CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
NOTTAGE, MAYOR. SECOND SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that thy have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDIESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, December 15th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MESSRS. WILDEY WRIGHT and FOOKS Defended.
JOHN MACEY . I am a ratepayer of the parish of Hammersmith—cm 23rd August I sent a cheque for 1l. 18s. 9d. addressed to the prisoner at his residence, 3, Park Villas, Ravenscourt Park, and got back this receipt signed "F. Mansell."
Cross-examined. In the cheque I sent I included a Mr. Hetherington's account as well as my own—the prisoner came to me about saven days afterwards, on 1st September, and personally gave me the receipt.
PHILIP JOHN HUBBARD . I am a ratepayer of hammersmith—a day or two before 21st September I went to the prisoner's house, 3, Park Villas, and left 1l. 10s. there—this receipt was sent to me subsequently.
Cross-examined. I had a summons—aday was fixed for payment and it was paid.
JAMES SAUNDERS . I live at Andover Road. Hammersmith, and am a house agent—when there were defaulters in collecting the poor rates the prisoner was in the habit of employing me to collect them—for that purpose he entrusted me with the official receipts from the receipt book, and I proceeded to get in the moneys—this is a memorandum book kept by me—I should have the whole of the defaulter's receipts given to me—I got 81 receipts mentioned by numbers in this book—I collected up to the amount of 50l. paid by 31 ratepayers, and I gave the prisoner a cheque for 50l.—this is my cheque on my bankers to Mansell's order; it is endorsed by him—it has come back, and I have been charged with it—I hen proceeded, and got 34 further sums amounting to 70l. on 11th September, and I gave the prisoner a cheque for 70l.—that cheque was
endorsed by him, and has been paid—after that 16 ratepayers paid up 26l. 4s. 6d. by 23rd September—I settled up with the prisoner, and gave him a cheque for the amount, which he endorsed—it came back to me and was paid.
Cross-examined. The defendant had a copy of this book—I was employed by the defendant and another agent—I received 2s. commission—I did not deduct that from the amount I received from the ratepayers—there was an arrangement entered into by the prisoner and the other collector by which I received 1s. from the poor rate and 2s. from the general rate—I collected from the defaulters—I pay over the exact amount I collect—I know the prisoner's father—I saw him on 30th September—I did not advise him to remove the goods from the prisoner's house, he was already removing them when I was there.
Re-examined. The prisoner collected the poor rate only—he had a duplicate of this book with the numbers and names of the defaulters—I had separate receipts for the poor rate and general rate—I always paid theprisoner the exact amount I received.
WILLIAM POWELL COCKBURN . I am Vestry Clerk of Hammersmith, and reside at Hounslow—after 1882 the prisoner was employed as collector of the poor rate in No. 3 district—the writ made in May was put into his hands for collection in that district—the receipt-book is in three parts, the demand note, the official receipt, and the counterfoil—they are all numbered—the ratepayer's number is a different one—it was the prisoner's duty to pay in to the overseers' banking account the moneys he received from time to time—he went on collecting the rate of May, 1884, down to the end of August—the numbers in the receipt-book were then checked, and I certified as to their correctness—in September I find entries of the amounts collected by the prisoner, in his handwriting—the last entry of a receipt is on September 11th—there is no entry of any sum received by him after that—I find entries by him of paying in 103l. 4s. 4d. on 5th September, and 90l. on 11th September, and 7l. 7s. on 15th September—that was the last payment in by him—the number of the ratepayers and the amounts due are eet out—there is no entry of any one of the 81 ratepayers which make up the amount that Mr. Saunders paid over to the prisoner—there is no entry of 1l. 18s. 9d. from Mr. Macey, 1l. 13s. 6d. from Mr. Hubbard, or 1l. 10s. from Mr. Ladd—these are the official receipts for those amounts signed by the prisoner—the May collection would close at 4 o'clock on Monday, 29th September—I had seen the prisoner two or three days before—I did not know that he was going away—in the ordinary course he would have been there on the 29th when the rode was closed—he would pay the money into the bank to close the rate—I had no knowledge that he had used Mr. Saunders's two cheques of 50l. and 70l. in order to pay the amounts he had entered in the book, or that he had paid the 26l. 4s. 6d. to his own account.
Cross-examined. As far as I know he has borne an honourable character up to this time—I have personally given him instructions as to his duties and as to his paying in moneys—I was not aware that he kept a private account at the same bank as the parish account was kept, until after 29th September—I may have had such a cheque, but I do not remember it—I checked the accounts of the parish with the bank every month—I had no means of knowing whether the amounts were paid by cheque
or cash—the collector has to use his own discretion about taking cheques from ratepayers—if he does take a cheque it should be paid in direct to the overseers' account—in balancing the accounts a collector may have a small amount left in his hands; if so he should pay it in immediately afterwards—the parish had a guarantee with the prisoner to the amouut of 500l.—he was paid a poundage of 5d. in the pound; that was paid quarterly—his poundage due in December would be paid, I should think, before 27th January, but I do not know—the prisoner would have to collect from about 3,000 ratepayers—in the last quarter, from June to Michaelmas, the sum he paid in to the overseers' account was 2,928l. 1s. 1d.—his poundage would amount to about 66l., and 13l. for preparing jury lists—he assisted Mr. Otterage, another collector, for a short time, about a fortnight or three weeks—on 29th September the prisoner's father came to me and asked if it was not paying-in day—he did not ask if anything was wanting and offer to pay the money—I told him I could not tell without seeing the books, and I suggested that he should go and get me the books, and I would examine mem and let him know what amount the prisoner was short—I think he gave me the books; he gave me everything I asked for—he did not sav, "There will be no difficulty about the money; it can be paid in gold, if you like, at any moment"—the account was very clear, not at all complicated.
Re-examined. I include in the 2,900l. that he paid in, the 50l. and 70l. from Mr. Saunders's cheques—the prisoner's father said he did not know where his son was—when I had the books I made out from the counterfoils an account of the missing official receipts, of which no trace was found in the books—the total amount of the missing receipts was 238l.—when I said there would be no pro'secution I assumed that the money would be paid—about 7,000l. or 8,000l. would pass through the prisoner's hands annually.
FRANK LEE . I am chief clerk at the Hammersmith branch of the London and County Bank, Limited—I produce a copy from the ledger of the account of the overseers with that bank from 25th August to 4th November; it bears the signature of the manager—the ledger is one of the books kept by the bank—the collectors pay in money in their own names to the account of the overseers—on 5th September there is an entry of Mansell, 103l. 4s. 4d.—I also produce the paying-in slip of that amount on that day; it corresponds with the entry in the ledger—there is an amount of 50l. on this credit slip—I am able to say that that was Saunders's cheque—on 11th September 90l. is certified; the paying-in slip in the prisoner's writing shows that to be composed of 20l. in cash and 20l. by Saunders's cheque—on 15th September there is 7 guineas in the ledger account—on the 29th 2l. 11s. 3d. was paid in in the name of Mansell—those are the only payments in the ledger account to the overseers in September—I also produce under the hand of the manager a copy from the ledger of Manaell's account with the same bank—I find there a credit of 26l. 4s. 6d. on 23rd September—this is the paying in slip—by the waste book I find that 26l. 4s. 6d. was Saunders's cheque—on 26th September the prisoner drew out 30l.; that left 1l. 19s. 4d. over-drawn.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had a private account at our bank erer since he was appointed collector—I do not think he has ever paid in to
his private account cheques drawn on the parish account; it may have been so on one or two occasions, I don't know.
Re-examined. His account began on 1st April—it amounted to about 340l. in all in six months.
GEORGE MUSSERIN . I am a clerk in the office of the Vestry of Hammersmith—on 29th September I paid in 2l. 11s. 3d. to the account of the overseers; it was money brought in in Mansel's collection, and I gaye Mansell's name for it.
HENRY JONES (Police Inspector P). On 1st October I went to 3, Pari Villas, tlavenscourt Park—the house was unoccupied—I had a warrant next morning to take the prisoner into custody—I endeavoured to find him—I succeeded in finding him on Tuesday, 7th October, at Debenham, in Suffolk—I told him I held a warrant for his arrest for embezzling poor-rates of the parish of Hammersmith—on the way to the lock-up he said, "I have lived with the money, we are not paid until after the accounts are passed; I was foolish to leave Hammersmith when I did, as I might have settled matters all right if I had stopped"—at the station the warrant was read to him, and he took it in his hand to read it for himself.
THOMAS APLIN MARSH . I am clerk to the Guardians of the Fulham Union—I produce a resolution of the Guardians of the Fulham Union of 26th October, 1882—I have tie minutes of the Board, by which the prisoner was appointed collector of poor-rates—I also produce the letter of 15th Novemoer, 1882, from the Local Government Board, sanctioning the appointment.
Cross-examined. There was a bond from the Guarantee Society—that was under the orders of the Poor Law Board.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury, in which the prosecution concurred. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
87. THOMAS ORCHARD (a soldier) (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing six sets of gold aiguilletes value 22l., the property of the Queen; also to stealing a knife of Edward Tipps.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, December 15th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
Artillery Bow, Westminster—on 1st December Dargan came ia and called for some rum hot, which came to 2 1/2 d., and tendered a half-crown—I placed it in the till and gave him 2s. 3 1/2 d. change—there was no other half-crown in the till at the time—he called a second time for something but I am not quite sure what it was—he tendered a half-crown—I placed that in the till with the other and gave him the change—Last was there at that time; I did not notice whether they came in together—Dargan treated Last to something after Last had been in there some time—he paid for that with bronze—I did not serve him with that—Dargan then called for a twopenny cigar—he tendered me a half-crown—I gave him the change—I had that half-crown in my hand when Mrs. dearie cam and spoke to me, and I took the money from the till and found these three half-crowns (produced)—I said, "They are all bad," and they were given to the police-officer, who marked them in my presence—Last was standing at the bar while this was going on—Dargan had been drinking, I should say.
JOHN FORD . I live at 5, Broadway, Westminsterr and am a licensed messenger—on 1st December I was in the Prince of Orange public-house between 7 and 8 p.m.—the two prisoners came in together, and I saw them talking together—Dargan was intoxicated, but I dare say he knew what he was about—Dargan called for half a quartern of rum and put down a piece oi money—the barmaid gave him change, and he took it up, and soon afterwards he called for some more—Laet ordered two-pennyworth of ginger brandy and paid for it—I saw Last slip something into Dargan's hands—his hands were down by his side, his pockets—I then went out of the bar to see if I could see a policeman—Dargan put down the second half-crown immediately after Last had slipped something into his hand—I saw it was bad as it laid on the counter—whet I came in I saw Dargan put down a third one, and Last said, "Come on, we had better go," and in consequence of this I went and Spoke to Mrs. Bearle—I saw the barmaid take these three coins (produced) from the till—I had known Dargan before.
SUSAN SEARLE . I am a widow, and manage the Prince of Orange public-house—on 1st December I was serving in one of the compartments of the bar—Ford made a communication to me, and I spoke to Miss Watson, who handed me a bad half-crown—I asked her what else she had taken, and she gave me these two others from the till, whiek I found were bad also—I then rang the bell for the potman to fetch a policeman, and gave the prisoners in charge with the coins—Dargan scuffled in the bar, he did not want to go—Last sat on a table quietly.
JOSEPH TYLER (Policeman B 75). I was called to the Prinee of Oratge on the evening of 1st December, and I went into the middle compartment—I left another constable named Wilcocks at the door—Mrs. Searle said, pointing to Dargan, "I give this man in charge for passing these three bad half-crowns"—I said, "You hear what the lady says"—Dargaa made no reply, but Last shouted over his shoulder, "They are all good ones"—I took Dargan, and Wilcocks took last—these are the three half-crowns, I marked them—when the charge was read over Dargan said to Last, "This is all through you, you" b----and struck him in the face—Dargan was the worse for liquor—Last was sober—he could walk to the station—I found on Dargan seven good shillings, two six—
pences, and 10 1/2 d. bronze, all good, and a cigar—Last gave a comet address.
Cross-examined by Last. Mrs. Searle said, "I give this man into custody," pointing to Dargan, not "these men."
THOMAS WILCOCKS (Policeman B 118). I took Last at the Prince of Orange—I told him the charge—he said on going to the station, "I know nothing of the other man whatever, I never saw him before to-night"—I searched him at the station, and found seven florins and 11 shilling pieces, a sixpence, and 2d. in bronze.
Cross-examined by Last. I took a third man at first from the description Ford had given me, and I took him to the station—Ford then told me it was the wrong man, and I then took you, and begged the other man's pardon.
Last in his defence stated that he went into the Prince of Orange, and Dargm afterwards came in and asked him to have a drink, and then Mrs. Searle gave him in custody.
LAST— NOT GUILTY .
DARGAN received an excellent character.— To enter into recognisances to appear for judgment when called upon.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM DAVIDSON . I am a corn dealer and baker, of 282, Gray's Inn Road—on the 26th November I saw the prisoner in my shop about 4 or 5 o'clock, he purchased 1 lb. of bread, price 1 1/2 d., and gave me a shilling—I gave him 10 1/2 d. change and put the coin into the till—I had some other money there, but this was a singular-looking shilling, and I tried it before I putit into the till—this is it (produoed)—on November 27th the prisoner came again for 1 lb. of bread and tendered another shilling—I gave him the change—I tested it, but it would not bend, and laid it on the top of the till" on 3rd December the prisoner came again for 1lb. of bread and tendered this shilling (produced)—it was the same looking shilling as the other two I had taken and I did not give him the change—I went round the counter and said I would go into the next shop and get change, and asked him to go in with me; it is a jeweller's shop, he went in with me—I took the coin with me—I said "Is this a good shilling"—he said "It is not a shilling at all"—I said "Will you detain this man while I get a policeman?"—the prisoner muttered something which I could not hear—I gave him in custody.
JOHN ROBINSON (Detective G.) On 3rd December I was called to 280, Gray's Inn Road, a jeweller's shop, next door to Mr. Davidson's, who said in the prisoner's presence, "I shall charge this man with passing this bad shilling on me to-day, he passed two on me last week"—the prisoner muttered something—I told him the charge—he said "A cahs man gave it to me for minding his horse"—I said "Can you describe the man?"—he said "No"—I said "Where do you work?"—he said "B is so many years since I did any I forget where it was"—I found this knife in his pocket with copper filings on the blade—these are the coins, one is
George IV. and one Victoria—he said that he could not account for the copper, he found the knife up the road—the woman side of this coin has been scraped out with a knife.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins were three farthings, two of the Queen and one of George IV., they have been flattened out to the size of shillings and then silvered over—I do not find any appearance of copper on this knife, it would come off readily.
Prisoner's Defence. I earned the shilling on the road and went to get some bread. I did not know it was bad.
JAMES BOLTON . I produce a certificate. (This certified the conviction of John Day at this Court on the 25th February, 1884, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, and his sentence to six months' hard labour.) I was present at the trial, the prisoner is the man.
GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JOHN STOCKTON . My father keeps the Bricklayers' Arms, Collingwood Street, Bethnal Green—on the 21st November, about 9.30 p.m., I was in the bar, and the prisoner came in with another man who put down a bad florin and called for a pint of four ale—I took the money and showed it to Mr. Isaacs, who said it was bad—I called out to my father and they then ran out together—I did not follow them—the prisoner was given in charge with the florin.
HENRY ISAACS . I live at 18, St. George's Road, Stamford Hill, and am a carpenter—on 21st November I was in the Bricklayers' Arms—I saw the prisoner and another man there—the other man called for a pint of ale—he put down a florin—Stockton showed it to me—I told him it was bad—he called for his father and they both then ran out together—I went out after them, the prisoner was starting to run when I caught him—I brought him back to the house, and Mr. Stockton, who was outside, gave him in custody—young Searle tried the coin the prisoner's presence before he called out for his father.
JOHN STOCKTON . I keep the Bricklayers Arms—on 21st November my son called me into the bar, and I went out and saw two or three persons running out of the house—Isaacs brought the prisoner back, and I said "I shall give you in charge for tendering a bad two-shilling piece"—he said "You are mistaken, it is not me"—he was given in custody.
BENNETT WOOLCOCK (Policeman K 315). I was called to the Brick-layers' Arms, I saw the prisoner there, Mr. Searle said "I give this man into custody for tendering this bad florin," he said "I know nothing about it"—I searched him at the station and found eight shillings, three sixpences and 5 1/2 d. in bronze in his right trousers pocket, and in his left trousers pocket this bad shilling wrapped up in this paper (produced)—I also received this bad florin from young Stockton.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he was arrested "as he used the Bricklayers' Arms, but that he had never been inside that day, and did not know that he had a bad coin in his possession.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, December 16th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GRAIN Prosecuted;
MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
RICHARD JAMES STEELE . I am an auctioneer at Han well—on Wednesday, 19th November, about 11.15, I signed twelve cheques in blank in my cheque book, there are three cheques on a page, that was my usual course for the purpose of my business, I crossed them and put "Co." on them like these two cheques (produced); that is my signature at the bottom, and these are two of the cheques I signed on that day, they come from my cheque book—on 21st November, about half-past 9, I went to my office, and there saw my clerk, Hunt—he called my attention to six counterfoils in the cheque book; the bodies of the cheques were gone; Hunt made a communication to me, and I sent him immediately with the numbers to the London and County Bank, with instructions to stop all these cheques which had been abstracted—about 4 the same afternoon Mr. Keats, a tradesman at Brentford, came to my office with the manager of Hull, Smith, and Co., and produced this cheque crossed Hull, Smith, and do., Bankers, Brentford, for 14l., made payable to Mr. C. Glenie—they notified from the bank that they had stopped a cheque, which was the second one, in favour of Wilson, one of the cheques lost out of the book and signed by me—I know nothing of the prisoner—I gave no one authority to fill up these cheques in favour of Glenie or Wilson—I know a man named Glenie, I have dealt with him.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am an agricultural valuer and auctioneer—I have a temporary office at Southall, which I use on market days—I kept my cheque book there in a desk, I had no key to that desk—I signed these twelve cheques about 11.15, I then went out into the market—I left no one behind me, I did not lock the outer door of my office nor the inner one—I went out leaving the office perfectly empty, with the signed cheques in the desk—I signed twelve cheques—I heard my clerk, Hunt, say he had paid ten away, two are said to have been cashed by the prisoner, that makes the twelve—people did not come to my office and write on this desk; they had no right in that portion of the office where this desk was; there was a flat table for our customers to write on, there was a door with a lid between the two desks, which you lift up to go through—I find I must have signed more than twelve cheques on this day, it was my habit to sign twelve, I don't know the numbers of any of the cheques I signed—Hunt gave me the first intimation about this larceny on Friday morning, 21st; he lives over my office at Southall, about a mile and a quarter from my house—on the 20th I was at 30, Wellington Street, Strand, till 3 in the afternoon—there was nothing to prevent Hunt coming to my house on the 20th and telling me, he did not come—Hnirt did not show me a photograph—this temporary office has been open 15 yean, but I only used it occasionally—I left the office about 2 in the afternoon—
I did not get a written notice from the solicitor for the defence at Brentford, asking leave to inspect my cheque book—No. 26050 was the fast cheque that was stolen—the counterfoil of 26049 is my clerk's handwriting.
Re-examined. No. 26049, which is a cheque preceding 26050, was made out properly in the name of Mr. Charles Glenie—the forgery was also made out in the name of Glenie—any person going to the book could have seen the name of Glenie there.
HERBERT PEARMAN HUNT . I reside at Southall, and am a clerk in the service of the prosecutor—it was my duty, when he had signed his cheques ready to be given out, to fill in the body of the cheque with the names of the persons to whom the cheques are payable—the body of this cheque, "Pay Mr. Charles Glenie 14l.," is not in my handwriting; nor this one, "Pay Mr. James Wilson 12l."—there was a sale on the 19th, and on that day the cheque book containing these cheques would be in the office—on the 20th I discovered that six cheques were missing from my employer's cheque book—these (produced) are two of the six, and on the 21st I mentioned the matter to my master—I called his attention to the blank counterfoils—it is the custom before tearing out the cheque to fill up the counterfoil—I know the prisoner, he has frequently bean at Mr. Steele's office when I have been there, and has had an opportunity of seeing where the cheque book was kept—he has seen me take the book from the desk and fill up the cheques—I was at school with him, and know his writing—I believe that the bodies of these cheques are in the prisoner's handwriting.
Cross-examined. I and the prisoner were taught handwriting by the same master—I said at the police court that I had paid away ten cheques—there are twenty cheques bearing the date of 19th November—after where the cheques were stolen from there is a date of 20th November, and after that there are three cheques of 19th November—I made a mistake there in writing them out on Thursday; I put the 19th instead of 20th—the Glenie on the counterfoil is in my handwriting, but the Glenie at the back of the cheque is in the prisoner's handwriting—there is nothing peculiar in the shape of the two G's; I don't think we both make our G alike—I was not aware that Mr. Steele came back about 3 in the afternoon—I can't tell why I did not go to Mr. Steele's on the 20th—I had two thoughts, I thought perhaps they were stolen and I thought perhaps Mr. Steele might have taken them for his private use—when I saw the handwriting I thought the prisoner had taken them—I went with Mr. Keats to the White Bear, where the prisoner was lodging—a policeman was with us—I was outside when the prisoner came down—I am sure I did not point to the prisoner and say "That is him"—I took a photograph out of my pocket at Brentford and showed it to Mr. Keats—Keats went inside the White Bear with the policeman—Keats spoke to me as we were walking from the White Bear to the station; the policeman could not hear it.
Re-examined. He said "That is him"—I was about eight or nine when I went to school with the prisoner—I went to school with him about eighteen months—he would be acquainted with my handwriting—I have been at the office 4 1/2 years—there is not the slightest truth in the suggestion that the endorsement Glenie on the back of this cheque is in my handwriting.
sight—on 19th November about 3.45 he came to my house with this cheque and asked me if I would cash it for him—it was crossed—I was not able to cash it at that moment, but I went to Messrs. Hartland's bank—I pointed out Mr. Steele's signature and got the money and took it to the prisoner—I put it down on the counter—he counted it, put it in his pocket, and took it away—I have no doubt at all that he is the man that came there—I was communicated with, and went to the White Bear at Hounslow with the policeman—I went inside the house—I did not go upstairs—when I saw the prisoner I said, "He is the man I cashed the cheque for"—I have no doubt about it at all.
Cross-examined. I was inside and outside the house both—Hunt did not say to me "That is him;" I am sure of that—I told Hunt that was him because I saw his likeness—I told the policeman that was him at the station—the station is about 200 yards from the White Bear—I walked 200 yards before I told the policeman that was the man—I have never had any business dealings with the prisoner—I don't remember his being in my shop before, but I have been told he has—I have seen him about five times—I went to the bank and got the money, because I thought he was Glenie's son.
HERBERT PEARMAN HUNT (Re-examined). The prisoner was a friend of mine—he did not come there on business, he came to see me—I have not had any business dealings with him—he has not bought horses for me—I never cashed any cheques for him.
HARRIET ATKINS . I am the wife of James Atkins, of 222, High Street, Brentford—on 19th November, about 35 minutes past 4 in the afternoon, I was in the shop—I knew the prisoner before by sight—he came in and presented this cheque for 12l., which I cashed.
Cross-examined. I saw him again in custody at the police-court the following Saturday week—I knew there was some one taken up for passing cheques before I went—he was not placed among others—I saw him in a room with a policeman before he was in Court—I have seen him pass my window.
Re-examined. I had seen him outside my shop before I received the cheque—I am sure he is the man that brought the cheque.
BEAR. I am son of the landlord of the Red Lion public-house at Southall—I know the prisoner by sight—I saw him on the morning of the 19th about 11 or 12 o'clock in the billiard-room of our house—Mr. Steele's office is about 100 yards from our house.
Cross-examined. My sister waits in the billiard-room as well as me—the first time the prisoner was there was between 11 and 12 o'clock—I cannot say when he left; he might have been there after 3 o'clock for all I know.
Re-examined. He was under my observation in the billiard-room about five minutes—I have no doubt of his being the man.
CHARLES GLENIE . The endorsement at the back of this cheque, "Charles Glennie," is not in my handwriting—I live at Cairns Farm, Heath Row, which is about four or four and a half miles from Brentford—I know nothing whatever about this cheque.
Cross-examined. I have had cheques from Mr. Steele—there is an "n" too much in this name on this cheque—on the counterfoil is "Glenie," that is the proper name.
witnesses Keats and Hunt came and produced a photograph, and in consequence of what they said I went to the White Bear public-house—I made inquiry and went upstairs—I there saw the prisoner dressing—I told him I had come respecting some cheques which had been stolen and uttered at Southall, and wished him to accompany me to the station—he said, "There must be some mistake here, I know nothing about any cheques"—at the station I asked Mr. Keats if he had any doubt about the man—he said, "I have no doubt whatever about it"—I found on the prisoner 6l. in gold, 8s. 6d. in silver, and 8d. in bronze.
Cross-examined. Keats did not go with me into the White Bear—he went from the station, and I left him outside with Keats when I went in—Hunt said to Keats, "That's him."
GUILTY of uttering. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, December 16th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ANNIE ALLISON . I am barmaid at the Skinners' Arms, Skinner Street, Bishopsgate—on 17th November I served Clark with half a pint of ale, which came to 1d.—she gave me a sixpence—I put it in the till and gave her the change—that was the only silver coin in the till—she drank the ale and left—a constable came in and spoke to me—I took out the six-pence and rang it on the counter, found it was bad, and gave it to the constable—on the next Saturday, November 22nd, between 8 and 9 p.m., Clark came in again—I recognised her and called my mistress—I did not serve her, but I followed her and gave her in custody outside.
SAMUEL BACON (City Policeman 941). On 17th November, a little before 7 p.m., I saw the two prisoners in Bishopsgate Street Without, and followed them towards Shoreditch—Clark left Wright and went down Skinner Street—Wright stayed in Bishopsgate Street—I followed Clark into the Skinners' Arms, and saw her tender something in payment for beer and receive change—I called the last witness across the bar and said something to her—Clark saw that and went out—I was in plain clothes—the barmaid showed me a bad sixpence, which I marked—I went out after Clark, but could not find her—I saw Wright a few minutes afterwards looking into the same compartment as Clark had gone out from; I did not take him then—I went in search of Clark, but could not find her—on Monday, the 24th, when Clark was being conveyed from the station to Guildhall Police-court, I saw Wright in Guildhall Yard standing against a lamp-post—I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned with Clark in passing a bad sixpence—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "I don't think I have"—he said, "You have, I was not in Bishopsgate Street at all"—I have often seen the two prisoners walking together, and four or five times within a fortnight of the first uttering.
Cross-examined by Clark. I lost sight of you when you went out of the public-house, that is why I did not take you—I have followed you about on several occasions, but this is the first time I saw you do anything.
Cross-examined by Wright. I had plenty of time to take you, but I wanted to take you on a second uttering, as you had been in custody
twice before for something similar, but were not convicted—you were remanded on August 31st, 1881, for attempting to pass a bad shilling; on the remand the prosecutor failed to attend, and you were discharged—you were then in the name of Joseph Judge, and you were charged again in the same name on March 21st, 1883, with attempting to pass a counterfeit shilling; it being a single uttering you were again discharged, and that is the reason I followed you.
ANNA KITCHEN . I am barmaid at the Skinners' Arms—on the night of 17th November Clark came in and I saw her served with half a pint of ale, which came to 1d.; she gave the barmaid a sixpence, which was put in the till; I saw it afterwards, it was found to be bad—on 22nd November Clark came in for half a pint of ale and gave me a sixpence; I tried it with my teeth, found it was bad, and called my mistress; she called the master, who came and said "This sixpence is bad"—on Monday night Clark did answer, but left the ale, walked to the door, and went out—Miss Allison followed her—these are the coins (produced).
ROBERT SMITH (Policeman G 333). About 8.15 p.m. on 22nd November I was on duty in the City Road—Miss Allison spoke to me, and in consequence of what she said I stopped Clark, and told her I should take her back to the Skinners' Arms, which would be a mile off—the landlord said "I give this woman in charge for passing these two sixpences, one on Monday and one to-night"—I told her I should take her in custody, she made no answer—on the Monday, when I was taking her across Guildhall Yard, they were taking Wright in custody.
JOHN SLANEY . I am a cabinetmaker at 14, Eglinton Road, Old Ford—on 22nd November I went into the Skinners' Arms, and saw Clark in another compartment; Wright was standing in a doorway on the other side of the street when I went in, and I had a glass of ale, and as I came out Wright was trying to look in at the door; I went in again and spoke to Miss Allison—Wright walked about two yards to see if he could see into the house, and then came back to the door again.
Cross-examined. I came out expressly to look for you and saw you walk about two yards and come back—I knew you because you were lame—when I came out the second time you were looking in at the door, and when I came out the third time you were gone.
Clark's Defence. I did not know but what it was a good one.
Wright's Defence. I never had my feet in Bishopsgate Street or Skinner Street on the 17th nor on the 22nd, and I never saw this woman in my life till I was placed alongside of her at Guildhall.
CLARK— GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard labour.
WRIGHT— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
RICHARD GOULD . I keep the Old Coach and Horses, 81, High Holborn—on 15th November, between 3 and 5.30 p.m. I cleared my till and found four bad shillings—I communicated with the two barmaids and left the bar—about 10 or 10.15 I was fetched into the bar and saw Green and Knox there—I bolted the doors and sent for the police—the barmaids said in their presence that another shilling had been tendered—Green made a desperate
attempt to get away, one of them moved the bolt, and Morgan threw me against the counter as I was trying to secure Green, and Kent assisted him—Green and Kent got away when Morgan threw me back, Green was apprehended as he went out and I detained Morgan—I gave the four coins to the policeman.
Cross-examined by Morgan. I found seven or eight coins in the till and the majority of them were shillings—I have a separate till for larger coin—I did not notice you there in the afternoon.
MARION JOHNSON . I am barmaid at the Old Coach and Horses—on 15th November I saw Green and Knox there between 3 and 5 o'clock, but they were there at 3 and they were there at 5, they may have gone out between, they were drinking together and paid sometimes with a shilling and sometimes with copper—I put the shillings in the till—I saw the landlord find four bad shillings in the till—the three prisoners came in together between 9 and 10 o'clock, one of them called for a pint of ale and put down twopence, and directly afterwards Knox called for a pot of ale and put down this shilling (produced)—Miss Boyce took it up—I went for a policeman, and when I came back Green and Knox were gone and Mr. Gold was detaining Morgan—I had served Knox, he paid with coppers, but that was not the last time he was served.
Cross-examined by Morgan. I don't know whether you came in with the others in the evening, but you were drinking with them.
Cross-examined by Knox. You tendered two shillings to me and one to the other barmaid.
LOUISA BOYCE . I am barmaid at the Old Coach and Horses—on 15th November I was in the bar all the afternoon and saw the three prisoners there—Morgan called for a quartern of rum, price fivepence, and gave me a shilling, I gave him the change—Knox called for a half quartern of rum and gave me a shilling, I gave him the change and put the two shillings in the till—I saw Mr. Gould clear the till, there were four bad shillings in it—I saw the prisoners there again between 8 and 9 o'clock—I served Knox with a pint of ale and he paid with this shilling (produced)—I held it in my hand, sent for the landlord and gave it to him, the prisoners were all in the bar—Mr. Gould bolted the doors and Morgan knocked him down while Knox and Green were getting out at the door—the prisoners drank together both in the afternoon and evening.
HENRY GRIGGS (Policeman E 271). On 15th November, about 8 p.m., Mr. Gould showed me four bad shillings, and about 10 o'clock I was sent for to the Coach and Horses—Mr. Gould gave Morgan in custody for being concerned with two others in passing counterfeit coin and assaulting him—Morgan said he knew nothing of the men and had not assaulted the landlord—I took him to Hunter Street Police-station—Green was brought in there afterwards, and the two were charged together—I found on Morgan a florin, a shilling, and a sixpence, and five pence—going to the station Morgan said that he did not want to be taken along as a felon—he said he was having a drink of beer with them and did not know they had got any bad money; he was getting a light for his pipe when the landlord pushed against him, and he pushed him with his arm in return—I received this piece of metal (produced) from George Porter.
Cross-examined by Morgan. I saw no indication of a struggle on Mr. Gould.
10 p.m. I was called to the Coach, and Horses and saw Green and Knox running from that direction—Miss Boyce said "That is the man," pointing to Knox—I caught hold of him and he said "Is your man in front?"—Green was running on ahead—I left hold of Knox and pursued Green into Dean Street, and as he ran he threw away something three times—I did not see it, but from the rattle I believed it to be money—I came up with him about 50 yards up the street, and he suddenly turned round and kicked me in my stomach, but my belt saved it from being serious and I got hold of him—he said "What do you take me for?"—I said "For passing bad money"—he said "I will not be taken by you, if you want to fight I'll give you one"—with the assistance of another constable and several private individuals we took him to Bow Street, where I found on him a key which he said was the key of his room, three good sixpences, and 1 1/2 d.—he was afterwards taken to Hunter Street Station and charged with Morgan, when he said "We only uttered five, and there is always a reduction on taking a quantity"—I went to Dean Street about two houn afterwards and could see no coins lying about, but the shops were closed and it was all arkness; two boys pointed out an area grating to me within six or seven yards off, which Green had passed when I was chasing him.
Cross-examined by Green. You may have used the words about making a reduction in a jocular manner; you were under the influence of drink, but you were not drunk.
CHARLES SQUIRE (Policeman E 537). I assisted Inkpen in taking Greet to Hunter Street Station—a little after midnight I went with Inkpen to the second-floor back, at Fisher Court, Kagle Street, Holborn—I tried to open the door but it was bolted inside—I called out to open it—the landlady was with me—I burst the door open and found Knox in bed—I said "What business have you here?"—he made no reply—I told him he had no right, and told him to get up and I'd have a look at him in his clothes—he got up and dressed, and I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned with others in uttering counterfeit coin in High Holborn—he said "We only done it for a drop of beer"—I saw a door key found on Green, it fitted the lock of the door where I took Knox.
ROBERT SIBON . I live at 19, Dean Street, Holborn—on the morning of 16th November I was playing in Dean Street and saw a shilling down an area—I got it with a long piece of wood and gave it to George Poulter and then took it into a shop and asked if it was good—I should not know it again—I pointed out the area to the police.
SAMUEL CLARK . I am a painter and fitter, of 22, Dean Street—on 16th November, at 12.15, in consequence of what I heard I went to the same area and found another shilling—I showed it to Mr. Porter and saw him bend it on the stairs with his thumb and finger—it did not bend easily, it seemed rather hard—it was bad from the colour of it.
GEORGE PORTER . I am a potman, of 22, Dean Street—on 16th November I received a shilling from Tyburn, and another from Clark; they were both bad, I threw them into the fire and saw them melt, and these are the remains of them which I found in the cinders (metal produced)—they were dated 1849 and 1864.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . The first shilling uttered by Knox is bad; these four shillings found in the till are all bad, and two of them are of 1864, from the same mould as that uttered by Knox; the other two are both of
1849—this metal is the same as these base coins are made of—a good shilling would not bend easily with the thumb—a good coin will not melt in an ordinary fire.
Witnesses for Morgan.
LETTY BARROW . I am a milliner and lodge in Morgan's house—on 15th November, a little after 6, Morgan left home—I noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had a few words ana Morgan went out; he wanted to draw money from the bank and could not do it after 6.30, and it was then 6—it was the child's money—I saw his wife give him some money out of her pocket, and he left the house at 6.15.
Cross-examined. It is a savings bank; his wife gave him the money to purchase a whip—he is a cab driver, he did not go out with his cab that day—he was at home from 12 or 1 o'clock till 6—I know that because we were both sitting in the same room and he was sewing tennis balls—I am not related to him—we were in the back room, the kitchen—he and I were six hours in the kitchen together, he may have gone into the other room—I did not go to the police-court on the first hearing, because I did not know that the barmaid was going to say that he was there in the afternoon.
Green's Defence. I know nothing about it. I was the worse for drink. I never threw away any money, I had none to throw away.
Morgan's Defence. I have been a cab driver nearly 12 years, and should not throw away my character for such a paltry thing. I was at home sewing tennis balls. I do not know Knox. The landlord pushed against me and I returned it.
GREEN— GUILTY **.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
KNOX— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MORGAN— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. LLOYD and WARBURTON Prosecuted.
ROSINA EMILY ELIZABETH REECE . My husband is a tobacconist of 81, Lupus Street, Pimlico—on Nov. 17, at about 6.15, I served the prisoner witn a threepenny cigar—he gave me a half-crown; I tried it with my teeth and found it was bad—I examined the till and found another bad one—I spoke to my husband and then went back to the prisoner; he said, "Oh, what is the matter?"—I said, "You know what is the matter"—he said, "Is it bad?"—I said, "You know it is"—he said, "Give it back to me and I will give you a shilling"—I said, "No, I have just taken one, and now I will have you for giving me this one"—he tried to push past me, but my husband came—he tried to push past him also, but was given in custody with the two coins—I received this one three or four minutes after the other—this is the one the prisoner gave me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I took the other bad coin out of the till and took them both into the parlour—they were both Georges.
THOMAS MOORE (Policeman B 229). The prisoner was given into my custody—Mrs. Reece first gave me the coin he had tendered, which I marked; she then handed me the other, and said that she had taken it about three minutes previously—I marked it with a notch—I found on the prisoner two good shillings and two farthings—he was then taken before a Magistrate, remanded, and discharged.
public-house, Alpha Road, Lisson Grove—on 27th November, between 11.30 and 12 p.m., I served the prisoner with twopennyworth of hot rum—he gave me a shilling, I placed it in the till and gave him 10d. change—he stayed some time, and afterwards had half a pint of ale and a cigar, and gave me another shilling, which I put in the till—he then had half an ounce of tobacco for himself and a twopenny cigar for some one else, and put a shilling on the bar—I tried it, broke it, and gave it back to him and asked him where he got it—he said, "I brought a fare from the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly, to St. John's Wood, and the gentleman gave me a half-crown; the fare was 3s., and he gave me some lemons to make it up"—he then left—I knew him as a customer and had changed money for him previously, I do not know that I ever took any bad coin—three bad shillings were found in the till next morning, and Mr. Wood showed me the shilling which I had broken—the pieces had been picked up outside the house—on the following Sunday about 2.30 the prisoner came again and paid me with two penny pieces, and I gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. You asked me on the 27th to give you a half-crown for three sixpences and a shilling; you also asked the barman to give you a shilling for a lot of coppers, which he did, and you put the shilling in your pocket—you did not, pay for any drink in coppers—the barman has since been charged with stealing marked money, and a marked shilling was found on him—Mr. Price was in the private bar when you entered; the barmaid was in the bar—she did not see me break the shilling, and I did not show it to Mr. Price.
HARRY JOHN PRICE . I am landlord of the Nightingale—on 28th November about 10 o'clock I cleared the till where Munden was serving, and found three bad shillings all of one date and a few good ones—I showed them to Munden, and gave them to a constable on the Sunday morning with another bad shilling which was taken from a box in his bedroom—the prisoner came again on Sunday morning, the 30th, and I charged him with uttering counterfeit coin—he said "Mr. Price, you have no right to think anything of the sort of me"—I gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. There were about eight shillings in the till, three of which were bad—the young man found another bad shilling in his box and brought it to me—he is the man who I have since given in custody for stealing money out of my till—it was found in his box on the 28th, the morning after the charge, and another was taken the next morning—he was the under barman; he was convicted—I have seen you at the house several times, and never took any bad money from you to my knowledge, but a lot of bad money has been taken lately—I discharged one barman, Charley, because he did not quite suit me—he was not quick enough; that was the only reason.
DANIEL COOK (Policeman D 70). Mr. Price gave the prisoner into my custody—he said "I hope you won't charge me, Mr. Price; I have never passed any bad money here"—he said "Yes, I shall"—I searched him in the house and found 1 3/4 d.
DAVID WOOD . I am a builder of 15, Lisson Grove—on the morning of 28th November I found this piece of a shilling (produced) on the ground by the Nightingale public-house, near the compartment in which I was.
Cross-examined. It was just outside the private bar in Lisson Grove.
WILLIAM FREDERICK MUNDEN (Re-examined). The private bar outside which this coin was found is not the bar where I served the prisoner; it was found outside on the footway 10 or 12 feet from where I served him—I did not see him after he went out of the house.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he paid for all the drink and cigars with coppers, and contended that the barman who had been given in custody for stealing money from the till was quite capable of putting in bad money and taking out good; he said that he had been 10 years in the army and left with a good character and a pension, having served in Afghanistan and Egypt.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. LLOYD and WARBURTON Prorecuted.
ALBERT STEERS . I am 14 years old, and live at 28, Lyon Street, Caledonian Road, Islington—on 15th November I was in the Caledonian Road between 7 and 7.30 p.m.—the prisoner, who I did not know before, said to me "Will you run on an errand for me? I will give you a penny"—I said "Yes," and he gave me a packet and said "Go to the first boot shop on this side of the way and ask for two pairs of 5s. 6d. sewn boots, size eight; if you cannot get eights get sevens, and what you want is on the paper"—I went to London's boot shop and gave the packet to a lady—she opened it and I saw money—she tried one of the pieces and it broke—she sent for a policeman—a dummy parcel was made up, and I walked up and down the Caledonian Road with it for nearly half an hour—I then saw the prisoner at the corner of Ditchley Road on the opposite side; he came over and took the parcel—I said "I can't get size eight"—he said "Here is the penay"—a policeman then took him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you took hold of the parcel you said "Where is the change?"—I am sure it was you, and not somebody taller than you.
LAVINIA BINGHAM . I manage Mr. London's business, and am his sister—on 15th November about 7.30 Steers brought me some money wrapped in paper, and this slip of paper, on which is written "Please let the boy have two pairs at 5s. 6d., size eight, sewn if you have them"—I examined the coins, got a constable in at the side door, made up a dummy parcel, and gave it to the boy—the constable went out at a different door—the coins were four half-crowns and two shillings—a boy had been in that afternoon in the uniform cap and the buttons of the Southwark Home on his jacket—he brought four half-crowns in a paper, making the balance due for a pair of boots which were bought in the afternoon—that was not the prisoner, but that made me suspect in this case.
ADA LONDON . I am another sister of Mr. London—on 15th November about 3.30 p.m. the prisoner came in for two pairs of boots, which came to 11s., and paid 1s. on account—he said he would send a lad for them in the evening—the balance was 10s.—I was not there when my sister gave up the boots.
Cross-examined. I went to the station on Saturday night and picked you out—I stood there two or three minutes, not ten minutes, and said, "I don't think he is there"—a policeman did not point to you—I did not see one there—he did not say "Have another good look" when I was going to turn away.
Re-examined. I think there were five others there—the inspector told me to go closer, and then I pointed him out—there is no truth in the suggestion that the inspector pointed him out.
WILLIAM GLASKETT (Policeman Y 536). I was called to Mr. London's shop and saw Steers there—Mrs. Bingham handed me two lots of bad money, the first 7s. and the second 12s.—a parcel was made up and given to Steers in my presence, and I went out at the side door and followed him for half an hour—I was in uniform—I saw the prisoner take the parcel from Steers at the corner of Richmond Road with his left hand and offer him a penny with his right—I crossed the road and took him in custody—he said "What is the matter?"—I said "I shall take you in custody for sending Steers to the boot shop with bad money"—he said "You have made a mistake," and said to Steers "Are you sure I am the man?" and he said "Yes"—I took him to the station and found on him 1l. in half-crowns and florins and 2d. in bronze.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . This florin is bad—these four half-crowns are bad, two are of 1874 from one mould and two of 1875 from one mould—here are four other bad half-crowns, three of 1881 and one of 1880. The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I plead guilty to taking the parcel from the boy, but I do not plead guilty to going to the shop and choosing the boots and paying the shilling; another man sent me to take the parcel."
GUILTY .*— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WARBURTON Prosecuted.
FREDERICK LUCRE . I manage the Hope Tavern, Banner Street, St. Luke's—on 17th November tne prisoner came in about 10 p.m. and remained till 12.25—I served him with a pot of beer, price sixpence, and he paid with coppers; he then called for another pot and paid with this half-crown (produced)—I put it in the till, there was no other half-crown there—I gave him the change—he then called for a third pot and the barman served him—I saw him put down a half-crown, which Morris took up, and said "What do you mean by giving me this?" he said, "I was not aware it was bad"—the coin was given back to him, and he or one of his friends paid for the ale with sixpence in coppers, he remained half an hour—I examined the till after the house was cleared and found this bad half-crown.
