluding a few minutes before the prisoner was committed to there being no marks of blood on the billhook—I did say "Oh, when I first arrived, I saw a spot I took for blood on the blade of the billhook about the size of a pea, the spot is not there now, "but I gave the same evidence on the first occasion—I do not remember Mr. Glossop alluding to the billhook at all—the spot was on it on the 5th—when I said "the spot is not there now" Dr. Douglas had rubbed off the spot which I took for blood—he is not here—I did not tell the Magistrate that he had rubbed it off, but I got a certificate from him which I gave to the Magistrate.
EDMUND BLAKE (Policeman TR). I made this plan to scale—the height of the broken window from the ground was 4 1/2 feet, the depth of the bottom sash is two feet six inches—there is a fixed seat inside the window.
By the COURT. When I saw it the glass was all broken away and the sash smashed in.
SAMUEL CARTER (Re-examined by MR. GRAIN). This produced is the certificate about the axe. (Read: "Having carefully examined the billhook and the small axe by order of the Middlesex Magistrates, I can find no trace of blood on either, and am not satisfied that they produced the wound which divided the neckerchief and jugular vein of Arthur Giffin.")
HENRY HERBERT TAYLOR . I am house-surgeon at the West London Hospital—the prosecutor was brought these on 4th March, about 11.30 insensible—I found an incised clean cut wound on the right side of his neck—he had lost a good deal of blood—it commenced about 2 1/2 or three inches below the ear and extended obliquely—it cut through the skin and divided several vessels, but no important ones—the jugular vein was not cut—it was not a dangerous wound in itself—he remained in the hospital for about 10 days, and was then discharged cured—I think the wound itself might have been caused by this instrument (the billhook), but I think it scarcely could have cut through that handkerchief—a knife would have done it.
Cross-examined. The wound itself might have been caused by a bottle thrown violently from the window, or by a broken piece of glass—my impression inclined me to say that this was not the instrument which did it; it could have caused the wound, but I more refer to the injury to the scarf.
Re-examined. I should think a piece of glass could not have cut through the scarf and inflicted the wound—anything sharp would make the wound because it was superficial—if the wound had been deeper it might have been serious, because it is a dangerous region.
SAMUEL CARTER (Re-examined by MR. GRAIN). I searched for the knives—the prisoner told me where some of them were, and she went over the top part of the house with me—she showed me where the knife drawer was upstairs—I found knives in several parts of the house—they were all clean and had no stain of blood on them, they were evidently put away.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Four Months' Hard Labour.
ELIZABETH BEALE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. ISSACSON Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
ABRAHAM GOULD . I am a publisher, of 111, Adelaide Road, St. John's Wood—the prisoners were in my service about two months and a half—they left about Saturday, March 22nd, after which I missed some whisky bottles, some jam in jars, and a Colt's revolver—I informed the police, and on the 24th, about 7 p.m., I saw the male prisoner—he spoke to me, and accompanied me up the road, and when I saw a policeman I gave him in custody—he made no answer to the charge—I had engaged him as indoor servant and to attend to the garden—he represented the other prisoner to be his wife, and I engaged her at the same time—they had a bedroom to themselves, and kept the door locked—their wages were 35l. per annum for the two—he had no right to the four dozen jam pots or the whisky bottles, or anything else which was found in his possession.
Cross-examined. I have not got any of the pots and bottles here—I also charged him with stealing my revolver—I believe he has served his country in India and Afghanistan, and has two medals—I do not know that he was wounded—I have had the revolver about 15 years—it was not in first-class condition, but it was not broken; it was simply dirty, and had been taken to pieces—this is it—it was not in pieces when I saw it again, it was as it is now.
Re-examined. If a person wished to dispose of a pistol it would be more valuable put together than in four pieces—I believe the male prisoner had a good character up to the time he left the army, but he has lost it since.
ANN SMITH . I am housemaid to Mr. Gould—I saw the prisoner sell some jam pots and whisky bottles, and some fat which he had saved; he used to make it out of the bones which his wife had left from cooking—I saw him with a rusty revolver—I do not know whether it was this one, it was broken, there was no wood to it—I saw one in my master's tool-box.
Cross-examined. It was with a lot of tools, and rusty nails, and pieces of iron, and it was rusty and dirty—I can't say that this is it, but the one I saw looked old and worn out—it was all in pieces.
FREDERICK HARRIS . I am clerk to Mr. Gould, of 53, New Bond Street—on Wednesday, 19th March, I was there in the prisoner's company—he had a revolver, and I identify this as the one, only the trigger is missing—he was patting caps on it—he said that he had been cleaning it—I don't know where he got the caps, but there were some in the house in a little box (produced)—this is the box, the remainder of the caps are still in it.
JEREMIAH HEALY (Policeman S 494). On 24th March, about 7 p.m., I was on duty in Adelaide Road, and Mr. Gould gave the prisoner into my custody for stealing some empty bottles and jam pots—he said that it was all through drink—when the charge was read over at the station he said that he thought they were servant's perquisites.
Cross-examined. He did not say that he was impudent to Mr. Gould when he was drunk, and the charge had arisen in that way—I have never taken a charge before from a gentleman in Mr. Gould's position for stealing old bottles and jam pots—I heard nothing about fat.
WILLIAM LENNARD (Detective S). After the prisoner was charged I said to him "What about the revolver?"—he said "I sold it for old iron"—I did not caution him—he afterwards said "It is at my lodging, 16, Ormsby Street, Kingsland Road"—he said next morning "How do you think it will go?"—I said "I don't know"—he said "The things I had you can get by going to that address"—that is his stepfather's—I went there on the 25th with Mr. Gould—I saw no one there, but the female prisoner went in and fetched out the revolver and the small box of caps and cartridges, and something belonging to the revolver—she went with us from the police-court—I cannot say that this is the revolver which he said he had sold for old iron—here are some screws and the trigger—she then took us to 93, Maria Street; an unfurnished back parlour—she said that she had taken the room that morning, the 25th, and took there two boxes and a large bag—I examined the boxes, and found these six pictures, nine books, a pair of pinchers, a screwdriver, bedwrench, handkerchief, and under-shirt—I went there again on the 26th with Mr. and Mrs. Gould; the room was occupied by the two prisoners, but only the female prisoner was there then—the pictures have been taken out of the frames.
Cross-examined. There is no doubt he has been in the army; his papers show that he served in the Afghan war—he is an army reserve man.
Cross-examined. This feather is mine, and this pamphlet, and this pencil-drawing.
Re-examined.. Some of these pictures are my daughter's drawing, and have a domestic value—the water-colours were in the frames when they were removed.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
522. The said ELIZABETH BEALE PLEADED GUILTY to two other indictments for stealing two shirts of Morney Copping, her master, and four pairs of trousers and four waistcoats of Montague Harris, her master.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. FILLAN Defended.
Mr. Fillan applied to have the indictment quashed; upon hearing both Counsel, the RECORDER held the indictment to be bad, and it wan accordingly quashed.
MR. HICKS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BURROWS (Policeman K 234). On 17th March, about 10 p.m., in consequence of information, I went to 1, Fisher Street, Barking, and there saw Patrick Murphy lying on the floor in a back room, smothered in blood; his clothes were off—he held up his left hand, and I saw two wounds underneath the arm—from what he told me I went to No. 4, Emily Cottages, and there found the prisoner in a back room sitting by the side of the fireplace—he was under the influence of drink—I said "I shall take you into custody for stabbing your brother"—he said "All right"—I said "Have you a knife about you?"—he said "No, I have not"—I called in another constable, and searched the prisoner, and found this clasp-knife (produced) smothered in blood inside, his shirt—it was open—he was charged at the station—he made no answer—I sent for a doctor, and the prosecutor was attended to at his own home. Prisoner: It is false that he found the knife inside my shirt—I had no shirt on. Witness: He had a shirt on, and I found the knife inside it.
PATRICK MURPHY . I am a labourer, and live in Fisher Street, Barking—on 17th March, about 8.30, I was in a court in Fisher Street; my brother was there—neither of us were sober—we were having a row in the back yard, and were struggling—a lot of people came round, and I was stabbed—I don't know who done it—I was stabbed under the arm, on the arm, in the back, and in the left breast—I have never seen this knife before—I don't know whose it is; it is not mine—I don't remember the constable coming, or being taken home, and did not know at the time how I was stabbed.
By the Prisoner. I don't know whether you had hold of me at the time I was stabbed—I did not see any knife on you.
By the COURT. He and I were struggling together, and it was directly after the struggle that I found I was stabbed—there were a lot of people round, quite near enough to touch me—we were all squeezed up together—I was not quarrelling with any one but my brother.
prisoner lives—I am sister to the prisoner and prosecutor—on 17th March I saw my brothers struggling together—they were drunk—I heard Patrick call out that he was stabbed—there were a good many round them quarrelling up the yard—it was St. Patrick's night—Patrick was taken into No. 8, and I went for a doctoral have never seen this knife before; I saw no knife on this occasion.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You had no shirt on.
ELIZABETH SCHOMBERG I live at 8; Factory Road, Barking—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor struggling together—I heard the prosecutor say he was stabbed, and I immediately ran for a policeman—the prisoner and the prosecutor were the only two that were struggling but there were several round them—I did not see any knife; it was too dark for any one to see a knife.
EDWARD SAMUEL LEE . I am a registered medical practitioner at Barking—On 17th March I was sent for to the prosecutor—he was suffering from two wounds in the left armpit, one on the arm and one in the back; they were punctured wounds—his pulse was very feeble, and he had lost a considerable quantity of blood; they were serious wounds—I attended to him till he got well—I saw this knife at the police-court; it then had stains of blood on it; such a knife would cause such wounds.
