CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EIGHTH SESSION, HELD MAY 19TH, 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.
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, May 19th, 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 WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., M.P., WILLIAM LAWRENCE Esq., M.P., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., and Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Knt., one 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. EIGHITH 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 know to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 19th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. GRIFFITHE Defended.
LOUISA HURLEY . My husband keeps a news-shop at 1, Goswell Road—on Wednesday, 16th April, about 7.30 p.m., the prisoner came in for a Special Standard (she had been in the habit of coming there since Christmas once or twice a week for newspapers); she gave the a sixpence, I placed it in the till and gave her 5d. change; as soon as she was gone I found it was bad—I saw my husband mark it and put it in paper in a cash-box—this is it (produced); here is a mark on it where I bent it in my mouth—on 22nd April she came again, about 7.80, and asked for a publication called Something to Read, price 1d., and gave me this sixpence (produced)—I said "This sixpence is bad, and you gave me one last Wednesday night"—I think she said "No, I did not," but people were going in and out, and I am not quite certain what she did say—we had found bad money eight or nine times after the had been in the shop, and destroyed it, and on one occasion I gave one of the sixpences to a trades man, who was going to be locked up for it—the prisoner always brought sixpences—my husband gave her in charge.
Cross-examined. He is not here—the business does not take all my time; we are more busy of an evening—did not tell the Magistrate anything about her coming there two or three times a month; I mention it now because I was told to do so—somebody came to the shop and said that there ought to be a stop put to it—my husband charted her; I did not go to the station—I did not call after her on the 16th because she take was gone when I discovered it was bad—when I charged her on the 22nd with passing a bad coin on the 16th she did not say "You are mistaken, it was not me"—she said "No, I did not"—I said "Yes you did"—I had it marked a minute or two after I received it.
Re-examined. I examined the sixpence just as she Was going out at the door, and put it aside and have kept it ever since—I swear it is the
same—I heard my husband mention the passing of the sixpence on the previous Wednesday to the constable.
ARTHUR MAY (Policeman G 285). I was called to Mr. Hurley's—the master said "This woman has passed a bad sixpence, and I took one last Wednesday, and this is the woman we have been looking out for"—I told her I should take her in custody for passing bad money—she said "I did not know it was bad," meaning the one she had passed that day—she was searched by the female searcher and three half-crowns found on her—when she was in the dock Mr. Hurley said that she had passed one on the Wednesday previous, and that he had been on the look out for her—she said she did not know it was bad, and she did not know anything about the one on the 16th—she was taken to the police-court next day and Mrs. Hurley attended.
Cross-examined. I did not go to Mrs. Hurley and tell her what to say and I and I do not know who did—I did not say before the Magistrate all that I have said to-day—no one has been telling me what to say—I said before the Magistrate "She said 'As to the sixpence last night I did not know it was bad'"—she was not charged with the uttering on Wednesday night.
Re-examined. The two coins were produced at the police-court, but she was only charged with one.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say I was not sure of the coin. She is mistaken about the first coin; I did not give it to her."
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
PHOELIGBE WHITE . I keep a dairy at 49, Chandos Street—on 16th April, about 11 a.m., Russell came in for a penny egg and gave me a bad shilling—I said "I don't think this is a good one"—he said "I think it is quite right"—he saw me try it in the tester; it bent easily—I laid it on the counter and he took it up—as he was going out at the door the sergeant came and took him—he left the egg on the counter—this shilling (produced) was found on the mat at his feet; I recognise my mark on it.
ALBERT GREGORY (Detective E). On 16th April I was on duty in plain clothes in Chandos Street, and saw the prisoners walking along—I recognised Russell and followed them; when they got to the old Five Station they stopped at the edge of the pavement, and I saw Hardy with something in his hand which he handed to Russell, who went along the street and I lost sight of him—I went towards Mrs. White's shop and saw Hardy at the old Fire Station with his face inwards and something in his hand—I said "What have you got here?"—he made no answer, and I took from his hand three bad shillings separately wrapped in paper—I said "This is counterfeit money"—he said "I did not know it was bad; I have just picked it up on a doorstep"—I took him along the street and saw Russell just coming out of Mrs. White's shop—I pushed him back into the shop and asked Mrs. White what money he had passed—she said "He has just tried to pass a bad shilling"—I
got assistance and took them to the station—I saw a shilling lying on the carpet; another officer picked it up—I had seen Russell the day before on the Seven Dials; he ran away when he saw me.
HENRY BURROUGHS (Policeman E 130). On 16th April, about 11 a.m., I was called to Mrs. White's shop and saw Gregory and the two prisoners—Gregory handed Russell to me, I was about to search him and saw this shilling (produced) on the floor—I picked it up and gave it to Gregory.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These four shillings are counterfeit, and from different moulds—bad coins are usually wrapped in paper so that they shall not be rubbed, and they are given out to those who utter them.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Hardy says: "I did not know that they were bad." Russell says: "Hardy picked up the paper and I found a shilling in it and went to get an egg to have with a cup of coffee and the lady said it was bad. I did not drop it intentionally, I meant to put it in my pocket." (They repeated the same statements in their defence.)
GUILTY . HARDY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. RUSSELL(†)— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD. and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. ERNERT BRERAD Defended.
CHARLOTTE CHEVALLIER . I am assistant to Mr. Whale, who keeps a refreshment house—on the 22nd December the prisoner came in and had sixpennyworth of soup, and a pennyworth of pickled onions—he put down a half-crown and 1d. on the top of it, I gave him a florin change and he left—I afterwards found the half-crown was bad, and had to forfeit the amount—I marked it, this is it (produced)—on the 17th April he came again at 9.30 p.m. for sixpennyworth of soup and a pennyworth of pickled onions, and put down a half-crown first and a penny on the top of it—I called my brother, Mr. Whale, who said "Old fellow, this is not the first time, we have been waiting for you"—he did not answer—my brother sent my husband for the Inspector, and the prisoner said he did not know anything about it, he had not been there before.
Cross-examined. We do a brisk business and have a good many customers, but he was the last; we were just closing—this is five months ago, but I identify him—we sometimes have ten customers of an evening and sometimes forty—when anything comes to 7d. and a shilling is tendered, I never say "Have you got a penny and I will give you sixpence."
WILLIAM WHALE . I keep a refreshment house at 56, George Street—on the 17th April, about 10.30, the prisoner came in—I was in the parlour—my sister called me and gave me this half-crown—I said to the prisoner, "All right, old man we have been waiting for you, we have had these half-crowns of you before"—he said "I don't know what you mean"—I said "This is a bad half-crown, and you know that this is not the first time you have brought them here"—I asked my brother-in-law to see that he did not escape, and I fetched a constable and charged the prisoner in the shop with uttering bad money—I told him we had one passed by him before, but did not tell him the date—he said nothing.
Cross-examined. He said that he did not understand me—if a person's
account comes to 7d., and he gives me a shilling, I never say "If you have got a penny I will give you sixpence."
GUILTY of the second uttering. He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in August, 1874.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRUFURD LLOYD Prosecuted.
FREDERICK FOX (Detective Sergeant). On the 15th April I was in High Street, Hampstead, and saw the prisoner and another man—they kept looking back—I followed them to Heath Street and back to High Street, where they joined a third man—I saw the prisoner give them something, and then come quickly across the street to where I was standing in a dark doorway—as he came across I saw him put a small paper parcel into the breast pocket of his undercoat—as he seemed to notice me I seized his right hand and said "I am a policeman, what are you loitering about here for with these other men?"—he said "Other men, I have not been with any other men"—I said "Who are you? what are you doing here?"—he said "I suppose I have as much right to walk about here as any one else?"—the other men had disappeared—the prisoner put his hand to his coat and just then Alabaster came along the street in private clothes—I told him to take hold of the prisoner's left hand—we took him to the station and I said "What have you got about you?"—he said "Nothing"—I said "Let me see," starting to unbutton his undercoat, but he unbuttoned it himself, put his hand into the same pocket, and pulled out this parcel containing nine counterfeit florins wrapped up in bag paper, but not all separately—he said "That is all I have got"—I said "What is it?"—he said "I don't know"—I unfolded the paper, and he said "It is money, I suppose, I picked it up"—he was then charged—he declined to give his address—the inspector said "Shall I put down no home?" he said "If you like."
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he picked up the paper and was going to examine it, but seeing the constable he put it in his pocket.
555. THOMAS BLACKBURN WOOD (21) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst employed in the Post-office, a packet containing a money order, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. (There was another indictment against the prisoner for a like offence.)
556. ALFRED CORMACK (19) to stealing whilst employed in the Post-office a letter containing: 1l. 1s., the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
557. SIDNEY ALBERT WILLEY (24) to stealing whilst employed in the Post-office a letter containing a sovereign and 1s. the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General.— Five years Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, May 19th and 20th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
559. WILLIAM MUGFORD (29) to embezzling 7l. 13s., 5l. 5s., 16l. 16s., 22l. 1s. 50l. 8s., 118s. 6s. 50l., 31l. 10s., and 109l. 4s., the moneys of the Fine Art Society, Limited, his masters.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And
560. JOHN THOMAS (62) to stealing four towels and a bolster, the goods of James Griffin; a plane, the goods of Walter Doe; and two brushes, putty knife, and other articles, the goods of William Fearne; also to a previous conviction of felony in July, 1883, in the name of John Williams.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. BESLEY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
562. WILLIAM HENRY YOUNG, alias SIR HERBERT MURRAY, Bart. (65), GEORGE ROBERTS (43), and WILLIAM ROBERTS, Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Clement Cheese four cheques for the payment of 450l., with intent to defraud.
MESSRS. BESLEY and GILL Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN defended Young;
CLEMENT CHEESE . I am a solicitor, carrying on business at 123, Pall Mall—late in the autumn of 1882 Young called on me, giving the name of W. H. Young—I understood he was connected with the law; a conveyancer—he said "I have some friends in the country, Roberts, builders at Bristol, who have sold some property near there to Sir Herbert Murray; they want a small advance pending the completion of the purchase, can you make it for them?"—he said ho acted for the Robertses—I said "Yes, if the matter is all right, I don't mind doing it"—he then gave me particulars of where the titles to the property were to be seen—I said I shall want to apply to the purchaser's solicitors"—he said "Oh yes, you may do so," and gave me their names, Mitchell and Webb, of Bedford—he said the property consisted of some houses at Clevedon, near Bristol—I said "Before I do anything I must see the title to the property and examine it," and he gave me the names of the solicitors who held the title, Messrs. Gander and Son, of Gray's Inn Square, I think—I arranged to go and see the title, and he was to call again—I made inquiries, saw the title, and then wrote to Messrs. Mitchell and Webb, inquiring if they were Sir Herbert Murray's solicitors, and whether they were instructed to carry out this purchase—I got a letter from them saying that the loan referred to had been arranged; in consequence of that the matter dropped, and I did not see them again on it—I cannot recollect for the moment whether I saw Young again in reference to that matter; I think he called in January, 1883, he said "I am sorry that matter
went off, but I could not help it"—I said "I had a good deal of trouble in it for nothing"—he said "Well, I have another matter which is just about the same, if you like to take it up you may. The same people, Robertses, have sold some property in Bristol to the same purchaser, Sir Herbert Murray; the property is mortgaged, but there is a balance of about 2,000l., part of the purchase money belonging to the Robertses, which will be paid on completion"—I said "I shall have to make inquiries beforehand into the title." and he said "That is down at Bristol"—he said "The Robertses want an advance as before pending the completion of the purchase"—I said "If I am satisfied with my inquiries I don't mind making it; I shall require to act for the vendors, the Robertses"—he said "You may do that; they will consent to it when we see them"—we arranged to go down to Bristol to examine the title—I fixed a day when I could go, and he said he would write to the solicitors at Bristol and make appointments—I believe the 24th January was appointed, and I then went to Bristol and met Young there, and we met the two Robertses in the town—I had not seen them before Young introduced them to me, we went to the various solicitors, four firms I think, who had to do with the property, and the deeds were produced and I saw them—I walked by the property with the Robertses; there were four lots I think—Young I believe pointed it out—we were all together I should think two or three hours—there was a general conversation between us—Sir Herbert Murray was undoubtedly spoken of, but I cannot remember whether his name was—I addressed Young as Young—on a subsequent day to the return from Bristol an agreement was shown to me—at Bristol I examined all the titles, looked at the property, and stated I was willing to make this advance pending the completion of the purchase, which was to be at a short date, I believe in April—an appointment was made at my office for the advance—I parted with them at Bristol—during the time I was with them I did not hear either address the other as Murray or Sir Herbert Murray, but I do not wish to speak positively about it, it is a long while ago—I think the 31st January, a week after, was fixed for meeting at my office—on that day the three prisoners came to my office—Young produced this agreement. (This was for the sale to Sir Herbert Murray of the property at Bristol by the Robertses for 4,700l., dated 13th January, 1883, 500l. part purchase money having been paid into the hands of Young as stakeholder, and contained on the back a receipt signed Murray. The counterpart was signed by George and William Roberts, and there was also a receipt signed by William Young.) When the two agreements were produced I read one of them, and as I went through it Young made remarks; when I came to the name of Murray he said he was a man whose uncle had recently come home from India or from abroad, and who was allowing him 2,000l. a year; that he did not want it all to live upon—then he referred to the other matter some time before, and pointed out that the purchase money would be 4,700l., more than sufficient to pay off the first mortgage, and that "Sir Herbert Murray has placed 500l. in my hands as stakeholder; that will have to go to the Robertses, but of course I cannot part with it now"—I inquired whether he was quite certain that the purchase would be completed on the day named in the contract, and he said, "Certainly then, but probably before, some time"—I said, "It is a short time, I shall not say anything about interest for it, I will put it into the charge, I propose to charge you 50l
for completing the whole matter for the Robertses"—the Robertses agreed with my suggestion about the charges, and Young said, "That is very reasonable, I think you might act for the purchaser as well; I shall be seeing him within a few days, and if he has not another solicitor in the matter you could, no doubt, act for both parties"—in going through the agreement I asked if Sir Herbert Murray would be able to complete by the 19th April, because it was a short transaction, and my arrangement about the interest was on the terms that it would be completed then—he said, "Certainly by then, probably some time before, and he again mentioned the fact of his having 2,000l. a year from the uncle, as showing that he was a man with money and there would be no doubt about the completion at the time I insisted—when the agreements were given to me he pointed out that one was signed by Sir Herbert Murray and the other by the Robertses—when I fixed this sum for carrying out the purchase the Robertses agreed to it—in fact it was much less a sum than any one else charges—it was because I thought it was a matter that would be soon over, and for that reason I made the charge very small—there was some other conversation—Young asked me which agreement I would have; he said, "Here is one signed by Sir Herbert Murray"—he pointed out that he had the 500l. deposit in hand, and that I should be safe in any case—I said, "I will have this," pointing out the one signed by the purchasers, that being the proper agreement for me to take—there was a memorands of mortgages which I read through to all three—the agreement that I took was signed by Sir Herbert Murray—it bears the receipt of Young for the 500l.—the other agreement was retained by Young—I next saw it when it was produced before the Magistrate at the police-court—I suppose it had remained in his possession until then—this memorands of mortgage I prepared and read to them—it is a mortgage of the property in question—at the end the receipts to the previous mortgages were countersigned by the two Robertses in my presence, and in the presence of Charles H. Young, 22, Wood Lane, Shepherd's Bush—Young witnessed the signature at my request—nothing more of importance passed—I have two banking accounts, and I draw on both—these are the four cheques that I drew (One was for 250l., payable to Messrs. G. and W. Roberts or order, on the Union Bank of London, Charing Cross branch, endorsed "G. and W. Roberts; the other was 25l., payable to the same, on Thomas Butcher and Son; the other for 50l. on the Union, endorsed in the same way, and one for 25l., payable to Roberts, endorsed in the same way)—these cheques were paid, and came back in the ordinary way through the bank—with regard to the endorsements I don't remember seeing them endorsed at my office—as time went on I went down to Bristol for the purpose of getting abstracts to complete the purchase—I saw Young on several occasions before I went to Bristol—before he left he promised to see Sir Herbert Murray and to arrange about my acting for him, and he called in about a week or so to say that he had seen him—as the 19th April approached no further steps were taken towards completing the purchase—I kept corresponding with Young and certain solicitors at Bristol, who wanted their mortgages paid off, and who understood that it would be completed before the 19th April—I saw Young about a week after this interview, and he told me he had seen Sir Herbert Murray and he would be glad for me to act for him, and he said, "What will you do it for? You had better fix a sum and write him what you will charge, and I will see if he
assents to it"—I then prepared this memorandum, saying that I was prepared to carry out the business for him, and Young took it away—I believe it came back through the post, I am not quite certain. (Read: "Dear Sir,—I am satisfied with the terms stated. Yours truly, Sir Herbert Murray.") That is dated 1st February, it must have been intended for 1st March—after I had received the retainer, no further steps being taken towards completing, I saw Young and pressed him to give me an opportunity of seeing Sir Herbert Murray, because it was getting serious, as the 19th April had passed—he made various excuses—I said I should go to Bristol to see him—I had begun to press him very much because I was anxious to see Murray; he seemed kept in the background, and I could not communicate with him—I wrote to him on one occasion, begging him to come up and give me the address—he gave me two addresses, one of which he said was sure to find him—one was Clifton Down Hotel, and the other Rock Hotel, Clevedon, Somerset, and from that in Young's presence I proceeded to write two letters—I wrote one letter and read it out, and the other is practically a copy (These were dated 26th June, 1883, pressing for an interview and stating the particulars)—I posted those letters to the two addresses Young gave me—the second day after I had posted these letters Young called and inquired if I had had any answer—I said "No"—he said, "You will, then, presently"—that day or the next day I received this telegram: "June 29. From Sir Herbert Murray, Bart., Bristol. Have been away, letter received, unable to see you till next week, will then arrange for speedy settlement"—after I had received this telegram my two letters came back from the Dead Letter Office—one came back some time before the other, I believe one came back as late as 4th August, the other came back shortly after the telegram—I saw Young, I think, before 4th August—I had become very suspicious when no Sir Herbert Murray came or wrote, and on one occasion when Young came I said, "I am resolved to find this man, because he does not write or make any communication, and I shall find him"—he said, "Well, where shall you find him?"—I said, "In the first place I shall go to Bristol, I know that the telegram has come from there"—he said, "Well, it is of no use keeping this on any longer, the fact is I am Murray"—I think this was rather before the second letter came back through the Dead Letter Office, at all events it was about the end of July—when he said, "I am Murray," I said, "It is a very serious matter, and I must consider this"—then he went into some long explanation about having used the name of Young because of the uncle, I don't quite remember—he was quite sure it would be all right, that money was coming, he was receiving 2,000l. a year, and it was only a matter of a few days, that he was impelled by necessity to use the deception—after that I sent a registered letter to the Robertses; that did not come back again; I did not get an answer to it—after that I consuited Messrs. Wontner, and a summons was taken out—Young kept on his excuses for some time, begging me to wait a few days—I gave him every opportunity; I waited a day or two—he did not come, so I saw Mr. Wontner about it—this is the letter I wrote (produced): "25th July. As there has been very great delay in completing the purchase of this property, I beg to give you notice I request immediate payment of the 500l. advanced to you; the money is now urgently required, I must insist on payment forthwith"—to that letter I got no answer; the
Robertses did not communicate with me at all in any way—on the return of the summons Young did not appear, and on 31st December I obtained a warrant—on or about 27th January I met him, in the street—I remained with him till I saw a constable, and then gave him in custody—he said at the Court there was no warrant out, and the officer told him there was—the warrant was not just at hand, I believe—after he was arrested on the warrant he was admitted to bail—the Robertses were summoned then, and they appeared—I think Young did not appear at Bow Street after he was bailed; the case was adjourned on the statement that he was not well—he sent this letter saying he would commit suicide—I remember it being spoken of, I did not see it at the time—after that he was Seen by a medical man, and he did appear—at the interview when I parted with my money to the Robertses I believed the statement in the agreement that Young held 500l. in deposit—I have never received a farthing of my money.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I parted with my money partly on the faith of the agreement—that had a great deal to do with it—before I parted with anything I went and made careful inquiries as to the title of the property on the spot; I mean to say I made inquiries as to whether the vendors had a good title to the property they had to sell, and I found they had a sufficient title to warrant my advancing the money—I took no measures to ascertain the value of the property—I saw the property, and found that there was sufficient to satisfy my amount of 500a,l.—I was satisfied that I would be safe to take a second charge in respect of my 500l., and I took one—I considered the agreement was the security—I did not consider whether the second charge on the property was sufficient to hold me safe an regards the 500l.—I did not go into figures at all—I was bound to take the mortgage to secure the payment of the 500l.—if I had found the title was not good I certainly should not have lent it—that was the condition on which I agreed to lend it—I have not heard that the property has been since valued by a competent valuer—I have never caused it to be valued—I wrote to the solicitors for the mortgages to inquire if they thought there was any margin, and the reply was to the effect that there was not, in fact they had taken possession of the property and sold some of it—they told me there was a mortgage of 1,800l.—Young told me that there was a margin of 2,000l.—he pointed that out when the money was advanced—it was later than 29th June when Young said "I am Murray"—I think it was about the middle of July, but I cannot speak without my book—I have sent for it—Young said that he did not want it to come to the uncle's ears that he, as Sir Herbert Murray, was dealing in property, and that therefore he had adopted the name of Young—he said he was receiving 2,000l. from the uncle, and expected an instalment shortly—I did not go to Bow Street or Mr. Wontner's at once because he begged me not to take any steps, and I proposed that if he could properly explain the matter and pay the money it had better remain—if the money had been paid off according to the mortgage I should have accepted it—I should not have treated it as a debt; it was a question of repayment of money advanced on the agreement—if the money had been paid off, even after he had told me this, I should have accepted it—I did not treat it then as a criminal offence—I was not then absolutely certain that he was not Murray; I
believed that he was—he told me then that he was Murray, and that Young was a different person—if I had seen there was a proper explanation of the circumstances I should have accepted the money—if he had told me that he was obliged to use this name to keep his uncle in the dark, I should have considered that a proper explanation, if there had been real grounds for it—50l. would have been the amount I should have got out of this transaction; I should have got something from Murray—it was expected to last from January to April 19—I should have got 50l. from Roberts and 50l. from Murray—I have got no letters of Young in which he, as Young, was to pay me 50l.; he was never to pay me 50l., that I am positive of—I am sure that I should not have got a farthing more than the 100l.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. The money was lent on 31st January—it was to be repaid on 19th April—I was to receive nothing for the advance of the 500l., only 50l. for my charges, and 50l. for my conveyance to Murray—the interest was a trifle, not worth mentioning—before parting with my money I made no inquiries about Sir Herbert Murray, except what Young told me—this is not the first financial transaction I have had in lending money—if a client wants an advance I am prepared to advance it—I am in the habit of lending money to clients—I have been a solicitor about twelve years—it never occurred to me to look in the baronetage, or to ask Young if there was such a person as Murray—on the first occasion he was quite a stranger to me; that was when he said the property had been sold to Sir Herbert Murray—that was a similar transaction to this—I said I would think the matter over about lending the money, and I said "I shall write to Sir Herbert Murray's solicitors and make inquiries"—I was satisfied with what they said, and the matter was arranged—the date of this transaction was November or December, 1882—I did not hear anything more of Murray or Young till January, 1883, when I entertained this proposition—he told me that the uncle of Sir Herbert Murray was at Bath—I went to Bristol—I made inquiries at Bath—the fact is, the first matter having gone through all right, I never had any suspicions that Young was anything but what he represented himself, and to a certain extent he imposed on me—I received a great quantity of letters from Young; I have got them here—he first commenced to correspond with me as Young immediately after 31st January, 1883—that is a letter in the hand-writing of Young (produced)—I have received a great many letters in the same handwriting—I first suspected that Young and Murray were the same person about July, 1883; not until then—it did not occur to me to look at the back part of the return letter to see whether it was in the writing of Sir Herbert Murray—it did not strike me that this letter of the 1st February purporting to be signed by Sir Herbert, and the one written by Young, 22nd January, 1883, were written by the same person—this (produced) is the letter I wrote to Young—I gave it to Young when he called—he called twice—on the 31st January he said "Sir Herbert Murray will no doubt let you carry out the matter for him, I will see him and find if he has another solicitor"—he called on the 9th February, and at that interview I arranged with him for carrying the matter out for Sir Herbert Murray, and wrote it down and delivered him the letter; afterwards it came back with the answer—it was a letter written to Murray, not to Young—I believed that
Young had written it—it did not strike me that the endorsement at the top to the letter was in Young's handwriting—this (produced) is a letter I wrote to Murray—I received it back—it did not strike me that the writing at the top was in Young's writing—it subsequently struck me that the writing on the agreement and the signature were the same, it first struck me about the beginning of July, I will tell you how it was; knowing that Mr. Webb, the solicitor, had seen Sir Herbert Murray, I showed him this agreement, and I said was that Sir Herbert Murray's signature; he said yes, it was—in July I went to Mr. Webb, I will not say the exact date, that was when I suspected the two signatures—I went to him, I showed him this agreement, and said "Is that Sir Herbert Murray's signature?"—he said yes, it was—I said "I don't quite like the look of the matter, there seems a great similarity between the signatures," and he said "It occurs to me so too"—nothing more passed between us—I believe this conversation took place about the beginning of July, but I cannot speak to the exact date—when I said I did not like the look of it I said the signatures looked very much alike, I did not like the look of things at all; I gave him to understand that I thought they were written by the same person—I have given the whole of that conversation as near as I can; there was probably more—Mr. Webb did not tell me at that time that he had known for some time that Young and Murray were the same person; he said he suspected it—he agreed with me in what I suggested, that they were the same—I went to Mr. Webb because I considered he was acting for Murray—I do not think he gave me any reason for suspecting that they were the same person—I believe he said something to this effect, "Yes, it looks very much like, I should advise you to look out," that was practically all he said—when Roberts told me that Murray was a man in receipt of 2,000l. a year from his uncle, I did not ask for the uncle's address at Bath; I did not ask any questions—I think I went to Bath about a week before the loan was actually made—I met Young at the station, and in the town I saw the Robertses—I do not know how they addressed him, I do not know that they said a word about it—I was in their company about two or three hours—I had no suspicions then that Young was Murray—I went to the solicitors and found that the amounts of the mortgages and interest were about the same as Young had stated to me—I saw the deeds that referred to the property—I went to the separate properties and looked at them, we had just time, we walked round, and he said "That is one, and that is the other"—Murray was always spoken of as a distinct individual—I went to Bristol a second time, after the advance, and I then carefully examined the deeds with reference to the sale by Roberts to Murray, and ordered the abstracts to be sent to me—I did not then suggest to Young to put me in communication with Murray, but some time before April I did, I forget quite when that happened—I said before the Magistrate "The abstracts came in due course, and as the 19th of April approached I suggested seeing Murray, and then Young said 'The purchase money will be forthcoming at once'"—the solicitors to the mortgagees lived at Bristol—I think it was between the return of the two letters that I looked at the signatures to the agreements, and was struck with the similarity—I think Mr. Webb called on me about something, and I then showed the signatures to him—I am not quite sure
whether it was at my office or his—a good many letters passed between me and Young between 19th April and July.
Re-examined. My reasons for lending the money were that Young said he had 500l. in hand which would belong to the Robertses and which would repay my advance, and that there was an amount of 2,000l. due to the mortgagees which the amount for which the property was sold would give a margin—there was no margin; the property would not now sell for the amount of the mortgages, the mortgagees have sold it—Young took away the retainer for the purpose of getting it signed by Sir Herbert Murray, and when it came back I believed the signature to be Sir Herbert Murray's—I considered that Young had written the formal part—the signature of Murray to the agreement resembles that to the retainer—I did not look at the retainer again after I received it till after these proceedings were taken, it turned up among the letters—I did not pay particular attention to it when it arrived—I had not noticed the date till it was remarked upon before the Magistrate—this was the only agreement I had possession of—that was the only one on which Mr. Webb had the conversation with me, he was looking at these two signatures and no others—there were four different titles to this property, complicated, heavy titles—I was to do all the legal work for 100l., that is much less than is allowed by the Incorporated Law Society—there was never any question about interest, I said should charge no interest, I should be sufficiently paid by the charges—I looked at the signature to the second agreement that was produced by Young at the police-court—the signature of the Robertses was afterwards admitted to the second agreement—it was stated to be a forgery to begin with; the Magistrate then looked at it with the cheques, and said that it was undoubtedly the same signature as the endorsement to the cheques—neither of the Robertses said that they had seen Young write as Herbert Murray—these agreements are dated the same, they are counterparts, witnessed by the same person—they were evidently signed at the same time, as agreements usually are—the signature is G. and W. Roberts—it is an illiterate signature—there is a great similarity in the signatures to the two agreements.
By MR. WILLIAMS. I believe it was the Robertses' solicitors who said it was a forgery; the Robertses did not deny it—I don't think they said it—they made many observations—I think I saw Mr. Burgess, of the firm of Burgess and Laurence, at Bristol, when I examined the deeds—I did not tell him that I had seen the property; I don't think I had seen it; I think I saw the deeds first—I don't think I said I had seen the property and was quite satisfied with the value; I cannot remember having said anything of the kind—I was satisfied with the value of the property at that time—I did not see a Mr. Munro, an architect, there—I saw a Mr. Barnett—I did not have any conversation with him as to the property; I am reasonably certain about that—I don't think I spoke about the value of the property to any of them—I went on the legal value of the title, the value may have cropped up—I went down to see the deeds.
JAMES CARSTAIRS . I am chief cashier at the Charing Cross Branch of the Union Bank of London—Mr. Cheese had an account at that bank—this cheque for 250l. was paid by me across the counter in twenty 10l. notes numbered 21824 to 21843, and ten 5l. notes, 30998 to 31107—
this 50l. cheque was paid by the London and South-Western Bank and charged to Mr. Cheese's account.
ORMSBY HILL . I am a clerk in the Bank of England—I produce thirteen 10l. notes, 21824, 21831, 21833, 21834, 21835, 21836, 21837, 21838, 21839, 21840, 21841, 21842, and 21843—eleven of them came from Bristol; four of them have the name of Roberts on them—I have nine 5l. notes numbered 30998, 30999, 31,000, 31002, 31003, 31004, 31005, 31006, and 31007, six of which came back through the Bristol Bank; four have the name of Roberts on the back—the other notes are outstanding.
RICHARD MURPHY . I am a clerk in the London and South-Western Bank, Shepherd's Bush Branch—these three cheques for 50l., 25l., and 125l. were cleared through our bank to W. H. Young—he had no account there—We allow people to clear cheques and charge them a commission—having cleared the cheques I allowed him to draw these two cheques, 150l. and 50l. for the amount. (These were signed W.H. Young.)
FREDRICK WILLIAM WEBB . I am a solicitor of 5. Waterloo Place, Pall Mall, and at Bedford, where I have a partner—I knew Young or Murray some few days before 18th December, 1882, when I saw him alone at my office in Waterloo Place—he said he was Sir Herbert Murray, and came in reference to a conveyance of some property at Clevedon from the Messrs. Roberts—he produced a contract between the Robertses and himself for the sale of three houses at Clevedon, Somersetshire, and he asked me to act for him in the matter—he said "The Robertses require a temporary loan of 400l. until the Completion"—on 18th December the three defendants came together, and the Robertses executed a mortgage upon the property to a client of mine named Hall for 450l.—the agreement for the sale at that time was in my possession—the prisoner was addressed as Sir Herbert Murray in the Robertses' presence—he did not make any signature in their presence—nothing was said about the use the property was to be put to—the Robertses then executed a mortgage for 460l., subject to the sum of 2,300l., which I believe had already been advanced by Mr. Goodwin, the owner of the ground rents, on an equitable mortgage which conveyed the land subject to the fee ground rent—I handed the cash to the Robertses and they went away—on that day I received a retainer from the Robertses to act as their solicitor in the matter of the conveyance to Sir Herbert Murray of the three houses at Clevedon, and they signed this retainer (produced)—on the same day, a letter having come from my Bedford house, I wrote this letter to Mr. Cheese about a temporary loan, which I said I might as well do—I cannot say if Mr. Cheese's name was mentioned at this interview—the name of Young turned up at no time except on the visit to Clevedon in the beginning of January with reference to the deposit of 500l. paid on the property—I then asked William Roberts who Young was (I think George was not present)—he said he was an estate agent down at Shepherd's Bush—the business was completed on May 10th or 11th, 1883, I believe—I first heard on 6th June, 1883, at Bristol, that Sir Herbert Murray had used the name of Young—I did not speak to either of the prisoners about it—I cannot fix the date, but at a meeting of the directors of the proposed Walton Hotel Company Murray suggested that the three houses should be used at an hotel until the hotel was completed
—all this time I knew him and he was treated by the Robertses as Murray—I went to Mr. Cheese's office on other business, and he showed me this agreement with Murray's and Robertses' signatures on it—I cannot say when that was—my attention had been directed to the question of Murray being Young before that at Bristol—at a meeting of directors one proposed director refused to serve because he had heard that Murray had assumed another name, and asked me to go to a firm of solicitors who had the letters in which Young's name appeared, and I went there with Mr. Goodwin—after I had seen the letter and the signature I asked Murray to account for using the name of Young—he told me he simply used the name when he applied to Salt and Parnell to obtain the loan on the Clevedon property on better terms; this was on June 6th, 1883, at the meeting of the directors of the Walton Hotel, which was to be put up at Clevedon adjoining this land—Murray was a director.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I believed at the time that Murray used the name of Young because he thought he could get the loan on better terms—he completely imposed on me, as he has on all of them, only I happened to get my money back—I had not the slightest idea up to June 6th that he was an impostor—I have made a mistake, it was a few days before 21st May, I should think, when I first heard that Murray and Young were the same person, when I saw the Robertses—I cannot remember what date I was at Mr. Cheese's office and saw the signature, it was long after 6th June—I cannot remember telling Cheese then that I had written to Sir Herbert Murray in May, telling him I suspected him to be Young—I had written to Young in May, stating that I had reason to believe that he and Murray were the same person; he contradicted it—Mr. Cheese showed me a document in his office in July—I don't remember a comparison of the signatures being made—he showed me two documents, one supposed to be in Murray's handwriting, and the other in Young's, and said he strongly suspected they were written by one person—I cannot remember if at that time he led me to believe that Murray and Young were the same person—I cannot say what was said, I took no notice of it—the document was just shown to me—he knew I was Murray's solicitor—he told me at one time he had a shrewd suspicion by looking at the signatures, that Murray and Young were the same person, but I cannot recollect when that was—I don't know why I did not tell Mr. Cheese that they were the same person when he made there inquiries—I did not tell him I had written to Young in May, 1883—Murray was a client of mine, and I thought when this interview between myself and Mr. Cheese took place that he had done wrong, and assumed a false name—I Implicitly believed he was Sir Herbert Murray down to the time this prosecution was instituted, in November, 1883—after I wrote to him in May, 1883, he gave me an explanation, and reinstated my opinion, and I believed that he was Sir Herbert Murray up to 1884, and so did plenty of others—I knew him also in the name of Sir Herbert Murray Herbert—I received letters from him in both names—I asked him as to it, and he explained the use of the Herbert at Bristol, and gave me a long family history—I thoroughly believed it; we all did at Bristol—I prepared a deed for the conveyance of this property; Mr. Harris, of Cannes, the mortgagee, has it—I should think I had six or seven interviews with the Robertses when Murray was present—there was
only one up to January 31st, when both Robertses and Murray were present—that interview was in reference to the loan of 450l., and the appointment of myself as solicitor—Mitchell, a former articled clerk of mine, introduced Sir Herbert Murray to me—Major Furnival is a commission agent, at 5, Waterloo Place, in the same room that I am—he obtained the loan of 3,750l. from Harris for Murray—I have not seen Mr. Furnival here—it was not done through my office, I acted as solicitor for Sir Herbert Murray—Mr. Furnival is not in my office, he merely has a seat there, he is in no way connected with me; he pays part of the rent—the matter of the loan was not introduced through him, he obtained the loan and I paid him—no money passed in my office, the matter was completed at Bristol—I prepared the deed and saw the 3,750l. pass—I prepared a conveyance from Roberta to Murray, which is in the hands of the mortgagees—it was in consideration of 5,250l.—that was not paid—nothing went through my hands—when the conveyance was engrossed I said to the Robertses "There is 5,250l. to be paid for your houses; you have 500l. deposit, am I to receive that money for you?"—they said "We have arranged with Sir Herbert Murray about that sum, he has been making advances from time to time on the Hornsey property, and we have arranged for the disposition of that money, you have nothing to do with it"—I said "Very well," and simply executed the conveyance—I do not know that Mr. Furnival introduced the business and was to receive 500l. for the negotiation—I know Murray gave him a commission of 800l. with regard to that very property—he received it, I gave it to him out of the money I received from the mortgagee, at Murray's request—I did not hand him 500l.—certain costs had to be paid to Harris—I forget the sum I gave him—the balance about 2,300l. I paid to Messrs. Salt and Parnell, the equitable mortgagees, that was the amount, charged on the property—I took an undertaking from Sir Herbert Murray to pay 600l. odd to Salt and Parnell, leaving a balance of 202l., for which he told me to write a cheque and hand it to the Robertses, which I did—some time in May, before I wrote that latter, Roberts told me he had never received a penny from Murray or Young of the 500l.—I acquainted "Murray of the fact, and he produced an account showing sums he had for them, and ultimately they came with him and said it was all right, they had settled the whole matter—they satisfied me, subject to the Robertses' explanation—I think I told them that I saw on the contract for the purchase of the Clevedon property that Mr. Young purported to receive a deposit of 500l.—they led me to believe Young and Murray Were the same person—I cannot remember what then took place—I have lent other money on mortgage to clients; none of them through Major Furnival—this is not the only transaction I have had through him since he has had a seat in my office; I can't say about how many—I don't know that I have had any except this through him—I did not look in the Baronetage for the name of Murray; he was introduced to me by Golding and Mitchell, solicitors, of Southampton Street—I made no further inquiries then, or when I saw he was Sir Herbert Murray Herbert—I believed him to be Sir Herbert Murray.
Re-examined. I got back my 450l. and another 100l. when the purchase was completed—that would be the Monday after May 1st, 1883—the Robertses did not execute the conveyance in the presence of Murray—the Robertses would execute first—I attested it in the presence of all three—
I attested the Robertses' signature—I think no one else was present than except myself—that was about 5th May—it was engrossed on parchment and read to both the Robertses, and then I got my money back, and there was an end of that matter—the 3,750l. advanced by Harris to Murray was the same money that went to pay off the money on the Clevedon property—I did not know the third prisoner by any name but Murray up to May 11th. (MR. BESLEY read a letter from the witness to Murray, which stated that he found Young was none other than himself and that Roberts informed him he had not received a penny of the 500l.) After that letter he came with the Robertses and gave such explanation as made me believe he was Sir Herbert Murray—I cannot fix the amount that the accounts showed the Robertses had received—the accounts explained that Murray had made certain payments for them, including the payments he had made on the equitable mortgage to Messrs. Parnell and Salt—the purchase money of the three houses was originally 2,550l.; it had nothing to do with the hotel—on the statement that the 500l. had been absorbed Roberts said they were satisfied with the arrangement—I continued to believe in Murray down to the time of going before the Magistrate.
GEORGE MILLER (Policeman E 251). On 10th November I took a summons and went with it to the Limes, Wood Lane, Shepherd's Bush, and left it there with an elderly lady who gave the name of Mrs. Hall; I afterwards saw her at the police-court.
The prisoner Young, on MR. GRAIN'S application, was permitted to make his own statement to the Jury.
YOUNG— GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
GEORGE and WILLIAM ROBERTS— NOT GUILTY .
563. WILLIAM GEORGE SPINKS (23), FREDERICK MAXSEY (30), and WILLIAM RUST (38) , were charged on several indictments with forging and uttering orders for the delivery of goods, also for stealing the same, and for conspiracy.
SPINKS and MAXSEY PLEADED GUILTY to the charge of larceny.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each
RUST PLEADED GUILTY to conspiracy.
On the following day Rust was put on his trial for stealing a case of calf skins of the London and North-Western Railway Company, his masters. During the examination of the first witness, MR. BESLEY, for the prisoner, stated that he could not resist the evidence, and the prisoner withdrew his plea, on which a verdict of
GUILTY was taken. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his former good character. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 20th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. CLUER defended Hogan.
ADA ELSDEN . I live at Mr. Norman's, a tobacconist's—on 11th April; between 3 and 4 p.m., my sister and I were in the shop, and Davis came in for twopennyworth of sweets, and put down a florin—I said we had not got any change—he said, "I will go and get some change"—I said, "You can have coppers"—he said, "I will have coppers"—I gave him 1s. 10d. in coppers—I put the coin in the till; there was no other florin there—Mr. Norman came in and examined it.
Cross-examined by Davis. My sister gave you the sweets; she is not here.
CLARA WALKER . I am Mrs. Norman's nurse at 5, Henry Street, a sweetstuff and tobacconist's shop—on 18th April, about 11.30 a.m., I was serving in the shop, and Marks came in for half an ounce of tobacco, which came to 2d.—he gave me a florin—I tried it with my teeth—he said, "You have no need to try it, it is a good one"—I gave him the change, and he left—Mr. Norman came in, and I gave it to him—he found it was bad, and went out after Marks and brought him back—he said he had not got any more about him, only a penny—Mr. Norman gave him in custody—this is the coin.
HENRY NORMAN . On 18th April I was crossing the road and saw Marks come out of my shop; I went in and received a bad florin from Mrs. Walker—in consequence of what she said I turned round Townsend Road and saw Marks, Hogan, and Thorpe standing together about 100 yards from my shop—I took Marks by the collar, and said "You will have to come back to my shop for passing a bad florin"—the others then ran away—Marks said "You can search me; I have no more about me"—I said "No, your friends have got them"—I took him into the shop and gave him into custody—on the 24th, when I was talking to the inspector at the police-court, I saw Hogan and Davis in custody, and said as to Hogan "That is the man"—I went into the station and said that I wanted Hogan for running away from Marks—he said "You perisher, your life will not be worth twopence when I come out; I will do for you"—I said "Your threats wont intimidate me from coming to-morrow against you at the police-court; I shall come"—it was about 3.5 on the 24th when Hogan was taken—I was at the police-court on 25th and 26th, and saw him again—I saw Thorpe the next night, Friday, and picked him out from about sixteen—he said "Yes, I was with him"—on 11th April, Good Friday, I came home, and Ada Elsden showed me a florin which was in the till—there was no other florin there—I found it was bad.
Cross-examined by Marks. I took you at 11.45 punctually, because I was going to see my men—you had got a clay pipe.
