CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION OF 1884-5, HELD APRIL 20TH 1885.
FOWER MAYOR, SECOND MAYORALTY.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of Lofndon,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, April 20th, 1885, and following days.
Including cases committed to this Court under Order in Council and Winter Assize Act.
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., M.P., WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., M.P., Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., M.P., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., and Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Knt., POLYDORE DE KEYSER , Esq., JOSEPH SAVORY , Esq., and EDWARD JAMES GRAY , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
GEORGE FAUDELL PHILLIPS, Esq.,
HENRY HOMEWOOD CRAWFORD, Esq.,
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
SEVENTH SESSION OF 1884-5.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
In consequence of the decease of LORD MAYOR NOTTAOGE since the last Session, MR. ALDERMAN FOWLIR was elected to serve the office of Lord Mayor during the remainder of the year.
OLD COURT—Monday, April 20th, 1885.
Before Mr. Recorder.
456. GEORGE WEBB (26) and FREDERICK LEONARD (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Oswald Joseph Halliwell, and stealing four boxes of cigars and other articles, and 5s., his goods and money. Other Counts for breaking out of the premises, and for receiving.
OSWALD JOSEPH HALLIWELL . I am a licensed victualler, and keep the Oakley Arms, Goswell Road, St. Luke's—on the morning of 25 th March I closed my house, and about 4 o'clock I was aroused by the police, came downstairs, and found the bar in great disorder, and the police in the house—I examined the house, and found the hasp of the tap-room window, which had been fastened the previous night, was unfastened—it could be pushed back from the outside by a knife, and entrance obtained through the window—from the bar I missed four boxes of cigars, five or six ounces of tobacco, a bottle of whisky, and 5s. in bronze, and other property worth about 2l. 10s.—I know the prisoners by sight—I had seen Webb in my house when I closed it the night before—I believe Leonard was there that night, but I did not see him—all my spirit taps were turned on and running; I lost all the spirits out of them—on the bar of the counter, when I went down I found two plates with human excrement in them—I have seen the property found at Webb's; it was stolen from my house on this night.
FRANK BRYARS (Police Sergeant G). At 10 o'clock on the morning of 25th March I received information of the burglary, and examined the prosecutor's premises—I saw Webb in front of the bar there—I went to
where he lived, 7, Sidney Place, and searched the front room which he occupied—I there saw four boxes of cigars, a bottle of whisky, 12 halfounces of tobacco, and 1s. 7d. in bronze—that was all marked by the prosecutor as property he had lost that night; I took it to the police station—I went back to the public-house; Webb was gone—he was brought to the station by another officer—I told him what I had found at his house; he made no reply—I found in his pockets four half-ounces of tobacco, similar to that I had found at his house—the prosecutor also identified that—he had a latch-key of 7, Sidney Place—I examined his shirt; it was very dirty from excrement—Leonard was afterwards brought to the station by another constable; he made no answer to the charge—his shirt was in a filthy state, like the other's—they were both the worse for drink—when charged Webb said nothing—I asked where he lived; he said he had been walking about all night—Leonard made no answer to the charge—I searched him and found nothing on him—I searched Allen, who was also arrested, and found in his pocket two packets of tobacco—in Leonard's presence he said he got the tobacco from Leonard, and Leonard said, "Yes, I gave it to him"—that tobacco was also identified by the prosecutor.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Leonard said nothing when charged with being concerned with the other prisoner.
CHARLES MANSELL (City Policeman 379). At a quarter past 1 p.m., 25th March, I saw Leonard near the prosecutor's house.—I told him I should take him into custody for the burglary—he said nothing then; on the way to the station he said, "I know you, you don't want to hold me"—I said "No, if you walk quietly I will not hold you"—he said "I did not turn the b——taps on; I suppose we will go to Clerkenwell to-day; there is plenty of time this afternoon; I suppose you have got Joe Towell as well"—he meant Webb—I had said nothing to him about the taps.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I apprehended Leonard at the bar of the prosecutor's house—I don't know how long he had been there; this was at half-past 1 on the day following the burglary—there were two or three persons in the public-house—Mrs. Halliwell was serving, Mr. Halliwell was outside the further bar.
WILLIAM CARTER . I am the prosecutor's potman—I assisted in closing the house on the morning of the burglary at half-past 12, when I saw both prisoners go out of the house together—I fastened up the house.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was in front of the bar that evening—there are three compartments—I could not say if there were many other persons there—I am quite sure I let the two prisoners out—I could not say about others—another man went out before them—the governor was assisting men out from other compartments.
WILLIAM ALLEN . I live at 81, Rosoman Street, Clerkenwell—at 11 o'clock on the morning of 25th March I was with Webb, whom I have known by the name of Towell—Leonard came up and asked me if I had any money—I said "No"—he said "Have you any tobacco?"—I said "No"—he said "Here is some for you if you like"—he gave me part of a halfounce packet in a blue paper—we went to the Oakley Arms, and were both arrested—I was asked where I got the tobacco from, and I said, "From him;" that was true.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The police apprehended me and took me to the station, but not before the Magistrate—I have had part of a
half-ounce of tobacco given to me before—they were not talking about the burglary when I was in the public-house—Leonard went in with me—Mrs. Halliwell was in front of the bar.
WILLIAM COOPER (Policeman). At about 12 o'clock on 25th March, I went into the Oakley Arms, and there saw Webb, and told him I should take him into custody for burglary committed in that house during the previous night—he said, "Go on, you are kidding; who are you?"—I said, "I am a policeman"—I was in plain clothes—I said, "What is your name?"—he said, "My name is Tommy Pushpin"—I took him to Old Street Police-station.
ROBERT DAY . On 25th March I was living at 7, Sidney Place, Goswell Road—Webb occupied the back room there upstairs and had the use of the front room downstairs—I knew him by the name of Joe first and afterwards by that of Towell—on the night of 24th March I was in the Oakley Arms and saw the two prisoners there together; they were there when I left—Webb had a street door key to my door, so that he could go out when he liked—when I went home I went to bed—I did not see nor hear Webb again that night.
ERNEST EVANS (Policeman G 54). At 4 o'clock on the morning of 25th March I was on duty in Hall Street—I found the Oakley Arms had been broken into and that all the spirit taps had been left running and a plate of human excrement on the counter.
OSWALD JOSEPH HALLWELL (Re-examined by MR. PURCELL). I saw Leonard at the public-house on the morning after the burglary, I don't know how long he was there—Mrs. Halliwell was serving—this matter had been talked about in the morning at the house; it is quite likely that I had spoken about it to some of the customers.
MR. WILSON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH NICHOLSON . I live at 24, Denbigh Terrace, Notting Hill—on 3rd April I was walking down Ledbury Road about 11.30 p.m. when I met the two prisoners—Jacobs asked me if I had seen Blanche—I said no, I did not know a person of the name, neither did I know the prisoner—Jacobs next gave me a blow on the side of my head and knocked me down—I got up, and then the other prisoner came up and knocked me down again and tore off this cape from my shoulders and ran away, its value is 2l.—I did not know the prisoners before—I called out and saw a policeman who took up my case—he went after them and took them into custody—I next saw my cape at Hammersmith Police-court—the prisoners were apprehended about 20 or 30 yards from where the assault occurred.
Cross-examined by Powell. I did not knock you on the head with my umbrella when you came up.
Cross-examined by Jacobs. I did not push you away and knock you down when you said "Is this Blanche?".
Road; I ordered them off—I next saw one of them make a blow at the prosecutrix, and Powell threw her hat on the ground and make a blow at her the second time—I came up—the prosecutrix spoke to me and made a complaint about a cloak—I went alter them in consequence of what she said and apprehended them—after they were charged I went and searched for the cloak and found this cape in a garden which the prisoners had passed in running away—Powell was very violent after she had been charged, threw herself down, and had to be carried to a cell—the prisoners had been drinking a good drop, but were not drank—when they started to run they said "Here is a b——g copper."
Cross-examined by Powell. The prosecutrix made no blow at you, nor did she strike you.
Powell in her defence stated that she saw her friend and the prosecutrix pushing one another and that the went up, and the prosecutrix knocked her hat off, and that the knew nothing of the cape.
Jacobs asserted that she did not strike the prosecutrix, and saw no blow struck.
The constable stated that Powell was a very violent character and had several times been convicted for assaults on the police.
POWELL— Six Months' Hard Labour. JACOBS— Three Months' Hard Labour.
458. JOHN ANDERSON (17) and HENRY NASH (17) PLEADED GUILTY To breaking and entering the East London Tabernacle, and stealing a bottle of wine and other articles.— Each to enter into recognisances in 20l. to come up for judgment when called on.
459. BOOTH GRAY (40) to embezzling three sums of money of Samuel Messiter and others, his masters; also to stealing a banker's cheque for 85l. 2s. 7d., the goods of his masters; also to falsifying the accounts in certain books, with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 20th, 1885.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
461. JAMES LYONS † (23) and JOHN RYAN† (24) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it; also to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, having other counterfeit coin in their possession.LYONS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. RYAN— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
464. JAMES MALES (19) to stealing, while employed in the Post-office, a letter containing two half-sovereigns, 60 postage stamps, and other articles, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
Street, Islington—about 4 o'clock on the evening of 1st April the prisoner came and asked for a Standard and an Echo, which I had not got, and he then asked for the Islington Gazette, price one halfpenny, and put down a shilling—I asked him if he had got anything smaller—he said "No, that is the only money I have"—I tried the coin in the tester and found it was bad; it bent easily—I told him it was bad, and said, "Have you a better one?"—he said "No"—I told him to take it where he got it from, and he left, leaving the paper behind—I went to the door and spoke to a constable—this (produced) is not the coin that was tendered to me and which I gave back to the prisoner; I bent that in two—it was a black-looking one, and this is a new one.
WILLIAM MORLEY (Policeman N 604). Mrs. Dimsdale spoke to me on 1st April, and described a man—I saw the prisoner on my beat alone, and he was afterwards joined by two other men about 20 yards from Mrs. Dimsdale's shop—I went round another street, and met them in the main road—the prisoner then left the two, and went into Mrs. Poole's shop in Essex Road—this was about 20 minutes after I had seen Mrs. Dimsdale—I passed by the shop and saw the prisoner inside with a paper in his hand—I then went to the corner of the street to look for the two other men, but they were out of sight—I went back and saw the prisoner come out of Mrs. Poole's shop—I went in and spoke to her, and then saw the prisoner join the two men again about 800 or 900 yards off—he left them again—I followed him, and finding he did not go into any other shop I stopped him, and said, "Where is the coin you have been trying to pass?"—he said he hadn't any—I said, "You must not tell me that; where is the coin you have got in that pocket?"—he pulled out a handful of coppers from his trousers pocket, among which was a sixpence—I asked him for what he had got in his ticket-pocket, and after some time he pulled out this shilling (produced), and said he had earned it that day, and that he knew where he got it from—I took him back to Mrs. Poole's, and she identified him—I searched him at the station, and found 1s. 8d. in bronze and sixpence in silver good money.
ROSA POOLE . I keep a newspaper shop in Essex Road, Islington, about 10 minutes' walk from Mr. Dimsdale's shop—a little after 4 p.m. on 1st April the prisoner came in for Tit Bits, price 1d., and put down a shilling—I rubbed the edge of it off, and told him it was bad—he said he knew where he got it; he had just done a day's work, and he would take it back and get another for it—this (produced) is it; I am quite sure of it—I saw no mark on it when he gave it to me.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . This is a bad coin; it has never been bent in a tester before—the knerling of a good shilling; would rub off if rubbed against another good one with great force—it would rub off a bad coin easily on account of the amount of pewter in them—a shilling which bends double in the tester is bad.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "When I brought the shilling from the first shop I did not think it was bad, so I straightened it again and took it into the second shop."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he was a licensed shoeblack, and that he took the shilling of one of his customers on April 3rd, and stated that his licence had been taken away from him when he was searched.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.
ALBERT BOLTON (Policeman H). I am a plain-clothes constable—from information I received I watched the prisoner and another man who was afterwards found in a house in Vine Yard, a turning leading from Commercial Street, close by the police-station, at the back of the Cambridge Music Hall—about 7 p.m. on 4th April I went with Sergeant Counter to this house—the front door was open—we broke the ground-floor door open—it was fastened by a catch inside—as I went in I saw the prisoner and the other man with their faces towards the fire—the prisoner turned round—I saw something in his left hand, and said to him "Give it here"—he threw it behind him by the side of the bed—I told Jonas Mozan, who had followed us in, to pick it up, and he picked up this mould (produced) in two parts, which contained a shilling—it was warm—the prisoner said "Let me put my coat on"—when we went in the other man was standing with a spoon in his hand, pouring something into this mould—I said to them "You will be charged with the manufacture of counterfeit coin"—I took the prisoner out of the house, and Sergeant Counter took the other man—we left Jonas Mozan in charge of the room—when we got outside the house the prisoner called out "Rouse," which is slang for "rescue," and immediately turned round and kicked me on my legs—a struggle ensued—about 300 roughs assembled and took the prisoner from me—I followed him through several streets, and caught him in a house in Grey Eagle Street—I brought him out of there—he became very violent again; I threw him to the ground; I was kicked about the body and legs—I detained him there till I got the assistance of another constable, and then took him to the station—I then went back, searched the room, and found a box containing a spoon for melting metal, with a piece of metal in it called a get, two packets of acid, a metal spoon, a file with some lead on it, and four other iron spoons, some dry and wet sand, and some plaster-of-Paris—down a crack in the floor I found 13 counterfeit coins, and one on the mantelpiece and one in the mould—this is a shilling mould—there was a large bright fire in the grate when I first went in, and when I returned, in 25 minutes, it was still burning—no money was found on the prisoner—he made no answer to the charge—I had been watching these two men about a month; I had seen them together numbers of times.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is a foreigner; his father is a Dutchman—I did not watch the other man before the prisoner; he is a Jew—I knew him before the prisoner because he was suspected of watch robberies, and I had got my eye upon him—the prisoner does not occupy this room; a female and the man the prisoner was with occupy it—I have seen the female since, but I did not take her into custody because she was not there at the time—the prisoner is supposed to live at 37, Booth Street; that is where his wife lives—these spoons are sold at Debenham's for 5 1/2 d. each.
ELI COUNTER (Police-Sergeant H). I went with Bolton to this room in Vine Court—we burst the door open, which was locked against us; we had no trouble in doing so; we both entered the room together; the prisoner was holding this mould in his left hand, and the other man was holding this iron spoon, apparently putting something into the mould; I
could see something coining from the spoon into the mould; Bolton said "Give it here;" the prisoner made no reply, but threw the mould behind him; the other man endeavoured to get to the door, but I stopped him—the other man placed the spoon on the mantelpiece, with a piece of melted metal in it—Bolton took the prisoner ana I took the other man, and we both walked out together—we hadn't got about five yards from the door when the prisoner called out "Rouse" to the crowd; that means rescue him—he began to kick Bolton; I went to his help, was severely kicked, and had to let my man go—we took the prisoner to the station, and then went back to the house again and searched—I had been watching the prisoner about a month—I saw them together about 4 o'clock on this day, and watched them into the room; I did not take them then because I was alone—the room was let to a Minnie Block.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner's character—he was charged, with a man not in custody, by two constables of the G Division, with attempting to pick pockets—they were remanded and discharged—the prisoner was at one time a working jeweller, but I don't know that he has been working lately—I inquired of his father-in-law, who said he would have nothing to do with him; he was a thorough scoundrel—he lives at 37, Booth Street—the father lives in Artillery Passage, Spitalfieids, and keeps a grocer's shop, and he said he wished to have the prisoner's statement in the newspapers contradicted, as the son had given that address, and he was a thorough scoundrel—I have tried to find where the prisoner was employed, but have failed.
Re-examined. He gave his father's address when he was taken.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . All these articles are used in making counterfeit coin—this mould is a very bad one, and it only makes one at a time—this pewter spoon can be used for melting down for coining—all these 15 shillings are made from this mould—I found a piece of get in the spoon—the get is the part that is left in the orifice utter the coin is taken out.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
The COURT considered that Bolton and Counter had acted with great bravery.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 21st, 1885.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
WILLIAM ORAM . I am porter at Thomas Stevenson's, 49, Aldermanbury; he is the occupier of those warehouses—Jones, Longman, and Co. have the letting of these warehouses for Hope Johnstone—on the morning of 2nd April, about half-past 8, I went into the warehouse, and closed the door after me—they close in two pieces; there is a letter-box on the right-hand side door—I was upstairs and heard a rattling at the door, and came out on to the landing, from which point I could see anybody in the
hall—I saw the prisoner come in at the door and force the letter-box open—I jumped down on to him and laid hold of him—he said, "If you don't let me go I will do for you with this"—I was not sure whether it was a knife or a chisel he had got—he got away from me and ran up the Avenue—I followed him—he was running fast—I never lost sight of him—I got up to him in Philip Lane; that is a good distance from the ware-house—I took him back to Aldermanbury—I saw a policeman coming along, and I afterwards pointed out the letter-box to him; it was all safe when I closed the door at half-past 8.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. No one lives on these premises—I usually got there at 8 o'clock, but on this morning I did not get there till half-past 8.
Re-examined. I took the letters out of the box when I went in at half-past 8—there had been a robbery from the same box about four or five months ago—the prisoner was standing on the step of the door when he threatened to do for me.
HARRY PORTER (City Policeman 121). I was at the corner of Aldermanbury on the morning of 2nd April, and saw the last witness struggling with the prisoner about four or five doors from the warehouse—I ran up and took hold of him—Oram said, "I give this man in custody for breaking open the letter-box of 49, Aldermanbury"—I took the prisoner there, and saw the letter-box—they were coming back towards the door—at the station I searched him and found this chisel in his right-hand coat pocket, and also two patent keys and one common padlock key.
Cross-examined. The keys have since been given up to his wife by order of the Magistrate—I didn't discover that they were the keys of his coffee-stall.
JOHN WISE (City Policeman). I examined 49, Aldermanbury—there were marks on the outer door of its having been forced, which corresponded with this chisel, and there were marks on the letter-box which exactly corresponded with the chisel—the prisoner could not tell if there were letters inside the box until he had broke it open because it is a wooden one.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
It was stated that a great number of letter-boxes had been broken open and letters stolen, but that since the prisoner's apprehension there had been none.
MR. CARTER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM LONGMEAD . I live at 25, Nicholas Street, Mile End—on the night of 15th March I went to bed about 11 o'clock, the doors and windows of the house were all secure—about 3 or 4 o'clock I was awoke by the screams of a person who lived in a small ante-room upstairs, and I then heard somebody running downstairs—I found the back door and the kitchen and wash-house window unfastened, so that a person could have got into the house—I went into my back room and at once missed a watch which was hanging up over the mantelpiece, I had wound it up before I went to bed; I also missed a pair of spectacles from the mantelpiece,
piece, and the keys of a chapel which I have the care of, and the front door key—I went out into the yard by the back door and there found two coats belonging to me and two clean towels with provisions tied up in them, which had been removed from the house—the keys were found next morning about 8 o'clock in the adjoining yard—I also found this hat (produced) at the bottom of the stairs, it does not belong to any one in my house—I don't know the prisoner at all.
HENRY WALLER (Policeman K). I was on duty on the Globe Bridge, Mile End Road, on this night—about a quarter to 8 o'clock I saw the prisoner in company with two others going in the direction of Nicholas Street where the prosecutor lives; he was wearing a felt hat similar to the one produced—this was about 500 yards from the prosecutor's house—he came along the road and crossed over the bridge, I followed him some distance—I saw the prisoner at the station about 6.15 and identified him directly as the man I had seen going over Globe Bridge—I told the inspector where I had seen him—the prisoner denied going across Globe Bridge and said he had not left the Whitechapel Road.
ROBERT WILLIAMSON (Policeman K 83). I apprehended the prisoner about half-past 5 o'clock in a coffee shop in Devonshire Street about 200 yards from the prosecutor's house—I asked him where his hat was—he said he had lost over the Globe Bridge—I told him I should have to take him to the station while inquiries were made, I did not make any charge against him at that time—I searched him and found these two knives (produced) on him, one of them has the edge turned, which corresponds with the marks on the window.
GEORGE THOMAS (Police Sergeant K 21). I know Mr. Longmead's premises, he has a little garden at the rear—on the morning of the 16th I examined the garden and found footmarks near the window—I had taken the prisoner's boots off and I compared them with the marks in the garden, and they corresponded exactly.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am quite innocent. I lost my hat over the bridge as I told the constable. I was alone."
Prisoner's Defence. The policeman has made a mistake when he says I was along with another chap.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
469. FRANCIS THOMAS ELWOOD (46) PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of 3l., 6l., and 1 l.; and to a previous conviction at this Court on 13th December, 1880, when he was sentenced to penal servitude.— Three Months' Hard Labour and to serve the remainder of his term of penal servitude, viz., 13 months.
473. GEORGE RAYMOND (42) to five indictments for feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of 15l., 15l., 16l., 10l., and 15l., with intent to defraud; also to stealing a cheque-book and other property of Sir Alexander Mallett .— Judgment respited.
474. EDWARD JONATHAN HUDSON to unlawfully publishing a libel upon the Committee of the Institution for Necessitous Orphan Children . To enter into his own recognisance in 100l. to appear for judgment if called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
475. JOHN SMITH (61) to stealing a watch from the person of Allen Margetts . He was also charged with having been convicted at Warwick in January, 1878, in the name of John Sutcliff, when he was sentenced to eight years' penal servitude. To this he PLEADED NOT GUILTY, but upon the evidence of Donald Robertson, warder of Pentonville Prison, and William Rogers, police sergeant, the Jury found him to be the same person.— Six Months' Hard Labour and to serve the remainder of his previous sentence. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, April 21st, 1885.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted: MR. HICKS Defended.
AMY CUTLER . I am barmaid at the King's Arms, Mile End Road—on 26th March, about 10 a.m., I served the prisoner with twopennyworth of gin—he gave me a half-sovereign, and I gave him 9s. 10d. change, and put it with a good sovereign—when he was going away I looked at it again, and found it was bad—Bishop went out and brought him back, and I said, "You have given me a bad half-sovereign"—he said, "I did not know it was bad, I picked it up just outside"—the potman gave me 11s. 2d., all good—the prisoner first of all gave me a shilling—I deducted 2d. for the gin and gave him the change.
Cross-examined. I had given him some coppers in change, and out of the 11s. 2d. handed to me I took 10s. 2d.—I handed the prisoner back a sixpence and six pence—he stopped in the house a very few minutes—he could see the potman in the bar—this coin looked better then.
Re-examined. I gave him 9s. 6d. in shillings, florins, and four penny pieces as change for the coin, and out of the 11s. 2d. the barman gave me I took 10s. for the bad coin and 2d. for the gin.
JOHN HENRY BISHOP . I am potman at the King's Arms—on 22nd March the prisoner came in and called for twopenny worth of gin—the barmaid called my attention to a half-sovereign just as he was leaving—I found it was bad, and went after the prisoner—I ran in all directions, and found him with two men in White Horse Lane—I told a policeman to follow me—I said to the prisoner, "Come along with me"—he said, "Let me go"—I said, "I cannot let you go"—the other two ran away immediately, and the prisoner went after them—I took the prisoner back to the house, and on the road he put his hand in his pocket and gave me the money—I did not count it—I put it in my pocket, and gave it to the barmaid with the half-sovereign—I cannot say how many coppers there were—she gave the prisoner the difference.
Cross-examined. I went 50 or 60 yards, and was ten minutes before I saw the prisoner—he did not see me coming, I was so quick—I said, "You know what it is for"—I did not show him the half sovereign, or tell him it was for passing bad money—he knew that—he knew who I was, because I had my leather apron on—when he gave me the money he said, "Take this, and let me go"—when we got back the barmaid told him that a bad half-sovereigu was passed—that was the first
time that words to that effect were used, and then he said that he picked it up outside a corn chandler's.
SIDNEY SWEET (Policeman 340 H). I saw Bishop stop the prisoner—two men who were with him ran away—I ran after them 300 yards, and one of them threw away this purse (produced)—I picked it up—it contained these five bad shillings—I went to the King's Arms, and the barmaid gave me this half-sovereign—he said, "I picked it up just up the road"—I found on him at the station a sixpence and six pence—the inspector asked the potman if he saw any one else with the prisoner, and before he had time to answer the prisoner said, "Yes; the same two were with me that dropped it"—the inspector then cautioned him.
Cross-examined. I took that down in writing; this is it—he did not try to run away.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this half-sovereign is bad—it is made of pewter and gilt in a battery—these five shillings are bad, and three of them are from one mould.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was in Whitechapel Road, and saw the men running. They dropped something. I picked it up. It was the half-sovereign. I then went for some gin. No one was with me. The coin I picked up was in paper. The barmaid stopped me. I said I did not know it was bad; I picked it up."
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD AND LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
MARIA SWAITE . I live at Mrs. Stott's, a confectioner's, 63, Cow Cross Street—on 27th March, about 10.30 a.m., the prisoner came in for a penny bun, and gave me a shilling; I tried it in the tester; it bent easily; I told him it was bad, and gave it back to him; he gave me a good sixpence, and I gave him 5d. change—he came again on 31st March, between 6 and 7 p.m., for a cup of tea, and gave me a florin; I bent it in the tester, and told him it was bad; he said he did not know it, and gave me a shilling; he bent the florin perfectly straight, and then said "Do you mind bending it again, as I might get into trouble?"—I bent it for him; it did not break off; he took it away.
ANNIE GRAZIER . I am assistant at Lockhart's Coffee Room, St. Sepulchre's, about five minutes' walk from Cow Cross—on 31st March the prisoner came and asked for a scone, and threw a florin on the counter; it rolled on the floor; I looked for it, and he said "It is a two-shilling piece"—I picked it up and tested it; it was bad, and I handed it to Lake—the prisoner took the scone from his pocket, left it there, and hurried out.
EDGAR LAKE . I am sub-manager at this coffee room—on 31st March, about 6.30 p.m., Grazier handed me a bad florin; I took it to the manager in another room, and then told the prisoner it was bad, and said "Wait a minute"—I went back in two or three minutes, and he was gone; I afterwards pointed him out to a constable, and he was brought back.
PHILIP STRELTZ (Policeman G 276). Mr. Lake pointed out the prisoner to me—I told him the charge; he said "I know nothing at all about it"—I took him in custody; he struck me a violent blow on my face, and tried
to throw me—I took him to the shop, and found a good florin on him—he tried to throw me twice going to the station, but I took him there with assistance.
Cross-examined. In some testers good florins will bend, but not easily.
GUILTY . **— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD AND LLOYD Prosecuted.
CAROLINE LENTZ (Interpreted). My husband keeps a chandler's shop at 213, St. George's Street—on Monday morning, 23rd March, I served the prisoner with some tea and sugar, which came to 6d. or 7d.—he gave me a half-crown; I put it in my portmonnaie, which I put in my pocket, and gave him the change—there was no other half-crown there—he came again next morning and bought articles which came to 5d., and gave me another half-crown, which I put into my portmonnaie, the first one being still there, and gave him the change—he came again that afternoon, and gave me another half-crown for some goods; I gave him the change and he left—I had the coin in my hand when the poor rate collector came in; I tendered it to him; he said that it was bad, I then took out the other two, and he declared those to be bad—I put them in paper and kept them—on Thursday, the 26th, the prisoner came again for some bread, tea, and butter, which came to 7d. or 8d., and gave me another half-crown—I called my husband, who was in the cellar, and sent my daughter for a policeman—I had returned the half-crown to the prisoner, and he gave it to my husband—I gave the three half-crowns to the police, and my husband gave one.
WILLIAM LENTZ (Interpreted). I keep this chandler's shop—on 23rd March I was in the kitchen adjoining the shop, and saw through a glass door the prisoner come in; he purchased some articles from my wife, and put a coin on the table; my wife took it up, put it in her pocket, and gave him the change—on the Tuesday morning I again saw him make some purchases from my wife, who took up the money, put it into her portmonnaie, and gave him the change—I was not there on the afternoon of the 24th—on the morning of the 26th I saw my wife serve him, he tendered a good, florin, and between 4 and 5 o'clock he came again; I was in the cellar, my daughter called out to me and I told her to fetch a policeman—I then went outside the shop door so that the prisoner could not get out—my wife said "Have you got any change?" I said "Yes," she pushed the half-crown towards the prisoner, he picked it up and gave it to me; I said "Is this your money?"—he said "Yes"—he is a German baker—I said in German "You have cheated me with three bad pieces, and this is the fourth; I shall not take any more bad money from you, but shall send you to Leman Street Station, they are in the habit of taking bad money there—I gave the policeman the half-crown and my wife gave him three—he told the prisoner the charge, and added 'I have been looking out for you for a long time," he said nothing.
HENRY MATTHEWS (Policeman H 212). I was called, and took the prisoner—I said, "I have heard that you were about with a gang before"—he said nothing to that, but on the way to the station he said, "A young man gave it to me to take to the shop and get change"—Mrs. Lentz gave me three half-crowns, and Mr. Lentz one—I said to the prisoner in the
shop, "You hear what they have to say?"—he said, "Yes, I brought them here; a young man gave them to me to bring them."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Some fellow gave it to me at the lodging-house. I did not know it was bad."
Prisoner's Defence. Somebody sent me to the place. I did not know it was bad. I was only a week in the place, and have only been there three times.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted.
PHŒBE KAHN . My husband keeps a beershop at 17, Wells Street, Whitechapel—on 13th March, in the evening, I served the prisoner with some beer which came to 1 1/2 d.—he put down a half-crown, and I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change—he then asked me to have a glass of mild and bitter ale, and gave me 1 1/2 d.—I had to go and get some wine, and when I came back he was gone—I had put the coin into one of the holes in the till, and five minutes after he left I examined it and found it was bad—on 21st March I saw my husband serving the prisoner, who put down this shilling—I placed my hand over it, and then put it to my teeth, beat it, and sent for a constable—my husband was going to give him the change, but I said, "Oh, don't you, it is bad"—he went out, and my husband went after him and brought him back—I gave the half-crown to the constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was no other money where I put the half-crown.
JOHN KAHN . I keep this beershop—on 21st March, about 9 p.m., the prisoner asked for half a pint of ale and gave me a shilling—I gave him 11d. change—he drank the beer and went out—he came back in half an hour for a pint of ale, price 3d., and handed me another shilling—I gave him change—he drank the beer and asked me to have a glass, which I did—I am a Russian Fin—I put the second shilling in the till, but into an empty room—he came in a third time for a pint of ale, and gave me a shillings—I put it on the counter, and my wife put her hand over it—the prisoner said, "Is it no good?"—my wife said "Yes," bent it with her teeth, and sent a girl for a constable—the prisoner pushed my wife aside and ran away—he was brought back and given in custody with the three shillings.
EDMUND BARRETT (Policeman H 125). I saw the prisoner rush out of the house—a little girl called me—I gave chase, caught him, and took him back to the house—I found nothing on him—Mrs. Kahn gave me a bad half-crown and shilling, and Mr. Kahn gave me one shilling and two other shillings which the prisoner passed in the afternoon—I found a good shilling on him at the station—I asked him where he lived—he said, "I won't tell you where I live; you have got no case to hold me."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about the two shillings or the half-crown. I thought the shilling was a good one."
Prisoner's Defence. How am I to know whether the two shillings
which were in the till were two bad ones? I did not know the shilling was bad which I paid for the beer.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. POYNTER Defended.
CHARLES HENRY NEWTON . My uncle keeps the Crown public-house, Brewer Street—on 24th March, about 10.45 p.m., I served the prisoner with half a pint of beer—he put down a half-crown of George III.—I said, "Wait a minute"—he went out very sharply—I gave the coin to Mr. Edwards.
Cross-examined. When I asked him to wait he said, "Anything wrong?"—I said "No"—I am sure he is the man by his face—I had never seen him before—the potman brought him back.
JAMES DEMPSEY . I am potman at the Crown—Newton called me to stop the prisoner—I saw him bolt out at the door, chased him about 200 yards, and kept sight of him—when I got up to him he was putting his coat on—I said, "Where are you running to?"—he said, "I have been in a fight"—I said "You will have to come back with me to the Crown"—he said, "What for?"—I said, "For attempting to pass bad money"—he said, "No, it is not me; you have made a mistake"—I said, "Well, will you come back with me?"—he said, "Yes, I will"—I took him back.
Cross-examined. I met the prisoner face to face, because I passed him in running and turned round and stopped him—I never lost sight of him—after I took him the commissionaire called out that he had dropped something.
Re-examined. I have no doubt at all that he is the man.
JAMES MCLAUGHLIN . I am a commissionaire, and live in Golden Square—I saw the potman and the prisoner 50 yards from the Crown, after they had stopped—he went quietly with the potman, and I saw him drop something from his ptcket—I picked it up and said "Wait a minute, William, he has dropped something"—I gave it to Mr. Edwards, who gave it to the constable; it was seven bad half-crowns in a piece of cloth, with paper between them.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before—I saw the coins fall from the prisoner's hand into the gutter.
JOHN EDWARDS . I am manager of the Crown public-house—Newton gave me a bad half-crown, and the prisoner was brought back to the house by the potman—I took the prisoner by the collar and said "What do you mean by passing bad money on the boy?"—he said "I know nothing about bad money, I never was in the house before"—McLaughlin came in and handed me these seven bad half-crowns and said "Here are some more which he threw out of his right-hand pocket"—I said "Fetch a policeman at once"—he said "You have no cause to hold me so tight, I shall not run away."
Cross-examined. He took a cabman's badge out of his pocket and said "Here is my badge"—I said "Where is your cab?"—he said "I am out of work now."
having seven more in his possession—he said "I know nothing about the others, only this one"—he said that he was a cabman, and produced this badge.
Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "He said 'I passed one, but the others I know nothing about'"—he said "passed."
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, April 21st, 1885.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted.
SIDNEY HERBERT CHRISTOPHER STEADMAN . I live at 115, Stepney Green, and am a clerk—on Saturday, 14th March, I was with my regiment of volunteers in Fenchurch Street about 7.15, and saw the prisoner take a bag out of a Hansom's cab standing in front of a restaurant in Fenchurch Street, and walk off with it—I told my sergeant to follow him, and I followed as far as Rood Lane.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was dark; there were a good many people about—I had you in sight for three or four minutes—I had not seen you before to my knowledge.
WILLIAM WENSLEY . I am a wheelwright, of Bethnal Green—I am a sergeant in the volunteer regiment of which Mr. Steadman is lieutenant—on Saturday, 14th March, I was in Fenchurch Street with my regiment, and from what Mr. Steadman told me I followed the prisoner, who had a bag on his left shoulder, as far as Tower railings, where a constable overtook me—I did not lose sight of the prisoner.
WILLIAM COLES (City Policeman 795). On Saturday, 14th March, I was on duty in Tower Street—I received information and went towards Mark Lane Station—I there saw a volunteer, and in front of him the prisoner carrying this bag—I passed the volunteer, touched the prisoner on the shoulder, and said "What are you going to do with that bag?" he said "All right, I am with these sailors,"—I said "That won't do, you will have to go with me to the station"—at the station he said "A man gave it to me to carry"—the sailors said they did not know him.
ALBERT LEO WOLF . I am a clerk, and live at 15, Pembridge Crescent, Bayswater—this is my bag—I had it on Saturday, 14th March, in a restaurant in Fenchurch Street, and got a boy to put it in a Hansom's cab; when I got to the cab it was not there.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in December, 1874.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted.
JOHN BENNETT . I am a fish salesman in the employment of Messrs. Stevenson, 98, Lower Thames Street—about 9.20 a.m. on 16th April I was counting up some lobsters, and I saw a salmon being drawn off the front—I looked up and saw the prisoner running away with it—I and
another man in the shop ran after him calling "Stop thief!"—he dropped the fish 15 or 20 yards from the shop, and I lost sight of him among the vans and did not see him till he was brought back by the constable in the afternoon.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Policeman 799). I was on duty in Lower Thames Street—I saw Bennett running from the shop, and heard the cry "Stop thief"—I ran into Billingsgate Market, saw the prisoner running, and chased him over packages of fish and stands where they sell fish—I lost him.
ALFRED BUTTERFIELD . I am a carman, of 32, Mint Street, Finsbury—I was in front of Mr. Stevenson's shop, Lower Thames Street, and saw the prisoner take a salmon with his right hand, and run towards London Bridge and then back through the market.
Cross-examined. I did not stop you because I could not leave my fish van.
ALFRED FULJAMES (City Policeman). I met the prisoner in Lower Thames Street, and took him into custody, saying "You will be charged with stealing a salmon from the shop 99, Lower Thames Street, this morning;" he said "You have made a mistake this time"—I took him to the shop, where Bennett identified him, and he was afterwards taken to the station and charged.
The prisoner asserted his innocence, and stated that he was standing on the other side of the street when he heard the cry of stop thief.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CUSHNEY (City Policeman 202). On the morning of 7th April I was called to the shop of Mr. Bryars, a gold refiner, in Barbican, where I saw the prisoner, who had the gold case and dial of a presentation watch with an inscription on it—I asked him where he obtained it; he said he bought it at the public house close to King William's statue, on the 31st of last month, on a Tuesday or Wednesday, he was not sure which—I took him to the station, where he made the same defence.
WILLIAM BRYARS . I am a wholesale jeweller, of 53 and 54, Barbican—on 7th April the prisoner brought this watch case to my place—he had the dial clutched up in his hand, I did not see it—he said it weighed 1 oz. 5 1/2 dwts.; I asked him where the movement was; he said that was gone; I said "You see this inscription inside; I am afraid it has been stolen;" and I sent out a man by the side door for a constable, keeping the prisoner talking, and looking over the Police List—he tried to take the case out of my hand, and I said "Wait a minute, it is not here"—a constable came, and I gave it him.
REV. RICHARD GODDARD PUREFOY COLLES . I am a clerk in holy orders, and reside at 7, Sutton Place, Hackney—this watch case is mine—I missed it at five minutes to 7 on Thursday, 2nd April—I was then in Whitechapel High Street, in a crowd, and some one pushed against me three times; I asked him what he was doing; he took off his hat and begged my pardon, and went away, and I found my watch, gone—he was
a young man with a brown hat and short coat—it was a gold presentation, and worth about 15l.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he frequented sales, and bought jewellery, and that he bought this watch of a man for 3l., having no idea that it was stolen, and he contended that he should not have gone to such a place as Mr. Bryars's had he had any guilty knowledge.
NOT GUILTY .
JAMES RICHARD FARDELL . I am a licensed carman, trading as Fardell and Co., at Sparrowgate Corner, Minories—on 31st May, 1882, the prisoner, who was in my employment as carman, in the name of James Sullivan, was sent with another carman to take 28 bales of wool for shipment abroad for Messrs. Gooch and Cousins, 6, London Wall, to Irongate Wharf—he should have taken them, and returned that night to my premises; he did not return—subsequently my van and horses were brought back empty—I never saw him from that day till I met him in Tooley Street last month—as soon as I met him he turned round and ran away—I ran after him and caught him—he said "I had nothing to do with taking your wool"—that was before I had spoken to or challenged him—I said he had better come with me to the police-station—he was taken there and charged—he said again he had nothing to do with taking the wool, and he said he got drunk and had lost the wool; he knew nothing about it—I said "Why did not you turn up?"—he said "I have been about all the time working"—I saw the wool about 22 days after 31st May, 1882—it was traced to the possession of Brommett and Reece, who were charged here with receiving it knowing it to be stolen—the prisoner had no right to be in the Commercial Road that day with the wool, it was some considerable way from where he should have been—he had no right to take it to Webster's yard—my van, which was No. 50, was taken to Arbour Lane Police-station.
JOHN MURRAY . I live at 95, St. Paul's Street, New North Road, and am one of the delivery agents at Gooch and Cousins's wool warehouse, London Wall—on 31st May, 1882, the prisoner came with a two-horse van belonging to Fardell and Co., and I superintended the loading into it of 19 bales of wool—he left our yard about ten o'clock with the wool, the value of which was about 350l. as nearly as possible—I have got the delivery book which the prisoner signed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not drunk; you had been worse for drink over-night, but you knew what you were doing—I did not assist you; my carman did.
GEORGE ROBERT WALTON . I live at 16, Lucas Street, Commercial Street, and am a shipping clerk at Irongate Wharf—on 31st May I ought to have received from Gooch and Cousins 28 bales of wool, instead of which I only received nine—the prisoner did not deliver his load of bales at our wharf on that day; the 19 were never delivered.
PATRICK KELLY (Policeman H 300). On 31st May, 1882, I was on duty in Philpot Street, Commercial Road—I saw two vans with the name of Fardell on them loaded with wool standing there from a quarter past 2 to a quarter past 3 p.m.; they then drove up Commercial Road—I saw the prisoner and asked his name and address—he gave them, as Wilson, 10,
Great Garden Street, Spitalfields—he then got on one of the vans and drove off in the direction of the Whitechapel Road—the same night I went to see whether the prisoner had given me a right address—I could hear nothing of him—where I saw the vans standing was not in the direction of Irongate Wharf; it was about 100 yards from New York Street, where Reece lived, where a portion of the wool was subsequently found.
GEORGE BARNES . I live at 70, Turner's Road, Bow, and am a clerk at Irongate Wharf—on 31st May, between 7 and 8, I saw a two-horse van with the name of Fardell on it outside the Britannia public-house, Bow Common Lane, loaded with wool—I gave information to Mr. Fardell the following morning—I did not see who was with the van at that time.
JOSEPH PERRY . I live at 52, Bow Common Lane, and am a coal and coke merchant—on 31st May, 1882, I saw a van come to Webster's yard between 7 and 8 p.m.—it was loaded with bales like bales of wool; it was taken into the yard and unloaded, and next morning I saw the bales lying in the yard.
BY THE COURT. I could not say I saw the prisoner with the van; there were one or two in charge of it, but they were strangers to me.
ROBERT GOSHERON . I live at the High Road, Leytonstone, Essex, and am a licensed victualler—on 31st May, 1882, I was landlord of the Britannia public-house, Bow Common Lane—on that day, between 6 and 7 p.m., I saw one of Fardell's vans outside my house, loaded—the carman was in front of my bar, he is the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said at the police-court I would not say it was you, but that I believed it was you.
WILLIAM VIGORS (Policeman H 323). On 31st May I found a van and two horses at the corner of Floriston Street, no one was in charge of it—it was Mr. Fardell's van, No. 50—I telegraphed to Mr. Fardell—I had seen the prisoner at a quarter-past 10 driving an empty van—when he got down he went into the Three Crowns public-house, Mile End Road, and never returned—I kept observation over the van—no one returned to fetch it away—I had not spoken to the prisoner.
WILLIAM EDWARDS . I am a City carman, and live at 19, Middlesex Street—I know Reece—on 1st June I was employed to take bags of wool from his yard, Bow Common Lane—I was stopped in taking the second load by the police.
GEORGE FOSTER (Police Sergeant H). On the 1st June I went in search of the wool—from information received I found it on a van belonging to Mr. Edwards, of Bow Common Lane—I found the other portion on the premises of Mr. Brommett, a rag merchant, Corbett's Court, Spitalfields—I had a description of the prisoner, and tried to find him—I was unable to do so—I got his correct address and watched his house—he never came there.
FREDERICK LUFFMAN (Policeman M 76). I arrested the prisoner on 20th March last at Bermondsey Police-station, where he was brought by Mr. Fardell—he said, "I never stole the wool"—I took him to Seething Lane Police-station, where he said again, "I never stole the wool."
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence stated that after he set out with the van he had got drunk and knew nothing of what had become of it, and that when he woke up next morning he was too frightened to return to his employers, but that he had since been working at other places.
GUILTY .*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. BESLEY and FRANCIS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM NYE . I live at 8, Clarence Street, Clapton Square, Hackney, and am a cashier at the Islington branch of the London and County Bank—on 17th March, according to this cashier's book, I paid away 29l. 17s. 9d. to Frierson on Mr. William Irons' account in payment for this bill presented for payment—on 11th February, 1885, I gave 32l. 5s. on Mr. Irons' account to Frierson, and on 26th March I cashed another bill for 32l. 1s. 3d. on Mr. Irons' account to Frierson—these bills would be charged to Iron's account and would go back in the flap of the pocket-book to Irons after the book was made up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. On each occasion I have paid bills it has been to Frierson.
JOHN DIXON . I am cashier at the Islington branch of the London and County Bank, and have here the cashier's book, which I keep—on 4th March I paid away 27l. 5s. 9d. on behalf of Mr. Irons for an acceptance—I don't know whom I paid it to—on 4th March the prisoner presented an acceptance for payment—I said there was a difference in the signature of Mr. Irons and I could not pay the bill—he made no reply, but immediately left the bank; I had handed the bill back to him—he never came back again with the bill, the bill was never brought back.
Cross-examined. It was five minutes to 4 o'clock, I had a good look at you—I do not recollect saying at the police-station that I was annoyed at the bill being presented at five minutes to 4 o'clock, I may have said that—I knew you at once from the time I came to Mr. Irons' office.
WILLIAM HENRY MORTIMER . I am also a clerk in the London and County Bank, Islington branch—this is Mr. William Irons' pass-book, he is a customer—the entries are in my handwriting—on 17th March I debited his account with 29l. 17s. 9d. for this bill drawn by Mr. Pullen and purporting to be accepted by Mr. Irons—on 26th March I entered in the book another bill of Irons' for 32l. 1s. 3d.—after the payment of that bill the bills were put in the pass-book pocket and sent back to him.
JOHN FRIERSON . I am living at 46, Albert Road, Tottenham—for 18 months I was in the prisoner's employment, but not entirely, for the last few months I have been employed by him—he carried on his profession at his private address, 45, Ridley Road, Dalston—I was his clerk and assistant, I worked at Mr. Irons' office—the prisoner kept his books and was paid by the hour—I presented this bill for 29l. 17s. 9d. for payment at the Islington branch on 17th March, the prisoner gave it to me on that morning in the street opposite Broad Street Station, where I met him about 10 or 10.30 by appointment made by a post-card he sent me—he told me I was to go to the London and County Bank, Islington branch, and get cash for it—I went and did so and took it to him just by where the trams stop at Dalston Junction, where he told me to meet him—I gave him the money—I could not say how many times I have carried bills for him to the London and County Bank, four or five times at any rate—I have always given him the money so procured—I have presented the four or five bills within about as many months, all purporting to be accepted by Mr. Irons—I ran away when they took the prisoner into custody, and that is how I came to be taken into custody—I have told the truth.
Cross-examined. I have been a draper, I have not been a Jack-of-all-trades—I used to do all your outdoor work and collect accounts for Mr. Irons, I could not say how I collected accounts—I cannot say I ever wrote a line for you in my life—I received 15s. or sometimes 1l. a week—I have had more than 10s. of you at one time, I could not say when—I was not a public-house loafer when you first met me; I met you in a public-house—you used to treat me, you never allowed me to pay—afterwards I said I should be glad to earn a shilling or two—you have been very kind to me, and have kept me and my wife and children from starving—I passed by another name by your instructions—I have cashed cheques for you at several banks—whenever you had a cheque of Mr. Irons' I cashed it for you—I made no overtures to the prosecution—I don't know if they are going to pay me for my services, I hope they will—I don't think any one saw you give me this money,
Re-examined. I don't know what became of the card I received, it was similar to this—the prisoner has asked me to change no other bills of exchange, but there have been cheques—I can't say I have collected any other acceptances at any other banks except the five at the Islington branch for the prisoner.
JAMES PULLEN . I am a builder of Downs Road, Clapton—I had some business transactions with Mr. Irons and gave him a genuine bill of exchange in October, 1874—that was met by me at maturity—I never drew this bill dated 14th February, 1885, for 14l. 17s. 9d., which purports to be drawn by me and accepted by Mr. Irons; it is not my writing nor my endorsement—this is the genuine bill, and was the only one up to and since that date—there is no other bill of which I have been drawer for Mr. Irons to be acceptor.
WILLIAM IRONS . I carry on business at Tyeson Works, Dalston, and elsewhere—I have employed the prisoner as accountant and collector for some time—he was paid 1s. 6d. an hour or thereabouts—he came to the office once a month or oftener to make up the books and accounts, and was under the supervision of Mr. Clark, my manager; I have not troubled about business for two years—this is an acceptance of Mr. Pullen's—I have not had one since that date—this is not a genuine acceptance, it is not my writing—I have been charged in my pass-book with four or five bills, all of which I was not responsible for, they were forgeries.
Cross-examined. I know your writing; I know this is your writing.
GEOEGE WILKINS CLARK . I am manager for Mr. Irons in his business—the prisoner compared the banker's pass-book with the cash-book, and the papers in the pocket of the pass-book would be handed to him—after genuine acceptances were paid they would be tied up and put in a safe by the prisoner—a bill while current would be entered in this book before it was paid; after it was paid it was entered in this other book—the writing in the bills-payable book is all the prisoner's—the 29l. 17s. 9d. bill was entered on 30th March by my direction—up to the time of his being suspected it was not entered at all; the prisoner entered it after the discovery of the forgery, by my direction—I asked him why a bill of Mr. Pullen's lay on the table crumbled somewhat, and the other bills were put together—he said he could not tell; that I must have omitted to put it in the diary, so that he could not put it in—he said he knew nothing about it—that was on 30th March, after receiving the pass-book from the bank—I told him to enter it to disarm suspicion, because as
soon as I took it up I knew it was a forgery, as Mr. Irons did not owe any money to Mr. Pullen—I noticed it was charged against Irons' account, on 7th March, in the pass-book—the prisoner would have to tick off the items in the pocket-book with the bills which came in the pocket; he ticked off this as being paid out of Mr. Irons's account in the pass-book—he did not say we had had the money from Frierson himself—this bill of 8th February, 1885, for 2l. 5s., in the name of Lane, is not entered by the prisoner in the bills-payable book, but it is ticked off in the pass-book—I have searched, and I cannot find the bill—the bill of 4th March for 27l. 5s. 9d. is ticked off in the pass-book, but it is not entered in the cash-book, nor in the bills-payable book—I have searched for it, and cannot find it—the bill of 20th March for 32l. 1s. 3d. is acknowledged and ticked in the pass-book, and is not entered in the bills-payable book—I asked him about the ticking off of the bills—he said he certainly had ticked them, but that it was a mistake; he knew nothing about them—I said, "Why did you tick them off when the vouchers were not returned?"—he said, "I ticked them off; I thought they were all right; I didn't always examine the vouchers"—I said, "How could you tick them off like that when Mr. Irons looks to you?"