The prisoner, before the Magistrate and in his defence, denied using the knife, and stated that it was done in a drunken squabble, and nobody knew who did it.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
FREDERICK DICKER . I am a police sergeant stationed at Plaistow—on 21st March, about 11 a.m., I was with Hallmark at Harrison's pawnbroker's shop, in Liverpool "Terrace, Barking Road, when Ward came in and offered in pledge the two curtains produced—Harrison's assistant, Cornish, spoke to her and came and spoke to us, and on his return he found she had gone, leaving the curtains behind her, in consequence of what Cornish said I made inquiries at 51, Bidder Street, Canning Town, but could find nothing about her—I returned to the shop—the prisoner returned to the shop too—I said to her "I am a police-officer. Where did you get these curtains from?"—I had them with me—she said "I don't know; a man gave them to me"—I said "What is his name?"—she said "I don't know, but he has been home with me two of three times"—I detained her—Hallmark went after the man, and shortly afterwards returned bringing Price to the shop—I said to him "Do you know this woman?"—he said "I do"—I said "Have you given her these curtains to pledge?"—he said "Yes; I have given her others to pledge for me"—I said "Where did you get them from?"—he said "An old shipmate of mine gave them to me and told me to dispose of them and give him half the money"—I asked him his name—he said "Fagan"—I asked him where he lived—he said "I don't know; he works in the docks"—I said "If you have to give him half the money you must know where he lives"—he said "I don't know; I might not meet him to-day and perhaps not to-morrow"—I said if he could point out Fagan I would go with him and give him the opportunity—he said
"I cannot do that; I might not see him to-day and perhaps not to-morrow"—I told him his explanation was not satisfactory, I should have to take him to the station—he said "I had three pairs of curtains in my possession since the Friday previous"—this was Friday I think—he said "I gave them to the woman to pledge because I knew her"—at the station both prisoners gave the address 18, Burke Street, Canning Town—I went there and searched a room which was shown to me, and I found these eight pawnbrokers' duplicates (produced), which all relate to the pawning of a number of curtains at different shops in the name of Ward—by their means I was able to get the different pawnbrokers as witnesses.
PAUL HALLMARK (Police Constable). On 21st March I was at the pawnbroker's with Dicker and heard his conversation with Ward—in consequence of what she said I went out to look for the man she referred to, and found Price standing in the Barking Road, about 100 yards from the shop—I said to him 'Have you given the woman any curtains to pledge?"—he said "Yes"—I took him back to the shop and then heard the conversation there—they were both taken to the police-station.
ELIJAH CORNISH . I live at 2, Liverpool Terrace, Barking Road, and am in the employment of Mr. Harrison, a pawnbroker—Ward first came to our shop on 14th March, bringing this pair of curtains (produced), which she pledged in the name of Laura Ward for 6s.—this is the ticket—she said nothing about them—next day, the 15th, she came again, bringing another pair, and giving the name of Jane Ward, 51, Bidder street—I advanced her 6s.—I asked her why she pledged them—she said they were her mother's—this is the ticket I gave—on the morning of 21st March she came again, bringing three pairs; I asked her whose they were, and reminded her she had brought two pairs before—she said all right, they would be taken out when her husband came home from sea; the police then came in about some other matter, and while I was speaking to them she disappeared—I spoke to the police about the curtains and asked them to accompany me to 51, Bidder Street—I heard her say the man gave her the last lot of curtains, and he was waiting outside.
JOHN FRAMPTON . I am assistant to T. E. Smith, pawnbroker, 56, Woodstock Street, Canning Town—on 11th March Ward came to our shop bringing a pair of curtains which she gave in pledge for 7s. in the name of Ann Ward, 7, Fox Street—I said the curtains were remarkably short—she said she gave 24s. for them—on the same day she pledged a single curtain for 3s.—a few days after she pledged another one in the name of Ward, New Street, for 38.
JOHN LAMBEKT . I am in the service of Mr. Havitt, a pawnbroker—on 17th March Ward pledged a pair of curtains in the name of Jane Ward, Canning Town, for 7s.—this is the ticket—on the 19th she came again and pawned a single curtain in the name of Jane Ward, New Road, for 2s.—on 20th March she pawned a pair of curtains for 6s. 6d. in the name of Jane Ward, New Road—I asked her on all three occasions where she got them from—she said from her mother.
SCRIVENER. I am a foreman upholsterer in the employ of the P. and O. Company—their vessel the Paramatta arrived at the docks on 5th March—when a ship arrives in docks we take the curtains and put them all together in one cabin while the vessel is unloaded, and then before the vessel sails I go through and see there is the proper amount of curtain
on board—on Monday, the 25th, my attention was called to the matter—I went through the stock and found seven curtains missing of one pattern and two from the lady's cabin—I have examined the curtains found at the pawnbroker's, I identify all 15 as being the property of the P. and O. Company—they are cabin-door curtains, 6 feet 9 inches long, made at the Stores to our own pattern—the seven and 2 from the ladies' cabin of the Paramatta are among them—I do not know where the other six, making up the 15, come from—they must have come from some other, of our ships.
CHRISTOPHER WILCOX (Inspector of Police, detective in the employ of the St. Katherine's Dock Company). I have seen Price about the Albert Docks in March, and on board some of the ships—on one occasion I was called by a ship's purser to turn him off.
COLE. I live at 18, Burke Street, Canning Town—the two prisoners lived there together about six weeks previous to their arrest.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Price; "I came by the curtains that I had, they were given to me." Ward: "I had nothing to do with them. This man gave them to me and told me to make the best of them."
Price in his defence stated that a man had given him the curtains at the Marine Hotel at the tidal basin to sell and promised to give him half, that he could not dispose of them, and had given them to the woman to pawn. Ward stated that Price asked her to pawn the curtains, and she thought they were his.
PRICE— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
WARD— NOT GUILTY .
527. JOHN CLIFFORD (32) to stealing a sealskin jacket and other articles of Eliza Martin, a gold brooch and other articles, the goods of Julia Mansford, a gold watch and other articles, the goods of Joseph Cohen, and a china cup and saucer, the goods of Francis James Brand. Richard Wildey stated that fare were 16 cases altogether. —Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
HENRY ALGAR . I am a labourer, of Hatfield, Peverell, Essex—I have known the prisoner six or seven years—I was present at All Saints' Church, Witham, on 2nd March, 1878, when he was married to Sarah Ann Shelley—I signed the certificate, this is it (produced)—I saw his wife yesterday, she is my sister-in-law.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your wife had two illegitimate children, she had one while you were away.
EMILY ANN STEELE . I live at Forest Gate—the prisoner lived next door to me two years and a half ago, and we went out together for 12 months or more—he wrote to me and told me to put the banns' up at Bow, and I did so—he came home about a fortnight after that, and stayed at my house the last week before we were married, and we occupied
the same room at night—on 16th September, 1882, we were married at Stratford-le-Bow—he is a seaman, and went on a voyage nine days afterwards—he told me at Clerkenwell that he had two children by his first wife, and one child he owned and the other he did not—he did not; tell me that he was married, and I never asked him—I don't wish to punish him—I have no children.
Cross-examined. I did ask you to marry me, but that was the last week of the banns—we were going to be married by licence before you went to India, but we were not—you have treated me properly, and you gave me half your pay.
GEORGE MELLISH (Detective sergeant K). On 12th March the last witness pointed the prisoner out to me—I said "I am a police-officer, you must consider yourself in custody for committing a bigamous marriage with Miss Steele"—he said "I know nothing, about it—I showed him the two marriage certificates which I had got from her—he said "Who charges me?"—I said "The girl and her father"—he said "Can I speak to her by herself in the next room?"—I said "No, whatever you have to say to the girl now ought to be said in the presence of the parents"—he said "Well I will tell you how it happened: I left home and got to work on the Wood Grange Estate, and my first wife came and saw me there, I asked her to stop with me and we would have a home together, and she would not, and she has committed adultery; I went home and saw sergeant Matthews, and he told me I could do as I liked; I married the girl I am willing to keep her"—I took him to the station, and he "was charged'—he had this discharge (produced) on him.
Prisoner's Defence. On several occasions I wrote to my wife since I left her and got no answer, and I understood from her friends that she was dead. I afterwards found that she had had another child while I was away; she owned to me that she had done wrong, and was sorry for it, and I said that I would forgive her. She came to see me, and I said "Here I have a home for you, and can keep you." She said, "l can get plenty of men to keep me, all I want is for you to keep my child," and she pulled a paper out of her pocket and asked me to sign a separation., I said I would sign it if the servant would witness it. I then thought I was free to marry again. I have committed bigamy, and am very sorry for it. I did not do it knowingly. It is very hard when a man is at sea and is keeping his wife that she should go with other men, and there is a child to prove it.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
KINGSTON PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. FULTON and ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted.
ARTHUR CORAM . I am a farmer, of North Petherton, Somerset—on Tuesday, 18th March, I drove a pony and cart to Park Lane, North Petherton, tied the pony to a gate, and wont to look at the crops in the field, where I stayed for about half an hour—this was about 12 40—when I came back the pony and cart was gone—two or three days afterwards I had a telegram; I went and saw the pony, cart, and harness at West Ham Police-court, and recognised them as mine.
Cross-examined. Where I left the pony was on the North Petherton side of and about two and a quarter miles from Bridgewater—Petherton is about 200 miles from here—I did not see any of the prisoners as I went into the field or as I was driving to it.
JOHN FOSTER I am a labourer, living at North Petherton, Somerset—on Tuesday, the 18th March, I was on, the road from North Petherton to Thurlookstone, about two miles from Mr. Coram's farm, nearer to London—I saw Brown, Warren, and Kingston, with others: there were about six altogether walking on the road—I cannot say if Collins was one of them—Warren asked me how many miles, it was to London—I was riding in my master's cart—I told them I did not know and I gave Warren and Kingston a ride for two miles—Warren told me he went from London to Plymouth in a boat, but the boat, was not going back, and he was going to tramp back by road—when they got out of the cart they were half a mile from North Petherton—it was between 11 and 12 o'clock.
GEORGE HEAEN . I live at 4A, Church Street, Poplar, and am 16-on Thursday, March 20th, I saw Warren and Brown, and a boy named Needes, in a cart in Eider Street, Poplar, about half-past 1 or 2 o'clock—Warren got out of the cart and spoke to Needles, and they drove, away towards Plaistow—next day I was shown a, pony and cart at the police-court, and recognised it as the one I had seen Brown and Warren with on the previous afternoon.
By the COURT. Kingston was in the cart.
Cross-examined by Warren. I did not see who drove.
Re-examined. Warren was in the cart when it drove away.