Cross-examined by MR. CLUER. The moment I took Marks by his collar Hogan ran, and he was out of sight before I got round the corner—I don't know whether he said "Your life won't be worth a penny or twopence"—I used the same words at the police-court as I do now. (The witness's deposition stated; "Your life will not be worth a penny when I
come out; you'll perish.") This is my signature—the deposition was read over to me—he said "You perisher"—when I saw the three men together they were sharing the tobacco or the money, I cannot say which, because Marks had his back to me—they were all three with their hands together; I say that because he had tobacco in one hand and the change in the other when I took him—the tobacco was undone; I believe he had eighteenpence in silver and some coppers in his hand—he offered it to me—I did not take it; the constable did.
MILFORD HAVEN (Policeman S 486). On the morning of 18th April I was on duty at the corner of Henry Street, near Mr. Norman's shop—I was called, and found Marks detained there; this coin was shown me"—Marks said "You can search me now; I have no more money about me—I searched him and found a penny in his pocket and a shilling, a sixpence, and fourpence in his hand—he gave a right address.
Cross-examined by Marks. The tobacco was loose in your waistcoat-pocket—I did not see it in your hand in the shop—I also found in your pocket a knife, a clay pipe, and a pawnticket.
EDWARD COLES . I live at 15, William Street, Portland Town—on 24th April I saw Hogan, Davis, and Thorpe on the path of the canal bridge, St. John's Wood—Davis gave something to Hogan and Thorpe; they left and went towards the post-office in High Street—Thorpe went in and came out and gave Hogan some stamps—I saw the stamps—Davis had been watching me previous to that—I went into the post-office and Wilson showed me a bad half-crown—I followed the prisoners, and spoke to S 332—Davis turned and saw me; Thorpe went down Lodge Road, and Davis and Hogan ran down North Bank—they stopped in the middle of the bank—when the constable came up I had not lost sight of them—Davis ran for about half a mile; I ran after him and caught him—the constable went the other way and took Hogan—he met them face to face—Davis threw away these papers (produced) as he ran—I did not stop to pick them up—I took him by the collar and gave him in custody—I saw Thorpe next morning, and picked him out from twelve or fifteen others in a room at the back of the Court.
Cross-examined by MR. CLUER. Hogan did not cross the road at all—he was not on the same side of the road as North Bank—I was interested in him because I had seen him with thieves before—I am a grocer's assistant, but have not got employment now—when I want 1l. I can always get it from my father—I was going to see my brother at Shoreditch—Hogan had to cross the road from the post-office after he had purchased the stamps, but not before.
Cross-examined by Davis. I picked up the papers twenty minutes afterwards and am sure they are what you threw away—it was not a packet.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. It was 3 o'clock when I saw you as near as I can tell—it was not somebody like you—it is not a got-up case, you were taken in the act—I can walk from St. John's Wood to Star Street, Paddington, in ten minutes, and you can do it quicker, because you can run.
SARAH WATSON . I live at the post-office, 2, High Street, St. John's Wood, and assist there—it is on the opposite side to North Bank—on the 24th April, about 3 p.m., Thorpe came in for three shillings' worth of stamps and handed me this half-crown and a penny—after he left I tried
it and found it was bad—doles then came in and I showed it to him, he went out again—the constable afterwards brought Hogan into the office, at the time Thorpe came in there was nobody else there—I had never seen Thorpe before—I was taken to the police-court and picked Thorpe out from twenty or thirty others.
Cross-examined by MR. CLUER. When Hogan was brought in the policeman asked me if that was the man who purchased the stamps—I said "No, I know nothing whatever about him," and he let him go.
HENRY HUNT (Policeman A 332). On the 24th April, about 3 o'clock, I was in Park Road, St. John's Wood, and saw Hogan, Thorpe, and Davis—Coles said something to me, they saw that and ran away—I followed Thorpe; he ran up Lodge Road, and Davis and Hogan up North Bank—Coles ran after them—I did not catch Thorpe, but ran into Lodge Place and met Hogan and Davis—Coles said "That is one, collar him," and I collared Hogan, and Coles chased Davis and took him and handed him to another constable—I then took Hogan to the post-office and afterwards to the station, and at the cell Davis said to Hogan "What a good Job they did not spoil me for Good Friday," and afterwards he laid "I have flung three half-crowns away"—I searched Hogan and found on him six shillings' worth of postage stamps, two shillings, one florin, four sixpences, and eight pence good money—I picked up these pieces of paper (produced) not far from the canal bridge.
Cross-examined by MR. CLUER. When I first saw Hogan they were standing at the bottom of North Bank on the right-hand side as you go down to Marylebone, on the opposite side to the post-office, which is in High Street—Lower William Street is close to the post-office on the farther side from the City—I did not let Hogan go at the poet-office, I said "Probably it may be a mistake," and we went outside—he stayed with me willingly.
Cross-examined by Davis. The paper is what the base coin is wrapped up in—I did not find any coins.
WILLIAM RECORD (Police Sergeant D). On the 25th April, about 8 p.m., I saw Thorpe in Praed Street, Paddington, and told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of being concerned with Charles Marks and others in custody for uttering—he said "All right, I'll come"—he was taken to Portland Koad Police-station, and placed with several lads of similar appearance and was immediately identified by Norman—he was then charged—I had seen him on the previous day in Market Street, Paddington, at 3.30, and again in Star Street, Edgware Road, about 3.50 or 4 o'clock, just going indoors—Market Street is 300 or 400 yards from Radnor Place—he entered his house at 4 o'clock, just as I came out of the stable—that is half a mile from the spot in question, and from the post-office in St. John's Wood to Radnor Place would be twenty minutes' easy walk.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. You got into an archway, and afterwards I saw you again standing at your door—I had an appointment at 4 o'clock, at our station, and I am positive of the time—there are several clocks' there, and there is one in Star Street hanging out, I am positive it was between 4 and 4.10 when I saw you at your door—I did not arrest you because I knew nothing about your being wanted—I arrested you as soon as the matter was circulated—I did not search you on the Monday in Conduit Place.
Re-examined. He Was hastening down Market Street from the direction of Edgware Road, and he went under the archway of a stone place which I was in, and when I came out I saw him at his door.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these two florins and this half-crown are counterfeit—this paper bears the impression of a florin or half-crown—it is usual for utterers to wrap the coins in paper to keep them from rubbing, and when they an wanted they are taken out and rubbed on the trousers and coat.
Witnesses for Thorps.
Cross-examined. He came to me about 3.15 or 3.20
WILLIAM THORPE . I am Thorpe's father, and am a butler out of employment—I live at 3, Star Street—on 24th April, Thorpe came in at 4.30 or 4.40 o'clock and said he had been to see his mother, and saw Detective Record come out of Fox's Yard and thought he had a new overcoat on.
Cross-examined. I carry a watch, I did not look at it; but we have dinner between 2 and half-past, and I went out directly afterwards—we are always punctual to our dinner—he was standing in Radnor Place when I met him, I swear that.
By the COURT. I did not look at the dock, I merely infer that it was 3 o'clock—I went out as soon as I had had my dinner—he went with me to several places.
MARY ELIZABETH WEEKS . I live at 3, Star Street—I saw Thorpe there on 24th April at 4.30. Marks in his defence stated that he was taken in consequence of his having red hair, and a man with red hair had passed bad money at a baker's shop, but that he had no idea the florin he passed was bad. Davis in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he had never passed any bad money. Thorpe stated that he was with Marks on 18th April, but not with Hogan; but Marks went into the tobacconist's while he walked on, and that he was at Paddington on the 24th, and never saw Hogan and Davis till he was at the police-court, and that the guilty party had got away.
MARKS— GUILTY. on second count. — Ten Months' Hard Labour.
HOGAN and THORPE— GUILTY on the first three counts. HOGAN— Two Years' Hard Labour.
THOEPE**— Three Months' Hard Labour.
DAVIS— GUILTY .*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
touched his hat to him as a signal before entering—I took hold of Mackrell and said, "I am a police-officer, I have been watching you some time, there is something wrong," and took him across to No. 96—while I was holding him two shillings rolled down his trousers' leg on to the pavement—I picked them up—they were bad—he then threw a parcel into the road which was picked up by a witness—it contained three bad half-crowns—I said "That is what I thought"—he said that he gave them to him to hold—a crowd assembled, and I took Mackrell into the chemist's shop and saw Pavey standing at the counter with a shilling in his hand, which he immediately put into his purse on seeing me and took out a penny—I was in plain clothes—I said "You will both be charged together with having counterfeit coin in your possession"—Pavey said "I came in here to buy a penny power"—I sent for a constable—I took Mackrell, and on the way to the station he said "I met him this morning; he told me he had some bad money and asked me to go to Westbourne Grove and hold it while he went into the shop and changed it"—I searched Pavey at the station and found 15s. 6d. in good silver, two bad shillings, and 7 1/2 d. in copper.
LABAN EGAN . I am a clerk, and live at Broadale-Road, Westbourne Park—on 2nd May about 11.30 I saw Mackrell in custody in Westbourne Grove—he threw a newspaper parcel into the road, which I picked up and handed to the sergeant—I saw it opened—it contained these three half-crowns (produced)—I went into the chemist's shop, and Pavey was standing at the counter with a silver piece, which appeared to be a shilling, in one hand, and an open purse in the other—he put the coin into his purse and took out a penny and asked for a penny powder—the constable then came in.
Cross-examined by Pavey. It was a brass-rimmed purse like this (produced).
Pavey in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that the money was given to him while Mackrell was with him, and that he did not know it was bad. Mackrell stated that Pavey gave him the coins to hold and he was going to throw them away when they fell down the leg of his trousers.
PAVEY— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MACKRELL— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury, and the Rev. Mr. Wheatley promised to assist him. The COURT stated that if he gave information where he got the coins from it would be taken into consideration—Judgment respited.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
FREDERICK GEORGE HURST . I live at 53, Radnall Terrace—towards the end of February I saw Anderson outside King's Cross Station between 7 and 8 o'clock—he went up to several gentlemen and asked them questions, and then he asked me if I could oblige him with change for a half-crown—I said "Yes, where is the half-crown?"—he gave it to me—I felt it was bad and said "I shall give you in custody for
attempting to change a bad half-crown"—he ran up Taragona Road—I marked the coin "P.H."—on 30th April I identified the prisoner in the dock at the police-court.
WALTER TARGETT (Detective Sergeant Y). On the evening of 25th April I was on duty in Seven Sisters Road in plain clothes, and saw the three prisoners walking and talking together—I watched them and saw Burrow leave Smith and Anderson; he returned in three or four minutes, they had some conversation, and walked on to Sussex Road; Smith then left them and was away about four minutes; he returned to them and they walked up Hornsey Road to Mitford Road, where Smith left them again and rejoined them in about five minutes—they returned to Grove Road, where Anderson left the others and returned—they went down Grove Road and I missed them for twenty minutes or half an hour, but found them in Holloway Road, a quarter of a mile off—I saw Anderson leave the others and rejoin them—they went into the Half Moon; I ran to the Nag's Head and got the assistance of the man on the point, and on going back met the prisoners—I caught hold of Smith and the constable detained the others—I searched Smith and found a good florin and 11 1/2 d.—Burrow refused to be searched and I searched him at the station and found in his pocket a half-crown loose—I said "This is counterfeit"—he said "You have got them all"—I made a further search and found four more bad half-crowns wrapped up separately in the breast pocket of his coat; I also found on him a loaf of bread, five keys, a box of adhesive matter, a book, and a good shilling—I found on Anderson 11d. in bronze—Burrow and Smith said that they had no home, but Smith gave an address in Long Acre at a common lodging-house.
Cross-examined, by Burrow. You did not say "What a cop"—you said "You have got them all"—a cop is a catch I suppose—one of the five coins found on you was defaced; that was the one tested by Kate Smith and given back to you.
KATE SMITH . I am assistant to Mr. Ely, a pork butcher, of Grove Road—on 25th April, between 8 and 9 p.m., I served Anderson with half a pound of beef sausages, which came to 3d.; he gave me a half-crown, I bent it in the tester, and asked him where he had it from—he said "From my master"—I gave it back to him—this is it (produced); I know it because I bent it—he said that as he had only 1d. he could not have the sausages—he was in the shop about a month before that for threepennyworth of sausages and gave me a half-crown; I gave him the change and afterwards paid it away; it was brought back to me and I had to give a good one for it—I gave it to the constable—this is it (produced)—I went to Clerkenwell and picked Anderson out from seven others.
Cross-examined by Anderson. I did not give you in custody when you came in the second time because I was very busy and had not the chance.
KATE KING . I am assistant to Mr. Frost, a baker, of Providence Cottage, Hornsey Road, about ten minutes' walk from Mr. Ely's—on 25th April, between 8 and 9 p.m., I served Anderson with a twopenny loaf; he gave me a half-crown—I sounded it on the counter and felt it;
it was bad, and I took it to my master, who came in and said to Anderson "This is a bad half-crown"—he said "Oh, I know where I got it; I can't leave it, I have no more money"—it was returned to him—I did not mark it—I afterwards picked him out from seven others at the police-court.
ELIZABETH HOFFMAN . My father is a baker in Highgate Road—on 25th April, between 8.30 and 9.30, Burrow came in for a twopenny loaf, and put down a half-crown—I tried it with my teeth, and easily bent the edge—I told him it was bad, and asked if he knew where he got it—he took it up, looked at it, and said that he had been doing some work at Finchley—he left without the loaf—I afterwards picked him out from six others at Clerkenwell.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These half-crowns are all bad—this one is of 1874, and of the five found on Burrow three are of 1874 from one mould, and the same mould as this, and the two others are from one mould.
Burrow's Defence. I did tender the half-crown for the loaf, but I did not know it was bad, and I did not know the others were bad. I had been betting at Epsom, and made 14s., and this money was among it. I was looking for a lodging when I was arrested.
Anderson in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he was with the other prisoners looking for work, and knew nothing about the coins till he got to the station. Smith in his defence stated that he was with the other prisoners, but did not know what money they had, and that Sergeant Targett was mistaken about his leaving them.
BURROW— GUILTY *— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
ANDEBSON— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
SMITH— NOT GUILTY .
The COURT considered that Targett acted with very great tact and prudence.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 21st, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Field.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. JARVIS Defended.
WILLIAM PETTIGAL HUNTER . I am collector to the Board of Guardians of the Fulham Union—on 13th December, 1883, a child called Florence Kay Rider was taken in at the workhouse—the prisoner is the mother of that child—on 25th March, about 10 in the morning, I took that child to Millbank Prison, and it was handed to the prisoner by a man named Cowley—the child was then in a perfectly healthy condition—the prisoner recognised it as her child.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before that occasion—directly she took the child we left the prison.
HERBERT JOHN NEATE . On 25th March, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I was in the Brewery Tap, Gtoldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush, with Henry Motler—I went with aim to 28, Fulham Palace Road, the residence of Motler's sister—I there saw the prisoner; she had a child with her between two and three years old—we remained there about three-quarters of an hour—we then went to Motler's house to tea, leaving the prisoner at the sister's—we then went back to Motlers' sister's
about 7 o'clock in the evening—the prisoner was still there with her child—about 7.80 I and Motler left the house and went to the Brewery Tap; we had something to drink there—while there Mrs. Tillard, the landlady, gave the prisoner a two-shilling piece—the prisoner had the child in her arms, nursing it, and treating it as her child—it was playing on the ground when I first went in there, and she took it in her arms—she had put on its things to come out—the prisoner was going home to Uxbridge with her child, and for that purpose we went to the station in the Uxbridge Road—Motler took the ticket for her, I think with her money—he gave her the ticket—after waiting there a short time a train came up—I said "This is your train"—she then said "I am not going home to-night; I am going upstairs to change this ticket," and she went upstairs and changed it and got the money, 1s. 4d. back—we then went outside, and she asked Motler if he would stop at a coffee shop with her that night—he refused to do so—I said "If you like I will go back with you and get another ticket if you will go home to Uxbridge"—after a long while she said "All right," and I went and got her the ticket—the train was going at 9.20—Motler and I then left her—as we were leaving she said "All I hope before the night is out I will have twelve years"—we did not say anything to that—I said to Motler "Come on, I have a brother of mine dying; I want to see how he is getting on"—we just saw her go inside the station door, and we went away—at that time she had the child in her arms; I think it was asleep—the prisoner was quits sober at that time.
Cross-examined. It was she who first proposed to go to the coffee-house; I am quite sure of that—nothing was said to her previous to her alluding to the twelve years—she had the child in her arms all the time—she seemed all right—she was not in a state of excitement, or angry with Motler because he would not pass the night with her.
HENRY MOTLER . I am a painter, and now live at 35, Aberfield Street; I did live at 28, Fulham Palace Road—I have known the prisoner about twelve months—on the afternoon of 25th March I saw her at my brother's—she had the child with her, it was running about the room with my sister-in-law's children—I cannot say the date when I had last seen her, but it was between December and January—she did not say anything about the child at my brother's—after a little time I went out with Neate to my home to tea—we afterwards returned, and found the prisoner with the child at my brother's—I heard that she had got some money to return to Uxbridge—I asked how much she had—she said 1s. 5d.—she had that on coming out of prison—I then left with her and Neate, she carrying the child—we went into a public-house by the way, and she there got some money from the landlady, and we afterwards went to the railway station with her—I got a ticket for her—she took it back and got the money—when the train came in she said "I shan't go to Uxbridge to-night"—I asked her how she got on at home, she said she got on very well with her father, but did not get on with her mother-in-law at all—I said "Then the best thing you can do is to stay at a coffee-house," and if she did I would stay with her—she went across to a coffee-house to ask how much it would be, she came back and said it would be half-a-crown—I then said I could not stop because I had to get up in the morning, and I was afraid of being late for work—we then went back to Uxbridge Road
Station, and I said "The best thing you can do is to go to Uxbridge"—she said "All right"—Neate got a ticket for her to Uxbridge, and we left her about half-past 9 or 10, and I promised to meet her on the following Sunday at Uxbridge Road Railway Station—we left her in the station, still carrying the child—I did not see her off—she was sober when I left her.
Cross-examined. When she exchanged the Uxbridge ticket for money, she said she feared it was too late to get in at home—it was not because they required too much money at the coffee-house that I did not stay, I had money—I have been very intimate with the prisoner—I was not discussing marrying her on that day—I had done so previous to her going to prison—I had written to her sister asking for a sovereign to get married with—that was the last time I saw her, between December and January—she brought me a letter from the Vicar of Uxbridge asking me to marry her—I do not know that I am the father of the child that the was pregnant with at that time—as far as I know I am, I may have been—I was walking with her down Shepherd's Bush Road when she gave me the letter; I read it and tore it up and said "What have you done with the other child?"—she said "I have put it in a home"—we went on towards Uxbridge Road Station, and she brought it up again—I said I had got no money and asked whether she had any, or her sister—she said she did not know whether her sister Polly had any, and I asked whether I should write to her—she said "If you like"—I said "If you can bring me papers to prove that you have got that child in a home I will marry you"—I did not meet her at the prison door the day she came out; I saw her at my brother's house on Tuesday, the 25th March, about 4 in the afternoon—she seemed fond of the child—she said a lady had got it in a home—I understood it to be a home for children where so much a week was paid and the mother had no more to do with it, and it was on that condition that I was willing to marry her, so that it would no longer be a charge to me or her—she said "I can't bring tile papers to prove it, but a lady has got it in a home"—at that time she was living at Hillingdon with her father, as far as I knew—when I first knew her she was living in service at Mrs. Hicks's, at Shepherd's Bush—when she left there she went to Hillingdon, that was all I knew—I did not see anything more of the child till I saw it at my brother's—that was an accidental meeting—I went there, I thought she would be there.
Q. Did you ever notice anything strange about her? A. Yes, I first noticed it when I was walking down the Shepherd's Bush Road, the last time I saw her, between December and January—she was speaking to me about being married, and I spoke about the home; I looked at her and she looked as if she had been hunted, frightened about the eyes—that was the only time I had noticed anything strange about her—she seemed peculiar about the face, as if she had been hunted about; she looked distressed, as if she had got some trouble—she told me that her mother had died in a madhouse—that was the first time I went out with her—I do not know whether it was in May or April, 1883—I never heard that her mother's brother had died in a madhouse—I never observed her with a melancholy appearance—she was very lively—I never noticed anything excitable about her, she seemed a very nice girl to me, I mean she was of an affectionate disposition.
Western Railway—I have known the prisoner a long while, but I have been away and have not seen her for some time—I knew where she had been living, at Hillingdon—on the night of 25th March, about 11.15, I was at the West Drayton Station and saw her there—she had a child with her; it seemed to me as though it was asleep in her arms—I did not speak to her; she came up off one platform on to the Uxbridge platform, and I saw her get into the Uxbridge train, and about six minutes afterwards I saw her at the Uxbridge Station; she got out of the train and went by the engine and I saw no more of her.
ANNIE RIDER . The prisoner is the daughter of my husband by his first wife—she is 21 years of age and was a general servant—she came to us some time in December and stayed a month—she was committed from Hammersmith Police-court for abandoning her child—on 28th January I went to the Fulham Workhouse and there saw a female child about two years of age—on the morning of 26th March I saw that same child dead at the General Elliott public-house at Uxbridge—I live on Uxbridge Moor close by—on 25th March, shortly before 12 o'clock at night, the prisoner came to our house—I had not seen her from the time she left to go to the Hillingdon Union—we were not expecting her; we expected her to be confined in prison—there was a knock at the door, her father opened it, and she came in—I said "Then you are out, Till" meaning out of prison—she said "Yes"—I said "I see you are not confined"—she said "No"—I said "Have you been to claim little Florrie at the Fulham Union? for if you have not, the police know that your two months' imprisonment is up, and you would be retaken for neglecting it again"—she said "It is all right, mother, don't worry yourself at all about it; I have claimed the child and put it out to nurse at 5s. a week"—I said "However in the world are you going to pay for it?"—she said "He will pay for it; it has been paid for before and it will be paid again"—I said "I hope it is all right"—she said "It is all right, don't worry again, mother"—I got her some tea, but she was very reluctant to sit down; she wished to get inside the door and not come any farther—we talked together a long time during the night—she went to bed just after 3 o'clock in the morning, but she laid down in front of the fire shortly before 3 o'clock—shortly before 5 o'clock her father got up to go to work, and she gave him some tea; it was left on the hob, remaining from what had been had—I laid down by the child just before 3 o'clock when she laid down in front of the fire; we had the bed down through the illness of my baby—she laid down after giving her father the tea, but I had great difficulty to get her to do so—during the night she said she was going to Birmingham to be confined at her brother's—a little after 6 o'clock William Hughes came to the window and said "There is a little child in the water"—the River Colne runs exactly opposite our house, only the road parts us—the prisoner heard what Hughes said, but she did not speak then—I said "Is it hurt much, or is it drowned at this time of the morning?"—he said "It is lying dead on the bank"—the prisoner then said "Mother, mother, it is me, it is mine; I have done it; let me leave the house and I will make away with myself"—she would have rushed out as she was, not dressed, but I would not let her go; we had a struggle—I sent for the police—the Uxbridge Station is about half a mile from our house.
Cross-examined. When she first came in she was very calm and very
low; that did not continue all night—just before 3 o'clock she said the time seemed so long, it must have gone 3 o'clock; that was just as I lay down, with the child—she began sighing so frequently and saying "Oh, dear," so mournfully, that I asked her if she was ill—she said "No, not ill; you are not going to sleep, are you?"—she was very excitable the month she was with me, and very changeable at times—the first time I saw her was about three years ago when she came to me for a holiday, part of a day—I was married to her father at that time—I saw her again some time in December last, when she came and stayed with us a month—she had some peculiarities about her then; she came in a very peculiar manner at first—she was to have come the evening before, but she did not, she came between 11 and 12 o'clock in a cab, and she did not offer to come in; she looked up at the chimney as if she was looking into futurity—she beckoned to me and I went to her and said "You did not come last night"—she said "No, it was late, mother; I did not like to disturb you; I did not leave my place till late, so I have come this morning"—she did not offer to get her box off the cab, the cabman spoke sharply, and it was got down by the man and a neighbour—she did not offer to pay him, and he said "I can't wait here all day"—I said "You must pay him and let him go," and she paid him 1s.—she did not wish to sit down when she came in—she was then about six months advanced in pregnancy—her mother's name was Charlotte Russell before she married Rider—I did not know her personally—the prisoner told me that she had died in Dr. Schofield's lunatic asylum at Camberwell, and was buried at Forest Hill; and her uncle died in the same—when she came in I said to her "I hope it is all right"—I asked her that because I was afraid, having deserted it once, that if she had not claimed it they would take her again.
CHARLES FREDERICK KING . I live at Uxbridge Moor—on the morning of 26th March, about 5 minutes to 6, I was going along a path by the side of the River Colne, and noticed the body of a little child lying in the water dressed, about 18 inches from the bank; the head was slightly, upstream; it had a small cape over its face—the water there is from 8 to 9 inches deep—the child was lying just below the last witness's house—there is a narrow slip of ground between the river and the roadway, and a public footpath leading from the station past the prisoner's father's house—a person coming from the station would not pass that spot, it would be about 50 yards farther on; a person going that way would have to go out of the high road into the footpath, and then back again to the high road—the high road is about 20 yards from this spot—the water slightly covered the child, but was not deep enough to thoroughly cover it; it covered its face—I took the child out; it was dead, and quite cold—there was a slight scratch under the chin—it was dressed in the usual way—I sent for the police—a woman carried the child with the police to the General Elliott public-house, where I left it about 20 minutes past 6.
Cross-examined. The river varies in depth—it is not a shelving bank, it is nearly straight, except just at this spot there is a way trodden down, as if children had been getting down there—the water would not be 8 or 9 inches higher in the morning than it was the night before—there is no lock there—I supposed the boy to have been placed in the position I found it—if it had been placed on the bank it might possibly have
slipped down into the water; it might roll or slip—the clothes were floating in the water; the body was resting on the earth, partly covered with the water—I could not see the mouth and nostrils, the cape was over it—it was all saturated with water—I could not see the face till I took the child out—the cape was fastened on in the ordinary way round the neck.
NATHAN MANSFIELD (Police Inspector). At a quarter to 6 on the morning of 26th March, in consequence of information, I went to the River Colne on Uxbridge Moor, at the back of the Pipemaker's Arms—I saw there the body of a female child lying on the bank of the river—it was the same child that has been identified as Florence May Rider—I had it removed to the General Elliott public-house—I then went to the house of the prisoner's father; that is about 60 yards, from where I saw the child on the bank—I saw the prisoner there—I said to her, "Your mother has made a communication to me; where did you go yesterday, and what time did you get home to Uxbridge with the child Florence May?"—she replied, "I will tell you the truth; I left Hammersmith between 2 and 3, and came to Uxbridge after the public-houses were closed, and came straight down over the two bridges, and went down by the water and threw her in, and when I got indoors it was about a quarter to 12"—the doctor saw the prisoner at her father's house, and I then removed her to the police-station—the charge was there entered and read over to her; she said nothing—afterwards in the reserve room she said, "I was liberated from Millbank Prison yesterday, where I had been two months for leaving this child"—I took down in writing at the time what she said.
Cross-examined. I saw the body of the child after it was taken out of the water—I did not caution the prisoner that what she said would be given in evidence against her; it is not usual for a constable to caution a prisoner—I did not caution her at the police-station—I was in uniform.
By the COURT. In passing from the railway station to the father's house you would pass along the turnpike road to Windsor, you would touch the river just before arriving at the father's house—the road and the river run parallel, close to each other, you could almost put your hand in the river from the road—after that the river slightly diverges from the road, and a footpath goes along the bank of the river to the spot where the body was found—the footpath diverges almost immediately after passing the father's house—the stream runs from Uxbridge—if the child had been placed higher up it might possibly have floated down till stopped by something—the river is not very rapid at that place, it is a stream—it is quite possible that the child might be put in the river at a higher spot than where I found it.
CHARLES ROBERTS . I am a registered medical practitioner at Uxbridge, and am divisional surgeon of the police there—on the morning of 26th March I was sent for to the General Elliott—I got there at 9 o'clock, and saw there the body of a female child about two years of age—it was dressed; its clothes were very wet—I took off the cape and examined the child—I found a slight abrasion under the chin, caused by some friction, coming in contact with something rough—I made a post-mortem examination next day, and in my judgment the cause of death was suffocation by drowning.
Cross-examined. There were no marks of external violence on the body
—I don't think the suffocation was caused by the cape being entangled over its mouth and nostrils—I am quite certain it was caused by immersion in the water—the abrasion under the chin might hare been caused by the body having floated down the river and striking a stone—if the child had been placed on the bank and fallen off, its chin might possibly have obtained the abrasion by coming in contact with some rough substance. Q. Is a woman in the last month of her pregnancy likely to be seized by a sudden mania to do a thing of this kind? A. Such a thing might occur, then, or at any period—I don't think that a woman in the fifth or sixth month of pregnancy is liable to curious delusions and to do strange acts—I heard one of the witnesses say that in December the prisoner had a hunted look—that might be consistent with some hysterical condition arising from her pregnancy—I do not know the prisoner at all—I do not think that an excitable woman, of hysterical temperament, has a tendency during pregnancy to commit crimes which she would not otherwise do—I could not infer because her mother died in a lunatic saylum that she was taken with insanity in the fifth month of her pregnancy.
Re-examined. I saw the prisoner immediately after I saw the child—I asked her how ever she came to do such an act—she cried, and said "I don't know"—I noticed nothing in her demeanour to attract my attention, except that she seemed distressed and was crying.
ELIZA HALE . I am the wife of Robert Hale, a stableman, of 85, St. Clement's Road, Notting Hill—I had charge of a child called Florence May Rider for seven months, up to December 12th, 1883—the prisoner placed her in my charge, and paid me 5s. a week—about 20 minutes past 5 o'clock on the evening of 12th December she took the child away and said she was going to her brother's at Birmingham—I did not see the child again till 31st December, when I saw it at the Fulham Union Workhouse.
JOHN RALLINGS (Policeman T 212). About 6.30 on the evening of 12th December I found a female child, aged about 18 months, on a piece of waste ground on the Sulgrave Road, Hammersmith—on 31st December I was at the Fulham Union Workhouse, when Eliza Hale identified that child as the child she had handed over to the prisoner—her house is about a mile from where I found the child.
HENRY JONES (Police Inspector). On 5th January last I received a warrant for the arrest of the prisoner for deserting her child, and on the 25th I arrested her at the Hillingdon Union Workhouse—she was charged next day at Hammersmith Police-court before Mr. Paget—I produce the certificate of her conviction, which was one of two months' imprisonment in Millbank.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Her Majesty'a Gaol, Clerkenwell—the prisoner has been in that prison since 26th March—I have seen her nearly every day—she was confined on 8th April—I have seen nothing whatever about her to lead me to believe that she is other than a person of sound mind.
Cross-examined. She seemed to be aware of the difference between right and wrong—women advanced in pregnancy sometimes have delusions, not often—it sometimes affects their minds so that they do not know the difference between right and wrong—that happens more particularly about the sixth or seventh month, after the sixth month as a rule—if such a thing does happen the effect would be that they might commit suicidal or homicidal acts.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ISAAC HICKS . I live at 112, Uxbridge Eoad—the prisoner was in my service from a little after Easter last year up to about a fortnight before Christmas—she gave notice to leave, saying that she wanted change and she should go to Birmingham to her brother's for a while—she was an excellent servant, such a one as we shall never get again, of a very cheerful disposition and very kind, both to myself, Mrs. Hicks, and the child—she was very kind to children; on one occasion about August we had a friend come, and she would take the child out for an hour and a half—at times she was very excitable—I have noticed her looking peculiar at times, but not thinking anything about it I never took particular notice of it.
DR. EDWIN PAYNE . I am a M.B.C.P. of London—I have had some experience of persons who are insane—I have heard the evidence that has been given of the act committed by the prisoner—I agree with Mr. Gilbert that women advanced in pregnancy are very liable to attacks of mania, I mean to loss of reason, a loss of the faculty of knowing right from wrong, and a special tendency to commit suicidal and homicidal acts—having heard the facts under which the prisoner committed this offence, in my opinion she did not know at the time that she was committing a crime.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 2st, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
568. JOSEPH CLARKE (29) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a Basket and 62 shirts, the goods of William Matthews, after a conviction at Clerkenwell in the name of Arthur Watts.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labom, to run concurrently with his unexpired sentence.
569. CHARLES WILLIAM DOWN (19) , Unlawfully attempting to break and enter the warehouses of the Great Western Railway Company and to steal their goods. Second Count, being found by night with house breaking implements in his possession.
MR. RAVEN Prosecute.
ROBERT BRADFORD (City Policeman 208). On Saturday night, 26th April, about 11.45 p.m., I was in Bed Cross Street and saw two men standing near No. 11, the Great Western Rail way's receiving house, with their faces to the door—I had tried the door about a quarter of an hour previous—I got within 10 or 15 yards of them—they walked towards me, and the man not in custody shammed drunkenness, which aroused my suspicions, and I went to the door of No. 11 and saw this skeleton key (produced) in the keyhole—I went after them, caught hold of them both 50 yards off, and asked them what they had been doing to the door of No. 11—they both said "You have made a mistake, old man"—a struggle took place, and the other one got away—I took the prisoner to No. 11 and asked him to account for the key being in the door—he said "You have made a mistake, old man"—I took the key out and took him to the station and found on him this jemmy, dark lantern, a box of silent matches, and this canvas sack was rolled up under his left arm.
PERCY LEACH . I am clerk at the receiving house, 11, Red Gross Street—I left at 6.30 on that Saturday—I shut the door and tried it after me—it was fastened—it fastens with a spring catch; this key has nothing to do with the door, it is nothing like it—there was a parcel of goods in the office, and a safe with about 9l. in it.
ROBERT SAGA (City Detective). I went with Collard and several other constables to 11, Bed Cross Street that night and unlocked the door with this key—I then went back to Moor Lane Station, where the prisoner was; he said in answer to the charge "I was coming from the Variety Music Hall when I met a man not in custody at the top of Bed Cross Street; he said 'Halloa, Charley, do you want to earn a shilling?' and he handed me this parcel containing the jemmy. We both went to the door of No. 11, he put the key in the door, and I thought he lived there. The policeman came up and we went away"—he said nothing about the sack.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am a hardworking chap, this is my first offence, if you will deal leniently with me I will never do anything wrong again."
Prisoner's Defence. I thought the man lived there when he put the key in the door. I never saw him before.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
JOSEPH GRANT . I am chief clerk in the account department, Army and Navy Stores, Victoria Street—the prisoner has been ledger clerk since July, 1880—it was part of his duty to pay accounts which were owing by the Society, which were under 1l., and to make out a list of them—on 17th December he made out a list, which I believe has been destroyed—it amounted to 39l. 8l. 5d.—the money for that was paid by me from time to time—it was his duty to take a receipt for all moneys paid—at the end of the month he handed me this ticket (produced)—it is in his writing, showing the amount of money paid by him, 34l. 5s. 2d.—he handed me about 5l. on the balance of cash in his hands at that time—among the sums purporting to have been paid was 19s. 8d. to Dent, Aircraft, and Company, and he produced this receipt as his voucher for its payment. (This was signed "Per pro C. M.")—there was also in the list 10s. 8d. purporting to have been paid by the prisoner to Benjamin Eddington, for which the prisoner handed me this receipt—subsequently I received information which rendered it necessary to make inquiries as to those two accounts, and I found them both unpaid.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot say whether these two receipts are in your writing.
JOHN SAMUEL WHITE . I am ledger clerk to Dent, Alloroit, and Co.—this receipt for 19s. 8d. is not in the writing of any person in their employ, nor has it been paid—there is no one in their employ with the initials C. M.
FREDERICK HERBERT BIRDSEYE . I am clerk to Benjamin Eddington, tent maker, of 2, Duke Street—this receipt for 10s. 8d. is not in the writing of any one in his employ—the 10s. 8d. has not been paid—there is no one in the employ with the initials C.M.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have been an expert in hand-writing for thirty-five years—these two receipts are decidedly in the same writing, and I believe they are in the disguised writing of the person who wrote this account.
HENRY MARSHALL (Detective Inspector). I took the prisoner on the 21st April—I held the two bills in my hand and told him he would be charged with stealing the two amounts, naming them—he said "I had he money, but I shall say nothing to incriminate myself, my defence will be made before the Magistrate."
Cross-examined. I am quite certain you said that you had the money; it was when I showed you the receipts under a lamp-post.
JOHN ALLCHURCH . I am housekeeper at the Stores—I gave the prisoner in charge—I did not bear him say what the Inspector says, but I was not there the whole time—we went to the door where he lives, and the Inspector said "I want to speak to you, come outside"—he took him ten or twenty yards, and I walked behind—there was a conversation under a lamp-post—his mother was present, and he said "There is nothing against me but this."
Cross-examined. You said that what you had to say you would say before the Magistrate.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that he paid the I accounts and had to make up another list, and on drawing the balance found that he was 25s. short, and knowing that if he was found out he should be dismissed, he put in the 25s. short, and then had 5s. still to his credit, which he put in for his expenses, and he denied saying that he had the money.
GUILTY .— One Month without Hard Labour.
SAMUEL FOREMAN . I live at 50, Mount Street, Leytonstone—on Good Friday I was managing Mr. Ward's swings at Lea Bridge—the prisoner was using one of them, and refused to get out—I removed him quietly, and afterwards found that I was stabbed in my thigh close to the hipbone, and another stab lower down—I did not see who stabbed me—I gave the prisoner in charge—I have been in the German Hospital three weeks, and have not been able to do anything since—I saw Dr. White, before I went to the hospital.
WILLIAM MONAGHAN . I live at 4, Little Galloway Street, St. Luke's—I was at these swings on Good Friday, and saw Foreman eject the prisoner from a swing—they closed together—I ran over, and some one called out "The knife"—I saw a white-handled knife in the prisoner's hand, with a narrow-pointed blade—I backed him away, and Foreman said tome "Bill, I'm stabbed," and pulled his hand out of his trousers covered with blood—I fetched a constable, and returned in about two minutes, and saw the prisoner going up the road—I halloaed after him and saw him pull the knife out of his pocket and pass it to some of his friends in the crowd—there were fifty people round him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You had had something to drink, but you were not very drunk.
JAMES BELL (Policeman N 294). About 5.30 on Good Friday I received information, and took the prisoner in the Lea Bridge Road—I said "Where is the knife?"—he put his hand in his pocket and passed it to some of his friends, and as he did so I saw a handkerchief stained with blood—he said that two of them sat upon him—I handed him over to another constable and took Foreman to a doctor—the prisoner had been drinking and was very much excited, but he knew what he was about—he was not bleeding.
The Prisoner. The blood on my handkerchief was from my nose where I was struck.
The Witness. It was very slightly stained.
JOHN WHITE . I am a surgeon, of Lower Clapton—on Good Friday afternoon Foreman was brought to me with two incised wounds, on the upper and inner part of the left thigh—one was an inch and a half deep, and rather more than an inch long; the other only went through the skin, and was about three-quarters of an inch long—he had lost a quantity of blood; he was very pale and fainted—I dressed the wounds, and recommended him to be sent to the hospital—neither wound was dangerous unless inflammation had set in—they were such wounds as would be caused by a knife—he was three weeks in the hospital, probably more as he had lost a great quantity of blood.
Prisoner's Defence. I had been in the swing some time, and the prosecutor said "Are you going to stop?" I said "I will get out" They cast a chain over my head and threw me on the ground. I made a kick at the prosecutor and ran away. They threw me down, and I made another kick at the prosecutor, and a constable was sent for. I said "I will get out of the swing," and he and the other big man said "Don't wait for him to get out, pull him out."
SAMUEL FOREMAN (Re-examined). That is not true, I did not throw him over the palings—he was not kicked on the ground—he got under the railings to get away, and that is how he tore his coat sleeve—he positively refused to get out of the awing.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM FREDERICK GOURLEY . I live at 57, West Cornwall Road—on 16th April, shortly after midnight, I was in Northumberland Street, going towards Charing Cross, and was hustled by three men and knocked down three times by the prisoner and two others—my head was out from falling, and I became insensible—I lost a purse containing three or four shillings from my right trousers pocket—a cab attendant and a watchman came, assisted me up, and bathed my head—I gave information, and on the night of 30th April I picked the prisoner out from eight others—I went to Charing Cross Hospital, and was afterwards attended by my own doctor.
THOMAS JOHN COWLRY . I live at 7, Dyott Street, Bloomsbury, and look after cabs at Northumberland Avenue—on 16th April I saw the prisoner knock Gourley down twice—I did not see any one else—I saw the prisoner go away, and he mentioned me by name, or else I should
not have known him, but I never knew any wrong of him before—Gomley was bleeding from his head and mouth.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I pointed you out to a detective at Bow Street about a week afterwards—I took no steps about it till the police came to me, I went on with my duties at the cab rank, but I did not see you afterwards till I pointed you out in Villiers Street.
JOSEPH KENNA (Detective Officer). Cowley and Gourley gave me a description of the person who had assaulted Gourley, and on 23rd April I went with Cowley to Villiers Street, where he pointed out the prisoner—I did not take him or speak to him then, but on the 29th I took him—I said, "You will be charged with assaulting and robbing Mr. Gourley of a puree containing 4s. on the morning of 16th April"—he said, "It is a mistake, it was not me"—I took him to the station, put him with several others, Gourley picked him out, and he was charged—he said, "I was in the Buckingham public-house, Buckingham Street, all that night"—that is three or four minutes' walk from where the robbery took place.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was very drunk on the day in question; the mistress and others at the Buckingham public-house can prove I was drunk that night. I have no witnesses to call."
Prisoner's Defence. I was very drunk that night, and was taken home. I was too drunk to do such a thing as that.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 21st, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
573. CARL JAHN* (25) and LOUIS NOEBERG * PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining from Elizabeth Fridenburg 5l. by false pretences with intent to defraud, and other sums from other persons with a like intent; also to counts for conspiracy.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each, three months of Noeberg's sentence to be concurrent with twelve months he was undergoing.
575. GEORGE MITCHELL** (18) to stealing a rug, the goods of Henry Goy; also to a previous conviction on 10th October, 1882, in the name of Henry Green alias Henry Carter .— Two Years' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
(For other cases tried this day see Kent and Surrey cases.)
OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Field.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.
GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HICKS Prosecuted.