JOHN MORRIS . I am barman at the Hope—on 17th November, about midnight, I served the prisoner and some friends with a pot of beer, he gave me a half-crown—I found it was bad and said "What game is this?"—he said "I was not aware it was bad"—I threw it on the counter, his friend picked it up and said "This is a wrong one," and they paid me in copper—they stopped and drank the beer and left the house—I afterwards saw Mr. Lucre find this bad half-crown in the till—it was the only half-crown there.
prisoner with a quarter of a pound of two-shilling tea, he gave me a bad half-crown—he came again on 22nd November for half a pound of two-shilling tea—he gave me this bad shilling—I sent for a oonstable and gave him in charge with the two coins—he said that he was not in the shop on Wednesday evening.
WILLIAM PEACOCK . On 19th November I was in this tea shop, and when the prisoner went out Mr. Townsend showed me a bad half-crown and asked me to stop him—I went out but could not see him—I identified him at the police-court.
HENRY TADD (Policeman G 174). On 22nd November Mr. Townsend gave the prisoner into my custody—he said "I did not know it was a bad shilling; I took it in change at a public-house in White Street, where I had been drinking with my aunt; I was not in Whitecross Street on Wednesday, the 19th"—I searched him in the house and found a good half-crown—I received this shilling and half-crown from Mr. Townsend, and this half-crown from Mr. Lucre.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was drinking in the Round House, Lower Whitecross Street, changed a half-crown, and must have got a bad shilling, and that was the coin I passed to Mr. Townsend. I was not in Mr. Townsend's shop on the Wednesday, when he says I passed him a bad half-crown."
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, December 16th, 1884.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
GEORGE LUTZ , I am a hairdresser, and live at 72, Devonshire Street, Colebrook Row, Islington—on Tuesday morning, 11th November, about a quarter to 1, I was walking home alone, perfectly sober—at the corner of Duncan and High Streets, Islington, I saw eight or nine men and the prisoner—before I came up to him I looked at him and he at me very hard; I thought I knew him—I had no sooner passed him than he came behind me and gave me a fearful blow at the back of my head, that made my head go back and my hat fall off—I picked my hat up—I asked him what he meant by it—he said, "You are one of them"—the eight or ten other men were standing on the other side, and they came over to his assistance; they held me—I called "Police"—they put their hands and handkerchiefs over my mouth to prevent my calling out—they delivered a tremendous lot of blows, back and front, and took my watch and chain from my waistcoat pocket, and some money I had in my trousers pocket—I should recognise one other man, the one that took my watch and chain—I swear most positively to the prisoner as the man that delivered the first blow—after they released me I followed them some distance through Duncan Street to Vincent Street—I was calling "Police" all the time—they defied me to come near them or they would do for me altogether—I communicated with the police—my face was almost unrecognisable; one eye was closed and the other was black, and
my head very much swollen—I was attended by the police surgeon—I have not got my watch or chain back—I gave a description of the prisoner to the police—I subsequently saw him among nine or ten often at the station on 14th November and picked him out—I positively sweat he is the man.
Cross-examined. I had never seen him before—it was not dark at the place where the first blow was delivered.
CHARLES HEATH . I am manager of the Clarendon Club, 80, High Street, Islington—on the morning of 11th November, about a quarter to 1, I was inside the club, which is about 50 yards from Duncan Street; I did not go outside, and kept the door shut—there was a disturbance outside; they broke the windows—I heard several voices—the prisoner had been in the club on several occasions—I fancy I know his voice—I could not swear to the voices I heard—I did not go outside to see what the disturbance was.
FRANK BRIARS (Police Sergeant G). About half-past lo on Friday night, 14th Novemoer, I went to the White Lion public-house, High Street, Islington, where I saw the prisoner with about six other men—I called him out and said I wanted to speak to him—I told him I was a police-officer, and should take him into custody tor being concerned with other persons in assaulting and robbing a man on the night of be 10th in Duncan Street—he said, "I was at the Mogul that night'—I took him into custody—on the way to the station he said, "Mr. Brian, I have been a bad one, but I am going to start new"—the charge was read to him at Old Street Station—as he was leaving the dock he said, "You only took me because you knew me"—I had received descriptions of all of them from the prosecutor—the Mogul is a music-hall in Drury Lane—I was not there when the prosecutor was brought to the station.
GEORGE HUTTON . I am a surgeon at 87, Old Street, St. Luke's—about 3 or 4 o'clock on the morning of 11th November I went to the Old Street Station, where I saw the prosecutor—he had a wound on thee right upper eyelid three-quarters of an inch long; the eyeball was bloods hot—the other eye was blackened—his head was swollen and bleeding—he was suffering from a shock to the system.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
WALTER SAVILLE . I live at 12, Graham Terrace, Ealing, and am a cab-driver—on Wednesday, 3rd December, I asked the prisoner to take my horse to the White Hart, Southall, for me—I followed, by train, and met him there—I did not sell the horse, and left about 6 p.m., leaving the prisoner there—I gave him 6d. and told him to take the horse, nome—he did not bring the horse home—on the same day I met him at Ealing Railway-station about half-past 10—I asked him where the horse was, and he told me in the stable at the White Hart—he promised to meet me next morning, and did not do so—I went next morning, the horse was not there—I did not authorise the prisoner to sell the horse; I told him the price was 8l., and if he knew of a customer to bring him to me—I went to Ford to try and make a deal, I did not do so—I have received no money for my horse, the prisoner has paid me none.
Yard with a bay horse which they were offering for sale—I said in the prisoner's presence to the prosecutor that I had one at homd I would exchange for the two, and they went with me—I put my horse in and drove it—we did not deal, but came back to Southall and had mote conversation and they went away; the prisoner returned by himself and said "I have got to sell the horse"—I said "Where is Saville?"—he said "He has gone to the station"—I went to tne station, saw Saville in a carriage and spoke to him; in Consequence of what he said I went back to the prisoner dud gave him 2l. for the horse.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Saville said you could do as you liked—I considered 2l. fair value for it.
WALTER SAVILLE (Re-examined by the COURT). What Ford says is not true—he said "Come on, you b----fool, you and I can have a deal"—I said "No, I am going home"—he said "B—Blind will sell your horse"—I said "So he won't, he will take it home."
WILLIAM CHAPPLE . I live at New Heston and am a butcher—on 3rd December I went to the White Hart to see the prisoner and Ford there—I heard the prisoner selling the horse to Ford for 45l. the deal Was made and I was asked to draw the receipt, which I did for 2l. for a bay horse—I believe the prisoner signed the receipt, I did not see it—I did not hear Saville's name mentioned.
GEORGE HERBERT BUSBY . I live at Sotthhall—on 3rd December I saw the prisoner and Ford in the White Hart and saw a receipt passed between them—I heard no mention of Mr. Saville—after the prisoner had the money he said he would see him b----before he would have any of it—he did not mention his name.
Prisoner's Defence. I only sold the horse under Ford'd term's when he came back from the station.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
JOHN HOLLAND (Policeman G 51). On the night of 6th Nov. I was called to King's College Hospital—I saw the prosecutor lying on a stretcher, wounded in the chest—from what I heard I went to 12A, Dean Street, Holborn, where I found the Prisoner oh tne first-floor—I Said "What have you been doing?" he said "I did not do it for the purpose, sir, I will not do it again"—I told him I would take him into custody fat stabbing the boy, and I took him to the boy's bedside at the hospital—the inspector asked the injured boy if there was anybody he could recognise; he had just strength enough to point to the prisoner, who only cried, went down on his knees, put his hands together and begged for forgiveness—I asked him where the knife was, and he said he had thrown it away in Lincoln's Inn Fields—I looked for it but could not find it—Reardon, the injured boy, is outside.
WILLIAM MORRIS . I live at 14, Queen Street—on 6th November, about 8 in the evening, the prisoner, Reardon, I, and some other boys were playing together in Eagle Street—the prisoner asked Beardon for a light, Reardon hit him, the prisoner went to hit him back again and Reardon hit the prisoner again—the prisoner then pulled the knife out of his pocket open and stabbed him in the chest—Reardon was taken to the hospital.
WILLIAM REARDON . I live at 4, Prospect Terrace, Gray's Inn Road—on 6th November, about 8, I was with the prisoner and some other boys in Eagle Street I had only just come up—the prisoner came up to me and pulled my coat; I did not hear him say anything to me—I turned round and pushed him away; he came up again and I did the same again, and then he came up with an open pocket knife, with a blade about three inches long, and stabbed me in the chest—I did not see him pull it out of his pocket—I did not bleed much—the other boys took me to the hospital, where I remained about a fortnight—I did not strike the prisoner.
FRANCIS PENNY . I am house surgeon at King's College Hospital—on 6th November the prosecutor was brought to the hospital suffering from a wound in the chest about 3/4 inch long a little from the median line; it penetrated the lungs, it was very serious because of the internal bleeding, there was very little external bleeding—he remained a fort-night in the hospital—he is now out of danger—it was such a wound as might have been caused by a penknife.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding . Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the provocation he had received from the elder boy and on account of his youth.— Judgment respited.
ROBINSON PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
HENRY MOSS . I live at 57, Praed Street, and am a clothier—the house and shop 57, Praed Street, belong to me—a little before 6 o'clock on 25th November I went there and found the window of the shop open and Robinson crouched down inside—these trousers are my property, they werte in a room at 57, Praed Street, the night before—Robinson had formerly been in my employment.
HENRY MOORE . I am manager to Mr. Thompson, pawnbroker, 53, Praed Street—on the morning of the 25th I was awoke by Inspector Bassett, and went with him to the police-station, where I identified these as Mr. Moss's property—I afterwards went back to the house and found Robinson there.
GEORGE BASSETT (Inspector D). About 5 minutes to 5 on 25th November I was in Praed Street, and in a recess near No. 73 saw two bundles of clothes, one on the top of the other, in handkerchiefs; a constable came and took the bundles to the station; there was a ticket with them with Mr. Thompson's name on.
THOMAS HOOPER (Policeman D. 270). About 10 minutes to 5 on the morning of the 25th November I was on duty in Praed Street and saw Mills between Bouverie's and Moss's shops, 14 or 15 yards past Moss's—he asked me the time, I told him about 10 minutes to 5; he said, "I have been waiting about half an hour for my brother, he has not turned up yet"—he then walked away—a few yards from where he had been standing I found two bundles of clothing—the inspector came up and took charge of them.
JOHN JAMES BARSTED . I live at 57, Stour Street, and am a brick-layer—Robinson lodged with me for about a fortnight—this latchkey is mine; I gave it to Robinson—I know Mills as a companion of Robinson, he called for him two or three times.
GEORGE BASSETT (Re-examined). I went to 20, Church Hill Road, Dartmouth Park, where I saw Mills—I asked him if he knew Robinson—he said "Yes"—after some little conversation I said "Robinson is in difficulty, and from what I have learnt I have reason to suspect you have been concerned with him; you had better come to the police-station and have the matter investigated. If you are innocent well and good, if not you must take the consequences"—he said "If I am in disgrace it is all through Robinson"—he was taken to the station, placed with six or seven others, and identified by Hooper as the man with whom he had the conversation—he made no reply when charged with being concerned with Robinson in breaking and entering the remises—I searched and found on him this latchkey and some money.
MILLS— NOT GUILTY . ROBINSON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
107. GEORGE JOHNSON (45) to stealing a coat, pair of trousers, and other articles, of Frank Ernest Poole; an overcoat and other articles of Samuel Little; two coats and other articles of Phineas Poole; and handkerchiefs, collars, a watch and other articles of William Reeves Smith.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
109. EDITH MAUD BRIGGS (19) to stealing three gold watches and rings, the goods of Mark Burnett, in his dwelling-house, and also to stealing three bracelets and other articles of William John Toung, her master, in his dwelling-house.— Judgment respited to next Session.[Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
110. WILLIAM WEIMAR (18) to stealing in the dwelling-house of George Tranter two purses, three rings and other articles, and 1s. 1 1/2 d.*— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
112. GEORGE BRUN (21) to breaking and entering the shop of Henry Fridelberg and stealing 32 silk handkerchiefs and a pair of gloves; also to a previous conviction in May, 1881, in the name of George Smith.— Two Years' Hard Labour ; and GEORGE PLUMMER (19) to receiving the same goods, and also to a conviction in March, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, December 17th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ANNIE PAGE . I am the wife of George Page, and live at 48, Nichol Street, Mile End Road—I have known the prisoner about seven months—I knew her when she was living in King Street—I only know her husband by going there—on Friday morning, 7th November, about 8 in the morning, the prisoner and her daughter Elizabeth Cunningham came to my house—she said her and her husband had had a quarrel, that her husband had accused her of having had connection with a young man
lodger named Foxon, and that her husband had turned him out—she said she had left her house between 5 and 6 that morning, and that her little girl had not been to bed all night, and would I let her lie on my bed, and I did so—I and the prisoner then went to 72, Globe Road, and she engaged a room there and she said very likely she would come again that night—she saw her little girl then and went away again, and she came back again on Saturday morning, and my husband went with her to Foxon's mother in Wick Road, Hackney—they returned together and I and the prisoner then went to 2l. Marian Street, Hackney Road, to Foxon's sister, Mrs. Foley—we knocked at the door and could not get in—the prisoner and her little girl then went to her new lodgings, 72, Globe Road—on Sunday I went over to her house—I saw her on Monday—she did not say whether she had heard from her husband or not—I went there again on Tuesday at 11—she said she had sent her child to find out its father to tell him she wanted him—the little girl came back and the father came is shortly afterwards; he came upstairs and used very abusive language to her, and accused her of having had connection with Mr. Foxon, and she told him it was untrue—she said she was going in the Union, and he said it was the best, place for her to go to—he was very angry indeed—he went away, and the prisoner sent the little girl after him for some money—he came back and gave the landlady a half-sovereign, he said it was for the little girl—the prisoner then went into hysterics—on Thursday, 13th November, about 8 o'clock in the morning, she sent the little girl for me, and she asked me if I would stay at home with her that day front work, and I did—I went with her to Foxon's sister again, and I left her there—she came to my house about 6 o'clock that night, and asked me if I would come to her house about 8 o'clock—she said she had telegraphed to her mother—she gave me a purse and some duplicates; she said I had to take them, as I had most right to them—I had been security for her to a tallyman for a watch—I went to the prisoner's house about 8 o'clock that night—the little girl was there and the prisoner was washing her—the prisoner asked me to go and get two penny worth of brandy—I got it, and when I returned the little girl was in bed—the prisoner then gave the child some brandy in a cup with some cold water, and the child drank it—there was nothing in the cup when the brandy was put in—after the child had drunk it the prisoner asked her if her throat burned—the child said it did—I should think that was about 10 minutes after the prisoner had given her the brandy—she sat down and began writing a letter, and then she took the child out of bed, wrapped it in a shawl and sat with it—the child complained again about the throat, and then commenced vomiting as she sat on the mother's knee—she did not vomit long—the prisoner said she had telegraphed to her mother to tell her the child was dying—about 9 o'clock the prisoner's mother came, and she said to her that she had given it poison, oxalic acid—she said she did not believe it, if it had been oxalic acid the child would have died—the prisoner said she had done it to bring her husband to justice for what he had accused her of—she then took from the cupboard a screw of white paper, aud the mother took it from her hand and threw it on the fire—the prisoner did not, say what was in the paper—she asked the mother to go for the police, and she refused, and the prisoner then asked me to go down and tell Mr. Vere, the landlord, that she wanted to speak to him—I went down and
fetched him, and she then asked me to go for the police—she told Mr. Vere she had given the girl oxalic acid—she took from the cupboard a little bottle of phosphor paste, and gave it to Mr. Vere; she did not say anything, she gave it into his hand—she said she did not want to kill the child, it was only to bring her husband to justice—when she was washing the child it appeared to be all well and right—she had always before this treated the child very kindly and seemed very fond of it—there was not much vomiting during the time I was there.
Cross-examined. She did say to me that she got the oxalic acid up the road—I was not at the police-court when a chemist named Finn was examined—there is a chemist of that name in the Globe Hood; it is about 10 or 12 doors from 72, Globe Road—when her husband accused her of adultery she was very much upset, and quite hysterical after he left—about 10 minutes after the child had taken the brandy in the cup it commenced vomiting—I always knew the prisoner as a respectable hard-working woman.
ELIZABETH WADHAM CUNNINGHAM . I lived with my father and mother at King Street, Mile End, and I afterwards lived with my mother at 72, Globe Road—my father came to see nrf mother there—they talked together, and after my father had gone tny mother cried a great deal—on Thursday night, 13th November, I was undressed in bed; my mother came to me and gave me oxalic acid—before I went to bed I went out to chemises, my mother took me there—mother sent me next door to get some foolscap paper—I know the chemist's, it is in the Globe Road—she bought some oxalic acid there, I think a pennyworth—I did riot see Who served her, I saw who was, in the shop—I did not see how the stuff was wrapped up—X know Mr. Finn, he was in the shop serving there—where I was in bed she gave me the stuff, and put some brandy in with it; she told me it was medicine, and told me to take it—it was in a cup; I did not see what she did with the cup before she gave it to me; she stirred it round with her finger—she held my nose while I took the staff—I drank all that was in the cup, there was not half a cupful, and when I had drunk it it burnt my throat for a little while—I then laid down; it still burnt my throat, and mother took me up and wrapped me in a shawl and sat me by the fire, and as she was going to put me back I was sick—after, that she put me in bed, and she then sat down and wrote on the paper I had got—I only vomited once, and afterwards I was put in bed, and I went to sleep—the landlord afterwards came and the policeman, and I was taken to the police-station and saw the doctor—I saw the mess on the floor wiped up—my mother and father had always been kind to me—I have got no brothers or sisters—I can write, I wrote a note that night; my mother told me to write it, she did not tell me what to write—this is what I wrote (produced); my mother saw me write that—she told me to write a, letter before I took my medicine; she did not tell me who I was to write it to; she said, "You are to write what you like"—she was standing by the fireplace—I left it on the table; I know she looked over it. (Read: Dear Grandfather,—Mother asked me to go home to father. I told my dear mother that I would not leave her; father had been a bad man to my mother. This is the truth what I have wrote. My mother told me to write what I liked.—Lizzie Cunningham.")
husband 10 years—the little girl is 9 years old—the prisoner's husband is a mason by trade—she left him two years ago and went to Bristol, taking the child with her—she got employment at Bristol Infirmary and then she went as an attendant at the lunatic asylum at Bridlington—during that time I maintained the child—she was away altogether about two months, and then her husband found out where she was, and they made up their difference and she went back home again to Devonshire Street, Mile End, with her husband; then they lived in King Street, Mile End—I visited them there from time to time—I never visited them in Devonshire Street—she was always a very affectionate mother—on a Saturday in November I received a letter from the prisoner's husband; it was the day after she left him—on the following Sunday, the 9th, I went and saw the husband and had some conversation with him about my daughter—on 30th November, about 20 minutes after 8, I received a telegram from the prisoner—I put it in my pocket and came to her directly—after I had seen her I went to the husband at 19, King Street—the telegram I tore up and threw on the fire; it said "Mother, come at once, Lizzie is dying"—in consequence of that I went to 72, Globe Road—the landlord called up the stairs "Mrs. Cunningham, here is your mother"—she came half way downstairs and met me—I went up to her room—the child was lying in bed sleeping very comfortable—I pulled the clothes aside and looked at it, and when I had done it she said "I have poisoned Lizzie"—I said "I don't believe you, you could not do such a thing"—she said "I have, I have given her oxalic acid"—she said she had given it to her to bring her husband to justice for the cruel way he had accused her—she said "I have not given her enough to hurt her, and she has been sick"—she said she had written a statement to me, but had not finished it—she said she would give it to me as it was, and she did so—this is the statement. (Read: "72, Globe Road. My dear mother, in the name of Heaven I am not guilty of what the wretched villain has charged me with. I am willing to suffer death to put myself right. Dear mother, you know what a wretch he has been to me. God only knows I have done my best. Dear mother, what I have done is to be taken rather than go to the workhouse. Mrs. Edwards has been paid to speak against me. Go to 43, Nichol Street; the people know what I have been. Mrs. Tollen's address is 21, Marian Street. It is Dick's wicked lies against me.") She told me that she could not lead the unhappy life she had been living—when she told me she had given the child oxalic acid she went to the cupboard and got something screwed in a paper, and I knocked her hand and it fell on the fire, and I took it, up and threw it into the fire.
THOMAS VERE . I am a clerk, and live at 72, Globe Road—the prisoner came to live there with her daughter—I asked her her name—she said "Mrs. Foxon"—in the evening of Thursday, 13th November, about 11 o'clock, I was called to the prisoner's room by Annie Page—the child was in bed—the prisoner asked me to sit down—she said that she had poisoned her child—I asked her what she gave it—she said "Oxalic acid"—I asked if she had any more in the house—she said "No"—she asked me to fetch a policeman—before that I asked her where she got the oxalic acid from—she said she had bought it at a chemist's in the Globe Road—she gave me a small bottle containing phosphorus paste—she took it from the cupboard—when she gave it to
me she simply said "Takethat," which I did—she said "You had better send for a policeman"—I said most certainly I should do so—I did, and Buckingham the constable came afterwards—I noticed some vomit on the floor which had been wiped up—the mother came and the constable came, and she was given in custody.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been kind and affectionate to the child as far as I had seen—when the police came the prisoner made some statement about bringing her husband to justice—I was at the police-court and heard Finn the chemist gave his evidence.
GEORGE BUCKINGHAM (Policeman K 490). I went with the last witness to his house in Globe Road, where the prisoner was lodging; I there saw the child in bed, and the prisoner sitting on the side of the bed—before I spoke to her she said "All right, policeman, I know what you have come for, sit down"—I did so and I asked her "You have poisoned your child?" she said "Yes, I have"—I commenced then to look about the place to see if I could find any more poison—she said "It is no use Booking for it; you will not find anything in the place"—she said "I will tell you anything, and you can take it down in writing"—I did so, I took it down in pencil, and she signed it at the bottom after I had read it over to her in the presence of the other witness. (Read: "I purchased a pennyworth of oxalic acid, I dissolved part of it in warm water, and gave it to my daughter. I did not intend to kill her. I did it to bring my husband to Justice.") After she had signed it her mother came—she said she should iave taken some herself, but her mother knocked it from her hand—some phosphorus paste was given to me by Vere—I took the prisoner and the child to the station—I noticed some vomit had been wiped up just outside the fender—I found a cup on the table turned bottom upwards—I tried to smell it—I could smell nothing, it appeared perfectly clean—the divisional surgeon saw the child, and it was removed to the infirmary—at the station I heard the prisoner say that she did it to bring her husband to justice, that she did not intend to kill the child—I went with the child to Globe Road, for the purpose of her pointing out to me where she went with her mother to buy the oxalic acid; and she pointed out Finn's shop, and I told him to attend at the police-court—I believe the child saw him at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I noticed some vomit outside the fender, there had been some wiped up, and there was some still left there, which had not been wiped up—she had no chance of wiping it up after I was there—I did not see ner attempt to wipe it up.
FREDERICK JOSIAH BURGESS . I am a registered medical practitioner, and divisional surgeon of the K division of Police—on the night of Thursday, 13th November, I saw the little girl at the police-station; she told me her throat was burning and a nasty taste in her mouth—I had heard what had happened—it appears that it had been administered to her at 7; it was four hours afterwards that I saw her—oxalic acid is generally sold I believe for cleaning things—I do not know what a pennyworth would amount to; if given in a strong dose it would produce burning of the throat and vomiting.
By the COURT. I think a small quantity dissolved in a small quantity of water would produce sickness—what I call a strong dose is not large in quantity but strong in fluid—I should imagine the taste was something like Epsom salts—the vomiting prevented any worse result—
it might endanger life according to the dose that was given, half a grain would produce vomiting—oxalic acid has more the appearance of a salt—it dissolves in water.
ROLFE FINN . I am a chemist—I am not registered—I have no qualification—I was only manager of this business during the temporary absence of the gentleman—I carry on a shop of my own; but I do not sell poisons at 120, Globe Road—I do not sell oxalic acid, but I have been manager to a gentleman's business in Bethnal Green Road, where they do sell it—a pennyworth would be four drachms—I did not sell this poison to the child or to, the prisoner—I have seen the child in court, and saw her point mo out—she has made a mistake evidently—the prisoner might have come into my shop—I am near sighted.
Cross-examined. I can see a short distance, but not beyond three feet—I remember hearing of the child being ill, and the woman being taken into custody—I believe I was called to the police-court the day after the woman was taken up—I saw her at the police-court; and I think that was within twenty-four hours after it was said she had been to p»y shop—I don't remember ever seeing the woman before—I went to the police-court—I will not swear she was never at my shop—I was examined before the Magistrate—I said "I don't remember selling oxalic acid to any one"—I know what oxalic acid is—I have seen it at Mr. Lester'sshop, 428, Bethnal Green Road.
GUILTY of Misdemeanour.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury — Six Weeks' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM WILSON . I am a weight-adjuster, and live at Providence Cottages, Melford Hill, Walthamstov—on the 12th November I was in the employ of Messrs. Oertling, Cowcross Street, balance manufacturers and was in their workshop with Sidney Smith and the prisoner and the deceased, all working together—the deceased and the prisoner was about four yards from me—I heard the deceased complain to the prisoner about his work not being correct—the prisoner said "The weights were correct"—the deceased said if he had any of his impudence he would knock him off the stool—the prisoner said "I am not afraid of what you can do"—I then heard a blow, it sounded like a hard slap, then another, as though it was returned by the prispner—I heard the prisoner say if he did that again he would put the knife into him—two or three seconds after that the deceased turned round to me and said "He has drawn blood, he has stabbed me"—he undid his apron and waistcoat and showed me a wound in his left side—I saw a knife in the prisoner's hand at the time of the quarrel; he was eating some bread and cheese for his lunch—Smith went with the deceased to the hospital—the prisoner and the deceased were fellow-workness together; neither had authority over the other.
Cross-examined. I have been working there 10 years—the prisoner has I think, been there something over two years—he bears the character of a peaceable well-behaved lad—he was sitting at a table in this room, and there was a balance on the table in front of him which he was adjusting
—I was at the extreme corner of table table—when this scuffle took place, my back was towards the table; Simith was at the other side of the room, I can't say what he was doing. (The witness heft pointed out on a plan the vsarious places where they were sitting)—before this language was used I had seen the prisoner sitting on his stool cutting his bread and cheese with the knife in his hand—the prisoner did pot say "I will plunge this' into you," but" I will put the knife into you"—after that I heard a bit of a scuffle; I can't say that I heard a stool fall—the prisoner and the deceased had generally been on friendly terms—he did not say "Don't do it again or your will know something."
SIDNEY SMITH . I work at Messrs. Oertling's—I was there on the morning of Novembar 12th—Wilson, the prisoner and the deceased were there—I heard the deceased complain of theprisoner's weight not being correct—he replied "theyarecorrect"—the deceased said if he had any of his impudence he would knock him off his stool; some moreangry words were passed between them—I then heard an exchanges of blows, thatthe same time the prisoner remarked if he did that again he would put the knifeinto him—I heard a scuffle, and the deceased went to wilsonand said "He has drawn blood"—I took him to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, helped to undress him there, and saw the would in the left side—I did not notice his clothes; he was waring his waistocoat, apron, shirt, and under shirt I think, but it would not touch the apron.
Cross-examined. This room is about 16 years long, and not so much square—I am quite sure the prisoner said "If you do that again I will put the knife into you"—he did not say "I will plunge this into you"—I heard a stool rattle, I don't think it feel down—at the time of the quarrel the prisoner was sitting on a stool cutting his bread and cheese with the knife in his hand—the deceased rose from his seat and went towards him, when the prisoner rose from his seat and went on one side.
By the COURT. I heard the word "I will put this Knife into you" before I heard the scuffle—the scuffle occurred after the exchange of blows.
HENRY OERTLING . I carry on the business of balance manufacturer—the prisoner and deceased were in our service—I heard of this occurrence after the deceased bad been taken to the hospital—I then went into the workroom and saw the prispner there—I said "Where is the knife?"—he pointed to tie knife (produced)—I gave it to Sergeant Diddems.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in our employ three years, first as porter and then promoted for his steady and good behaviour—he has borne the character among the workmen of a civil, well—behaved lad—some little time before this theworkmen subscribed for some present to him on account of his behaviour.
WILLIAM THOMAS HONE SPICER . I am house surgeon at St. Bartholcmew's Hospital—on 12th November the deceased was brought there by the witness Smith about 12 o'clock in the day—his clothes werp taken off and I examined him—there was a wound immediately below the nipple beneath the sixth rib on the left side, about two inches long; it had gone through his clothes and into the chest—there was a great deal of bleeding—he remained under my care till 24th November, and in the afternoon of that day, about 2 o'clock, he died—I made a post-morten examination—I found that he had died of pleurisy and inflammation of the sac of the
heart, from the effect of the wound—this knife would cause such a wound—a great deal of force was used to send it in that direction.
Cross-examined. The direction of the wound was upward and inward—the deceased was about 24 years of age.
HERBERT GEORGE SAVILL . I am assistant clerk to the Lord Mayor—on 13th November I attended at the hospital with Mr. Alderman Savory for the purpose of taking the deposition of the deceased—the prisoner was there, and in the presence of the prisoner the deceased was sworn and his deposition taken—the prisoner had an opportunity of asking any question—the deposition was read over, and the deceased put his cross to it—the charge at that time was unlawfully and maliciously wounding James Edward Cochrane with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. (Deposition read: I am employed in adjusting weights. I live at 15, Neale Street, Long Acre. I work at 50, Cowcross Street. I know the prisoner; he is a fellow-workman. Some time about 11 o'clock yesterday morning we were at work together; I spoke to him about some weights, he was saucy. I can't call to mind what he said. I hit him with the back of my hand on the face; he picked up the knife with which he was eating his lunch, a dinner knife, and he said 'I will plunge this into you,' and he struck me on the side with it. I pressed the wound with my hands, got downstairs, got a four-wheeler, and came to the hospital. I left the prisoner there. I have not had a quarrel before with him, nothing to mention. I have known him about two years altogether. I think I struck him twice on the face. I did not run against the knife, he plunged it into me. There was a stool between us. He plunged it into my left side. It was after he said 'I will plunge this Knife into you' that I struck him the second blow in the face; it was the same moment I had the knife.")
Cross-examined. It was in answer to a question that he said, "I did not run against the knife."
Re-examined. Sergeant Diddems was present at the time—Inspector Peel had previously given me some account of the matter.
HENRY DIDDEMS (Police-Sergeant S). About 11 on the night of the 12th I took the prisoner in custody in Clerkenwell—I said, "A man named Oockrayne is very ill at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and I shall take you to see if he is in a fit state to make a statement"—he said, "I was in the workroom this morning having my lunch; he complained about my weights not being correct; I said they were, after which he slapped my face with the back of his hand; I told him not to do it again or he would know something; I was cutting some cheese when he came towards me again; I held my hand out sharp with the knife in it, it struck him in the side; he said to Wilson I had made blood, after which he went to the hospital. I am very sorry, I did not intend to hurt him"—I took him to the hospital, but we were not allowed to see the injured man that night, he was too weak—I took the prisoner to the station; the knife was afterwards handed to me, I showed it to the prisoner next morning; he said, "That is the knife I had in my hand when he ran against it."
The prisoner received an excellent diameter from a number of witnesses.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the suddenness of the act and the provocation he received. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—wednesday, Descember 17th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
JAMES JOCELYN GLASCOTT I am a Captain in the 2nd, Manchester Regiment—I seryed in the Mauritius in 1867 for a short time, and again in 1873 and 1874—I knew a gentleman named Hill there the last time—the prisoner is not that man—about 12th November this year this letter was sent to the headquarters of the Volunteer Battalion, 31, Great Smith Street, Westminster. (Reminding the witness of their acquaintance in the Mauritius, and asking him for 2l. or 3l. as a loan.) Believing the writer to be a gentleman I had known there I sent him a cheque on Cox and Co. for 5l., and about 16th November I received this letter in the same writing. (Expressing gratitude for the remittance.) I never saw the prisoner till I saw him at the police-court.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The letter does not represent you as a former comrade, only as having known me in the Mauritius.
Re-examined. I would not have lent a stranger the money.
FREDERICK HODGES . I am cashier to Messrs. Cox, bankers, of Craig's Court—I cashed this cheque for 5l. over the counter on 16th November—it is endorsed "J. Hill"—I do not recollect the person who cashed it.
AMY BRACKENBURY . I am the wife of Captain Herbert Brackenbury, of the Royal Artillery—I live at Brook Cottage, near Gosport—he is now on his way home from Hong Kong, but probably left before a letter which I forwarded to him arrived—that letter was from a Mr. Hill to my husband—on 28th October I received this letter. (Dated October 27th, 58, Hanover Gardens, Kennington Park, from J. Sill, stating that Captain Brackenbury would probably recollect him, requesting a loan of money in confluence of his illness.) I then sent a post-office order for 2l. to Mr. Hill with this letter. (In this the witness stated that she relied upon Mr. Hill's honour to return the amount, and hoping he would obtain medical relief.) He had said in his letter that he had cancer in his chest, and it was in consequence of my believing that that I sent the money—I then received this letter. (Signed "J. Hill" acknowledging the 2l.) I was in Singapore with Captain Brackenbury in 1881 and 1882, and the letter implied acquaintance with him there—I knew nobody of that name there, but there might have been—I never saw the prisoner till he was in custody—I said in my answer that I could afford to lend the 21, but not to give it.
LANSDOWN (Police Inspector, Scotland Yard). I have charge of this case—Captain Reginald Hull is a prosecutor, and was a witness before the Magistrate—he is now ill in Yorkshire, and has sent me a medical certificate—on 24th November I took the prisoner at 4, Etherington Road, Clapham, on this warrant, which I read to him—he said, "Yes, my name is McLean, I had the cheque from Captain Glascott"—I searched his rooms, and found 46 volumes of the Army List, dating from January, 1856, to October, 1884, most of which have pencil marks against the names of certain officers, and in the List for October, 1884, there is a cross against Captain Glascott's name—I also found a number of sheets of paper with the names of officers in the Army List written in ink and marked off—I have compared them with the letters to
Captain Glascott and Mrs. Brackenbury, and with a pocket-book found on the prisoner, and am of opinion that they are the same writing—I also found a bill-head at his lodging with an address at Leeds, and have compared it with these letters, and am of opinion that they are the same writing.
HARRIET HUNG . I live with my husband at 4, Etherington Road, Clapham—I let apartments—the prisoner came to lodge with us on 64th September in the name of Graham, and remained till he was arrested—his health was very good, and he had no appearance of suffering from cancer in his chest—no doctor came to see him—he spent his time chiefly in copying from the Army List and writing letters—he only had two or three answers to them at my place, and those had the Leeds postmark.
Cross-examined. I came into your room repeatedly to lay the cloth, and saw you copying from the Army Lists and writing.
ELLEN DIXON . I am single, and am assistant to Mr. Walker a stationer, 82, High Street, Clapham—I have fleen the prisoner there, we received letters for him, which he said were for a friend of his, and which we posted by his directions in envelopes sent to us addressed "J. Hill, Esq., 52, Portland Crescent, Leeds. Immediate."
MARY PRICE . I keep a stationer's shop at 58, Hanover Gardens, Kenningfon Park Road—the prisoner came in about the end of August and bought various things; and after he had been there once or twice he asked me to take letters in for a friend of his, Mr. J. Hill, who he said was always travelling about, and had no place to have his lettew, left—I consented, and after that five or six letters a week came for Mr. J. Hill, which the prisoner fetched away—I afterwards received a letter asking me to forward the letters to 52, Portland Crescent, Leeds.
ANN SHAKLETON . I live at 52, Portland Crescent, Leeds—the prisoner lodged in my house for a few weeks three years ago, in the name of McLean; and in July last he wrote me this letter from Liverpool. (Stating that he was likely to come to Leeds in two or three weeks, and had given the witness's address to several friends, and requesting her to take in any latter for him.) I replied, and received seveial letters addressed to him, which I enclosed to "Mr. J. Brown, Clapham Park Road, near London," according to directions.
Cross-examined. I did not forward any letters to Etherington Eorf—I did not know you lived there.
GEORG SMITH INGLIS . I am a professional expert in handwriting—have examined the note book found on the prisoner, this envelop addressed to Captain Glascott, this letter to Mrs. Shakleton, and this letter to Mrs. Brakenbury, and in my opinion they are all in the same writing. (The entry in the note book was "A small sum would even help me. I have never been accustomed to this kind of thing, and God only knows it is the greatest suffering, and being placed as I am nas drifra me to it.")
The prisoner in his defence stated that many men in the Army had made his house their home, and he got a quantity of old Army Lists at a bookstall, and wrote to several persons for help, being nearly starving, but got no answers. He contended that if he had had any intention to defraud Captain Glascott, he should have destroyed the letters instead of keeping them; but he consdered it a debt and would pay it.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Lobour.
COULAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted.
FREDERICK ELLIS . I am employed by Messrs. Debenham, silk mercers, of Wigmore Street—Coulon came in in September for 7 3/4 Yeard of dress material for Miss Martin, of 10, Blandford Street, a dressmaker and customer—I had seen her Defore but do not recollect serving her—I gave October 3rd she called again for 4 1/2 yards of serge for Miss, Martin, to whom it was debited as before—on October 14th she came again for 36 yards of cardinal dress material for Miss Martin, whioh was put down to her—on October 21st she came and had 16 yards of dress material for Miss Martin, which was put down to her—I believed Coulan to be in Miss Martin's service.
WILIAM HAGGARD . I am employed by Messrs. Debanham and Freebody—I have served Coulan on many occasions for Hiss, Martin—on 7th October she came in for a length of dress material for Miss Martin, of Blandford Street, and it was put down to Miss, Martin—on, 16th October she came again for another length for Miss Martin, she was Supplied, and it was put down—on the 17th October she came again, and on the 18th, 20th, 21st and 22nd again with the same statement, and all the goods were put down to Hiss Martin.
ELIZA MARTIN . I am a dress maker of 16, Bilandford Street, and deal with Debenham and Freehody—Coulan was in my service and left last July, since when I have never authorised her to order any goods for me.
ALBERT WITHERS (Detective Officer M). I toot Coulan—on 5th November I went to 102, East street, where Howes lived, and, said "I am a police lofficer making inquiries about Annie Coulan, who I have in custody, for obtaining dress material from Debenham and Freebody a pieoe of which has been pledged at Mr. Amhurst's, 74, East Street, in the name of Annie Coulan, 102, East Street; do you know anytmng about it?"—she, said "I have pawned several pieces of cloth for Coulan at different times at Brooking's in South Street, and Richardson's in South Street; Richardson's in John Street; Cotton's in Harris Road and Great James Street, but I did not know that any of the material pas got from Debenham and Freebody's"—I went next day to 1A David Street and saw Emma Bay—I tola her I was a police officer and had come to make inquiries abput Coulan, who I had in cufltody—Foley was there, and said she could tell me something about it; that Annie Coulan and she about a month ago got 4 1/2 yards of serge from Debenham's—she said "Coulan went in for it and I stayed outside; I advised Coulan not to use Miss Martin's name too much, as she might be found out, and told her to use Miss Sanders's name instead; that piece of stuff I pawned at Brooking's, South Street, in the name of Coulan, for 2s. 6d."—she did not say who Miss Sanders was—after that Coulan came up again for hearing and made a statement, in consequence of which I arrested Foley and Howes.
JOHN REED I am assistant to Messrs. Brooking, of South Street, Manchester Square—I produce three lots of cloth; tha forst was pledged on October 16 for 5s., in the name of Ann Elliot, 2, Jainee Street; not by any of the prisoners—the next was pawned on 17th October for 12s., in the name of Ann Elliot, by the prisoner Coulan; the third on 22nd
October in the name of Jane Connor, by a person I cannot identify; there are the tickets.
FREDERICK BRON . I am assistant to Mr. Mellish, a pawnbroker, of Great Marylebone Street—I produce two lots of material pledged on 18th October for 1l. in the name of Ann Howes, East Street, by two girls—Howes is one of them—I have no belief about the other.
Cross-examined by Foley. I have every reason to believe it was yon.
FRANKHORE. I am assistant to Mr. Amhurst, pawnbroker, of East I Street, Manchester Square—I know the name of Ann Howes as a customer, but I don't remember the person—on 20th October I took in II yards of cloth in the name of Ann Howes, 102, East Street—I don't know whether I see her here—I gave the ticket out.
EMMA RAY . I live with my father and mother at 1A, David Street—I have seen Coulan and Howes together, and I once saw Coulan with Foley in North Street—I have been with Coulan and Howes to Richardson's in George Street—Howes had a parcel—nothing was said of when it came from—they went in and pawned it, and when they came out Coulan gave me a shilling—I have also been with them both to Richardson's in John Street, where Howes pawned something, but I got nothing—I knew Foley once when she pawned a parcel—she said it came from Debenham's, and Coulan said that she would give four of us dresses alike from Debenham's—she got the stuff, but I did not get any of it—I have watched with Howes while Coulan went into Debenham's and brought out a parcel and pawned it in George Street.
FOLEY and HOWES— GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour each.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, December 17th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
LOUISA HOWLETT . I serve in the bar of the public-house at 79, White chapel Road—between half-past 1 and 2 p.m. on 3rd December the prisoner came in for a half-pint of ale and half an ounce of tobacco, which came to 3 d.—he gave in payment a half-crown, which I tried, and it broke in two in the tester—I asked him where he got it—he said from his master—I said "I should advise you to take it where you got it, it is no use to us"—he had drunk his beer, I took the tobacco away from him and he left.
he joined two young men; they went down the road some distance, and one from the near side seemed to cross and to pass something to the prisoner—I did not see anything pass—when they got farther down the road, exactly opposite the hosier's shop, the prisoner left the other two men—I followed him about 25 yards from him—I was on one side and the prisoner on the other—he went into a hosier's in Mile End Road—I went in, and in the prisoner's presence asked Allen if he had been served—he said "Yes"—I asked him what he had tendered him—he said a half-crown, which he showed me—I should not know it again—I asked the prisoner what he had done with the one the barmaid had given him—he said he had thrown it away; and then he said to the manager "It is the first day I have been at the business"—he was given into custody.
CHARLESALLEN. I am shopman to Mr. May, hosier, of 105, Mile End Road—on 3rd December the prisoner came in for a pair of stockings—he gave me a half-crown—Sherwin came in; I said "What for you?"—he said "Have you served this man yet?"—I said "Yes,"—he said "What did he buy, anything?"—I told him a pair of stockings—he said "What did he give you?"—I said "Half-a-crown"—he said "Did you notice anything about it?"—I said "No, it is all right, I believe"—I had rung it on the counter, and it seemed all right—this is it (produced)—I gave it to the manager, and while I was gone for the constable he broke it.
WILLIAM NEWPORT (Policeman H 44). I was called, and Allen said to I the prisoner "Where did you get that half-crown from?"—the prisoner said "My master gave it me"—I said "Are you going to charge him?"—Allen said "Yes"—I said "Have you got any more about you?"—I the prisoner said "No"—I said "I will see; take off your clothes"—he took off his coat and waistcoat—I searched him well, but found nothing I on him—I took him to London Bridge Station—I received this half-crown from the manager—I have kept it in my possession—the inspector asked him how long he had been at the work, and he said "It is my first day."
WILLIAMWEBSTER I am Examiner of Coins to Her Majesty's Mint—this is a bad half-crown—the ring of a bad is often equal to the ring of a good coin; it depends how it is made—the ring is by no means a safe test, but however good the ring is, a bad coin will never jump, because of its less specific gravity—a bad coin will break in two in the teeter.