WILLIAM NEEDLES . I am a labourer, living at Chalcot Street, Poplar—I was in Eider Street, Poplar, on Thursday, March 20th, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the afternoon—I saw a pony and cart; there, were Brown, Warren, and Kingston in it—I did not see Collins at all I had known Warren before—I said to him "Halloa, you have returned back"—he said he got turned ashore at Plymouth—I, said "Whose pony and cart is it?—he said "We found it down, a lane, tied to a hedge"—he was then sitting in the cart—I cannot say who was driving—Warren got out and walked to the corner of Follett Street and Kingston and Brown drove away—I saw, the pony on the wednesday after the 26th, at Plaistow Police-station—I recognised it as the same which I had seen them with on the 20th.
HUGH HENRY HILL . I live at 13, Eider Street, Poplar—on Saturday, 20th March, I saw Warren, Brown, and Kingston, between 1 and 9 o'clock, with a cart—I know Warren by working opposite, to, him—he asked me if I would buy an old cart for 15s.—I told; him no, I had two in the yard doing nothing now—I am a licensed carrier—he told me he would sell the pony and harness for 4l. 10s.—I refused—the other two were in, the cart, and heard what was going on—I never saw Collins—they drove away towards Barking—I have since identified that pony and cart at the police-court.
Cross-examined by Warren. You did not say the cart would not be dear at 15s. and the pony would not be dear at 4l. 10s., you said you would sell them for that.
2 and 3 o'clock, two boys, whom I could not identify, drove up to my door with a pony and cart—they unharnessed the pony and asked me if I could put the cart in the yard—I said "Yes"—they left the cart there, I believe and the harness—I afterwards gave the cart up to the police.
ROBERT BUTLER (Police Sergeant K 13). I am stationed at Poplar—about half-past 2 on the afternoon of the 20th March I was with another office in the East India Dock Road, and in consequence of something told me I went in the direction of Plaistow, and then to Canning Town—I went into the Shakespeare's Head, a public-house in Roxhoe Street, where I heard a man in the next compartment use the word Plymouth—I went into the next compartment, and in the next one I saw Warren—I was in uniform—he said to a lot of men in that compartment, "What a spree we have had from Devonshire in a pony and cart"—I called him out and found he was a cripple with a crutch, which was the description I had received—I said "What have you done with the pony and cart?"—he said "I don't know anything about the pony and cart"—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with others in stealing it—he then said "I will tell you where the pony is, I will take you to the place where it is; "he pointed in the direction of the field, and said "If you go straight down there you will find it in a field"—I said "You must go with me"—he went with me to Ford's Park Estate, and there pointed out a pony grazing on the marshes some distance from East Ham—three men were standing near it, Warren was going to halloa to them—the men could not see us, we were standing at the corner of the street—I said "Don't halloa unless they see us and run away"—all of a sudden he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, and then they ran away—Wells ran after them but could not catch them—I took Warren to the Plaistow Police-station—the pony appeared in a bad condition, it could scarcely walk—I said to Warren "What has become of the cart?"—he said "I don't know where the cart is, the others took it somewhere"—I searched and found it at Mrs. Taylor's, the name of Coram was painted on it—Mr. Coram identified it—the cart was all covered with mud, the harness was in it—the pony is alive—in consequence of something Warren said to me I went to Barking Police-station—at 4, Emily Cottages I saw the prisoner Collins, and said to him "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with others in stealing a horse and cart"—he said "I don't know nothing about a horse and cart, you must be dreaming, I have been looking for work in this neighbourhood"—I said "If you can tell me any place in the neighbourhood where you have been I will go there, and it will be for your benefit"—he said "I shan't tell you"—I took him to the station, where he voluntarily made this statement without any suggestion from me—I reduced it into writing (Read: "Eight days ago I left the Albert Docks in the British King. I and others stowed ourselves away on board of her. Arriving at Plymouth we were discovered and put ashore. We were bound to New Zealand. Two miles from Bridgewater I saw three chaps that were on board they were in a cart and horse, and I thought a ride would be very acceptable. I wanted to get home as I am a licence holder, and have to report myself at Barking Police-station to-morrow. I did not know how they got possession of the horse and cart till we got some miles on the road. I got out of the cart at Poplar. I asked them what they were going to do with the horse and cart, they said sell it. We had a row about it I looked
about for a policeman to tell him all about it, but I could not find one. I told the others that I was a licence holder, and that I must report myself at the Barking Police-station")—I afterwards went to 4, Fox Street, Canning Town, where I saw Brown—I said "I shall have to take you into custody for being concerned with others in stealing a horse and cart"—he said "The others did it, not me. I expected you would be here before"—his mother spoke to him, he said "I will tell the truth about it. It was Snipe that stole it"—Snipe is Kingston's nickname—I took him to the Plaistow station—they were all charged, Wells apprehended Kingston afterwards.
Cross-examined by Warren. The constable did not say "Come on one side while I call them."
Cross-examined by Collins. I did not say I only wanted you to go to the station to recognise the man with the crutch.
By the JURY. I did not recognise any of the three men in the field to swear to positively—I did not see any of the other prisoners in the public-house, only Warren.
Collins before the Magistrate said: "I have some witnesses. These chaps can prove that I never had a hand in the affair at all."
Witnesses for the defence of Collins.
GEORGE KINGSTON (the prisoner). You were not in my company when the pony and cart were stolen—I can't say the distance from Bridgewater that we picked you up—I don't know if you knew they were stolen.
Cross-examined. Warren was driving, Collins did not ask for a ride, he jumped up at the back of the cart in which were Warren, Brown, and myself—he rode up to London with us, and got out at Poplar—I did not see him after that till I saw him in custody—I was in the field when the policeman came—I did not hear Warren whistle—Collins was not in the field then.
By the JURY. I only knew Collins when he got into the cart by his having been stowed on board the British King, and he went walking with two more chaps when we came ashore, and I saw no more of him till he got in the cart at Bridgewater—I never met any of the persons till I met them on board the ship—Warren was in my company when I untied the pony and cart from the gate—there were twenty-two of us stowaways.
Cross-examined by Brown. You were not in my company when the pony and cart were stolen.
By the COURT. Brown was about half a mile from where it was taken.
ELLEN MURPHY . I am Collins's mother—the policeman came on 20th March and asked if James Collins was indoors—my son stepped forward and said "I am the man"—the sergeant asked him to go with him, and said he only wanted him to recognise a man, and if he was not back to-night he would be to-morrow morning.
Warren in his defence stated he was ahead of Kingston when Kingston untied the horse, and when Kingston drove past he asked for a ride, and afterwards they picked up Brown and Collins. Brown said that he saw the cart come along, and asked for a ride as his feet were soret and he got into the cart.
BROWN and COLLINS— NOT GUILTY .
WARREN— GUILTY of receiving.
WARKEN and KINGSTON.— Five Days' each.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY defended, at the request of the Court.
ELIZA WATERS . I am the prisoner's wife—I now live at 129, Church Street, Deptford—l separated from him in May, 1882; in December, 1883, I was still living apart from him—on Tuesday, 11th December, I was coming from my work and met him in New Cross Road—he asked how I was getting on—I said "Very well" and I asked him about my little child—we have two, children, one I take care of and one he takes takes care of; they are both girls—I asked him how the little girl was getting on—he said "You have no need to ask me; you know as well as I do; you are always going to see her"—he asked me if I would like a glass of anything to drink; I had one, and I went for a walk with him—I said "You don't seem to care anything about me or little Nellie, whether we live or starve"—he said "No, I don't intend to give you another halfpenny piece"—he said that he would take me back again and keep me and the children, and he would give me a day and a night to consider it—he made an appointment to meet me next night—I did meet him, and we went for a walk—on leaving he asked me if I had made up my mind to go back to him—I said Yes, I was willing to go back to him once again—we then separated, and arranged to meet again next night—I then asked him when I could come and live with him—he said "About a week after Christmas"—he promised to take me next Sunday to see the house that he was going to engage for me at Battersea—we agreed to meet the next night, the 14th—I did meet him in New Cross Road—he asked me to go with him down Clifton Hill; we took a short cut under the railway arch to Clyde Street; we came to a lot of mud and water, and to avoid that he stopped to allow me to pass on in, front of him, and he told me to mind the mud—I was nearing the railway arch when I was shot—I heard a little bang; I saw fire and a thick smoke, and I found I was wounded at the back of the head—I screamed, and my, husband was gone—I cannot say how far he was from me when I heard the shot; I thought he was close behind me—a man came to my assistance, and I was taken into a house and I found a hole at the back of my head—I had made up my mind to go back and live with him, and we were to all appearance on friendly terms.
Cross-examined. We had been on friendly terms on each of the evenings when I had met him—I asked him if he was going to give me any money, and he said "No, I won't give you any money, but I will take you back and the children to live with me"—the child I keep is three years old—I used to go and see how she was getting-on—he was not living where the child was living at that time; I was not not allowed to know where he was living, but I knew where the child was, and I knew that he was
keeping it—he is supposed to be a plate layor on the railway—he asked me just before I was shot what time I would meet him next evening—I said "What time you like"—he said "Six o'clock"—I said "All right, I will meet you at 6 o'clock"—when I looked round after I was shot I fancied I saw him running up the railway embankment—when I first looked round I couldn't see him on account of the smoke—it was a very moonlight night; I had only just gone in front, of him when this occurred—I don't think I fell down; I picked up my hat.
WILLIAM TAYLOR . I live at 44, James Street, Deptford—on the night of 14th December I heard a report of firearms in the Street; I went out to see what was the matter, and the prosecutrix came into my arms—I looked up the street, and saw a man running towards the railway embankment from the woman—I don't know who the man was—the woman said something to me; the people in my house came to her assistance—I saw a little hole in the back of her neck, and saw blood coming from it—I sent for the police; a constable came and took her away.
Cross-examined. The railway arch is not in James Street; it is in a lane with market gardens on each side—it is a public thoroughfare—I should think the man was 30 or 40 yards off at the time I saw him.
THOMAS CAST (Policeman). I was fetched to where I saw the prosecutrix bleeding from a wound at the back of her neck—I took her to the station; she was seen by a doctor, and was then taken to the hospital.