FRANCIS BENJAMIN ROWLEY . I am assistant to Mr. Bumpus, bookseller, of Oxford Street; I have been in that employ from three to four years—on Sunday evening, 23rd March, I left home about 9.30 for a walk—I live with my parents at 43, Bridge Terrace, Harrow Road—I walked leisurely down the Edgware Road to the Marble Arch into Hyde Park—I was in the third part of the drive leading to Hyde Park Corner, walking leisurely across the park towards the Reformers' Tree; I had got between 50 and 60 yards up the path when the prisoner suddenly overtook me; he was in his soldier's dress and was smoking—he said "Good evening"—I said "Good evening"—I noticed that he was tipsy—he said "A fine night"—I said "Yes"—he said "How are you?"—I said "Quite well, thank you"—he walked a little farther by my side and then said "How do you feel?"—I said "I feel all right, thank you"—he then began to press against my side, which compelled me to go on to the grass—I then made for the more frequented path—when we got half way across he put his hand down the front of my trousers and asked me what I had there—I had on an overcoat—I said "Go away and mind your own business"—he then caught hold of my arm with his right hand and said "Give me a shilling" (he had a stick in his left hand)—I said "I have not one"—he said "You are a b----liar, you have"—I said I had not—he said "If you don't give me one I will split your head open," or "split it in two"—I then gave him a shilling out of my purse, which I opened inside my pocket and took the shilling out—he then said "Give me another"—I said I had not one—he said I had; I said I had not—he said "If you don't give me another I will split your head open"—I then gave him another—he, then asled me for another—I said I had not one left—he said that You are a b----liar, you have"—I said I had not—he said "You had better give me one"—I then turned my purse inside out in my pocket and showed him the empty purse—I believe I gave it to him, but I am not certain in my fright—he said "Give me that money in your pocket"—I said "I have not any more"—he said "What was that that jinked?"—I then gave him sixpence in silver and five penny pieces—he kept asking me for more money—I said I had not any—he said "If you don't give me another I will get you five years"—I said "Very well, come to the station"—he said "No, I will not, for your sake"—he then said if I did not give him another he would give me something to remember the longest day I lived—he kept asking me for more, and I said I had none, and he suddenly let go and walked away; and as I turned to get in front of him the policeman's lantern flashed upon me—I told the policeman that I would give the soldier in charge for stealing two shillings, and he went after him and brought him back—on the way to the station he tried to get his hand into his pocket, or did get it in, and the policeman caught hold of his hand and prevented him from moving it—at the station the prisoner said "He followed me about and he gave me the money, and because I would not do what he wanted he went away and fetched a policeman"—I then asked the constable whether I fetched him or whether he came up, and the constable said he came up—the
inspector said to the prisoner "What do you mean by telling such a lie?" and then he said "I never said he fetched the constable"—the inspector then entered the charge.
ROBERT DOE (Policeman A 275). On 23rd March I was on duty in the Broad Walk, Hyde Park, about 11 o'clock—I heard voices on the grass about 20 yards off, and I went across—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor standing together facing each other—just before arriving to them the prisoner walked quickly away—I turned on my light as soon as I got within five yards of them, before the prisoner walked away—I went after him and brought him back, and the prosecutor said "I shall charge him with stealing 2s."—I took him to the station—on the way the prisoner put his left hand inside his trousers pocket, I prevented him from taking it out, and at the station on searching him I found in that pocket two shillings, a sixpence, and 8d. in bronze, a knife, and several other things—he said to the prosecutor "You tried to unbutton my trousers"—the prosecutor said "I did not do any such thing"—the prisoner said "you turned round and fetched the constable"—he said "I did not, the constable came up"—the inspector said to me "Did he do that?"—I said "No, I came up"—before I came up to them on the grass I heard some person say "I will give you something to remember the longest day you live"—the prisoner was under the influence of drink.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence alleged that the prosecutor had given him the money, and acted indecently to him and that as he was walking away the constable came up. He received a good character from the sergeant of his regiment.
GUILTY on First Count. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND and WARBURTON Prosecuted.
JOHN WILKES . I am an engine cleaner, and live at Keneal Greet Road—on the morning of the 10th April, about 5.15, I was standing at the furnace in a shed of the Great Western Railway—the prisoner was lying down asleep, and Greenwood came from his work across to the furnace to get his bottle; he drank out of it, and he saw Coleman lying on the ground, he at once filled his mouth full of tea and spurted it over Coleman's face—Coleman looked round to me, and went to the pit—he had to go between five and six yards to get to the pit—he caught hold of Greenwood's rake and threw it at him (produced)—it is an ordinary rake to scrape out ashes or clinkers with—he had been using it the same morning—the rake was lying in the pit—he threw it and hit the deceased, also striking another man named Gill at the same time—both were knocked down—I picked Greenwood up, and gave him into the hands of a man named Cannon—he was then taken to the hospital—I did not hear the prisoner say anything at all when this happened—he held the rake in the middle.
DANIEL MORGAN (Police Inspector). I saw Greenwood at St. Mary's Hospital, and I afterwards took the prisoner there—the deceased said in his presence "That is the lad who struck me"—he made a statement which I read to Greenwood in the prisoner's presence—this is it
(Rend: "St. Mary's Hospital, 24th April. I am an engine cleaner in the employ of the Great Western Railway Company, and reside at 23, Brindley Street, Paddington. I believe I am dying, and wish to make a statement as to the cause of my injury. About 7 o'clock on the morning of the 10th of this month (April) I was going to have a drink of tea near the furnace and had some tea in my mouth when I squirted some over that young man (Coleman). I did it in play. He took up an iron rake and struck me on the back of the head. I fell insensible, and do not remember anything more till I found myself in St. Mary's Hospital some hours after. I do not remember Coleman saying anything to me before striking me with the rake. I believe he only struck me one blow, and I believe he wilfully struck me, and that the blow was not the result of an accident. A young man named Alfred, a cleaner, was present and saw what occurred. Several others were also present, but I do not remember their names. Coleman and I never had any quarrel, and I do not think he had any ill feeling against me. I believe he struck the blow on the impulse of the moment. I make this statement in the presence of Samuel Coleman, believing I am dying and that I shall not recover. It has been read over to me by Morgan, and it is true"—I afterwards took the prisoner into custody—he said when charged he should like to make a statement, and wished me to take it down in writing. (Read: "I wish to tell you that I warned George Greenwood of throwing water over me and messing me about at night, and aiming chewed bread at me. There were two chaps stood there who heard me warn him of it, John Wilkes and the boiler Smith")—Greenwood was twenty-one—he said it occurred about 7 o'clock, and the prisoner corrected him and said it was 5 and not 7.
MR. CATER. I am house surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—on the morning of the 10th of April, about 5.55, Greenwood was brought there, he was suffering from wounds on the head—he afterwards died from meningitis—the injuries could have been caused by throwing that rake.
The prisoner received a very good character.
GUILTY .— One Day's Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. CLEURE Defended.
HENRY BROWN . I am a carman, and live at 23, St. Ann's Court, Dean Street, Soho—about half-past I on the morning of the 16th April I was standing at my street door and saw the deceased come up to her door with a strange man; they went in, and in seven, eight, or ten minutes came out again—the man shook hands with her, wished her good night, and went away—she then came back to the door and opened it, and as she did so I saw the prisoner strike her on the left side of the forehead with his right hand—she fell on the back of her head on the asphalte and laid insensible—the prisoner must have been waiting for her—he shut the door very quietly and ran upstairs—a policeman came up, brought the prisoner out, and I recognised him—when he struck the woman he would have been down, only he saved himself by his left hand on the doorpost—he had on a shirt and a pair of lightish trousers, that was all—I saw the policeman pick up the door key.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner for a month or two—I was standing nearly opposite his door when the woman came home with the
man—after that I went across, and when she fell on the pavement I was between two and three yards off, on the same side of the way—the door of the prisoner's house, No. 5, opens inwards—I could not say how far the deceased opened the door—she was on the top step—it may have been a couple of feet open—she was taking the key out of the door—the prisoner struck her with his right hand—I was talking to Mrs. Welsh at the time—I have not spoken to her about it since—I have not talked it over with her—I do not know that the prisoner's left arm is injured—the deceased did not say anything when she fell—the door did not shut with a great bang, it shut quietly—the prisoner had no boots or stockings on, he was in his bare feet—I did not hear him run upstairs—the woman died next day—I first gave my evidence at the inquest.
Re-examined. I am positive the prisoner is the man who struck the blow.
ANNIE WELSH . I live at 4, St. Ann's Court—I am married—on the night this occurred I was at my own door, which is next to No. 5, where the prisoner and deceased lived—I saw her come up the court with a strange man and go into No. 5 with him—they shortly afterwards came out, and the man went away—she had her key in her hand and she went to open the street door with it, when the prisoner got the door open before she had time to do so—I saw him, and he struck her over the left eye with his right fist, and she fell on the back of her head on the asphalte—he nearly pitched out with her when he struck her, but he saved himself by holding the handle of the door—he then shut the door, and I saw no more of him—I heard him say something to her in French, only one word, I believe, I didn't understand what it was—a policeman afterwards came and took him in custody.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was only in his trousers and shirt—he had no boots on—I didn't hear the deceased say anything—I am positive it was the right hand that he struck her with—he had to hold the handle of the door with his left hand to save himself from coming out—I believe the deceased got her key partly into the latch of the door, but I am not certain—she hadn't time to open it before she got the blow and fell—the prisoner shut the door very quietly—I know the witness Brown as a neighbour—I have not talked with him about this since I was before the Magistrate, not at all.
JOHN CLOAKE . I am a labourer and live at 5, St. Ann's Court, in the same house as the prisoner—he occupied the third-floor front—I was in my room, the first-door back, and I heard the deceased saying out three or four times "Don't beat me," I knew her voice, she spoke in French; the words were "Non ma frappe pas"—a, minute or two afterwards they began ringing the bell and knocking at the door as if the house was on fire—I jumped out of bed, put on my trousers, and went down stairs; and as I opened the street door I saw the deceased lying on the ground and the constable with her.
Cross-examined. My room is separated from the passage by a wooder partition about a quarter of an inch thick—I could hear anybody going upstairs very well—it would be impossible for anybody to go up or, down stairs without me hearing them, even if they had no shoes on—I did not hear anybody go up and down that night—after I heard her call out I heard the street door shut with a bang—the prisoner and the deceased were always on friendly terms, only a few words, nothing serious
—she was very nearly drunk every day—I have known them living together about 15 months—she told me on one occasion that they had been living together for nine years—she was about 36 years of age and was a prostitute by profession—the prisoner has always been a quiet and hardworking man, I never saw him drunk.
By the COURT. I had not seen the prisoner that day, he goes out about 6 o'clock in the morning and comes back about 10.30 or 11 o'clock at night—he is a painter by trade—I never saw the deceased bring any strange man—the landlord lives in the house and sleeps in the back room, the front is a shop—I heard the street door bang once, I am sure it was only shut once—when I went down stairs I didn't meet any one coming up, I didn't meet the prisoner.
JOSEPH WEST . I live at 3, St. Ann's Court—I am landlord of No. 5—there are two gas lamps in the court, one at the corner and one in the middle—there are 28 houses, 14 on each side—one gas would be opposite No. 4 in the middle of the court, which is about 14 feet wide—on the night this occurred I was sleeping in No. 5, in the parlour at the back of the shop on the ground floor—the shep was unoccupied—there were no other rooms on that floor—a mother and her daughter lived in the first-floor front, and Cloake and his wife in the' back—in the back room second-floor, a man and his wife and one child, and in the back room a single man—on the next floor front the prisoner and deceased lived, and in the back a man and his wife—I went to bed about 11.40 on this night—I was disturbed some time afterwards, I couldn't tell the time—I heard an immense bang at the door which woke me and almost instantly I heard the bell and the knocker—I then heard footsteps coming downstairs, and almost before they got down the door seemed to open, I didn't get up—I heard nothing more till next morning—I didn't hear anybody go upstairs again, at least I heard persons up and down several times—I didn't hear the door shut afterwards—it was after I heard the door bang that I heard the footsteps coming downstairs—the prisoner and deceased lived there together for a year and three months—I think the woman was away for six or seven weeks about five or six weeks before this—I never noticed her the worse for liquor, but the prisoner has complained to me several times.
Cross-examined. I was asleep, and the first thing I heard was the door banging-to—it has a very strong spring, and it is a very heavy, solid door, it shuts with great force—you can't get from the passage into the shop—there is a round hole over the door for a ventilator—I have always known the prisoner to be an honest, hardworking man, and sober—he worked for a baker for eight months—he never laid a finger on the woman in my presence—I have never seen any marks.
GEORGE FULLER (Policeman C 47). On the morning in question I was on duty—I was just turning into St. Ann's Court from Dean Street when I saw a woman falling out of the door of No. 5, and I saw the hand of some one, who I can't say—the door was immediately slammed-to—I was about 12 or 13 yards off—I ran up to the door—I didn't meet anybody in going there; if there had been a man who escaped I must have met him—I saw the woman fall on the back of her head from the effects of the blow which I saw delivered by the hand—when I got up I saw the witnesses Brown and Welsh standing by the woman—Brown said something to me—I picked up a key from the ground, but before
that I knocked and rang the bell at the door four or five times; I got no answer—Welsh pointed to the key, and it was picked up and put into my hands—it was lying on the left side of the woman, just by her pocket—I opened the door with the key, and went upstairs to the front room, third floor, where I saw the prisoner in bed—I asked him if he knew whether the woman he was living with was lying downstairs insensible, and I said, "Will you come down?"—he said "I will"—he was undressed except his night-shirt—he got up, and I left him putting on his trousers and went downstairs thinking he would follow—I remained down there three or four minutes, and finding he did not come down I went upstairs again—I found his room door locked—I knocked; I received no answer, and I threatened to break open the door if he did not unlock it, upon which he opened it, and he again put on his trousers, which he must have taken off; he was only in his shirt—I told him he would have to come downstairs, as I believed the woman was dying—he put on his trousers and came down to the street door, and Brown said, "That is the man that done it"—he replied in English, "I don't know much about the woman," and he also said something in French which I could not understand—by that time the ambulance arrived that I had sent for, and the woman was put upon it and taken to the Middlesex Hospital—the prisoner went with me—a surgeon said the woman was in a dying condition, and I took the prisoner in custody—on the way to the station he said, "I don't know anything about the woman, no more than she occasionally stops with me"—he spoke in English—the woman was insensible all the time, and never spoke a word.
Cross-examined. I did not make a note of the words he used, but I am sure they are the exact words—he was charged with a violent assault in the first instance—when I asked him if he knew the woman was lying insensible downstairs he said, "I don't"—the charge was interpreted to him at the station; he made no reply—I believe there is a back door to the house—I made no search there.
PHILIP BARNETT BENTLEY . I am senior house surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital—the deceased was brought there at 2 o'clock on the morning of 6th April—she was perfectly unconscious—I found a small bruise over the left eyebrow, and a bruise at the back of the head, and also a concussion on the upper part of the right arm, as if some violence had caused it—she remained unconscious till she died at 8 o'clock the same evening—the bruise on the eye was such as might have been caused by a fist—she smelt of alcohol when admitted—I made a post-mortem examination on the 7th, and found the bruises I have stated—on opening the head I found a fracture at the base of the skull—death was caused by laceration and haeligmorrhage into the brain arising from that fracture.
Cross-examined. The cause of death was the injury done by falling—the bruise on the left eyebrow might have been caused by a door banging against it.
Re-examined. By falling I mean striking the back of the head on the ground—there must have been direct violence, and great violence, because the skull was thick.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
For other eases tried this day see Essex and Surrey cases.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
JOHN ROGERS (City Policeman 824). On Saturday, April 12, about 8 o'clock p.m., I was on duty in Little George Street, Minories—my attention was drawn to a van being led past No. 1 by Schofield, who was in the act of turning the horse round when I took hold of the reins and stopped the van, and told him I wished to speak' to him—he got over the tail of the van, ran up Little George Street, and then returned into the Minories, where he made his escape—I looked in the Tan and saw the five bags there, and got my mates to take charge of the place while I took the horse and van to the station—it contained these five bags, a jemmy, a coat, and a pocket-handkerchief—I next saw Schofield on Monday morning, the 14th, in the station, where I was taken for the purpose of identifying the person whom I saw in the van—I picked him out from several others.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not see him in charge of a detective who was bringing him to the station—he was placed with people of all sorts, a lot of City sewer men were there in slops and trousers, not with badges—I don't doubt there were people there generally resembling Schofield in height, age, and appearance—I looked him right in the face when I went to take the horse and van, and did not want to look particularly at him when I identified him—I should put the time down at 8.15—I made it 8.15 in my report—I will not swear it was not only 8.3.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I only saw one man at the van.
Re-examined. I left the premises in charge of other constables, and did not examine them.
DENIS KENNEDY . I live at 9, Jewry Street, City—on 12th April, about 8 o'clock, I was in Little George Street, Minories, and saw four men leading a van, one of whom was Schofield—I was taken to the station on Wednesday, the 16th April, and there picked, him put from among others.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. A policeman brought me to the station
and went with me into the room where I picked Schofield out—I don't know how many others there were—I looked carefully at them—I said before the Magistrate it was before 8 o'clock—I heard it strike 8 o'clock afterwards, it was 7.45.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Four men were leading the cart—I could only identify one at the police-court—I did not see Walker there.
PATRICK SULLIVAN . I am a dock labourer, and live at 3, Goodman's Yard, City—on Saturday, 12th April, about 8 o'clock in the evening, I was at the corner of Little George Street, Minories, and saw a van alongside of Little George Street—out of the van Walker jumped, I identified him by his moustache and bit of whtsker on his chin—he was wearing a brownish coat—a few days afterwards I was taken to the police-station and identified him from among several others—when he jumped out of the van he was wearing a darkish coat, and I followed him as far as the Minories—he went on the top of George Street—I don't know where he west to.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. He jumped out of the front of the cart—it was a mistake if I swore at the police-court that I saw a man come out of the door of the house, he came out of the van—I said he came out of the van—I heard my evidence read over to me—the coat the prisoner was wearing was not so light as this—I am not quite certain he is the man, I fancy he is by the moustache and bit of whisker, and a black hat he wore—I was not certain at the police-court, and am not now—all I can say is Walker is something like the man by a bit of moustache and whisker—when I identified him he was wearing a black hat.
FREDERICK CHEW (City Policeman 371). I received a description of some men said to have committed this offence, and about 6 o'clock on Thursday evening, 17th April, I was in Mildmay Grove, Stoke Newington, where I saw Walker, and walked behind him and then called his name "Walker"—he turned round and said "You have made a mistake, my name is not Walker"—I told him I did not think I had made a mistake, his name was Walker, and he was a wire worker—he said "My name is Walker, and I know what you want me for; I am very glad it has come to this, I had a mind to go to the station this morning and give myself up"—I was in plain clothes—I told him I was a police-officer, and should take him into custody, and he would be charged with another man in custody with breaking and entering the warehouse No. 1, Little George street, Minories—he said "I had nothing to do with breaking into the warehouse. I met two men on Saturday night, they said they wanted to hire a horse and van, I told them they could get one at Ems's, in Shepherdess Walk; they said 'Ems does not know us;' I said 'I will got one for you.' I met Schofield, we went to Ems's, in Shepherdess Walk, and hired the horse and van"—I said to Walker "Did you pay the deposit on the van yourself?"—he said "Yes, I did, and I said they would have half-a-crown to draw on their return"—I said "Did you pay the deposit with your own money?"—he said "Yes, I did"—I said "What kind of men were the two who asked you to get the van for them?"—he said "They were two men we had seen in a public-house; I do not know them by name or any nickname. I have known one for a short time and one for six or seven months by seeing him in the public-house; one of them is a stout man, about 5 feet 8, with a ginger moustache; that is all the description I can give of them"
—he was taken to the station and charged, he had then am imperial, a tuft of hair on his chin, no side whiskers—I believe Walker is a wire worker by trade, I don't know what Schofield is.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not make a note of the conversation—this was on the 17th April, and I gave my evidence at the police-court on the 28th—I told Walker a man named Schofield was in custody, and then he said the last time he saw him was on Friday—it was in the train he said that—he said "The last time I saw Schofield was on Friday, at the time I met Schofield and went with him to Ems's, that was on Saturday to hire the van"—afterwards he said the last time he saw Schofield was Friday—I gave a description and then said we had a man named Schofield—I do not suggest that Schofield was one of the two men who asked him to hire the van.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The van was found and taken to the greenyard—it belonged to Mr. Ems—I went there and made inquiries, and then heard of Walker, whose mother lives in Mildmay-Street, and I went there.
JAMES MURPHY (City Policeman 853). In consequence of information I was keeping a watch in plain clothes in Forston-Street, Hoxton—on Tuesday, the 15th April, about 12, I saw Schofield and said "I am a police officer, I want you to go down with me to Mr. Ems's yard"—he said "Certainly"—we both went down together to the yard, and there saw Charles Wingrove, to whom I said "Do you know this man?" pointing to Schofield—he said "Yea, he is the man that came with Walker on Saturday evening to hire the van"—I said to schofield "You hear what the boy says, I shall take you into custody, and you will be charged with three others not in custody With breaking and entering the warehouse No. 1 in Little George Street on Saturday the 12th"—he said "The boy has made a mistake, I was never near the place on Saturday, I was with my employer in Hackney from half-past 5"—I took him to the station, he was placed with six other men and picked out by Rogers—Kennedy did not pick him out in my presence—Walker is a wire worker—Schofield is clerk to a wheelwright—the instruments produced are not used in either of those trades.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not say to the boy "Did you see this man here on Saturday?" I said "Do you know this man?"—he did not say it was not the Saturday but the Good Friday that he came with Walker and hired a trap, he never mentioned the Good Friday—on the way to the station he said he had been to hire a trap—he did not say the boy must have mistaken one day for the other—I fetched six men out of the street and placed the prisoner among them at the station—I do not know that they resembled him, I did not particularly notice whether any of them were like him—I was in the room when he was picked out, I stood at the door—I have not been reprimanded for being present at identifications—only one person failed to identify him—I was only present on one occasion—I do not know that more than one person failed to identify him—Rogers, 824, picked out another man and not Schofield—I took Schofield to the station—I went there on the Wednesday—Schofield told me he was in his employer's company that night from 5 till 8.
CHARLES WINGROVE . I am carman to Mr. Ems, of 39, Forston Street, Hoxton—I remember two men coming to hire a van on Saturday, April 12th, the day after Good Friday, at 4; one was Walker, I cannot be sure about the other—they said they wanted it for an hour and a half—
Walker said "Can you let me have a van?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Have you got a covered one?"—I said "No, I will give you a sheet"—I gave him a sheet, and he said "I will give you sixpence for your-self if you will," and they went away—Walker came back about 7 o'clock and paid 5s. deposit, out of which he told me to take sixpence for myself, and took the van away—I noticed he then had a kind of light coat on similar to this, I cannot say if it was the same one—I next saw the van on the following Thursday in the greenyard.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Walker has had vans from our place two or three times, he is known to me and my employer—I know where he used to live, I do not know his address now—vans would only be lent to persons known to my employer, unless we knew where they lived—they had a van Good Friday morning as well, that was not an excursion van—Walker came on both days, Friday and Saturday.
JOSEPH WHITE . I live at 18, Little George Street, Minories—about 8 o'clock on Saturday, April 12th, I was out in that street and saw a van being led opposite Manser's; four people were with it, Schofield was one, I am positive.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I had not seen him before or since—it was about a quarter to 8 o'clock—I have not picked him out before I saw him in the dock.
FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective Sergeant). On Sunday morning, the 13th, I examined the premises 1, Little George Street, about 11 o'clock—I compared this jemmy, which was given to me at the police-station with the hasp on the door of No. 1—I found that the brass padlock had been forced, and brass marks on the jemmy and hasp of the lock corresponded—the padlock was missing, and has never been found.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I was not present on the Wednesday when Schofield was identified—I know several persons came in and failed to identify Schofield.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. This coat was put on Walker at the station, it did not fit him properly—I have made inquiries as to Walkers! character; I find he has a good character as far as I can ascertain.
WILLIAM HOLLINGTON . I live at Curtain Road, and am warehouseman to Mr. Manser—on 12th April I shut up the premises at 1, Little George Street, from 25 minutes to half-past 2 o'clock—I padlocked the door—I saw the 15 bags of stick lac when I went up to Seething Lane; they were safe when I left on the Saturday—I next saw the premises on the 15th, Tuesday morning, about a quarter to 9 o'clock, when I found the padlock had been broken off and a pair of handcuffs put in its place.
ALBERT FELL . I live at 35, Lyndhurst Road, Peckham, and am manager to Mr. Manser, the prosecutor—I identify 15 bags which I have seen in the possession of the police as the prosecutor's property, and worth 35l.—stick lac is what shellac is manufactured from.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Schofield says: "I know nothing whatever of it; the reason I went to Mr. Ems's on Tuesday was to hire a cart for the afternoon. On the Saturday evening previous I was at Hackney from about half-past 5 to 8 o'clock, in the company of my employer." Walker says: "I have nothing to say."
Witnesses for Schofield's Defence.
worked for me for five or six years—on Saturday, the 12th April, I was at my workshop—Schofield, my clerk, came to the workshop about half-past 5 o'clock and wrote a note or two, and about half-past 7 we and Wekefield, an army pensioner, who looks after the shop and works occasionally for me, went over to the Sir Walter Scott, and remained there till just before 8 o'clock—I do not know Little George Street or the Minories—I heard of Schofield having been taken into custody on the Wednesday morning, at half-past 9 o'clock, from a constable who came to me; he had come on the Tuesday evening—I told him on the Wednesday I recollected where Schofield had been on the Wednesday evening, and how long he had been in my company—I was called at the Mansion House—Wakefield is here, and my wife, who saw me leave Schofield.
Cross-examined. The Sir Walter Scott is in the Broadway, Hackney—I don't know the name of the policeman who came—he came on the Tuesday; I had just come home, and was going to have my tea, and was half and half—he said "Is your name Bradley?"—I said "No"—afterwards I asked "What is your business?"—he said "Bradley is an elderly man who keeps a shop in the Broadway"—I said "No" because I wanted to go out—this was at my private residence—I said "I know him well"—he said the shop was shut up—I said "The best thing you can do is to come in the morning"—I saw the same constable, Parsons, next morning at my shop—I did not deny myself then—no constable on duty was called in—schofield has worked for me five or six years—he managed the business when I was laid up—I could not say exactly when he first came into my service—I had been out all day, and was half-and-half.
Re-examined. I had been to the Sir walter Scott too frequently—I did not tell him the truth—I was bound over by the Magistrate to come here, and am a loser by doing so—my wife saw Schofield at 65, Marlborough Road against the gate of our private house.
THOMAS WAKEFIELD . I am a pensioned army sergeant and do jobs for Mr. Bradley, minding his shop—on the Wednesday after Easter Sunday Bradley told me Schofield was locked up, and I then recollected that on the Saturday before Easter Sunday I was in charge of Bradley's shop when Schofield came in about 5.30—he did some writing for Mr. Bradley in the shop, and we went over to the Sir Walter Scott about 7.30 to have a drop of something to drink and stayed there till three minutes to 8 o'clock, when we went in the direction of Mr. Bradley's private house, which is five or six minutes' walk off, I should say—I could not go to the police-court, because I was minding the shop—I was subpoenaed here.
Cross-examined. Mr. Bradley did not tell me where Schofield was on the Saturday—we did not talk over what time it was—it was three minutes to 8 when we left.
Re-examined. I don't know the distance from Little George Street to the Sir Walter Scott.
ANN SARAH BRADLEY . I am Mr. Bradley's wife—on 12th April, the night before Easter Sunday, I saw Schofield in the Marlborough Road in front of our residence about 8.15 with my husband—on the next Wednesday I heard he was in trouble, and then recollected I had seen him on the Saturday night—I had to go out and pay a bill, and Schofield said "Good evening"—my husband was the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. If he said he left Schofield at 8 o'clock, that is wrong, it was a quarter past—it is a few minutes' walk from the shop to the house.
Re-examined. When I saw them outside they appeared talking together, I don't know how long they had been there.
Walker received a good character.
GUILTY. SCHOFIELD*†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. WALKER— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, May 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Field.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and WARBURTON Prosecuted.
GEORGE LEA . I am a solicitor, and live at The Lindens, Oxford Road, Gunnersbury—between half-past 12 at night and 4 in the morning of 3rd April my house was broken into, and among other things I lost some cigars with other property.
CHARLES MERIDEW . I am a police-officer—about 20 minutes to 4 on the morning of 3rd April I was in Oxford Road, Gunnersbury—I met the prisoner; he was a stranger—I said, "What are you doing so early in the morning?"—he replied, "lam going to Broad Street—there was a gas lamp within three yards of us—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "Chiswick?"—I said, "What part of Chiswick?"—he said, "Chiswick Station"—I said, "It seems strange"—he replied, "If you are not satisfied search me"—I was in uniform—I was standing on his left side; his right hand was close to the fence, in which he had an umbrella—he had on a large grey or brown overcoat, which fitted rather loosely—I put my hand in his pocket and found a quantity of cigars there—I said, "Where did you get these cigars?"—he said, "I bought them"—at the same instant he dropped the umbrella and struck me a severe blow on the left side of the head with some heavy instrument—at the same time he gave me a push with his left arm, and I fell over on the ground—I grasped him with my hand that was loose, and dragged him down on the top of me—I had my cape on, it had been raining hard a short time before; the cape impeded the action of my arms—my helmet broke as I fell, and the helmet fell into the road—the prisoner then struck me several more blows, as we struggled together, on my head, which was then bare—I continued to struggle with him a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes; he then got his right hand entirely at liberty, and dealt me two severe blows on the head with the instrument, which fell out of his hand and rattled on the ground like steel—I became partly unconscious—he then broke from my grasp, went and picked up the instrument, came back, raised his hand, and brought the instrument down with full force on my head—I was bleeding profusely—shortly afterwards I heard a rattling in the shrubs leading to a gate into some gardens of a villa residence, and saw the prisoner getting over a wooden fence into a garden—I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and bandaged up my head to stop the bleeding and then blex my whistle—several people, a dozen or
more came out of the neighbouring houses, and I then picked from the ground a pipe, a cigar, a button, and an umbrella—the prisoner had made his escape—I next saw him at the Thames Police-court, 10 or 12 days afterwards—there was a row of prisoners in the passage leading to the cells, I should think nearly 20 altogether—the prisoner and another man were just through the door—I instantly recognised the prisoner, and said "That is the man"—he gave me a glaring look, exactly the same as he did when he struck me the first blow—as soon as I had recovered my strength I gave a description of the man that had assaulted me—he had on a long brown or grey overcoat, which fitted rather loose, and a brown felt hat, and he appeared to me about 45 years of age, and his height about 5 foot 7 inches; hair and whiskers turning grey—I have heard the prisoner speak since then, and his voice is the same—I am able positively to swear that he is the man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The first blow that my assailant gave me just cracked the skin, my helmet was on then—this is it (produced)—the blow and the push together knocked me down—I called for help, but no one came to my assistance—the umbrella was lying on the footpath close by while we were struggling in the road—when I was struck the last two blows I was unable to call out or do anything—I tied my handkerchief to stop the bleeding—I have gone through a course of instructions at the St. John's Ambulance Association, and I had the presence of mind to apply my handkerchief in bandage fashion—this is the handkerchief (produced)—I was taken to the divisional surgeon's, and from there to the station, where I gave a full account of what had taken place—the surgeon's was about a quarter of a mile from where the struggle took place—I was in a weak condition, and was assisted there—I was there I should think about half an hour, I then went to the station and reported the case—my assailant carried the umbrella in his right hand—I didn't notice anything in his other hand—I was struck altogether about 12 times—he got over the fence on the opposite side of the road—I don't think any of those who came to my assistance saw my assailant.
THOMAS THOMPSON (Police Sergeant). On 14th April, about 12.30 in the day, I went to the Thames Police-court, where the prisoner was in custody, Meridew and Collect were with me—I gave instructions as to what was to be done with the prisoner—about eight or ten persons were put in a row in the passage leading to the cells—Meridew was fetched and he instantly picked the prisoner out and said, "That is the man"—the prisoner did not say anything—I then said to him "You have been identified as the man who committed a burglary at the Lindens in Oxford Road, Gunnersbury, on the night of 3rd April, and you will be further charged with feloniously assaulting and wounding Police Constable Meridew on the morning of the 3rd—he said "If you ever had an innocent man in your life you have got one now"—I conveyed him to Clerkenwell Police-station, and he was charged in the regular way—he asked "What date was it when this occurred?"—he was told shortly before 4 o'clock on the morning of 3rd April—he said "Well, I couldn't be in two places at once"—I know the spot where this occurred; it is about a quarter of a mile from the divisional surgeon's, and from there to the police-station is about a mile.
Cross-examined. I saw you at the House of Detention with Detective Sergeant Thick—I didn't speak to Meridew about you.
FREDERICK CHARLES DODSWORTH . I am a Lioentiate of the Royal College of Physicians and live at Gunnersbury—about 2.30 on the morning of 3rd April Meridew was brought to my house—he was suffering from a severe scalp wound on the left side of the head—he was in a very weak, exhausted condition from loss of blood—I dressed his head and administered a stimulant—he remained at my house 25 or 30 minutes while an ambulance was fetched from the police-station, upon which he was conveyed to the station—there were very serious concussions on different parts of the body—he has been unfit for duty up to the present time and is not well now—the wound is healed, but he is suffering from a severe shock to the nervous system—the wound on the head was caused by a blunt instrument.
Cross-examined. I should think a fall would have caused the wounds; it would more likely be a blunt instrument.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I will call several witnesses to prove where I was on the night of the 2nd and the morning of the 3rd at 7 o'clock."
The prisoner in a long defence protested his innocence and called the following witnesses:—
JOHN GREEN . I am a licensed victualler in Fashion Street, Spitalfields—I have known the prisoner about three and a half years—I cannot recollect the date when he was in my house—I recollect his talking abort a fire at Paternoster Row, but I do not know the date—I never knew him wearing any whiskers, only a moustache, as he has now.
JOHN TURNER . I am barman to Mr. Green, I recollect the prisoner being at our house one morning, but I cannot say the date—I have known him as a casual customer for two years—I do not recollect his ever wearing whiskers or long hair.
JOHN WALTERS . I am a barber and hairdresser—I have know the prisoner two or three years as a customer—I never knew him to have long whiskers, he generally came to my place to have his hair cut close.
Cross-examined. I do not sell false whiskers, I know there are such things.
JOHN ARUNDEL . I am a coal and coke contractor—I have known the prisoner between six and seven years, he occasionally worked for me—I never knew him to wear whiskers or long hair, it would be very inconvenient in our business—I do not recollect his telling me about a fire.
JOSEPH NEWMAN (Police Sergeant H). I was present on the 21st Just 1880, at the Middlesex Sessions when the prisoner was convicted of stealing half a chest of tea from one of Pick ford's vans—I produces a certificate of his conviction—he was sentenced tosix months' hard labour—I swear he is the man.
GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
The prisoner was tried at this Court before Mr. Justice Hawkins on
January 9th, together with John Webb (see Third Session, page 528), for feloniously wounding William John Gilder, when he was convicted and sentenced to eight years' penal servitude. Subsequent inquiries having led to the presumption that there had been a mistake as to his identity, he was put upon his trial on the present charge, the facts being identical with those proved on the former trial. In addition to the witnesses then examined John Hill, the owner of a lodging-house in Dyott Street, and John Boylett, deputy of the same lodging-house, deposed to the prisoner being there at the time the offence in question was committed.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, May 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and KEITH FRITH Prosecuted; Mr. E. CLARKE, Q.C., Defended.
GUILTY— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, May 23rd, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
590. PHILIP CONRAD DEAL (34) to feloniously marrying Emma Gray, his wife being then alive; also to marrying Charlotte Webby his wife being then alive.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. POLAND and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. GLEN Defended.
GEORGE CHARLES LEE . I am a solicitor, of 13, Old Jewry Chambers—I knew Mr. John Eaton Cox, of 60, Harford Street, Mile End, who died on 17th December, 1879—I produce the probate of his will, which is dated September, 1877, and was proved in January, 1880—his widow survived him, and was appointed jointly with the prisoner trustee under that will—he also left surviving his daughter, Eliza Cox, still under age, to whom he left 1,000l., free of legacy duty—the rest of the property was left to be divided in equal shares amongst his daughter Eliza and the children of his wife Sarah by her first husband, John William Eady, after the death of his widow, who was to have the life interest—the children by the widow's first husband were William Eady, Sarah Ana Eady, the prisoner's wife, Martha Mary Eady, Emma Eady, Clara Eady, and Mary Eady—the widow, Mrs. Cox, died on 22nd April, 1883, leaving the prisoner the sole surviving trustee to execute the trusts of the will—among the property were some leaseholds—I acted at solicitor all through in realising the estate according to the trust—on 16th August the whole
leasehold estate was sold and realised some 1,700l.—the balance of the purchase moneys was paid, and the total to be paid into the benefit of the trust was 1,500l. odd—on the completion of the purchase 1,541l. 16s. 5d. was paid to the prisoner in gold and bank notes by the various purchasers from time to time—I was present as solicitor for the vendor—that did not include the deposit paid on the contract when the sale was made. (MR. POLAND proceeded to ask the witness if the handwriting to a receipt at the back of a bank deposit note was the prisoner's. MR. GLEN contended that the document could not be produced by this witness, that the signature was only an endorsement and was not evidence. The COMMON SERJEANT ruled that it should be produced by its proper custodian.) This receipt "A" is signed by William Norton twice, and the address "60, Harford Street, Mile End, East," is his—afterwards he took the money and went away from my office where the purchase was completed—there was other trust money besides that which he had received on the estate; all these documents numbered 1 to 7 have been endorsed by the prisoner—in the middle of October I received some information, in consequence of which I went to the prisoner's house at 60, Harford Street, Mile End—I there saw his wife, who had been Sarah Ann Eady, and Walter Eady—at that time the prisoner could not be found—his desk was broken open, and these documents in his handwriting found in it—in a letter to his wife were these twelve 10l. Bank of England notes numbered 62626, '7, '8, '9, '30, '31, '2 '3, '4, and 62641, 62640, and 62625, all dated 21st March, 1883, and then there was a 500l. note of which I do not remember the number and date—the letter is "For my dear wife Private. Mrs. Norton. Dear Sarah, keep this money to yourself. Don't let any one know, for God's sake. Don't fret about me. Gone to New York. If they follow me I will k—myself. Let Charles know. Be back soon. Be good. Keep from drink." The other one is addressed "Sarah Norton," "Eliza Cox's money take to Mr. Lee. 500l. 200l. Mr. Lee got lot of money. Shall be back soon." After that I received instructions to take proceedings—I got the Attorney General's fiat dated 22nd November, 1883—I got a warrant at Bow Street, and received information about the prisoner, and sent the inspector to Australia in December—the prisoner was brought back to England, and I gave evidence at Bow Street, and he was committed for trial.
Cross-examined. Walter Eady and the legatees generally, including the prisoner's wife, instructed me to take up the case, and previous to the prisoner's arrival here the Treasury took the case up—I have acted in the administration of the case from the begining and have a pretty long of bill costs—that has never been delivered to the prisoner—there is some legacy duty unpaid—it was impossible for the prisoner to wind up the estate until the bill of costs had been delivered—the trust of the estate really commenced after the death of the widow, on 22nd April, 1883—after that all proceedings had to be taken—there were no complications connected with winding-up the estate; it was sold without any difficulty; there were no outstanding liabilities, and all that had to be done previous to the prisoner's departure was to pay the costs and legacy duty and divide the residue—the prisoner did not have a good many disputes with some of the beneficiaries—he gave me 200l. to make Eliza Cox a ward of Court; that was not in consequence of a dispute; there was some idea that she might make an imprudent marriage—I am not in a position to say whether the
prisoner's wife drank—I did not come prepared to give the names of all the purchasers; I do not recollect everything of that sort; the money was all paid at one time, and the balance came to the sum mentioned; I cast the money up with the prisoner before he left my office—it is a fact that it was paid over—I cannot give details without referring to my account.
Re-examined. I saw the prisoner on two or three occasions after he received the money, and he told me it was on deposit; he did not mention the bank, because throughout the winding-up the money was put on deposit at the National Provincial Bank, and I understood it was there—my costs have to come out of the estate.
WILLIAM BARNARD CORNISH . I am one of the cashiers of the National Provincial Bank, Threadneedle Street—I paid this deposit receipt on one of our printed forms dated 16th August, 1888—the practice of the bank is when money is put on a deposit account to give to the person a deposit receipt in this form; then if he wishes to draw the money out he must produce the receipt and sign on the back of it. (MR. POLAND submitted that the document could now be read. MR. GLEN argued that it must also be proved by the cashier who saw the prisoner take the money. The COMMON SERJEANT thought sufficient prima facie evidence had now been given to admit the document. The deposit receipt was then read; it was dated 16th August, 1883, and was for 1,551l., received from William Norton, signed by the manager of the bank, and cancelled by the witness, and was signed a second time by the prisoner.) It is signed "Pro Manager" and cancelled by myself as cashier—on the back of it is "22nd September, 1888. Received payment of 1,555l. 10s. 2d."—that was made up with the added interest—the stamp is cancelled by one of the clerks in the bank—I paid the money on 22nd September to the prisoner—I have here the book in which I made the entries of the payment at the time—there were six 50l. notes, 55551, 55552, 55553, 55554, and then 54899, 54900, dated 16th March, 1888; twenty 5l. notes, 36665 to 36684 inclusive, dated 23rd July, 1883; twenty 10l. notes, 62625 to 62644 inclusive, 21st March, 1883; two 100l. notes, 10181 and 10192, dated 16th April, 1883; one for 500l., 24711, dated 1st November, 1882; five 20l. notes, 14429 to 14433 inclusive, 17th March, 1883; then there was 151l. in gold and 4l. 10s. 2d. in silver and bronze, the latter being the interest.
JOHN EDWARD WINTEL . I am a cashier at the National Provincial Bank, Threadneedle Street—this (produced) is one of the deposit receipts of our bank of 18th September, 1883, for 412l. from William Norton to the credit of his deposit account, purporting to be signed by the manager and countersigned by me on the back there is 25th September, 1883, 412l. 16s. 9d., the 16s. 9d. being the interest for the 10 days, and then "Received 416l. and interest, William Norton," the stamp being cancelled by one of the clerks—that receipt was brought to the bank, and I Paid the prisoner the money, and he endorsed it—I have the book here (produced) in which I entered the particulars of the notes that I paid—there were two 200l. notes, 23740 and 24156, dated 15/1/83, and 12l. 16s. 9d. in cash—when money is drawn out from a deposit account, it is the practice of the bank to give a fresh deposit receipt to cover the whole—these (produced) are the other deposit receipts referred to by Mr. Loe—it is my signature on some of them.
the one of 27th June, 1881, "Received from Mrs. Sarah Cox and Mr. William Norton 830l."—I presume I was present, and received the money myself—I could only tell by referring to the paying-in silp. (This deposit note bore on the back: "April 80, 1883. Received 872l. 11s. 2d. in discharge of moneys within-mentioned and interest, William Norton, survive in joint account with Mrs. Sarah Cox.")
