CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
HANSON, MAYOR. FIFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment, denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BROXHOLM Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
LEWIS SIMMONS . I am a money-lender at 7, Wells Street, Oxford Street, carrying on business in the name of the West London Bank—on 7th November the prisoner came to me and said his name was George Edwin Williams , and that he lived at 5, Blyshur Road, Clapham, and carried on business at 131, Edgware Road, as a wine merchant—I knew a firm carried on business there but did not know it was the prisoner—he said that he wished to have an advance of 100l. upon the furniture at 5, Blyshur Road, which he said all belonged to him, and he produced this form which my clerk had given him the day previously; I asked him whether he had himself filled it up and signed it, and he said he had—he told me that the greater part of the furniture had come from Noting-ham, and that the remainder he had bought in the City, and produced this receipt for 103l. for furniture which he had bought from Messrs. Hall and Bartletts—I told him to call next day and bring with him the railway receipt for the carriage of the goods from Nottingham to London, and on the next day he called and showed me these receipts—I asked him what they referred to, and he said to part of his furniture at 5, Blyshur Road, and he wrote this on the back of it, "This receipt is for furniture and bedding, Messrs. Hall and Bartlett are purchasers of furnature, bedding, etc."—he also showed me railway receipts for 63 cases of furniture, 5l. 9s. 10d., and a receipt for 12l., a quarter's rent, and another receipt for 80l. for a cottage piano—I said, "I believe these documents to be forgeries"—he said, "What do you mean?"—I inferred that he denied it, and said, "These documents are forgeries, and are forged by
you; I intend to send for a constable and have you arrested"—he said, "Please, Mr. Simmons, do not do it. I have been induced to do this by my father, he is really the person who ought to suffer, and not me"—I Said, "This railway receipt has been altered, the word 'wine' has been Struck out, and you have put the word 'furniture' in"—he admitted it, and said, in the presence of the constable, "They are in my handwriting, they are forgeries"—
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. Holland was the constable who was present—I am a private gentleman who lends money—sometimes they pay fees and do not get the money—I got 35s. from the prisoner—sometimes the fees are 5l. or more—I charge so much per cent., according to the risk incurred in each transaction—never 80 per cent.—60 per cent. is the highest, I believe.
WILLIAM HOLLAND (Policeman C 288). I was called by the prosecutor and the prisoner was given into my custody charged with this forgery—these documents were handed to him by the prosecutor one by one, who asked him, "Is this your handwriting? yes or no," and he said that this cheque and these two other documents were, and begged the prosecutor not to give him in custody, and began crying, and asked him to go to his father and he would explain everything, but he would not go.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The prosecutor did not say that if you acknowledged writing these receipts or some of them he would reconsider about giving you in custody, and then, after you had acknowledged writing them, he said he could not.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in February, 1877, of obtaining money by false pretences.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
There were other indictments against the prisoner.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
THOMAS HENRY HILL . I keep the Three Calendars public-house, Calendar Road—on 14th February, about three p.m., the prisoner came in and represented himself to be a detective, and asked me if I had taken any bad coins; I said I had, and amongst them a bad half-crown, and I showed it to him, he said it was the best specimen of a bad coin he had seen and he should like to show it to his inspector—I lent it to him and he went away with it—this is the coin.
FRANCIS BLAKE METCALFE . I am a draper, at 305, Wick Road, Hackney—on 14th February, about 4.30 p.m., the prisoner came in and bought a pocket-handkerchief, price 4 3/4 d., and gave me a half-crown in payment—I found it was bad and told him I should break it up—he said, "Don't do it, I have taken it in a public-house a little higher up in change for half-sovereign"—I then gave it him back, and he put it in his pocket and gave me a shilling and went out—I said, "Was it the Tiger public-house," and he said, "Yes"—this (produced) is the coin—I went out and spoke to a constable, and pointed the prisoner out to him—the prisoner was sober.
WILLIAM HUTCHINS (policeman J 237). On the 14th February the last witness made a communication to me, and shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner enter the Tiger public house—Just as I got to the door he was
coming out—I pushed him back into the public-house, and asked him where the bad money was, and commenced to search him, and he gave me this bad half-crown—he said that was not the public-house where he got it, it was near Dalston Junction—I took him in custody, and at the station I searched him and found eight shillings in silver and 2s. 5 3/4 d. bronze, all good money, and also this purse, which was afterwards identified in another case.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he was the worse for drink and excited on this night, and that he gave 1s. 6d. for this half-crown, and went to buy a handkerchief to see if it was good or bad, and that if hi had known it were bad he should have run away.
GUILTY .—(See page 384).
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JANE ELIZABETH OUSEY . I assist my mother in a beershop in the Kingsland Road—on 8th February about 3 p.m. I was in the bar, and saw Tinsley there with some companions—a young girl who was with them called for some liquor, and paid with sixpence, and then some more liquor was paid for by somebody, and then Tinsley called for a pot of four ale—I served him, and he gave me a 2s. piece—I gave him 1s. 8d. change, and put the florin in the till—no other florin was there—he remained in the bar about five minutes after that—my mother then came into the bar, examined the till, and took the florin out which I had put there, and called my attention to it—I found it was bad, and kept possession of it—I sent for the constable on that occasion, but nothing was done—next day, about quarter to three, I saw the two prisoners come in together—they were served with some liquor by my mother—Joyce put down a 2s. piece—I made a statement to my mother and a constable was sent for—the coin was put in the tester and a piece was broken off—it was afterwards given to the constable by my father—I gave the constable the one I had taken on the 8th—I can't tell you whether this is the same one, but I am quite sure about this broken one.
Cross-examined by Joyce. I never saw you in my house but once.
Cross-examined by Tinsley. I saw you there the night before—you were the last one out, and you bid me good night.
JANE ELIZA OUSEY . I keep a beerhouse at 176 Kingsland Road—on the night of 8th February I was in the bar and saw Tinsley served with some liquor by my daughter—I saw him leave the house, and soon afterwards I went to the till and found a florin there, which was the only one; this one produced is something like it—I called my daughter's attention to it, and she took care of it—next day I was again in the bar, and saw the two prisoners come in together—I served them with a pot of six ale, and Joyce gave me a 2s. piece—I tried it in the tester and a piece broke off—I passed it back to him on the counter and said, "This is a bad 2s. piece," and he said "I am very sorry, Mam"—I think he said a man gave it him—Tinsley then paid with a good shilling—a constable was sent for and they were given in charge—I am sure Tinsley was there the previous night, we recognised him directly.
prisoners were given into my custody—I told them I should take them into custody for passing two counterfeit coins, they made no reply—at the station they were charged again—Joyce said, "A traveller gave me that 2s. piece last night for carrying a parcel to the East End; that is for not looking at my money, I shall have to put up with it"—Tinsley made no reply—I received this florin from Miss Ousey, and the broken one from Mr. Ousey—the prisoners were searched at the station, and on Joyce I found 2d. in bronze, and on Tinsley 2 sixpences and 1s. 2 1/2 d. in bronze—Joyce gave his father's address, and Tinsley said "I shan't give it."
Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Joyce says: "A man gave me the 2s. piece for carrying his parcel to Lady Brook Street—it was not my fault, only my misfortune." Tinsley says: "I was not there the night before."
Joyce repeated the same statement in his defence.
JOYCE— GUILTY of the single uttering.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
TINSLEY— GUILTY generally.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
LEONARD HARRISON . I am assistant to Mr. Baker, a tea merchant, of 2, Victoria Buildings, City—on 27th January prisoner came in for a quarter-pound 2s. tea, and put down a half-crown—I gave her 2s. change, and placed the half-crown in the till—there was no other there, only two or three shillings and some sixpences—about a minute or two afterwards Mr. Baker went to the till and called my attention to the coin, and I found it was bad; this is it—he took charge of it—on a subsequent day Mr. Baker rang me downstairs, and I saw the prisoner there again.
JOSEPH JOHN BAKER . I am a tea merchant, of 1 and 2, Victoria Buildings—on 27th January, about 7.20 p.m., the prisoner came in and asked for a quarter of a pound of tea, and put down a half-crown—the last witness served her and gave her her change, and she went away, taking the tea with her—shortly afterwards another woman came into the shop and said something to me, and I went to the till and found what purported to be a half-crown there—there was only that one, it was bad, this is it, I marked it and placed it in my private desk—on 3rd February, about 3 p.m., the prisoner came again into the shop and asked for a quarter-pound of tea, and offered a half-crown in payment—I examined it and found it was bad, and told her I should charge her with it, and also one last week—she said she didn't know it was bad, and she had not been in the shop before—I sent for a constable and gave her in custody—I marked the second coin as I had done the first—I see the marks on them now—the prisoner had been in there before, and I knew her by sight.
ANN JONES . I live at 4, Great Peter Street, Westminster—on 27th January, between a quarter past and half past 7 in the evening I was near Mr. Baker's shop and saw the prisoner go in with a baby—she had left a man and woman, and there were railings opposite the shop, and one stood at one corner and one at the other—I knew them—seeing the woman leave in that way I went and spoke to Mr. Baker.
THOMAS WHEATLEY (Policeman B 154). I took the prisoner in custody at Mr. Baker's shop—she said she had been selling some flowers at Vauxhall and two gentlemen bought some flowers and gave her 2s. 6d. and she gave them 2s. 4d. change—Mr. Baker said she had been there before on the 27th, and he gave me two bad half-crowns—the prisoner denied that she had been there—she was searched at the station bat nothing was found on her—she gave an address which I found was a common lodging house, where she lived three or four days a-week—I received these two coins (produced) from Mr. Baker.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALBERT PEDDAR (Detective E). On 29th January, about three p.m., I was in St. Martin's Lane, and saw the prisoner walking along the lane towards me, with his hand in his left hand trousers pocket, looking round to see if any body was looking at him—I had my suspicions, and followed him into Garrick Street—he looked round to see if he was watched—I went to the other side of the road and stopped him, and said, "What have you got here?"—he said, "You have caught me fair this time"—I then put my hand in his left hand trousers pocket, and found this parcel, containing eight counterfeit florins—they were all in the paper together—I also found in the same pocket 6s. 6d. silver and 5 3/4 d. bronze—I asked him where he got them from—he said, "You want to know too much"—I said I should take him to the station and charge him with the possession of these coins—he made no reply—he also said he declined to give his address, as he didn't want his friends to know the position he was placed in.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not hear you say about having half a load in your possession—it was a very busy thoroughfare.
WILLIAM TERRILL (Policeman). I was with Peddar on the 29th January, and saw the prisoner stopped and searched in Garrick Street, and saw the packet of coins found on him—he said, "You have caught me fair, I have only got half a load on me."
the Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not know what the coins were; they were given to me to convey to another person, who they said would be standing outside Lockhart's Cocoa Room in Covent Garden.
The prisoner repeated the same statement in his defence.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
272. WILLIAM HENRY MARTIN (22) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst , 12 post letters, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General. FREDERICK SPRIGGS (41) to feloniously receiving the same well knowing them to be stolen. Martin also PLEADED GUILTY to forging a receipt for 5s., with intent to defraud, and Spriggs to uttering the same. Martin also to stealing a letter, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General . Spriggs to receiving the property knowing it to be stolen.—MARTIN— Five Years' Penal Servitude. SPRIGGS— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Monday, February 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAUFURD and WILKINSON Prosecuted.
EDWARD PARR . I am barman at the Piggott Arms, East India Road—on February 1st, about 12.20 p.m., the prisoner came in and called for a pot of ale, price 4d., and gave me 1s.—I put it on the till, not in it, and gave him a 6d. and two pence—he then called for a quartern of rum in a bottle, which came to 6d.—he gave me a bad 1s.—I then looked at the first, which was by itself, and that was bad also—I gave them to Mr. Foggy, who asked him if he had any more—he said, "No"—I took the rum from him, and he was given into custody—these are the coins.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw no one with you—you seemed sober when I served you, but you pretended to be drunk when the constable was called—you were sober at the station.
WILLIAM FOGGY . I manage the Piggott Arms—Parr showed me these coins, and I said to the prisoner, "Where did you get these from? you have passed two bad coins; have you got any more?"—he said nothing—I said, "I have taken many bad coins lately, and shall give you in custody," which I did, with the coins.
EDWARD HOLTON (Policeman K 87) I took the prisoner and received these coins—I said, "I shall search you"—he nudged me with his elbow, and said, "All right, old man, you don't want to do anything, you know what things are"—I found in his left-hand trousers pocket two florins, a 6d., and two pence—I took him to the station—he was very violent all the way—he gave his address, 7, Devonshire Street, Commercial Road East.
Cross-examined. You were not intoxicated—I went to your address and saw shoemaker's tools there.
JOHN SUTTON (Policeman K 421). I assisted Holton in taking the prisoner—he was very violent—it took three constables and the manager of the Piggott Arms to get him to the station—I found a bad shilling between his waistcoat and the pocket—I had to cut it out with a penknife.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I received 3s. 6d. for
my work from Mr. Burnstein. I picked up the counterfeit shillings. I did not know whether they were good or bad.
He repeated the tame statement in his defence.
GUILTY He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court May, 1877, of feloniously having in his potion a mould for coining—Sentence Five Years' Penal Servitude.—He received a good character for the period since the expiration of his sentence .—Two Years' Hard Labour.
MESSES CRAUFURD, WILKINSON, and BEARD Prosecuted.
LIZZIE WALTON . I am eight years old, and live with my father and mother at 60, Wellington Road, Barns bury—I saw the prisoner in St. George's Road—he said, "Little girl, will you go and get me half a loaf?"—it was between eight and nine o'clock in the evening—he gave me a 1/2 d. for going, and a half-crown, which I took to Mrs. Goosh, the bakers, who gave me the bread—I did not wait for the change because I thought the half-crown was a penny—I went back to the prisoner—he said, "Where is the change? I gave you a half-crow; go back for it"—I ran back, got the change, and gave it to him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know it was a half-crown, because you by told me so when I went back—you stood in a dark place—I know you by your little moustache, and another here (a beard)—that is why I Pointed you out.
Re-examined. I am sure the prisoner is the man—never seen him before—I gave him the loaf and the change—he was standing in the same place when I went back.
MRS. GOOSH. My husband keeps a baker's shop at 92, Wellington Road, 20 or 30 yards from the last witness's house—I know her—on February 9th she came in between 8 and 8,30 for 11 bread, price 1 1/4 d., and handed me a half-crown, which she left, but took the bread—I laid it in front of my till—she came back and said "The man says it was a half-crown"—looked like a new one, and I put it in the cashbox with other half-crowns, but they were a different colour—I rang it and it sounded perfectly good—I gave her two shillings and 4 1/4 d.—next morning my daughter called my attention to the cash box, and I found in it five bad half-crowns, which I gave to Sergeant Perry—I had received other half-crowns from other children the day before—I cannot say which of the five I received from the last witness, but this one looks like it—they were all of the same date, and there were a number of good ones besides, as there were two or three days' takings—the cash-box is taken up stairs at night, and I or my daughter open it in the morning.
Cross-examined. I only count my money on Thursdays—I know your face well.
ESTHER GOOSH . I am the daughter of the last witness—on February 10th, about 10.30, I went to the cash-box for change for a sovereign, and found five half-crows which looked suspicious, lying very close together—I showed them to my mother—she always locks the cash-box at night and unlocks it in the morning—she had unlocked it before I went to it.
JAMES HAWKES . I shall be nine years old next June—I live at 19, Clayton Street, with my father and mother—on 10th February, about 6 P.m., I saw the prisoner in the street; it was pretty light—I had seen
him before—he said, "Do you know that baker's shop round the corner?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Will you go and get me a half-a-quartern of the best flour?" and gave me a half-crown—I went there and gave it to Mrs. Grassmayer, who gave me the flour and the change, and I took them to the prisoner, who was still in the same place—he gave me a halfpenny.
Cross-examined. I noticed your little moustache—you were placed with others at the police-station some days afterwards.
ALFRED BRAY . I am 11 years old, and live at 308, Caledonian Road, Islington—on February 10th, about 6.50 p.m., the prisoner stopped me in Clayton Street and asked me to go round the corner and get a loaf of bread, and when I came back he would give me a halfpenny—he gave me a half-crown—I went there and gave the coin to Mrs. Grassmayer, who bent it, and sent me out for the prisoner—I went to him and said "Mrs. Grassmayer says you are to come round with me and get the bread"—he said "You have got to go and get the bread I sent you for"—I went and told Mrs. Grassmayer, and she sent me back with the baker, and the prisoner had gone—I went to look for him and found him in Howland's beershop, Caledonian Road—I followed him to Copenhagen Street, and told my father and a police-sergeant, who took the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I said before that I saw the man in a beershop with a woman, and ran back and told Mrs. Grassmayer—you stood in a doorway when you stopped me—it is not a dark street, and there is a lamp post on the other side—it was dark at the time—I noticed a silk handkerchief round your neck; by it I identified you when you were with the young woman—you had a black coat.
MARY ANN GRASSMAYER . My husband is a baker, of 100, Bemerton Street, Islington—on 10th February, Hawkes, who I knew in the neighbourhood, came in between 6 and 7 o'clock for a half-quartern of the best flour, price 3d., and gave me a half-crown—I gave him four sixpences and 3d., and put it in the till—I afterwards took it indoors and put it in the cash-box—I had rung it and it sounded very well—about half an hour afterwards the boy Bray came in for a new loaf, price 2 3/4 d., and gave me a half-crown—it rang all right—I put it in the till and was about to give him the change, but I took it up again, bent it, and found it was bad—I asked the boy who sent him—he told me something, and I told him to fetch the man—he came back again for the loaf, I told him to go back and bring the man—he came back and said the man had gone—I then looked at the half-crown Hawkes had given me, which had not been mixed with the others, because I had not been to the box—I found it was bad, and bent it and gave them both to the sergeant—these are they (produced).
Cross-examined. You were charged with Mary Powell at the station with attempting to pass a half-crown—I did not mention the second, because I wanted a little time to consider, and I meant to do away with it—I did not mention it till the 16th—I gave this one to the sergeant on the Monday.
WILLIAM JAMES BELL (Police sergeant). I produce two half-crowns which I received from the last witness, one on the 10th the other on the 14th—on February 10th, about 7.15, Bray came up and pointed the prisoner out to me, who was arm-in-arm with a woman—I stopped him, and said to Bray, "You are sure this is the man who gave you the half-crown?"—he
said "Yes"—I told the prisoner I should tike him to the station—I searched him, and found 7s. in silver and 1s. in bronze, but no bad money—he gave his address 5, George Street, Islington—about 5 bad coins have been passed in this district, and all by children—the woman was discharged on the remand.
Cross-examined. You were put with five other men, and the boy failed to identify you, and then you were charged with Mary Powell—about a dozen children were brought to identify you, and these two did so—on February 24th two more children were brought to identify you, not four—one of them did so—I found your address correct, and found a bag of flour there with the name of Vogh, Caledonian Road, on it, where a bad coin had been tendered.
CHARLES BERRY (Detective Y). I received these five coins—I was present on the 16th when 13 children were brought to identify the prisoner, who was placed with ten other men—three children identified him positively, and two said they thought he was the man, but were not sure—all the children who have been called to-day identified him without doubt.
Cross-examined. I only speak to the 16th—I was not present on the 23rd, I was in the yard.
The prisoner in his defence asserted his innocence, and stated that it was a case of mistaken identity on the part of the children.
GUILTY .**— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted.
EDWARD KITCHING (Detective C). On 15th February, about 3 o'clock, I saw the prisoner in Broad Street, Golden Square—I stopped him and said "What are you loitering about here for?"—he made no answer, but made motions pretending that he was deaf and dumb—he kept his mouth tightly closed, and kept mumbling as though he could not speak—I asked what he had about him—he still made further motions, and kept his mouth tightly closed—I searched him, and found a good shilling in his right hand waistcoat pocket—I took him to the station—he struggled two or three times, and attempted several times to get his hand up to his mouth—another officer helped me to take him to the station—we there put him down on his back in the charge room—I squeezed his throat, and made him open his mouth, and found five florins in his mouth done up in paper—he said "I would have swallowed them if I could," and laughed—he was charged; he said "Yes, that is right"—he refused to give his name and address—he afterwards gave his name, but no address.
CHAS. HARVEY (Policeman C 273). I was with Kitching in plain clothes—I saw the prisoner come out of the Coach and Horses public-house in Crown Street, Compton Street, and saw him speak to a man named Phillips, who has been committed for trial this session for passing counterfeit coin—the prisoner went into the Coach and Horses with Phillips—as he came out I saw him put something in his mouth—I
could not see what it was—I was with Kitching when he arrested the prisoner—I have heard his evidence—it is correct.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These coins are counterfeit, and from two or three different moulds—counterfeit coins are generally wrapped in tissue paper to prevent their being rubbed—one of these coins is from the same mould as coins to be produced in a subsequent case.
EDWARD KITCHING (Re-examined). The prisoner made a statement to me on the remand of his own accord—this in it (read: "I got them from a man they call Joe in a public-house at the corner of Compton-Street and Crown Street—I should know him again—he gave them to me with instructions to take them to a man named Peggy in the first public-house on the right of Rathbone Place, Oxford Street, and he gave me a shilling for taking them, and I was to be careful in letting no one see them"—he signed that—he was not going in the direction of Rathbone Place.
Prisoner's Defence. All I can say is, I received them from a man to give to another. I had no intention of uttering them—I have been in trouble, and have tried in every way to get an honest living—the man who gave them to me is in custody now, and I have recognised him.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at this Court for uttering counterfeit coin— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 1st, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
CORNS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. MARRIAGE— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
278. ELIZA MOWER (25) , to unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her new-born child. [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] Judgment Respited. She was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the manslaughter of the said child, upon which no evidence was ordered.
NOT GUILTY .
For other cases tried this day see Surrey cases.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, March 1st, 1887.,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM TURRELL (Constable E). On 9th February, about half-past 5, I was with another officer in the neighbourhood of Five Dials, which is close to the Seven Dials. I saw the two prisoners, with several other men whom I have often seen there before, standing outside the Horse and Groom—the two prisoners went inside and stayed about a quarter of an hour—they came out again, and walked down Shaftesbury Avenue in company with a woman—the woman went down White Lion Street, and
the prisoners went towards Broad Street—Brown, another constable, followed the female and I went on to Broad Street, where I met Blundon—I spoke to him, and he went with me—I came up with the prisoners a the corner of Endell Street and Broad Street, where I stopped them—I said "I am going to search you and see what you have got about you"—directly I caught hold of Ford he threw away two shillings, which Blundon picked up—the prisoners said nothing—a crowd gathered round—we took the prisoners to the station and left them there—I went back to Brown—the two shillings were picked up about two yards off—1s. 4 1/2 d. was found on Ford; on King I found several pieces of paper with marks of coin on it—I asked Ford what else he had about him—he said "I have got nothing"—I asked his address—he said "I am a butcher, I live at 29, Fetter Lane"—King was asked the same question, and said "I don't live anywhere particular."
Cross-examined by King. You did not tell me you lived at 90, Fetter Lane—I did not tell the inspector that nothing was taken from you.
Re-examined. 29, Fetter Lane is a common lodging house.
HENRY WILLIAM CLARK . I live at 4, Ledbury Road, Bayswater, and am a clergyman—about 6 on afternoon of 9th February I saw two men taken into custody at the corner of Endell Street—I do not recognise them—I saw a slight struggle, and Turrell placing his hands over their clothing—there were fifteen or twenty people there—I looked and saw a man picking up something off the ground—he handed it to me—it was a package of these 10 counterfeit shillings—I marked them—they were all wrapped in paper, and with paper between each—I tested one between my teeth; it was bad—I put it in my pocket, and walked away about 100 yards—then two men came after me—a policeman came up, and I went to the station and gave them up to the inspector—the man picked up the coins about two or three yards from the struggle, in the gutter beside the curb.
WILLIAM BROWN (Policeman 215 E). On afternoon of 9th February I was with Turrell near Five Dials—I saw the prisoners and a woman——they went down Shaftesbury Avenue—Turrell followed them—I afterwards saw them at police station—I first saw them that day outside the Coach and Horses with a woman and two or three other men—I knew them by sight.
WILLIAM BLUNDON (Policeman 100 E). On the 9th February I was in the neighbourhood of the Five Dials—Turrell spoke to me in the afternoon in Broad Street, Bloomsbury, and pointed out the two prisoners walking across Endell Street—I and Turrell followed them about 30 or 40 yards—at the corner of Endell Street they stopped—Turrell said he wanted to search them—I caught hold of Ford, Turrell apprehended King—Ford threw 2 shillings and a packet down—the packet rolled down beside the curb into the gutter—I picked up these two shillings at the time, about two or three yards off, and found they were bad—I said to Ford, "What did you throw them down for?"—he said, "I know nothing about them"—30 or 40 people were round—I took Ford to the station, where the prisoners were searched—1s. and some coppers were found on Ford, and in King's coat pocket two or three pieces of paper, which Turrell put in his hat—I saw afterwards a gentleman bring the packet in—when it was shown to Ford he said he knew nothing about it.
Cross-examined by King. I swear these pieces of paper were taken from you.
JAMES HAINES (Inspector E). On 9th February I was at the station, when the prisoners were brought in—Mr. Clark subsequently brought a packet into the station—I examined it, and found it contained these 10 counterfeit shillings wrapped in paper, and with this tissue paper between each coin—I told the prisoners they would be charged with possessing 12 counterfeit coins—Ford said "I know nothing about it," and King said "I know nothing about it."
THOMAS BOWDEN (Detective Sergeant C). I have seen the prisoners on various occasions at the Coach and Horses public-house in company of Albert Phillips, Kingston, and Field—I saw them on the afternoon of the day they were arrested entering the bar of the Coach and Horses—Phillips, Kingston, and Field are coiners and sellers.
Cross-examined by King. I saw you in their company then, and on two or three occasions between that and 28th January—I have done nothing else but watch the Coach and Horses since then.
WM. JOHN WEBSTER . These 2 shillings are counterfeit, and also these 10 shillings—there are slight marks on the tissue paper—one of the 2 shillings is from the same mould as one or two of the 10 shillings, and one of 2 shillings is from the same mould as one or two in a subsequent case for trial.
The prisoners, in their statements before the magistrates and in their defence, denied all knowledge of the coins.
GUILTY . Twenty Months' Hard Labour each.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BIRON Prosecuted.