Cross-examined. I take great interest in the business—you had 3l. 10s. a month for auditing the books and making out the accounts—I got nothing back from you as commission—I did not get 10s. a month; I swear that—I did not get 2l. back from 8l., the charge for income-tax; I have got back nothing—since you have been there I have always fetched the pass-book from the bank, and taken it back—they never refused to give it to me—you were very irregular at the office—sometimes I had the pass-book a day or two before you saw it, and wrote to you and asked you to come and make it up—I knew everybody who did business with Mr. Irons—I had every opportunity of taking the bills out of the pocket of the pass-book before you saw it—any one could get into the office, and any one could get to the safe, but only you and I knew where the key was—I can hardly say whether I gave at the police-court the conversation about my asking you whether, you examined the cheques with the pass-book; I fancy it is new matter—the entries in the bills-payable book are in your writing; you could only get them from my diary—you simply copied my writing into the bills-payable book—a bill of Pullen's for 24l. was due on 14th February, and it was accepted, and settled their account—I swear I pointed out this acceptance of Lane to you; I asked you why, instead of there being a double tick, there was only a single one—you said it was a mistake—I could see there had been a downstroke which had been erased—I received a letter from the manager of the bank on 28th March—he said the overdraft was more than l,500l.—I said, "You must have made some mistake in reckoning up the book; look and see if you have made a mistake, and I will go to the bank and see the manager, and see if the clerks have made a mistake in charging it"—you looked, and could not find anything—you went to the bank with me, and waited at Watts's—I left the bank-book there, and the manager was to let me have it at 9 o'clock next morning—I fetched the book back; it was handed to you, and you had it about an hour before I came—this bill, and that of 26th March, were in the pass-book; I assume they were all there—I never said you destroyed the one of 26th March; I am nearly certain you did—I suppose you did not destroy this because you made a mistake—when I
came in you had not touched the book—I asked you if you had looked through it and found out the difference—you said no—you said you had been sorting these accounts—I did not see them; the tickets laid there—I called your attention, not you mine, to the 29l. 17s. 6d. of which there was no entry in the cash-book—you did not say, "Here is a bill of Pullen's I have not got in the cash-book"—I did not say, "Where is the bill?"—I had it in my hand—you borrowed 2l. of me on 28th March I went to the bank.
Re-examined. I have been 21 or 22 years in Mr. Irons's service—I have shared no money as commission with the prisoner—I have lent him money repeatedly, but never received any benefit from him—on 28th March there was a discrepancy; more overdraft was charged by our bankers than was accounted for by my cash-book—at that time acceptances had been checked off in the pass-book as regular acceptances—there was one of Lane's, and two of Pullen's; the first one was 11th March—on the 30th the prisoner actually ticked off as regular two bills of Pullen's on 11th and 26th March in the pass-book—these are double ticks, with the exception of Lane's, where the downstroke has been obliterated—all the bills in my diary are entered in the bills-payable book—he told me nothing about Frierson being employed to go to the bank and get money or coming to him in the street at Dalston.
JAMES PULLEN (Re-examined). On 10th December I gave an acceptance for 24l. in settlement of my account with Mr. Irons—the only bill transactions I had with Mr. Irons were the one in December and one in February—I am quite sure the 29l. and the other bills were not drawn by me.
HENRY JENMAN (Police Sergeant N). On the 9th April, at 11 a.m., I saw the prisoner detained at Dalston Police-station—later in the day I told him he would be charged with attempting to utter a bill on the London and County Bank on 24th March for 31l.—he replied, "They will have to prove it"—he was afterwards charged about the bill that had been found—he made no reply after he was charged—a shilling was found on him, and returned—Frierson was running away when stopped by Armstrong; he afterwards gave evidence against the prisoner.
GUILTY of uttering .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FLETCHER Procecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
EDWARD ROBERT ORAM . I am a traveller in the employment of Messrs. H.T. Grattan and Co., of 75, Jewry Street, cigar merchants—about 11th March some cigars were missing from the warehouse—on 20th March I went to the Horse and Leaping Bar public-house, Whitechapel, kept by George March, a customer of ours, to collect an account—I saw this box of cigars behind the bar—I recognise it by the label on the end—I spoke to Mr. March about it—presently the prisoner came in with a parcel under his arm—he took me on one side, addressed me as Mr. Skinner, and asked me to go upstairs to the billiard-room—I did so—he then opened the parcel and offered me two boxes of the same cigars as those I had seen before, and as those stolen from our warehouse—he asked me 50s. for the boxes; I offered 1l. a box—I left the two boxes I bought with Mr. March, and I was to call and leave the money with Mr. March, and he would call and get it—I went to the office, and then
informed the police—I recognise this box as being at Mr. March's by its being broken and by the brand—these cost us wholesale 22s. 6d.
Cross-examined. They are Mexican cigars—we have only traced 13 boxes to the prisoner—we missed 310—I have seen the prisoner in different houses for years—I go to different public-houses to sell—the prisoner was trying to sell these cigars about 50 yards from where they had been stolen—it is a common thing for travellers to go round to public-houses with sample boxes—my firm offered 20l. for the recovery of the rest of the propery after the hearing at the Mansion House—we have no additional witnesses to those heard there—the bar where Garcia went in has a low, dark ceiling—there was a better light in the billiard room—you want light to see how a cigar is rolled—I have not heard before that the prisoner is short-sighted—there were five or six other people in the bar when I came in.
ERNEST JOSEPH HUNSTON ANTHONY . I live at Albany Road, Old Kent Road, and am clerk to Messrs. Grattan and Co.—I opened a case of cigars branded "Plantation de la Union" when it came from the docks—this box "B" is one of the boxes, I saw it in our warehouse—I know it by the broken lid, which I noticed when I opened the case about two months ago—on Tuesday night at 10 I locked up the premises, which consist of a warehouse and office on the first floor of 35, Jewry Street, and left all safe—there was a large quantity of cigars in boxes in both rooms, which were both locked that evening, and the door between the rooms was looked also—on the morning of the 11th I was first to arrive—I found the police in possession of the place—about 300 boxes were missing of about the value of 250l.—some boxes contained 50, some 25, some 100—no other boxes were broken like this one.
Cross-examined. The box was split like this when I missed it.
BAXTER HUNT (City Detective). On the morning of the 11th I went with Harding to 35, Jewry Street, and in a warehouse on the first-floor front found marks such as would be made with this jemmy—on Friday, the 20th, I and Harding received two boxes of cigars from Mr. Oram—on Saturday I went with him and Mr. Grattan to March's public-house—March showed me the boxes A and B with four others, of which we took possession—we waited there till 7 o'clock on Saturday evening, when the prisoner came in—I asked him if his name was Garcia, he said "Yes"—I told him we were police offiers; I asked him if he had offered cigars of late, he said "Yes, I have sold six to Mr. March, two to Mr. Skinner"—just at that time Oram came in, and he said "This is Mr. Skinner"—I said "Have you any more?"—he said "No"—I took him to the station—on the way he spoke again in about five minutes and said "I will tell the truth, I gave 10l. 12s. for the lot"—I asked him where he got them from—he said "I bought them of a man in the Ship Tavern, Anthony Road; I gave him 15s. a box for them, which I thought a fair price"—he afterwards said that five were now at Mr. Greaves's, landlord of the Ship—at the station, when charged, he said "I don't suppose you think I broke into the warehouse, and I did not break that lid off that box to destroy the identity, that was done when in the public-house; we spoke to one or two; we stopped and got a bit tipsy, it dropped and got a bit broken off."
Cross-examined. I made no note of what was said—the prisoner did not also say that the other man offered them to Mr. Greaves, who refused
to buy them—if that is in my deposition he did say it—Mr. Greaves was called at the Mansion House—he keeps two public-houses in Anthony Street—I have made inquiries about the prisoner—I forget the address he gave, it was correct; I have been in the neighbourhood.
JOHN GREEN . I keep the Ship public-house, Anthony Street, Commercial Road—on Thursday, 19th March, the prisoner was in my bar reading the newspaper, and a young man came in and offered some cigars for sale; he had two parcels with him, and in one were boxes of cigars—I had never seen him before—I told him I did not want to buy any—then the prisoner and the young man got into conversation, which I did not hear; they had several drinks together; I saw no dealing between them, and nothing done with the cigars—the prisoner was perfectly sober—I have known him four or five years; he is an occasional customer of mine—he is a dealer in general articles I believe—the prisoner left several boxes of cigars with me that day, and asked me if he might leave them there; they came from the young man's parcel.
The COURT considered that after this evidence the Jury could not convict the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
487. HANS SCHWARTZ (32) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Ganimie, and stealing a duster and other articles, after a previous conviction of felony at this Court in February, 1884.— Two Years' Hard labour.
489. JOHN SMALL (29) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Edmund Petty, with intent to steal therein, after a conviction of felony in May, 1883, in the name of Thomas Allen .— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
490. WALTER BONTON (19) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Harry Kite, with intent to steal therein, after a conviction of felony in March, 1884.— Two Years' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, April 22nd, 1885.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
492. GRORGE FREDERICK HELMORE (31) Feloniously and maliciously sending a letter to Sarah Alice Grierson, threatening to kill and murder her. Second Count, for uttering the letter well knowing the contents thereof.
MESSRS. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., and GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
SARAH ALICE GRIERSON . I first made the acquaintance of the prisoner in 1874—in August of that year he spoke to my little brothers on the sands at Margate as they were going to school—I was not there at the time, but I saw him next day on the Parade, and he spoke to me on several occasions after that while I was at Margate—I was then 15 years old—we returned to London to 4, Holland Villas Road—I then went to school at Holland College—the prisoner spoke to me on several occasions on my way from church and to school, saying it was his way to
business—my parents had come home from Margate with us, and had then gone to Scotland—when they returned I spoke to them about the prisoner, and after that I told him we knew nothing about him, and did not desire his acquaintance—it was some few months after that that I received the first letter—I can't say the date when it arrived—I received all the letters, and then gave them to my mother—I did not reply to any of them—in 1876 I wrote a letter to the prisoner at the request of his mother—in August, 1877, we were at Llandudno in Wales—my mother was not there in that year—several of my aunts were there—I was with the maids and nurses—I saw the prisoner there several times, and he spoke in a very violent manner, and afterwards sent a telegram apologising for his conduct—I don't remember the words he used, but I remember saying once that I did not want to have anything to do with him, and he knew it—he sent me letters by hand several times, unsealed—after my return from Llandudno I saw the prisoner again; he was always about, in front of the house at all times of the day, and followed us whenever we went anywhere—during the year 1878 I saw him frequently in town, nearly every day—in August, 1879, I was at Folkestone—the prisoner was there about a fortnight—he attempted to speak to me on different occasions, and was very violent in his manner—but I was always accompanied by some one—in the early part of 1880 my father took me to school near Paris—on 27th June the prisoner followed us to the English church there—I pointed him out to my governess, and we left the church before the end of the service, fearing there might be a disturbance—the prisoner followed us and asked our address, and spoke in such a violent manner that I was obliged to give him in charge to a gendarme—in March, 1881, we were at Torquay—we took a house there, standing in its own grounds—the prisoner followed us there—he accosted me there several times, and I was obliged to stay in the house two or three days to get out of his way—he used to come straight up to the drawing-room window, walking up the drive, and come and whistle under the windows late at night, and call out words which frightened the children and servants very much—I recollect, on one occasion, being in the dining-room with my mother, the prisoner passed in front of the window, and called out several things that I can't recollect, but finished by saying, "I will cripple your father, I will ruin the lives of the sons and daughters, even though I have to swing for it"—on one occasion, while I was out for a drive with my mother, the prisoner followed in a Hansom cab for a distance of seven miles, calling out all the way—in the autum of 1881 I was at Dinard, Brittany—in October, 1881, I was in town—the prisoner followed me and my French governess one day, and we were obliged to take a cab to avoid him—he ran and took hold of the sash of the window, and hung on to it so that the window could not be put up, and called out twice "I will do for you"—we were glad to get away from him—I gave evidence at Hammersmith Police-court about this, and he was bound over to keep the peace for six months and find two sureties of 500l. each, and in default of finding that he was sent to prison for that length of time—he came out of prison in the spring of 1882, and on the very afternoon that he was let out he came walking up and down in front of the house the same as before—in August 1882, I went from Southampton to Dinard with my mother and a lady friend—the prisoner went on the same steamer with
us to St. Malo—he sat beside us everywhere we sat, and at meal times in front of us, and he was so annoying that we had to go into the ladies' cabin and remain there—the rest of the family had gone before, with the exception of my father—he followed us up to the house, and took rooms at at an hotel close by, and was always walking up in front of the house, and followed us wherever we went, whether for walks or drives—an application was made by my mother to the police about it—on 14th August, while I was walking with my brother down towards the sands, my brother said the prisoner was coming behind, and I put up my parasol to screen myself; he ran after us, and said to me, "Alice, I will have your answer, 'Yes' or 'No'"—I said, "You know very well 'No'"—he then knocked up my parasol and put the muzzle of a pistol in my face—my brother knocked down the pistol, and the prisoner then dropped behind for a few paces; we walked on, and then met my eldest brother walking toward us, the prisoner ran up and said "I shan't stand it any longer"—my eldest brother held him while I and my younger brother returned to the house—at the time he presented the pistol he said "Then this shall play its little game"—the pistol was exactly like this (produced)—this letter and parcel (produced) I did not open, I did not see them till afterwards—my father had not arrived at the time the pistol was presented at me, he didn't arrive till the following day; my mother then told him what had occurred—we went from Dinard then to Normandy, and when we returned to town we saw as much of the prisoner as before—I have received several hundreds of letters from him, but have not answered one—this letter of 23rd July, 1884, was handed to me by mother, opened—the envelope is addressed "Miss Grierson;" I read it—this piece of newspaper extract was pinned to the letter as it is now—I don't remember having seen this letter of 16th Feb. 1885, until I saw it at the police-court. (MR. CHARLES SHELLY was here called and proved this letter to be in the handwriting of the prisoner, which was read as follows: "Darling Wife,—If you attempt to marry any one, or it you are seen with any one, you know what to expect. I love you and will marry you when you write to me; in the meantime watch intently my movements, which will continue as long as I have life. You will find your brothers and sisters will eventually curse your father. You know that every word you uttered in Court was false. You need not have the slightest fear of my marrying, I don't play with God or any one else. Your mother will no doubt remember what I said to her at St. Dinard, but now the other sex are added. A woman should not give a man encouragement and then inform her friends that she does not care two pins for him. I am afraid your religion is a mere show. I am yours till death. I shall not write again till I have one from you.")
Cross-examined. We lived at the same address as now when I was about nine years old—I did not know that the prisoner lived at 1, Addison Gardens South—I never saw him till I saw him at Margate, but I knew it after that—their house is about 20 houses from ours—I am the eldest of the family—the prisoner first spoke to my little brothers on their way to school, he had a little brother who went to the same school—we were at Margate about six weeks—the prisoner sent me a lot of presents, which were either burnt or done away with—we knew nothing about the prisoner's family until the police told my father about them—I did not know that his father was a coal merchant in a large way of business—I saw the prisoner in possession of my photograph which had
been taken away from an invalid gentleman; I told him to return it, and he did so—the first large present which came from the prisoner was a bird-cage and a canary—we thought it had come from a Mr. Leech, who had a great many of these birds, as there were no indications otherwise, and we hung it up in the nursery; but upon finding out it came from the prisoner we sent it back to him immediately—I was still going to school when I returned from Margate, and the prisoner walked to school with me on many occasions, saying it was his way to business—I never spoke to the prisoner about being displeased at a request that the letters should not be shown to my mother, I showed all the letters to my mother—I never spoke to him after the first letter was sent—in the early part of this matter, before he was bound over, he had not complained that my family were preventing his being my lover and after-husband—on every possible occasion I showed him that I did not wish his acquaintance in any way—when before Mr. Paget, the Magistrate, on the occasion of his being bound over, the prisoner denied emphatically using any words of threat—I had been made a ward in Chancery about a year then—from time to time proceedings were taken with my knowledge in Chancery before the Master of the Rolls, Sir George Jessel, to get the prisoner committed to prison again, twice I think, but he never'was sent to prison by Sir George Jessel—I believe in 1881 an application was made to one of the Judges to reduce the amount of recognisances that Mr. Paget had made, and the Judge would not interfere, and the prisoner was kept in prison for the six months—I never saw the prisoner's letters to me after he came out of prison; I supposed by his manner he wanted to make me his wife, he always professed the greatest possible regard for me in words—no legal proceedings were taken against him with regard to the incident at Dinard, we went to the British Consul—I did not see the letter of 19th February, 1885, before it was produced at the police-court by Mr. Grain, my mother never bothered me with the letters more than was necessary—I saw the letter of July 23rd, 1884, my mother showed it me at the time it was received.
Re-examined. I came of age in March, 1880—I was made a ward in Chancery about 1877 or 1878—may I make one correction in my statement?—my mother was at Llandudno in 1877, not in 1876.
JAMES GREIRSON" . I am the general manager of the Great Western Railway, and live at 4, Holland Villas Road—Alice Grierson is my daughter—my attention was first called to the prisoner about October, 1874, when my daughter made a complaint to her mother, and she repeated it to me in her presence—the first I saw of the prisoner was at the seaside at the end of July or beginning of August; I didn't know of his existence before then—after that I saw him frequently about the house—I did not arrive at Dinard until after the attack upon my daughter—I did not open any of the letters that have been produced here to-day; they were handed to me by my wife.
Cross-examined. On one occasion I went to the house in Elsham Road, where the prisoner's father was living—I never was in his house except on that occasion—I am not aware that the Helmore family were living at Addison Gardens South; I didn't know anything about the family.
Cross-examined. I received the parcel in January, 1884; a letter came with it, but I didn't open it; I afterwards read it—I was aware that the prisoner was living near to us in 1876, but I didn't know where.
MARGARET EMILY GRIERSON . I am the wife of Mr. Grierson—I handed the letter of 23rd July, 1884, to my daughter Alice, after having opened it, and also the letter of 16th February, 1885, but I did not hand that to her until the police proceedings—I received this letter (produced) when the parcel came, and opened it—it did not come with the parcel; it came separately through the post—it is the same date as the parcel. (MR. SHELLEY proved the handwriting of the prisoner in the letter and on the parcel. The letter, dated 23rd July, 1884, commenced "Dearest darling wife;" it contained references to some company he was trying to form, and concluded: "It is enough to make a man blow out his brains. I send you my revolver as I cannot trust myself with it." It enclosed a cutting from a newspaper giving an account of a girl murdered by her lover, who then had committed suicide.) When I was at Dinard in 1882 the prisoner came up and asked if he might speak to me, and would I introduce him to my daughter—he then said I had encouraged him to go there; that I had always given him the greatest encouragement, and that it was very wrong to treat him as we were doing; that we had ruined him and his family, and he would have his revenge, he didn't mind if he got 14 years or he swung for it, and he said that my daughter Alice should not have any one else; he would do for her first—my husband had not arrived then—he said he knew he was coming, and he would cripple him, or do for him.
Cross-examined. My second daughter was present when this conversation took place—it is quite a delusion of his that he had had any encouragement—two years elapsed after this, but he has persisted in it—before the pistol arrived stating he was likely to blow his brains out I did not make any note of the language he made use of; I repeated it to a lady friend, and to the British Consul.
WILLIAM WYLIE GRIERSON . I am a son of Mr. James Grierson—I was at Dinard with the family in August, 1882—I remember on one occasion when my sister was out walking with my brother, the prisoner following behind, I was coming from the shore, I saw him following her in an excited manner—I went across the road—I had a stick in my hand, I believe—he went up to my sister and pointed the muzzle of a pistol in her face—I knocked it up with my stick, and closed with him—there was a short scuffle, and my brother and sister left during the scuffle—the prisoner said, while this was taking place, "I will do for him, you know who, and I will finish your sister"—he threatened to throw vitriol in her face—on another occasion he followed us while we were out for a walk—we passed a French police-court and went in, and he at once made off, and while we were returning he saw us again and came up; I was with my sister Edith and a brother—he then threatened my father, and said he would throw vitriol in my sister's face.
Cross-examined. I did not go to Hammersmith Police-court—I did not make any note about the vitriol being mentioned; no proceedings were taken in England with reference to it—I knew the prisoner had returned to London—I was not examined at the police-court.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour, and to find sureties to keep the peace for twelve months after the expiration of his sentence.
CHARLES FRITSCH . I live at 6, Augustus Street, Regent's Park, and work at 4, Sedley Place—I had kept company with the prisoner before 3rd March—on 3rd March, about 8.20 p.m., I came to the street-door of 4, Sedley Place; I saw the prisoner on the opposite side of the road; I did not go over to her nor did she come to me—she threw some white stuff into my face from the other side of the street—it is about seven or eight yards across—she did not say anything—it went into my face and into the right eye—I was taken to a chemist's shop, and from there to the hospital—I did not see anything of the prisoner after she threw it—I don't know whether the prisoner wanted to speak to me.
Cross-examined. We were not living together, I went to visit you in your lodgings—I lived in Charlotte Street—you went to Manchester as a lady's maid—I made your acquaintance after you had been a month from Germany, you were then a dressmaker—you left that place to go to Manchester—I did not write to you there and say I could not exist without you—I only gave you 5s. during the whole course of our acquaintance, and a few small sums, I don't know how much—I am not aware that shortly before 17th Dec. you were without food for several days and had no means—I did not refuse to speak to you on that night—I do not think you threw the vitriol in at the door without knowing where it woul a effect; you aimed it at me.
HARRIET WILLINS . I live at 111, Newport Villas—I was in Sedley Place, Oxford Street, on this night—I saw the prisoner standing still right opposite to No. 4—Fritsch came to the door; she rushed towards him and threw some liquid in his face from a teacup which I saw in her hand—she then dropped the cup and ran away—he was standing in the doorway and she rushed towards him.
EDWARD WILLIAM PAUL . I am house surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital—on 3rd March, about 9 p.m., the prosecutor was brought there suffering from an extensive burn on his face—he remained there up to two days ago—I saw some stains on his clothes which were caused by sulphuric acid, and so were the burns on his face; the result has been that he has lost his right eye and part of his left, and his face is very much disfigured—water, if actually boiling at the time, might have caused those wounds on the face.
ALFRED ROUND (Police Sergeant E). About 8.45 on 3rd March the prisoner came to Tottenham Road Police-station and said "I have just thrown some vitriol over my sweetheart"—I said "Where?"—she said "4, Sedley Place"—I asked her if it was an accident—she said "No, I am three months with child, he has left me and given me no money"—all this took place in English—she was then detained and charged.
Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "All I can say is that I did not intend to use the stuff for him, but to end my miserable existence on the night in question. I had had no food for four days, and I wanted to speak to him and see if he would give me anything. When I found he would not come out of the house I threw the stuff inside the house at random, not knowing where it would take effect; it was not my intention
to throw it in his face and get him in such a bad state, I loved him too well."
The prisoner in her defence repeated through the Interpreter the same statement.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, April 22nd, 1885.
Before Mr. Recorder.
NOT GUILTY .
For the other cases tried this day, see Essex, Kent, and Surrey Cases.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, April 22nd, 1885.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted.
JAMES SWAN . I am a warehouseman, living at 11, Pinchin Street, St. George's—at 1.30 on the afternoon of 6th April I was in a urinal on Tower Hill; as I came out I was hustled round and round by four or five men, and my chain was broken and my watch was snatched—the thief ran away—I tried to get after the men who got; it, and the prisoner held me back by the coat—the prisoner ran after the gang, and when next I saw him he was in custody—this is my watch—it is a silver one, an old family relic, worth about 10s.
By the COURT. I lost my watch inside the urinal—I had not been drinking; I was coming out, but had not got into the street.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am quite certain that you are the man that held me back by the coat; I saw you run out the other way afterwards—I said at the police court I would not swear you hustled me—I would swear you were one that caught me by the coat and hustled me.
CHARLES JOHN UTLEY . I am a housekeeper's assistant at 11, Circus Road, Minories—on 6th April I was standing this urinal on Tower Hill, when I heard a cry of stop thief; I ✗urned my head and saw somebody running out of the urinal, which has two entrances, and contains six places, but ten men could stand in it—I gave chase, and ran through the courts into the Minories—the prisoner was ahead of me, and another one before him—I ran round the back of Vine Street and saw something passed to the prisoner by another man that was ahead of him, but I could not swear it was a watch—I heard nothing said, I was a good way off—I did not see this man run out of the urinal, because I ran the reverse way—I gave chase down Goodman's Yard, and saw the prisoner try to throw something away, as if he had something he wanted to get rid of—I did not know what it was—when I got to Goodman's Yard I saw a City policeman, and he gave chase too; then we ran through the arches in Chambers Street, and then I was fagged out—in the courts the prisoner said "Get away, get away" or "Keep away,
keep away"—I thought he was one of the crowd giving chase after the other one, till I saw something passed.
JAMES FOWLER . I am a van boy, and live at 21, Split Street, St. George's—I was running about in Emmott Street, near Tower Hill and the Minories, on the afternoon of 6th April, playing rounders—I heard some girls calling out "Stop thief"—I turned round and saw a man running and the prisoner running after him through Crown and Shears Court into the Minories—the other man turned back when he saw two private policemen coming towards him, and handed the watch to the prisoner—I saw it—that other man then ran up Vine Street—the prisoner ran round the Blue Anchor public-house yard, Royal Mint Street—I afterwards picked up the watch (before they caught him) at the top of the Blue Anchor yard, outside the house—the prisoner had run by there—I came down the Blue Anchor yard, saw a policeman, and gave it to him.
Cross-examined. The policeman had hold of your arm when I picked the watch up.
CHRISTOPHER FAGAN (Policeman H 260). On the afternoon of 6th April I was on duty in Royal Mint Street—I saw the prisoner run down there with a crowd after him crying "Stop him"—I was standing in Currant Street, which runs into Royal Mint Street, and I ran in the opposite direction—the prisoner ran into my arms—he broke away from me and ran about two yards, when I caught him again and held him for about two minutes, when the last witness came up and handed the watch to the City officer and said "I picked it up at the Blue Anchor public-house"—the prisoner said nothing—on the way to the station he looked round when he got under a dark archway called Swallow Gardens, and nodded his head to a number of people there and said "Come on"—the City officer was knocked to the ground—I held the prisoner very tightly till he got up again, and I drew my truncheon and told him if he resisted his lawful apprehension I should use the truncheon; he came quietly then—at the station when the charge was taken he said to the prosecutor "You have made a mistake"—the prosecutor came to the station afterwards of his own accord; we did not know till then who had lost the watch.
WILLIAM RAWLINGS (Policeman 738). On the afternoon of 6th April I was on duty in Goodman's Yard—the prisoner came running down; he got some few yards past me; I heard shouts of "Stop thief;" I went after him to the end of Goodman's Yard, round Chambers Street, into Swallow Gardens, and across Mint Street, when he was brought back by the last witness—he was taken to the station—the boy Fowler gave me the watch.
By the COURT. The prisoner must have come nearly a quarter of a mile; he had to come a long way round to where he dropped the watch.
Witness for the Defence.
ELIZA ROSS . I am a servant, living at 26, Prince's Square—I was walking with the prisoner on Tower Hill when we heard a cry of "Stop thief," and he ran to see what was the matter, and I saw no more of him till he was in the hands of the police.
Cross-examined. He did not go into the urinal while he was with me.
GUILTY of receiving. †— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, April 23rd, 1885.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. KEITH
JOHN SMITH (Policeman E). On 12th March, at 4 a.m., I was on duty at Kingland Road station, and the prisoner came up and said, "I wish to give myself up for setting fire to a shop, 122, Tottenham Court Road, two or three years ago. I am not drunk, mad, or dotty."
Cross-examined. I did not notice his breath; he may have been drinking for what I know.
ALEXANDER MCDONALD (Police Inspector E). Smith brought the prisoner into the station, and said "This prisoner has given himself up for setting fire to the premises 122, Tottenham Court Road, in the possession of Mr. Powlesland"—he made a statement, which I took down, and he signed it—this is it, he was perfectly sober, I did not smell him of anything. (Read: "12th March, 1885. I beg to report that at 4 a.m. Lewis Parks, Levy's Lodging-house, Camberwell came to Tottenham Court Road station, and made the following statement:—About Boxing Day, four years ago, I was in the employ of Mr. J. Powlesland, 121—✗2, Tottenham Court Road, as porter. At 10 a.m. I lit the gas in the basement, and instead of extinguishing the paper I lit the gas with, I wilfully threw it over the door into the adjoining room, where there was a quantity of waste paper, which became ignited, and caused this room and contents, consisting of waste paper and empty packing boxes, to be burned out. On the room becoming ignited I went and told Emma Jardine, the cook, that the place was on fire. I then went to the Fire Brigade box in Tottenham Court Road and gave an alarm. I did this because Mr. Powlesland refused to give me a Christmas box. Mr. Powlesland said that if I had set the place on fire, which appeared very much like it, it would always be a torment to me, or something to that effect. I now give myself up because I can get nothing to do.—Lewis Parks."
Cross-examined. I wrote that myself from his own statement, taking his own words—I gave his version of it—I wrote words to the same effect, and read it over to him, and he was satisfied—I have been an inspector for a considerable number of years—I have not known persons suffering from delirium tremens come and make statements, but I have heard of it—I have made inquiries; he says that he is very poor and destitute, and I believe that to be true.
Re-examined. I have tried to find Emma Jardine, but cannot trace her.
HERBERT POWLESLAND . I assist my father, John Powlesland, at 121 and 122, Tottenham Court Road—the prisoner was in my father's service as porter from April, 1881—my father gave him notice to leave—on 1st January, 1882, about 10 o'clock in the morning, I was up in my bedroom—I came downstairs and found the fire burning in the warehouse in the basement—the warehouse where the fire took place is connected with the adjoining house by a door in the wall—the fire took place in 121; I slept in 122—the prisoner used to clean the boots in the basement, there is a gas-light there—it is a very dark place—the distance from the gas-light to the
doorway is about three feet—in the basement there was no waste paper or any combustible matter, but in the adjoining warehouse there was a lot of old boxes and waste paper—the condition of the doorway between the two places was imperfect—there was an opening at the top—any one from the basement could easily throw a light over that place into the adjoining warehouse—the space over the door is from ten inches to a foot high—the police were sent for, and ultimately the fire was put out—damage was done to the building and stock to the amount of 500l.—it burnt the top rafters and staircase of the warehouse and the door adjoining the warehoue—directly after the fire was put out I heard the police examining the prisoner; the police inspector present asked him if he had set it on fire—I am not quite sure about the answer the prisoner gave, but he denied doing it wilfully, I think.
Cross-examined. He was not, to my knowledge, given to drink, three years ago—I don't know what he has been doing the last three and a half years—this conversation took place in the presence of the inspector of police, the fire-engine superintendent, and my father and myself—he was closely questioned about it, and denied all knowledge of setting fire to the place wilfully—no charge was made against him at the time either by myself or my father.
JOHN POWLESLAND . I am a hosier, carrying on business at 121-2, Tottenham Court Road—the prisoner entered my employment as porter on April 11th, 1881, and I gave him notice to leave on 25th December of that year—it was a weekly notice, which would expire on the 31st—he asked my permission to remain over-night on 31st December, as he had nowhere to go, which I gave him—it was part of his duty to clean the boots—in the basement there is a door between that place and the ware-house where the fire took place—it is an ordinary door with a space at the top from nine inches to a foot high—it is possible to throw lighted paper from the basement over to where the fire took place—on the other side of the door there was a quantity of loose paper which was sold at intervals—the prisoner would have part of the proceeds of that sale—I was in the habit of giving Christmas boxes to my people—I cannot say whether I gave the prisoner one—he was only with me nine months—he came to me on Sunday morning and asked for the shop key, as the place was on fire—I went down into the basement—I found my son there—the door was open, I think, to the extent of a foot—it is always kept shut—I was in the warehouse the night before, if the door had been opened then I should have noticed it—I can't say positively whether I noticed it—the fire was extinguished in half an hour—I saw the prisoner after and asked him to remain—I did not say why—he made no reply—he left on 2nd January, about 1 o'clock—after the inspector of the insurance company had been, I told him he could go—the damage done was about 500l.—I think the prisoner fetched the fire-engine.
Cross-examined. There was no paper where the prisoner cleaned the boots—he said it was an accident, that he lit the gas with a piece of paper, and threw it down and put his foot on it—it could have been thrown through the door—the gas bracket is in the middle of the room—I am not positive whether the prisoner smoked—I made no charge against him at the time, but I suspected him—I do not know that he has for this three years and a half been wandering about destitute and penniless—he wrote to me on one occasion for a reference—he gave me his address and I communicated with him—I did not see him after that—
I am not sure whether he went for the fire-engine—I said at the police-court, "I believe the prisoner went for a fire-engine"—I believe so now—he made no complaint to me about a Christmas-box—I did not have any dispute with him, my manager did—I have no recollection of the prisoner saying anything particular when I gave him notice—he showed no animosity.
Re-examined. I gave some of the others Christmas-boxes, but in consequence of his having been with me so short a time, probably I did not give him one.
By the COURT. The height of the door from the ground is about seven feet, I should say—the flooring of the basement is ordinary slab, York stone.
WILLIAM COX . I was formerly inspector of police at Tottenham Court Road Station—on 1st January, shortly after 10 o'clock, I received information of this fire, and at once went to Mr. Powlesland's premises—the son let me in—the smoke was coming out at the basement, and I immediately sent for the fire-engine—shortly after its arrival the fire was put out—I then asked the prisoner if he could account for the fire—he said, "No, sir"—I told him that the fire was evidently of recent origin—he said, "No, sir, unless it was in lighting the gas bracket to get a light to clean the boots with, and throwing the paper down afterwards"—it was all done in an hour and a quarter.
JOHN GOODING . I am engineer of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade at the station at 10, Portland Road—about half-past 10 on 1st January a messenger arrived from the station in Tottenham Court Road—I went to Mr. Powlesland's with an engine and some men—I found the back kitchen basement used as stores well alight—it was eventually extinguished—I went into the warehouse after the fire, and found it completely burnt out and severely damaged by fire—there was a gas bracket alight in the warehouse adjoining, but no signs at all of fire there—the two ware-houses were divided by a wall and a door—from what I saw I should say the fire originated in the smaller warehouse—after the fire was extinguished I asked the prisoner if he knew anything about the fire—he said he had lit the gas with a piece of paper and put it down and stamped on it—considerable damage was done—the prisoner was not the man that called the fire-engine—I have the receipt here for the shilling.
Cross-examined. I cannot personally say whether the prisoner was the man or not.
JAMES BARRETT . I am a member of the Salvage Corps stationed at the Tottenham Court Road station—I went to this fire and remained on these premises for 11 days—after the fire I went down into the basement, and saw the door which divided the two warehouses—I saw the prisoner and asked him if he could give any account of the fire—he said "No"—I asked him who found the fire first—he said he did—I then asked him what he did then—he said he went upstairs and told Mr. Powlesland, and then came downstairs again and went to the moveable station in Tottenham Court Road and gave the alarm.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I contradict everything I said. When the place was on fire I did all I could to put it out."
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, April 24th and 25th, 1885.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and GOODRICH Prosecuted.
SIR WILLIAM GRENVILLE WILLIAMS, BART . I live on my estate in Flintshire—when I was about 19 I formed the prisoner's acquaintance, and saw her from time to time for some years—in June, 1874, I paid her 60l. through my solicitors, and she signed this deed—I did not see her from that time until I saw her at the police-court—on 16th September, 1884, I married at Hanover Square Miss Eleanor Harriet Hurt Sitwell, 20 years of age, the daughter of a country gentleman—a notice of our marriage appeared in some of the newspapers—after our marriage I began to receive letters from the prisoner—the first on September 22nd is in her writing—I took no notice of that, nor of another letter which I received in October—I received these post-cards of 2nd and 10th March, 1885, which are in her writing—she wrote to my wife's mother; I saw the letter—I got my solicitor to write to her—the annoyance continued, and I took out a summons at the police-court—while that was pending I received two post-cards and a letter of the same character in her writing—my object is simply to be protected from this annoyance for the future.
(These letters and post-cards were of a very coarse nature, making improper allusions to the prosecutor's wife.)
The Prisoner. I wrote one or two letters because I was in a passion through jealousy.
GUILTY . Upon her solemnly promising not to write any more letters, she was discharged on her own recognisance in 50l. to come up for judgment when called upon.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. GRAINGER
ELIZABETH SUTTON . My husband is a baker—we live at 2, Second Avenue, Victoria Road, Leytonstone—the prisoner is my niece—she was delivered of an illegitimate child at Romford on 17th June, which was christened Louisa Emma—this (produced) is the certificate of its birth—she placed it in my care when it was about 11 months old—the at first paid me 4s. a week for it, and then she was unable to pay that any longer, and in September, 1884, she began to pay me 1s. a week—she was not in service when she placed it with me, she was living at Chalk Farm—she afterwards went into the service of Mr. Waller at Romford, and in March, 1885, she was at Stoke Newington in service—while she was at Romford she came to see the child about four times—she owes me now 3 l. 4 s. 6 d. for the child's keep—she came to see me five or six weeks before 8th March, and told me she was out of a situation and at home with her mother at Romford—I had, or imagined I had, some cause of complaint against her and told her she must take the child away—she said "Give me the child's clothes and I will take her away at once, I can soon find a home for my child"—I dressed it, but did not give her
its clothes, because she said she was going to take it to a party, and would bring it back on the Tuesday following—she took it away and brought it back on the Tuesday morning—while the child was away I wrote to her at her mother's and told her to keep the child and not bring it back—when she brought it on the Tuesday I said "Why! have you not had my letter?"—she said "No"—I said "I wrote to you on Sunday night, it was posted on Sunday night, and you ought to have had it on Monday morning"—I told her my health was bad and I could not be troubled with baby, and on account of what I had seen, and did not like, she had better take her away—I had some family articles, and I told her she could not have them till she paid me what she owed—she asked me the way to Stoke Newington, as she was going to a situation there—she left the child and said she would come back; she came back the same evening, but did not take the child away—on Monday, March 2nd, I received this letter from her—it is in her writing: "Dear Aunt, Just a line to say will you get Cis's things ready in a parcel for me on Monday afternoon, and bring it, as I shall not have much time, I want to go home, and my umbrella please. MISS Salmons." The part torn off was blank—on Thursday in the same week I received this letter by post, it is in the prisoner's writing: "Dear Aunt,—Will you be as kind enough to bring Cis down to the station, as I shall not have much time, if you are not able to come perhaps Uncle will not mind to bring her. I would come myself only I have not time, and our people are going away. I want to go home, and I have to be back by seven, and I will pay you up in a fortnight's time, without fail, and will come. Please tell me what I owe you, and you shall have it. I shall start from London at 4, and get to Stratford about 4.30. Do bring her, please be as kind. Yours, E. Salmons."—On the following Sunday, March 8th, the prisoner came to my house, about 5 p.m., and I said "I suppose you have come for Cissy"—I at once got the child's clothes on; she wore a Mother Hubbard satin bonnet, a black diagonal dolman jacket, woollen, a blue diagonal jacket trimmed with black braid, a woollen black and magenta plaid frock, a violet under-frock, a white knitted petticoat, and a white flannel petticoat (produced)—these are the clothes—that was the last time I dressed the baby—I also packed a quantity of other clothes belonging to her in a thin old shawl of mine, and handed the bundle and the child to the prisoner—the child was then in perfect health, and she left my place about 5.30—as she left I said "I hope you have got a good home for the child, she has had a good one here;" she made no reply—I said "Have you brought me any money?" she said "I have got none now; I told you in my letter I was going to pay you in a fortnight"—I never saw the child again—before I had the child, on the 11th September, I received these two letters. (These were from the prisoner to the witness and contained the following expressions: "I do hope they will soon be taking me away, for I think it will send me out of my mind"—"I had better have Cis home, for I shall never be able to pay you"—"I have spoken to mother about Cis, and she says that you could have her")—I think this letter marked E is in the prisoner's writing.
EMMA SALMONS . I am a widow, and live in Richmond Street, Romford—the prisoner is my daughter, and is unmarried—she was 20 last June—on Sunday, 8th March, about 6.30, she came to my house with her child, which was dressed in these clothes produced; she had written to say that she was coming—she also brought a bundle containing child's
clothing of mine which had belonged to my child—she left by the 8 o'clock train from Romford with the child—she had brought it from her aunt's—she said that she had another home to take it to, but did not say where, but she would bring me the address next time she came—I knew that she was in a situation in Seven Sisters' Road—I went with her part of the way to the station to catch the 8 o'clock train, but could not walk all the way—she carried the child; it could have walked, but she had to hurry for the train—she did not say what station she was going to from Romford—the child appeared quite well—the bundle of clothing was left behind—on the next Wednesday she came again between 5 and 6 p.m.—I asked her where she had left the child, and if she had left it all right—she said, "I will tell you better directly when I come in again," as we were going to a public-house to have a drink of beer with my brother—before we went there I asked her if we could see the child—she said, "Oh yes, at any time, but I will tell you all the particulars when I come in"—she said that the child's home was close to her mistress's, who was going to provide for it—while we were at the public-house the police were inquiring which house I lived in, and I rushed home to see what they wanted, and the prisoner followed me—I saw the police at the top of the street, and said, "Oh, Eliza, the police are inquiring for me"—she went to see what they wanted, and the next time I saw her she was in custody, and Inspector Glass took away the clothing from my house—I next saw the child dead in the Mortuary at Stoke Newington on Thursday morning.
Cross-examined. My daughter was not in place last Angus; she was at home nursing me, as I was very ill in bed—she has been a very good girl to me, and was of a very kind disposition—I never saw her out of temper—when she was only nine years old she had to take charge of my little boy when I went to work, and did so up to the time she was able to go to service—there was nothing to prevent her leaving the child at my house; I would have received it—I have said many times that Mrs. Sutton ought to keep the child, because she has no children—Mr. and Mrs. Blewick were her master and mistress; she got that situation through Mr. Glamming, a Magistrate—she was very kind indeed to her child, and every time she had an opportunity she used to fetch, it down for a treat, and she fetched it down to ladies where I work, to show it—I said that Mrs. Sutton ought to keep it because I brought her up for 3s. 6d. a week from the time she was four years old, when her mother died, till she was 10—I noticed nothing peculiar about my daughter on 8th March—she and the child had tea—she was in her usual spirits, and was putting down the list of clothes which her aunt had kept back—I knew that she had a lover at that time, but she had not gone into any particulars.
HENRY MANETT . I am a time keeper in the service of the Great Eastern Railway—on Sunday, 8th March, I was on duty at Bethnal Green Junction—I find on reference to my train record book that the train which left Romford at 8 o'clock that evening arrived at Bethnal Green Station at 8.35, and left for Liverpool Street at 8.38—a passenger from Romford for Stamford Hill or Stoke Newington would change trains at Bethnal Green Junction, and leave at 9.2.
Great Eastern Railway—I was on duty on Sunday, 8th March, and produce my train record book—the train left Bethnal Green Station at 9.2, and arrived at Stamford Hill at 9.18.
Cross-examined. The platform at Stamford Hill Station is very long, and there are, I dare say, 30 steps up to the road; I will not say that there are not 50—my signal-box is at the farther end of the station—I do not enter the time till the train comes to a standstill—the tickets are taken after you go up the steps and along a passage—the train was pretty full, but not crowded.
EMILY JUDD . I am in the service of Mrs. Blewitt, of 6, Northampton Villas, Seven Sisters Road, Stoke Newington—the prisoner has been her cook since 27th January—on Sunday, 8th March, she went out at 3.45 p.m., and returned at 9.45—her time to return was 10 o'clock—I let her in at the back door—she had no child or parcel, but I think she had an umbrella—I said, "You are early"—she said that she had been to Stratford and Romford—I said, "What, been to Romford, and going again on Wednesday?"—she said "Yes"—I fix the time because the dining-room bell rang for prayers at 10 o'clock, and it was a quarter of an hour before that—she attended prayers as a rule, but not that night; the servants who have been out on leave do not do so—she slept in the same bed with me that night, and I noticed nothing at all unusual about her—she attended to her duties next day and until Wednesday, when she went out for a half-holiday about 3.15, and I did not see her again—I pointed out to the police two boxes of clothes in her room, and they took them on Thursday—I did not know that she had a child.
Cross-examined. She did not look as if she had been walking very fast—she was very cheerful, kind, and amiable while she was there—before she went out on the Sunday she told me that she was going to Romford on the Wednesday, that is what made me say it.
SOPHIA MARY BLEWITT . I am the wife of Edward Blewitt, of 6, Northampton Villas, Seven Sisters Road—the prisoner entered our service on 27th January—Sunday, 8th March, was her Sunday out, and she went out at 3.45—I did not see her that evening, but I heard the area bell ring about a quarter to 10—we had prayers as usual at 10 o'clock, but we do not insist on servants who have been out, coming in to prayers—I said "Good-night," and somebody who I believe to be the prisoner answered me—on the following Wednesday afternoon, 11th March, she went out—I did not know that she had a child, and never undertook to provide a home for it.
Cross-examined. She had 15l. a year wages—I paid her the first month on 27 th February—her conduct was quite satisfactory—she had a very bright disposition, and was very good-tempered—I have four daughters, the youngest is between 2 and 3, and she was always very kind to them, and seemed fond of them, but she had not much to do with them.
CHARLES BLAKE . I am a gratesman in the service of the New River Company, and live at Reservoir Cottage, Lordship Road, Stoke Newington—I examine the gratings across the river, and keep them clear—they are stretched across the river to prevent things going into the reservoir (Pointing to a plan)—this is the Woodberry Down Bridge, and further on is the Seven Sisters Road Bridge, also over the New River—the water flows from the bridge through the grating to the reservoir—on Monday, 9th March, at 6.15 a.m., I went to examine the grating, and
on the side of it towards the bridge I found the body of a female child between 3 and 4 years old, I think—it was quite cold, and on the top of the water, so that I could see it—the grating had stopped it from flowing down into the reservoir—the water there is about 5 feet 6 1/2 inches deep, and the depth at Woodberry Road Bridge is between 4 and 5 feet, and a little deeper in Seven Sisters Road—I took the child out, put it in a shed adjoining, and sent for the police—Percival came and Dr. Duncan—Percival took charge of the body—I had examined the grating on Sunday night at 10 o'clock, and the body was not there then; I felt down to the bottom with a rake, and nothing was there.
Cross-examined. The river runs two or two and a-half miles an hour—when you get on the Woodberry Down Bridge coming near Amhurst Park Road there is nothing between the river and the road on the left-hand side—there is a piece of waste ground on that side with no fence between it and the river—they are building houses there, except at one corner—the road is on a little embankment and slopes down on both sides, but the waste land is flat—it is between 10 and 11 yards down one slope to the river, and I do not think it is much less than 12 yards in the extreme corner.
By the COURT. There are railings about 4 feet high on both sides of Woodberry Bridge, but they are not continued—there is a brick wall on the right side and a piece of waste ground on the other and a row of houses—there is no fence at all after you get over the bridge.
By MR. GRAINGER. Woodberry Bridge is one single arch—the channel there is 6 or 7 feet deep, but it gets to only 4 or 5 feet against Woodberry Down Bridge—I should say that the child would be half an hour passing from Seven Sisters Road to the grating, provided it floated on the top—the pace of the stream depends upon what we are pumping down the country, but it has never run more than 2 1/2 miles an hour, because it has been tested—taking the distance at 295 yards from Seven Sisters Road to the grating, the body could not have gone down in under 10 minutes, because cause it is all curves—there is not a straight bit of river in it, and when a river is bent, anything floating is liable to get caught against the sides—assuming that the body did not get caught anywhere, I will swear that it would about get down in 10 minutes—if put in at Woodberry Down Bridge it would take half an hour provided the river was straight—I will not say anything about the curves—I noticed nothing on the child's clothes—I have seen different things come down the stream before, and I go by that.
By the COURT. At Seven Sisters Bridge there is no fence by the water, but gentlemen's gardens run down on one side—there is a brick wall on both sides of the bridge—the parapet is between 4 and 5 feet high, and on both sides of the bridge there are gentlemen's places between the road and the river, and you cannot get from the road to the river—there are houses on both sides before you get to the bridge and you cross the road, and there are houses on both sides again—there is another grating about three-quarters of a mile above Woodberry Bridge.
WILLIAM PERCEVAL (Policeman Y 616). On Monday morning, 9th March, about 7 o'clock, Blake came to me and took me to the shed near to the grating of Woodberry Bridge, where a fully-dressed female child was lying dead—I sent for the doctor and afterwards took the child to Stoke Newington Mortuary—I examined the clothing to see
if there were any marks or name on it—I could find nothing to identify it by—I made inquiries, and the child was afterwards traced.
ROBERT CANNON . I live at 2, The Avenue, Leytonstone—I knew the dead child when it was alive, and I knew its clothing—I saw the body at the Mortuary—it was the same child I had known as the prisoner's.