EDWARD BOOTH . I am house surgeon at the Seamen's Hospital—on 14th December I received charge of Eliza Waters—I examined her head, and found on the right side behind a small round wound, the edges of which were slightly irregular, and the hair in the immediate neighbourhood was saturated; it appeared like a gunshot or pistol wound—I should imagine that it must have been inflicted by a person pretty close to her, within a few feet—I found no bullet—the wound was about, a quarter of an inch in depth; it did not go down to the bone—it would be possible for the bullet to have glanced off the bone—she was under my care till the 1st of January—the wound turned out to be very slight; she is now quite recovered.
Cross-examined. She was never in any danger—this was a wound that might have been caused without a bullet; a blank cartridge might have produced the same sort of wound—there was not sufficient depth to show the direction of the wound.
JAMES TURNER . I am a signalman in the employ of the South-Western Railway at New Cross—on the night of 14th December, about 9.54, I was walking along the railway towards my signal-box—I heard a report of firearms and screams from the bottom of the embankment—I saw a man come running up the embankment; after going a little distance he went away quickly, and I lost sight of him—I went along for about 50 yards, and heard another report, and saw a flash—I went towards the place, but saw no one, and I went to my signal-box—shortly afterwards, about 10 19 I saw the prisoner come staggering along towards my box with something tied round his head; he waved his arm twice, and called out "Signalman, signalman"—he said "I have shot myself"—his face was smothered in blood—I asked his name—he said "John Waters"—I asked him where he lived, and he said "in Wandsworth New Road, send for assistance I am bleeding to death"—I sent him to the hospital—I
afterwards took a lantern and went down the line to where I had seen the flash, and I found this pistol, which I handed to Loveday the next morning.
FREDERICK EASTES . I was house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—on 14th December, shortly after 11 o'clock, the prisoner was brought there in an unconscious state—he had a wound in the centre of his forehead; I found this bullet in his head; I also found this bottle containing something looking like gunpowder.
THOMAS FRANCIS (Police Sergeant). On 4th March, as the prisoner was leaving St. George's Hospital, I took him in custody—I told him he would have to come with me to Greenwich Police-court—I conveyed him there in a cab—he was told that the charge was unlawfully wounding his wife and attempting to commit suicide—he made no answer.
Cross-examined. He was in the hospital from 14th December till 4th March.
GUILTY on Second Count — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
MARY BENNETT ANDREWS . I keep a school at 33, Tyrwhitt Road, St. John's—on 23rd February, about 12 o'clock, the children were sent home—some one came back and told me that some coats were gone, and I missed three coats from the basement hall—I gave information to the police and saw the prisoner at Brockley Station.
MARY GORDON . I am nurse at 25, Tyrwhitt Road—on 22nd February I put this coat (produced) on my master's son before he went to school at Mrs. Andrews's; he came back without it—I next saw it in the hands of the police.
CATHERINE WHITTALL . I live with my father at 3, Tyrwhitt Road—I know this coat (produced)—on 22nd February I put it on my brother before he went to school at Mrs. Andrews's—he came back without it—I know this handkerchief (produced), it belongs to him, and I think was in his coat pocket.
SARAH RUDDERFORD . I live at 34, Church Street, Deptford, and am a dealer in old clothes—on 22nd February, between 3 and 4 o'clock, the prisoner brought these three coats to me and asked me to buy them—I asked how much be wanted for them—he said 4s. for the three—I said they would be worth about a half-crown to me—he said he would take it as he had been offered a half-crown at four places, and I might as well have them—he took the half-crown—I put the coats inside till they were mended; they wanted mending—the inspector came to me on Saturday morning and I gave them up—I knew the prisoner only by seeing him about—he came again on the Saturday morning and asked
me if I had parted with the coats—I said "No"—he said if I had not he would have them back again, as he had heard that the party he had bought them of had stolen them—I said I could not give them up and he went away.
JAMES HYDER (Detective P). On 24th February I arrested the prisoner—I told him I was a police-officer and should take him in custody for stealing three coats—he said "Who said so?"—I said "I say so"—he said "I know nothing about any coats"—I took him to Brockley Station, where he was confronted with Mrs. Andrews, who identified him—I found this handkerchief on him—on the charge being read over to him he said "I didn't steal them, I bought them"
Prisoner's Defence. A man with a basket came up and asked me to buy them, and I gave him 3s. for them.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at Maidstone in 1882. Two other convictions were proved against him.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
GEORGE JOHN SAYER . I am the London agent of Baxter and Co., brewers, at Sandwich—on 14th March the prisoner called on me—he said he had got a house at Greenwich, and wanted some one to serve him—I said "Where is your house, what is your name?"—he said his name was George Martin—I said "How do you hold the house, have you an agreement?"—he said "The lease is being prepared by my solicitor"—I asked on what terms the house was—he said "Sixty years, and rent 40l."—I said "Is it encumbered at all?"—he said "No, not at present, but I shall want a loan eventually, for I want to get up a trade before I make application for the loan"—I said "What about your licence, is it in your own name?"—he said "Yes"—"In your own possession?"—"Yes"—"What terms do you want me to serve you on?"—he said "On the usual terms, I don't want much credit; I have laid a lot of money out on the premises"—I said "I cannot allow you to run a large book debt, but I have no objection to serving you one lot under the other"—I said I would send him down some of each sort for him to go on with—next day I sent him two barrels of mild ale, one kilderkin of porter, one kilderkin of Burton ale, and one kilderkin of bitter, the value of which was about 7l. 1s.—I supplied the goods on the faith of the statement he made to me—I subsequently had another order on 20th March for two barrels of mild and one kilderkin of porter, which I sent—before I sent it I went to the Hit or Miss, which was the sign of the house, and and saw the prisoner there—I said "How is it you have not got your licensed board up?"—he said "I have been having the house fresh done up, and the board is taken down to be fresh painted; it will no doubt be up to-morrow"—I said "What about the money?"—he said "I have been laying out a lot of money here and it doesn't suit me to-day, but I will let you have it on Wednesday"—I went on the Wednesday, and found the house closed—I saw his wife—I didn't go again—I went to the police-station, and subsequently issued a summons—I then received this letter, dated 31st. (This requested the witness to send for the beer which remained in the cellar, as the man who had paid a small deposit wished to do him out of his under lease, and he had therefore shut up the house.)
Cross-examined. I got that letter on Tuesday morning—I took out a summons and went before the Magistrate at Greenwich, and he advised me to go to a solicitor, which I did—I made inquiries after receiving this letter, and found that the prisoner had no licence—he came to me and I told him I could not interfere in the matter now, he must go to my solicitor.
GEORGE COOPER . I keep the Sugar Loaf public-house at Greenwich—I am now owner of the Hit or Miss; I bought the house from Mr. Bigsworth, the brewer—the prisoner introduced me to him in November, 1883, and I paid him 5l. for the introduction—this is the receipt he gave me, dated the 8th of December, 1883—there was a tenant in the house at the time—I paid him out, and put the prisoner in to take care of the premises until the matter was settled with the brewer—he was not a tenant of the house; I put him in to carry on business as a caretaker—he did not hold any licence in his own name—this (produced) is the licence, that is my licence—it was arranged with the outgoing tenant that the constable should hold the licence; he had the custody of it, I mean—I had no intention of putting the prisoner in as my nominee, to give him the licence, or an under-lease—this is the assignment to me from Mr. Bigsworth.
Cross-examined. I had not known the prisoner before; he acted as agent for Mr. Bigsworth—I did not then know that he had formerly been a tenant of the Hit or Miss—I know it now; the licence was in the name of Wood; the prisoner was selling under his licence—there was a little irregularity which has nothing to do with this case—the name was left blank; that was my wish, in order to appoint my man to take up the licence—I had not selected the man—I put the prisoner in as caretaker three weeks before Christmas—the house was closed a short time for repairs—I sent the prisoner in some beer until we were ready to complete—he never accounted to me for any money—he failed to pay me for the beer and I did not send him any more; he owes it now—this assignment was signed on 17th March, I believe; I could not swear it was not signed on the 25th—the prisoner had no right to carry on the business for himself after the 4th February, until the thing was completed with the brewer—it would have been completed before that, only he would not give up possession; he said he could not go out at a few hours' notice, and we gave him a week; he agreed to it, but he would not go out.
Re-examined. I had no intention of putting the defendant in as my manager—the licence was never handed to him—the beer I sold him I sold as an independent person altogether; he was not selling it as my agent.
By the COURT. When I made the arrangement with him to go in as my caretaker he was out of employment, and I told him, if it was any benefit to him and his wife and children, he could go in for a few weeks until I could have the business completed with the brewer, and I would supply him with beer, and he could sell it and live on the profits—he never asked me to be allowed to be the manager, and I never suggested it—I was looking out for a manager, and I have one now; I had one on the 20th March—the prisoner is not out of the house now, he has no business there; he said he would give me all the trouble he could.
JOHN DUDLEY WOLVERSTON . I am clerk to Mr. Lockyer, solicitor for this prosecution—in consequence of a notice, I produce the lease of the Hit or Miss by Messrs. Tustin and Rooke to the defendant; it is dated 28th September, 1873, for 30 years—also a mortgage to them by the defendant dated 29th September, 1873—also an assignment of the equity of redemption in the lease by the prisoner to Miss Ann Lock—also a letter, dated 17th November, 1883, to Mr. Lockyer.
Cross-examined. I have never seen the prisoner write—he brought this letter to me and said "There is a letter to go on with the business." Charles Oliver Pook. I am not now solicitor for the defendant; I Was on the 14th March last and before that—he has not at anytime handed to me an agreement for the Hit of Miss, nor was I preparing a lease for him of it.
Cross-examined. He gave me instructions to try and get a lease of the house for 60l. a year, and I had been trying to get it for him—he said that Mr. Cooper was not able to complete, that he could not get anybody to take the lease up, that he had only paid a small deposit of 5l., and he could get it for himself; that was before the 14th March—he had been constantly coming to me to see about the lease from the beginning of February right up to the time he was summoned—I was acting for him as solicitor at the police-court, and was put into the witness-box—I claimed my privilege, but I do not think it now worth while to do so—in consequence of being called as a witness I have had to ask another solicitor to do my work for me—the defendant told me that he had a lease of this house in 1873—I believe he kept the house for about five or six years—he said he was got out wrongfully, that they threatened to eject him forcibly, and I advised him to give anybody in custody who attempted to do so.