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
REBECCA WOOD . I am employed at the Bull and Bell Tavern, in Ropemaker Street, Finsbury Pavement—on 28th November, about 8.30 p.m., the prisoner came in for half a pint of porter, and gave me a shilling—I gave him elevenpence change—I looked at the shilling, and put it on the back shelf by itself—I did not like the look of it—about twenty minutes to 12 on the same night I was in the wine bar by myself, when the prisoner came in for half a pint of porter, and gave me a half-crown, and I gave him change and put the half-crown with the shilling—I said nothing to him—he did not stop to drink his drink, but left—after the house was closed I showed the shilling and half-crown to Mrs. Philips and gave them to her, these are them—on the following night I saw the prisoner in the bar, and said he was the man that gave me the two bad
coins the previous night, and I was sent to fetch a constable, who took him to the station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had a doubt about the shilling—that is why I put it by itself on the shelf—I did not try it—I am not used to tin business—I was in the bar alone both times you came in—neither Mr. nor Mrs. Philips came in the bar between the times you came in—I was in the bar alone the whole evening—I had no tester there.
By the COURT. I did not try it in my teeth—I am quite certain the prisoner is the man.
MATILDA PHILLIPS . I am George Philips's wife, he keeps the Bell and Bull Tavern, in Ropemaker Street—on 28th November after the house was closed, Miss Wood handed me this half-crown and shilling—next evening I saw the prisoner in the bar about 7.15—Mr. Philips served him with beer and he paid with a penny; he next called for three-halfpenny worth of rum and tendered this naif-crown—I compared it with on the shelf taken the night before, which had the same date as that, 1836—I sent Rebecca "Wood for a constable—I told the prisoner I should charge him, he made no remark but ran away; the police ran after him—I followed and he was caught after going through several streets—we had taken ten shillings worth of bad money that week; he was taken to the station—I went Back to put my hat and jacket on—Wood recognisel him, and then I said "You are the same man that was in here last night; he said he wap not—I gave the three coins to the constable; he has been in the habit of frequenting my house—Miss Wood Was alone in the bar on the 28th—I and my husband were in the parlour haying supper; we had only a tester for gold then—our barmaid left three weeks ago, and miss wood assosts in the bar now, after her other work is done she is not a regular barmaid.
Cross-examined. I took the half-crown from you on Saturday night, not Mr. Philips—when I said I should charge you, you put down another shilling, and said "I can pay for it;" at the station you said "If you give me a chance, I will fetch a man who can prove where I got it from"—you did not say that before; you said at the station you got the half-crown at the White Hart, Botolph Lane; the policeman was before me—I and Mr. Philips were not in the bar on the Friday night—I have not seen you in the house for some weeks, until this last week—I knew nothing about the coins on Friday night until after the house was closed—I know you too well; I know you are not much good.
ALFRED WILLISON (Policernan G 445). On 29th November I was called to the Bell public-house, Eopemaker Street, at 7.15—I saw the prisoner run out at the door, some person shouted out "Stop him, he has passed bad money"—I followed the prisoner through several streets, and stopped him in Bunhill Row—shortly after the prosecutrix came un and charged him with passing a bad half-crown—I took him to the station—Mrs. Philips eaid she should charge him; he said he did not do it—at the station he said he got the bad half-crown in change for some tickets at the White Hart public-house, Botolph Lane; those would be ticketss I think for carrying boxes at the waterside—I searched him and found a good shilling—I received from Mrs. Philips these three coins which I have produced to—day.
Cross-examined. You were only charged at the time with passing the one; afterwards Mrs. Philips brought the other two coins to the station,
and charged you with uttering the half-crown and shilling on the Friday night—I was in advance of Mrs. Philips when I stopped you.
Re-examined. Rebecca Wood did not come to the police-Btation—he did not stop running at all after leaving the public-house—I only lost sight of him for a second as he turned a corne, I kept very close on him—Wood came up in the crowd and identified him.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I got these half-crowns in exchange for some tickets at the White Hart in Botolph Lane."
He repeated this statement in his defence, and added that he had run out of the house to fetch the man who could prove his laving changed the tickets.
GUILTY .— Twelve months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, December 8th, 1884.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
JOHN POTTER . I am a general carrier, of 67, Lower Thames Street—Mason, my carman, has been with me three years, and had a good character—I dismissed him in November—on 28th October I had to collect 20 half-chests and 17 boxes of tea from Smith's Wharf, and sent Mason with the van and a chestnut mare to collect them—nine of the cases were to be delivered at Geporge Lane, Podding Lane, Eastcheap—Mason came back just before 2 o'clock and made a statement to me, in consequence of which I went to Seething Lane Police-station and gave information of the loss of my horse and van—on the same evening I saw them in the greenyard, Kingsland Road—the van was empty: the mare was very weary and bad and overdriven, and had been standing in the wet—I have had to pay the consignees just under 100l. for the tea—on 17th November I first heard about the two prisoners; that was after Mason had left my service—I gave evidence against them at ttye police-court on 9th December—Mason was a prisoner on the evening of 24th November.
Cross-examined. Mason came back to me about 2 o'clock on the 28th, and told me he had lost the van—he did not then mention the names of either of the prisoners—he accompanied me to the station—he left about a week after the 28th—he informed me on 17th November as to these two men—that was the first time I had heard an accusation against them of having stolen the van—I met Mason in the street; I was driving, and I took him up in my pony cart and said, "You had better make a clean breast of it, and tell me all you know," and I said that it would be better for him—I said, "It will be lighter for you, and you may probably get off altogether"—he had given me part of the information before—I then drove with him to the police-station, put him in communication with an officer, and Jeft him—that was on the 17th, and he was taken in custody on the 24th, and remained in custody till December 9th, when evidence was first given at the Mansion House—there were three remands, and on the morning of the third remand I told Harding, the police-officer, to ask
for Mason's discharge that he might be called as a witness, which was done, and we offered no evidence against him—I have a brother Isaac; he and Mason worked together every morning, and sometimes of an evening—my brother is not here; he gave me no information about this matttr—he has been my service nearly all his life—he is younger than me—he has not been away from work any length of time for the last three years, he may have been during the last four years—it was suggested at the Mansion House that he had been convicted of a van robbery four years ago and sentenced to a term of imprisonment—he was at the Mansion House on one occasion in this case, but not on the last occasion—he is not here because he is not required.
Re-examined. It was Mr. Purcell, the prisoner's Counsel, who suggested that my brother had been convicted—my brother was in my service on 28th October, and in charge of a horse and van—his employment that day was totally distinct from Mason's.
HENRY MASON . I was 18 years old last September—I was Mr. Porter's carman—I know Connor as Ned Sweeney and James as Bob Low—on 28th October I had to collect some tea at Smith's Wharf, and after I had loaded them I saw the prisoners—James said "Hallo, Dick, can't you lose your van?"—I said "No"—I drove to Miles Lane and they followed—I delivered three half-chests there, and they called me into a public-house and gave me some whisky—I then drove to Pudding Laue where I had to deliver nine of the chests, and when I got then Connor said "If you don't let me take the van away you will not get a farthing"—I had to go down George Lane, as it was too narrow for the van—I carried one chest down, leaving the horse and van and 20 half-chests and 17 boxes of tea—I was away a quarter of an hour, and when I returned they were gone, and the prisoners also—that was about 1 o'clock—I then went to Seething Lane Station and made a report to the police and then weut and told my master—I next saw the prisoners on the Friday evening at the corner of Baker's Row, accidentally—James said "Come down lower"—we went, and he and I went into a public-house, Connor stood outside—James gave me 5s. and said "Come here to-night at 8 o'clock"—I went to Baker's Row at 8 o'clock, but did not go to the public-house—they gave me 2l. 15l. and told me to come on Sunday night, which I did, and they gave me 5l.—that was the last I saw of them, I have known them three months.
Cross-examined. I told Mr. Potter on the day the van was lost, but not the police—it would not be true to say that I told the police the names of the men that night—I did not mention their names to Mr. Potter the day the van was lost—I was in Court when Mr. Potter was examined, I did not hear him say that I mentioned their names that night—I know Renshaw, I knew him before I was at the police-court; we have worked together, and I have drunk with him, and have heen with him once to the Standard Theatre—I have not been to the Cambridge with him, I used to meet him, but did not treat him, he paid his share at the theatre and I paid mine—I did not see him at the time the the van was lost, I only saw him once between 28th October and 17th November—that was when we went to the Standard—when I went to
Miles Lane I knew the prisoners wanted to steal my van; they were on top of it when I went, but I did not think they would take it away—the meaning of losing thfl van was this: they said "You go in a coffee-shop and stop there and we will take the van;" I did not do that, but I went to deliver the tea—being friends I did not think they would rob me—I did not mention a word of this to Mr. Potter or the police till I saw Mr. Potter in the pony cart, and he said I had better make a clean breast of it—he did not say "Tell us all you know," but he said "It will be better for you and probably you will get out of it altogether"—I received the 2l. 15s. outside the public-house—I heard my evidence read over and signed it as correct—the barman served us in Miles Lane—that was in the middle of the day, he could see us all three together—I have not seen him here—on the evening I was taken I met Mr. Isaac Potter, I knew him working at John Potter's, I did not know I should see him, it was a surprise—I afterwards met the prisoners and went with them and Isaac Potter into the Waterloo public-house, where we all drank together—Isaac Potter left us there, and in a quarter of an hour the police came and took me—I do not know that Potter had gone to Seething Lane Station—he did not ask me the day before to bring these two men into that public-house—the other public-house is the Beehive—before I gave information I found I was likely to get into trouble, I did not do it till they were in custody—I would have given evidence if the police had not taken them—Isaac Potter did not ask me a little time ago to help him in a 300l. job, a van robbery—Dowse took me in custody—I did not say at the Mansion House "I was taken by Dowse to the station, he spoke to me on the way to the station and I spoke to him of this"—he was called after me at the Mansion House, and I heard him say that he never said a word to me or I to him—that is correct.
Re-examined. Renshaw is a carman in Sedgeley's empolyment, half a mile from Mr. Potter's—they go to the same wharf in Thames Street—carmen often wait two or three hours for their turn on a wharf, and that is how I knew Renshaw—James suggested I should go into a coffee house, and the van should disappear, but I had not agreed to let it be taken while I was in Miles Lane.
GEORGE RENSHAW . I live at 14, George Street, Commercial Road—I was a carman to Mr. Sedgeley—I know Connor by name and James by sight—on 28th October, about one o'clock, I was driving a van near the King William statue, and saw Connor driving Mr. Potter's van, which was loaded, and James running behind, who threatened me with his fist as he passed—they were coming from Eastcheap—I saw the case in the paper on 10th December, and spoke to Mr. Potter, but before that, on a Wednesday night, when the prisoners were remanded a second time, a man whose name I do not know, gave me 5s.—I did not know then what it was for, but I did afterwards.
Cross-examined. I know this was October 28th, as I put down the day of the month on paper—I have not got it here—I thought some one had stolen Mr. Potter's van, but I did not tell a policeman—the man who gave me the 5s. gave me two drops of whisky—he came to my house—it was the day after the second remand—I took the money not to give information to Mr. Potter, and having taken it I told him directly—the road by the Statue was clear at this time—I saw Mason on October 29th—I was not about with him—I did not go to any place of entertainment
with him—I am certain I never went to the Standard Theatre with him—I was there after the Lord Mayor's show—Mason treated me to the theatre once—he has never given me money only to pay for myself—he did not give me half a sovereign between October 28th and November 17th—he gave me 6s. to go to the Standard—it is not true that I paid for my seat and he paid for his—he gave me 6s. and I paid for it out of that and not out of my own pocket—I never saw Mason before I gave my evidence—I was put of work when I called on Mr. Potter—I was old man at Sedgeley's—I was with Mr. Stone a week—they did not say at one place where I was that some condensed milk had gone wrong or that a tin of it was lost or stolen—it is not true—I was never dismissed from anywhere for dishonesty.
Re-examined. Mr. Potter's van was a new one with hoops and steet—it went up King William Street and round the statue.
WILLIAM HARDING (City Detective). On October 28th I received information, and on 24th November, about 11.30, I went with Dowse and Murphy to the Beehive public-house, and saw the two prisoners and Mason—I had seen them three weeks before, when the prisoners were dressed very shabbily, but at the Beehive they had new coats, hats, stockings and boots—I said "What is your name?"—Connor said "Connor"—James said "Bob Low"—I said "I shall take you for stealiag a van and tea"—Connor said "What tea?"—I told him—James said "All right, governor, I suppose I must go"—Mason was there, and after they were charged he said "On the day of the robbery I met the two prisoners at Smith's wharf; they asked me if I would lose my van, &c." (Repeating Mason's statement.) Connor said "I know nothing about it"—James used some vulgar expression which I could not undarstand.
Cross-examined. I have known and suspected them for some time, but know nothing against them—Mason did not mention their names when he came to the station on 28th October—nothing was said about these men till November 17th—I did not see Mr. Isaac Potter at the station on the evening of November 24th—Inspector Egan was in charge then—he is not here—the prisoners were remanded once before evidence was given—during this time I and the other officers were making inquiries, and our very best culminated in putting Mason into the witness box—we took a man and a boy to the cells who could not identify the prisonea—Mr. Isaac Potter was at the Mansion House on the 9th, but not afterwards—I heard you call for him.
Re-examined. I heard the route down which the van went—I had not brought any person to the station who I thought could throw a light on it—the man and the boy came from Alderman Hanson's.
Cross-examined. I did not talk to Mason on the way to the station or he to me—I swore that at the police court—I was called after Mason.
GEORGE RENSHAW (Re-examined by MR. PURCELL). I received the 5s. not to tell Mr. Potter, two days before I came up—I told Mr. Potter the day before I gave evidence, but I received the money a week before, and before I saw the report in the paper.
Re-examined. The first examination was on the 9th, I saw the report on the 10th, and on the 11th I gave evidence at the Mansion House.
GUILTY †— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
EDWARD JOINER . I am hall porter at 41, Victoria Street, which is let out in flats—I live on the basement—on December 9th about 11.30, I was in my sitting room, and heard a noise in my bedroom—I went there and found the prisoner—I said "What are you doing here?"—he said "I don't know"—the window was pulled down from the top, and the blind drawn up, and he had got in that way—I had seen it closed early in the morning and the blind down, but the catch was broken—I took hold of him and told him to come with me—I took him to the back yard where there is a passage which is closed after dark—I then called a Constable and gave him in charge—he was sober—nothing in the room yas disturbed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There are two entrances to the back-yard; you came out at Victoria Station, and you did not stand quietly While I went for the police, you walked towards the steps.
CHARLES NICHOLLS (Policeman B 366). I was called to Caroline place and saw the prisoner just approaching the last gate to escape—I asked him what he was doing there, he said that he had done nothing—he was sober—one gate had footmarks of wet mud half way up—I found on him a small knife and this piece of cloth—he gave his name but not his address—he did not go quietly.
Cross-examined. You did not walk through the gate, I lifted you over it.
SINCLAIR JOHNSON (Policeman B 400). Nicholls called me to assist him in taking the prisoner to the station—he was in the act of getting over the gate and I pulled him over with Nicholls' assistance—he was quite sober—he became very violent in Vauxhall Bridge Road, and tried to bite Nicholls's hand, and put his leg between mine and threw me down twice, and kicked me while I was down—I fell the effects of it now.
Cross-examined. When I got to the station my clothes were smothered with mud—I did not show them to the Magistrate—I had marks on me which I could have shown.
JOHN FRASER (Police Inspector B). I received the prisoner at the station; he made no answer the charge—I went to 41, Victoria street, and saw scratches on the window-sill and muddy footmarks, and I found this knife (produced) under the window—there was no catch.
Prisoner's Defence. I had been a teetotaler for some months, and I got a little drink, which went to my head, but I never went there to commit a burglary. A small penknife wound not be the tool to break in to a house with. A small penknife wound not be the tool to break into a house with. I had no intention of going there, and did not properly recollect it till I was before the Magistrate.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, December 18th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
121. JOHN VICKERS (25) and ALFRED MARTIN (46) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Sir Henry Havelock Allen, and stealing a portmanteau, three neckties, and other goods, value 40l. Second Count, receiving the same.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
LOUISA JACQUES . I am caretaker at 70, Chester Square, Belgravia, Sir Henry Havelock Allen's house—I was there on 25th October at 9 o'clock, and missed this portmanteau from Sir Henry's drawing-room on the ground floor, and three neckties, three pairs of boots, a dress-coat, a pair of trousers, six shirts, 12 collars, four other coats, six pocket-handkerchiefs, and property value about 40l.—I identify this portmanteau, and these ties, by the laundress's mark on them, as my master's, and also this lock shown to me by Middleton as being taken off my master's door—the property was safe at 6 p.m., and at 9 the place had been broken open and they were gone.
FREDERICK FOX (Police Sergeant G). On 2nd and 3rd December I and Sergeant Pugsley were keeping observation in Brook Street, Lambeth—about noon on the 3rd I saw Vickers come down Brook Street, followed by a woman, to whom he spoke, and from whom he took a parcel—I and Pugsley went up and put some questions to him and looked into the bag he had got, and found there a pair of trousers, which have since been identified by Mr. Cassel, of Sloane Street, as the proceeds of a house-breaking—I had some conversation with Vickers about the trousere—I took Vickers to the station, searched him, and found a number of bronze and silver coins, some of which have since been identified by Middleton, and which were lost at the same time and from the same house, as Cassel's, in Sloane Street; and some have been identified by another person—other property was wound on him, to which there are no witnesses here to speak—the prisoner gave me two numbers in Brick Lane, both of which were false—I went subsequently to 56; the landlady is here—I searched the top front room, and among other property Pugsley, in my presence, found these three neckties, identified as Sir H. H. Allen's property, stolen from his house on 25th October—Pugsley also found a travelling rug, identified by Mr. Ridley, and some wearing apparel and jewellery, identified by Mr. Cassel and Middleton, and six keys and a key-ring, identified by Mr. Noyes as part of the proceeds of a burglary in Pall Mall—that wai the whole of the property identified from different burglaries—we found five jemmies in a box under the table, with their ends wrapped in cloth, so that they could be carried in the pocket without cutting through, a dark lantern, eight files, two saws, two chisels, two iron wedges, and one bottle containing acid for testing jewellery—after we had gone about 100 yards towards the station Vickers suddenly attempted to dart backwards from us—we were walking one on each side of him—we seized him; he struggled violently about a minute, kicked me on the leg, nearly threw me, and finding he could not get away, went quietly—after finding the implements and property at Vickers's I returned with Pugsley to the station—in my presence he told the prisoner he would be further charged with stealing the other property found there—he said "Have you seen my missus; have you got her?"—I said "No"—he was afterwards charged with breaking into Mr. Noyes'—the charge was read over to him, he said "All right." (The COMMON SERJEANT considered that evidence could not be given of burglaries subsequent to the one charged.) In consequence of information received I and Pugsley went to Notting Hill on 6th Dec.
and watched a coffee-house in the Portland Road—Martin came out and went into a public-house—Pugsley called him out, and I came up after Pugsley had spoken to him—as I came up Pugsley said in the prisoner's presence "Bob says he is not the one—I said "It is Bob all right enough"—Martin said "You seem to know something"—we took him into the coffee-shop, and on the first floor back I picked up Sir H. H. Allen's portmanteau—I said to Martin "This is wrong"—Martin said "It was brought here"—while waiting to go before the Magistrate Martin said "I got that portmanteau from Jack"—we knew the two prisoners as Jack and Bob.
Cross-examined by Martin. You never said you gave 6s. to Jack for the portmanteau.
Re-examined. I have seen Pugsley fit a key in a lock taken off by Mr. Middleton from Sir H. H. Allen's place.
WILLIAM PUGSLEY (Police Sergeant). I have heard Fox's evidence, it is true—I was with him—I received a lock from Middleton which had been taken off the door of 70, Chester Square, occupied by Sir H. H. Allen—I have fitted to that lock a key found in a drawer in Vickers's room when that place was searched; it fits.
Cross-examined by Vickers. I have not tampered with the lock in any way so as to make the key fit.
ELIZABETH SANDERS . I am William Sanders's wife—he is an engineer living at 56, Brook Street, Lambeth—Vickers lodged with us about six weeks before his arrest with a woman who passed as his wife—they occupied the first-floor front room, which was the room the police searched, where all this property was found.
Cross-examined by Martin. The doors and drawers in your room were never locked since you have been there, they were always open.
THOMAS MIDDLETON . I am a builder—I took this lock off Sir H. H. Allen's street door—I have not tampered with it in any way as regards the key—I took it off when it was broken, and put another one on.
Cross-examined by Vickers. I have had the lock to pieces, I repaired it—I have not taken it to pieces this time—I have repaired it before.
Re-examined. I saw Pugsley fit two or three keys to it.
WILLIAM PUGSLEY (Re-examined by Martin). I found the portmanteau in your room in the corner at the foot of the bed; it was not put out of sight—I found 1 1/2 d. and a penknife, a silver pencilcase, a pair of bone solitaires on you, and a pair of trousers and a waistcoat—I took those away because I had reason to think they had been stolen—I have not found that they were, but the umbrella, portmanteau, and writing pad had been—I took away four pawnbroker's duplicates, with which I have been to the pawbroker's—I have not found any owner for the goods.
Vickers in his defence stated that on the night of the burglary he was in at home, and that he had borrowed 5s. of his landlord, which he should not have done if he had had all this property. Martin asserted his innocence, and argued that if he had had this property he would not have been likely to pawn his own boots and coat.
VICKERS— GUILTY .
MARTIN— GUILTY. of receiving.
122. JOHN VICKERS and ALFRED MARTIN were again indicted for breaking and entering tho counting-house of John George Finch Noyes, and stealing certain valuable securities and other goods, his property, to which
VICKERS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
JOHN GEORGE FINCH NOYES . I am an architect, of 50, Pall Mall, where I have three rooms, which I use as offices, on the ground floor behind a shop—they are closed at 5.30 each evening—on the morning of 21st November, from what my clerk told me, I went to my office, where I found three iron safes unlocked and open, and most of the papers which had been in them scattered about—I missed a quantity of Ottoman Bank Shares and other property, a lot of jewellery, and I sufosequently missed this blotting-pad (produced) among other things—it is my property.
WILLIAM PUGSLEY (Police Sergeant). When I searched Martin's premises I found this pad among other things, and this umbrella, which Mr. Ridley identified as the proceeds of a burglary at his premises—I was ptesent when Fox picked up this portmanteau.
Martin's Defence. I may have been guilty of some indiscretion, but I had no guilty knowledge in accepting fhese goods, and I am not guifty of stealing them.
GUILTY of receiving.
VICKERS then PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Arthur William Ridley, and stealing a rug and other articles; also to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Smith, and stealing a purse and other articles, having been convicted of felony in July 1882, is the name of Thomas Richmond. This conviction proved to have been one of misdemeanour only, and a verdict of
NOT GUILTY was taken as to that.
MARTIN PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1876, at this Court.— Eight Years's Penal Servitude each.
The COMMON SERJEANT highly commended the conduct of Pugsley and Fox.
MESSRS. MEAD and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and FOOKS appeared for Davis; MR. E. BEARD for Thomas Chapman; and MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and WARBURTON for James Chapman.
JAMES CLARIDGE . I am a carman in the service of Henry Tingle, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields James about 12.80 on 18th November, while I was delivering paraffin in Green Bank, Wapping, my van with five barrels of oil in it was taken away James I was away about 12 minutes delivering thrte barrels at a shop James when I came back the horse and van were gone James it had "Arthur Taylor" on it, and the five barrels had a number cut on each—they were 801, 805, 803, 804, and 806—I communicated with the police, and the same night at 7 o'clock two men brought the van home empty—on November 20th I saw the 2 barrels, 801 and 805, at 5, Winter's Buildings, Assembly Passage, Stepney—that is about 1 1/2 miles from the place I was delivering in in Wapping, and about the same distance from
where the van wds found in Collingwood Street—I saw the other three barrels, 803, 804, and 806, at 10, Court Street, Mile End Road—none of the oil had been used out of any of the barrels—I have no doubt whatever of their identity because of the numbers and brand—their value was about 6l., rather over 1l. a barrel.
JOSEPH GALLOWAY . On 18th November I saw a horse and empty van in Collingwood Street about 3 o'clock—about 7 o'clock I saw the same van there—I spoke to the boy Pryer and he took it home; the address was on the van—Collingwood Street is about half a mile from 10, Court Street.
ARTHUR PRYER . I live at 9, Coventry Street, Bethnal Green—about 6 o'clock on the evening of 18th November I saw one of Tingle and Jacobs' vans in Collingwood Street—Galloway gave me some directions, and I took it home.
WILLIAM MACEY . I am agent to Mr. Winter, who has stables and other premises, which he lets, in Winter's Buildings, Assembly Passage, Mile End—I let No. 5 to the prisoner Davis on Monday morning, 17th November—I gave him the Wrong key—the man brought back that one and I gave him the right key.
Cross-examined by MR. FOOKS. I am not aware that Davis let these stabled to anybody else—I am down at the stables fire or six times during the day—I saw nobody else there on the 18th—I could not recognise the man that came for the right key—it was in the evening and dark.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. James Chapman has stables in Winter's buildings too.
Re-examined. That is No. 3—She wrong key was brought batok on the following day, the 18th, between 5 and 6 o'clock, I think.
EMILY CHICK . My husband is a carman in Tingle and Jacobs' service—I heard of the loss of this horse and van on 18th November—I know James Chapman as "Naphtha Jack"—that is his business, he has a shop in Court Street opposite our house—on 18th November I saw him in Court Street at 3.15 standing on the pavement against his paraffin shop, which I believe is No. 10—a, cart was standing there with two barrels like naphtha or oil barrels, with blue on the top—I knew the pony as his—I could not Swear to the cart.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. His trade is to go round with a cart selling oil—I knew him when he took the stables from the White Raven; that was before he took the public-house which he keeps—I have known him since the beginning of last summer, dealing in oil, and going about with the cart to customers—I don't know whether the two barrels I saw in the cart were full or empty.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I know nothing about Thomas.
Re-examined. I know him by sight—I have seen him at the White Raven, but at no other placed.
FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Police-Inspector). On 20th November I obtained a key of 5, Winter's Buildings, and went there with Sergeanf Rolfe and Payne, about 6 p.m; there are two floors, a stable and loft—I found two barrels of oil there, numbers 801 and 805; they were afterwards shown to Claridge; while there Davis and James Chapman came, and a man followed behind who hurried away—I could not see who that was, it was very dark and sudden; we had a light, the stable door was drawn to, we
heard footsteps and the light was blown out, they tried to open the door—I rushed to the door and took hold of James Chapman, while Rolfe took Davis—the other man hurried away—we took them to the station—Davis was somewhat violent, but when he knew who we were, I think, he went quietly—I struck a light and told them we were police-officers—I said to Davis, whom Rolfe knew, "How do you account for the possession of these things?" he replied "I don't know anything about them"—I said, "Well, I have ascertained, I can tell you, that you took the premises from Mr. Winter before coming here;" he said "It is quite right, I did take the premises; and I had no use for any other part but the upper floor, and I let this part to two men, and that is all I know about it, I don't know how the things came here"—I said to James Chapman, "What account do you give of being here?" he replied "Mr. Frank," pointing to Davis, "asked me to come round and have a look at some barrels, to tell hin whether they contained naphtha or paraffin; that is all I know abort I the matter"—I said to Davis, "You hear what Chapman says; he states you asked him to come round and look at these barrels, which I believe to be stolen, and you will both have to go to the station"—Davis made no remark whatever—I said to Chapman, "Have you any other place of business besides the public-house you keep?" he said "Oh, yes," and immediately put his hand in his breast-pocket, and handed me a card with "James Chapman, 10, Court Street, Whitechapel, ponies and traps let out by the hour, day, week, or month, etc."—I sent the two prisoners to the station, and then, about 8 o'clock, about two hours after went to James Chapman's shop, 10, Court Street, with Rolfe, where in the back yard I found three barrels of oil numbered 803, 804, and 806, similar in, appearance to the two at Winter's Buildings; those were afterwards shown to Claridge by another officer—Thomas Chapman was brought to the station by Payne and Rolfe the same evening; and I then saw the three prisoners together, about midnight—I said to James Chapman in the other prisoners' presence, "The two barrels of oil at Winter's Buildings and three others found at your place, 10, Court Street, have been identified as having been stolen on the 18th"—he replied "I don't hot anything about it; I haven't been there for two or three weeks, my brother here looks after that place more than I do"—I said to Thomas "How do you account, can you give me any explanation, for the possession of these barrels?" he replied "No, I am not always there; I look after the place more than my brother, but the boy is sometimes there; I don't know anything about the barrels"—on the Inspector reading the charge, Davis said "These men don't know anything abort it," alluding to the two Chapmans.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have had no description from Macey of the man who brought back the key—I have not gone to Macey for a description.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Besides his public-house, the White Raven, James Chapman takes oil about in a cart, and supplies coster-mongers all round the neighbourhood where their barrows are in the evening—they were ordinary oil barrels we found—there are two boys there, Sparks is one.
WILLIAM ROLFE (Police Sergeant H). I have been in Court and heard Abberline's evidence—I corroborate it as to what passed when I was there, which was the whole evening—about 8 p.m. I went to the white
Raven kept by James Chapman—I there saw Thomas Chapman—I said "Your brother James is in custody with Frank," that was Davis, "for stealing a load of oil; where does your brother keep his oil—the stock?"—he said "He has no oil by him; he buys and sells daily"—I said "You look after the shop in Couit Street"—he said "Sometimes, but I have not been to that for some time; I have been out buying barrels and tubs and bags."
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. James has kept the White Raven for about seven months—it would bo necessary to give a satisfactorily good character before he could get the licence transferred to him.
WILLIAM MACEY (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). I only recognise Davis—I don't know that I should have looked to Davis if my premises had taken fire, because we insure all the premises—I should not be able to recognise the man who came the second time for the key—the police have not been to ask me for a description of him.
MR. BEARD submitted that there was no evidence against THOMAS CHAPMAN MR. MEAD concurred in this, and the Jury were directed to return a verdict of
NOT GUILTY as to him.
MR. WILLIAMS submitted that there was no evidence against James Chapman, but the COMMON SERJEANT considered that there was evidence to go to the Jury.
Witnesses for the Defence.
THOMAS SPARKS . I live at 4, Barnsbury Street, Whitechapel, and am in James Chapman's employment—I remember the three barrels, subsequently described by the police, being brought to my master's premises; he was not there, I was—two darkish-looking men brought them on the 20th, between 5 and 6 p.m.—I asked for the bill—they said "If Mr. Chapman don't want it I will take it back in the morning"—the three barrels were delivered, and the police came and took them away after-awards.
Cross-examined. I was there on the 18th—I could not swear if I was it 3.30, I was between 2 and 3 o'clock, I think—I did not see James Chapman there then; he was not there, I am certain; his brother was—I was there all the evening after 3.30—I went away about 3 o'clock to Nine Elms to take some stuff in Chapman's pony and cart, and was away about an hour and a half—Chapman had and has three ponies—I don't think I had ever seen the men before who brought the barrels; they brought them in a pony and box-barrow—I did not see the name on the barrow—I did not look—they never came again—they left no bill, and said if my master did not like it they would take it away—I don't know, if my master usually does business like that—people do not usually bring things without bills—sometimes he signs them at the public-house before they come over—I have never seen Davis before—I was not called at the plice-court—I know Chapman's stables in Winter's Buildings—there is another boy here; he was in the place at the time—Rolfe asked me what time the stuff was delivered, and I told him between 7 and 7.30—I did not know the time myself—Inspector Abberline was there then; he did not ask me if I knew anything about the barrels—he said to Rolfe after he (Rolfe) asked me "Oh, he is telling falsehoods."
at the White Raven when Davis came in on the Thursday and asked Chapman to come round to the stable, as he wanted to show him something—he left with Davis.
James Chapman received a good character.
Witness in reply.
FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Re-examined). I saw Sparks about half an hour after Chapman was charged, about 1 o'clock a.m. on the 21st, at the White Raven—I asked him if he was one of the boys attending to the shop, and he said "Yes"—I said "Do you know anything of those barrels of oil that have been found at the yard?"—he said "I do not"—Rolfe had some conversation with him; it amounted to the same thing, he said he did not know at all—I afterwards saw the boy in the presence of the other lad next day.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Very likely I told the boy he was telling falsehoods, I don't remember.
Re-examined by MR. MEAD. I said that from what had transpired at the charge, from what one of the brothers had said, and from my own knowledge that the boy was frequently there.
DAVIS and JAMES CHAPMAN— GUILTY on Second Count.
There was another indictment against the prisoners for stealing and receiving eight cases of shellac, the property of Henry Gibbs , to the receiving Count of which Davis PLEADED GUILTY ; and also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in June, 1881, at this Court. Rolfe and Abberline stated that for the last 12 months they believed Davis had got an honest livelihood.— Eighteen Months Hard Labour each.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted; and the evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.
RACHEL PYSER . I am the wife of Moses Pyser, of G, Duncan Street, Whitechapel—on Friday night, 12th December, about 9.30, I went to bed after closing and locking the front door and shutting but not bolting the back door from the kitchen to the yard—that door could have been opened by any one from the outside by turning the handle—about 2 o'clock a.m. I was awakened by somebody shutting the door downstairs which leads into the yard—I woke up my husband, opened the window quickly, and looked out and saw a man climbing out of my yard into Mr. Cohen's yard, No. 5, next door—I could not see his face, I do not recognise the prisoner, he was about the same size—I called out "Stop thief"—he was going over other yards and over the roofs, he disappeared on the other side—I missed three pairs of trousers, and two waistcoats, and a shirt-front, and 28s. and a few coppers, and a few shillings in the trousers pockets—in the waistcoat pocket there was this little key from the Synagogue—I picked up some of the clothes he had dropped in the passage and some in the yard—my neighbour found the coat and waistcoat in his yard—he dropped half in my yard and climbed over the wall and dropped the rest there—the key was handed me at the police-station.
ABRAHAM HERMANN . I am a tailor, of 10, Duncan Street, Whitechapel four doors from the prosecutor—on the morning of the 13th I was awakened by shouts of "Thieves;" I looked out at my bedroom window hut could see no one—I put on my things and meantime heard a lot of
windows which are on the top of my tailors' workshop in the yard smash—I went into the street, where I met Morris Hermann; he informed me of something, and I went to the Workmen's Club with the police—we tried to get in, and the prisoner undid the bolts and locks from the inside, and tried to escape from the front—when he found the place surrounded by police, he ran back into the club, and the police lost sight of him inside, where there are a lot of rooms—he concealed himself in the parlour of the club, the window of which leads into the street—the police put me in the yard to watch while they went inside to look for him—he came out over the gate leading to the street, and I caught him—when he came up the steps I said "What are you doing here?"—he pointed to the club, standing on the top of the gate, and said, "A thief, club"—I said "Quite right, you are the thief"—he wanted to spring over and thought he could manage me, but when he jumped I caught him—we had a desperate struggle, and I held him tight till I got the assistance of the police—I had seen him coming from the direction of my yard, No. 10, over the roofs.
MORRIS HERMANN . I am the last witness's brother—between 2.15 and 2.45 a.m. on 13th December I was aroused by the alarm of thieves; I put on my clothes, looked out at the window, and saw the police with their lanterns searching in the yard—I saw the prisoner—I am certain he is the same man—I told my brother he was rather a stout fellow, coming from the direction of the yard; he came on to our skylight, about five or six feet from my bedroom—I looked from my window; he came quite close to me—I said "What are you doing there?"—he answered in some language I could not understand—soon after I halloaed out "Police, he is making his way into the club"—when he heard me he jumped on to the ground at the back of the club—I could not see if he was carrying anything—he got out in Alie Street—I went round to the club and saw my brother catch hold of him.
FRANK LUDWIG (Policeman H 273). On the morning of the 13th, in consequence of information received, I went to the Workmen's Club and stood in front to watch the building from the outside—a few minutes after I saw the prisoner jump over the railings, he was seized by Abraham Hermann—I ran up, seized him, and took nim to the station—I found on him 1l. in gold, 11s. 6d. in silver, 3 3/4 d. in bronze, and this box key—I did not find the clothes.
JACOB COHEN . I live at No. 5—on the night of the 13th I was awoke by Mrs. Pyser shouting "Mr. Cohen, Mr. Cohen, there is a thief climbing over to your yard"—I slipped my window up and saw him standing right on my workshop, into which he fell, breaking the skylight, and doing about ten pounds worth of damage—I heard two knocks at the door; I rushed down quick, it was the constable—we both went into the yard where I found this pair of trousers and waistcoat—I handed them to the constable; he said "Is that yours?"—I said "No"—I took them to the station and found they were Mrs. Pyser's—I picked them up in my yard near where I saw the man go—it is easy to climb from one yard to the other, there is only a brick wall seven or eight feet high between.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. I have not stolen anything. I was walking in the street until 2 o'clock at night. I went into the club to sleep. I found the police after me; I wanted to get out."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he went into the club to sleep, that
hearing a great noise in the street he tried to come out; he asserted that the money was his own, collected for the purpose of leaving London, and that the key must have been put into his pocket by a man near him in the street.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HOFFMEISTER Prosecuted.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, December 18th, and 19th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS. GRAIN and TICKELL Defended.
THOMAS BRAMAH DIPLOCK . I am one of the Coroners for the county of Middlesex—on Wednesday, 19th November, I held an inquest on the body of James Gibbons—on that day the prisoner was called and sworn in the usual way—she was not cautioned at all; she was called as an ordinary witness—she gave her evidence, and I took it down in writing at the time—it was not read over to her then, and she did not sign it then—the inquest was adjourned to half-past 11 on Tuesday, the 25th, when the surgeons and other witnesses were examined, and on that occasion the prisoner signed her deposition—I asked her then in which way her name was spelt, and she told me—she said nothing more that I remember—the inquest was again adjourned to December 2nd, when the depositions were completed and the verdict returned—this is the deposition of the prisoner as I took it down. (Read: "I reside in Fleet Lane in the parish of Hayes. The deceased was my husband. His name was James Gibbon. He was 63 years old. He was a contractor in the Creosote Yard of the Great Western Railway. He came home on Saturday at half-past 9 or a quarter to 10. He was not usually so late as that, because he had been out for the day. He had his supper, and went upstairs for bed at very near 11. I was up before he was undressed, and he sat on the side of the bed. I asked him if his cousin Mary met, him at Taunton. He said 'Yes.' I asked him if he had wrote for her to meet him, and he said he had not. I asked him if he had wrote to any one to let her know, and he did not answer me. I told him he might as well have let me went with him if he knew his cousin was coming up to meet him, and that seemed to upset him. He told me I had no business to say anything about his relations. With that he jumped up, got the revolver from under his pillow and waved it about his head, and I screamed and ran downstairs. I heard the shots fired. I ran up again, and he was fell down. I tried to rise his head. I ran down again to Mrs. Sowman, my neighbour, and called her in, and she and I tried to rise him up again. He was dead, then, I suppose; we did not see him breathe. I was undressed, but not in bed, at the time the conversation
took place. It is not the first time we have had conversation on the same subject; we have often spoke of it. We never had no words, it was all said in good temper. I do not know what there was to put him out or excite him. He was very often excited like that; for several months he did not seem as if he was right; he used to get up and dress and go down into the yard in the middle of the night and walk about. He did not sleep well. He used to suffer very much with his head. He took his food well at supper time, but not at other times. He has been very much depressed. Sometimes of a morning he did not eat no food. I think it was four shots that I heard, one after the other, instantaneous almost. I did not see where he was shot. Blood was all round the chest and shoulder. He was lying on his stomach when I went up. The revolver was lying up against his head like. I do not know if we moved it in trying to pick him up. There was no one else in the house. He had a bad fall three or four years ago off a truck in the yard, and was insensible for some time, and after that he had a slight sunstroke.")
Cross-examined. I put questions to her, principally in the same way one would in examining a witness in Court; she answered them, and I put down her answers without the questions—I cannot recollect whether she said "I was undressed standing against the mantelpiece"—my recollection is principally dependent on the depositions—I think she was arrested by the inspector the day she signed her deposition—she made no hesitation about signing her deposition—I said "I want you to sign jour evidence," and she did so at once—the questions I put to her were readily answered'.
Re-examined. A solicitor represented her on the second occasion, I believe—there was no solicitor there when she was examined.
DIANA SOWMAN . I live in Fleet Lane, Hayes—my house is next door to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons, with a garden path between—on Saturday night, 15th November, I was sitting in my house with my husband—I knew Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons very well—I saw Mr. Gibbons pass my house on that Saturday morning, between 7 and 8 o'clock; he was walking in the road—he said he was going to the station—I heard him say "Good-bye, Lizzie, I shall be home about half-past 9 in the evening"—that was all I heard—I don't remember seeing Mrs. Gibbons that morning—he went towards the station—I did not speak to him, or he to me—I have often seen him about in the garden and passing by—I knew that he was a teetotaler—I had not spoken to him—somewhere between 11 and 12 o'clock that night I was in my house with my husband, and heard the prisoner call me—she was in the lane against my gate—I went out—she was in her night-dress—she said "Do come in, Mrs. Sowden, Mr. Gibbons has shot himself," or "My husband has shot himself"—I could not say which words she used—I followed her in—I don't' think she had shoes or stockings on—that is a mere guess of mine, she might have had stockings on; I could not say—I saw that she had blood on her nightdress in front—I followed her into her house; she said nothing more—I went upstairs into the bedroom; I could not say whether she went up first—the door of the room was open—it opens into the room—I saw Mr. Gibbons lying on the floor on his face, his head towards the door and his feet towards the bed (A model and plan of the room was here produced)—I think the door could have been shut without touching the body, I could not be sure—Mrs. Gibbons and me tried to raise him, to
see if he was dead, but we could not raise him, he was too heavy, or else I was too frightened to do it—after I got up from him I noticed the revolver lying down by his left side, on the floor—it was down by his left side, or it might be rather under the side, I could not say; I saw something lying there and I picked it up—it would be on the side nearest the wall, not the side nearest the bed—he was lying on his stomach, and this was by his left side—I could not say whether it was just under the bed, or just by the side; and in trying to move him up I saw the revolver lying down; I picked it up and put it on the drawers—his left arm was stretched out at full length, resting on the floor—I could not say how the right arm was—the revolver was not far from the shoulder, near the waist—I did not notice in what state the revolver was when I picked it up, I did not look at it, I laid it on the drawers—there was only one chest of drawers in the room—I stayed with Mrs. Gibbons in the bedroom till the doctor came—my husband came to the door of the house; he did not come upstairs—I called down to him, and told him to go for a doctor—Mr. Parrott and Mr. Hathaway, his assistant, came together in about 20 minutes—the prisoner said nothing to me in the meantime—I did not ask her anything; she was too full of grief—when Mr. Parrott came he told me to take her downstairs—the prisoner and I then went downstairs—she said nothing more to me downstairs—I stayed with her all night—I don't remember her saying anything to me during the night, only she was very full of grief; that is all I remember—Hunt and Hyde, the policemen, came—I afterwards washed the body, and laid it out—I saw there was a great deal of blood on the body—he had on a flannel under shirt, and a calico shirt and drawers—I don't think he had any socks on, but I don't know; I don't remember taking any off—I and Mrs. Wall and her husband took the clothes off him—Annie Wall was not with me; it was her mother and father—I do not know who took possession of the clothes, but I believe Mrs. Markham did; she came next day—I did not notice anything in the prisoner's manner; she was quite sober.
By the COURT. I think it was nearer 12 than 11 o'clock when Mrs. Gibbons called me, because when my husband went for the docttr he said he heard the clock strike.
Cross-examined. I found the revolver below his shoulder—I could not be very positive where—I know it was below the shoulder; somewhere down here (pointing)—his arm was up—I have heard him complain of his head several times—when I have gone in and asked him how he was he said "Well, I don't know, my head is very bad"—I have heard them talk about his having had a fall off a truck on his head, but I did not know him at that time—I had seen him, but did not know him to speak to him—as far as I know he and the prisoner lived together as a happy married couple—I was their next door neighbour—their room was clean and comfortable, and nicely furnished for people in their class of life—it was a very nice, comfortable house; it was always nice, clean, and comfortable—the prisoner, with slight assistance, attended to the household duties.
Re-examined. The deceased came home to his meals.
By the COURT. I used to go in at chance times; sometimes I used to go in two or three times a week—sometimes I did not go in at all.