THOMAS GLASS (Police Inspector N). At half-past 10 p.m. on 11th March I went to Romford Police-station, where I found the prisoner detained by the Essex Constabulary according to my direction—I told her that I should arrest her on a charge of killing her illegitimate female child by drowning it in the New River at Woodberry Down, Stoke Newington—she said, I did not kill it"—she made no further statement till at Stoke Newington Police-station—I read over the charge to her, of killing her illegitimate female child by drowning her in the New River on 8th March—she replied, "It was not the 8th"—I saw the prisoner turn her pockets out at the station—she produced a purse, in which I found 3s. 2 1/2 d., three railway tickets, one a return half of a third-class from Romford to Maryland Point, which is practically Stratford, dated 8th March, 1885—the others are third-class tickets of 11th March from Romford to Betknall Green, the return half, and Bethnal Green to Stamford Hill—I cautioned the prisoner in the usual way, and said "You have three railway tickets"—she said "I took a return-ticket from Maryland Point to Romford and back, and on my arrival at Bethnal Green my return-ticket from Stamford Hill to Stratford was available"—she was wearing a gold watch—I made this plan on the scale of 12 inches to the mile; it is correct—I have plumbed the river at the grating where the body was found—the depth is 5 feet 6 1/2 inches—the grating is composed of iron bars about an inch square, sunk into the river, and about 9 feet 6 inches—the stream flows from the direction of Seven Sisters Road down towards the grating; the parapet of the bridge in Seven Sisters, Road is 4 feet above the path at one end, and 3 feet 8 inches the other—2 feet 10 inches is its mean height—the next bridge at Woodberry Down has a parapet 3 feet 2 inches high; it is an iron railings bridge—I sent this telegram in Sergeant Sherlock's name—I was present when the prisoner's box was searched—among other things was fouud this letter—there was no money in the box—the money taken from her was 3s. 2d. (The letter, which was in pencil, to was as follows: "Dear Mr. Foster,—I am very sorry that I did not meet you this evening, but when I got home I had some bad news that my mind was taken up with, so I forgot all about till 3.30. Dear Mr. Foster, I have sent the bottle, and will you give me some more, and the boy will call for it when he comes back from dinner. I will promise you this, that I will meet you on Wednesday evening, the 8th, at the same place; and I will not go home, so I will be sure and be there, and then I will tell you the reason. I cannot tell you how sorry I am not to meet you. I felt I could not go to bed till I wrote this to you. I hope you will send me something that will do me good, for it made me feel so sick, and as soon as I get my meals down I begin sicking and fetch them up. I have not had anything stop down only Saturday and to-day. So send me something that will do me good, for they make me feel quite ill. I wish you will write me a line to tell me what your mind is on, if you are going to make me your wife, if I keep up and straight and forward towards you. I do not know if you are loving me for a blind while you are
down here, and then when you get to London you won't think any more for poor Eliza. I am, your trusting friend, MISS SALMON.")
Cross-examined. The breadth of the coping-stone of the parapet is 1 foot 10 inches—I know the neighbourhood well-there are not houses on each side of the road up to Northampton Villas—at the junction of Bethune Street and Amhurst Park Road there is a small space with no houses—with that exception there are houses the whole way down on each side of the bridge—there is one house in the angle between the junction of the Bethune and Amhurst Park Roads and the Seven Sisters Road bridge; between that angle and the bridge there is a wooden fence with iron spikes on the top-it has a gateway at the end, which is kept locked—practically the river is fenced from the road—there is a lamppost at the junction of the Seven Sisters Road and the Amhurst Park Road where the bridge is; it is almost opposite the bridge—I cannot say that this is a thickly populated neighbourhood—it is thickly populated more towards the north of the Seven Sisters Road toward, Tottenham, but in the immediate neighbourhood it is rather sparsely populated; it is a new neighbourhood—it is old enough to have steam rollers and watering carts—some of the roads are not built yet, and I have seen many of the roads made within the last four or five years—that road is not frequented by large numbers of people on Sunday evenings—I have not seen large traffic at Stamford Hill Station—I have kept observation to test it on three Sunday evenings—I have not seen a large amount of traffic—the tickets include the return ones she would have gone by on the 11th.
STEPHEN PETERS (Policeman in the Essex Constabulary stationed in Romford). About 7 o'clock p.m. on Wednesday 11th March, the prisoner came my house in Richmond Street, Romford—I had previously made inquiries for her, but she came of her own accord her young brother was with her—she asked what the police wanted of her or her mother—I told her it was not her mother but herself that Inspector Cooper wanted to see—she asked me what the inspector wanted to see her for—I told her that I did not know, he wanted to see her very particularly—the prisoner said "Perhaps he wants to give me a night or two in the lock-up or perhaps he has some fresh work for me, I shall want a new place soon" she then said she had an appointment in the town at 7 o'clock that night, that she would go and get some tea and would go into the town and would call at the station to see what Inspector Cooper wanted with her—I volunteered to go with her to the station—she said "No, I will go by myself," and she left-I afterwards saw her at the police-station—I said "You are here first"—she said "Yes"—I spoke to Insoector Cooper—he said to her in my presence "Are you Eliza Salmons?"—she said "Yes"—he took this telegram out and said "I have a telegram here from Inspector Glass, of Stoke Newington, to apprehend you for the murder of your child"—he read it to her—the telegram was to the inspector on duty at the police-station, Romford: "Please inquire quietly if Eliza Salmons is at her mother's, Richmond Street, Romford; if so, arrest her for killing her child; wire when and an officer will be sent"—the prisoner said "I dont live at Stoke Newington"—she was detained-Inspector Glass arrived afterwards, and he took her up.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner before—she seemed very jocular that night, she said about the night or two in the lock-up in a
joking tone; I took it that she was joking, she seeme in good spirits up to the time of my meeting her at the police-station door—she appeared dazed when the inspector read her the telegram; all she said was, "I don't live at Stoke Newington."
ALEXANDER GEORGE DUNCAN , M.B. I am a Master of Surgery and Licentiate R.C.P.—I practise at Stamford Hill—on Monday, 9th March, about half-past 7 o'clock a.m., I was called to the shed near the Woodberry Down Bridge of the New River—there the dead body of a female child was shown to me by Percival; it was fully dressed, the clothing was wet, the body was quite cold—I formed an opinion that it had been dead between six and ten hours, it was afterwards removed to the mortuary—I made a post-mortem examination on Wednesday, the 11th, with the assistance of Dr. Burns; it was the body of a well-formed, healthy, well-nourished, strong child; all the organs were healthy, there were no signs of disease, in my judgment the cause of death was drowning—part of the thighs and legs were in a state of what is commonly called goose skin—that is a sign that the body was put in the water before it was dead, the sudden cold would produce it—I am absolutely certain the cause of death was drowning—there was some partly digested food in the stomach and there was some food in the windpipe, showing that the child must have vomited after it was in the water.
By the COURT. We think that goose flesh is a symptom of drowning because we see it in drowned persons, but it would be caused by the application of any particularly cold substance before death.
Cross-examined. There were no marks of violence on the child's body, no bruises or abrasions, there were no marks but the post-mortem marks—the child must have fallen into the water—the bodies of young children if stout and well-nourished float with the greatest ease; this was a well-nourished child—a child with female's clothes on has less chance of sinking—a child like this, stout, and with female's clothing, would have very little chance of sinking—there were no marks on the fingers or hands at all, the hands were simply clenched—if the child had come in contact with the bottom during life it would have had marks on its hands, drowning people always clutch—if the child had floated down some little distance there would not necessarily have been, screams with a child of that age put into cold water; there is a great deal of shock to the general system, there might be screams but might not—if the child had been thrown from Seven Sisters Bridge I should not necessarily have expected it to scream before it got to the water—a person would have to exert most considerable force to throw a child over that bridge, the person could not have stretched over the parapet to drop the child into the water—if a strong healthy child of that age was thrown over I should not have expected that it would scream when it fell, their breath is taken away by throwing them up, they don't scream till they fall—I left the body in the little shed just as I found it, without undressing it; I had an opportunity of seeing the clothes, I examined them—I undid the shawl; they are now in the condition in which they were then, there were no marks on them, no mud and no weeds.
Re-examined. I do not say that I do not think the prisoner would be able to stretch over the parapet and drop the child in, but it would be very uncomfortable, because the parapet is about four feet high and two feet wide perhaps—by taking hold of the clothes and leaning over she could drop the child over.
By the COURT. It would be a very simple matter indeed to stand the child on the parapet and then push it over.
WILLIAM WARNE (Police Sergeant). I have carefully measured from the centre of the platform of the Stamford Hill Station to the centre of the bridge over the New River in Seven Sisters Road; it is 880 yards—I measured down the steps and along the road to the centre of the bridge—from the centre of the bridge to No. 6, Northampton Villas, is 294 yards—I have walked that distance—it took me nine and a half minutes' ordinary walking from the station to the bridge, and six and a half minutes from the bridge to Northampton Villas—from the station to Woodberry Down Bridge is 817 yards, and from there to the house where the prisoner was in service is 788 yards; that was going over Woodberry Road into Lordship Road—it would be quicker to turn back and get into the Amhurst Road; if you went that way it would be 1488 yards from Stamford Hill Railway Station to Woodberry Down Bridge back through Amhurst Park to Northampton Villas—from Seven Sisters Road Bridge, measuring from the side of the bridge along the bank to the grating, is 295 yards, and from Woodberry Bridge to the grating is 42 yards.
Cross-examined. I did not mention before the Magistrate that I measured from the middle of the platform, because I was not asked; I gave my own distance.
INSPECTOR GLASS (Re-examined). From the top of the parapet of the Seven Sisters Road Bridge to the water is 8 feet 6 inches; the parapet is a stone coping 1 foot 10 inches wide; the parapet from the pavement is 3 feet 10 inches in the centre—from the top of the Woodberry Road Bridge to the water is 7 feet 1 inch; that has no coping; it has an iron railing at the top—it is a brick bridge—the iron railing is 4 feet from the coping—you can get over the iron railing and stand on the coping.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty."
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of her youth and good character. — DEATH. (This sentence was afterwards commuted to penal servitude for life.)
OLD COURT.—Monday, April 27th, 1885.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted; MR. MUIR Defended.
FREDERICK BROOKSON (Policeman K 623). On 24th March I was on duty in St. Leonard Street, Bromley-by-Bow, at 11 p.m.—I saw the prisoner standing amongst the crowd, and in consequence of what I had heard I took him into custody—he was drunk.
Cross-examined. I thought he was drunk by the way he staggered about when the crowd were around him, and I came up—the crowd was not pushing him—he walked to the station with me; I had hold of him by the cuff of his sleeve—two men carried the deceased to the doctor's; I went with the prisoner there—he walked there and to the station—afterwards an inquest was held.
saw the prisoner come along that street with his horse and cart at the rate of 12 miles an hour—the street is about 8 yards wide—he was on his right side of the road—Bubear, the deceased, was crossing the road—the prisoner holloaed out two or three times—the deceased man did not appear to notice, and before he knew it the prisoner was on the top of him—the right wheel knocked him down—the prisoner drove on, and had gone about 100 yards after he knocked the man down before I caught him—I caught the cart behind, and after he had driven 30 more yards he found I had caught him, and he pulled up then—I turned the horse's head round then, and brought him back to where the deceased man was—they had seated him upon a chair, and were giving him a drop of brandy—when I brought the prisoner up he wanted to know where his b——hat was—when he was told he had run over the man he said he did not care—two or three gentlemen around and myself asked him to take the deceased to the hospital—he said he was not going to take him to the b——hospital; he would have to get a b——cab—I should say he was drunk from the way he carried on and the language he used—he made no attempt to pull up from when he first saw the deceased until I caught him.
Cross-examined. I said nothing about the bad language before the Magistrate; I did not have a chance; I said it at the inquest—the cart was about 10 yards from the deceased when the prisoner first called out—I am accustomed to driving, middling—I can always tell how fast a horse is going—the deceased man was coming from the off-side—the prisoner was in the middle of the road, which was clear of traffic at the time—I said before the Magistrate "I was level with him when the prisoner started off after knocking down the man"—I meant I started off running after him—I had gone about 100 yards when I caught him—the constable was not there when the prisoner used the bad language about the hat and the cab—a lot of gentlemen were there; they are not here now.
Re-examined. The prisoner was going a lump faster than usual.
JAMES BUBEAR . I live at 81, High Street, Bromley—I am the deceased's brother—his name was Josias Bubear—I saw him die in the London Hospital at half-past 8 on the morning of 27th March—when I left him at 8.30 on the evening of 24th March he was perfectly sober—we had been working all day—I left him at 81, High Street, Bromley, where we both worked and lived.
Cross-examined. He was hard of hearing, and sometimes very deaf—I could not say whether he was better or worse that day—he might hear a shout 10 yards off—he was very sharp in feeling a jar.
SELBY HUTCHINSON . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—on 24th March Josias Bubear was brought to the hospital in a state of partial collapse, suffering from a state of shock due to an injury to the abdomen, in consequence of which he died three days", after—it was such an injury as might have been occasioned by a cart knocking down and running over him—he was deaf.
Cross-examined. He was very deaf—we could hardly make him understand anything owing to his deafness.
Re-examined. I said before the Magistrate that he could speak very little English; I thought so then, I find I was mistaken on that point—I think now it was his deafness and an impediment in his speech.
Witness for the Defence.
JOHN TOMLINSON . I live at 57, Gossett Street, Bethnal Green, and am a wheelwright—I saw the prisoner on 24th March about 7 o'clock; he was with me about an hour—he was sober at that time—we had about a glass each—he is habitually a sober man—I have always found him a very steady driver.
Cross-examined. He came to look at a cart my brother had for sale—we two were alone together—we went into one public-house and had one glass each.
The prisoner received a good character for respectability, sobriety, and steady driving.
GUILTY.—The prosecution strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy .— To pay a fine of 5l.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 28th, 1885.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
ROBERT TRENCH (Police Inspector X). I attended the inquest held by Dr. Diplock at the Canonbury Arms on the prisoner's child Margaret, aged two months—the prisoner was there, and was charged with causing the child's death by not supplying it with sufficient food—she said, "I left the child with my mother; I gave her what I could towards its support."
ELIZABETH PALMER . I am a widow living at 16, Beethoven Street, Queen's Park, and am a neighbour of the prisoner's—on Saturday night, 4th April, between 10 and 11 o'clock, I was in Nevill's Court public-house—the prisoner came in with a little baby in her arms—I said, "Let me look at your baby," and lifted the shawl covering its face—I said, "The baby is dead, give it to me"—she said, "No, I will go home," and she left the house with the baby almost directly—the baby was warm—I closed its mouth—the prisoner had some beer there; she was not quite sober.
MARGARET DEVINE . I am a widow and the prisoner's mother—I live at 17, Salisbury Road, Kilburn—the prisoner lived with me—she had a little child two months old—she used to pay me daily to maintain her and the child as far as she could—I have another daughter 13 years old, the prisoner's sister, who looked after the child—I provided food for it—it slept with its mother—I have seen the prisoner give it the breast—I used to give it bread-and-milk—the prisoner went to laundry work early in the morning and returned very late at night—on this Saturday night, when the prisoner took the child out about 7 o'clock, it was all right and well, and had nothing the matter with it as far as I knew of—at 11 o'clock she came back with the child and said, "Mother, my child is dead"—she was not quite sober—I went for Dr. King immediately—the baby had on a comforter, woollen hood, and shawl wrapped round her, ordinary baby's clothes—I never-noticed if the prisoner had a sufficient supply of milk or not—the doctor said at the inquest that her milk was insufficient—I went out three days in the week at 7 a.m. myself; I gave
the child food in the evening when I came home—when I was at home I gave the child as much food as I thought right—I said so before the Magistrate.
By the COURT. The prisoner always gave me as much as she could, and always wished me to care for and feed the child as much as I could.
ANN DEVINE . I am the prisoner's sister and the last witness's daughter—I live with her—I took care of this baby; the prisoner left it with me when she went to work—I used to see her giving it the breast—I used to feed it with bread-and-milk—her husband did not live with her; he used to come after her for his lodging money, 6d. a week—I always took as much care as I could of the baby.
JOHN RING , M.D. I live at 12, Cambridge Gardens, Kilburn—on Saturday, 4th April, I was called to see the prisoner's child—I did not see it till the Sunday morning—on Monday I made a post-mortem examination—I found the stomach and intestines perfectly empty, and came to the conclusion that no food had been given to it for some hours—in the lower bowels I found a very small quantity of fæcal matter—I considered the cause of death was insufficiency of food—the child had been too long without food—its natural food would be milk—I examined the prisoner's breasts—I found she was very insufficiently provided with milk.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for not providing the necessaries of life . No evidence was offered by the Prosecution. NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.
GEORGE JUDGE . I am a constable of the Lea Conservancy, at Bromley—on March 30th, about 10 o'clock, I was near the Three Mills Bridge Distillery with the night watchman of the Three Mills, and saw the prisoner approaching on the towing-path, carrying a tarpaulin—I asked him where he got it—he said that a man under the bridge gave it to him, and promised him twopence to carry it up there—I waited some time and no man came—having known the prisoner some time, I said, "You had better go and fetch the man"—he went, and returned with another man, and said that some volunteers had given it to him, and had gone down the path singing—he said to the other man, "Didn't you see them?" he said, "I saw six or seven; I shall wish you goodnight," and went away—while the prisoner was gone I examined the tarpaulin and found a large letter "H" on it, and "490" in a corner; it had two handles, a kind of loop—I put it over the Distillery garden wall with the aid of my stick, while the prisoner was still by my side, but the watchman had gone—this is it, but it is only a portion of a tarpaulin—I went and made inquiries, and went back in an hour and a half and the tarpaulin was gone—on 4th April I went to Millwall Docks, went on board the barge Nella, and found a tarpaulin which had been cut, and on 11th April I took this piece to it which the watchman gave me, and it matched; they had both been one cloth—this piece has
"h" on it, which is the finishing letter of "Smith"—that is the piece I examined with the watchman.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You put it on the stones—you did not say that the man that gave it to you was talking to some volunteers, that he promised you twopence to carry it there, and you should not carry it further—there was a lamp and it was moonlight.
DANIEL GILLMORE . I am night watchman at the Three Mills Distillery.—I was near the bridge, and saw Judge speak to the prisoner—I have heard his account, it is correct—I examined the tarpaulin, and saw "H" on it and two loops or handles—I saw no number—I saw Judge again between 11 and 12, and between 1 and 2 a.m.—I picked up the same piece of tarpaulin at the overshot, and about 4 o'clock I called the constable and gave it to him—we examined it and found it was the same piece—it was in the water about 100 yards from the bridge.
Cross-examined. You did not come on the bridge and say "Good-night, Judge"—you were not there at that time—you went down the hill before I attempted to go across to Judge—we examined the tarpaulin—the clock struck 10 and I said, "I must be off;" you were not there then.
RICHARD BOLTON . I am a bargeman on board the Nelly, belonging to Mr. Haslam—I left her at Bromley Lock at 7.30 with some sacks on board, covered with a new and perfect tarpaulin—it was marked with the maker's name and "490"—on April 11 went on board the barge and found the tarpaulin out and a piece missing—I have compared this piece; this is part of it.
WILLIAM FINCH (Policeman). On April 4th I went with Judge on board the Nelly, and came to the conclusion, by certain marks, that this piece had formed part of the tarpaulin—on 14th April I saw the prisoner in Three Mile Lane, Bromley, and requested him to accompany me to the station—he said "All right, I will go with you"—going there he said "I suppose it is something about a tarpaulin, but I never saw a tarpaulin, and don't know the meaning of it"—I had not mentioned a tarpaulin.
JAMES HOWLETT (Detective K). On 14th April I found the prisoner detained by Finch—I said I should charge him with stealing a tarpaulin from the barge Nelly on 30th March—he said "I was walking along the towing-path when a man asked me to carry it, and said he would give me 2d.; we walked along some distance, and he said 'If you will come as far as the Fishing Boat I will give you another pint'"—I asked him who the man was—he said "That is where you do me, I don't know him; when I got into the lane I was stopped by George, who asked me what I had got; I told him a piece of tarpaulin; he said 'That is not the piece they got out of the water, it was not so big as that'"—I had not mentioned the water—he said "The piece I had was not big enough to cover a good sized rabbit-hutch"—I took him to the station.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "This is not the piece of tarpaulin I was carrying; the piece I was carrying would not cover a rabbit-hutch. Judge took it on his stick and put it over the wall; he could not do that with the piece he now produces."
Prisoner's Defence. "This is not the piece of tarpaulin I carried on my head. I know nothing about this piece. When I met the constable I put it on the stones and walked 100 yards and back, and found it just where I left it, and he put it on the end of his stick and put it over the wall, and I went and had half a pint of beer. I know nothing of this tarpaulin whatever."
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
WILLIAM PERRYMAN . I live at 543, Old Ford Road, Bow, and am a soap maker—on the 4th April I was coming from Stratford, and the two prisoners, who were talking about a ring, came up to me, and Brown said "Is this ring any good, Charlie?"—I said "I don't know"—he said "Go on, buy it, it is worth 2l., we can get 10s. of a cabby for it"—I said "No, I don't want to buy the ring, I know nothing at all about it"—Williams went away and came back and said "Go on, buy it; I want 9s. for it"—I said "I am afraid I have not got 9s. "—he said "What have you got?"—I said "3s. 6d. or 4s. "—he said "Let's have that"—I said "I can't let you have that, I want it myself"—I gave him the 3s. 6d. for the ring—he said "As you are an honest chap I will let you have the ring for 3s. 6d., and will meet you another time"—I made an arrangement to meet him at Maoey's, the clothier's—I took the ring to Mr. Parnell's, in Abbey Lane, and asked him the value of it, he said it was solid brass, and worth about 1d.—I was forced to buy it—one of the prisoners was treading on my toes, and the other was inducing me to buy it—I bought it because they said it was worth 2l., and that they would get 10s. from the cabby for it—they did not say of what it was made.
Cross-examined by Brown. I bought it for fear that if I did not should get knocked about—you did not knock me about, you was forcing me to buy it, and to give you the 3s. 6d.—I did not believe it was gold—I can't say what I thought it was—you did not say it was no good, it was only a brass one—I intended to have you locked up—I did not see a constable—I did not follow you.
Cross-examined by Williams. You did not say you were going to have the ring tried—you said you found it at the back of the public house—I did not take it and look at it—I did not say it was either brass or gold—you asked me to buy it—I did not give you 3s. 6d. under a lamp, nor did I promise to give you more when I saw you again—I was going towards Bow—I did not turn back towards Stratford after I left you.
JACKSON (Police Inspector K). On the 4th April, about 10.30 I received
information from the prosecutor and went with him to Bow Railway Station, where he pointed to the two prisoners, and I took them in custody—they were charged, and said nothing—I found on Brown nine new purses and a small amount of money, mostly in coppers—on Williams I found a white silk handkerchief and money and purses similar to these.
Cross-examined by Williams. The prosecutor did not speak to you at the railway station before, I came up—you and the other prisoner were together there.
Brown in his defence staled that they picked up the ring, for which a cabman offered 10s., that Williams wished fa have it tested, but that the prosecutor though it was gold, and offered 3s. 6d. for it Williams stated that the prosecutor came up and offered 3s. 6d. and said thai he would give the rest on Wednesday.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
CHARLES BIERNER . I am a draper's assistant at 23, Latimer Road, Forest Gate, West Ham—on 15th March, about a quarter past 10, I was near Wanstead Flats with the two prisoners, whom I had never seen before—I met them that evening, in the Golden Horse, in Leyton Road—from there we went to the Holly Tree Inn, Wanstead, and had three half pints—we left there at closing time, and outside I partook of a bottle of gin which was produced—I was proceeding with them across a footpath which was my nearest way home, when 1 was, struck in the mouth, thrown to the ground and held down—one had hold of my throat, and there was another hand over my nose and mouth—I could not see who did it—I had suffered from rupture, and when down could not help myself—they took from me my watch and chain and some money; I could not say how much—I had my watch in the public-house—when on the ground I felt a tug at my pocket, and felt the chain drawn through my waistcoat—I cried murder and thieves—one of the prisoner said, "Put your hand over his mouth," and I then felt the chain taken—they ran away—a gentleman came up and found me there—I could not move at the minute through their ill-usage—I was taken to the station by two constables—I bled a good deal—this is my watch; the bow is broken; the chain which was attached to it is not here—the prisoners are the two men.
CHARLES FELDON . I am landlord of the Holly Tree, Forest Gate—on this evening I saw the prisoners with the prosecutor about a quarter or live minutes to 10—they each had half a pint of mild and bitter, and Cant ordered half a pint of gin which he took away in a bottle—at 10 o'clock the prosecutor refused to leave, and I had an altercation with him—the prisoners were standing at the door—I afterwards went out and got into conversation, and left them all in company outside the house about five minutes past 10—from information afterwards received from the police I saw Cant on the 20th in the Golden Horse, and detained and gave him into custody—the prisoners were the only men with the prosecutor.
on 28th March I had the prisoners in charge, conveying them from Clerkenwell to Stratford Police-court—Handley said to me, "It is all right, it is a straight affair—we had the watch—I did not take it from his pocket; I picked it up from off the grass"—about 2.30 the same day, while conveying the prisoners from Stratford to Clerkenwell, his brother came up to me as we were going to the railway station, and said, "Can I see my brother?"—I said, "Is this your brother?"—he said, "Yes; I want to tell you something—I have just posted the watch to the inspector of police at Stratford"—I then went with them to the post-office, where I saw the inspector.
CRESSWELL WELLS (Inspector of Police stationed at West Ham). On 28th March I was in charge of the West Ham Police-station, and received this watch by post—I said nothing to the prisoners about it; they said nothing to me on the subject.
JOHN LLOYD (Detective Sergeant stationed at West Ham). On Friday 17th March I found Cant detained at the station—I told him he would be charged with stealing a gold watch and 4s.—I placed him with 12 others, and he was at once identified—when charged, he said, "I admit I was with the man there, but I know nothing of the robbery"—he was afterwards placed among 10, and identified by the prosecutor—I saw the prosecutor after this happened—his mouth was cut and his neck scratched, and his clothing smothered in mud, and with blood upon it.
TIMOTHY BUCKLEY (Policeman K 893). At 11 p.m. on 15th March I came on the spot after the prosecutor had been robbed, and he made a complaint—he was bleeding from the mouth, and insensible—he had a scar on his neck; I don't know whether from the flowing of blood or not—his coat was in a very dirty state as if he had been thrown on the ground—he was not sober; he could walk straight.
Handley in his defence stated that the prosecutor was knocked down by some one else, and that he and Cant ran away, but that on going bach afterwards for his stick, which he had dropped, he found the watch lying on the grass, and took it home, and that they were all drunk.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL
defended Jackson, MR. GEOGHEGAN De Groat.
MARTHA LAWRENCE . I am cook to Thomas Willes Plaisted, of 202, Burrage Road, Plumstead—on 20th February, about a quarter-past 10, I looked up the doors and windows and went up to bed with my fellow-servant, Annie Lewis—about 2 in the morning I heard a noise in the dining-room which awoke me—I listened, and saw the light of a lantern just inside my bedroom door—I thought it was my mistress, and said,
"Is that you, ma'am?"—I looked and saw it was a man—he was a dark man with short, bushy whiskers—to the best of my belief it was Jackson—I afterwards heard a noise, as of somebody tumbling over some chairs on the landing, and I heard the footsteps of more than one person downstairs—I got up and called my master and mistress, and called out of the window for the police—my master blew a whistle and the police arrived—on going downstairs I found the back and front doors both open, and the fastening of the breakfast-room window broken—a cupboard was broken open and the contents strewed about the room—I missed three spirit labels, a mustard spoon, and a caddy spoon, 9s. in, silver, 6d. and two threepenny pieces—these (produced) are the two I lost—one is new and the other is old and slightly bent—I can swear to them—I saw a coat found on the man Wiggins at the trial last sessions, and I identified that as my master's, which was stolen that night, also the caddy spoon.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The jury were unable to agree at the last trial—the light from the man's lantern did not fall exactly on my face, it did in that direction—lie was in the dark—he was only there as instant—directly I said, "Is that you, ma'am?" he went away.
ANNIE LEWIS . I am housemaid to Mr. Plaisted—I was sleeping with the last witness—a little before 21 heard a noise in the bedroom, but I didn't see any one in the room—I afterwards heard two or three men going downstairs, and I looked out of window and saw two men at the back go from the garden—it was too dark to identify them—I called out for the police.
EDWARD GLADWELL (Policeman R 281). On the morning of 21st February, about 10 minutes to 12, I was on duty in Beresford Square, Woolwich—I there saw De Groat crossing from the square from Plumstead towards Cannon Row—I stopped him and asked him where he had been at that time in the morning?—he said he had been out for a walk and was just going home—he went towards Cannon Bow—I communicated with Constable Turner to have a watch kept in the neighbourhood—De Groat is a lodging-house keeper and a brothel keeper—he has two houses in Cannon Row, Nos. 6 and 7—he was somewhere about half a, mile from the prosecutor's when I met him—about half-past 4 the same morning I saw Jackson and Wiggins come from the direction of Cannon Bow aoross the square—I spoke to Turner, and they were followed to the railway station—they were taken in custody—there is a workmen's train leaving at 5 o'clock—I never knew De Groat do any work besides keeping the lodging-houses—I have seen him with his wife standing about, but never saw him do anything himself.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I was in uniform when I met De Groat in the morning—I do not think he saw me—he passed about twenty yards from me—there is something of a fish market held in Beresford Square on Saturdays—there is a limited accommodation there, and people want to get there early with their barrows to get a good position—he said nothing; to me about having been to a market.
CHARLES TURNER (Policeman R R 30). About a quarter-past 4 on the morning of 21st February I met Jackson and Wiggins—Jackson asked me if they had plenty of time for the workmen's train—I said "Yes"—Wiggins said he was going to London—I followed them to the railway station and saw them taken in custody—I was in uniform.
morning of 21st February I was on duty in Cannon Row—I saw Jackson and Wiggins come from No. 7—that is De Groat's house—they went towards the square—I followed them till I met Turner—they went into the station, and were taken in custody.
THOMAS STACEY (Policetnan 40 R). On 21st February, about 4 in the morning, I was on duty in New Road, Woolwich, in company with Weeks—in consequence of information, I went to the prosecutor's house, and from there to the Arsenal Station in time for the workmen's 5 o'clock train—I there saw Jackson and Wiggins—they took tickets and went on to the platform—Weeks followed Jackson—I took Wiggins in custody—I asked where he was going—I found on him two knives, 3s. in silver, 6d. in bronze, part of a silver spoon and part of the prosecutor's coat, which he was wearing under his own, and which was identified last session.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Wiggins said he had slept in Woolwich with a girl that night.
JAMES WEEKS (Policenan R 131). I was with Stacey, and took Jackson In custody—I asked if he had any objection to tell me where he was going—he said, "I am going to London"—I asked where he lived in London—he said "43, Belgrave Street, Stepney"—I asked what brought him to Woolwich—he said, "We came down and got drunk, and got too late fur the train"—I asked where he slept—he said, "At No. 7, Cannon Row"—that is, De Groat's house—I asked him if he had been anywhere that night—he said, "We went out for a walk about 10 o'clock"—I said, "What time did you return?"—he said, "We came home about 2"—I found on him 6s. 6d. in silver, 2 1/2 d. in bronze, a latch key, and a memorandum book—I afterwards went to De Groat's house, a little after 6 in the morning—Inspector Elliott, in my presence, asked if any strange man had been lodging there—he said, "No"—Elliott told him be would be charged with two men at the station with burglary—he said, "Oh, all right"—I took him to the station and returned to his house, and saw the inspector find certain tools.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I told Jackson I should take him on suspicion of burglary he said "For God's sake don't do that, it will be such a show up, I want to go home and go to work."
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I heard the Inspector ask De Groat whether he had been out that morning he said he had been out till 2—I don't know whether he said with a barrow.
JAMES ELLIOTT (Police Inspector R). About 4 on the morning of 21st February I went to 202, Barrage Road—I found an entry had been effected by forcing the front breakfast parlour window—doors and other places were broken open and the place ransacked—about 10 minutes to 6 I returned to the station and found Jackson and Wiggins there in custody—from what I heard I went to 7, Cannon Row, knocked at the door and De Groat answered—I said "Have you had any lodgers here?"—he said "No"—I said "There are two men in custody for burglary who say they have lodged here"—he said "We have had no strangers here"—I said "Have you been out for a walk?"—he said "Yes, a little after 2 with a barrow"—Weeks took him into custody—I searched the place and found a screw driver, 2 centre bits, a glazier's diamond, a pair of compasses, 11 keys, a tea spoon and 2 threepenny-pieces, they were on the window sill in the front parlour, which he occupied—these are them (produed) which the servant has identified—he said the tools were what he used to
work with—I took the screw driver and centre bits and compared them with the marks on the windows at 202, Burrage Road, they both corresponded.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The twothreepenny-pieces were the only things relating to the burglary which I found at De Groat's, he was not present when I found them—when charged with the burglary he said "I know nothing about it.
RHODA HART . I live at 193, Burrage Boat—on Friday, 20th February between three and half-past in the afternoon, I was looking out of the window and saw three men going up the road, the prisoners are two of them, and Wiggins was the third man—they walked up to Mr. Plaisted's and returned, they looked very hard in Mr. Plaisted's—I am quite sure the prisoners are two of them.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. They were passing on the opposite side of the street—I was looking out of the first floor window—their backs were towards me part of the time, and part of the time their faces.
THOMAS DEWBY . I am a groom and live at 3, The Arsenal.—On 20th February, about 10 minutes to 8 in the evening, I was going down Hill Street, Woolwich, and saw three men standing on the pathway close to the King's Arms—De Groat and Wiggins were two of them.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The third man was not Jackson.
HERBERT FRANCIS (in custody). On 19th March I was sentenced to a month's imprisonment for deserting my wife—I was in a cell at the police-court, and while there Jackson was put in with me—he began to swear at one with a high hat because he would not tell the magistrate what he had promised, that the other two were perfect strangers to him—he said he was charged with burglary—I asked him if he belonged to Woolwich—he said no, he belonged to London and he got to know the one with the high hat in London, and they came to Woolwich to do some breaking into houses; that they went to the lodging house keeper, De Groat, and he put them on to some jobs and they broke into a house, that they went to the Mortar public-house just before 12, that he and the one with the high hat broke into the house, and the lodging house keeper kept watch outside; that when they got inside they had plenty of wine to drink, and they took the lodging house keeper some outside; that they went upstairs and woke somebody up and got out of the house as fast as they could—he said he thought what would do them was two threepenny-bits found at the lodging house Keeper's, because one of them was marked, bent—he said the police did not find any house-breaking tools because the wife must have planted them before the police got there; he was sorry they were caught that morning, because they were going to break into a house in the Herbert Road next night.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was examined as a witness last Session and I told substantially the same story—I was under remand at this time—I was a perfect stranger to Jackson—there was a soldier in one of the cells and a woman, I believe, also, there are five or six cells—I did not mention this to the police at the time, because Jackson was there—I was brought down to Woolwich again that day week and then I told them—that was the first opportunity I had, I had been in a hospital for three months before that—there were newspapers there—I had been in employment up to a month or five weeks before, at Gooch and Cousins, London Wall, I was working thereabout nine months—before that I was 12 years in a warehouse as foreman—I left that to better
myself and went from there to Gooch and Cousins'—my wife was away from me for nine months, and she would not tell me where she had been—that was why I refused to maintain her—no one could hear this conversation with Jackson but our two selves.
Jackson's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about it, nothing was found on me, I never saw Wiggins in my life before."
GUILTY . Both prisoners PLEADED GUILTY to having been previously convicted; Jackson at Preston, Lancashire, on 19th August, 1875, in the name of John Spencer, when he was sentenced to ten years penal servitude; and De Groat at Clerkenwell on 14th February, 1876, in the name of Thomas Parker, when he was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment; other convictions were also proved against them.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
ERNEST WILLIAM STEVENS . I am a coffee-house keeper, of 105, Queen's Road, Peckham—on 11th November, 1884, I saw this advertisement in in the Daily Telegraph"Town traveller wanted at once to call on drapers with patterns, skirts, &c., salary and commission, 5l. cash security required; address by letter, 59, Pagnall Street, New Cross." I wrote to that address and received this reply. (Requesting references and particulars as to age, height, and general appearance, terms 18s. a week, 5s. a week for expenses, and 5s. per cent. commission, earnings might amount to 42s. a week.) I wrote again and received this reply on the 15th, asking me to come on Tuesday morning ready for business—I went accordingly to 5, Pagnall Street, it appeared to be a private house—I saw the prisoner and saw some boxes there and some patterns and skirts—the prisoner said I should have to take them round and sell them at drapers' shops, that the business was so increasing that he would have to take in the next door, that the houses belonged to him—he asked if I was prepared with the security—I said "Yes," and handed him 5l., and he gave me this receipt, "Received of Mr. E.W. Stevens 5l. cash as security for samples and cash sales, to be returned on leaving the employ"—he put a stamp on at my request—I parted with my money believing his statements to be true—he took me round and introduced me to customers—we went to Norwood that day—after that he gave me samples—I told him I wanted to leave—he said I must give a week's notice—I did so—I remained till the following Saturday—he paid me 15s. the first week and a commission of 1s. 7d., and I drew 5s. on account the next week—he said I had not been doing my work and he would go to the shops and see if I had called on them, and if I had he would give me back the 5l. on the Tuesday—I went on the Tuesday—he offered me 2l. 10s., but did not give it me—I went several times to try and get it, but never succeeded—on one occasion he gave me a shilling—I never saw any customers at the house—he said he had girls to do his work, I never saw any there—I received this letter from him dated 20th February, saying, "I find I shall be able to settle with you on Wednesday evening, call between 7 and 8"—I called, but he was not at home.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not tell you that I knew all about the business, I told you I was not used to the drapery—this is my letter. (This stated "I have done a little travelling, and thoroughly know the
business.") You went round with me twice—I came late one morning and told you I had been writing letters—I only took orders for 5s. 11d. all the time I was with you—I tried to sell—you had my reference from Fulsham, of Great Yarmouth, where I had been for eight or nine years—when I wished to leave I told you my father had another berth for me, and if I did not go I should lose it, and so I did—I can't recollect whether you were cutting out when I called with my father, I was too much in a temper with you—I had only been with you 12 hours then; I could see it was not a bond fide affair—I swear you told me the houses were yours.
GEORGE HENRY BASTIN . I live at 35, Sidney Road, Bowes Park, N.—in February last I put an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph—I received an answer, went to 5, Pagnall Terrace, and saw the prisoner—I said I had come in answer to his letter—he said he was a manufacture of ladies patterns, and that he would employ me at a salary of 1l. a week and 5 per cent, commission; that his business was increasing so that he wanted somebody to help me, and possibly my salary would rise to about 2l. a week—my duty was to collect orders from drapers—he said the security would be 5l.—he had an agreement ready prepared, which he signed and gave to me—he said the last young man had left because he had appropriated about 7l., and that was why he wanted security from me—I gave him 5l. and he gave me thk receipt—the money was to be returned on leaving—he gave me samples, and I went round to customers—I was not able to get any orders—I remained a little over a month—I received my money for two weeks and a half—I gave a week's notice and asked for my 6l.—he said it was in the post office, and I should have it on Saturday, and when I called for it he said he could not touch it as his affairs were in the Bankruptcy Court—I did not get any of it back—there were a lot of boxes in the house, but no customers and no persons employed—I parted with my 5l. believing he was carrying on a genuine business.
Cross-examined. You refused to pay me the 5l. on the Saturday I left—you did not say you would pay me if I would wait—you always went out with me—I got no orders, you got one from a private customer.
WILLIAM SKELTON . I live at 57, Repperton Road, Fulham—on the 3rd February I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph—I answered it, and received this letter from the prisoner on the 5th, in consequence of which I called upon him—he said he wanted a traveller to represent him, as the business was increasing, and he expected me to do from 25l. to 30l. a week, and my commission would then be 45s. or 50s.—he said his other traveller at that tube, was making 2l. to 2l. 5s. a week—I agreed to enter his employment, and signed this agreement—I gave him this cheque for 5l., to be returned on leaving, and he save me this receipt—I proceeded to go out to obtain orders, and got three altogether—part of the first only was executed—I got 2l. 10s. salary—I found no business was being done, and gave a week's notice—I then asked for my 5l. back—I did not get it—he said as he had not executed all my orders ht would postpone paying me till they were executed—he said he would send me some goods which, if paid for, would make up part of the money—he said as his business was increasing he wished to take the house next door, and he would give me a share in the business if I would give 30l., and he would then let me do all the travelling, and would do the
indoor work himself—I was never able to get my money—I never saw any customers at the house—I had a few samples but no goods.
Cross-examined. I had nearly 3l. worth of samples to start with—I did not understand the value of underclothing—(the prisoner put in several letters from the witness complaining of want of success in his efforts to get orders).
GEORGE PURBROOK (Police Sergeant R). In November last, in consequence of information, I went to 51, Pagnall Street—I went into a small room on the ground-floor about 12 feet square—I saw some card-board boxes there such as are ordinarily used by drapers—I opened six or ten, they were empty; I saw no stock there—I served the prisoner with a summons to the police-court—he said it was all a mistake—I afterwards went to the house and examined—I found a number of boxes and some account books, but no draper's stock or ladies' underclothing.
WILLIAM BARNES (Policeman R 210) (Examined by the Prisoner). On Tuesday, 3rd December, I called with Stevens at the prisoner's—then was some stuff on the table which you said you were cutting up—I saw a few samples and lengths in various parts of the room—you had a pair of shears in your hands when you opened the door to me.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence denied the charge of false pretences, and produced a number of books and papers as showing that he was carrying on a legitimate business.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted.
CARLO GIARDELLI (Through an interpreter). I am assistant to Luigi Conceprio, who keeps a refreshment-room in Greenwich Park—on 8th April, about 7.30 p.m., I shut the room up, leaving nobody there—11 locked up the doors and windows, and took away the key—I went back At 8.30 a.m., and found the inner door broken open—I missed a small box of chocolate, 10 half-pound packets, and 24 penny sticks, 8lb. of Chocolate drops like these, and this box (produced).
WILLIAM ROBINSON (Police Inspector R). I received information on 9th April, and went to this refreshment-room about 9.45 a.m.—an entry had been effected by climbing over the outer door and then forcing off the padlock—there were marks of a sharp instrument, and on the stones inside the porch was a quantity of blood—I found two boxes concealed in a leaf-pit under some leaves, and left two constables to watch—on the Monday I found marks of blood on the hands of both the prisoners, which would be likely to be caused by the spikes over the outer door.
come over the hill, go to the pit, and fill their pockets with chocolate—1 was about 50 yards off—Pollard joined the men in the pit and filled his pockets—they covered the boxes over and went out—we then went and examined the boxes, and the chocolate had been taken out—we went up the hill and saw them a little distance in front—they began to run—I kept out of sight as they knew me well, and a constable went after them—I took Evans on Saturday about 8.45 p.m.—he said, "You have got me on a wrong job this time"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "What are you taking me for?"—on the 12th I went to a house in Queen Street, pulled up a board in the closet, and found these chocolate drops, which correspond with those in the box—I have known the prisoners some years, and can speak to them positively.
Cross-examined by Evans. The leaf-pit may be 10 feet deep in some parts, but we were on rising ground.
EDWARD BELL (Policeman R 134). I was with Robinson, and saw the prisoners go to the leaf-pit—as soon as they came out I followed them to the top of the hill, and saw them on tho other side—they began to run—I blew my whistle to have the park gates shut, but no one attended to it—they went out of the Park into Queen Street and turned up a court—I went to the pit and took the boxes away.
Cross-examined by Pollard. I am sure I saw you; I have known you some considerable time.
MARY KITSON . I am single, and live at 7, Queen Street, Greenwich—on 10th April I was in my garden and saw three young men jump over the wall, the prisoners and another—they went through the passage, stayed there five minutes, and went out the front way—one ran to the closet door, and the other went inside—I asked them what was the matter? they said that some one had been running after them.
Cross-examined by Evans. I am sure you passed through my house.
WILLIAM KITSON . I am a brother of the last witness, and live in the same house—on 10th April, about 3.30, I was at High Bridge Dock, and saw the two prisoners and another man on the foreshore at East Greenwich—that is about five minutes' walk from Queen Street—they asked Mr. Webb to lend them his boat; he did so, and they asked me and another boy to row them across, which we did—I heard one of them say in the boat that an old Jew ran after them, blowing a whistle enough to blow the world down, and another said, "We shall be sent up above for this"—I have known Pollard about five years, and I have worked with Evans.
Cross-examined by Evans. This was after 2 o'clock—I left you on the Essex side.
FREDERICK TURNER (Policeman R 198). On 11th April I took Pollard in Trafalgar Road, East Greenwich, and told him the charge; he said, "All right, I will go with you; you are always taking me up for something, I suppose you will get it up for me this time."—I took him to the station.
The prisoners in their defence exhibited their hands to short that there were no cuts on them. Evans stated that he teas in bed at 10 o'clock on 8th April, and Pollard that he had not been in the Park since Easter Monday, and that it was a case of mistaken identity.
GUILTY on the Second Count . Evans then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in February, 1883, of highway robbery with violence.
EVANS— Twelve Months Hard Labour. POLLARD— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
508. FRANCIS EDWARD PALMER HAMILTON (23) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Leetham a banker's cheque for the payment of 10l ., and from Alfred Douglas Millar a banker's cheque for the payment of 10l., in each case with intent to defraud.— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND, MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GOODRICH Prosecuted;
ELIZABETH PICKFORD . I am an unfortunate woman, and live at 4, Cannon Row, Woolwich—I occupy the back room, the prisoner the front ground floor—my room is immediately behind hers—on Friday, 13th March, about 10 a.m., I and the prisoner were drinking at the Salutation public-house—we met the deceased there with three or four other sailors—I stayed there till 4 p.m., then went home, leaving the prisoner and the deceased there—about 12.30 that night I saw the prisoner enter her room with the deceased, and I heard her say he was going to give her 4s., and out of the 4s. she was going to give 2s. to the landlady—I did not hear any more of them till next morning (Saturday), when I heard the prisoner go out of her room about 8.30—I heard her look the room door, and heard a man's voioe inside asking her where she was going to?—she said, "You needn't be frightened, I shan't be long"—he said, "Very well"—her door is looked by a padlock and key—I remained at home till 4 p.m., and then went out, and did not return till a quarter to 10—I saw and heard nothing more that day, until I saw the man being taken away in an ambulance at about a quarter to 10.
Cross-examined. They had both had enough to drink on the Friday night—I did not see the prisoner on the Saturday—I don't know whether any beer was brought into her room that day.
ELLEN DEAN . I live at 29, Cannon Row, Woolwich, and am an unfortunate woman—on Saturday the 14th, just before 8 p.m., I was going home, and saw the prisoner leaving the Duke of Cambridge public-house—she was very drunk, and fell down, and I picked her up and took her to her room, and said, "Sally, go to bed for a little while"—I then saw a man lying in her bed, asleep—I went out of the room and left her there with him—about 8.15 I saw her coming out of her room, and tried to persuade her to go back again—she said, "How can I get rid of him?"—I said, "Let him lie and sleep for an hour"—she then laid down on the bed with all her clothes on—she said, "I will lay down if you will call me"—I said, "You can come to my room, if you like," but she stayed where she was, and laid down by the man, and I went out, and I did not see any more of her that night—as I passed the house about 10 o'clock I saw the man that I had seen lying in the prisoner's bed, being carried out by the police with cuts upon his face—when I saw him lying in the bed his face was all right, and no blood on him, and the room was as usual.
Cross-examined. On each occasion when I went into the room there was
no light there, but I struck a match, and could see quite plainly then—I first saw the prisoner on Saturday, about 8 a.m., going into the Duke of Cambridge public-house.
JANE TERROLL . I am the wife of Edwin Terroll, of 3, Cannon Row—I have known the prisoner three or four years—on Saturday 14th March, at about 8.20 p.m., as I was passing No. 4, I heard the prisoner speak to somebody in her room, saying, "Get up and go out, for I want to go and look for my living to pay my rent to my landlady"—I heard a man reply, "I will not"—I then passed on.
Cross-examined. As I was going past I met Ellen Dean, with a young friend behind her, coming away from the house.
JANE LANE . I live at 21, Armstrong Place, Plumstead, and take in washing—I know the prisoner—on Saturday night 14th March, about 9 o'clock, I went into the Duke of Cambridge public-house—the prisoner came in—she did not ask for anything to drink—Mrs. Cook asked her to drink out of my glass; she drank, and then called for some beer on her own account, and felt in her stocking for some money to pay for it with—she generally kept her money in her stocking—she had no money, and the landlady gave her credit—I noticed a little blood on her hand, and asked her who she had been fighting with, and first of all she said with a woman, and then with a man, and she pointed to her nose and said, "Ah! ah! it came from his nose, not mine"—I asked her what man, and she whispered, "Peter," and said she should like to make it up with him—I knew she kept company with a man named Peter two years ago—I could not see if she had any blood on her arm; she had an ulster on—a woman named Ranton and Kate Williams fetched her away, and I did not see her again—she was drunk, but able to talk.
Cross-examined. We always have a game with the prisoner when she has had a drink of beer, because we don't think she is quite right—she was very drunk then—she onee fell out of a window—I don't think she is soon affected by drink—she is often drunk—I have seen her sober—I said before the Coroner—"We called her over and asked her to treat us, as we generally have a game with her then"—all the statements were made in answer to questions I put to her.