HORACE FRANCIS TOOMEY . I live at 34 Dieppe Street, West Kensington, and am an omnibus conductor—on Saturday night, 5th February, a little before 10 o'clock the prisoner got in my 'bus opposite Orchard Street, Oxford Street—another woman who was with her got on the step, but did not get in; she got off the step—I asked the prisoner for her fare—she gave me half-crown—I gave her 2s. 4d. change—she said she wanted to go to South Kensington—I said I did not go there, but she could change at Sloane Street—when she got to Green Street she said, "I will get out here and go to see my cousin"—she did so—I was suspicious of her—I put my hand in my bag, and brought out this bad half-crown, which was the only half-crown in my bag—I turned my 'bus round, and went to the Marble Arch—the 'bus was empty—I was talking to my inspector, and looking across to Quebec Street I recognised the prisoner again with the woman who had been with her before—she was passing something to the prisoner under her apron—they separated, and the prisoner got into another car going the other way—a constable took her out, and she turned her pockets out, and he found some good money on her—I believe she had no purse—I saw another bad half-crown between the seat and the cushion where the prisoner was sitting—I gave it to the constable.
DONALD MUNROE . I am an Inspector in the service of the London Road Car Company—Toomey spoke to me near Quebec Street and pointed out the prisoner, who was with another woman standing at the corner of the
pavement opposite—I saw them exchanging something under their white aprons which both were wearing—they then separated and the prisoner walked down and got into another car—I got on to the footboard; the prisoner got up and told me she had got on the wrong car—I told her she would have to wait now—she said nothing, but sat down—when she got up I saw her working her hands behind her back under her apron—a constable came and she was given into custody—I searched the bus and found this half-crown just behind the cushion where she was sitting; between the cushion and the seat—the prisoner saw it found, she said nothing—when charged with uttering the first half-crown, and having this other in her possession, she said she was never in the first 'bus at all, and that she knew nothing about the second half-crown—I gave it to Howard.
ARTHUR HOWARD (Policeman A 135). On 5th February the prisoner was given into my custody a little after 10 o'clock by Toomey on the charge of uttering this half-crown, which he gave to me—I said to her "Could you give me any information who this woman is you have been talking to?"—she said "I have not been talking to any woman, you have made a mistake this time"—she heard Toomey state that she had tendered him a half-crown in the 'bus at the corner of Park Lane, and that he had given her change—she said "I never had the money, and was not in his bus"—she was holding in her left hand these two good half-crowns and 1d. bronze—I asked her to turn out her pockets—she turned out one pocket; there was nothing in it—I took her to the station—she made he answer to the charge—I saw the 'bus searched and a half-crown found between the padding of the bus and the back part of the cushion where the prisoner had been sitting—nobody was near where she had been sitting—the 'bus inspector gave me this half-crown—she was searched by the female searcher—nothing was found on her.
WILLIAM HARRISON . I live at 10, Arthur Street, Trevor Square, Knight Street, and am a surgical instrument maker—on night 5th February, shortly after ten, I was inside a bus near Quebec Street—the prisoner came in and sat down in the right hand corner by the door—another lady got in and asked the conductor if he went to Victoria Station—the prisoner could hear her—the conductor said no—the prisoner said she would get out as well, she wanted to go to Victoria—the Inspector said "Sit down"—she had her hands at the time on her knees—she immediately put her right hand behind her and lifted the cushion and dropped something between the cushion and the seat of the omnibus—I was the only other passenger on that side, and I heard something fall on the wood between the cushion and the seat—the Inspector came in with a lamp and looked on the floor—I told him she had put something under the cushion—I saw the half-crown picked up from where she had been sitting—a constable came in.
The prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "All I have to say I never was in his 'bus, and I know nothing at all about the charge."
The prisoner, in her defence, stated that a gentleman gave her 5s., and that she got into the wrong' bus as she had had a little drink, and she denied all knowledge of the first' bus.
GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BIRON Prosecuted.
GEORGE BUNDOCK . I keep a paper shop at 16, Bear Street, Leicester Square—on 22nd February, the prisoner came in about 5 p.m. for a boy's paper—I asked her which one, and mentioned two or three—she said "Any paper will do that has a picture in front of it"—I gave her the Young Men of Great Britain, price 1d.—she gave me 1s.—I gave her 6d. and 5d. change—another woman was with her—they left the shop together, and went to the Bear and Staff at the corner—immediately they left I found the coin was bad, and rushed after them—I stopped them just as they were going in at the door of the public—I said to the prisoner "Do you know what you have given me?"—the prisoner turned round and said "What?"—I said "Do you know what this is? you give me that back" (meaning the change)—she handed the 11d. back to me—the other woman with her turned and said "Good God, it is bad money; I didn't know anything of it"—I then gave the prisoner into custody with this coin.
JOHN CRAIG (Policeman C 366). The last witness gave the prisoner into my custody for uttering counterfeit coin—she said she received it from a boy to buy the paper—I took her to the station, where the female searcher searched but found nothing on her—she gave me the address 3, Lamb's Conduit Passage—the prosecutor gave me this bad shilling.
The prisoner, in her defence, said she had had the shilling since Saturday, and that she was by herself
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BIRON Prosecuted.
CHARLES HARVEY (Constable). On 21st February, about 4, I was outside the Coach and Horses, Compton Street, keeping observation on it—I saw the prisoner and Emmerson go in and come out together hurriedly, after a few minutes, with Phillips—I followed them and stopped them in Great Chapel Street—I searched Emmerson, and while doing so he flung these four counterfeit shillings on the ground—he was then with the other prisoner—I had seen the prisoners together for quarter of an hour—when charged at the station he did not say anything.
ARTHUR REYNOLDS (6 D R). I was in company of the last witness—I saw Mack and Emmerson together—I saw Harvey stop Emmerson and take hold of his left arm—Emmerson put his hand through his great coat pocket into his trousers pocket, and then threw away four counterfeit shillings down the street—the other prisoner was then about three yards off, I should think—I had seen them come up Oxford Street that afternoon, conversing together, to Great Chapel Street—I had not seen them at the Coach and Horses.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that he had met Emmerson and was walking along when he was arrested, and in his defence he denied having been in the Coach and Horses.
CHARLES HARVEY (Re-examined). I made a mistake; the prisoner came out of the Coach and Horses with Phillips, a man now in custody for coining—I had instructions not to mention the Coach and Horses to the Magistrate.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin in January, 1882.
CHARLES HARVEY'S evidence in the former case was read to him, to which he assented and added: Phillips is a man now in custody on a charge of possessing—Emmerson gave the address 22, Queen Street, Seven Dials, a common lodging-house.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not tell the Magistrate you went in the Coach and Horses, because I had instructions from Bowden not to mention it.
The evidence of ARTHUR REYNOLDS, SAMUEL STORY, and W. JOHN WEBSTER was read to them, to which they assented.
STORY added: The prisoner loitered outside the Coach and Horses some minutes, and then went into the middle bar and came out with Phillips.
Emmerson's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about these counterfeit coins. I have no witnesses to call."
GUILTY . MACK— Five years' Penal Servitude. EMMERSON— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
No evidence was offered by MR. MUIR on behalf of the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, March 1st, 1887.
285. WILLIAM HARRIS (21) and GEORGE PRICE (20) (indicted with Clara Hill (29) for receiving, who pleaded Not Guilty. See New Court Thursday) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the warehouse of Henry Swan and stealing a corkscrew, twenty-one postage labels, and 10s. 2d., and to previous convictions, Harris at Clerkenwell in February, 1885, and Price at this Court in April, 1883, in the name of Thomas King .
287. JOSEPH BETTLES (24) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to stealing a gelding, a set of harness, a cart, a cloth, a whip, and two sacks, the goods of Edwin Pearson, also to a conviction of felony at Hammersmith in April, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
290. JOHN BENNETT (29) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to an Attempt to commit burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Coates, with intent to steal; and to an (assault on a constable in the execution of his duty, occasioning him actual bodily harm.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. BYRON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM TYRRELL (Policeman E). On 8th February, about 4 p.m., I was with Police-constable Brown in St. Martin's Lane—I saw the prisoner with two other men about 10 yards off going towards Charing Cross—we were going the other way—the two men went down West Street, and prisoner kept walking towards us, tucking something up the left sleeve of his guernsey—I stopped him and said, "I am going to search you to see what you have about you"—I found five counterfeit half-crowns tucked in his guernsey, wrapped in paper, and a piece of paper between each coin—I know the other two men.
WILLIAM BROWN (Policeman 215 E). I was with Lee—I have heard his evidence—it is correct—I know the two men who were with the prisoner—I saw the coins found—I took him to the station—he was charged—he gave no address.
The prisoner read a written statement, that two strangers met him when looking for employment, and gave him the packet of coins to make brooches of.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
SPENCER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BYRON Prosecuted.
SAMUEL STOREY (Policeman 153 C). On 12th February I saw the prisoners in Oxford Street—I followed them to Broad Street, Bloomsbury—I stopped them and called 161 E—I told them I was a police officer, and wanted to see what they had about them—on searching Barrett I found 10 shillings wrapped up and three half-crowns in his left trousers' pocket—I asked him what they were—he made no answer.
BARRETT— GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour each.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
7.45 on 5th February I saw the prisoner pass the door with a coat which hung outside—I ran after him, and saw him drop it—I caught him in Church Road, and charged him with stealing the coat—he said, "I don't know anything about the coat, I have just left a public-house, and am going to Greenford"—I asked him to go to the police-station with me—he refused—I picked up the coat—it is the property of Percy Smith, this is it—I asked the prisoner his name and address—he gave me William Baker, of the Duke of York Cottages, Hanwell—I gave information to the police—I saw the prisoner at the station about half an hour after—I have no doubt he is the man I arrested.
JAMES NEWMAN (Police Inspector). I received information from Tucker, and from that information kept observation on the prisoner's house—I saw the prisoner coming from Church Road—when he got to the door I took hold of him, and said I should charge him with stealing a coat from Percy Smith—he said, "I know nothing about the b—coat."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am not guilty."
Prisoner's Defence. It stands to reason if I had stolen that man's coat I should not have given my right address—no person would do it.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CRANSTOTUN Prosecuted.
CHARLES BURTON . I am a carpenter—the prisoner lodged at my house—on the 18th December he asked me to cash this note for him. (A sailor's advance note for 2l. 5s., dated December 18th, 1886, and signed "J. Sampson," master of the Grantully Castle.) I advanced 1l. 5s. 6d., and he owed me 19s. 6d. for rent—I saw him write "F. Adams" on the back—I asked him whether it was a right note, and he said "Yes."
WILLIAM M'CLELLAN . I am a purser for Messrs. Donald Currie and Co., of Fenchurch Street, agents for the Grantully Castle—there is no master named "J. Sampson" in our service—the master of the Grantully Castle is Captain Young—this note is not genuine—I know nothing of it—I do not know the prisoner or his writing.
JEREMIAH M'CARTHY (Policeman 448 G). I took the prisoner into custody on 12th February—I charged him with obtaining money under false pretences—Mrs. Burton was present—he said, "All right, Mrs. Burton, I intended to pay you this afternoon."
The Prisoner in his defence said that he went to the East India Dock to ship, and saw a man he believed was the mate of the Grantully Castle, who advanced him the note, to get clothes; his friends objected to his going to sea and leaving his mother; he had given Mrs. Burton a sovereign on the Saturday himself, and all the money had been repaid.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy.— Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BYRON Prosecuted.
SAMUEL STOREY (Policeman 153 C). About 3.30 on 18th February I was in plain clothes, outside the Coach and Horses public-house—I saw a man named Phillips come out of the house, and spoke to the prisoner—I saw Phillips give the prisoner a packet—the prisoner went alone towards Tottenham Court Road—I called Sergeant Blunt, and stopped the prisoner—I said I was a police officer, and wanted to see what he had about him—I searched him, and in his right-hand pocket I found 30 shillings in all—I took him to the station—before going into the Court he said, "I am going to tell the whole truth—a man named Peggy gave it to me; I gave him 5s.—I was sent by a man I know, and I was to meet him in the Tottenham Court Road or the Euston Road—I was first introduced to Peggy a fortnight before."
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of his youth.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM PRATT . I keep the Flying Dutchman public-house, Pomeroy Street, New Cross—on 17th November, about 12.20 a.m., I was closing—as I was screwing up the shutter inside, I was struck on the side of the nose, and knocked insensible—I could not say how many times I was struck—I was wearing a watch and chain—next day I was shown this chain—it is my property; a seal and key were attached to it, hanging from the button-hole—they are gone.
DAVID WHEELWRIGHT . I am a fish curer, of Hatcham Road, Old Kent Road—on a Tuesday night in November I saw the prisoner between 12 and 1 a.m. with William Hazell—I asked the prisoner what was the matter—he said, "Nothing"—I said, "What do you mean, nothing?"—he turned to Hazell and said, "I will tell him," and showed me this chain—he said, "There has been a bit of a row in Pomeroy Street, and a chap they called Nobber knocked an old man down belonging to the Flying Dutchman, and I picked up the chain." I persuaded him not to part with it, or he would get himself into trouble, and I left him—the next day I informed the police.
LOUIS COLLINS (Detective P). Wheelwright gave me information—I arrested the prisoner—I charged him with being concerned with other men in stealing a gold chain from Mr. Pratt—he said, "Very well, I will tell you the truth, I was with Nobber, Punch, Levitt, Dick Pitsoll, and another one drinking in the Coach and Horses, Pomeroy Street; we left and went down Pomoroy Street—Nobber knocked the old man down—I kicked up against something, looked, and picked up the chain—I afterwards sold it for 8s.—I am sorry I was worse for drink at the time or I should not have done it."
The Prisoner. I was never in trouble before that night.
GUILTY of receiving .— Judgment respited.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted; MR. A. GILL Defended. AVICE FRY. I live at 163, Lilley Road, Fulham—I have a son, Walter Fry—on 18th December the prisoner came and told me he was in a fix—my son had written to him for money, and he had none to send him—I said I was sorry, but I was in distress myself—I had not got my own rent ready, or I would send some—I lent him my watch to sell—I wanted 5l. for it—I showed him my watch and asked him if he would buy it—he said he could not, he had no money, or he should like to buy it—I said I should like to sell it—some time afterwards he said, "I will tell you what I should like you to do; let me have that watch to send to your son, as I should not like him to be in the country without money." I said, "Very well, if it is to send to my son I will let you have the watch," and under those circumstances I let him have the watch—my son is an actor, and was employed by the prisoner at 25s. a week—I did not lend the prisoner the money—it is not true that he was to use some of it in the concern—he has not written to say he would pay me back by instalments.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not say he had not money to take him to Masborough—he did not ask me to lend him money—I told him if I had money I would lend him some to send to my son—I did not understand that the 2l. 5s. was to be lent for the prisoner—It was entirely on my son's account I let him have my watch to pledge—I told him where he could pledge the watch—he brought the ticket back and gave it in my children's charge—he gave my son one shilling—my son wrote to me for money after the prisoner had gone, and had not given him any money—that was the 23rd or 24th December—I knew my son was in Sheffield, and that the prisoner got him a situation—I think the prisoner acted unkindly—he took my son down there, and paid him no wages, and I am the loser of the money—the prisoner hired a theatre in Masborough, which was a failure, but he told me he had a banking account, and that he bad plenty of money, but he could not draw it within four days.
WALTER FRY . I was engaged by the prisoner on 12th December last to act and assist as a scene-painter at a salary of 25s. a week—I went down to Masborough, I believe, the same day—the prisoner did not come till the 21st, when I asked him for some money, as I owed some bills and wanted the money to pay them—he gave me 1s.—the acting manager had written on 17th, and asked him at my instigation for money to start the work—I did not ask him to get it from my mother—I did not know about his going to mother—I wanted some money to buy some paint, so that I could start on the scene—on 3rd January I received 3s. 6d. from the prisoner—up to then I received 2d. or 3d. at a time to pay my railway fare between Masborough and Rotherham—I did not receive 2l. 5s. from him—when I received a letter from my mother on 24th December I asked the prisoner how it was he had not given me my money when mother allowed him so much—he said he could not give it to me then, because it had all gone.
NOT GUILTY .
299. OSWALD CRAIG LUCKMAN (31), Obtaining by false pretences from Robert Jesse Chillingworth 16s. worth of food, with intent to defraud. Another Count, for incurring debt and liability by false pretences.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
SARAH WHITE . I am a married woman—I am manageress to Mr. Chillingworth, of the Champion Hotel, Aldersgate Street—on 23rd February, about 6.30, the prisoner came to the hotel—I saw his name put down as James Mercer , of Cockermouth—on Saturday, 29th January, I sent the prisoner his bill, amounting to 2l. 15s. 6d.—he had stayed at the hotel and obtained food till the 29th as well as his apartments—he was asked for the money, he said he had not any—he said "I was not aware the account was to be paid weekly, I cannot pay till Monday"—I told him I should have to inform Mr. Chillingworth when he came, which I did; then Mr. Chillingworth saw him—the prisoner remained till the Monday morning, 31st January, the account for which was 16s.
ROBERT CHILLINGWORTH . I am proprietor of the Champion Hotel—in consequence of a communication received from my manageress, the prisoner's bill having been given to him on 29th January, I said to him, "How is this, Mr. Mercer, your bill has been presented and you say you have no money"—he said, "I did not say I have no money, but I have not sufficient to pay your bill"—I said, "How is this, you come to London and have no money?"—he said, "Your money will be all right"—I said, "what are you?"—he said, "A commercial traveller"—I said, "Who do you travel for?" he said, "J. Harris and Co., of Cockermouth, linen thread manufacturers"—I said, "Where is their office?"—he said, "Bow Lane; if you wish me to go I will go at once"—I said, "Oh no, if you travel for a respectable firm you can stay till Monday"—he did stay—I asked him for a card—he said he had none—I said, "Will you be good enough to write down the name of your firm"—he wrote on a paper which was produced at the Guildhall, "James Mercer, for J. Harris and Co., Cockermouth, also Bow Lane, Cheapside"—ho said, "I am a traveller for this firm, I do not do their London business, but I do their country business, I came up merely to look after accounts—I allowed him to remain till Monday on that representation—I telegraphed to Cockermouth and received a reply, also a letter—I again saw the prisoner at Moor Lane Station on the Monday morning—my manageress had on that morning given him into custody—I asked him his name and address—he said, "James Mercer, High Street, Cockermouth, commercial traveller"—he said, "You only want your money, Mr. Chillingworth?"—I said "That is all I want"—he said "Well, there is a letter waiting for me at Post Restante, Charing Cross, I wish you would allow me to fetch it"—I said "No, I do not think I can do that," I thought a second time, "Perhaps I might get my money," and I said "Well, I will go with you"—we passed the Champion Hotel, and a message came for me to come back; the prisoner said he should never enter that place again he had been so grossly insulted—I said, "You will have to come back"—I took him upstairs, and was introduced to Mr. Harris—I talked with Mr. Harris—I kept the prisoner upstairs, and allowed my Boots to go to the Post Restante for his letters, and allowed him to telegraph to his brother—he said "May I telegraph?"—I said "You can do just as you like, but you won't go"—my Boots brought a letter back, which was given to the prisoner; he said "It is a very important matter, you will excuse me, I am so overcome by the contents of this
letter," in fact I thought he was going to cry, but he could not get it on—I have not got a farthing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My custom is to present bills weekly—the week had not quite elapsed, but it was near enough for us—the inspector did not refuse to detain you, he kept you there—I made no charge at first, because I thought you were James Mercer, of Cocker-mouth—I have been taken in before, and I meant to make an example of the first swindler I caught—you were going to send a second telegram, but you had no more money—the letter Boots brought you contained a postal order, which you said was for 15s., but which turned out to be for two—you asked me to allow you to telegraph again; but I had had enough of it and would not.
Re-examined. The prisoner paid for the first telegram.
EDWIN HARRIS . I am manager to Messrs. Richardson and Co., of Belfast; we have offices in Friday Street, City—I am a family connection of Messrs. Harris and Son, of Cockermouth, and am connected with them in business also—I was for some time in their establishment—the prisoner was employed by Messrs. Harris and Son eight or nine years ago, but not since—his name is Oswald Luckman, not Mercer—he was for a short time in my employment; he left nine years since—he was certainly not in the employment of Messrs. Harris and Son of Cocker-mouth between 23rd and 30th January this year.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know you were not in Harris and Son's employment in January, because I had a communication from them to see who you were who was making use of their name, and when I found out who were, I wrote them back, and got confirmation from them in writing—you have exhausted all the patience of your friends and have not one left; or relatives.
JOHN WISE (Policeman). On 31st of January I took the prisoner into custody at the Champion Hotel—I charged him with obtaining food and lodging to the amount of 16s. from Mr. Chillingworth by false pretences—he made no reply—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him a letter addressed to the name of Luckman, Post Restante, Charing Cross, containing a postal order for 2s. and 1/2 d., a large number of letters addressed to Luckman at different places, including the Albion Hotel, City Road, and 82, Stamford Street, and about 12 to the Post Restante—they are signed in the same name.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was nothing in those letters bearing on this case—they bear out the statement that your friends will have nothing to do with you—your brother said he would have nothing to do with you any longer.
The Prisoner in his defence said that he had no intent to defraud, and had the prosecutor waited or allowed him to send off a telegram asking for money to be sent him at once, he would have been paid his bill in full.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.
RICHARD BARTHOLOMEW . I live at 19, Hart Street, Grosvenor Square—I was living there on 20th January—I occupied a bed in the back-room ground floor—the prisoner lived in that room with me, and occupied a bed there—he had lived in the house about eight months, not all that time in that room, but two storeys higher up—it is a six-roomed house—he had slept in the same room with me for about six months—Ann Sutton lived in the room above me, with a child, aged about a year and eight months—Ann Sutton was about forty years of age—Emily Sharp and Mary Elizabeth Coten lived in the same room on 20th January, and, Charles Stanfield and William Jewell lived in the front-room first floor—the prisoner was often speaking of Ann Sutton; I could not say how long before 20th January—he was merely talking about her most nights—he used to ask her to mend some of his clothes sometimes—he said once or twice, when he was cross and swearing, that if he could not have her nobody else should—I could not tell on what day he said that—there was somebody present at the time—up to the Saturday before 20th January the prisoner had been at work—I should say he was a bricklayer's labourer—he did not go to work on Monday, the 17th, or on the Tuesday and Wednesday—he was drunk all day on the Monday and Tuesday—he was drunk when he went to bed on Tuesday—on Wednesday he was sober—he went to bed on Wednesday about half-past 9, or a quarter to ten—he was quite sober then—I saw him on Thursday morning when he got up, about twenty minutes past 8—he dressed, and put on his wide-awake and greatcoat, and when he left the room he said "Daddy, I am going out for a little while"—in about twenty minutes, or a little more, I heard Mrs. Sutton scream in the passage—I jumped out of bed, and drew on my trousers—the prisoner rushed upstairs—I knew it was him because there was nobody in the passage but Mrs. Sutton and him—as soon as I had helped Mrs. Sutton to go downstairs I ran out for the police and for help—when I came out of my room I saw Mrs. Button standing opposite my door, with her neck bleeding very much—on the Wednesday night I had a razor on my dressing-table which I had kept there this four years, and on the Thursday a policeman showed it to me all stained with blood—there was no one but the prisoner and myself occupying the room during the night—Mrs. Sutton was not there—she might have come in by chance in the early part of the evening, but she never came in there after we retired—I do not sleep soundly—the prisoner was very quiet and cool and collected, and very pleasant on the Thursday morning, and he had been so on the Wednesday night, and when he went to bed he bid all good night.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was always exceedingly fond of this child—I said on another occasion "he always treated it as if he was its father"—if he says that on Wednesday night he did not sleep in my room, but elsewhere, it is an untruth—I am not a very sound sleeper, if anyone came and opened the door I should hear them—if he says that he passed the night with Mrs. Sutton in my room or elsewhere, it is an untruth.
By a JUROR. Q. Did the prisoner over say anything to you to load you to suppose he was mad? A. No, not the slightest.
EMILY SHARP . I lived at 19, Hart Street—I am a domestic servant and had been there a fortnight while I was out of place—I occupied the same room with Mrs. Sutton and her child and Elizabeth Coten—I didn't know much about the prisoner—on Saturday, the 5th, between 6 and 7 p.m., as near as I can tell, I and Mrs. Sutton and the baby were in the room—I am not quite sure whether Miss Coten was there—the door was shut, and I was getting ready to go out—I heard a knock at the door,. and answered it, and saw the prisoner—I said "What do you want?"—he said he had come about his washing—Mrs. Sutton did the work for the house and the washing for the young men there—I said to Mrs. Sutton "He has come about his washing"—she said to the prisoner "They are not ready, go down"—he was just inside the doorway then—he came into the room and picked up the baby from the floor where it was sitting and kissed it several times, and said he loved it, and he said "I love Sutton, I am very. fond of her, if I don't have her no one else shall"—I told him he had better go out of the room and go down, as Mrs. Pearson, the landlady, would be very angry to find him there—he then left the room and went downstairs—Mrs. Button was busy ironing—the. prisoner appeared to be quite sober—I did not take much notice of him—I saw no more of him that night, as I went out—I was there on the Tuesday and Wednesday, but not on the Monday—on the Wednesday night I went to bed, as usual, with Mrs. Sutton and the baby, but I was asleep when she got up on Thursday morning, and did not hear her leave the room—as near as possible from half-past 8 to 9 I heard dreadful screams front downstairs as I thought, I thought it was a woman's. voice, and I was dreadfully frightened—the screams awoke me—I at once got up, and before I could get out of the room the prisoner rushed in and rushed to the bed where the little child was lying asleep—there were two beds in the room, one large one and one not so large—Miss Coten and myself slept in the large one, and Mrs. Sutton and the baby in the other—I could not see whether the prisoner had anything in his hand; he had his back to me—I said, "What on earth are you going to do?" and I rushed out of the room and called for help—I saw him doing something to the baby's head and neck—I called to Mr. Stanfield, a lodger, who slept in the next room to us, and said, "Take this man out of the room, for he is killing the baby"—he took hold of the prisoner, and there was a very great struggle between them, and he took the razor out of his hand and got him down into his own room—some time after that I went down into the landlady's kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton bleeding very badly, and she was taken to the hospital—the prisoner never opened his mouth, when he rushed into the room.
Cross-examined. The prisoner could not have come into our room and slept there on Wednesday night under any consideration—I bolted the door myself, and I am certain Mrs. Sutton was not away from the room, because what she wanted I fetched for her.