By MR. GRAIN. When Mr. Gibbons went away in the morning I did
not see the prisoner, but I heard her come to the gate and say "Good-bye"—I knew it was her voice—I did not go to the gate to see.
WILLIAM HUNT (Policeman X 364). About 1.10 on the morning of the 16th November I saw Mr. Parrott—I was on duty in the street—I at once went to Mr. Gibbons's house—the last witness opened the door to me—I went upstairs to the bedroom, and saw the body of Mr. Gibbons on his back—I saw this revolver on a chest of drawers—I took possession of it—I did not examine it at that time—I took it to the station after having some conversation with the prisoner—in the evening I and Police-constable Manby examined it—Manby, in my presence, took out five cartridge cases—it was a six-chambered revolver—I could not tell whether they had been recently fired—the sixth chamber was empty; we could not get that one out at the time—the empty cartridge case wan in it—I Afterwards saw it taken out by Manby—it was not in the same state as the other cases; it was corroded round—before I left the bedroom I noticed the deceased's face; there was a wound in the face, and the face was blackened as if from powder, from the eye down the cheek—the body was lying on the floor on its back—I did not move the body at all—the clothing was then on—the doctor had then left—the bed was turned down, and there was a slight impression on the side as if some one had sat on the bed—the clothes were turned, down so as to expose the side of the bed—they were turned nearly half way down the bed from the pillow—the impression as if it had been sat upon was on the side nearest the door, near the pillow—I noticed that before I left the room—I then went downstairs and saw the prisoner—she appeared to be in great grief, crying very much—I was in uniform—she made a statement to me—I did not ask her questions, she spoke to me—I had my book with me, I have it here—I wrote down what she said, she saw me writing—I wrote it as it came from her lips as far as I could—she said "Policeman, I cannot realise it; it do not seem true, to see how he used to kneel by the side of the chair and pray every night; he arrived home to-night at about half-past 9 o'clock, had his supper, and went into the stable to look at the horse; he then went upstairs and partly undressed himself to retire to bed; I went upstairs just before him, and I then asked him 'Was Mary there to meet you?' he having been to Taunton; he replied 'Yes;' I said 'I think she might have written and told me;' my husband said 'I do not know why she did not write;' he then took up the revolver from under the pillow, swinging it round and firing it off three or four times, and he then fell on the floor, he being at the time sitting on the bed; I then called Mrs. Sowman, a neighbour, who came to my assistance, and we went to the bedroom and found he was dead." That was all said to me without any question at all from me—nothing more passed between us—I then left the house—that would be about. 20 minutes to 2 o'clock—I reported the matter to my superiors at the station—I did not read over to the prisoner what I had taken down—I am certain I have given her very words—I was standing up, she was sitting down.
Cross-examined. Mr. Parrott first informed me of what had occurred—he told me that Mr. Gibbons had shot himself—that was in the street, about five minutes' walk from the house, I was on my beat and met him—exact words were "Mr. Gibbons has shot himself"—he also told me he had examined the body, and that as far as he was concerned he had
done with it—both sides of the bedclothes were turned down, sheet, counterpane, and all, over the whole breadth of the bed—I noticed the under sheet, there were just a few little spots of blood on it, I don't suppose there was one larger than a farthing; I could hardly say how many spots there were, possibly a dozen—a few spots noticeable, but not a great deal—they were nearer to the pillow, between where the impresssion was and the pillow, on the side nearest the door.
By the COURT. I did not notice any blood in the room—I looked round about the body, but not under the body—I saw none.
ANN MARKHAM . I live in Black Lane, Hayes, about three minutes walk from where Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons lived—I had known them ever since they had been in Hayes, nearly seven years—I used to visit them, sometimes oftener than at others; sometimes I have not been there for some little time, and sometimes I have gone there two or three times a week—I don't think I had seen Mr. Gibbons during the last week; he was pretty well the last time I saw him—I don't think I saw him after the Sunday before his death—I believe he was a right-handed man; I don't know whether he could use his left as well as his right; I have always seen him use his right hand—on Sunday morning, November 16th, I heard what had occurred on the previous night and I went round to the prisoner's house; I got there about 9 o'clock and saw the prisoner—I said to her "Oh dear Mrs. Gibbons, what is this that has happened?" and she answered me "Oh dear, Mrs. Markham"—we did not say any more for some little time, she was too overwhelmed in trouble to talk—she afterwards said that Mr. Gibbons had been to Taunton, and he came home and had his supper, and he went out in the back yard to see to the things out there, and he saw a dead fowl, and then he went to see to the horse, and he came back indoors and went up to go to bed, and then he asked her how the fowl came dead, and she said she did not know, and he said that the horse was not properly groomed, and she said he must ask the man about that, and she said Mr. Gibbons took the revolver and twirled it about and shot himself—her words were "He then took the revolver and twirled it round and fired it off," and then she ran downstairs and went and called Mrs. Sowman, and Mrs. Sowman went to her assistance, and there was not any more said—she said she heard two shots after she came down stairs, as she was going out of the door; that she had a difficulty in opening the front door—she said she went upstairs again and Mr. Gibbons was fell on the floor; I don't know whether that was before she went to Mrs. Sowman's or after—she said something about putting her arms round him, but I won't be quite confident about it—she said Mr. Gibbons, went to Taunton on Saturday morning, and returned at half-past nine at night, and had his supper—she said to him, she thought Mary might have wrote to her and said whether she had been coming to Taunton or not—she did not say what Mr. Gibbons said—I have told you as near as I can remember what was said—I did not ask her any questions after she had told me this—I afterwards went up into the bedroom; I saw some clothes there by the drawers, a flannel under-shirt that had been taken off the body, and a shirt also; they were covered with blood, and on the Sunday evening I took them with me, and washed them on the Monday, and after I had washed and dried them I gave to Police-constable Mawby—these are the two things I washed (produced).
Cross-examined. I don't recollect Mrs. Gibbons saying, after she said
Mr. Gibbons twirled the revolver about, that he did not seem to be in his right senses—I said at Uxbridge "When they got upstairs Mr. Gibbons, got the revolver, flashed it about, and shot it off onoe, and did not seem to be in his right senses; he seemed like a madman;" that is what Mrs. Gibbons said—there was no suggestion by her that I should take these things away; Mrs. Harrison, her sister, was upstairs, and I asked her if I had not better take these things away at once, as I thought the prisoner would not like the sight of them, and she said she thought so—the prisoner told me the story quite openly and seemed to conceal nothing.
By the COURT. She said nothing to me about any dispute—only about the fowl and the horse, that he did not like it because the horse was not properly done.
ROSE HARRISON . I live at Montagu Street, Canning Town—I am the sister of the prisoner—on Sunday, 16th November, when I heard of this sad matter, I went down to her house and sat with her—on Thursday I found a bullet in the bedroom on the floor by the bedstead on the door side, as I was sweeping the room—I showed it to Mrs. Gibbons and asked her what it was—she said it was a bullet, and asked where I found it—I told her—she told me to take care of it and give it to the doctor when he came—I gave it to Dr. Parrott's assistant, Mr. Hathaway, on the following Saturday—it was a bullet like this (produced.)—I gave it to him in the same state as I found it.
Cross-examined. I was not at the inquest—it was after my sister had been examined that I found the bullet—on Sunday, the 16th, I found a bottle in the pantry with beer in it, about three parts full.
JOSEPH MAWBY (Policeman X 114). On Sunday, 16th November, Hunt handed me this revolver—I examined it on that day, and fouod cartridge cases in five of the chambers—I removed them—the pistol appeared to have been recently fired in all the five chambers—there was a cartridge case in the sixth chamber that I could not remove, it was very fast in—next morning I got it out—it was corroded in the chamber—it had not the appearance of having been recently fired—on 21st November I received from Mrs. Markham the calico shirt and flannel shirt produced—she had washed them—I have taken charge of them since.
ANNIE WALL . I now live at Fleet Lane, Hayes—I knew Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons—I went there in the daytime to work for them as a servant—I had been in the habit of doing that for about six weeks before Mr. Gibbons died—I did not sleep at the house; I came away at night—no one slept in the house but Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons—Lucy Venn was not staying with them when I went—I knew her—I had seen her at Mrs. Gibbons's; she was then 15—I had seen her in the summer—I used to go there at 7 o'clock in the morning, and leave sometimes about 6, sometimes later—on Saturday, 15th November, I went there about five minutes past 7 in the morning—I went round the back way in—I saw Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons that morning—they were up and dressed—they had had their breakfast when I got there—Mr. Gibbons left about a quarter past seven—Mrs. Gibbons was there when he left—they appeared to be on kind terms with each other—he kissed Mrs. Gibbons before he went away and bade her "Good bye"—I did not hear him say where he was going—during the day I and Mrs. Gibbons went out together—we started a little past 1 and returned a little past 3—before we started Mrs.
Gibbons had her lunch—she did not have anything to drink for her lunch—before we went out at I had fetched her a quart of sixpenny ale; that was in a bottle—I brought it back to the house and gave it to her—I did not see her drink any of it—I brought the beer in this black glass bottle (produced)—we went out together and went to Uxbridge—that is about four miles from Hayes—we went into a public-house there and she had 4d. worth of either brandy or gin, I can't say which—she had water with it—after we got home, about 7 o'clock in the evening, I fetched a pint and a half of sixpenny ale for her—I put it in the pantry—about 8 or 9 o'clock, Mrs. Gibbons told me to go and fetch anotner pint of sixpenny ale; I got that in a jug, not in the same jug, a small one—I got it and gave it to Mrs. Gibbons—I did not see that any of the beer I had fetched had been drunk—I am a teetotaler, and so was Mr. Gibbons—I left the house that night a little more than half-past 9; Mr. Gibbons had returned about half-past 9, Mrs. Gibbons seemed all right then, and so did Mr. Gibbons; I said "Good night" to him, he was just going to have his supper as I came away, Mrs. Gibbons was cooking it; he did not say anything to me—before I left I heard him say something to Mrs. Gibbons about the front door being open, he let himself in, she did not say anything to that—when I left only Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons were in the house, that was the last time I saw him alive, up to that time I had gone every day during the six weeks, he seemed all right during that time, he went to his work nearly every day—I saw no change in him during that time—I know their bedroom upstairs—I used to assist Mrs. Gibbons there; I had been in the room on the Saturday; the last time I was in there was not long before I came away, the bed was made then—I knew that Mr. Gibbons had a revolver—I have seen it nearly every day, it was a little revolver, it was lying wrapped up in flannel on a table by Mrs. Gibbons, on the left-hand side of the bed—I never touched it when I saw it there, Mrs. Gibbons told me not to touch it because it was loaded—I had seen it downstairs, about a fortnight before this Saturday, it was out of the flannel then, and Mrs. Gibbons had it; she asked Mr. Gibbons if he was going to load it again; it had been used—I am not positive whether she said Mr. Gibbons shot it off at the sparrows, or whether she did—when she asked him if he was going to load it again he said he was, and after that it was upstairs again in the flannel, on the table by the side of the bed—I saw it once under the pillow, on Mr. Gibbons's side of the bed, the door side; Lucy took it out and put it on the table on Mr. Gibbons's side of the bed, it was not in flannel then, it was open; there was a fowl dead when he came home on the Saturday afternoon, it was not shot, it was lying down dead; it was one of the best of the fowls, there were no marks on it, or anything to account for its death—Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons lived together pretty comfortable; they did not quarrel—he was a right-handed man—the prisoner used to have about two quarts of six ale a day, nothing besides—I did not fetch her anything else—I have never seen her the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. She worked hard all day—I used to get there about 7 o'clock in the morning—we used to keep the beer in a bottle in the pantry—I have seen her go to it occasionally and take a glass out of the bottle and then go to work again—the house was very neat and clean—I was only six weeks in the service; the first part of the time they had a
tub of beer in the house—it was not finished, there was some in it, I think, when it was taken away—I used to go daily for the beer to the Royal Oak public-house, close by—sometimes on a Saturday I went and got some for Sunday, a pint and a half—Hayes is about four miles from Uxbridge—this Saturday was a coldish day—I was with her all the time from Hayes to Uxbridge and back again—fourpennyworth with cold water was all she had to drink—I went to the house once or twice when Lucy Venn was there, and I helped her to make the bed one morning, that was when Mrs. Gibbons was away in Wales, and in making the bed I found the revolver under the pillow on Mr. Gibbons's side—he had been sleeping there that night—when I was there for the six weeks I used to help Mrs. Gibbons make the bed nearly every day—I did not see the revolver on the Saturday; I don't remember whether I saw it the day before.
LUCY VENN . I was 15 last September—I live with my mother and father at Fitzhead, eight miles from Taunton—about two years ago I came up to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons at Hayes; they were my uncle and aunt—I used to call them uncle and aunt—Mrs. Gibbons came and fetched me, and she and I and Mr. Gibbons lived in the house together—I used to assist in the household work—I was there, I think, a little over two years—I left last September—two or three days before I left Mrs. Gibbons hit me once, that was all; that was in the kitchen—she hit me on the lip; there was a little mark there for two or three days—my uncle did not say anything about it; I don't know whether he saw it—I left because of something I had done wrong, I don't remember what it was—my uncle said I should not leave, and my aunt said I should—I went home on the Monday morning, my aunt went with me as far as Reading, and I went home to my father and mother—my aunt was always kind to me—once or twice I have seen her take a little too much while I was there—she and my uncle lived very happy together all the time I was there—I knew that he had a revolver; I nave seen it on each of the little tables, and in the drawer; it was generally in a piece of red flannel, and I have seen it downstairs once or twice, only once under the pillow—Annie Wall was with me then—it was taken from undor the pillow and put on a table by the side of the bed—I think I saw my uncle shoot it on once at the sparrows in the garden—I knew it was kept loaded; I was told not to touch it—after I went home in September I was put to school at Acacia House, Taunton—when I first went to Hayes my aunt talked of putting me to school—she said nothing when I left about my being put to school at Taunton—I remember my uncle coming down on the Saturday, 15th November, to see me—I received a letter from him that morning at my school, by post—I know his handwriting—this is the letter I received on that Saturday morning—my mother came to see me about 11 o'clock, and went with me to the railway station at Taunton, and there met my uncle at a little after 1 o'clock. (Letter read: "Nov. 14. My dear Lucy,—I am sorry to trouble you with so many letters. I told you in my letter yesterday what your aunt said to me about your coming home, and that she was gone on to the Mash; but she said nothing about it, nor did I to her. I made up my mind to come down to-morrow if I can. I shall be down at half-past 1, and leave at 4.27, therefore you must not be disappointed, if I don't come I will come next Saturday. I shall want some dinner somewhere when I come. The house your aunt
wants you to go apprentice is next door to Mr. Parrott's. I will tell you all about it when I see you. From your affectionate Uncle, J. Gibbons.") I met him at Taunton—he seemed all right—I went about with him, and he remained there until a quarter to 5 o'clock—I and my mother were about with him—we chatted with him—I talked to him about the holidays—he said I was to have a week at home and a month with my aunt—I and my mother saw him off by train—he said good-bye to us, and appeared to be all right—that was the last time I saw him alive—up to the last time I saw him I had not seen any change in him—I don't remember his complaining of his head, but he did of his chest—I think my uncle paid the money for my school to Mrs. Watney.
MARY VENN . I am the mother of Lucy Venn, and live at Fitzhead, near Taunton—I was first cousin to James Gibbons—on 15th November I and my daughter met Mr. Gibbons by the 1.25 train—he remained with us all day, except three to five minutes—we saw him off by the 4.45 train—at that time he seemed to be in good health and spirits—I believe he came to Taunton for the purpose of paying the little girl's schooling—he did not pay it to me; he gave it to Mrs. Watney, the schoolmistress—my daughter had formerly lived with him at Hayes.
Cross-examined. Mary Gibbons, an aunt of Mr. Gibbons, committed suicide a great many years ago—a cousin of his was confined in a lunatic asylum; she was there for many years, and I don't know but what she is there now.
Re-examined. It is from 40 to 50 years ago that Mary Gibbons committed suicide—I was only a child then; I do not know the circumstances, only what I have heard in the family—I know it was a disappointment of marriage—the cousin has been at our place many times—I don't know how she came to go to the asylum; I suppose she might be insane—I can't say whether she drank—she lived in Broad Windsor—I don't know the cause of her being in the asylum.
ABRAHAM ADAMS . I live at Glen Cottage, Hayes—I knew Mr. Gibbons perfectly well for seven or eight years—I was in the habit of seeing him nearly daily—on Saturday morning, 15th November, I saw him at the station, and spoke to him—he seemed to be in good health, perfectly well and Happy—I saw him at Hayes Station, when he returned from Taunton by the 9.25 train—I walked with him from the station a short distance and chatted with him going along—it was not above two or three minutes' walk down to the bottom of the hill, in the direction of his house—his house was quite a mile from the station—when I left him he seemed quite happy—I had not seen any change whatever in his manner and demeanour—he was contractor at the Creosote Yard of the Great Western Railway, and he used to attend to his business very regularly—that was the last time I saw him alive—next morning, Sunday, about 11.30, I went to his house with the two Mr. Westons, George and William Weston—I had heard what had occurred on the previous night—I saw the prisoner in the sitting-room at her house, downstairs—Mr. George Weston said something to her as to the occurrence: I can't remember the words—she said something with reference to the horse being badly groomed—I cannot recollect the words exactly—then she went on to say that she went to bed, that he came afterwards, and when he was undressed he took the pistol from under the pillow, waved it in the air, twisted it round the hand, saying "I cannot stand it any longer," that
he fired one shot which she thought was to frighten her, but immediately fired another one, and she closed with him, and tried to get the revolver from him, but being unsuccessful she ran downstairs, and when opening the front door to call a neighbour she heard two other shots and the fall; she ran back upstairs, and found that he had fallen down on to the floor, and she said "I tried to raise him to kiss him and see if he was dead"—she then went downstairs and called the neighbours—that was all—they lived rather unhappily—Mr. Gibbons was a very particular friend of mine; he was a right-handed man, and a total abstainer.
Cross-examined. I have been to the house a great many times—I have heard sharp words pass between them more than once—I cannot give dates, because I have heard it many times; perhaps if I had had any idea of this I might have noted it down, but I did not—I could not attempt to give a date—I can within years—within the last six months at their own house; I should say three weeks before his death; I was there as a friend of Mr. Gibbons, not having a meal there, simply calling there—the words were about some domestic mattery; it did not trouble me, because it had not anything to do with me—I cannot give you the nature of it—I don't know that I have had words with my wife.
Re-examined. I am a member of the same total abstinence society as Gibbons was, and of the same church.
GEORGE WESTON . I am superintendent of the Creosote Works at Hayes, and live in Avenue Road, Southall—I have known the deceased since July, 1871—he was a man in a comfortable way of life, no pecuniary difficulties whatever—he was a right-handed man—I have been in his company nearly every day for years past—he was always of a cheerful disposition, never in any way desponding or anything of that sort.
Cross-examined. I remember his having an accident, a fall from a truck, on his head—I think he was a good deal shaken at the time—it was something like four years ago.
Re-examined. The effects passed off in about a week or so—I did not see any difference in his manner afterwards, it all passed off.
EDWARD JOHN PARROTT . I am a M.R.C.S., and practise at Hayes—I knew Mr. James Gibbons ever since he has been at Hayes—I attended him professionally on many occasions—the last time was in the summer, I could not say exactly when—I frequently saw him from time to time—I last saw him on the Saturday before his death; he was perfectly well then—I almost invariably attended him for one thing, that was dyspepsia—his disposition was very bright and cheerful during all the time I knew him, there was no change in his manner and demeanour—on the night of Saturday, 15th November, about midnight, Mrs. Sowman came and gave me some information—I at once went with my assistant, Mr. Hathaway, to Gibbons's house—I got there in seven or eight minutes, it might be ten—I went upstairs into the bedroom, and there saw the body of Gibbons lying on the floor, face downwards—the head was close to the edge of a small table which stood between the bed and the door; the feet were down by the side of the bed, perhaps partially under the valence of the bed—he had on a white shirt, and subsequently I found underneath that a flannel shirt, drawers, and I believe socks, but of that I am not sure—my assistant and I turned him over immediately—he was quite dead; there was no pulse, no respiratory murmur, no heart sound—the body was warm—in my opinion he had only very recently died,
I should say from a quarter to half an hour—there was a great deal of blood on the left side of the shirt; there was blood on the face, on the left side—in the centre of the left cheek there was a small, sharply-defined wound, blackened round with powder and surrounded by blood on the face—I saw there were other wounds—we left the body exactly where we turned it over—I cut the shirts down and turned them back, and saw two wounds on the chest on the left side (A plaster cast was produced, and the witness pointed out upon that the position of the wounds)—at that time I did not notice any wound at the back—I noticed the bed; the clothes were turned down nearly to the bottom of the bed, all across, and there was an impression on the side of the bed nearest the door as if some one had been sitting on it, and between that impression and the pillow on the same side of the bed the bed was sprinkled with blood—I left the shirts on the body after cutting them—I noticed two holes in front on the white shirt corresponding with the wounds—the shirts were saturated with blood, and round the two holes on the outer shirt were the marks of powder—behind the door I saw a smear of blood and a splash of blood on the wall—if the door was open it would hide the smear and the splash—the smear was about three feet from the ground as far as I remember, it was just a slight smear, but distinct—the splash was two spots, they were below as far as I remember—I observed nothing else—there was no evidence of a struggle—I saw a revolver lying on the drawers at the end farthest from the door, there was blood on the side of the barrel—I took it in my hand, looked at it, and replaced it where I found it—the prisoner and Mrs. Sowman were in the room when I first went there—the prisoner was wringing her hands and making great demonstrations of grief, and after we had turned the body over she pat her arms round his neck and kissed him—she was in her night-dress, she had stockings on, at least some covering that I believed to be stockings—I said to her "How did he do this?"—she said "I don't know, he flourished it about"—I said "Didn't you try to prevent him?"—she said "I put my arms round him and tried to prevent him and fell down with him"—this was said in the room—after that I got a shawl and put it round her and got her out of the room—I saw that her night-gown had blood upon it on the front, not very much, it was stained with blood in places—after I had completed my examination of the room I went downstairs and there saw the prisoner again—she spoke to me first and said "Is he dead?" "Is he dead?" "Is he dead?" three times before I could answer her—I then sat down beside her and talked to her and asked her if she knew of any cause, or trouble, or anything to cause him to commit such an act—she said "No," but she afterwards said "There might have been some little trouble to-day, we have had a little girl living with ua about two years, and Mr. Gibbons was very fond of her; about two months ago I sent her home to her mother, and he has been to see her to-day; and when he came home I said 'You might as well have taken me with you;' he said 'You can go another time, when you like, I will give you her address, you can go on Monday if you like'"—she also said that since the little girl had gone home Mr. Gibbons had not been the same man, that once or twice he got up at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and went downstairs without any cause, only he said he could not sleep—I think that was the substance of the conversation—I left the bedroom as it was—I went to the house again on the Thursday
following to make a post-mortem examination by order of the Coroner—Mr. Hathaway was with me—after proceeding some way with my examination I thought it desirable that some surgeon of skill and experience should assist me, and I applied to the Coroner, and Mr. Boulby, the Surgical Registrar and Demonstrator of Pathology of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, came and assisted me in the post-mortem examination on the following Saturday—we found that the wound in the cheek was a bullet wound which had fractured the upper part of the jawbone; we found the bullet, it had traversed obliquely along, backwards, slightly downwards perhaps; the bullet was found lying deeply embedded in the muscles of the neck, close to the mastoid processes of the mastoid bone, in front of the ear, just below it—it had not come through—I took possession of that bullet—at the entrance of the wound the skin was marked with powder, it was a clean mark which I should describe as a characteristic bullet wound of entry—we also found a wound at the back of the left shoulder, midway between the spinal column and the point of the shoulder; that wound had gone through the two shirts and had traversed horizontally forward, of course that is supposing the body to be in an erect position; it had gone in a distance of three inches; the bullet was felt by the probe, it could also be felt easily under the skin with the finger in front of the neck—the deceased was a stout man with broad shoulders; I should think about 5 feet 8 or 9 inches in height—in my judgment it was utterly impossible for the man himself to have caused that wound, either with the left hand or the right—I am of opinion that under no condition of things could a man have fired that shot with the pistol himself—there were two wounds in front, one was two inches to the outer side of the left nipple; about half an inch below that there was a bullet wound at the point of entry, and the bullet traversed inward from left to right, downwards and slightly forwards; in its way it perforated and fractured the fourth rib close to its junction with its cartilage, perforated the pericardium, the sac which contains the heart; traversed the anterior wall of the heart, perforating and opening the cavity of the right vertricle, and then passed through the diaphragm and was found in the right lobe of the liver; the pericardium was full of coagulated blood—in my judgment, after that injury had been inflicted the man could have lived but a very short time indeed, perhaps half a minute, perhaps more, but I should say about half a minute; a man after receiving that injury certainly could not have fired any other shot; if he had been standing up when he received it, he would immediately fall down—it is possible that with his left hand he might have fired that shot; to all intents and purposes life would be extinct in half a minute; there might be a few spasmodic gasps afterwards, but he would be rendered instantly powerless, it might be called instantly fatal—the bullet was found by Mr. Boulby lying against the muscle which covers the anterior side of the shoulder blade, it had gone through from the front and was found lying under the shoulder blade behind; it had gone in slightly upwards—that wound which went behind the collar bone and the first rib I consider a very serious one, because the quantity of bleeding lying along the track of the bullet was very great—I have not any special knowledge of gunshot wounds, I have been a sportsman all my life—I should say that the pistol must have been held very close to burn the shirt and flannel underneath, but not in contact—I am speaking of the hole at
the back—if it was in actual contact it would set fire, it would not make so large a hole as this, but when once set fire to it would burn any size—I noticed on one of the holes of the shirt there was some black powder, and on the flannel as well, although they had been washed—there were two small contused wounds on the body, one over the left temple and one on the back of the head over the right parietal bone; these might be occasioned by a fall, they were certainly not bullet wounds and had nothing to do with the cause of death—I took charge of the four bullets until the inquest, I then handed them to Inspector Morgan.
Cross-examined. I speak positively to-day about the pistol not being in immediate contact with the body when the wound was caused, in consequence of some experiments which were performed since I gave my evidence before; that was in consultation with Mr. Boulby and Inspector Morgan; the shot might have been an inch off the body, it might have been half an inch, but my opinion is that it was about an inch—of course if the woman had it in her hand there was nothing to prevent her putting it in any position; but then I say it would not have been fired by accident—I don't think it would have been possible for the wound in the back to have been inflicted by accident—in a struggle supposing she was trying to tako it away from him I don't say it is utterly impossible; I say I don't think it possible—I don't think it possible that that wound could have been caused during a struggle, in the attempt to prevent him shooting himself; in my opinion, I should say it was impossible—I have only treated one bullet wound I betiere before this—if he fell with the pistol in his hand, I am quite prepared to say that the wound in the back could not have been caused in that way; the first thing that would happen would be the loss of power in the muscles of the hand, and the hand would go down by the side; supposing he had clutched the pistol in his hand, it was utterly impossible to have caused the wound there—I say it would be absolutely impossible while he had the pistol in his hand to have caused the wound in the back; of course if the pistol was propped up on the floor, and he fell with his back upon it, and at that moment it went off, it might have caused it—I have no experience of shot wounds in the heart—I have read of them; I don't remember reading of extraordinary positions of bodies on the battlefield; it may be common, but I don't know it—I have admitted that it was possible for either of the front wounds to have been selfinflicted; but if you take the three front wounds collectively, I don't think I could have admitted that—I have said that individually they might have been self-inflicted, but not collectively; I don't think the, three wounds could have been inflicted by himself—I don't think it possible, that is my opinion—I could not tell you which was the first wound—the wound that went through the heart was the last one in my opinion; of course if anybody else inflicted the wounds there is no telling which was the first, or which was the last; assuming they were self-inflicted, then I am of opinion that the heart-wound must have been the last wound—I think the wound in the back must have been caused before the heart-wound—there was as much hemorrhage as one would expect from a wound in that position; there was not much, but that wound did not wound any important structures or vessels, and therefore one would not expect to get much bleeding—I think there was quite as much blood on the shirt as one would expect to find—I deliberately say
that—when I was first examined I declined to give an opinion as to whether the shirt was in immediate contact or not; I did not feel competent to give one—I had seen the three wounds in front before I had spoken to Mrs. Gibbons downstairs and I had formed an opinion previously that it was case of suioide—I was not positive about it—I was inclined to think it was suicide; the remark I made to my assistabt was "We shall see when we make the post-mortem"—I was inclined to think it was a case of suicide—at that time I was not aware of the wound at the back—I didn't find the wound in the back that night—I saw the revolver on the drawers that night in the room, not by the body—I have heard what Mrs. Sowman has stated in Court to-day about it, that it was partly under the man's body—there was a pool of blood on the carpet, unde rthe left shoulder where he lay; if Mrs. Sowman washed the body, she would necessarily have her hands covered with a deal Of blood; she was thdfe when I got there, but she had not washed the body then—I saw the smear before the body was washed; anybody that handled the body would get blood on their hands, not otherwise—a bloody hand or a bloody cloth touching the wall would cause the smear.
By the COURT. If the pistol had been fixed firmly and the man fell upon it, the wound in the back might so be created, but it is very doubtful—I could not give an opinion—in my opinion if the three wounds in front were self-inflicted the heart wound was of such a serious character that death would occur so rapidly that he wounld be instabtly there and the incapable of firing another shot—a bullet wound in the face which snfashed to atoms the upper jaw and buried itself in the deep structures of the neck, I don't say would deprive a man of consciousness; but it would give a considerable shock, and such a shock that it would be a question whether he could fire another shot then; the wound passed through important structures in the thorax—in the course of that bullet wound there was a hole in the subclavian artery, which is a very large vessel, and the hemorrhage in that wound was so great as to make us think that the hole in that artery was caused by a bullet; at the same time we cannot be sure; anyhow, the hemorrhage was so very considerable, and the shock from a wound like that would be so very great that having fired the two I do not think a man could put himself in the constrained position that would be necessary to fire that heart wound—the heart wound could not have been fired with the right hadn in any way—you could not get anything like round you to send a bullet in the direction in which this travelled unless you used the thumb—it would depent upon the direction in which the head was turned.
ANTHONY ALFRED BOULBY . I am a Surgeon, and am surgical Registrar and Demonstrator of Pathology at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—at the request of the Coroner on 22nd November I went to Gibbons's house, and there assisted Mr. Parrott in the post-mortem examination—I have heard his description of the wound in the cheek; it is accurate—such a wound would create a considerable shock to the system and a partial stunning effect—that wound in itself was not deangerous to life—I agree with him that that shot might have been fired by the man himself with the pistol in either hand, but from its direction most likely with the right—of course if anybody else was firing at him thter would be no diffculty whatever—I have heard Mr. Parrott's description of the wound at the back, that is accurate—I believe it would be impossible for a man holding the
pistol in either hand to have fired that shot and have caused that injury upon himself—the pistol could not possibly have been got into such a position to inflict that wound, so long as it was in the hand of the deceased himself—I have heard Mr. Parrott's description of the line in which the bullet traversed, from behind directly forward with the slightest degree of tendency upwards, but practically the direction of the wouud was forwards; that would make it the more difficult for a man to do it—in course there would be no difficulty in anybody from behind firing it—in my judgment the heart wound must have caused death almost immediately—I should say the man would be absolutely dead within two minutes—the moment it was fired there would be a rush of blood from the heart—I believe it would be quite impossible after the infliction of such a wound for the man to hold a pistol and fire it off at himself—if he was standing up when such a wound was caused he would fall immediately—he could have inflicted it upon himself by holding the pistol in his left hand, but not with the right—with respect to the front upper wound Idon't think that the bullet went upwards; I think it went practically directly inwards, as if fired point blank from front backwards—I think the man could have done that himself with the pistol in either hand—that was a serious wound—there had been very extensive hemorrhage—it was evident that some large vessel had been injured—such a wound would produce a considerable amount of shock—it might not cause him to fall instantly—he wight possibly have physical power to hold the pistol and fire it again; it is highly improbable that he would be able to do so, but not absolutely impossible.
Cross-examined. As far as the three front wounds themselves are concerned, it is possible that they may have been inflicted by a suicide—it is not even improbable that the first wound may have been so inflicted—as to the second I think it is improbable—it is not the usual position in which a suicide would shoot; it might be done—I say it is possible for these two wounds to have been self-inflicted—I could not say that it was absolutely impossible for him then to inflict the third wound—it is possible if I had examined the body and seen the three wounds without any suggestion of murder I should have said that it was probably not a case of suicide—of course I could not be certain on such a point—if I took into consideration the condition of the shirt, then I think it is impossible that this could have been a case of suicide—having all the facts before me I am prepared now to say that it is impossible that this was a case of suicide—I said as far as the three wounds themselves are concerned it was not impossible—the wound through the heart, could only have been inflicted with the pistol in close contact, and the examination of the shirt shows that that wound was not inflicted in close contact; by close contact I mean not within six inches—it would depend upon the length of the arm; partially it would depend upon the muscles that move the arm—I believe that no man could hold a pistol six inches from his body and yet inflict that wound; that is my belief—I am prepared to say that it is impossible—there was evidence from the examination of the wound that the arm was raised from the side at the time the injury was inflicted; I mean that the arm was raised at least level from the side at the time the injury was inflicted—if the arm was raised like this then the hole in the skin would correspond to about the fourth rib, and as a matter of fact it did so—that test is absolutely infallible—I have treated a gunshot
wound before—all I say is that the arm was raised at the time the injury was inflicted. (The witness described upon himself the way in which he suggested the arm must have been held to produce the wound.) I say that at the time the wound was inflicted the pistol was not held close; a mere twist of the wrist would not put it in the position to cause the wound, in my opinion. Q. Supposing a struggle between the deceased and the prisoner, she trying: to prevent him from committing suicide, and seizing the pistol and getting it first in one hand and then in another, would it be impossible for the wound to have been inflicted? A. It could not be inflicted with the pistol in the hand of the deceased. Q. I am putting it that the pistol was in the hand of the wife? A. An examination of a wound cannot tell me whether it was inflicted accidentally or otherwise—it could have been inflicted with the pistol in some other person's hand—it could not have been done by the pistol going off as he fell with it in his hand—I say as long as the pistol was in his hand it was impossible—it could not have been caused with the muzzle pressed close against the back—I will not say it is impossible that the wound could have been caused by his falling from the heart wound with the pistol in his hand—I wish to be clear about this; I say it is not impossible, but if the man fell on the pistol, the pistol would be in actual contact with his back—I have said I am not prepared to say it is impossible that the wound could have been caused by accident.
By the COURT. I am of opinion as the body fell it is extremely unlikely the pistol could have been in that position, it could only be steadied by something upon it that would bring the muzzle actually in contact with the body; but the wound was not caused when the pistol was in such close contact—if the pistol went off at that distance and maintained the proper direction, it might be so inflicted—the state of the shirt indicates that it was actually burnt—if you hold a pistol against a body it does more than burn, it does not make so large a hole as that—I did not see the shirt before it was washed—it would be considerably rubbed in washing—that would not indicate immediate contact with the pistol, not pressed against it—I have not said so before; I said originally an inch off—I have said "the wound might have been inflicted provided the muzzle was in close contact with the deceased's back"—I take into consideration the state of the shirt.
Re-examined. From the examination of the shirt and flannel, the quantity of the powder remaining after the washing, lam of opinion that the pistol must have been held very near the shoulder, the burning going through to the flannel—as to the heart wound the outside calico shirt was not burnt at all—I infer from that and the amount of scattering of the powder, that the pistol must have been at least six inches off, probably more like a foot, but at least six inches—there was no sign of burning at the upper one; that must have been held some distance off—I have seen cases of firing at calico—I have seen fifteen or twenty cases of gunshot wounds, or perhaps more.
By the COURT. In my opinion after the infliction of the heart wound it was impossible for any other action to have been taken by the deceased—if the wounds were self-inflicted that must have been the last wound inflicted—after the infliction of the cheek wound it would be possible to inflict another wound; it is very improbable that immediately after the infliction of such a wound another wound could have been inflicted—the
improbability of a second wound being inflicted afterwards would be infinitely increased—the third, the heart wound, if fired by the man himself, must have been fired very soon after the other two—the other two were certainly inflicted before the heart wound, in consequence of the excessive hemorrhage from it; unless that wound had been fired immediately, the man would have been faint from loss of blood, and unable to do anything more; it would be necessary te fire the heart wound within half a mintite or less, or he would have been too faint.
DANIEL MORGAN (Police Inspector X). At 9 on the morning of the 25th November I went to the prisoner's house—I found her there with her sister Mrs. Harrison, and Mrs. Sowman—I was then making inquiries, it was before the adjourned inquest was held—I did not then know the result of the post-mortem examination—I called on Mr. Parrott, he declined to give me full particulars, he was going to give evidence before the Coroner—when I called on the prisoner I first asked her if her husband had any cartridges left—she said "Yes," and told her sister to go to a certain drawer and fetch them—she did so, and handed to me in the prisoner's presence a box containing 16 cartridges—I produce some of them; some have been used, the pistol has not been used—I then examined the room, and behind the door about three feet from the ground and 18 inches from the post I saw a large smear of blood—from one to two feet from the floor I saw large spots of blood as if dropped downwards, they were immediately beneath the large smear—I questioned the prisoner and made a note of the conversation; she said "My husband loaded five chambers about a fortnight since; he said he only loaded fire because the stopper of the other was out of order; he fired one barrel about two days after to frighten the sparrows; I believe only four were left loaded; he bought the revolver about five yeara since of a Mr. Palmeter; Mrs. Markham washed the shirts with other things, she was not told to do so, she always did the washing; they were taken away on Sunday, the 16th. Cousin Mary is Mrs. Venn, of Fitzhead, near Taunton. My husband left home to go to London on business, and said he was going to Taunton from there. I asked to go with him, he said I could not go that day, but was to go another day. My husband's purse containing money, supposed notes and gold, is missing. He also took 4l. 18s. in silver that morning, that is missing. He is not insured. I have no children. I have been married 37 years last June. There was no person at all in the house exeept myself and husband. I believe four shots were fired; one shot was fired before I left the room. I heard the other three afterwards whilst rushing downstairs. I only had my nightdress on. The revolver was under the pillow nearest the door. I saw it there that afternoon. The door was open when we entered the room, and was left open; it had not been closed at all. I know nothing of the marks on the wall. The door was always left open for air. I was stood at the mantelshelf, that is immediately opposite the foot of the bed; there is a washing stand in front of it and the fireplace at the side I did not see him take the revolver from under the pillow. I first saw it in his hand, I believe the right hand. He was very excited. I have often heard him say he could not stand it any longer. I am not aware he was in any difficulties. When he hurt his head Mr. Parrott's assistant attended him. He banked at Uxbridge. I do not know how much money he had there. I did not know anything of his money affairs
He always carried the spare cash with him. Everything is in the room now just as it was then. The doctors first moved the body. He did not speak at all. I put my arm under his head and tried to raise it before Mrs. Sowman came"—I read it over to her, she said "That is correct"—I asked her also if she had read in the newspaper her evidence before the Coroner; she said "Yes"—I asked her if she could and anything to that, she said "No"—that is all that passed then—I left her and did not take her into custody then—I afterwards attended the inquest, and after the medical evidence, and after the adjourned inquest on the 25th, I took her into custody—I told her I should arrest her for wilfully causing the death of her husband, James Gibbons, by shooting him in the head and body—she said "I did not do it, I am innocent"—I took her to the police-station—the charge was formally made there, and she repeated the statement "I did not do it"—I produce five bullets which I got from, Mr. Parrott—four were taken from the body, and one was found by Mrs. Harrison and given to Mr. Hathaway.
Cross-examined. When I went to see the prisoner on 25th November I had read her statement made on oath before the Coroner—I did not go there with the intention of arresting her then—I had come from Paddington, where I am stationed, to inquire into a supposed suicide—I had a suspicion then that it was a case of murder—nearly all the prisoner's statement I have given was in answer to my questions—I suspected that the man had died from foul play—I did not suspect anybody elso but her—I asked her a gret number of question, everything I could think of, for the purpose of eliciting the truth—I did not put the questions for the purpose of eliciting answers which might confirm my suspicions as to her being a murderess—I had a suspicion that all was not as it should be—I put the questions for the purpose of confirming my suspicions or removing them, not exactly for the purpose of confirming them; her answers might have removed them or confirmed them—her answers did confirm my suspicions—I did not take her into custody then because my suspicion was not evidence; I had nothing definite to go upon besides the doctors evidence—I had seen Dr. Parrott before going on the 25th—he did not go into particulars; he told me partially the effect of his examination of the wounds—he did not go so far as to say whether he thought it was suicide or murder; fee thought it was not suicide—it was with that conversation in my mind that I put the questions to the prisoner—she gave her answers frankly, fairly and openly; she did not nesitate in answering any one of them—I think she volunteered some remarks which were not actual answers to questions—I cannot recollect what they were; some of them were lengthy answers—after I had tried the revolver I still had a suspicion that it was suicide, a slight suspicion, that was all—I am speaking of the Sunday, night, two days prior to my interview with her—the first thing that excited my suspicion was seeing the hole in the back of the skirts—I took the prisoner into custody at the inquest after the evidence had been, given—I had not actually charged her before she aigned Jier deposition, she was in another room—she did not hesitate a moment in signing her deposition, although she knew she was to be charged with murder.
WILLIAM GARNER . I am a solicitor at Uxbridge—I am the prisoner's solicitor—I produce the probate of the will of James Gibbons—I made the will for him on 7th February, 1881—I was one of the witnesses, and my clerk was the other—after his death, acting under the advice of Mr. Grain, the will was proved—the estate was proved under 435l. 16s. 2d.—included in that there was a sum of about 155l. at the bank and some money in the Post-office Savings Bank, and the personal estate, house-hold furniture, and everything—the will leaves everything to his wife, and she is sole executrix.
Cross-examined. The will had remained in my safe from the time I made it, with other wills of my clients—as far as I know the prisoner was not acquainted with the contents of the will; I had never acquainted her with the contents—I had only seen her once.
EDWARD JOHN PARROTT (Re-examined). When I was in the bedroom at midnight on the Saturday night I saw a purse on the drawers; it was open and turned upside down, mouth downwards—I did not touch it—the assistant who attended Mr. Gibbons three or four years ago is not with me now, he has left—I do not know which of my assistants it was.
ABRAHAM ADAMS (Re-examined). There are a great many brickfields in our neighbourhood, and a great many rough people about—the deceased never left a halfpenny with me or anything of any value at the station—he was not in the habit of leaving anything at the station; if he had it would have been in my possession.
MRS. SOWMAN (Re-examined). There is a water-closet in the yard outside the prisoner's house; it adjoins the house; you have to go out of the house into the yard to get to it.
WILLIAM DUCK (Policeman). I understand surveying—I made the plan produced of this room—it is made to scale, and is correct—this model is also correct—I measured the bed; it was 6 feet in length and 4 1/2 feet across.
EDWARD JOHN PARROTT (Re-examined by MR. GRAIN). I remember your asking me before the Justices "Presuming that the man had used his left hand to take the revolver from under the pillow, would there have been anything to prevent him from causing the heart wound himself?"—I believe I said in answer to that "I do not know that there would have been anything to prevent him from causing it himself."
By the COURT. Supposing him to have been sitting on the bed with his face towards the door his right hand would be towards the pillow, therefore in all probability it would be his right hand that would take anything from underneath the pillow—the opinion I formed about the, blood marks on the bed was this, that they might possibly have been caused from the wound in the back, but that hardly gave me the impression from the position in which they were that the wound was eo caused.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Pronecuted; MR. BROUN Defended.