Cross-examined. I have known him for the last seven or eight years as being in that house.
The RECORDER considered that the object of the prosecution seemed to be to get the prisoner out of the house, and the Jury being of that opinion, found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
536. GEORGE PRITCHARD (32) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Hardstone and stealing a locket, ring, and pair of earrings, the property of George Bunting, and other goods the property of William Hardstone.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
ELLEN LOUISA SKITTRELL . I live with my parents, who keep a tobacco shop, 5, Elder Road, Lower Norwood—on 24th March, about 3 p.m., I served the prisoner with half an ounce of bird's-eye—he gave me a half-crown; I gave him the change and put it in the till; there was no other
half-crown there—he left, and came back in about 10 minutes and asked for sixpennyworth of halfpence, which I put down—he then said he wanted two shillings, which I gave him, and he gave me a half-crown—I took it into the parlour and put it in a glass where there were only shillings and sixpences—about 6 o'clock I took the half-crown from the till and put that in the glass also—I had been serving in the meantime, but there was no other half-crown in the till—I afterwards paid the two half-crowns to Mr. Faulkner, who found they were bad, and gave them back to me—I saw them marked there, and gave them to the police.
ROBERT RIDGERS . I am assistant to Messrs. Faulkner, tobacconists, 224, Blackfriars Road—on 21st March the last witness came and gave me two half-crowns—I found them bad, cut them, and returned them to her.
THOMAS SWEETING DAY . I am a chemist, of 28, Norwood Road, Horne Hill—on 22nd March, about 1 o'clock, the prisoner came in and asked for 3s. worth of postage-stamps, and put down sixpence and a half-crown under them, which I found was bad—I turned round to lock the door, but he rushed out, leaving the money and the stamps; I ran after him; he took off his coat and ran as hard as he could—he was stopped 300 yards away—he then threw himself on the pavement—he asked me to look across the road, where I should see a gentleman who sent him for the stamps—I looked, but saw no one—I took him to the station, and gave the half-crown to the police.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not ask me to look at a gentleman in a cab.
FREDERICK MOTT (Policeman P 189). Mr. Day gave the prisoner into my custody—I found on him a florin, three shillings, two sixpences, and three pence—the first witness gave me these two half-crowns—the prisoner said that a gentleman gave him the half-crown and six pennies to purchase 3s. worth of stamps—he said, "The coat don't belong to me, it belongs to the gentleman who tent me for the stamps"—I tried it on him, it fitted him exactly, and he is wearing it now.
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing about that little girl. A gentleman sent me for the stamps, and said he would give me 2d. for my trouble.
GUILTY of the second uttering. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
GEORGE BETHEL . I am a hosier, of 2, Hinton Terrace, Brixton—on 29th March, about 3.45, Winstrop came in—that is the man (In custody, see next case)—he asked for a collar similar to what he had on—the price was 6d.—he gave me a half-crown, and as I was giving him a florin change the prisoner came in and asked for a pennyworth of needles—I did not keep them—he asked for a pennyworth of thread—I told him I did not keep it—he went out a little in front of Winstrop—they did not speak—they left within 30 seconds of each other—in the meantime I had kept the half-crown in my hand—I tried it with my teeth and found it was bad—I went out and saw Winstrop about 150 yards away, and Barrett about 50 yards away, on opposite sides, but going in the same direction away from the shop—I was going towards Winstrop, and Barrett saw me and ran across to him, and after having a few words they ran
away—I ran after them three-quarters of a mile calling "Stop thief"—they stopped, and Barrett struck at me with his fist, but I guarded it off—they were within 6 or 8 feet of each other—some man held Barrett, and Winstrop knocked me over—I got up and tackled him, and they were both taken to the station—I gave the half-crown to the constable.
ALFRED WICKHAM (Policeman W 86). I saw Winstrop lying on the ground and Mr. Bethel holding him—Barrett was being detained by some man—he attempted to strike Mr. Bethel, and I laid hold of him—they were both taken to the station—I found on Winstrop a florin, four shillings, a sixpence, and 5 1/2 d.—he gave his address at a gentleman's villa at Addiscomb, about seven miles off on the other side of Croydon—Barrett gave his address, 2, Pitt Street, Wyndham Road, Camberwell—there is Pitman Street there but no Pitt Street—I saw him searched and 2s. 3d. in silver and 3/4 d. found on him.
Prisoner's Defence. I cannot speak for myself, but I am not guilty.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in July, 1882, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. (See next case.)
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I identify you as my customer by your features and by the collar which you have on—you asked me for one like it—you had a lighter tie—I lost sight of the man while I was putting on my hat, but not after that—I cannot account for the absence of the collar—you stopped of your own accord.
By MR. POLAND. I looked at the prisoner's collar and saw his face—I rolled up the collar I sold him in a little parcel—it could be easily thrown away—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man—he gave no account of why he was running away.
Cross-examined. I did not see any blood on Mr. Bethel's hand—I went to Napier Villas.
Prisoner's Defence. What is the evidence against we apart from that of Mr. Bethel? There is none, and therefore I do not consider it necessary to justify myself against Mr. Bethel's speculative arguments. Does not the absence of the collar and of all marks on my person prove that I am not the person? Barrett had nothing to do with me; he was running and I followed in the chase. I gave a false address to spare my mother anxiety.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in February, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour, the last fortnight solitary.
(Sentence on BARRETT— Two Years' Hard Labour. )
Before Mr. Recorder.
541. ELI DUMBRELL (28) and CHARLES FAIRMAN (22) , Robbery on James Bishop, and stealing from his person a watch and chain, his property, and beating and striking and using other personal violence to him.
MR. WILSON Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY appeared for Dumbrell, and MR. LILLEY for Fairman.
JAMES BISHOP . I am a police sergeant in the Surrey constabulary, and the prosecutor in this case—on the night of 21st February I was on duty on the high road at Chelsham at 10.30—I met the two prisoners and a third man on the highway—they had two dogs with them, and one of the dogs had white about his neck—the men were coming in a direction from Ledger's Lodge; and as they were passing me Dumbrell said to me "Can you tell us where this road leads to?"—I said "Yes, it leads to Farley, Gilston, and Croydon; if you don't want to go there, turn to the left when you get to the bottom of the town"—I turned my light full on their faces thinking it was a curious question to ask me, and I have no doubt that I saw these two prisoners—the third man was close behind them and he came up and struck me on the back of my head and knocked me down—the two prisoners then commenced kicking me about my head and body, one hitting me with a stick, and I became insensible—when I came to myself they were gone—I searched my pockets, and found that my watch and chain were gone—I had laid there over half an hour—I had seen my watch safe about five minutes before I was attacked, I pulled it out and looked at it at 25 minutes past 10—when I turned my light on I saw that Dumbrell had quite a black moustache and I noticed that Fairman was cross-eyed—I got up and went to a cottage, and a woman washed me and bathed my wounds, and I had to stop there till about 5 a.m.—I gave a description of the men, inconsequence of which the two prisoners were apprehended.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I saw the two prisoners eight days after the occurrence, at my house—I was in bed, and they were were brought to my house—no one else was brought—I did not pick them out from others—I was unable to get out of bed, and these two prisoners simply were brought to my bed—before I turned my lamp on I saw Fairman's face, because he brushed close to me—there were no lights in the road, and I could not see their faces to swear to them without my lamp—I stood there about two minutes looking at them with my bull's-eye, staring them in the face—as soon as they asked me the question I turned my bull's-eye on them directly—that was after they asked me the question—I told them the way, and immediately afterwards I was struck by a man on my eye—I mean to say that they stood there looking me in the face for two minutes; they seemed to be waiting for the other man to come up—I say that they walked by asking me the way to go—I also say that the man who I identify as Dumbrell had quite a black moustache and it was heavy—I am quite certain about the time, it was 10.30 within one minute—I am as certain about one prisoner as I am about the other
if I am mistaken about one, I am just as likely to be mistaken about the other.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I had seen the prisoners before that night—the spot where I was attacked was, as far as I can say, about five miles from the Brighton Road at Groydon—I mentioned at God-stone about Fairman being cross-eyed—I have not seen my depositions—I do not think they were read over to me before I signed them—I know that they are read over as a matter of certain practice chiefly, but I have no recollection of it—I was suffering from illness at the time I was examined—I had only been out of bed two days—the name of the woman to whose cottage I went is Richardson—I told her how I had been treated—I did not in the course of my statement to her say that I did not know the men—I have not seen her here to-day—I remained at the cottage till about 5 o'clock in the morning—the men had dogs with them; a great many people have dogs in the country—I told the Magistrate about Fairman's eyes—my watch was a silver hunter, and it had a steel chain; it cost me over 3l., but I have had it over twenty years—I have not identified it; I have not seen it since—I know that it is usual to advertise in the Police Gazette, but I have been laid up and unable to do anything—I gave information to the superintendent.
Re-examined. I gave information to one of the other constables, and he went and looked for my watch—I am quite sure I mentioned the fact of Fairman being cross-eyed before the Magistrate at Godstone.
FREDERICK JOHN GOSHAM . I keep the Bull Inn at Chelsham—I remember the night of the 21st February—the two prisoners and a third man came in about 8 o'clock that night—they had two dogs with them; one was a black and white terrier, and the other was a lurcher, with a white ring round his neck—the prisoners and the other man stopped till about 9.40—I remember the witness Gomm coming into the house; it was then about 9.30, as near as I can remember—when he came in the prisoners and the third man were in front of the bar and no one else—nobody else entered the compartment that night where those three men were—Dumbrell had a dark moustache.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. It was not particularly heavy; it was a moustache that had been growing about a month I should think—I should call it light and not heavy—it was much longer than it is now—I do not say that those three men and Gomm were the only customers I had in my house that evening—sometimes we have a hundred customers and sometimes not two—the other customers were farm men—I do not know their names—there is a private passage, and they come in that way—I do not see those who come in at the door—my wife was also serving—she is not here—I cannot tell you the name of any other person who was in my house that evening—I am quite sure the men left at 9.40; it was not earlier—that was my time—I looked at my match, and am sure it was not earlier.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I have a clock in the bar, but I always look at my watch because the clock gains—I had never seen either of the three men before that evening—the witness Gomm was on the other side—a great many men in the country have dogs—I had a visit from the police the next day—the prisoners asked me the time—I swear that the constables did not tell me the time next day.