MARY ELIZABETH COTEN . Some time previous to the 30th of January I had been lodging at 19, Hart Street—in December last, I cannot state the date, I and Mrs. Sutton and Mr. Bartholomew were in the prisoner's room—the prisoner used to say he would like to have Mrs. Sutton for his wife, and he would break her neck if she would not have him—she never used to say much to him; she used to tell him not to talk so silly to her—I should say he used those words about eight times—it was on the
Wednesday before this happened that he used those words—I remember a man named Rolf coming to see Mrs. Sutton on Sunday, the 16th, between 5 and 6 p.m.—he had formerly been a lodger there, and had come to Mrs. Sutton's room with reference to some washing—about 10 minutes, or it might have been 20 minutes, after he had gone the prisoner came into the room and said to Mrs. Sutton, "You would have been on the floor, and that man Rolf; you are my sweetheart; I have got my coat, pipe, and tobacco, ready to be locked up for you," and he said he would go up to his knees in blood for her—Mrs. Pearson was in the room at the time and heard the threats, and said to the prisoner, "You will leave my house, for I won't have such behaviour here"—between 6 and 7 the same evening the prisoner came up to our door—it was bolted, and I think he said, "Good night, my darling; I am going out"—on the next day, Monday, about 2, I went out with Mrs. Sutton for a walk—we left the house separately, because Mrs. Sutton was afraid of the prisoner—I left first with the baby, and the prisoner came out of his door at the bottom of the stairs and kissed the baby—I told him I was going to take the baby out for a walk, to mislead him—I then waited at the corner outside for twenty minutes for Mrs. Sutton, and then she came, and the prisoner followed her—she told him to go back, or she would have him locked up, but he took no notice—he said he thought she was going to see somebody else, and he said, "I am going to see where you are going to," and he continued to follow us until we returned home—on Thursday morning, 20th, Mrs. Sutton got up about a quarter-past 8, and went out to buy bread and milk, and about twenty minutes afterwards I heard her voice from the stairs say, "Get off the stairs, and let me pass; you have no business on these stairs; and keep your hands off me"—about four or five minutes afterwards I heard her scream, and my friend Emily Sharp and I jumped out of bed, and when I opened the door the prisoner was on the landing—I was going to shut it again, but he pushed it against my strength, and pushed past me to get to the baby—he had a dosed razor in his hand—I went into Mr. Stanfield's room—about half-an-hour afterwards I saw the prisoner in his own room, and when he saw me he said, "You little devil! you will be the next one"—a constable was with him then.
By a JUROR. Mrs. Sutton never gave the prisoner any encouragement to cause him to be jealous of her.
HARRIET PEARSON . I am the landlady—I know the prisoner very well—about two or three weeks, or it might have been a month, before the Sunday I heard the prisoner say he, meant to marry Mrs. Sutton at Whitsuntide, and he told me he was very fond of her I have seen them talking together, and sometimes the prisoner would have the baby in his room—Mr. Bartholomew used to like to have him for a little while sometimes to amuse him—Mrs. Sutton was very repulsive in her manner towards the prisoner—she did not seem to want him to take any notice of her or her child—I remember Rolf calling on the Sunday—I was in the back parlour sitting with Bartholomew and the prisoner—Rolf went upstairs to see Mrs. Sutton, and the prisoner said "There is a man upstairs in that room"—I said "Well, what business is it of yours if there is? they go to Mrs. Sutton to give her messages for me instead of troubling me"—the prisoner said if he was not allowed to go up there no other man should—after
sitting a little while he went out and shut the door, and I got up and followed him, and told him to come downstairs—he would not answer, and I went up—I pushed against him on the first landing—I told him to go down, I would not have him about the stairs, and he went down, and I went up into Mrs. Button's room—Rolf had gone then—I had just taken the baby in my lap, and the prisoner came into the room—he said "I put on my coat and put my tobacco and pipes in my pocket ready to be locked up for you; I meant to have done with you and him too"—I told him to leave the room, and he left and went downstairs—I went down soon after—I said I would not have any of the men upstairs in the rooms—at this time he was perfectly sober—he came up again afterwards about a front or something to be washed, but he did not come in—Mrs. Button did his washing—on the Tuesday, I believe, I told him I was tired of his following her about, and I would not have it and I didn't like his watching about the stairs; and I told him if he left at once I would return him his money, but he said he would not he should stop until the Monday—he always paid his rent in advance—I told him why didn't he pull himself together and get work—he was quite sober—this was in the afternoon—he had not been to work on the Monday—I had heard him on the stairs on previous occasions—I don't think he had been drinking on the Tuesday—he was very often the worse for drink after working hours, and I didn't take particular notice—on Thursday morning, about half-past 8 or a quarter to 9 o'clock, I was in the kitchen in the basement dressing myself, and heard dreadful screams, which appeared to come from the passage above—then Mrs. Button came downstairs—I thought—she had fallen from top to bottom by the noise, but I saw she had come step by step—I saw she was bleeding very much, and put a towel to her neck and gave her brandy—the police afterwards came, and she was token to St. George's Hospital and on the 24th I heard of her death there, and on the 28th I was taken there and saw her dead—the prisoner has lodged in my house altogether about seven months—I think he came in August—during that time I noticed nothing in his manner when he was sober to attract my attention—he paid 3,. a week rent—he last worked somewhere in South Audley Street—he is a bricklayer's labourer.
Cross-examined. He did not very often miss a day going to work; he told me he changed his work occasionally—I didn't notice anything particular about him on the Tuesday—did not look weary and excited—I did not hear the prisoner say about going up to his knees in blood—he was generally very kind to the child, and on one occasion he gave me some money to buy it some shoes, and he gave her some money once when she came from the baths, he said she looked so weary—he did not change his employment four or five times in six months—he was in work at Mayfair, and then he went to South Audley Street—he was generally successful in getting work.
Re-examined. He did not tell me what his wages were; he said he earned more one week than another, according to the hours—he had 6d. an hour I think.
CHARLES STANFIELD . I am an omnibus driver, and live at 19 Hart Street—I occupied the next room to Mrs. Button—on the morning of 20th January, about a quarter to nine, I was in bed, and was aroused—I got up in a hurry, and hearing a female's voice say a man was killing the child,
I rushed into Mrs. Sutton's room and seized the prisoner's arm and took the razor from him, and threw it over my head, and the top of my finger was nearly cut off—he fought and kicked to get into the room again, and when he got to the door he said, "You b—I will treat you the same," and I had great difficulty in getting him to his room—I saw the razor lying inside the door upstairs afterwards, when I went to see how the child was, and I ordered no-one to touch it.
FRANCIS PEARCE (Policeman C 309). I was called on Thursday morning, about quarter to nine, to 19, Hart Street, and went at once to the back room on the ground floor, and saw the prisoner sitting down in a chair—he spoke first—as soon as he saw me he said, "I have killed the woman whom I loved, also her dear child"—I heard what had happened, and sent for a doctor, and went down and saw the woman Sutton bleeding in the kitchen—four men were taking care of the prisoner—from what I was told I went up to Mrs. Sutton's room, and saw the child lying dead on the bed with its throat cut—I searched the room, and on the floor I found the razor partly open with blood on it—I showed it to Bartholomew, and he identified it as his property—I then took the prisoner to Marlborough Street Police Station—the inspector saw him there, and the prisoner made a statement to him, and was seen by Mr. Spurgin and Mr. Kemp, two police surgeons—the inspector also came to the house, and had some conversation with him.
Cross-examined. He was sitting in the back room on the ground floor quietly smoking his pipe, and he was smoking the whole time he made this statement.
JAMES BENNETT (Police Inspector). On 20th January, at about quarter past nine, I went to 19, Hart Street, and saw the prisoner in the back parlour sitting down at the fire smoking a pipe—when he saw me he said, "I have committed two murders this morning, inspector"—I said, "It is a very serious matter"—he said, "I lived with this woman, and slept with her in this bed last night," pointing to the smallest of two beds in the room—"we had a quarrel this morning; it was all about 5s.; I cut her throat, and the child's also, I felt very strong, and felt as if I could commit lots of murders—three men came to me, one was a big fellow, but I knocked him off"—this is my note (produced), which I wrote at the time—I left the prisoner there, and went upstairs and found the child dead.
Cross-examined. I don't know of my own knowledge how many men went to him—I followed him to the station shortly afterwards, after I had made a search of the house—I was present at the police-court when some one asked the prisoner if he would have any food, as he spoke of having had no food, and he took some money out of his pocket, and some meat and vegetables were sent for—his hands were one mass of blood, and he was asked if he would not like to wash them, but he said, "I won't have them washed, these were the hands that did it"—he was perfectly sober—he then proceeded to eat his dinner with his hands one mass of blood—I then went to the hospital.
By a JUROR. He seemed to be recovering from the effects of drink, not from delirium tremens.
FREDERICK WILLIAM SPURGIN , M.R.C.S. I am divisional surgeon of the E Division of Police—about 9 on this Thursday morning I went to 19, Hart Street—I went up to the room on the first floor, and there saw
the child, quite dead—there was a very serious Wound in the throat, which had caused instantaneous death—I saw the prisoner a little before 9 the same morning, sitting in the back room ground floor—I asked him some questions as to where he came from, and after some general conversation he made a statement—I had previously felt his pulse and looked at his tongue, and asked him to hold out his hands to see if they were steady or if there were any indications of delirium tremens—he then said, "I have been keeping company with Mrs. Button, she has drank with me and I have given her money,; but she has treated me very cruelly and has turned me up; a week ago I told her I would cut her throat, and she said, 'If you do so, kill the child, and don't leave it to the mercy of the world,' and I have done so"—that was all he said—he was perfectly calm, and I saw no indication of insanity—he appeared like a man recovering from the effects of drink, who had had a drinking bout—I had never seen him before—I afterwards saw that Stanfield's thumb had been cut.
Cross-examined, I have had a great deal to do with cases of insanity in connection with my public appointment and privately—I have never been at Broadmoor or served in any asylum—I am constantly called in as surgeon to the police and medical officer to certify in cases of insanity, for 25 years—I should say that insane persons have not a knowledge of the character of the act they commit—a madman may know that he has killed a person, he is not wholly bereft of knowledge, and he reasons from certain premises—it has not been my duty or vocation to attend persons charged with crimes in connection with insanity—I noticed nothing abnormal in the pupils of the prisoner's eyes—a violent act of insanity is often very suddenly produced—a person may for a long time not have excited any suspicion of insanity, and then suddenly commit an insane act—it is the disease of the mind which renders the person unable to control his actions—in many instances it is very difficult to diagnose insanity, but not generally—the border line between sanity and insanity is very narrow—it is very difficult to define the border line between eccentricity and insanity, almost impossible—you may define insanity as a morbid life growth from a diseased germ—serious injury to the head is a fruitful cause of insanity—I should expect it to show its effects at an early date, not necessarily immediately, not in a violent form—drink is a fruitful source of insanity, granting previous indication of it—drink combined with head injury would be likely to develope it—delusions, as a rule, come on at a comparatively early period—when insanity has once begun there is very often melancholia or eccentric action before delusions—the fact of a man not trying to avoid the consequences of his crime, or seeming proud of it, I should not consider an index to insanity—the exceedingly abnormal calmness in the prisoner after the act did point to insanity—the causes of insanity are exceedingly numerous; such as injury to the head, sudden mental shock, excessive fatigue, and drunkenness—paralysis is frequently a symptom of certain forms of insanity, but you cannot tell unless you know the character of the paralysis—the form of paralysis I have in my mind is a recognised paralysis of the insane—I should not like to say that insane acts of violence are more frequently directed against most intimate friends or dearest relations—I very much question that—one point in insanity is a total change of feeling towards persons—these impulses may come, on
very suddenly; delusions would be rather coexistent—easy sort of work, such as that of a bricklayer's labourer, may be properly discharged by a person who is not quite right in his head.
JOHN ROBERT KEMP , M.R.C.S. I am divisional surgeon of the C Division of Police—on the morning of 20th January, about quarter to ten, I was called to the police-station to see the prisoner—I examined him to ascertain the condition of his mind—as far as I could judge I found him quite of sound mind, able to answer any ordinary question—he said he found out that I was a doctor, and hoped I should not think he was insane, that this morning he had committed two murders and that he could die for it—he said he had been deceived in two women before, and that he did not intend to be so in a third—he said he had threatened the woman some time previously, and she had asked him if he killed her not to leave the child to the mercy of the world—he was quite sober—he had been drinking some days previously, I should say, and had not altogether recovered from the effects of it, but he had not been drinking within the last few hours—I said, "Have you been drinking?" and he admitted it.
Cross-examined. I have been in the profession 13 or 14 years—I have never done any special lunatic asylum work, but of course a surgeon of police must know a little about it.
ARTHUR HEYGATE VERNON . I am house surgeon at St. George's Hospital—I was there a little after 9 when Ann Sutton was brought in; she had a severe cut right across the throat—she never spoke—she died on 24th January—it was such a cut as would be done by a razor, and she died from its effects—it extended back to the spine.
DR. HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN . I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, one of the Physicians of University College Hospital, and also Physician to the Hospital for Paralysed and Epileptic Patients—I have had a large experience in cases of insanity—on 11th, and also on 15th February I went to Holloway Prison and there saw the prisoner—I examined him for the purpose of ascertaining the state of his mind—I examined his head—I found a scar on the upper part of the right frontal region, about an inch and a quarter in length—there was a considerable irregularity of the bone in that situation, so much so that I thought it probable that the bone had been fractured—there was distinct tenderness on percussion, and none over other parts of the head—he said he frequently had very severe pains in that part, that about 17 years ago he had been thrown over the head of a horse, pitching on his head, that he was stunned for about half a day, that he remained in bed from two to three weeks, and that he had done no work for 67 weeks; he said his head had been cut, and bled very much at the time—from the state in which I found his head I should think that was a probable and correct account that he gave me—I think there had been actual fracture, from the irregularity of the bone, still that was not certain—there was some evidence of paralysis on the right side of the face, and some slight weakness of the right limbs, from those appearances I think it possible that there had been some injury to the brain—I could get no history from him of his having had any illness or any affection of the brain—I think it possible that he may have had damage to the brain which caused that slight paralysis—I could discover no evidence that he was of unsound mind, but he is an extremely weak-minded man, so weak-minded as to border upon imbecility—I spoke to him upon the subject
of the charge—he spoke freely on the subject—he seemed then to have no definite conception of the real nature of the acts, I mean the moral nature of the acts—for instance, he seemed to think that the fact that the woman had wished him to kill the child if he did anything to her, was a perfectly sufficient justification for his taking the life of the child—I gathered from him that the woman had had sexual relations with him for some time past, but not since the Thursday previous to the acts, and that he had quarrelled with her on the next day, Friday, about some request on her part to give her 5s. to go the theatre—he repeated over and over again that the woman was in the habit of coming to his bed in the night for an hour or two, two or three times a week—I said, "Did the man Bartholomew know of that?"—he said, "Oh! he is an old man, rather deaf, and didn't hear"—I discovered no evidence of delusions, my impression was that what he said was correct—he impressed me with the notion that he believed what he was telling me—I gathered from him that there had been several quarrels in the day between the commencement of the Friday and the Wednesday night, that he had been drinking a good deal also, that he had tried to get work on the Thursday morning, had failed in two places, and came back, as he termed it, "down on his luck"—that he came back depressed, that he took up the razor and went out, intending to commit suicide, that he met the woman in the passage, and then determined, as he said, to make a clean sweep of it, beginning with the woman, then going to the child, and he declared that if the razor had not been wrested from him, he should have cut his own throat—he seemed to recollect all the details of the occurrence—Mr. Gilbert, the surgeon of the goal, was with me at the time I examined him, and I had seen the same statement in the notes taken by Mr. Gilbert—I think the prisoner knew I was a doctor—I could certainly discover no evidence of insanity, but I considered that the man had had his brain damaged, and that he was on that account congenitally of very weak and feeble mind.
Cross-examined. When he told me this story about his having been out to two places to get work, he told it as if he believed it—I thought he was telling the truth—he did not mention the places he had been to—imbecility is one of the worst and most exaggerated forms of weakness, but this man was not imbecile—I said there was weak-mindedness bordering upon imbecility—there is a great distinction between the two—he was not to be described as an imbecile at all—imbecility is a very bad form of madness—there are other forms of insanity in which perhaps a man may have less consciousness than an imbecile—it is difficult to say where sanity ends and insanity begins—it would depend upon the definitions for what is sanity and insanity—I should not like to try to define it, many have tried and failed—I was at Broadmoor many years ago—the practice there then was very different to what it is now, all sorts of people were sent there then—I should scarcely think that injury to the head was one of the most fruitful causes of insanity—it is a frequent one, and also drink, and the two combined would be very likely—he didn't tell me that the woman had slept in that room, he merely said that she had been to his room—my impression was that he believed it, and that he was telling the truth—of course I could not tell that, but when one talks to a man for many hours one can get a shrewd notion whether he is telling the truth or not, and my impression was that he was telling the truth—certain
forms of insanity acts of violence are very sudden—I don't think that hard work would be apt to give signs of symptoms of insanity, not the ordinary work of a bricklayer's labourer—it would be very deplorable if that were so—the injury to the head was a bad one, I found traces of it 17 years afterwards—a man receiving a brain injury would be more likely to be affected by drink—acts of violence frequently spring from delusions—the paralysis I found was slight paralysis of the right side of the face, the cheek, and tongue—that is not connected with insanity—thousands of people are paralysed for life who are not insane—it does not give rise to insanity, or help to cause it—some forms of paralysis are of themselves indicative that a man may be of unsound mind, but certainly not the sort of paralysis that I found here—this was the common form of paralysis unconnected with mental.
By the JURY. Many persons of unsound mind have performed such labour as that of a bricklayer's labourer—there are always degrees of unsoundness.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am Medical Officer to Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway—since the 20th January the prisoner has been in the hospital of that prison under my care—he has been very well behaved and quiet—the conclusion I came to was that he was of weak intellect but showing no signs of actual insanity—I heard Dr. Bastian's evidence, and agree with it.
Cross-examined. I didn't take the prisoner to be insane when I first saw him, I didn't make a representation to that effect—I said at first that I didn't consider him responsible for his actions, because he was of such weak intellect.
EDWARD GRANT . I am hospital attendant at Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway—since the prisoner was admitted he has been under my care—I have been with him for hours, day and night—he has frequently spoken about this offence—he said that Mrs. Sutton had been repeatedly in his room, that they had quarrelled at different times and made it up again, that on the last occasion they quarrelled she refused to make it up with him, that on the morning that he committed the crime he went out to seek for work and could get none, that he came home, entered his room, and took the razor with the intention of committing suicide, but on going out to the door he met Ann Sutton, he asked her would she make it up with him; she said "No," that he kissed her, and said "Well then, my dear, I must put an end to you"; that he was very fond of the woman and child; that she had requested him on some former occasion, if ever he did anything to her that he would also kill the child, and not leave him to the mercy of the world—all the time he was under my care he was watched, he appeared to act rationally, and attended to my instructions—he gave no trouble—he acted like an ordinary patient; but in his conversation ho had very low ideas, such as that he had suffered enough in this world and there was no hereafter, and also Socialistic ideas—he did nothing strange or eccentric, and acted just the same as a rational man.
By the COURT. I made a note every day upon a slate, and passed it to the doctor—I have no order to keep any special record myself—I hand in my report every day.
up to the Saturday before this occurrence, when I discharged him—he worked as a labourer at various jobs—his earnings were 27s. a week; 6d. an hour.
Cross-examined. I noticed something curious in his conduct—I noticed that he was not right in his mind; because, when I asked him to do a thing, he used to do everything wrong—everybody on the building picked fun at him, because he was a bit looney; he was a general butt—he was not right in his mind while he worked with me—I don't believe he was ever right in his mind, and I don't believe it to this day—when I told him to do a thing he went and did it wrong—I can say no more—he left the employ on the Saturday before this occurred—I discharged him because I thought he was a very inefficient and clumsy workman—I was foreman—I could not make anything of him.
Re-examined. He was not earning 27s. a week for the five weeks—that was when he worked all the week—but it was short time, winter time, and frosty weather.
CHARLES STANFIELD (Re-examined). Jewell and another man came to my assistance when I was struggling with the prisoner on the stairs; Jewell was overcome, and went back to his bed; he had rheumatics in his hands—a boy, Mrs. Pearson's adopted son, came up to the room to tackle the prisoner, not knowing I was there, but he went down stairs to assist his mother—nobody else came.
EMILY SHARP (Re-examined). Q. Is there any truth in the statement that Mrs. Sutton, used to go out from your room at night to the prisoner's room? A. I don't know anything about that; when I was at home she did not—I was not generally at home—I was out chiefly in the day.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his weakness of mind.— DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY and MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. SALTER Defended.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CARTER Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended. There being no evidence of false pretence, the RECORDER directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
303. ABRAM JOSEPH GUITES (23) , Unlawfully, within four months of his bankruptcy, leaving England with intent to defraud his creditors; and BENJAMIN BITTAN (26) and ESTHER POLLOCK , Aiding and assisting him.
GUITES and BITTAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
the file of proceedings in Guites' bankruptcy—no statement of affairs has been filed—the receiving order was made on August 1st, 1886, and the adjudication on September 1st—Mr. W. 0. Clough was appointed trustee on December 1st.
ALICK ADDLESON . I was in Guites' employ—Bittan was his manager—I cashed these three cheques at the City Bank, 108l. 15s. on the 10th, 200l. on the 11th, and 60l. on the 13th August, and gave the proceeds to Guites.
ALEXANDER JOSEPH HOOKEY . I cashed these three cheques over the counter, and gave for the 60l. cheque a 50l. note, 72, 862, January 8, 1876, a 5l. note, and 5l. in gold—the cheque is dated August 13th, and was cashed on the 14th.
JOSEPH ISRAEL . I am a merchant on the Wool Exchange, trading as Israel Brothers—one day before August 16th I went to Guites' place and bought goods amounting to 139l. 11s., the amount of this invoice, and paid him in coin and notes—I drew this cheque (For 87l. 10s.) and cashed it on purpose to pay him—it is on the Standard Bank of South Africa, Limited. (MR. GRAIN put in an affidavit of an absent witness named Walker, stating that in exchange for this cheque he gave a 50l. note. No. 69, 546, and a 20l. note, No. 92, 822.)
JAMES W. LE FEVRE . I am provisional superintendent of the Ceylon police—on 7th September I received a telegram from the Lieut.-Governor of Ceylon, in consequence of which I kept watch—I kept watch for the ships Carthage and Nepaul—the Carthage had arrived—I went on board and saw the purser, who showed me the list of the passengers who had come to Port Said, but who were not there—the Nepaul came in next day—I went on board her with a warrant, and saw the captain, and the passengers were introduced to me, Guites and Esther Pollock as Mr. and Mrs. Abrams, and Bittan, who said his name was Benjamin—I sent an inspector to the Carthage to bring their luggage, which I had previously seized—I took them ashore, and they signed their names Mr. and Mrs. Abrahams at the Custom House—I drove them up to my office, about 4 a.m., and the head inspector kept them till daylight, and suggested taking them to his house, which I approved of—I was present at the search of their baggage, and I made this list of what was found in each package—they were in their cabin twenty minutes or half an hour before I arrested her—she was said to be packing up and dressing—they were taken before a Magistrate the same day, and gave their names Guites, Bittan, and Pollock.
Cross-examined. Pollock was taken on 8th September, and remained in custody till I saw her despatched back to England—Guites described her as his wife, and said that she was in the family way, and apparently she was.
MARC NELL (Police Inspector, Colombo). On 8th September, 1886, I was on duty, and Guites and Pollock were given into my custody—I received instructions as to searching Pollock—I asked her if she had any property with her—she said "No," and asked if I intended searching her—I said "Yes, I shall have to arrange for it"—I told her, at my house, to go into an adjoining bedroom and divest herself of everything except her
very last garment and her shoes, and told my sister-in-law to go with her, but to touch nothing, and take nothing away, and that her person would be searched in the next room by my sister-in-law and the native matron, and that I should be called into the room when she had left, to search her clothing—she went into the room, and after a time my sister-in-law said "Ready"—I found the clothing on the floor, and a gold watch and chain, with a dollar attached, and a leather purse containing 15. sovereigns, three 20l. Bank of England notes, and 1s. 6d. in silver—several trinkets were found on her arms and neck, and in Guites' bag—I said "What are these things which I have not seen before; you said that you had nothing?"—she enumerated them—I said "Have you got any more things besides these?" she said "No"—I searched her clothing, felt it all over, and felt a piece of folded paper in the trimming of her dress—I asked her what it was—she rushed out from behind the screen, came to me and said that it was her earnings and savings and pocket-money which her father allowed her—I wanted to tear the trimming—she said "Do not tear the dress"—some scissors were brought, she cut the dress and I took out these two 50l. notes folded up small—she begged and implored me to let her have them, and said if she was thrown on the streets of London without any protection from Guites, it would be her ruin, and she offered me all the other things if I would let her have the notes—Guites, who was in the adjoining room, came in and said that the notes were her earnings and savings, and were not his money.
Cross-examined. Guites described her as his wife, and said that she knew nothing about his business; and then that she visited his wife at his house, being a schoolmate of hers—Pollock did not tell me that she had given cash to Guites in change for the notes.
Re-examined. I only found a half-sovereign on Guites, not 100l.
EDITH CHARRINGTON . I am the sister-in-law of the last witness—I received instructions from him to conduct the search of Pollock at Colombo—I took her into a room and told her to take off the greater part of her clothing—this watch and other articles were found on her, and she took this purse from her pocket with a 20l. note and some gold in it—I asked if that was all she had; she said "Yes"—the matron was with me and searched her first, and I afterwards—I heard all that passed between my brother-in-law and Pollock and Guites—I have heard what he has said to-day; it is correct.
HENRY WHITE (Police Sergeant). I received instructions and went to Colombo, and received all this property from Mr. Le Fevre—35l. in gold was found on Bittan—I cautioned Pollock, and she made no reply—she said nothing to me on the voyage home—I had the particulars of the notes given me, and traced them out at the different banks.
Cross-examined. I received Pollock in custody on 23rd October, and brought her back—she was at Worship Street Police Court on 24th November, and she was in custody till 17th December last, bail being objected to, though her state was perceptible, but she was then bailed, and was afterwards confined—I have been informed that £200 was awaiting Guites at Sydney—I traced the notes.
FREDERICK CHARLES MILNER . I am clerk to Sewell and Crowder, Shipping Agents, of 18, Cockspur Street—on 18th August two persons booked passages for Sydney for Mr. and Mrs. Abrams and J.W. Benjamin—Guites
was one, and I believe Bittan to be the other—the address given was, "Care of Mr. Guites, 75, Commercial Road East"—the passengers by the Carthage embarked at Tilbury about August 13.
HARRINGTON MAJOR . I am clerk to the P. and 0. Company at their branch office, Cockspur Street—I produce my day book of 10th August, in which there is an entry of a passage booked for Mr. and Mrs. Abrams and Mr. Benjamin from London to Sydney—£30 was paid for each.