HARRIET JUANA LOCKYER . I am the wife of Walter Nevill Lockyer, living at the officers' quarters, Enfield Lock—the prisoner was in our service as gardener from about the end of May; he lived in a cottage in the grounds—on 10th November my husband went to Birmingham; the
prisoner carrd a portion of the luggage to the station—the only inmates a the house then were my sister, the nursemaid, two children, and myself—the prisoner's wife was not in our service, but she was engaged temporarily as our cook—she lived with the prisoner in the gardener's cottage—she used to come to the house to do work; she was engaged for a week to do the cooking, and went back to sleep at the cottage—she had been in the house on the 10th—I don't know what time she left—I don't remember seeing the prisoner in the house that day—I retired to rest about 9.30; my sister went up with me—I don't know who saw to the fastening up of the house, I did not, but it seemed all right as usual—I woke up about 11 o'clock, there was a strong smell of smoke—I was in the habit of burning a lamp in my room, and at first I thought the smoke was caused by that, but on looking up I saw the room crowded with moke; I got out of bed and partly dressed, and went on to the landing—I saw a great quantity of smoke ascending from the ground-floor—the nurse was calling out "Fire!"—I went downstairs, and went out by the front door; it was locked and bolted; I undid it, and went oat, and went through a gate leading into the road that was never locked—some men named Codling, Ryder, and Sorrell came and helped to pat the fire out, and the police came—I then went round the house—there were shutters to the dining-room window; they were quite fastened—the dining and drawing-rooms were to all appearance as I left them—when I went to bed I nad left the dining-room door open—somebody suggested that I should look into the sideboard; I did so and missed 42 electro-plated spoons, 24 forks, two pairs of nut-crack ere, one butter-knife, two sauceladles, one silver tea scoop and two silver napkin rings—I have sinoe seen and identified them—I also missed a carriage clock of my husband's, and next day that was brought to me with the other articles—it it usually kept in the drawing-room—I also saw a knife, a pencil, and a quill cutter, and other things which had been taken from a writing-desk in the study—we had a bag hanging up in the scullery similar to this (produced) that was brought to me on the 11th of November, containing all the articles I have been speaking of—I had seen the articles in the writing-desk a day or two before—it was not locked; it opens with a spring—besides being gardener, the prisoner cleaned the boots, and used to go into the dining-room to attend to the plants—the plate was kept ha the sideboard in the dining-room—at the time of the fire he was under notice to leave, and he would leave on the 15th—when I gave him notice he said it was a very bad time of the year to go; in the autumn—after the fire had been put out the prisoner was sent lor, and I remarked in his presence, while looking at the fire in the back staircase, that I wondered what the damage was, and he replied "Ten shillings' worth"—I said "I wonder whether anybody knew that my husband went away that morning," and the prisoner replied that he had told several people that—he had gone to Birmingham.
Cross-examined. I had a good character with the prisoner when he was engaged—I had two reasons for discharging him, the reason I gave was we were reducing the household—we keep three female servants—I left the servants up when I went to bed on this evening—the road from our house to the station is the ordinary highway, along which a great many persons pass—I think my husband started from home that morning about 9 or 10 o'clock—probably the servants in the house knew he was
going—I did not give the prisoner in custody—I should have waited for my husband to have done so; the inspector of police touk him on his own authority; not at my request—there is a side door into the grounds which is always open—the tradesmen use that door.
ELLEN BLANEY . In November I was housemaid in Captain Lockyer'a service—I had left in September, and gone back temporarily—on 10th Nov. the prisoner's wife had been in to work from 9 o'clock in the morning till about 3.30 in the afternoon, and again later, from 5 or 6 o'olock till 7—I saw her in the kitchen about 7 o'clock, when she left—I saw the prisoner in the kitchen And scullery during the day—I asked for some wood which was in the stable, he said he would bring it to me—I last saw him on the Monday, in the house, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon—he used to attend to the plants in the house—I locked the scullery-door and the back door about 7 o'clock—the scullery-door is at the back part of the premises, and leads into the garden—when I locked the scullery-door at 7 o'clock I left the key in the door—I was in and out of the scullery again later, getting some coals, about 9.30—I had to unlock the door to get them as the coal place is outside the scullery-door door, left the key in, and bolted the door—there is another side door downstairs, the one leading from the housemaid's closet, near the back staircase—that door is always kept locked—I went to bed about 10 o'clock—before that I had, as was part of my duty, put the plate away in the chiffonier drawer, in the dining-room—I was the last downstairs—when I went up to bed the house was all secure—after being upstairs some time I heard a knocking at my door, it was the nurse—my room was over the large kitchen, on the second floor—I got up, opened my door, and found the place full of smoke—I went upstairs and put the little boy, who had got out of bed in the excitement and was standing on the top of the stairs, in bed—I went to the window looking on to the back part of the premises, the garden, and called out "Wood! Wood! fire! fire! help!"—I called Wood by name because I thought he would be the nearest one to help us—shortly after I went downstairs, and saw Mrs. Lockyer on the stairs—I went to the front door, it was locked and all right, Mrs. Lockyer unlocked it—I followed her out of the front door to call for assistance, and Codling, Ryder, and Sorrell, came in and put out the fire, which was then alight in the cupboard under the back staircase; it had burnt part of the staircase—I did not see the fire when it was burning, I saw afterwards that there had been a fire there—there was also a fire under the front staircase, which I saw after it was put out—those fires were in two separate and distinct places—I did not see the prisoner till after the fire was put out—I then saw him in the passage—I did not speak to him at the time—afterwards Sergeant Merton came, and we went with Mrs. Lockyer into the dining-room—the drawers in the cheffonier were shut—I and Mrs. Lockyer opened them, and found the plate mjesing—the prisoner was there at that back of me at—the time—he helped me search in the cheffonier to see if the things were gone—when we found these things were missing he said "Will you look in the drawing-room, Annie?"—he did not say what for—I said "There is nothing of any value there"—as I was coming out of the door he said "Are you going to look in the drawing-room, Annie?"—I said "No, there is only china there; it would break, they would not take that"—I and Merton
and Mrs. Lockyer went upstairs, and the prisoner remained down—later on, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I saw Merton in the kitchen; the prisoner wae there—I told the policeman that the prisoner had thought some wood from the scullery about 7 o'clock that night—the prisoner said "No, it was not, it was about half-pant 7"—I was npt the first down-stairs after the fire was discovered, Mrs. Kniblock was.
Cross-examined. I have known Mrs. Lockyer's household about two years, before she went to Enfield—she has phanged her servants very often since she went to Enfield—I livsd with her at Woolwich; she had only been at Enfieldabout three months—I called f' Wood" at the window as loudly as I could, and made as much noise as I opuld—I law Wood at 7 o'clock; I did not see him leave the premiums—I bolted al the doors myself that evening—after 7 or 7.80 I did not see Wood on the premises—I was in and out of the scullery, kitchen, pantry, and all the kitchen offices—the prisoner assisted us in searching the dining-room—I did not sea dither of the cupboards actually on fire, they were out when I saw them—I was in Mrs. Lockyar's employ at the same time as Wood.
MARY ANN KNIBLOOK . I am single—I have been in Captain Lockyer's service for two and a half years—on the night of 10th November, about twenty to 11, I was sitting in the nursery and saw smoke coming through the boards of the room—I opened the door to see what was the matter, and found the staircase and landing full of smoke—I went to Blaney's room and knocked—I heard the crackling of wood—I then went down tat back staircase, there was a smell of smoke, and I saw flames coming from the cupboard under the front staircase—I went tp the scullery to get some water to put the fire out; the door leading from the scullery into the garden was open—the door of the cupboard under the front staircase in which the fire was, was a little open, and a box and some wool were burning—with the water from the scullery I put that fire, out—I I still heard a noise of crackling of fire somewhere—I went upstairs to give the alarm and came down again, followed by Mrs. Lockyer's sister—I went and looked at the cupboards under the back staircase—the staircases and cupboards are totally distinct—the door of that cupboard was open and paper was burning and the wood of the staircase catching fire—three men came in and I helped them to extinguish it, I could not do it all myself—I was the first person that came down.
JOHN ROBERT CODLING . I am a bootmaker of Enfield Highway—on 10th November, about five minutes past 1, I was passing in the neighbourhood of Captain Lockyer's house—I heard screams coming from it—I jumped up on the wall and called two persons, Ryder and Sorrall, and we all went into the house by the front gate, Mrs. Lockyer was in the front garden, we saw some fire burning in the cupboard in the back stair-case, and helped to put it out—after that, at Mrs. Lockyer's. suggestion, I went to Mrs. Lockyer's cottage—I knocked at the door, the prisoner came down in about half a minute, he was very nearly fully dressed—I think he had everything on but his coat—he had his boots, collar, tie, and hat on I think; he asked me what was up, I said "Come along, the house is on fire," he said "Good God"—we both went baok to the house together; the prisoner's bedroom window looks into the yard—I don't know which room he sleeps in, by opening a window you can see the house, not without—I should think I was about the same distance from
the house when I heard the screams as the gardener's cottage is—I heard the screams plainly.
Cross-examined. I was not particularly alarmed when I heard the screams—I didn't know it was fire; I was about thirty or forty yards from the house when I heard them—the front gate was closed—the prisoner went with me at once as quickly as I—I did not see how he was dressed when we started, it was too dark; when we got into the house I saw what he had got on—I was not certain about his hat—I think he had got it on—I am certain he had no coat on, and that that was the only garment he had not got on—I have known the prisoner some time—I believe he is a decent sort of fellow.
CHARLES MERTON (Acting-Sergeant Y). I am stationed at Enfield Highway—about 12 on the night of 10th November I went to Captain Lockyer's, both fires were out then—I examined all the shutters and doors of the bouse—I found no signs whatever of anybody having bruken in; the doors and windows were all fastened, there were no marks whatever—I saw the prisoner in the house, he was fully dressed except hit coat—he had a black felt hat on, and a collar and tie—the back windows of the house are secured by iron bars.
Cross-examined. From the time I came on the premises io the time I left, the prisoner was about—I saw him on two or three occasions.
GEORGE HEAD (Police-Inspector). I am stationed at Enfield—on 11th November about 9.15 a.m. from information I received I went to the officers' quarters—I found Sergeant Keen, and with him made a search of the premises; we examined the cupboard with a door to it under the front staircase; we found the inside charred and burnt, and the stairoue burnt; I examined the cupboard under the back staircase, that had a door to it, that was considerably damaged by burning, much more bo than the other ones; three or four of the stairs were actually burnt—the shelves were very much burnt; the top was charred and the paint blackened, and the ceiling of the passage blackened—the premises themselves are entirely surrounded by a brick wall, with the exception of the wooden entrance door—the gardener's cottage is in the grounds, and there is a path from it to the back of the premises; the prisoner's bedroom looks over the yard towards the house—you would have to look out of the window and turn to the left to see the house—the distance from the prisoner's cottage to the scullery door is fifty-six yards—after searching through the inside of the house I left Keen there, and went away for a short time, about half en hour; and then in company with the prisoner proceeded to look round the outer premises and search the outbuildings—I continued to search till about 1 o'clock, and Keen in the prisoners presence called my attention to a bag about three and a half feet under the floor of a moveable shed in the stable yard, about seven or eight yards from the entrance door to the prisoner's cottage—the floor of the shed was about ten inches from the ground; the shed looks like a shepherd's hut on wheels; the bag was between the ground and the hut, it was four feet under, Keen had a stick and could not get it with that—I had to go down on my knees—the prisoner fetched a rake at my request—I got it out—before it was taken out Keen said "There is a bag here and something in it," the prisoner replied "It is full too;" the prisoner at that time was standing whert he certainly could not see the bag—I could not see it, and he was standing by my side—I could not see it
till I went on my knees, I am positive of that—I had previously searched under the same shed, some two hours before, by stooping down and looking; it must have been there then, but I was looking at the front that time, Keen was looking at the side—Keen turned round to the prisoner, looked at him and said "How do you know that? you oan't see it"—I was at the front of the shed on my knees—I could not see it—I and Keen took the baff to Captain Lockyer's house, went to the kitchen, we met Mrs. Lockyer just outside the back door, and in the prisoner's presence told her we had found the bag and showed it to her; the bag contained all the lost property, more than had previously been described to us—Mrs. Lockyer said in the prisoner's presence "I know the bag, I have seen it dozens of times; don't you know it, gardener?"—he said "No, I have never seen it"—I found no trace whatever of any breaking into the house.
By the COURT. Keen had said nothing about the bag being full.
Cross-examined. The clock was in the bag—I did not take a note of the conversation between Keen and the prisoner—that was all that passed—I have not spoken to him with regard to this conversation since we were before the Magistrate nor he to me; I am sure of that—I rely on my memory entirely for my account of it.
MICHAEL KEEN (Detective Sergeant Police). I am stationed at Edmonton—shortly after 8 a.m. on 11th November I went to Captain Lockyer's—I saw the prisoner in the garden about half-past eight—I told him I was a police officer, and that I was making inquiries about the larceny at the house on the previous night, and the fire at the house—I asked him if he had seen any one loitering about the premises the previous evening—he said "No"—I asked him if he had heard any footsteps about the premises—he said he had not—I asked him if he had heard any one cry out fire—he said he did not—I asked if he was in bed—he said "No, I was in the act of going to bed, partly dressed and undressed, and I was called"—he said "Why do you ask me these questions; do you think I know anything about it?"—I said "I did not say you did know anything about it; I am simply making inquiries"—he said "I can see through it; they have robbed the house" or "the plate," I can't say which, and set it on fire so as to throw you off the scent; you will very likely hear no more about it"—I said "I don't know so much about it"—that is all that passed then—I remained on the premises—Head came after-wards, and I and he searched the out premises—I went to the shed near the prisoner'8 cottage—I have been in Court and heard the account Head gave just now—that was quite correct—I am quite sure when the prisoner said the bag was full I said "How can you say it is full when you can't see it?"—I had not said it was full—a rake was got—we got the bag out and all this property—I afterwards saw him with his wife in the kitchen—Head said he would take him in custody and charge him with breaking out of the house and stealing the property and setting fire to the house—I was going to search him, and asked him what he had got about him, and he said "Only this knife"—he asked me to rive it to his wife after I had looked at it—I noticed it was notched near the top of the blade—on the 17th I examined this writing case—I noticed on the morning of the 11th it had been broken open—I went to the prisoner's wife wd got the knife from her—there is a little roughness on the case, and on the leather under the lock there is an impression which corresponds
very nearly with the knife, and on the lock there is an impression of where something came to force it, and the notch in the knife exactly fits in the mark on the lock—the knife has been used on both sides of the lock to wrench it—the knife corresponds with the marks—on the morning of the 11th, when the prisoner was being conveyed from Enfield Highway to Enfield Town Court, he said "You did not find the property on my premises, you certainly found it very close, but all that can be made of it is suspicion."
Cross-examined. I did not search his premises—I don't know if Head did; I was not with him—I left the writing case behind in the house—I did not see it nor the knife between the 11th and 17th—I did not search the prisoner when I arrested him; I asked him what he had about him, and he immediately handed me the knife—I gave it to his wife as he asked me to do so—it was about a quarter of an hour after the arrest to the time I handed the knife to his wife—as far as I know this is a common pruning knife; it could be used for that purpose.
By the COURT. I compared the desk with the knife on the morning of the 17th—I had seen the knife on the 11th and given it to his wife then, and then I had a suspicion which led me to get the knife back again, there was no tampering with it in the meantime—the desk was in the possession of Captain Lockyer from the 11th to the 17th, it was in the same state.
MRS. LOCKYER (Re-examined). Between the 10th and when the officer took it this leather and lock were not altered in any way, I put it straight back into the drawer—the drawer was accessible to anybody in the house, it was not locked—my late cook was discharged recently—I had no reason to suppose she was in the house on 10th November, she left ft few days previously—I think she is in service at another place.
GUILTY .— Eight Yean' Penal Servitude.
For cases tried in New Court, Friday, and Old Court, Monday, see Eeses, Kent, and Surrey cases.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, December 19th, 1884.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. GREENFIELD Defended.
JACOB BRAND . I am manager to the Alliance Advance and Discount Company, 2, Leman Street, Whiteehapel—in September the prsoner came alone to my office and said "My name is Charles Bone, I live at 23, Gosport Road, Walthamstow"—he required the sum of 10l.—he said "I have plenty of security there, in fact there is one piano worth mow than double what I wish to borrow"—he further said a Mr. Ashton would also sign with him as surety—I did not ask for a surety—I asked him how long he had been living there and whether he was the house-holder there—he said "Yes," and he had been living there something like 12 months—we arranged the terms and that I was to go and the house—I called at 23, Gosport Road on 3rd September, the next day; a lady appeared at the door, she gave her name as Mrs. Bone—I have
seen her here—she showed me over the lower part of the house—there was furniture and a piano there—she showed me receipts in the name of Bone for the piano and other furniture on the premises, and the, rent-book was produced—I saw nothing of Hartnell—I saw a gold wateh and chain on the table in the parlour—I was satisfied with what I saw, went back to the office, and reported to Mr. Isaac Brand, my brother, what I had seen—the next day, tne 4th, the prisoner came to the office with Mr. Ashton—this warrant of attorney was signed and executed by the prisoner in my presence in the name of C. Bone, I saw him sign "C. Bene"—Ashton also executed it in my presence—it was a warrant of attorey authorising me to issue execution in default of payment of instalments—Mr. Dobson, the solicitor acting for the prisoner and Ashton at that time, was present; the warrant of attorney was completed at his office—before it was signed it was thoroughly explained to them and handed to them to read, and it was distinctly given them to understand that if there was any default in the payments we had power to sign judgment against them and issue execution—I then advanced the 10l. in gold—the prisoner took it up and they both went away together—I lent him the money seing that he seemed to be a householder and to have a beautiful house of furniture, and that everything seemed new; I believed him to be Charlds Bone—five instalments were paid, making together 2l. 15s., by the prisoner, I could not say if he paid personally—the instalments were payable weekly—he then went three weeks in arrear, and iq accordance with my warrant of attorney I signed judgment and issued execution, which was put in to 23, Gosport Road and withdrawn ia consequence of what I heard—I have not had the rest of the money.
Cross-examimd. Mr. Dobson who made the warrant of attorney, Was the prisoner's and Ashton's solicitor at that time—he had acted, for us before that and after—we have put matters in ilia hands—Mr. Dobson read the warrant over, and explained it to the prisoner and Ashton—tile prisoner was supposed to be a foreman carpenter—Mr. Ashton is a master builder—I have known Ashton too well since then—I have had only One transaction with him since; that led to litigation in the High Coirt—an execution was not levied on me for the costs of that action—Dobson was my solicitor then—he witnessed another warrant of attorney signed by Ashton—that went before Mr. Justice Field, who set aside xny judgment on the ground of Mr. Dobson, mt solicitor, having witnessed the document, when in law he was not entitled to do so—he had acted for Ashton before—Ashton then issued execution for costs, not against me personally, but against the Alliance Company—I don't think it was after that that I took criminal proceedings against the prisoner; it was some where about the same date—the matter was put in the hands of the polite before the warrant of attorney in Ashtou's case was set aside—before I took criminal proceedings against the prisoner I charged him and Ashton jointly with conspiracy; that was brought before the Lord Mayor and dismissed—the prisoner was then charged with obtaining money by fraud, and committed here—when he came and asked for the loan he did uot tell me he had Mrs. Bone's authority to ask for the loan in Mr. Bone's name—Mrs. Bone showed me over part of the house—I never heard of Hartnell's name—I have since heard there was some property of his in the house—I saw enough in the lower part to cover six time the amount of the loan, and thought it was not worth while going any further—the
rent-book was produced to show me who was the householder—I first found that the prisoner was not Bone from what was stated to me when the execution was issued against Charles Bone, 23, Goeport Road—the Prisoner called on us while the execution was in—I still oelieved he was one—he wanted to arrange matters—he made no offer—he did not sty he would pay H. a week to put matters straight—I never heard of that offer—we put the execution in after communicating with him two or three times—I relied on both the prisoner and Ashwell, but principally on the prisoner, as I thought he was a householder.
Re-examined. If I had known that none of the furniture I saw downstain was the prisoner's I should not have advanced the money—I should not, if I had seen enough of the prisoner's, unless he was a householder—I saw nothing else but what was downstairs—I never saw Ashton before he came to sign with the prisoner—the proceedings I have been speaking of were subsequent—after the prisoner got this loan of 10l. Ashton got a loan of 20l.—he made a default in paying it back—I issued execution against him—legal proceedings took place between us, and the Judge held that the warrant of attorney in Ashton's case was illegal on account of a technicality, as the Act requires that a solicitor, not for the lender, should be present and explain the document—that was after I had issued execution against the prisoner—Mr. Ashton has not paid me back—when the prisoner called after the execution was put in, he said "Cannot we get matters settled to withdraw the execution?"—I said I declined to interfere—he did not indicate in any way that he was ilot Charles Bone—he did not say that Bone was trying to get a warrant against him for forgery—Ashton brought another person as surety for himself.
MATILDA ANN BONE . I am Charles Bone's wife, and live with him at 23, Gosport Road, Walthamstow—the prisoner's name is Hartnell; that was the only name I knew him by—I never heard him called Charles Bone—he lodged with us at 23, Gosport Road, occupying the upper half of the house for six months—he said to me in September that he wanted a loan, and that he would get it out in the name of Bone, and asked me if I thought it would matter if he had it in the name of Bone—I said I thought he had better ask my husband first—he said "No, don't tell your husband; the money will be paid"—that was on 3rd or 4th September I think—he said he was going to have the money, and that he was going up to the office—I had not seen Mr. Jacob Brand before he came to our house in September—I opened the door to him—he told me he came about a loan—I showed him over the downstairs part, which belonged to me and my husband—there is my husband's piano there—all the furniture in the rooms I showed to Mr. Brand belonged to my husband; none of it to the prisoner—before Mr. Brand called the prisoner asked me if I would let them see the place, and I said "Yes," and he said "You need not tell your husband about it; the money will be paid'—he asked me to show them my part of the house, the downstairs part, and to put my watch on the table—I did so because I thought the place would look better, and when Mr. Brand called my gold watch was laying on the table—the prisoner said "Put the watch on the table, it will make the place look better; make the place look as nice as you can"—I did it all up and make it look as nice as I could—my husband knew nothing about it until after the bailiff came and put an execution in—about a week after that they came to take an inventory, and I went for my husband
—about the time the execution was put in the prisoner said to me and his wife he would saw our heads off if we said anything about it—he is a carpenter—he was not sober when he said that—he said if he got into any scrape Ashton would get into it besides.
Cross-examined. On two occasions the prisoner said the money would be paid all right—I was frightened of the prisoner, and took the saw downstairs and hid it—his wife was afraid rather—the Sheriff's officer was in my room, and when the prisoner came in he took him upstairs into their rooms and said "Don't let Bone or any one see you downstairs," and he was there the whole time—he came downstairs now and then—I said nothing about the saw before the Lord Mayor—I was asked nothing about the watch then—I knew the prisoner had repaid two or three weeks—I once went with Mrs. Hartnell to repay some—I showed Mr. Brand over the premises because I thought the money would be repaid—I did object to his using my husband's name; I thought he had better tell my husband—he gave me nothing out of the loan—he paid his rent every Monday—he was in arrears one week when he got the loan, and he paid that—he only paid 4s. a week.
By the COURT I am 24 years old.
Re-examined. The prisoner had in his room only two boxes, a table, one or two chairs, and a bedstead—he had three rooms, but only one had any furniture in—the Sheriff's officer slept in one of the empty rooms—they had a nice home when they first came, but he sold it.
CHARLES BONHE I live at 23, Gosport Road, Walthamstow, and am an operator; I sew the soles on boots—Hartnell lodged with me upstairs. (EDWARD ALDERIDGE a clerk in the Bills of Sale Office, Royal Courts of Justice, was here interposed, and swore that the warrant of attorney, produced, signed "Charles Bone'" was filed in that office.) This signature, "Charles Bone," is not my writing—I authorised no one to sign my name to this document or to get a loan from anybody in my name—I did not know Mr. Brand or anybody had been to look over the house—I first heard of it on 30th October, in week after the execution had been put in—I did not know the man was sleeping upstairs—I sleep at Walthamstow every night, and travel to and from London, where I work—my wife fetched me—I found the man in possession, and went to the Magistrate at Stratford—I had not then seen this document, and knew nothing about it except that a man had got a warrant for my goods; he showed it me—I heard on that day, the 30th, about the document—I inquired at Stratford whether I could proceed against him for forgery, but in con sequence of what they told me I did not go any further—I know nothing of Ashton.
Cross-examined. I took no warrant or proceedings against the prisoner for forgery—I have known the prisoner as lodging in my house for six months—he is a carpenter, I believe—I had ocoasion to find fault with his conduct—he was a hard-working man when sober and had work to do.
Re-examined. When be came home drunk he wanted to fight everybody.
JAMES MURPHY (City Policeman 31). I arrested the prisoner on 21st November, and told him he would be charged with forging and uttering and obtaining 10l. by means of a warrant of attorney—he said, "I have had the 10l.; I did not know I did wrong when I arranged with Mrs. Bone about the furniture."
Cross-examined. I also arrested Ashton—he and the prisoner were charged together with conspiracy.
GUILTY — Three Month's Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for obtaining the some money by means of a forged instrument.
131. WILLIAM ILLINGWORTH (35) , Unlawfully obtaining the transfer of property from William Reeves price by false pretences, and obtaining credit and incurring debts and liabilities by means of fraud other than false pretences.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.
After the case had proceeded some time. MR. FULTON stated that he could not resist a verdict of guilty on the counts for incurring debt and liability, the Jury accordingly returned upon those counts a verdict of
GUILTY .*— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Satwday, December 20th, 1884.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Profcuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.
LOUSIA BLANCHET . I am the wife of George Archer Blanchet, landlord of the King's Arms public-house, Hanway Street, Oxford Street—on Monday evening, 27th October, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I was in the bar; there were about ten or twelve persons in the bar, all strangers—a boy named Pollard came in for something to drink; I refused to sere him, I thought he had had enough—he began to cry—the prisoner, who was standing at the opposite side of the bar, shouted at him "Dry up your tears and have a drink" (the prisoner was in the bar with a woman at a quarter past 10, and remained there to between 11 and 12; they had some beer)—Mr. and Mrs. Brown came in at this time—I know them both by using the house—I think Brown told the prisoner to mind his own business, "he has nothing to do with you"—some one then said "Come outside and I will take it out of you"—Brown, his wife, and the boy Pollard then went out—I told my barman to bolt the door and keep them out—I ordered Walker out, and he and the woman went out—Walker appeared quite sober—our bar is in the shape of a horseshoe, divided into five compartments, two private and three public—Walker and the woman were in one of the public bars, and the boy Pollard and the Browns in the opposite public bar—about three or four minutes after they had gone out I heard screams of murder from the direction of Tottenham Court Road.
Cross-examined. This rough plan (produced) correctly represents the place—when the boy came in the prisoner was sitting partly behind a screen—the boy used very insulting beastly language to me for three or four minutes; he was very drunk—I was in the bar the remaining patt of the evening while the prisoner and deceased were there—I never heard the words used "I will b----well rip you up"—after the prisoner spoke to the boy, Brown and his wife went out into the street and came into the bar, where the prisoner—was, to attack him—they tried to push
the door open, but the potman was too quick for them; the prisoner was not making any disturbance—I did not hear the boy oomplain about not going to sea.
GEORGE NICHOLSON . I am potman and billiard marker at the King's Arms, Han way Street—on this night, about a quarter past 11 o'clock, I was called to the bar by my mistress, and told to close the bar—I told the prisoner he must go out, he went out quietly and the woman followed him; the men remained behind—the prisoner appeared quite sober—after closing the doors I looked through one of them and saw a crowd about 50 yards away in the direction of John Street, and heard shouts and screams coming from the crowd.
Cross-examined. When I went to fasten the door the people were coming into that compartment.
EDWIN POLLARD I am 18 years of age, and am an errand boy; I live at 74, Whitfield Street, Tottenham Court Road—on Monday, 27th October, about half past 11, I was in the King's Arms—I was crying because my brother William who is a sailor would not take me to sea with him—the prisoner was in the second bar from me—he said something about "Dry up your tears and have a drink;" as he was saying this, my brother-in-law, Alfred Brown, and his wife came in—Brown told the prisoner to mind his own business—the prisoner said "Come outside and I will rip any b----one of you up"—Brown took no notice of that, he went to walk out as if he was going home; he said "I don't think you would, old chap"—Mrs. Brown said to her husband "Come home"—the prisoner went out of his compartment; Brown had to pass the door where he was, and the prisoner struck him in the face and he felldown outside—he got up and hit the prisoner—I went up to Brown to try to get him away and the prisoner laid hold of my face and bit me in the cheek—Brown walked away, the prisoner followed him and said "Come round the corner, old chap, and we will have it out"—Brown said "No, old chap, you are too good for me"—with that the prisoner rushed on him—that was at the corner of John Street—they struggled together and rolled oyer on the ground—my sister called out "He is killing him"—while they were strnggling my brother William came up; he lived at 8, John Street; he was not dressed, he only had his trousers and singlet and socks on—he was picking Brown up; he said "Get up, Alf., I will take it up for you, I can fight him," and the prisoner stabbed him—I saw a knife in his hand and saw him stab my brother in the nipple—I did not see him do anything to Brown's arm—I did not exactly see him stab him—my father came up and my brother was taken to the hospital—the prisoner ran away down Han way Street; he fell down at the corner of John Street, he got up and fell a second time, and then I kicked him with my boot in the head—before the Magistrate I said I could not say how the prisoner's head was injured, because I was frightened I might get into trouble; I thought I might have done him some injury.
Crott-examined. I was sober—I cannot recollect using any abusive language to the landlady; I might have done so—I had some drink in the king's Arms—I was not doctored for the bite in my cheek—I took no notice of it—some gentleman looked at my face in the station; he said it was a bite—he did not plaster it—there was no crowd outside the public-house till a good while after my brother was stabbed—it was just at the corner of Hanway Street and John Street that he was stabbed—it
is untrie that I and Brown and my sister rushed round and tried to break in where the prisoner was—I was not turned out ol the house—the andlady did not refuse to serve me with drink; if she says so it is untrue—I only kicked the prisoner once—I believe I made him insensible.
ALFRED BROWN . I live at 8, John Street, Hanway Street—on 27th October about 11 o'clock, I went into the Kings Arms—I saw my brp ther-in-iaw Pollard there—I heard the prisoner say "Dry up your tears and have a drink"—I told him to mind his own business—my wife and I then went out—the prisoner came out also—he said to me "Old chap, come round the corner, we will finish it there"—he rushed at me at the corner of John Street—we struggled and both fell to the ground—I believe I fell twice, once with him and once after—I hit him back when he hit me—after I got up a second time I saw him have a tussle with my brother-in-law, William Pollard—in about a second my brother-in-law fell away and said "Alf, I am stabbed," holding his chest—I turned round and said to him "So am I, Bill"—I had been stabbed in the arm—there was no one but the prisoner near enough to my brother who could have stabbed him—the prisoner was only about two or three yards from me when I was stabbed—I had no knife and I don't believe my brother-in-law had—I did not know the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. I was perfectly sober—I used no abusive language to the prisoner—I did not rush round to get into his compartment—at the time this happened there were not 50 people in the street; I don't believe there was anybody—I have been in trouble twice, three months ago I was fined 40s. for getting drunk, and on another occasion I had two months for stealing, three years ago—I struck the prisoner one or two blows, not more—that was before William Pollard was there—when he came out I believe he went to the prisoner to fight him—I did not see where he went—when I got up off the ground I saw them struggling together.
EDWIN POLLARD (He-examined). I was outside the public-house door when I had the bite in the cheek—the door was closed on me—he caught hold of my head and bit my cheek—he caught hold of my nose and took a piece out of my nose with his nail; this was done outside in the street—the prisoner was standing on the doorstep—the door was closed—it was opened again after wards—neither of us went back into the public-house after that; the prisoner did not.
EDITH BROWN . I am the wife of Alfred Brown—I was with my husband on the night of this occurrence—as we went into the public-house the prisoner told my brother to dry up his tears and have a drink—my husband told him not to interfere—we went out to go home; the prisoner followed us and struck my husband under the left eye—the boy tried to get my husband away—the deceased was not there then—the prisoner struck my husband again at the corner of John Street—after that I saw the prisoner with something in his hand; I could not say what it was—it glittered as it passed—he put it into the muscle of my husbands arm—my brother, William Pollard, then came up with my screaming out—I did not see the prisoner do anything to him—I had my back towards him but I heard him cry out "I am stabbed," and I saw blood coming down his guernsey—he had on his shirt and under shirt, no cost or waistcoat—the prisoner ran away and fell at the corner—I went to look after my husband.
Cross-examined. There were very few people there at the time, about 10 I should think—the prisoner struck my husband first—I think my husband struck him back—I had had nothing to drink in the house, only two glasses of port—it is untrue to say that we rushed round and tried to burst into the bar where the prisoner was—we did not attack him—after the wound I did not hear people in the crowd say "Serve him right."
By the COURT. The exact expression the prisoner used was "Dry up your tears, old pal, you will be able to have a drink"—he said that in a very angry kind of voice, rather disagreeably, in a nasty way; he seemed as if he wanted to interfere—Edwin was crying, he was unhappy—he was in there when we went in.
WILLIAM CHARLES POLLARD . I am a coachsmith, of 8, John Street—that is eight doors up from Hanway Street—Edwin is my son; I also had a son named William George, he was 21 last April, he was a seaman—he had been staying with me five days—on this evening I had been out with him for a walk, and saw Mr. and Mrs. Brown—I left them and went home with William—about a quarter-past 11 that night I was in my house, No. 8—William was partly undressed, he had on his trousers and flannel-shirt, flannel drawers, and stockings, going to bed—I heard a scream in the street of "Police! murder!"—I recognised my daughter's voice—I said to William "That is your sister's voice," and he went out directly—he had no knife with him, he just rushed out as he was; I followed as quickly as I could, I had to put my clothes on; I ran down John Street into Hanway Street—William was then staggering at the end of the street—I saw no one but him—he was holding his hand to his breadt, and said "I am stabbed, father"—he was taken in a cab to the Middlesex Hospital, he remained there till 12th November, and died on that day.
PETER LIVINGSTON (Police Inspector). I was at Middlesex Hospital on November 9th at 6 o'clock a.m. when Mr. Newton, the Magistrate, took Pollard's deposition in the prisoner's presence, who cross-examined him—there being no clerk there at that early hour Mr. Newton took the deposi tion himself and signed it, and the deceased put two marks, a small cross and a large one—the prisoner stood at the foot of the bed and he put as many questions as he liked. Deposition read: "William Pollard says 'I lived at Hanway Street, No. 8—about 11.30 on Monday night, the 27th, a knock came to the door—I went down to the street to the corner of John Street—I saw my brother on the ground—I went to get him up and then I got a knife put into me—I do not know who it was who did it—when I came to rights I found myself in the hospital—that is all I know about it—I do not know the prisoner, I never saw him before.'
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. 'I think that my brother was stabbed first—you had my brother underneath you.' William Pollard, his mark x."
JAMES NERA I am a carman, of 7, John Street, Hanway Street—on 27th October, between 10.30 and 11 o'clock, I was at the King's Arms—the prisoner was there, I had known him six weeks by going to work—a Woman named Mob Griffin was with him—I heard the boy crying, and the prisoner said "Dry up, old boy, save your tears, you will need them for a future day"—I told the prisoner to mind his own business, I did not hear him reply, he walled to the door—I next heard a scuffle—Mr. Brown was outside, and the prisoner was half inside and
half out, the door was not shut—I saw Mr. Brown and the prisoner spring on one another, and I heard Mrs. Blanchet call the potman to put the prisoner out and bolt the door—the prisoner and Mob Griffin were outside and I was inside—in a quarter of an hour I went out to John Street and Hanway Street and saw them being put into a cab to go to the hospital—a policeman was lifting the prisoner off the ground, and I saw Mob Griffin down Hanway Street—I walked with her to Oxford Street, where she gave me the knife and made a statement—it was shut—I walked with her to Berwick Street and left her, and after parting with her I threw the knife down a sewer in Soho Square—I did not open it, it was a black-handled knife with a large blade—this (produced) is it—she left me Berwick Street way or Old Portland Street—I have been with the police trying to find her but have not been able.
Cross-examined. I was in the same compartment of the bar with the prisoner, and had a drink with him—he appeared peaceable—I did not see Pollard enter, he was there when I went in—I did not hear him swear at the landlady, or at all, or say "I will rip your b----stomach up"—I was close to him—I was sitting by the partition, and the prisoner was on a stool—people did not come and try to burst in the door, because the prisoner was half outside the door—when I went out there was a mob perhaps of fifty people—I did not hear cries of "Serve him well right"—I heard screaming and shouting—I don't know what they were saying.
MORRIS BUNYAN (Policeman 433). About 11.30 on 27th October I was in Tottenham Court Boad, and heard cries of murder and police—I went to Hanway Street, and found the prisoner on the pavement bleeding from a wound on his head, and Alfred Brown showed me a stab on his arm, and said in the prisoner's hearing that he had stabbed him—William Pollard, the deceased, was lying in the road a short distance off, with a wound in his side and insensible—I took the prisoner to the station, and he was charged with stabbing Pollard; he said at first that he was innocent, he afterwards said "The men used a knife on me, and not me on them"—I looked for a knife, but could not find one.
Cross-examined. I did not say that to the Magistrate—the prisoner appeared to be insensible—some time must have elapsed from the time the struggle took place till I got there, and he had the chance of getting rid of the knife—ne was lying in Hanway Street, near the picture shop, where there is a bend in the street on the right-hand side, at the corner of John Street, and under the lamp; there was a great deal of blood on him, but I did not see it coming from his head—when I got to the station I found he had been bleeding a good deal—I may have said "I did not see the prisoner put his hand in any one else's—I did not see any female, or any one come up, I except Mrs. Edith Brown—I did not see him pass a knife to anybody.
By the COURT Brown and William Pollard came from a distance to me, they were not on the spot.
ERNEST FREELAND . I am house surgeon at Middlesex Hospital—William Pollard was brought in at 12.10—his clothes were with blood—he had a punctured wound on the left breast, cutting through the nipple—I attended him till November 12th, when he died—I made a post-mortem examination—the wound was three inches long, and extended through the fourth and fifth rib cartilage, and penetrated the
cavity of the chest—a blood-vessel of considerable size was injured—he died from that injury—it was just such a wound as would be caused by stabbing with a knife—Mr. Hudson, who was a house surgeon there that night, attended Alfred Brown—I saw him last Tuesday; he was suffering from scarlet fever, and is now in the Fever Hospital and unfit to be brought here—he was examined before the Magistrate as to Brown's injury.
Cross-examined. I did not examine the prisoner—my opinion before the post-mortem was that the wound was caused by a blunt instrument, bat now my opinion is that it was a sharp instrument, because the cuts in the cartilages were clean—the laceration might have been done by the hilt of the knife, Supposing it to have been well driven home—the laceration was in the skin wound—the track of the wound was three inches long, obliquely downwards, and to the left—I have had much experience in wounds—I do not think it possible that the wound could have been caused by a blunt instrument.
By the COURT. The same instrument which inflicted that wound inflicted the wound on the cartilage—if I had made no post-mortem examination I should have retained the opinion that it was not a sharp instrument, but finding the clean incised wound beneath I say that it must have been sharp to cause it—I call this knife decidedly blunt, and I do not think it could have been the one which inflicted the injury.
Re-examined. I do not say that it is impossible, if it was used with great violence, but I should say the blade is not long enough or broad enough.
By the JURY. A rather blunt knife making a lacerated wound in the flesh would not give a clean cut in the cartilage.
JOSEPH MADDICKS (Police Inspector). On 27th October, about 11.30, I was on duty at Tottenham Court Road Station, when the prisoner was brought in—I asked the constable what he was charged with; he said "Stabbing two men"—the prisoner said "The villains used the knife on me, not me on them"—I told him I should go to the hospital and see the result of the injuries, and if the man was dead he would be charged with murder—he had a cut on his head—I went to the hospital, and saw Pollard—Brown had had his arm dressed—I went back to the station with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and told the prisoner the man who was stabbed was not dead, and the charge was wounding William Pollard and Alfred Brown with intent to do grievous bodily harm—he said "I did not stab them"—I sent for Edwin Pollard, and saw a bruise on his cheek; the flesh was discoloured—he told me how it was done, and I then charged the prisoner with assaulting Edwin Pollard, and biting him on the cheek—he made a statement, which was taken down in the rough-book—I read it to him—he said it was right—this is it. (Read: "Edwin Pollard, Mrs. Blanchelt's, King's Arms. The disturbance was in the public-house. He was insulting to the publican's wife, and the wife said she would put him out. He then used abusive language, and she called a man named George, and he saw the boy on a seat crying, and mentioned about this Mend doing something to him. I then told him to dry up his tears for hia sorrows. Prosecutor, Edward Pollard, stood up in the bar, and looked across to see who it was speaking. I passed the remark, I am here,' no sooner I did so the prosecutor and his brother rushed round to the door where I was. Before I could get out for self-defence the two of
them was in at me, the prosecutor, the boy I bit, his brother I struck. We were then turned out of the bar by the landlord or his assistant. A lady rushed up and caught my hand, and said it was her husband. I followed him up to shake hands and be friends, and before I could do so he struck me a second time, and while striking me the two men rushed on me in white shirt sleeves, and prosecutor, the boy, kicked me, and at the mob came round I found something sharp go into my head, and as I was falling to the ground the prosecutor's boy was kicking me, and the young woman that was with me came between and got the blow, and screamed 'Murder!' and brought assistance. I then walked away, and got within 50 yards of Tottenham Court Road. Two policemen picked me up, and brought me to the station." I was present before the Magistrate, and heard Mr. Hudson, the surgeon, give his evidence—the prisoner had the opportunity of putting any questions to him—I have been trying, with the assistance of policemen, to find Mob Griffin, but was unsuccessful.
Cross-examined. I examined the boy—I did not notice that a piece of his nose was bitten out; if there had been I should have seen it, but I saw a mark on his cheek. (The deposition of Charles Leopold Hudson: "I am house surgeon at Middlesex Hospital. On the night of Monday, 27th October, about midnight, a man named Alfred Brown was brought to the hospital suffering from a wound on the arm (left). The wound was a punctured one. It would be caused by a knife or any other sharp instrument. He was under my care from that date up till five days ago. The wound was two inches and a half in depth, and the orifice was very small in comparison with the depth of the wound. I have seen the man, William Pollard, in the hospital to-day. He is still unfit to leave. C. Leopold Hudson.")
WILLIAM ATKINSON . My partner is divisional surgeon of police—on 27th October I was called to Tottenham Court Road Station, and examined the prisoner—I found a scalp wound on the top of his head, about two inches long and about three-quarters of an inch deep, running obliquely backwards and downwards—it was a clean-cut wound—I saw at the police-court the iron-pointed boots the boy Edward was wearing, in my judgment they would not inflict that injury—there would be some bruising around the edge of the wound if it was done by a kick, and the skin would be broken—it was a very clean-cut wound, and the edges quite regular—there was only one wound on his head, but there was a bruise on his right cheek, which a blow with a fist would do, or a kick, or a fall, if done with an iron-pointed boot such as the boy's—the next was a bruise on the lower jaw; a blow or a fall would cause that—I saw the boy the same night; he had a circular mark on his left cheek, which might be done by an attempt at biting—the skin was not broken.
Cross-examined. No skin was bitten off his nose, and no blood was drawn—there was one wound and two bruises—he had lost a good deal of blood—he was not insensible when I saw him, but he seemed very stupid.
Cross-examined. I am secretary to the Westminster Dispensary, Jermya Street—I do not know any of the parties—I was going along Hanway Street and saw some persons come suddenly from a public-house—there was considerable noise and screaming of women and shouting of men—a
lad who was supported by some one was crying, and said something about biting, or having been bitten, or somebody else having been bitten—I then saw two or three men fighting, two men attacking one; one was bigger than the other, and, to the best of my belief, that was the prisoner—I was about twelve feet off—the figty proceeded at the corner of John Street, fifty or sixty feet from where it began, and one of the three was bleeding from his head, his face was covered with blood and his neck and his breast; he appeared weak and staggering—at that moment a man I had not noticed before, apparently a sailor, came from a house in the street and attacked the prisoner, striking him with his fist in the face, and twenty or thirty people gathered round—the man fell, and the prisoner rose and said "Sir, sir, take me to a hospital," and fell on the pavement—a constable came up and I fetched two more constables—I saw the prisoner lying on the ground bleeding very much—I cannot say whether he was insensible.