WILLIAM COTCH GRIBBLE . I am a clerk in the chief office of the National Provincial Bank, Threadneedle Street—I produce an extract which I have made from the deposit account of the bank books, and examined with them—when money is drawn out a signature is taken on the deposit receipt for the amount, and then I issue a new receipt for the amount left—the receipts go on from 80th April, 1883, to 25th September, 1888, and then that last receipt drew out all the balance, and the account was closed on 25th September.
JOHN TUNBRIDGE (Police Inspector). On 1st February last I was at Melbourne Police-court, Australia—I had the warrants with me, and they were read over to the prisoner in my presence by Inspector Brown of the Victoria Police in the cell at the police-court—he made no reply to the charge. (The two warrants were read: both charged the prisoner with fraud as a trustee, and one mentioned the sum 1,541l. 16s. 5d.) The prisoner was taken before tho Magistrate, remanded, and committed for trial on 8th February—on the 8th March I brought him to England—these bank notes to the value of 395l. and 54l. in gold were handed to me at the police-court in the presence of the prisoner the day after the warrants were read by Inspector Brown, who said to the prisoner "These are the notes I took from you when I arrested you"—he made no answer—the notes were two 100l., numbered 10181 and 10192, 16th April, 1883; three 50l. notes, 55551-2-3, 16th March, 1883; and nine 5l. notes, 36668 to 74 inclusive, and 36677 and 36684, all dated 23rd July, 1888—they with the 54l. in gold made 449l. altogether—I saw at Melbourne a Mrs. Rogers going in the name of Mrs. Fox, in which name the prisoner was passing when arrested—Mrs. Fox gave me an I O U, which I took to Mr. Franco, a commission agent, and he gave me 26l. 3s. 2d. in exchange for it—I brought that to England—the prisoner knew about that on the way home—I did not tell him at the time—he frequently referred to her, and said "She must have squandered the money if there is only 313l.; she had 400l."—he did not say what made up the 318l.—she remained behind—I learnt, not from the prisoner, that a draft for 50l. had been forwarded home to the prisoner's wife, and I went to the Commercial Bank in Australia and get another 50l.
Cross-examined. I did not say anything before the Magistrate about the I O U, because he ruled it was inadmissible—the money was handed over in the prisoner's presence, just adjacent to the Court—he was standing at his cell door—he was committed a week later—he, I, and the inspector were present—the inspector said "These are the notes I took from you when I arrested you"—I am sure those are the exact words—I don't think that was mentioned at the police-court.
William Eady my father—the prisoner married my sister Sarah Ann—I was one of the beneficiaries under the will—the prisoner was first joint trustee with my mother, and then sole trustee—I received from him 64l. in three small sums, 10l. in April, 1883: 4l. in August; and 50l. in September—on 22nd September he said "I want you; I have got some money for you"—I said "What have you got money for me for?"—he said "The girls have been bothering me for some money, and I thought you had better have 50l. each"—I told him that I did not want it, not until the suit was wound up—he said "You had better take it to go on with"—I did not take it then—he brought it on the 23rd, and left it, and said the acknowledgment would do in the week—I did not see him any more—on the 22nd he told me there was about 2,500l. to divide among seven, and that Mr. Lee had all the money waiting till the case was settled.
Cross-examined. He told me he was waiting for Mr. Lee.
MARTHA MARIA SULMON . My maiden name was Eady—I am a widow, and one of the beneficiaries under Mr. Cox's will—I knew the prisoner the trustee—I have received several sums from him; nearly 70l. altogether—the last was 50l. in the autumn—I did not ask for it—one of my sisters asked for 20l., and he gave her 50l.—I did not know how much he had received—I relied on him as trustee to give me my money properly.
Cross-examined. I have kept no account of what I received—he asked, me from time to time if I wanted money, and gave me some, but that was not out of the trust—he gave me some for funeral expenses—he came and volunteered to give me money—I received 5l. in August at South-end and various sovereigns, but that was his own money, ink money.
Re-examined. I received 10l. on my mother's death, and altogether have had 70l.
EMMA WHITING . I am the wife of Charles Whiting, of 13, Mansion Street, Camberwell, and am one of the legateess under Mr. Cox's will—I was Emma Eady—I knew the prisoner as trustee—up to the time he left England I had received 68l. or 70l.—the last was a lump sum of 50l. at the end of September.
Cross-examined. I received 10l. at my mother's death for funeral expenses—I kept a slight account.
Re-examined. The total amount I received does not exceed 70l.
GEORGE CHARLES LEE (Re-examined by MR. POLAND). It is not true what the prisoner stated to Mr. Walter Eady, that there would be 2,500l. to the estate, and that I had the money—I cannot say the prisoner has ever been told how much my costs would be—after paying 1,000l. to Eliza Cox, the costs of realising, and the legacy duty, the estate could be divided—the estate realised altogether about 2,400l., I think—the bulk of my costs are already practically paid.
MR. GLEN submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury, inasmuch as the prisoner had only had five months to complete the transactions; the estate had not been wound up, no bill of costs had been sent in, and there was no evidence of the prisoner's having appropriated a single penny. The COMMON SERJEANT left the case to the Jury.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. A. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
MICHAEL JACKSON HARRIS . I carry on business in partnership with another person as M. S. Poole and Co., cigar importers—on 12th November, 1883 we employed the prisoner as a traveller and entered into this agreement (produced) with him—he entered into our service under that agreement—he had to account to us once a week, on a Saturday generally, paying us the sums of money as paid to him without deducting anything—in March I had an order from Mr. Allen to the amount of 3l. 13s. 6d.—I was never subsequent to 27th March paid three guineas by the prisoner as coming from Mr. Allen—I was not paid 3l. 13s. 6d. paid to him on 5th February—Miss Adams had an account with us—we were not paid 2l. 16s. 9d. subsequent to 19th April—these sums and several others have never been accounted for by the prisoner.
Cross-examined. By the agreement the prisoner was to have 5 per cent. on moneys received on his orders, to be settled every three months—he applied to us at the end of February for his commission—I did not pay him, he was indebted 1l. 19s. to us—I told him so—he did not ask to look at the books—I don't know that since then he has repeatedly called at the office—I discharged him before April 8th—I have a doubt whether I received this letter of April 8th—I did not give him three months' notice—this (produced) is in the handwriting of one of the partners, he might have given him notice in it in March—the partner is entitled to Act on behalf of the firm—he is not here; he is Mr. Poole, and is very ill at Hastings—the prisoner got about 162l. worth of orders—the total amount of commission paid him was 3l. 8s. 10d., we paid him in money and goods—we had no receipt—I don't know that he claims 11l. now, he never said anything to me—I have not seen him since 7th April—I received this letter dated 22nd March. (The prisoner in this stated that he had called on Saturday at 2.10 and trusted that he should be able to get is different accounts.) He knew our business closed at 2 o'clock, and he came after that so that we should not see him—he had 2l. or 3l. commission, I cannot swear to a pound, I have not got a copy of the receipt—I did not get him to sign a statement of account between us—we entered the amounts in our cash-book, it is not here—I had notice at the Mansion House to produce my books, I don't know that my solicitor had notice, I did not think they would be required—I have been served with a writ for 340l. from wholesale houses—I have entered an appearance and paid 100l. into Court—we gave the prisoner as a reason for giving him notice to leave that we were going to close the business—we say ia the letter to him "Your system of not coming here on Saturday does not suit us," but we gave him notice on account of giving up the business—I think that was written, we did not say in that we were going to give up the business—Mr. Poole manages the business—he has been ill some time—he went away in March—he keeps the books when he is here—the amount of commission due to the prisoner is not 11l., but 5s. 4d.—we have only received 53l. 7s. 10d. of the 162l.—after I had discharged him he complained that he had lost business in consequence of written circulars—he asked me one day whether I was going to send orders—I said no, I had made inquiries about the people and should not execute them—I said "The man has absconded"—I found out the defalcations at the latter end of March, after I gave him notice to go—I went to his house and found, he had gone three weeks since to New Cross—about a
fortnight after I received a letter, he did not come for his wages—I do not owe him money still—on 29th March he came, and I paid his weekly salary—on 2nd April he came to the warehouse, and I showed him two letters and said "Mr. Gillibanks, you have been receiving our money and not paying it over to our firm, look at these letters"—he said he was very sorry—I said there was a third one for small amounts—he said "I will get the money," and from that day to this I have never seen him—this was in April, I applied for a warrant in May—I did not treat it as a civil matter—I did not see his wife.
Re-examined. I did not hear that he claimed any commission till I prosecuted him—I dismissed him in April—his whole commission would not come to 10l. or 11l.—the three items I have spoken of to-day amount to about 9l. in themselves—the prisoner was told that we did not approve of the people with whom he entered into business.
CHARLES ALLEN . I am a cigar and tobacco merchant—in February last I had an account with the prosecutor's firm—on the 12th April I paid the prisoner 3l. 13s. 6d. in cash, he signed the receipt—on the 27th March I am not quite sure if I paid him 3 guineas in cask—he took some goods away, I think I paid him 2l. 12s. 6d. in cash—the account was settled by him and his signature is on the receipt, that was the 27th March.
PHILIPS ADAMS . I am a single woman, and a tobacco dealer at 16, Clapham Road—in March last I had an account with Poole and Company amounting to 2l. 16s. 9d.—I paid them on the 19th April through the prisoner—this is his receipt which he signed in my presence.
Cross-examined. I had never dealt with them before, it was through the prisoner's introduction I dealt with them then.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective Sergeant). I had a warrant on the 6th May and took the prisoner into custody on the 6th May at Kentish Town at his own house—I told him I was a police officer belonging to the City, and read the warrant to him charging him with embezzling 3 guineas—he said "If you will lock me up you must, if you wait I will, get the money"—Mr. Harris, the prosecutor, was with me.
MR. HARRIS (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). By the terms of the agreement I could inspect the prisoner's books when I liked—I did not ask for them, and do not know whether or not items are entered.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment charging the prisoner with embezzling other turns from the same persons, upon which MR. METCALFE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, May 24th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
593. EDWARD GEORGE TATTERSHALL (45) was indicted for unlawfully, and contrary to a direction in writing, converting to his own use a sum of 3,000l. and other sums entrusted to him, as a solicitor, by Joseph Mitchell.
MESSRS. POLAND and MANN Prosecuted; MESSRS. KEMP, and Q.C., and MATTINSON Defended.
death an action was commenced in the Chancery division of the High Court for the administration of the estate—Joseph Mitchell and others were plaintiffs, and Annie Mitchell and others defendants—I was appointed by the Court as manager of a colliery—the prisoner was a friend of mine, he was a member of the firm of Singleton and Tattershall, of Great James Street—it was part of my duty as the money accumulated from the colliery to keep a sufficient capital for working it, and to send up the rest to be paid into Court—there was no official order to do so, but I did it—the money was not my own, I was the Mine manager, working it for the beneficial interest under the will—this letter to the defendant of the 9th January, 1882, is my writing, I enclosed in it this cheque for 3,000l.—it is endorsed by him—on the 10th I received this letter of acknowledgement and this receipt—this affidavit was afterwards sent to me to make, and I returned it to the defendant—I do not remember when that was, but I should think it was some time early in February—in July, 1882, I sent up a cheque for 2,000l., in February, 1882, one for 2,500l., in September, 1883, 500l., and on the 13th October, 1883, 564l. 5s. 9d., making altogether 8564l. 5s. 9d.; that was the surplus capital of the colliery—it was not all profit; it was part of the estate for which I had to account, sent up to be paid into Court—on Monday, the 24th of March this year, I telegraphed to the prisoner, I received an answer from him and came up to town to Wood's Hotel, Furnival's Inn; the prisoner came to me there—he was in an excited state—he said he had not paid the money into Court—I said "What money?"—he said "The sums you have sent me up from time to time"—the whole of the money was mentioned, 8,500l.—he said "The money has gone in my business"—he expressed himself grieved, I forget his exact words—next day I instructed my solicitors, Messrs. Ridsdate and Sons, in the matter—an application was made to the High Court and an order was made on myself and the prisoner to pay in the money at once—I was served with a copy of that order that afternoon, and afterwards with a notice to commit me.
Cross-examined. I was on very friendly terms with the prisoner—we were in the habit of meeting one another, and going to one another's houses—I am not the prosecutor in this case—after this money was sent up there was some question as to whether it ought to be paid to capital or interest account, as shown by a new order made in the May following, and a second suit was instituted—it was agreed that the accounts in both suits should be taken before the official referee—I suppose before that was done it would not be ascertained to which particular account the money belonged, or how it was to be distributed—I do not know of my own knowledge that Mr. Tattershall materially expedited the taking of those accounts, I know that he spent a considerable amount of time over them—notice of motion was made against me to restore this money, and an order was made directing the defendant to pay in the money within 24 hours—I believe his estate was sequestrated the following day, and therefore taken out of his hands—I have every reason to believe if that step had not been taken and they had given him a week's time the whole of the money would have been repaid.
Re-examined. My reason for that belief is that Mr. Ward, one of his friends, said that he would have found a considerable sum, and other friends would have found considerable sums to have helped him to pay
it; not to save him from being prosecuted, but I should say to pay the money; I suppose to lead him the money—I don't know about leading, or what they would have dose; that was a question for them—I was told this by Mr. Ward, of the film of Lloyd and Co., stockbrokers—he is a man of means—I don't know whether the prisoner has employed him on the Stock Exchange—he is a friend of his—I support my brother John is the prosecutor in this case.
ALFRED HAWKINS . I am managing Chancery clerk to Messrs. Torr, Janeways, Gribble, and Oddie, solicitors, of Bedford Bow—I had the management of the proceedings in Mitchell c. Mitchell—judgment was given in the administration of the suit on May 10, 1878, and there was a order appointing Mr. Joseph Mitchell the manager on November 3, 1879—I have the order—his duty was to manage the colliery as directed by the Court, for which he had a salary of 500l. a year, and he was to remit the money to pay into Court to the manager's account—there was an order of the Court of February 14, 1882, for payment into Court of 3,000l.—another of May 9, 1883, obtained by the prisoner, to pay into Court 7,500l., to be invested in three and a half stock; that included the 3,000l.—I should like to state here that before the Magistrate I think I stated that the prisoner never admitted that any money had been received; I found afterwards, on going through the books and letters, that he had admitted to me that this 3,000l. was in his hands—he admitted that a few days before the date of that order—I find that I have an "attendance" in my book—the order was subsequently made—about a fortnight or three weeks afterwards I asked him whether he had paid the money in, and he told me no, it was only in town a few days, and it was returned; it was wanted for colliery purpose, and I thought nothing more of it then—that was long before the order of May 9, 1883; it was a few days before the date of the order of February 9, 1882, to pay in the 3,000l.—I am referring to a note of the dates of the various documents, which I made late night—the order for the final account is dated November 29, 1888—I ascertained that the money had not been paid in, a few days after the date of the last order to pay in the 7,000l.—I had occasion to meet the prisoner, and he told me that the order to pay the 7,000l. was all a mistake, that the money had not been received, there was no such account at the bank, and we must wait for the final account—I ascertained that the money had not been paid in—I applied in Chambers for a peremptory order for the manager to file his final account, and it was made—about March 19, 1884, we had a telegram from a client at Wakefield, and it was ascertained from the bank at Burnsley that the money was remitted to London—I then served a notice of motion asking for the manager to pay in the money, and the solicitor too, as well as the client—that came before Mr. Justice Chitty on March 21, and his lordship then said "You ask for the solicitor to pay in, I can't do that; I must have them here," and he summoned Mr. Tatter-shall in Court, and Mr. Tattershall attended to show cause why the money should not be paid in—before coming into Court I met him out-side, and he said "I must not have this matter discussed in Court, I will consent to an intermediate order," and he then came into Court and saw Mr. Bunting, his Counsel, and instructed him—I was present—the order was made by consent, and Mr. Justice Chitty said "I will only give 24 hours to pay the money in."
Cross-examined. I am not the prosecuting solicitor here—our client, Mr. John Mitchell, has instructed another solicitor, because we do not practice in these Courts—I have not attended any of the consultations that have been held in respect of this matter, nor has any gentleman from our firm—I did not state before the Magistrate that the prisoner told me the money was returned for colliery purposes—I swore before the Magistrate that I had frequently applied to the prisoner to pay money into Court, and that he always told me that no money had been remitted to him; that was my impression; but that impression was wrong—he told me that the 3,000l. was only in his hands a few days; that was about the end of February, 1882, it was not on January 21, 1882—I have made an affidavit in this matter—I have not got my diary here—it is true "that on searching back since 28th March last, when the matter was last before the Court, I found that on January 21st, 1882, Mr. Tattershall communicated to Torr and Company the fact that 3,000l. had been remitted to the firm by Joseph Mitchell"—I have the copy letter—I was under the impression that it was in February—I suppose that is a mistake—if a cheque was sent up to our firm in the way it was sent to Mr. Tattershall, we should pay it into our bankers, that is the ordinary practice—before it could be paid in to the Receiver-General of Chancery we should have to apply to the Court for an order so to do; that would not necessarily have to be supported by an affidavit; sometimes the Court makes an order to pay money into Court upon admission that you have it in hand—it is often done upon affidavit, but sometimes without—in the order for the 7,500l. there was no affidavit, there was consent—it takes a fortnight to complete the order—there is no trustees' account of the Mitchell estate; the prisoner was ordered to pay the money into the manager's account, not the trustees' account—the orders were obtained by the prisoner.
Re-examined. There are trustees of the estate—they are Joseph Mitchell, John Mitchell, William Augustus Binns, and Thomas Binns—they are trustees under the will—owing to the complications the suit was commenced so as to have the funds administered by the Court, to protect the trustees; the account was the manager's account—no question as to the distribution could arise as far as the prisoner was concerned—his duty was to pay the money into Court, the Court would ultimately decide how it was to be distributed.
By MR. KEMP. The accounts are in the process of being taken before Master Vesey—he has only directed Mr. Mitchell to lodge the account—Mr. Tattershall has rendered every assistance for the purpose of rendering the account.
EDWIN WILDING . I am a trustee in the bankruptcy of Singleton and Tattershall—all the proceedings are here—the date of the bankruptcy is April 7th, 1884, upon the petition of Elizabeth and George Brown, of Norfolk Terrace, Bayswater, dated March 28th, 1884—the creditors partly secured are returned at 3,564l. 5s. 9d., to the name of Joseph Mitchell, mining engineer, debt contracted April 8th, 1883—held as security by him certain shares estimated at 1,500l., also charges on plaintiff's costs, 2,000l.; balance unsecured, 5,064l. 5s. 9d.—I have not at present realised any assets from the estate—there are assets, solicitor's book-debts, bills of costs, and office furniture—the total amount of indebtedness if 10,149l. 6s. 4d.—taking the prisoner's cash-book and the banker's pass-book,
I find that on the morning of January 13th, 1882, the amount standing to the credit of Singleton and Tattershall in the pass-book is between 200l. and 300l.—on the same day 3,000l. is credited—on the 14th there is drawn out 1,000l., 449l. 17s. 8d., and 43l.—the 43l., which is in the name of Thompson, appears to be a contra, received on 13th and paid away also—on 1st March the balance given in the cash-book is 1,200l.—on the 14th it is reduced to about 216l.—on 26th October, 1881, Mr. Tattershall received 1,000l., entered it as paid, and omitted to pay it in; and when he gets the 3,000l. on 13th January he pays that sum, and the same as to the 449l. received on 1st November—I find in the pass-book and cash-book the credit of these various other sums, making 8,500l. odd, and that has all been used in the business.
Cross-examined. All that appears in the books of the firm, so that I can trace it through the books—I have sent out some of the bills of costs, I have not yet received any money in respect of them, only one item of about 25l.—I have found a sum of 1,100l. due from Gibb, but that is not included in this balance-sheet—I am not aware that a warrant was applied for against Mr. Singleton as well as Mr. Tattershall.
JOHN MITCHELL . I am a son of the testator, Mr. Joseph Mitchell, and am one of the trustees under his will, and one of the parties to the action—my brother acted as manager of the colliery, and had to pay in the proceeds to the Court of Chancery for the benefit of the estate—about the middle of March last I ascertained that this 8,500l. had been received and not paid in—upon that I consulted my solicitor, and determined to prosecute—I am the prosecutor in this case—I and other members of the family have a large share in the money—Mr. Beswick acts as my solicitor in the prosecution.
Cross-examined. I am not certain whether a warrant was asked for Mr. Singleton, it was mentioned before the Magistrate—I am claiming this money from my brother.
MR. KEMP submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury, the direction here was to pay the money to the credit of "the trustees' account," and no such account existed, and therefore it was a direction that he could not possibly obey. Referring to the decision in Reg. v. Tatlock, he contended that there should be some evidence of an original fraudulent design, which the evidence here did not support. MR. POLAND referred to Reg. v. Christian, 2 Crown Cases Reserved, p. 94, which dealt with both points raised. The RECORDER ruled that the opinion of the Jury must be taken.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
594. CHARLES SMITH and AUGUSTUS GARNET (33) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring to obtain 6l. 3s. from John Charles Braithwaite by false pretences, with intent to defraud GARNET.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
SMITH PLEADED GUILTY at a former Session to forgery, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude. Upon the present charge he was sentenced to— One Day's Imprisonment.
MR. BUCK Prosecuted.
Victuallers' Asylum—on Monday, 5th May, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the afternoon, I was in my brougham in Fleet Street—I had with me this bag containing a bunch of keys, a cheque book, a receipt book, and other books relating to the Asylum—I went into the office of the Asylum, leaving my bag on the seat of the brougham; when I came out it was gone—I gave information at the Bridewell Police-station.
FREDERICK FOX (Detective Sergeant S). About 11 o'clock in the morning on the 7th of this month I was in the Blackfriars Road near the Obelisk, and saw the prisoner carrying a parcel under his arm wrapped in paper—I looked at him; he caught my eye, and after he had got a few steps farther he looked again—he seemed agitated, and went a little quicker—I went after him, took hold of his arm, and said "Excuse me, I am a detective; what have you got here?"—he replied "A portmanteau; what do you think I have got?"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "Where I work"—I said "Where is that?"—he replied "Cross's in the Borough?"—I said "Where are you going to take it to?"—he said "To where I live; where do you think I am going to take it to?"—I said "Where do you live?"—he said "Furnivals Road"—I said "What is your name?"—he said "William Wood"—I said "What number do you live in Furnivals Road"—he said "I shan't tell you"—I said "Won't you?"—he said "No"—I said "Then I shall take you to the police-station"—I took hold of the bag and said "There is something in it; what is it?"—he said "Some books; what do you think it is?"—it was locked—when we got a little way to the station I said "Where is Cross's place?"—he said "I did not say anything about Cross's"—he said "I have got the key in my pocket; I will soon show you what I have in the bag"—on arriving at the station he pulled out this bunch of keys, and pointed out one which did not unlock it—the inspector said "What is there in the bag?" he replied "A cheque book and other things"—the inspector said "What other things?"—he said "You can look for yourself"—he was asked his name and address, and he refused it.
Prisoner. I did not tell him that I got it where I worked. I gave my name and address at the station, William Wood, 17, Harp Alley. Witness. He positively refused to give any name and address at first, and also at the station—later on I found some one who knew him.
FREDERICK LANE (City Policeman 499). I received the prisoner in custody on this charge at Bridewell Police-station—while there he slipped off his boots and ran out—I followed him; he fell down and I caught him—he said "God blind me; you have done it for me now"—he was taken back to the station—he lives in Harp Alley, about 350 yards from the Licensed Victuallers' Asylum.
Prisoner's Defence. I found the bag on the Thames Embankment; I intended to restore it, but was apprehended.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at the Middlesex Sessions in May, 1878.**— Six Months' Hard Labour, to commence at the expiration of his former sentence of seven years' penal servitude.
MR. FILLAN Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
After the case had proceeded some time a letter was put in in which the
Prisoner acknowledged the offence, and promised to repay the amounts. MR. KEITH FRITH not contesting the case further, the Jury found the prisoner GUILTY , and he was discharged on his own recognisances in 50l. to come up for judgment if called upon.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, May 24th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. FULTON appeared for Garnham, and MR. ERNEST BEARD for Blackborough.
JOSEPH KAUFFMAN . I am a velvet manufacturer, of Crefeld, in Germany—in April last Mr. Fenwick, the buyer to Leaf, Son, and Co., called on me and ordered 44 pieces of velvet at 6s. 3d. per yard—the goods were on the loom—this (produced) is our pattern and the pattern he chose, and of which the 44 pieces were made—we sold none of them to any house in England except the prosecutors', Messrs. Jantzen—this second piece of velvet is our manufacture; it came from the same loom; on 3rd May I sent off a case containing 19 pieces, value 140l. 9s. 4d., to Leaf and Co.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Ours is not a wholesale house, it is a manufactory—this was a new pattern designed by somebody in our employment—the velvet was silk and cotton mixed—it being a new pattern did not make much difference in the price—there are fashions in velvet—we do not make it unless we have an order.
FREDERICK CUTHBERT FRNWICK . I am buyer to Leaf, Son and Co., Old Change—in April I went to Crefeld and bought 44 pieces of broche velvet at 6s. 3d. a yard; the regular price was 6s. 9d.; part was made and part was on the looms—19 pieces were afterwards sent to Leaf and Sons—I believe this (produced) is the very piece I saw—I refused to accept the goods till the order was complete, and sent them to Mr. Jantzen, Mr. Kauffman's agent—the velvet was between 19 and 20 inches wide.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. 449 1/2 yards only were consigned to us by this invoice for 140l.—these 23 yards produced were found in the prisoner Garnham's possession.
WILLIAM BARR . I am porter to Mr. Jantzen, of 6, Noble Street, at the back of the General Post Office—on 6th May, about 1.30, a carman delivered a case to me, belonging I think to Atkinson, of Tower Hill, but I won't be sure—it was placed at the street door, as it was too heavy to be got upstairs, and I closed the premises at 5.30—I found the door shut when I came at 8.45, but the case was gone.
MARTHA GARNHAM . I am the wife of John Garnham, of 6, Hay Walk, Kingsland Road—I am the sister-in-law of the female prisoner—she keeps a draper's shop two or three minutes' walk from my house—I saw a piece of velvet at her shop on 7th May, between 12.30 and 1 o'clock, and bought 10 yards of it (produced)—she showed me a sample, I took it home to show to my mother, went back to the shop, and Blackborough out it off—the price was 2s. 6d. a yard, and I paid Mrs.
Garnham 1l. 2s. 6d. for it—I took it home and gave it to my mother, Eliza Smith, of Stamford Hill.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I knew the shop well, Garnham being my sister-in-law—she serves in the shop—there is a stall with goods outside—Blackborough is sometimes at the stall.
Re-examined. I asked Mrs. Garnham if she had anything that would make a dress—she did not tell me how it came there or how long she had had it—I have never seen velvet broche there before—I have bought velvet there, but not for dresses—it is not rather a poor neighbourhood—I have seen Blackborough behind the counter in Mrs. Garnham's absence.
MARY ANN GEORGE . I am barmaid at the Hare public-house, Hoxton, nearly opposite Mrs. Garnham's shop, and have seen Blackborough there for a long time; not 12 years, as I have not been there so long—on Wednesday, 7th May, between 12 and 1 o'clock, he brought to our house some patterns of maroon broche velvet like this, but they were not large enough to see the patterns—he asked 2s. a yard for them—my mistress looked at them and said she did not require them.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. It was nothing unusual for him to submit things to us; they always brought things over to see if they could do a deal.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I have known Blackborough eight or nine years as a servant to Mrs. Garnham—he was in the habit of bringing parcels of goods to the house, and if we purchased we always received a proper invoice from Mrs. Garnham.
Re-examined. He never brought broche velvet before; he has brought cheap lace; machine made.
ELIZA PAGE . I live at 187, Hoxton Street, and sometimes deal at Mr. Garnham's shop—I went there on 7th or 8th May, and she showed me some patterns of broche velvet, and gave me some to show my mother—she left the shop and spoke to her mother in the parlour before she showed them to me—she asked 2s. 3d. a yard—I did not purchase them.
ISABELLA FOWERACRE . I am the wife of Francis Fowerace, of 11, Prince's Street, Kingsland Road, about five minutes' walk from Mrs. Garnham's shop—I went there on Wednesday, May 7th, and saw her and her two daughters—I bought these 13 yards of velvet (produced) of the female prisoner, and paid her 2s. a yard for it—I saw something in the Police News, in consequence of which I communicated with the police and gave them the velvet—it was wrapped in paper with "Garnham" on it in blue letters—Blackborough was behind the counter—Miss Garnham measured it—it is not a big shop.
ROBERT SAGAR (City Detective). On 7th May I received information in consequence of which I went about 4 p.m. to Mrs. Garnham's shop on the 8th, with two officers of the G division in plain clothes—it is a draper's shop, and large for the district, which is a poor and busy neighbourhood—Sergeant Sage said "I suppose you know who we are?"—they both replied "Oh yes"—I said "I wish to draw both of your special attention to some samples of velvets I have here, a large quantity of which has been stolen," and produced this book containing samples which the prosecutor gave me—this large pattern shows the flowers, the others only show the colours—I said "Have either of you seen any goods like these offered
for sale?" or "Hape, either of you seen any quantity of goods of this description?"—Blackborough said "I have seen samples something like them; a short dark man came in on Tuesday with some patterns like them and asked me if I would buy some, at 2s. a yard; the width of the piece he told me was 24 inches; he handed me some strips like them, and I told him I would see Mrs. Garnham; I did not buy it, but I took the sample to show Mrs. Garnham"—the female prisoner said "I was out all day on Wednesday and when I came home in the evening my man," pointing to Blackborough, "showed me some patterns like these you have got, and said that a man had been in and offered some for sale at 2s. a yard; I said that the price was too much and the quality too good for me, and the samples I threw away'—I said "What position does Blackborough occupy in your shop?"—she said "He is my manager, and when I am out and any one brings, anything in for sale he buys it if he thinks he can make anything out of it; if anything comes in which he does not understand, he takes samples and shows them to me when I come home"—Blackborough was present, he made no reply—I said "My information is that goods, of this description have been seen in your shop, has either of you seen any quantity or bought any like these patterns?"—Blaokborough said "All I have seen is some strips like what you now show"—the female prisoner said that she knew nothing about it—I said to her "Have you any objection to my looking over the place?"—she said "Oh, certainly not, you can look where you like, you won't find any of those goods here"—I looked over the place but found nothing but the stock of an ordinary draper's shop—from inquiries the same evening I went to Mrs. Smith's, the mother of Martha Garnham, at Eliza Terrace, Stamford Hill, who gave me a piece of velvet ten yards long—I showed it to Mr. Jantzen on Friday, and went back to Mrs. Garnham's shop with, the same two officers and two others, and the 10 yards of velvet, which I showed to the prisoners, and said "Does either of you know anything about this, or has either of you sold it in this shop?"—they both said "I know nothing at all about it, I have never seen it before"—I said "Well, this piece of velvet has been bought in this shop by Mrs. Garnham, a sister-in-law of yours, on Wednesday last at 2s. 3d. a yard, so you must both consider yourselves in custody, and both will be charged with others not in custody, with stealing; and receiving nineteen pieces of velvet value 140l."—after a pause Blackborough said "Well, I believe I know something about that, I believe I did cut it off"—they were then taken in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. When I went there I knew that nineteen pieces had been stolen on the previous day; I have only been able to trace twenty-three yards—I did not make a minute search of the premises—I have been five years in the force.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I showed them the large piece as a pattern, and the small piece as well, but there was no piece of this colour Stolen.
Re-examined. I took them simply to show the pattern and material—I received information that nineteen pieces were stolen all in one case.
ROBERT SAGE (Detective G). I went with Sagar to Mrs. Garnham'a shop and was present when she was taken in custody—I heard Sagar ask her if she had any papers or invoices relating to this pointing to the
velvet—she said "No, I never keep any"—on the 12th Mrs. Foweracre gave me thirteen yards of velvet in a piece of paper which had "Garnham" written on it in blue.
LEON JANTZEN . I am a manufacturer's agent, of 6, Noble Street—I am agent for Messrs. Kauffman, who sent this velvet to Leaf, Sons, and Co., who sent it to me—I identify the velvet produced as part of 19 pieces, value 6s. 3d. per yard, or 3l. 2s. 6d.—the case was never opened—being sent on May 3 it would arrive on Monday or Tuesday, the 5th or 6th—the width is 19 3/4 inches—Mr. Fenwick gave me this pattern card and sample, and I gave it to a detective—I identify this velvet by Kauffman's mark, it is in different colours.
Witnesses for Blackborough.
MISS GARNHAM. I am the female prisoner's daughter, and a shop assistant—Black borough was an ordinary shop assistant at 30s. a week—he could not buy goods—if he took samples of goods brought he would submit them to my mother, and it was for her to decide whether she bought the goods or not—we have a stall outside the shop, which it was his duty to look after, and a boy is kept as well.
Cross-examined. I serve in the shop—there are no assistants but me and Blackborough—I was serving on May 6th and 7th—I do not remember a man coming in and showing samples—I asked my mother on May 7 what price I should ask for the broche velvet—I do not know when it first came to the shop, or whether it was on the 6th or the 7th—we deal in broche velvet—I can't say what was the last quantity we had before this, or who we got it from, or how it was delivered—I served Eliza Page and Mrs. Foweracre—I don't know how long we had had it before she came in—I was not astonished to see it, my mother did not tell me it was coming—I asked no questions how it came there, I found it there when I came down in the morning—I only saw one colour—we sold velvet before at 1s. 11 1/2 d., it was inferior to this I think—I am not a judge of broche velvet—we have not a great demand for it in that neighbourhood, but we are asked for it sometimes—it is not correct that Blackborough is my mother's manager, or that when she is out he buys anything he can make anything out of, or that if there is anything he does not exactly understand he takes a sample of it—my mother was out on the Wednesday, I do not know about Tuesday—the 30s. Black-borough receives does not include board—that is rather high for an assistant—he does not sleep in the house—I manage the shop when my mother is away—she has had the shop about 18 years, and Blackborough has been there about 14 years—I buy occasionally in the City—I should not buy this velvet over the counter if it was offered me—I did not buy it, or see it bought—Blackborough closed up that night—we close at 10 o'clock—the boy is not here.
Re-examined. There are such men as piece broken—I am not in the shop all day—Blackborough never buys—he is married, and has a family—he leaves the shop sometimes for 10 minutes or so, and at meal times for an hour—lots of people could come in with goods during the hour and he not know—I do not interfere in my mother's business, she manages it herself.
GARNHAM— GUILTY on the Second Count — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
BLACK BOROUGH— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Monday, May 26th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
CAROLINE BLAKE . I am general servant to Mrs. Louisa Hunt, of Hammersmith—on Monday, 12th, at 9 o'clock, I fastened up the premises securely and went to bed at half-past—I came down next morning at 7.15—I found the scullery window open and a knife lying by the side of it, and I missed about a quarter of a pound of Cheddar cheese and my waterproof—this is it (produced)—I found a broken pipe there—the scullery window opens into the garden, which is enclosed by a high brick wall.
JOSEPH CHATTON (Police Sergeant T). On the 13th at 12.15 a.m. I was on duty with Constable White in Goldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush, and saw the prisoner about a mile or a mile and a quarter from Mrs. Hurst's house—we watched him for a short time—he afterwards turned into Shepherd's Bush Road, where we lost sight of him—we proceeded to Wilson's Road, Hammersmith, and at 1.30 the prisoner came along—we stopped him—I said "What have you got about you?"—he said "Nothing, what do you think?"—I unbuttoned his coat and pulled it aside and found this waterproof wrapped round his body under his coat—I said "Whose is this?"—he said "That's my wife's"—I said "What else have you got about you?"—he said "A piece of cheese," which I found in his right-hand coat-tail pocket—I asked when he got it from—he said he bought it for a penny—I said "I don't believe this waterproof is your wife's"—he said "Come down with me and ask her, you will find it is true"—I said "No, I shall do no such thing"—I sent Constable White to ascertain if it was hers—after he had gone the prisoner became violent and escaped from me—I chased him about 150 yards, when I hit him on the head with my umbrella and he fell and I fell on top of him—we struggled for about 10 minutes, when he said "If you let me get up I will walk quietly with you"—I let him get up, when he became very violent and tried to throw me—I threw him again—three women came up, and I asked them to get assistance—they said they should do no such thing, why did I not let the man get up and go home—I let him get up, and he tore my neckcloth and the front of my shirt, scratched my face, and got hold of my whiskers—I lost my umbrella in the struggle—at last I got assistance and took him to the station—I there charged him with the possession of the waterproof—he said "Now you have found it, find the owner"—I searched him and found on him a box of silent matches—he made no answer to the charge—when we were struggling he said if I did not loose him he would put something through me.
Prisoner's Defence. I picked up the waterproof as I was coming home. The officers stopped me and pulled me about. If they had told me they were detectives I would have turned it up to them at once.
BENJAMIN CORNISH . (Policeman ER 39). About 2.30 in the morning of 4th May I was on duty in Tavistock Square—I met another constable, and in consequence of what he said I got over a wall with another constable—I saw a man on the top of a wall about 20 yards away—I lost sight of him, and I got over another wall into the back garden of 49, Tavistock Square, where I found the prisoner—I said "What are you doing here?"—he said "I have been let into this by the other man"—I said "Is that the man who has gone over the wall?"—he said "Yes"—I took him into custody—I found on him a gardener's knife, a gimlet, a box of lucifers, and a candle; and he was sitting down on this hammer, and saw, and screwdriver, wrapped up in paper—he said "These things belong to me"—he said to the other constable that they belonged to the other man—I charged him with being in possession of housebreaking implements in enclosed premises—I did not hear him say anything.
CORNELIUS COLLS (Policeman E 164). I met Cornish in Gordon Square, and from what he said to me I went to Upper Bedford Place and got on the wall and saw a man on the top of the wall of No. 30—we got into the garden of 48, Tavistock Square and saw some marks on the wall which led us to get over into No. 49 garden—I there saw the prisoner crouched down by the back door with these tools close to him—I picked up the hammer—I asked if it was his property—he said no, he had found it in the garden—the other instruments he said belonged to the other man—we took him to the station.
WILLIAM BARRY (Policeman E 167). On Sunday morning, 4th May, I was in Upper Bedford Place—I put a private mark on the wall of No. 48, Tavistock Square—I had done so all through the month in consequence of information—about 1.15 I found a portion of the mark gone—I found the sergeant in Tavistock Square some time afterwards—I examined the wall and the railings and found traces as of some one having got over—I watched the doors while the other constables were getting over the walls—I afterwards saw the prisoner in their custody.
JOSEPH CAPP (Police Inspector). I was at Hunter Street on the morning of the 4th May when the prisoner was brought in and charged—in consequence of information I received I saw another officer, and went with him to 34, Upper Bedford Place—I found an entry had been effected there through the back of the house through a frame-work about two feet by one foot into the beer cellar; they proceeded to the dining-room and front kitchen, carrying with them the property stolen—they had full access to the whole of the house (the property consisted of eight silver knives, nine forks, two silver spoons, one overcoat, and one walking-stick)—the house is separated from 49, Tavistock Square, by five or six walls—I did not see the wall marked by Barry; I know it is usual to do it—there is a wall between that house and 49, Tavistock Square—I found the stick produced; it is a very heavy strong stick—it was on a chair in the front kitchen, just inside the area door—I also found this hat in the beer cellar; the thief must have entered there first—the hat has not been claimed by any person occupying the house—an escape could have been made by the front area door, which was found open, into the area and climbing the front railings—this hat corresponds with the hat worn by
the prisoner, and I have ascertained where the two hate were probably both, at Mr. Dupres, in Gray's Inn Road, but he could not swear to the parties who bought them.
ISAAC JACOBS . I live at 34, Upper Bedford Place; that is my dwelling-house—about 6 o'clock on the morning of 4th May I was called down-stairs—I found that a small shutter, level with the surface of my garden, had been removed, leading from the garden into the beer cellar—there was perforated zinc over that part, which would have to be broken away before they could get there—I am not able to say whether the shutter had been fastened the night before, but the zinc was a fixture—that was broken away from its fastening—after they got into the beer cellar they had access to all parts of the house—I missed from the stand in the hall a coat and an ebony silver-mounted stick, a hat, some gloves, and also, some knives and forks, seventeen altogether, and three silver spoons, but there are many more things I have discovered missing, and also two canaries; I have not seen any of them since—from the back of my house to 49, Tavistock Square, it would be necessary for a man to get over about six walls, but by getting over these walls he could have easy access to my premises.
The Prisoners' Statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty; a chap told me to go over the wall, and when I got over the wall with him he gave me the tools, and told me to wait there till he came back. When he got over the wall a constable came and took me."
The Prisoner's Defence. I beg for mercy on account of my mother; she only has to look to me to support her.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for being found by night without lawful excuse in possession of certain house breaklng implements , upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES SPINKS . I live at 17, Blue Anchor Lane, Bermondsey—I am; foreman to Messrs. Wrightson and Son, 90, Lower Thames Street, licensed lightermen—the Joseph was a barge they had hired; the barge Cromwell belongs to them—on 17th April they were lying aground alongside Old Swan Wharf—the Joseph was laden with tubs and cases of wine, and the Cromwell with brandy—about 5 o'clock that evening I tow the casks on the Cromwell; they were all right—there was no plug in them then—they had not been tampered with that I saw, if they had been my attention would have been called to them—I only knew Cook as a Custom House officer in charge that night—from information I received from the police I went to Old Swan Wharf—I saw a cask of brandy had two plugs in it, and brandy had been abstracted from it—I know flooding; he used occasionally to work for us, but at that time he was not.
Cross-examined by Gooding. It is not usual among lightermen to make use of one another's cabins when a craft is aground or at a wharf—it is quite possible for a man to get into the barge from the shore and tamper with the casks without disturbing a man asleep—barges have been robbed while lightermen have been asleep in the cabin.