PHOEBE BYRON (Examined by MR. PCRCKLL). The prisoner Pollock is my niece—she is about twenty years old—I was sworn on the original information, and was a witness for the prosecution at the Police Court—until she left with Guites she lived at home with her father—she worked at home, and earned sometimes 1l. and sometimes 30s.—her father maintained her—she made him no allowance for her board and lodging, in fact, he gave her money—a reputed uncle of hers died some time ago, and gave her and her sister 50l. each by word of mouth—she has lent me a large sum—she never went to Mr. Guites' place of business, she knew nothing about it—she went away with him quite unknown to her father—I swore the information because the prosecutor's solicitor said that if we did not do that we should not get her back—she was confined three days after she was released on bail, which was opposed by the prosecutor's solicitors.
By Mr. GRAIN. This is my signature to my deposition—I will take my oath to it being true—I did not see them take their tickets, I was told so—Harris was my sister-in-law's brother—he died in August about four years ago—she has been living with her father, supported by him, except what she can earn by sewing button-holes—she has earned 25s. by making button-holes—she has lent me 20l. and 15l., but not all at once—she used to say, "Aunt, do you want any money? Don't tell a bad hour;" and I have paid her back.
GUILTY . (BITTAN received a good character.) GUITES and BITTAN.— Eighteen Month' Hard Labour each. POLLOCK— Nine Months Hard Labour.
304. JAMES ROBERTS (59), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing forty-one yards of silk, the goods of William Blurton Norris, having been convicted of felony at this Court in April, 1878.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
306. GEORGE ROBERTS (24) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Robert Walker, and stealing three gold necklaces and other articles his property.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
307. FREDERICK TAYLOR (22) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Edwards, and stealing fifty books and other articles his property, having been convicted at Wandsworth in 1863. (His friends promised to send him abroad.)— Nine Months' Hard Labour ,
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 2nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
309. CAROLINE VIOLET GRABOWSKI (26) , to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Henry Copper 19l. 0s. 6d., and from Joseph Marcus a jacket and muff with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering orders for the payment of 37l. and 35l. with intent to defraud.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. WOODGATE Defend.
SAMUEL STORY (policeman C 153). On 15th February I was on duty in plain cloths, and about 4 o'clock p.m. I saw the prisoner at the Coach and Horses—a communication was made to me—I called Sheppered to help me, and followed the prisoner to the corner of Windmill-street, where I stopped him, and said, "I am a police constable, I want to see what you have got about you"—he said nothing—I searched and found in his right jacket pocket ten counterfeit shillings wrapped in this paper, and with paper between each coin, 2l. 17s. 7d. good money, and several collecting books relating to the Prudential Assurance Company, which he is connected with—I said, "I shall take you in custody"—he made no reply—about a quarter hour before, I had seen him outside the Coach and Horses public-house, Compton-street—he there beckoned to some one inside the middle bar, and after that Phillips came out—I know Phillips by seeing him every day; he is connected with coiners—they walked together for a minute or so, and then went into the middle bar together, and afterwards the prisoner came out rather hurriedly alone, and I saw him put something into his right overcoat pocket—I followed him 400 or 500 yards, and before I stopped him I saw him in Church Street take something out of his overcoat pocket and look at it and put it into his right-hand jacket pocket—that was the pocket from which I afterwards took the coins.
Cross-examined. He gave me a correct address, 88, Earl Street, Edgware Road—he lived there with his mother, I understood he supported her—I did not search that house, I had no order to do so, and I did not think it was necessary—I gave the books I found on the prisoner to the prisoner and he handed them to the Superintendent of the Prudential Society—I had never seen the prisoner in that house before—I never heard of his being charged before.
THOMAS BOWDEN (Sergeant C). On 15th February I was the prisoner arrive in front of the Coach and Horses between 3 and 4 o'clock—after loitering about he looked in over the glass of the door and beckoned to someone; then Phillips joined him—after chatting for a few minutes they went into the public-house together—after two or three minutes the prisoner came out, and I saw him place something in his covert coat pocket—I communicated with Story—I had seen the prisoner at that place on the Saturday and Tuesday previous—on the Saturday he was speaking to Phillips.
Cross-examined. I have since arrested Phillips and others, from that public-house—they are now awaiting trial as a gang—I was waiting
there to get sufficient evidence—I made a raid on the public-house a week later—I instructed Story to stop and search the prisoner when he was out of sight of the public-house—I did not instruct him to search the prisoner's house, because there was no opportunity of getting a search warrant till the case was heard, and it was too late then—the prisoner gave a correct name and address; he lived with his mother—when he came to the place he seemed as if looking for someone, and then looked inside and called someone out—Phillips goes by more than one name; he has changed his address just lately—I have seen Mr. Wyatt, the Superintendent of the Prudential—I had the books—he offered to take me to all the places the prisoner collected at, to get his character—I believe the prisoner has not been before charged with any offence—I should have found it out if he had—I saw him take no drink—I saw no money handed to the prisoner—he spoke with Phillips outside the house—on each occasion the prisoner came as if from Regent-street, and went back the same way, down Shaftesbury Avenue.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character.—Judgment respited.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended Keefe and Kingston; MR. BESLEY defended Steingraber.
THOMAS BOWDEN (Detective Sergeant C). On 22nd February, about 5 p.m., I went with Langrish and other officers to the Coach and Horses public-house, Little Compton Street, having obtained a search-warrant—the house had been under my observation continuously from 28th January—as soon as I entered I had the doors closed—there were about 30 persons Inside—all the prisoners were there—there are three bars—Keefe, Phillips, and Field were standing in the middle one—the landlord was behind the first bar—Kingston, the potman, was somewhere at the back of the house, and was brought in afterwards—after reading the warrant, a search commenced—Sergeant Gethen began to search Phillips, who was standing on my right, and who threw away a parcel, which struck me on my face as Gethen caught his arms—I was behind the bar—I saw Greet pick that parcel up—it contained base florins wrapped in paper—I am sure one coin fell out, and others might have—Gethen took a parcel out of Phillips's waistcoat pocket, and said "Here is some more coin," showing it to me—Kitching stooped down, and then rising up he said "Here is some more that he has just thrown down"—I saw Keefe brought to the front by Crackitt and Holder—Holder went to seize his hand—I heard something fall, and picked up some base coins, I believe six—Crackitt searched his pockets, and pulled out one base half-crown—Field was then brought to the front, at the corner of the middle bar, by Mott, who searched him while someone else held him—after feeling over Field, Mott said "What have you here?"—he said "Nothing; what do you
think," putting his hand right through his pocket—Mott said, "That won't do for me, there is something here," and put his hand in and pulled out a parcel containing base shillings. I saw Sergeant Greet searching Kingston behind the bar—Kingston had no hat or coat, on—Greet said, "He has nothing on him"—I said, "All right, keep him there"—I jumped over the bar, and, assisted by Crackett and Drew and two uniform officers searched the bar, we took down a large board under a window, which concealed the shutters—the bench of the window is a fixture with a little slanting screen of mahogany, a wooden frame standing up, an ordinary public-house fixture; under that a board runs across, which looks as if it was the wall just battened over perfectly upright—it was directly in front of the counter, so that a person standing behind the counter looks straight at it—I could see it from there—on taking the board back we saw portable wooden shutters for the glass doors standing on their edges, and resting on them at the end nearest the street I saw an old boot, in which I found this packet of 4 half-crowns and this packet of 6 shillings, with this tissue paper between them and covering them and then wrapped in a rather stronger piece of paper and doubled as now—I heard Crackett from the other end of the shutters say "Here is a lot," and then he pulled up a lot of bad coin from the side of the shutters nearest the partition—Drew said, "Here is another packet of coins"—that was a packet of 20 shillings, I believe, which he took from the shelf—I stepped back over the counter, and in consequence of what I said to my inspector, he said to Kingston, "You will be in custody," as my search-warrant named the potman and manager of the public-house, Steingraber, a German, whose name I did not then know—Kingston said, "Let me go for my coat"—Greet said he would fetch it for him—I asked him where it was—he said,' 'I have not any coat here, my coat is at home"—I accompanied Langrish and Greet to the cellars—I saw Greet searching the pockets of a coat that was hanging just at the bottom of the stairs—he said, "Here is some bad money"—they were ten base florins, I think—he went upstairs with the coat, and said, "Whose coat is this?"—Kingston's wife, who was behind the bar, said, "That is Jack's"—Kingston, who was behind the bar and could hear, said, "It is not my coat, it is a b—lie"—Greet said, "I believe it is yours, and there is some coin in the pockets"—after some hesitation he said to Greet, "It is my coat, let me have it; I did not know there was any coin there; you must have put them there"—he took it, and put it on—we searched the other parts of the house—no more coin was found—I told the landlord in Langrish's presence that I should take him in custody also—he replied, "Well, I wish you had not come to-day, I was about to give up possession: I am innocent about any of this coin, although I know I have a funny lot about me, I wish I had never seen the house"—I searched him—he had gold and silver, but no bad money—he was taken to Vine Street Police Station, where the others had been previously taken—they were all charged at Marlborough Mews—they made no answer to the charge except Phillips, who said, "Oh, all right, it is a got-up job for the lot of us"—we only found base coin in the bar and on the prisoners—I had been watching the house for some time—the middle bar was usually opened between 11 and 12 a.m.—I had seen all the prisoners except the landlord, who resided on the premises, enter it everyday—I occasionally saw other persons go there—I
have seen a number try to get in who were not able to, the door was kept closed—I have seen Keefe, Phillips, King, and Field tap three knocks at the door, and then it was opened—I have seen Steingraber speaking to Phillips and Keefe outside the house—on the evening of the arrest Keefe said, "Give us a drink, governor, before I go,"—I said, "No drinking"—Steingraber said, "All right, Joe"—I said, "No"—but the governor gave him a drink—this middle bar was a private one—scarcely anyone visited the house except those who came to visit these men—I have been there and not seen a single customer go into the two bars—I have done nothing else but watch this house since 28th January, and at various times I have seen persons there who were connected with uttering counterfeit coin—I have seen Emily Smith there with Phillips, Kingston, Keefe, and other females—I don't think I ever saw her speak to Field—I saw her with Phillips, Kingston, and Keefe the day she was arrested for uttering base coin, and on two previous days also—she is now waiting to be sentenced—(MR. BESLEY submitted that evidence of the association of prisoners could not be given before they were convicted. The COMMON SERJEANT, after consulting the RECORDER, ruled that it teas admissible tn this case as showing guilty knowledge)—I have seen King and Ford at the Coach and Horses several times during the same period, conversing with Field, Phillips, and Kingston, who have been convicted this Session of possessing counterfeit coin—Joseph Barrett and Henry Spencer I have seen at the house twice, on the day they were arrested and the evening before, with Kingston, who I saw pass a parcel to Barrett—Kingston was then at the doorway of the middle bar, half in and half out of the door—Barrett and Spencer have been tried and convicted here of possessing counterfeit coin—Alfred Warren I have seen at the house three times—on Tuesday, 15th, I saw him with Phillips outside the public-house—I saw him go into the middle bar with him, and afterwards leave; he has been tried and convicted here to-day—Noonan I saw at the public-house on the 15th, and I think once before, I cannot be positive—he is awaiting sentence for possessing counterfeit coin—I saw him speaking to Phillips, and then Keefe joined them—I have seen a lad, Rice, at the house twice—on the 18th I saw him with Phillips, and had him arrested—he has been sentenced for passing counterfeit coin—I have seen all the prisoners at the house daily—at the station Keefe and Kingston gave their address 12, New Compton Street; that is correct.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Twenty-five officers accompanied me to the house; more than a dozen went inside—there were about thirty people in the house besides the police, when we went in—when I first saw Keefe he was being dragged back from the front of the door by two officers—there was nothing but the bar between us when they brought him out for me to see, except two or three persons—it was when he was brought in front of the counter to be searched that I heard something fall—only three private persons were round him, and they jumped upon the counter—I said, "Don't get down," and they stopped there—there was a little commotion when Keefe was seized—Kingston was not in the bar when we first went in—he came in from the door that leads from the cellar, upstairs—he was brought in by a police-officer who is not here to-day—when his, coat was shown to him he said it was not his, when he put it on he said
It was not his b—coat—I think he accused Greet of putting the coin there—Kingston is the potman—he comes there the first thing in the morning, they don't open early—I believe Kingston has been there two years, and was there in the last landlord's time—I don't know that before that he was working for Mr. Spiller, a picture-frame maker in St. Martin's Lane—I had known Keefe several months—I cannot say that he has ever been convicted of any coin offence; if he had I should know, I have tried to find out.
Cross-examined by Phillips. You were standing just in front of the bar when I went in, and you were searched directly against the counter on my right as I was facing you, by two officers—I saw Gethen take a parcel of coins from under your coat, which he said were in your waistcoat pocket, the right, I think—Kitchen picked some up from the floor, I think.
Cross-examined by Field. After the charge was read at the station you said something about your waistcoat pocket being torn out.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Steingraber said nothing in answer to the charge at the station—he was charged with having counterfeit coin in his possession—a warrant was granted against the landlord and potman, and a search warrant for the house—he had the advantage of a solicitor next morning—the Magistrate refused bail, but next day, the 24th, bail was granted—I know now that Steingraber took on Kinston as the potman who had been there before; I did not know it then—Steigraber is registered on the books as having gone there on 16th December last year; the license was transferred then, but he carried on business under a protection order since October or November—I do not know he was a freeman of the City, and had kept a restaurant in Fore Street for 20 years, or the Barley Mow, in Baker Street—he had managed a Little public-house of Whitbread's, in the East India Dock Road—the Coach and Horses is Whitbread's, and has been licensed half a century—the Charing Cross Road has come there, and demolished working-men's houses there—it would be the duty of the police to report any misconduct of the house at the annual licensing, if they knew it—it would depend on the view the police took of it if they summoned them because it was the resort of bad characters—a fine could be imposed, and the license endorsed if it were so—the police never take out a summons against the previous occupier—I think I knew the previous landlord there three years—I have known the house over six years, during that time he was not summoned—I took a lodging opposite, not on the 28th January—there had been many attempts to get them into custody, this Was my first attempt—I never said anything to Steingraber about not receiving the prisoners there—Green was barman there, as he was also in the time of Mr. Leader, the previous occupier, and he was supposed to be manager when Mr. Leader was away—I cannot say whether he managed on his own account—when Steingraber took the house in Sept. or Oct., he allowed the barman and potman to go on—no bad money was found on Steingraber—I searched the house most thoroughly—he was leaving the house next day—it did not take me three minutes to search the house, as all the furniture had gone except a small quantity—there were cupboards in one or two rooms—I searched every corner of the house—Steingraber said if I liked to go to his lodgings, where he had removed everything, that I might do so—I went there and asked for the
cashbox—there are four doors to the public-house, two of them from Charing Cross Road enter on the bar; only one compartment faces that road—I did not notice a small door in the wall of the building for the purpose of adjusting the gas—I should say the recess was made for the express purpose of the shutters, and has existed as long as the house—bad money could be put where it was found, by any stranger going into the house, because it was not under lock and key, but not without being seen—I was very seldom served by Steingraber; I went to the house pretty well every day—I chose my time to go there—I did not introduce myself to Steingraber, but took a glass and paid for it—I was oftener served by Green than Steingraber, who only served me two or three times—I never saw Steingraber hand over anything to any customer who came into the house—I have no reason to doubt that he was going to leave the public-house, and was only there to take care of it till a new tenant was found—I think he had lived there as care-taker from 28th December, from what I heard from Mr. Elphinstone, Whitbread's representative.
CHARLES GETHEN (Police Sergeant C). I went with Bowden and the other officers to the Coach and Horses on 22nd February—after the warrant was read I saw Phillips at the left-hand comer of the middle compartment—I said "I am a police officer, and I wish to search you"—he said nothing—I placed my hand in his right hand waistcoat pocket and pulled out these six base half-crowns, partially folded in paper, and with this paper between them—I was about to put my right hand into his left-hand overcoat pocket when he threw up his left hand, and a quantity of coins went up in the air and struck Bowden and Greet in their faces—Greet picked them up—they were counterfeit florins and half-crowns—I also saw Kitching pick up a packet of coins—when I found these coins in Phillips's pocket he said "It is all very fine, you b—swine, you put them in my pocket"—when charged at the station he said "This is all a get up"—when asked his address at the station he said "I don't live anywhere in particular; I live at lodging-houses"—I found nothing else relating to the charge on him.
Cross-examined by Phillips. You did not ask to look at my hands when I came to search you—I did not use a foul expression and say I would give you hands directly—a large quantity of the coins went into the bar, and Mott, Drew, Crackett, and Kitching found some there—I can't say if they found the coins you threw away—97 coins were found altogether in the house.
THOMAS GREET (Detective Sergeant C). I was with the other officers in the Coach and Horses on 22nd February—I saw Gethen catch hold of Phillips and hold him by his arms just above the elbow—Phillips was leaning against the counter with his left elbow resting partly on the counter—as Gethen held him he flung a packet over the counter, and out of it a coin fell into the bar trough under the engine—I was at the back of the bar when Bowden picked it up—it contained five florins, which were on the floor, and the one in the trough—the florins on the floor were wrapped in this paper, not separately—I searched Kingston behind the bar, he had no coat or hat on—I found no base coin on him—somebody spoke to Langrish, who said to Kingston, "You must consider yourself in custody"—Kingston said, "All right, let me go and fetch my coat and hat"—I said, "Stay where you are," and placed him in
charge of a constable—I went downstairs to the cellar with Langrish and Bowdon, and saw a coat hanging on a nail just at the bottom of the stairs—I searched the coat, and found, in the officers' presence, in the left tail pocket, among other things, ten coins wrapped separately, and then wrapped in this other piece of paper—I took the coat upstairs—as I was passing the lobby which opens into the bar parlour and the bar Kingston's wife, who was in there, said, "That is Jack's coat"—Kingston was in the bar, and within hearing I think—I said to him, "Is this your coat?"—he said, "No, my coat is at home, I have only one coat here, and that is upstairs"—I said to Steingraber, "Do you know whose coat this is?"—he said, "I do not"—I said to the potman, "Try it on and see if it will fit you"—he said, "It is my b—coat," and he put it on—I said, "In the tail pocket of your coat I have found ten florins which are counterfeit"—he said, "Then you b—well put them there"—after he was charged at the station, and when about to be removed to the cells, he said, "I don't see how you can call it having it in my possession when it was found in the coat downstairs"—Kingston lives at 12, New Compton Street—I searched that house, but found no base coin there—I found a hackney-carriage driver's licence and a badge—he has not driven for some time; it has been renewed—he was lodging in the parlour with his wife.
Cross-examined by MR. WILKINSON, I should say there were 30, or more persons in the house that night besides policemen; they were in front of the bar, not behind it.
Cross-examined by Phillips. I saw you throw six coins over the bar—I was looking at you.
EDWIN MOTT (Detective Officer). I was. with the, other officers, at the Coach and Horses on 22nd February—I went into the middle bar—Field was coming out of the middle bar as I went in; we met face to face—I said to him "You must go back into the bar; you cannot go out—after the warrant had been read, I said I should have to search him—I found six counterfeit coin, wrapped in this paper, in the coiner, of the lining of his waistcoat pocket—the pocket was all torn out—he said "You put them there," and "I only came in to have half-point of beer"—he gave his address 7, Short's Gardens, a common lodging house.
Cross-examined by Field. You were not standing in, the corner, when. I came in—I put you back in the corner of the bar, and held you there, and told you to stop there until the warrant was read—I held you till it was read—you had no waistcoat pockets—I felt you about, and felt something hard in the corner of your waistcoat—you asked leave to undress—I said you could not there.
JAMES HOLDER (Detective C). I was present at the Coach and Horses on this day—I saw Keefe in the bar; he went to go out when the warrant was read; he was seized by Craekett, who pulled him round—I seized him behind—he said, "What are you going to do with me?"—Craekett said, "You will be searched the same as the rest," and commenced to search him—I stood behind him—Keefe dropped this packet of six counterfeit half-crowns in this paper, from his right hand behind him on to the floor—I picked it up and told Craekett he had just dropped a packet—he said, "What do you say I have dropped?"—I said, "This paper of half-crowns"—he said, "If they were in my pocket you put them in yourself—Crackett
continued his search, and Keefe was handed over to two uniform constables, while I and Crackett assisted in searching the house—something was found on him, I don't know what it was.
Re-examined by MR. WILKINSON. This was about 5 p.m.—there was not much row or scuffling—they all seemed alarmed—Bowden told them to keep quiet, and they did so—I only paid attention to Keefe—there were three or four other persons in the bar.
EDWARD DREW (Detective Sergeant C). I was with the other officers, and assisted in arresting the prisoners and searching the house—I found two packets, each containing ten counterfeit shillings, wrapped separately in brown tissue paper, in a recess where the shutters are kept, under the window in the middle bar; they were on the top of the shutters, which rest back against the window—there were a number of other packets; and when we pulled the shutters a little, they fell down between them—it was not covered in any way; a piece of board goes up against it, so as to make it like a permanent fitting; the packets of coin were behind that board; inside it—it would be impossible for that fitting to be taken down without a person behind the bar seeing it—Bowden was behind the bar—the bars are completely separated by partitions, and a little wicket leads from one bar to another.
EDWARD KITCHING (Detective C). I was with the other officers—immediately I went in I saw Phillips throw away a quantity of coins with his left arm, over the bar, some of which struck Greet—he then put his hand down his side and dropped this packet of coins, which I picked up, and found to contain five counterfeit coins.
Cross-examined by Phillips. I daresay twelve people were in the bar when I saw you drop the packet—I was looking for you to drop something—Gethen had not searched that side of you—I saw him find a packet in your waistcoat pocket.
By the JURY.—I was standing close to him when he threw the coins away.
DAVID CRACKETT (Detective C). I arrested Keefe when he rushed to the door after Bowden had read the warrant—he said "What do you want with me?"—I said "You must be searched the same as the rest"—as I took him towards the counter he dropped a packet, which Holder picked up—I found in his left waistcoat pocket this base half-crown—he said "You did not find this on me; if you did you put it there"—I found about 3 3/4 d. good money on him—I searched and found in the recess where the shutters were kept, and where the other coin was found, twenty-one base half-crowns and four base shillings.
Cross-examined by MR. WILKINSON. Keefe was arrested in the middle compartment—Holder, Gethen, Kitching, and some uniform constables went with me to arrest him—I saw nobody else but policemen and the prisoners there—people could not get over the house—I will not swear the cellar door was fastened—I did not see Mr. Sussex or his men in the bar where Keefe was arrested—I will not swear they were not there.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint. I have examined all these coins—they are all counterfeit—some shillings produced by Mott are from the same mould as others produced by Kitching, and some shillings produced by Greet and Kitching are from the same mould.
MR. BESLEY submitted there was no evidence to go to the Jury as against Steingraber, in which the COMMON SERJEANT concurred. STEINGRABER— NOT GUILTY .
Field, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, and Phillips in his defence, denied having any counterfeit coins on them. GUILTY . PHILLIPS and KINGSTON— Five Years' Penal Servitude. KEEFE — Twenty Months' Hard Labour. FIELD— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. There was another indictment against Phillips,
The GRAND JURY and the COURT commended the conduct of the officers.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 3rd, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
312. JAMES DAVIES PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully printing and publishing a libel in the Bat newspaper of and concerning Robert peck. MR. LOOKWOOD, Q.C., on behalf of the prisoners, stated that an ample apology would be published in the newspapers, and that the prisoners were prepared to pay the costs of the prosecution. Judgment respited.
MR. KEMP, Q.C., and MR. TYRRELL Prosecuted; MR. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., with MESSRS. BESLEY and GILL, appeared for Felberman, and MR. PHILLIPS for Wilkinson.
MR. LOCKWOOD, before plea, applied to quash the indictment on the ground that it alleged two distinct offences, upon one of which alleging that the defendant knew the matters published to be false, he had not been committed, and as to which the consent of the Court had not been obtained. After some discussion, MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS decided to quash that part of the indictment, and at the defendants, by their Counsels' advice, declined to plead, he ordered a plea of NOT GUILTY to be entered.
PERCIVAL WILLIAM EBENEE . I am a clerk in the office of Messrs. Valance and Valance, solicitors—I produce a copy of the publication called Life containing this libel—I purchased it at the publishing office of Life, 434, Strand—and I searched the register of newspaper proprietors at Somerset House on the 15th of January, and produce a certified copy of it. (This described Heinrich Felberman as the printer and publisher of "Life," a weekly journal, 434, Strand.)
THOMAS BIRD . I am a surgeon, practising in Brook Street—I was one of the co-respondents in the divorce case of Campbell v. Campbell—the charge against me was committing adultery with Lady Campbell—I was examined on that trial and cross-examined—the jury found a verdict in my favour, and the judge gave me my costs—my attention was called to this article in Life some time within a fortnight after the publication—in the course of the trial there were letters in which I was described as a cuckoo, and in one letter I was spoken of as a cockiolly bird—Mr. Finlay, who represented Lord Colin Campbell, commented in his address upon those words as relating to me—I have no doubt that the article in
question relates, and is intended to relate to me—the circumstances in have relation to matter which came out in the Divorce Court—there is no truth in the statements contained in the article as relating to me.
EDWARD ARTHUR MORTON .—I am a journalist, of 2, Portsdown Road, Maida Vale—I recollect the circumstances under which the article spoken of was written—I have seen the article and heard it read in Court—I proposed to Dr. Felberman, the defendant, to write the article, and he said, "Write it," but he gave me distinctly to understand that if the article did not suit his taste it would not be used—nothing was said at that interview about the Campbell divorce case in reference to the article; of course it had reference to that case—it was understood that it was to have a bearing on the Campbell case—I was left to produce an article, and this is the article I produced—Mr. Felberman handed me a copy of St. James's Gazette—I think this produced is a copy; I did not avail myself of it—this (produced) is the manuscript of the article I wrote—the word "Bird" is written with a capital B and is so printed, that is usual in natural history books, I believe—the word "Bird" was not intended to apply to Dr. Bird—it was intended to apply to the cockiolly bird; an imaginary bird—I was reminded of it, certainly, by the Campbell case, but the word is a common enough expression; it was in common use in my schooldays, it meant the same as Cockolorum; that means nothing particular, it only had a meaning in schooldays, I believe, nothing offensive, jolly fellow—I do not mean exactly that cockiolly is a jolly fellow in that case—the word cockiolly bird is described through the article as much the same as a tame cat, a ladies' man—I never heard it applied in that sense at school nor since I left school, or at all, till after the Campbell case—Mr. Felberman remarked that the article would have to be smart and amusing—after it was written I showed it to him—he did not read it, I read the manuscript to him—he asked me to take it to the assistant editor, Mr. Nesbitt—he did not suggest any alteration—I took it to the assistant editor, and it appeared in the paper—I am acquainted with the office of Life—Mr. Felberman takes an active part in the management of the paper—I think he controls the articles that are inserted—I cannot speak with any particular authority, because I am not employed in the office—this (produced) is a copy of Life of January 13th—I see an article in it headed "In flagrante delicto"—I would rather you did not insist in asking if I wrote that—I should say it has not reference to the Campbell case—I wrote it without any suggestion—Felberman did not see it—I can't say that it was inserted without his knowledge, as far as I was concerned he did not see it—he paid me for it—I was paid in the ordinary way—the cheques are sent or handed to the contributors upon application at the office, or sent to their address—they are signed by Dr. Felberman—I got a cheque signed by him, not particularly for that article; for that and many other stories.