Re-examined. The landlord had drawn the beer before he knew she could not pay for it.
MARY ANN COOK . I live at 10, Warner Lane, Woolwich—on the night of March 14th I went into the Duke of Cambridge with Mrs. Lane—while we were there the prisoner came in drunk—I heard her ask the landlord to serve her with a pint of beer—she found she had got no money in her stocking, and the landlord gave her credit—she pulled up her sleeve and showed me her arm—I said, "I am blowed if that isn't blood, Sally," and asked her how it came there—she said she had been fighting with Peter—I knew a man named Peter connected with her some years before—she said it was not her blood, it was his—I said, "Kid, that he would allow you to hit him like that"—she then said, "No, it was out of there," pointing to her own nose—I put my hand on her stocking, and she said, "Don't, Mrs. Cook, I am not well," and then Mrs. Banton and Kate Williams called her away.
Cross-examined. We always have games with her, because we know she is not exactly right—I said before the Coroner, "I have never seen
her fighting, and don't think she could take her own part; she is very inoffensive"; that is her character.
KATE WILLIAMS . I live at 3, Cannon Row, Woolwich, and am an unfortunate woman—the prisoner lived next door to me—on Saturday night, 14th March, between 9 and 10 o'clock I went with Mrs. Ranton into the private bar of the Duke of Cambridge, the prisoner was in the public bar and I called her round at the instigation of Mrs. Ranton, my landlady, and they two went away—I remained 2 or 3 minutes and then followed them—I went to Mrs. Ranton's house, No. 1, she owns Nos. 1, 3 and 4—I found the prisoner sitting there, she wanted to go to her own room in No. 4, but did not want to go by herself, she wished the little boy to go with her, she said she wondered whether her bloke was up—I said it was not a fit place to take a boy to if there was a man there, and said I would go myself—I went in with her, her room was quite dark—I did not strike any light at first—the prisoner sat down in a chair—I led her from the door to the bed, fearing she might fall on the fender because she was very drunk—(she walked from No. 1 to No. 4, but I held her arm)—I helped her from the chair to the bed, and stumbled over a man's legs, the prisoner then struck a match and lit a very small piece of candle which was on the mantelpiece—I then saw a man lying on the floor with his head towards the top of the bed and his feet to the door—his face was covered with blood and I thought he was a black man at first—I said to the prisoner "Oh you beast to allow this" and ran out without waiting to hear what she had to say—I went to Mrs. Ranton's and Mr. Ranton was sent for—he went to the prisoner's room and I followed with a light—the prisoner then said "It is only a fall, it has nothing to do with me, mind your own business"—when I got inside the second time the prisoner was sitting on the edge of the bed where I had placed her, and Mr. Ranton was bathing the deceased's face—he said "How did it happen?" she said "Only a fall"—he said "Don't tell me this is a fall," he went for a doctor and I bathed the deceased's face while he was away—I asked the prisoner how it happened—she said "Mind your own business, it has nothing to do with you, he is only in a drunken sleep, it is only a fall"—Mr. Ranton came back with two constables—the man was lifted on the bed and a doctor fetched—when I went in with her the first time from Ranton's the house door was closed but not locked, the padlock was not on it.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner in the forenoon in the Duke of Cambridge, she was drinking then, and we took her away because she was very drunk—Mrs. Ranton recommended her to go to her own room and lie down—I did not see the key and padlock till next day.
JOHN RANTON . I live at 1, Cannon Row, Woolwich, and rent Nos. 3 and 4 and let them out in rooms—there are two rooms on the ground-floor and two above—the prisoner occupied the ground-floor front of No. 4 and Elizabeth Pickford the ground-floor back; Elizabeth Lane the upstairs front and the upstairs back room was unlet—on 14th March between 9.30 and 9.45 my little boy fetched me home and I found Kate Wilson talking to my wife—I went to the prisoner's room and found the door shut, I pushed it and found a table placed against it—I pushed it away and got in—it was dark—the prisoner said "Who is that?" I said "Me, Sarah," and Kate Williams who was behind me said "The land-lord"
—I said "Get a light, Kate"—she was so long gone that I ran myself and got one and found the prisoner sitting on the side of the bed with her legs across the man, who was lying alongside the bed, covering his legs from his knees to his ankles—I said "What is the matter Sally, who has been doing this?"—(the man's lace was all over blood and his head was in a pool of blood)—she said "Oh he aint hurt, he is only asleep"—I said "Asleep, yes he looks like asleep, it looks like everlasting sleep"—I asked her who done it, she said "Kate"—I said "Kate! I don't believe it"—she then said "I done it myself, he hit me and I hit him in return"—I tried to rouse the man up, and got a tub of water and bathed his face and saw a cut by his eye—I told Kate to keep on bathing his face while I went for a doctor but he was out—I met 2 constables who went back with me and helped me to lift the man on to the bed—they sent me for Dr. Ingledew and for an ambulance and took the man away—I went to the station, found the prisoner there and said "Sally, why don't you tell us who done this?" she said "It was not me, I know if I like to say"—I asked her again, she said "Well, Kate done it"—I said "What is the good of your saying that, how could Kate do it?"—she said "Tom Connor has done it"—I said "I do not believe it"—she stopped a minute or two and I said "Sally, why don't you tell me and this gentleman who has done it?"—she said "For your wife's sake and your little children's sake I will, Tom Connor"—I said "I don't believe it, why don't you tell us who has done it?"—she said "I done it, Sarah Birch and no one else"—she was then taken away.
Cross-examined. The deceased was in his shirt and trousers and boots—the prisoner did not seem so drunk that she did not know what she was talking about, and I do not think I said so before the Coroner—I said, "She has been in the habit taking drink freely and daily"—the bedstead was iron, and there was an iron fender, what you call a "fender strip"—I said, "I noticed a man's legs on the floor near the foot of the bedstead, as if he was lying in front of the fire"—we found the padlock of the front door on the table—I asked her where the key was when she was taken away, but she did not give it to me; she said, "Tom Connor took the key and my purse."
ALFRED ALLEN (Policeman RR 27). On Saturday night, 14th March, I was on duty in Market Hill, Woolwich, and Mr. Ranton fetched me to 4, Cannon Row—I got there a few minutes past 10, and went into the front room, ground floor—a candle stood on the mantelshelf, and I saw a man lying on the floor on the left side of the bed on his back, bleeding from cuts on his head and face—he appeared unconscious, he did not speak—I sent for Dr. Ingledew, and assisted in lifting the man on to the bed—the prisoner was sitting in a chair—I said, "Who did it?"—she said, "I don't know"—I told her I should take her in custody—she made no reply—I found this old pair of tongs on the floor on the mail's left side, broken as they are now—I saw them before I lifted him on to the bed, and after doing so took them from the floor—they were covered with wet blood from the top down to this part (The circle)—the other side of the tongs is missing; they had not been broken recently—I took the prisoner to the station; she walked there—before she left the room she said, "I know who did it, but I shan't tell you; Tom Connor"—I said, "Did he do it?"—she said, "I shan't say"—she was charged with
the assault—Connor was taken before a Magistrate, and afterwards discharged.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that I saw the tongs before lifting the man from the floor, but I could only see the head of them—I saw a fender in the room—the room is about 9 feet by 11 feet—I hardly think she understood what she said to me—she was what I call drunk.
JOHN WEBBER (Police Inspector). On 14th March Allen brought the prisoner to the station, and charged her with violently assaulting a man who had been conveyed to the infirmary—she said, "I know nothing about it, let him go and keep me," referring to Ranton—Ranton said, "How can they let me go when you won't say who done it?"—she said, "I, Sarah Birch, done it: for the sake of your wife and baby, Tom Connor done it"—she then said, "Tom Connor did not do it, I done it; he was with me all day, and had no money, lying on my bed * * and would not leave my room, and I hit him with my hand "—she was drunk, and I detained her—about 1 o'clock that morning Tom Connor was brought in—I read the charge-sheet over to the prisoner in his presence—she said, "He hit me, and I returned the compliment; that man was not there," referring to Connor—Connor was discharged by the Magistrate—I received information that the man was dead, and the prisoner was charged with murder, her apron, ulster, and boots were taken from her by the female searcher, and there was blood on them—they were shown to Dr. Bolton.
Cross-examined. The blood was on the front of the ulster; it was dry, but fresh—the breast was slightly stained, it was smeared with blood, there were two or three smears; they were about the size of a walnut, and there were several spots at the bottom of her apron, and a little on her right boot—I examined the room, and found blood on the floor; it was covered with blood and water where they had bathed the deceased—there was no pool of blood—there was a little pail with water and blood in it—there were dry spots next day near the window, of blood and water at the head of the bed—I also saw blood-stains on the bolster and on the bed.
By the COURT. The bolster was smeared with a place about the size of the palm of my hand; that appeared pure blood, not blood and water; it was smeared as though something had rubbed it—I observed no blood which had not been rubbed—there was a little stain on the bed about the size of a walnut, and several spots on the woodon partition between the passage and the bed.
GEORGE INGLEDEW . I am a surgeon, of New Road, Woolwich—I was sent for to 4, Cannon Row, on this Saturday night, between 10 and 10.30—I went into the ground floor front room and saw a man lying on the bed, unconscious—I tound a serious wound on his head, penetrating to the bone; both eyes were swollen and bruised—there was an incised wound on his head, with more or less abrasion, and several contused wounds on his face—I ordered him to be removed to the infirmary—I saw the tongs—there was blood on the upper part of them—they might have inflicted the wounds—his face had been washed when I got there, and the blood was not flowing from the wounds then—the bed was slightly stained with blood round where he was lying on his back—I saw splashes of blood on
the wall of the room under the window-sill—the wound might have been inflicted two hours or longer before I got there.
Cross-examined. The blood on the tongs would dry very quickly—I was called to see the prisoner at Cannon Row in 1881—she was then bleeding from a scalp wound, which I understood had been caused by a fall from a window—she was very severely injured about her head, and I ordered her to be removed to the infirmary, where I believe Dr. Bolton attended her.
WALTER ERNEST BOLTON . I am resident medical attendant at the Plumstead Union Infirmary—I saw the deceased there on 14th March, about 11.10 p.m.—he remained unconscious till he died at 10.30 next morning—his age was about 35—I made a post-mortem examination—there was a cut on the right upper lip outside, six small cuts round the right eye, which was very much bruised, and there was a bruise on the bridge of the nose—the left eye was bruised, but much less than the right—there was a large bruise over the right temple, several small ones on the forehead, two severe bruises on the left hand, two on the fore arm, the skull was fractured on the left side, and under the fracture there was a small effusion of blood on the brain, and a very large effusion on the right side of the brain—the cause of death was the fracture of the skull causing the injury to the brain—there were also two bruises, one on the first knuckle of the left hand and the other at the base of the thumb, two bruises on the left fore arm and one on the elbow joint—all those injuries may have been inflicted with the head of these tongs—there were a number of separate blows—I examined the prisoner's apron and ulster at the police-court, and saw some smears on the ulster which might have been blood, and the apron appeared to be sprinkled with blood from the spirting of a small vessel.
Cross-examined. The marks on the apron were in front at the bottom; they were larger than if they had been smeared by the hand—the joint of these tongs is quite loose at the top—they would easily produce two marks at one blow—the prisoner was not under my charge in Woolwich Infirmary in 1881, but I was resident there—she remained there till March, 1882—when she was admitted she was suffering from a compound fracture of the skull and a broken arm also; her mind was affected at that time by those injuries, and she might easily be affected by drink.
Re-examined. She left the infirmary on 10th March, 1882, having been there about eight months—she had to all appearance recovered from her injuries then, I have not seen her since—there was an injury to the head on each side and three in front; five separate severe ones which would require at least four blows to make.
By MR. AVORY. The bruise over the right temple was quite superficial, it was a round flat bruise and easily seen—there was no bruise on the left side of the head corresponding with the fracture of the skull.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Me and the man were quarrelling in the fore part of the evening. He struck me, and I struck him back with my hand. When he struck me again I put on my hat and ulster and left the room. My nose was bleeding at the time I left him in the room."
Woolwich—I knew John Williams, he was patient there—I saw his body at the Coroner's Inquest and identified him as John Williams.
Cross-examined. He had been brought in on Thursday, just having been saved from drowing—I saw him on the Friday suffering from drink—later on Friday I saw him between 5 and 6 o'clock, he was still under the influence of drink.
GUILTY of manslaughter .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. CARTER Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt — Two Years' Hard Labour
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH BANKS . I live at 1, Hyde Street West, New Cross, and am single—on Tuesday morrning, 24th March, the prisoner came and engaged a lodging—he came back about 5 o'clock, sat down a little while and talked—he said he should soon go to bed, he was very tired, and that he had not got any money—he had a cup of tea and half a slice of bread and butter—I left the room, and he followed me almost directly, going out at the street door, and calling out "I shall not be five minutes"—when I went back into the kitchen my watch was gone—I had seen it a few minutes before when he was sitting there—it was worth about 2l.—another young man was asleep in the kitchen—I aroused him and asked him the time—he said half-past five—I afterwards went to the police-station—I indentify the prisoner.
THOMAS PATTENDEN . I live at 1, Hyde Street West, New Cross, and am a potman—I have been there nearly 16 months think—on 24th March, about four o'clock, I came home and went to sleep in the kitchen—the landlady aroused me—I looked at the time—it was a little after 5.30—I never touched the watch—I know nothing about it—I saw a stranger there, but did not take enough notice of him to remember him again.
GUILTY . There were two other similar cases against the prisoner.— Twelve Month's Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins,
515. ROBERT CHARLES HOTSON (17) , Maliciously shooting with a loaded pistol at Judith Allan, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm. Second Count, for shooting at her with a pistol loaded with gunpowder and bullets, with a like intent.
MESSRS. POLAND and WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. KNOWLES Defended.
JUDITH ALLAN . I life at Suffolk House, Duppas Hill, Croydon—my father's name is Henry Harrison Allan—I am 14 years old—I knew the prisoner by sight—in the summer of last year I saw him in church—I was in a pew, with sittings, and he was sitting behind me—that happened more than once—one day last summer I met him while I was out walking—I was alone—I recognised him as the man who I had seen at church—he came up to me and gave me my sister's handkerchief and a letter—he asked me if that was my sister's handkerchief, and if I would read the letter and say nothing about it—I did read it, and afterwards tore it up and threw it away—he stated in it that he loved me, and if I did not meet him next day he would go to America; he also said that he was a penniless adventurer—on the 22nd of January I was with my nurse, about six o'clock in the evening, walking along Duppas Hill Lane, and saw the prisoner—he is the same man who had given me the letter in the summer—I did not hear him say anything, but he looked me in the face and then fired at me—he had something in his hand which looked like a pistol—he fired three times, and I felt a smart in my back—my face was blackened a little, but I only got a few pieces of gunpowder in my face—when he did this I said "Don't"—he looked in my face after he had done it, and then went on to Duppas Hill—I looked at my clothing when I got home—there were holes in all of it—there were no holes in the morning when I put the things on—my inside clothes had marks of blood on the back.
Cross-examined. My clothes are here (produced)—here is a hole through my corset—when I was at Croydon I said "There is not a hole through it at all;" and I also said I was not hurt—I could see the prisoner in church, though he sat behind me, because I looked behind—he had never noticed me before—I have not suffered inconvenience from this in any way.
JANE HANNAH SIMMONDS . I am nurse to Mr. Allan, of Duppas Hill, Croydon—on the 22nd January I was out with Miss Judith Allan, and about 6 o'clock in the evening we were on Duppas Hill—I did not see the prisoner come up, but I saw him afterwards—he looked Miss Allan in the face and passed away over the hill—before he left he fired something three times—he fired first between me and Miss Allan, and I saw her face by the light—I don't know how far he was from her—he fired three shots—I took Miss Allan home directly, took off her clothes, and found that there was a hole through all her clothing—her back was bleeding, swollen, and bruised—a doctor was sent for.
By the COURT. He fired three times—when I took her clothes off there was a out or bruise, about the size of a threepenny piece, and it was bleeding—that was under her left shoulder, in the back—that was not there in the moraine; when we went out.
Cross-examined. There was blood coming from the bruise—I did not say that all the blood that had come was on the garments—as to what became of the blood, I dressed the wound with a little oil and linen and threw that away before the doctor came—it had bled slightly—I very likely said all the blood was ou the garments, and had been transferred from one garment to another.
THOMAS NEWELL . I live at 4, Short's Cottages, West Street, Carshalton, and am working at the Carshalton Railway Station—the prisoner is my nephew, but he does not live in the same house with me, he lives at Croydon—he very often comes to see me—on the 22nd January, about 7 in the evening, he came to see me, and I walked along the High Street, Carshalton, with him, and we turned to go into his grandmother's house—I saw that there was something the matter with him; he did not seem altogether himself—I asked him what was the matter with him, and he said that he had shot some one—he produced this revolver (produced) and said that he thought if he had hurt the person he should shoot himself, and that he felt inclined to shoot himself—I told him he had better give me the revolver, and he did so—I took it home, and when I saw the reports in the newspapers I gave it to Inspector Jones—I examined the chambers of the revolver next morning, and found all the chambers were discharged except one; that contained a charge; I drew it out and threw it away—when he said that he had shot at a person he said that it was a girl.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in the habit of coming to my house often—I knew him up to that time to be a thoroughly well-conducted young man—this is the very first time I have known anything wrong about him—I have had some experience with pistols, and know how to use them very well—I know the prisoner is a capital shot, from what I have heard him say, and I know of my own knowledge that he is a fair shot—I do not think he would have had the least difficulty in shooting the girl; if he had wanted to do so he could have done it—looking at the holes in these garments, and taking it that Miss Allan's evidence is true, and that the pistol was fired at half-a-yard distance, I should say that it was not fired straight at her, but slightly on an angle—assuming that it was fired slightly on an angle, and that there was a bullet in the pistol, I cannot, as an experienced shooter, say how it was that the bullet did not go into the body—looking at the clothes, I should say that there was no bullet in the pistol at all.
By the COURT. Since this case has been on I have tried it myself, and have not been able to do the same thing.
By MR. KNOWLES. From my knowledge a pistol with a bullet fired at 18 inches distance cutting the clothes in that way would not do so little damage as Miss Allan describes to-day—I have tried a pistol with powder only, to see the effect at three inches distance, and holes were burnt exactly like the holes in these clothes.
By the COURT. There was one chamber of the revolver loaded, but I cannot say how, as I threw it away directly—I did not take notice whether it seemed to be weighty, as if there was a bullet. Q. You are an experienced shot, do you mean to tell me on your oath that you have not a very strong belief whether there was a bullet or not?—A. No, I did not take notice, I was so excited at the time from what the boy had told me.
—JONES (Police Inspector). On 22nd January, about 9.30, I saw Judith Allan, who made a communication to me, and next morning I went to East Croydon Bail way Station, and found the prisoner at the coal office there, Messrs. Rickett and Smith's, adjoining the railway station—Detective Foster was with me and young Mr. Allan—Detective Foster said to the prisoner "You will be charged with shooting at this young gentleman's sister"—he said "Do you think I am mad?"—I told him he would have to go to the station, and took him there—he was charged with shooting at Miss Allan with intent to murder her—when I was searching him he said "You will find something which will interest you in an old kitchen drawer at home"—I went to his house, and in the kitchen-table drawer I found this six-chambered revolver (produced)—it was not loaded—I took it to the station and saw the prisoner, and said "I suppose this is what you alluded to when you said that there was something at home of more interest?"—he said "Yes"—I received from the nurse of the young lady a description of the spot where these three shots took place, in consequence of which I went to the spot on the following morning and made an examination—there is a garden wall adjoining the footpath described by the two women where they were standing at the time the pistol was discharged—it is not a brick wall, it is partly flint and partly stone—I found a fresh mark on the wall, as of a bullet striking it; there was some lead adhering to it at the time—I received the pistol No. 1 from Newell—there was no charge in it when I received it—three of the chambers appeared as if they had been recently fired off, and it smelt strongly of powder.
Cross-examined. I have had experience of shooting from pistols—in my opinion the effect of a pistol without a bullet being fired at a person within 18 inches would depend upon what wad it had in it—if it had a wallet in it it would depend upon the weight of the wallet whether it would penetrate—if a pistol was fired at three inches from these clothes it would burn them very much more than they are burned—it would do so at three inches with powder alone where the outer garment was cloth, as this is, an ordinary woollen cloth as against cotton cloth, it would burn it more than this is burnt—a pistol without shot, with powder alone, would have to be fired at a distance of from two feet to a yard to make a hole like this, to make these marks—I do not know that a pistol of this sort would not even mark white paper at that distance, and if you told me so I should be surprised—the length of the wall at Duppas Hill, where I found the mark of a bullet, is about 220 yards—Duppas Hill is a regular holiday resort, but it is not a regular play place for all the boys in the neighbourhood; it is for a great many—I think there is something surprising in finding a piece of stone chipped by a bullet where boys go to play—it is not a kind of pistol which is in the common possession of boys, it is not a toy pistol by any means—they described the spot where they stood as directly opposite the drinking-fountain—the drinking fountain is not about 15 feet long; the fountain is simply the place where the water starts out of the wall—I found the mark just opposite there. Q. Assuming that that bullet was the one shot, can you account for how it came round her body and struck the wall?—A. If you ask my opinion I do not think the bullet which struck the wall was the bullet which struck the prosecutrix.
searched by the wall of a garden at Duppas Hill, and saw a mark which appeared to have been freshly knocked off; it appeared to be lead— I searched and found this bullet (produced) about 6 feet from the mark—it shows marks as if it had come into contact with something—it is a whole bullet—the mark was near the top of the wall, on the coping—I found the bullet nearly opposite the drinking fountain.
Cross-examined. It appeared that the bullet had sprung some little distance; it was in the roadway, 6 feet from the footway—I think this bullet has struck the wall—I cannot say whether it is more likely that these impressions on it were formed by a pair of pincers; I think they are perfectly opposite each other. Q. You will see that that is on both sides of the bullet; you will admit that it could not strike so as to make it flat on both sides; is not that exactly such a mark as if somebody had taken a pair of pincers and nipped the bullet?— A. Perhaps; but perhaps a wheel went over it in the roadway—it is possible that the mark has been made by a pair of pinsers, but I cannot say.
Re-examined. I have not used any pincers to the bullet.
WALTER ROSSA, M.D. I practise at Croydon—I examined Judith Allan on the same evening as the occurrence , with a view of seeing whether she was wounded—I found a circular abrasion just below her left blade-bone; it was about the size of a threepenny piece— there was considerable swelling round the place; the skin was broken, and it was bleeding a little—I also found a graze on her left shoulder—I noticed her face; it was dotted over with black specks on the left side of her nose—gunpowder would cause those black specks if discharged from a pistol close to her face.
Cross-examined. The skin was broken—I mean that the outer skin was removed; I call it an abrasion of the skin—the hole in this corset seems to be a little more stretched by handling it, than it was when I first saw it—this knitted silk bodice in the first instance showed simply a track; there is not a hole now, there is still only a track, but is like the other, a little stretched by handling—seeing so little injury to the clothes, I can still account for the wound on the body; there is quite sufficient—I have not had experience in gunshot wounds, and cannot tell you the effect of firing at that distance at a person's body.
The prisoner received a good character, and his mother spoke well of him.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding . Strongly redcommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character, and of his mother, who had refused to allow him to be bailed in case he should annoy Miss Allan. The prisoner stated that he has already been in prison three months and eight days— Nine Months' Hard Labour , and then to enter into recognisances in 200l. himself, and find two sureties in 100l. each, to keep the peace and be of good behaviour to Miss Allan and all Her Majesty's subjects for one year; and in default of finding such securities, to be imprisoned for one year .
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted
ANNIE WRIGHT I went into the prisoners' service on the 5th
December last, at Green Man Street, Ewell,—no-one lived there except I and the prisoner—on the evening of 18th March, after tea, the prisoner said I could go to the Lecture Hall—there were dissolving views there—I told her I did not wish to go, and she said I must go—she had promised to pay for Miss Hawthorne—she lives next door but one—the Lecture Hall is two or three minutes' walk away from the prisoner's house—she gave me 1s. to pay for myself and Miss Hawthorne, and we went, and got there a little before 7.30—about half an hour after I had been in the hall the prisoner came in—I don't know if any one else was with her—I did not see her come in—she did not sit with us, she sat in the middle of the hall—when I left the house to go to the hall it was perfectly safe, there was a little fire burning in the front room grate and a paraffin lamp burning on the table—I had not smelt anything about the house on that day—I had been in the hall about half an hour when the prisoner pulled my arm and said "Come out, there is something the matter"—I followed her out and went down to her house; the prisoner was first and Mrs. Lee next, I followed Mrs. Lee—when we got to the prisoner's door she wished me to open it—I said "No, you were the last one out, you had better open the door"—she had got the key; she took it out of her pocket, and opened the door, when she did so I saw the place downstairs full of smoke—two young men had followed us three women from the hall—I went into the front room, it was full of smoke, and smelt of burning and of paraffin—when I went out there was a lamp burning on the table, when I got back there was only the remains of it— I recollect the bottom part of it being carried out in the tablecloth on which it had been standing the night before was burnt, in the front garden, where it was thrown out that night—I did not go to the cupboard—Barrow was one of the two young men—Symonds went to the cupboard—the prisoner told him not to go; she told him not to take a light there, something might explode, there was some paraffin there—I did not see whether he went to the cupboard—I was told to get a light, and I went to find a candle—I had been to Sutton the previous day; before I went out the prisoner asked me if there was any paraffin wanted—I said "Yes"—there was none in the house—she mentioned no other articles as being wanted—she told me a week before I might go out for a day, and I proposed Tuesday as the holiday—she had never sent me for a holiday before—I did not get any paraffin on that day; I was in the habit of getting half a gallon at a time—I never bought any benzoline the whole time I was at Mrs. Frith's—next day, at dinner time, I said to the prisoner, "It was rather a strange thing, fire being found in the cupboard, that could not have happened from an accident to the lamp, as the cupboard was in the back of the room, underneath the stairs, and the lamp was in the front room, on the table"—I knew the fire had been found in the cupboard under the stairs because I saw Mr. Symonds bringing out a broom with fire on it and finding water to put on it—that was on the same night—after I had been for the candle I helped Mr. Symonds put the broom out with water—I saw another broom brought out of the cupboard alight—I did not smell anything on th brooms then in the confusion—I saw nothing else in the cupboard alight—when I said it was rather a strange thing, fire being being found in the cupboard, Mrs. Frith only laughed and said I made more than a fuss about a little fire— I said of course she did not care, as she
was insured; she did not care that other people might have been burnt in their beds—she only laughed, and that was all—this conversation was on the 19th, and in the afternoon I was asleep in the kitchen, and about half-past four was woke up by Mr. Symonds—I believe he told me there had been a fire—the prisoner was outside in the passage—it had been put out; I had not seen it—I had no further conversation with her about the fire, and heard nothing said by or to her about it—she only told me I was to get out of her house—at the end of December she had given me orders to get a post-office order for 4l. to pay a premium—I got it and sent it away in a letter to Kingston.
Cross-examined. You gave me a shilling to go to the hall, you have not done so before—I went with Miss Hawthorn the week before, she paid for herself then—there was a paraffin cooking-stove in the back kitchen, but it was not used while I was there—you gave me money when I went errands, and I brought receipts back—the day I went to the ball I fetched you half a pint of rum; I fetched none next day, what I fetched I paid for—you allowed me a pint of beer for lunch, a pint for dinner, and a pint for supper, besides a glass of rum.
BENJAMIN SYMONDS . I am a labourer and live at Green Man Street Ewell, next door to the prisoner—I have known her as a neighbour for two years—she was a widow, living there with her servant—on Wednesday, 18th March, my attention was attracted by a very strong smell of paraffin at about a quarter past 11 o'clock a.m., it smelt as if coming from her house—I looked at my can and in my own cupboard, and satisfied myself it was not coming from my house and took no particular notice of it—I take about about a quart of paraffin a week—that evening about a quarter—past 8 o'clock I was stifled with smoke in my house—I opened the window and front and back doors and cleared the smoke out and shut up again, and in about five minutes it got as bad as ever—Mrs. Lee, my sister-in-law, called my attention, and I went round to the prisoner's house to see what was the matter while she went to the lecture hall—the prisoner is not related to me—Mrs. Lee fetched the prisoner from the lecture hall and then came round to me—I followed her through the passage to the front—on going in at the gate I was met by Barron bringing out the tablecloth smouldering—I went back through the passage and got a fresh can of water and went in at the back door—when I got back there the prisoner was there—we held a consultation about how this fire could have happened—when my wife drew my attention to the cupboard and said "Have you looked in the cupboard?" I said "No, I have not, I will do so"—the prisoner said "For God's sake don't go there with a light" (I was going to the cupboard under the stairs with a light in my hand, she pushed me back) "as there are things there that might explode, there is a gallon of paraffin, I know"—I said I should insist on looking in the cupboard—I put the light down and opened the cupboard under the stairs and found the things piled on one another and smouldering—a bass and hair broom were crossed like that, with part of a silk apron and the valance of a curtain upon them; the things were a very few inches off the wall, leaning against the wall—the brooms were half burnt through, and the things on the top were smouldering—I carried the brooms outside—directly one got to the air it blazed up, and I had to put it out with water—the other broom was flaring out when the air got to it—I had to put it up the chimney alight—the apron and
valance were partially burnt—I carried them outside on the first broom—I smelt a strong smell of paraffin—there were also a hamper and basket containing carrots and potatoes in the cupboard close to the broom, and the paraffin was close by too—Mrs. Frith collared the paraffin and carried it out herself—I said nothing more to the prisoner that night about the fire—I put out the remaining fire in the cupboard with a pail and can of water—there were a few coals there alight—I went into every room in the house before I went to bed—the table cover had burnt and the heat had blistered the door and screen end everything—those were two separate fires in different places. I smelt paraffin all over the house—the I table was spoilt, only the tablecloth was on fro—the staircase was not burnt, the screen adjoining was the next day—the door was not alight, no part of the house was alight at that time—the prisoner wanted to go away that night and take the servant with her—I persuaded the servant not to go for her safety—she wanted to go, and said she would not sleep alone—I got Mrs. Lee to remain with her all night—the prisoner and servant and Mrs. Lee remained in the house all night—the police were not called in then—the fire was put out, and there it remained—the next afternoon (the 19th) my attention was attracted by smoke coming out of the prisoner's back bedroom window—I took a can of water and went in at the back door, and then found that the screen or partition, which was canvas painted and papered, and which divided the front room from the passage, was all in a blaze—I put it out—I passed by the prisoner—she was between the middle door and the side door—after I had put the fire lout I said I should give her in charge if no one else would—she said, "What a fuss to make about a paltry fire!" folding her arms—"A thing like you give me in charge!"—I can't say if she was sober—the servant was sitting beside the kitchen fire sound asleep—I had to shake her to wake her—she had been sitting up all the night before—I sent a special constable for the police—they came about 20 minutes before 2, searched the house, and took the prisoner into custody.
Cross-examined. I saw a box packed up on the second day—I stood on it to put the fire out—it was not there the first day, for we must have fallen over it if it had been, the passage was so fall of smoke—I owe you no money—I borrowed half-a-crown, and you gave it me for a job I did for you.
Re-examined. My wife owes her no money that I know of.
WILLIAM BARRON . I live at High Street, Ewell—at a quarter to 9 on 18th March I was outside the Lecture Hall, Ewell, and saw three women leave it—I followed them as far as Mrs. Frith's, where I saw smoke coming out of the door—after the door was opened I followed the women in, and saw a tablecloth burning in the front room and the pieces of a lamp—I took the burning tablecloth, wrapped it up, and threw it out-side, and then came out myself.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Lee went to the Lecture. Hall, and brought you and Miss Wright out.
EMMA LEE . I live at 1, Green Man Street, Ewell—my father, George Reeves, lives next door to the prisoner—on Wednesday evening, 18th March, between 8 and 9, I went across to see my father—his house was full of smoke—I broke the door open, went npstairs, and said something to my father, and then went round to Mrs. Frith's—I could lot get in—I looked through the keyhole and fancied I could see smoke,
and I went to the Lecture Hall and fetched her out—I told her her place was on fire—I came back with her and unlocked the door—I stayed all night in the house to keep the servant company—on going along the passage with a little lamp that night I saw stuffed in the screen what looked like rags—they smelt of paraffin—I afterwards took hold of it, and found it was a white handkerchief steeped in paraffin—I took it half out and put it back again, and it was then quite safe at 7 o'clock in the morning where I left it—it was stuffed in the side of the screen going towards the stairs—on the afternoon of the 19th I was there again—I had seen the 1 handkerchief that day at 12 o'clock—Mrs. Frith was standing by the screen where I had seen the handkerchief, and which had since been on fire, and was all burnt where the handkerchief had been lying—I said to her, "Are you quite satisfied now you have set the pocket handkerchief on fire in the screen?"—she asked me when—I told her, and she said, "You have told lies, it is all lies"—I said, "It is not"—I could not tell from the look of the screen where it had caught fire—it was all out when I saw it—it was scorched all over.
HENRY BELING (Policeman Y 34). On the evening of the 19th, about 6.30, I went to the prisoner's house and looked over it—I saw marks in the cupboard under the stairs, and on the table in the front room and the screen—there seemed to have been three very separate fires—the house smelt very strongly indeed of paraffin—the prisoner was in the back room at the time—after seeing the state of the house and making inquiries, I said to her I did not think it was an accident, I should tab her into custody for setting fire to the house—she said, "What now?"—I said "Yes, I shall take you to Epsom"—she said, "I am perfectly indifferent; you can take me where you like"—I conveyed her to Epsom in custody—the charge was made against her—I read it to her—she made an indistinct remark which sounded like "I did not do it"—the female searcher gave me this policy of insurance—the prisoner seemed to have been drinking very heavily when I took her—she was in a very muddled state.
HARRIET MILES . I am female searcher at Epsom Police-station—on the evening of 19th March I searched the prisoner, who was in custody there—I found this insurance policy in her pocket and gave it to Beling. (This was a policy in the name of James Frith, the prisoner's husband, on the Scottish Union Insurance Company, dated 1877, for 200l. on household goods in a dwelling-house at Halliford, and stated that subsequently the property had been removed to York Road, and afterwards to Green Man Strut, Ewell.)
Cross-examined. I took all the papers from your pocket, and watch and chain and different things.
HENRY BELING (Re-examined). When I took the prisoner I told her she could take anything she liked to Epsom—I locked the door of the house and took the key to the station—I saw her take no papers out of any drawers or sideboard; she took a small black bag and a red hand-bag—I saw no papers till the time you were searched at Epsom.
FRANCIS HUNTLEY (Police Inspector). I received information during the night of the 18th of this fire, and on the 19th of another fire—on the morning of the 20th I visited and examined the house—the round table in the front room had been burnt—the top of it was charred—there had also been a totally separate fire in the cupboard in the kitchen, and a
portion of the partition dividing the front room from the passage, about 7 feet by 3 feet, had been quite burnt out—the cupboard smelt very strongly of paraffin or benzoline, I should say the latter—there were a large number of irregular spaces on the floor, as if something had been spilt—I found a pint bottle on the shelf of the cupboard which smelt of benzoline, and had a small portion of benzoline in it at the time—there were two cans, the larger one had three quarts of paraffin in it, and the smaller one had about a quart of paraffin—I went over the house to see the total value of the furniture—the outside value I should say, would be about 20l.
FREDERICK CHARLES NORMAN . I live at 13, Adelpni Road, Epsom—I have served Mrs. Frith with paraffin for two years—on Tuesday, 17th March, I served her with a gallon of paraffin—on Tuesday, the 10th, I had served her with a pint of benzoline in a bottle, and half a gallon of paraffin I—she said she wanted the benzoline to clean some clothes with—this large paraffin can was the one I filled on 17th March—I saw and identified it.
Cross-examined. It was not a rare thing for you to have a gallon of paraffin—you had a cooking stove and one on the staircase to warm the room—you had paraffin in gallons—you have had a pint of benzoline a hundred times to clean your husband's clothes with, you have said you wanted it to clean clothes with—I believe I said that if we did not clean I our clothes with benzoline we should always be smelling of paraffin.
The prisoner in her defence stated that she had no intention of burning down the house; that the fires were not three separate ones, but all part of the same; and that the witnesses all owed her money, and so had tried to prove this against her; and that she had been drinking for some time past, chiefly through the inducement of Wright.
GUILTY of setting fire to the goods with intent to burn the house .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.
HENRY GEORGE GOODWIN . I live with my father at 22, Anerley Park—I have no occupation—about a quarter to 9 p.m. on 18th March I was in the drawing-room with my brother and heard something strike the I window—in consequence of that I went with my brother into the road—a little beyond our house I saw three persons, one of whom was the prisoner, and the other two young men Alfred Balls and Alfred Whit-taker—I asked them who threw the shots at the window; it had sounded similar to shots—somebody said, "No one"—I said, "Somebody must have done so"—I think the prisoner must have answered me first—he
then drew a revolver out of his pocket and flashed it about in my face, and pointed it at my face within about three inches of it—Whittaker took hold of my arm and led me away, saying "Don't touch him, because he Threatened to shoot any one that touched him before he came out"—the prisoner followed us down the road—I looked round, and he was standing just by my shoulder, almost touching me, pointing the revolver 1 straight in the face—I was going down the road towards my house, and he walked about 10 yards then, I should think—I told him I would fight him in the road if he liked—he said, "No, I won't, I will shoot you"—my brother said to him, "You are all talk," or something like that—the prisoner said to him that he would shoot him as well—I said, "No, you won't," and I hit him in the face with my fist—I said to my brother, "Run and fetch a stick"—my brother went and brought me this stick—at this time the prisoner was standing against a wall pointing the revolver at me—I walked with the stick towards him—he went backwards up the road, still pointing the revolver at me, about 20 yards on the footpath—when I got close to him I believe he tired the first shot at me, and then I must have hit him over the head with the stick, but I won't swear whether I hit him first or whether he fired first—I do not think the first shot struck me—another shot was fired about five seconds after the first one, and about five yards farther on—I then felt my leg give way—I called to my brother and said, "I am shot"—I was struck on the inside of the thigh—my brother came up, and I went into my father's house—the prisoner was a perfect stranger to me—I knew Whittaker and I knew Balls by sight—I was in bed for about three weeks after this, I think—the bullet has never been found, and is still in my thigh—I can feel where it has gone down my leg.
Cross-examined. The drawing-room window was not broken—we had to go through the gate to get into the lane—I challenged him to fight after he had threatened to shoot me—it might have been a good blow that I gave him in the face with my fist—I was not a champion boxer at the gymnasiums—I belong to a swimming club, not an athletic—I can take my own part with my fists—I sent my brother for the stick because I was afraid to go at him with my fists with the pistol pointed at me—I came down as hard as I could with the stick; I read afterwards in the evidence that it was a pretty good blow—I did not see that I knocked him down, I never saw him on the ground at all—I cannot say for certain whether any shot was fired till after the blow—he was facing me when the shot was fired—there was only an interval of five seconds between the shots—I should think I was about 30 yards from my house when I struck him in the face—I immediately sent for the stick, and when I got it I followed him, and he retreated up the road away from our house.
Re-examined. I felt the shot about two seconds after I saw the second flash—he was five yards from me when he fired the second shot.
HENRY WHITTAKER . I live at 8, Beechfield Villas, Anerley Park—on the night of the 18th March I went out with the prisoner and Balls—the prisoner showed a revolver to me when I met him that evening in Balls's garden—he told me he would use it on anybody he had a row with in the street—it was a small one about 6 inches long—as we passed Mr. Goodwin's place the prisoner threw a bit of glass up at the window, and said, "Accipe hoc"—I. the prisoner, and Balls were on the same side of the road—Goodwin and his brother came out—I knew Goodwin—he said,
"Who shot that catapult at the window?"—somebody answered, "No one shot a catapult"—Goodwin said to me he was surprised to see me there—I said I did not throw the shot at the window—Goodwin said, "Well, some one must have thrown it"—then I took hold of him, and I went back towards his house with him, and I said the prisoner had a revolver in his possession and had told me he would use it, and then we turned round and saw the prisoner just behind us with the revolver pointing at Goodwin's head—Goodwin asked him to go out into the middle of the road and fight with fists—the prisoner said he would not; he would shoot him—Goodwin's brother said, "Oh, you are all talk,"or" brag," or something of that sort—the prisoner said he would shoot him—George Goodwin then struck him in the face with his fist—the prisoner said, "I will shoot you"—I had hold of him—he said to me, "You are a personal friend of mine, but I must shoot that fellow;" he kept on saying that—just before that George Goodwin told his brother to go and get a stick—I saw him, with the stick in his hand, go towards the prisoner, who retreated backwards—I went into the middle of the road from the pathway—I heard two reports—I then went into Mr. Balls's garden—I was about 20 yards off when the shots were fired—-I went up afterwards and saw the prisoner leaning against the wall; he had blood I on his face—he was taken into Mr. Balls's house—I don't know what I became of the revolver.
Cross-examined. I saw no struggle in the road between the two—I heard a scuffling after I saw the stick in Goodwin's hand—I did not see the stick used—it was after I heard the scuffle that the shots were fired—I saw the prisoner just before he was taken into Mr. Balls's house; he was bleeding from a cut along the temple—that was not what was done with the fist—he was struck in the mouth with the fist, I think—I had not known the prisoner before that day; Balls knew him.
ALFRED BALLS . I live at Anerley Park—I was with the prisoner and Whittaker on the night of 18th March—I remember passing Mr. Goodwin's window, and after doing so Goodwin came out with his brother—he asked who had been throwing at the window—I said, "No one"—Mr. Goodwin said, "Somebody must have"—he said he was surprised to see Whittaker there; there had been annoyances lately, and he would call for the police next time—when I went out of my house with the prisoner and Whittaker the prisoner showed me a revolver and said if anybody attacked him he would shoot them—when Goodwin talked about sending for the police Whittaker spoke to him, and the prisoner and I walked behind—Goodwin turned round, and I believe asked the prisoner to come out in the road—the prisoner said he would not; he would shoot him if he touched him—I did not see what was in his hand—Goodwin sent for a stick and hit the prisoner with it—I believe the prisoner then fired—I heard two shots and the thud of the blow—I don't know what became of the revolver—when I came up to the prisoner he had nothing in his hand—it was not immediately afterwards that I came up to him—I never saw the revolver afterwards—I believe it was the smallest size Colt's revolver, silver plated—I am a friend of the prisoner—I had a revolver too.
Cross-examined. By the thud of the blow that I heard I mean the blow from the stick—from what I have heard there have been some robberies with violence in Penge Lane close by—I had no intention of hurting anybody with the revolver—I saw the prisoner afterwards on that night;
the blood was streaming down his face—he has since told me that he had passed his preliminary examination at Sandhurst, and that he has lost his nomination through this.
By the COURT. I had no particular reason for my revolver.
WILLIAM HENRY BALLS . I am the last witness's father—on this night the prisoner was brought into my house—I saw no revolver—I did not know until that night that my son had one—the prisoner said, "I have been assaulted, and I shot him"—I asked what had become of his revolver—in his lucid moments he said, "I have not got it; I don't know."
By the COURT. I took my son's revolver away immediately; I believe a friend had lent it to him.
WILLIAM HUSTON (Not examined in chief, Cross-examined). I live in Anerley Park—I was on this night in the lane where the prosecutor's house is—I came upon the prisoner rolling upon the path—I said, "What is the matter; have you hurt yourself?"—his face was covered with blood, and he was very faint indeed—I put him against the wall, and left him in charge of two maidservants who passed, while I went to look for the supposed man that tired the pistol—he had a wound down his forehead—he was afterwards taken to Mr. Balls's—I washed the wound myself; it was a severe one—I saw no revolver.
Re-examined. He had no weapon on him.
JOHN SIDNEY TURNER . I am a surgeon, practising at 81, Anerley Park—on 18th March, at a quarter to nine, I was called to Mr. Goodwin's house. and saw Henry George Goodwin there—from what was said to me 1 examined him—I found a wound on his left thigh, such as would be caused by a bullet from a small revolver—I probed the wound, and not finding the bullet, dressed it—I saw him every day, and looked after him for two or three weeks—I consulted with another medical man—the wound was probed again—we were unable to get the bullet—it had travelled some distance down the leg—we cut down into the leg some distance at the end of the probe to try and find it, but could not—it had taken a circuitous route—we thought it better not to attempt further to extract it, and did nothing more—he felt the effects of the wound for some time—I saw the prisoner on this night—he had such a cut on his forehead as would be caused by a blow from a stick—he said he had been assaulted, and he was afraid he had shot some one.
Cross-examined. I dressed his wound.
GUILTY.— Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.—Judgment respited.
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted.
The letters contained the following statements:—"If you do not send me some money by next Monday your life is in my hands. I will kill you and lay wait for you. I will blow up your house the same as I did the Tower. Send the money to A. F. Kirby, 108, High Street, Batterses." "8th April. If you do not send me some money before next Monday your life is in my hands. I will kill you, and I will blow up the Tower. I demand 200l. Send the money to A. T., Mr. Kirby, High Street Battersea; or Mr. Bass, Lavender Hill; or Snooks, Wickley Hall."
marked A (produced)—I read it, and then forwarded it to the Commissioners of Police—I do not know anything about any other letters in the same writing received prior to this.
EDWARD SHAW (Police Inspector V). Last March I saw this letter marked "C" and the encelope—on 14th March I went to 118, High Street, Battersea, a lodging-house kept by a Mr. Kirby—I saw the prisoner there—I showed him the letter "C," and said "Why are you writing these letters?"—at first he denied it, but he afterwards said "I did write it"—I said "You had no right to write such a letter"—he said "I wanted some mondy, and I thought Mr. Gladstone would be able to send me some, as I wanted to buy a box of kippers"—I told him he had better not write any more letters, if he did he would get himself into trouble, and then left him—I told him I was Inspector Shaw—on 16th March I saw him agin in Fulham Lane, Battersea, and told him I was directed by the Commissioners of Police to warn him against writing any more letters to Mr. Gladstone, and that if he did he would get himself into trouble—he said "Mr. Shaw, I will never write any more letters"—I then left him—no proceedings were taken at that time—on 13th April I received this letter "A"—I went and saw the prisoner outside the lodging-house in High Street, Battersea—I had letters "A" and "C" with me—I said to him "Terry, you have been writing again to Mr. Gladstone," and I showed him the two letters—he said "I wrote the letters through young Snooks; he told me what to say in a coffee-house at Lavender Hill—Snooks bought the paper and postage stamp, amd I posted the letter in High Street, Battersea, on Wednesday night at half-past 7"—I directed him to be taken to Battersea Police-station and charged—the lad Snooks lives in that neighbourhood.
CHARLES FREDERICK SNOOKS . I live with my father at 61, Wycherley Raod, Lavender Hill—I am 16 years old, I know the prisoner—I remember the police coming in May, 1884, to my father about a letter Terry had written—I had nothing to do with that letter—in consequence of the police coming I have had nothing to do with the prisoner since and had nothing to do with writing this letter.
THOMAS ARCHIBALD BURROWS . I am a coal porter at Lavender Hill, I know the prisoner—about three weeks before he was taken in custody he came to me and said he had written to Mr. Gladstone and had put my name in the letter—I said if he had I should pay him—he then said "No, I am going to write to Mr. Gladstone and I shall put Charley Snooks's name in it."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know the boy Snooks was with me when I wrote the letter, he bought the paper and stamp and gave me a pint of coffee and three slices, and told me what to write, and then he told me to post it at High Street, Battersea, in a post office and oil shop, and you can write that down if you like."
Prisoner's Defence. "I didn't intend to do any harm; I wanted some money to pay for my lodging."
GUILTY . The surgeon of the gaol stated that the prisoner was of an extremely low type of intellect, but there was no actual insanity about him. His mother stated that he had run away from a situation which she obtained for him and that he had robbed her of materials given to her to make up.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JOHN LOCK . I am manager to J. B. Peters, boot and shoe inanufacturer, 180, Commercial Road, Peckham—on 20th February I took out a summons against the prisoner for 6s. in the Lambeth County Court, which she owed for a pair of boots, for which she had been paying by instalments—she produced this card and swore she had paid the amount—the figures on it are not mine—I have an entry in my book of the sums she paid.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not put the figures on this card, and did not receive the money.
JOSEPH JOHN CLARK . I am usher at the Lambeth County Court—I produce the original summons in the action of Peters against Pragnall—the case was heard on 12th March, before the Judge, Mr. Pitt Taylor; the claim was 6s. and 1s. costs—the prisoner was sworn, and gave evidence—she produced this card, and claimed to have credit for the payments of the sums on it—judgment was for the plaintiff, 3s. and no costs, allowing 5s. 6d. which the prisoner claimed.
NOT GUILTY .
523. HENRY WAKELEY (21) to feloniously forging and uttering three orders for the payment of money, having been before convicted of uttering counterfeit coin; also to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences a musical-box of Robert Roland Warner and Co.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
MR. PELLLEW, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence, the prosecutor not appearing.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. POYNTER Defended.