WILLIAM PHILPOT (Thames Police 26). About 11 o'clock on the night of 17th April I was on duty in the police galley with the inspector right abreast of Old Swan Wharf—I saw four men come down the stairs to the wharf—two were carrying stone bottles—they got on the barge Joseph and they all crossed over to the Cromwell—the Cromwell was lying under the wharf, and the Joseph outside the Cromwell—Cook, who was one of the four, went down the cabin of the Joseph, and came on deck again and joined the other three men on board the Cromwell—the other three men went down the hold of the Cromwell; Cook remained on deck—we saw lights in the hold of the Cromwell, and we dropped alongside of the camp-shed, and assisted the inspector on to the Joseph, then two of the men made their escape off of the Joseph—the inspector went on board the Joseph, and crossed over to the Cromwell—Gooding was in the cabin of the Cromwell—I went on board—the inspector asked him if he knew who the two men were that ran away—he said he did not—he asked him if he could account for what was in the bucket standing on the gunwale of the barge, half full of brandy—he said he could not—he said he had been asleep, and had just woke up—I saw the brandy casks; they had got spiles in them—we went over to Cook, and the inspector asked him it he Knew who the two men were—he said no, he had been asleep, and had just woke up—the inspector told them he should take them in custody for being accomplices with the other men, and they were both taken—we put Gooding into the galley aft, and the inspector told me to look after Cook while he went into the cabin—he was away about three minutes, and while Cook and I were standing on the shore together I heard something drop—when the inspector joined us I said "He has dropped something, turn your light on"—he did so, and I picked up this gimlet (produced); it was close by his heels; I gave it to the inspector—I afterwards took it on board the Cromwell; it corresponded with the holes in the casks—they had been spiled—they were such holes as could have been made by a gimlet like this—when I was on board the Cromwell I noticed the brandy casks, there were plugs in them—the brandy was dropping from them a little.
Cross-examined. It was about 11 o'clock at night when I saw Cook on the Cromwell; it was a fine night—I was about 50 feet away from him—I said yards at the Mansion House, but it was 50 feet—I did not see anything fall; I heard something drops on the shore—they have always plenty of nails, tarpaulin pins, and things of that sort knocking about—I have heard Cook say that he has a pension from the Royal Enfield Arms Factory—I have no doubt of it—Gooding had been taken into custody before I heard this sound of dropping—he was in the police galley—Gooding or some other person had passed where this gimlet was subsequently found—I and Cook were standing on the shore together—he had his hands behind him—he had passed a short distance from this place where the gimlet was found—I do not know Mr. Harvey, the Customs officer—I am aware that Cook had charge of the Joseph—he had nothing to do with the Cromwell at all—the other men had not passed over the ground where this gimlet was found—Cook was admitted to bail by the Magistrate—there was a gaslight on the brow of the pier, perfectly light enough for me to see.
Cross-examined by Gooding. I could only swear to the identity of the four men who came down to the pier by their clothes.
ALFRED BOX (Thomas Police Inspector). At 11 o'clock on the morning of April 17 I was with others in a police-galley near the Old Swan Stairs—I saw four men come down the stairs on to the shore, two of them carrying heavy stone jars—they got on to the Joseph, the three men assisting the fourth on to the barge—I saw them walk across the Joseph on to the Cromwell, that was lying next to the wharf—I saw Cock return to the Joseph and go down into her cabin, he then went back on to the Cromwell—I distinguished him by his long coat—three of the men went into the hold, Cook stood on the cabin-top of the Cromwell—I saw a flash of light, and saw one of the men come from the hold—some whispering took place between him and Cook—two men got out of the hold of the Cromwell, jumped over the stern, and ran away—Gooding went into the cabin, I went down and asked him "Who are those two men that have just escaped?"—he said "I don't know, I have just woke up"—I said "How do you account for this?" meaning a bucket of brandy standing on the gunwale—he said "I don't know, I don't belong to the barge"—I told him I should take him into custody—Philpot then came, and I handed Gooding to him, and he took him to the police-galley—I then returned to Cook, and said "Who are those two men that have just run ashore?" he said "I don't know, I have just woke"—I handed him to Philpot, who was standing on the shore—I then searched the cabins of the barges, I found no one there—on returning to Philpot he said "Turn the light on, governor; he has just dropped something"—on turning the light on I saw this gimlet lying just where Cook had been standing, just behind his heels—Philpot picked it up and handed it to me.
Cross-examined. I found nothing on Cook to connect him with this robbery—when I first saw him he was on the Joseph, that was the barge he was guarding—he was 40 or 50 yards off when I saw him on the Cromwell—it was quite dark—I believe these men are sometimes on duty 24 hours at a stretch, many of them are pensioner, invalided from the Navy.
By the COURT. There were Nights on London Bridge and on the landing place, but I don't think they showed much.
Cook received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 26th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LOWE Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
JOSEPH ARMITAGE . I am accountant to the Southampton Dock Company at 19, Bishopsgate Street Within, their office—on the 27th March I had to pay into the National Provincial Bank money on my own account to be placed to the credit of their branch account at Southampton—it was my own money, and consisted of a 20l. and a 5l. bank notes—I was at the bank about half-past 3—I put the notes on the counter just before me, and was making a paying-in note when I felt some one behind me touch my shoulder, I think both shoulders—I turned round and the party said "Can you tell me?" and then went on in a mumbling tone which I could not understand, it was quite unintelligible—I do not think any words were said—then I tuned round to where my notes had been,
and they were gone—when I looked back I saw the person who had been mumbling to me—I do not know who he was, he had hollow cheeks and a brown coat—afterwards I saw the back of a man walking down the Bank towards Broad Street, there are two entrances to the Bank—I knew the numbers of the notes, 33851, 26th December, 1881, 5l. and 97949, 17th May, 1883, 20l.—I went to the Bank of England and stopped them, and then gave information.
Cross-examined. I said before the Alderman that the man who tapped me on the shoulder was a paler man than the prisoner—when I turned round there was only one man behind me—I did not notice any one at the side of me—the clerk had gone away for a moment in front of me—there were other people a little distance off—I did not notice them—the man close to me was the one that tapped me on the shoulder.
EDWARD WOODMAN . I am a foreign bill clerk in the National Provincial Bank—about 3.30 on the afternoon of the 27th March, Armitage came to the Bank to pay in some notes—previous to that I had seen the prisoner there for nearly three-quarters of an hour moving backwards and forwards on the seats between my desk and No. 13—he paid no money in—the desks in front of which he was standing were solely paying-in desks—I did not see any one else with him then—when Mr. Armitage was writing out the paying-in slip I saw the prisoner standing behind Mr. Armitage, close to his back, not more on one side than the other—no one else was standing near Mr. Armitage at that time—the only thing I heard was Mr. Armitage saying "What did you say?" and I looked up—he was not paying in to me, he came to my desk to fill in the slip, as No. 11 desk was full—the notes were before him at my desk—the next thing that attracted my attention was his saving "I have lost my notes"—I said "There is the man that has taken your notes, and there is the other one"—we have two entrances, one man went out into Bishopsgate Street, and the other into Broad Street—I had plenty of opportunity of seeing the prisoner's face while he was in the Bank—I am sure he is the man I saw, I have no doubt about it, and that he is the man I saw standing behind Mr. Armitage—I gave a description of the prisoner to Downs—on the 13th May I saw him at the Old Jewry Police-office, with seven or eight others, and recognised him—I was in the room perhaps a minute or two before I did bo, but immediately I went into the room I had no doubt about the man—at the Bank the prisoner had a long brown ulster on, and a low crowned hat.
Cross-examined. I was not watching the prisoner for three-quartern of an hour, I was standing at the counter and could not miss seeing him—I was not looking at him for three-quarters of an hour straight off—there were two men besides Mr. Armitage—the other one, not the prisoner, stepped from behind my desk and spoke to him, and immediately he went out by this door and the prisoner by that—I had no opportunity of seeing who he was—the man I saw with the prisoner had not so much hair on his face as the prisoner.
BATEMAN MCLORD . I am a clerk in the National Provincial Bank—my desk is next to Mr. Woodman's on the left—on the 27th March Mr. Armitage came to pay in some bank notes—I saw the prisoner standing quite close to and a little behind Mr. Armitage—I did not see him do anything, I went on with my work—I next saw the prisoner at the
Guildhall last Tuesday by gaslight, I did not at first recognise him, but I saw him again in the afternoon in daylight, and recognised him the moment I saw him—I am quite positive he is the man I saw standing there.
Cross-examined. He was not put among others when I saw him the second time, he was in the dock—on the 27th I saw him sitting in the bank; he had been there some time—my attention was called to him—he was wearing a brownish overcoat, not a long one; it did not come below his knees; it was a nondescript sort of overcoat—I think he had a black hat; I think a billycock hat.
HENRY GEORGE (Detective Sergeant V). On 13th May I saw the prisoner in Lower Kennington Lane, riding on an omnibus—I induced him to alight and said "I shall take you to the Old Jewry for stealing some Bank of England notes in March last"—the prisoner said "I know nothing about it; I returned from Manchester on the night the City and Suburban was run"—I took him to Kennington Lane Station, where he was detained, and afterwards to the Old Jewry—I was in the room when Mr. Woodman came in and identified him—he was afterwards taken to Bishopsgate Street Station and searched by Downs.
Cross-examined. I did not go to his house; the case was a City one, and I handed him over to Downs.
FREDERICK DOWNS (City Detective Sergeant). On 13th May the prisoner was brought to the Old Jewry by George and placed among six or seven others—Woodman came in and identified him—I then said to him "You will be charged with being concerned with others in stealing 25l. in Bank of England notes from the National Provincial Bank on 27th March last"—he said "It is a great mistake, I was not in London at the time"—he said to Mr. Woodman "You had better be careful what you are saying, for I can prove an alibi and that I was not there"—when he arrived at Bishopsgate Police-station I searched him, and found 1l. 11s. in money, two pocket-books, three cards, one a picture card, and six notes on the Bank of Engraving, four 10l. and two 5l.
Cross-examined. I took Mr. McLeod and three others down into the cells at Guildhall to identify the prisoner; they all failed to do so—Mr. MeLeod afterwards identified him on seeing him in the dock—I sent Parsons, another officer, to the prisoner's house; he is not here—he brought a coat which did not correspond with the coat described; it is a pea-green—that was found at the address the prisoner gave.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES SMITH . I have kept an hotel at 24, Owen Street, Chester Street, Manchester, for between six and seven years, and have got my licence from the Magistrates—on 16th March the prisoner was brought to my house as a visitor by a man I know, who asked if I had a room for him—I said "Yes," and he brought the prisoner inside and said "You will be all right here;" and to me he said "I will be responsible for anything he has"—at the end of the week I asked the man what name I should book, as the prisoner had not paid for anything, and he said "Oh, book Johnny"—the prisoner slept at the hotel right away from the 16th to the 27th, and he left on Wednesday, the 27th, at 10.30 a.m.—I remember the day because it was the day before the Lincoln Handicap was run for—there was a discussion in which the prisoner took part over the breakfast table about the Lincoln Handicap—when he left he
said he was going to Liverpool to the races—the Liverpool Spring races began on the Thursday.
Cross-examined. Batty, an old customer and acquaintance of mine, brought the prisoner to me—the prisoner had no luggage with him—he had a dark or black overcoat on; not a dark brown, a kind of blue-black; it was not a long coat—I don't think it was more than an inch longer than this coat of mine, which is not an overcoat—he had a billycock hat—a man named Potty was then staying at my hotel; he arrived the same day or the day after—I cannot remember when he left—I do not remember any other man who was staying at that time in the hotel—Fish Tommy does not stay with me; I lend him money—I charged the prisoner 6d. a night for his bed; I should say the 4s. 6d. in my book would be for sundry meals during the week, and 3s. 6d. for his bed—I had several men staying in the house on and off, mostly interested in racing matters, and there was a good deal of conversation about racing matters—the prisoner had not been to my house before 16th March—I don't think he had a stick or umbrella with him.
Re-examined. He was an entire stranger to me—I put down the names in my book just as I hear them at the beginning, they gave me the name of Johnny, and I heard they called him Pretty Johnny, so I put down "Johnny P."—he was away on the evening of the 27th and 28th, and came back on the 29th.
HARRY MCDONALD . I live at 90, Westgate, Bradford, Yorkshire, and attend racecourses—the Lincoln Handicap was run on the 26th, Wednesday; on the 27th, the day after, the first day of the Liverpool Spring Meeting, I left Manchester to go to Liverpool by the 4 o'clock train, and arrived there about 4.46—the prisoner went in the same compartment—I left him going from the station about 4.50—I had known him for years, and am certain he is the same man because we had an argument over the Grand National.
Cross-examined. I made the remark "You Cockneys know everything"—the Grand National was on Friday, the 28th, and our conversation was about the horse going to win on the next day—we talked about the winner of the Lincoln Handicap—I saw the prisoner on the Manoherter Station—I had seen him before on that day at Manchester, and the day before at Lincoln, I won't say how often—I don't know where he was staying at Lincoln—I saw him there on the Wednesday, I think he was there all the week which began on the 24th, and the last day was the 29th—I did not see him after Thursday, 27th, and have not seen him since—I heard he had been at Lincoln during the whole of the week, I only saw him on the 26th—there were several of us in the compartment—I knew some of them by travelling about the country, I do not know their names—the conversation was not confined to the prisoner and me—I am in the habit of attending race meetings and betting.
HUGHES. I am a joiner, of 86, Highfield Street, Liverpool, and keep a lodging-house there—it is not a common lodging-house—I have been in the same place 18 years—the prisoner is no friend of mine, I never saw him before Thursday, the 27th of March, the day on which the Liverpool Spring Meeting began, when he came to my house between 5.30 and 6 o'clock p.m.—he stopped two nights—I have no doubt that the prisoner is the man who came.
Cross-examined. I know it was the 27th because it was the day before
the Grand National—three other man came to my house with the prisoner, they all came together—I cannot remember their names, they called each other John and Henry and Tom—they were not in my presence half an hour, as they went out—I go to my business during the day, and leave all to my wife—I saw them again on the Friday night—all the four stayed the same time—the prisoner was not introduced as a friend by any of the others—I have seen two of them since, I knew none of them before that night—I can't remember if he had any luggage, there was a carpet bag in one or two hands, I can't say which—I don't let lodgings to everybody, only to respectable people—they were recommended by Mrs. Williams, higher up—I didn't notice if he had a stick or umbrella, or how he was dressed; he was dressed respectably.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LOWE Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
EDGAR SHRUDERMOR . I am clerk to Jenkins and Co., of Whittingham Avenue—on January 1 I took some cheques to the London and Joint Stock Bank—I cashed one of them and received 66 5l. notes, and some gold and silver—I counted the notes and put them into this wallet, which I put on the counter before me, and while I was counting the silver I was touched behind on the left; I took no notice—I heard somebody behind me to the left say "Have you dropped 6d.?"—a man on my right said "No, it must be that gentleman, "referring to me—he then asked me if it was mine—I said "It is not, there was no 6d. among my money"—I said to the cashier "There was no 6d. among my money, was there?"—I did not look at my wallet for a minute or two, and then the notes were gone and a black paper bag was stuffed in the place of them—I recognised the prisoner as the man who was standing on my left, he is the man to the best of my belief—I believe there were others in his immediate neighbourhood—it was a very busy time of day—he had a low felt hat and a brown overcoat.
Cross-examined. I saw the man I believe to be the prisoner only a Quarter of a minute—I saw him next in the dock on the other charge, I did not pick him out.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective). On 1st January I received information and a description of two men—I saw the prisoner at Guildhall Police-court in May, and said "I am a detective sergeant, and on the last occasion when you were before the Magistrate Mr. Shrudermor identified you in the Court as being the person he saw in the London Joint Stock Bank, Princess Street, when he lost his notes, I think 66 5l. Bank of England notes; he has preferred that charge against you, which I will read to you"—I then read it to him from the charge-sheet—he said "I know nothing at all about it."
Cross-examined. Mr. Shrudermor had seen him in the dock the previous week.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BEARD Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON defended Wiklinson and Lee.
at Brunswick Street, W.C.—on 3rd May I was going through the Colonnade, near Russell Square, and was attacked by the prisoners—Norman struck me on my mouth; I ran away from him, and was caught by Wilkinson and Lee—I was then thrown to the ground; Lee struck me on the back of my neck and put his hand in my side trousers pocket, tore it down, and took away my purse, containing 4s. 8d.—they all ran away—I gave chase, but lost them—they all ran into a house in the Colonnade—I got a policeman, went to the house, and saw Wilkinson standing at the door—the policeman took hold of him, and a little boy in the crowd said "There is your purse"—it was picked up four or five feet from where I stood—I went to the station, and afterwards went with a constable to the Colonnade and saw Lee standing with a lot more on the high pavement, and as soon as he saw me he jumped down and ran away—I saw him next in the hands of the police—I did not make water over Norman—a woman spoke to me at the police-court—this is my purse.
Cross-examined. I had never seen either of them before—you can get through those arches to Russell Square; you go under two arches—there are several houses there—I was about six houses behind Wilkinson when he went into the house—I might have made a mistake in the house he went into, because I was covered with blood and mud—I had had two glasses of drink that evening—this is a very dark place—the blow on my mouth knocked me down—I was much hurt and felt very bad—I was rather frightened.
Cross-examined by Norman. When I came through the Colonnade I did not see you coming out of a public-house, and I did not go and make water over you.
JOHN WILLIAMS (Policeman E 428). On 3rd May, about 11.20, Bartlett complained to me—I went to the Colonnade, and he pointed out Wilkinson, who attempted to go into a house—I caught hold of him; he said "I don't know nothing about it, I was not there"—I heard some one say "There is a purse," and the prosecutor handed it to me, saying "Here is my purse"—there was a penny in it—19s. 6d. in silver and 8d. was found on Wilkinson at the station—I went back to the passage, and saw Lee running down the Colonnade on the low level—Bartlett and the other constable went down by themselves and I followed—I went into the passage, and Lee ran into my arms—he told me in the Colonnade that he had been in a schoolroom all the evening—that was 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour after I first saw Wilkinson.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. People were about—there were no marks of blood on any of the prisoners' clothes—I have made inquiries about Lee being in the schoolroom all the evening, and find it is true; the schoolmaster is here.
THOMAS MEAN (Policeman E 227). On 5th May, about 6.30 or 7 o'clock I went with Gorman, a witness for the defence, to Covent Garden Market, and saw Norman; he spoke first—he said "Do you want me, Sir?"—I said "Yes, I want you to go with me to Hunter Street Police-station"—he said "All right, Sir, I will go quietly with you"—on the way to the station he said "I was pushed up against Bartlett by some one"—he was taken to the station, and Bartlett picked him out from a number of men—he then said that he struck Bartlett because he made water over him at the urinal—I saw Lee in the Colonnade; he jumped from the top
where the cabs stand, to the bottom, that is about 4 feet from the footway.
Cross-examined by Norman. Gorman did not say "Did my brother say that you ought to have got a punch on the nose from another bloke?"
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Norman says: "I am not guilty of robbery; I assaulted the man; I hit him for making water over me." Wilkinson and Lee say: "We do not know anything about it."
Witnesses for Norman.
SAMUEL SLING . I am a labourer, and live at 27, Colonnade, Russell Square—on 3rd May I went to a urinal which would only hold one—the prosecutor was making water; at the same time Norman was outside and was making water, and the prosecutor made water on Norman's trousers, and Norman hit him—Norman then went into a public-house with Howes and me.
Cross-examined. I was not called at the police-court—this was about 11 o'clock or 11.15—Howes and Thoroughgood were there—they are not here—I do not know Mrs. Taunt, I did not see her there—I did not see Gorman there—I did not stop there more than two or three minutes—I did not strike Bartlett or rob him.
Normans Defence. The prosecutor made water over me, and somebody shoved up against me. I said "What are you doing?" and shoved him. I saw Gorman point me out to policeman. I know nothing of the robbery.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CARTER Prosecuted.
SIMON MARRIOTT . I live in Whitechapel—on 16th May, between 10 and 11 o'clock p.m., I was alone coming through the low part of Bromley—three men and a woman came behind me—one of the men struck me behind under my right ear and knocked me down—they got on top of me and got me by the throat—I halloed for a little mercy, and somebody filled my mouth with clay—the woman took the money out of my right hand-trousers pocket, two sovereigns and 17s., and she and two of the men ran away—I held the other man by the handkerchief and never left go of him till I gave him in charge—the prisoner is the one—I never left go of him—I was on my back—he hit me under my eye.
WALTER SCOTT (Policeman K 117). On the morning of 17th May I was on duty in St. Leonards Road, Bromley—Marriott brought the prisoner to me, wanting to give him in custody for assaulting and robbing him; he had him by the throat—there were signs of a struggle on him—the prisoner said he was on the coppers and heard cries of police, and the prosecutor seized him—the prosecutor was covered with mud and had a fresh mark on his eye—the prisoner went quietly to the station; he was perfectly sober—the prosecutor had been drinking, but he was not drunk.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he heard two or three persons running and a cry of "Police" and the prosecutor grabbed him by the throat and said "You are one of those who robbed me" and that if he struck the prosecutor it was in his struggle to get away that he had never been in a policeman's hands in his life, and would not rob a man of 6d.
others escaped—I took hold of him while the struggle was taking place and never let go of him.
NOT GUILTY .
605. EDWARD CARR (22) , (A soldier), Unlawfully endeavouring to carnally know and abuse Emma Elizabeth Brown, under the age of 12 years. Second Count, For an assault occasioning actual bodily harm. Third Count, Common assault.
GUILTY on the Second and Third Counts. — Eight Months' Hard Labour ,
EMMA ELIZA BOWYER . I live at 490, Kingsland Road, St. John's, Hackney—on 2nd May, about 11.30, I went round the house and saw everything safe and the back door and scullery window shut and fastened with this thumb-screw—I went to bed and was disturbed about 3 o'clock a.m.—a great many young women sleep there; it is a draper's—I opened a window and called "Police"—a policeman came, and I went down and let him in—we found all the back doors and windows had been tried—the window wag open as far as the thumb-screw would allow—the back scullery window was open and this thumb screw was missing from it—a room which is not used was open and the glass broken large enough for a man to get through; it was not broken the night before.
ESTHER JARVIS . I am cook to the prosecutor—on May 2nd I went to bed at 11 o'clock and left this pencil (produced) on the dresser—about 3 o'clock a.m. I was disturbed by a noise and called "Police" at the window—this screw was in the scullery window the night before, and when I got up it was not there, and the window was open and the back door.
DAVID CRACKETT (Policeman N 547). On 3rd May, between 3 and 4 o'clock a.m., I was in Kingsland Road and heard cries of "Murder" at No. 96 and saw the two last witnesses at the windows shouting "Police"—they let me in—I found the back door open, and this piece of candle, and these silent matches on the kitchen floor—I found the prisoners detained at the station—I found on Dixon a pawn-ticket, a knife, this metal screw, and a quantity of silent matches similar to those found on the kitchen floor—on taking the screw from his pocket he said "I picked that up in London Fields yesterday"—I found on Johnson a quantify of silent matches like the others, this empty purse, and pencil.
THOMSON BRYSON (Policeman M 201). On 3rd May, about 8.15 a.m., I was about 300 yards in the rear of the prosecutor's house and heard a whistle blown—I saw Dixon crossing the railway line—he climbed over the railings and dropped into the street—the back of the house is about 20 yards from the railway—I stopped him and asked him what he had been doing—he said "I have been asleep in a van"—I told him be would have to come to the station—Johnson then came up and asked him what he had been doing—he said that he had been sleeping in an omnibus—Johnson said that he had climbed a gate—another constable arrived, and we took them both to the station—they were charged with burglary, but said nothing.
Cross-examined by Dixon. You did not walk towards me and give your-self up.
JOHN TAVERNER (Policeman). I followed the prisoners to the station, took their boots off, and fitted them to some marks at the back of the house which were recent—one boot is rather down at the heel and it Corresponds with the marks on the ground—the marks were of two men going towards the railway, and I followed them across the railway—there were no other footmarks there.
JAMES ARMSTRONG (Police Sergeant). On 3rd May, at 4 o'clock a.m., I went to the prosecutor's house, which is in the parish of St. John's, Hack-ney—an entry had been effected by a window at the top of the shop which projects beyond the pavement—there were marks on the window cash where the glass had been wrenched off, and the window was open wide enough for a man to get in—this knife found on Dixon, fitted the marks—this screw exactly fitted—I agree with the evidence as to the prisoner's boots fitting the marks in the back garden.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate and in their defence said that they went into a yard to sleep, and when the police came, as they could not get away they gone themselves up, and Johnson claimed the screw as his own.
JOHNSON then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in April, 1883, in the name of Arthur Sugden. DIXON— Five Years' Penal Servitude. JOHNSON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GROGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAM Defended.
JAMES NOWERS CORNWALL . I am an outdoor officer of the General Post-office, and have been so upwards of 10 years—I live at 17, Rixen Road, White Post Lane, Manor Park, Little Ilford—on 16th April I was with Mr. Hurrell, an auctioneer—we visited Mr. Ball, of 44, Blackfriars Road, on business, after which we went to the Three Running Horses just to have a parting glass—the prisoner came in with a fare about 9.20, and I told him if he liked he could have a fare back—he was driving a Hansom's cab—we left the public-house in his cab between 9.20 and 10 o'clock—Mr. Hurrell told him to drive to Great Eastern Street, Shoreditch, near the city Bank—on the way to Shoreditch we pulled up by the Barnard Castle, Queen Victoria Street, and remained there while Mr. Hurrell made up some notices—we had one glass of bitter there, and the prisoner then drove us to Great Eastern Street, outside Mr. Hurrell's house—he wished me good night, and I saw him hand the cabman something and go in—the cabman then said that he had not been paid—Mr. Hurrell said to me, "The cabman says I have not paid him his fare"—I said, "I saw you hand him something"—he said it was a two-shilling piece—I said, "Don't have any bother with the cabman, Pay again, because I want to get home"—Mr. Hurrell's nurse then brought out 2s. and handed it to the prisoner—I then told him to drive to Manor Park; I did not give him my address—we stopped at the King
of Sardinia beerhouse, Clinton Road, Mile End, and the prisoner lifted up the flap of the cab and said, "Ain't we going to have something to drink before we go farther?"—I said, "You can have a drink if you like"—we went into the public-house, and I believe he had old and mild or malt of some description, and I had some lemonade—we then left the house, and as I was going to get into the cab he said, "How am I going on about my fare, I don't care about going all the way to Manor Park unless I know my fare is all right"—I said, "All right, cabby, we shall not fall out on that point," and handed him 4s.—he then said, "We had better have another drink, as we shall get nothing more on the road after that"—it was then 12.15 or 12.20—I said that I did not care for anything, but he could have what he liked—we returned to the King of Sardinia—he said, "Don't have lemonade, have something stronger, have whisky"—the proprietor said, "I don't sell spirits, beer and wine I sell"—I had fourpennyworth of lemonade, and he had beer—we then drove to Barking Road, to a corner shop which is next to my house—at the time I met Mr. Hurrell I was wearing two watches, a gold watch in my right pocket and a silver watch in my left, with a double chain between them, and a centre bar—I had an overcoat—as I passed Druce's, the jeweller's shop, about one and a half minutes' drive from my house, I saw my watches safe because I compared them with the jeweller's clock—the cab stopped about one and a half minutes after that, and I stooped down and picked up my bag—it was a kind of black leather brief bag; this is it (produced)—I had in it a telegram and some deeds—as I stepped from the cab I was surprised to see that the prisoner had got down from his seat and that he was standing near his near side lamp—I gave him 2s. and said, "Good night, cabby"—he said, "Here, I want a b—y half Quid out of you, and if you don't b----y well pay me I shall pay you"—I said, "You have already had 6. from me, and I think that is 1s. above your fare"—he said nothing, but seized my bag by the handle and said, "I will have something"—he pulled me backwards and forwards by the bag, and eventually he gave me a long swing round, and I fell into the road, and he had possession of the bag—he succeeded in opening it with difficulty, and threw down the contents in disgust, as if he was in a passion—this (produced) is the telegram which was in my bag; it was found by the police—I stooped down to pick my bag up, and he struck me a blow on my left jaw, which caused me to fall—he then seized me by my neck, and punched me about the sides of my head again, and dragged me along six or nine yards—I succeeded in getting away from him, and ran across to 16, Brockley road, where Mr. Harry Broustt lives, and as I was trying to open his gate the prisoner drew me back and threw me down, and as I got up I discovered that he was on the cab and was driving off—I ran alongside and sprang into the cab, and as I got to the end of White Post Lane I caught hold of the reins—he had turned towards Forest Gate, but I turned the cab round towards Ilford and called "Police" and "Help"—three policemen came up one after the other, and the prisoner said, "I give this man in custody for not having paid his fare, or I want his name and address"—he said that before I had time to speak to the police—I then said, "Indeed, on the other hand, this cabman has knocked me about in a most shameful manner, and he has forcibly taken my bag and ransacked the contents; I want one of you officers to accompany me to Brockley Road to assist
me in recovering my papers, as they are of the utmost value to me"—that was to a stout constable, No. 386, I think—he said, "Your papers are nothing to do with us; if you don't give your name and address you will have to go to the police-station"—I positively refused to give my name and address, and I went to the station voluntarily, and the prisoner drove his cab there—when I got there I charged him with forcibly taking my bag from me and ransacking the contents—he said, "Oh! he hit me on the head with it, and the contents dropped out"—I explained to the inspector that I had been grossly knocked about by him—he said, "Have you any witnesses?"—I said, "No, I was entirely alone"—he said, "Then in the absence of witnesses, and seeing you have no visible marks of violence, your remedy is by summons"—I unbuttoned two buttons of my overcoat and took out my pocket-book, in which I put down the prisoner's name and address in shorthand—I saw the prisoner outside in his cab, and did not go out at once, but afterwards I went home, and on undressing I noticed that my waistcoat was torn and my two watches and Albert chain were gone—this is my waistcoat (produced); that is where the chain ran through—I then went to the police-station again and told the inspector what I had found out, in consequence of which I went with a constable to the prisoner's address—he was in bed—the constable charged him with assault and robbery of two watches—he said, "Oh, he did not have any watches on when he was with me"—I afterwards went with the same constable to examine the spot where the assault took place—we found marks of a struggle, and I saw him pick up the telegram in the road, which was safe in my bag before the prisoner got hold of it—I had at the Three Running Horses two lemonades and sherry, four lemonades and a little sherry in them, and at the Barnard Castle one glass of bitter; after that I had two small lemonades—I was perfectly sober at Ilford Police-station, and also when the cabman took hold of my bag; I was perfectly sober all the evening.
Cross-examined. On the night of the alleged robbery I was living at 17, Rixen road, but I had been staying at 7, Saxon Road, Selhurst, and I gave both addresses at the station—I did not know that you were going to ask me that—I gave the two addresses because I had been at Selhurst, and I expected to be there—I was paying rent at 17, Rixen Road at the time—I have been living and sleeping there since September last—I rent the whole house—I had not given notice to quit it—I gave the other address as well because I expected to be there the following day—it is my father's house—when the cabman said that Mr. Hurrell had not paid him, I did not say "Never mind, pay again, I want to get home"—I said "Don't have any bother"—the nurse brought the money out, but I did not see him pay again—I wanted to get home, but the prisoner stopped at the King of Sardinia, and lifted up the flap, and I went into the house with the man who had charged my friend twice, but not freely and willingly—I remained there about five minutes, and was about to get into the again when the prisoner said "How am I going on about my"—he wanted me to go back again and have another drink, but still I wanted to get home—we did not remain above a minute and a half the second time; in all we were only in the house the whole time five minutes—Mr. Hurrell did not say in his presence "If you will pay your half I will pay mine," nor did I—the three constables who came up were before the Magistrate—I did not call
them as my witnesses—I have seen them here to-day—I only knew the number of one, that is I believe the first constable who came up (Pegram K 471)—I did not say to him "I have been roughly pulled out of the cab, my bag taken from me, and the contents strewed in the road;" nor did he say "Who by?" nor did I say "By the cabman"—I said nothing about being pulled out, nor was I pulled out—I have been suffering five years from heart disease, and I don't care about being badgered—the constable did not say to me "Have you any charge to make against the cabman?" nor did I say "No—the question was never put to me—the prisoner did not say "You have told your tale, now I will tell mine"—he said that he had been driving me about for five or six hours and I would not pay him or give him my name and address—he did not go on to say he got out of my cab at the top of the road and told me to follow him; I followed him a little way till I came across a pole; I could not get any farther; I got down and asked him where he was going to, and he said' Just across here; stop a few minutes and I will come back'"—he said nothing of the kind in my presence—he did not say in the road to Pegram "He was going away but I stopped him, and he struck me across the head with his bag, and it was then the papers came out"—he did not say that I jumped into the cab and drove away, and he followed me and stopped me—he did not say "You had better give me your name and address"—the third constable said "If you don't give your name and address you will have to go to Ilford Police-station," and I said "I positively refuse to give my name and address," but he did not ask me several times—I did not then go up to a lamppost, unbutton my overcoat, and take a book from the inside of my waterproof—I only had one book—I had an overcoat and a Macintosh as well—I had not two coats over my watches; I had the Macintosh round my arm, and it was wrapped round my legs in the cab—the coat which I was wearing was open—I said to No. 366 "I am surprised at you, being an officer, treating me in this off hand way; I hope Inspector Houlton will be on duty when I get to the station"—he did not say "You had better come to the station and see Inspector Houlton"—I did not say "I shall not come to the station"—I went voluntarily—the cabman did not say in my hearing "I would sooner go to the station and see the inspector; get into the cab with the inspector and I will drive you there; "nor did I answer "I shall not go to the station"—I do not know Inspector Fry—an inspector and a sergeant were passing, but I don't think I spoke to them—I do not carry a card—I did not tell the inspector that I had given the constable my card, nor did he say that I had not—I mentioned to the constable before I got to the station that the cabman had struck me—the constable said at the station "I have brought this man to the station for not paying his fare and refusing his address"—I did not say "I thought you brought me here for being drunk"—the Inspector did not say to me "Have you any charge to make against the cabman," nor did I say Decidedly not"—the cabman said to the inspector that he had been driving me about for six hours and I would not pay his fare or give him my address—I gave my two addresses to the inspector, and the cabman gave his, because I took it down in shorthand—I saw the time by Kreutzer's dock as the cab was in motion going along the road; it was then 1.15—I had carried two watches for some few months; they were
attached to the same chain, to a swivel at each end—I undid the two top buttons of my overcoat at the station to get my book which was in my inside breast pocket—my overcoat was not torn open in the struggle at all, because it was undone at the time of the assault—I buttoned it up on the road because it was very cold—I did not notice till I got home that my waistcoat was torn—I asked the inspector at the station to search me and see if I had got a whistle, and offered him my Macintosh which was on my arm—he did not say "There is no whistle brought into the question, and it is no part of my duty to search for it"—the cabman asserted that I had blown a whistle—I said "I have got no whistle, you can search me if you like"—I used the action which I showed you just now—my coat was open—I did not miss my watches then—I cannot tell whether I had any mark at the station of the blow I had received, as there was no looking-glass there; I imagine from what transpired that I had not—the inspector looked at my face and told me there was no mark—it was about 5.20 a.m. when I returned to the station; that was not the first time I charged the cabman with assault—the inspector did not then say "Why did not you prefer a charge of assault when you came to the station?"—I did not ask the inspector to look at my ear, he looked at it voluntarily—he did not then ask me why I had not preferred a charge of assault against the cabman when I was at the station, nor did I say "Because I did not feel it then; I had been in no one else's company but the cabman's, he must have my watches, I shall charge him," nor words to that effect—he did not say "What a pity you did not notice it when the cabman and you were here," nor did I reply "Yes, it is"—I swear I was perfectly sober—I have been about with Mr. Hurrell on several occasions—I have never had altercations or disputes with cabmen before. (Benjamin James was here called into Court.) I have never seen that man before in my life—I have had a cab with Mr. Hurrell on one or two occasions, but whether in March I do not recollect—I do not remember Mr. Hurrell ordering the cabman to drive us both to Broad Street, or going into any public-house with Mr. Hurrell and drinking with any cabman except on this occasion—I will not swear I have not, but I don't think I have—I do not remember in Mr. Hurrell's company ordering a cabman to pull up at a public-house at the corner of Bishopsgate Street; I swear I did not; nor did I fetch the cabman into the house and ask him his fare to Forest Gate; nor did he say 5s.; nor did I order him to drive to Chichester House, Great Eastern Street, where Mr. Hurrell lives; nor did he after Mr. Hurrell had gone in drive me to the Griffin public-house, Great Eastern Street, or come is and say "Here is your cab, Sir;" nor did I say "You have been paid, what do you want?" nor did he say "I have had 1s. 3d. for my fare and nothing more, I agreed to go to Forest Gate for 5s.;" nor did I say "I will give you 4s."—I have never been into the Crosby's Head public-house, Pitfield Street, with a cabman and Hurrell—I did not come out of the Crosby's Head and pull the cabman up at the Royal Hotel, Mile End Road; I have never been in the house in my life, but I know it—I did not come out, walk across the road, and go to a urinal, nor did the cabman walk to the other end of the urinal and catch me as I left it and any to me "Here is your cab across the road, Sir;" the same cabman who has been produced before me—I did not say to him "Oh, you seem to mistrust me;" every word of that is utterly untrue—I did not then
meet a female and get into his cab with her; nor did he drive us to the Pigeons public-house, Romford Road—I know the Pigeons; I was there a few nights back, it is just opposite my solicitor's house—I did not tell the cabman to put his cab up at the Pigeons under cover for half an hour and I would return and pay him. (William Pendleton was here called into Court.) I have never seen that man till now, that I swear—I did not engage him on 24th March with Mr. Hurrell in Basinghall Street to drive to 24, Blackfriars Road, and never had a dispute with him. (John Ward was here called in.) I have never seen that man till now; I will swear he never drove me—I have had no dispute with him about his fare.
Re-examined. There is no foundation whatever for all this examination as to cabmen—before Hurrell said "I have already paid," I saw something pass from him to the prisoner—the inspector said on the first occasion that as there were no visible outward marks of violence, my remedy was by summons—about four hours elapsed between the first and second visit, and then my jaw had swollen, and the inspector said "Well, Mr. Cornwall, had I known your jaw was injured to the extent it is now, I should certainly have taken the charge, when no doubt we should have found your property in the possession of the cabman"—when I went to the police-court next day before the prosecution commenced, the prisoner was not on bail—he was admitted to bail at the first hearing—from the time he was admitted to bail I have never been summoned for my cab fare—the prisoner was represented by a solicitor at the police-court, and I was not—he called no witnesses there—my undercoat was a cutaway buttoned across the chest—the two ends of the watch chain were visible—during the altercation with the cabman my overcoat was open and my undercoat buttoned across the chest—I went to Ilford Police-station—the cabman was going away from the station when we met the three constables—this is my entry of the cabman's name and address, in Pitman's shorthand.
HENRY HURRELL . I am an auctioneer, of Chichester House, Great Eastern Street—on Wednesday night, the 16th April, I went with Mr. Cornwall to the Three Running Horses; the prisoner came in with a fare, and we agreed that he should drive us back—we stopped on the way at the Barnard Castle, I had some drink—I do not recollect whether Mr. Cornwall had any—he dropped me at Great Eastern Street—I paid the prisoner a two-shilling piece, he then told Mr. Cornwall that I had not paid him—my nurse brought money out from my house, and I paid him a second time, and Mr. Cornwall told him to drive to Manor Park—he was wearing a chain on that night—he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. He was wearing the chain at 24, Blackfriars Road, and also when he left me in Great Eastern Street—I was on the pavement when I saw the chain, just before he got into the cab—he had not his over-coat on, he had no overcoat at all, he had a cutaway coat so that I could see the chain—he had no coat at all when he left me, he had one with him but he was carrying it on his arm—it was a waterproof—he only had that one, that I swear—he usually wore a chain—I noticed it because he took a silver watch out to see what time it was when he left me—there is no mistake at all about that—I do not know Kreutzer's shop—he and I have only been out once before in cabs of a night, when we drove from my house to fetch a deed which I wanted from his house in
Manor Park—that is the only time I have been in a cab with him at all.
Re-examined. I saw the Macintosh on his arm, but whether there were one or two coats I cannot say.
JAMES NOWERS CORNWALL (Re-examined). My Macintosh was a tweed of exactly the same material as this dust coat, it was hanging up in the office, and I had the two on my arm in this way—when I had that round my legs in the cab, and the dust coat on Mr. Hurrell was gone—I left him about twenty minutes to 12, and when he left I put it on.
HENRY ROAD . I am manager to a publican at 44, Blackfriars Road—between 9 and 10 on Wednesday, the 16th April, the last two witnesses called on me, and we went to the Three Running Horses—they agreed to go to the City—Mr. Cornwall was sober when he left about a quarter to 10.
THOMAS HUGHES . I am landlord of the King of Sardinia beerhouse at the corner of Clinton Road and Bow Road—early on 17th April the prisoner and the prosecutor came in, it was after 12 o'clock—the prisoner asked for spirits, I told him we did not sell spirits, only beer, and then he had beer, and the prosecutor had a small lemonade—while I was opening it I heard him say "Now you can drive me to Manor Park"—they went out but returned again and had similar drink—I did not hear anything pass then about having anything—they both went out—the prosecutor was quite sober as far as I could see or else I should not have served him.
SAMUEL TOKER FINCH . I live at 9, Barton Road, Manor Park, and am an officer in Her Majesty's Customs—on the 17th April, about 1 a.m., I heard a person cry "Help, help! Harry, Harry!"—it appeared to be next door—I pulled the blind up but did not open the window—I saw no vehicle in the road—I heard some one say "I will help you, you—"—I afterwards saw a cab go from my side of the road to the other, there was a red light—I did not see what became of it.
ELEANOR CHARLOTTE FELSTEAD . I live at 17, Rixen Road, Ilford, and am the prisoner's sister-in-law—on the 17th April, about 1.30, I was in bed and heard cries of "Help" from the back of the house which looks into Berkeley Road, and soon afterwards the prosecutor came in; he was sober, his clothes were torn—he said nothing till he had been in the house about five minutes—I cannot tell you what time it was when he went out again.
ARTHUR JOHN NICHOLLS . I am a mechanic, of 9, Chichester Houses, Great Eastern Street; Mr. Hurrell lives close to me—on the evening of 16th April he came there in a cab—I didn't see the cab, but the prisoner was the cabman—I heard a dispute about the fare between the prosecutor and Mr. Hurrell, I saw no money paid—I saw the nurse come out of Mr. Hunrrll's house and give something to the cabman, and he and the prosecutor then drove away—I believe the prosecutor told him to drive to Manor Park—he appeared sober.