Cross-examined by MR. PHILLIPS. I am acquainted with the office of Life—have seen Wilkinson at the office constantly, he seems to me to be employed in the capacity of clerk or account collector—I should say that the article in question was inserted without his knowledge or consent—he knew absolutely nothing about it—it was handed by me to Mr. Nesbitt—Wilkinson had absolutely nothing to do with the literary part of the paper, Dr. Felberman was the editor—it is within my knowledge that Wilkinson knew nothing whatever of the article. (At this stage of the proceedings a verdict of NOT GUILTY was taken with respect to Wilkinson.)
By the COURT. When I proposed to write this article, I merely said to Dr. Felberman that the title was a suggestion for a good natural history article—I have a faint, uncertain recollection of having said that the title of the article itself would suggest a very readable article to be treated from a mock natural history point of view—nothing was said between us as to the Campbell case concerning the article, it was not mentioned, in fact—the article was suggested, perhaps, in three sentences—the conversation lasted no longer.
By MR. TYRRELL. This produced is my handwriting, it is similar, I think I had another pen.
JOHN FEBGUSSON NESBITT . I was sub-editor of Life at the time this article appeared—the words "must be used" across the article are in my handwriting as instructions to the printer—Mr. Morton brought me this saying that Mr. Felberman wished the article to go in—Mr. Felberman was at that time taking an active part in the management of the newspaper—this produced is a copy of Life of December 16th, 1886; it has reference to the Campbell case—it was at Mr. Felberman's instance that that article was written and inserted—Mr. Morton saw the proof of it, I did not.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, March 3rd, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. WILKINSON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
315. WILLIAM HARRIS (21), and GEORGE PRICE (20), were again indicted (See page 883) for breaking the warehouse of Charles Lewis, and stealing 70 dozen handkerchiefs, 300 yards of silk, and other goods, his property, and CLARA HILL (29) , feloniously receiving the same.
MR. CRANSTOUN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence against HARRIS and
PRICE.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. SALTER defended Hill.
CHARLES LEWIS . I am in partnership with Mr. Robinson as silk the manufacturers, in Milk street—on Monday, 81st January, I went there as usual, and found the warehouse broken open and a large quantity of goods stolen—a back window was forced open which I had seen safe on the Saturday afternoon—I missed 60 or 70 dozen silk handkerchiefs and a large quantity of silk and satin, value about £350.
HENRY PIERRE FISHER . I am cutter to Lewis and Robinson—I identify this piece of silk by the manufacture of it—it is a tie silk, not a dress silk, and it has a peculiarly harsh feel—it exactly matches a piece which was in the cutting-room the day before the burglary, and I had been cutting it up into ties—I had also been cutting a light pattern silk on the same cutting board, and there were little pieces of fraying on it—
Cross-examined. We bought the silk of the manufacturer, Massey Briggs—it was made to our order; he sells silk to other people—this is a piece of the fluff.
MR. FEARN. I am manager to Phillip and Scoon, pawnbrokers, of Bridport Place, Hoxton—I produce 13 yards of silk pledged by the female prisoner on February 1st for 14s., in the name of Jane Haywood, 28, Minton Street—I noticed that she had blackened eyes—she wanted 1l., I offered her 14s. and she went outside and came back and took the money—she said that it was for a dress, I said that it was tie silk—on 9th February she came in with Caroline Chapman and asked for an affidavit form; I gave her this form, which we use when a duplicate is lost; the person who is to fetch it out is to apply within three days—a boy called to redeem it the same evening, but it had been stopped—no one called for it after that—I had given information to the police and I gave the silk up to them—I gave a very fair price for it.
Cross-examined. She pledged it between 6.30 and 7 o'clock—it is a length which would make a dress—she called again eight days after, but I had given information to the police before that—when she called about the affidavit I thought she was the same person who had given information.
BAXTER HUNT (Detective Officer). On 31st January I was called to 23, Milk Street, and found a second floor window at the back forced open, and the place in disorder—I sent to the pawnbrokers and received information—on 12th February I was with Oldhampsted in Barbican, and saw Hill—I told her we were police officers, that she had pledged a piece of silk at Messrs. Phillip and Scoons, on the 21st instant—she said "Yes"—I said, "where did you get it from?"—she said, "Mr. Meeking's, about nine months ago; I may have a receipt for it at home, I don't know whether I have or not"—I said, "What did you give for it?"—she said, "1s. 8d. or 1s. 9d. a yard"—I said, "It has been identified as part of the proceeds of a robbery in the City, and you will have to go to the station with me"—I took her there, and Mr. Fisher said in her presence that the price was 4s. 6d. a yard—she then said to me, "I told you 2s. 11d. per yard I gave for it"—she had not told me so.
Cross-examined. I made no note of the conversation, as the words were very few—I have seen a man who says that he is her husband—she told me where she lodged; I went there and searched, but found nothing—nothing suspicious was found on her.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTED (Detective Officer). I was with Hunt and corroborate his statement—Hill said that she bought the silk at Meeting's, in Holborn, and gave 1s. 8d. or 1s. 9d. a yard for it—I went to 20, Newton Street, but did not find her.
Cross-examined. The address she gave me at the station was correct.
JOHN SOMERS . I am silk buyer to Wallis and Company, late Meeking and Company, of Holborn Circus, and have been in their employ 23 years—Hill did not buy this silk there nine months ago, we never had this make of silk.
CAROLINE CHAPMAN . I am the prisoner Hill's sister—the signature, "Jane Haywood, 28, Newton Street," to this affidavit is hers—I cannot read—she did not go before a Magistrate as she could not leave her work, and I asked a young woman to go with me and swear it.
Cross-examined. I took it ready filled up—her name is Hill; she has worked 15 years in one trade, and works to support her husband, who is an invalid.
HILL— NOT GUILTY .
Sentence on HARRIS** and PRICE**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each
THIRD COURT.—Thursday; and
NEW COURT.—Friday, March 3rd and 4th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ARNOLD PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
----WACKETT (City Policeman 197). About 4 p.m. on Thursday, 17th Feb., I was in plain clothes in London Wall, by Blomfield Street, and saw a crowd there, caused by a woman—the prisoners with three others were there; they all spoke together and seemed acquainted—they were hustling persons—Vaughan separated from the other four and stood near me—Clark passed me and went to overlook the crowd, his coat was open and his chain showing—Vaughan went back and spoke to Arnold, who placed himself on Vaughan's left, and put his right arm on Clark's breast, so that he could not see down, and with his left hand he got his watch—I could see that by his movements—I pushed vaughan, who was hiding his movements from his left, and caught Arnold's hand, and this watch dropped from it; I picked it up—Vaughan stepped into the road from Arnold's side—I was holding Arnold; I called another constable and gave Vaughan into his custody, and then I turned to Clark and said, "You have lost your watch," pointing to his chain, which was hanging down "I am a police officer, I have the watch in my pocket, these two men will be charged with stealing it"—I asked Clark to accompany me to the police station, he did so, and the prisoners were taken there.
Cross-examined by Vaughan. I did not say at the Court below that I rushed past you to lay hold of Arnold—you did not speak to me before the robbery happened; you spoke to Arnold.
WALTER SELMAN (City Policeman 108). I was not on duty—I saw Turner having a little trouble with Vaughan—I had seen Wackett come up, and saw the prisoner, and three others in their company—Vaughan placed himself on Arnold's left, and being much taller he could hide him—I saw Wackett push him aside, and take Arnold by the throat, and give the other man in custody to Turner—I knew Wackett to be a detective—if he had not been there I should have taken the prisoners myself, as I saw them in the crowd, and that Arnold intended to take the watch—the other three went away directly the two were taken.
ROBERT TURNER (City Policeman 178). Wackett gave Vaughan into my, custody—I had not seen him do anything; I was in uniform—Wackett shouted "Turner, take this man, I have got a watch"—I caught hold of Vaughan—he said, "What are you taking me for; don't you think if I was guilty I would run away?"—I said "I don't know anything about it, I am obeying; the orders of Wackett"—I conveyed him to the station—he said he was innocent.
Cross-examined. The other man pleaded guilty at the station, and said you were innocent.
HENRY ASTON CLARK . I am a clerk, of 94, Adelaide Road, Hampstead—this is my watch—on 17th February I was wearing it in my left hand pocket, my coat was unbuttoned, I had no great coat on—I stopped to look at a crowd in London Wall—I did not miss my watch till Wackett said "You have lost your watch," and asked me if I would go to the
station to prosecute—I did so—my watch is worth 3l. 15s.—they had broken the bow, the chain was hanging down.
Cross-examined. I did not see you till you were in custody—I felt somebody push me, but it was a push any one might get in a crowd.
Vaughan in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence asserted his innocence, and said he knew nothing of Arnold.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in the name of John Pitts , in March, 1883.— Six Years' Penal Servitude. ARNOLD also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in November, 1885, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The Court and Jury complimented Wackett on his conduct,
317. JAMES DAVIS (24), indicted with JOHN COX (29), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Solomon Soeradzky, and stealing dresses and other articles, and to being found with housebreaking implements in his possession; also to a previous conviction of felony at this Court in July, 1882.**†— Five Years' Penal Servitude. No evidence was offered against Cox.— NOT GUILTY . JOHN COX then PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to commit burglary in the dwelling-house of Aaron Nabarro, with intent to steal therein, and to assaulting the police.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
318. SIDNEY HERBERT SMITH and CHARLES MAJOR SMITH , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Sigismond Mittau 250l. with intent to defraud; also for conspiring together to defraud him. Other Counts charging Sidney Herbert Smith with obtaining from Alfred Dubisant 243l., and 243l. 10s., and two bills of exchange for 100l. and 106l. 10s. by false pretences with intent to defraud.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted; MR. COHEN Defended.
SIGISMOND MITTAU . I am a lithographic artist, of Clifton Villas, Albert Road, Norbiton—on 7th August, 1886, I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, "Respectable man wanted for position of trust, 100l. to to 200l. cash security required. Address A. J., 603, Deacon's Advertisement Offices"—I wrote, and received a note in reply asking me to call, and then I called at Granville House, Bleisho Road, Clapham Junction, where I saw the younger Smith—he asked my business—I said I came on account of the advertisement in the papers, and I was anxious to receive an engagement in a position of trust, and should like to know what it was—he said, "We require a gentleman as collector and traveller"—I asked what the business was—he said, "We have a large grocery establishment in Nottingham, and retail branches all round the Midland Counties, and it would be your duty to go round and collect, and to act in the absence of the firm as their representative"—he said, "My father will write to you"—I went away, and soon after a letter came from Percy and Co., Albert Street, Nottingham, to me. (This, dated August 13th, 1886, said that in regard to the interview he had had with their foreman, he gathered that the position they required him for had been stated—that his duties would chiefly be outdoor collecting, and that if he were an artist he would be very useful—it asked him to to call on Monday, and stated that if he did not hear from him he would prepare the agreement; and that he should like him to go to Nottingham with him, and that he could reside in London or Nottingham as he preferred.) That is in the elder prisoner's handwriting—I called on the
Monday, 16th, when I saw the younger prisoner at first) and he explained about the situation, told me the salary would be 3l. a-week, and showed me the agreement made out but not filled in; then he sent for his sister, and he asked her if his father was in, and the father was called in—I was under the impression that the advertisement named 300l. as deposit; I was asked about it by the younger prisoner, and I said I could only deposit 250l., as I only had 260l.—the younger prisoner said 250l. would do—the senior prisoner and I then signed the agreement, and the younger prisoner signed afterwards as witness—the elder prisoner said, "My son has explained the agreement to you—I read one copy and he the other—both were supposed to be identical. (By this agreement, dated 18th August, 1886, Smith engaged the entire services of Mittau at a salary of 3l. a-week, payable weekly, and in consideration of Mittau lodging with Smith 250l. Smith undertook to pay to Mittau the above salary, and 5 per cent. per annum quarterly. The agreement was to be binding for 12 months, and at the end of that time Smith undertook to pay back 250l. with all interest thereon to Mittau, and the agreement might then be renewed on the same terms if agreed on. There was also a clause stating that Mittau had prior claim on Smith's business to the extent of 250l.) When the document was signed, Smith asked me if I had the money with me; I told him no, I had not drawn anything from the bank—we arranged that I should meet the younger Smith at the Bank of England next morning—I did so, and handed him two 100l. and one 50l. notes, and he then handed me this agreement and this receipt. (August 18, 1886. Received of Mr. S. Mittau 250l. on interest, as per agreement. Sidney H. Smith.) Several appointments were made for me to go to Nottingham with Smith senior—I did not go there, because on each occasion something was supposed to have taken place which prevented Smith from going, the son told me—I parted with my 250l. solely from my desire to obtain a responsible position of trust; my sight became weak and I had to give up the artistic business, and I thought a collector's and manager's place would be just the kind of situation I should like—when young Smith told me they had a large grocery establishment at Nottingham, and various branches, that had all the effect on my mind, because I said to him, "Suppose one of your establishments fails?"—he said, "It would not affect us at all;" and he showed me on a piece of paper, "Here is the wholesale department, and here in the Midlands are the branches situated; if one branch fails all we do is to shut it up and open one in another direction"—I believed they had a wholesale grocery shop in Nottingham, that was the reason that induced me to part with my money, and when they said they had warehouses all round, I felt anxious to get a collectorship, and so paid them my money—eventually Smith took a warehouse in Wood Street, where I went as manager a few weeks after signing the agreement, I think—when we went there it was empty, scarcely any business was done there except a few artificial flowers; no grocery came in—I stopped there as long as I could, till 26th December—I received my 3l. a-week for the first few weeks—I could not claim the 250l. so long as I received my salary—I have never received back my 250l.—I left those premises because the landlord put some one in charge, the Sheriff's officers came and took possession on 26th December.
Cross-examined: I accuse the prisoners of having cheated me out of my money—I joined them in no swindling; I put my money in, but if I had
had a notion it was in this way I should not have parted with it—my sole reason was their representation of a large wholesale business in Nottingham—young Smith said if one shop does not pay its expenses we close it, and open another in another direction—I have been in England about 20 years—I understand the English language pretty fairly—the agreement was read to me before I parted with my money—the consideration of my being taken as a traveller and collector at Nottingham was one of my reasons for parting with my money—I understood that from the son—my impression was that I was to go to Nottingham to manage there—I did not insist on anything about Nottingham being inserted in the agreement, because I took it for granted; I was so anxious to obtain the situation; if I had made inquiries I should not have paid my money—I always had it in my mind that it was on account of the Nottingham business I parted with my money—it was to obtain a position anywhere, so long as I got a position of trust—I am certain the younger prisoner said they had a large wholesale business at Nottingham, with several branches; he did not say "and intend opening branches in the midland counties"—one business would not have induced me to part with my money—I said before the Magistrate in cross-examination that I was told by the younger Smith I was to be collector and manager of a business at Nottingham—I have not been to Nottingham—I took no steps to find out if there was a business there—I cannot say the extent of the business there—I had the idea he had a large extent of business there, and that proves to be not the case—I have no personal knowledge of his business at Nottingham—I am not surprised if you say he had five businesses there—he had no extent of business to need a collector and manager—I did not go there because the prisoner did not take me—I went to the station once and waited several hours, but he never came—I met him once at Waterloo, Station, and he took me to Wood Street then; I did not meet him in order to go to St. Pancras and on to Nottingham—I said I would rather remain in London if I could, and he found me business in London—that was after the agreement; but my understanding was that I was to go to Nottingham—when I met the prisoner at Waterloo I did not know where I was going; I had my bag packed with me; the prisoner then mentioned the Wood Street business, and I then said I preferred to be in London—I waited at the station to go to Nottingham; I could not go alone there; I knew nothing about any one there—I went to Wood Street a week or so after signing the agreement—each time I was to go to Nottingham, and called at his house, they said no, he cannot go—I took no notice of the dates—there was very little indeed on the premises, nothing for some weeks—the elder prisoner's daughters came there once or twice—I think one or other of them was in the City Road branch—nothing being done on the premises, at first excited my suspicions—I received my salary for the first few weeks, and then afterwards I received cheques which came back from the bank—I was not paid my quarter's interest which became due, but I paid myself for that from the takings in the warehouse—I entered them in the book and took charge of the amount—I took Smith's goods away from the place and sold them a few days ago for 2l. 10s., to pay myself something for salary—when I found I could get nothing, and no one came near the place, I placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Fenn, a solicitor; I had nothing to pay him with—I had written to the elder prisoner several times, but could obtain nothing—the solicitor told me
afterwards he had received 25l. from Smith—I authorised the solicitor to act to get back the money—the 250l. is repayable is 12 months' time; that will be next August, but the salary has been due all along, and the warehouse is left by itself, and there is no business there—the younger prisoner came to me in December, and asked me what salary was due to me—I showed him the entries in the books that I had paid myself, and I said no salary was due except 5s.—I placed it in my solicitor's hands to take these criminal proceedings to get back my investment—I could never see the prisoners whenever I called, and I swore an information that they were likely to abscond when I applied for a warrant against them; I could not say what they would do—I was afterwards shown a piece out of a newspaper about a bankruptcy at Nottingham—I told Miss Smith if I took proceedings it would be a criminal and not a civil affair, because of the obtaining money under these pretences and there being no business done—I said if I received half the amount in money I would sign a receipt for the whole, and square these proceedings—all I wanted was to get back my investment.
MR. COHEN submitted that there was no evidence on the first Count to go to the Jury. MR. ST. AUBYN said he should withdraw from the prosecution as to the first Count against both prisoners for obtaining 250l.
Friday, March 4th.
ARTHUR WOOD . I am housekeeper at 6, Arthur Street East, City—I am landlord of a warehouse, 44, King William Street, City—I showed the defendant over it about the end of February and accepted his terms—he said he was a wholesale grocer—it was very nicely furnished—there were some very large pier glasses, and some oak and walnut fittings, shelves, gas fittings, and eight or nine very large loose counters, and some linoleum and other fittings, which were all mine—he entered on 4th or 5th March, and I saw sugar, tea, biscuits, and general grocery come in for a week afterwards—a boy carried them in, and I saw a van once—I saw no customers, but quite 20 people called for their money—on 12th March a distress for rent was put in, and the sale realised 6l.—there was some office furniture, a few odd bottles of sauce, 20lb. of sugar, and 300 of these packets (Guaranteed Finest Tea Imported, 1s. 6d. lb.)—they are filled with sawdust.
Cross-examined.—I do not know what that ball (produced) is—I should not recognise it as a dummy cake of Pears' soap—I have seen large bottles in chemists' shops with red and blue liquids—I never thought of their being fraudulent. I should say that the large masses of raisins, currants, and tea in grocers' windows are solid—I examined all these 300 packets myself, and they are all dummies—the eight pier glasses have been up eight years; they were permanent fixtures attached to the premises—the fixtures cost nearly 800l. to fit—if Mr. Dubisant swore "There were no goods at all there," that is not true—as many as 20 creditors called in one day—the warehouse is on the ground floor, and my office is on the second floor—the persons who called rang the house bell and came up to me and asked when they could see Smith, as they had been every day and the place was padlocked up until 11 in the morning, and then Smith was only in and out again—the persons who called said that they were creditors, and asked me about their different accounts—I have not said that before that I am aware of—have not talked this
matter over with Mr. Dubisant—I am called on his behalf, but I never conversed with him at all—Smith was on the premises three or four months or more.
ALFRED DUBISANT . I am a French correspondent—on 5th March, 1886, I inserted this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, "A French, gentleman, knowing English and English business, desires to invest 500l. and give services. Address L. B., box 995, Daily Telegraph office, E.C."—I received this reply, which is in the prisoner's writing) Offering him employment, signed E. Smith, 10, Station Road, Leyton)—I answered that and received this letter (Signed E. Smith, stating that he had secured wholesale premises in King William Street, and had several branch shops, and asking the witness to pay money into his bankers, for which he would pay interest)—I saw the defendant after that, I believe on 7th March, at the office of my late partner in Watling Street—he said "Is this your business?"—I said "Yes"—he said, "In case of the failure of your partner what security would you get?—I am in a position to give you better security than this"—I said, "What is your business?" and he said "The grocery and provision trade, the fact is this, I have three shops, and if I had the money I should take ten; unfortunately I have not got enough money; if we come to terms the security I will give you will consist of a charge on my stock in my shops, and the fixtures in the various shops, which will cover amply the amount invested by you"—I said "That will satisfy me," and we agreed on the terms, 3l. a week salary, and 5 per cent, interest on the amount I invested—he said that one shop was in Edgware Road, one in Camberwell, and one in Kensington—I afterwards received this letter: "Sir, I told you when I last saw you that I was in treaty with several other gentlemen, and I have one who is very anxious to join me and place at my bankers 1,100l. at once I, should therefore like to see you to-day at four o'clock to have a chat with you, H.S. Smith, pro Smith and Son, 44, King William Street," &c.—I went to King William Street and saw the defendant and one of his other sons—we went over the warehouse—I noticed that there was no stock, and mentioned it—he said, "I have got my stock in my Kensington branch, it is worth over 200l. "—I expressed a desire to see that shop, but he said, "I am in a difficulty with the landlord, and the shop is closed for a little time; you cannot see it now"—I saw some fixtures, counters, and looking glasses, and said, "Do these belong to you?"—he said, "Yes, they do; I paid 5l. only for the carpets"—I asked what security he intended to give me—he said the stock which was at Kensington, and the, fixtures at 44, King William Street, and the different shops; I should have a charge upon each of them—we came to terms, and on 22nd March I saw the defendant—he produced this agreement, which is in his handwriting—I said that I should have liked to do the transaction through a solicitor—he said, "We don't want solicitors, I know as much about the law as they do, it only leads to expenses"—the last clause says, "The said A. Dubisant shall have a prior claim on it to the extent of the before-mentioned sum of 450l"—I said, "Does this give me a charge on the stock which you have in your shops, and also on the fixtures?"—he said "Yes, it does"—I said, "Then shall I have a charge on the fixtures which are here?"—he said, "Certainly, it is understood?"—(The agreement was here read,
dated March 22nd, 1886, by which S.H. Smith engaged A. Dubisant at a salary of 3l. a week, in consideration of the loan of 450l., at five per cent., payable quarterly, to be repaid at the end of 12 months, unless the agreement was renewed. Signed by both)—having signed this I paid the defendant 250l. in notes, and two bills, one for 100l. at 30 days, and the other for 106l. 10s. at 60 days—he returned me the 6l. 10s.—he gave me this receipt—it was in consequence of his statements to me that I advanced the money—I entered on my duties the next day, at 44, King William Street—there were no goods there at all, and the defendant sent me to give a small order for pickles to Messrs. Crosse and Black well—that was all I did that day—no goods came in for a long time and no customers—some persons came for money and asked for Mr. Smith, but he was always out; he used to come and stay a few minutes, and then go away—I grew suspicious, made inquiries, and found that the fixtures did not belong to him—the Kensington branch shop was never opened to my knowledge: I did not go there—I know nothing about the business in Edgware Road or the Camberwell branch—no goods were supplied from the warehouse to any of the three branches—I inquired about the Camberwell shop, and he said "I have altered my plans; I intend to take a shop there" in July I saw the defendant's son tearing a letter in pieces as I entered the office, and he blushed—this is it. (This had been pasted together, and was from the defendant to his son Charles. It stated "You had better give Dubisant a Holiday, or get him to stop at the Peckham shop. Tell him you are afraid about the manager, &c. Glover must be paid right off. If the man with 350l. can come at once we can settle Glover at once, &c As soon as I hear from you I shall go to Leicester.") After seeing that letter I wrote to the defendant asking him to cancel the agreement, and received this reply: "July 21-86—Sir,—I am surprised at your letter, and if you are not careful you will make a rod for your own back. I will send you a full letter to-morrow. If I am injured by your indiscretion, talking about my business, how can you expect me to give you so large an income as I am giving you? However, I can easily satisfy your claim if we come to terms.—S. H. SMITH." Next day I received this letter: "Dear Sir—You are a strange man. I will reply fully to yours to-morrow, also enclose cheque for your salary, which you will deceive on Saturday morning. Don't fear losing anything by me, much less fear losing it yourself. You are too excited. "I received my salary up to November 27th, but I had stayed away from the business for two months, in consequence of this letter. (Dated Clapham, October 11, 1886, and stating; "It is no use your going to No. 44. Keep away till see you, when I want you to go to Nottingham, &c. Don't go near 44. When you want a cheque write to me here.") I called several times at his house at Bleisho Road, Clapham Junction, but have never been able to see him since August.
Cross-examined. I was called yesterday to speak to the prisoner's writing—Mr. Mittau is not a Frenchman; he is a German, and an enemy of my nation, but he is an honest man—I have been employed by two firms in Walling Street as a French correspondent—I have been in this country not quite three years—the defendant told me he had a large foreign business, and I was to buy wine, fruit, and eggs; that he would import wine later on, and I was to travel for him—I parted with my money because I believed the fixtures belonged to him, and that he had
stock at Kensington worth 200l., and I thought he was an honest man, but he has been sent to five years' penal servitude—I am not very vindictive against him, but I want to spare other people from what I have suffered; he has ruined me, and I have been starving for two months—I am not the only one who has been defrauded in this way—I called several times for my salary at Granville House, and could not obtain it; I saw Miss Smith several times—I have never said that I would kill the defendant if I did not get my money—the glasses were very large, and to put such fixtures in, a man must be in a good way of business; the rent was 150l. a year—I invested my money because I believed the fixtures were his, and that I could sell them if I did not get my money—I positively swear that he said that they were his—I relied also on the 200l. worth of stock at Kensington—I did not go to see it, because I believed him to be an honest man; I saw the shop, but I did not see what was inside—the fixtures at King William Street did not appear new; I understood he had bought them from the landlord—I should be very much surprised to hear that he paid 250l. for the things at Kensington—I did not go to see them; I am not a grocer, and if I had seen sawdust packets there I might have thought that there was a deal of value there—I paid the money eight days after the interview at my partner's, during which time I made no inquiries as to the other shops—I did not stop the bills when I found there was no stock; how could I do so without taking law proceedings?—my late partner did not join with me in the bill, he gave me the bill; I knew the defendant would have to go to him to get the money, but I took no means to stop the bill; I did not know that I could do so; I thought I should have to take law proceedings—the order I gave to Crosse and Blackwell came in—a small quantity of tea came in—it just passed through the place; I don't know where it went to—the defendant came there at different times drunk, and it was disgusting—most times when he came he was drunk—when a man cannot stand upright any one can see that he is drunk—he has treated me to a glass, and I have accepted it, but not 10 or 20—I discovered about the end of April that the fixtures belonged to the landlord, and told the defendant that he had deceived me—I know Mr. Hislop; I do not know whether he is a clergyman—I received a promissory note—I went to the defendant and told him he had deceived me, and I wanted my money back; he said "Don't get excited, it is useless; I could answer that you have made an agreement, and it is too late, but I will give you the signature of a clergyman of the Church of England"; I said" I should much prefer to have my money back"; he said "Tour money is invested, and I cannot withdraw it"—the bill is not due yet.