By MR. POLAND. The sailor had trousers on—I did not hear anybody say that the sailor was stabbed—he came from John Street—I saw no knife.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FULTON Protended.
EDWARD O'HAGAN . I am a ship's fireman, and live at 54, Woodstock Eoad, Canning Town—on Saturday, 29th November, I went with a friend to the Lord Napier; we found the three prisoners there—I ordered a pot of beer and then went out for a minute, leaving my beer on the counter, and when I came back it was empty—I had it filled again, and Daley came up towards me; I gave her a shove—my friend and I finished the beer and went out, leaving the prisoners there—I was pretty well on in drink—we went to the Ship Inn, and when we left there we passed down Eagle Street and some one came behind me and jumped on me, and I was struck with a stone on the back of my head and became insensible—when I came to I was being carried by a policeman—I was taken to a hospital suffering from a cut at the back of my head and an injury to my nose.
Cross-examined by Daley. I am certain of you—I waited a little before I recognised you at the station; I was more stupid than drunk.
ARTHUR JOHN BELL . I am an ironmonger's assistant, at 94, Victoria Dock Road—on 29th November, about 5 o'clock, I was standing on the pavement by the shop, and saw the three prisoners at the coruer of Eagle Street and O'Hagan in the middle of the road alone—the prisoners pushed him and dragged him to the wall, got him on the ground, and all three kicked him, and Harvey jumped on him and called him a cow—Jhey left, but as he was rising Hinder came up and gave him a kick on his face, which caught him on his nose—a lot of men wete looking on,
but they did not interfere—a boy picked him up, he was bleeding very much—the prisoners are the women.
Cross-examined by Harvey. There was no crowd round him till you assaulted him—when you kicked him I ran towards you.
Cross-examined by Hinder. I saw you kick him—I will swear it was you.
Cross-examined by Daley. I know you because you have got a fringe.
GEORGE LEE . I sell sweets in the streets—on 29th November I was near Eagle Street, and saw O'Hagan coming along the middle of the road by himself—I saw three women, and I identify Harvey and Hinder—they all three caught hold of him and hammered him up first, and then knocked him down and I halloed out, and Harvey kicked him on his private parts—he said "God have mercy"—the others then kicked him and said "You b----cow, that has done for you"—I said "God help the man, he is dead"—he was insensible and bleeding, and was taken to my stall.
Cross-examined by Darvey. I wanted to wash his face, but you would not allow me.
Cross-examined by Hinder. I lost about 3l. through you last night; my wife cleared away last Monday, and I am going to clear away to-day, I dare not stop.
JAMES HARRIS . On Saturday afternoon, 29th November, I was in Victoria Dock Road, and saw O'Hagan going along the road—the three prisoners punched him, hit him on the back of his head, beat him, jumped on him, and one of them took up a stone and hit him on the back of the head with the stone in her hand—the one who jumped on him halloaed out "Do you want any more?"—a boy picked him up bleeding from the back of his head.
ARCHIBALD KENNEDY . I am a divisional surgeon of Plaistow—on 29th November, about 7.30 p.m., I was called to Plaistow Station, and found O'Hagan with a wound on the back of his head, half an inch long, extending to the bone, and on the left side of his forehead a contused wound about half an inch long, a wound on the bridge of his nose, and some bruises about his face—he had lost a large quantity of blood from the wound at the back of his head, which could be caused by a stone in a person's hand used as a weapon—it was a wound of a serious character, and the other injuries might have been caused by his being kicked when on the ground—he is quite well with the exception of the scars.
EDWARD GALLAGHER (Policeman K 445). On 29th November, about 5.30, O'Hagan was brought to me smothered in blood, senseless, and bleeding from the back of his head, his orehead, and his nose—I took him to the station and called the divisional surgeon—I took Harvey and Hinder about 8 p.m., and told them it was for violently assaulting Edward O'Hagan about 5 o'clock—they said they knew nothing about it—they were together—O'Hagan identified them—they appeared sober.
HENRY DAVIS (Police-Sergeant K 37). I took Daley on 29th November, about 9.15., in Victoria Dock Road; she was alone—I told her the charge—she said "I have only just come out and gone to the Lord Napier"—O'Hagan said he thought she was one of them, he was not certain.
The prhoners in their defence denied being the women who committed the assault.
GUILTY **.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted.
HENRY CHOWNE . I am landlord of the Manby Anns, Water Lane, Stratford—on 28th November Mr. Buckle was painting a portion of my house—he had four men on my premises, the prisoner and two carpenters and a bellhanger—the prisoner was painting the bar parlour alone, the carpenters were repairing the stable gates, and Maple, the bellhanger, was in the cellar—when I went out on business I put the silver and gold necessary for the day's use in a lady's reticule in a cheffonier in the bar parlour—I put the reticule in about 10.30 a.m., it contained 19l. in silver, wrapped up in packets of 1l. each, and 15l. in gold—I think there were two half-sovereigns, and the rest in sovereigns—the prisoner was in the room and could see me put it in—I locked the cheffonier and shut the door—two books and a cheque book and some receipts were also in the bag—I handed the key to my wife, who managed the business in my absence—five minutes after the prisoner asked me to help him to move the cheffonier, that he might get behind it, and we moved it half a yard from the wall—I left home at 11 o'clock, and returned at 7 p.m.; my mistress told me something, and I found the lock of the cheffonier had been tampered with, and an attempt made to break it open—I then examined the back and found it broken open and missed the bag—I gave information to the police—I afterwards went to the prisoner's house, and waited till after 12, when he came home—I was on the same side as he lives, but when he saw the policeman he crossed the road and ran—Mr. Buckle ran after him, caught him, and said "Hallo, young man, where are you off to?"—he pretended to be drunk, but he was sober; he said "I am going for a walk; "Mr. Buckle said "It is a funny time to go for a walk"—he said to me "Hallo, Chowne, what do you want?"—I said "I suppose you know what I want"—he made no reply—I said "I have lost a bag containing books and money, if you will return my books and receipts you may have the money"—the papers were rum and whisky warrants—I did not say what kind of books I had lost, but he said "I know nothing about your bank books or anything else"—among them was a cheque book with the name of the London and County Bank on it—he was taken to the station—he had been employed at my house two or three days; but I had been at home every day till that day—I used to give him two pints of beer a day, half a pint of which was always given him as he left at night, it was his practice to come into the bar and take it before he left—Mr. Buckle was with me when I missed the bag.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was also a French polisher in the house that day, but he was not there when I came home—the potman, George, had been employed there a week—he took the place of an old potman—I did not say I had lost my bank books, I said "bag and books."
By the JURY. There was money in the reticule before I took it into the bar-parlour, and the prisoner saw me put more money in—I am quite sure he said "bank book."
FANNY CHOWNE . I am the wife of the last witness—on 28th November, before going out, he gave me the key of the cheffonier in which the day's cash is kept—the prisoner was working in the house, and Maple, the bellhanger, and a man polishing the hand-rail on the staircase—the
polisher left about 4 o'clock, and Maple at a quarter to 5—about 5.30 I went to the cheffonier to take out some silver and put in some gold—both the men had left then—I took out five 1l. packets of silver and put five sovereigns in their place—to do that it was necessary to take the reticule out of the cheffonier—I put it on a table, and passed the money to a barmaid through a hole in the partition—the prisoner was at work in the room, and could see what was going on—he offered to move the steps, but I said "Never mind"—I then replaced the reticule and locked the door—I went upstairs at 6 o'clock—the prisoner was then in the bar-parlour—I returned at 7 o'clock, and he was gone—my husband returned about 7.20, and almost at the same time I went to the bag for more change, and it was gone.
Cross-examined. I am sure you saw me take the bag out, and you saw the packages in my hand, and you saw the barmaid give me the gold—I am sure no one else saw me; there was no one else in the room, and no one could see from the bar, as there were bottles in front of the holes, over which I had to pass my hand—there are four holes, 2 feet long and 1 foot deep, with a lot of bottles on a cabinet—the barmaid went upstairs to rest from 3 till 5—I was quite sober.
ANNIE GARBIT . I am one of the barmaids at the Manby Arms—I am in the habit of having two hours in the afternoon for a rest—on 28th November I got back from my rest at 5.15, and at 5.30 the prisoner was at work in the bar-parlour, and I said, "Why are you not going home with the others?"—he said, "I will stop another hour and buff this in"—that was something to do with the painting—I did not see him go, as I was in the kitchen after 5.30, and when I came into the bar at 20 minutes to 7 he had gone.
Cross-examined. You left with the others the night before—I did not say to you when I went to lie down, "Bill, dear, come and look at the barmaid lying in bed."
Re-examined. There is no truth in that suggestion—I went upstairs at 3 o'clock, and saw nothing of the prisoner till I came down—he did not pass through the kitchen when I was there.
AMY SOUCH . I am chief barmaid at the Manby Arms—I did not see the bellhanger leave, but he was gone at 5 o'clock—the prisoner did not leave till 7 o'clock—I was in the bar from 4.30 till 7 o'clock—it was the prisoner's practice before he left at night to have a glass of ale; he had two pints a day, but on this evening he did not come for his ale, nor did he pass through the bar, he could not pass without my seeing him—the last time I saw him at work was 20 minutes or a quarter to 7 o'clock—he could get out of the bar-parlour by unlocking the inner door—the barmaid found that door unlocked at 20 minutes to 7 o'clock and locked it—the prosecutor always kept it locked—that is the door leading into the house—the other men had been that day, but the French polisher did not, unless he paid for it.
ANNIE GARBIT (Re-examined). There is a door in the bar-parlour leading into the passage and so into the street—I have received orders that that door is always to be kept locked, and if I found it unlocked to lock it—on 28th November, when I came from the kitchen at 4.45, it was unlocked, and I locked it.
at the Manby Arms—his hour to leave off work was 5.30, and if he stayed another hour he would not be paid by me unless it was with my permission—I happened to return with Mr. Chowne at 7 o'clock when he missed the bag, and I accompanied him and an officer to watch the prisoner's house for his return—he returned about 12 o'clock, and I saw him 200 or 300 yards from his house on the opposite side, he was the worse for drink—I knocked up against him and said "Where are you going this time of night?"—he said "Going for a walk, I suppose"—Mr. Chowne came up and said "What have you done with my bag and books out of the cheffonier?"—he said "I don't know anything about your bank books or any other books"—Mr. Chowne had not mentioned bank books—when the constable told him he should take him in custody he did not appear so drunk—this was Friday, he would be paid on Saturday at 12 o'clock—I saw 15s. 7 1/2 d. found on him.
Cross-examined. Your wages were from 25s. to 30s.—you often had to have a sub, but you had no sub that week—you had 4s. or 5s. the week before—you had not done so much work on this day as I expected—if you had left that partition half done I should have blowed you up next morning—you did not stop to finish it, as it was not finished—you did not touch it that day.
FREDERICK HENRY MAPLE . I live at Forest Gate—on 21st November I was in Mr. Buckle's employ hanging electric bells at the Manby Arms—my work was from the bar parlour to the cellar—I left the bar-parlour between 4 o'clock and 4.30 and stood talking to a friend, and left about 5 o'clock—a painter was then working in the bar-parlour, but I do not know the prisoner.
ALLPRESS (Policeman K 314). About 12 o'clock p.m. on 28th November I was with Mr. Buckley watching the prisoner's house and saw him 150 or 200 yards off, the street was deserted at that time—he was on the side he lives on—I was in uniform and standing close to a lamp—he continued on that side some distance and then crossed over to the other side—he was the worse for drink, not drunk, but reeling about and in a stooping position—he passed me on the other side, and then Mr. Buckle stopped him—I crossed over and heard Mr. Chowne ask him to give him back his books and receipts and he would forgive him the money—he said "I know nothing at all about your bank books"—I am quite sure he used the word "bank"—on the way to the station he said "What do you think?"—I said "I think Mr. Chowne has given you a very good chance," alluding to the suggestion to let him off if he gave back the papers—he said "I know nothing about it, they must find me guilty before they can send me to prison"—14s. 6d. in silver and 1s. 6d. in bronze were found on him, but nothing relating to the charge.
Cross-examined. Mr. Chowne did not say "Give me back my bag of books," nor did you say "I know nothing about your bag of books"—there were two Frenchmen at the station on the 29th, and we met two others on the way, but I did not hear one of them say anything about Mrs. Chowne being the worse for drink on Friday afternoon, nor did I say "Well, she was not so when I saw her."
LLOYD (Police Sergeant K). On 29th November, about 1 a.m., I was at the station when the prisoner was charged—on being placed in the cell he said "There were four of us, and I suppose I shall have
to stand for it"—I found this file at the house and marks on the cheffonier showing that that was the way in which it was opened.
Cross-examined. It has been wrapped up in paper ever since, and it fitted every mark—I have not said that it is your file—you said "There were four of us in it, but I suppose I shall have to stand to it"—you said that in my ear as I went by.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he worked a little later to get on with his work, but had not finished when he left about 6.15, and went home; that he then went for a walk and was arrested on his return, and that the words he used were "bag of books," and not "bank books."
GUILTY. Judgment respited, for the prisoner to give information as to the spirit warrants.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.
ALEXANDER MIDDLEMIST . I am a clerk in the service of the St. Katherine Dock Company—on 29th September I received instructions to convey 40 cases of tobacco from the K warehouse to the E jetty shed, for exportation—they were all in good shipping condition and intact, and all had the Government seal, and they were properly lodged in the E shed.
Cross-examined. I did not remove them myself, but I received them at 9 to 9.45 a.m.—I examined each case carefully as it came in, and looked at the seals—a stranger going there would be noticed immediately.
ALBERT EDWARD LONG . I am a checker in the service of the St. Katherine Dock Company—on September 29th in the morning the prisoner was on duty at G shed—he was known to the Company by the name of Wright—these are boat jetty sheds—one shed is next to another and there is a jetty between—on the afternoon of 30th September I was in charge of a gang of men at the E and G sheds receiving gates, and was going from E to G and back, seeing to goods being received—during that afternoon I saw something put into Parker the carman's van from G shed—the prisoner was standing 12, 20, or 80 yards off—I asked the carman what he had got there—he said, in the prisoner's hearing, "Empty bags"—the prisoner said "That is all right"—I took no further notice.
Cross-examined. I was spoken to when it was found out 10 days or a fortnight after—Mr. Gregg spoke to me five or six days after the tobacco was lost, and I told him—I am quite sure I heard the words "All right"—he did not say" Old fat"—he said "Yes, Long, it ia all right"—about 12 other people were there at the time.
FREDRICK WILLIAM PARKER . I live at Ormsido Street, New Kent Road, and am a carman—I am in my brother's employ; ho is a master carman—I am 17 years old—on 30th September I took a load of goods in my van to Victoria Docks for my brother—Wood, another of my brother's carmen, was with me—I backed into the G jetty shed and unloaded, and the prisoner came up and said "Will you carry a sack out of the dock for me, my boy?"—I said "What is in the sack?"—I understood him to say "It is wood"—when I had unloaded I looked across the shed, and saw Wright in a little lock-up; he beckoned me over, and said "Here is the sack I want you to carry out"—he caught hold of one
end of it ana I of the other—it was in the lock-up—when he had got it on my back it seemed too heavy for me to carry, and he helped me to cross the shed to the van, and we got it into the van—it weighed about 1 1/2 or 1 3/4—it seemed like wood to me; it stuck into my back—he said "I will meet you outside"—I drove out at the gates, and waited five or ten minutes—he did not come, and I sent Wood back for him who had followed me out in his van—he then came out, jumped into my van, and Wood got into his van—he said "Drive off sharp; I will show you where to go"—we drove for about a mile and a half, till we came to the Carpenters' Arms beershop in West Ham Lane—he said "That is the house I want you to take it into"—he got out there, and I handed it out of him, and he threw it in at the shop door—Wood then drove up, and we had a glass of ale—the boy standing at the door seemed to know Wright—the prisoner gave me a coin, which I shoved in my pocket and Did not notice what is was, because I was in a hurry to get to Bermondsey—I had not had any food, and I wanted to get some tea, and took out the coin the prisoner gave me, and found it was a half-sovereign—the sack was tied with string at the top.
Cross-examined. I was spoken to about this a month or two afterwards—the sack was hard on my back, and I understood him to say it was wood—tin would have seemed hard also—Mr. Gregg said that it was in the Victoria Docks, and I remembered taking a load there—he did not say that I had got myself into a scrape—he said that the sack was 1 1/2 or 1 3/4 cwt.—I had no difficulty in handing it down, and Wright had no difficulty in chucking it into the public-house—I can carry 2 1/2 cwt. on my back, but it stuck into my back—I did not notice Long at the wharf—I do not think he asked me what I was doing—he did not sk me what I was carrying, nor did I say "Empty sacks"—I had an empty sack.
WILLIAM WOOD . I am a carman in Mr. Parker's employ—pm 30th September I went with the last witness to the Victoria Docks to deliver goods—he was in charge of one van and I of another—the vans were unloaded at the G jetty between 4 o'clock and 4.30, after which the prisoner asked me if I would take a sack out for him—I said "No"—I left first and parker followed me; when we got out at the dock-gate Parker spoke to me, ad I went back to the dock-gate and saw the prisoner evening towards me, and I went with him to Parker's van, who drove him sway, and I followed them to West Ham Lane—the prisoner stopped at the Carpenters' Arms, and I stopped too and had a glass of ale—the prisoner and Parker and another man drank together—after Parker's van got outside the dock I saw a sack in it; I put my hand on it and it seemed to contain some hard substance, such as lumps of wood, or small case—I did not see what became of it; I did not get to the public-house at the same time that they did.
Cross-examined. Mr. Gregg asked me three or four weeks ago whether I knew anything about this tobacco, and if anybody had asked me if I had done a job for them in the docks—I said "No"—he came again about a week after and asked me the same question—I said "No"—he came a third time and said that if I knew anything I had better say so—I told him what Mr. W.F. Parker had done in the docks; taking a sack out, and where it was taken to—we had not been to the docks together before—he asked what was in the sack; I said I could not tell him—he asked me what it felt like; he did not tell me tobacco in
boxes, or small chests of tea; but it appeared like that—I did not think there was anything wrong in it or I would not have drunk with him.
Re-examined. I refused to take it out—I left the docks at about a quarter or ten minutes to 5, and the prisoner came out 25 minutes or half an hour afterwards.
THOMAS CLITHEROE . I am a labourer, and lived at the Carpenter's Arms beer-house, West Ham Lane, in September—I know the prisoner by the name of Goodison, he was living 200 yards from the Carpenters' Arms—about nine weeks ago I saw him and the two last witnesses there; they placed a sack against the door, and some beer was drunk—the prisoner told me he would give me 6d. if I would carry the sack home for him—I was about to do so, but he said "Leave it alone, I am in no hurry"—I left the house for a few minutes, and when I came back he was gone and the sack too.
Cross-examined. One pot of beer was drunk; I don't know whether the prisoner was fresh or not.
JOHN FINTER . I am assistant wharfinger to the London and St. Katherine Dock Company, and am in charge of the export department Victoria Docks, including the E and G jetty sheds—I know the prisoner in the Company's service as George Wright—on the morning of the 29th September he was assistant shed-man at the E shed; it was his duty to receive goods from trucks and vans as they were brought in—on the following day he was employed at the G shed; it was his duty to receive goods and take care of them in the shed—on the 29th September some quarter cases of tobacco were received from the tobacco department and placed in the E shed for shipment—they remained there till October 10th, when they had been delivered to a cart, and my attention was called to two of the cases which appeared to have been opened and re-nailed; they were iron-bound—I had them opened and weighed—each should have contained eight boxes of tobacco and weighed 22lb. net—this (produced) is a sample box—six boxes and their contents had been taken out of one case, and a bag of nails and pieces of wood put in their place, and out of the other case the contents of two boxes had been taken, but not the boxes themselves, and a piece of sheet lead substituted—the tobacco taken weighed 1671b.
Cross-examined. Our checker called my attention to the cases—sailors sometimes sell fat and other perquisites to persons in the docks, and our men may improperly buy it—the prisoner was paid each day when he left—he should have left about 6 o'clock on 30th September—I do not know that he received his money that day before he left the docks—he had stopped away for a week—I don't know whether on his return he was taken away from the shed and put into a gang—he could go away whenever he drew his money, but if he left at an improper time the people at the gate would refuse to pay him.
THOMAS GREGG . I am superintendent of the London and St. Katherine Dock Company—about the 10th October, in consequence of information I received, I went to the E shed and examined two cases out of forty cases of tobacco which had just been received into the warehouse—I have heard Finter's evidence and agree with it—176 pounds of tobacco would be worth 40l.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether Mr. Finter examined them near the crane—I do not know that they had been taken down to the
wharf to be shipped on a lighter—I think I examined them on the 11th—I saw Parker, and asked him if he had been to the docks on a certain date, he said "Yes"—I asked him if he had conveyed anything ont, he said "Yes, a sack;" and that he had been called by a man to assist him in loading the sack on his van, that he went into the lock-up in G shed, and took it on his back with the other man's assistance and put it on his van—I said nothing about tobacco, or about the weight—if he says that I suggested the weight it is untrue—there are a great many people about the docks who could properly or improperly go into the E shed; but it is very improbable—the prisoner has been in the service some time—Mr. Walker is superitendent of the Victoria Docks, he is not here.
GEORGE MELLISH (Detective-Sergeant K). I am stationed at West Ham—on 19th November I took the prisoner on a warrant at his residence, 1, Dalton Street, West Ham—his wife said "What is the matter?" he said "I am charged with stealing some tobacco, I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station and found this address on him (produced).
Cross-examined. He told me it was the address of a mate of his—I have made inquiries, and heard nothing against him.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited for the prisoner to give information.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
JONATHAN BATSFORD . I am proprietor of the Connaught Hotel, Royal Albert Dock—the prisoner was employed by me as third barman the first week in September—since then I have noticed a very considerable difference in the takings, in one week in particular from 12l. to 15l., as near as I could tell—in consequence of that I called in Detective Dicker, who in my presence marked 1l. worth of silver—about half-past 7 on 25th November I called the prisoner into the bar-parlour and told him I considered he had robbed me to a considerable extent of late, and I wished to know what money he had in his pocket belonging to me—he produced 9s. 9d. altogether—two half-crowns and a florin were those marked by Dicker, who pointed out the marks to the prisoner—I gave him into custody.
BENJAMIN BETTS . I am a steward, and live at 35, Alexandra Street, Canning Town—on 25th November I received from Sergeant Dicker two half-crowns marked with the figure 3—I went to the Connaught Hotel and purchased a bottle of whisky and a quartern, which came to 4s. 9d.—I tendered the two half-crowns to the prisoner and received 3d. change—these produced are the two half-crowns, I recognise one particularly—I did not see what the prisoner did with them.
FREDERICK DICKER (Detective Sergeant K). On 24th November I was at the Connaught Hotel, and marked a number of coins by stamping a figure 3 on them—one dated 1884 I handed to Betts on the 25th—about 6 o'clock that same evening I went to the hotel with Betts and called for port wine and brandy—the prisoner served me—I tendered to him this half-crown dated 1829 stamped with a 3 on the left-hand side of the crown—he gave me three sixpences and 5d. in copper change—I afterwards bought two cigars, for which I gave a florin, and received three sixpences in change—I then left the house and made a communication to Mr. Batsford—at half-past 7 I was in the bar-parlour when the
prisoner was called in—Mr. Batsford said to him, "I have reason to believe I am being robbed to a very great extent, this is a detective officer, I want you to show us what money you have got"—he produced from his waistcoat pocket this half-crown, and from another waistcoat pocket the other half-crown and the florin, four sixpences, and a three-penny piece—the two half-crowns and the florin were marked—I then went to the prisoner's bedroom and asked him to produce his bag or box—he produced a carpet bag, and on opening it I found rolled in some old clothes seven small packages of silver, amounting in all to 4l. 13s. 9 d.—I said, "How came you with this?"—he said, "I have earned it"—I then took him into custody—he made no reply.
The prisoner in his defence denied stealing any money, and stated that when he went into the prosecutor's employ he had 4l., and the rest he had earned whik in the employ.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerry Esq.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
JAMES INGRAM . I am assistant to Mr. Philips, a pawnbroker, of 3, Railway Place, Barking—on 2nd December, about 10 minutes past 8, I was behind my master's counter—the prisoner took a frock from the door and put it under her cloak, and went up Lilliput Road—I ran out, saw her walking up the road, and looking in at a shop window—I ran after her and said "Where is that frock?"—she said "What frock?" at the same time trying to throw the frock from underneath her cloak—she threw me down in the mud—I got up and held her and called out for one of the young men in the shop—we took her back to our shop, and she was given into custody.
HARRY GOLLIFER (Policeman K 457). On 2nd December, about a quarter past 8, I was called to Mr. Philips's shop and found the prisoner detained there by the last witness, who had this frock in his hand—he said "I give this woman into custody for stealing a frock from inside the shop"—the prisoner said "I know nothing about the frock"—I coneyed her to the station, where she said "I should be sorry to be locked up for a paltry case like that."
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HOFFMEISTER Prosecuted.
The Jury being unable to agree, were discharged without giving a verdict, and the trial was postponed till next Sessions.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted; MR. SYLVESTER Defended.
THOMAS VENUS . I am a waterman, of 50, Cross Street, Erith—on 4th July I was in command of the barge Susan off Greenwich Hospital—I went to bed at midnight—56 fathoms of 3-inch bolt rope, left-handed laid, was in the fore hatchway—it is not always made that way—there was another piece four fathoms long with a hook at one end, and a short piece—I was disturbed about 1 o'clock by a lighterman who came across, and I saw the rope all right then—when I got up about 5.30 it was gone—on 15th July I went with Scott, Wright, Howard, and Joyce to a store in Woolwich, and found the 52 fathoms, but not the pieces—I am certain it was the same—I also saw the shorter piece with the hook still on it, and the short splice.
Cross-examined. Robinson and Farmer's is 200 or 300 yards from where I lost the rope—it was 12 months old—I saw a very large quantity of rope there besides mine, but none of the same sort—I picked mine out—no one said that the two pieces of rope would not tally.
Re-examined. I saw no other 4-fathom rope with a hook attached.
GEORGE WRIGHT (Thames Police Sergeant). On 15th July I went with Venus to Farmer and Robinson's, and saw him identify 56 fathoms of rope which Mr. Robinson showed him—it was about half worn—I marked it.
Cross-examined. Mr. Robinson said that the prisoner brought it, and described him—he showed me a book with Piper's name mentioned, and his address, Glenthorpe Street, Greenwich, but there is no such street—I have not got the rope; Mr. Robinson sold it—it was very good, and would hold a barge—there was a quantity of rope there, but this was separate.
WILLIAM WOOTTON . I am a labourer, of 36, Frenby Street, Deptford—I assisted the prisoner in landing the rope at Farmer and Robinson's iron wharf on 5th July between 7 and 8, and putting it on the scale and weighing it, and when a van came it was put in and sent to their warehouse in Old Woolwich Road.
CHARLES EDWARD J. ROBINSON . I am an iron merchant, of 32, Creek Place, Greenwich, and have an office at the Anchor Iron Wharf—on 5th July, about 8 a.m., the prisoner came and offered me some old rope—I agreed to buy it at 9s. a hundred weight—he asked if I could land it on our wharf from the river by means of the crane, and came back in about ten minutes in a boat with another man and the rope—it weighed 2 cwt. 2 qrs. 21lb.—I gave him a receipt to take to the office, where I believe he got the money—I sent it to the warehouse in Old Woolwich Road, where it remained two months, and it then went to Baldwin and Hough's; the paper makers, Commercial Road, Stepney—I also bought a parcel of wet rope of the prisoner the same day—he gave his name, John Piper, Glenthorpe Road, East Greenwich—there is such a place, but I have not been there.
Cross-examined. The sale was in daylight—I don't think the rope was long enough to hold a barge—it went away to be made into paper—I sold it for 10s.—I knew the prisoner as a customer, but more as a waterman—I have not had any other transaction with him for rope, but I have for old iron—he is also a dredgerman—it is an ordinary thing for bits of rope
to have hooks on, but allowance is made for that—two Pipers work on the river, the prisoner's brother and father.
Re-examined. The first rope I bought was dry, and there were less than half a dozen pieces—in my opinion it was not strong enough to hold a barge—I did not see the prisoner from July 5 till he was in custody—it it is a common thing for a piece of rope to have a hook and splice, it depends on the use of it.
CHARLES ALEXANDER ROBINSON . I am an iron-merchant, of 32, Creek Place—I have bought rope of the prisoner on several occasions—on 15th July Venus picked out some rope from a stack at our warehouse; it was a warp cut in three or four pieces, and a shorter piece had a hook—I am not sure whether that piece had a splice, but the piece at the wharf had—it was marked by the police and put on one side, and I ultimately sold it.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner as a dredgerman on the river—he uses this sort of instrument (produced) in dredging—we had three or four tons of rope, on the premises, some of which was similar to this—I first saw it the day it was picked out—we collect three or four tons a month—I never noticed a piece there with a hook at the end.
Cross-examined. I have bought rope on other occasions—I do not remember this rope coming to the factory.
JOSEPH JOYCE (Detective Officer). On 5th July, at 9 a.m., I was at Mr. Robinson's, and saw the prisoner receiving some money—he left, and I followed him—he met a man who handed something to him and west away—they both looked very hard at me—on 15th July I went with Captain Venus to Messrs. Robinson's warehouse—he pointed out about 40 fathoms of rope in three pieces—I have not seen the prisoner since 5th July, he left the neighbourhood; I am well acquainted with him.
Cross-examined. I do not know that he went to Cherry Gardens to carry on the same trade, or that he was arrested there.
SAMUEL HOWARD (Thames Detective Sergeant). On 27th November, about 9 a.m., I saw the prisoner in Kine Street, Rotherhithe—I said "Your name is Piper?"—he said "Yes"—I said "I am going to take you in custody for stealing rope off a barge at Greenwich"—he said "How long ago?"—I said "About three months"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, placed him with others, and he was identified.
Cross-examined. I mean that Wootton picked him out.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at the Thames Police Court in March, 1883.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against the prisoner.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
half-past 11, I let him out at the front door; he bade me good night—he afterwards came back to my yard and took away a parcel—I followed him and brought him back to the bar, where I examined the parcel, and found in it coals and coke—I went for a constable and gave the prisoner into custody—I afterwards went with Brenchley to the prisoner's lodgings, where we found three full bottles of wine, two empty bottles, a hammer, spoons, and the spirit measure—the spoons have the same mark on them as mine—I never sold him any wine.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not buy and pay for the wine, you could not afford to pay for it—there was a piano in your room which you paid so much a week for.
GEORGE BRENCHLEY (Detective R R 3). I traced the prisoner to Enema Cottage, Plumstead—I searched his rooms and found three bottles of wine and empty spirit bottles, seven beer caus, a measure, a hammer, and two spoons, which the prosecutor identified as his property THOMAS DERMOTT (Policeman R 5-5). The prisoner was given into my custody by Mr. Hobson, and I told him he would be charged with stealing coke and coal—he said if he was to be struck dead in a moment he never stole them—he said he had them for the purpose of lighting a fire in the pothouse—at the station, after he was charged, he said he was taking the coal home to his lodging house and intended to bring it back in the morning.
Cross-examined. You said you were going to a dance and wanted the fire to iron your collar.
The prisoner in his defence asserted his innocence, and stated that the bottles of wine he had paid for, and that the hammer had been lent him.
GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoner for embezzlement.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH WELCH . I keep a general shop at 4, Manor Road, Woolwich Common—on 18th November the prisoner came to my shop and asked me if I could tell her where she could get a furnished room, for she had just come out of the hospital, and had fallen on the stove and burnt her finger; that her husband was Corporal Hollis at the camp, and that they had not long come from Shorncliffe—I did not know of a room, but sent in for a Mrs. Williams next door—the prisoner said if she could have a room for a night or two her mother would give her a cheque on the Friday for 5l., and then she would pay for the furniture—she asked me to let her have tea, sugar, and bread—I sent in the things to the house in the morning—she came for another loaf, and said the poor woman had not enough bread for breakfast—in the afternoon she came in again, and said her mother had sent her a cheque for 2l. only, but that she was going to have another one on Friday for 3l. more, and that if I would let her have milk, eggs, and bacon, and would make up my bill she would pay me when she got the cheque changed—I let her have the things believing her story was true, and that she was Corporal Hollis's wife—I saw her no more till I saw her at the Woolwich Police-court.
could supply her with milk from one cow for a baby—she said her sister had had the baby for two months at Shorncliffe; that it would be with her ut 4 o'clock, and that she would then come for the milk; that her husband was Corporal Hollis, who had just been transferred from Shorncliffe to Woolwich—I made inquiries—next morning she came, and she fetched a pint a day till the Saturday—the milk was never paid for—I did not see her again till at the Woolwich Police-court—I believed her statement, and I made inquiries, and found a corporal had been transferred from a No. 1 battery at Shorncliffe.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know nothing about you paying my husband for one pint—he did not take payment—he is not here.
ELIZABETH MORRIS . I am a widow, and keep a general shop at 2, James Street, Woolwich—on 11th November the prisoner came in; she said she had just come from Westminster Hospital very ill; that she had fallen on the stove and burnt her fingers, and was going to the hospital next day to have a finger taken off—she had her arm in a sling—she wanted a night's lodging, and said her husband was Corporal Hollis in the camp—I sent her round to Mrs. Williams, a neighbour—on the 14th she came back, and said she had had a remittance, and had bought some furniture; she wanted some one to clean two rooms, and she ordered coals, wood, tea, sugar, bread, and potatoes, to the amount of 4s.—I sent them to her by my boy; she did not pay for them—she said it was pay-day on the 21st, and she was going to camp to get money from her husband.
JOHN HOLLIS . I am a corporal in the Royal Artillery stationed at Woolwich—I know of no other Corporal Hollis in the garsion—I don't Know the prisoner; she is not my wife—I never saw her before—I have been at Woolwich just over two months—I came from Shorncliffe.
CHARLES STEWARD (Policeman R 183). On the 28th I took the prisoner into custody at Prince's Row—I asked her name; she said Alice Hollis—I asked her whom she was the wife of—she said "Of Corporal Hollis, of the Camps"—I said I should take her into custody for obtaining goods of Morris, Creed, and another person—she said "I know I had the goods; I should have paid for them, but I had no money."
The prisoner, in her defence, stated that the Corporal Hollis she know had gone to the Cape of Good Hope.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
GEORGE READ . I am a general dealer, of 12, Lower East Street, East Greenwich—on 17th November in consequence of a communication I went and identified my mare, at that time in a policeman's custody—I had turned it out into a field in Eastcombe Park, about three month before—we send up four or five times a week to see if it is all right, we pass and repass the field very often—there was no halter on her—I plainly identify her as mine—she is so crippled that anybody would know her.
THOMAS FRANCIS (Detective-Sergeant R). At 5.30 p.m. on 17th November I was in Ford's company at Blackheath, near the Standard in Combe Farm Lane—I saw the prisoner apparently loitering about—we kept observation on him, and followed him—he went into Eastcombe Park
Road, and came into this lane—we could not see him then, and supposed he had gone through a hedge—we afterwards met him in Charlton Road, leading a bay mare—I said "You have got a lame one there, where are you going to take it to?"—he said "To Woolwich"—I said "Where have you brought it from?" he said "From the Elephant and Castle"—afterwards he said "I will tall you the truth, he asked me to take it to Plumstead for him, near the barracks"—I asked him who the man was He said he did not know, he was short man—he put his hand in is pocket hat have you got there?" he had a stone tied in his handkerchief—he said "I have got this incase any one interfered with me"—I took him into custody—I had only lost sight of him for a few minutes.
FREDERICK FORTH . (Sergeant R). I was with Francis—I saw the prisoner loitering about in Combe Farm Lane—he went towards Eastcombe Park; and shortly afterwards we saw him return—we lost sight of him, and about twenty minutes afterwards met him going towards Charlton with the horse—he told two stories—he had a stone in a handkerchief in his pocket, he said that was for self-defonce.
The prisoner in his defence denied that he stole the horse.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted.
JOSEPH BLAND . I am a bootmaker of 2, Walpole Street, New Cross Road—on 4th November I met the three prisoners, with two other persons, near Geeenwich Church on the pavement—I had never spoken to them before—I asked them if they knew where I could find a man named Jack Wood, they said yes they could take me, I said "Well we will have a glass first," and I took them up to the London Distillery, and stood them six pots of beer—I didn't have any myself—I said "We will go and find Jack Wood"—they said "He is down Rolls Street, Greenwich; come down to the Greycoat Boy, Jack Wood is down there"—I said "All right, I will come down there; we must find him so long as you take care of me"—they said "Oh yes, we will take particular care of you"—we went down to the Greycoat Boy, and I stood eight pots of beer there—I took one half-sovereign out, and Daley gave me seven shillings and fourpence change—I had besides two sovereigns and some coppers, threepence or fourpence in my pocket—I said I wanted to go up London Street—they said "We will go with you, and show you a short cut"—they all five went with me across an open bit of ground which leads into London Street—I had not gone more than ten or twenty yards, when two of them seized hold of my arms; two at the back got hold of my collar, while Murphy put his hands into my pockets and took out all my money, then they all ill-used me in a most brutal manner; they kicked me while on the ground, and I became insensible, but not for long—when I came to my senses again they had all gone—my two sovereigns, seven shillings and fourpence, and coppers were all gone—I gave information at the station the same night—I met the prisoners next morning at 8 o'clock, and gave them into custody.
Cross-examined by Woodley. At the Greycoat Boy I dropped half a sovereign, which Daley picked up and gave to me.
Cross-examined by Murphy. I changed a florin for the first pot at the Greycoat Boy—in the Distillery I paid for six pots with two shilling—I changed two shillings in the first public-house, and that left me 2l. 10s.—I did not say I had only 2l. 10s. altogether.
ALBERT CHRISTOPHER TURNER . I am a barmon at the Greycoat Boy public-house, Rose Street, Greenwich—on the 4th November Bland came in about half-past 8 o'clock with the three prisoners and two others, they had eight pots of beer—Daley changed half a sovereign which Bland gave him, and had 7s. 4d. change—the prosecutor was not sober but knew what he was about—I refused to serve him—Murphy suggested whisky should be served to Bland; I refused to serve him—shortly after, they all went out together.
Cross-examined by Woodley. Bland had had quite as much as was good for him—he dropped half a sovereign in front of the bar, which Daley picked up and gave to him.
Cross-examined by Murphy. You came in about half-past eight, and left in about half an hour's time.
Cross-examined by Daley. Only the half sovereign was changed, so silver—you had no tobacco.
ELLEN HAMPTON . I live at Straightsmouth, Greenwich, more than a quarter of a mile from the Greycoat Boy public-house—about 8 o'clock in the evening on this day I was standing at my door looking into I field and saw Murphy strike Bland down, and then kick him after he was down—there were five men there; I can only identify Murphy—the others then walked away—I stood for a few minutes—Bland got up and mumbled something, and went away—I did not say anything to him.
Cross-examined by Murphy. It was between half-past 7 and a quarter to 8—I swear to you by wearing a tassel on your cap—I swore before the Magistrate that Daley was the man until I saw you with your caps on, and then I knew you—I made a mistake about you, you were so much alike—it was so close to my gate I could have bent over the fence and touched you on the shoulder—the house is in a field; there are three new houses and a board school there.
WILLIAM HALL . I live at 3, Straightsmouth—on the 4th November I heard a disturbance outside my house, between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening; I looked out of my parlour window and saw a man throw another man down in the most violent manner—there were six men, including the one thrown down—I don't identify any of them, it was too dark.
CHARLES WOODWARD . On the evening of 4th November I was in the Greycoat public-house—I saw Murphy and Daley and Bland there, and two men besides—I heard them talking rather loudly, and I heard one say to the other, "We will go out and fight," and they went into Crumbie'd field opposite, in Straightsmouth; turning out of it—there were six with Mr. Bland—when they got there they were scuffling—I did not see what was done—they got up and laughed, and five went away and I saw no more of them—Bland quickly got up after them—when the five went away he was lying on the ground in tho field, about five yards from Mr. Crumbie's house.
Cross-examined by Murphy. The Greycoat Boy is about 100 yards from
Mr. Crumbie's bouse; it is not a quarter of a mile—this occurrence was close to a fence at the buck of the gardens of those houses.
JAMES SHEPHERD (Policeman R R 19). On 5th November, about 9 o'clock, I was outside Greenwich Church—Bland made a complaint to me, and I went with the last witness to the Mitre public-bouse, where I met Murphy and Woodley—Bland said, "There are two of the men that robbed me"—pointing to Woodley he said, "That man was one that held me," and pointing to Murphy, "That one put his hand in my pocket and took the money out"—I told Murphy I should take him into custody—he said, "I know nothing about his money, what is the use of taking notice of a madman?"—I took him to the station—on Murphy I found 2s. 6d. and 6d. in bronze.
ROBERT WEATHERSTONE (Policeman R 426). I took Woodley into custody from the other officer—when charged with assaulting and robbing the man he said, "What, are we going to be locked up on Guy Fawkes Day?"—it was 5th November—I found 3s. 1d. on him.
FREDERICK FORTH (Police Sergeant R). On 12th November I took Daley into custody—I told him he would be charged with Murphy and Woodley for robbing Bland on the 4th—he said, "What, me rob him? he stood eight pots of beer, dropped half-a-sovereign, I picked it up and gave it to him"—at the station he was placed with five or six others, I think—Bland identified him as one of the men and said, "That is the man that held my arm while Murphy picked my pockets"—they were all charged.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. WOODLEY and DALEY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. MURPHY— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNDERS. Prosecuted.
HENRY ALEXANDER . I live at 30, Hare Street, Woolwich, and am a hosier—on 26th November, about a quarter to 6, the prisoner came in—my daughter was attending to the shop and called me in—the prisoner brought in an old boot, put it on the counter, and said, "I want a cork sock"—I said, "They are not our business, we don't sell those goods"—she was very impertinent, turned round, and said, "You don't, don't you?" and made use of very insulting remarks, and I put her outside—in doing so a bundle of shirts and a Cardigan jacket, which had been on a show board at the side of the shop, fell from under her arm—I sent for a constable—while he was coming the prisoner ran off—I ran after her and brought her back till the arrival of the constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I asked the Magistrate to settle the case as I keep no assistants—you had so many convictions against you that he would not settle it.
ELIZABETH ALEXANDER . I am the last witness's daughter, and am 12 years old—the prisoner came into the shop; I called for my father—he came in and turned the prisoner out, and I saw all the things fall from under her arm, three shirts and a Cardigan jacket—she had been standing not far from where the things were.
Cross-examined. I did not see you come into the shop, I was in the parlour—I did not see the things under your arm, but I saw them drop.
her father's shop—on getting there I saw the prisoner sitting inside the shop—the prosecutor gave her into my custody for stealing three shirts and a Cardigan jacket—I took her to the station and she was charged—while the charge was being taken she rushed out of the dock, seized the prosecutor by the tails of his coat, and with this clog struck him several times, and it was with great difficulty we got her back into the dock with the assistance of the sergeant—when I took her into custody she said "They fell from my arm on to the pavement."
She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Portsmouth in April, 1881.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
SOPHIA ATHERALL . I live at 15, Garden Row, New Cross, and am Isaac Atherall's wife—on 15th November the prisoner brought half a hundredweight of coals—I gave him a half-sovereign and asked him if he could get change—he said he would, and I never saw him again till he was in custody—he was to have taken 7d. out of the half-sovereign.
GEORGE PURBROOK (Police Sergeant R). I took the prisoner into custody on 16th November—I charged him with stealing half-a-sovereign from Mrs. Atherall—he said "I know nothing about Mrs. Atherall's half-sovereign;" then he said "I will tell you the truth, governor, I dropped it near the garden gate and ran away."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am guilty of taking the two half-sovereigns in the cases of Atherall and Mein, but the others have been paid back by the men in the yard."