WILLIAM JAMES (Police Sergeant L). On 27th March, about noon, I was with Williamson on the Albert Enibankment, both in plain clothes, and saw the prisoner driving a pony and cart—I had known him over 12 months—Williamson called out "Jack"—he looked round, saw us, and whipped the pony into a gallop down the Embankment, down Gloucester Street, and us he passed Mr. Boyce's yard he stood up in the trap and with bis right hand threw a parcel over the wall—we ran after him till we were exhausted, and he got away—we then went back to Mr. Boyce's yard, and the foreman handed me this parcel, broken open, containing 20 counterfeit half-crowns with paper between each—the other paper fell in the dirt, and is not fit to produce—on 2nd April I saw the
prisoner at 55, Tufton Street, and said "Jack, I am going to take you in custody for knowingly having in your possession on 27th March 20 counterfeit half-crowns, well knowing them to be counterfeit, on the Albert Embankment, with intent to utter them"—he said "Oh dear, what shall I do, Mr. James? can I speak to you privately?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Make it as light as you can for me"—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge—I found 6s. 4 1/2 d. on him—on the road there he said "I am going along the street now; it will be a long time before I go this way again"—I said "What do you mean?"—he said "I expect I shall get five years"—William Gilbert showed me a pony and cart, the same which the prisoner was driving on the 27th.
Cross-examined. I did not tell the Magistrate what the prisoner said about it being a long while before he went that way again—the depositions were very much curtailed, as it was the day of the Boat Race.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Policeman). I was with James on 27th March, and saw the prisoner in the pony cart—I halloed out "Jack, here I want you"—he turned round and saw us, took up his whip and lashed the pony, and went away at a great rate down Gloucester Street—when he was passing Mr. Boyce's yard he stood up in the cart, put his hand in his pocket, and threw a small parcel into Mr. Boyce's yard—we pursued him, but could not take him—I know him quite well.
Cross-examined. He had on a black coat; I can't say the same as he has now—if it has no pockets he may have had an overcoat—Boyce's yard was on his near side—he had to throw the parcel over the pavement and over a wall 12 feet high, but it was not much above him in the cart—it was two or three yards from the cart to where the parcel was found on some manure—it was not 140 yards, nor above nine.
CHARLES MASON . I am foreman to Mr. Boyce, dust contractor, of Gloucester Street, Lambeth—on the 27th March, about 12 o'clock, I was in the yard, about five yards from the wall which separates it from the street, and saw something come over the wall from Gloucester Street—I could not see who threw it—it fell on the ground close to my feet, into some dung, and burst, and some coins came out—I picked them up and found 20 half-crowns—I went towards the gate, and shortly afterwards James Williams came up—I gave them to him, with the paper, and told him where I found them.
WILLIAM GILBERT . I am a wheelwright, and work for Mr. Simmonda of Mill Street—on the 29th March, about 12 o'clock, the prisoner came alone and hired a pony and cart—he drove towards Lambeth Road—I do not know what time he returned it—I afterwards showed it to James.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction at Newington of a like offence.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. POLAND and GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. GEOQHEGAN Defended.
AMY KATE SALMON . I am barmaid at the Walmer Castle, Pecknam Road—on Thursday, the 26th March, about 6 in the evening, I was serving in the bar, when the prisoner, Thomas Williams, came to the house—I did not notice who was with him—he asked for half a pint of four ale and a pennyworth of tobacco, which came to 2d.—he gave me a florin in payment; I tried it in tho tester, found it to be bad, and then handed it to the landlord, Mr. Widdington—-directly after I served the man I noticed that woman (in custody) about two yards from him.
Cross-examined. This was the public bar—the woman had drink and paid for it herself in good money—Mrs. Widdington was out—when I took the florin Mr. Widdrington was just coming out from the bar parlour which opens from the bar, after having his tea—I gave the florin to Mr. Widdington, he tried it again, and kept it in his hand—during this time the prisoner did not try to get away, he waited there, and walked out of the house of his own accord by himself—I did not see him taken into custody—I do not know he waited outside the house till a policeman came up—there were other people drinking in the bar when I served these people.
By the COURT. I did not give him his change—he did not pay me nor offer to do so—he had his ale without paying.
Re-examined. I can't say whether the other persons in the bar were in the prisoner's company or not.
CHARLES JAMES WIDDINGTON . I keep the Walmer Castle public-house, Peckham—about 6 o'clock on the evening of 26th March I saw the prisoner, another man, and the woman at my bar—I was just coming out of the bar-palour door from my tea when my barmaid brought the coin to me and spoke to me, not loud enough for the prisoner to hear—I went up to the prisoner, and said to him, "Where did you get this coin from?"—he said, "I got it from a coffee shop opposite East Street, Walworth Road"—I said, "What is the name of the party that keeps it?"—he hesitated then for a moment, and at last said, "I don't know"—I said, "This coin is bad"—he put his hand into his pocket and put down a good florin—I held them both—as he seemed rather excited in his manner I said I should detain him till I got the assistance of a constable—as soon as I said that the other man at the bar bolted to the door and got out, and the prisoner followed him out of the centre door—I went round by the side door and caught him outside in front—the woman had followed him out, and she said, "Lot the poor man go; he is my uncle"—I detained the prisoner—he said, "I am going to see my master, to bring him back to give you my character"—I said, "If you want to go to see your master, the constable shall go with you"—he said nothing to me as to who his master was, or where he worked—I sent for a constable, and gave him into the custody of Fulbrook, to whom I gave the good and bad florin—another constable took the woman from the observation he heard her make use of.
Cross-examined. I sent a mounted inspector who passed for a constable—I was outside with the prisoner a few minutes—I had my open hand on his shoulder—he was not particularly saucy to me—I gave him into custody because he was hesitating so—when I told him the coin was bad he said, "D----it all, give it me back!" and threw down a good one—I suppose I should have given him into custody if he had not used the I word with the big "D"—I gave him into custody because of his hesitation
and bad language—I have been waiting here with Fulbrook for two or three days—I tried the coin after the barmaid had done so and given it to me, before I satisfied myself it was bad—the woman paid for the drink she had herself—the barmaid walked from the counter to the door out of which I was just coming, and gave me the coin—I did not give it back to the prisoner—I kept it in my hand—the prisoner was in my house altogether about three or four minutes it might be—when we were outside he wanted to go away, and I told him he would have to stop—I had my hand on his shoulder—he said he was going to fetch his master—he said he got the coin in a coffee shop opposite East Street, in the Walworth Road—there is a coffee shop there, I believe—he told me to find out where he worked—I was perfectly cool.
Re-examined. He did not say what his master was, nor where he was—I asked him nothing about him.
JAMES FULBROOK (Policeman P R 28). On the evening of 26th March I went to the Walmer Castle, and found the prisoner detained there for uttering this bad florin—I asked the prisoner where he got it from—he said, "At a coffee shop in the Walworth Road, opposite East Street"—I said, "Have you got any more money about you?"—he said, "No"—I searched him there first, in' the street; and then, because of the crowd, I took him inside, and found in his pockets three florins, 31 shillings, and a sixpence, and 5s. 4 1/4 d. in coppers, all good—I took him to the police-station, where I made a further search, and in the lining of his waistcoat I found 2l. in gold and 1l. 14s. 6d. in silver and 2s. 3d. in coppers, all good money—he had a purse—he said nothing about where the money came from—he gave the name of Thomas Williams, 16, Adam Street, New Kent Road—he said he was a bricklayer—I found a latch-key on him—Mr. Widdington gave me this bad florin.
Cross-examined. I asked him nothing about the good money—all the money upon him was good except the florin which he tried to pass—the gold was sewn inside his pocket—the 31s. 6d. was loose in his pocket—he did not prevent me searching him—when I said, "Have you any more money?" I had the bad florin in my hand—I said at the police-court, "I said, 'Have you got any more money about you?' and when I did that I held up the bad coin"—he may have thought that I was asking him if he had any more bad money about him—he went quite quietly to the station—the woman was searched at the station—I have not heard of anything having been found on her except two shillings and some bronze, good—the only bad money traced either to her or to the prisoner was this florin.
EMILY FLETCHER . I live at 16, Adam Street, New Kent Road, which is my house—the prisoner lived there for four or five weeks from about 24th January, he left about 6th March—Fulbrook came about three weeks after he left. (Fulbrook was fore called and stated that he went to the witness's house on the 27th.)
By the JURY. The prisoner sometimes went out earlier than 12 o'clock; it was all times in the morning, but never so early as 6 o'clock—some it was after 12, he never went out early.
LUCY JAKE BELL . I am a widow, living at 17, Sedgemore Place, Camberwell—on 11th March the prisoner took No. 7, Stockwell Street Old Kent Road, which belongs to me, at a weekly rent of 4s. a week, giving me 2s. deposit; it is a house of two rooms, one up and one down—I gave him permission to get the key from the next house—the police-officers
have since shown me the key—on the following Monday, the 16th, I saw him in the house with this woman (in custody), who was living there with him—we had some conversation about the repairs—I frequently went after that, but could get no answer to my knocks—I gave information to the police, and on Good Friday, 3rd April, Constable Shave came to me, and 1 went with him to the house—with a key he had got he opened the house and made a search there and found some things—the prisoner told me he was a bricklayer and that the woman was a laundress, his wife.
Cross-examined. I only saw the prisoner at my house once, and I last saw him on the Tuesday after the Monday I had been to the house—that was on 6th March, 10 days before the detective called on me—he paid me no rent—when I went I found no one in, I knocked back and front and threw stones at the back—three brothers of the name of Shaughnessy had the house before he came there, they left about a fortnight before the prisoner took it—when I went over the house with the police I believe there was a trowel there and a square board with a handle that they do plastering with; I saw some plaster-of-Paris found there, one article we found under the floor—there was a small table, a chair without a back, a washstand about 18 inches or so in the bedroom—there were a few cups and saucers and so forth in the other room, an empty box, I think, and another one with something in it.
FRANCIS SHAVE (Detective R). On Good Friday I went with Mrs. Bell to 9, Stockwell Street, having shown her a photo of the prisoner which she had identified—the window of the ground floor room, the kitchen, was broken—in the upstairs room I found four bottles containing acid, and a glass jar with liquid in it, some quicksilver, a ladle, some copper wire, whitening, silver sand, and various other chemicals, and plaster-of-Paris, and a piece of copper—I also found this rent book, which relates to the other lodgings.
Cross-examined. I have no one who saw the prisoner going in or out of this house for 10 days—the front window had been broken and the shutters fastened afterwards—the window could not have been opened from the outside on account of the shutter—I could not say how the shutters were fastened, but I saw they were inside and they could not have been unfastened from the outside—the shutters were not fastened when Mrs. Bell found the window open, so I heard from her, I was not there then, when I went there the windows were fastened and the shutter up—any person could have got into the window when she went there—some of these things were concealed, they were not all openly strewn about the room—there is no name on the bottles—I found some tools there—Mrs. Bell did not tell me the names of the other three men, she told me she had been unable to get into the room—there are persons living on both sides of the road, it is a low neighbourhood.
By the JURY. The shutters are inside the room and open like sliding doors fastened with a bolt.
MRS. BELL (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). When I let the house to the prisoner the window was not broken, it was when I went to the house and get my rent—the shutters were not open—I told the detective that the window had been broken, and the shutters were open when a woman and two men had gone to get something that had been left, and had got in at the window which they broke open, and then had shut the window
down and fastened it, and let themselves out—that was nearly a Week before the prisoner was taken into custody—I did not see it—that was what the person in the next shop, Dangerfield, told me—she had not seen them—I always saw the shutters closed; I never saw the window and shutters so that a person could get into the room—the police have shown me a latch key found in the prisoner's possession which opens the door of the house.
By the COURT. I could not see if the window was broken after the shutters were shut—I was told this after the prisoner was taken into custody—no one could have got in after they fastened the shatters and came out and shut the door—it was mentioned to me as having been done—a day or two after the prisoner was in custody it might have been—I could not say the date.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This florin is counterfeit—this is six or seven pounds of plaster-of-Paris—a ladle for metal; the metal in it is ordinary pewter, such as is used for pots, spoons, and counterfeit coin—this is quicksilver—there are four bottles of acid, solder, a glass jar with marks of Plaster-of-Paris on it, copper wire, silver sand—all these articles are used by the manufacturers of counterfeit coin—in these bottles are hydrochloric and sulphuric acids.
Cross-examined. I have not analysed any of these things—this is sulphate of copper—the ladle might be used for Anything—there are no labels on the bottles—there are no moulds here.
By the COURT. These things are essential for the manufacture of counterfeit coin.
GUILTY. He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in September, 1873, of felonious uttering.— Judgment respited.
MR. POLAND, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
CHARLES EDWARD ACOCK . My father keeps the Sun and Dove public-house, Cold Harbour Lane, Camberwell—about 14th March the prisoner came and asked for threepennyworth of brandy neat—I served her—she gave me a bad half-crown—I took it to my father who was in the bar-parlour—he took charge of it and spoke to the prisoner who was reading the paper—she was allowed to go—I next saw her when I went to the station to identify her at the end of March—she was then alone—I recognised her, and am quite sure she is the woman.
Cross-examined. I did not say at the station that I fancied you were the young woman, but was not quite sure; I said you were the woman.
CHARLES WILLIAM ACOCK . I am landlord of the Sun and Dove—on Thursday, 14th March, my son came to me into the bar-parlour and showed me a half-crown—from what he said I went into the bar, where I found the prisoner reading the paper—I put the half-crown in the tester and broke it in half—I am quite sure it was a bad one—I said to her "Where did you get it from?"—she said "I took it in change for a
half-sovereign yesterday"—I did not ask her where; she did not tell me—she paid for what she had in good money—I threw the two pieces at her on the counter, and she took them away with her when she left—I reported the matter to the police the same night, I think—I afterwards heard she was in custody on another charge—I went to the station—she was practically alone—I recognised her immediately—I am quite sure she is the woman—I said I was sure.
ELIZABETH DEER . I live at the Castle public-house, Camberwell—my husband, Alfred William Deer, is a licensed victualler—on Thursday, 19th March, the prisoner came to my bar about 12 o'clock midday, and called for threepennyworth of brandy—I served her—she gave me a half-crown, which I put on one side, and gave her 2s. 3d. change—she left, taking it with her—shortly afterwards I looked at the half-crown—it had not been mixed with other money—I found it was bad—I showed it to my husband—he agreed that it was bad, and I threw it under the fire—I suppose it melted; it disappeared; I did not watch it—on 27th March I saw her again at my house about 10 minutes past 9—my nephew served her with twopennyworth of rum neat—she put down a half-crown—the boy put it in the till—the prisoner remained a short time and then went out—directly she had gone I went to the till, nobody had been to it in the meantime—there was only one half-crown there—I found it was bad—I sent my boy after her—she was brought back—I accused her of passing the bad half-crown—I told her she had been in on the 19th—she said "I have not been out of the workhouse a week"—she was given into custody—the half-crown from the till was given to the constable—I am sure the prisoner was there on the 19th.
DAVID EDWARDS . I am the last witness's nephew—I live at the Castle, and sometimes serve there at night—on the 27th the prisoner asked for twopennyworth of Irish cold, and then said she would have twopennyworth of rum neat—I had not seen her before—she gave me a half-crown; I gave her 2s. 4d. change—I thought the half-crown was good, and put it in the till—afterwards my aunt went to the till, and the half-crown was taken out—I went with the barman outside, and saw the prisoner in Castle Street, about 100 yards off, going quickly along—I and the barman got a policeman, and she was taken back to the house.
JAMES JACKMAN (Policeman P 215). On the night of the 27th I was spoken to by the last witness—I saw the prisoner in the street, and took her back to the Castle—I told her she would have to go back with me, that she had been passing a bad coin—she went back—the landlady accused her of passing a bad half-crown on that night, producing this bad half-crown, and she also said she had been there on Thursday, 19th March—the prisoner said she had not been there, and did not know that this half-crown was bad—she had a purse in her hand which contained two good shillings, a sixpence, and 3d. bronze—with regard to the 19th the prisoner first said she was confined in the Newington Infirmary with a little girl, and that she went in on 24th February and came out on 14th March, I think, and that she was there in the name of Annie Clark—I made inquiries at the infirmary, and afterwards told the prisoner I had done so and found it was false, that she had not been in the infirmary in the name of Annie Clark—the prisoner said no, she had not, she was very sorry that she had told an untruth about the infirmary—at the police-station she said she did not pass this bad half-crown
—her defence was she denied knowing that it was bad—she said she was living at 24, Penrose Street, I think, Walworth.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not know the coin was bad."
The prisoner in for defence denied all knowledge of the first coin, and stated that the second one had been given for. and that she did not know it was bad.
GUILTY of uttering the coin on 19th March .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FLETCHER Prosecuted; MR. BROUN Defended.
AUSTIN JAMES HORSELEY . I live at 2, Denmark Hill, Camberwell, and am assistant to my father, Freeman Horseley, a grocer—on 20th March the prisoner came to our shop and said, "Can you oblige Mrs. Symes for a small cheque"—Mr. Symes is a butcher near us—I took this cheque up to my father, who gave me the money—I brought it down and gave it to the prisoner—the cheque is endorsed "E. Symes"—I believed that to be Mrs. Symes's signature—I did not see him sign it. (The cheque was on the London and South-Western Bank. Pay Mrs. Symes 12l. 10s., signed Robert Sclatert and endorsed E. Symes.)
Cross-examined. Mr. Symes's is just across the way from my father's—Mr. Symes keeps it—the prisoner said it was from Mrs. Symes.
ROBERT HAWES . I am manager to Mr. Freeman Horseley—I saw the prisoner come in on 20th March, and go to the end of the shop and speak to the son, who went upstairs, and presently returned, spoke to me, and gave the prisoner the money—I followed the prisoner out of the shop—he went across towards Mr. Symes, but stopped 6 yards from it—he turned round, saw me, and seemed rather surprised—I went up to him and asked him if he was going to take the money in to Mr. Symes—he said, "I was looking for the man that gave it to me"—I said, "That won't do for me; you will have to come back to the shop"—I brought him back and sent for a policeman, and Mr. Horseley gave him in charge—I went to Mr. Symes after I had brought the prisoner back to our shop, and made inquiries.
Cross-examined. The prisoner put the money on the counter when I brought him back about half-past 8—he went back with me readily, without the slightest resistance, and handed back the money directly—I left him in the shop with the constable while I went to Mr. Symes—I saw him handing the money on to the counter—we had not had spurious cheques passed at our shop before—I was suspicious of him the moment I saw him—I did not think Mr. Symes would send such a cheque—I have been in the employment for some years—I did not communicate with my master or his 6on because I did not like to refuse Mr. Symes change if it was for him—although I was so suspicious, I was too busy at the counter to go up to my master—this was Friday night: we were very busy.
Re-examined. There were four or five assistants behind the counter when the money was given back; the last witness was there—I followed
the man across the road because I had suspicions of him—ours is a large concern.
GEORGE GILLIS (Policeman P 281). I received the prisoner on this charge on the night of the 20th in the shop—I took the money from the prisoner's hand—Mr. Horseley showed me the shop—I went in close to the prisoner; I said, "What have you to say about this cheque?"—he said, "I know nothing about it, a friend of mine gave it me outside to get changed"—I took 11 sovereigns and three half-sovereigns from the prisoner, and put it on the counter—I took him to the station—when charged he said he knew nothing at all about the cheque, that a stranger gave it to him—I asked him to write his name and address; he wrote his name on this paper and said, "I have no address."
Cross-examined. A lad fetched me to the shop—the prisoner was about a dozen yards in the shop; it is a long shop—I went up to him immediately—I am sure the prisoner had the money in his hand—it was counted by Mr. Horseley and me in my hand—I have made what inquiries I could about the prisoner, but his not giving any address I have been able to ascertain nothing either way—I found on him five pawntickets, I have not been able to trace them, and a card with the address, "3, Crosby Square"; I have not been there—the pawntickets relate to microscopes, opera-glasses, and rings—I have been to the pawn-broker's; the things were pawned, that was all I could find out.
EDWARD SYMES . I am a butcher, of 13, Denmark Hill, opposite Mr. Horseley's—I do not know the prisoner—I know nothing about this cheque—no part of it is in my handwriting, nor in my wife's—she does not reside in Camberwell—I think this is meant for Mrs.—the endorsement is not in my writing.
ARTHUR RICHARD HOLLING . I am a cashier in the London and South-Western Bank, Battersea branch—I know none of the signatures on this cheque—I have never seen the name of Sclater, the drawer, before—the cheque-book from which the form comes was given to a customer named McCloud about two years ago—his account has been closed mow than 18 months.
Cross-examined. We have had no customer named Symes at our branch for the last two years.
GUILTY of uttering .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
530. GEORGE WEBB (30) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Reynolds Riley, and stealing a coat and other articles, after a conviction of felony in September, 1879, at this Court.*— Five Years' Penal Servitude. And
OLD COURT.—Monday, May 11th, 1885, and six following days.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
532. JAMES GEORGE GILBERT, alias JAMES GILBERT CUNNINGHAM (22) and HARRY BURTON (30) were indicted under the Treason Felony Act of 1848 for feloniously conspiring with other persons whose names are unknown to depose the Queen from her Royal name and style of Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. Other Counts for conspiring to levy war against the Queen, with intent by force and constraint to compel her to change her measures and to intimidate and overawe the Houses of Parliament.
The ATTORNEY-GENERAL, the SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with MESSRS. POLAND and S. WRIGHT, conducted the Prosecution; MR. J. B. LITTLE appeared for Burton, MESSRS. H. C. RICHARDS and DUKE for Cunningham.
GEORGE MANNING . I am night inspector at the Victoria Station of the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway—I was on duty there on the night of Monday, 25th February, 1884—about 1 o'clock in the morning of the 26th an explosion took place there—I heard the report and saw that it had taken place in the cloak-room, the waiting-room, and the booking-office, which adjoin each other—the station was set on fire; there was an explosion of gas, the pipes having burst—that was after I heard the explosion—I remained on duty until noon, when Colonel Majendie came and inspected the premises.
GEORGE WOOD . I am in the employ of the Brighton Railway Company—after the explosion, on the morning of the 27th, I with others searched the cloak-room, and underneath the floor I found portions of two clocks and a kind of spring—I handed them to Eastmond, the ganger—I also found a quantity of copper metal, which I also gave to Eastmond.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. We started searching about 7 o'clock or half-past on the morning of the 27th—I found portions of two clocks, I did not know whether it was two clocks or; not, very much damaged—one appeared to be a musical box.
WILLIAM JOHN EASTMOND . I am a ganger employed by the London and Brighton Railway Company—on 27th February last year I was engaged in searching the rubbish at the Victoria Station, 'Wood, was working under me—he picked up several things which he handed to me, and I handed them to Mr. Burt, my inspector—I saw some things found resembling tin, but it was not tin, it was harder than tin, it was some canister thing burst all to pieces—I gave that also to Burt.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I saw the things found under the floor—I superintended it all the while, I never moved away—the things were principally found under the floor.
Re-examined. The explosion had knocked the floor all down.
WILLIAM BURT . I am inspector of the permament way on the London and Brighton Railway—I was at Victoria Station on 27th February superintending the searching the rubbish, Wood and Eastman were there too—there was what appeared to be the spring of a clock, I handed it to Colonel Majendie—the pieces of stuff like tin were taken into the station superintendent's office—I gave some of those to Colonel Majendie.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The damage done was to the roof, flooring, waiting-room, and booking-office—the spring of the clock was found partly under the floor where the explosion had drove the floor down, where it had burst the floor—the spring was found about two feet beneath the level of the flooring.
I remember this bag (produced) being brought there on the evening of that day, between 7 and 8 o'clock—it was handed to me in the ordinary way; 2d. was paid, and I gave a ticket—I don't take the names of the depositors—the bag being taken in, it was put in the ordinary way in the cloak-room with the left luggage—I see a large number of people in the course of a day, and I can't tell at all who left that bag—the bag remained in the cloak-room until the 3rd of March, the following Saturday—the day after the bag had been left I heard of the explosion at the Victoria Station, and on Saturday, 3rd March, I was sent for to the City Police Office, in the Old Jewry, and when I got there I was shown that bag, which I identified as the one I had taken in on the Monday—my superintendent, Mr. Bowman, was there at that time.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I am sure that I took that bag in, but I have no recollection whatever of the person that brought it—there is a pretty fair light at the counter where I take them in—the person who gave it me would have to wait some little time; I should go and make out a ticket, and then go back and give it to him; so that I should have two opportunities of seeing him, but I might not look at him at all—he would not have to give me his name, he did not—he did not ask me how how much it was, I don't think he spoke-I had an impression of the man at the time-I said at the police-court that I did not recognise either of the prisoners-I have looked inside this bag, I should think it was a new one.
HENRY BOWMAN . I am superintendent of the Ludgate Hill Station of the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway Company—on the morning of 3rd March last year, about 10 o'clock, I was sent for to the station; I went into the cloak-room—when I got there a porter named Stephen Holland called my attention to a bag—he left our service about two or three months after the occurrence, and we don't know where he is—I examined the bag and its contents, this is, it (produced)—it had been opened by the porter, but it was undisturbed—on the top, lying on some newspapers, I found the back plate of a clock—on lifting the newspapers I saw some cakes of dynamite, or rather I saw some cakes in brown oily sort of paper—there was found to be 45 separate packets; they were each marked "Atlas powder A"—that was printed on them—they are flat slabs—I had then heard of the explosion at the Victoria Station—I then went to the Bridewell Police-station, close by, and brought back to the cloak-room a constable named Taylor—I found the bag as I had left it—the cakes with "Atlas powder A" end the whole of the contents were put back into the portmanteau, and Taylor took charge of it and took it away to the Chief Office of the City Police, in the Old Jewry—I followed close on—later on in the day I saw Colonel Ford, one of the Inspectors of Explosives, and he examined the bag and its contents while I was there.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. Holland was the cloak-room porter-Langley took the bag in; Holland was in charge of the room, and the only man there at that time—Langley was on late duty that week, he was not about there at the same time; one man is on duty early, till 2 o'clock in the day, when the other would relieve him—Langley was on duty at the time the bag was deposited; Holland was on duty when the bag was discovered.
and bag-sellers, 96, Fleet Street, City—this bag (produoed) I had in stock in February last year; I sold it across the counter about 20th February, from what I can remember—I can't say the exact day; it was on a Monday, about half-past 10 in the morning—I sold it to some man, the price was 10s.; he had a parcel with him, and he put that into the bag and took it away—my attention was called to this matter some time after the bag had been sold, by Constable Taylor—I have seen the two prisoners at Bow Street, and do not recognise either of them—I have no doubt that is our bag, there is one mark of ours in it.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I didn't take particular notice of the man—he came in and bought the bag and went away about his business—I said before the Magistrate, "I think I should know the man again"—I think I should, but of course the time has elapsed—it is a long time 18 months, he may have whiskers now and what not—it was a fortnight after I sold the bag that the constable came to me—at that time I was quite clear I should know the man again—since then one has a deal of business to do, the bag was sold and gone and I didn't think of it any more—if the man had come in himself and said "I bought this bag" then I should have known him—when I was examined at Bow Street I was clear it was not either of the prisoners.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Detective Sergeant). On Saturday morning, 3rd March last year, I was sent for to the Ludgate Hill Station-I went into the cloak-room and saw this bag on the counter-I saw that it was packed with some newspapers on the top; when I removed them I saw some little slabs with "Atlas powder A" printed upon them—I also saw some clothing in the bag and a tin case with a clock, and inside the tin case there was one of the slabs containing 10 detonators; they were stuck in with plastic stuff; they were in front of the muzzle of a pistol attached to the clockwork, and there were 45 slabs packed round, outside the tin—they were like this slab (produced) only not quite the colour, but that size, that is 4 inches by about 2 1/2 inches—when I saw this stuff I took charge of the bag; it was in the same state; there was one and part of another slab inside the tin case; the mouths of the detonators were facing the mouth of the pistol—I took the bag and contents to the City Police-station in the Old Jewry; I saw my Inspector first, and Colonel Ford came afterwards and examined the bag and contents—I then noticed the trigger of the pistol had gone down but not exploded the cartridge—Colonel Ford drew the charge from the pistol and also the detonators from the slab in my presence—he took charge of the pistol, the clockwork, and the detonators—I did not notice that the cartridge was blank, without a bullet—I took charge of all the slabs of dynamite—I also saw when these things were taken out of the bag a number of strips of paper, 47 altogether, marked "Atlas powder A," as if they had been stripped off other slabs; they were printed exactly in the same way as the others—I took charge of the various slabs and took them to Woolwich the same day in the bag; they were taken them for safety by the direction of Colonel Ford—at Woolwich I gave them to Sergeant Hindes of the Woolwich Dockyard Police; I left them in his custody—I took possession of the bag; it has been in my possession until I produced it at Bow Street—Colonel Ford carefully examined all the things—I noticed a mark on one of the handkerchiefs inside the bag: "Washington, S. H. Green & Sons" printed.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I was not the first person to examine the bag—it was open when I saw it—I saw the shirt that was there; there was no name on that—I presume that S. H. Green and Sons art manufacturers—there was no one skilled enough to know whether the shirt was American or English—I saw the 10 detonators; they were all the same size and make—I have not seen those found at Charing Cross-the hammer of the pistol was down.
JAMES SULLY . I am booking porter at the Paddington Station—I was on duty there on 25th February last year—at very near half-past 6 in the evening this portmanteau (produced) was handed to me by a person at the counter, who gave the name of Berry when he left it—I have my book here; the name is entered here—Mr. Hart, the station-master, came on the following Thursday—I unstrapped the portmanteau, and Mr. Hart unlocked it, and I saw the cakes which I ascertained afterwards was dynamite.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The cloak-room is on the departure platform—I said before the Magistrate that the man who left the portmanteau was about 5 feet 5 or 6 in height, and a very dark-complexioned man—I said I was busy—I did not say I did not take particular notice—I don't think the entry to the cloak-room is dark; it may be in dark weather—a good many persona leave bags in the course of the day—my attention was not called to the person in any particular sense until after Mr. Hart had spoken to me—I dare say several hundreds of persons may have left parcels that day—I dare say I could not recognise every one that came there.
Re-examined. I did not say I had recognised any one—I said that Cunningham reminded me of the man by his having dark hair; and I said as I approached the window to take in the portmanteau the mas that left it turned his back to me, so I only had a momentary glance of his face, but I saw the back of his head, and he had very dark hair—I cannot swear to Cunningham—I can only say he reminded me of the man—I saw him at Bow Street, and it struck me he was like the man.
WILLIAM ALBERT HART . I am station-master at Paddington—two or three days after the explosion at Victoria Station I examined the luggage in the cloak-room at Paddington, and found this portmanteau, which was heavier than usual—I think I unstrapped it—I unlocked it at all events, and found 45 or 46 cakes of some kind of composition, moat of it in one compartment—on feeling it I felt something hard, and found this cash-box full of dynamite, and the clock in the centre-the dynamite was all round it—a pistol was attached to the clockwork, and a detonate was affixed to one cake of dynamite inside the cash-box—one or two of the cakes were labelled "Atlas powder A"—the size of the cakes was about 4 inches—the trigger of the pistol was connected with the clock-work, but the pistol had not gone off, nor had the detonators been exploded—my opinion is that the trigger was not properly set; it was too stiff—the hand was set for 12 o'clock, and the clock had stopped at 9—I do not understand it myself, but Colonel Majendie came and explained it to me—one of the newspapers in the portmanteau was the New York Sun of February 6th, 1884—there was a small label of the South-Easten Railway on the portmanteau, but no steamship label—I handed it with the contents to Colonel Majendie.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The middle flap was missing from the
portmanteau, and I believe it was found at the Waverley, and this tray also-it was not in the cash-box then—nearly a dozen detonators were found—I did not count them, and I saw no difference in their size or make—I only noticed this hand of the clock, which was set at 9—I did not notice the other hand, or examine the works—my opinion is that it was made by an inexperienced man, and it had stopped instead of going on—I am not familiar with clocks, but I am with machinery—I have been an engineer in Dorsetshire.
JOHN ATTWOOD (Police Inspector), On 28th February last year I saw this portmanteau at Paddington Station, and took charge of it, took out the packets of dynamite, took them to Woolwich, and gave them to the Superintendent.
JAMES WALLACE BUTCHER (Police Inspector). On Thursday, 28th February, Colonel Majendie examined this portmanteau at Paddington Station in my presence, and I saw the clockwork, pistol, detonators, and some cakes, one or two of which were marked "Atlas A," the New York Sun of April 8th, 1884, and an envelope addressed to Jack Donnithorn.
The two following witnesses were called at the request of the prisoners Counsel:—
LOUISA STERNHAM . The deposition of this witness was read to her as follows;—" I am the wife of Alfred Sternham, of No. 39, Ferdinand Street, Chalk Farm—in February last year I was servant at the Waverley Hotel, Great Portland Street, as housemaid—on Wednesday, the 20th February, 1884, a man came to the hotel and asked for a bedroom—he had one on the third-floor back, No. 5—he had a black bag with him—he stayed till the following Monday, the 25th—I attended to his bedroom all the time he was there—on the Saturday 1 found besides the bag he brought other small black one about 18 inches long in his room—it was very heavy—I had occasion to lift it, and it was always locked—I saw also in the room two overcoats, one was black and the other dark—the dark one had been torn up the back seam and sewn together again—on Saturday, the 23rd, another man came—he arrived in the evening, I think between 6 and 7—he had a bedroom on the first floor—he brought no luggage with him, but he said he had some luggage at the station and was log to fetch it on the Monday—he went out on the Monday, I was absent about an hour—when, he returned he brought a all portmanteau, about the same size and colour as the one now produced, a small black bag, and a rug—he took all these up into bedroom—in the first man's room I saw the inside of two cash boxes, the trays one larger than the other—I saw also some freshputty in the cupboard of the first man's room—I am sure it was not there before he took possession of the room, because I scrubbed the cupboard out before he came—the first man used to go up to his room very early in the afternoon, and spent nearly all his time there—he used to come into the coffee-room for breakfast and tea, but the rest of the evening he would spend in his bedroom—he left on Monday, the 25th, bout three in the afternoon—he told me he wanted some tea and he wanted it early, as he wanted to catch a train—he had it about half-past—he went away between 6 and 7—I saw him go—he took his luggage with him, the two bags and the overcoat he was wearing—he was earing one and he carried the other—he had been out in the morning not very long, and from the time of his return till the time of leaving
he was up in his room—after he had gone I found some crumbs like cheese, yellow, one tray of a cash box, and a little wooden box like the one produced, which I broke up and burnt—I found the tray of the cashbox under the dressing table—it was a day or two after handed to Inspector Swanson—I swept the crumbs up and threw them into the dust-hole—the second man left on Monday, the 25th—he was gone between 7 and 8 in the evening, when I went into his room—he paid for his room for Monday night when he had his breakfast in the morning-he did not return, nor the first man—the second man's luggage was gone when I went into his room—I found in his room a wooden box without a lid similar to the one produced, and the inside flap of a portmanteau, which is now produced—I found the flap under the bed—I threw it in the dust-hole—I used the wooden box for buttons, and aftewards handed it to Inspector Swanson—I saw him take the flap out of the dust-bin—the two men appeared before others to be strangers to each other—they hung their heads down, and did not look at each other, but I could hear them talking when I went to the coffee-room door, bat as soon as I entered they dropped the conversation—each paid every night for his room, and their meals as they had them so they paid for them—I have not seen the men since—I should know either of the men if I saw them again." That is correct.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. Neither of the prisoners is the man who came to the Waverley Hotel—this portmanteau flap (produced) was found in the hotel, and I threw it into the dust-bin—it answers to this portmanteau, which is like the one in the room of the two men who were staying on the first floor—this cash-box tray was found in the top room (No. 5), in which the man who came first slept—this small wooden box (produced) is similar to one I saw in one of the men's rooms who were staying at the hotel, and after they left I used it for some time for keeping buttons—it is like the boxes which American clocks come over in, it has "Peep of Day" on it.
ELLEN SELLICK . This witness's deposition was read over to her as follows, to which she assented:—"I am the wife of James Sellick, the proprietor of the Waverley Hotel, Great Portland Street—the last witness was my servant—in February last year I remembered her giving me some putty, I gave that to Inspector Swanson afterwards—in the following May on turning over the mattress in No. 5 bedroom I found the tray of a cash-box; the smaller one of the two produced, between the bedstead and the mattress—I gave it to Inspector Swanson—I remember the Monday when the men left—the first left between 6 and 7 o'clock, and the other shortly after; I did not see how they left—my attention was called to the flap of the portmanteau the following Saturday after they left—I next saw the small brown portmanteau at Paddington Station.
Cross-examined. No doubt other persons slept in No. 5 bedroom between the 25th of February and the time in May when I found the tray of the cash-box—I only saw the portmanteau on the day the man came—the brown portmanteau the second man had, and I never saw it again till I saw it at Paddington Station, and I identified it—I only saw it for a few minutes when he brought it to the house—I should know the man again—I have not seen them since." Neither of the prisoners is the man I saw at the Waverley Hotel—this is the portmanteau and the flap.
Charing Cross Station—on Monday, 25th February, 1884, I was on duty from the morning till 9 o'clock p.m. with an interval for dinner—the public can deposit luggage there by paying a small sum; we take no name or address, we put a number on the thing deposited and issue a corresponding ticket—on 25th February, 1884, about 11.2 p.m., this portmanteau was deposited in the cloak-room and a printed number 314 was placed on it, which is not on it now—no application has been made for it—I looked at it on Tuesday morning, February 26th, when I heard of the explosion at Victoria Station, but put it on one side in the same bin where it was before, thinking there was nothing suspicious about it, I thought it was a workman's lot—on Thursday, the 28th, sergeant Middleton showed it to me again in the cloak-room, it had been opened and the contents carried away—I can say positively that it is the same.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. It was left in my office, but not with me, I cannot say that I saw it come—the first I remember of it is seeing it in the cloak room.
JAMES EDWABD CHAMBERLAIN . I am a clerk in the cloak-room at Charing Cross—the cloak-room is situated entirely under the hotel at one side—on the 25th I was on duty there at 12 o'clock midnight—I heard of the explosion at Victoria on 26th February, and on the 27th, Wednesday evening, I examined the luggage soon after 11 o'clock—I don't par-particularly remember if I had seen a portmanteau marked 314 on Tuesday, the 26th—I first saw that portmanteau on the Wednesday, I am quite sure there was one marked 314, this is it—I discovered it, it was then locked—its weight attracted my attention, it was very heavy on one side—it was strapped each side with a small strap, I got a key and opened it in the presence of Shepherd—I found an English newspaper, the Daily News of 21st February, 1884, and underneath the paper cakes of Atlas powder—I don't know how many cakes there were, I did not count them, there were a great number; one side was very near three-parts full—I found this part of an overcoat, I am chiefly guided by the buttons; these buttons were then on the coat, one has been cut off and others have gone since then like this, they were buttons of this character—I also saw portions of trousers and braces. I could only see part because they were under the Atlas powder; I don't mean there were half a pair of trousers there, I could only see a portion of the whole—these appear like those trousers, they seem to me to be the same—this seems to the same tin box which was covered with cobbler's wax and covered with the Atlas powder, I did not look inside it—I pinched a piece off one of the cakes, and in consequence of that I communicated with Inspector Briden, and it was left in charge of Sergeant Middleton and Inspector Briden—I was on duty on the evening of the Monday; I don't know whether the last witness took this portmanteau in, out of the great number of people we have during the day it would be hard to say—there is nothing to attach the taking in of this portmanteau to my memory except the 314 upon it, and that shows it was taken in on Monday, 25th February.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The first I saw of it was in the cloak room—I don't know who took it in—the number has since gone off—it was numbered 314, and stamped 25th February—it was on when it left my charge.
on 25th February—on Wednesday, 27th, my attention was called to this portmanteau—I am sure it had the number 314 on it—I was with Mr. Chamberlain when it was examined—it was then carried to the shed at the end of the station.
WILLIAM FREDERICK BRIDEN . I am platform inspector of the South-Eastern Railway at Charing Cross—on the night of 27th February, 1884, I was on duty there—Chamberlain fetched me, and when I got to the cloak-room I found the portmanteau—he had opened it, and I was brought to look at its contents—I found in it several cakes of what was marked Atlas powder, wrapped in paper, about 24 or 25 I should think; I did not count them—I removed several of the cakes and found a tin box lying in the centre of the portmanteau, and in the centre of the dynamite—I did not remove the tin-case—there was a coat in the centre of the portmanteau and trousers at the bottom—I noticed the buttons of the coat were very peculiar—these now before me are the same—in consequence of what I saw I sent to Bow Street for Sergeant Middleton—the portmanteau was taken to a small outhouse near the end of the station and locked up—I gave the key to the night watchman, and then Middleton came down, and I went with him and examined it the same night—the Atlas powder was taken to Bow Street—some one took off the portmanteau—I don't know who.
JAMES MIDDDETON (Sergeant of Police E 1). I am attached on duty to the Charing Cross Railway Station—on the night of the 27th I had gone off duty, and was at Bow Street—in consequence of what I heard I went to the station and to the outhouse at the end, where I found this portmanteau—I found some Atlas powder in it, this coat with buttons, and a pair of trousers with braces—I also noticed a tin box—I took some of the dynamite away—I tried it and found it burnt very fiercely—I left the portmanteau in charge of Sanders, the night watchman, and sent for my superintendent, Mr. Thompson—I and Inspector Husted were directed to take the portmanteau to Woolwich—we went with a four-wheeled cab, taking this and the contents with us—we went to the Arsenal and put it in a room there—it was strapped up—Colonel Majendie was then telegraphed for, and arrived about 8 on the morning of the 28th—we had replaced the cakes which we had removed in the same position as they were in when we took them out—in my presence Colonel Majendie examined the portmanteau and the contents, which were exactly in the same condition as when I first saw the portmanteau—I then saw the contents of the tin case—they were then as they are now—there was dynamite or explosive matter in the case then—a large, full-sized cake along here, a smaller one here, which had evidently been broken off and placed similar to this bit of paper, in front of the muzzle of the pistol, with several detonators fixed in it—there are none shown here now—I should think there were six or seven detonators in the cake, all in the vicinity of the pistol muzzle—these are similar detonators—this represents the size of the dynamite cake—Colonel Majendie called my attention to the hammer of the pistol—it appeared to have first gone off and stuck by the side—I cannot say if the cartridge had gone off—the canister was put into a pail of water—Colonel Majendie took possession of the clockwork and the detonators—the dynamite was conveyed to the Plumstead Marsha magazine—I accompanied it and left it there—I conveyed the portmanteau back to Charing Cross—I cannot say how this part about the lock
outside the portmanteau was torn up—I left it in the station-masters office—then Inspector Hagan arrived and took possession—nothing has been done to alter the portmanteau's condition while in my custody—I brought the same clothes back in it.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I was the third person, I think, to examine the contents of the portmanteau; I heard that Chamberlain and Briden had looked over it, and then I saw it—I did not look at the detonators carefully; they all seemed the same size and shape—I thought it was dangerous and did not disturb it—a little pin in the pistol against the detonator had struck against the side of the detonator into the Atlas powder and had not hit it fair like on the top but on the side—I also found some socks in the portmanteau; I did not examine them, and don't know if there was any mark, name or initial, on them, or if they were English or American make.
ALFRED SWIFT . I am a clerk in the station-master's office of the South-Eastern Rail way Office, Charing Cross—on 28th February Sergeant Middleton left in my charge this portmanteau and I kept it till Inspector Hagan took possession of it and took it away about an hour afterwards—it was opened by Hagan in my presence; it had been opened before; it was in the same condition as regards external condition and contents as when it came to me.
FRANCIS HUSTED (Police Inspector E). On Wednesday night, the 27th, or early morning of the 28th, Sergeant Middleton communicated something to me and I went to Charing Cross Railway Station, where I saw this portmanteau which had been opened but was closed when I first saw it—I examined the contents; there were about 45 cakes of Atlas powder; I saw the canister and part of the coat and trousers; I removed the packets of dynamite and then found a tin canister—I took the cakes out, but put them just as I found them, and then I communicated with my Superintendent, and I and Middleton took the portmanteau and cakes in the same condition to Woolwich; they were there locked up till Colonel Majendie came at half-past 8 next morning—I handed the key to Keevill.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I found some woollen stuff in the portmanteau similar to what is used for stuffing beds and mattresses, coloured wool, it was placed round and about the packets to keep it steady I believe—I don't see it there now.
JAMES KEEVILL (Inspector of Police, Woolwich Arsenal). On the 28th Husted brought this portmanteau to the Arsenal—I took charge of it and kept it till Colonel Majendie came—the contents are in the same condition as when it was brought to me.
CHARLES HAGAN (One of the Chief Inspectors of the Metropolitan Police), 0n 28th February I went to the Station-master's Office, Charing Cross, where I saw Swift and received from him this portmanteau; it had then half a coat in it, trousers and newspapers; the tin case with the machinery was not then in; the coat and trousers with the exception of one of the buttons off the coat are in the dame condition as when I received them—the button I cut off and sent round for purposes of identification and it was never returned to me—this is the same kind as was on the coat—I took it off and kept it—I received this tin case with the machinery in it on the 4th April from Colonel Ford—I showed this pair
of trousers to a working tailor named Taylor for the purpose of measuring them.
THOMAS EDWIN HINDES . I am superintendent of the Woolwich Dockyard Police—on early morning of the 28th Inspector Husted and Sergeant Middleton brought me this Charing Cross portmanteau, of which I had charge till Colonel Majendie examined it—the contents were in the same condition as when I received it—Colonel Majendie took charge of the explosives afterwards—I returned to Middleton the portmanteau and clothes; the rest of the Atlas powder, about 45 or 50 packages, weighing about 50lb., was conveyed to the Plumstead Marshes Magazine and destroyed—Inspector Attwood brought me down the same night 20lb. of the same powder, which met the same fate at Erith Marshes (From Paddington)—on 1st March Sergeant Taylor brought another 201b. of dynamite, 40 to 45 slabs, which were also destroyed (From Ludgate Hill), and on the 31st of May I had a small quantity from Major Cundell.
ELIZABETH BICKETT HERROD . I am wife of William Herrod, of Farndon, near Newark—I and my husband were steerage passengers on board the Donau from New Jersey to Southampton in February last year—the steamer arrived at Southampton on 20th February—it is a German boat which goes on to Hamburg or Bremen—I think there were over 300 German passengers—20 of us landed at Southampton—we left New York on the 9th I think—I know Burton well; he was a passenger on board that steamer and slept not four yards from us—he was on the top berth right-hand side and we were on the left—he could never go up or down the steps without passing our berth—I often saw him during the voyage—I landed at Southampton and went to stay at Day's Hotel-I saw Burton there; he had his dinner (we called it supper) at the same table as we had; he had beefsteak, we mutton chop—we left Southampton the next day, the 21st February—I saw Burton coming from the station as we were going away—he crossed over the road anil said "Are you going away?"—we said we were—we shook hands with him and he said he should not come till after next day or something like that.
Cross-examined. The same man that came on board with Burton all the way was with him that morning—he was not a bit like the prisoner—I have never seen him since—I should not think he had reached 30—he was a full-faced looking man—I did not hear his name—I never heard Burton's name till I saw it in the paper; they never called each other by name—I did not know he was the Burton till I saw him in the Court—if I saw the other man I should know him as well—I could not describe him.
Re-examined. When I first saw Burton again he was with a number of others and I picked him out.
WILLIAM HERROD . I am the husband of Elizabeth Herrod, the last witness—we came over together to this country in the Donau last year—I know Burton; I saw him on board—I was taken to Bow Street, where I saw him first again with a number of others—I pointed him out as the man who had come over with us—another man was with him.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. There was another man with Burton on board—I might know him if I saw him, but I could not tell you what he was like—he was rather full faced and between 25 and 30 years of
age, about 5ft. 8in. or 10in. high; I don't think he was 6ft; I did not take very particular notice of his height.
THOMAS HENRY ADAMSON . I live at 32, Essex Street, Newcastle-on-Tyne, and am a brass finisher—in February last I was a steerage passenger on board the Donau, and arrived at Southampton on February 20th from New York, having been about 12 days on the voyage—I recognise Burton; he was a passenger on board that vessel—I saw him during the voyage many times—I did not know his name—afterwards we landed at Southampton—in March this year I came to London and went into a room at Bow Street where there were a number of people, among whom I saw Burton—I picked him out—I have no doubt whatever he is the man—I did not know his name nor the name of the man with him on board.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I had no difficulty whatever in recognising Burton when I saw him at the police-court.
THOMAS JENKINS . I live at 2, Stangate Street, Lambeth, and am a bootmaker—in February last year I came over from New York in the Donau, and landed at Southamptom—I sailed about the 11th, and arrived on the following Wednesday—there were a number of Germans, English, and Irish on board—I recognise Burton; he has altered a little since—he was a steerage passenger on board; I knew him by no name—I talked to him about every hour—he said he was coming to London, and was a coach riveter; he asked me where most likely he could get a job—I said "Long Acre is the market for coach makers"—I did not come to London with him—he had been in Cleveland, Ohio, America, understood from him, and that he belonged to Liverpool—I saw him after he landed at Southampton—I left Southampton on the Wednesday, he same day, at 5 o'clock p.m.—in Maroh this year I came to the Bow treat Gourt, and went into a room where there were a number of men, among whom I saw Burton; I saw him in a moment, and recognised him as the man who had been my fellow-passenger; his cheeks seem blown at a little.
Crost-examined by MR. LITTLE. I have seen people alike before now—was never doubtful—I said I would not swear, but I would know him out of a million—I said it was him or his brother—I do not know what is brother is like, but I have seen two brothers alike before now—I as on the steamer with the other witnesses; I recognise them too—I did not say at Bow Street I did not recognise them; it is a mistake.