GEORGE KIDD . I live at 12, Ken way Road, Kensington—I know the shops 10 and 11, Kenway Road, and have been into them and seen the fixtures—that shop was never opened during last year, either as a retail or a wholesale shop—I went in there in July last after a distraint was put in—the stock principally consisted of packages of coffee—there were also about 150 or 200 of these coloured paper packets filled with sawdust—I saw two whole cheeses, and also some dummy cheeses, which were taken by the broker—the futures belonged to the Bev. M. Ben-Oliol, and not to the defendant.
Cross-examined. I followed the brokers into the premises—I have seen dummy cheeses in grocers' shops.
Re-examined. I am agent for the Gresham Mortgage Company for letting the premises—they have a mortgage on the premises.
THE REV. M. BEN-OLIOL. Nos. 10 and 11, Ken way Road, Kensington, belonged to me at this time, and the defendant took them at a rent of 150l. including rates and taxes—the fixtures belonged to me.
Cross-examined. He took the fixtures on an agreement of 9th October, 1855, which he never carried out; it was that he was to pay 250l. for them in equal quarterly instalments, with 10 per cent, interest, until it was all paid—I sold them on those conditions—he gave me a bill for the first instalment of the fixtures and the first quarter's rent, which I stipulated should be paid on signing the agreement—he represented the bill to be as good as money, but it was dishonoured—the fixtures were not to be his until he paid the very last instalment, but I have lost them in consequence of these transactions; I had a mortgage on this property from the Gresham Life Office, and owing to some difficulty between us as to the amount of interest to be paid they entered into possession—I have a whole block of buildings there, 12 of them, and they seized the fixtures, which were not included in the mortgage, and sold them for the defendant's rent.
WILLIAM MACKIE . I am a grocer's assistant—I opened a grocery shop for the defendant at 128, Rye Lane, Peckham, on Saturday 3rd July, 1866, and sold 51l. worth of stock that day, but made nothing, because we gave away two ounces or four ounces of tea with all orders, and we had to close at 11 o'clock as we had no more tea, and had to wait till the following Wednesday for it—a Sheriff's officer was put in on August 7th—the takings varied from 7s. 6d. to 2l. a day, and 7l. on Saturdays—there is no other grocer's shop of Smith and Sons in that neighbourhood.
Cross-examined. On opening a shop it is the custom to give away little presents to induce customers to come—the stock did not come in in a business like fashion—we ought to have opened the day before, but we had no stock—I have been in the grocery trade 12 years, and am now assistant at Knowles Park Co-Operative Stores, we have no dummies there.
HENRY BUTTSRICE . Early in September I gave the defendant possession of the shop and house, 96, Edgware Road—I gave him the key—the fixtures were the landlord's—the defendant did not open the shop, but "Feathers, flowers, and millinery" was painted outside—I believe there were a few artificial flowers there—the fixtures were, a large counter, a large show-case, some draper's wall fittings, a mirror, and the gas fittings, worth about 150l.—I am a jeweller next door.
JOHN JEFFERSON KERSHAW . I am landlord of 96, Edgware Road—I bought the house—the whole of the fixtures were my absolute property on March 25th—I bought them that day, and the defendant had no right or title to them—I had been in treaty for them for a week or two before—on 28th August the defendant made me an offer for the shop, and on the 29th I let it to him—he did not open it.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective Sergeant). On 12th January I was With Williams, and took the defendant at 92, Mayall Road, Brixton—he was occupying a back room at the top of the house—I said, "I hold a warrant for your arrest"—he asked for it and I handed it to him—he read
it and said, "I don't deny having had the money"—I took him to Seething Lane Station, and afterwards went to 44, King William Street, and found a quantity of these parcels of tea—this letter was handed to me by the housekeeper.
Witnesses for the Defence.
SIDNEY HERBERT SMITH . I am a son of the prisoner—I am a tea taster and general grocer—in March last year I was with my father at 44, King William Street—when Mr. Dubisant came in my father said, "You have come respecting signing the agreement"—he said "Yes"—he read it over, said something about the last clause, and signed it on a board inside the counting-house—there was no stock there, but my father told him we were going to start at once in the packet tea trade—no mention was made of the fixtures—we all three went into the big warehouse, and Mr. Dubisant admired the place—my father said "This is the packing room"—Mr. Dubisant said, "There is enough glass there," meaning the looking glasses—my father stamped his foot on the oilcloth and said, "I have bought this only, and paid 5l"—what he said was "I have bought the linoleum for only 5l.," and then there was a lot of talk about what the warehouse had been before—I know 10 and 11, Kenway Street—I dressed the window there and got the place in order, and went to James Davis and Son, of Bermondsey, provision merchants, and bought provisions—the first parcel came to 27l. 10s.; and I went again and bought several other things, and to De Witt Hunt and Co., of Grace-church Street, and bought other things—the shop in Kenway Street wag never opened because there was some difficulty with the landlord, but a lot more stock was sent in there, and I went to J. Hill and Son and bought these dummy cheeses—provision shops are fitted with shelves and dummy cheeses and butter tubs are put on them—we cannot put butter there, because it would melt with the heat of the gas—I bought two dozen dummy cheeses to go all round the shop—if tea is kept for 26 hours without lead, the flavour is gone, and it is the custom to have dummy packages.
Cross-examined. I was 22 years old last January—my father traded as Smith and Son, but not with anyone—I am only a servant, and my brother had no connection with the firm there—he had three or four months ago, but not three or four years ago—Smith and Son has been a firm since March, 1886, and I have been connected with it ever since—I am a tea taster and grocer, not anywhere at present, but I superintend the buying of the tea at Nottingham—I have ceased to be a tea taster since the bankruptcy; the public meeting was December 20th—I tasted tea for seven years before that for various firms, and for my father since March—I cannot say whether my father was employed at any City firm between 1878 and 1882—I know, but I decline to say—he has been employed at Braddick and Sons—I attended at Guildhall once—some of the receipts for the goods I bought are here, and some were left at Kensington—a lot of papers were burnt there—Hunt and Co. were paid by bill—I mean to tell the Jury that I could hear what passed between my father and Mr. Dubisant—he was there about three-quarters of an hour.
Re-examined. My father has a considerable business at Nottingham.
By the COURT. He petitioned the Bankruptcy Court there.
Association, Nottingham—I have known the prisoner some years, and managed a business for him in 1885, at 69, Fenchurch Street, under the style of Janson Janson and Company—he took that shop of a Mr. Janson, and kept the old name—he made a loss, as there was no trade there—I remember him having an interview with Mr. Ben-Oliol about some premises in Kenway Street, Kensington—he requested me to witness the signature to an agreement—(Mr. Ben-Oliol here stated that he never saw the witness before)—I afterwards went to Luton, and then to Nottingham, where Mr. Smith was trying to obtain a partner, and I went through the stock and fixtures at his shop, and estimated them at about 1,000l.—I do not recollect any goods being sent to Kenway Street.
Cross-examined. I am the defendant's son-in-law—I do not remember the official receiver coming in; but I heard inquiries about the matter—I did not assist young Smith in removing a quantity of goods from Parkinson Street, Nottingham, to Firman's Buildings to prevent the official receiver from seeing them, nor did I say that I did to Sergeant Morgan—Smith junior produced a claim to a horse, and asked me to send it in, as the horse was on hire, and the claim was sent in—I heard that the auction on the goods realised nearly 200l.—I did not tell Sergeant Morgan that it was 40l.; you are speaking of another auction of some tea—it was paid to 0. M. Smith, and with it a banking account was opened in my name; I cannot say why: I knew nothing of it till after it was done—I did not draw upon it—the money was drawn out and sent to London—Smith signed for it in the name of G.E. Williams without asking for any authority—the Smiths never Eved in the same house with me, nor I with them.
Re-examined. The money paid into the bank was not mine—he did not defraud me; it was money he had realised.
SIDNEY HERBERT SMITH— GUILTY on the second Count, of defrauding Mr. Dubisant, only. He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction at this Court in January, 1881, in the name of Charles James Smith , for obtaining money by false pretences, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude. Five Years' Penal Servitude.
CHARLES MAJOR SMITH— NOT GUILTY .
The Court commended the conduct of Mr. Dubisant and Mr. Mittau.
MR. FOSTER Prosecuted,
ALFRED GODLBY . I am a seaman, and live at 24, Laurel Road, Brighton—On 25th February, about 11.30, I was in George Street, Shadwell, going to the Sailors' Home—three or four men came up and collared me, and the prisoner held me while the others took my purse, containing 6s. or 7s., and everything I had in my pocket—I had arrived from Sydney, and had not been paid off, or I should have lost it all—the prisoner knocked me down, and struck me on the back of my neck; he pinned me—I went to look after my hat, and a constable came and saw the prisoner run away—I had never been in London before, except when I shipped out—my trousers were split, and my pocket split down as far as the knee—I went to the station, and picked the prisoner out from five or six others; I am certain he is the man—I had had two glasses of drink, but was as sober as I am now.
CHARLES ADAMS (Policeman 352 H). On 25th February, about 11:30, I was on duty in St. George's Street, and saw the prisoner and three others run away—I can swear to him; he ran past me—I went on, and saw Godley without his cap—he told me something, and I went after the prisoner, and saw him a quarter of an hour afterwards standing by a urinal in High Street—I put him among five others, and Godley picked him out—he pointed to another man first, and said he was very much like him; that man was standing next to the prisoner—he said at the station that the hat belonged to one of the others, and I made him put his cap on.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am innocent. I went to work, and finished my work at 10 o'clock. I went home to tea and a wash, and came out and went to the Albion, and had a drink with a young woman. I went out, and two policemen came and took me. The man picked another man out; he was asked whether there was not another man there, and then he picked me out."
Witnesses for the Defence,
ALICE CLIFFORD . I live at 94, Luke Street, Shadwell; my husband is a seaman—I saw the prisoner at 10-15 on this night at the corner of Gravel Lane, and asked him whether he knew when my husband's ship was coming in—he said it would be in by the morning tide—I knew him, and asked if he would come and see the Gazette with me—he said if I would go to his mother's till he washed himself he would go with me—we went to the corner of Mercer Street into a public-house, where we saw the Gazette, and we stopped there till 12.30, when I said good night to him, and two policemen came and said they wanted him, and he was taken away.
Cross-examined. I was with him from 10.30 to 12.30—he was not away five minutes washing his hands, and then we stopped in the public-house—we were not drinking the whole time, but we had to wait for the Gazette—I noticed the time when I went in, and when I went out I said that I ought to go, if my husband came home in the middle of the night—we sat right opposite the clock in the public-house, and when I left I said "It is nearly half-past 12; I shall be late home."
JOSEPH RADLEY . I live at home with my mother—I do no work, I can't get any—I should do rope-making if I had the opportunity, but I have never done any—I was coming from Wapping between 11 and half-past, and as I passed the Star and Garter I saw three chaps named Hack, Evan, and Taylor go up to the prosecutor—there were only three—Mack held his arms behind while Taylor and Ryan felt in his pockets Mack struck him on the back of his head and ran up Victoria Street—the prisoner was not there.
Cross-examined. I can describe all the men who were there—I did not go to the police-court because I did not know the prisoner was locked up—I did not see a fourth man—I know the three men because I have seen them walking about the highway, they are not personal friends of mine.
MARY ANN DONOVAN . I am the prisoner's sister, and live at 7, Chancey Place, High Street, Shadwell—I am married, and my name by marriage is Radley—I am the prisoner's sister-in-law by marriage and his sister by blood, and I am the little boy's sister-in-law who has given evidence—on the night of the robbery, about 10, 15, I saw the
prisoner come home; I wished him good-night, and went to bed, and next morning a police officer came—the prisoner did not remain indoors five minutes; he washed himself and had his supper, and went out, and we heard no more of him till next morning, when a constable came.
Cross-examined. This paper that I have in my hand is to prove that he was at work till 10 o'clock—I was not reading it, I can't read—I have not talked this matter over with the last witness—I was not asked to give evidence till I came to see my brother on Tuesday morning—I told him I had evidence that he had done the robbery, and three chaps who had done the robbery got off—he said "I saw three chaps run up Victoria Street, and I thought it was a bit of a row"—he said he saw my brother at the corner of Mercer Street talking to a young woman, but he did not see him at all when the offence was committed—I got this paper from the London Dock Company.
CHARLES ADAMS (Re-examined). I said I saw three chaps run up the street, and the prisoner ran into High Street, Shad well—I have no doubt whatever that he is the man—Grodley was not drunk, he had had a few glasses, but he knew very well what he was about.
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent. I finished work at 10 o'clock, and met this young woman, who asked me to take her to look at the Gazette, and I went with her to a public-house and saw that the ship was at Dover; and I stopped there till 12 o'clock.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
HERBERT MORLEY . I am an engine-fitter, of 15, Coburg Street, St. Pancras—on 5th Feb., about 12.40 a.m., I was in Euston Road, returning from the midnight train, and as I passed the coffee-stall Emery caught hold of me and said "Come and have some coffee"—I said "I don't want any coffee"—he said "dome and pay for some for me"—I said "No, if you want any coffee, pay for it yourself"—I got loose from him and walked on; he overtook me and said "I am going your way"—I said "You are not going far, because I live round the corner"—he walked a few yards by me and said "I won't go any farther"—I said "You need not have come at all, I don't want your company"—he got in front of me and compelled me to stop, and shoved his hand into my right trousers pocket, and at that moment I heard the chap behind me say something; I turned round and saw Smith, who struck me on the side of my head and said "Let the beggar have it"—I was knocked down and a third man hit me; he got away, but these two were the worst—I was much hurt, but not seriously; it is well now—I had to keep my hands over my head because they were all three pummelling me, and each chap encouraging the other to go at me—a constable came up, and I gave the two prisoners in custody—my pocket was broken right out, but I lost nothing—I had 9s. 5d. in my pocket, a four-foot rule, a bunch of keys, and a pocket-knife—I had never seen them before.
Cross-examined by Smith. I was not drunk—I did not come up to you at the coffee-stall, ask you to have a cup of coffee, or say, "You are the bloke I am looking for."
Re-examined. I had no coffee—they compelled me to stop by catching hold of me, but I did not stop a quarter of a minute—Smith struck me
and Emery put his hand in my pocket—there was a small crowd round the coffee-stall.
GEORGE MILLER (Policeman). I was on duty in Euston Road, about 500 yards from this coffee-stall, and saw the prisoners hustling Morley—they struggled in the road together, Morley fell into the road; they disengaged themselves and were about to make off—I stopped them—Morley came up and complained of being assaulted, and that Emery had put his hand in his pocket—they both said Morley was drunk, but he was not—I did not see a third man.
Cross-examined by Smith. The three were quarrelling—a cabman stopped, and I asked him if he would attend as a witness—he said that he could not, but I took his number and he is here—I did not refuse to take the addresses of a lot of people who offered to come as witnesses for you.
JOHN COLE . I am a cabman, of 27, Fitzroy Street—I was passing with my cab at a little before 1 o'clock, and saw Morley being hustled by three men—the prisoners are two of them—they knocked him down, and then made off—I followed them, and afterwards saw them in custody 200 yards off—the third man escaped—I can't say which one struck him, but I am sure the prisoners are the two men who hustled him.
Cross-examined by Smith. I told the Magistrate I could not recognise your face—from the time I saw you hustle Morley until you were arrested I never lost sight of you—I do not think Morley was drunk, but he was very much excited.
Cross-examined by Emery. I pulled up to the kerb—a constable asked me if I would go to the station as a witness—I said, "No," and he took my number—it was only two or three minutes from the time you knocked the man down until you were captured.
Re-examined. I was on the opposite side of the road—it was too dark to see their faces when they were struggling, but I never lost sight of them till the constable brought them up to me, and I am certain they are the men.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate denied hustling or attempting to rob the prosecutor.
GUILTY . EMERY then PLEADED GUILTY*†to a conviction at Clerkenwell on June 7th, 1886.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. SMITH†— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, March 4th, and Saturday, 5th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CHARLES DEAKIN . I live at Susquehana, in America, and am a farmer—my father, John Deakin also lives there—we are descended from Thomas Deakin, of London, who died in 1819—on 13th October, 1885, I received this letter addressed to my father—I should say it is the prisoner's writing. (This stated that the writer was advised by a Mr. Henry Porter that the witness's father was interested in some very valuable
property in London, that the claim was a good one if his identity could be proved, as against an uncle who was a worthless fellow, and offering his (the prisoner's) aid in the matter.) Mr. Porter was a neighbour living about two miles off—my father had spoken to him about the property—shortly after the receipt of this letter the prisoner came to our farm and saw my father—after they had been alone together I went into the room where they were, and my father, in the prisoner's presence, said that the prisoner had told him that since he (the prisoner) was in England, action had been taken on the will which entitled my father to the property, 21, Cock Lane; that my father's uncle had come back from Australia and claimed the property, that parties had proved the will to be in Thomas Deakin's handwriting, but that the will was not signed, that there was 2,000 dollars belonging to the estate in a bank in London, that he could get possession of the 2,000 dollars in nine months, and it would take about 12 months to get possession of the real estate, which would be worth 40, 000 dollars, that it was in the hands of three trustees, and that their remuneration for taking care of it was 4, 000 dollars a year—I asked the prisoner how he knew all this—he said he found it out by looking over the records at Doctors' Commons in London—he did not say where he had seen the will—I asked him what he would want to get the property for us—he said 10 per cent, of what he recovered—then he said he wanted 500 dollars for Court costs—I said I did not think he could get it, he was a stranger—he gave us some names to whom we might refer—he stopped at the farm that night—I made inquiries, and my father, in my presence, advanced 500 dollars, for which the prisoner gave this receipt. (This was signed by the prisoner, and was stated to be for fees and retainers, for proof of identity.) It was arranged that the prisoner should go to England to make inquiries, and to communicate with us, and my father was to follow at the proper time—we afterwards received this letter from the prisoner, dated December 17th, 1885. (This stated that he had found the case at represented, and would do everything to bring about a prompt and satisfactory adjustment of the claim.) Some time in January, I believe, my father advanced 1, 000 dollars—there is no receipt for that—we afterwards received this letter. (Dated July 17th, 1886. This explained that delay had been caused by the death of a friend, and other matters, but that he knew he should succeed, it was simply a matter of time.) In the August following my father and I came to England—we met the prisoner in the Strand, and went with him to the Crown in West Smithfield, where we were staying—I told the prisoner we had come over to see how we were getting along, and I wanted him to tell us—he said that he had found more property here belonging to my father—I asked how he knew it—he said that one of the bondsmen had died, and he had to give a new bondsman to the Court, and they required a larger sum; that the Court did not give him any decided answer, they rather put him off; that he asked for a stay of a week, which they granted; that in the meantime he went looking up the records; he thought there was something he did not understand, and he discovered more property, and that it was all worth 60, 000l.—I said I should like to go and see the property; he said "Very well," and we arranged to go on Monday, this being Saturday; he said it was three acres, that it was very nice land, that it had been felled and levelled, and had one house on it—he did not say where it was; he said it was "outside"—he
said he thought it would be better for us to go to a private houset, hat there were a good many sharp people round a place like where we were, and he found a lodging for us at 28, Langham Street, to which we went on the Saturday, the same day as the interview—the prisoner came there that evening about 8; my father had gone to bed—the first thing the prisoner said was "This has been the most eventful day of my life; there are parties here who want to buy this claim of yours; they will give 40, 000l.," and he wanted me to wake my father and get him up—ultimately he went into my father's bedroom and saw him, and repeated what he had told me—my father said he wanted to see the property before he sold it, and it was arranged that we should go on Monday and see it—on the Monday the prisoner and my father drove to the Surrey side of London, and the prisoner showed us some property; he pointed out three shops, and said those were part of the property, and then a dwelling-house: just before we got there I saw the name of Solomon over a door—I asked the prisoner if that was the trustee's place of business; he said "Yes"; it was only houses he showed us—I have since tried to find the place, but have not found it—that was my first visit to London—he did not tell us where the three acres were—we then went back and had lunch in Regent Street—I then asked him about the three acres, how far it was; I think he said three or four miles, quite a long distance, and my father declined to go; he said he was too tired, but he would be willing to accept 40, 000l.; the prisoner said it was worth 60, 000l.—I asked if he was willing to take his percentage on the 40, 000l.; he said he was; we then instructed him to make arrangements for closing up the business—we saw him again the same evening; he brought a contract or agreement for us to sign—he said one of the parties was at Bombay—the money was to be payable at New York city—this is the contract which the prisoner produced drawn up; my father signed it in my presence. (This was dated 16th August, 1886, and was a transfer by John K. Deakin of all his rights in the property in consideration of 40, 000l., in three payments of 20, 000l. on 10th November, 1886, 10, 000l. on 2nd April, 1887, and 10, 000l. on 1st September, 1887. There was another document, also stated by the witness to be in the prisoner's writing, confirming all agreements which the prisoner might make, signed by John K. Deakin, in the presence of the witness.) The prisoner said that my father's sister or her heir, was liable to give a great deal of trouble if the money was paid here, but if it was paid in New York she could not do anything—the prisoner said he wanted a deposit on each side of 2, 500 dollars in case of failure—he wanted us to pay 2, 500 dollars to bind the bargain—I said I would rather they would pay 2, 500 dollars, that there would be no failure on our part; I said he must do it; he said he had 2, 250 dollars in the bank, and he wanted to know if I could not help him a little—I gave him 200 dollars in American coin and 300 dollars in English money next day, and he gave me this receipt, and also an undertaking to pay it back on 25th November—that was to bind the bargain—I agreed to telegraph to my father-in-law, Mr. Carrington, for more money for this deposit—the prisoner said the other 2, 500 dollars was in the bank; he did not say what bank—he afterwards told me that he had deposited 2, 500 dollars and the papers in the bank—he said the Court was going to give its final decision on 25th November—he did not say what Court—we then arranged to go back to America; the prisoner went with us to Liverpool—before
we started he lent me 25 dollars, which I have repaid him—on board the ship before we sailed he asked me when I got to Susquehanna if I would make this money up to 1, 200 dollars—I said I would see—he said his funds were tied up here, and he was short of money—he said the ship we were going by was not good enough for him; there was a better vessel going on Tuesday—we sailed on 21st August, leaving him behind—I received this letter from him on 24th August, when I reached home. (This excused himself for not following, on account of hit wife's ill-health, adding "cable at my expense, I depend upon you fully, William, to act as herein directed.") Before receiving that letter I had a telegram from him, in consequence of which I telegraphed a credit of 700 dollars to the City Bank, and I received another telegram which induced me to send 70 dollars more—when I telegraphed the first credit I wrote this letter to the prisoner, announcing that I had done so. (This was dated 5th September, and stated: "My brothers and all concerned are delighted with the outcome of our case. Father says you are the best man he ever saw") About 15th September he telegraphed me to send him 50l., and I did so—to the best of my belief the original telegram of 20th September is the prisoner's writing. (This was addressed to Mr. W.D. Carrington, requesting 600l. for taxes due.) On the 21st I cabled to the prisoner 3, 000 dollars to the City Bank—on 4th November I sailed for London with my brother-in-law, Mr. Stanford; we arrived on the 14th, and saw the prisoner; I brought with me this power of attorney from my father—the prisoner looked at it, and said it was no good—he proposed that I should get another; I did so; this is it (produced, with several seals attached)—Mr. Stanford and the prisoner had a discussion as to whether this was valid; ultimately the prisoner agreed that it was—while waiting for the arrival of the second power of attorney I said I should like to see the three acre lot; at first he offered to do it, but failed; he said my business was to look after the 40,000l., not the three acres—the morning that I got the new power I went to the Metropole and saw the prisoner; he said "A remarkable thing, one of the contractors died last night"—either at that or some other time he said he had not taken any legal proceedings, that the parties who bought the claim would have to take them—on 6th or 7th January this year he showed me a letter purporting to come from Mr. Wright, of Liverpool, the effect of which was that Mr. Wright had in his possession 25,000l., to be paid to me, I think, on 15th February—at one time the prisoner showed me a sum of 300l.; I forget whether that was before or after Mr. Wright's letter was shown to me; he showed me the 300l. in bank notes, and said it was to pay the solicitor in our case—I believed his statement about his taking legal proceedings in this claim, that there was a three acre lot, that there was money in the bank, and the whole story about the deposit, and that there was a legal claim to 21, Cock Lane.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I suppose you were employed by my father—the first sum of 500 dollars was paid you by him—I was at home the first time you called at our house—I knew you when I met you in London—I did not ask a gentleman to point you out or say that I had never seen you—my father had been to this country with regard to this estate in 1840—he had not received any money from the estate—he told me that his aunt Sarah King had made him a present of 10l.—I understood that my mother had received money from the estate, 250 dollars to the best of my knowledge—at the hotel Metropole Mr. Stanford asked
you for some money, and you told him he could have it—you gave me 25l. for him—I asked you for 50l. which you gave me—you said I could have money at any time I wished—you took a receipt for the 50l. in payment of what you owed my father—you cabled me about the middle of September to send you 50l. and I did so—I never said anything to my father about it before I sent it, and I told you I considered it a private loan; that 50l. was returned—I did not give all the 25l. to Mr. Stanford, we had some words about it, nothing serious—I simply said, "As I have put the most money into this business I will take mine out first;" he was rather dissatisfied with the state of things—I gave you the 200 dollars, you gave me a receipt for it, it is included in the note—you said the 300 dollars was to pay the solicitor—not my solicitor, I did not have one—I was to get my money back by 25th November, when the note was due, I mean the 500 dollars I had advanced to you—when I first came over here with my father you said that proceedings had been taken, that you had taken proceedings—I saw Mr. Phelps in November before I saw you, but I perhaps neglected to say anything to you about it—I never told you that I had discovered that the taxes and the mortgage on Cock Lane had not been paid, but I made the discovery that you did not pay them—after your apprehension your wife spoke to me with regard to a settlement of this matter, I told her I could not talk about it, I said if you have friends you had better show them pretty soon—you offered me money in December I think, but I knew I had no right to take it—you showed me a power of attorney, similar to the one I sent for.