GUILTY . There were two other indictments against the prisoner for similer offences.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in June, 1883.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM OAKES . I am gaoler at Lambeth Police-court—on Saturday, 6th December, the prisoner was charged on remand there for begging, and was sentenced to one day's imprisonment; he would be released the same day—he was put into the cell about 2 o'clock—a man named "Watney was also in the same cell, committed for trial on a charge of felony—about 5 I went to the cell door and called out "Alfred Thorne" in a loud tone of voice—when I opened the door a man was standing ready at the door with a coat aud hat on—there were three prisoners sitting down in the cell—the man who answered to the name of Thorne was taken to the clerk's room and discharged
—about 6, hearing a noise in the cell; I went to learn what it was; the prisoner called out "When is my time up, I am sentenced to one day?"—I said "What is your name?"—he said "My name is Thorne"—I said "Thorne is gone"—I then opened the door and found that Thorne was there—I took him into the clerk's office, and from there placed him back in the cell until the van had taken the other prisoners away—I then took him to the police-station and charged him with this offence—he said in the clerk's office that he did not hear his name called—he Was wearing the same coat that he has on now, and a hat—at the station he said he must have been in a fit—he also said that the clothes he was wearing were his own—I was satisfied that they were not the clothes he was wearing when he was taken into custody.
WILLIAM NEWBAT (Policeman L 24). I am assistant gaoler at Lambeth Police-court—I was present when the prisoner was charged with conspiring with Watney to effect his escape—he said "I know nothing about it, it had nothings to do with me"—he was then dressed as he is now—I had seen him before; he Was then dressed in a small black coat and a much smaller hat.
WILLIAM HUME (Chief Inspector L). I was present when the charge was made—I said to the prisoner "You hear what the gaoler says, why did you not come out at 5 o'clock when your name was called?" he replied "I don't know anything about it, I am subject to fits"—I said "Did you at any time while in the cell complain of being unwell?"—he replied "No, but they can prove that I am subject to fits at Clerkenwell"—he had not the slightest appearance of being unwell—a constable who was standing by said "I don't think that is, the same coat that you wore during the day"—he said "This is my coat and hat"—I sent for the constable who had him in charge for begging; and he at once said "That is not the coat and hat he had on when he was in my custody"—the prisoner asserted that it was his coat and hat.
Prisoner's Defence. All I can say is, Watney got away. I made no agreement for him to go away; I am quite innocent of the case.
GUILTY .— One Day's Imprisonment.
MR. BAYLISS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY LAND . I am a wheelwright, of 108, St. George's Road, Peckham—on Sunday morning, 2nd November, about a quarter to 1 o'clock, I was in the Albany Road—I met the prisoner there—I asked him if he knew anything of a photograph of myself and the young woman I kept company with—he said he did, and he made use of abusive language and took off his belt and struck me with it, and I hit him in the face and he fell down—he said he would get some one to pay me, and he got up and walked in the road—he then ran at me, closed with me, and I discovered that I was stabbed in the back—I fancy I saw him with a knife before that, but I am not sure—I was taken to Dr. Oakfield, he
dressed my wounds, and I was taken to the hospital, where I remained seven days—I am attended by Dr. Oakfield now.
Cross-examined. The young lady's name is Mary Riley—I believe the prisoner had been courting her before I began to court her—I had a conversation with her before I met the prisoner on this night; I spoke to her about the photographs and told her I would go and see the prisoner in order to get them—I did not say I would twist his neck—I was not lying in wait for him, I was going home, I ran up against him accidentally—I might have said before the Magistrate "I was waiting for the prisoner to ask him about the portraits"—I should not like to say whether that is true, I was too ill when I was taken to the Court—I believe I was waiting for him to ask him about the portraits—I knew where he lived, I have been to his house; Mary Riley lodges with his mother; I go there every night—the spot where I met him is not a lonely place, it is about 100 yards from his house—I swear he used his belt upon me—Green was not with me, I had not seen him that night, he was not in a public-house with me—I had been in the prisoner's house several hours before I met him—I had been in a public-house with Mary Riley and had a glass of ale—Green was not with me there—I should not like to say whether Green took the belt away from the prisoner; I don't think it was taken away from him before he used it—I did not knock him down till he struck me with it—he was only on the ground once—I did not knock him down three times—he did not say "I can't fight the two of you, but I don't mind standing one"—I did not hear him say "You will know it if you come at me again"—I did not throw him down and fall a-top of him; I believe when I was stabbed I sank down and pulled the prisoner with me—I did not hear him say "I am very sorry, it was done accidentally"—he struck the first blow.
ALFRED GREEN . I live at 35, Chandler Street, Horseferry Road, and am a lithographic printer—about a quarter to 1 o'clock on the morning of 2nd November I was with the prosecutor in Albany Road; the prisoner was coming round the corner; I asked him for a lucifer, he made no reply—the prosecutor walked away from me—I turned my head and saw the prisoner and prosecutor close together—afterwards the prisoner took off his belt, I ran and snatched it away from him—they went up to one another as if going to fight or wrestle, and the prisoner deliberately took out his knife and opened the blade by the appearance of it—he put it back into his pocket; he did not close it—they closed together again and fell, and in getting up the prosecutor called out that he had been stabbed—I and another man caught hold of the prisoner and held him down on the ground—he said "If you will let me get up, I know I have done it, I won't run away"—I did not see anything of the knife—a constable came up shortly afterwards, and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. I had been standing with the prosecutor for two or three minutes at the corner of Villiers Street; he was standing there when I came up—I am sure I took the belt away from the prisoner before he could use it on the prosecutor—the prisoner did not say anything when he took the knife from his pocket—I did not hear him say "You had better mind, don't come near me again"—after he put the knife in his pocket they closed again—they fell two or three times—I did not hear the prisoner say "It is not my fault, it is his own fault"—I heard the word "fault," no more—Laud is slightly bigger than the prisoner.
HENRY DANES . I live at 38, Harding Street, Camberwell, and am a labourer—on 2nd November, about a quarter past one in the morning, I was in Albany Road—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor fall—the prosecutor got up, and said he had been stabbed—I did not hear the prisoner say anything; he was on the ground with two men—I took the knife out of his hand, it was open, this is it (produced)—I gave it to the constable.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor got up, leaving the prisoner on the ground—the prosecutor was uppermost—I did not see the prosecutor rush at the prisoner, throw him down, and fall on him—they fell together—I could not tell how they fell.
FRANK OLDFIELD . I am a M.R.C.P., of 174, Boyson Road, Walworth—on Sunday, the 2nd November, the prosecutor was brought to my surgery at 12.20; he was suffering from two wounds, one in the back a little to the left of the spine, about an inch long and half an inch, deep in the thin muscles, the other over the hip bone, an inch long and about an inch and a half deep—both were in a slanting direction—the one over the hip was dangerous, because it very nearly penetrated into the abdomen—he is cured now, but is suffering a little yet from the shock—they were such wounds as might have been produced by this knife—they would require considerable force—it cut through a thick overcoat and lining, an under coat, trousers, and two shirts, and went an inch and a half into the flesh.
Cross-examined. The cuts were 14 or 16 inches from each other—the injuries could not very well be occasioned by a scuffle on the ground.
GEORGE SAKER (Policeman R 528). I arrested the prisoner on Sunday morning, 2nd November, about 1 o'clock—I charged him with stabbing William Henry Laud—he said "Yes, I have done it, and what would you do if you had one or two on to you?"—I made no reply to that—this knife was given to me by Danes—I asked the prisoner if it was his, and he said "Yes"—he was quite sober.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. A. O'CONNOR defended Black.
JAMES SEXTON SIMONS . I am second officer in command of the fire brigade, and am an engineer by profession—Bawden was in the service of the brigade up to 20th September, when he resigned—since 1882 until he left the brigade he was senior of three men in the hose department, and as such would have charge of everything kept in that room, and he would be responsible for these articles to his officer in charge—he would have access to all those articles which were found in his possession in the hose room, and he would draw those articles as he required them—I knew nothing whatever of Black till these proceedings—this leather branch I believe to be the property of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade—I have seen similar branches at the Paddington workhouse, and I believe they are the property of the brigade—this (produced) is a length of air tube belonging to a smoke jacket belonging to the brigade and this is a connecting piece belonging to the air tube—it is marked No. 5; that is the number of one of our stations—it is the custom of the brigade to mark articles with the number of the station to which they
are sent—these three things together make a complete smoke jacket for working—these three articles (produced) I say are the property of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade—I find the number of our station on them, No. 22, but this appears as if it had been marked and the mark erased—I also find certain marks on these other two, which makes me think the number has been there—I can't be certain, but I see marks on them which enable me to recognise them as having belonged to the brigade—I believe this copper elbow to be the property of the brigade—there is no number on it, but like the others I am of opinion they have borne a number, but the number has been filed out—this metal branch and nozzle attached, and also these four nozzles, I believe to be the property of the brigade—the numbers on them appear to have been filed out, but the number 58 appears on one of the nozzles; that is one of our numbers—I have seen these nozzles at the workhouse, and recognise them—I saw this one with the remains of 58 on it at the workhouse—I have seen a great number of articles found at Bawden's and Black's, and am prepared if necessary to give my opinion upon them—when stores are useless they are brought under my notice, and I condemn them, after examining them carefully and seeing that nothing can be done with them—they are then defaced in such a manner as to be perfectly useless for any other purpose than melting, if they are metal—we use the leather for mending purposes, after cutting out the copper rivets, and the strips of leather are burnt in a furnace—nothing is sold out of the stores, only such as are in a condition that they can't possibly be used for fire purposes—none of the men are entitled to take any old stores—Bawden resigned.
Cross-examined by Bawden. I find that we are eight branches short in our stock—I have gone through the stock carefully; they were in the hose-room on 1st January—I know the number of branches that are issued, and I find altogether eight missing—30 branches have been issued since the 1st of January—there were 36 when I took stock on 1st December—there should have been 44—those that have been condemned have nothing to do with it, because others are issued in place of them—you were on the sick list from 1st June to 1st July—you were appointed to prepare for steam duty on 21st July; you were responsible for everything there—the hose-room is not a thoroughfare for anybody—no one has any business there without authority.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I joined the brigade on the 28th January, 1881—discipline is very strict in the brigade—I obtained returns from the various stations showing that eight branches are missing—I have not got these returns with me—I have brought all the books which were asked for at the police-court—I know nothing whatever of Black; he never did any work for the Metropolitan Board of Works to my knowlodge, or for the fire brigade—the contractor delivers the goods to the brigade when he has completed them, and when they have been passed and accepted they are marked "M. F. B."—connecting pieces are sent in by the contractor before they are tied to the leather branch to see if they are correct—having been approved, they go back to the contractor after having been marked—we sometimes lend patterns on a proper request to other contractors, not to private persons—I can't recall any instance of our patterns being lent to a fire brigade, but we should do so on a proper request—we always endeavour to oblige people as much as we can—we did not lend any appliances to Captain Sutton—I think
Lieutenant Billing applied for some, and very probably we authorised them to be issued to him—he was about to have a display of some of his appliances—he represented the Compressed Air Company—I identify the branch brought from Paddington by the workmanship, by the mark "M. F. B." on it, and also by the name "Shand, Mason, and Co."—I saw that at Paddington Workhouse—the name of shand, Mason, and Co. has nearly been obliterated by some file or instrument—I see the letters "also," part of the "n," and the "Co.," "n" and "d"—that is sufficient to enable me to say that the name has been there—Shand, Mason, and Co. make these materials for very few people besides ourselves; they would imitate any pattern, I presume—I identify the nozzles as bearing one of our numbers; 58 upon it—they are exactly the same as we issue, and I see numbers that have been erased—we have an engine number 58—these articles would be numbered according to the number of the engine for which they are issued—I also identify them as being exactly similar to those we issue—the Salvage Corps do not use fire engines—a private brigade might possibly have them, but not likely to have any number 58—I identify this elbow branch as being exactly the same as these that are made for us—I know there is such a firm as Croggan and Co.; they have not done any work for the brigade—I don't know Bond of Birmingham, or W. G. Glass, or Austin, they have not done any work for us—Mr. Skidder made a communication to me before prosecution was instituted—I understand from him that Black was a sub-contractor with him, I don't know that Mr. Skidder has been sued for the amount of the contract—I have heard so, I know nothing about it.
CHARLES WILLIAM APPLEBY . I am foreman in the hose department of Shand and Mason—I went to the Paddington Workhouse last Friday week, and there inspected eight leather branches, three indoors and five out—this (produced) is one of them, the other seven were like it—I cut them out, marked them, fitted them up, and superintended the finishing of them on behalf of my employers for the Metropolitan Board of Works—there were two 25's maae and supplied to the brigade, which they accepted—one lot was made before, they were rejected on account of the leather, and there was another lot rejected, this is a portion of that which they accepted—I didn't put the name of the firm on the branches, but on the fittings—I can't see any name on this now, but there is the place where no doubt the name has been orased by a file—I can't see any letter, my eyes are not so good as they were—I cut out this leather myself, I am sure.
Cross-examined by Bawden. The branch is not made quite according to the Fire Brigade pattern—I had a pattern to make it by, the leather is cut by a knife, not by a machine, they are made out of the prime parts of the hide.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I recognise the branch by my work, any practical mechanic knows his own work, I didn't drive the rivets in, all I did was to fit them up, mark them, and superintend—I didn't mark the lines across the leather quite straight, that frequently happens—nobody but myself is allowed to cut the leather—the firm might sell rejected material.
workshop department, a great part of the gear passes through my hands—I have seen the six nozzles brought from the Paddington Workhouse, I say these nozzles formerly belonged to the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, I can see one marked 58, there is an engine No. 58—one side of the hexagon has been filed as though something has been removed—I recognise this marked "W S 2" as a casting piece formerly belonging to the Fire Brigade, there is no stamp on it and no number—here are four nozzles, two of them have had the number removed, two of them appear to have been quite new and not numbered, no number is put on them until they are sent out—I can sae number 5 on this leather air tube marked W S 3, "the number indicates the number of the station—I don't swear to that tube, but to the best of my belief it formerly belonged to the brigade—this connection screw ia a portion of "W S 4," it is stamped No. 5, the same as the air tube—I recognise these delivery bosses as the property of the brigade, there is no number on them or any indication of it that I can see; they have been used; we don't mark the hoses—I recognised the elbow joint in the same manner—this was made under my directions in a specific way for the brigade, it was made by Shand and Mason under directions given to me by Captain Shaw—I think I can see a number or something has been filed out at the usual place where it would be placed—I also swear to this metal branch, but not to the nozzle; a portion of the middle part is copper, I swear to that; this has also been adopted under my directions—I saw the branches at Southwark—I don't swear to them, but they are similar in every respect.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I identify the connecting branch by its general appearance, not by the nozzle; any other firm could make a similar nozzle or a similar branch—there is no private mark on W S 5 that I can see; we mark the small pieces in very few cases, some of the small gear is not marked—I recognise the six nozzles brought from the workhouse by their general appearance, there is a specific mark on them, the number of the engine—I have never seen Black about the brigade—I know nothing of him—some of our workpeople do work as mechanies, formerly I did myself—Bawden was a workman of that kind—I don't know that he worked overtime for other people—I never did it, I did no work except for the brigade—I know there are fire appliances in all public institutions, they are all very much alike, I don't identify the fire jacket.
NIMROD BATES . I am an engineer of the Fire Brigade—I identify these lengths of hand-pump hose as the property of the brigade—I returned them into store about eighteen months ago; they are marked with the number of my station, No. 3, on one of the brass plates.
BENJAMIN THOMAS WHITEHEAD . I am clerk to Messrs. Shand, Mason, and Co.—in consequence of a communication from the Fire Brigade I have searched through the books of the firm for the last four years—I know nothing of Black, we have not sold any branches to him during the last four years, we have no account with him at all—I know Bawden as a servant, I have never supplied him with any branches—we supply the Fire Brigade with branches of this description.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I have to do with the sale department—we sell for ready money sometimes, and a record is kept of that in the Sales Ledger—I know McGregor and Co., of Dundee, their names appear in our books—I don't know that Black has acted as agent for
them at times—we have sold McGregor and Co. several things, but not of this kind—if a pattern was brought to us to make an article by we should follow the pattern—we make several things exclusively for the Fire Brigade, things made to their pattern—I believe any other firm could follow the pattern—if any of the pieces are rejected we put them into stock, and they remain there until it is asked for, then we sell it.
FRANK WILLIAM TAGG . I am in the employ of Stidder and Co., sanitary appliance makers, of Southwark Bridge Road—I know Black, I saw him about August or September last about the contract that we had at the Paddington Workhouse to supply certain fire appliances, also for fitting branch pipes and several brass fittings—there were eight branches—we gave Black an order to supply the hose, branch pipes, and fittings, and he delivered eight at Paddington—I have seen, those at the workhouse—an action was brought for them, and we paid his solicitor on his behalf.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. The money was paid under an order of the Master—we suggested that the bulk of the hose at the work-house belonged to the Fire Brigade—this (produced) is the contract for the order, dated October 4th—I believe all such appliances are very much alike—Captain Shaw saw these goods and said he believed they belonged to the brigade, but he was investigating the matter and could not claim them at that time.
WILLIAM DOWELL . I am an engineer in the Fire Brigade—before Bawden took over charge of the hose department I was in the same position—that was in December, 1882—this air tube No. 5 was in stock when I handed it over to him—I have no recollection of this connecting piece, it is marked No. 5—I found this smoke jacket in stock after this inquiry took place—that is also marked No. 5—it was in stock when I handed the stock over to Bawden—these three form one article—I have searched everywhere in stock for an air-tube belonging to this jacket and can't find one, or a connecting piece—I made patterns similar to this branch about three years ago.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I know Black by sight—I have seen him several times at South wark—he has not brought things to me to be marked—goods that are passed are marked "E. M. S.," not "M. F. B," to my knowledge—I never knew that to be done, I have heard that it has been done, I don't know who by—we take stock at the end of each year—I have searched the store-room department, not the books—the brigade insist on the work being made exactly to pattern—the brigade do lend patterns sometimes—I never knew any contractors except Shand and Mason to supply branches—I have been present when these materials ave been passed—after the "M. F.B." has been put on them they would be returned to the contractor to be fitted—we have only three of these jackets in stock, each member of the brigade is not furnished with one—there is only one in the stock now, they are obsolete and have been superseded by a more approved apparatus—this is marked No. 5, which was the old number of Watling Street Station before my time, it is now No. 21—we describe the tubing simply by measurement, nothing more—a number to denote the size and quality is unknown—the only quality we have is the first quality—I never knew there to be a number for shortness' sake.
JOHN WILLIAM HOLLAND . I am manager of a department at Messrs. Pontifex and Wood's, Shoe Lane—we do a considerable amount of work for the Fire Brigade, and amongst other things make nozzles similar to these—these are exactly similar to those we make—I know Black—we have done business with him for cash—Black brought this elbow-piece to me and wanted another one made similar to it—I put the article in hand to be copied—receiving a communication from the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, I handed it to them—we had no ledger account with Black; he paid for the items on delivery.
Cross-examined. I am not prepared to swear whether this elbow is our make or not—I did not swear at the police-court it was not—I identify it as one Black brought, because I marked it before giving it to the police with an "O" under the screw in the centre of the short elbow—we do a good deal of work for traders such as Black, and make similar appliances for the trade—we should not follow any pattern which might be given us, not if they were exclusive patterns such as the Metropolitan Fire Brigade have—the nozzle is exclusively the pattern of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade—I cannot swear if we made them, they are exactly the same pattern we make—we do not make exactly similar nozzles for the trade—my firm impression is we supplied this article to the Metropolitan Fire Brigade—there is no private mark on them by whicli I could swear to them—any other firm might make similar nozzles—it is quite a frequent thing for patterns to be brought to us to be followed—it is not usual in all contracts for fire appliances, for the material and appearance to correspond as nearly as possible with those of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade; sometimes it is so stipulated—I know nothing of the routine of the Board when the materials are supplied—I do not know that when passed by the Board for the brigade they are marked—goods of ours have been rejected by the Fire Brigade—we then make them so that the Board will pass them—we never keep them in stock—if it is impossible to make them fit for passing, they are thrown into the melting pot; we only make the metals, we have nothing to do with the hose—I know nothingof Black's business; he produced a card showing "Maker of Leather Hose"—I cannot say whether he could come and buy without his name appearing in our boot no goods are sent out unless a receipt is given, and that receipt must always sooner or latter pass through my hands—the invoice is receipted—there is carbon under the actual receipt given to the customer which makes a fac-simile impression underneath—this nozzle 58 is like a pattern we make for the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, it is impossible to swear we made it—we never sold such a nozzle to Black, because this is a three-quarter inch nozzle and the only nozzles we made for Black were half-inch—our books are not here, they can be produced—I can tell you anything about the transaction—I have searched the books from January 1st—such materials are not usually keep in stock a long time—I can't say what Black would do—they would not deteriorate in quality.
WILLIAM BARRATT . I am a brush-maker—I was working in the evenings of November as stage-man at Victoria Music-hall—Bawden was the fireman there—he had nothing to do, so far as I know, with fitting up any fire appliances—on Saturday night, 22nd November, he told me his wife was near her confinement; he wanted room, and would I shift some things round to my place during the trouble—I agreed to
do so—I saw him again on the Monday in the street, and said that I would do it myself—I got a barrow, and went to his house in Southwark Bridge Road, saw his wife in the back parlour, which was a living room, and took away two parcels to my house, which I afterwards found contained canvas hose—I then went back with the barrow and fetched some more, and was stopped by the police—Bawden had said some time before that he was going to start in business; he did not say what, but I understood it was the manufacture of hose—I was charged at the police-court in the first instance.
ARTHUR COX (Detective Officer). On 24th November, about 8.45, I was with Martin at the corner of Burrell Street, and saw Barratt wheeling a costermonger's barrow with something on it covered with a sack—we followed him about 150 yards, stopped him, and asked what he had under the sack—I found on the barrow 100 feet of rubber hose, two short lengths of leather hose, 8lb. of copper wire, 47lb. of rivets and burrs, three brass unions, a gross of buckles, and some small articles—I afterwards went to his house, 36, Holland Street, and found two more lengths of hose, 100 feet and 50 feet—on 3rd December I went with Martin to Black's house, 6, Golden Square, and saw him on the third floor landing—I said that we were two police officers, aud were going to take him in custody for being concerned with two others in custody for stealing a large quantity of fire appliances which were fitted up in Paddington Workhouse—he said, "Yes, I am in that line, I work here," pointing to the workshop where we were standing, "I can explain that"—I said, "Have you a receipt for the hose which is fitted up there?"—he aaid, "Yes, I have it, for some, I don't keep all receipts"—Martin took possession of the things found there—Black was charged at the station and said "Very well"
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I did not tell Black that what he said might be given in evidence hgainst him—it was not my duty in a case like this, in a case of murder it would be—I saw pieces of leather in the workshop, but no hose—he brought some receipts away with him.
GEORGE THOMAS MARTIN (Detective Sergeant). On Monday evening, November 24th, I was with Cox, aud seized the articles in Barrett's barrow—I afterwards went to the Victoria Music-hall and saw Bawden—I said, "I am a police officer, and am going to take you for being concerned with a man in custody in stealing some hose and other articles"—he hesitated and then said, "All right, break it as light as you can for my wife, will you?"—on the way to the station in a cab he said, "This is doing Mr. Shaw's work, is it, to save—"I did not catch the rest, "the other man has nothing to do with it, I shall exonerate him; I shall have to stand to the other, I suppose"—at the station he said to Barratt, "I shall exonerate you"—I afterwards went to his lodging, 184, Southwark Bridge Road, where I found the articles in this list (produced)—he was not there—some of the things on the barrow are on this list—on the morning Black was arrested I went to his lodging, 6, Golden Square, with Cox, and found a large quantity of articles, of which this is a list (Nozzles, rivets, screws, hose, &c.)—some are marked "W. S. 2," some "W. S. 3," and some "W. S. 4"—there are 78 leather washers and a quantity of buckles, both similar to those found in Bawden's possession, and 23 copper rivets similar to those found at Bawden's.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNOR. I have never had any letters taken from Black—it was a temporary workshop; there was leather cut up and other materials there—I do not think the Fire Brigado claim the copper rivets, but these were similar articles.
Cross-examined by Bawden. There two connecting pieces were found at Black's, and this piece of air tubing.
Witnesses for Black.
OWEN JONES . I am in the employ of Messrs. Norris, leather merchants of Shadwell—we supplied Black with several quantities of leather hose similar to this, and this (produced) is a receipt from our firm; 59l. worth in February, 10l. 10s. in July, and 63l. in April.
Cross-examined. These are the invoices—I have looked at the rivets—I have supplied Black with similar rivets—I can't show a single invoice which will answer to them—I only heard of this case yesterday; these in the invoice are riveted with copper—if I said that I delivered hose not with copper rivets it was a mistake—I said that hose similar to these we might tie on Shand's couplings; but we never buy from Shand's, that I recollect—we should have no reason to take off Shand's mark, and I think we should not do so—the hose we supplied in these invoices does not tally in every way—we attach the couplings when we make them for ourselves.
Re-examined. The hose we supplied to Black would not have couplings on—here is nothing about couplings—I have not known contractors remove Shand and Mason's couplings, as it would be advertising their name.
JANE CHECKLY . I am housekeeper at 4, Golden Square—Black occupied the third floor, he had a small room for a workshop; and I have seen him making hose such as this and putting the rivets in—I have signed receipts for heavy goods for him from Dundee, and heavy boxes from Birmingham—I know he had people working there.
WILLIAM GEORGE SNELL . I am a fireman in the brigade—I know Black by sight—I have seen him at the head office—I know that a lot of things were brought in for McGregor; but I know nothing about the marking—I have seen a lot of things marked "M. F. B."—I have helped to unload a lot of stuff, but don't recollect the date—I can't swear whether, he brought anything in there to be stamped.
DAVID GULLY . I am a fireman in the brigade—I don't know Black by name, but I have seen him bring materials to the head office to be passed—some would be marked after they were passed—if the materials he brought were for the Fire Brigade they would be stamped—the receipt bears my signature. (This was for 14 lengths of hose from Black on October 8th, 1884, for McGregor.)
Cross-examined. Rob Roy hose are of all kinds, but these are not Rob Roy.
WALTER SHEPHERD . I am a carman—I have known Black three or four years—he bears the reputation of an honest man—I have taken goods from his place to the office of the Fire Brigade, nozzles and such things, and left them there.
Cross-examined. The last time I took them was a month ago—I took the van inside and gave them to the men, sometimes one man and sometimes two, according to the hose there was—I have left things there eight or ten times within the last six months—I have seen Gully and
the other witness there; they helped to deliver the hose from the cart—I deliver plenty of these, and never fetch them away—the last lot I took from Black's was a month ago as near as I can say—I know he was arrested in December—I waited at the corner once while black went in—I did not always go myself—I have never brought anything away—I never asked my men whether they have—my book would not prove what was brought away—I never saw Bawden to notice him till he was in custody.
Re-examined. It was hose and brass work I took to the head office.
GEORGE DAVIS . I am connected with the firm of Messrs. Jennings, fire and sanitary engineers—Black has supplied me with fire hose and leather branches in large quantities—I have known him two or three years as an honest man.
Cross-examined. A large proportion of the leather, branches went to the Grreat Eastern Hotel—the order was given in 1873; this is it produced—I don't think the goods were marked, "M.F.B."—the name of Shand and Mason was not on them—the metal mark was by Owen; I don't think they came from Norris's.
Re-examined. I have seen Black at his office with his coat off, as if he was making these materials, and I saw some work partly made.
Black received a good chraacter.
BAWDEN— GUILTY to stealing.
BLACK— GUILTY of receiving. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM SHAW . I am a sergeant of the 4th Battalion East Surrey Regiment—I was stationed at the Winchester Tavern, Great, Suffolk Street—on 13th November the prisoner spoke to me in reference to an advertisement in Lloyd's newspaper—I said that it referred to men who had previously served and had been discharged with good characters after twelve years' service—I told him if eligible he would receive 30s. on being attested at Southwark Police-court, and he would have to re-enlist for four years—he said that the conditions suited him, and handed me this' parchment certificate—I told him I expected an officer up that morning, and I would show him the certificate (This certified the prisoner's discharge on the termination of his first period of limited engagement, having served five years abroad in the Zulu war and at the Cape, and that his conduct had been good. Signed, J. Heneage, Colonel; Major Mears, Commandant)—in about an hour I received notice from my officer that he was not coming up, and told the prisoner so, and that I doubted the genuineness of the certificate—he said that if I wanted any reference there was his pocket ledger, pulling it out of his pocket—I took him before tha medical officer, and he was attested, and I paid him 30s., which I should not have done if he had been an indifferent character—he would not have been eligible—the certificate was returned to me with authority to apprehend him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you were out on bail you sent me a letter asking my advice about going to the Adjutant and trying to arrange it—I told you it was in the hands of the civil authorities, and there it must remain—you told me you had got two certificates of dis—
charge, and had made away with the first as it ought to have been better than "indifferent," and wrote "good."
BOLTON MORSOM . I am Major of the 2nd Yorkshire Regiment—I was Commandant at Gosport between September, 1882, and June, 1884—during that time I signed a discharge for private Joseph Fisher, of the 2nd Northamptonshire Regiment—his character in the original discharge was "indifferent"—I know no commanding officer named Heneage or Meurs—the prisoner's commanding officer at that time was Colonel Bond—no one was authorised to sign discharges at Gosport at that time but myself.
Cross-examined. I believe the body of it to be the writing of one of the clerks in my office, but I do not recognise the signatures.
JOHN WHITWILL (Policeman G 329). On 19th November, about six p.m., I took the prisoner in Chelsea, and took him to Southwark Police-station—he was charged with forging a document and obtaining money by false pretences—he said "I put the first name I thought of on that paper"—I have served on him in prison a notice to produce his original discharge.
Prisoner's Defence. On my discharge I came to London, and when I received my proper discharge, which I acknowledge burning, I received this parchment, and it was not filled in—I felt aggrieved at the discharge I received, and filled that paper up, as I thought I might be stopped as I had been seen about in soldier's clothes, and I must plead ignoranon between "indifferent" and "fair"—I thought they wanted men who had completed their time and bad left without a bad character, and, foolish like, I took the certificate, which I had signed for my own protection—if I had not shown it they would have written to the depot and known all about it—I gave my proper name and address—I did not try to evade the law, and I am very sorry for what I have done.
GUILTY (He had served twelve years in the Army, and had a medal).— One Month's Imprisonment.
152. HENRY SHILLINGSWORTH (20), HENRY GANDY (19), WILLIAM LEWIS (19), CHARLES EMBURY (19), and DUNCAN GOODYEAR (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Harris, and stealing a watch and chain, and other articles, his property, to which
SHILLINGSWORTH, LEWIS and GOODYEAR PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LILLEY Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HARRIS . I am a contractor and live in Southampton Street—Shillingsworth and Gandy are my wife's nephews—Gandy lodged with us I think three months; he was in my employment at different times, and left about August 2nd—he had the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the habits of my family, there is not a room in the house which he does not know—on 26th November I went to bed just before 11, leaving my daughter, my cousin, and the servant-girl up; I heard them come up to bed five or ten minutes afterwards—when I undressed I threw down my trousers by the side of a chair, and put my watch on the table, leaving my bedroom door open—I got up after 5.35, which is later than usual, and missed my trousers; I got another pair, went downstairs, and found the door from the greenhouse into the garden and the door from the greenhouse to the kitchen open—the person
getting in had taken out a square of glass in the greenhouse, unlocked the greenhouse door, and opened two sashes with a knife and got into the kitchen, alter which there was another door to cut through, and a square of glass was taken out so that they could get their arm through and undo the bolt—I found iny trousers under the kitchen table; there had been from 10l. to 14l. in the pockets—it was my custom to draw money from the bank regularly on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and this was Wednesday night—Gandy knew that, and the other men in my employ—I also missed from my pocket the key of my safe, which I found in the morning, and missed from the safe a box of jewellery, a watch and guard, four brooches, some seals and a key—the gold was in this bag (produced) in my pocket, and the silver loose in my pocket—there was no money in the safe; the jewellery in the safe was in a box which was broken open, I believe by this knife, which was lying near—here is some of the paint on it—I also missed four overcoats, a young lady's jacket, a pair of boots, eight handkerchiefs, two of which have been found, value altogether 30l., some of which has not been recovered—on the evening of the 26th I saw Gandy watching me through the window with another man who I cannot swear to for a considerable time—it is a very large window only 2 feet 2 inches from the floor, and a large lamp shone on them so that I could see them very plain—he was there more than two hours, I saw him up to twenty minutes or a quarter to eight, and at three or four minutes to eight I went out into the road to see if I could find him, but could not—I have since seen the watch and chain, seals, brooches, key and handkerchiefs—one of the overcoats was found on the garden wall, one in the garden, and a pair of boots and other things in an adjoining garden.
Cross-examined by Gandy. I first saw you in the yard that night at a little after 6 o'clock—I have known you ever since you were six months old, and I should not be mistaken—you have seen me go to the safe plenty of times, and you saw me go to it that Wednesday night when you were standing at the window.
FRANCES HARRIS . I am the daughter of the last witness—on 26th November I went to bed 10 minuses after him—I was the last up—the house was secure—I left four new handkerchiefs on the table; I missed them in the morning, and some clothes off the line and some under linen—the overcoats were found in the next garden, and one on the wall—on the evening of the 26th, when my father was in the office, Gaudy came and asked me for his father's and mother's likenesses; I saw him there at 7.30—I could not find the likenesses, and told him to come next night, and he called for them the night after the burglary.
SOPHIA ODELL . I am the wife of Charles Odell, of Westmacott Street, Camberwell—I have known Shillingsworth and Gandy for a long time—Shillmgsworth lodged with us, and Gandy came to see him several times—I saw them iu company on the Monday and Tuesday before the robbery, and heard Gaudy say to his cousin, "I mean having my mother's things by foul or me," that means by fair means or foul, "I have been for them to my uncle several times, and have not got them"—on the 27th I met Embury in George Street—he said, "Harry Shillingsworth is locked up"—I said, "He brought some things to my place this morning, I don't know what they are, I will go home and see if I can see them"—I went and could not see the things, but at last found them
in my husband's trousers pocket—I had not put them there; Shillingsworth had the chance of putting them there—after that Detective Viney and Robinson came to my house with young Harris, the prosecutor's sou—I knew Viney—I went out and met Embury a second time by chance in George Street—I asked him to take these things and throw them away or do as he liked with them; that was a watch and chain and other things; this is the bag they were in (produced)—he took them, and a detective afterwards brought him to my house and said, "Where are those things you have got?"—he refused to give them up, but I said, "For God's sake give them to him," and then he said, "Come to my house and I will give them to you"—about that time I received 12s. from Amelia Elmer, 6s. of which I gave to Gandy's wife, as she asked for it—I was to give the other 6s. to Mrs. Embury, but she would not take it.
Cross-examined by Gandy. It is several weeks ago since you said that you would have your mother's jewels by fair or foul means—that was at my place.
By the COURT. I do not know what relationship there was between Gandy's mother and Mrs. Harris, but his mother left the pictures to Mrs. Harris and also two rings and other things, and I understood Gandy to be determined to take the property which he claimed as his.
CHARLES VINEY (Detective Officer P). On 27th November I saw Gandy at the station, and told him he was charged with breaking and entering his uncle's house—he said "I never broke into uncle's house; I don't know anything about it; I did not know uncle's house was broken into; I was there at half-past 7 last evening, and I was at Shoreditch soon after 8 and did not leave there till 11 this morning, and I have not been near my uncle's house before last night for some months"—from something which Shillingsworth said I went with Inspector Robinson to Mrs. Odell, and from what she said I found Embury and said "I am a police officer, and want some jewellery you have"—he said "What jewellery? I don't understand you, I don't know what you mean"—I said "I nwan the jewellery you brought from Westmacott Street to-day"—he said "Who told you I had any jewellery?"—I took him to Mrs. Odell house and spoke to him again about the jewellery—Mrs. Odell said "Oh, tell him where it is"—he said "Come with me and I will give ft you"—I went with him to 41, Acorn Street close by, and from a cupboard in his room ho produced this bag, containing a watch chain and jewellery, and another bag with some articles not identified, and said "I did not know thoy were stolen"—I said "You must have known, as the woflua told you so when she gave them to you"—I received 6s. from Amelis Elmer a few nights after she gave me information.
AMELIA ELMER . I live at the Rose beerhouse, Edmund Street, Camberwell—Goodyear is my sweetheart—on 27th November I received 3l. from my mother, and afterwards Mrs. Gandy sent to say that I was to give her a sovereign; I said "No, it is not mine to give," but I gave her 6s.—there was 6s. besides for Mrs. Embury, but Mrs. Odell had it—my mother told me where she got the money.
ELIZABETH ELMER . I am the mother of the last witness—on 27th November Goodyear brought me 3l. and told me what to do with it—I gave it to my daughter to give to tho persons named—he had been paying his addresses to her; he came to my house, 7, Pinnock's Terrace.
The RECORDER considered that there was no case against
GANDY and EMBURY— NOT GUILTY .
SHILLINGSWORTH then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony al Lambeth, in December, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. GOODYEAR*— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
LEWIS— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted.
ELLEN BRIDGMAN , I live at 14, Devonshire Place, Newington Causeway—the prisoner is my husband—we have been married two years and have lived very unhappily—on 10th November we quarreled, and I left him and went home, because he said he would do for me—the next morning about 7 o'clock lie came round and asked me to go back together, and when we arrived at home he said "will you make it up?"—I said "No;" he said "Will you come to the Court and have a separation?"—I said "No, I have not got time"—I knew no more till I was stabbed with a knife; I did not see it in lais hand; he lad it in his pockot, open; he caught me by the side of the neck with one hand and staged me, with the other—I ran out of the house, he ran after me, and I ran up to a policeman outside the station, who told me to go inside—my husband then came in and gave himself up—my wound was dressed at the station—after ho stabbed me he said that it was because I stopped out all night—I had never stayed away at night before—I don't wish to dp him any harm.
Cross-examined. I did not stop out on the Thursday night; I was at home when you came home, and had tea ready f°r you—I was not out on the Monday night when you came home.
NORAH BROWN . I live at 68, Elsted Street, "Walworth—I was in the prisoner's house that morning when he came home with his wife—he asked her to make it up; she said she would not—he had in his trousers pocket and rushed at her—she screamed, and I took hold of him and took knife out of his hand; this is it (produced)—he went like that to her neck—I shut the knife, and when I gave it to the policeman I saw blood on it—her neck was bleeding when slie was at the station.
Cross-examined. You were not cutting your finger nails, nor did your wife say "Give me the knife," and try to take it from you, and then say "He has cut ray throat."
MARIA SULLIVAN . I live at the prisoner's house—I saw fye prisoner and his wife and Norah Brown together on this morning—he took a knife out of his pocket and rushed at her throat—I did not see him take it out of his pooket, but I saw it taken out of his hand—he got hold of her with one hand and got the knife out of his pocket and stuck her in the throat.
By the JURY. I did not see him open the knife, it was already open in his pocket.
ALFRED DIBLEY . I live at 27, Martin Street—I was in the prisoner's house that morning sitting on a chair—I turned to light my pipe and heard them scream—I did not see him stab her—I rushed up and parted them.
MR. EVANS. I am surgeon to the M division of police—I saw the prosecutrix on the morning in question, and found a small wound
about the middle of her neck on the left side, a quarter of an inch wide and the same depth—this knife would cause it, and I found blood on it—it was on a dangerous part, but the wound itself was not dangerous—she has quite recovered.
JOHN LEWIS (Policeman M 168). I was just outside the station when the prosecutrix came in bleeding from the left side of her neck—the prisoner came afterwards, and I took him in custody—I asked him if what his wife said was correct, that he had stabbed her—he said "Yes, quite right," and that he had done it because she had stopped out all night.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Only for her stopping out all night as she has done I should not have done what I have done."
The prisoner in his defence accused his wife of leading an immoral life, and stated that she got cut by coming near him while he was cutting his finger nails.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding .— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted;
MR. PURCELL Defended.
CHARLES GITTENS . I am a shoemaker, and live at 2, Bell Court, Bermondsey—on Sunday evening, 26th October, about 6 or 7, I was in the Old Bunch of Grapes in Bermondsey Street—a female named Neale came in, and then the prisoner and his brother; we all drank together—just before 10 o'clock Neale smacked me in the face about four times—I had not done anything to her—I told her not to do it again, if she did. I should be sure to make her fall to The ground—she said "I have two men here who will soon give you a hiding"—I said "I don't know whether they will"—the prisoner got up and said "Yes, I will give you a hiding"—I said "If you hit me I shall try my best, and hit you back"—he then threatened to hit me—I went out, and the prisoner and his brother followed—I took off my coat to fight—I could not say whether the prisoner had his coat off or not—the brother put his hand on my right shoulder—my mother came up behind him and caught hold of him and said "Don't fight"—I told her to keep away or else she might get hurt—then she said "Don't two him;" the brother said "We won't"—immediately after I turned my head, and saw the flash of the blade of a knife; it struck me in the neck, under the left ear—the prisoner had the knife in his hand—I fell back in my mother's arms, and knew no more till the next morning, when I found myself in Guy's Hospital, where I remained till 22nd November—I had not known the prisoner before that night.
Cross-examined. I went into this public-house between 6 and 7—I had not been into any public-house before, a young woman came in with me—when the prisoner came in I was sitting at a table with the young woman, and the prisoner's aunt, Mrs. Neale, and her husband—the prisoner joined the party and stood several pots of beer—I bought beer as well as him—I did not pass any joke with Mrs. Neale or any one—she did not say "I have got a husband"—she slapped my face four times—I did not say "If you do that again I will break your b----nose, or any one's that
will take it up for you"—the prisoner did not say "Don't carry on like that to a woman"—I did not say "I will go on like that to you or any one else in the house"—I did not take off my jacket then—the landlord turned us all out of the house—the barman did not say he had had enough of me the other night when I broke his window—we were out for about a quarter of an hour—I did not then go back to the public-house, with my coat off, and sit down and drink some more beer—my mother did not come in and have a few words: she asked me quietly to come in to supper—I did not hear Mrs. Neale say "Look how he is treating his mother;" we were not all crying tipsy—the manager turned us all out a second time—I did not then go up to the prisoner and say "I want to fight you" and strike him in the face—he struck me once—I did not strike him on the forehead; his brother did not get between us to try and separate us—he did not complain that bin finger was cut—I swear I saw the flash of the blade of the knife in front of the lamp—I was not very drunk, I had had a drop of beer—it was soon after 9 when we were turned out the second time—I came in and out several times—I had no whisky or rum.
CAROLINE FARRELL . I am single, and live at 15, Bell Court, Bermondsey—on Sunday evening, October 26. about ten, I was in the Old Bunch of Grapes—I saw Gittens and the prisoner there, his brother and Mrs. Neale—she hit the prisoner in the face once—they went out—I followed them—the prisoner's brother caught hold of the prosecutor by the shoulder and his mother got hold of the other shoulder, and said "You shan't two him"—he said, "All right, we won't two him"—he no sooner said that than he drawed a knife out of his right trousers pocket and struck the prosecutor on the left ear, and he fell into his mother's arms, and she took him away—the prisoner ran away, and his brother with the young woman.
Cross-examined. The prisoner came in about half-past eight—the prosecutor had been drinking there before that—I saw him turned out once—they were all sober—there was no rum or whisky—the prosecutor's mother had lemonade—there was no scuffle or struggle outside—I did not see the prisoner open the knife, it was an open knife.
ANN GITTENS . I am the wife of John Gittens, a bootmaker, of 2, Bell Court—the prosecutor is my son—on Sunday night, October 26, I went to the Old Bunch of Grapes—my son was there, and the prisoner, his brother, and Mrs. Neale—in consequence of there being a disturbance there I asked my son to come home and have his supper—I stayed a few minutes and then went indoors—I was afterwards fetched into the court by some children, and found my son there, the prisoner, and his hrother—I said to my son, "Don't fight"—he said, "Mind and get out of the way, mother, or you will get hurt," and he aaid to the prisoner, "If you do light, mind you fight fair"—I said, "You won't two him"—the prisoner said, "No, missis, we won't"—before the words were out the knife was in his hand, and he put it into my son's neck, I saw him do it—my son fell back into my arms, and I took him indoors, and he was afterwards taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. My son was not noisy in the public-house—when I saw them outside they were standing opposite each other, not close together—there was no blow—the prisoner came deliberately with the
knife in his right hand—I was like between the two, and had hold of the prisoner's brother's collar.