ROBERT THOMAS . I live at Eldon Terrace, Southampton, and am a licensed porter at the docks—on Wednesday, February 20th, 1884, the Donau came into the river, and passengers came off from her in a tender—I saw three of them; Burton is one of them—I have no doubt about him—he was in the company of two men—Burton asked me it I could show him where he could get a wash and a dinner; it was between 12 and 1 o'clock—I took him to Mr. Day's, Terminus Hotel, near the station he was carrying a black American valise—Burton and one of the others went upstairs at the hotel—going there he had asked me if I could show him where he could buy a second hand portmanteau or two—I said I would show him after going to the hotel—I said when he came down-stairs at the hotel "This way"—we two went alone to Bennett's, 64, Oxford Street, a second-hand shop—in Burton's presence I said "This man wants buy a second-hand portmanteau or two"—Bennett took down from the
shelf a black portmanteau, and asked 7s. for it—Burton said it was too much, it was all in pieces, and got it down to 3s. 6d.—there was no hasp on it and no key—Bennett said he could have a chain and lock round it—Burton said he must have it to lock—Bennett had only one—the prisoner said he wanted to buy one for his mate—I said "There is another shop sells portmanteaus just above, and where you buy that they will repair this for you"—I saw Burton pay Bennett for this one—we took it into Webb's, three or four doors above in the same street, where found Mr. Wall, the assistant—Burton purchased a portmanteau there, and had a new hasp put on the one he had bought at Bennett's—this Charing Cross portmanteau is the same as that he bought—Mr. "Wall repaired this hasp here with small French nails, and fitted a key which would enable it to be locked—this is the portmanteau as far as I can judge—we waited while it was repaired, and Burton paid for the port-manteau and for the repair, and then Burton carried one and I the other to the hotel—I told Burton he should keep this for himself because it seemed stronger than the other—I took him to Day's, and gave him the portmanteau—on Thursday, the 21st, I saw him at the railway station, and a second time at 10.45 at the corner of the South-Western Hotel—when we left Day's to buy the portmanteaus I asked him how things were looking in America—he said "All right," that he had come here for a change; he was a carriage maker; he should go to London, and if he did not get any work at London he should go to Liverpool—on the second day the third man asked where the Dublin boat started from—the prisoner was dressed on the first day in a long dark overcoat, hard black felt hat, and a dark coat with brown glass-like, rather speckled, buttons—this is like the coat and the buttons—I am sure I noticed the buttons—on the second day he wore another coat, a long brown overcoat; a better coat than this—a few days after this I heard of the Victoria Station explosion, and on 1st March, 1884, I was sent for to London, where I was shown this portmanteau and coat; I then identified it and the buttons—on 16th February this year I was brought again up to London, and taken into a room where there were about 18 men; I recognised Burton—I have no doubt he is the man I saw at Southampton.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I have been at Southampton as a licensed porter for a long time—passengers' luggage is always examined there; I do not know if that of the passengers from the Donau was, but it was the custom of the port at that time to make such an examination—the last time I saw Burton was against the Cunard Hotel near the dock gates, about four minutes' walk from the station; he was wearing a long brown overcoat—I have not seen the second portmanteau since, nor the valise, which was more an American valise than this bag—one of the two men with him asked about the starting of the boats from Cork and Dublin; I believe I saw one of those on the 6th April last year—when he said he wanted to buy another one for his mate he had bought this one—I advised him to keep the one I thought was the cheaper and stronger; it was a better bag, I believe.
JOHN BENNETT . In February, 1884, I carried on business in Oxford Street, Southampton—on 20th February Thomas came with Burton and asked if I had a secondhand portmanteau for sale—I showed him several, and sold him this one—I asked 7s. for it, he bargained me down to 3s. 6d.—I knew his coat again by the buttons, and I noticed the coat itself
generally; I thought he had been to a good deal of expense to put expensive buttons on an old coat—I am quite sure this is the port-manteau I sold him, and that he is the man I sold it to—there was nothing to fasten it, and he said he could not do with one without a fastening, so I recommended him to get a chain and padlock for it as it, was only to carry clothes in and he seemed poor—he said that would not do—this hasp was not then on—they left the shop taking it with them, not repaired as it is now—I had used the portmanteau for 10 or 11 yeas, I should think—it was all I got from a debt for 200l.—shortly after, I saw about the Victoria Station explosion in the Tower—I came up to London early in March, 1884—Hagan showed me the portmanteau and coat, I identified them—I noticed a hasp had been put on—I recognised the portmanteau, and then when it was opened I said, "That is the very coat he was wearing, and if you turn it over you will find peculiar buttons on it"—I did turn it over, and saw it was—I am quite certain this is the coat I had seen—I was brought up to London in February this year, and taken into a room where there were 10 or 12 men—I recognised among them the man I had seen at Southampton—I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is the man that purchased the portmanteau.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I read a description of the portmanteau in the Daily Telegraphy and I called the attention of one of the officers at Southampton.
Tuesday, May 12th.
WILLIAM WALL . I live in Oxford Street, Southampton—Messrs. Webb lave a shop at 68, Oxford Street; they are trunk, portmanteau, and bag manufacturers—I know Robert Thomas, a dock porter at Southampton—remember his coming to Messrs. Webb's shop on 20th February last year; he brought a passenger—American boats stop at Southampton—Thomas and the passenger had a portmanteau with them, a secondhand one—I recognise Burton as the man that came with Thomas—there was portmanteau also purchased by him.; I made the bargain with Burton, talked to him, I had a full opportunity of seeing his face—the port-manteau that he purchased was exactly the same class of thing as this; The paid 7s. for it—this is the portmanteau that Burton brought in; it needed repairs, it required a new hasp—I effected those repairs, I find my work on it; I put on a new hasp, I recognise the hasp; I also put a new key, it is not there now—I put on the hasp with French pins—such pins are used for such a purpose, for putting on a hasp; they are also used for the nailing down of the rand, which is the band which covers it—it is not usual to do such work on the rand with French pins; I used them because he was in a hurry and I had no tacit near me—I can cognise my work on the rand; some of the French pins remain—this is hat I call the rand, this is the hasp, and these are the pins (Pointing them out)—when the portmanteau was brought to me it was a little torn I had to tear it open to get at the place where the hasp was fixed on—is is the hasp that I put on—it was fastened on by three little French pins, that is usual; one of the pins remains in it now—there are some 1 tacks here; it had evidently been repaired before—I usually use tacks brass nails, studs, but not French pins for the rand—this is a French hasp, I recognise that also—I have not the slightest doubt that this is the portmanteau that I mended when Thomas and the man brought it—it is my own work that I recognise—it took me about two minutes to do the
repairs—I had to find the hasp—he was about 10 minutes in the shop; during that time I was talking to Burton—I have not the slightest doubt that he is the man who had this portmanteau mended—shortly after I heard of the explosion at the Victoria Station—I was afterwards communicated with by the police, and came to London early in March—this portmanteau was then shown to me, and I recognised it; that was at Scotland Yard, it was shown to me by Inspector Hagan—at the end of February this year I was brought to London again—I was taken to a room where there were some 20 men; I was requested to see if I could recognise any one—I did recognise one, the prisoner Burton; that recognition was without any assistance and without any one pointing him out to me—I have been in this trade 10 years.
KATE BIDDLECOMB . I am now the wife of a mariner living at Southampton—in February last year I was unmarried, and was a waitress at Day's hotel, at Southampton—I have known the porter, Robert Thomas—I recollect his bringing three men to Day's hotel on 20th February last year—one room was occupied by two of them, the third man was taken to another hotel—I recognise Burton as one of the three men—after they came Burton and the man with him went out with Thomas—Burton afterwards returned to the hotel, and he and the two other men had some dinner—next morning I saw the two men at break-fast—I waited on them—after breakfast they both went out together and walked up and down for some time—I noticed the coat that Burton was wearing—I did not notice the buttons—this (produced) is the coat that Burton was wearing—the two men left the hotel the day after they came, after breakfast—I afterwards heard of the explosion at the Victoria Station, and a week or 10 days after that I was asked to come up to London—I was there shown the coat, and I recognised it then—about two months ago I was again brought to London—I was taken to a room where there were 12 or 14 men—I was asked if I recognised any one, and I recognised Burton—no one assisted me to point him out—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. There were three men came to the hotel—I noticed the appearance of the other men—when I came up to see the police shortly afterwards, I gave a description of the other two men—that was within a fortnight of my having seen them at Southampton—I did not notice any other coat that Burton was wearing—he was only there one night, he went away next morning—I did not see him go away, I saw them go out—I did not see which way they went—I saw them go out together, Burton and the other one—I did not notice what coat Burton was wearing at that time—I believe he had his luggage with him—I did not see the men after they came in and went out again—I did not see them the second time they came in and went out again—I did not see Burton when he went away for good—I did not see the third man go away with them, or by himself—I don't know whether they all three left together or separately—I did not go into the bedrooms, I had nothing to do with the bedrooms—I can't tell what luggage was in the bedroom.
FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Police Inspector H). In February this year I was with Jarvis and arrested Burton—I afterwards searched his lodging, 90, Turner's Road, Bow, and found these trousers (produced) hanging in the room he occupied.
WILLIAM TAYLOR . I am a cutter to Messrs. Blaney and Co., tailors, of Charing Cross—these trousers, the Charing Cross ones, measure 34 1/2 inches in the waist, and the legs 31 1/2 inches, and these (produced by Aberline) 34 inches in the waist and 31 1/2 in the leg.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. They are not the same manufacture—I have had much experience in English and American trousers—I should describe these Charing Cross trousers as of American make—I do not mean slop, but they have peculiarities which English tailors do not follow, and I should say they were not made in England, but made in an American store—they make grosses of them of the same size, kind, and measure—I should describe the others as cheap English-made trousers of slop manufacture, made by the thousand in this country, and a very large number of them of the same size—I should describe both these trousers as ordinary measurement—the trousers are made first and the man is measured to fit them—they make the largest quantity to fit average sized men—the measurements of these two pairs of trousers differ, the English-made ones have been let out to fit the wearer—I have given the measurement as they have been recently worn, as let out—the Charing Cross pair have not been let out by a tailor, but by wear—slop, trousers have so much cotton that they would burst before they would stretch.
Cross-examined. Burton appeared in very good health—I asked him how things were looking in New York—he said "Very well," and that he had come to England for a change—he said that he was a carriage-maker not a cabinet-maker.
ROBERT LEVY . I live with my father at 5, Leard Street—on 30th May, 1884, I was in Trafalgar Square with my brother soon after the explosion at Scotland Yard, and saw a black bag lying under one of the lions of the Nelson column, facing the National Gallery—no one was near it—it was locked—I gave it a kick and my brother picked it up—Constable King came up and took charge of it, and we went with him to Scotland Yard, and saw the place where the explosion had been.
EDWARD KING (Policeman A). On 30th May, 1884, about 9.15 or 9.20 p.m., I was on duty in Trafalgar Square, and about 10 minutes afterwards 1 saw Levy and his brother by the Nelson column—they had a black bag which was locked, and had no name or address on it—I took possession of it and went with them to Scotland Yard, and handed it to Faulkner—I did not see the constable cut it open, but I saw it after it was open—it contained 17 1/2 cakes wrapped separately in papers on which was printed "Atlas powder A"—this (produced) is about the size of them—I did not see the fuse—the boys pointed out the exact spot where they found the bag—I had been by that spot five minutes before and noticed no bag.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I was walking up and down and did not see it.
it open, saw it contained a number of these slabs of Atlas powder A, a double fuse attached, with some detonators, little copper things—there were either 17 1/2 or 18 1/2 cakes—I did not count them in the excitement—the fuse was fixed inside with a fine kind of wire to the four detonators—I kept the bag and its contents till two or three in the morning—there was nothing in the bag but the cakes, fuse, and detonators—I was in the office at Scotland Yard when I received the bag—I took it to Vincent's office in Scotland Yard and left it there—I afterwards saw Inspector Robson come there.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The double fuse was two rolls tied together with a piece of wire—I could not see what the contents were made of—it was not alight—there was nothing that would explode it unless it came in sudden contact with anything—everything was done but the essential part, the fuse was unlit—I did not notice the detonators particularly—they all appeared to be the same size and shape.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The detonators are about one inch long—I did not see any mark on them.
Re-examined. The detonators were little copper things, something like this.
GEORGE ROBSON (Inspector, Metropolitan Police). I was on duty on Friday night, 30th May, 1884—an explosion took place at Scotland Yard about 20 minutes past 9—the building and adjoining buildings were seriously damaged—a number of people were injured—a police-officer and other persons were attended to and sent off to the hospital—the constable was insensible when he was taken away—the explosion took place on the outside of the detective building near where the urinal is—on this night I saw Falkner with his black bag—I saw him cut it open and I saw it contained the Atlas powder, fuse, and detonators—I took charge of them at 2.30, and handed them over to Colonel Majendie the same morning—the bag has been in my custody in the office ever since.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The fuse was a double fuse, two long tubes tied together—I saw the constable take it out—there were four or five detonators, I think—I did not give them any attention—I had many duties to perform that night.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS, I was on duty that night outside—there are always constables outside in Scotland Yard—I don't know if they have been able to recognise the prisoners—I don't know if they have seen them.
WILLIAM BOLTON . I live at 84, Coburg Buildings, Westminster—on the night of Friday, May 30, 1884, I was gatekeeper at the Junior Carlton Club, Pall Mall; the back gate is in St. James's Square—I was sitting in a glass box abutting on the area—about a quarter past 9 o'clock p.m. a very violent explosion took place which injured four or five of the club female servants (they were sent off to the hospital) and threw me off my stool; I was partially deaf, I have not recovered since—Elizabeth Horsfall, who was there at the time, injured her arm—considerable damage was done to the building.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I saw no one drop this explosive, I saw nothing before I heard the explosion.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I saw nothing except the déebris of glass and sashes, I did not see the explosion at all—I was about 20
yards away from the place where the explosion occurred, I was not looking that way.
RICHARD WHEAT . I am hall porter at Sir William Watkin Wynn's, No. 20, St. James's Square, next door but one to the Army and Navy Club—on Friday night, 30th May, I was in the basement from 9 to half-past 9 o'clock—there was a violent explosion, and about half a miuute to a minute after I had heard one at the Junior Charlton Club—one servant was injured, another hurt, and the lower part of the house was damaged.
Cross-examined. I saw nothing until the explosion occurred in the area—I was not looking out into the area, I was in a room in the passage at the bottom part of the house.
ELIZABETH ELLIOTT . I let lodgings at 13, Polling Street, Limehouse—about 28th May, 1884, Burton came to my house and asked for lodgings—he told me he worked at Herman's cabinet-making factory, he had a large black bag with him—he remained until the end of September—at Whitsuntide he went, as he told me, to Paris from the Monday to the Wednesday or Thursday—after he left in September I received this letter from him in December—he said he was going to the Presidential election in America—the letter is signed, "H. Burton," and dated "New York, 7th December, 1884"—after I received it the prisoner came again to my house on Monday. (The letter referred to this Presidential Election at which he had voted, and stated that if his health allowed him he hoped to return to England before the end of the year; the envelope bore the New York postmark of the 9th and the London one of 19th December, 1884.) When he came on Christmas Day he said he had come from America to Liverpool, and that he had been travelling from Liverpool all day.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. When Burton came in May with the bag he told me had come from America—he was very poorly, and attended Bartholomew's Hospital nearly all the time he was with me, from May to September—when he came on the evening of Christmas Day he had no luggage with him, he did not stay with me then—I saw him several times after Christmas Day—ho told me he was an American citizen, I believe, when he spoke about the Presidential election, and that it was likely to be very close; I don't remember his telling me that the expenses of the people who went over to vote would be paid—I did not hear afterwards that he did get paid.
RALPH BAINBBIDGE . I am book-keeper to Mr. Herman, a cabinet maker in Limehouse—Burton worked there from 18th May to the 24th and was paid 10s.; then he does not appear to have worked from May 24th to June 8th—he worked from 8th to 14th June and was paid 14s., from the 22nd to the 28th and was paid 13s. 3d.—he was there in August and September up to 6th September—from 17th to 23rd he had 8s. 2d., and from 24th to 30th, 10s.; from August 21st to September 6th he had 6s. 4d. paid on the 2nd—altogether, between May and September, he appears to have earned 62s. 9d.—it appears that he came to us afterwards from January 16th to 22nd, 1885, earning 15s. and 7s. for work unwished.
By the COURT. The average wages of a workman doing the kind or work on which he was engaged would be about 21. per week in the blackest time and 2l. 10s. in the busiest time—he would have to be very busy to make 2l. 10s.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. Burton was engaged on piecework—I have nothing to do with giving out or taking in work; my book simply shows the sums paid him for the work actually done—I don't know whether he was a slow but good workman.
FREDERICK DIETZ . I am Mr. Herman's foreman—I remember Burton at work there last year, and he came again on 26th December, I think—I received a letter from him dated from Now York, which I have destroyed—after that he worked at Herman's factory from 12th January to the 24th, which was the last day he worked there, I believe—I afterwards saw him in the afternoon of that same day, the 24th, I think, and again on 2nd February at his lodgings, 90, Turner's Road, Bow—I saw that trunk there then, I believe; it was one of the same size and description—I said, "Halloa, have you got one of those American boxes, too?"—he said, "Yes; I bought that secondhand"—he wanted it to bring to the factory to put his tools in—I understood he bought it in Whitechapel, but I don't know whether he said that or whether I thought it—he had about 18 or 20 cabinet-tools worth about a guinea; not enough to fill a box like this, of course, but cabinet-tools want room to keep them from scratching; they rub against each other—this letter (That of the 7th of December from Burton to Mrs. Elliott) is the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I saw Burton a good many times every day while he was at work at Herman's; he was going to the hospital, and always seemed to be ill while he was there—he was a very slow workman, but did his work very well—I did not think this trunk was too large for the tools because some of our saws are longer than this box would hold—I did not see that he had any of those long saws—some of our workmen have longer boxes than this for their tools—the general size of the box did not strike me as being large for cabinet-tools—I suggested to him it would be better for him to make one of a different shape I himself—the raised top did not strike me as quite the thing—when men leave they often sell their tools and buy new ones, and if they remain they sometimes buy new ones—they all work at piecework, and I am only concerned as to the quantity of work they do and the money I pay them—I believe I thought the box was bought in Whitechapel because he said he bought it secondhand, and because I have seen a great many secondhand tools there—I could not say whether he said anything about Whitechapel—he asked leave once to go to Paris, and he said he wanted to be in New York on account of the Presidential election, and that he had great interest in it, and every vote would be of importance—he did not mention anything about the expenses of those who went to vote for the President being paid—I had one of these American boxes myself; it was very near the same in appearance as this one.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I first saw Cunningham at Bow Street—I know none of Burton's associates except the workmen at the factory—Burton never mentioned any persons—I know nothing whatever about Cunningham.
THOMAS NEVILLE . I am a farm labourer near Peterborough—in December last I came from New York to England in the Adriatic, which sailed on 11th December, and arrived at Liverpool on 20th December—I was a steerage passenger—Cunningham was on board that vessel as a steerage passenger—I have no doubt about him.
Mr. Crow, another licensed porter; he keeps a list of the luggage delivered from homeward-bound vessels at Liverpool—on Saturday morning, 20th December, the Adriatic arrived at Liverpool—I was in the Customs examining room on the landing-stage—the luggage is there ranged round between certain letters according to initials, and what is not labelled goes to the other side of the shed—I saw a box similar to this produced examined between the letters "B" and "C"—I see nothing different between that box and the box I see now—to the best of my belief I saw Cunningham there with a trunk—I asked him where he was going to send his baggage to—he said to wherever he was going to stop—I did no work for him that I know of—I took the box that to the best of my belief I had seen between "B" and "C" out of a ship; I could not say what ship—it was checked, and was in a cart as I was going out with some other luggage, and I took it to Stocks, who keeps a house at 31, Robert Street—a pink label represents the White Star line, to which the Adriatic belongs; there is like the remainder of one on it now; I could not say whether it was or not—Cunningham was carrying a small bag to the best of my belief.
Cross-examined by MR. DUES. I am not sure that I have ever seen Cunningham before—I could not say how many landed from the Adriatic at Liverpool; a tidy number—some hundreds of steerage passengers are often landed from these ships—I see a great many Irish people of all classes—I might see a great many resembling Cunningham—Irish have the same class of features as his, I might say—his is no unusual face—he was a very dark man; that is not unusual—there is no particular feature exactly I could identify him by, nor anything I saw him do—I first saw the box between "C" and "B"—I could not say whose it was—we take the boxes into a shed, and a man shouts out the initials—there must have been an initial on the box or it would not have been put there—there is no initial on this box—I did not say I saw any initial on it—boxes with no initials on them are placed on the other side; that is the common practice—I could not be positive whether this was the box I saw between "C" and "B"—I could not be positive, there are so many trunks alike—I could not say how many steerage passengers pass me in one week—there may be 12 or 14 steamers arriving every day from America, but they don't all carry passengers—I see a great many thousands in the course of the year brought to the stage where I am employed, and a great many of these boxes—there is nothing particular about the box.
FRANK CARROLL . I am a porter at Liverpool—a few days before Christmas I was on the landing stage in charge of a cart loading for Lime Street—I saw Stocks, who lives at Robert Street, there alone till Cunningham came up and spoke to him—I put this box, to the best of my belief, in the Lime Street van; Stocks came up and told me to mark it for his house—I put Bobbett Street on it instead of Robert Street, being in a hurry, and pulled it out of the Lime Street van, and left it to wait for the Robert Street cart.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. Stocks comes very often on the arrival of the steamers—I know him very well—the luggage is claimed inside, and marked for where it is wanted to go—the packages are arranged alphabetically in the shed—"C" boxes would be put between "C" and "B"—there was a lot of luggage on the Adriatic that afternoon; several American trunks—to the best of my belief this is the one
—I have seen many before and many since like this—I was looking at it, because when I asked him to mark it he considered a bit before he would let me—I don't see any mark there now.
Re-examined. I don't swear to the particular box, but it is the same in every way as the box.
JOSEPH CROW . I am a licensed porter, living at Liverpool—I am what is termed the list keeper of the Inward Bound Section—when a porter delivers luggage he has to report it to me so that I may enter it in my book—I have my book with me—I know the porter Thomas Heston—I have an entry of delivery by him in my book made by me.
(Upon MR. LITTLE objecting to this evidence, the ATTORNEY-GENERAL did not press it.)
JOHN STOCK . I keep the Liverpool Arms Hotel, at 31, Robert Street, Liverpool—I very often attend at the arrival of the boats carrying passengers from America, and a good many of these passengers stop at my house at different times—on 20th December last I was attending at the landing-stage awaiting the arrival of the tender from the Adriatic—I met it at the landing-stage—after it had arrived I saw the prisoner Cunningham—I didn't see him actually step off from the tender—he had come out of the Custom House when I first saw him—I spoke to him and asked him if he was going to stay in Liverpool—he said "Yes"—I said "Have you any place to stop at?"—he said "No"—I then gave him a card of my house—after looking at it he said "All right, I will come and stay at your place"—I asked him if he had any friends on board, and he said "No"—at that time he had a bag and a small bundle with him—I perfectly remember a box similar to that (produced) coming to my house some time after I had had this talk, whether it belonged to Cunningham or not I am not positive; I believe it did—I know the porters Heston and Carroll—I do not recollect seeing them at my house on that day—I might have done and might not, because I am frequently seeing them and I might be mistaking one day with another—I walked with Cunningham to my house—I am not positive whether this trunk I have been speaking of was at my house while Cunningham was there—to the best of my belief it was there—he stayed with me two or three nights—I have no entry at all of the time he stopped—I don't remember his giving me any name—he might have done so but not to my remembrance—I recollect his going away, but not exactly the day he left—I know a cabman named Mclntyre—I can't say whether I called him to take Cunningham away—I have fetched him off his stand more than once—I went with Cunningham in the cab, but I can't be positive whose cab it was—I went in a cab with Cunningham to the Lime Street Station—I have no recollection as to the driver of it—Mclntyre has driven cabs more than once or twice from my house—when Cunningham went he took a bag with him—I couldn't be positive of anything else—I couldn't say for certain if he took a box—to the best of my belief he did—it was a box similar to that produced—I wouldn't positively swear that that was the box or that he had a box; as to the size, shape, and colour I couldn't say, because there are many similar to it—to the best of my recollection this is the same in size, shape, and colour, and general appearance—I can't swear that I helped Cunningham to bring that trunk or box of which I have been speaking down from his bedroom—I did help to bring a trunk down from Cunningham's bedroom, but I couldn't
swear that it was Cunningham I helped to bring down that box—I remember perfectly well assisting a passenger down the stairs with a trunk, but whether it was Cunningham or not I can't say, but to the best of my recollection it was—that is all I have to say about it—I couldn't say if it was Cunningham I assisted down with the trunk—I went with him to Lime Street Station I am positive—he said he was going to London to see his mother—he said he should return most likely about February—he said his mother was living somewhere at Whitechapel—he didn't say anything about where he was going to stay—he didn't say anything as to the station he was going to arrive at in London—he said he was going to London, about Whitechapel, and I suggested to him that Broad Street would be the best station for him to go to, and that he had better change at Willesden Junction.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. It was either the 22nd or 23rd, to the best of my belief, that Cunningham left my house, but which of the two days I am not positive—I am certain that it was one of those two days—I should say he left between 10 and 12 a.m.—I had not seen any persons at my hotel come to see Cunningham—I had never seen Burton before I saw him in the dock—as far as I know Cunningham had not seen Burton in my hotel.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I am frequently on the landing-stage meeting passengers but not always—a great number of passengers arrive from America just before Christmas as a rule—I hare seen many American trunks of a similar make to that one—I can't say that there is anything peculiar in that trunk particularly to stamp it as belonging to any one individual—I have had a good many similar trunks to that at my house—I remember a man of the name of Kilty stopping at my house about December—he did not bring an American box to my house; it was after Cunningham—I saw Kilty off—I generally see my American visitors off—I noticed nothing whatever in Cunningham's accent—I did not think he talked broadly; in fact, I did not take him to be an Irishman at all—I am positive Cunningham said he was going to see his mother at Whitechapel, and not his brother—Mclntyre has been engaged more than once by me—Cunningham was a very quiet man while along with me—I did not hear any treasonable conversation of his—he did not tell me anything about the Presidential election to my recollection—I don't remember his giving me any name, so that when he had a telegram I could not recollect it—I have had a good many visits from the police—I can't say that they were very anxious for me to swear to this box—they have certainly questioned me many times about it—all boxes are searched at Liverpool on arrival as far as I am aware of, and Irishmen more so than any others—I can't say that most of the Customs House officers are Orangemen—there are a great many Irishmen in the Customs House—I have been told that they very carefully search any luggage belonging to Irishmen, especially those coming from New York.
Re-examined. I remember a passenger occupying the same room as Cunningham did who had a trunk there at the time, but I could not swear that it was Cunningham that had this trunk; to the best of my belief Cunningham had a trunk like that with him—if he had this trunk with him at my house it was taken into his bedroom; he was the sole occupant of that room for two or three days—I don't
know what was done with it whilst it was in his room in my house—I do not know what Cunningham was doing during those two or three days.
DAVID MCINTYRE . I am a cab-driver at Liverpool—Prince's Dock is the stand I use—I know the Liverpool Arms, the house Mr. Stock keeps, the street is opposite to the stand where his house is in—in December last year, close upon Christmas Day, I recollect being called to Mr. Stock's house—I took my cab to his door, the prisoner Cunningham and Mr. Stock got into it—a box went on the cab something like that one; I don't know whether that is the same one or not—there was also a valise—I drove them to Lime Street Station—the box was taken down by a porter—this was from 10 to 11 o'clock in the morning, I am not sure; it was in the morning time—I am not sure as to the day, it was a day or two before Christmas.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. It was two or three days before Christmas; I fancy it might be the 23rd, but I couldn't swear it—this matter was first called to my attention in this year; I heard it read in the paper about January, or somewhere about that time—I have had several trunks in the interval from American steamers.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I have carried a good many Americans too in my time—Cunningham's features make me recall him so well—I have had many a trunk like that on my cab before—I haven't been following the boats lately, the trade is very bad, when I have been 1 have seen a good many of these trunks—it is an ordinary American trunk, they are getting some new ones out now, flat ones—this is rather an old-fashioned one, and therefore similar to what I have carried for years past—I would not swear it was that very trunk.
WILLIAM BROOKS . I am a porter at the North London Railway, Broad Street, London—I was on duty on 24th December last—I recollect conveying a trunk from the cloak-room that day to a cab—I only conveyed one trunk of that kind that day; that trunk is the one I conveyed to the best of my belief—it was very heavy—as I was putting it up on the cab it seemed to slip down again, and that refreshed my memory—I did not recognise the cabman, I should not know him if I saw him—I believe Cunningham is the man I took to the best of my belief; the man, who-ever he was, went away with the box in the cab.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I wasn't in the cloak-room that day, I had been previously, so that I understand the method and system there—when luggage is taken in they pay as they deposit, as a rule, for one day, and pay the other when they fetch it away—I do not remember whether the man paid anything when he took the box away—it was holiday time, and my attention was called urgently to take the box—there would be somebody there to whom it would be paid, but not to me—I was not there at the moment he was getting the trunk out, so I don't know whether he paid or not—the books should show how long the trunk had been there, but according to the date it is possible there might be a mistake at holiday time—the books would show when the trunk came in, and how many days it was in—a man named Woolley was on duty at the cloak-room on that day—the trunk was numbered, but I didn't notice any number on it when I took it out—it was drawn out for me ready to take away—the number would be on when it came out, but I have no recollection of seeing it.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The number would be chalked on,
we don't put on the adhesive labels at Broad Street, like most companies—we don't very often get American trunks at Broad Street, but I'have seen enough of them in my experience to know that they are very much alike; we generally get the more flat than that kind—that is the trunk to the best of my belief; when I was putting it on the cab it slipped, and that refreshed my memory, it called my attention more to it—there is not many American trunks come to Broad Street, plenty of others—I do not say that is the same because because I see an American trunk in Court.
Re-examined. It wasn't our interest to notice the number on the box; I can't give any information about the number—in the absence of the number it is impossible to check it.
JAMES HENRY BACON . I am a cab-driver; my rank is at the North London Railway, Broad Street Terminus—on 24th December, between 2 and 3 p.m., I was on the rank; a porter came wheeling a trunk and a small bag or box on a barrow—the trunk was like the one in Court, and about that size—the person who was with him directed me to drive to Great Prescott Street, Whitechapel—the box was put on the top of the cab—the number of the cab was 30 something—I did not get down from the box, but the man took it down—a female appeared at the door—my cab is No. 2.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I often carry American trunks—I could not swear to any particular mark on it.
GEORGE SPLAIN . I am employed at the Broad Street Station of the North London Railway to take the number and destination of cabs leaving the station—refreshing my memory by my book, I find on 24th December cab No. 2 left at 2.45 for Great Prescott Street; Bacon was the driver.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I did not recognise any one inside—I made the entry in this book at the time the cab went out of the yard-No. 2 went out at 3.20 to Cannon Street Station.
GEORGE WILLIAM BOWLES . I keep the Lord Nelson Temperance Hotel at Liverpool—on 24th December I saw Burton at Lime Street Railway-station about 9 p.m.—the Hanoverian and the Oregon steamships had arrived from America—Burton was waiting with others for luggage—I gave them cards of my hotel—about 11.30 p.m. Burton and others came to my house—they occupied the same room—I had no names with them—they left on Christmas Day—there was a parcel between them.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. My attention was called to these people coming about a month or six weeks afterwards—I saw them in the colonnade of the station—there was a train to London at 11 p.m.—the luggage is delivered as soon as claimed—my hotel is close to the station—I prosecuted some of the neighbouring hotels in the cause of morality, and there has been a clearance—I gave a description to the police of two other men who came to my house—neither was Cunningham—I keep my lodgers' accounts by numbers or by names, I have no regular way.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. Cunningham was not on the landing-stage—I do not think there was a man like him to whom I gave my card—there was one it may be a little older—the two other men to whom I gave cards had an American appearance—they did not ask if I was Irish—I was not on the landing-stage—I put one young man in the train for Manchester; he did not resemble Cunningham; he was not dark, he was fat
CAROLINE WILSON . My husband is a City policeman—on 26th December we were living at 5, Mitre Square, Aldgate, and occupied two rooms on the second floor—the landlady, Mrs. Whitehurch, was away at Christmas for a few days, and I looked after the house for her—on that day, about 3 o'clock, Mrs. Capella, who I knew, brought the prisoner Burton there, and I gave her a key of the door—Burton took possession of the back room, ground floor, on the 26th, the next day—the landlady came back on the next Sunday, and I had nothing more to do with the management of the house, but I saw Burton in the kitchen on Wednesday, the 31st-he continued there 14 or 15 days.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. He went by the name of Burton—he I had very bad health while there—he told me on 31st December that he was going to Bow to be nearer his work, and he left on the next Saturday—he did not say that he was working at Mr. Herman's—I do not know where Mr. Herman's factory is.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I never saw Cunningham at my house, he never came to see Burton.
JOSEPH HAMMOND . I am a guard on the Metropolitan Railway, and on 2nd February I was guard of the Hammersmith train which left Aldgate at 8.57 p.m. four minutes late—Aldgate is the terminus when the local trains start from—there was a break-van at the rear, in which I was, and there was an engine and six carriages—Harry Taylor was under-guard, he was next the engine—there was a break compartment and a third-class carriage next the engine, then two more third-class with what we call spear-breaks in each, then a first-class, then a composite carriage partly first and partly second class, and I rode in the rear as guard in charge—we allow passengers to ride in the spear-break with the merchandise—there are four stations before you get to King's Cross: Bishopsgate, Moorgate, Aldersgate, and Farringdon, then King's Cross, and the next is Gower Street—between King's Cross and Gower Street is the Charlton signal-box—while the train was going between King's Cross and Gower Street that evening there was a very loud explosion at the fore part of the train about 150 yards west of Charlton box—it was then about 9.14—we had stopped one minute at Charlton signal-box as the signal was against us—the explosion smashed the windows and put out all the lights—we then went on to Gower Street, and I got out and the passengers also—I afterwards went on with the train to Edgware Road.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. There were three third-class carriages in the front part of the train—the spear break van was in the first compart ment of the second carriage from the engine—we use our own discretion as to how long we stop at the stations; we have no time allowed—I should not traverse the platform as far as those third-class carriages, and I know nothing of who were in them—the explosion was in the fore part of the train, behind my van—I thought it came from the front of the train.
JOHN SEWARD (Hyde Park Constable 11). I was formerly in the Army—on the 2nd of January I was in the train when the explosion took place between King's Cross and Gower Street—I got in at Bishopsgate Street, but before I got in I saw the prisoner Cunningham leaning out of a carriage window—he asked me if I could give him a light, or had I got a match—I saw a wheel in the compartment he was in, and knew that it
was the break van, and thought they were employed there, and 1 did not get into that compartment—I saw a small seat under the wheel—I saw on the seat what I took to be a workman's flag basket; the same as carpenters usually work with—I could not see whether there were any other people in the compartment, I got into the next one—between King's Cross and Gower Street there was an explosion which put out the gas in the carriages—the train went on to Gower Street, and I got out there—on 16th February I saw Cunningham at Bow Street; there were a number of people in the room, but I picked him out as the man I had seen in the train.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I noticed nothing particular about that man's voice—I do not know what the American accent is; there might have been something of a countryman's talk about it—to the best of my belief Cunningham is the man—he was close shaven—I do not pledge my oath, but I picked him out—I will swear he was not a younger man—I did not give my name at Gower Street, but I was in the Park next day, and mentioned it to the police, and was ordered to appear—I was in a carriage near the engine; I cannot tell where the explosion seemed to sound from, but it seemed to take me off my legs—I do not recognise either of these three photographs—I cannot see any likeness between this young man with an open shirt front and the man who asked me for a light—I cannot see a likeness to the prisoner.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I saw no other man in the carriage only the one who leaned out and spoke to me—there may have been another—I went on to the next carriage thinking they were working men employes of the Railway Company—I never saw Burton in my life that I know of—I did not notice him among the people going away from Gower Street after the explosion—I have seen railway employés carrying their tools in a similar flag basket.
HARRY TAYLOR . I am a porter in the service of the Metropolitan Railway Company—on January the 2nd I was under-guard in the front break of this train, and was in the compartment next the engine—I attended to the front part of the train, and the guard to the back part—the second carriage was a third-class with a break in it—passengers luggage is sometimes put there, and persons sometimes travel in it—it is part of my duty from time to time to look into the break to see if there is luggage in it, and I had looked in that evening before the explosion, at Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and Farringdon—I can swear that there were two people in it, and there may have been more; Cunningham is one of them—I am positive he was in the break van—after passing Gower Street box there was an explosion—I was in a stooping position near the break wheel, and it threw me forward on my hands and knees, and 32 windows of the train were broken—I got out at Gower Street, and said "All change," and the train was taken on to Edgware Road to be inspected—I went through each compartment and examined it, but found nothing—I next saw Cunningham at Bow Street with several people, and pointed him out as the man—I saw Police-Sergeant Crawford at Gower Street.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. It was my duty to close the doors at each station—the train started three minutes late—I do not try to pick up the time going along; I have nothing to do with the time; I give the signal for the driver to go—the train was not pretty full—I do not know whether I could recognise any of the other passengers—I saw the
younger prisoner more than once that night; the first time was at Bishopsgate—I did not see a workman's basket in the carriage with him—sometimes the luggage is put with the guard, and sometimes with the spear break; if it is labelled, it is generally put into my break—I believe people take small things in their hands into the break-carriage, and sometimes into other carriages, but we object to that if it is large, as it obstructs the passengers—I did not notice a wicker-basket there like this produced—I have never seen any one like this photograph, to my recollection, but there is a likeness to the young man I saw at the window; I would not swear that it is his photograph—I may have closed the door of the spear brake-van at the intervening stations; I first looked into it at Bishopsgate, and at each station except Moorgate Street—I do not think I looked in at King's Cross, and therefore cannot say that the young man was there—the explosion seemed to be on the line I was travelling on, the down line, but it came from the top of the roof, not from the line; it seemed to strike the top of my break—we were just leaving Charlton signal-box when it happened; there is an opening in the roadway there—I do not know the position overhead—the explosion was about two or three minutes after we had passed Charlton box; I mean to say that it took two or three minutes to go from Charlton signal-box to Gower Street, and it was about two minutes after we left the signal-box that 1 heard the explosion—the signal dropped before we started on to go to Gower Street—I cannot say how long the train takes to go 150 yaids after starting—I do not have to keep the time of the trains.
MICHAEL CRAWFORD (Police-Sergeant E 42). On Friday, January 2nd, about 9.15,1 was on duty outside Gower Street Railway Station, on the south side of the Euston Road, where the trains run from the East end towards Paddington-part of the station there is open—I saw a flash and a cloud of dust, and heard a report of an explosion—I ran down the stairs into the station on the same side I have been speaking of, and arrived then about two minutes before the train came in from the City—I first saw the engine and the guard's break; the next carriage was the spear break, which stopped opposite the ticket-collector's box by the stairs—I saw Taylor the guard jump out, and I believe he opened the door of the spear brake—I looked in the spear break and saw three men there standing up, they came out and stood still a few seconds—other people got out of the train—I heard a lady scream behind me; I went to her, and found her bleeding from the nose—the three men disappeared while I was writing down her name and address—I wrote down several names and addresses—I don't know which way the men went—after this, about February 2nd, I went to Bow Street and saw nine or ten men in a room—I saw the Prisoner Cunningham there—I touched him—I swear to the best of my belief he was one of the three men I saw that Friday night—on the 5th February I went to King Street Police-station—there were fourteen or fifteen men there, amongst whom was Burton—I touched him—to the best of my belief he was one of the three men I saw that Friday night.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I believe Burton was there, I will not swear positively to him—I had not seen a likeness of him before—I saw him before he was taken to the police-court at Kingston—I did not say at the police-court "I have no doubt as to Cunningham, I will not swer to the other man Burton"—I said I had no doubt in my mind as to Cunningham, I was not not asked as to Burton—I did not speak to
Cunningham, but I have spoken to him since at the police-court after I had given evidence—I did not speak as to other men, I never saw Sewers till I saw him at the police-court—the third man in the break was a tall man, about 5 feet 9 inches, dark coat, and rather dark whiskers—I saw nothing else in the break-the three men were standing apparently in conversation—the train was at a standstill—that was after the explosion—I have not heard that there were only two men in the break—I will swear there were three men—I saw them before they came out, because I had an object in looking in the carriages—I began to look in at the spear break—I was standing waiting for the train coming in—I saw Taylor there—I had not seen Burton before to my knowledge—I was not able to describe these men minutely the day after the accident.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. When I saw the cloud of dust I was between the two stairs—I am stationed in the district—there are a number of blow holes all the way down the Euston Road, one near the Charlton box—that is used used as an ordinary obelisk; no one could throw anything over, the railings are so close together, a child could not put his foot through—you could not put your fist between them—anything smaller than a finger could go through—the brake stopped opposite the signal box—the men could not have run out without giving up their tickets—all persons there were excited—I would not swear to this photo (several photographs produced) they are rather deceptive—one looks rather like Burton when he was young—I did not know him when he was young—I did not ask the three men for their addresses—the majority of the people rushed to me—I did not see a picture of Cunningham in the police-court before I identified him—I have since ascertained there was, but it was nothing at all like him—that was a sketch—the Police Gazette comes out twice a week, once with photos—it is not my duty to look at it—it is hung up in a portion of the station—I go to that portion of the station because we have no Gazette; it is my duty to look at the Gazette once a week—it was not my duty to have looked at it before I identified Cunningham—his sketch appeared on the 2nd or the 30th—I never looked at it after Cunningham was arrested.
HARRY TAYLOR (Recalled, further cross-examined by MR. LITTLE). I was the end guard—I knew Burton's face, I had seen him before—I could not swear to his being in the break the night of the explosion—I looked into the spear break, there were two men in the break—I fancy I have seen Burton's face at Aldgate—there might have been three or four men in the break, I only noticed two faces—I did not see Burton on the platform.
Re-examined. It was some previous time when I saw Burton at Aid-gate—I saw a number of persons in the van—I cannot say how many—I do not know whether I saw Burton or not.
ROBERT HARRY WILSON (City Policeman 863). I am husband of the witness Caroline Wilson—I was living with my wife in December and January last at 5, Mitre Square, Aldgate—that is about 150 yards from the Meteropolitan Station at Aldgate—our landlady was Mrs. Whiteridge—I first saw Burton on 26th December at 10.15 p.m.—I was in my shirt sleeves—on the Thursday or Friday afterwards I came to the door in uniform—Burton was trying to open the door with a key,-and I opened it for him—that would be the 1st or 2nd of January—on Wednesday, the 7th of January, he said he was going to leave to get near
his work—he seemed to be unwell—on the 7th or 8th of January my wife said something to me—I went into his room—I made a report on Friday, the 9th of January, to the inspector at Seething Lane at 9.30 p.m. about Burton—Detective Roper was directed to watch him—in Burton's room was a black Gladstone bag, it looked like an American make, and a brown-paper parcel on a sideboard with a little hole in it, so that you could get your finger in—the bag was standing underneath the washing or dressing-table—the parcel seemed to contain red flannel.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I did not examine the room; I only went in to see the luggage—I did not open the luggage, nor examine it properly—I never touched it; I only just looked round it—the parcel was simply tied round with a string—that was on the Thursday—I went in again on the Friday, and Mrs. Whiteridge was then present—Burton appeared ill.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I never saw Cunningham at Mitre Square with Burton that I am aware of.
THOMAS ROPER (City Constable). On the morning of Saturday, the 10th of January, I was directed to watch Burton, and went to Mitre Square—I saw Burton at 5, Mitre Square, at 9.35; he went up Mitre Street, along Aldgate, crossed the road, and went into Baverstock's Restaurant in High Street, Aldgate, about three doors from the corner of the Minories—I went back to Mitre Square to make inquiries, and then returned to Aldgate six or seven minutes after that—I then saw both prisoners coming up High Street, Aldgate, from Whitechapel towards me, about 10 yards off—when I first saw them I was then standing outside a public-house next to Baverstock's, waiting for Burton to come out; it was raining very hard at the time, and Burton had his coat collar turned up—the prisoners were is conversation with each other, walking side by side; Cunningham on the kerb side—they passed by me—I had a thorough opportunity of seeing Cunningham's face—I have no doubt as to his being the man who was with Burton—I followed them down the Minories—Burton must hare I come out of Baverstock's during my absence—they turned to the left down there—I followed them about 100 yards down; they stopped at the corner of Goodman's Yard, which leads to Great Prescott Street; they I parted company there—Goodman's Yard is a public thoroughfare-Cunningham went down Goodman's Yard towards Great Prescott Street—Burton came back through the Minories, crossed the road, and went into No. 23, Aldgate High Street, another Restaurant, between Duke Street and Mitre Street—he remained there about three-quarters of an hour, and then he came out, lighted a cigar, and walked down towards Whitechapel—when he got to Middlesex Street, commonly known as Petticoat Lane, he crossed the road to Mansell Street, and went into Binson's laundry, on the left-hand side—he remained there five or seven minutes, and then came out, went up Aldgate Avenue into Mitre Street, where he bought a newspaper, and went into No. 1, Mitre Square—I have not the least doubt Burton was the man—on the 4th of February I was taken to the House of Detention, different prisoners were in different cells; the cell doors were opened—the warder and deputy-governor were in front of me, and after five cell doors had been opened I recognised Cunningham in the sixth as the man I had seen with Burton—I saw Burton afterwards at King Street—I had seen some sketches of Cunning-ham in the Police Gazette before I went to the cells, but I did not think it
was the same man to look at, because by the woodcut he would be 38 years old—I identified him from my own observation of him—I gave my evidence at the police-court—the shorthand writer was there—when I stated I had seen Burton and Cunningham together Burton said he went to the various places I have described, and had met Ounningham as one person might meet another, excusing himself for meeting him—he denied knowing him.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. Burton had no solicitor at that time, and conducted his own case—Cunningham was represented by Mr. Quilliam, I think—I am a plain clothes detective constable; I went to watch Burton—I had not got a description of him—I lost sight of Burton the first time, because I went to Mitre Square—I parted from him again after he left Baverstock's—I went to 26, Old Jewry, the detective office, to see Wilson—I had never seen Cunningham before that day nor afterwards till he was arrested—Abberline had given me a description of the man he had met with Burton—I first saw the sketch in the Police Gazette on the afternoon after I had identified Cunningham; Abberline showed it to me—I could not have identified Cunningham from it; it was not like him—our Gazettes are bound up with a cover—we look at it if there is any-i thing to draw our special attention to it, but if we are on a case perhaps we don't see it for a week or so—I saw the woodcut on Tuesday, the 4th, or Wednesday, the 5th of February, when I came from the House of Detention—I am sure it was after I had seen Cunningham—when they passed I was waiting outside the public-house for Burton to come out of the next house—I had not been in the public-house—that was the only time I saw Burton; there was no description of him in the Police Gazette then, a week or a fortnight after there was a woodcut of him—it came out about a week after I had identified him at King Street—I don't know that I should have recognised him from that; he has grown whiskers since—I think I read the description of Burton afterwards—I was interested in the case then—possibly I read a description of Cunningham before I identified him; I must have done—it impressed nothing on my mind as to his being the man I had seen with Burton—I may have told the Magistrate I had not read a description of him before I identified him—won't say I had or not—I meant it had made no impression on me—I had interest in the case afterwards; I only watched one man, and saw him in company with the other, as I was sent to do—I did not know them—Burton's collar was up; he had a dark hard-crowned hat on; it was not at all drawn down over his face—he was a man you could not miss in the street; he had a brown overcoat on, I think—I won't be sure-I have not seen it since to my knowledge—I watched Burton the day he moved his lodgings-—Wilson gave me information that he suspected an Irish-American, and I was sent to see if there was anything suspicious about him—I watched him generally, partly to see who was with him.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I saw Cunningham and Burton as I returned to Mitre Square—I was within two yards of them-Cunningham was next to me as I stood outside the public-house—I did not see the face in this photograph on the 10th of January—I do not remember this face in my perambulations—it was raining hard; I watched Burton from 9.35 till 10.45 till he went into No. 1; of course he had been in the restaurants—Cunningham was under my observation seven minutes altogether,
about 50 yards down the Minories—neither of them had an umbrella; I had one—it did not impede my vision; it helped me sometimes—I think Cunningham was dressed in a brown overcoat with a velvet collar, I think the coat he has got on—the coat in the photograph has a velvet collar, but I should call that an undercoat—this photograph is not at all like the man I say was Cunningham—I should think this man was 5ft. 10in., Cunningham is about 5ft. 5in.—I do not recognise either of the two persons in the double photograph as the person I met that morning—neither of those faces has ever been under my supervision—Cunningham had on a black hard-crowned hat, and a brown overcoat with a velvet collar.
Re-examined. Wilson is a City police constable-I was told to watch Burton; I did so, and saw him with Cunningham, about whom I knew nothing whatever—on the 3rd of February I saw Abberline at Bishops-gate Station in the evening, and in consequence of what passed between us I went on the following day, Wednesday, the 4th, to the House of Detention to see if I could identify the man who had been with Burton—I recognised Cunningham at the sixth cell door—I have no doubt about him—at that time I had seen no woodcut of him, but after I had been to the House of Detention I saw one—Abberline had it in his pocket—if I had seen it before I could not have identified Cunningham from it—the following Monday I was called as a witness at Bow Street—I know nothing about these photographs.
Wednesday, May 13th.
JAMES DROVER BARNETT . I am a shorthand writer—I was present at Bow Street when Thomas Roper was examined in the prisoners' presence—Burton was not then legally represented, and made a statement during the examination—I took it down in shorthand—both prisoners were under charge—I have examined the transcript produced, it is accurate.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The statement was prior to the usual caution being given, and was in the early part of the examination—the report is verbatim.