Re-examined. The 200 dollars and the 300 dollars in August was my own money—I afterwards sent over all the money I had of my own, and some from my brother and Mr. Stanford—since the prisoner has been in custody I have seen his wife—I have of course been anxious to get back all the money I could—when I put myself in the hands of the police and the authorities I acted under their directions—these two telegrams I should say were the prisoner's writing (these urged the necessity of protecting the title)—I sent the 600l. to pay the taxes and complete the title.
LEONARD EUGENE STANFORD . I am a farmer-at Susquehanna, Pennsylvania,—I am a Justice of the Peace and brother-in law to the last witness—in November I sailed with him from New York, arriving in London on the 14th—before I left home I advanced 250 dollars towards enforcing this claim—I knew that Mr. Deakin had brought with him from his father a power of attorney to act for him in London—I saw the prisoner on the 15th November, Mr. Deakin introduced me to him and we had some conversation—the prisoner asked what authority Mr. Deakin had to act for his father and the first power of attorney was produced—he looked at it and made various objections and said it was not legal—it was suggested, therefore, that the father should come over, or a fresh power should be obtained—I asked him if we sent for the new power would the 20, 000l. be paid as soon as it gets here—he said the money was deposited in the bank, and would be paid on 25th November if the new power of attorney got here in time—I told him I understood there was 2,500 dollars deposited on each side, and I asked what he could show, for that—he said his bank account would show it—I asked him if the 20, 000l. was not paid would the deposit money be returned—he said it would be paid back, and also the 3, 000 dollars which he had received for taxes—he said there could be no failure as all the money was at the bank
then—upon that we arranged to send for the new power—it arrived about 13th December—I showed it to him—he examined it, and he said that there was a fault in it—he afterwards found it was good—he said one of the parties to the proceedings had died, he had an only son, and that would take him into the country to bury him and there would necessarily be a delay for a few days—as soon as he returned the matter would be settled and the money paid—he afterwards told me that he had taken no proceedings—that was the week before he was arrested—he said that he should not bring any proceedings in Court, that he didn't do business that way, he was selling the claim to other parties—he didn't say to whom he had sold it—I told him I did not think they could claim it in Court under the circumstances—he said that didn't make any difference to him as long as he got the money, they must look out for themselves—that same evening he showed me a letter purporting to come from Mr. Wright, of Liverpool, agreeing to purchase the claim, and that 25, 000 was in his hands which would be paid on 15th February—on one occasion I saw him at the hotel when he showed us 300l. in bank notes which he said he had to pay the solicitors in this case—I asked him if he had paid the taxes on the Cock Lane property—he said he had, as well as the other property—he has not given me any money since I have been in England—Mr. Deakin gave me 13l., which I suppose was to help pay my expenses here—after he was in custody I was anxious to get my money back and go to America.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I invested £100 in this matter, 250 dollars before I left home and 300 dollars since—I saw you at 3, Argyll Square, when you brought a power of attorney; I think you gave £25 to Mr. Deakin at the Hotel Metropole, he said you did, I didn't see it counted; you said I could have what money I wanted at any time, you told Mr. Deakin so—that was before we got the second power of attorney—I never asked you for money but that once before you were arrested, that was for £100—I presume I told you that William was dissatisfied with you, he told me that he was, I didn't tell you that you should not mind him—Mr. John Deakin had offered to give me the power of attorney, I told him to give it to William, I don't remember when that conversation took place—I didn't say I would go to America if you gave me £100 and settle the matter myself—you agreed to meet me on the Saturday before you were arrested at the Metropole at one o'clock and try to arrange matters, I went there and waited but you never came—I told you I thought there was something in reference to this matter that Mr. Deakin, the brother, had not told me or William—Mr. Deakin did tell me that there was something private which he wished to tell me before I came, and I said "Tell it to William," and I supposed that he had—I did not know that there was any secret till I got over here, you told me there was a secret, and I said there may be because Mr. Deakin had said there was something that I ought to know before I came away, and you told me what the secret was, which I found to be very untrue; you said that Thomas Deakin was John Deakin's father, and when in America he had left his wife and run away and married another woman; that was not so—I have seen the will of Thomas Deakin which was proved in 1819, I don't think it was signed; one in 1818 was signed, but the one in 1819 not—I think it was proved to be correct.
WILLIAM SMALE TUCKER . I am chief clerk in the Country Department of the City Bank, the prisoner had an account there—I produce an affidavit made by Mr. Pollock, the assistant manager, verifying the prisoner's account, under the Bankers Act—it commenced on 6th September with a credit from the Bank of Montreal of 144l. 10s. 6d., on the same day that account was drawn out by "self"—there is a similar entry on both sides with regard to 14l. 8s., and on 22nd September there is 617l. from the Bank of British North America, that was cashed by ten 50l. notes, numbers 02618 to 27 on the 22nd September—this cheque for 20, 000l. is one of the numbers in a cheque-book which was issued to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The total amount of your credit for the year was 2,538l. 2s. 11d.—on the 22nd December there is a credit of 300l., on December 3rd 800l., and on 13th 400l.
Re-examined. The balance on 4th Jan. was 300l., that was drawn out, and on 13th Jan. 50l., leaving 35l. to his credit, that was drawn out after his arrest.
CHARLES CHRISTIAN HENRY MILLER . I am a merchant of Harewood Square, London—on 24th Sept. last the prisoner had to pay me a sum of 300l. which he paid me in six 50l. Bank of England notes, numbers 06222 to 7, this is the receipt I gave him.
LEWIS SOLOMON . I act as agent for the owners of 21, Cock Lane—my wife was formerly a Miss Keen, 21, Cock Lane, belonged to her, a brother and two sisters jointly, cousins of Mr. Deakin—21, Cock Lane, is now a warehouse, not a particularly large one, a moderately-sized one for the City—my wife's father was John King, he was the son of Sarah, who was a Miss Deakin, the daughter of Thomas Deakin who died in 1819, he left a will relating to Cock Lane—there has been no litigation about that property since the probate which settled the will of Thomas Deakin in 1819—the prisoner has not brought any legal proceedings against any wife or her co-owners, she has been in undisputed possession for twenty-seven years—it is not true that the rates and taxes have been in arrear, they have always been regularly paid so far as I know—I know the prisoner, he came to me in August or September and made several inquiries about 21, Cock Lane, I didn't consider that I was entitled to give him any answer till I knew who he was, he said he was a solicitor and was making inquiries on behalf of Mr. John Deakin, the name of John Deakin rather aroused my ire, because there was only one relative of the family in England, and he had made himself very unpleasant—we had rough words about it, I hardly know what I said, I gave him no information, I told him he had no claim whatever against the estate even if we were not the rightful owners, because we had had possession twenty-seven years, and as he was an American solicitor I advised him to read up the new Act and he would find that the time was reduced to twelve years.
Cross-examined. I am inclined to think you came to see me in March, 1886, I know somebody came and upon reflection I rather think you are the party, that was not the time I got angry with you, the first time I got angry with you was in August and September—I am not exactly a trustee of this property, I act on behalf of one of the four owners, my wife—I decline to answer whether there is any mortgage on the property.
have for several years and do now collect the rates in respect of 21, Cock Lane, there are no arrears.
HENRY JAMES LARDNER . I collect the Poor-rate and Queen's taxes for 21, Cock Lane—there are no arrears, nor have there been while I have collected the rates—the prisoner has never paid me any money in respect of rates or taxes.
THOMAS COATES WRIGHT . I live at Liverpool—in 1883 I made the prisoner's acquaintance on board the Alaska coming from America—in August, 1886, I was introduced to Mr. Deakin at Liverpool—early in January this year I received a telegram from the prisoner from London, and on 4th January I went to the Hotel Metropole and saw him—he said that Mr. Deakin had some property to sell in London which he wanted 40, 000l. for, that he was the solicitor in the matter, and as the property was worth more it would be a good investment; he said, "I wish to buy it for myself, but I do not wish my name appearing as the purchaser; allow me to use your name, and I will find the money which you will pay to Mr. Deakin"—he then gave me this cheque for 20, 500l., post-dated, which I had to pay to Mr. Deakin as the first instalment—I never paid it—he said it aid not matter to Mr. Deakin whose 40, 000l. he had if he got the value of the property, it did not matter whether he or I paid it—he gave me a draft of the letter, which I copied in his room and signed—the original was retained—the effect of it was to say that I would make the first instalment on 15th February, 25, 000l., 10, 000l. On 1st April, and 10, 000l. on 1st September, as the value of this property which I was supposed to be buying—of course I thought it genuine—before I left London the next day he gave me a memorandum, which I was requested to telegraph from Liverpool—this is a copy of the memorandum—I made it in the Hotel Metropole in his presence, and took it to Liverpool with me, and telegraphed it the following morning. (Read: "I find no effort on my part can bring about an arrangement; if you desire it I will see you next Wednesday; I see no necessity of remaining till Thursday; I shall make the first payment on February 15th, 1887; write to me at Adelphi at once.") The next thing I saw was in the paper that the prisoner was in custody—he paid my expenses to come up from Liverpool—he said the property was some property in Cock Lane and some in Leicester.
Cross-examined. I visited you in New Orleans, when I was considerably better off than I am now—you expressed the greatest confidence in me as a friend; you always treated me kindly, and said you would aid me if you could—I thought you were going to do so in this case; I thought it was going to be a good thing for me, instead of what it has turned out—I never heard anything detrimental to your character, but always to your good.
FRANCIS JAMES ROUSE . I am a clerk in the principal Registry Court of Probate, Somerset House—I produce the proceedings in the matter of Dallison v. Ebben—the date of the final decree is 1st July, 1819—that established a will and admitted probate—I produce the will—there was one other will—this is the one that was set up. (The effect of this will was to give the house, 21, Cock Lane, to Sarah King, daughter of Thomas
Deakin.) The Depository of Wills was removed from Doctors' Commons to Somerset House in October, 1874—there have been very few wills at Doctors' Commons since, and they were taken away next year—the registry there practically ceased in 1874.
Cross-examined. I recognise this document (produced by the prisoner) as one of our documents; I have never seen it before; I take it to be the copy of this will of Thomas Deakin—it is signed; the other is not signed—I do not know how the unsigned will was admitted to probate; it is done in some cases—I have not had an opportunity of examining this paper, therefore I cannot say that it is a copy—both wills were proved on 7th July, 1819—I should not know whether Mr. J.C. Lowell investigated this matter of Deakin's in 1885; a man is not obliged to give his name when he sees a will.
DONALD SWANSON (Police Inspector). About half-past 7 on the evening of 2nd January I went with Sergeant Quin to the Hotel Metropole and saw the prisoner—I told him that I was a police officer and that I should arrest him on a warrant, which I read to him—it was for obtaining money from Mr. Deakin by false pretences—he asked if he could have bail—I said that was a matter for a Magistrate, not for the police—he then asked to see the prosecutor; that was declined—I took him to the station, where he was charged; he made no answer to it—he was searched—I found on him 295l. in Bank of England notes, 4l. 10s. in gold, and two American notes, one for 2 dollars and one for 25 cents—I searched his room at the hotel and found the documents that have been produced, letters and telegrams from the prosecutor to him—I found no letters or papers referring to legal proceedings with regard to this claim of Mr. Deakin's—I have an order from the prisoner addressed to Mr. Poland, authorising the 295l. found on the prisoner to be handed over to Mr. Deakin; also an order to the proprietor of the hotel to give up 100l. to Mr. Stanford.
Cross-examined. Mr. Lowell and Sergeant Quin went with me to your room—I asked Mr. Lowell to break the news of your arrest to your wife—I understood him to be your friend.
The prisoner in a long address to the Jury entered into the details of his connection with Mr. Lowell, through whom, he asserted, the negotiations in this matter were conducted; that he never had any intention of injuring the prosecutor and in all that was done he was more sinned against than sinning.
Several witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
322. DUDLEY MANSFIELD and HARRY CARPENTER , Unlawfully conspiring with Arthur Burrows and William Verrall, and others unknown, to obtain money by false pretences; other counts for obtaining and attempting to obtain money with intent to defraud.
After hearing the first witness, the Jury stopped the case and returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACK Prosecuted.
prisoner and another man met me—the prisoner said "We Know this gentleman," and took hold of my arm—I pulled it away; he caught hold of it again, and the other man caught hold of the other arm—they twisted my arms back and put me up against one of the tree protectors and took all I had out of my pockets, which was 1d. and some tobacco—as soon as they left me I turned round sharp and followed them—I had gone about 10 or 12 yards when I saw a policeman coming towards us, and I gave the prisoner into custody, the other went away.
WILLIAM SHAKIN (Policeman G 166). I was on duty in Gray's Inn Road and saw the prosecutor—he said, "I want you to take this man into custody for robbing me"—the prisoner said, "You have made a mistake"—on the way to the station the prisoner said to the prosecutor, "Don't you think you had better take a shilling or so and settle it. rather than take me before a Magistrate?"
GUILTY of robbery without violence— He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in September, 1885.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, March 5th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted; MR. SALTER Defended Carey.
EUSTACE THURBON . I live at 11, Great Aubyn Street, and am a messenger in the Great Northern Railway Company—On 26th February, about quarter past 5, I met a Mend named Gilham and went with him to the Nag's Head public-house in Leather Lane—I there saw five men, the prisoners are two of them—after two or three minutes one of the men nodded to me as if he knew me—I told him I didn't know him, and he then turned to Carey and said, "He makes out he does not know me"—Carey then stepped up to me and said, "Stand me a drink"—I said, "No, I can't stand you a drink"—he said, "Well, pay for a pot"—I said, "I can't pay for a pot for you"—he called for a pot of four ale, and the potman put it on the counter, and Carey told me to pay for it—I said, "I shall not pay for it"—he said, "it is called for now, pay for it for us"—I said, "I can't pay for it, I told you I could not and I won't"—he then caught hold of my watch chain and said, "You think you are b—tricky with that, but you don't go out of this public-house with that watch on"—O'Leary could hear that—I then buttoned up my coat, and as my friend was going out they shoved him back on me, and he jumped up on a form and they pulled him off—the men were all standing across the doorway—all this took place in front of the bar within hearing of the potman—the landlord said, "Let them go out," but they would not, and he let us out—I passed through, thinking my friend was going to follow, but it appears they pulled him back—I got outside, and then saw my friend lying on the pavement, between the public-house and next door, and all the men on him—he sprang up and got into the road, and held his arms up above his face, as they were punching him about the face and neck—I went into the road to pull him away, and Carey then left him and turned upon me and struck me in the shoulder, and then caught me from the back and made a tear at my coat, which
he slit all round here—I dragged him right across the road to the shop where my friend works, and he then left go of me and I ran into the shop—it is rather a rough neighbourhood about there—I waited there with my friend till two constables came up and then went with one of them to another public-house and saw Carey and gave him in charge—I went back to look for Gilham, and as I got to the corner of Leather Lane I saw the same five men ill treating the policeman—they got Carey off and took him to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. I did not loose my money, or watch, or anything.
Cross-examined by O'Leary.—You were in the public-house sitting on the same form as the other men—You did not attempt to assault or rob me; you said nothing.
By the COURT. He was at the other end of the bar when Carey said about my being tricky—there was nothing in the pocket near where my coat was torn—I had 16s., I should think, in my left hand trousers pocket—it is a silver hunter watch and a steel chain.
HENRY GILHAM . I live at 439, Liverpool Road, Islington, and am a shopman working at a cornchandler's in Leather Lane—I was with the last witness on this evening—about half past 5 we went into the Nag's Head, and there saw the prisoners and two other men, one of the other men wanted to shake hands with my friend, and pretended to know him; he said "Halloa, Bill, how are you?"; that is the name I had called him by in the hearing of these men; Bill said he did not know him, and I know he did not—after that Carey came up and asked both of us to stand a drink, and we would not; he said "Well, pay for a pot"; we would not, and he called the barman, and he drew a pot and put it on the counter; he then said "Well, it is drawn now, you might as well pay for it," but we would not—I then said in the hearing of the five men "Well, Bill, we might as well drink up and go out"; I drank up and attempted to go out, but they all stood across the door and pushed me back against my friend; I said "If I can't get out one way I will another," and I got on the form to get into the other compartment, but they laid hold of my legs and pulled me down—I then asked the landlord if we could go out, and he said "Yes"—I told him to keep the two prisoners and the other three men, but they still stood across the door and would not let us—the landlord then opened the side door leading into the next compartment, and my friend went through, but they laid hold of my coat and would not let me go; O'Leary did nothing, it was the other four; one then booted me and another clouted me in the face, I could not say who it was—when I got outside the clothier's he still banged me about the face, and some one caught me round the waist to put their hand into my trousers pocket from behind; I put my hand in, and as I did so the lot of them knocked me down; Carey was one of them; my trousers were torn—I managed to get up, and when I got in the middle of the road Carey was still standing by me, clouting me on the face—I told my friend to go into my shop, as he would be safe there, and after that I managed to go in myself.
Cross-examined by O'Leary. You did not take me to my shop; you came in the shop after I got in there, and there was a crowd round the shop—my master told me to clear them away, but you would not let me; you said "Stop in there, or I will knock you about again"—he dragged on behind me into the shop, and stayed two or three minutes.
JESSIE DEPTFORD (Policeman 217 G). On this Saturday afternoon, about 10 minutes to 6, I was on duty in Leather Lane, and the two witnesses spoke to me, and I went with Thurbon and found the two prisoners at the Clock House public-house at the corner of Hatton Wall and Leather Lane, and he gave Carey into custody and charged him with assaulting him with intent to rob—I and another constable proceeded with him down Leather Lane, and when we got to the end, O'Leary and four or five other men rushed upon us, and we all three were knocked down in the road, and I saw O'Leary seize the other constable by the back and strike him two or three times and force him away from Carey; I struggled with Carey till another constable arrived—Carey struck me two or three times in the struggle, and tried to get away, and we were compelled to draw our truncheons to keep the crowd back—on the arrival of the other constable, Carey said he would go quietly, and I handed him over to him and went to the assistance of 126 G, and took O'Leary; he was very violent all the way to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. The violence took place when the crowd was pressing round attempting to rescue him—I had hold of Carey in the usual way, by the right hand and and left shoulder; he struggled very violently, and struck me in the side with his left hand—he was quiet enough until the crowd came up—he was sober, but O'Leary had been drinking—the prosecutor and his friend were perfectly sober.
GEORGE MURPHY (Policeman 126 G). I was with the last witness, and took Carey in custody—as we were going down Leather Lane some one called out "Rescue" behind us; Carey then struggled desperately to get away, and O'Leary at the same time jumped on my back and struck me two blows, one on each side of the face, and we all went to the ground together; O'Leary then kicked me in the thick part of the leg, and was turning to run away and slipped and partially fell; I drew my truncheon and hit him across the right shoulder, and he fell against the kerb and cut his head; I then held him down till assistance arrived—he was very violent all the way to the station, and it took four constables to convey him there.
O'Leary in his Statement before the Magistrate and in his Defence stated that he was drunk at the time, and knew nothing about it.
O'LEARY— NOT GUILTY .
CAREY— GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The evidence of JESSIE DEPTFORD and GEORGE MURPHY in the last case was read over to them by the shorthand writer, to which they assented.
CAREY— NOT GUILTY .
O'LEARY— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
GERTRUDE SMET . I am married, and live at 55, Whitechapel Road—on 23rd December, 1878, I was present at St. George's Church, Cannon Street Road, when the prisoner was married to Lena Alice Goldsmith—my
maiden name was Bosch, and I signed the register in that name—they went to Sunderland.
THOMAS ROWE . I am a seaman, of 2, Long Bank, Sunderland—the prisoner rented two rooms of me at 48, Laurence Street, Sunderland, from the beginning of 1872 to the beginning of 1874, and lived there sometimes with his wife—he went to sea—about middle of 1878 he took a room of me, which he and his wife occupied; he lived there till May or June, 1879, and then he went off and never came back—his wife became ill, he provided her with no money, and she was taken to the workhouse, where she was entered as Alice Thompson—I knew her as Lena and Alice, she went by both names—she once showed me her marriage certificate.
Cross-examined by Prisoner. You lived at 30, Laurence Street, at Mrs. Shotten's, and you moved from there to Denmark—when you came back you lived at my house with your wife, and you cohabited with her, and from there you deserted her.
RICHARD THRESHER (Inspector H). I produce a certificate of the second marriage on 29th September, 1880, and a certificate of the death of Alice Thompson, at the Sunderland workhouse on 30th September—the 30th has been altered to 13th—I read the charge to the prisoner on 21st February—he said "I had a letter sent me that my first wife was dead three months before I married the second time; she was attending in the infirmary at the time. Shortly after my second marriage I went to Sunderland and got a copy of the certificate of death from the Registrar's office, when I found, that my first wife died on 30th September, 1880, one day after I married my second wife; I arrived in London a few days afterwards, and gave the certificate to my second wife, and told her the marriage was not legal, and if she liked we would have it performed over again, but she refused to do so, saying, that if one marriage was not sufficient she would not enter into another one"—I read that to him after I had taken it down and he signed it.
CATHERINE MARIA VALLACK . I live at 17, Denmark Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on 29th September, 1880, I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner at Christ Church, Watney Street—this is the certificate, I signed it—I knew his first wife—he said he was a widower quite two years before she died—he married me in September 1880, and deserted me in March, he came back afterwards and wanted to live with me; he said he did not know whether his first wife was dead or alive—I said he should bring me proof of her death or of her being alive—he went away and returned about October or November, 1881, with this death certificate of 13th September—I notice now there is a scratching out on it—he went to Shields in July—we were together till four years ago in February when he deserted me and was away for four years—all this time I was under the impression that I was married to him—the 13th September alteration had taken me in—I found out about five weeks ago that it was a fraud—he never offered to go through the form of a second marriage with me—I did not know that I was not his wife—he came in about five weeks ago and wanted me to go to a solicitor's to sign a paper that I was not his wife, and he would pay the expenses, giving as a reason that he had married in Brisbane, and if any of his shipmates were to come there it would be very unpleasant for them to say he was married in London—he left me penniless on 12th February—he gave me a three
months' pay note, but it was cancelled, and I could not get any money, and I have been left to my own resources for some time through him—I cannot say that he was unkind to me, he might have been better; he has given me a hiding and a black eye.
The Prisoner in hit defence said that he deserted hit first wife because she drank and misbehaved herself and that in July, 1880, he heard from a shipmate that she had died in the infirmary.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury— Four Months' Hard Labour.
327. FRANCIS JOHN MOSS (22), and WALTER BRYANT (27) , Stealing a gelding, a cart, and a set of harness, the property of Francis John Moss the elder. Second Count, Charging Bryant with receiving the harness.
MR. MUIR appeared for Moss, and MR. SALTER Bryant.
WILLIAM HATBERTSON (Police Superintendent, Watford). On 4th February Francis John Moss the elder spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said, I gave instructions to Draper, and on Saturday, February 5th, I went to Uxbridge with Draper, and found a pony there in the possession of the police—on 6th February Bryant was brought to the Watford police station by Vincent, and I said to him, "Has the prisoner been charged?"—he said "Yes, he has been charged with receiving a set of harness and a cart, well knowing them to have been stolen"—Bryant then pulled out the piece of paper, "Bought of F.J. Moss, a set of pony harness, half a sovereign, received 3.83 half of soving"—this signature means Bryant, I believe—Bryant said "I bought it," referring to the harness—Moss said, "You never gave me anything for it"—Bryant said, "Yes I did; I gave you 4s. the day after I receipted the receipt—You made me drunk and then knocked me about"—they were charged before a Magistrate, and Moss, when asked whether he had anything to say, said that he was guilty of selling the pony, cart, and harness, belonging to his father—he was cautioned.
FRANCIS JOHN MOSS . I am a retired licensed victualler, and live at Common Wood, Watford—the prisoner Moss is my son—he was summoned to Uxbridge for furious driving, and asked me to lend him my pony and cart to go there—I did so, and sent Holloway with him, and said, "Send the pony and cart home by the man if you are convicted"—Uxbridge is 11 or 12 miles from Common Wood—they started at 9 a.m. on 31st January—neither of them returned that day—Holloway returned about 9 o'clock the next night, having walked home—I did not see him till the Wednesday morning—he told me something, and on the Thursday the Sarrat police came to my place—I went to Uxbridge on the Friday, and found my pony at Mr. Bywater's, the King's Arms, in the stable in the ordinary way—I value him at from 30l. to 35l., and the cart at 17l., and the harness at 50s.—I have not seen the cart since, but I believe it is at Cheswick police station—I identified the harness at Watford police court—I do not think this receipt is in my son's writing, unless he was beastly intoxicated.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I do not identify his spelling, and it
does not look like his writing at all—he will be 23 next May—he has lived with me all his life—he is given to liquor at times—I do not know whether he was intoxicated when he was charged with furious driving—he was driving my pony and cart; he did not injure any one—I am prosecuting him, to my sorrow—I do not wish to press this matter against him, but I wish to put a stop to it—after he was committed I communicated with a solicitor—Holloway is a neighbour—I contemplated my son being imprisoned before he went, and sent Holloway to bring the cart back.
Re-examined. I have no vindictive feeling against my son; I am merely prosecuting him for his own good, and it is a very hard thing for a parent to do.
ALFRED BYWATER . I am landlord of the King's Arms, Uxbridge—on 31st January, about 12 o'clock, the prisoner and a young man came with a horse and trap, which I always understood were the property of Moss junior—I know the father; he and his son and daughter slept at my house on December 26th, and they had this cart with them—when Moss came on 31st January he produced a summons, and said, "This is a nice thing they have done for me" and that they had fined him a sovereign at the Town Hall for furious driving, and as that had got him into trouble he would sell the lot, and asked me to buy the pony, trap, and harness—I said that I did not want them—he said, "Well, the fact is, I want a stronger horse to work on the farm, that can pull a load in a cart"—I said, "Well, if you mean that, I have got a horse which is too large for me in my business; I will make an exchange with you"—he looked at my horse, and asked me 7l. and my horse for his pony—I offered him 5l.—he said he should like to show it to Mr. Freeman, a livery stable keeper—he took it there and tried it, and brought it back and said that Freeman offered him 15l. for it—I said that he ought to have taken it—he said no, he knew that the pony would have a good home with me and that he would let me have him in exchange for my horse and 5l.—I sent my man with him, and he tried my horse in my cart—he and his friend slept at my house that night—this is the receipt, it is my writing and Moss's signature—"I hereby certify that the black cob is my property, having bought him at Croydon fair for 9l. 10s. Received in exchange for the bay cob, his bay horse and 5l., F.J. Moss"—he signed this in my presence—I had said, "Does this pony belong to you?"—he said, "Yes; why do you ask me such a question?"—he took his cart and the harness of the pony away next morning, and my horse—on the following Friday night he came again for something to drink, and asked if he could have a bed—I said, "No, we are full," and while he was there I went to the station and Sergeant Vincent came.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I have known Moss since he came at Christmas—I saw him two or three times between then and January 31st; he always had the pony and cart with him—this is the usual form of receipt—I keep two horses, but do not deal much in them—I have seen Moss the worse for liquor, and it was very evident that he had something to drink when he had my horse—I heard that my horse was chopped away at Southall market—he was nine years old.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. MOSS was not at all drunk—if he gave 35l. for the pony I should say he was a very bad judge.