RICHARD MILCOMB (Policeman M). On 27th October a communication was made to me, and I went with the prosecutor's brother and stopped the prisoner—the brother said "That is the man who stabbed my brother"—on the way to the station Caroline Farrell said something to me about the prosecutor being in the hospital; the prisoner said "Who is in the hospital?" the brother said "My brother, the man who you stabbed"—the prisoner said "Brother, father, or mother, I would have served them the same."
Cross-examined. His right hand was cut, and he had some rag on it which was saturated with blood.
JOHN PROBYN (Police Sergeant). I saw the prisoner at the station at 1.30, and found stains of blood on both his shirt sleeves and on the wristband cuffs, especially the right, and on the front of his hat—he had a rather deep cut between his right-hand thumb and first finger—he said in the doctor's presence he did not know how he came by it, he supposed it was done in the scuffle—he gave me at the police-court the names of several witnesses who he wanted to call, and they are all here.
WILLIAM DAVIS . M.R.O.S. I was house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—I saw Charles Gittens on the morning of 27th October—he had a wound between his left ear and jaw, three-quarters of an inch long extending forwards and a little downwards—I was unable to probe it in consequence of the quantity of blood—he remained in the hospital nearly a month—he was in actual danger of his life for two or three days—he is out of danger now—a knife would inflict the wound.
Cross-examined. He has the effects of the injury still, and is not nearly well—any sharp instrument would do it—I do not think the buckle of a belt would do it.
Witnesses far the Defence.
ANN DOYLE . I am the prisoner's mother—he is a sailor; he came from a voyage on that day, 26th October, and about 8 o'clock I wont to the Bunch of Grapes and found him there, and the prosecutor and Mrs. Neale—the prosecutor was very tipsy, tipsyer than my son—the party called for rum and beer and ale when I went in, they offered me some—I said I was a teetotaler, and they offered me lemonade—I saw Mary Neale slap the prosecutor in the face, I don't know what for—my son said "You would not hit a woman?" the prosecutor said "Yes, and you, b----quick, if you interfere"—there was no quarrelling till then—I saw them Btrike one another, and the publican jumped over and put Gittens out, and said he would not have it in his house—Gittens come back in half an hour without his coat and quite fresh for quarrelling—he began at Mary Neale, and said "If you hit me again I shall hit you b—y hard—my friend said "If you hit her I shall hit you"—the publican turned them both out—I did not go out—he said "You knoff old soldiers like a drop of rum, pour it out and help yourself," and the prosecutor did—that was before they were turned out—I saw that my son's hand was cut—Mary and Thomas Neale and the prosecutor and witnesses were all beastly drunk; my husband and myself were the only sober people among them.
Cross-examined. My son was drunk—I did not see what took place
outside—Farrell was drunk; she fell down twice and was picked up at the bottom of the court.
MICHAEL DOYLE . I am the prisoner's stepfather—on 26th October, about eight o'clock, I was in the Bunch of Grapes—the prosecutor was in a very drunken state, and Caroline Farrell the same—the stepson was three parta drunk—when Gittens was turned odt I saw him and his mother, and assisted him home, and I went back; and Gittens left his house and came down to the public-house again stripped to fight—he went inside, went up to the sailor, and they had words together, and started fighting, and had two or three rounds, and out they came—I did not aee what took place after they were turned out.
MARY NEALE . I am the prisoner's aunt—I was in this public-house on this night the party were beastly drunk, I and all—Caroline Clark and I were in the house from opening hour to closing—we drank all we could get.
JOHN CLARK . I am licensed proprietor of this public-house—I turned the prosecutor out twice—before the party were turned out the second time they asked to be served with more drink—I made no reply—no one was refused drink during the evening—I turned them out because they started to quarrel—if a woman says that they were all beastly drunk and that they drank all they could get, that is not true.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Eighteen Months' Hard labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. C. MATHEWS defended, at the request of the Court.
MARY ISABELLA WYNER . I am the wife of James Wyner, and am now living at 2, Irving Grove, Stock well—in August and September fast we lived at 35, Larkhall Lane, Clapham—the prisoner came to lodge there on 14th August—he gave the name of Thorpe—I let him a back parlour—a young girl used to come there to see him named Florence Kemp—she was about twenty—he said she was his young lady, that he was keeping company with her—he said he was to have been married at Whitsun last, but he intended to be married in October—he was employed at a Mr. Bailey's, Clarence Arms, Jeffrey Road—I don't know when he left—on 22nd September he went away from home, and returned on the 29th—the following Monday, about six in the evening, the deceased was with him—before he went he said he was going away for the benefit of his health—he did not tell me where—when they returned at six o'clook they wont into the kitchen with me—I had altered his room—I had put him upstairs into the second floor front, from the back parlour—my reason for doing that was, my father was coming up from the country, and I required an extra room—when they came into the kitchen Florence Kemp and I went up there first to make a bed, leaving the prisoner in the kitchen—after we had made the bed in the room we went badk into the kitchen—Florence asked him if he would have a cup of tea—he said he was not very well—when Florence came in she had not taken off any of W dress—we all three then went upstairs into the first floor—I spoke about the room being taken for the wedding—they wanted to engage the
room against they were married—from there we went to the second floor with the tea things into the prisoner's room, the second floor front—I told the deceased to bring down the tea things when they were finished, and she afterwards brought them down to the kitchen and stayed with me about half an hour, and then went upstairs again—she brought the tea things down in about ten minutes—she had taken off her hat, her glove, and her cape then—when she had gone upstairs again I went into the parlour, which is in a line with the kitchen, and while in there I heard a dreadful scream—I said "Follow me" to Mrs. Rundle—she was in the parlour with me—I went upstairs, and she followed me—I went into the second tloor front room—the door was shut—I opened it and went in, followed by Mrs. Rundle—this was about ten minutes after Florence had gone up—when I opened the door the prisoner and the deceased won on the floor—the deceased's head was towards the door; her feet towards the window—she was fully dressed then—her hat had fallen of as she lay on the floor—she had her cape on—the prisoner was lying halfway orer her, and she lay on her back—his hand was under her cap—he was cutting her throat—he was moving his hand to the side—I heard the deceased say "Forgive me, Harry" and she then turned to me and said "He is cutting my throat; he is cutting my throat with a razor"—I said "No, no"—the expression she made use of was "He is cutting my throat with a razor," and he said "I have not, I have not"—I remember getting hold of the razor and shutting it up; I got it from his hand—I then took hold of the deceased and found that her throat was cut on the left side—the blood spurted over me—I pushed her out on the landing and ran downstairs—I came up again and she was in the room again, and he had another razor—I was not away three minutes, I don't think—when I pushed her out on to the landing she said "I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, fetch me a towel"—I rushed into the room again and fetched a sheet that I knew was in the cupboard to stop the blood—I went downstairs alter I gave her the sheet, and then heard her screaming, and rushed up again and found her inside the room again, standing up leaning against the edge of the door, and the prisoner had got a razor in one hand and a little lamp in the other; it went out as I went in—I took Florence on to the landing again and went out, shutting the door after me, and weut downstairs and fetched a lamp, and came up again—the door was shut; I opened it and went in—the prisoner made a sweep at me with the razor—the deceased was just coming in at the door; she followed me in again—I stepped back and he stepped back too—I said "Oh, don't, don't, Mr. Thorpe; think, think, she was going to be married to you," and he then cut his throat—he then dropped, and the deceased staggered across the room—I went to her; she staggered to a chair—I put the lamp down on the table, and wanted her to sit down on the chair; she would not sit down—she came to the middle of the room again and dropped, aud he fell across the bed—I ran down-stairs and cried for help, and I then went upstairs again and put the razor in the middle of the room—a constable came, and then an inspector, and then Dr. Sutcliff and Dr. Howard, and the doctors attended to them both, and I saw Holdaway take up the razor from the floor and put it on the washstand—the deceased was afterward taken to the hospital the same evening—to all appearance the prisoner seemed a sober man; he
treated the deceased kindly and wpoke to her kindly—the prisoner was in the habit of shaving and keeping razors—he said he was going away for the benefit of his health—I had noticed that he was not very well—he said he did not feel very well, that his health was not so good as it had formerly been.
MARIA RUNDLE . I am the wife of Reuben Reeve Rundle, and live at 50, Larkhall Lane—on Monday afternoon, 29th September, I Was at Mrs. Wyner's, I had tea with her—after tea I heard screaming upstairs—I did not see the prisoner and the deceased before, I heard them coming home—I followed Mrs. Wyner upstairs to the second floor front room and saw the deceased on the floor—she had gloves and a cape on, the prisoner was lying across her chest—I saw his right hand moving under the cape—she said "He is cutting my throat, he has got a razor"—he said "I have not, I have not"—Mrs. Wyner went to them and took the razor from the prisoner's right hand, I noticed there was blood on it—the deceased got up, and I saw her throat was bleeding; I helped her on to the landing and ran downstairs for assistance, leaving Mrs. Wyuer upstairs—I did not go back into the room.
JOSEPH CLAPHAM —I am a medical practitioner, living at 176, Larkhall Lane, Clapham—on Monday, 29th September, I was called to 35, Larkhall Lane—I got there a few minutes after 8 o'clock—in the front-room second floor I saw the deceased lying on the floor on one side of the room and the prisoner on tha other side—I examined the throat of deceased and found the throat was cut on the left side about four inches, and three inches deep—she had lost a very large quantity of blood, she was conscious—while the prisoner was in the room I asked her who had cut her throat—the prisoner was perfectly conscious—she replied "He did it," pointing to the prisoner—I asked her who had out his throat—she replied that he did it himself—I went with her to St. Thomas's Hospital—before I took her there I examined the prisoner—he had his throat cut on the left side; it was a cleanly incised wound and very deep, but not so deep as hers, the arteries were not cut in either case—in her case the jugular vein had been cut—the prisoner had bled a great deal—I left the prisoner in the house in charge of a Mr. Howard while I took the deceased to the hospital—after taking her I went back to him—I remained with him till 12 o'clock then left, and went again to see him at 2 o'clock—I saw two razors on the wash-hand stand with blood-stains on them, and there was a great deal of blood in the room and on the landing, the wounds were such as would be caused by a razor—it appeared as if there were two gashes in her throat, the first one was very slight, the deeper one was continued on—at first I thought both cases would be fatal.
Cross-examined. She was conscious, but I should say he was the least conscious of the two, but not unconscious.
HENRY BEETHAM ROBINSON . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on Monday, 29th September, about a quarter to 11, I ad mitted the deceased to the hospital—there was a wound in the throat, and she died from that wound the following morning at a quarter past 8—the wound was 3 3/4 inches long, and was about two inches deep at the sides, and as it got towards the centre it got fully three inches—it was a wound as far as I could judge from left to right—
there were two other small cuts running from tho end of the wound in the middle of the throat, upwards, quite superficial—I did not attend to the man.
JAMES HOLDAWAY (Policeman V 73). On Monday, 29th September, about five minutes in 8 in the evening, I was called to 35, Larkhall Lane—I got there before the doctors—I saw the deceased and prisoner lying on the floor—thero was a quantity of blood in tho room—neither of them spoke to mo—I saw two razors on the floor by the prisoner's right hand, close to—the deceased—they were open, and there was blood on each of them—I have them here—there are stains on them now—I put them on the wash-hand stand—Dis. Sutclif and Howard came, and Inspector Eaeter, and I gave the razors to him—I remained with, (the prisoner till 6 in the morning, and he was then taken to the hospital—he made no statement to me whatever.
ALFRED EASTER . About ten minutes past 8 on Monday night, 29th September, I went to 35, Larkhall Lane—I saw the prisoner there, and the woman—the prisoner had neither hat, coat, nor boots on, but the deceased was fully dressed with the exception of her hat, which which was lying on the floor—I saw the, razors; there was blood on them, I took possession of them—she was taken to the hospital and before she went I took her watch, chain, and brooch from her, and I left the constable is charge—next morning about 10 the prisoner was taken to the hospital, and he remained there till 20th November, and in the meantime I had left a constable there—on 20th November I saw him at the hospital, and told him I should take him in custody for the wilful murder of Florenee Ellen Kemp, and for attempting to commit suicide—he made no answer.
WILLIAM BURNETT (Policeman W 315). I was in charge of the prisoner at the hospital—one day after Mrs. Kemp, the deceased's mother, had been to see him he said to me "I never thought I should have come to this, it is not my fault, I was drove to it, but better men than me have been driven to the same thing."
CHARLOTTE KEMP I live at 44, Bullen Street, Battersea—my daughter, Florence Ellen Kemp, was 20 years of age; the prisoner met her last Christmas—I knew him as Harry Thorpe—he was employed at the Latchmere as barman—the prisoner used to court my daughter; they ufced to walk out together—about May last she went to live at 46, Stanmore Street, Battersea—the prisoner was not living there—I don't know whether he went to live there afterwards—the landlady, Mrs. Roberts is here—about Whitsuntide my daughter went to Fariogdon for a holiday on the Saturday and came back on the following Monday—the prisoner, her brother, and a young man named Thomas went with them—about the end of July my daughter came home to live with me again—I don't know where she had been living in the meantime—she was with me when she left Stanmore Street, and during the time she lived with me the prisoner came and visited her—on 22nd September she left me again and I afterwards received a letter from her from Faringdon, aud on Saturday, 27th September, she returned home alone without the prisoner—in the evening she went out with my son Arthur and a young man named Thomas to a music hall—while they were away at tho music hall I saw the prisoner at a public house in the Battersea Park Road, and he followed me home soon after and asked me where Florence was—I Was told him that she was gone out; I did not tell him where—no more was said it was rather late, and I wished him "Good-night"—he asked me
where she had gone, and told me about their going to Faringdon together—nothing more was said about their being at Faringdon together—I did not tell him who she had gone to the music hall with; my daughter did Lot in my presence—I should think he left near on 11 o'clock—my daughter and son and young Thomas returned after I was in bed—while I was in bod I heard my daughter scream; this was a littfe after 12—I got up and wont down, into the street—I, there saw my daughter Florence, and my son Arthur, and Thomas, and the prisoner him outside; my niece was still there; they were speking about striking my daughter with astick—I didnot see him do it—there was a little blood on the priesoner's earand my daughter ran and gotapiceof sticking plaster—my sonsidethe prisoner had struck his sister, and it was his duty to take her part—I don't known whether my daughter put the plaster on the prisoner's ear, or whether my daughter put the plaster on the prisoner's ear, or whet her my son did; one of them did—my son said "Hairy, I am very, sorry I hit you"—the prisoner, said "Never mind, it is all right"—Florence and I and my son and niece then went into the, house, and I told young Thomas and the prisoner to go home—I did not see any more of the prisoner that night—we afterwards went to bed—next morning, Sunday, the 28th, between 6 and 7, I was sent for to Mrs. Pate's, No. 48 in the same street as we live in—I there saw the prisoner lying on a couch on the ground floor—I got him some breakfast and my daughter Florence ran for the doctor—the prisoner stayed with Mrs. Pate till the Monday morning, and on that day between 11 and 12 in the morning he came into my house—Florence was there; he left between 4 and 5 in the afternoon; Florence went with him; she said she was going put him in a tram at the top of the street, to go home; she never retured—the next I heard of her was this dreadful thing that had happened the same night—on the Sunday after the Saturday night my, daugnter showed me one of her legs and one of her arms; there were marks on them as if she had been struck with a stick or something; she showed me two marks on one arm and one on the leg—I don't remember speaking to the prisoner about them.
By the COURT. The marks were like as if they had been made with a blow of a stick.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether she left my house, in April or May—she left owing to some disagreement there had been at kome, and while she was at Stanmore Street I visited her two or three times—she remained there for four or five weeks after Whitsuntide—the prisoner slept at my house several nights three or four wqeks after Whitsuntide; he slept there till Florence came home, and then I got him lodgings next door, and he occupied those lodgings for about three weeks, I think—my daughter came back towards the end of August and lived with me, and after she came back the prisoner continued to visit her at my house—pn this Saturday night, 27th September, when I went down into the street I saw my son, Arthur Kemp; he was the brother that had gone to Faringdon at Whitsuntide with the deceased—I did not see what had happened; I heard them speaking, the I heard my son say, "I am very sorry that I hit You." and the prisoner replied, "thatis all right arthur, I am sure you did not known who it was that were hitting" I went to Mrs. Pate's not morning, Suuday, the 28th—I did not hear the prisoner had fallen and cut his head, but when I got to the house
I found him lying on a couch—he appeared to be ill, I do not know what was the matter with him—I sent for Dr. Hunter, but he did not come; another medical gentleman came, and in consequence of the advice given by that gentleman the prisoner was put to bed, but not in my pfesence—my daughter Florence sat up with him on that Sunday night for the purpose of watching him with a sister of hers named Kate.
ARTHUR KEMP . I live at 44, Bullen Street, Battersea, and am a bricklayer—I had a sister named Florence Ellen—she worked at a cigar manufacturer's, and she was about 20 years old—I remember her living in Stanmore Street with a woman named Roberts; I visited her there several times—I saw the prisoner there once or twice—she had a furnished bedroom there—I do not know whether the prisoner was living there—after leaving Stanmore Street my sister came back home to live—I remember her going with the prisoner to Faringdon on a pleasure trip—they were away about a week, and when she came back from Faringdon she came back home—on that night I had engaged to go to Gatti's Music-hall with a friend named Henry Thomas and Alice Grover, and I asked my sister to go with us, and we all went to the music-hall, and got home about 12 o'clock—I saw the prisoner waiting in the street—coming home from the music-hall my sister came home with Thomas on a tram, and I came home on the next tram with Alice Grover, a cousin of mine—when I turned into the street where my house is I saw Thomas and the prisoner on the opposite side of the road; my sister was running towards me; the prisoner ran across to her and struck her with his stick across the back, and she complained of her leg too—I had got the door key, she was waiting for that—when he struck her on the back she called out," Arthur, he is going to kill me"—I said, "Not while I am here," and I then struck him in the face about three times, I think, and he tried to strike me in the scramble, and he mumbled something I could not understand—when I struck him I said, "I will learn you to knock my sister about with a stick"—he did not make any answer to that—after that I went indoors, leaving my sister, and the prisoner, and Thomas outside—Thomas did not take any part in it whatever.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether I struck the prisoner behind the ear—he had a scratch on the ear after I struck him, and it was bleeding a little—I remember my mother coming out—when she came out I said to the prisoner, "Hany, I am sorry I hit you," and he said, "Oh, that is all right, Arthur, I am sure you did not know who it was that you were hitting."
HENRY JOHN THOMAS . I live at 43, Balfern Street, Battersea Park Road, and am a letter carrier—I am a friend of Arthur Kemp, and used to visit 44, where he lived—I knew Florence—on this Saturday night I went with Florence and Arthur and his cousin to the music hall, and returned with Florence when it was over on a car before Arthur and his cousin—a little after we got to Bullen Street I noticed somebody waiting about—Florence told me who the person was—two or three minutes afterwards I saw the prisoner come across the road and strike her—I don't know what he said—she called to her brother something to the effect, "Arthur, he will kill me"—he struck her and then Arthur struck him back—afterwards the prisoner said to me that the brother had no right to interfere, that he ought to govern the girl.
By the COURT. The prisoner came along with me, and I left the prisoner at the corner of myroad, somewhere about a quarter or half-past twelve.
LUCY PATE . I live with my husband at 48, Bullen Street—about twenty minutes after one on the morning of Sunday, September 28, I heard loud screaming and cries of murder outside my house—I got up and looked out of the window, and saw Mrs. Kemp take hold of her daughter Florence's arm—I saw the prisoner also standing out in the street close to them—I heard Mrs. Kemp say to Florence, "What is all this about?"—I heard the prisoner say, "This is what it is all about: I have took Florence down to Faringdon for a week, and I asked her to go with me to a play to-night, but she would not, and deliberately went with Tom the postman"—I then went into bed again, and went to sleep for some time—about twenty minutes past three I was awoke with loud screams again, and heard some one say, "God help me, I am dying, will some one fetch a doctor?"—I recollected the voice and went to the window, it was the prisoner—my husband got up and went to the window and said, "What is up here?" he said, "Will you help me? will you fetch a doctor? I am dying"—my husband went down into the street and found the prisoner lying on his stomach on my parlour window, he could not stand more than an infant—my husband lifted him up, carried him in, and laid him on the couch in the front room down-stairs—the prisoner showed me a mark behind his left ear; his left ear was much cut, and plastered up with sticking plaster, and he had a black eye, he said the brother did it, that he ran to hit her with a stick, because she came home with Tom the postman, and with that the brother knocked him senseless he said—the deceased lived next door but one to me, and seeing the prisoner in this state I went and called her up—I made a statement to her, and in consequence of what I said she went for a doctor at once, and Dr. Hunter's assistant came—I opened the door to him, he examined the prisoner and asked what was the matter—I said I did not know, and I heard him ask the prisoner if he had been drinking, and he said he had drunk two pints of ale last night—the deceased went and fetched some medicine from the doctor for him.
Cross-examined. The assistant only stayed a few minutes—he asked him very few questions.
VINCENT FREDERICK LENANE . On Sunday morning, 28th September, between 4 and 5 o'clock, a young woman called at Dr. Hunter's surgery and inquired for Dr. Hunter; he had been engaged a good deal, so I went to Mrs. Pate's—I there saw the prisoner on a couch in the front room—I examined him, and asked him what was the matter with him—he complained very much of a pain in the stomach—I understood he had been chewing a piece of match or match-box, and had swallowed a piece—he was in a very feverish, irritable state—he answered all questions very intelligently.
By the COURT. He was apparently sober—in my judgment he was suffering from excessive drinking, and had got sober again then—I prescribed for him, and the young woman fetched the medicine—the next day Dr. Hunter saw him.
Cross-examined. I have described his condition as alternately desponding and excitable—he was in a very tremulous state—the surface of his body was extremely irritable—when I put my hand on his body he was
quite convulsed; that was immediately when I saw him—he was extremely feverish—he answered all my questions very intelligently indee d—I don't think he told me the quantity he said he had been drinking—I came to my conclusion without asking him the quantity—I understood fro✗me woman that he had been out for some time—what I saw may have been the results of drinking and exposure combined—it was a cold morning—rather chilly, at all events.
ROBERT HOPE HUNTER . I am a physician and surgeon, of Clifton House, Battersea Park—between 4 and 5 o'clock on the morning of 28th September I was sent for to 48, Bullen Street—I had been out attending a lady, and I sent my assistant, and received a report from him when he came back, and while going my rounds, between 1 and 2 o'clock in the day, I called at 48, Bullen Street, and found the prisoner in bed—I asked him what had been the matter with him—he said "I do not know, I think I must have had a fit, as the last thing I recollect was being at the top of the street at midnight until I was carried in this morning about 4 o'clock"—there was a young woman in the room—I asked them both what had been the matter; she said that she thought it was a fit of lock-jaw, as he was unable to open his mouth, and his limbs were stiff—I asked him if he had met with any accident—he replied "No"—I then asked him if he had been drinking—he said he had had two pints of beer the night previous—I then put the question to him "And how much before during the day?"—he said "I don't know; I have not been drinking"—I made a further examination of his pulse and tongue, and after that I said to him that if he had had a fit at all it had been one of drinking—I told the young woman to continue the medicine my assistant had prescribed, and then left him—from what I saw I considered that he was suffering from the after effects of drink.
Cross-examined. I had communicated with Mr. Lenane between his and my seeing the prisoner—I have heard his evidence to-day—the prisoner stated that he remembered nothing after about 12 o'clock, and that he imagined he must have had a fit—I heard Mrs. Pate's evidence as to the condition in which he was found; those and the appearances Mr. Lenane has described are compatible with the occurrence of a fit, they are not indicative of it—I should say the character of the fit was one of drinking—they are compatible with other fits—it is possible he had a fit of hysteria or a fainting fit or hysterical fit—my attention was sot called to the blow on the head, Mr. Lenane did not mention it to me.
By the COURT. When I say compatible I mean consistent—from the symptoms it was quite possible he might have been suffering from many kinds of fits—it was not indicative of that—there was nothing to lead me to say he had had a fit; but there was nothing inconsistent with his having had several kinds of fits—I communicated my evidence to the inspector the day before yesterday, he asked me to put a statement in writing—I was willing to go before the Magistrate.
ALEXANDRA ROBERTS . I live at 46, Stanmore Street, Battersea Park Road, and am the wife of Charles Roberts—I went before the Magistrate, but was not called as a witness—in March and April last I let a first floor front room to Florence Kemp—she told me she was engaged—she took a furnished room there at five shillings a week—the prisoner next day came to see her—I afterwards knew him as barman at the Latchmere public-house—she used to go to her work while living there—I remember
about Whitsuntide the prisoner and Florence going into the country they went for a week, when he left the Latchmere, he moved his box to our house—she wore a wedding ring on her finger—they went away for about a week, and when they came back she said she was married, and wore a wedding ring—they lived together there as man and wife—I understood them to be married—they went in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe—I altered the name in our rent book, and they continued to live there until the end of July, I think it was—he was out of employment the whole time he was there—he had a place, but I dont think he stopped in it one night—she was not at her work then—at the end of July when they left Harry went to the Beaufoy, and she returned to her mother—she did not give me any notice when she went away; there was some three weeks' rent owing when she left—when he lived there he was very fond of her.
JANE BESANT . I am landlord of the Royal Oak, Faringdon—the prisoner and the deceased and her brother Arthur came to Faringdon in August last to stop at my house—they stopped about a week—on Monday, the 22nd September, the prisoner and deceased came again without the brother—in September I had no notice that they were coming—they stopped a week in August—they had separate rooms—in September I knew them by the names of Florence Kemp and Thorpe—the prisoner told me he had been unwell, and the deceased had come down to keep him company.
Cross-examined. They came once with the brother and once without—on the first occasion they stayed a week, and on the second occasion from Monday to Saturday.
JOHN ORFORD . I am house-surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on Tuesday, 30th September, between 9 and 11 o'clock in the morning, I saw the prisoner at the hospital; he was in a state of collapse—I found his throat was cut, he appeared to me to be in great danger the first two or three days—I attended him day by day, until he was discharged from the hospital—he remained in the hospital till he went before the Magistrate on the 20th November—he seemed to know what he was doing during the time I attended him, with the exception of course of the time when he was suffering from collapse—he appeared to conduct himself like a rational person.
Cross-examined. He suffered from what I call collapse for about three days.
By the COURT. He was committed on the 20th November, and I saw him on the 21st, and I have seen him repeatedly since; he is a perfectly sane man in my judgment.
R. H. HUNTER (Re-examined). The symptoms seen by the assistant were certainly compatible with a fit of epilepsy—there is known to our profession a fit of hysterical epilepsy; they were compatible with a fit of that character—hysteria and epilepsy are both indicative of a tendency to insanity; unconsciousness may be one of their accompaniments, that unconsciousness lasting for a considerable time; and that unconsciousness, beyond the form of insensibility, may take the form of the person suffering
not knowing what he is doing while the fit is upon him, and that condition would last as long as the fit.
By MR. POLAND. Hundreds of people have epilepsy without being insane; it is only a long series of fits of epilepsy which ultimately may produce insanity; if people suffer from epilepsy, drink is decidedly the worst thing for them—the symptoms detailed by the assistant are compatible with epilepsy and hysteria, they are not indicative of epilepsy or hysteria.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I don't recollect anything after I left the Queen Victoria till I found myself at St. Thomas's Hospital on the Monday. I have no witnesses."
GUILTY .— DEATH .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
STEPHEN LEACH (Detective M). On the 5th November, about a quarter past 5, I was in plain clothes and saw the prisoner with Paramore looking about them and at something in their hands in a suspicious manner in High Street, Borough—I watched them and saw them joined by Sidford—they walked a little way down the street—I saw something pass from Shaw to Sidford, who went into Fulwood's the confectioner's shop—the other two walked about 20 yards down the other side of the street—when Sidford came out he joined them and handed Shaw this cake in a paper bag—I went into the shop and made a communication to Miss Pugh, who handed me this bad florin—the three men went together to the corner of the Mint, waited a minute, and then together went towards Blackman Street—when they got to Lant Street they stood, and then Sidford came back and went into Dodson's, a confectioner's shop—when he came out I went in—when I came out they were all three standing together at the corner of Lant Street—I crossed the road and waited—Sidford went up Lant Street, and Paramore went into Mr. Drew's shop in Blackman Street—I got assistance—Paramore came out of Drew's shop," joined Shaw, and they passed up Lant Street and joined Sidford—I went up and took hold of Shaw and Paramore, and said "I am a police-constable, I am going to take you two into custody for uttering counterfeit coin"—Sidford walked away; Pugh went after him—I took the other two to the station—when charged, Paramore turned to Sidford and said "My friend gave me the 2s. to go in and get twopenny worth of antibilious pills, I did not know it was bad at the time"—I searched Shaw; he made no reply at the station—I found on him a pair of braces, a packet of envelopes, a packet of Epsom salts from Parry and Garnham's, High Street, Borough, and a cake.
By the COURT. I did not see Shaw go into any of the shops, but he received the articles purchased.
Re-examined. I got these three coins from Annie Pugh, Alfred Barrett, and Mr. Garnham.
WALTER CLARK DREW , Member of the Pharmaceutical Society. I am a chemist, at 91, Blackman Street—on 5th November, between 5.30 and six, Paramore came into my shop for a box of ointment, and gave me a florin, which I broke in pieces and gave to the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you at all.
By the COURT. This is the box.
ANNIE PUGH . I am assistant to Thomas Fullwood, 108, High Street, Borough—on 5th November I was serving in the shop, between five and six when Leach came in and made a communication to me, and I looked in my till and found this bad florin, and handed it to Leach—just before he came in I had served a man with this cake—I do not recognise the man.
ELIZABETH STANBURY . I live at 98, Blackman Street—on 5th November, between five and six, I served a man with two buns—he tendered a florin, which I tested, found to bend, and gave back to him—I cannot recognise the man—as soon as he had left, Leach came in and made a communication to me.
ALBERT WILLIAM GARNHAM . I am a chemist, at 18, Borough High Street—on 5th November, between half-past four and five, Sidford came in for a box of ointment and paid with a florin—I gave him change—afterwards Constable Cox came—I searched my till, and found this bad florin, the only bad one in my till—I can't say if there were other florins there—I cannot say if this bad one was the one Sidford gave me—this box of ointment is of the same character as that I gave him.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had nothing to do with these men, I had only been five minutes with them."
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY SIDFORD (In custody). I am a barman, and live at 2, Harvey's Buildings, Strand—you were in my company from five minutes to a quarter of an hour before we were taken—you were with me when I went in to buy the cake—you were not aware that I had any counterfeit coin—I gave the prisoner the ointment.
WILLIAM PARAMORE (In custody). I am an hotel porter—I lodge at 2, Harvey's Buildings, Strand, the same address as Sidford—you were in my company seven or eight minutes before we were taken into custody—you were with me when I went into Mr. Drew's shop; you did not know what I went in for, or what I paid.
By the COURT. I received nothing from the prisoner—I think I gave the prisoner the ointment, but nothing else—I think I was showing it to him when taken into custody.
Witness in Reply.
ARTHUR COX (Detective M). I searched Paramore on 5th November, at South wark Police-station—I found on him a box of pills, a packet of salts, and a packet of envelopes marked Partridge and Cooper, 192, Fleet Street—Mr. Garnham handed me this florin on the same day.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been with Paramore about five minutes when Sidford met them and asked them to go to his place; that they were talking, and Paramore was showing him some ointment for his arm, when the constable came up, and he denied that anything had passed between them.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
saw Sidford purchase the cake at Fulwood's, I looked through the window—it was a small cake like this; he handed it to Shaw—it was the one I took from Shaw subsequently—I went into Dodson's when Sidford came out, and made a communication to Miss Stanbury, who was serving behind the counter; she did not hand me anything—when Paramore went into Drew's shop Shaw stood at the corner of Lant Street, which leads into Blackman Street; the shop is at the corner—I found on Shaw two boxes of pills, a box of ointment, a pair of braces; in his overcoat-pocket a packet of Epsom salts, a packet of envelopes from Hatton and Son, Chancery Lane, a purse containing 3s. 5 1/2 d. good money, and the cake—I found nothing on Sidford—Cox searched Paramore—I produce the counterfeit coin I received from Anne Pugh, and this one which I received from Alfred Barrett, at Partridge and Cooper's, next day.
Cross-examined by Sidford. You gave your right name and address, and your relations' right address—I am quite sure you went into the baker's shop—I let you get a few yards from the door and then went in.
ALFRED BARRETT . I am a salesman at Partridge and Cooper's, 192, Fleet Street—on 5th November, at 4 o'clock, Paramore came in for a threepenny packet of envelopes, and tendered a florin—I felt it was bad—I said "This is bad"—he said he did not know it was, and produced a good half-crown—I gave him change—I gave the florin to Leach on the following day, the 6th—I asked the prisoner's name; he said "W. Paramore, 2, Harvey's Buildings, Strand"—I took it down at the time.
Cross-examined by Shaw. I did not see you anywhere about the place; I did not go outside.
WALTER CLARK DREW repeated his former evidence, and added: I gave Paramore change, and I broke the florin he gave me in two pieces—as he turned to go out I said "This is a bad two-shilling piece; where did you get it from?"—he said "I got it in change for a sovereign in Suffolk Street"—that is the next street lower down—he then paid me with a good sixpence—he asked me for a piece of paper to wrap the bad pieces in—I gave him a piece—he said he would take it back to the shop again.
ALBERT WILLIAM GARNHAM repeated his former evidence, and added: Sidford said he had an irritation on his arm—the ointment came to 1d. Or 2d., and he also had a packet of salts, 1d.—Cox came in about an hour later.
Cross-examined by Sidford. I saw you had a rash—I did not notice the money was bad—we have not taken any bad money for some time—I could not swear this was the one you gave me.
Cross-examined by Shaw. I did not see you anywhere about my place.
ARTHUR COX (Detective M) repeated his former evidence, and added: The packet of salts I found on Paramore had on it "Stevens, chemist, High Street, Borough"—I also found a box of ointment and 4 1/2 d. good money.
the other two men Sidford walked very rapidly away, and I followed and took him.
Cross-examined by Sidford. You did not run—you had got about 50 yards away; I ran.
Before the Magistrate Shaw said: 'I had nothing to do with this money; I had only been five minutes with them." Sidford said: "I was not with Paramore till I got to London Bridge."
Sidford in his defence stated that he bought the ointment because his arm was bad, but that he did not believe the coin he paid with was a bad one; that he did not buy the buns, but that he bought the cake at Shaw and Paramore were coming to tea with him and he wanted change to pay 1s. 8d. which he owed Shaw. Paramore acknowledged buying the envelopes and ointment, but denied all guilty knowledge and also denied that Sidford gave him the money to get the ointment. Shaw stated that he had only been in the other men's company five or six minutes.
SIDFORD and SHAW— GUILTY on Third and Fourth Counts with regard to Stanbury and Drew.
PARAMORE— GUILTY generally. SHAW had been previously convicted** in September, 1879, at this Court of felonious uttering. SHAW— Two Years' Hard Labour. SIDFORD and PARAMORE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
WALTER STRINGER . I am barman at the Princess of Wales, Lambeth Road, by the Elephant and Castle—on 27th November, about 5 p.m., I was serving when the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of rum and tendered a shilling which I broke in my teeth and put down on the counter—she picked it up—at the game moment Detective Gray came in and caught hold of her pocket and asked her if she had any more of those about her—there were a two-shilling piece and some coppers in the pocket—a man was standing by the prisoner when Gray came in, he rushed out.
Cross-examined. You had no one with you when you came in.
By the COURT. The man came in before her—her pocket was at the side of her dress.
FREDERICK GRAY (Detective L). On 27th November, about 5.80, I was in plain clothes in the London Road with Boswell, and saw the prisoner with another woman, Brown, opposite the Princess of Wales—the prisoner had a packet in tissue paper in her hands—I saw her take a shilling from it, and saw another shilling on top of the packet—she doubled the tissue paper round it and put it in her pocket—she said to the other woman "You stop here, I will go and pass it"—Brown stopped on the other side—I spoke to Boswell and went and stood outside the door looking in—I saw her put a shilling on the counter and the barman take it up and put it down, take it up again and put it in his mouth—I rushed in and seized hold of the prisoner's pocket and said "You have got some more here"—she had her hand over the pocket; I felt the handkerchief inside it—I said to her "Turn out your pockets;" a man close to her then rushed out of the public-house—the prisoner turned out her pockets; in her right hand
was 2 1/2 d. bronze, and in her pocket was a good florin—I took her to the station; she said she did not know it was bad; she took it in the Cut while selling onions—on the way to the station she said her husband gave it to her to go and get some meat for their tea—when charged at the station she said, pointing to Brown, "I went to get some meat for our tea, we both live together"—Brown said "No, I don't live with you, I live in the Mint"—before the Magistrate she said the tissue paper that I saw was what she had bought a pennyworth of snuff in—no paper of any description was found on her.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not knock the paper out of your hand.
Re-examined. She put the paper with the other shilling in it in her pocket as she crossed the road—I cannot say if it was bad or good—I saw her close to the man that rushed out of the public.
FRANCIS BOSWELL (Detective Sergeant L). I was with Gray on this night; he made a communication to me and I watched the prisoner, who went into the Princess of Wales—I stopped Brown—at the station the inspector read over the charge to the prisoner and she said "We live together; we went to get some meat for supper"—Brown said "No, we don't live together, I live in the Mint"—two shillings and a few coppen in her hand were found on the prisoner—I asked her why she did not pay for the pennyworth of rum out of the coppers—she did not reply; I repeated the question.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. I took it up the Cut, I did not know it was bad. I have very bad eyes.
The prisoner in her defence stated she had no man following her; that she put down the shilling which she had received in change, not knowing she had the coppers.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GREENSLADE . I am landlord of the Britannia in Tooley Street, Blackfriars—on November 28th, about 9.30 or 10 p.m., the prisoner came in for twopennyworth of whisky, and tendered a bad shilling, I said it was bad—he said he was not aware it was a bad one, but he knew where he had taken it, and he would take it back and change it—I allowed him to have it, because I knew the man—he paid with good money.
HENRY WHITCOMB . I am barman at the Star and Garter, Abbey Street, Bermondsey, a street in a straight line with Tooley Street—about ten minutes past eleven p.m. on November 28th the prisoner called for a halfpennyworth of ale with a pennyworth of gin in it—he tendered this shilling in payment—I thought it was bad, bent it with my teeth, and took it to Mr. Compton, the manager—there were two men close to and behind the prisoner—as soon as they saw Mr. Compton come round to apeak to him, they walked out sharply—before I noticed the coin, I noticed the way the prisoner took it out of his pocket, and slid it along the counter, keeping his hand over it.
WILLIAM COMPTON . I am manager of the Star and Garter—shortly after eleven on the 28th Whitcomb came and communicated to me, handing me this shilling—I bit a piece out of it with my teeth—Whitcomb pointed the prisoner out to me—I went round to the compartment he was in,
touched him on the shoulder, and said "Here, young man, do you know what you have just passed"—he said "No"—I said "It is a bad shilling; have you got any more like it?"—he said "No"—I said "Do you know where you got it?"—he said "Yes, I got it from the Britannia in Tooley Street"—he then pulled oat some good money and offered to pay—I sent for a constable—I saw two men besides the prisoner in the bar—they did not speak to him—one of them made some motion of the lips, and nodded towards the prisoner as I came round the bar—the prisoner said he had offered the piece at the Britannia and been refused, and he thought it had been given him at the World's End in the Borough.
HENRY HAMILTON (Policeman M 283). I was called on this night to Star and Garter, and the prisoner was given into my custody for passing the counterfeit shilling which was handed to me—I searched him, and found two half-crowns, two sixpenny pieces, and 9d. in bronze, all good—at the station he said "I went into the Britannia public-house, Tooley Street; I handed the landlord a shilling, and he said it was a bad one and gave it me back; later on I went into, the Star and Garter, Abbey Street, and tendered the same shilling, knowing it was bad, as I wanted to get rid of it."
Witness for the Defence.
Cross-examined. It was about 7.40—he was served with liquor; I did not serve him—I should have objected to do so had I seen him before he was served—I should not give him a bad coin in change—from the account he gave and from what I know he is a very respectable Young man—from what I know of him, if he had come and told me of it I should have given him a good one in place of it—my servant did not give him a bad coin to her knowledge.
The prisoner stated that he had worked at one place for six years, and had never been in trouble in his life.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. MR. GOODRICH for the prosecution, concurred in the recommendation. — To enter into recogniiance 20l. to appear for judgment if called on.
WHITE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.
ESTHER MOLTON . I am the wife of Arthur Molten—we live at 104, Acre Lane, Brixton—on 5th December, about 5 p.m., Stanley came in for some pickled pork—it came to 1s.; she tendered a half-crown, which I put in my pocket, handing her the change—in less than half an hour afterwards she came back for half a pound of butter—my husband served her in my presence—she tendered a half-crown; I took it up, saw it looked dark, and bit it; it eluded my teeth—I handed it to my husband; he told her it was bad—she said she had taken it at a shop near us in change for a half-sovereign—my husband then gave her back the half-crown, and she went out, leaving the butter on the counter—I looked out
and saw her pass the shop where she said she had obtained the half crown—I then remembered, and examined this other coin, and found that was bad—I had no other half-crown in my pocket but that—she never came back for the butter.
ARTHUR MOLTON . I am the last witness's husband—I corroborate her evidence—when I saw the prisoner pass the shop where she said she had got the change I got my hat and followed her up to Claphaa Park, where she was joined by White—I spoke to a constable and gave them in charge—when Stanley was taken she dropped a half-crow, which a boy picked up and gave to the comstable.
WILLIAM WEATHERIT (Policeman W 478). On the afternoon of the 5th December I was on duty in Clapham Park—Mr. Molton made a communication to me—I took the two prisoners into custody for passing a counterfeit half-crown—Stanley took this half-crown from her ulster right hand pocket and dropped it—a boy picked it up at my request and gave it to me—when charged they made no reply in my presence—I went to 80, Hartington Road, South Lambeth, and searched a room there is consequence of a communication from Sarah Lewington—under the mattress I found these two counterfeit florins wrapped in tissue paper, and this bad half-crown under the carpet.
THOMAS WORTH (Inspector W). I was on duty when the two prisoners were brought in—when charged Stanley said "On my oath, I am innocent"—the female searcher Selina Barkel said in Stanley's hearing "When I searched this woman I found a florin in her ulster ticket pocket; I placed it on the table; she picked it up, put it in her month, and swallowed it"—the prisoner said "I did not pick up a coin put it in my mouth, and swallow it"—she said the male prisoner was nothing to do with her.
Cross-examined. You did not say you did not have the two shillings, but a sixpence, you did not ask me to look if the sixpence was in your pocket.
SARAH LEWINGTON . I live at 80, Hartington Road—the two prisoners occupied the front parlour there from 6th October—on 6th December, Weatherit and Jackson came and made a communication to me; and I pointed out to them the room which the prisoners had occupied up to that day—before the prisoners took possession on 6th October the room had been thoroughly done up, papered and painted—the prisoners are man and wife, as far as I know, they passed as such and lived as such.
Cross-examined. I have not brought your marriage lines, you told me to look in an old green box and bring them.
By the COURT. They took the rooms together.
The COMMON SERJEANT left it to the Jury to say whether they considered STANLEY acted under White's coercion, he being presumably her husband.
— NOT GUILTY .
WHITE.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against Emma Stanley for unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
162. HARRIETT TAYLOR (22) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a pair of earrings, a chemise, and other articles, the goods of John Morris; also to stealing a brooch and other articles of Charles Alterton; and also to stealing a jacket and other goods of Mary Leach.— Judgment respited to next Session.
The case of FREDERICK POPE, HARRY HUGHLINGS, EDWARD ERRINGTON, JAMES PRYOR , and CALEB TITCOMB , which commenced on Monday, 22nd December, was continued until the following Thursday. One of the Jury then being taken ill, the case was adjourned to Monday, January 12th the first day of next Session.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JANUARY 12TH, 1885.