CHARLES ELSWORTH (Police Sergeant K 32). Early on 17th April, about 6 o'clock a.m., I was sent by Inspector Fry with the prosecutor to make inquiries—we went to the Berkeley Road, which has been made only about nine or ten months—I saw on the footpath a mark as if something heavy had been dragged for about 15 yards, and on looking round I found this telegram, which the prosecutor identified as hating been in his bag—he
took it out of my hand—there were marks as if a struggle had taken place—there were deeper indentions on the 15 yards, the prosecutor took me to the spot—that is what I saw on looking round—the marks were about 20 yards from where I found the telegram—I afterwards went with the prosecutor to the prisoner's address, 9, Stebbins Place, Islington—that is seven or eight miles from Manor Park—we got there about 9 o'clock—I went up into the prisoner's room—he was in bed—he came downstairs, and I charged him with stealing two watches and a chain, the property of Mr. Cornwall—he said "I have not taken the watch, I will make it hot for him"—he was searched, and nothing was found on him—he was taken to the station—I was there when the prosecutor showed his face to the inspector—his face was very much swollen on the under jaw—the inspector asked him if that was the result of that morning—he said "Yes"—the inspector said "I did not know it was anything like that, otherwise we should have taken the charge this morning"—I don't remember his adding anything about property.
Cross-examined. I searched the house, but found no watches or chain.
Re-examined. I did not see the prosecutor when he first came in—he was perfectly sober in the morning.
HENRY HURRELL (Re-examined by MR. WILLIAMS). We did not go into the Griffin public-house in High Street, Shoreditch, that night; the only two public-houses were the Three Running Horses and the Barnard Castle.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM PEGRAM (Policeman K 471). On 17th April, about 1 a.m., I was on duty in Forest Road with George Thorn, and heard cries of "Police"—we ran to the spot, and found the prosecutor and prisoner standing at a Hansom's cab—I asked what they wanted of the police—the prisoner said "I have been very roughly pulled out of the cab, my bag taken from me, and the contents strewed into the road"—I said "Who by?"—he said "The cabman"—I asked if he wished to charge the cabman with stealing his bag, or any charge—he said "No, I can't do that, as I have got my bag back; all I want is an officer to go with me to find my papers"—the cabman said "You have told your tale, now I will tell mine. I have have been driving about for five or six hours, and he won't pay me my fare or give me his name and address. I took him up the road a little way; he got out of my cab and I followed him across a field till I came to a pole and could not get any farther; I got down and told him I could not get any farther. He said 'Stop a few minutes and I will come back.' I then stopped him, and he struck me across the head with a bag, and it was then the papers came out. He then jumped in my cab and drove away, and I stopped him at the corner of White Post Lane"—I asked the prosecutor to give his name and address—he said "I shall not"—I asked him several times, and the last time he went towards a lamp, unbuttoned his coat, and took out a book—he then said "I refuse to give my name and address," and put the book back—he had only one overcoat, a light tweed waterproof, no Macintosh—he said "I know Inspector Houlton; if he was here you would have to go with me to find my papers"—I said "You had better go to the station and see
Inspector Houlton, as he is there"—he said "I shall not go"—the cabman said "I had rather you go to the station, as you accuse me of taking the bag; get into my cab and I will drive you there"—he said "I shall not go," but I asked him, and he consented—just before we started 384 K came up, and on the way to the station we met Inspector Fry, to whom the prosecutor said "They have got my card, and I have been very roughly used by these officers"—we had not got his card—he had not up to that time stated that the cabman had struck him—we all went to the station, and I said to the inspector "I have brought this man here for refusing to give his name and address or pay his fare"—he said "I thought you brought me here for being drunk"—the inspector asked him if he had any charge to make against the cabman—he said "No," and both he and the cabman gave the inspector their names and addresses—I know Kreutzer's; there is a clock there, but it cannot be seen from the road.
Cross-examined. I did not hear the police sergeant say at the station "I don't take the charge because you have no signs of violence about you"—I heard Elsworth give his evidence at Stratford—I heard him say when he went the second time "It is a pity you did not show us that on the first occasion"—only the cabman, Inspector Houlton, the prosecutor, and myself were present—when I first heard the cries of "Police" I was in Forest Road, that is half a mile from Berkeley Road—I met the cab at the bottom of White Post Lane—there is a turning there to Forest Gate and another to Ilford—not a word was said about not paying the cabman until he said that he had been roughly pulled about—the accusation was made first—this paper (produced) is the first address he gave when he came into the station; the Selhurst address—he gave another address—he said "I am staying with a friend at Rixen Road"—he did not complain going to the station of the conduct of the police, and say that they had not treated the charge properly; treated it too lightly—I swear that—I did not hear him him say to 386 K "I am surprised at your treating the matter in such an off-hand way, especially as you appear to be men of fourteen to twenty years' service"—I saw the prosecutor the next day at the police-court; he had a piece of wool in his ear—I do not know whether his cheek was tied up; he had something on his ear—I asked him if he would charge the prisoner with stealing the bag—he said "No, as I have got my bag back"—I did not go to where the struggle took place—I understood him that the cabman followed him across the field—I did not go to the field—the inspector told me to attend at the police-court—I did not see the prosecutor's solicitor, Mr. Willis, there at all to speak to—I did not speak to him till about a week ago last Thursday, when he came to me—I have a book in which I make memoranda, but only of the dates—I have no entry of this in it; I am trusting to my memory for the conversation—I do not know the King of Sardinia beer-house—the prosecutor was under the influence of drink; I swear that—he was not drunk, but he had been drinking; he had had more than a glass of beer—he was the worse for liquor—he rolled up against me several times—I did not see that his clothes were torn, but he said that he was roughly pulled out of the cab—he took his overcoat off; he said that he was very hot—there was a gas lamp where he pulled his pocket-book out—the only lamp was not an oil-lamp over Mr. Todd's—I had not the prosecutor in charge—he went down to the station with me voluntarily after my persuading him to go and see the inspector on duty
—I do not know whether inquiries have been made about the conduct of the police—I have not been questioned by my superintendent—I was ordered to attend at the police-court to give evidence, but I was not examined—the prosecutor was not in the cab during the conversation; he stood outside—the clock cannot be seen from the road at all; you must be on the path—you could not see it if you were driving close to the kerb, it is impossible; I have tried to see it several times, and I had to get on to the path—the lamp is not opposite the clock; it is an office clock.
By the COURT. It is on the front of the house, but not so large as that clock. (In the Court).
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. You might see the clock from the road, but you could not tell the time—there was only one light on the cab.
By MR. WILLIAMS. It is not an illuminated clock—this field is a newly-made road—there is a piece of building land left, and you can cross from one road to the other—Thorn came up with me—it was going to the station that the prosecutor took his coat off; he said he was very hot, he could not bear it.
GEORGE THORN (Policeman K 194). On 17th April, at 1.30 a.m., I was on duty in Forest Road with Pegram—we heard cries of "Police," ran in that direction, and found a man having an altercation with a cabman—I asked what was the matter—he said he had been roughly pulled out of the cab and his papers taken from him and thrown about the road—Pegram asked him who by, and asked the cabman what he had to say about it—he said he had been driving the man about for five or six hours and could not get his fare, and he tried to get away and he stopped him—I asked the prosecutor if that was true—he said, "I did not engage him, my friend did"—Pegram asked him his name and address several times, he refused to give it, but went to the lamp and took a book from his pocket—he had one coat on only, he had no overcoat on—I did not go with him to the station, I went to look for our oilskin capes, which we had thrown away—the prosecutor had been drinking, but he was not drunk, he knew what he was about—when I first went up, the prosecutor's coat was buttoned up.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor asked some of us to go to Berkeley Road and help him to get his papers; he said they were official papers and of value to him—we said we could not go—I did not say, "Your papers are nothing to us, if you don't give your name and address you will have to go to Ilford Station," I said it was not our duty—he went to the station of his own accord—he did not charge the cabman with stealing the bag—the constable said, "Will you charge this man with stealing your bag or assaulting you?"—he said, "No, I can't charge him with stealing my bag as I have got it again"—I did not go back to Berkeley Road that night—I came off duty at 4 o'clock—I was not on duty when Elsworth was at the station; I was there when the prosecutor came the second time—I did not hear what passed between him and the inspector or see him show the inspector a large bruise on his cheek—I did not see Elsworth go to the station, but I went and told him to come in—I did not see that the prosecutor had a bad swollen jaw at 5 a.m.—I was about 20 yards from him, and did not see him face to face—I did not hear him make a charge to the inspector that the prisoner had stolen his watches; I was not in the charge-room then—the prosecutor did not
complain that the policemen were treating it very lightly—he said that we ought to go and look after his papers—I do not know Mr. Todd's, an architect's—there is a gas-lamp at the corner, under which the prosecutor stood when he took out his book; it is not an oil-lamp—this is my book (produced), and this is the entry of the cabman's number; it is "1.30 a.m., Hansoms cab, 11648"—I made that at the time—Inspector Houlton first spoke to me about giving evidence—Mr. Pearce, the prisoner's solicitor, came to the station—I have taken the measurements of Kreutzer's clock; it is a foot across, and it is 9 yards from the roadway and 9 yards from the lamp—I did so because I heard so much talk about it that I would see whether I could see the clock from the road—I could see it, but not the time.
By the JURY. It was very dark there—I could see it in the day time or if a light was thrown on it.
By the COURT. The prosecutor complained when he came up first of being roughly pulled out of the cab, his bag being taken and his papers scattered about; and if he would have charged the cabman it would have been my duty to go and see whether that story was confirmed at all, but he would not, although I asked him.
JAMES HOULTON (Police Inipector K). On 17th April, about 2 a.m., the prosecutor, the prisoner, and the constable came to the station—the constable said that the prosecutor declined either to pay his fare or give his name and address—I asked the prisoner what the fare was—he said that he could scarcely say, but he would take 5s.—the prosecutor said that he considered his friend had paid the fare—I advised him to pay and he declined; I advised him to give his name and address—he said "5, Saxon Terrace, Selhurst Road, Croydon"—I asked him how long he had left Ilford, knowing that he lived there—he said "Some time, but I am staying at 17, Rixen Road, and shall be there about three weeks"—I asked him if he had any charge to make against the cabman—he said that he had been roughly pulled from the cab and his bag and papers strewn about the road, and asked me if I would search him to see if he had a whistle, as the cabman said he had one—I said "It is no part of my duty to search you for a whistle"—he had no overcoat on, he had one on his right arm; if he had two they must have both been on his arm—he showed me a bag, and the cabman said "I held the bag to prevent him running across some fields"—I asked him if he had any charge to prefer against the cabman—he said "No, I only want my papers"—I took their names and addresses, and told the cabman he could attend at the police-court and apply for a summons—he said "What police-court?"—I said "Stratford"—at that time I saw no marks of violence on the prosecutor, but I did not look to see, because he did not complain of being assaulted—he did not point to his face as being swollen—I saw him next at 5.35 the same morning at the station, and as he came in at the door he said "Since I was here this morning I find that both my watches and my chain are gone"—I said "What a pity you did not discover the loss at the time"—he said "Yes, but I have been in no one else's company"—I did not say "Had I known your jaw was injured to the extent it now appears, I should certainly have taken the charge;" nor did I go on to say "And no doubt we should have found your property in the possession of the cabman"—I positively swear that—when he complained of the loss of his watches, he complained that the cabman
had struck him, but not on the first occasion he came there—he asked me on the second occasion to look at the side of his face; I looked and could not see any mark, but he appeared to have a difficulty in opening his mouth—I asked him why he had not preferred a charge of assault against the cabman on the first occasion—he said "I did not then feel it"—the cabman was sober; the prosecutor was not drunk, but he had signs of having been drinking—I have been eighteen years in the force.
Cross-examined. Sergeant Elworth has been in the force sixteen or seventeen years—he was not in the station when the prosecutor came the second time; he was in the room during part of the conversation between me and the prosecutor—I did not say "Had I known your jaw was injured to such an extent as it is, I should certainly have taken the charge;" nothing to that effect, and no words which could have been strained into meaning that—he has been sixteen or seventeen years in the force, and is a very active and intelligent officer—the prosecutor pointed to his jaw, but there was no sign of violence there; no swelling at all—the sergeant is wrong again there in my opinion—I do not know why the prosecutor took the cabman's number if the cabman was going to summon him—he did not ask me to assist him in getting the cabman's number; I changed the names and addresses with each other—I understood the prosecutor to say that he had been roughly pulled from the cab—I did not say that I saw no outward signs of it and therefore I would not take the charge—it was by my directions that the sergeant went with the prosecutor to Berkeley Road; he reported to me that he had found signs of a struggle and found a telegram—I say that the prosecutor was the worse for liquor by his manner; he was excited and could not speak very well—his manner was different to what I had known on previous occasions—there was nothing which would not be accounted for by his being roughly pulled about—I have known him about twelve months; he was living in Ilford about twelve months ago—I heard him give his evidence at the police-court before the local Bench—I saw no occasion to tell the Magistrates that I could throw a different light on the matter—they remanded the case and I attended on the remand, but I did not give evidence at all.
By MR. WILLIAMS. He was assisted by Mr. Willis and I was there to give evidence if called on.
By the COURT. He called my attention to his jaw, I did not see any swelling, but he could scarcely open his teeth—I did not say "Had I known your jaw was injured to the extent it is I should certainly have taken the charge, when no doubt we should have found your property in the possession of the cabman"—although I did not say so, supposing I had seen the injury on the first occasion, it would have been my duty to take the charge—in point of fact what I am said to have stated would have been my duty, but I did not say so.
In reply to MR. WILLIAMS, the COURT considered that evidence of the prosecutor not paying other cabmen their fares, was inadmissible.)
JOSEPH CHIVERS . I am barman at the Griffin public-house, High Street, Shoreditch—on Wednesday, April 16th, between 10 and 10.30 p.m., I saw the prisoner there with two gentlemen, Mr. Hurrell was one—I will not swear to the prosecutor, but I noticed that the gentleman had a coat on his arm when he came in—I saw the prosecutor two nights afterwards, when he came in and asked me if I remembered
seeing him there on the night of the 16th—I said that I could not swear to him, and he told me he was not there.
Cross-examined. They were at the private bar—Mr. Hurrell has used the house ever since I have been there—I was subpœnaed to give evidence—after the prosecutor had been there the prisoner came one night with a gentleman and asked me if I remembered serving them on the Wednesday night, he did not say the 16th—he said "You are the one who served us, you remember serving us, don't you"—this was two or three nights after the 16th—I cannot say when the prosecutor called, but it was at the latter end of April, and I think he called before the prisoner—it was not before April 18th—two persons were with the prosecutor when he called—I did not tell him that if the cabman had not related the case to me I should not have remembered anything about it—he asked me if I remembered him, I told him I did not exactly remember him, I remembered some one like him but would not swear to him—I did not tell the prosecutor in the hearing of other persons that if the cabman had not come into the private bar and told me about the case I should not have remembered anything about it—I do not remember words to that effect—I may have said it and not recollect it—no bag was handed over the counter—I know the prisoner now, but I never saw him before the night of the 16th—the prosecutor told me it was the 16th—he was the first person who mentioned the 16th—he asked me if I remembered his being there on the night of the 16th, and I said that I could not swear to him—I did not see a report of the case in the papers or hear about it—I was rather astonished when he asked me the question—I cannot tell you the number of the cabman's badge—I am not certain whether the prosecutor called before the prisoner.
JAMES NOWERS CORNWALL (Re-examined by a Juror). I wore glasses on this night in the cab, but I took them off just after I left Mr. Hurrell—I had them on up to that time—I carried them in a case in my pocket—they were not broken—the case was not damaged.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prosecutor again till last Monday morning—nobody pointed him out to me; I knew him well, because he had my cab and never paid me for it—I will pledge my oath it was Monday, 24th March, I took them up about 7.40.
MR. WILLIAMS put in a certificate under the Act of Parliament stating that the prisoner had driven a cab since May, 1863, and that no complaints had been made against him.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
JAMES NOWERS CORNWALL (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). From March 24th to 29th inclusive I was on official leave for a fortnight and I never left Manor Park the whole time—that covers the 24th—on my oath I have never seen one of the cabmen who were brought forward as witnesses—there is no truth in the statement of my going into the Griffin public-house on that night.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
JOSEPH DINES . I am a boiler maker, of 19, Hope Terrace, Victoria Dock Road—on 16th October last I went to bed about 11.30 leaving everything fast, but the front door was left on the latch for a young man to enter—next morning I went down and found the kitchen window and side gate open—the kitchen window was broken sufficient for a man to enter—I went upstairs and missed from my dressing-table two silver watches with a seal, and two keys, attached to a split ring, and a purse containing money—I went downstairs and missed 2s. from the mantelpiece, a pair of new boots, some tobacco from my coat pocket, and some food from a cupboard—this is my watch and chain.
JAMES SHAW . I am a boiler maker, and lodge in Mr. Dines's house—on 28th October I came home at 12.15 and let myself in with a latchkey—I went into the kitchen and had some supper and saw the house was all fast, and after I had my supper I bolted the front door.
PAUL HALLMARK (Detective Officer K). I took the prisoner on May 9th at Winchester—I said "I am a police officer; I am about to take you in custody for committing a burglary at Canning Town on 17th October, and I believe you have the watch on you, the proceeds of that burglary, give it to me"—he gave it to me and said "That watch I bought of a man named Russell at Portsmouth"—when he was charged at Plaistow station he said "That is the only thing I have seen out of the lot."
By the JURY. I found him slightly deaf, but he conversed with me on the road.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he bought the watch for 15s. of a man named Russell, who he had saved from drowuing two years ago; that the name of Russell was scratched on the case, and he wore it constantly.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
609. PHILIP REUBY (15) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. The Rev. Mr. Wheatley stated that the prisoner bore a very good character, and that the bad coin had been given to him by the prisoner Daniel Hogan (See page 163), that he was dragged into the crime, and that the Mission would take charge of him. The prisoner's father agreeing to this, was bound over to bring him up for judgment if called on.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. ASQUITH Defended.
EDWARD RYDER COOK . I am one of the firm of Edward Cook and Co., soap-makers, of Bow—we employ a good many travellers—in 1876 the prisoner entered our service as traveller under this agreement. (This was dated July 7th, 1876, by which the prisoner engaged himself as traveller for 5l. per annum and a commission of 1l. per ton on all soap sold, undertaking
not to represent any other soap house, and to collect accounts and send a statement every evening of all moneys received, and forward all money which was in a remittable form, his account to be debited with bad debts, and that he was to give security for 300l.) This is the letter which he wrote (produced) accepting the terms of that agreement—there was a slight modification of that agreement, in lieu of his coming on a particular day he was to remit the balance once a week, but to send cheques immediately—he absconded in January, and just before, or just after he left, he remitted to us what purported to be two accounts of the money due to us, dated January 7th and January 15th, 1884—they together showed 85l. 11s. 11d. due from him to us—on the same dates he remitted us two cheques, which were both dishonoured—we have not received the three sums mentioned in the indictment, nor are either of those sums included in his account.
Cross-examined. He was not to my knowledge carrying on a business of his own at the time of the agreement—I commenced the negotiations with him and my brother finished them—he is here; he signed the agreement—I do not know that the prisoner carried on business with his brother as Wilkinson Brothers—I know that Wilkinson Brothers failed, and he told me he had lent his brother some money—that was three or four years after the engagement took place—I believe we supplied goods to Wilkinson Brothers, but I do not know now that it was to him—the firm of Wilkinson Brothers became bankrupt about the beginning of 1882, or earlier, and we suspended the prisoner from acting as our agent in consequence of that bankruptcy, and to get an explanation of that bankruptcy—he then came and explained that it was not his business, but some of his money had been lent to his brother, and on that we reinstated him—I do not recollect that he agreed to deduct from the commission the amount due from Wilkinson Brothers to our firm—this is his commission account of October, 1882, in which we debit him with 7l. 5s. 9d., under the name of Wilkinson Brothers—I do not know what that represents, but I have no doubt it is the debt due to us which we did not prove for in the bankruptcy—I had no personal recollection of the matter, but I was satisfied with his explanation that he had only lent money to his brother—I know nothing about the arrangement, there are so many partners—he travelled for other firms besides ours—he asked for our consent as to John Cook and Sons, who are relatives of ours—we sanctioned who he was to call on and who not—he would carry two or three samples of different goods into one shop at the same time—he never asked us for any holidays—the commission was to cover his travelling expenses—that is customary in town—it was part of his duty to get new customers, but if he sold goods to any one who we did not choose to credit, we did not send the goods, and did not allow him to call on them any more—that was specially mentioned in the agreement—he mapped out his own ground from day to day—the object of giving him 5l. a year was to make him a servant—he was to take out a guarantee policy, and guarantee offices will not grant policies except for persons receiving salaries—he paid the first premium, and we paid half of it afterwards—the policy was in force at the time of his defalcation, it was for 200l.—we have received under it the whole amount of his deficiency, 187l. 11s. 8d.—he gave us a cheque on his own banker once a week, on Saturdays, for the money he had collected, but sometimes he would slip a Saturday, and not
write till Monday, and then he was always written to to remind him—if he received any cheques during the week he sent them, and sent the balance of his week's collection by cheque—he came to us whenever he wished to change samples—of course if we wanted him we wrote to him, and if he wanted a particular sample for a customer he would come of his own accord—he was under no obligation to show up regularly after the modification in the agreement—after the modification in the agreement the prisoner was under no obligation to come once a week or at regular intervals—I should think I had seen him half a dozen times during the last two years—I don't ask my travellers when I employ them whether they carry on businesses of their own—I assume they do not—I do not think it important to ask, unless it comes up—it would be a commercial fraud if he did so and did not name it.
Re-examined. I had not the slightest idea when he came into my employment that he was carrying on business on his own account—when the firm of Wilkinson failed, and I heard he was a member of that firm, I at once suspended him, and it was only on his personal statement to me that he was not a member of that firm, and had only lent money to his brother, that I reinstated him in our firm—certain districts were to be visited one week, and other districts the next—I did not map them out for him—he brought a new connection when he came—he went to one district Monday, another Tuesday, a third Wednesday, and so on, and got new customers, and we sometimes gave him names to call on—we supposed that he communicated with us every day that he took money or orders—it was his practice to inform us day by day by post-card as to business done, and if he did not do so on a particular day we assumed that no business had been done—I should think we had four or five post-cards a week on an average—all cheques had to be forwarded immediately received—we knew from his habit he would be calling on a particular customer in a particular district on a particular day—if a week had elapsed without our hearing from him we should immediately have communicated with him—he was paid his salary, 5l. annually, at the end of the September quarter—the commission was made up annually, but he drew a cheque on account of the commission as he required it; he wrote and said, "Send me a cheque"—my brother actually had dealings with him with regard to samples—I am senior member, and am away for a few days frequently; my brother is always on the premises—when a traveller requires fresh samples he comes or writes for them—I cannot speak personally as to whether he came once a week or not—the arrangement was modified to suit him.
HENRY COOK . I am junior partner in the firm of Cook and Co., and the last witness's brother—when the travellers come for samples and other matters it is one of my duties to see them—I am on the premises constantly—these post-cards are in the prisoner's handwriting—from January 1st to 15th there are 10—we last heard from him on January 15th—there are 27 post-cards and letters for October, 1883, all of them as to money received and orders obtained—for November there are 24.
JOHN POST . I am a grocer, of Church Street, Croydon—this is my account with Messrs. Cook and Co., showing that in October I owed them 10l. 7s. 6d.—on 18th December, 1883, I paid the prisoner 6l. 16s. 6d. on account of this bill, and he signed the receipt attached to it in my presence.
Cross-examined. I paid him in gold and silver.
WALTER ROBINSON . I am an oilman at 363, Walworth Road, and am a customer of Messrs. Cook and Son—on 7th January I owed them an account of 3l. 14s. 9d. for goods supplied—on that day I paid the prisoner 3l. 13s. 5d., the account, less 1s. 4d. discount—this is the receipt in his handwriting.
Cross-examined. I paid in cash—the discount was his proposition—he did not say it was allowed, or that it was because I was buying a smaller quantity.
EBENEZER WILSON . I was a grocer at Croydon, and a customer of Messrs. Cook and Co.—on 13th November I owed them 6l. 13s.—on 8th January I paid the prisoner that amount—this is his receipt—I knew him as their traveller.
Cross-examined. I paid him in cash.
GEORGE MELLISH (Detective K). At 4 o'clock on 19th April, 1884, I received the prisoner into custody from the Chief Constable of Staffordshire—I told him I was a police-officer from West Ham, and should take him back there on a warrant—I had had the warrant with me since 22nd January, and read it to him—it specified the 6l. 13s.—he said, "That is one of the items, I suppose"—I said, "Yes, it is"—he was taken to West Ham and charged—he said nothing further.
The COMMON SERJEANT upon this evidence suggested that the prisoner could hardly be considered as a clerk or servant. MR. FULTON contended that the number of persons by whom the prisoner was employed would not affect his position, as decided in Reg. v. Hughes 1 "Moody Crown Cases," p. 370 and Reg. v. Carr "Russell and Ryan," p. 198. MR. ASQUITH contended that the point was already decided by Reg. v. Bowers 1 "Crown Cases Reserved," p. 41 and Reg. v. Negus 2 "Crown Cases Reserved," p. 34. The COMMON SERJEANT ultimately left the case to the Jury, who returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Field.
Upon Mr. Grubbe's opening, MR. JUSTICE FIELD was of opinion that there was no felonious intent on the part of the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRUBBE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ERNEST WHITE . On 29th April I was assisting at the Lilliput Arms—about half-past 8 p.m. the prisoner came to the bar and wanted some beer—I thought he had had enough, and declined to serve him—he began to sing, and became noisy—I called the potman to put him out—he went out with the potman, and then rushed in again and struggled with him, and the potman fell—I went to his assistance, and we got the prisoner outside—I persuaded him to go home—he went down the street 12 or 14 yards, then stopped, put his hand under his coat, and came towards me—the people told me that he had a pistol in his hand—he pointed it at me and came straight at me; he came within two or three yards and presented the pistol straight at me—I stepped inside the door
and dropped the bolt—he tried to get in, and presented the pistol through the glass of the door—I don't believe he had any malice—he said he was crossed in love.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't believe you had any animosity against me.
Prisoner's Defence. I had not the slightest intention of injuring anybody.
GUILTY .— Ten Days' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
RICHARD FREEMAN . I am landlord of the Britannia public-house, Grove Street, Deptford—about 9 o'clock on the evening of 6th May the prisoner came in and asked for twopennyworth of port wine, tendering in payment a florin—I did not notice it till a constable came in about an hour afterwards and drew my attention, when I searched the till—this florin was the last taken that evening, and I found it on the top of the other florins—this is it (produced)—I gave it to the constable.
SARAH ANN LOCK . I am barmaid to the last witness—on 6th May, about 9 o'clock, the prisoner came in, and I believe he asked for twopennyworth of port—I served him; he gave me a two-shilling piece—I did not notice it at the time, but placed it on the top of the other florins in the till.
FANNY LIPPARD . I am the wife of the proprietor of the Victoria public-house, Grove Street, Deptford—on 6th May the prisoner came in a little after 9 o'clock and asked for twopennyworth of port wine cold—he tendered this two-shilling piece (produced)—I placed it on the shelf at the back beside a glass—the prisoner had a bandage on his face which made me take notice of him; I thought he had met with an accident—three gentlemen afterwards came in and made a communication to me, and I looked at the florin and gave it to my husband.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There were not any other florins on the shelf—I put it there because I was too busy at the time to put it elsewhere—we never put two-shilling pieces in the till.
THOMAS BRYANT . I am landlord of the Evering Arms, Grove Street, Deptford—on 6th May the prisoner came in about 10.5—my barmaid called my attention to this florin (produced), which she brought inside to me—I went to the prisoner, who had a bandage across his eye at the time—I said "Where did you get this florin?"—he said "Over the bridge"—I said "Whereabouts over the bridge?"—he said "Some house over the bridge; I got paid off there at 4 o'clock in the afternoon"—I pressed him; he could not give me the name of the house; he repeated that it was some house over the bridge—I said "Have you got any more of these on you?"—he said "No"—I said "All right," and I was going to the door to go out, when he ran out and called out "Tom," leaving with me the florin and his port wine on the counter—I followed him; he was
caught beside the railway gates—he then had no bandage on; we afterwards found the bandage over the gates—I gave him into custody and charged him with uttering counterfeit coin, and handed the coin to the constable—the prisoner said nothing in reply.
MARY MURPHY . I am Mr. Bryant's barmaid—on 6th May, at 10 or 10.5, the prisoner came in and asked for twopennyworth of port wine cold—he had a bandage on his head—he gave me this two-shilling piece (produced) in payment—I took it inside; the governor was standing by the door—I heard the conversation; what Mr. Bryant has said is quite right.
WILLIAM WOODFORD (Woolwich Policeman 3). The prisoner was given into my custody by Mr. Bryant for uttering a bad florin—he made no reply then, and I found on him 1s. 6d. in silver and 3d. in bronze, all good—after Mr. Bryant had charged him I went to Mr. Freeman, who also produced this bad florin, which I have produced to-day—on the following morning Mr. Freeman came to the station and identified the prisoner from nine other, as also did Miss Lock at once—I afterwards gave this florin to Mr. Knapp.
WILLIAM KNAPP (Deptford Inspector). The prisoner was brought into the station by Woodford on 6th May at 10.20 in the evening, and charged with uttering a bad florin at the Evering Arms by Mr. Bryant—he made no reply—Mr. Bryant gave me this bad florin—Mr. Lippard identified the prisoner from five others—I also produce the bad florin given me by Woodford—on the following morning the prisoner was picked out by Mr. Freeman and his barmaid from nine others—these public-houses are all close together in Grove Street.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, denied knowing that the money was bad.
GUILTY .**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ATTENBOROUGH Prosecuted.
JAMES MEDIANE . I live at 5, Waterloo Place—on April 26 I was at the George public-house, the prisoner was there; he had had some drink—I chaffed him about a coat—I thought he was going out, and he struck me under my jaw—I felt something trickling down my shirt, put my hand to my throat, and found it full of blood—I went out and said to him "You have cut my throat"—he tried to escape, but I held him till some one came.
WILLIAM WOOD . I was in the George public-house and heard the prosecutor chaffing the prisoner, and saying that he had a coat which did not belong to him—the prisoner went out and came back and struck the prosecutor on his neck—I saw no knife, but I saw blood after he went out.
GEORGE HARVEY (Policeman P 310). On April 26 I heard shouts, went into a doctor's shop, and saw the prosecutor—about 4 o'clock next morning I went to the George and picked up this knife twenty yards from the taproom door—there are dark spots on it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say "I will do all I can to get you convicted."
JOSEPH HAMMERSLEY , M.R.C.S. I live at Norfolk Villa, Catford—on 26th April the prosecutor was brought to me, suffering from an incised wound from the the right side of his chin to the left, five inches long and one deep—at the lowest part a flap of skin was cut down to the big artery of the neck—I sewed it up—it was dangerous; if it had gone deeper it would have been fatal before any one could have rendered any assistance—this knife would do it—these spots look like rust
Prisoner's Defence. He said to me "You old s——, I will settle you before I go away."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
SIDNEY CROUCH . I am the brother of Herbert Crouch, of 80, Breakespeare Road, Brockley—I live and sleep there—about 4.45 on the morning of 7th May I was awoke by a noise; I got up—I was sleeping on the first floor—I opened the bedroom door and saw two men running downstairs—I ran back into my room and slipped on some of my clothing, and ran downstairs as quick as I could into the street, where I met a gentleman—I did not see any more men in the house besides the first two—the gentleman directed me the way they had gone; I followed in that direction—I ran till I came within sight of five men; they were going away from my house towards Brockley Station—I met a constable, and in consequence of something I said to him, he followed the men—they were walking quietly—it was daylight—I never saw the men afterwards—the policeman went after them and I returned home—I examined the premises; I found a lot of things had been removed—they had tried to force their way in three different ways—they had got in through the conservatory; they broke the glass, and then unlocked the door—it was shut the night before, and the glass was not broken—they had opened a window at the back of the house and got into the room; it was locked and closed the night before—there were marks of a chisel at the bottom of the window, and on the door inside—the door was bolted—they had also entered by the scullery window—that was shut, there were no marks on it, or anywhere else—I missed a lot of clothing and articles belonging to the house, two coats, a shawl, umbrellas, pipes, and various articles—I know these two coats and two umbrellas (produced)—one coat belongs to me and one to my brother, and one umbrella belongs to my father and the other to my brother; they were all in the house the night before—this old glove (produced) belongs to me—the value of the whole of the property I missed that night was from 15l. to 20l.
Cross-examined by Allen. I did not say at the police-station that I saw three men downstairs; I only saw two—I saw five men in the street—I can't identify anybody—it was quite daylight.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. My house is about six minutes walk from Brockley Railway Station—the earliest train leaves Brockley for Victoria at 6.30.
WILLIAM NEIGHBOUR (Police Sergeant P 23). About 4.52 on the morning of 7th May I was in the Brockley Road; it was broad daylight—the last witness spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said I followed five men that I had seen come from Cranfield Road—they turned into another road—I commenced blowing my whistle and started to run—they ran through that road across a brickfield—I there lost sight of two of the men—when on the top of the brickfield I saw three men on the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway—they crossed the railway, up the embankment, and through a gentleman's garden into the Enwell Road—seeing two constables on the opposite side of the railway I directed them by signs to go round—I went across the railway, up the embankment, through the garden, and ran down the Enwell Road into Foxwell Street, where I saw Allen come over a fence and run down Foxwell Street—on getting to the corner of Foxwell Street I saw him crouched under a board slanting to a shed or fowl's-house—on approaching him he came out from his hiding place and said "Don't hurt me, I was not in the house; I have been dragged into this"—I had not spoken a word to him—I then took him into custody, and the inspector at the station searched him.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I am generally quartered in that part—there is an early train for London Bridge from there—I cannot tell you how the trains run—there is one Chatham and Dover train to Ludgate Hill early—the trains run at very long distances at that time in the morning—it is very probable that these persons were going to the railway station to get away, only they saw me—I was engaged with Allen for some half-hour—the other constables were 200 or 300 yards from me when I signed to them—I am quite certain of the time because I was looking at the clock on Brockley Pavement, and I put it at eight minutes to 5 when I saw these men coming down Cranfield Road—all the five men ran away from the railway station, they all went underneath the railway into Charterhouse Road—that would be away from the station—the only man I identify is Allen—I distinctly saw all the men going away from the railway station—I saw them before they crossed the railway—there are two railway stations, one to Victoria the other to Ludgate Hill—there is a train to London about half-past 5.
EDWARD GODDEN (Police Inspector P). About ten minutes past 5 on the morning of the 7th May I was at the Brockley Police-station—Allen was brought in custody by the last witness—I searched him and found this glove in his coat pocket, and a card relating to a lead, nothing else relating to the charge—I placed him in a cell—shortly after I charged him he said "Have they brought any more of my friends in?"—shortly after I placed him in the dock and read the charge to him he said "I was not in the house"—I made an examination of the prosecutor's premises, and found an entry had been effected by getting over the side wall, and forcing the back kitchen window—the latch had been broken off—they had then passed to the inner door, forcing it, but apparently
being frustrated they returned and entered through the conservatory, and forced the back kitchen door—there were marks on the doors and windows corresponding with a chisel found in the house lying on the stairs.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. There are two stations at Brockley, they are within 50 yards of each other, but two different lines.
JOHN BOUSTEAD (Policeman P 434). About a quarter to 5 on the morning of the 7th May I was in the Malpas Road and heard a whistle—I ran in the direction of the Enwell Road railway bridge—I there saw three persons crossing the Brockley Tips, Allen and Cronin were two of them, and there was another, but I could not positively swear to him then, but I should say by his appearance that Needham was the third man—I am almost sure of it—I can swear to the others—Neighbour was in pursuit of them, he called to me to go round—I and another constable saw them cross the London and Brighton line—I ran up on the other side of the bank through a gentleman's garden into Enwell Road, I there saw them drop these two umbrellas and these two coats—I could not say which dropped them, they were running very close together—they were not dropped by one man, I should say they were dropped between the three—another constable picked them up, I kept in pursuit of the prisoners—I pursued them about 30 yards, when they got over a gate and I lost sight of Allen and Needham, but Cronin turned to the left and passed me on the other side of the fence, about 3 or 4 yards from me, and I saw his face quite fully—I got over the gate but was unable to find which way they had gone—on Saturday, 10th, about 11 o'clock at night, in company with Neighbour and the inspector, I went to the Royal Standard public-house in Russell Square, and in a room there I saw about twenty men and ten or a dozen women—I carefully looked round the room and immediately identified Cronin as being the man who passed me on the other side of the fence—I told him I should take him in custody and he would be charged with another man with being concerned in burglariously breaking and entering 80, Breakspear Road, on the night of the 6th or morning of the 7th—he said "Oh, Christ"—I took him to Hunter Street Station, and from there in a cab to Brockley—on the way he said "I suppose we are going to be taken to be identified"—I said "You are identified by me"—when the charge was read over by the inspector he said "What time do you say this was?"—the inspector said "Five o'clock on the 7th"—Needham was also in the public-house but was taken by another officer.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. When I saw Cronin he was running quickly—the fence was about 4 feet high.
GEORGE WATSON (Policeman P 376). On Wednesday, 7th May, I was at the corner of Manor Road, Brockley—I saw five men come past me—directly afterwards I heard a police whistle, I stepped out into the road and saw Serjeant Neighbour running after the five men—he beckoned to me—I went across a brickfield and saw three of the men going across the railway bank—they ran through the passage of an unoccupied house into Enwell Road, Where I lost sight of them—I had a good look at them, and I am certain of Needham—we followed them—Neighbour apprehended Allen—I went round into Foxwell Street and saw Needham going round the corner—I pursued him but lost sight of him—on the 10th I went with the others to the Royal Standard, where a friendly lead was being carried on—I saw Needham there and pointed him out
to Hyder, who took him in custody—I asked Needham at the station if he knew what he was charged with—he said "Yes, and I will prove it at my sentence."
JAMES HYDER (Detective P). I went to the Royal Standard and took Needham in custody—on the way to the station I told him the charge—he said "What, are you going to take me for, nothing, the same as you did before?"—when the charge was read over to him at the station he said "I know nothing about it, I will prove that at my sentence."
Needham's Statement before the Magistrate. "When the constables came into the Royal Standard they could not recognise anybody, but I was pointed out by a constable of the E Division. When I said at the station that I knew what I was charged with, it was because I was told going along to the station by the constable who apprehended me."
Allen's Defence. On the 6th of this month I went to Deacon's Music Hall, I met with six fellows there; they asked me to go for a ride with them; we went over the bridge and walked to New Cross; they asked if I would go for a walk round Brockley. I said "Yes," they said "We intend getting into this house." I at once left them and went into a brickfield. One of them pulled out a pair of gloves, he held one and gave me the other. I heard a whistle and ran away, and I was pointed out to the officer.
Needham's Defence. I left the Silver Cup about 11 o'clock. I live about two minutes' walk from there. I went home and went to bed, and did not get up till 9 o'clock. I finished a job that was wanted, and I came out about 11 on Wednesday morning, that was the first time I came out of the house.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY TOLHURST . I live at 45, Wormington Road, Westbourne Park—I am employed at Mr. Sandiland's, 12, Conduit Street, as a workman, and have been for twelve years—on the morning of the 7th of May I was at work at twenty minutes past 6, and when I got into the shop Cronin was there at work—he has worked there for about twelve months or a little over—our business being piece work the hours are not all regular—I am perfectly certain he was at work when I arrived there that morning at 6.30.
Cross-examined. He sometimes comes to work before me and sometimes after me, it depends entirely on what we have in hand—I always look at the clock when I come in—he worked there the whole of that day till the evening.
GEORGE LINTON . I live at 8, North Street, and am a tailor—I have worked for Mr. Sandiland's for twenty-one years in the same shop—I know Cronin—I remember the morning of the 7th May, he was at his work between 6 and 7—he sits close to me.
THOMAS GODBOLD . I live with my wife at 37, Harrison Street, Gray's Inn Road—Cronin lives in the same house—I have reason for knowing the morning of the 7th May, because my son went to a new place that morning—I got up a little earlier to call him—I did not see Cronin that morning, but I heard him ask me the time, and it was ten minutes to five, and he said "Thank you"—I know the time
because I keep my clock right, and I went to get my coffee, and the shop was not open, and it opens at 5 o'clock.
Cross-examined. I go every morning to get my coffee—Cronin sleeps in the next room to me; I know his voice—I cannot say that I remember what happened on the morning of the 6th or 8th—I am generally up by 5 o'clock; he generally asks me the time as I am passing his door.
HENRIETTA GODBOLD . I am the wife of the last witness—on Tuesday evening I spoke to Cronin on the doorstep at 10 o'clock; I told him his little boy was safe, as he had been missing for a short time, and next morning I heard him speak to my husband at 4.50.
MRS. NEEDHAM. I am the prisoner Needham's mother; he lives with me at 111, Cromer Street, Gray's Inn Road—I can positively swear that on the night of the robbery he was in bed till 9 o'clock in the morning—I heard that the robbery was on the 7th at Brockley—I sleep in the same room with my son—he works for me mending chairs since my husband's death.
----NEEDHAM. I live with my mother and brother—I know he was in bed at the time the robbery was done; I heard that it was done on the night of the 7th on Wednesday morning; I heard it when I went to Greenwich Police-court on the 13th—I was not called as a witness there—he was in bed every night that week—I go to business at 8 o'clock in the morning and leave him in bed—he has been with us all along for years—he has only been away one six months; he came out on Thursday, the 3rd of May.
CRONIN— NOT GUILTY . ALLEN and NEEDHAM— GUILTY . They both PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction. ALLEN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. NEEDHAM— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
617. FREDERICK BROMLEY, GEORGE CAMPANY, LOUISA CAMPANY , and JOSEPH COPELAND, Burglary in the dwelling-house of Richard James Cox, and stealing therein 60 watches, 120 rings, and other articles. Other Counts, for feloniously receiving the same. BROMLEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND, MONTAGU WILLIAMS, and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH appeared for George and Louisa Campany; and MR. BROUN for Copeland.
RICHARD JAMES COX . I am a jeweller, of 19, Dartmouth Road, Forest Hill—on the night of the 28th October I closed my premises at 10 o'clock—at 6.30 in the morning my servant made a communication to me; I went downstairs and found the back door leading into the garden, open, and an iron bar forced out from the window—the place had been broken into and I missed 60 watches, a gold keyless watch, with number and name on it, 120 rings, bracelets, studs, and other articles of jewellery, worth about 600l.—I gave information to the police, with a list of the property—on 26th December I went to Newbury and there identified part of the property found in the possession of Bromley and a man named Clark, both of whom have been convicted—on 30th January I was present when George Campany's house was searched under a search warrant—in the sitting-room behind the shop I touched a picture, and a shirt-stud case with two studs fell from it—they belonged to me and were part of the proceeds of the burglary—I have seen a collaret forming two bracelets at a pawnbroker's in the Strand which I identify as mine—at Campany's
house Sergeant Winzar showed me a cardboard box with some unmounted stones, which I also identified.