By MR. AVORY. The compartment in which the three me.n were is in front of the bar—I have three entrances—there is a private bar, and a public bar, and a bottle and jug entrance—these men were in the public bar.
Re-examined. There was no one in the public-house but them.
By the COURT. They had some refreshment, two or three pots of beer, and they remained there from 8 o'clock till twenty minutes to 10.
By the JURY. By a light moustache I mean lightness in weight, not in colour.
By MR. AVORY. I remember speaking to the men while they were in the bar—I do not remember saying to one of them "If you had been here a little earlier you would have seen a man with a dog just like yours"—I did see a man there that evening with a small dog, a kind of lurcher. Q. Then it was like in being a lurcher? A. Well, it was not a lurcher, but a kind of lurcher—I made no remark to the prisoners about the dog, nor did I hear anybody do so.
Re-examined. When the prisoners left my house I told them it was twenty minutes to 10, and if they had got to go to Croydon they had better get on, and I hoped they would not get into trouble—they said "All right, master, we are not going to do anything five miles from this place"—I was asked before the Magistrate whether I said anything to them when they left and I said the same.
By MR. AVORY. I did not say at Godstone that they said they were not going to do anything within five miles of there, but they did say it—I nave no doubt it took place.
GEORGE GOMM . I am a labourer, and live at Chelsham—I remember the 21st of February—I went to the Bull Inn that night, about twenty minutes to 10, with, my wife—we saw three strange men, which caused me to go in at the door on the other side of the bar—I heard the landlord say that it was time they were getting on the road—they asked him first what time it was, and he said "Twenty minutes to 10, and it is time you were getting on the road"—they said "Draw us one more pot pf beer and then we will go"—they were ten minutes drinking the pot of beer, and they left at ten minutes to 10—they said that if any man interfered with them that night down he would fall—one was sitting by the match board when I was going out—I wished the landlord good night and went out to see what colour their dog was—I was going out at one door as they were out at the other, and my mistress catched hold of me and said "Don't be a fool"—I saw the men go towards Ledger's Lodge, but how far they went I do not know—the attack was about 100 yards from there, but I was in bed, I expect, when it took place.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I knew Dumbrell when I saw him—he is a keeper, but he was dressed up—I know that he is the same man as was before the Magistrate, and they told me they saw me at the Bull that night, but I did not know them.
By the COURT. They told me so at Godstone when I said that one of them had got a blue tie on—one of them looked under a glass and I said "You are the young man who looked under the glass"—he said "Yes, and I see you there."
By MR. AVORY. I saw nobody else there, only the landlord and his wife and them and my wife—I go there whenever I wish—I do not know whether it is a favourite house in the neighbourhood, or whether a good
many people go there in the evening—there were not many people there that night—I don't often see other people there, because I do not often go—the three men were strangers to me when I first saw them.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I was in the Bull 20 minutes—they turned me out at 10 o'clock—I could not stop there any longer, or else I might—my wife did not take me out, but she helped me because she was afraid I should be knocked down.
By the COURT. When I asked for half-a-quartern of rum they said, "Halloa, is that a keeper?"
GEORGE STEPHENS (Surrey Constabulary 192). I am stationed at Cheltham—on 21 at February I was on duty near Ledger's Lodge, Chelsham, and just before I reached the lodge I met three men with two dogs—it was about 10.25 or 10.30 p.m.—one of the dogs appeared to be dark, and the other had white on the side of his neck as I passed on the left—the three men were walking in file one after the other, and as I passed I said "Good night," and the front one replied, and as he did so he turned his face towards me, and to the best of my belief it was Dumbrell—when they met me they were going in the direction of Croydon and in the direction of the place where Sergeant Bishop was assaulted—they were about a quarter of a mile from the Bull, or a little more—I heard of this attack the next morning, and went down to the cottage where the sergeant was staying, and stayed there with him till I took him home with assistance—he said that he had lost his watch—I went and searched for it, but could not find it, but I found his hat—there was lots of blood about.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I do not swear that Dumbrell is the man, and I don't pretend to identify anybody else—I did not turn my light on—they did not appear to be carrying anything bulky—I spoke to them, and that was all.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I knew the time by looking at my watch just previously, because I had an appointment at a quarter to 11—there were no lights on the road.
Re-examined. I mean by having an appointment that I had somebody to meet there.
WILLIAM MOSS (Policeman W 34). On the morning of 22nd February I received information of this attack on the 21st—the prosecutor gave me a description of three men, in consequence of which I went in search of some one, and apprehended the prisoner Fairman at 9.20 p.m. on 22nd February—I took two constables with me, and went to the Purley Arms, where I saw Fairman, and told him I wanted him—he said, "What for, Moss?"—I said, "Come along, and I will tell you, "and when he came outside I said, "There has been a highway robbery with violence at Warlingham, and I shall take you on suspicion of being concerned with two other men"—he said, "I don't know where Warlingham is; I was at the Bull at Chelsham at 20 minutes to 10"—I said, "Well, it was at Chelsham where it occurred"—they are adjoining villages—I then took him in custody, and went in search of Dumbrell about an hour and a half afterwards—we went to his house and knocked at the door for about a quarter of an hour—his wife answered, and said that he was asleep—after knocking for about a quarter of an hour off and on, we burst the door open and found Dumbrell on the top of the landing by the bedroom door dressing—it was then about 12 o'clock at night as near as possible—he said, "I don't know what you want with me"—I said, "You will
be charged with Fairman with a highway robbery at Chelsham with violence"—he was not wearing a moustache.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I do not mean that he was as he is now; he was close shaved—I don't call him wearing a moustache now—he was close shaved with the exception of his whiskers—his lips were close shaved—his house is in Napier Road, Croydon.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. When I took Fainnan he said that he did not know where Warlingham was, and that he was at the Bull at Chelsham, not at 9.20, but at 9.40—I signed my deposition before the Bench; this is it (Referring to it)—I say here" He said 'I do not know where Warlingham is; I can prove I was at the Bull at Chelsham till 9.20'"—he did say so, and he said that he left at 9.40.
HENRY REDFORD . I am superintendent of police for the Godstone division—I saw the two prisoners at Croydon in custody on Saturday, February 23, and conveyed them to Godstone—on arriving I read the charge, which was "Unlawfully and feloniously assaulting Police Sergeant James Bishop in the execution of his duty, thereby causing him grievous bodily harm; also stealing from his person a silver watch and a steel chain, value 2l., on the highway at Chelsham, on the 21st of February, 1884"—they both said "I know nothing about it"—on Friday, the 29th, I spoke to Dumbrell at the cell door, and said "I see, Dumbrell, by the description you were wearing a moustache that night"—he replied "Yes, I had it cut off"—when I received him in custody he was wearing no moustache, his upper lip was clean Shaved.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. It was on 29th February that I had that conversation; eight days afterwards—it was at the cell door—the door was shut and I spoke through the trap-door; my object in doing so was because the description did not answer—I thought it seemed strange that he should be wearing a moustache that night and the next day it should be off—it was no business of mine; I had no object—I mean to say that I did not do it for the purpose of getting something out of him—as to my discussing his identification with him I simply said "You had a moustache that night"—I knew that by the description which I had in my pocket—the description I had did not agree with the man at that time—the description I had agreed with the man who was in the cell except the moustache—I did not think I could reconcile the two by a little judicious conversation with him; as I said before, I had no particular object. Q. Then it was for the mere pleasure of having a little conversation with him? A. I cannot give any other reason. I wanted it cleared up; and I wanted him to clear it up—it is not my practice in the country, when I want a thing cleared up, to go to a prisoner and get him to clear it up—I had cautioned the prisoner eight days before—what I said to him was "I see by your description, Dumbrell, that night you were wearing a moustache"—he said "Yes, I had it cut off," and I think he said to the other prisoner "I suppose I can't go to a barber without a permission"—when I made the observation to him about his moustache he did not say "My moustache would only be about a month's growth," but he did a day or two afterwards—that was not at the cell—I cannot recollect when it was—I cannot recollect whether it was at the cell, but if I speak rightly I think it was on the road to Caterham—I cannot swear that he did not make that observation at the cell, but I do not think so—I will not swear now that he did not make it at the cell on the
occasion when I first spoke to him—I do not mean to swear before the Jury that when I asked him to reconcile those two things he did not say "Why my moustaches have only been about a month's growth"—I say that his answer was" Yes, I had a small moustache, but I cut it off"—I do not recollect anything about the month's growth—it was the prisoner Dumbrell himself who cross-examined me on that subject before the Magistrate, and I said in answer "I think you said 'My moustache would only be about a month's growth"—I did not say a word about that observation being made to me till several days afterwards; I was not asked.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. The spot where the alleged assault on Bishop was was pointed out to me—I know the locality—that spot is nearly 300 yards from the Bull—I stepped it out—if Stephens spoke to it being 600 yards, that would be the spot where he met them.
MR. EADIE. I am a surgeon, of Caterham Valley—on 22nd of February I was called to see Sergeant Bishop between 6 and 7 o'clock in the morning—I found him in a very weak state from loss of blood—his right eye was black and closed, and his left eye nearly closed, and twenty-four hours after both eyes were completely closed—his cheeks were very much bruised, and one cheek was cut—that might be done by the blow of a boot—in forty-eight hours there were several bruises on his body—he was ill for a week, but he has mended very much in the last two or three weeks—his life has been in danger.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Dumbrell says: "The man has sworn very falsely to me. The time stated that we left the Bull is not correct." Fairman saps: "I have-three witnesses to prove I was at home between 10.30 and 10.45 on the night this man was assaulted."