MR. LITTLE submitted there was no authority for such a statement being given in evidence against the prisoner prior to that made after the usual caution at the close of the case. The ATTORNEY-GENERAL referred to the case of the Queen v. Stripp, reported in Dearsley's Crown Casse, p. 648, to show that the caution required by the 11th and 12th Vic., c. 42, sec. 18, to be given to a prisoner, did not apply to a voluntary statement of the prisoner in the course of the hearing, but only to that made at the concluding examination before the Magistrate after the winesses had been examined. MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS held that even without the authority cited the statement was admissible. (Read: "The prisoner Burton: Your Worship, he (Roper) says he recognised me with Cun-ningham. I have never seen the man before I entered the dock this morning. He might be mistaken in the man. Very often I am going along the street, if there is a gentleman we talk about the weather sometimes. It might happen that I might have accidentally spoken to some party on my way, I do not know who it was, but he says I went into Baverstock's that morning. I would like to know whether that was in a restaurant or where. Sir James Ingham: He says in a restaurant, is that so? He wants to know whether it was in a restaurant, Baver-stock's, or where. The Witness: Yes, it is two doors past the Minories.
The Prisoner: All this happened on Saturday morning. He says all this I was on Saturday morning that I went into Baverstock's restaurant; well, I would like to ask the witness how long I stopped there. Sir James Ingham: I think he mentioned that. The Witness: I do not know how long you stopped there. I left you as soon as you had gone in, and I went back to Mitre Square. The Prisoner: If I had gone in there it would be to get my breakfast, but I had not been in there that morning, but as he has mentioned about the laundry, I had been to this laundry, I had my washing done there, which I have a receipt to show for. The lady, the proprietor, was missing two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and I went back that day as I was leaving Mitre Square this morning. I went there for to get those pocket-handkerchiefs, which the landlady had for me, and I received them. Then I went to this restaurant between Mitre Square, or Mitre Street, and Duke Street. I think it is the Cafe Royal they call it. I went in there and I had my breakfast. I had some tea for breakfast, and then I left there and I went down Mitre Street and I bought a morning paper and I went into Mrs. Capella'a and I stopped there, I cannot say how long; it was very short, and the morning was wet, and as I was leaving, Mrs. Capella proffered me her umbrella. She said she thought I might need it, it was better I should keep from the wet as much as possible. I accepted the umbrella and I went into Mrs. Whitteridge's and I got my bag, which I had all ready to take away. I bid the lady good-bye and I went to Fen-church Street. I took the train at Fen-church Street, and I arrived at the nearest station to where I took my luggage, and I stopped in this lodging I believe all that day because it was wet. If I had gone out in the morning I do not remember. That is all I have to say."
CAROLINE HARVEY . I live at 90, Turner's Road, Bow, with my husband, Richard Harvey—he is foreman of the wharf at London Docks—on 10th January I had a first-floor bedroom to let—Burton came on the Wednesday previous to the Saturday when he came in—I had a bill in my window announcing the room was to let—he gave the name of Burton, he said he would come on the Saturday—he came between 11 and 12 o'clock on Saturday, the 10th—he had a large black bag—on the Monday he said he was a cabinet-maker—I believe he went to his work some part of each week till he was taken into custody—some mornings he used to go out at a quarter to 7, other mornings it would be past 9 o'clock; he would come in again at the dinner-time about 12.30—on Tuesday, the 13th January, I heard a cab stop at my house in the evening, about 8 o'clock—a day or two afterwards I went in his room and saw a trunk exactly like the trunk in Court—on the Monday he said he was going to bring a trunk home—I made the remark that it would stand in the corner, and pointed to it—I do not think he made any answer—the police afterwards came and took possession of it—from a remark my servant made I lifted the trunk—I should say it was quite empty—I think Burton said he came from Mitre Square, I cannot recollect; he said he lived with Mrs. Elliott, I can remember that.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I think he told me where Mrs. Elliott lived, but I cannot remember, I did not take much notice of it—I do not remember saying before the Magistrate "He told me afterwards that he came from Mitre Square." (This was in the deposition.) I knew he was working at Herman's factory—that is not far from my house—I
do not know exactly how far it is, I have not been there—I am told it is in Dodd Street—Burton always appeared to be very unwell—Mr. Tice, of Herman's factory, came to see him once or twice—except Mr. Tice, he said he had no friends in London.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I never saw Cunningham till I saw him at Bow Street—he never came to see Burton—my house is near the Tower Hamlets Cemetery—Great Prescott Street is about two miles from Turner Road.
WINIFRED CANNON . I am unmarried and reside at 30, Great Prescott Street, Whitechapel—on 24th December I had some lodgings to let in my house, and Cunningham came in the forenoon—I asked him if he would have a double-bedded room or a room to himself—he chose a room to himself, the front bedroom on the third floor, for which he was to pay 5s. a week—he said he wanted it for a week, he had no luggage with him at that time—he said he would go for it; and he afterwards returned in a cab (I was standing at the door when he arrived) with a box like that—I cannot say it was the same one, as far as I can judge that is the box—I see no difference between the box he brought and that one—he had also a small bag, it might have been about that size, I did not look at it; he took the box upstairs himself without any assistance—that same evening he paid me the week's rent—this was Wednesday, the day before Christmas Day—I can't say what day it was, but one Sunday he was indoors, and I said "I have not the pleasure of knowing your name," and he said his name was Gilbert, and I called him Mr. Gilbert—I asked him where he came from—he said Liverpool, and that he was a traveller—he remained with me exactly three weeks till Wednesday, 14th January, paying his rent week by week in advance—he went out about 8 or 9 o'clock and came back in the afternoon to his own room and sometimes sat in the parlour—on Tuesday, the 13th, the day before he left, I remember his knocking at the street door, I let him in—in the evening he said the brown box was not his; that he was going out to buy a small one, and that he expected a friend to call for the large brown one—he left no message for his friend and said no mow about him, and did not give me his name—up to this Tuesday the brown box had been in his room—in the daytime I was sometimes in the kitchen in the basement—I know nothing about the brown box going from my house, but on the Wednesday morning when I went into his room the brown box was not there—I saw him in the morning, but not immediately before he went away—he told me he was going, but not where to, nor did he give me any reason for going—while with me he made no complaint as to the way his room was done or how he was treated, and who were always on friendly terms—after he said the large box was going away and he was going to get another, I let him in, and he had a black box, but I did not notice it because the gas was not alight and I cannot say what it was like, but he had something of the shape of a box with him after he said he was going to buy a smaller one—I did not go into his room the morning he was going away.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I charged him 5s. a week for his bedroom on the third floor—the ordinary charge in our vicinity is 6s., but he said he wanted it for a week—I thought from his speech he was Irish, and asked him what part of Ireland he came from—I am a member of the Roman Catholic Church—I did not see him at chapel as well, I
know he went regularly while at my house—I know Munroe is one of I the collectors there—I gave the prisoner the key of his room the first I time—he locked the door and offered me the key, and I said, "You keep it"—the room belonged to him then—as a rule the room was open to me I never found it locked against me when he was out—I never saw anything suspicious about the room—I sold weekly newspapers as well; I received them on Friday; Miss O'Brien assisted me in selling them—I on the Christmas week he first came the papers came on the Saturday, as Friday would be Boxing Day—amongst them I sell the Shamrock, a paper for Irish people, not a Fenian paper at all—I never saw the other prisoner call—Miss White was lodging with me at that time—she and Cunningham often sat in the parlour together chatting—I have often had lodgers at my house before with American trunks—there is nothing at all particular about the box, it is just such a box as an American passenger would bring—if not busy I would make the prisoner's bed up in the morning—I was without a servant while he was with me, and on one occasion I left it rather late before I could make it, it was evening before I made it—he did not grumble about it, but I know gentlemen don't like their beds made so late as that—I saw him pretty well every evening; he was in every evening, and used to sit generally in the parlour and read the paper—he was a very steady, well-conducted young man—I never heard any treasonable remarks from him.
ROBERT HERBERT CROSBY . I am a cab-driver—on the night of Monday or Tuesday, 12th or 13th January, I was on the Aldgate rank with my four-wheeled cab, when Burton came and asked me whether I was in charge of this first four-wheeled cab—I replied "Yes"—he asked me what I would charge to drive to the Turner Road, Burdett Road, Bow—that would be within a few yards of two and a half miles; a portion of it is without the radius—I asked him the number of persons and the luggage—he replied, "There is only myself and a box," or trunk, I would not be sure which, which was empty, and by its weight I judged it to be so—I asked him where I was to take up—he said in Great Prescott Street—that was close on 500 yards from my rank—I asked him what number I was to take up at—he said, "I will show you, it is just past the Roman Catholic church"—we had some discussion then as to the fare—I asked him half-a-orown; he said it was too much; ultimately I agreed to take 2s.—he said it was too much because he could get it down by rail for 8d. or 10d., but there was the difficulty of getting the box to the station—he got into the cab; I drove him to either the first or second house eastwards of the Roman Catholic church—I saw a box come out of an iron gateway leading to the house facing where I stopped my cab—it had an area in front, with steps going down, I think—I put up my rail behind, and by the time I had done that it was waiting on the pavement—he handed the box up to me himself, I placed it on the roof—he then gave me the address, 90, Turner's Road, Burdett Road, Bow, to drive to—he said it would not take me long as I could go through some back turnings—on the road we stopped at a public-house and had some drink together—he then told me to get ready, and he went into a newspaper and cigar shop and said he was going to get a news-paper—when we got to Turner Road, Bow, I merely, lifted the box off the roof and placed it between us on the fore part of the cab, and he lifted it off himself and carried it to the door—considering the size of
the box I imagined it was empty, and I did not hear anything rattle; it was light.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. While I was being examined at Bow Street Burton said, "I approached him first; I asked him what the fare was; he said 3s.; I said it was too much, and he said 'I will take you for half-a-crown,' and I did not contradict it, and he drove me to place; I did not give him a cigar, but I gave him a drink"—he said that at the close of my evidence—he acknowledged that I was the cabman who took him from Prescott Street with a box to Turner's Road, Bow—I said at the police-court that he stopped me from 25 to 27—I think I said, as far as I could judge, he stopped me outside 25, Great Prescott Street—I have been to look since on one occasion when I went down with a policeman—I said it was eastward of the Roman Catholic church—there are two railway stations within three minutes' walk, Leman Street and Fenchurch Street; Pen-church Street might be five minutes' walk; Mark Lane is not connected; that would not do—the Leman Street Station communicates with Bow—Burton brought the trunk from behind the railings—I did not hear any knock or ring, or any person come to the door; I think the time was too short for the door to open—he simply went behind the railings and brought it out at once; it was-evidently there—it took me but a very few moments to put up the back rail of my cab—I think there was no going into the house—I did not see or hear any knock or ring; I don't think there was time for it—I saw no man there—I know Turner's Road, Bow; I know the neighbourhood—I know where Dodd Street is; I don't knot how far it is from Turner's Road.
WINIFRED OANNON (Recalled). There is only one door between my home and the Roman Catholic church: I am next door to the church, on this side of it—I have heard the cabman state that he stopped opposite 25; that is the other side of the church; I don't know whether that is the east or west side—25 is on one side of the church, and my house is on the other side—Burton never had a latch-key.
SARAH MOORE . I am a widow, and live at 32, Scarboro' Street, Whitechapel—I let furnished lodgings—on Monday, 12th January, Cunningham came to my place in the afternoon part between 4 and 5 o'clock—he applied to take a room—I showed him an ante-room on the first-floor; the rent was to be 5s.—I asked him if he was a tailor—he said no—I said "Are you a Jew?"—he said, "I am a Liverpool man"—I asked when he had been living—he said, 40, Prescott Street, at Miss Cannon's—I asked why he was leaving, he said because his bedroom was not properly arranged when he got home—he paid me a deposit on taking the room—he said he would come in on the Tuesday evening; he did not come till Wednesday evening, about 5 o'clock, or a little after—I opened the door to him—I said, "You have come, then; I thought you were not coming?"—he said, "I could not come last evening"—he had this brown bag with him—he asked for a latch-key—I gave him one—I said,! "What is your name, provided you have any letters, or any one comes to see you?"—he said, "Dalton"—I did not suggest any name to him; the name came from him—I never heard of his going by any other name than Dalton—I said I should recollect it because it was a family of that name down at my own home—after this he paid me the remaining 3s., and I said, "You have now paid a week in advance," and I left him in the room—he remained there for a few minutes and then went out; he was
away for five or 10 minutes—he remained in his room a second time for I some time, and then went out again—when I went into his room afterwards I saw in there a black box; that produced is very much like it; there is no difference—it remained there until the police took possession of it—I did not see him much, but I attended to his bed, so that I knew he had been sleeping there—he used to go out about 9 o'clock in the morning—on Thursday the 22nd he came down to the kitchen-door and paid me 5s. for another week, and I said to him, "Mr. Dalton, are you working about here?"—he said, "No; I am looking after a clerk's situation"—he said, "I have been in the provision stores, but I gave it up; I did not like it;" but he did not say where—he usually went out about 9 o'clock in the morning, and returned about 6 o'clock; sometimes' a little before, sometimes a little after, but about that time; then he would go out again, sometimes—on Saturday, 24th January, I heard him come into my house between 12 and 1 midday; I did not see him, but I saw his back just as he was going out—when he came in he went to his own room; he remained there from five to 10 minutes, and then he went out; I was in the kitchen, and could hear him overhead—on the same night he was brought to my house by the police—he went into his room with them where the bag and the box were, and the police afterwards returned and took possession of them—as far as I am concerned, and as far as I know in relation to any one else, the contents of that box were not touched but by the prisoner—no one called on him while he was lodging with me.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. What made me ask the prisoner if he was a Jew was because the principal of my gentlemen are Jews—I noticed nothing peculiar about his speech when he talked to me—I didn't think he was a Londoner by his conversation, I thought he was a Jew—the room that I let him was not quite on the first floor, it was between the ground and the first floors, about nine steps up from the ground floor—I told him I thought him so very quiet; I did not mean that he had not indulged in any conversation while he had been there, I thought he didn't feel comfortable—all my lodgers keep their own bed-rooms and their own apartments, I have no common sitting-room in my house—I told him always to lock his door when he went out; I always found it locked; I could get in to clean it, the key was always hanging at the side of the door—I never saw anything suspicious in his room—when the police brought him back to me on the Saturday evening I think it was between 8 and 9 o'clock; I can scarcely tell the time—I had had a visit from the police before that; at about 6 o'clock, or it might have been a little later—they went up into his room then—I remained in the room with them for a short time—I can scarcely remember what they did, I was so confused at the time; they had some keys, I know; I don't remember seeing them used—when they came back with the prisoner at 8 o'clock I did not go up in the room with them, I went on the stairs when they went away at 6 o'clock the key of the room was left behind-I did not tell any of my lodgers that the police had been about my lodges there was no one in—I don't keep a servant—no one came in to inquire what the police had come about—I was alone in the house the whole of the evening until the police came to take him out—they took the prisoner's box away about 11 o'clock—I was alone in the house till the box was taken away—no one called between 8 and 11 o'clock; none of my lodgers
came in—they have all latch-keys, I don't go to the door unless there is a knock or a ring—my lodgers go out generally about 8 or half-past 8 in the morning at the latest—I did not have any lodgers in that night-Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath—my lodgers were all at work, I believe, none of them came in in the afternoon or the evening to change their clothes—I never saw anything of my lodgers from 8 o'clock in the morning, ing, they came in after 11 o'clock, after the box was taken away—they were in before 12 o'clock—I never saw any visitor come to see the prisoner.
RICHARD FRANCIS HARVEY . The prisoner Burton lodged at my house from the 10th of January till he was taken in custody—I knew his name as Burton only—I have every reason to suppose that Burton was working at Herman's factory by his going out early in the morning and coming home about 6 o'clock in the evening—Mr. Dietz, who has been called, has been to my house at any rate once—I feel certain that no one called to see Burton from what my wife told me—I am not at home during the day—I go out at half-past 7 in the morning and return at 5 o'clock in the evening—my wife told me no one called during the time I was out-luring the time I was in no one except Mr. Dietz ever came to see Burton.
SAMUEL HORTON . I prepared these plans of the Tower of London; they are correct. (The witness proceeded to explain the plan, and to point out the route which visitors to the Tower would have to pursue.)
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. Visitors take tickets up eight or nine stairs, go up the winding staircase into St. John's Chapel, and through into the Banqueting Hall, to the right of where the explosion took place, and pass down and up to the next floor round the well-holes and show-stands, and then descend—it is about 300 feet from the exit of the White Tower to the other tower—I believe red cords are put to keep the people to the route, but I did not see them—from the door to the stair is 9 feet 6 inches—it was about 1 foot 9 inches from the arms rack to the wall at the point of the explosion; the rack was not there then.
ANN NUNN . I live at 138, Upper North Street, Poplar—on 24th Jan. this year I went with Elizabeth Bailey to the Tower of London—I could not tell what time we got there—I met my friend about half-past 1 o'clock—we got tickets at the ticket-office, and first of all we went to the Jewel room, and then came out and went towards the White Tower—there will a place on the steps where we had to give up our tickets—we then went up a number of steps into a chapel—until we got to the top of the steps we saw nobody; we then saw two little boys in the chapel—there was Do one except the two boys and a warder in the chapel—we then went out of the chapel and into the Banqueting Hall—the boys were in front of us—as we turned round the corner we saw a little smoke coming up from the right; it seemed to be coming from the floor—I could not say how far it was from where I was—after that there was a dreadful noise, and it seemed as if I was being driven back—after the noise gave over I was lying down with the arms on me—somebody helped me out and I was taken to the hospital, and remained there till the 4th February.
Cross-examined by MR. RICUARDS. I saw nobody else in the Banqueting Hall before the explosion took place—I don't know how many stands I had passed before I was knocked down, I had just turned the corner—the warder in the chapel was standing where the altar is, he was not close by
the door leading into the Armoury—the little boys were not far ahead of us, they were very close on, and then got farther away.
ELIZABETH BAILEY . I live at North Street, Poplar—I remember going to the Tower of London with Ann Nunn on 24th January last—we had just gone through the chapel when I saw some smoke coming up on the right side, it seemed coming from the floor—after that my feet seemed on rollers, and I fell; I do not remember falling; I was injured, and they took me to the hospital.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I saw the little boys in front of us—I saw nobody else but the boys in the hall—I saw two warders in the chapel; one came out from under the rope, and the other went under it; they would be very near to the door going into the Banqueting Hall.
ERNEST STBATTON . On Saturday, 24th January, I had a half-holiday, and went to the Tower with my friend Herbert George—we went up the steps and saw two ladies at the top of the steps—there was a Beefeater and a policeman in the chapel—we went from there into the place where the rifles are kept—as we got in there we noticed some smoke on the left-hand side, and then there was an explosion, and we were knocked down—before the explosion I smelt something like a fusee—we had got about three or four yards into the room before the explosion took place—I was taken to the hospital, and had to stay there some time.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. When wo had got into the hall about three or four yards we could see all the way down—I saw a police-man and two ladies in the gangway—the policeman in the chapel was standing by the chairs that run down the chapel on the farther side; the Beefeater was standing against the door leading into the hall where the arms are kept, and the policeman in the hall was standing right at the other end of the passage, and there was no one in front of me in the hall except Herbert George—I did not notice any one in the chapel besides the Beefeater and the policeman—I have been to the Tower before, and I know my way about.
Re-examined. It was about a quarter to 2, or something like that, when I gotto the Tower.
HERBERT GEORGE . I went with the last witness to the Tower of London on Saturday, 24th January—we got there about 10 minutes to 2 p.m.—I went up the stairs with him and through the chapel—after we got through the chapel I noticed some smoke and a smell like gunpowder—then about three minutes after there was an explosion and a noise, and I think I was knocked down, I am not sure—we had got about halfway down the Banqueting Hall—I was hurt on my thigh and right hand, and was taken to the hospital in the Tower, and then home.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I had been to the Tower before and knew my way; I was leading the way for Stratton—I saw a policeman and a workman talking at the farther end of the hall from where we were—I have never been to the Tower across the parade ground, I don't know that way.
Re-examined. I should not know the policeman again, I was not enough to see his face.
JAMES MUNROE . I was a labourer at the Tower when I was there last, I have not been there this 10 weeks—on Saturday, 24th January, I was on duty there all day until 4 o'clock—about 1 o'clock I was having my dinner in the Banqueting Hall; I do not go out to my dinner on these
days—I finished my dinner about half-past 1, and was walking about after that in the Banqueting Hall near the entrance to the chapel; that is where I had my dinner—if a person came into the White Tower and wanted to go into the Banqueting Hall he would have to pass me at soon as he left the Chapel of St. John, he would pass me before he got into the room upstairs—if a person is making the regular round as the visitors do he comes from the chapel in the south building and goes & step or two and comes into the gangway to the north, and then he bends to the west again till he gets to another staircase, the north-west stair case, and goes up into the Council Chamber—at the time of the explosion I was near where they come straight from the chapel up towards the north; I was about four feet away from that passage when the explosion took place about within three feet or so—there is a parting wall. (The learned Judge here pointed out upon the plan the various places to the witness.) This is the gangway, and I was about here (Pointing with his finger on the plan), and this is the other end of the wall, there is a thick wall, and this leads into the other rooms—I saw the dark young man, the shortest (Cunningham), on this Saturday in the Tower between the figures 8 and 9 (Referring to the plan)—he was then coming from the figure 7 to go over 8 and 9 till they get upstairs to the Council Chamber—that is the usual way, there is no other way for visitors to go—he passed me from the figures 8 to 9—I have no doubt that is the man I saw—he did not come back that way again, if he had he must have passed me again-I have seen him round the White Tower before, in the month of January, I could not give you the date—on the Monday after the explosion I saw him at Bow Street amongst seven or eight other men, and I picked him out—I heard an explosion a little while after Cunningham had passed me—I finished my dinner at the half-hour, and he passed me some minutes after that, some short time after—the place was set on fire, and the arm-racks were knocked about—my head has got a severe shock, my eyes are running with water, it dims my sight sometimes—I had seen the prisoner Burton a week or so before the explosion; I have seen him pass through the Tower, but not on that day.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I did not see Cunningham with Burton—Saturday is a free day at the Tower; sometimes we have good many visitors—when I saw Cunningham go by I was coming from the west window, coming back towards No. 7—I used to walk backwards and forwards; when I came to No. 7 I could see down to the right where the explosion took place—I met him past No. 8; he was going towards No. 9; he was coming from the east towards the west—he was close by No. 8; he seemed to walk on not taking any interest in the objects that were about him—this photograph I should take to be a portrait of Cunningham when he was younger; I will not swear that I did not see any persons like that there that day—there were not many passed by me between 1 and 2 o'clock that day; it was rather a slack day; there were about 10 in the hour—when I was having my dinner I went into a small recess away from the view of the public—I attend Great Prescott Street Church; I am one of the collectors there—I had never seen Cunningham there; many might go in without my seeing them—I do not collect all round—I should think it must have been 20 minutes after Cunningham passed me that the explosion occurred—I have been at the Tower some time—after you go upstairs on the first-floor and then descend opposite
the barracks, the exit is opposite the barracks—starting from the point I saw Cunningham, and walking leisurely, as he was, along the visitors' route through the Council Chamber to Beauchamp Tower, would take from seven to 10 minutes—all the arms on the rack stand on their ends—any one could easily walk behind that rack; the distance from the wall is 21 inches—I have been in there and cleaned the rifles; you would have to go in sideways—there was a little iron wicket opened from the chapel-door; that would come across to the stand—the wicket would not quite reach across to the rack when the door is open; there would be a very narrow space between the end of the rack and the wicket; but the wicket was not fastened; you could turn the wicket back, and it would give you more room—the wicket was open because the door was open; it is a mere little swinging gate which anybody could push back.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I saw Burton on one occasion at the Tower; he was close to No. 7; he was passing through the Tower as an ordinary visitor—on that day nothing happened at the Tower out of the ordinary course—I keep strict watch on persons in the Tower at all times.
Re-examined. From 1 to 2 o'clock is the slack time with regard to visitors, and that day was the slackest time we had round there for some time.
CHALES EAST (Policeman H). On Saturday, 24th January, I was on duty at the Tower—I go on duty at 6 a.m. and remain till 2 p.m.—at a little after 1 o'clock I was where the public come and get tickets to go to the Jewel Boom and the White Tower—Gallagher was on duty a few yards from me; he went off duty a little after 1 o'clock, and a few minutes before he went to his dinner, which was at 1.15, I saw the prisoner Cunningham come down the steps from the ticket-office—he had passed Gallagher before he came to me; and went in the direction of the White Tower, and I saw no more of him—the explosion took place exactly at 2 o'clock; that was just the time I was going off duty—on Monday, February 2nd, I went to Bow Street and saw Cunningham and a number of people, and picked him out—I am positive he is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. Saturday is a free day at the Tower, and as rule we have a number of visitors—I noticed his sullen look and downcast face—Saturday is a great day, and I took him for a Polish Jew; that is why I noticed him—he had a dark-brown coat on and a round billycock hat—I did not see him carrying anything—I regarded him as an ordinary-sized man—there was nothing particular in his clothes which attracted my attention—it would take him about seven or eight minutes to walk from where I was to the White Tower—I was on duty at the step leading to the inner office, and Gallagher was where the large wooden gate shuts—I was at the first gate as one goes in from Tower Hill.
THOMAS GALLAGHER (Policeman N). On 24th January I was on duty at the Tower by the west gate, the principal entrance, about 10 yards from the ticket office—it is part of my duty to see whether the visitors who come there are carrying any bag or parcel, and if so they are obliged to leave it in the waiting-room and not carry it into the Tower; he gets his ticket and then leaves bis parcel—I was on duty till my dinner-time, 1.10 or 1.15, up to which time I saw that that regulation was carried out—between 10 minutes and a quarter past 1 o'clock I saw Cunningham pass into the ticket office, but did not see him come out.
Re-examined. I returned from my dinner about 20 minutes afterwards and went on duty again—I heard the explosion—that was just on the strike of 2 o'clock—I ran to the gates and shut them, about three minutes, as near as possible, after the explosion—there was a gentleman and a lady and what appeared to me to be a child passed at the side entrance before I could get there, the lady was carrying the child in her arms—the gates were then shut; and all the people then in the Tower were kept in for time, and I took charge of the gates—a number of police came afterwards—the names and addresses of the different visitors were taken, and Cunningham was afterwards detained and taken into custody inside—on the first day he was brought up I went to Bow Street and saw Cunningham there in a room with a number of other people; I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. This (produced) is the ordinary guide-book which is sold inside the Tower gates in the ticket office, most strangers would buy one—I have been on duty in the Tower nine or 10 years—this guide-book says, "On quitting the White Tower the visitor would proceed across the Green to the Beauchamp Tower"—that is the way in which visitors would generally go after coming out of St. John's Chapel and the Banqueting Hall, it is the general route—I don't know how many people went out between a quarter-past 1, when I saw the prisoner go in, and 2 o'clock—I came back from my dinner about 25 minutes to 2 o'clock, I can't say how many people went out between that time and two o'clock, but I know it was a very Black day; that day slacker than usual, some people went out—I didn't look at the clod when the explosion took place, but I heard the clock in the White Tower strike 2 o'clock—when I heard the explosion I ran and closed the gates—that was about three minutes after; that was not by order, I used my own discretion—there was an alarm given that there was an explosion in the White Tower, and directly I heard the alarm given I ran and closed the gates, the alarm was given to me by a military man in the Tower—he ran out and said there was an explosion in the armoury in the White Tower; I expect he ran from the White Tower down to the gates, so that there would have been an interval of about two or three minutes as near as possible—the explosion didn't excite me, it it is a general occurrence to hear the guns towards Woolwich, but we were surprised to hear the explosion for the moment, it seemed to be near at hand and caused a little excitement—there were very few people passed out besides the gentleman and lady and little boy, if any, I didn't notice them—I didn't see anybody like that photograph go into the Tower, that might be a likeness of Cunningham when he was younger than be is now—I have not been in Court this morning; I have not spoken to Munro or anybody else about anything in this Court—I don't know either of those two photographs (produced)—it was not my duty to take parcels from people, but to direct them to leave them in the parcels' department—I didn't see Cunningham carrying a parcel, there was no appearance of anything concealed upon him—my business called me out at times, I had other business to attend to—I saw nothing to lead me to fancy that he had anything about him, I didn't pay particular attention to him more than any one else—I might identify a good many of the people that went in between 1 and 2 o'clock that day.
Re-examined. At the time of the explosion I was standing about
five yards from the front entrance, the gate that I closed; I was standing between the ticket-office and the main entrance—from the time I heard the explosion to the time I closed the gates I should say there was not about five or six people went out, because it was very slack; none passed out after the lady and gentlemaa and child.
JOHN DEVERAL (Policeman H). On this Saturday, 24th January, I was on duty in the Reception Room; that is also called the Gun Room; that is on the floor leading on to the Parade Ground—the people who pass through the White Tower go through the Chapel, the Banqueting Hall, and the Council Chamber, and then come down afterwards to this room where I was, on the way out—I was on duty there at the time of the explosion, and had been for some time before—about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes before the explosion occurred I saw the prisoner Cunningham in the Reception Room; he passed out in the ordinary way on to the Parade Ground—just before he passed out I had seen a man, one female, then came two females and a man in front of him; the two females and the men were in company together, Cunningham was following them close; when he had gone out I saw no one else in the Reception Boom; after he passed out about 10 or 15 minutes elapsed before the explosion took place—I at once ran through the room and saw Constable Tice with the two little boys and also a woman carried through to the upper floor; they were attended to, and sent to the hospital—afterwards I went to Bow Street and saw Cunningham with a number of other persons and recognised him—I am quite sure he is the man I have been speaking of.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The Reception Room is on the ground-floor, the last floor passing out before they go to the Beauchamp Tower—there was no one passed out from the time Cunningham passed out till the explosion—the two men that passed out before Cunningham were not like this photograph; I did not see either of these; they were ordinary working-class people—the only thing that I noticed about Cunningham that enables me to recollect him was I thought he was a Jew, a Polish (Jew, a foreigner; I did not think he was an Irish American; I don't know if I should have taken him as one if he had been lodging at my house—I do not see which way the visitors go after passing out of the room, but as a rule they go to the Beauchamp Tower to see that; that is the regular route—it would take an ordinary walker to get from where I was, out of the Tower gates into the open street, about 10 minutes, from the time he passed out of the Reception Room to the time of the explosion there would have been ample time for him to have got out of the Tower.
ALFRED TICE (Policeman H). I was on duty at the Tower on this Saturday, 24th January, at the north end of the Banqueting Hall—I saw Munro there, and had spoken to him about a minute before the explosion—I fix the explosion at 2 o'clock; the clock was just striking; it had struck the one, and the other one was just striking when the explosion went off—I saw at once that it had knocked off a number of the rifles, and I heard screams—it affected me, the shock—as soon as I recovered myself I went at once to that part of the Banqueting Hall leading to St. John's Chapel, just where the explosion occurred; up to that time, from the time I spoke to Munro, I had not seen any one in the Banqueting Hall—it was between 10 minutes and a quarter of an hour before
the explosion since I had seen any one pass through the Banqueting Hall to the upper part in the ordinary way—when I got to the places where the explosion was, just by there within a few yards I found the two boys Stratton and George, bleeding, having been knocked over by the explosion; I took hold of them and carried them down to where Deveral was; I also saw one of the young women close by there—I at once assisted in putting out the fire; it was burning for about 20 minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I have been staying at the Tower a long time—there are a number of soldiers in the garrison there; theydo go round; they have to get tickets; I did not notice any go through; on that day—I was stationed at the north end of the Banqueting Hall; that is the opposite end from the entrance to St. John's Chapel; I could see the whole way down the gangway—I went on duty that day at 10 a.m.; I had been absent from about a quarter past 1 up to about 18 minutes to 2—I never saw Cunningham go through, not from 18 minutes to 2 to the time of the explosion—soldiers garrisoned at the Tower would have to leave any bag or parcel as any ordinary person would; that was the rule in January—I know the rack very well; any one could get behind it without squeezing or going sideways if they were careful; they could do so if they had got a large overcoat on—I have never measured the distance behind the rack from the wall, I can walk through; I don't think you would have to walk sideways; I never walked sideways through it—it is my duty to watch the gangway.
FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Police Inspector H). About 40 minutes past 2 on Saturday, 24th January, I was called to the Tower, and found the gates closed—a number of persons who had been in the Tower at the time of the explosion were gathered together at the gates, waiting to get out: they were shut in by the gates having been closed—I received instructions to take the names, addresses, and occupations of the different persons who were inside, and it was done—an inspector and sergeant wrote down the names and addresses, whilst I stood by and assisted in getting from the various persons their names and so on—among the persons who were gathered round the gate was the prisoner Cunningham—he came in his turn about a quarter to 4 to pass through the gate, and gave the name of James George Gilbert—when I came to his address I understood him to say "Cherbourg Street"—I asked him where Cherbourg Street was—he replied "Whitechapel"—I then asked him what part of Whitechaped this street was in, as I knew no such street—he said, "Near Great Alie Street"—upon that the inspector who was writing down the names said, "Do you mean Scarborough Street?"—he said "Yes"—he was then asked what he was by employment—he did not answer at first and I did not know whether he understood the question, and I asked him myself, and he then said, "Labourer"—I then inquired where he was employed—he replied, "Nowhere"—I then asked him what countryman he was—he replied, "I am an Englishman," but not so readily as I am answering, he repeated every question I put to him—when he said he was an Englishman I asked him where he had been last employed—he said, "Liverpool"—I asked him where at Liverpool—he said, "At the docks"—I then asked him what he was doing in London, and how long he had been here—he replied that he had been here two or three weeks and had come to better himself—I asked him how long he had been at
Liverpool—he replied, "Two or three months"—I thought it, right to pass him into the police-office which is at the Tower; it was close where I was standing, the door was on my right, it is just underneath the Bayard Gate—the Assistant Commissioner, Mr. Monro, and Superintendent Arnold were in there—I then went outside to attend to the other persons, intending to speak to the prisoner later on if there were no others there—when I came back I found a written statement had been taken, which was read over to him—I was absent, I should think, three-quarters of an hour—I heard him then say that he had resided at 30, Great Prescott Street, Whitechapel, and he was known by the name of Gilbert, and had removed from there to 32, Scarborough Street—I took from him three keys at the Tower, one of which was the latchkey of 32, Scarborough Street; the other two keys related to the black box and the bag—I went with him to his lodging in Scarborough Street, where he pointed out in his room the black box and bag produced—he was taken to Leman Street Police-station, and the bag and box were taken to the station, I sent Sergeant White for them—shortly after we arrived at the station a telegram arrived from Liverpool, and I said to Cunningham, "We have received a telegram from Liverpool, and no such person appears to be known at the address you have given, and Stock says he had no person working at the docks"—he said that what he had said was perfectly correct—the name of Stock and the address came from a written statement—White brought the bag and box from Scarborough Street to Leman Street Station—they were locked—I put them in a small ante-room, which was locked up, attached to my office—I took possession of the key, and on Monday evening, the 26th, I first examined the contents—the locks had not been tampered with, they were in exactly the same state as I left them in—Jarvis called out each article, and I made the list—there were two walking coats, some waistcoats, and the natural articles a man would have, and a few books. (The Guide to the Tower was found on his person.) When I came to the bottom of the box Jarvis handed me this envelope (produced) and this piece of metal, which was then bright; I thought it was the top of a pencil-case at first—there was some white substance in it which glistened like what you see inside percussion caps—it was taken to Scotland Yard; I initialled it and I afterwards gave it to Dr. Dupré Colonel Majendie also saw it—on the Saturday evening, while Cunningham was detained, I went to 32, Great Prescott Street, and saw the landlady, Miss Kelly, and in consequence of what she told me I spoke to Cunningham, and took a note next night of what he said; this is it—I said to Cunningham, "We have made inquiries at 30, Great Prescott Street, and find when you arrived there you had with you a large brown box and bag; the landlady states that you afterwards took the brown box away, and you told her you had borrowed it from a friend; now if you like to refer me to your friend we will make inquiry if you think it will be for your benefit"—he replied "She says I had a box, does she? she is lying"—at that time I was quite in doubt about his guilt or innocence—he was charged at Bow Street on Sunday, the 25th, and gave his name George Gilbert—he afterwards asked me what name we had got down—I said "James George Gilbert"—he said."My proper name is George Gilbert Cunningham"—I found on him 7l. 11s. 10d., a silver watch and chain, a cigar case, and a guide to the Tower of London—at that time and up to the examination
of February 2nd at the police-court he was wearing a greatcoat, under which he had the same clothing which he has on now, with the exception of the brown coat which he is still wearing—when he was arrested he had a walking coat and a dark overcoat—I am sure he had that over-coat on at the Tower—I did not take it from him till February 2nd—on that day Alfred Chambers came to the police-court, and in consequence of what he said I caused Cunningham to take his coat off, and another was supplied to him, which he is now wearing—this is the one he took off—I showed it to Chamberlain—it has the maker's name on it, A. Lazarus, 244 to 246, Shoreditch—inquiries were made as to what had become of the American box, in consequenae of which Jarvis and I went to Burton's room, 90, Turner's Road, where we found this brown American trunk, which we have produced, and this black bag was in the ante-room—I found in the box a map of London, which came from Dickens's Dictionary of London for 1884—there was Dickens's Dictionary of London, a guide to the Beauchamp Tower, a guide to the Palace of "Westminster, a part of a New York newspaper, and several other newspaper including several English ones—14l. 15s. 3d. was found on his person—the books were on a shelf in his room, and a few of the papers in his bag—in the large box there was a calico packet, some envelopes and writing paper, and some light brown paper—Great Prescott Street is about 200 yards from 30, Scarborough Street, which is about 900 yards from the Tower—it took me three minutes to walk from 5, Mitre Square to Aldgate Station, and from Mitre Square to Great Prescott Street seven or eight minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. It is about 500 yards from Herman's factory, Dodd Street, to 90, Turner's Row, Bow, and from thence to Mitre Square is about a mile and three-quarters—I cannot say how far the Portland Road Station is from the Waverley Hotel—I have never been to it—Giles has been there with a notice; he could tell you—I should think it possible for two men leaving the Waverley Hotel and separating for one to go by Portland Road to Paddington and Victoria and deposit a bag at Paddington and Victoria Stations within half an hour—it would depend on the trains; they are every three minutes—the explosion at London Bridge was on the 13th of December last—I know nothing of the Harrow Road explosion, or only from hearsay—I have only given a selection of things found at Burton's lodgings—I do not remember a shirt marked Burton—there were various other things, such as dictionaries, guide books, railway books, maps, &c., besides several papers and an out-patient's letter to St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I have made a long list—they were found in various places—Burton was there when I went—I believe his box was unlocked—I took possession of about fifteen of his tools, including a rule, a few days after at Herman's factory—there was no opposition made to our examining the things—we told Burton who we were and what we came about.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I was not at the Tower at the time of the explosion—I am attached to Leman Street Station—220 odd names and addresses were taken—I am satisfied no one passed the gates after I arrived, as the gates were closed and men posted there—the police ascertained that the names and addresses were correctly given in every instance—Cunningham did not present himself till a quarter to 4 o'clock—the people had to come up by turns—he was not. deaf, because I did
not repeat my questions in a louder tone—he did not seem to understand—when Scarborough Street was mentioned he said "Yes"—I wrote down what he said the following evening when it was fresh in my recollection—he did not say he had been in Liverpool two or three weeks, but two or three months—his statement was read over to him by Arnold in my presence—he told me the keys I took from him belonged to a bag and a box—he made no objection to my having them—I did not examine his box, as had been done—he took out one shirt and I took hold of one other article—I was informed by Jarvis quietly that he had examined the things, and I thought it unnecessary to do it again—I never saw the metal till the box was examined at Leman Street—that was on the Monday.
By MR. RICHARDS. The prisoner was wearing this overcoat when I detained him—I cannot say whether it would be possible to conceal any large parcel of dynamite under it, it is an ordinary coat. (The prisoner here put on this overcoat over his other one.) He did not look like that in the Tower—I cannot say whether it would be possible to conceal any infernal machine or parcel of dynamite under that coat—the coat is a fair fit, it looks all right—he had got the coat on underneath the same small coat as he has got on now—this guide-book which was found is only an ordinary guide to the Tower, there is no plan of the Tower in it that I know of—these two pairs of flannel drawers I found in his box, and amongst other works a book called "Something to Read," a song book, and two memorandum books—I looked at one; there were a few words in it that I forget, there was nothing treasonable—there was also a portion of the Globe newspaper, a fusee case, and two cigars; I made a complete list of everything that was found—it would take in my opinion five or six minutes to walk from where the tickets are issued in the Tower to the scene of the explosion, and from the Reception Room exit to the gates it would take about the same time.
THOMAS ARNOLD . I am Superintendent of the "H" Division of Police—I was at the Tower on the afternoon of Saturday, 24th January—at that time Mr. Mooro, the Assistant Commissioner of Police, had arrived there from Scotland Yard—the prisoner Cunningham was detained there, and in my presence Mr. Munro put a number of questions to Cunningham and I took down in longhand a narrative embodying the questions and the answers, which I produce—after he had answered the questions and I had taken them down I read them over to him, Abberline was present; I don't know if Jarvis was, he had been sent on a message, most probably he was—Cunningham made no reply—Cunningham also wrote down the name and address on that envelope produced at one period during the time he was being questioned, in consequence of our not understanding the name of the place he said he came from in Ireland, and then he wrote down his mother's name and address in Ireland as it is there: "Caterine Cunningham Gurtamona Schull"
Thursdayy May 14th.
FREDERICK JARVIS (Police Inspector). On Saturday, 24th January, I went to the Tower—the prisoner Cunningham was brought into the police lodge after I arrived there—I heard certain questions put to him by Mr. Monro, the Assistant-Commissioner, which were taken down by Superinteudent Arnold; I heard what he said on that occasion—in consequence
sequence of what Cunningham said I left the police-office and telegraphed to the police at Liverpool, and before I got the answer back I went with Sergeant White to 32, Scarborough Street, Whitechapel, and there went into a room which was pointed out to me as Cunningham's room, I there saw the black box produced and the bag; the bag was locked—I obtained several hundreds of keys, and got one that fitted the box—the box was not full at that time; there was some clothing, brushes, and toilet requisites in it—Sergeant White handed me out the things, probably half a dozen or more, and they were laid on the bed (there was nothing on the bed at that time), I then felt round the bottom of the box, but found no letters or papers—at the time I felt round there was some underclothing, socks and such-like, at the bottom, that I had not taken out—I had never taken the things from the bottom at all—I found no letters or papers, and put the things from the bed that I had taken out back into the box, and locked it—I then examined the bag that was in the room; it contained wearing apparel; I felt in that, but there wen no letters or papers there—I then left the room with Sergeant White—this was between 5 and 6 o'clock in the afternoon—when we got out into the street we met Inspector Abberline coming along with the prisoner Cunningham, and I went back with them to the house, No. 32, but I did not go into the room again; White and Abberline, and the prisoner Cunningham, did—afterwards Abberline came out, and I and he tool Cunningham to the Leman Street Station—afterwards I went to 30, Great Prescott Street and saw Miss Cannon, and made some inquiries of her—I afterwards received this telegram (produced), and said to Cunningham that we had received a telegram from Liverpool, and read it to him-this is it: "Chief Superintendent Williams, Liverpool, to J. Momo; Assistant Commissioner, Leman Street Police-station. No. 28 in street Stock keeps beerhouse, 31. No person named Gilbert or Cunningham has lodged there; has had no lodger that works at docks"—when I read that to him I said, "Your statements concerning yourself when in Liverpool are untrue," he replied, "I don't care what they say; what I hare said is true"—I also said to him, "We have also inquired at Scarborough Street, and the landlady is positive you gave the name of Dalton, and did not mention Gilbert"—he said, "I don't care what she gays; I gave my name as Gilbert, but she called me Dalton, and I didn't think it worth while to correct her"—that was all that passed then—later the same evening I spoke to him again; I said, "We have inquired at Great Prescott Street, and the landlady, Miss Cannon, says that when you arrived on Christmas Eve you had with you a large brown American trunk and a hand-bag, and that you afterwards told her the trunk belonged to a friend of yours who you expected might call for it, and that is the reason you gave her for purchasing the black bag you now possess. Can you give me any information about that trunk, or your friend?"—he replied, "If she says that she is lying; I never had but the one trunk, and that is the one I have got now"—afterwards Sergeant White brought to the station the black box and the bag, in the same state as I had left them—Cunningham was detained at Leman Street Police-station on this Saturday night, and on the following day, Sunday, he was taken to Scotland Yard, and afterwards to the Bow Street Station, on Monday, 26th January, I was at Bow Street, and Inspector Abberline gave evidence that day for the purpose of a remand—after the remand I
went to the Leman Street Police-station, and there in a room which was locked was Cunningham's box—it was unlocked with keys that Abberline had got from Cunningham—I examined all the articles in the box—I took them out singly, and examined each article separately, one by one—I shook every article out—at the bottom of the box I found a small, copper tube containing some white substance—this is the tube (produced); it had some white substance in it at the time—I had just undone a pair, of socks and shaken them over the box, and I heard something drop on the bottom of the box—there were some silver links or studs at the bottom of the box—I called Abberline's attention to this at once; he marked it and afterwards locked it up in his desk—on the following day, 3rd February, in consequence of a statement made by Crosby, the cabman, I went to 90, Turner's Road, Burdett Road, Bow, about 11.45 a.m.—Cunningham had been before the Magistrate on Monday, the 2nd—I there saw the prisoner Burton—I said to him, "Did you bring a box from Great Prescott Street, Whitechapel, about a fortnight ago?"—he said, "Yes, I was walking through Great Prescott Street one evening, near the church, when I saw a man with it on the side walk. I said, 'Will you sell that trunk?' He replied, 'Yes.' I then asked him how much he wanted for it. He replied, '10s.' I said, 'I will give you 8s.' He replied, 'All right, I will take it.' I paid him in silver. The man then looked after it while I fetched a cab, and I then brought it here. I did not know the man I bought it from, and I have never seen him since"—He also said, "I arrived from America on Christmas Eve, by the steamer Oregon, stayed in Liverpool one night, and came up to London on Christmas Day. I have been here before. I came over in April last year, and returned in September. I am a cabinet-maker by trade"—we had this conversation in his own room; that large American trunk was there, the bag or valise, and a black Gladstone bag—I took, possession of the trunk, and informed Burton that his statements were not quite satisfactory, and it would be necessary for him to accompany us to Scotland Yard pending farther inquiries, and that was done—I took possession of the box and the bag and the things in the room the same night—he was charged on Thursday, the 5th, before Sir James Ingham, and remanded till the 9th so as to be brought up and jointly charged with Cunningham—he was formally charged with being concerned with another man in custody in maliciously causing an explosion at the Tower of London on 28th January—he denied that charge.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I have frequently been in the street in which the Catholic chapel is—next to the chapel there is a building like a priest's house, and there are railings in front—I think the priest's house is built of brick—I have been inside the chapel once—No. 30 is next door to the chapel on the same side—I do not think No. 25 is on the other side of the priest's house—my impression is that the odd numbers are on one side of the street and the even numbers on the othen—I have seen the area in front of No. 30—part of it is flagged over, but there is an opening, and steps to go down—there is a small area—all the rest is not open, except the space from the gate to the door. (A surveym was sent to examine No. 30)—I have no knowledge of No. 25—no charge was made against Burton at that time, but we put a number of questions to him—we did not go to arrest him; we went to make inquiries about the trunk, and we were not satisfied with his explanation—Crossley had
given us information, and I went to get a second account from Burton, and arrested him on the general statement he made—we did not consider hit account altogether satisfactory as to the purchase of the trunk—we did not arrest him then, but we asked him to accompany us to the station, and he did—if he had not we should possibly have taken him there—Abberline and I put a number of questions to him—he stated where he was working—he made other statements in answer to questions—I took down nothing—I do not think I have omitted anything he said which tells against him.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. Jarvis and I aro employed in the detective department, over which Mr. Howard Vincent presides—I have had 12 or 14 years' experience in criminal cases, and have been in the detective department four or five years—Abberline is not an officer of Scotland Yard—when I arrived at the Tower about 4 o'clock there were about 200 people inside the gates—I cannot say how long it took the police to dispose of them—Cunningham was brought away about 5.45, but I was not there—when I left between 5 and 6 there were some: people still there—I left on two occasions—when I left between 5 and 6 o'clock I saw two or three dozen people there—Cunningham's examination lasted while I was present, probably half an hour—an inspector was taking the names and addresses and occupations of the various visitors in the open space just outside the Police Lodge—I believe the truth of the 200 persons' statements was investigated, but I was not present—Cunningham was under examination half an hour in my presence—he was very reluctant to speak—it was a voluntary statement—I gave him no caution, nor told him he was being cross-examined with regard to his trial in this case—I said to him "Your statements concerning yourself when in Liverpool are untrue"—we found out afterwards that he had stopped at the places stated, he had stopped with a Mr. Stock at Liverpool—my remark on receiving the telegram elicited his reply, "I don't care what they say, what I have said is true"—I then questioned him with regard to his statements about his landlady, and he said that she was tying—as to his name he said "I don't cart what she says, I gave my name as Gilbert, but she called me Dalton, and I did not think it worth while to correct it"—that referred to Mrs. Moore—I had not questioned him about another landladv, Mrs. Cannoa—he had given his address at Great Prescott Street in his statement-that is Mrs'. Cannon's—Cunningham's statement was a somewhat complicated one—it would take some time to inquire into—the box was locked from Saturday to Monday in a room at Leman Street Station, of which Abberline had the key adjoining his office—it was fetched out on Monday night about 7 or 8 o'clock, but it was examined first at Scarborough Street, and removed from there on the evening of the 24th to Leman Street by Sergeant White—I examined it twice—I was not at the station on Sunday—Inspector Abberline had the key in his pocket—I had only examined it for two or three minutes at Scarborough Street—I arrived there between 5 and 6 o'clock, and was only in the room five or ten minutes, during which I was speaking to the landlady, and looking over the room and the box to see if there was anything which would throw any light on the prisoner—I had no warrant—I made a complete search as an experienced police officer who had been five years an inspector at Scotland Yard—Sprpeant White took our the things in the box and
handed them to me—I knew that an explosion had occurred, and had read of it being carried out by means of a fuse with a detonator—I was looking for anything suspicious or anything in the man's favour, not for papers only, but for anything to throw any light on it, or anything relating to the explosion—I was in the room probably ten minutes, but the box was only open a few minutes while Sergeant White and I were engaged at it—I made an ordinary examination—I saw Cunningham, many times previous to his appearance at Bow Street, at Leman Street, and Scotland Yard—I saw him at the Tower, on the way to Scarborough Street, twice on Saturday evening at Leman Street, and two or three times on Sunday, and on Monday in the yard before he was taken into Court—I only had conversation with him on the two occasions that I saw him at Leman Street on the Saturday evening—I made no suggestions as to statements he had previously made when he was before the Commissioners on Sunday—I did not produce written copies of his statements—I don't know who did—I had charge of the case with another officer under the superintendent for the Saturday and Monday, and did as I was directed—I was doing nothing else but this case during that time—I knew about 5 o'clock on Sunday afternoon that the prisoner would be charged with treasonable practices-he was placed in the dock at Bow Street about mid-day on Mouday, about 19 hours afterwards—we made no further examination of his box during that time.