JOHN COTMAN . I am an oilman of 27, Great Chapel Street, Westminster—Copeland came to lodge there on 26th July, and occupied the second-floor back room—he gave the name of George Copeland—he said he worked on the railway; he did not say where, and I did not ask him particulars—I remember the police searching that room—on 31st January a letter came for him which I gave unopened to Inspector Marshall—this is the handwriting of the envelope. (The letter was read, addressed; "Mr. Copeland, 27, Great Chapel Street, London, near Westminster. January 31, 1884. Sir,—The goods will arrive at Victoria Station about 1 o'clock to-morrow, Tuesday. I am in trouble; do you know my house was searched yesterday afternoon and them stones and one pawnbroker's ticket—them lockets they did not find, the picks—my daughter pledged for my son, the remains of Forest Hill, so I know not how it will end. They have not been since. What had I better do? think. Please tell me soon, but they are.... I believe, as he was down at the trial as a prosecutor; so I trust and hope I shan't take much harm. I know nothing about it. Yours truly,----.")
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I think that letter was read to the Magistrate at Greenwich—I think George Campany was admitted to bail.
Cross-examined by MR. BROUN. There were not many persons coming to the house to see Copeland—they came to see him about sales two or three times—they said if he was not in they would find him at the saleroom, but what saleroom I could not say—I never knew him by any other name than George Copeland—they mostly asked for "George"—I did not know that he was going to be married.
HENRY STRUTTON . I am secretary to the Rent Guarantee Society, 66, Cannon Street—in January this year I saw George Campany execute a counterpart lease—I had previously received from him four letters which I produce—I have compared those signatures with the writing of the letter to Copeland, and in my opinion the handwriting is the same.
THOMAS ROOTS (Police Inspector). On 22nd January I was shown a statement made by a man named Clark, in consequence of which I went to Pentonville and saw him, and obtained a statement from him—in consequence of that statement I obtained a search warrant, and on 30th January I went with Inspector Marshall and Sergeant Preston to 27, Great Chapel Street, Westminster, where Copeland occupied a backroom on the second floor—I said to him "My name is Roots; I am an inspector of police of Great Scotland Yard; this is Inspector Marshall, and this is Sergeant Preston—I hold a warrant to search your room"—I read it to him—I then commenced to search the room—I first found three pictures—I asked where he got them from—he said "I bought them"—"Who from?"—"A man"—"Where does he live?"—"I don't know"—Preston said "They were stolen from Mr. Curtis"—he said "I bought them of a man outside the Aquarium"—I asked if he knew the man's address—he said he did not—I said I should take them—I took from the chimneypiece a barometer—I said "Where did you get this?"—he
said he bought that of a man outside the Aquarium—I found some stones and two imitation cameos—I asked him the same questions about them, and he gave the same reply—I also found a pearl pin, a metal buckle, a ring, a wedding ring, and a bouquet holder—I showed those articles to Mr. Cox, and he identified them as part of the produce of the burglary at his house—I also found a white damask tablecloth with the marks partially cut out—I showed that and the three pictures to Mr. Curtis; he identified the pictures, but was uncertain as to the tablecloth, though he lost one of a similar pattern—I also found a black marble clock, a bronze ornament, a pendulum of a clock, a pencil, a medal, and two pairs of trousers which Mr. Frazer has identified as the produce of a burglary at his house—I also found a clock with imitation bronze figures which I showed to Mrs. Morgan, and which she identified as part of the produce of a burglary at her house—I also found a great quantity of other property of all descriptions—while making the search Copeland opened the window at the bottom—he had some birds there, and he said he would feed them before he went—I closed the window and said it was too cold—it was closed at the top but opened for air—it was a very small room and very stuffy—while I turned my back upon him momentarily he jumped through the window; I turned in time to see his feet disappearing—I threw the window up, and he fell on to a small building built out from the floor, jumped from that into the yard, and escaped—he was dressed in his trousers, shirt, and socks, but no boots or overcoat—I went out and searched for him, and found he had fallen on a spot of the District Railway, about forty paces from the District Railway station—I went to the Westminster Hospital and found him there with his right leg and arm broken—he remained there till 4th April, when he was brought to the police-court—I found some chisels at Copeland's two of which I fitted to some marks at Mrs. Morgan's 59, Binfield Road, and one fitted nine marks on a wardrobe from which clothing was stolen, and one a cupboard in a bedroom—the other fits a mark on a chest of drawers at Mr. Fraser's, at Hendon.
Cross-examined by MR. BROUN. There is nothing peculiar about the chisels—there is nothing very valuable amongst the property I found—I heard that Copeland was about to be married, and that the banns had been put up.
Re-examined. The things did not strike me as being wedding presents.
SUSANNAH FRASER . I am the wife of Henry Edwin Fraser, of 11, Neate Terrace, Hendon—on 13th November I left my house at noon—it was broken open, and I missed a quantity of property—I have since identified this property found at Copeland's; a marble clock, a bronze image, a cigar case, pencil case, a medal, a meerschaum pipe case, a pair of steel earrings, and two pairs of trousers—I saw some marks on a chest of drawers in my bedroom which the officers afterwards compared with some instrument.
THOMAS HENRY CURTIS . I am a cheesemonger, of 20, Strutton Ground, Westminster—on 21st December I locked up my house at 1 o'clock a.m., and on coming down at 7 o'clock I found the doors and a window open and missed these three pictures and other property to the value of about 25l.
Road, Clapham—on 10th January our place was broken into, and I missed a clock, an imitation bronze, and other things worth 20l.—those found at Copeland's are mine.
JOHN WINZAR (Police Sergeant P). On Wednesday, 30th January, I went with Inspector Hunt to 18, Wasdale Road and there saw the two Campanys—Hunt said to George "We are police-officers, and I have a warrant to search your place in connection with a burglary at Mr. Cox's, jeweller, Forest Hill"—he said "I know nothing about it"—while we were searching downstairs George went upstairs—I followed him to a small back room on the first floor—there was a cash-box on a side table; he opened it and took out some papers and laid them on the table—he turned round, and on seeing me went towards the window, sat down and commenced to mend some old harness—I examined the cash-box—at the bottom I found a pawn-ticket for a gold Albert, pledged for 17s. on 23rd November at Mr. Ball's, High Street, Peckham—Mr. Cox has since identified it as his—on the wash-stand I found a small cardboard box tied with string, in which I found a quantity of unset stones, identified by Mr. Cox—I said to George "What are these?"—he said "They are mine, I have had them a long time"—Hunt said we should take the Albert and the stones to make inquiries—George then said "Them stones and pawn-ticket I know nothing about, it is my son's room, what he has done I can't help"—in consequence of a statement that had been made by Clark, I went again to Campany's on 2nd February with a warrant, and went to look for a hole in the rear of the premises—I found a hole covered by a board about 2 feet by 1 1/2 and about a foot deep, containing four bricks used as a support to the board, the board being covered with lime, and bearing the name of "G. Campany, boot and shoe maker"—the hole was empty—I returned to the house, and Hunt said to George "Where are those tools that were in the hole?" and he said "I know nothing about any tools, that hole was made for a closet"—I said "I have a warrant to arrest you for receiving a portion of Mr. Cox's jewellery"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I read the warrant to him—they were both taken to the station—George there made a statement, which was taken down by Inspector Wren—I found on him this pocket-book containing this entry, "Thursday, Cox, 20th, garters and bracelet, F. Moore," and other entries—on the road to the police-court George said "Did I say 22s. I got for the watches?"—I said "Yes"—he said "That was wrong, it should have been 42s., I have known Copeland since a boy." George Company's Statement read: "I did not know that the watches you found were there—I found three watches in the drawer after I had the Mercury from Reading—I did not know anything about the affair till I saw Cox's name in the paper—them three watches I took to Copelant's—he gave me 22s. for them—the stones and the pawn-ticket I know nothing about"—I found 30 pawn-tickets in a workbox at Campany's relating to property of Louisa Campany's, but nothing relating to the proceeds of the burglaries.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I have a few of the pawn-tickets here, some have been given up to her—George did not open the cash-box at my request; I don't believe there was a key to it, I am not sure—I found nothing on him but the pocket-book and a key.
WALTER WREN (Police Inspector P). On 2nd February I went with Winzar to Campany's—I said to Louisa "I am a police officer, I shall take you into custody for being concerned with your father in receiving
goods knowing them to be stolen from Mr. Cox, jeweller, High Street, Forest Hill"—she immediately fell on her knees and said "I am innocent of all wrong, the Lord will help me"—I took her to the station—previous to being charged she told me she had pawned several things, and gave me a list of the pawnbrokers where she had pledged them—in consequence of that information I have been able to bring the pawnbrokers here—the names she gave were all correct—after being charged she made this statement, which I took down: "I pledged a few things, innocent of all wrong, at New Cross and several places; they were given to me by my brother; he never told me where he got them, I never asked him; my brother had the money, and the tickets I left on the mantelpiece; they are nothing to me; this is true"—I found no pawn-tickets except the one of the chain.
JOHN MERRITT . I am assistant to Mr. Phillips, pawnbroker, 62, High Street, Deptford—I produce a gold keeper pawned 14th November, for 6s., in the name of Jane Bromley—I don't identify the person who pawned it.
JAMES WILSON . I am assistant to Mr. Arnold, pawnbroker, Deptford Broadway—I produce a gold signet ring, pledged 12th November, for 7s., in the name of Ann Best—also a gold keeper, pawned on 20th Nov., for 8s., in the name of Mary Bromley.
THOMAS SOMERFORD . I am assistant to Mr. Balls, of High Street, Peckham—I produce a gold keeper, pledged 16th November, for 10s. 6d., in the name of Jane Bromley, by the female prisoner—I also produce a diamond and pearl ring, pawned on 20th November, for 12s., by the prisoner, in the name of Ann Bromley—also a gold Albert pawned on 23rd November, for 17s., in the name of Ann Bromley, by the female prisoner.
JOHN MCMAHON . I am manager to Messrs. Dobree and Co., pawnbrokers, Strand—I produce a pair of bracelets pledged on 20th November, 1883, for 10s., in the name of Mrs. Clarke—I don't identify the prisoner.
JAMES GROOM . I am assistant to Mr. Rutter, pawnbroker, 152, Beckenham Road, Penge—I produce a keeper ring pawned on 14th November, for 7s., in the name of Ann Bromley—I don't identify the female prisoner.
The prisoner Campany received a good character.
SERGEANT WENZER. I have made inquiries respecting the Campanys, and I have found nothing against their character; they are in very poor circumstances, but respectable, as far as I can ascertain.
LOUISA CAMPANY— NOT GUILTY . GEORGE CAMPANY—
CORNELIUS HUGGINS . I am foreman to John Browning, barometer manufacturer, 63, Strand—on 26th October, 1882, the shop was broken into, and about 400l. worth of property stolen, barometers, pedometers, and other things—I have seen a quantity of property found at the prisoner's premises which I have identified as a portion of the proceeds of the robbery.
THOMAS ROOTS (Police Inspector). When I searched the prisoner's premises I found an aneroid barometer, some lenses, and other things, all of which have been identified by Mr. Browning as proceeds of the burglary—I also received from Annie Grant a bag containing 20 barometers; they were shown to the prosecutor and identified by him—Wilkin's daughter was the lady the prisoner was going to marry—he lives in Strutton Ground, called the Army and Navy Lodging-house.
GUILTY of receiving. **— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
BROMLEY— Seven Years' to run concurrently with previous sentence.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PARKINS Prosecuted.
GEORGE WOODMAN . I live at High Street, Ripley—on 20th April, about 2.30, I was in the Borough—I met the prisoner and another man at a coffee-stall—I was looking for a bed; they said they would get me a bed—they asked me to have some coffee—I said "No"—they took me up a lane; one got hold of my throat, they threw me down, one held me—Wheeler put his hand in my pocket, took my money, and gave it to the other man, and tore my pocket—I was carrying a shirt which I had bought for half-a crown; they took that, and I lost my hat and 7s. 6d.—I called out, a constable came and chased the prisoner and brought him back—he said at the police-court, "Did I not treat you to a cup of coffee?"
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said in my excitement that I only lost 3s. 6d.—I did not say, "I won't say that is the man."
the prosecutor was lying on his back—I traced the prisoner through several courts and captured him—I said, "What have you been doing with that man?"—he said, "He has taken 3s. from me, governor"—I took him back—the prosecutor had just got up; he was black in the face, his pockets were torn, and he could hardly speak—he said, "This man and another have robbed me, I give him in charge"—I took him to the station, and when the charge was read he said, "I treated him to a cup of coffee."
Cross-examined. You had been drinking, but you could run well—I have not brought the coffee-stall man here as he was not sure of you.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he was drunk and did not commit the robbery.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
JOHN ABBOT (Policeman W 330). On 3rd May, about 8.40 p.m., I met the prisoner and a man in Sheen Park, 300 yards from Colonel Hillman's—the prisoner was carrying this mat and the other man had a mat—I asked where they got them—the prisoner said, "I bought it at a sale in Putney"—I asked where he was taking it to—he said to Chisholm Place—I asked why he came round Sheen Park—he said to see a lady to whom he sometimes sold things—I asked if he had seen her—he said "No"—I took them to the station—the prosecutor in the other case declined to prosecute, and the other man was discharged—the Magistrates at Richmond did not dispose of this case, as the prisoner asked to be committed for trial—he gave his address at the station, 2, Chisholm Place.
Prisoner's Defence. I took the other mat and the other man took this one. I took it from him as he could not walk steadily. He is discharged, and this is not the mat I took. We were both in liquor.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND and WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. J. P. GRAIN Defended.
JANE BURKE . I am the wife of James Burke, of 15, Ralph Street, Newington—Lee's wife is my niece; she came to see me on April 28, and I went out with her about 2 o'clock; we got home about 4.45, and saw the street-door mat moved and the parlour door broken open—I found a black box broken open, the tablecover was off, and a box was gone from the mantelshelf; a chest of drawers in the bedroom was open and the contents gone; three boxes were open and the contents gone—the value of what I missed was 20l.—I have seen part of it since.
Cross-examined. My niece tells me that Lee has been ill for some time with rheumatic fever and could not go out—they had been in trouble about money matters and did not want their furniture taken, and I hear they went to live in another place.
ELIZA JUDGE . I am the wife of William Judge, of Newington Causeway—Mrs. Burke is the landlady, and we have the two top rooms—I heard her go out on 28th April about 2 o'clock—I did not see Lee that day; I don't know him—a communication was made to me and I went to Charing Cross Hospital.
ELIZA CHAPLIN . I am the wife of William Chaplin—on 28th April, about 2.45, I saw Wilson go to the prosecutor's house—I saw some one resembling Lee in conversation with Wilson that afternoon for two or three minutes at the bottom of Brunswick Street—I stood at the bottom of the steps talking to them—later on I saw a cab drive up and some things taken out covered with a table cover—I saw this clock (produced) and a black bag brought out—Wilson got into the cab and drove away—the man who I cannot swear to resembling Lee, moved a baker's barrow so that the cab could drive up to the door—he had a blue silk handkerchief round his neck.
Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "I have no doubt he (Lee) is the man"—he had a low felt hat on—I said "I cannot positively swear George Lee is the man, he looks very much like him"—that is what I wish to say to-day.
MARY DURVAN . I am the wife of Henry George Durvan, of 212, Cambridge Road—on 28th April, about 5 p.m., Wilson came to my door with a cab—he took a red bundle into the house—I afterwards saw Lee leaning against the rails, and saw him get into the cab—I had seen him before; I knew him by the name of Nye, 29, Park Gardens—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined. I swear beyond all doubt that Lee is the man I saw there—I don't know that Wilson has pleaded guilty—Wilson is the first one from me. Q. I am much obliged, that happens to be Lee, and you are identifying him beyond all doubt? A. I have identified him before. I wish still to stick to my text; I never alter when I have made up my mind; I am certain—I had only seen Lee once before—I have seen Wilson before—that is Wilson, I know now, but I did not look round before—I have no unpleasant feeling against Lee—he lives at 29, Park Road, Kilburn—I had not to see round the corner from where I stood.
JAMES BIGGS . I am an auctioneer, of 10, Malvern Terrace, Kilburn Park, and am landlord of 212, Cambridge Road, Kilburn—I let the front and back parlour of that house to the prisoner Lee at 7s. a week unfurnished on the day before Good Friday—he paid the rent, and his wife and Wilson have paid it when Lee could not come.
Cross-examined. He took them in his name, George Lee—when Wilson came to pay he said Lee was not able to come—that was the only time I saw Wilson.
GEORGE THOMAS MARTIN . I went to 15, Ralph Street, on Monday evening; the front door had been forced by some instrument, and the parlour door also—on 29th April I went to 29, Kilburn Park Road, and inquired for Lee, but was not let in; I went to the next house, got over the wall, and saw Lee in the garden—I told him I was a police-officer, and should take him in custody for breaking into his uncle's house over
at the Borough yesterday—I took him through the house, and met Cox in the passage, who had come in—we went into his room, and Lee said "I have not been out for a fortnight; I have been ill. I was not out yesterday"—Cox searched the room, and I saw him find some pawn tickets—I went after to 212, Cambridge Road, Kilburn, and found the front parlour locked—I had the lock picked, and found in the room the property which has been identified by Mrs. Burke—I then went to Kilburn Station and said "Well, the stolen property has been found at 212, Cambridge Road, where your furniture is"—he said "I don't know anything about it; those two lodgers of mine have got me into this. I allowed them to sleep there. I have not been there since I took the rooms"—he said that Wilson and another man were the lodgers.
Cross-examined. I did not take it down—I said at the police-court he said "I know nothing about it; I was not out yesterday; I have not been out for a fortnight; the landlady can prove it"—he also said "I have not been to the house since I took it. I did not want my goods taken for rent. I have two lodgers sleeping in the room, and suppose they have done a nice thing for me"—he gave me the name of a third lodger as Robert Jones, and I understood Wilson and Jones to be the persons he alluded to.
ARTHUR COX (Detective M). On 28th April I went with Sergeant Martin to 15, Ralph Street, and found in the bedroom this jemmy—I compared it with the marks on the door and it corresponded—next day at 2 p.m. I went to Clifford Road with Martin and saw him arrest Lee in the garden—I said "What time did you go out yesterday?"—he said "I did not go out yesterday"—I called the landlady up and said "What time did Mr. Lee go out yesterday?"—she said "I don't know"—Lee said "Well, you know I was only out a short time"—later on the said "I only went out to get some whisky in the evening"—I said "We are going to search your place"—he said "These things belong to the landlady"—I found in a chest of drawers a bag containing 106 pawntickets, and an envelope addressed, Mrs. Burke, 15, Ralph Street, Union Road—he said "All those goods belong to us, "meaning the goods representing the pawntickets—I then went to 212, Cambridge Road, Kilburn, Wilson's place, and found this black bag—Lee was put into a cab at 9 or 10 p.m., and taken to Blackman Street Station—I said on the way "We have found the property at your lodging where your furniture is"—he said "I know nothing about it; I look like getting twelve months if the other two are not caught. I have been laid up with rheumatism a fortnight and unable to go out, but I went that evening to get some whisky."
Cross-examined. His wife was with us, and before he made any remark she said "What time shall we get back to-night?"—it was in reply to that that he said "I look like getting out of it, &c."—the pawn-tickets have no relation to this charge; they have been handed over.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ELIZABETH BARBER . My husband is a waiter, of 19, Albert Embankment, Lambeth—I have known Lee and his wife five years, and have occasionally worked for them—on 28th April I went to 29, Park Road, Kilburn—I got there about 4 o'clock, and saw Lee in his room with his little girl—he said that he had been very poorly from rheumatism—I wanted to see his wife, but she had gone to Westminster.
Cross-examined. I am not related to Lee—it was 4 o'clock when I got there, as near as I can judge.
ANNIE BROWN . My husband is a blacksmith—we have lived for two years on the top floor where the Lees lodge—that is just above their floor—I was at home all that day—I can hear Lee's voice very distinctly through the ceiling—I have known him a fortnight—he was talking to his little girl all that afternoon—she is somewhat of an invalid—I left the room between 3 and 4 o'clock to take my meals—I heard him before that and also when I came back—I had to pass his door to go down, and heard him singing to his little girl—I remained in my room and heard him afterwards—I am no relation of his.
Cross-examined. I did not see him, but I have been there two years and can distinguish all the voices—he talked aloud—I was called before the Magistrate—I did not go out on the Saturday, and I heard Lee some part of the day—I do not keep a diary—I did not see him in the garden that day, but I did on Sunday, with his little girl—I do not know who opened the door when the police came to inquire for him—I did not refuse them admittance.
Re-examined. I remember the day because I was short-coating my baby—after I heard of the charge I spoke to the landlady and volunteered my evidence.
FANNY RADBURN . I live at 212, Cambridge Road, where these articles were found—I know both prisoners by sight—on Monday, 28th April, about 5 o'clock, Wilson drove up in a four-wheeled cab and took out a tablecloth and bundle, and brought them in—another man was on the pavement, but it was not Mr. Lee—Wilson went away and returned, and a yellow-complexioned man joined him, not Lee—I did not see Lee at all.
Cross-examined. I have never seen Lee but once, and only at a distance—this place at Kilburn is within a few minutes' walk of where he lives.
HENRY UMPLEBY . On the 28th of April I was at home at 6, Ralph Street, laid up with inflammation of the chest—I saw Wilson bring out a parcel from Mrs. Burke's house—I noticed the whole transaction—Lee was not there.
Cross-examined. I went the station and identified Wilson—my husband did not go with me.
LEE— NOT GUILTY . Sentence on WILSON— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
622. MARGARET DAVIS (30) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining a pair of boots from Frederick Messenger by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and from Annie Elizabeth Neeve two pairs of boots, with a like intent.— Four Months' Hard Labour. And
623. SAMUEL GREEN (30) to unlawfully obtaining money from Lydia Bailey and various other persons by false pretences, and to having been before convicted.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Justice Field.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended, at the request of the Court.
WILLIAM WIGLEY . I live at 90, Smyrke's Road, Walworth, and am a receiver of goods on the Brighton Railway—on 18th December, about 4 in the afternoon, I was in South Street, Walworth—I saw William Henry Day driving a van—I saw a man take a parcel from behind the van and throw it into a barrow that was standing outside Mr. Mellish's shop and run away down Shaftesbury Street—I called out to Day and he jumped off his van and ran after the man; he caught him by the coat; the man hit Day with his fist and ran down South Street, Day after him down Inville Road, and I saw no more of him—I next saw Day at Dr. Causton's, about twenty minutes after 4 the same afternoon, he was then suffering from wounds—I am not able to identify the man who took the parcel—I cannot positively swear that the prisoner is the man, because he had whiskers, and was dressed differently—the man had on a ribbed overcoat and an old felt hat and a stripish sort of trousers—he was rather dark, because his whiskers were dark—I gave the police a description of the man as near as I could.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate "The prisoner does not seem to be like the man," no more he does, I say so now—I had not a very good opportunity of seeing the man, only as he ran by.
HENRY COOLEY . I am a labourer, and live at 12, Smith Street, Portland Street, Camberwell—on 18th December I was in Smith Street with a barrow of coke—I heard a man scream "Murder," the sound came from a back yard leading into a coalshed—I saw a man standing outside the coalshed gate with a white handkerchief round his neck and tucked inside his waistcoat—after that I saw a man come out of the coalshed—Mr. Hill came out of his shop door and met him, the man said to Hill "There is a man has hurt himself"—the man ran down Portland Street, and I and Hill ran after him—I followed him to the third turning on the left in Portland Street, and lost sight of him—I do not think I should be able to recognise the man again—I cannot recognise the prisoner as being the man.
Cross-examined. I might or might not have said before the Magistrate "I do not see any one here like the man"—I made a mark to my deposition—I did not say that—it was not the man that done the murder that had the white handkerchief round his neck, it was another man.
THOMAS HILL . I am a general dealer, of 33, Portland Street, Walworth—on 18th December, about a quarter past four, I heard a cry, I did not hear what it was—I ran out into Smith Street, a man passed me at the corner, he was walking down Smith Street as I came out of it—he just said something to me and ran down Portland Street—I hardly know if I should know the man again if I saw him—the prisoner is very similar to him about the forehead, but I cannot swear to him, he only walked by me—I ran after him, and then went back and saw the deceased in the coalshed—he was wounded—he was taken to a doctor's.
do anything to the van or run away, I heard that there had been a parcel taken and I went with Henry Mokes to Smith Street—we heard a man groaning in the yard, and we went through the coalshed and found Day lying on his back—we saw that he was injured and assisted in taking him to the doctor's, and a constable took him to the hospital—I saw a man running in South Street just as I came out of my shop; I should think it was the carman Day.
GEORGE WILLIAM CLARK . I am a grocer, of 93, Lambeth Walk—I had a carman in my employ named William Henry Day—he was 24 years old—on 18th December, at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, I sent him out with a covered van—I afterwards saw him in Guy's Hospital.
WALTER DENDY . I am a surgeon, of Chaplin Villa, Forest Hill—on 18th December I was house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—Day was brought there about 5.20 in the afternoon—he was partially collapsed—I examined him—I found two incised wounds on the front part of the abdomen, both on a level with the navel—the one on the left side was three-quarters of an inch long by a quarter of inch wide, three inches and a half from the navel—the one on the right side was an inch and a half from the navel, about half an inch long, and the major axis of each wound was vertical; the internal fat of the abdomen was protruding from the wound on the left side—it is possible that this knife (produced) might have produced both wounds—it would require considerable force to produce such wounds, especially that on the right side—I continued to attend to him until the 21st, he was then sinking—I sat down on his bed and said "You are in a very dangerous condition," and having previously written some words on a slip of paper, I gave the paper to him and requested him to read it—he read it and signed it, and I witnessed it—before he signed it I asked him if he understood its contents—he said "You don't mean to give me up, do you, doctor?"—I said "It is my duty to tell you that you are in a very dangerous condition"—that was all that was said—he signed it after that—he then simply put his head on the pillow and laid back exhausted—this was between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening; he died about 7.20 next morning—I made a post-mortem examination—he died from the wounds—he was 5 feet 8 1/2 inches in length, of a dark-brown complexion, well nourished.
Cross-examined. I have said that it is possible that this knife might have produced both wounds—I have a doubt about the wound on the right side, not on account of the size of the wound; that wound penetrated the wall of the abdomen and extended upwards—it had transfixed the liver about three-quarters of an inch from its front edge and then punctured the gall bladder; and my doubt as to the knife is this, that in order to have inflicted that wound either Day must have been bent down and doubled when he received the wound, or else it must have been inflicted with very considerable force, looking at the length of the blade—I do not mean that the man must necessarily have been stooping from the hips, but bending down, crouching as if anticipating a blow—I should certainly have thought it more probable that such a wound would be caused by a knife having a larger blade than this, it might have done
it, if inflicted with great force so that the abdominal wall would be lifted up against the hilt, the soft parts would yield to the hand.
DANIEL HUNT (Police Inspector). On the 19th of December I went to Guy's Hospital, and there saw the man Day—I took down a statement from him, and read it over to him; he signed it, and I witnessed it—this is it (produced)—on the 24th there was a Coroner's inquest, and bills were circulated—on the 23rd of April, from what I heard, I went with Inspector Roots to Pentonville Prison, and there saw the prisoner—he said "Good morning"—I said "Do you know me, Bolton?"—he said "Yes, I know you, you belong to Carter Street"—that is the police-station—I said "Yes, that is true, I am Inspector Hunt; I suppose you know what we are come for?"—he said "Yes"—I then cautioned him that whatever he said would be used in evidence against him, and I asked him if he still adhered to the statement that he had made to the governor of the gaol—he said "Yes"—I said "Very well, then, tell me all about it"—he did tell me, and I wrote it down; I read it over to him and he signed it—I had with me the statement which Day had made on the 19th—I showed that to the prisoner first and then read it to him—he said it was all right, but he didn't recollect going into the public-house as stated by Day—he said "I did not know the man"—I showed him three knives, he selected this one and said "That is the one I did it with, it is the same that was taken from me when I was arrested on the charge on which I now stand convicted." (Day's statement was read as follows: "I, William Day, believing myself to be dying, declare that the statement made by me to the police is true in substance and in fact. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday, 18th December, I was passing through South Street, Walworth, with my van, which I was driving, when I saw a man take a parcel of tea from the hind part of the van; I got down and ran after him. He ran into the Queen Ann public-house, in South Street, and seeing I was following him he came out again and said, 'What are you following me for? I am a perfect stranger.' I laid hold of him by the collar, he pushed me away from him; I ran along several streets, and in South Street I lost sight of him. >From what a man told me I went into a coal-shed, and in a water-closet I saw the man I had chased; he said, 'What do you want?' I said 'You are the man that stole my parcel.' He came out, I took hold of him, we struggled together, during which he stabbed me several times with a knife which he had in his hand; when he came out of the closet he stabbed me two or three times in the stomach. I had never seen the man before, but I should know him again. Several men came to my assistance after the man had got away. I told them what had happened; they took me to a doctor's; I was brought to the hospital the same evening. I am sure the man that stabbed me was the same that stole the tea, and he was very much out of breath when I saw him in the water-closet. He was about 27 years of age, 5 feet 7 or 8 inches, dark whiskers and moustache; white shirt, dark dress, dark Chesterfield overcoat, dark trousers, black felt hat, boots cannot describe." (The Prisoner's statement was then read as follows: "I, John Bolton, did on the 18th December, 1883, stab a man. I took a parcel off from his van, and he saw me and ran after me, and caught me in a shed and held me by the peck. I tried to shake him off, but could not, and I took a penknife out of my pocket and stabbed him three or four times in the stomach. I solemnly declare that I did it. I have been tormented
ever since I was sentenced about the thought of him." (This was written by the prisoner on a slate.) His statement to the inspector was as follows: "I, John Bolton, a convict, undergoing a sentence of five years' penal servitude, having been duly cautioned by Inspector Hunt, whom I know, that all I say will be given in evidence against me, most solemnly declare that on the 18th December last, about a quarter past 1 in the afternoon, I was in South Street, Walworth, and I saw a covered van containing some parcels, one of which I took out of the tail of the van and ran away with it—the man who was driving the van ran after me through several streets into Portland Street, Walworth, where I, finding I could not get away from him, ran into a shed at the back of a house in Portland Street, and hid in the water-closet, where the man found me and caught me by the throat. We had a struggle, and finding I could not get away I took out my knife and stabbed him two or three times in the stomach—he then let go his hold of me, and I ran away. The same night I slept in an omnibus in a yard at the back of a beer-house by the canal bridge in Trafalgar Road, Peckham. The knife I did it with is the one now shown to me by Inspector Hunt, which is the same that was taken from me when I was apprehended for the offence of which I am convicted. The knife has two blades in it; it was the larger of the two I used. I never told any person that I did it until the 12th of this month, when I wrote the particulars on a slate, which I handed to the chief warder. I did not intend to kill the man, but only to get away from him. The clothing I was wearing at the time I changed away to a man on the tramp at Peckham two or three days afterwards for his, so that I should not be known. The contents of the paper dated 19th December, 1883, signed by William Henry Day, now read to me by Inspector Hunt, is true in substance, but I don't recollect going into the public-house, as mentioned therein. I did not know the man I stabbed, but I saw his name was Day in the bills offering a reward. I make this confession well knowing the consequences, but I wish to be brought to judgment because I cannot rest with it on my mind; it has troubled me ever since, and I cannot sleep at night. Signed, John Bolton. Witnessed by Inspector Hunt"—The prisoner also stated that in his flight he threw the parcel away—bills were issued in which Day's name was mentioned—I went into the shed—there is a water-closet in the yard adjoining the shed—the shed is a temporary one used as a coal-shed, in a small backyard.
Cross-examined. One of the bills issued offered 100l. reward, and described the man who stabbed the deceased—before I went to Pentonville I had read Day's statement; I took it—during the prisoner's statement I said something to him, and then he went on with his statement; I asked him questions if I did not exactly follow him—his statement was partly elicited by questions put by me; for instance, I asked him where he slept the night after the murder, and what he did with his clothing, and so on—I asked him what sort of a van it was, and he said one covered with tarpaulin—Inspector Roots was with me at the time—I did not ask the prisoner if it was a covered van, in fact I did not know at that time that it was covered—I do not know the date on which the prisoner was taken into custody on the charge for which he was sentenced to five years—I do not know what became of him after he made this accusation of murder against himself, the chief warder will tell you.
JAMES COSGROVE . I am chief warder at Her Majesty's Prison at Pentonville—the prisoner was brought there on a sentence of penal servitude about February—Pentonville is a convict prison—persons undergoing penal servitude for not less than five years are brought there—on 12th April, about 10.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner there in the orderly room—he said to the Governor, "I wish to make a statement, I have killed a man and cannot rest"—he was told by the Governor to write it on a slate—he went away and wrote it on a slate—every convict has a slate in his cell—he brought the slate to me—this is it; it is in the same state as when he wrote it (Read as before)—a few days afterwards he was brought before the visiting director, and he then made the other statement, which the director wrote down—I was not present then—the prisoner remained at Pentonville until he was taken to Lambeth Police-court on 9th May—he was then taken back to Pentonville till last Friday, when he was sent to the House of Detention, Clerkenwell.
Cross-examined. Since then he has not been undergoing the sentence of penal servitude—he was treated as a convict till last Friday—the first nine months' punishment of penal servitude is the most severe portion of the sentence, the diet is less and they are kept in close confinement, in solitary confinement in the cell, and they work there, speaking to nobody but the officer, twelve hours a day, with the exception of an hour for exercise.
By the COURT. The prisoner worked for twelve hours at tailoring, with an hour's exercise in between—he commences work at 6, breakfasts at 7 in his cell, at half-past 7 he commences work again till five minutes to 8, and then goes to chapel till half-past 8; at 9, exercise till 10, work till dinner at 1; then he works again till half-past 5, then supper from half-past 5 to 6, then work again till a quarter to 8, then till 9 he reads or exercises himself, whichever he pleases, and goes to bed at a quarter to 9—the bed consists of a mattress—I cannot speak as to the corresponding life of a man in the House of Detention—there was only one hearing before the Magistrate in this case.
THOMAS JAMES (Police Officer). I arrested the prisoner on the 25th of February for larceny—I searched him at the station and took from him a knife and an apron—I could not swear to the knife, it was one like this produced—it was taken to the Sessions and after his conviction to Scotland Yard.
Cross-examined. He was only before the Magistrate once on that charge—he was tried at the Surrey Sessions on the 6th March.
The Prisoners' Statement before the Magistrate on 9th May. "I do not want to make any statement, it is all true that you have got there."
THOMAS KEMP . I live at the Rosemary Branch public-house, Commercial Road, Peckham, and assist my father, who is a cab proprietor—I know the prisoner by seeing him about there—I did not hear of the man having been stabbed till the prisoner came and told me the next day—I could not tell you the day he came to me, it was between 10 and 11 in the morning, I was cleaning a cab at my father's outside the Rosemary Branch—he said "Good morning, Tom"—I said "Good morning"—he stood a moment or two, and then asked me whether I had heard of, I cannot say whether it was a murder or a man being
stabbed—I said "No, what was it?"—he said "A man stole a parcel from the back part of a van, and the man ran after him, and he ran into a shed and he was stabbed," and that he was passing by at the time and helped to put him on a barrow to take him to the doctor's, and he did not think he would get over it, for he turned all manner of colours—I said "What ought a man like that to be done to that would do such a thing as that?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "He ought to be double hung"—I was then called in and saw no more—he said he was passing along Portland Street at the time, and helped to put the man on the barrow—I had not seen any account of the matter in the papers at that time, not till he told me about it—I read it in the evening paper the same day—I was not examined before the Magistrate—the prisoner had no whiskers at that time—I never saw him wear any, barring a slight moustache, dark, no beard—I have seen him for about two years about there, and I never saw him wear any whiskers—I did not notice his clothes—I was too busy at work to notice.
By the COURT. I can't tell where I had last seen him—I was never in his company, I only knew him by seeing him about the place—he was not in any employment—he was always respectably dressed, in dark clothes and a hard, black, low hat, not a tall hat—I never saw him with an overcoat.
WILLIAM MELLERSH (Re-examined). I went with Day to the hospital—he was taken there in the van that he was driving—I first saw him in the yard adjoining the coalshed—the van was not brought to the yard, it was brought to Dr. Causton's—I and Mokes put him on a barrow in Smith Street and took him to the doctor's, and from there he was taken to the hospital in the van; Wigley brought the van to the surgery—the prisoner did not help to put him on the barrow, I am quite sure of that, we did it by our two selves—I did not see him there—the barrow passed across Portland Street with the deceased upon it on the way to the doctor's—there were two other men there, one was the witness Cooley, I think—they did not help.
DANIEL HUNT (Re-examined). The inquest was on 24th December—there was no adjournment—the first edition of the handbills was published a few days afterwards—that was similar to this (produced), except that in this he is clean shaved—we received no information—that was a matter of probability; we thought the man might alter his appearance.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ELEANOR AIRY . I live at 4, Hales Terrace, St. George's Road, Southwark—on the night of 18th December my son (the prisoner) came home about 5.30 or 5.45—he told my daughter and me he had just seen a poor young fellow, he was gone to the hospital now, taken to the doctor's and that he must be very bad for he could not sit up, and I understood that he helped to take him to the doctor's and that he thought the deceased was a drunken man on the barrow—that was all he said, and after he had his tea he went out—I saw my son again after his conviction on last Saturday week at Pentonville Prison in the presence of a warder—I asked him "Why did you accuse yourself of the murder?"—he said "I would rather die than go through this, it was bad enough at Wandsworth"—I said "It will
kill me"—he said "Never mind, I will deny it; cheer up, I didn't do it, you know that."
JAMES WRYNESS . I am a warder at Pentonville, and was present at an interview between the prisoner and his mother—the mother asked him "Why did you make this confession?"—he said "I intend to stick to it"—she said "You know you did not do it, why did you make this confession?"—he said "It is no use making a fuss about it, mother; I intend to stand to it, I cannot go through this," or words to that effect; "it was bad enough at Wandsworth, but this is a great deal worse"—that was all—Wandsworth Prison is a local prison where he had been previously, not in reference to this charge.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and WARBURTON Prosecuted.
HARRIET HARRIS . I am the wife of James Harris, and live at 3, Fullerton Road, Croydon—the prisoner had lived with us about ten weeks—he had a wife and two children; the eldest was 22 months old, the other child had died—the boy's name was Frederick—on Easter Tuesday, 15th April, I heard the prisoner come home from work about 3 o'clock in the afternoon—he was very drunk—he went up a few stairs and he could not get up with his basket—he called his wife to help him with it, and she came down part of the stairs and helped him up—I then went back into my kitchen; after that I went to shut the front door—I stood at the door a few minutes and I heard the prisoner ask his wife to sing; she began to sing and then she began to read a little—I heard the prisoner say that it was all wrong that she was reading—after that the wife came downstairs into my kitchen with the child in her arms; just after he came into the kitchen—the prisoner said "Liz, I will give you ✗s. if you will go away and leave me the boy"—she made no reply—he said "I will give you 4s."—then she said You are getting kind, Fred," and smiled—the prisoner tried to get at his wife; she kept behind my back—he came the other side and tried to get at her—I put up my hand and said "I can't have any noise in my place, Mr. Knight"—he used some bad language towards his wife and caught her up and said "I will go and cut the child's throat and my own"—he took the child under his arm and carried it upstairs—I saw him go upstairs into his room—shortly afterwards he came out to the top of the stairs and help up a razor and said "That is the knife"—he had the child under his arm—I did not see that it was bleeding then—Mrs. Knight ran into the room and screamed—I ran outside the front door—I saw Tranter with the child; it was then bleeding from its throat; he ran to a doctor's with it—I afterwards saw the prisoner with his throat bleeding—he passed me outside the front door.
EDWIN TRANTER . I live at Croydon—on 15th April, from what I heard, I went to the prisoner's house—I went upstairs to a bedroom and found him lying on the floor fondling a child—I said "Knight, what have you done?"—I took the child from him and saw that its neck was cut, and the prisoner's also—he went on his knees after I had taken the child crying something I couldn't understand what—I looked about for a knife or razor, but could not find any—I took the child to Dr. Bott, he
attended to it, and I took the child back and gave it up to Mrs. Knight—I had known the prisoner before; I had seen him with this child, he seemed very much attached to it.
JOSEPH BOTT . On 15th April I was residing at Addiscombe—about 4 o'clock in the afternoon a male child was brought to me by the last witness—I found a wound in the neck extending from ear to ear; it had not cut any of the large vessels—it was through the chin and the throat, nothing more—it was in a dangerous position if it had been deeper—I saw the prisoner; his throat was cut—he was the worse for drink.
By the COURT. The child's life was in immediate danger; it was a large wound, but slight in its immediate effect—it has never been a serious wound—the wound in the prisoner's throat was not of a dangerous character—the child was in more danger than him.
ALFRED EDWARD OLDING . I am house surgeon of the Croydon General Hospital—the prisoner was in that hospital under my care from 15th April to 2nd May—he had a cut in his throat; it was about two inches long—it was done evidently with some cutting instrument; probably a razor—there was nothing in the character of the wound to indicate whether the instrument was sharp or blunt—I also saw the child with its throat cut—while the prisoner was in the hospital he made a statement to me several times, I don't remember his exact words, but it was that he cut the child's throat to be revenged on his wife—his wound was never of a serious character.
ROBERT RALEIGH (Policeman W 434). On 15th April, about 3.45, I went to the prisoner's house and found him in bed and took him in custody—I saw an open razor on the bed by his side—he said "I have done it; the reason I have done it was because my wife would not get me any breakfast this morning; last night she was out with some other man till 12 o'clock"—I tied a cloth round his throat and took him to the hospital—he appeared to be under the influence of drink at that time.
Prisoner's Defence. On Tuesday morning, at a quarter past 6, I got out of bed and asked my wife to get me some breakfast, as I generally start to my work a little after 7. She said "Get it yourself." I said no more but went downstairs and got my things ready on my barrow and washed myself. I am a hawker with cottons, needles, and drapery. I got ready to go on my rounds. She had not got up then. I fetched a policeman and told him I could not do anything to my wife as I was out on bail, and she was trying to make me commit myself. She came to the window and said she did not care for me or the policeman, "You had better go on and do your work." I started off. I got as far as Mr. Turnbull's shop, and he gave me a cup of tea. I afterwards got a little to drink, and I do not remember anything after that. I had had no food since Sunday at dinner time. Mr. Tranter knows that I had no breakfast that morning.