MR. LILLEY called the following witnesses for Fairman:—
EMMA EDES . I live at Napier Road, Brighton Road, Croydon—I remember the night of the 21st February; I was in Fairman's house that evening—he is my brother—Thomas Collins was also there and Mary Fairman, his sister—I was not there when my brother came home, but about 10.30 I went to his mother's, and he was then in, but when I went back after unlocking my door my brother was not in the room—I only went across to my house, 60 or 70 yards—when I found him in the house it was 10.45; because there is a little beershop next door which usually shuts up at 10.50, and it was not shut up—there was a clock in the front room, but it was stopped—my father was lying dead at the time—I noticed the clock on the mantelpiece, and I noticed that the beershop was not shut—when I saw my brother he seemed in about the same state as he always did—I never saw anything different in him—after I saw him he went to bed—my father was lying dead in the front room; he died the night before—I am quite sure as to the time.
Cross-examined by MR. WILSON. I did not speak to my brother at all that night; not particularly—I did not take particular notice—I don't know what people were in the front room where the corpse was—Thomas Collins and Mary Fairman were in the back room—I went in before 10 o'clock, and found Thomas Collins and Mary Fairman there—I sat with
them till 10.30 in the back room—I was in there half an hour, or it might be more—we were talking about nothing particular. Q. You must recollect something which was the subject of conversation? A. Well, we were talking about father being hurt on the tram, because that was what he died from—I had nothing to eat there that night—Fairman was in when I came back at 10.45—I don't know how far it is from there to the Bull—I can't recollect any conversation except about my father that night—I do not know Chelsham.
THOMAS COLLINS . I am a labouring man, living in the Brighton Road, Croydon—I was in Napier Road that evening—I went to Fairman's about 8.30, and remained till 6.30 in the morning—it is the fact that Fairman, senior, had been killed by an accident on the tramway, and he was lying dead—persons were going in and out of the room where the corpse was lying—Charles Fairman, the prisoner, returned home that evening about 10.40, and Mrs. Edie and her sister Mary were in the room at the time he arrived—I did not have any particular conversation with him—I know Chelsham; it is about five miles from 11, Napier Road as near as I can say—after Fairman came in we had no conversation—I only said "How do you do, Fairman," when he came in—I was in attendance at the Bench at Godstone, and saw Emma Edes, the sister, there, and also Mrs. Fairman.
Cross-examined. I did not give evidence because I was not called, but I was there ready to give evidence—I did not get up before the Magistrate and say "I can prove an alibi," because I was not asked—I got to the house at half-past 8 o'clock—I had been seeking work before that—I am quite sure I stayed there till half-past 6 o'clock in the morning—I fix the time that Fairman came in at 20 minutes to 11 o'clock because there was a clock on the mantelpiece—I looked at the clock—I am not in the habit of always looking at the clock when anybody comes into the house—I did so that night because I was looking to see whether it was turnout time at the publics—I know that it was 8.30 when I went in—the prisoner came in the night before, but I don't know the time, I was not there—I was there the night afterwards—he did not come in at all then.
Re-examined. I had no solicitor or lawyer before the Godstone Bench—I was not in the habit of going from time to time to Fairman's house, not before the corpse was there—I went there in consequence of the old man being dead—I had known them some time, and I had known the deceased—I work for them.
By the JURY. Q. Why were you sitting up all night, and if so, why did Fairman go to bed at 11 o'clock? A. I did sit up all night, but Fairman did not, he went to bed, and I left him in bed at 6.30 in the morning.
MARY FAIRMAN . I am a sister of the prisoner Fairman—I was at 11, Napier Road, on the evening of 21st February—that was in consequence of rny father being dead—I was there when the prisoner Charles came home, in the back room—a number of people were going in and out of the front room, where the corpse was lying—he returned home about 10.30 or a quarter to 11 o'clock—he said nothing when he came in—we were talking about father being dead—the prisoner Charles was in the back room some few minutes, and then went upstairs—I was at Godstone when the case was heard before the Bench, for the purpose of being examined, but they did not call any witnesses—nothing was said to me
by the police or any one there—I had no lawyer—I was in the room, not outside.
Cross-examined. My brother went to bed about 10 minutes after he came in—he pulled his boots off directly he came indoors—I had been into the house two or three times that evening after I left work—I went to mother's two or three times, but the last time it was half-past 10 o'clock—I saw Collins there, and Emma Edes—we did not talk about anything particular—I was in their company all night, and I stopped till half-past 6 o'clock in the morning—father's death was the only topic of conversation—we sat up all night because it is the practice when there is a corpse—but the prisoner Fairman did not sit up all night because he was tired, having been up two or three nights when father was ill—Thomas Collins sat up—he came about 9 o'clock, and me and him went away together in the morning about 6.30—I know that because I asked a man the time who was at work in the room—I did not notice what time the prisoner Fairman went to bed—I do not remember that—when I saw him at the police-station at Godstone he said "You know I was at home at 11 o'clock the night poor father died"—that was the night before—he did not stay "He did not die on Thursday night, he died on Wednesday, night", nor did I answer "You know you were out on Thursday night."
Re-examined. He was at home on the night his father died, and he was out the following night, Thursday, as I have described.
EMMA EDES (Re-examined by MR. LILLEY). When I was in the room in which the Bench sat at Godstone, and my brother's case was going on, he asked to be committed, that is all I heard—he asked if his witnesses could be called, and they did not allow it—he asked the Bench on the Monday to hear his witnesses—I do not know what the answer was, but he asked to be committed—we had no lawyer—we sent for Mr. Bennett, but it was too late.
GUILTY . The police stated that both prisoners had been several times convicted of offences under the Game Laws.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
The RECORDER commended the conduct of the officer Moss.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. KEITH Defended.
FREDERICK WILLIAM HEWSON . I am a waiter at 95, Walworth Road, a coffee house, kept by William Swain—about 8 o'clock on the night of the 30th March the prisoner came and ordered some tea, which came to 2 1/2 d., and tendered this shilling (produced) in payment—I examined it and came to the conclusion it was bad—I gave him 9 1/2 d. change—I notched the edge of the shilling with a penknife and put it in my trousers pocket, where there was nothing else—I made a communication to my master, and subsequently gave it to the constable, who chipped it in my presence—about an hour after the prisoner had first come in I saw him talking to a man outside the shop, and then they both came in and sat down at two different tables, and the other man in the prisoner's presence ordered a cup of tea and gave me a half-crown; I gave him the change, went to the other end of the shop, looked at the half-crown and found it was bad—I put it on the counter, he snatched it off, put back the change, and gave me the 2 1/2 d.—I afterwards gave it to the police.
Cross-examined. I have seen the prisoner once or twice, before—I do not know he lives close by there—he was admitted to bail—I do not know the other man's name is Davis—I have not seen him there with boys.
By the COURT. I tried the half-crown in the tester, it bent easily, was very light, and would not ring at all.
GEORGE DEAN (Policeman D 24). On the morning of the 31st of March, from what the last witness told me I stopped the prisoner with another lad in Soyer Street, Walworth, about 300 yards from the coffee-shop—I asked him if his name was Hyams—he said "No, it is Benjamin"—I said "I shall take you to your father's" (his father lives in Deacon Street, close handy)—he said "My name is Barny Hyams, I know what you want me for, the bad shilling at that coffee-shop last night"—he then walked up the street with me towards the station—as we passed his father's shop he told the shopman "I am going up to the station"—farther on the road he said Harry Davis gave him the shilling, and it was through him that young Turvey had got into trouble passing bad coin—he told me at the station I could get Davis by going to the House of Detention at 12 o'clock that day, he was going to take Turvey's dinner—I searched the prisoner before he was charged, I found a 6d. in silver and 3d. in bronze, and a small knife, on him—he was detained—I went to the House of Detention at the time mentioned, I could not find Davis—Turvey's dinner was brought by a female—the prisoner's father is a second-hand broker—the lad with the prisoner was Vincent, a friend of his.
Cross-examined. I do not know Davis—I have made inquiries, and have not heard that he is a card-sharper, playing cards with boys and sending them on errands.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and GOODRICH Prosecuted.
SUSAN MITCHELL . I am 10 years old, and live with my aunt at 40, Barlow Street; Old Kent Road—on Saturday night, 23rd February, the prisoner came up to me in the street outside my aunt's window—I had just come out of the Little Salvation Army—he said "Little girl, will you get me a cottage loaf, and I will give you a halfpenny?"—he gave me a bad half-crown—I went across to Mrs. Hoskin's opposite my aunt's and gave it to her—she looked at it, and told me to go and find a constable—I brought one there—on Friday, 28th March, about a month afterwards, I was taken to the Wandsworth Police-court, where I saw a number of men together, from whom I picked out the prisoner as the man who gave me the half-crown—I had never seen him before; I am quite sure he is the man—when I went out of Mrs. Hoskin's shop I did not see the prisoner anywhere.
MARY HOSKIN . I am the wife of John Hoskin, a baker, at 27, Barlow Street, Old Kent Road—on 23rd February a little girl came in, asked for some bread, and gave me half a crown—I looked at it, and found it was bad—I asked her who had given it to her, and sent her for a constable—
she brought back a constable, to whom I gave the half-crown—I did not see the prisoner.
WILLIAM COLEMAN (Policeman B 371). I was fetched to Mrs. Hoskin's shop on 23rd February—she gave me a half-crown, which I saw was a bad one, and which I took to the police-station and gave to the inspector—I looked about for the man, and could not see him—I was in uniform—the prisoner might see everything going on in the shop without people in the shop seeing him—the shop was lit up; it was night time.
MARIA HARVEY . I am the daughter of Joseph Harvey, who keeps a general shop at 171, Battersea Park Road—on 20th March I was in the shop in the evening when the prisoner came in and asked for twopennyworth of bread—I gave it to him—he gave me half a crown—my mother came up, took the half-crown, showed it to my father, who came, and afterwards gave the prisoner into custody.
SOPHIA HARVEY . I am the last witness's mother, and live with my husband at 171, Battersea Park Road—between 8 and 9 o'clock on the evening of 20th March I was in the parlour; my little girl was in the shop—I saw a man standing there, and went in; I asked her what she was changing, she handed me the half-crown—I examined it, and took it to my husband—I told the prisoner it was bad—he said "Let me look at it?"—I said it did not want any looking at; it was bad—he said he had just taken 3s. from a gentleman outside.