By MR. LITTLE. I asked Burton his address in New York; he gave it us, and Abberline made a note of it—I do not remember informing him afterwards that it was correct, I have no recollection of doing so—I have heard that inquiries were made—I was present at each examination but one at Bow Street—I could not say when there if I knew that inquiries had been made—I am prepared to say I did not tell him-we did not search Burton at his room-we asked him to show anything he had to indicate who he was-he turned out his pockets; I do not recollect telling him to do that-the prisoner read the letter which he showed in our presence-we saw it, I and Abberline did not read it; I do not remember our having it in our hands; he had it in his hands the whole time and put it in his pocket again.
Re-examined. I am quite sure all the things had not been taken out of the black box at Scarborough Street-the things taken out were put back, the box was locked, and a witness afterwards brought it to Leman Street—I received information from Miss. Cannon about the large American trunk, made inquiries to try and find the cabman, found Crosby, and he made a statement as to where he had taken it-at that time we knew nothing of Burton—in consequence of the information we went to 90, Turner's Road, Bow, and there first saw Burton; we found the trunk was there, and made inquiries of him.
STEPHEN WHITE (Police Sergeant H). On Saturday, 24th January, I was at the Tower when Cunningham was detained there—in consequence of what he said I went with Jarvis to 32, Scarborough Street-Mrs. Moore pointed out his room, in which I saw this black box and the bag—the black box was locked—we borrowed some keys in the neighbourhood, returned to the room with them, found one fitting the box, and opened it and found it contained clothing—Jarvis was in the room—we took out the largest articles of clothing and put them on the bed-several things were left at the bottom of the box—Jarvis looked in the box-there were
some memorandum books with nothing in them—we afterwards put the things back in the box, and I locked it up myself—we left the room and returned the keys where we had borrowed them—the bag was also examined—I then saw Abberline with the prisoner, and went back with them to 32, Scarborough Street-we went into the same room—Cunningham took some keys out of his pocket and unlocked the box with one of them, Mr. Abberline having asked him to unlock the box—Abberline commenced to take some of the things out again—I told Abberline in Cunningham's presence that Jarvis had run through them and had examined the clothing; all the things were not taken out, only two or three articles had been taken out then, and they were put back again, and Cunningham locked up the box and gave Abberline the key—he had also a latchkey of the house, I do not remember any others—I then left the room with Abberline and Cunningham, leaving the box locked as we went to the police-station—as we were coming down the stairs the prisoner said to Mrs. Moore, "This is a nice thing, they have got me for blowing up the Tower"—it was about 6 o'clock when we left the house—I did not lock up the room-later in the evening, about 11 o'clock, I was sent to Scarborough Street to bring away the box and other things—I found the black box in the room still locked—I brought away it and the bag, and some clothing hanging behind the door in the room, to Leman Street Station—I found the box as I had left it-Abberline locked them up in his private room.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. Jarvis took some things out of the box and I took some-the box was quite full-all the larger things were taken out, and then socks and various things were lifted from one side to the other of the box, and we could see the bottom all along, except I could not see the end I had shifted the things on to—I saw the bottom: all along by shifting the things—there was a sheet of paper at the bottom, I did not lift that up, I cannot say Jarvis did, I could not swear he did not—it was an ordinary piece of newspaper, I believe, I cannot say what. (The learned Counsel asked for this to be produced; it was not.) The clothing I took down from the pegs in the room were a coat, vest, and overcoat, I think—Jarvis turned some of the pockets out in my presence—the paper seemed to be touching the bottom of the box—I ran my hand along the bottom, I cannot say right along—if there had been something underneath I should have felt it unless it had been at the side of the box—I think the paper was turned up at the side—I did not turn that up and look underneath, I cannot say if Jarvis did-an ordinary key opened the box without difficulty; it was some time before we got one to fit it—I told Abberline the second time we had been through it before; I do not think the prisoner conld hear that-he made no objection to giving us his key—I do not think he helped us out with any of the things—I removed the box at 11 o'clock—the prisoner had departed at 6 o'clock—I did not lock the door as I came out; I did not leave anybody in charge of the room except Mrs. Moore—I did not tell her what he was charged with, he told her—I saw no other persona in the house—I was directed to look for papers to see if I could find out who he was—if I had seen any Atlas powder I should have known what that was—Sergeant Foster was sent with me to remove the box, and helped me carry it from the house to the police-station.
found. (This only contained upon the first two pages, and one tine on the third, a few words with their meanings as taken from some dictionary.)
Cross-examined. Two pages were torn out at front and back when we removed it—there was also a dictionary.
JENKIN JONES (Constable at Scotland Yard). On Sunday, 2th January, I was there when Mr. Munro, the Assistant Commissioner of Police, asked Cunningham some questions—I took down in shorthand a narrative, embodying questions and answers what he said—here are my notes, and this is a transcript I made from them—on 3rd February I was at Scotland Yard when Burton was there—Munro asked him questions, and I took down in the same way a narrative embodying questions and answers; these are my notes and this the transcript from them.
The statement taken by Arnold from Cunningham at the Tower was here read, and then those taken down by Jenkin Jones at Scotland Yard from Cunningham and Burton.
"James George Gilbert aged 22 (Father, Joseph Gilbert) of 28 or 31 Robert Street Liverpool, dock labourer, states:—That he left Liverpool about a fortnight back, has worked in the Canada Dock under a man named Swanson, about two months prior to that worked at the Alexandra Dock. Wages paid by one O'Dea for about two months. Has been in Liverpool about four months. Stock was my landlord. He is a married man. There was another lodger there whose name I do not know. He was a shoemaker. I think he was English or Welshman. I left Liverpool to come to London to better myself. Before I came to Liverpool I was in New York and lived at 194 Franklin Street and worked at Morgan's Dock as as a freight handler. I was born in the parish of Scull in the county of Cork near Skibbereen. My father died when I was six months old. My mother is about 50 or 60 years and is supported by her daughters. I have one sister Kate in Brooklyn. She is a house servant, don't know where. My father had a bit of land near Scull but it was taken from him before he died. Another sister named Mary worked as a servant some time ago at the Hygeina Hotel Seight Street New York. She helped to support her mother and I suppose sent the money through the Chambers Street Bank as she told me this about six or seven months ago while she was working at the hotel. She left the hotel two or three months ago. Julia a third sister is a domestic servant in New York but I do not know the address. My mother is living at Gurtamona Schull and my two remaining sisters both married live near my mother one named Ellen Hellen the other Margaret Connor. Connor her husband a labourer is alive. I went from Queenstown to New York about five years ago. I worked at Morgan's Dock the most of the time. I also worked on the Pennsylvania Railroad and lived at the same address all the time viz. Mrs. Crimmons 194 Franklin Street. I worked as a freight handler on the railway. I left New York two or three months ago and came to Liverpool by the 'Adriatic' in August or September last. My passage ticket was in the name of Cunningham by which name I was always known. When I reached Liverpool I met Stock at the dock and he took me to his house. He is an emigration agent. When I came to London I went to Great Prescott Street No. 30. I do not know the landlady's name. I paid 5a. per week. I do not know the names of any of the other lodgers. I stayed there two weeks and then went to 32 Scarborough Street where I am still lodging. I do
not know the name of the landlady. She called me Dalton and I did not correct her. There are other lodgers there but I do not know their names. When I came to London I brought 12l. or 13l. with me. I have now 7l. 10s. and have spent the rest. I have bought a box for which I paid 7s. and that is now at my lodgings. I have been looking for work but could not obtain any. I do not know any one in London. I have not been to see any of the sights of London except St. Paul's where I went last week. I left home to-day about half-past 1 and was in the Tower before 2 o'clock. At the time of the explosion I had gone through the Chapel and was going up the stairs at the other end. Some other fellows were going up with me but I do not know them and was too much scared to notice them. I have been to the Italian coffee place in Aldgate two or three times to have my meals. I sent some money to my mother from New York through the Chambers Street Bank, who was to pay it I don't know but I suppose the Dublin Bank. I have sent money this way more than once. My mother acknowledged the money to New York. I have also been to another coffee-house in Whitechapel on the other side of the church, also one in Aldgate below the Italian place. I bought a Cardigan jacket in Whitechapel about a week ago also a shirt at the same time and place. I bought the coat I am wearing about a week ago in Shoreditch and paid 16s. 9d. for it. I think I also bought the braces I have on about a week ago at the same place I bought the jacket and shirt. The knife I have I bought in Aldgate. When I took the apartments at Scarborough Street I gave the name of Gilbert I am positive that I did not give the name of Dalton."
Second statement of Gilbert, alias Cunningham, taken at Scotland Yard:—"When I arrived at Broad Street I just put my things in the luggage room and walked round. I walked some way and saw an advertisement for lodgers and I went inside and asked. I did not know the way there but found it. Having left my traps at the station I went for them afterwards. I went back the same day. I arrived here Christmas Day or the day before. I arrived at Broad Street the day before Christmas Eve. I left Lime Street about 12 o'clock and arrived here between 4 and 5. I paid 4d. for my two packages. I took them with a cab sometime in the afternoon 3 or half-past 3. I paid 1s. 6d. for the cab. Nobody helped me in with the packages. They did not ask me for my name but gave me a ticket. I don't know the number of the ticket. I have friends in Americaas I told you yesterday. I was there for about five years. You can write to the lady that I was lodging with in America 'Mrs. Crimmens' Franklin Street, five or six blocks below the Canal. I don't know of any more at present. There was a lot of stranger people. I could not tell their names. Peoples was the 'boss.' I think he lived in Brooklyn. I was paid in the dock. I worked for a man named 'Driscoll.' I don't know where he lived. I don't think it is necessary to write to any more of them. A fellow named 'Casey' was 'boss' there for some time while I was there, and Murnell or Marnell I am not sure of spelling but Peoples was the 'boss' most of the time. I brought fifteen or sixteen pounds from America. I had it in English money. I changed it there in Chambers Street Bank. I changed about sixty or seventy dollars and came to Liverpool in the name of 'Cunningham.' I know 'Stocks.' He said he was an emigration agent. He might keep a
beerhouse. I did not see it. I gave the name of Gilbert because I did not think it would make any difference. I left "Stocks" house about the 23rd of the month I think and came straight here. I had my bag and there was paper outside the clothes and a brown paper parcel. I went to the 'dock' walking. I took both packages myself. Yes it is rather peculiar that Stocks does not know me. I can give no explanation of that. I gave the name of 'Gilbert.' I generally took my meals in coffee places. There were several in 'Scotland Road.' I cannot tell their names. I took my meals in Scotland Road most. I don't know the numbers but it was near the lower end. I sometimes took my meals in 'Stocks', 'bread and butter and tea breakfast. I don't think I ever had dinner there. I could get it cheaper outside. I don't know 'Dale Street.' I have seen the name but I don't know where it is. I have seen a man named 'Day' at the Alexandra Docks. I was there about a couple of months. When I went to the docks first I did not particularly ask for work from anybody but I saw the foreman and he sent me to work at once. His name was 'Day' but it might be 'O'Dea.' I saw him when he came up for the men to send them to work. I was not working there steady. He found me at the end of the 'dock.' He came up to me. I cannot tell the names of the men who worked with me at the dock. He never asked me what work I had been doing. The work was ordinary loading and unloading. I used to wear old clothes. I think I threw them away, but there are clothes at my lodgings. There are two old pairs of trousers there. When I got in the carriage I put my baggage right overhead. I took it out at Broad Street and put it in the luggage room and then I took a cab. I cannot tell you who I saw at 'Stocks'. 'I never went to church there. I have went there. I did not go to church in Liverpool. You must not believe my landlady. I left her because she was always drunk—she never used to fix my bed for me. I told you that I did not like the room. I don't know her name. I never asked her for it. I used to go in sit down generally and read. I bought the books in New York. I have also a dictionary there."
Taken at Scotland Yard on 3rd February, 1885. "My name is Harry Burton. I came to Liverpool on Christmas Eve and left New York on the 17th in the name of Burton. I was known in America by that name. I cannot say who the officers were or mention the steward's name. I only knew one man who was called Harry the Sculler. The number of my berth was the number of my ticket, and I don't exactly remember it. I don't remember the quartermaster's name or any of the passengers'. If I was sitting down quietly alone and not feeling as I do now I might remember. I can take my oath I am telling you the names as far as I remember. I recollect one now—it was a young man called 'Courtney'—I think coming from America and going home to a farm in Ireland. He told me it was in the county Fermagh or close to it. I cannot remember any other names at present they are mostly Englishmen. I never made any acquaintances and seldom inquired about names. There was another young fellow whom I became acquainted with in New York but can't remember his name. I went across on the Alaska from. Liverpool on the last occasion but I cannot remember the names of any of the officers; feeling nervous and sick I never paid any attention to these things. Before that time I came over in the Oregon. I have only
been two trips. I recollect that the officers were changed; that was also mentioned in the New York papers. I lived in Lower Nee Street, but only stayed there one night, and then came here for the purpose of attending St. Bartholomew's Hospital as an out-patient. I brought 24l. in gold besides a 5l. note with me. I worked for a firm called Herman, and was directed to their factory by a man whom I met in Petticoat Lane one Sunday morning who looked like a mechanic in my own line. I have been at work there since I arrived. I came over first in the Oregon in the spring about April and stayed here till September. I was at work here when the explosions took place at the club houses and Scotland Yard. Later on in the season I went to see some public buildings in the summer. I think I went to the Houses of Parliament at Westminster on a Saturday. I don't remember having gone to any other public buildings then. I visited the Tower of London the second week after I came here this time, that was on a Saturday, and I did not pay anything. I went with a young lady who was anxious to see it, her young man being at work during the day I volunteered my services. I don't remember her name. The young man was called Hayter or Ayter and resides at No. 13 Pulling Street. I have not been to the Tower since the beginning of January. I was at work on the day of the explosion there from 7 till 2 in the afternoon. I think it was half-past 2 before we were paid off. I am quite sure of that. My foreman is Mr. Deitz, the other is Mr. Pinmer. When I bought the trunk I was going along towards the church down Great Prescott Street in the evening. I saw a young man carrying it. I said do you want to sell that box. He said yes, and asked 10s. for it. I said I will give you 8s., and I then bought it, as the man said he would take charge of it till I returned. I went to the station for a cab, and I took it to my lodging, where it has remained ever since. I got it to keep my tools in, and when I bought it there was nothing inside except a few envelopes and papers. The man who sold it spoke in an English way. I should certainly take him for an Englishman. I did not take particular notice but I think he was dressed in a black coat—dark clothes. I examined the article more than the person I bought it from. I thought it was a chance for me, and did not think there was anything peculiar in buying it like that. I do not know where I was born but I think it was in Scotland Road. I have no relations that I know of in America and none in London. I have made few acquaintances except my shopmates, who are nearly all Germans. Their names, as far as I remember, are Hennecker, Neuman, Mellor, and Dicker."
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I am not aware when the inquiries have been made whether a young man named Hayter lived at 13, Pulling Street—I can only refer you to Inspector Jarvis as to whether what Burton said was right.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I was not much more than 15 minutes taking down Cunningham's first statement—I noticed a peculiarity in his accent—I had a little difficulty in mastering the meaning of the words the first time he uttered them, but nothing to prevent me from taking down his answers correctly—he said that he had been in Liverpool a couple of months—that is how I took the note—I wrote the name Trimmings in shorthand—I had no opportunity of asking him if I had written it correctly—I wrote the name of Marner in longhand, and
"Chambers Street Bank" in shorthand, and "Stocks" also I wrote just as it occurred to me at the time—I did not show Cunningham his statement which I had taken down—I also took down the second statement of Burton's—there was a difficulty in understanding his first two or three words—it was not so much a brogue as that he did not speak up—he put many questions as if he did not quite understand what was said—I did not take down his mother's name; that was not asked.
ELIZABETH ELLIOTT (Re-examined by MR. LITTLE). Hayter or Hayler lived in my house—he went out with his young lady on the Saturday—he was at work that day—I do not know whether Burton was there on Friday evening, January 2nd.
WILLIAM COLE (Police Sergeant). On Saturday, January 24th, I was on duty in Westminster Hall—I was then a private constable—I was just inside the crypt at 2 o'clock, that is the end nearest Palace Yard—there are a few steps at the end of the Hall farthest from Palace Yard—as you pass down the Hall the crypt is on the left hand of those steps—I was standing just inside the crypt itself when a lady called my attention to something—I think her words were "Policeman, there is one of your mats on fire on the stairs"—I went to the place she indicated, which was on the bottom Eight of stairs leading to the crypt, and saw a brown parcel with a small smoke issuing from the upper end of it—I turned it over, and it had the appearance of a lady's quilted petticoat—I put my hand on the upper portion of it and turned it over—it appeared then to have a lot of pockets—the material it was made of appeared just the same colour as the exterior, except the things that were projecting from the pockets—a light brown paper packet was sticking out from each pocket about half an inch—this (A cake of Atlas powder) is as near as possible the colour of it—there were four pockets and four rows, making 16 in all—the parcel was about two feet long or an inch or two more, about 14 inches wide, and an inch and a quarter to a half thick—the top of it appeared to be at the bottom of the steps, and the bottom at the higher part—it was lying in a diagonal way on the steps, and that part where the band extended across, which was apparently a boot webbing, which flopped into my hand—there appeared to be a piece of elastic or something black which prevented the cakes falling out—the packet in the inner corner was about half an inch above the pocket, and the other was an inch above it, and that is why I noticed the string on that packet there was a band at the top which was like a piece of boot-webbing, and where I have made this black mark (On a sketch) there appeared something which I had not sufficient time to see as I carried it along—that band seemed to extend five or six inches beyond the pad itself—these are rows of pockets and these are the marks of the little piece of elastic to keep the packets in—this round mark is to show where the light was coming from, but when I turned it over the light or fire and smoke seemed to extend almost all over the pad instantaneously—I think this strap is sufficiently long to go round a person's body, it is the same as goes at the back of boots, about an inch wide, and of a yellowish colour I ran up the stairs with it into Westminster Hall—it was still on fire, and
something hot and sticky like glue ran from it into my left hand and burnt it so I dropped it from my left hand and held it with my right; and as I got on to the steps into the little corner adjoining Westminster Hall I found it burning my hands, and threw it down—it dropped on to the little step and slipped on to the flap, and almost directly it went to the ground it exploded—I was a great deal injured and never even heard the report—I was in the hospital till March 19th; while I was there Colonel Majendie showed me a cake very similar to this produced—I think a person could have carried under his coat the parcel 1 had in my hand.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I don't think it would have been sufficiently bulky to attract attention under a coat if you had a coat sufficiently large—if this was the parcel the boot webbing extended five or six inches beyond, I do not know that it would have been rather tight for a man's waist—I am married; I do not know that 24 or 25 inches is the average size of a woman's waist—I did not see anything like this sticking out of the cakes, the only thing I saw was a light in the middle of the packet—I had been on duty since 10 a.m.—I never saw Cunningham till I saw him at Bow Street.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I never saw Burton—the webbing extended five or six inches beyond the parcel.
SAMUEL HORTON (Re-examined). I made a drawing of the houses, 25 and 30, Great Prescott Street—25 is on one side of the chapel and 50 on the other—there is a flag pavement level with the street; there is a railing round the forecourt—the area is covered over with an iron railing, covering the small area giving light to the area window—there is an open area there—the paving is level with the street going up to the door about six feet wide, and on the left is a wooden landing going from the area to the basement—I don't know whether the chapel is level with the flags, I think the entrance comes right to the paving, there is no area.
SARAH ANN BEAVER. I live at 25, Cromer Street, Gray's Inn Road—on Saturday, 24th January, in the afternoon, I was in Westminster Hail-about 2 o'clock I was going down the steps from the Hall to the crypt-there is a turn in the steps; at the second turn I saw something lying on the steps—I walked down the steps to it—I touched it and attempted to turn it; a gush of smoke then came from under it—before I touched it I saw smoke coming from it, a pale smoke—I am accustomed to cut out things; this was about 27 inches long, 20 inches wide, and 2 1/2 inches thick—it was American cloth, a very dark material—on the top there was the form of a quilted pattern like diamonds, quilted in the form of diamonds—I lifted the corner, and there was a weight it the middle of it—I then left it there and went down and called Constable Cole's attention to it—shortly afterwards I saw him carrying it away—he had a quantity of smoke round him as he carried it away; shortly after the explosion took place—from the time of my taking hold of it till the explosion I should think was about 20 seconds; it was about 2 o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. I told Cole that a thing placed on the stairs was on tire—I did not look particularly to see whether there were any other persons in the chapel, because I spoke to the constable-after I spoke to him I noticed that there were people there, both males and females; there was a policeman and two females—I did not see a
waistband round the American cloth—I did not lift it, I took hold of the corner and raised the corner, but feeling the weight I did not turn it—I told Cole that the mat was burning, I couldiscarcely describe what it was at the time.
JAMES BLAKE . I live at 8, Holly bush Street, Plaistow, Essex, and am an engineer—I was in Westminster Hall on the Saturday afternoon, I 24th January, about two o'clock—I went down the steps leading from the Hail to the crypt—I saw a parcel lying across the steps with smoke issuing from it, it smelt as if a fuse was burning—I called the attention of Constable Cox to it—I then returned to where the thing was—I saw Cole come up the steps carrying it and smoke coming from it—the size of it was about 18 inches by 24 and full an inch in thickness—I noticed a lot of pockets about four inches square with a yellow substance in them about the colour of yellow cheese, it projected over the pockets-? Cole took it into the hall and threw it down and then the explosion took place—that was at 2 o'clock—I fell into the hole made by the explosion—I saw Colonel Majendie on 31st January—I gave a description to him of what I had seen in the pockets, and after I had given the description he showed me a cake of stuff similar to the stuff I saw in the pockets of this parcel—from what I saw of the parcel I think it could have been quite easily put round the body under a greatcoat.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. It could have been tied round quite easily—I have not tried it on, it could be tied round the waist quite easily underneath the coat; it was not two and a half inches thick—I saw the webbing, it did not look more like a female apparatus, it was a rectangular shape—it did not look more like what a woman would wear—I still think it might have gone under an overcoat.
SAMUEL HORTON (Re-examined). The house No. 25 is surrounded by an iron railing, whether there was a gate in it or not I cannot say—there is a flat paving on the street level, inside the gateway, in which several boxes might be placed.
EDWARD EDWIN GREEN . I am a civil engineer, living at 260, Camden Road-on the afternoon of Saturday, 24th January, about 2 o'clock,. I was with my wife and sister-in-law in Westminster Hall—I saw the parcel on the steps and smelt something like a damp fuse,.powder—I saw the constables Cox and Cole there, and saw the thing carried away and the explosion take place—it exploded at my feet, and I was severely injured, and suffered for a long time afterwards.
ALFRED CHAMBERS . I was salesman to Mr. Lazarus, a clothier in Shoreditch, in January this year—on 16th January the prisoner Cunning-Ham came to Mr. Lazarus's shop and said that he wanted to buy an overcoat to wear over an overcoat that he was wearing—he was at that time wearing an overcoat and a tweed suit. (The prisoner Cunningham here took off his overcoat and it was handed to the witness.) This is the coat that he was wearing at the time he came into the shop—I asked him why he wanted the coat to wear over another one—he said "Because I feel the cold"—when we were speaking in this way I noticed his accent and said to him, "I presume you come from America?"—he replied "How how"—he spoke it with an accent—he said "How"—he then said '; No, I am a Manchester man and I come from Manchester"—I sold him this coat (produced), and he put it on in the shop; it is the coat, Mr. Lazarus's name is on the label—he put that coat on over the coat he
has on now, I am certain of that—I tried several on, but none pleased him except this one, he wanted it the right length in the sleeve—this coat was rather long in the sleeves for him, he buttoned it all the way down—he took it away in a parcel—he gave no name or address, but I have an entry in my book of the sale of the coat, 16s. 9d. was paid for it—he tried several coats on during the half-hour he was in my shop—I have not the least doubt whatever that he is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. He had a dark tweed suit on of medium substance, the coat was a black diagonal—the coat I sold him was rather too long in the sleeve—it had not a velvet collar—I am quite positive he buttoned the coat all the way down over his present overcoat—he said he had come from Manchester—his accent was rather Irish American—I did not like his look—I condemned him at once. Q. You A. Yes.
Re-examined. He held his head down and could not look me in the face.
JOHN PRATT . I am an assistant warder at the House of Detention—I have to weigh prisoners when they come in—I weighed Cunningham on the morning of the 26th January when he came in—his weight was 9 stone 5 lb.—I weighed him without any clothes on—I measured the prisoner in height and he was 5 feet 4 1/2.
LEONARD WARD (Chief Warder, Newgate). The prisoner's weight this morning was 10 stone 7lb., he had his shirt, trousers, stockings, boots, and collar on, which I should think weighed about 3lb.—he is a little heavier now than be was.
COLONEL VIVIAN BERING MAJENDIE . I am Chief Inspector of Explosives and have been so since 1875—on the 28th of February last I went to Woolwich Arsenal and saw the black leather portmanteau which bat been produced as having been found at Charing Cross Station-—I found in all forty-five cakes of Atlas powder A—all the packets were marked in that way—the total weight would be between 201b. and 21lb.—the slabs were about the size and shape of that (Model packet produced)—Atlas powder A is a form of dynamite in which wood pulp is substituted for the ordinary absorbent kieselgrund—when frozen it is hard, otherwise it is soft; it freezes very easily—each slab which I found was wrapped in paper like the model produced, only that is rather whiter—they were a little yellower than the model—each slab would weigh rather under half a pound—Atlas powder A is not a licensed preparation in this country, I believe it is manufactured at the Repauno Chemical Factory, Philadelphia—it is not of any commercial use in this country—it is exploded by a detonator in the same way as ordinary dynamite—I found these slabs of Atlas powder packed round a tin box, which contained a clock, or a portion of a clock, with a pistol, or a portion of a pistol, attached with copper wire; the wire was fastened to portions of the clock which would not impede the working—the clock is what is called a "Peep-o'-day" clock—it was set to go off at a particular time; I could illustrate it better if I might have the clock. (The clock was handed to the wintness) This is the clock, and it was arranged with the pistol as it is now substantially; then the clock winder had been turned down and fastened with copper wire, so that when the alarum went down the clock winder would come into contact with the trigger of the pistol and fire it at whatever time the alarum was set—it was set in this case to go off at 12 o'clock—in addition to the clock and pistol there were seven detonators
embedded in a portion of a slab of Atlas powder, with their mouths presented towards the muzzle of the pistol—the hammer had fallen upon the cartridge, but failed to explode it—there was a cartridge in the pistol loaded with powder only, a metallic cartridge—if this cartridge had exploded it would have exploded the Atlas powder in the portmanteau—a bullet in the cartridge would be unnecessary, perhaps a little in the way—the pistol was a Remington, or an imitation Remington—it had no maker's name on it—the cartridge was a metallic cartridge loaded with powder, and similar to some made by the Union Metallic Cartridge Company, Bridgeport, Connecticut, U.S.A.—I took possession of the detonators, cartridge, and clock—I caused the dynamite, with the exception of some which I retained as a sample, to be deposited in our magazine for seized explosives—on the same day in the evening I went to the Great Western Railway Station at Padding ton and saw there the small brown portmanteau which has been produced—it contained the same number of slabs of Atlas powder A arranged substantially in the same way, round a tin cash-box, similar to the one produced—inside this box were the pistol, clock, Atlas powder, and detonators, arranged in the same way as before—I took charge of these as I had done in the other case—there may have been one detonator more or less, bat substantially the arrangement was identical—it was set to go off at 12 o'clock, but the pistol had dropped so far that the handle which should have pulled the trigger caught upon a little piece of the mechanism, and it subsequently went off by itself I believe—there were ten detonators in the Paddington case—on the 26th February I went to the Victoria Station of the London and Brighton Railway—there had been an explosion there; it originated in the cloak room or left luggage office—it had done a great deal of local damage—the débris was sifted in my presence—pieces of metal were found, and shown to me—one piece which was found before searching commenced was apparently a portion of a spring of a clock, and was similar to the springs in the other clocks I had seen—from the character of the explosion it would be caused by firing some nitro compound, such as dynamite—Atlas A powder is a form of nitro compound—had this one gone off it would have produced the appearances 1 have found—Colonel Ford examined what was found at Ludgate Hill—I cannot speak about that—on 30th May, 1884, there were explosions at Scotland Yard, the Junior Carlton Club, and at Sir Watkin Wynn's—on that night I was at Scotland Yard—I was shown a black bag which had been cut open, and some Atlas powder A; there were 18 1/2 slabs and a small piece—they were exactly of the same description I had seen in the railway portmanteaus—in one of the slabs some detonators were embedded attached to the fuse produced—it is known as the safety mining fuse; an ordinary mining fuse—attached to the two fuses were strands of cotton which form a slow match—if the cotton was ignited it would burn till it came to the fuse, when it would ignite the fuse, and that would burn in its turn more rapidly till it came to the detonator—that would be a short time, because the length of the fuse was short—a slow match burns about a yard in eight hours, and a fuse about a yard a minute—with the strands attached to this fuse it would not burn more than three or four minutes—you may delay the lighting of the fuse as long as you like by attaching a longer portion of slow match for 5, 10, 20 minutes, or even an hour—a fuse may be lighted in different ways; not easily by a match, but with
a fusee or pipe-light it may be lighted very readily—it would burn shut up and does not need exposure to the air, because it contains it own elements of combustion—a slow match does not cause a very strong smell—I should detect it if burnt in this room, but it is not like the smell of a fuse—there is a very marked smell to a fuse, and smoke—there is very little smoke to a slow match—if not open to the air neither smoke nor smell might be present—I examined the scenes of the three explosions—at Scotland Yard it originated in a urinal connected with one of the offices; at the Cerlton it was in the area, and at Sir Watkin Wynn's on a window ledge above the area—those explosions had been caused by some glycerine compound—I remember the explosion between King's Cross and Gower Street on the 2nd of January, between 9 and 10 p.m.—the next morning I examined the tunnel, and also the train—I found the brickwork of the tunnel on the right-hand side of the train going west, injured, across the line of rails—there were marks of explosion on the train itself-—the train was a good deal knocked about—several carriages sustained more or less injury—that explosion was caused by a small charge of nitro com pound, which, I believe, had been fired by some form of, percussion fuse—that might be caused by throwing it from the train—it was impossible to have been caused by dropping an explosive through the grating at Gower Street—there was no means of introducing it in that way—on the 24th of January I went to the explosions at the House of Commons Westminster Hall, and the Tower—in my judgment they were caused by some nitro compound, such as slabs of Atlas A—about five or six pounda would suffice to produce the effects which I saw in each case—a time fuse would produce a similar light smoke to that noticed in Westminster Hall—the stickiness described by Cole I attribute to the melting of the tar matter with which the fuse is coated—that melts as the fuse burns, and comes down, and would get on to the hands of anybody carrying it—I saw Cole in the hospital, and he gave me a description of what he had seen—some days afterwards I showed Cole a piece of Atlas powder A from the Paddington seizure; I also showed it to Mr. Blake—on the 28th Inspector Abberline showed me a small detonator—that has been produced—I gave it to Dr. Dupré for examination; I went there with Abberline-that was a detonator that a time fuse would explode—the detonators that were found were like one another in the railway, station cases—I have specimens of each of them here—the small detonator differs from the others in being marked or stamped at the bottom with what appears to have been intended for an eagle, otherwise it is the same character—I have not come across one in this country before that was so marked—a licence is required for the importation of detonators—I have since been able to discover some like it, but not in commercial use—the others I have seen since not in commercial use were not exactly like this—I have seen one which I did not obtain in this country like this—to fix a detonator on a fuse it is pinched with the teeth or pincers—this has marks which make it appear to have been pinched or attempted to be pinched on to a fuse.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. I have had a good deal to do with explosives used in this country and abroad, and I have a record of all the more recent explosions in this country—the London Bridge explosion was on 13th December, 1884—I have spoken of three groups of expla srons according to time and occasion, 1 have not classed them in three I
classes as regards their general character—I should class the London Bridge explosion with all these as bearing the same general character, probably a larger charge of explosive was used—it was certainly caused by a nitro compound—I have no means of knowing how it was caused, as it was partly under water, and traces were washed away—I cannot tell the method in which ignition was effected—in three of the railway stations attempts the mode of ignition was by clockwork and pistols, and I believe the same mode was used in the fourth, which exploded—I have no doubt that in the second group, Sir W. Wynn's, the Junior Carlton, and Scotland Yard, a fuse was employed, and I believe that at the Tower an arrangement similar in its main features was used, but having a longer fuse or a slow match—I would place the second and third groups together as regards the primary means of ignition, not the ultimate means—I have not heard any suggestion made that at Sir W. Wynn's the explosion was caused by throwing the explosive—I made that suggestion with regard to the Gower Street one, but Sir W. Wynn's, I think, was caused by an ignited fuse—a fuse of half a minute would be safe for any one throwing it over the area and running away—I do not think a slow match or fuse could have been lit and thrown on the underground railway some time before the explosion there, because the explosion had taken place a foot above the ground, and therefore the explosive must have come in contact with the brickwork, otherwise it would have taken place on the ground—the explosion at Gower Street is distinct in the method of ignition from all others in my opinion—there are several descriptions of Atlas powder; "A" is the highest and strongest quality, "B" is inferior, and "O" is lower still—it is a commercial designation, all are Atlas powder, but distinguished by letters—in October last year Atlas powder "C" was found on a Hungarian landing at Liverpool and brought to me, three detonators were taken at the same time—he gave a satisfactory explanation of it—Colonel Ford will be able to speak about the dynamite found in the Harrow Road in February or March, I was ill at the time; it was since Cunningham was in custody—this dynamite is used for mining purposes in America, and I believe all over the world—I do not know if that is how the Nibilists get hold of it so easily in Russia—nitro compounds are used wherever mining is carried on in all civilised countries—you can use it here if you have a licence and a police certificate, but not Atlas powder "A"—I don't remember Mrs. Sternam's evidence at the police-court—the small cheese-like fragments found at the Waverley Hotel, Great Portland Street, did not come to me, Colonel Ford or Dr. Dupré would be able to speak to them—if you were to break up Atlas powder and put it in a portmanteau in the way described it would probably leave fragments which would be very fairly described as "crumbs like cheese"—the date of the explosion at the Admiralty was 22nd April—I have no doubt that was caused by gunpowder.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The detonator said to have been found by the police in Cunningham's box differs from the others in containing the distinctive mark of the Eagle—I have inquired about those Eagle detonators of the London agents of Messrs. Brown and Blewin, manufacturers, Dusseldorf—they were able to produce some recently brought to England, but not yet distributed—the source was German, but they supply the whole world—I cannot say if there is any prohibition
in England as in other countries on those things; miners buy detonators constantly, you would be able to buy them in a mining district—by itself a detonator would cause no structural damage whatever—a detonator must have been employed in the Tower, because the effect was that of a detonated nitro compound—the Gower Street explosion was by some percussive action—it would be possible for the explosive to fall through an air hole on the top of a carriage and to remain there for 150 yards without going off if it was not fitted with a percussion fuse—if the fuse had burnt itself out and the explosion had taken place on the top of the carriage the effect to the carriage would be more serious, and the effect to the tunnel nil—the bottom of the crater of the explosion from the ground was about a foot—it was opposite to the side on which the trail was going, there was a line between the train and the side of the tunnel affected—the nipped detonators would have been perfectly effective—the Peep o' Day clocks are quite a common type of clock; the American pistols are not quite so common, I was unable to get one exactly like it—you can never find any remains in the débris if the thing is properly detonated, we found parts of a clock spring at Victoria—the length of fuse which would burn for three-quarters of an hour would be, if all fuse, 45 yards—I thought a short fuse was used at Sir Watkin Wynn's.
Re-examined. A most careful search was made at the Tower and at the Westminster Hall and the House of Commons, but nothing was found—detonators sold in mining districts are only sold for detonating nitro compounds, that is the only use for them—people who sell dynamite sell detonators also—I have never seen Atlas powder "A" in commercial use—the usual shape of Atlas powder "C" is cylindrical for the purpose of introducing into bore holes—except in Atlas powder "A" I have never seen dynamite in this shape before.
Friday, May 15th.
Cross-examined by MR. DUKE. I said that his underclothing would not weigh 3 lb., but I was not aware that he had very thick under-flanneh and drawers.
COLONEL ARTHUR FORD . I am one of H.M. Inspectors under the Explosives Act—on 1st March, 1884, I went to the City Police Office, Old Jewry, and saw Sergeant Taylor there and the bag which had been brought from Ludgate Station, in which I found a tin box containing a clock and some dynamite and detonators—it was a similar arrangement to that found at Paddington Station described yesterday—there were also 10 detonators—the box had been destroyed, but in the bag were 45 slabs of "tlas powder A" similar to this, and a number of slips of paper on which "Atlas powder A" was printed—the clock was set to go off at 1 o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. The explosion at Westminster took place at 2.9 o'clock—that was the first, I did not hear the second—the lever of the clock had gone down and struck the cartridge, but the cartridge had mis-fired—it is impossible to tell when the lever went down—it is quite possible that the person who set the whole contrivance may have put it in that way—there is nothing to show that it was not so
—I went to Harrow Road Police-station and saw some ligneous dynamite composed of 94 per cent. of glycerine and nitrate of soda—that is not so high a character of explosive as "Atlas powder A"—it does not contain so large a percentage of nitro-glycerine, but it is a very dangerous explosive—I was in the case of Reg. v. Deasy and others—as far as I recollect the dynamite in that case did not contain nitrate of soda—it was a rougher description altogether—it was made of a different kind of wood powder to that found in the Harrow Road, and different from "Atlas powder A"—that in the Harrow Road was a better kind than this, as if it had been made in a factory; whereas the dynamite found at Liverpool might have been made by an amateur—I am informed that similar dynamite to that found in the Harrow Road can be obtained from the Safety Nitro-Powder Company of San Francisco—that found in Harrow Road is not licensed for usage in this country—I saw that in the Harrow Road on 11th February, 1885, long after the prisoners were arrested.
Re-examined. The pistol connected with the clock had gone down, but the cartridge had missed fire—it was found in the Harrow Road on the previous day, but how long it had been there I don't know—there was only 1 lb. or 2 lb.—I have not the exact amount.
AUGUSTS DUPRÉ. I am professor of chemistry at Westminster Hospital, and have been employed by the Home Office for ten years in the matter of explosives—on 28th January Colonel Majendie and Inspector Abberline came to me and gave me this tube (produced)—it is a copper detonator with an eagle marked on it—I examined it and found in it a mixture of chlorate of potassium and fulminate of mercury—that is the ordinary mixture with which detonators are charged—if that detonator were exploded it would explode dynamite—such detonators are not used for any other purpose—there are different modes of exploding them—the common way is to squeeze or nip it on to a fuse, and then light the the fuse, which would burn down till it arrived at the composition at the bottom, which would cause the detonator to explode, which in its turn would explode the dynamite—this appears to have been attached to a fuse.
Cross-examined by MR. RICHARDS. The detonator found in the prisoner's box would not do any harm to a building, no structural damage—it might go off by dropping—it is an essential part of an apparatus for causing an explosion—dynamite can only be exploded by a detonator, unless it is strongly confined in a shell—it struck with a hammer it would most likely go off—if thrown from several hundred feet high it might go off, and it might not—by essential I mean if you have it in a given place and it is essential to explode it, you would have a detonator to do it or something of a similar nature—a percussion cap would not do it.
EDWARD BORNER (Police Inspector). By the direction of Inspector Williamson I went to Liverpool on 29th January to make inquiries, in consequence of what Cunningham had said—I went to the Alexandra, the Canada, and the Prince's Dock, and inquired for a man named Day, or O'Dey, and a man named Swanson, but found no trace of either of them—persons employed in those docks have to be licensed by the Harbour Board, and I inquired at the office of the Harbour Board, but could not find any Day or O'Dey licensed, or that Cunningham had worked in the docks at all—I inquired both for Cunningham and Gilbert, but found no trace of his having worked there.
Cross-examined by MR. LITTLE. All stevedores and master-porters must be licensed; gangers are not licensed—there is a system at the Liverpool Docks by which the largest consignee of a cargo becomes the master and employer of the gangers under him—the stevedore employs a number of gangers, and the ganger's name appears at the stevedore's office; but where the largest consignee becomes the master, the ganger's name would not appear at the Harbour Office—the workmen crowd at certain places, and the ganger goes and says how many he wants, and selects them as they come up one after the other.
Witnesses for Cunningham.
MARY O'BRIEN . I am single, and live with my parents at 11, Tenter Street, Whitechapel—I know Miss Cannon; she keeps a Catholic repository, and we attend the same church—it is my custom to fetch her her weekly papers on Fridays; they are dated on Saturday, but published on Friday evening; one of them is the Shamrock—the Friday in Christmas week was Boxing Day, and the shops were not open, so I fetched the papers on Saturday—the first time I saw Cunningham at Miss Cannon's was on Christmas Eve, but I had seen him at chapel on Christmas morning—I had no conversation with him on Christmas Eve—I saw him there again the next Friday evening (January 2nd) in the parlour—Miss White, a lodger of Miss Cannon's, was also there; it was between 7.30 and 8 o'clock—Cunningham asked me for a paper, and I gave him one—he then took up a Shamrock, looked at it, and asked if I had one to spare—I said yes, gave it to him, and asked if he would like the last week's number, as the beginning of a new tale came out on the Saturday after Christmas—he did not take the back number, but he took the number for that week, and sat down, and was reading it—I remained there till about 8.30, and then went into the church next door; there was service there—I returned after Benediction at five or 10 minutes to 9 o'clock—Benediction does not generally take an hour—Miss White and Cunningham were then in the room; he was sitting by the fire on the spot where I had left him—we did not speak—no conversation was going on—he was simply reading the Shamrock, which is a weekly paper—I remained there about a quarter of an hour and then left, leaving Cunningham there.
Cross-examined by the ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I have been in the habit of taking the papers to Miss Cannon for the last two years on Friday evenings, not always at the same time, but according to my convenience—I sometimes start from Miss Cannon's at 5.20, and sometimes at 6 o'clock, and go to Duke Street, East Smithfield, for the papers—that is over a mile from Miss Cannon's, and it sometimes takes an hour, and sometimes an hour and a quarter, to get the papers—it must have been about 7 o'clock when I got to Miss Cannon's on Friday, January 2nd—I cannot tell how long after that I first heard that Cunningham was charged with being in the train on the night of January 2nd; I first read it in the papers a couple of weeks afterwards, as near as I can think—it was about five weeks after I saw him at Miss Cannon's that I first heard that he was charged with being on the railway on January 2nd—I did not hear anything about it till after the explosion at the Tower—my attention was not called during those five weeks to my having seen him on 2nd January—Mr. Quilliam, the solicitor, first communicated with me on the subject, about the end of February or the beginning of March, and until he brought it to my memory I did not remember seeing Cunningham on
January 2nd—I remembered it then at once, and I knew that it was the 2nd and not the 9th, because of the paper I had served him with, the Shamrock—Mr. Quilliam did not bring me that paper—when Cunningham was at Miss Cannon's I heard that his name was Gilbert—Miss Cannon was doing her work that evening in the kitchen—it is a good-sized house—I went down into the kitchen to her—she knew I was in the parlour—she was sometimes downstairs, and sometimes upstairs—there was nothing at all secret about me and Cunningham and Miss White being in the parlour—I saw Cunningham about eight times at Miss Cannon's—I saw him on Christmas Eve, and in the following week, and several evening afterwards, but I cannot give you the exact dates-I saw him on the 12th, about 8 o'clock, in the kitchen, and sold him a ticket to go to a concert or panorama—Miss Cannon was in the house then—I am not occupied there in any way except in getting the papers—I never asked Cunning-I ham what work he was doing, or how he was employed—I never had any conversation with him except when I sold him a paper and a ticket.
Re-examined. I get the papers when it suits my convenience, but I cannot go to Benediction whenever it suits me—Benediction commences on Fridays at 8.0 or 8.5 o'clock—the only time I sold Cunningham a Shamrock was on that Friday evening, and I know it was the second paper after the commencement of the new tale—the other date which I can identify was when I sold him the ticket—I looked at the number and saw that it was the second number of the new aeries—I remembered that myself, and gave this copy (produced) to Mr. Quilliam.
CATHERINE WHITE . I am single and live at Miss Cannon's—I work at Mr. Taddy's, a tobacco and snuff manufacturer in the Minories—I remember Cunningham coming to reside at Miss Cannon's, I first saw him there on the Sunday after Christmas—that was December 28th—I met him first in the parlour, but did not meet him there often—on Friday night, January 2nd, Miss O'Brien went for the papers, and I saw her sell a Shamrock to Cunningham—he was reading it, and she went out to church—I remained indoors, and when she came back, about 8.55 or 9 o'clock, he was still in the parlour—he had been there all the time—she might have gone away about 9.30—Cunningham was there the whole of that time—he left the room between 10.30 and 11 o'clock, and as far as I know he went to bed—it was between 7 and 8 o'clock that I went into the sitting room that evening after my work was over, and from that time to 10.30 he did not go out of my sight.
Cross-examined. He lodged at Mies Cannon's three weeks—I was in his room once, it might be a week before he left—I saw a large box there, what they call an American box—I cannot say whether it was like the, one produced, as I did not remain many minutes in the room, but it was something similar to it, the same description of box—I did not know that Cunningham was charged with being on the Metropolitan Railway on 2nd January till I saw it in the paper when the trial was going on at Bow Street—I did not know it at the time I made my statement at the Treasury—it first came to my mind that it was Friday, January 2nd, that I saw Cunningham when Mr. Quilliam came and made me and Miss O'Brien acquainted with it, I then recollected it at once; he saw us both together—I said at the Treasury on February 4th "I first saw the man, I believe, the first Sunday after Christmas"—Christmas Day was Thursday, I saw him sitting in the parlour—that is a room used for the lodgers,
especially on Sunday evenings—he was very respectably dressed—he did not speak to me nor I to him—I saw him every evening in the week, mostly in the parlour, I cannot say what evening it was—I cannot tell when Mr. Quilliam came, I did not take much notice, it was when the trial was going on at Bow Street, but I cannot tell you how many weeks ago it was—I have seen Cunningham five or six times, I usually passed the early evening in his company—Miss Cannon was in the kitchen the whole evening, she may have come up once; she was upstairs and downstairs seeing after her place—I cannot say whether she came up while Miss O'Brien was there—the prisoner went by the name of Gilbert—no one ever called to see him that I know of—I do not know that he was doing any work or that he was employed in any way.
Re-examined. Mr. Quilliam has not offered me any money to come and make this statement—he recalled the evening by mentioning the Shamrock, and that at once reminded me of the interview—I am perfectly certain that on the evening he bought the Shamrock he never left the room till 10.30.
This being the cass for the prosecution, MR. LITTLE applied to the Court for permission to allow Burton to make a statement to the Jury before he (MLLITTLE) addressed them. The ATTORNEY-GENERAL not objecting, MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS gave the required permission. Burton then addressed the Court at considerable length, declaring his innocence, and stating that in coming to this country for change of air on account of his health on board the Donau he made the acquaintance of a young man who was kind to him, and who lent him hit overcoat and rug, which he returned to him on reaching Southampton on the 2st February; that one of the portmanteaus which he purchased there cas for that young man; that on landing at Southampton he received a telegrm informing him of his brother's death, upon which he went by steamer to Ham, where he stayed until the 29th February, and then returned to New York; that in April he came to Liverpool in the Orient, and then to London, bringing with him the same bag he had purchased at Southampton. He then gave as account of his proceedings in London, and as to his seeking for employment, and as to his purchase of the American trunk referred to in his statement to the police.
GUILTY .— Penal Servitude for Life .
MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS called attention to a presentment by the Grand Jury, expressing their strong approval of the conduct of the Police in this case, mi and particularly mentioning Inspectors Abberline, Jarvis, and Hagan, and desire that the attention of the proper authorities should be called to the same.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 18TH, 1885.