The prisoner also handed in a long written statement accusing his wife of neglect, and improper conduct.
EDWIN TRANTER (Recalled). I have known the prisoner and his wife for some time—I do not believe they have lived comfortably together, they have not agreed well together—I do not know what it was about, but I know they have not agreed together for some time—she was away for some time from home—that was before I knew them—I have known them about seven months—I saw nothing on this Tuesday morning—I
saw him bring the policeman down and I saw him coming away about 7 in the morning—he said he had not had any breakfast, and I gave him a cup of tea and offered him another, but he did not want one, and he went to his work after that—he had been in the habit of taking a little drink, but I have not seen anything boisterous when he has been the worse for drink.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
JAMES KIRK . I am a warehouseman, of 23, St. Mark's Road, Old Kent Road—on Sunday, April 13th, about 12.30 a.m., I was in the Dover Road and was knocked down insensible by two men—when I came to I found this piece of cloth (produced) in my hands, and missed my watch and chain—I cannot say whether I lost any money—I had a black eye and was knocked about a good deal, I was obliged to go to the dispensary—I was drunk, I hardly knew what I was about—I know the two men hustled me, and they both ran away—I suffered much pain for ten days.
FREDERICK ATKINSON . I am a carman, of 7, Cole Street, Borough—I was in the Dover Road, and saw Kirk with his back against a post, and the prisoner, and a man not in custody, were standing against him—the one not in custody snatched his watch and chain, the prisoner knocked Kirk down, Kirk laid hold of him and tore a piece out of his sleeve—I gave chase and saw a constable catch him, he was then attempting to take his coat off—the constable took this piece of cloth from Kirk's hand—I never lost sight of the prisoner from the time he knocked Kirk down till he was taken.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was smoking my pipe—I am sure you were with the other man, I know you by the sore under your eye—I was three or four yards from you—you knocked him down with your fist without any provocation—you were not wrestling.
CHARLES HEARN (Policeman M 362). On Sunday, April 13th, about 12.30 a.m., Atkinson drew my attention to two men running—I gave chase and caught the prisoner, who was opening his coat, but I did not allow him to do so—I took him back to Kirk, who was then standing up by the help of a witness, with the piece of cloth in his hand—I took it from him—it fits into the sleeve of the prisoner's coat—the prisoner was perfectly sober.
Prisoner's Defence. I was returning home from a meeting. I was very drunk. I am a waterside labourer, and am not in the habit of stealing anything. No one was with me. I had nothing to do with the robbery.
GUILTY .†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
ELLEN VAUGHAN . I am the wife of Alfred Vaughan, who keeps a general shop at 253, Albany Road, Camberwell—on 24th April, about 1 o'clock, the prisoner came and asked for a small can of condensed milk, which would be 3d.—he tendered this half-crown (produced)—I tried it in the tester and bent it, and said "Your half-crown is bad; I shall keep it, I shall not give it to you; where did you get it from?"—he said "My mother gave it me; you can keep the half-crown and I will bring my mother"—I said "Where is your mother?"—he said "In Cholmondeley Street"—that is about three turnings from my shop—I allowed him to leave—I made a communication to Mr. Balch, who brought him back, and I gave him in custody.
CHARLES BALCH . I am a tailor, of 249, Albany Road—on 24th April I was in the Dun Cow public-house, the next corner shop to Mr. Vaughan's—Mrs. Vaughan came in and made a communication to the landlord, and I went in search of the prisoner, and saw him in Neate Street—Mrs. Vaughan's little girl pointed him out—I said to him "You are the young man that passed the bad half-crown in the little corner shop just now"—he said "Yes"—I said "Will you come back with me and have it cleared up"—he said "I will," and he walked back with me to the shop and was given in charge to a constable who came by at the time.
AMBROSE ROBERTS (Policeman). Balch called me to Mrs. Vaughan's, who handed me this half-crown—I asked the prisoner where he got it—he said "Holding a horse down at Epsom"—that was the City and Suburban day—he afterwards said he had not got so far—he said he had not got any father or mother, and the reason he told Mrs. Vaughan he had a mother was because he did not want the people where he worked to know that he was locked up—Mrs. Vaughan told me in his presence that he said his mother had sent him for a small tin of condensed milk—he said it was false, that he did not live in Cholmondeley Street—he said he worked at White's ginger-beer manufactory—that is in the neighbourhood.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I got the half-crown from two young swells on the way to Epsom for holding a horse."
The prisoner in his defence repeated his statement, and denied all knowledge of the coin being bad.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
MARY ANN WARNER . My mother keeps the Volunteer beerhouse, at Wandsworth—on 25th April I was serving in the bar, when the prisoner came in and called for a glass of ale, tendering a florin in payment—I said I had my doubts about it, and refused to take it, saying "Have you anything else?"—at first he said "No," and then he said yes, he had a half-crown—he paid me with the good half-crown and I handed back the florin—I thought it was bad because it felt so very greasy.
MARY ANN WARREN FUGE . I am Charles Fuge's wife, and keep the Royal Oak beerhouse, at East Hill, Wandsworth—about 12 o'clock on the morning of 29th April I was serving in the bar, when the prisoner came in and called for a glass of ale, which would be 1 1/2 d.—he tendered half-a-crown in payment—I asked him if he had not any smaller coin—I rang it on the counter, and said I did not like the appearance of it, and did
not think it was a good one—he said "It is all right," and then I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change—I went into the yard and made a communication to Mr. Pickford, and then came back to the bar—the prisoner had drunk all his beer and gone—I went into the street, saw him there, and called him back—he came, and I asked him to give me back my change as the half-crown was bad, as I thought—he gave me the change, and said he did not know it was bad—Mr. Pickford asked him if he had any more like it—he said "Yes," and tendered him another bad half-crown—my husband came in, and the police were sent for—the first half-crown was broken by a young man who came in and asked me to allow him to look at it—the prisoner also said in my presence that he had been drinking at Fulham, and had changed a half-sovereign there, and must have got it in the change.
JAMES ENGLAND (Policeman V 120). I was called to the Royal Oak, where the prisoner was given into my custody for passing a bad half-crown—these two were given me, this one broken—I told him the charge—he was perfectly sober—I searched him, but found nothing on him—I asked his address—he said he did not lodge anywhere, he worked about the country, travelling about.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he got tipsy when he got the change for the half-sovereign in Fulham on Saturday night, that his eyesight was not good, and that he was quite innocent of knowing he had such things.
HENRY WARD . I am a warder at Wandsworth—I produce the certificate of previous conviction against the prisoner, dated 13th December, 1875—he was sentenced toten years' penal servitude and five years' police supervision—I was present at that trial, and am certain the prisoner is that man—the sentence would expire in December, 1885—he is having a remission.
GUILTY.**— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
LAURA WILSON . I live at 115, Manor Road with my parents—on 29th April I was in Penrose Street, Walworth, when the prisoner asked me to go and get half a quartern of gin in a bottle at the Horse and Groom, giving me this two-shilling piece (produced), which was not then broken—I went in and came back with John Floate, who caught hold of the prisoner and said, "Is this the man?"—I said, "Yes, it is the man"—I could tell by his red and black scarf, which I had noticed when he gave me the money—I do not feel any doubt about him.
Cross-examined. I went in a side bar; there were other people there—the prisoner was quite a stranger to me; I was only with him a moment—the public-house is a corner house—I was on the other side of the road when he spoke to me—he was wearing the red and black scarf like workmen wear, when he was before the Magistrate; it was a common kind of scarf—I am 11 years old—when I came out of the public-house
the barman came with me walking by my side; he had his coat and hat on—the prisoner was then as far from the public-house as I am from you; he could see the barman—I saw the prisoner directly I came out of the door—he was the only man there.
Re-examined. I am quite certain the prisoner is the man.
JOHN FLOATE . I am barman at the Horse and Groom—on 29th April I was serving in the bar when the last witness came in and asked for half a quartern of gin, tendering this two-shilling piece—I broke it with my teeth, had some communication with her, and left the house in her company—she went up to the prisoner, who was opposite our place at the coffee-shop door about 16 yards away, and said, "This is the man that gave me the money"—I went up to him and said, "I want you, old man, for trying to get bad money changed"—he made no answer—I took hold of his arm and took him to the station—on the way he said, "I think you have made a mistake, I have never had a bad coin about me before"—the bad florin I handed to the police—I had been in the bar that afternoon from half-past 3 or 20 minutes to 4 to 20 minutes past 9—I had not seen the prisoner in the bar at that time.
Cross-examined. Four persons were serving in the public-house from 8 to 10 o'clock—there are three compartments; the middle one is the largest—there were a few other persons in that compartment, I think, when the little girl came in—there is a form there; I did not notice whether there were any women on that seat—I had not served anybody a little before the girl came in with port wine—another assistant is here; no one else was serving when the little girl came in but him—the bar had been under his control for 20 minutes—when I came out with the little girl I could see the prisoner from the door—I did not go up and catch hold of him and say, "Is this the man?"—I could see him; I did not know he was the man—I had my hat on—I am certain the little girl said, "This is the man"—it was the first thing she said—I didn't go up and catch hold of his arm and say, "This is the man"—it is not true what the little girl said that I said "Is this the man?" and that she replied "Yes"—I am quite certain he did not say, "What have I done?" or "Wait a minute, my wife is in the public-house"—Harry, our potman, is not here—the prisoner had a black and red or black and blue scarf on.
Re-examined. I was in the bar the whole time with the exception of twenty minutes when Watson was in charge.
LAURA WILSON (Re-examined). When I came out of the public-house Floate went up and took hold of the prisoner and said to me "Is this the man?"—I replied "Yes"—before this I had spoken to the barman outside when I left—he spoke first as we came out, and said "Is that the one over there?"
Cross-examined. Two others were serving with me; as a rule I take the middle compartment and one corner during supper—we were pretty busy on this night—I could not say if there were any ladies in the middle compartment—there is a seat there—I did not notice a woman and baby there—I should not like to say there was not a woman with a baby sitting on that seat, or that they did not have port wine—I might have served
thirty or forty during the twenty minutes I was in charge—I could not recognise any of them—I and Floate are regular barmen.
JOHN HOLLAND (Policeman P 486). On the night of the 29th I was on duty in the Walworth Road, and met the prisoner with Floate and the little girl about fifty yards from Penrose Street—Floate said "Take this man into custody"—I asked him what for—he said "For uttering counterfeit coin"—I said "You heard that?"—the prisoner said "It is a mistake"—I told him he would have to go to the station, and I took him there—when charged he said "It is a mistake; I had 5d. when I went into the Horse and Groom, and called for twopennyworth of port wine and a pint of ale, and that was all I had"—the inspector asked the little girl in the prisoner's hearing if she was sure it was him, and she turned round and said "Yes"—I searched him, and found two farthings and a knife.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said nothing more—I am quite sure he did not say as we went away "Oh, wait a minute, as my wife is inside"—he said nothing about having left two persons in the house—he has been out on bail.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
The COURT considered that matter was entirely a mistake, and that the prisoner left the dock without a stain on his character.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
ELLEN EXTEN . I am the wife of George Exten, who keeps a general shop at 22, Chester Street, Kennington—on 17th April I was serving, the prisoner came in between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and asked for an ounce of tea, half a pound of sugar, and a quarter of fourteen butter, which together came to 6 1/2 d.—she laid a florin down in payment—I noticed it looked greasy, picked it up and put it under my teeth, and it bent easily—I said to her "It is bad"—she said. "It is not"—I said "Yes it is"—she picked it up quickly and said "I will take it back where I got it from; put these things away," and she would call for them again—she left the shop, came back and paid for the articles with good money—she then said she had not been able to take it back where she had taken it from—this day week I went to the police-station and picked the prisoner out from seven or eight others.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have seen you several times before—this was the only time you brought me bad money—you have always given me good money both before and after.
SARAH ANN FOSTER . I am a widow, and keep a draper's shop at 29, Long Lane, Bermondsey—on 6th May, about 9.30 p.m., the prisoner came in and asked for two yards of linsey at 2 3/4 d. a yard; that came to 5 1/2 d.—she tendered half-a-crown—I gave her 2s. 0 1/2 d. change, and then tried the half-crown in the tester and broke it—I made a communication to my son—he stopped her; I told her it was bad—she said she did not know it was bad, but a gentleman had given it to her in the Walworth Road the previous night—a constable was sent for and I gave her in charge.
Cross-examined. You said you were an unfortunate girl.
WILLIAM CLEMENTS (Policeman M 114). I was called to Mrs. Foster's, and the prisoner was given into my charge for tendering a bad half-crown—as soon as we left the shop on the way to the station she said "For God's sake, policeman, let me go; I did not know it was a bad one"—when charged at the station she said she did not know the half-crown was a bad one; she had it given to her by a gentleman in the Walworth Road—she said she was a prostitute—she was searched by the female searcher—1 1/2 d. good money was found on her—I asked her address; she said 22, East Street, Walworth—on 7th May I said "You had better give me your correct address, as 22, East Street, Walworth, is a false address"—she said "Yes, I did not want my friends to know it"—I said "You had better tell me where you do live," and she said "20, Golden Place, Chester Place, Kennington"—that was correct.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
ARTHUR YULE . I am assistant to Harry Clifford, a grocer, at 265, Old Kent Road—on 1st May the prisoner came in between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon and asked for a shilling bottle of pickles and tendered this half-crown (produced), which I gave to the constable.
JAMES DOBSON . I am manager at Mr. Clifford's—on 1st May, in the afternoon, Yule handed me this half-crown and made a communication at the same time, in consequence of which I came to the front of the counter, saw the prisoner there, and said to him "Where did you get this from?"—he said "It is my wages"—I said "Where do you work?"—he said "Blackfriars Road"—I said "Where?"—he said nothing—he produced a good florin and a good half-crown—I sent for a constable and gave him in charge and handed the half-crown to the constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said at the station, not at the shop, that you did not belong to London at all.
JAMES FOYLE . I live at 2, Cross Street, Bermondsey, and am a leather dresser—on 1st May, in the afternoon, I was in the Castle in the Old Kent Road about 4 o'clock, about 100 yards away from No. 265—I saw the prisoner there with two other men, and money was passing between them, which attracted my attention—I don't know if the prisoner gave it to them or they to him—the other two left and came back again, and then they all left in company and went towards the Dun Cow—when I left I noticed the other two standing outside the grocer's shop, 265—I did not see the prisoner—I went down the road as far as the Dun Cow and came back—the other men were still standing outside—I did not see the prisoner—the constable brought a young man into the shop—one of the other men called him in, I don't know if the prisoner heard.
ALFRED CHASE (Policeman M 131). I was called to Clifford's shop, and Mr. Dobson gave the prisoner into custody—I said "Where did you get this half-crown?"—he said "I got it for my wages from a second-hand shop in the Blackfriars Road"—I asked him the number of the shop—he said "I don't know"—I asked his address—he said he had got none—I searched him and found a florin, a half-crown, a penny, all good money, and a piece of coal, which they carry for luck.
Cross-examined. At the station you said you did not belong to London.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "That man is telling lies."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had worked at Grimsby on a fishing smack, but came to London to find employment, and on this afternoon met two men who asked for a drink, that he stood them one and then went down to the shop and they followed him. He denied all knowledge that the half-crown was bad.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
ALEXANDER WILKS . I am a grocer, of 9, Barlow Street, Walworth—about 12.15 on the night of 15th April the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of cheese and tendered in payment a half-crown—I was getting out the change and placed a shilling and two sixpences on the counter—he picked it up and ran away without waiting for the 5d.—nothing had been said—on seeing him do this I put the half-crown in my mouth and bit it easily, I could have bent it in two—I followed after the prisoner and brought him back and said "This is a bad half-crown"—he said "Is it?" and he put back the shilling and the two sixpences I had given him and took the cheese out of his hand—I saw the police-sergeant afterwards—I saw the prisoner again I suppose about 2.30 the same night—I was woke out of my bed to go to the station—I let him go when I had brought him back.
By the COURT. He ran out; he had got about six yards from the shop when I overtook him—I halloaed after him and he stopped; he hadn't been out of the shop a second—I could not say whether he ran or walked out, it was very dark, and my shop being shut up I could not see.
FREDERICK BREWER (Police Sergeant P 32). I received information from the last witness, in consequence of which I stopped the prisoner about 120 yards from this shop in another street, about 1.40 in the morning, and told him I should arrest him for passing a bad half-crown—he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, where he said his memory was gone, he had no memory whatever—I searched him and found 3 1/2 d. in bronze, good money—he had been drinking, but was not drunk; he was shamming drunkenness—he knew he had 3 1/2 d. in his pocket behind—he would not know that if he had been drunk—he said he had no home—I believe he has been suffering from illness—he walked to the station with me quite right, without limping—he had no stick or anything—I noticed no lameness.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries; you were in the infirmary five weeks ago.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have no memory whatever of this bad half-crown."
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had two or three half-pints given him in a public-house, and remembered nothing more till the sergeant came to him.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy. — One Month without Hard Labour.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
MATTHEW CHICK (Policeman M 225). On Saturday, 3rd May, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I was in Mint Street and saw the prisoner with two other men—they left the Mint and returned about 4.30 separately—about 5.15 I received some information and saw him in the Borough, out of which Mint Street is a turning—I was in company with Kenny—we stopped the prisoner and said we should search him as we supposed he had counterfeit coin in his possession—he said "All right, I have got no money"—Kenny held his hands and I searched him—in his watch pocket I found these four counterfeit florins (produced) wrapped up in newspaper—he gave the name of Michael Johnson, and when he was called out of the cell at the police-court he gave the names of Jones, Cane, and Jim Donovan.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't know if you gave those names for a lark—I put it down in my book at the time—I told you there was one attempted to be put down at Mrs. Willis's by Tom Bracketts, who was in your company—I did not hear you say you had picked them up.
Re-examined. The prisoner and Bracketts were in company about 5.15, standing at a shop in the neighbourhood.
ROBERT KENNY (Policeman M 205). I was in company with Chick in the Borough and Mint Street on 3rd May—I saw the prisoner, in company with two others, leave the Mint, and afterwards return separately—subsequently we saw the prisoner come along the Borough—one man returned about 4.15, another about 4.45, and the prisoner about 5.15, when we saw him speaking to the second man at the corner of Red Cross Street—I arrested him about 5.30 in Blackman Street, Borough, and told him we had suspicion of his having counterfeit coin on him and should search him—I got hold of his hands and held them behind him—he said "I have got no money"—the other constable searched him—I saw him take this paper with this money out of his left-hand pocket—the prisoner said "I saw a man run down Redcross Street and throw something away, I picked it up and that is what it is"—it had been raining that day; the paper was quite dry—at the station he said "What I get I will have to do, it will make a man of me"—that was before he was charged.
Cross-examined. I got hold of both your hands—when Chick got it out he said "I have found it."
Re-examined. He made no reply when charged; there was no other money found on him.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These coins are all bad and from the same mould—passers of counterfeit coin wrap them up separately like this to preserve them, and then take them out when they utter them—they are usually wrapped in tissue paper.
GUILTY .†— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
COOK PLEADED GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. MR. POLAND, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against SMITH— NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
RICHARD CHARLES LEACH . I live at 115, Fairfield Road, Bow, and am a carman and wheelwright—I have a stable and yard at Wick Lane, Hackney Wick, about a quarter of a mile from my house—on 26th December I had a cart in my yard—I saw it safe on that day at 11 or 12 o'clock a.m.—on the 27th I went at midday and found the cart was not there—the prisoner had been working for me as a wheelwright for three or four months before that—about a month before I had had this cart painted by Mr. Tabb a dark green, picked out light green, and with my initials on both sides and back—the value of the cart was about 20l.—I never saw it again.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was a new second-hand cart, the wheels were not new, they were quite as good as new, they had done no work.
JOHN ALBERT TABB . I live at 19, Audrey Place, Shoreditch, and am a painter and writer—I know the prisoner—in November I painted a cart for Mr. Leach dark green, picked out with light green, and the initials R. L. on it in gold on the panels, on two sides, and the back—I saw the cart in the yard on Christmas Day—on the 27th December I saw it again in Thomas Street, Hackney Road, or Kingsland Road, at 2 o'clock, in the road outside the Marquis of Lansdowne—the prisoner and another man were with it, and there was a pony in the shafts—between 2 and 3 I saw him in Old Street riding in the cart with the same man.
Cross-examined. I did not paint a name on in full, it was only the initials.
ALFRED NEEVES . I am a general dealer, of 33, Harbour Street, Kingland Road—on 27th December I was in the Marquis of Lansdowne public-house, Kingsland Road, Shoreditch—the prisoner came in about 2 o'clock, and said "I have got a cart I will sell you"—I said "I don't want no carts"—I opened the door and looked outside, and saw a pony and cart standing outside—another man was with the prisoner, and he shoved the door open and said, in the hearing of the prisoner, "Here, come along, he won't buy it."
Cross-examined. You did not say the cart belonged to you—you did not drive the cart away, the other man led it—you did not get up in it, you both walked away.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I stole no cart at all."
The prisoner in his defence stated that a man brought him the cart to repair, that he did so, and then the man said it was for sale; that he declined to buy it himself, but said he would call on Neeves and ask if he would; and that he offered him 10s. commission.
J. A. TABB (Re-examined). There are initials on it, but no name; it was for sale. I did not tell the Magistrate there were no initials
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
JOHN MILLS . I am a general dealer, of 99, Wells Street, Camberwell—in September, 1881, the prisoner had a workshop at the Cornwall Mews, Cornwall Road, Lambeth—on 28th September he took away from my premises the body of a cart to put some new shafts on it—30s. was agreed on as the price for them—about a fortnight after he told me he had finished the cart, and I paid him 7s. 6d. on account, and then he drew half a sovereign, 17s. 6d. in all—a few days after that I went to his workshop, and there found the body of the cart—I went again afterwards, and found it was gone away—he had left nothing there but his name on the signboard; the place was shut up, and no one knew where he had gone to—he is a wheelwright—I next saw him on the Thursday before Good Friday, 10th April, at Mr. Brittain's shop, near the Surrey Theatre, in the Blackfriars Road, about half-past 6 o'clock in the evening—I looked in the shop; he said "Halloa, is that you?"—I said "Yes"—he said "You can do with your cart?"—I said "Well, I suppose its most time"—he said "Well, I have sold it"—I said "Have you! I shall lock you up for it"—he said "Don't lock me up, and I will make you a new one in place of it"—he came out at the door and then came back, saying he had left some eels in the basin—it was an eel-shop—he went back into Mr. Brittain's, and I did not go in—he came out of the eel-shop again; I was standing at the door, I followed him up the Blackfriars Road—he said "Then you intend to follow me?"—I said "Yes, I am determined to see where you live"—he said "I live a long way off here, we had better have a cab"—I said "Never mind about a cab, I will walk"—I walked till the prisoner walked into a constable's arms, and then I gave him into custody—I have never seen my cart—it was worth about 5l.
Cross-examined. When I came into your shop the shafts weren't in the cart; there was no tail-board made for it—I did not want to take it away without paying for it—I and my man did not want to fight you, that is what you are good for—I gave 3l. 15s. for the cart, and it was worth 5l. with the shafts—you never touched it—you sold a horse for me, and I gave you 7s. 6d. for it.
GEORGE SIMPSON (Policeman L 40). On the night of 10th April, about a quarter to 8 o'clock, I was on duty in Blackfriars Road, and the prisoner ran into my arms—Mills came up and gave him in charge for stealing the body of a cart and 17s. 6d.—the prisoner said "I stole the cart, but will make another one instead if he will give me time; I had the brokers in, you know"—I did not know that.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The cart was finished six months. I had no money on it whatever."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he put tail-board and shafts to the cart, and the prosecutor came one day to try and take it away without his knowledge; and that then the brokers came into his house and took this cart away with the other things.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a previous conviction of felony in April, 1872.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
ELIZABETH JANE WYETH . I am a nurse in the Croydon Union Infirmary, and have been so for the last four years and eight months—I attend to the ward known as No. 3 Ward—I remember the prisoner coming into the infirmary early this year—he was there from about 7th January up to 18th February—I don't quite remember the date—he then discharged himself—at that time he was suffering from chronic bronchitis as I understood—he came again into the infirmary on 28th February, still suffering from the same complaint, and remained there up to the Good Friday when this assault was committed—he was in No. 3 Ward all that time and I attended to him—the doctor attended to him during that time constantly—I remember his making a request or complaint to me on the morning of Good Friday about 9 o'clock—he said he had not passed any water—he did not ask me to do anything then—he said nothing about the doctor; he merely complained he had not passed his water—I examined his chamber utensil, and found no ground for that complaint—I said to him "You have passed water; you are telling me an untruth, you have passed water"—he said nothing to that—later in the day, about 5 o'clock on Good Friday afternoon, he asked me to send for the doctor—he did not say why—he was up and walking about the ward then—he was up at 9 o'clock when I gave him his medicine, and when he made the previous observation—he was able to get up—I said "Garland, there is no necessity to send for the doctor; I shall not do so"—the doctor had seen him the day before—all the time he was there I had strictly obeyed the doctor's directions with reference to him—he said nothing else after that at 5 o'clock—at 6.15 I was giving some medicine to an inmate named Finch, an old man who was in bed at the time—I left Garland sitting by the fire when I went to give the medicine to Finch—that was five or six yards from the bed in which Finch was—while giving the medicine to Finch I felt a violent blow on the head which knocked me down—it seemed to be at the side of my head and came from behind—I did not see the person who inflicted it—while down I felt a second blow on my head; that stunned me—when I recovered I was out of the ward—I had been removed, and was on the stairs—after that the doctor saw me, and I remained in bed from 10 to 12 days from those injuries—I am still suffering from the effects of them.
Cross-examined. I am the nurse in No. 3 Ward—there are no other nurses besides me in the day—it is a pauper place—there are fourteen paupers in No. 3 Ward—it is a male ward; they are all men, and most of them are old men—I have the sole charge of the fourteen paupers in this place during the day—I do not know that another of the paupers cut his throat that night—I don't remember that he did the night after—not in the ward—the prisoner had been constantly complaining and asking for the doctor, and at times saying he was in great pain—he appeared to be suffering from the irritation of pain—he did not tell me when he asked me to send for the doctor that he was in great pain—I said very gently that it was not necessary, and that I would not send for the doctor—Finch is over eighty—it was a little over an hour after I had
told the prisoner it was not necessary to send for the doctor that I turned to give Finch his physic—I had not been in the ward for that hour—there was a man in the ward to take care of the paupers during that hour—Ward, a pauper inmate, is in charge of the ward between 9 and 6.30—I don't know how old he is—I had been giving physic to several before I turned to Finch—the prisoner did not speak to me again when I came into the ward—he was then sitting by the fire; no other paupers were near him—there are beds in this ward for each patient—the prisoner had been up the whole of the day—while I was attending to Finch this cruel assault was made on me—he did not ask me when I came in again to send for the doctor, I am positive about that.
Re-examined. Ward, the ward-man, had been in that ward all day long assisting me in looking after the patients—he was not in the ward when I was giving the medicine to Finch; he was on the landing outside—I did not see him go out; I knew he was outside on the landing——the prisoner had frequently asked for the doctor before, while he was in, without cause; the doctor always thoroughly examined him—the doctor was sent for from time to time, and he attended to him—he was not sent for after that—he saw him every day.
JAMES WARD . I am ward's-man of No. 3 Ward in Croydon Union Infirmary—I have been there 12 months—during that time the nurse Wyeth has been there in the same ward with me. (MR. AVORY proceeded to ask a question as to the nurse's kindness and attention. MR. PURCELL intimated that he did not impute neglect or misbehaviour on the nurse's part.) During the time the prisoner has been there I have been in the habit of attending to him and to the other patients—I saw him there on this Good Friday; I was in and out there all day long; he was up and walking about in the ward; he had been in bed a fortnight previously—on this day he was up—in the evening about about 6.15 I left the room and was on the landing outside attending to some duties I had to do there, washing cups—while outside I heard the nurse call out "I am being murdered"—I went back into the ward and found the prisoner at the foot of the bed with the poker in his hand—it was the next bed to Finch's—I took the poker from him and placed it in the fender; when I did so he said "I hope I have murdered her; I intended to do so"—at that time the nurse Wyeth was under the bed; he had knocked her down under the bed; there was no valens to the bed—I assisted in taking her out of the ward—after I had taken her out I returned to the ward; the prisoner was sitting on his own bed, there was a knife on the bed, which I took away; it was one of the knives used there; I did not see him with the knife in his hand—he said he had cut his hands—I could not tell the words exactly—he showed me his hands, there were marks on them, they were bleeding—I did not notice them exactly; he did not say anything else—I was then ordered to clean the floor where he had been bleeding and where the nurse had been bleeding—this bed of his is about three yards from Finch's—I took the knife away; he said nothing else about it or why he had cut his hands—the deputy-master, Mr. Stevens, came up at the time, and the porter of the house, named Densor.
Cross-examined. There was nobody else in charge of the prisoner at that time, not till after this occurrence, after this he was placed in charge
of a man named Chick—Chick is in prison; I think he cut his throat, but not in the infirmary; it was at West Croydon Station I think—until this Good Friday the prisoner had been in bed—he was in a very bad weak state as far as I know; he appeared to be often in pain—he never asked me but twice for the doctor—I did not fetch the doctor; my duty was to report to the nurse—on the Good Friday, about 3 or 4 o'clock, I heard him ask the nurse for the doctor; he appeared to be in pain then—he asked me to call the nurse's attention to him, which I did—he said he was in pain about his water, he was troubled with the water, and I want the doctor—when I found him with the poker in his hand he was at the foot of the bed—I took it out of his hand; we did not have a struggle for it—I asked him what he did it for and he replied "I hope I have killed her; I intended to kill her"—I am quite certain those were the words—I was not particularly excited when I was before the Magistrates—these things do not occur in this ward—it would excite me a little—the words were not "I have murdered the nurse and intended to do so"—I believe I am speaking the truth—I am sixty-four years of age; my memory was better some years ago. (The words in the deposition were "I have murdered the nurse and intended to do so.") The man seemed very agitated—his hands were not cut when I took the poker from him—I left him to assist the nurse—he did not remain at the bed where I found him; he returned to his own bed and remained there—his bed is about three yards off Finch's—the beds range along the wall, and there are three or four on the other side—the prisoner's was on the other side of the room—it could not be a minute before I found him at his own bed—the backs of his hands were cut; the knife was not in his hands but on the bed—there was a great deal of blood—there were no other cuts about him besides on his hands, that I am sure of—I don't think I said anything to him then—the knife was close to his hands on the bed—he did not show the least anger or violence towards me—he appeared excited.
Re-examined. The ward is a long narrow room, longer than wide—the beds go along at the side of the ward, nine beds on one side and two on the other, and the fireplace is between these two—the prisoner's bed was at the far end of the ward, and was one of the two at the side of the fireplace—Finch's bed was one of the nine on the other side—the three yards distance was across the room.
WILLIAM FINCH . I was 84 on 24th last April—I am an inmate of the Croydon Union Infirmary, and have been there three or four months as nearly as I can tell—on Good Friday last I was in No. 3 ward; I was ill in bed—I occupy one of the nine beds along the side of the wall—I remember seeing the prisoner; he occupied one of the beds on the other side of the ward—I remember on Good Friday afternoon, about 6 o'clock in the evening, the nurse coming to give me my physic—the prisoner was sitting alongside the fire like that (Leaning his head down upon his hands)—she gave me my physic, and was putting the cork in the bottle, when I heard the blow come like that, and it knocked her up against my bed—the prisoner did it—I did not see him get up from where he was sitting; I did not see him till he hit her; I saw him hit her with the poker—I cannot say exactly whether he hit her at the side of the head the first time, it was somewhere on the head—this is the poker (produced)—he was sitting at the fireplace resting his head on the poker for some
time—I saw more than one blow—he hit her somewhere on the back part of the head—she was down alongside my bed, and when he hit her the second blow she went under the next bed—the first blow knocked her down—my bed is opposite the fireplace—he never spoke—I saw Ward come in and take her away, and take the poker away from the prisoner—I did not hear anything the prisoner said to Ward when he came in—I had not heard him speak to the nurse that afternoon, at least I did not take notice—I was bad again—the doctor was there the day before and saw me and saw them all—I can't remember anything he said to the nurse or anything about the doctor that afternoon; I believe he did speak, but I did not take much notice.
Cross-examined. The doctor was there the day before; he saw all 14 of us; he did not stay long, as he had other wards to go to—he comes to see whether we are getting better or worse—he might stop half an hour or not quite so long as that—he comes and looks at all the 14—he comes independently of being asked to come; he comes every day about 11 o'clock—I did not take any notice if he had been there on Good Friday morning—he comes on Sundays—I believe the prisoner asked for the doctor that morning, I think I heard him—I don't remember whether he asked her to send for the doctor in the afternoon, and whether she said, "It is no use, he has done all he can for you"—I was ill myself—the prisoner stayed quiet enough, leaning his hands on the poker—he did not appear to me in pain; he was always like that—he pretended he was always in pain; he said he could not make water, and when we laid in bed we heard him do it—I thought he was shamming—I don't think that made him angry—if when I was ill some one said I was shamming it would make me angry—sometimes we had to tell him he was shamming—I think when I was in the witness-box before the Magistrate that the prisoner called out "I was in great pain, and asked the nurse to send for the doctor as I was in great pain"; I won't be sure about it—after the prisoner struck the blow he went back and sat on his own bed.
Re-examined. When he did so I did not see him doing anything with the knife—I heard that the wardsman went back and picked the knife off the bed—I have no complaint to make about the doctor or about the nurse.
By the COURT. I have come from the infirmary here.
GEORGE WILLIAM STEVENS . I am deputy master of the Croydon Union Infirmary—I remember the prisoner coming into the infirmary about 17th January and leaving on 18th February—he discharged himself—he came back on 28th February into the infirmary, and was admitted on each occasion as suffering from bronchitis; that was what the doctor stated after he was admitted—I have the certificate here—they go to the relieving officer—the prisoner got into and out of bed when he liked—I had seen him from time to time when he was there—I heard this disturbance on Good Friday, and heard what had happened, and I went through to the ward after my wife, Marian Stevens, went there—I spoke to the prisoner when I went, he was then sitting on a bed, not his, but one opposite to his own, one of the nine, the next bed to Finch's—I said "What did you assault the nurse for?"—he said "She should have sent for the doctor"—I said "That was no occasion for you to assault the nurse"—he said "I wish I had killed
her"—Ward was at the side of his bed so that he could hear what was said—when I went into the ward I found the prisoner had a towel round both hands—afterwards I asked the person at the other side, and he said he had cut his hands, and I undid the towel—I asked him what he had done, and he said cut his hands, and I got strapping and lint and bound up his hands—I found five cuts on both hands, three on one and two on the other, on the backs of his hands—they were short cuts, I suppose about half an inch long, they were bleeding at the time—he did not say anything at all about them—I put strapping plaster on—I then sent for the doctor, Mr. Horsley, and he came in about twenty minutes—the prisoner said to the doctor "You are my murderer"—the doctor said "Don't talk so foolish"—he said "The nurse should have sent for you"—he said he was very bad—he said he wanted him to pass an instrument so that he could pass water—he said "I wanted to pass some water, I haven't passed water all day, I want an instrument passed"—the doctor then examined him.
Cross-examined. The cuts on his hands were not bleeding very much, they had bled very much—the men at the side of the bed told me he had cut his hands—Ward is one of them—they did not tell me they had seen him cut his hands—he said to the doctor "You are my murderer. I asked the nurse to send for you, as I was very bad"—he appeared to be in pain—he did not seem excited—he is sixty-two—that night I sat up in the adjoining room and saw him five or six times in the course of the night—I asked him how he was, he said he was very bad—Mr. Chick was in charge of him—Mr. Chick cut his throat afterwards, for which he got three months—he did not cut his throat on this occasion in the infirmary.
Re-examined. Chick did not cut it this night—he cut it on the West Croydon railway bridge, it had nothing to do with the infirmary—he had been discharged from the infirmary—my opinion is he did it out of temper.
MARIAN STEVENS . I am the last witness's wife—I am head nurse of the infirmary and have been there a year and six months; during that time Nurse Wyeth has been the nurse of No. 3 ward—I heard of this assault having been committed on Good Friday evening, and went up into the ward—I cannot say exactly if I went up before my husband, I was giving some clothes out, I went up as soon as possible, the nurse was just being brought out of the ward—I went up and said "Whoever has done this?"—the prisoner said "I have, and I have done it with the poker"—at that time he was standing near Finch's bed, where it was done—he said "I wanted to bash her brains out; if I haven't done it, if I get the chance I will do so," and to some one else, but who he meant I do not know—at that time Ward had taken the poker away from him, and Ward had taken the knife from him—I noticed at that time that the prisoner's hands were cut—I looked at them—he said "Yes, I have done that with a knife"—I said "Whatever did you do that for?"—he was working his hands this way to make them bleed more, he was in like a pool of blood, and I sat him down on one of the beds—his hands were bleeding—he said nothing more about them.
medical officer of the infirmary there—I have an assistant who assists me in attending the patients at the infirmary—we both attend there daily—I know the prisoner as a patient, and remember his being in between the 7th January and 18th February—he then discharged himself and came in again on 28th February—on each occasion he was admitted as suffering from chronic bronchitis—while under my charge I detected nothing else the matter with him except general debility; a broken-down constitution—after the 28th February I always attended to him—he had medicine constantly while he was being treated—I gave instructions to the nurse how he was to be treated—as far as I saw she always carried out my instructions—before Good Friday he used to complain of various symptoms at different times—he used to pass but little water—his water being scanty and thick, he complained of that—he used to speak of not being able to pass his water, and ask for assistance—he had no difficulty in passing it; he had no water in his bladder to pass—that was his general state of health, and disease of his heart—it was part of his general symptoms—I saw him on the Thursday before Good Friday—when I saw him in the morning up to Good Friday he was in bed then, but he used to lie in bed or get up as he wished—I had allowed him clothes, and so allowed him to get up when he wished—I did not see him on the Good Friday until I was sent for—I was in the building, but I did not go into all the wards on Good Friday—my assistant did not go into that ward—we went to the infirmary every day; but there are so many wards—I had seen him on the Thursday—I was fetched to the infirmary a little after 6 o'clock—I saw nurse Wyeth—I had been told the prisoner assaulted her—I examined her, and found she had a scalp wound on the top of her head about an inch long—it was an incised wound, but you may have an incised wound caused by a blunt instrument where there is little flesh—she had also another wound on the outside of the left eye which had injured the eyeball; that was bleeding—they were both bleeding at the time—the wound outside the eye might also have been caused by the poker—it could not have been caused by contact with the bed, it must have been by a blow across the cheekbone—she was in bed in consequence of those injuries for 10 or 12 days afterwards, and is still suffering—it is doubtful whether the eye can be saved; time only can show that—she is not able to attend to her duties—soon after that I saw the prisoner—I don't recollect the words he used when he first saw me—the substance was, I was his murderer; that was one thing he said—I don't recollect the remark I made then; I simply said he must be given into custody for the assault on the nurse; that was all I said—I cannot recollect whether he said anything about my being sent for or not being sent for; he may have done so—I think he must have made some complaint, the usual complaint which attracted my attention—I then examined his bladder to see whether there was water; I found his bladder was quite empty—there was nothing in it—I am satisfied that at that time he was not suffering any pain from stricture or anything of that kind—there might be pain, but nothing to pass—stricture is an impediment—he could always pass water, but it was so scanty—my attention was called to the fact that he had passed his water that morning; besides, I often explained to him he had no obstruction—I observed he had cuts on his hands—
they had some strapping on, which I did not interfere with, but I was told they were merely superficial—I had no conversation with him—he was taken into custody next morning.
Cross-examined. I left directions that he should be watched by two men that night—I thought it was right not to leave him unprotected—his complaint that he could not pass water, and the water being scanty, is a symptom sometimes of brain irritation—this was the only time he said I had been his murderer—he was constantly complaining, he always told me of this complaint—he never complained of any wrongs done to him by anybody—he did not appear in pain, he used to worry himself a good deal, I do not think he was in actual suffering—I could not discern any pain—I cannot discover the cause of every pain—a man might be in great pain, especially in regard to urinary organs, and I not able to say what the cause was—this man might be in great pain—the anxiety to make water is a symptom of brain irritation, and that would aggravate it—he is sixty-two it may be—I have 200 patients under my care, some of them are simply bedridden—the prisoner has been under my constant care, nearly every day I have seen him—I have not seen him more than the other thirteen in this ward, I have attended him as much as the others—I do not think he is insane or a proper subject for a lunatic asylum—I was told he had been moving his hands backwards and forwards to open the wounds—I did not think he might be left alone—I should not think he ought to be left unprotected in a ward—I thought he might have done himself injury, and that therefore he should be protected.
Re-examined. I never observed any evidence of his suffering from brain irritation, from insanity—he was always perfectly rational and appeared to understand everything I said—there may be brain irritation without insanity—I never observed any symptom of insanity—I never observed any signs of the man not knowing perfectly well what was going on around him.
JOHN LOCK (Policeman W 1). On 12th April I went to the infirmary and took the prisoner into custody—I told him I took him into custody for assaulting nurse Wyeth with intent to do her grievous bodily harm—he replied "Very well"—that was all.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of Clerkenwell Prison—the prisoner has been in my charge since he has been in prison there—I have attended to and prescribed for him—he had been suffering from chronic bronchitis—as far as his mental condition was concerned, I found no evidence at all of insanity or of the man not knowing what was going on about him.
Cross-examined. He has complained of difficulty in making water—I think it was an unreasonable complaint, he was not suffering from any retention of urine—he has made no complaint of me—he has not suggested that I have been murdering him, or made complaints of anybody else—he has not complained that the other doctor was killing him by inches—he has been very passive and well-behaved since he has been under my care and has had nothing like torpidity—he has made complaints about difficulty in passing water without cause—I have examined his bladder—he has appeared to be in pain—pain of that kind would make a man irritable in temper, it would not cause brain irritation—if
he had some fancied malady of that kind and wanted to see a doctor and was refused, I should think very likely that would make him specially irritable.
Re-examined. He varies in the condition he is in, he is generally like he is now.
By the COURT. I examined his bladder—there was practically no water in it, only a few drops—I do not think that is an abnormal state of things, not if a man has not been drinking anything.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of felony in December, 1875.— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JUNE 23RD, 1884.