JOSEPH HARVEY . My wife gave me the half-crown—I went into the shop and saw the prisoner, and said to him "Are you aware this is a bad hail-crown?"—he said "I am not, let me look at it"—I said "No, I shan't let you look at it, if you took it outside I will go outside with you"—I went about 400 yards with him—I saw nobody waiting for him—I said "I have come 400 yards, how far are you going to take me?"—he said "It is a mile yet"—I said "A mile? you are making a fool of me," and I called a policeman and gave him in charge—I gave the half-crown to Constable Iles.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not offer to run away, I was walking alongside of you the whole time.
WILLIAM ILES (Policeman W 446). Mr. Harvey called me and said "I give this man in charge, he has pasted a bad half-crown"—the prisoner said nothing till he got to the station, then he said "I did not know it was bad, I got it from some one outside"—at the station I found on him a halfpenny, two pocket-books, a railway guide, a "Bank of Engraving" note, and three letters—I asked his address—he said "I have got no home, I have been living down at Manchester"—on 28th March he was put with 12 other men, and the little girl Mitchell identified him without hesitation—he afterwards gave the address, 28, Sachell Street, King's Cross.
The Prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said: "I did not know the half-crown was bad. I was not in London at the time the little girl speaks of."
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HICKS Prosecuted.
HENRY NEAL . I live at 84, Great Bland Street, Dover Road, Borough, and am a bricklayer—about 5 minutes to 1 o'clock on the morning of 19th January I was going home to Hale Street, where I then lived—I was going under the New Kent Road railway arch when I saw the prisoner and Leary, who was convicted at this Court—I had never seen them before—they looked me up and down—I walked to St. George's Road and turned down Hale Street for a certain purpose—I had stood 10 seconds when Leary said "Do it quick"—he got me by the throat and choked me, and Sullivan put his hands on the side of my pockets, and then thrust his hands in there, took 10s. 10 1/2 d., and then took my watch and chain—there was a light from the street lamps—Sullivan was facing me, I saw his face perfectly well—I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is the man that took my watch and chain—I could not struggle, and then Leary took his legs and threw me on the ground—I was unconscious, and when I came to I found two constables by me—they took me to my door, and I said "Let me go in, I feel so queer"—I saw Leary the same morning at 20 minutes past 1 o'clock at the police-station—the prisoner I did not see till 22nd March, when I picked him out of 12 or 14 others—I have never seen my watch again—it was fastened by a chain to my waistcoat; no portion of the chain was left—I felt the tug—the prisoner did not strike me—I have suffered a good deal of pain in my throat—I was not confined to my room—they garotted me from the back.
DANIEL BRYAN (Policeman L 178). On the morning of 19th January, about 12.50, I was on duty in St. George's Road with Pickett, and saw the prosecutor pass, followed by Leary and the prisoner—I followed on to Hale Street—Neal stopped for a moment—the two men passed him; some one else passed—then the two men came back towards Mr. Neal—Leary seized Neal by the throat, and Sullivan was doing something in front of him—I saw his hands at work, I could sot see what he was doing—I did not see Neal fall—we rushed at them, I pursued Leary and caught him—they went in different directions—Leary was tried and convicted—I next saw the prisoner at the station on the 22nd March—I picked him out from 12 or 14 others—I had seen him before this occurrence.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was 10 yards behind you—I have seen you several times before in the company of other thieves—Leary had only just come out.
ROBERT KENNY (Policeman M 205). At 1.30 p.m. on 22nd March I saw the prisoner in High Street, Borough—there was a description in the police information which he answered—I told him he answered the description, and that I should take him into custody on suspicion—he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the Kennington Road Station, he was not violent—when he got there he said "I have six or or seven witnesses to prove that I was down in the militia at Brentford; I joined the militia on 26th January"—afterwards, ho said it was the
23rd of January, at Stamford—I took it down in writing at the time—Bryan and then Neal identified him, and picked him out from others.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of felony in January, 1883, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
JESSIE GREEN, JUNIOR . I am the daughter of George James Green, a stationer, of 100, Rodney Road—on 25th March the prisoner came into the shop, and I served him with fourpenny worth of tobacco—he gave me a half-crown—I took it to my mother, she gave the prisoner the change, and he went away with it—two minutes after he had gone out another man came in—I served that man with some tobacco—he gave me a half-crown in payment—I gave it to my mother, she gave him change, and he left, and I have never seen him again—I was afterwards taken to the station and saw the prisoner with some other persons—I did not recognise him then—he was in a passage—I afterwards recognised him, and I am quite tare he is the man who gave ma the first halt-crown.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I knew you by your face—I didn't pick you out at first, I was so upset.
JESSIE GREEN, SENIOR . On 25th March I saw the prisoner in my shop—my daughter served him, she gave me a half-crown, and I gave the change to the prisoner—I put the half-crown at the back by itself—about two minutes afterwards another man came in, an elderly man—he bought tome tobacco—my daughter gave me a half-crown, and I gave him the change and put the coin on the top of the other—shortly afterwards my husband called my attention to the two half-crowns, and he took possession of them—a few days afterwards I saw the prisoner in custody, and I am positive he is the man.
Cross-examined. I didn't say I thought it was you—I gave the coins to the inspector.
RACHAEL BECKET WEBBER . I am the wife of Frederick Webber, a bookseller, of 3, Park Road, West Dulwich—on the afternoon of 28th March the prisoner came in and asked for a pennyworth of paper and a pennyworth of envelopes—he gave me a half-crown and I gave him 2s. 4d. change—I gave the half-crown to my husband.
she afterwards gave the half-crown to me—I found it was bad; I at once went out and saw the prisoner in the road—I called out to him "Stop a minute, I want to see you"—he did stop—I told him he must come back, that he had given me a bad half-crown—he said he was not aware of it—he walked back with me—I asked who he was and where he came from—he gave me his address, Gipsy Hill or Gipsy Road—I asked what he was—he said his father was a bricklayer—I offered to go with him and see his father; he objected to that and said his father would not be home till late—I asked why he came so far, as Gipsy Hill is about a mile from my shop—he said he was out for a stroll—I told I didn't believe his story and I sent for a constable and gave him in custody with the half-crown—I took the paper and envelopes from the prisoner and got my change back.
ALFRED HATCHER (Policeman R.) The prisoner was given in my custody—I found on him 5d. in copper and a new pocket-book—he said he was a tailor and lived in William and Mary Yard, Little Poulton Street, and that his father was a bricklayer—he said he was not aware that the half-crown was bad, and that he was very sorry—the address he gave me was where his parents lived—I saw his father and mother—it was four or five miles from Mr. Webber.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that a man had given him one of the half-crowns to pay for the paper and envelopes, but that he knew nothing of the others.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, GOODRICH, and LOWE Prosecuted.
MARY UPTON . I am a single woman, of 16, Mint Street, Borough—I had a female child born on the 17th January, which I intended to register as Mary Jane Upton—I washed and dressed the child on the morning of 7th February—the prisoner and I were living in the same house together—she took the child and we went to the Mint Gate, and she gave me a pint of ale and said she was going to buy the child a pair of socks and some ribbons—I said "Don't be long, "and I never saw her or the child again till the 16th March—I saw the baby in the work-house—I was fetched there by Sergeant Harvey—I missed some of the child's clothing consisting of a shawl and flannel pilch.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The shawl the baby has got on now belongs to a young woman lodging at 16, Mint Street.
Re-examined. The prisoner took the baby out of my arms to buy it some socks and ribbons.
The Prisoner. She gave it to me in the kitchen.
MARY RIXON . I am in the St. George's Workhouse—I received the child on the 16th March from the porter at the gate—it was in a very bad condition, its little bottom was all raw as well as under the arms and round the neck—it was very dirty—I bathed it and put some Fuller's earth and some ointment on it—I kept it for two nights—I then went before the Magistrate and kept it till I gave it to its mother.
FRANK WINT . I am relieving officer for the 1st district of Camberwell—on the 14th February, at 10.30 a.m., the prisoner came to my office with this child in her arms—she told me her husband had deserted her—she gave her age as 29—she gave her name and said her husband was a painter and labourer—she told me she was living in Pitt Street, Commercial Road, and that he was living with another woman at Camberwell, that he had a child by her and she thought it hard that he should maintain that child and neglect his own, and she wanted to go to service—that her mother would take charge of the child, but wanted so much a week, and would we assist her to get the maintenance from him—I said the best thing would be for her to come into the workhouse—she said the could not come in that day, but would make some arrangements and come in—she gave me the address, and I wrote and called at 22, Pitt Street, Commercial Road—on the 20th February she was admitted to the house and the child—a summons was taken out against her husband at the Lambeth Police-court, which was adjourned for a sum to be fixed for maintenance—after the adjournment her husband gave her 4s. towards maintenance—he believed it was his own child.
Cross-examined. You told me you could maintain yourself but not the child.
GEORGE HARVEY (Police Sergeant.) I arrested the prisoner on the 16th March at 12, Regent Street, Peckham—I told her I should take her to the station—she said "I have been very sorry ever since; she can't say I stole the child; she lent it to me. My husband left me in August last. I was five months gone in the familyway. I was confined over at Kings-land, and the child died. I heard my husband say he was living with another woman, and what I have done I done to spite him. The day I got the child I went to Peckham and got drunk, and did not like to go back. I have taken great care of the child." I took her to the station, and she was charged with stealing the child—I sent the child to St. George's workhouse by a constable, and it was handed over to the mother in my presence.
Cross-examined. I said the child looked well in the face—I had as much as I could do to get into the house, and had to throw the landlord out first—she asked if I could not get some charge against her husband, and get him locked up.
By MR. WILLIAMS. A reward of 4l. was offered by the police—I went with the mother to various places to find the child.
The Prisoners' Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say, except that I am sorry for keeping the baby. I intended to have taken it back again directly. I had got some money from him to put some more things on it, only he annoyed me by telling me he had another child by another woman. I am very sorry for what I have done, and that is all I have to say. I have no witnesses here. I did not think my friends would have come up."
The prisoner in her defence repeated in substance her statement. She said it was the first time she had been in trouble, that it would be a caution to her; all her friends were respectable, and that the mother of the baby was only an unfortunate girl.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Three Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; MESSRS. BURNIE and BLACKWELL Defended.
GUILTY .— Penal Servitude for Life.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 19TH, 1884