EDMUND VINCENT (Detective X). I am stationed at Uxbridge—on 4th February Mr. Moss gave me information, and at 7 o'clock that evening Mr. Bywater told me that the prisoner Moss was in the town—I went in search of him, met him, and said, "What is your name?"—he said, "John Day"—I said, "I have reason to believe your name is Moss"—he said, "It is no such thing"—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "At Watford"—I said, "You will have to come with me to Mr. Bywater, at the King's Arms, where I can ascertain"—he said, "You need not do that, my name is Moss"—I said, "You will have to go to the police-station with me, and I shall detain you on a charge of stealing your father's pony, cart, and harness"—he said, "All right, I have sold the cob to Mr. Bywater; you had better take the other man, as he has some of the harness now on him"—the "other man" was Thompson, who appeared as a witness for the defence—I took Moss and Thompson to the station—I found a kicking-strap on Thompson—he was discharged—I communicated with Superintendent Hummerton, at Watford—on the same evening I went with Draper to Mr. Bywater's, and next day, Saturday, I traced the cart to Bryant's possession at Acton Green, about 11 miles from Uxbridge, and found Bryant at the Stag public-house—I said, "I believe you purchased a cart from a young man named Moss some time this week?"—he said, "I have, for 4l., paying 10s. deposit," and produced this receipt: "I, Walter Brynent, his court of F. Moss a cart, is sum of 4l., paid 10s. a count W. Bryant"—he took me to a yard, and showed me the cart, which bore the name of Francis John Moss—I said, "I find the cart is broken"—he said, "Yes, it was so when I bought it"—I went to the station for assistance, returned to Bryant, I said, "I shall want the truth, Bryant"—he said, "You will not have it"—I said, "The price you have paid for the cart is very low, and I shall consider it my duty to take you in custody for receiving the cart knowing it to be stolen; I have reason to believe you have purchased some harness from the same young man"—he said, "I have done no such thing; I did not see any harness"—I handed him over to the Watford police on Sunday the 6tb, and Moss said to Bryant, "You had the harness too, you bought it for 10s.—Bryant produced the receipt, and Moss said, "Yes, when the receipt was made out you refused to give me any money, and when I asked you for it you ill-used me"—I said to Bryant, "You denied all knowledge of the harness last night to me when I took you in custody"—he said, "I did have it, and it is now at my brother John's."
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. Sarrat is, I suppose over 20 miles from where I found the cart—the cart was dirty when I found it in a yard, and the front was damaged and the splash-board—there were no cushions.
FRANCIS JOHN MOSS (re-examined). My name was painted on the cart, and it was in perfectly good condition when it left on January 21, but one shaft was cracked, and a piece was put in beneath to splice it.
WILLIAM JOHN DRAPER (Herts Constabulary). On 4th February I received instructions from Superintendent Hummerston, went to Uxbridge and found Moss in the custody of the Metropolitan Police—I said, "You will be charged with stealing your father's pony, cart, and harness"—he said, "Yes, I know all about it; the pony is at Mr. Bywater's"—I went there and found the pony, and then took Moss to Watford station—on Saturday 5th I took the pony to Watford, and on Sunday 6th I went
to Acton Green and saw John Bryant, who gave me a set of harness, which I took to Watford, and Mr. Moss identified it.
Witnesses for Bryant.
WILLIAM BARBELL . I live at 7, Erthway Street, Notting Hill—I attend Southall market every Wednesday—on February 2nd I saw Moss there driving a horse and cart up and down, for sale—he asked 14l. to 16l. for the lot; the horse, cart, and harness—the cart was broken in several places, and looked as if it had been chucked down, horse and all, as the horse was lame, and the round bone was sore and the shoulders—I gave him 45s. and my horse in exchange for them—he scribbled something on a paper, but I said, "I want something which I can understand," and a friend of his wrote this receipt: "Feb. 2. Received of W. Barrell 2l. 5s. in return for brown gelding. F.J. Moss"—he then offered me the cart and harness for 6l.—I pointed out that the shaft was broken, and the tail-board broken in several places—he said, "You are a d—d fool, you do not know what you are buying"—I had nothing more to do with him—I sold his horse for five guineas within a quarter of an hour—he was lame when I bought him, but I did not notice it because he was warm—Moss might have had a glass of drink.
THOMAS HENRY DUGGIN . I am a green-meat dealer of 15, Palmerston Road, South Acton—on 2nd February I was in Southall Market and the prisoner Moss offered me a horse, trap, and harness for 8l.—I said that I had only got 5l.—he said that he would take 5l. down, and trust me for the 3l., but I did not take it because I wanted my money for market purposes.
JOHN THOMPSON . I am a hawker, of Turnham Green—on 3rd February I went to Bryant's house at Acton, early in the morning, and saw Moss on the sofa—I said, "Get up," and he got up and had breakfast and we went out, and when we came home at night Moss said to Bryant "Will you buy the harness?" Bryant said" I don't know; how much do you want for it?"—he said "I will take 10s. for it"—Bryant said "I will have it"—he gave him 6s. that night, and he went to a public-house and spent it, and came down to the stable next morning and Bryant gave him the other 4s.—next day Moss said that he would sell the cart, and fetched it from the yard, but I had not sufficient money to buy it—the shaft was broken and the back-board—he said I will take 4l. and trust you for what you have not got—Bryant paid 10s., and he was trusted 3l. 10s.—I cannot read—I saw them both write on a piece of paper—Read: "Walter Bryant has bought of F.J. Moss a set of pony for 4l., and paid 10s. on account."
Cross-examined. It is not true that Bryant said "When I asked you for any money you ill-used me"—I am Bryant's brother-in-law.
MOSS— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Watford in September, 1884, of stealing a hurdle.— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
BRYANT— NOT GUILTY .
me by my throat, and I was thrown down and partly strangled—I regained my feet and was forced down again—my coat was torn open—I had a satchel containing about 15s. in silver, and 3 or 4 shillings in coppers—some one came up, and they made on—I got up and followed them, but lost sight of them for 5 or 6 minutes—I met a constable and told him—we went towards the spot, and met the two prisoners—I gave them in custody—that was about 200 yards from where I was knocked down—when I got home I missed about 5s. 8d. from my pouch, not all I had—I am certain of the men.
Cross-examined by Carr. I was perfectly sober—I said that I should not like to charge you with robbery—I did not know what had been taken from me till I got home.
By the Court The prisoners were coming in a direction front, the spot when they were taken.
THOMAS TWIGG (Policeman X 353). Mitchell complained to me—we went to Noland Road; he saw the two men first and pointed them out; I took them to the station—the inspector asked him if he had been robbed; he said that he could not say—the prisoners said, "Constable, it is all a mistake, we have only just left off work"—they were all perfectly sober—the prisoners were going from their homes when I arrested them.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate, Carr says: "It was not 12.30. I was going home and met Wall, we were going home when we were taken in custody and charged with assaulting the prosecutor"—Wall says: "I was with Carr and his wife when we were seized and taken in custody; that was just before 1.
Witness for Carr's Defence.
WILLIAM COST . I am a plasterer, of 31, Newnham Street—I met Carr on Thursday, the day before this happened, and asked him how he was getting on, and he waited for me on the Thursday, and till nine o'clock on the Friday evening—he then went with me to the Albert Arms, Harcourt Street—I did not transact my business there till twelve o'clock—he then went outside with me and I said, "Do you want any money from me to-night?"—he said, "Let me have 6d. "—I gave him 1s., and he was with me till 12.20—I did not see him again till the following Thursday—the Albert Arms is opposite the back entrance to Marlborough Street Police Court—two and a half miles from where this assault took place—it would take any one over half an hour to walk—I have known Carr nine years as a respectable working man—I never heard anything Against his character, and if the shops had not been so busy he would have had a great many witnesses here to speak to his character.
Cross-examined. We left the public-house at 12.20, about five minutes previous to the house being closed, and to make sure I made inquiries of the landlord—Carr was charged next day, and when I had made inquiries of the landlord I gave evidence at the Police Court—the landlord is not here.
Witness for Wall's Defence.
EMILY BROWN . My husband is a carpenter—on 20th January Wall was with me during the day at Mr. Mills', Colchester Mews, where he had been helping during the week, and I had been at work during the day—he went home with me, and I left him between a quarter and 20
minutes past 12; I have known him two years as a respectable, honest man.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Monday, March 7th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and F. M. ABRAHAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS.
ADDISON, Q.C., and FULTON, Defended.
CHARLES L' ENFANT . I am clerk in the London Bankruptcy Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of Adolphe Dyroff, wine merchant, Crutched Friars—the petition is dated 25th August, 1886, the adjudication 21st October, 1886. a statement of affairs 29th December, 1886, purporting to be signed by the prisoner, and sworn to by him on that day—debts incurred 9,730l. 11s. 11d., deficiency 9, 422l. 13s. 9d.; the list of unsecured creditors contains 27 names, 24 of them wine merchants—the debts of those not wine merchants amount to 6l. 2s. 9d., all the rest are wine merchants; the act of bankruptcy is stated to be departing from his dwelling-house, with intent to defraud his creditors—a transcript of the shorthand notes taken of the bankrupt's statement is on the file, sworn to, and signed by the prisoner.
JAMES SCUTARI TAYLOR . I am managing clerk to W. and T. Restall and Co., wine and spirit importers, 29, Mark Lane—I know the prisoner—we first did business with him about the end of 1884; from that date we have from time to time sold wines for him at our public sales—in March or April, 1886, I remember his speaking of a parcel of claret which he was in treaty for; I did not know the name of the party at the time—he showed me a sample of it; the quantity was said to be from 60, 000 to 65, 000 bottles; he asked me what I thought it would realise if placed on the London market—I told him I thought from 30s. to 34s. a dozen, in bond—he mentioned the price they were asking for it as something like 4 francs per bottle—we afterwards agreed to open a credit for him for a certain sum, to be paid at Bordeaux against the bills of lading—about 3rd May we received the bills of lading for this wine, for about 55, 000 bottles of Mouton Rothschild of 1873—at the prisoner's request we opened a credit at Bordeaux for him for 5,684l.; the money was paid at Bordeaux to the holders of the wine, to get the, bills of lading—the prisoner signed this agreement. (This was dated 13th April, 1886, and authorised the sale of the wine without reserve.) We afterwards received the wine and sold it by public auction—we offered the whole of it, but only sold 51, 120 bottles, which realised 6, 004l. 16s. 4d.—we sold the rest on 19th August for 395l. 12s. 7d.—we charged 5 per cent, for selling—there was a discount to the buyers of 2 1/2 per cent.; after deducting all charges it realised 6, 225l. 12s. 11d.—I have not gone into the average price per dozen, but I estimate it at from 30s. to 32s. in bond; deducting discount and commission it would be more than 27s. or 28s., something less than 30s.; on 8th May, 1886, we received a deposit on the prisoner's account of 195 cases of claret; I think this is the invoice of Messrs. Verdier and Co. referring to that wine; that seems to be about 962l.; we advanced
the prisoner 625l. on that wine—we sold it on 20th May; it realised 644l. 1s. 7d., showing a loss on the invoice price of 317l. 18s. 5d.—he gave us authority to sell it without reserve; on 25th May he deposited with us 230 cases of champagne—I cannot say that the wine referred to in this invoice of Messrs. Benoit is the same; the quantities are the same, but the qualities may be different; they are marked "Vintage of 1878"; they appear to be the same; the invoice appears to be made out "nett"; there may be some very heavy discounts or allowances; there is nothing on the invoice to show that the price is 219l. 19s. 7d.; they may have been bought at cash prices for aught I know—we advanced him 100l. in cash on these goods—we sold them on 22nd June—they realised 132l. 10s. 10d., showing on the invoice a loss of 100l. 9s. 1d.—we sold those in the same way, by his authority, without reserve—on 13th July he deposited with us 400 cases of champagne; they appear to be the same goods as are referred to in this invoice of A.J. Delacroix at 400l.—we advanced the prisoner 200l. on those goods, and sold them on 19th August by his authority without reserve; they realised 247l. 9s. 6d., showing a loss on the invoice price of 152l. 10s. 6d.—all these advances were made on the understanding that the wine was to be sold without reserve—except as to the Mouton Rothschild—the prisoner did not inform us of the cost of the wines to him; we never saw the invoices—we fixed the amount to be advanced by tasting the wine—the 13th July was the last transaction we had with him—he offered more goods after that, but we declined to receive them.
Cross-examined. Messrs. Restall and Co. have been in business about 25 years as auctioneers and wine and spirit brokers—they deal very largely in this way with wines entrusted to them without reserve—we have two or three sales a month; they are advertised in the trade circulars and in the daily papers, with a description of the chief parcels; the Mouton Rothschild's were specially described and largely advertised—we had the particulars from the prisoner—we began to deal with him in 1884—we had a great number of transactions with him; we did not know him previous to 1884—we have sold him goods by private treaty as a wine and spirit merchant—we sell largely by private sale as well as by public auction—he gave us references when we started business with him; I believe one was the London Joint Stock Bank; they spoke well of him—I have heard that he has sold wines for Travers and Sons—the wines in question came generally from Bordeaux—we never? asked to look at the invoices, it is not usual for us to do so—I think on one or two of the earlier transactions in 1884 we did not make advances—in 1886 we advanced in every case—we generally taste the wine and form an opinion as to what it will realise, and advance about two-thirds, not as a hard-and-fast rule, but what we think safe—I think in most instances the prisoner brought us samples; in some cases we saw the bills of lading, and in others warrants; we believed him to be a respectable man, we had no reason to doubt his bona fides—I thought he wanted to make a profit on the transactions, by buying in Bordeaux and selling in London—the Beque and Pellet transaction was a large one—we opened a credit at Bordeaux through our bankers; that was to obtain possession of the wine; the Bordeaux people wanted so much money in exchange for the bills of lading; that was the arrangement; we paid 5,640l. against the bills of lading in Bordeaux; that money did not go to the prisoner; I
believe it would go to Beque and Pellet; I believe we had their receipt for the money, before they would part with the shipping documents; that was the agreement, I believe—the selling of wine without reserve and without special regard to the invoice is the usual way of doing business; a very large business is done in that way, I believe—I should think that wine sold in that way would be well known in Bordeaux—I have known foreigners put very high prices on their produce, more than I should think they were worth—we found afterwards that the prisoner had persons present at the sales to keep up the bidding; in some instances they bought some of the wine, and the invoice was afterwards transferred to his account—he did the best he could to get the best possible prices, and so did we—I think we generally get a steady average price; of course the market fluctuates—from memory, I think the market in 1886 was fairly good; the sales were largely attended; if it sold at a low price I think it was very badly bought; if a man buys well, he may make money by telling through us; it is not selling at a sacrifice; I should think it was one of the best markets; the quantity we are selling by public auction is on the increase; it is becoming a favourite mode of disposing of wines here—I heard that before 1884 the prisoner was acting as traveller to Beque and Pellet for some time.
By the JURY. Upon the 5,600l. transaction we gave the prisoner a cheque for 500l. on 21st May, and on 24th another for 100l.—the remainder of the money went to Bordeaux, we sent it.
Re-examined. When the prisoner's petition was filed we had about 18l. in hand belonging to him—some of Beque and Pellet's wine fetched 42s. a dozen—that was the first three lots, they were bought by a man named Elfield, who turned out to be a friend of the prisoner's—the next two lots fetched 38s.; that was an actual sale—the wine sold on 19th August fetched about 1s. a dozen less than we bought it in at—that was after we had declined dealing further with the prisoner—I don't know why we declined, it was simply an opinion I formed—I don't know how to put it in words—I did not wish to advance any more money; I really cannot give any definite reason.
By MR. ADDISON. The nett sum realised after deductions for freight, insurance, commission, and discount, was 6,225l. 11s.—I should think the gross amount would be about 7, 000l.
ALFRED WALTER SENTENCE . I am managing clerk in the counting-house of Messrs. Southard and Company, wine brokers, St. Dunstan's Hill—we first commenced doing business with the prisoner about March, 1885, and from that time we sold wines for him on commission at our public sales—from time to time we made him advances upon the wines which he deposited, at the rate of 5 per cent, commission, free of all charges—the wines were to be sold without reserve; we never sell on any other terms—we don't ask anything about the invoice prices of the wines—we always tasted the wines, and the amount we advanced was settled entirely upon that—on 24th May, 1886, the prisoner deposited with us 278 cases of claret, from Schroder and de Constans—the wines mentioned in this invoice (produced) appear to be the same—the invoice price is 1,240l.—we advanced him 400l. upon that wine—we sold it on 24th June, it realised nett 786l. 8s. 11d., showing a loss upon the invoice price of 453l. 11s. 1d.—on 24th June he deposited with us 166 cases of claret and 168 cases of claret, making together 334 cases—they appear to
the same goods referred to in these two invoices of Baignol and Canaby; the invoice price of the two is 569l.—we made him an advance that day of 316l.; they were sold on 29th July for 396l., showing a loss on the invoice price of 172l.—on 8th July the prisoner deposited with us 30 hogsheads of brandy, which appear to be goods referred to in the invoice of F. Poillot; they were invoiced at 246l.,—on the same day he deposited 239 cases of brandy, which are referred to in the invoice of Auguste Biliary; the invoice price was 310l.—we advanced upon these two lots 280l.—on the 29th July we sold the two lots for 230l., snowing a difference of 236l.—on 4th August he deposited with us 100 cases of brandy, and 10 hogsheads and 11 quarter cases of brandy—they appear to be the goods in the invoice of Blanchy and Company; the invoice price is 160l. 9s. 4d.—we advanced him on that day 680l. on that wine and 1, 000 cases of champagne of Messrs. Mercier and Company—we sold the brandy on 26th August for 97l. 16s. 6d., being a difference of 62l. 14s.—on the same day he deposited with us 100 cases of champagne of Moet and Chandon, the invoice price being 295l.—we advanced 400l. on that including something else—on 26th August we sold it for 270l., showing a loss of 25l. on Moet and Chandon's champagne—on the same day he deposited 1, 000 cases of champagne of Mercier and Company, at the invoice price of 776l.—we sold that on 26th August for 650l., a difference on the invoice price of 126l.—at the time his petition was filed we had some goods of his which we could realise that would have left us about 12l. in hand—on 13th August I handed the prisoner this bill of exchange for 400l. that was on the champagne and burgundy; it is endorsed by him.
Cross-examined. Messrs. Southard and Company are a very old firm of 25 years' standing; it is a firm of the highest respectability—we send trade circulars all round the country and abroad as well—if any one wanted to get rid of wine on the sly I should think they would be the last firm any one would go to, too much publicity is given—we give the full particulars of the best classes of wines we have to sell, other wines we should describe generally—we mention the names of the growers if there is anything attractive in it—a great number of our circulars get to Bordeaux, which is the claret district; we also send them to Epernay—the prices we obtained were fair average prices—by the pieces some of them fetched they were not what they ought to have been; I mean those who tasted them didn't like the quality—they paid up to the value of them—I dare say those who invoice them put the best price they can—we taste for ourselves and judge of the value—we have our own skilful tasters—we advance upon the full value of the goods—the 453l. loss in Shroder and de Constans wine would be the difference between the invoice price and what the goods fetched—I can't say that they have been invoiced excessively, I don't remember, I am more in the routine of the counting-house—we dealt with the prisoner in 1885; that was a better year than 1886—I have heard that he was five years with Beque and Pellet; we always looked upon him as a respectable man—his name is in the Post Office Directory, and he had an office in Crutched Friars.
ROBERT GRIFFIN . I am a bill broker and a bill discounter, of 27, Clement's Lane, City—on 9th August this acceptance was brought to me for discount—I gave in exchange for it a cheque for 392l. 10s.—I had it cashed at my bank, and obtained bank-notes for it, which I gave to the
person who brought the bill—he was a perfect stranger; I believe to be the prisoner.
Cross-examined. He said he had exceeded his limit of discount at the bank and had come to me.
DANIEL ALLEN SCOTT . I am a wine broker and merchant and auctioneer at 32 and 35, Great Tower Street—I knew the prisoner since June, 1885, and have sold wine for him at public sales—on 31st July last he deposited with me 299 cases of champagne—by the marks they appear to be the same goods as are referred to in the invoice of Coutier at 239l.—I advanced the prisoner 120l. on that date—I sold the wine on 3rd August for 116l. 18s., showing a difference on the invoice price of 122l.—I sold it without reserve, with the prisoner's authority.
Cross-examined. I consider that as good a way of selling as could be—the sale is improved by selling without reserve, it makes the sale appear more bona fide—this champagne is not a well-known brand in England—the price I obtained was a very fair price—I never see the invoice price—if I found the invoice price 116l. beyond the price I mentioned I should suspect it was very much beyond what could be reasonably obtained—I do not think I tasted the wine, I was very unwell at the time.
Re-examined. The prisoner never told me what he had agreed to pay for it.
ROBERT BILLING . I am managing clerk to Kingscote and Co., Water Lane, London agents to Moet and Chandon—about the end of June, 1886, the prisoner called at our office, and inquired our prices, and tasted some wine—he said he wanted to buy some of our wine, that he had an order to export, and he subsequently stated that he wished to send it to Galverston, Texas—possibly our wine had been there before—there was no great demand for it there—on 1st July he called again, and gave an order for 100 dozen of the Broel Imperiale—I told him he could have it at once from the London stock landed some 12 months—he said that would not do, as it was being exported, he would consequently lose the duty—I said that he should pay cash; he demurred to paying cash at once, and wanted some slight credit; in the result we agreed to let him have a nominal credit of 28 days from the date of invoice on his acceptance—the invoice was dated 5th July—the wine had to come from Epernay, and we did not give him the order till the 23rd, so there would only be about 10 days left of the credit—the nett invoice price was 296l. 3s. 9d., after taking off discount—on delivering it he gave us his acceptance for that amount, due on 2nd August—the bill was presented and dishonoured—he requested us to present it again on the following Saturday; I did so, and it was again dishonoured—I then put the matter in the hands of our solicitors to commence legal proceedings against him—the solicitors' clerk went to his office to serve him with a writ, but he was not there—on 20th August I found him at Fenchurch Street Station, and there served him with the writ—I afterwards found that our wine was included in Messrs. Southard's catalogue of 26th August, and I went there and identified it—if he had had the wine from the London stock he would have had a delivery order and would have been able to get a warrant from the docks—it is not so easy to get an advance on a delivery order as on a warrant—if I had known that the champagne was to be sold by public auction I should not have let him have it—I was induced
to let him have it by the fact that he was going to export it, part of it to a market where we were anxious to see it well sold—I am now a creditor proving for the amount of the invoice—there is no difficulty in selling our wine in London at a profit on the invoice price, without the assistance of Messrs. Southard, in the ordinary way of business.
Cross-examined. There is great competition in champagne, even among first-class brands like ours—I did not ask him who his customers were or any details—he gave references, one was a bank, the other was a foreign one—we applied to the bank, and got a satisfactory answer—I do not know much about Texas—this was my only transaction with the prisoner.
Re-examined. I should not have let him have the wine if I had known it was going to Southard's—we got judgment in bankruptcy.
THOMAS CHARLES STEPHENS . I carry on business at 3, New London Street, City, and am agent to Messrs. Mercier, wine merchants, of Epernay—in consequence of a communication from them, I called at the prisoner's office about 17th June, and saw him in reference to an order he had given them for 1,000 cases of champagne—I asked him for references, and he gave me Messrs. Billery, of Bohn—on 7th July I wrote a note to the prisoner, and on 12th July a clerk of Messrs. Mercier's called at my office—I then told the prisoner I heard that he had been disposing of wine by public auction—he said that it was untrue, he had only done so when he had orders to do so from his correspondents abroad—I asked if he intended to dispose of our wine by public auction, as if so I should decline to execute the order—he said that he did not intend to do so, and he had made a special contract for the disposal of the wine, and that he would pay at 45 days instead of 90 if we gave him extra discount—that was agreed to, and the wine was delivered to his order on 24th July, 1886, and I sent a draft for his acceptance—he afterwards called on me and said that the bill was drawn at 45 days instead of 90, and he expected the extra discount taken off, and I complied, and enclosed another bill on 30th August, which he never returned to me, and I never saw him again till I saw him at the police-court—I afterwards found that the 1,000 cases of wine had been sent to Messrs. Southard's; I went there and identified it—I allowed it to be delivered to the prisoner, on his assurance that it was not going to be sold by public auction and the contract not to do so.
Cross-examined. I have attended sales at Southard's, and have seen the defendant there several times, and also at Restall's—I was told that he sold largely at those two places—I took his assurance that he had a special contract for my wine—he gave me references, and I inquired into them—one was a fairly good one, a trade reference, and the other was a bank, and unsatisfactory—the references had something to do with my sending my wine to him; that and the assurance that it was not going to a public auction—that is not the ordinary way of the wine trade.
WILLIAM MARTIN MADDOCK . I live at 10, Basinghall Street, and represent Messrs. Blanchy—I met the prisoner last July, and at his request took some samples of brandy to his office—he tested them—I offered to sell him five quarter-casks—he said that he could not entertain such a email offer as that as it was not worth his while—I called again, two or three days afterwards, and submitted a larger parcel to him—he tasted it, and asked how much I had—I said ten hogsheads, and eleven quarter-casks—he
said he would let me know in two or three days whether he would take them—I called later, and he said he would take them, and showed me a draft of Messrs. Moet and Chandon, drawn on him for 295l., and said "You see I do largely with the largest houses, including Moet and Chandon, Travers, and all important houses"—I asked him about the terms—he said, "I always pay cash at 30 days"—on 23rd July I sent him the invoices and delivery orders for the brandy, and about a month afterwards applied at his office for payment, and found him gone—in transactions of that sort, we should pay the dock charges on the date of delivery, but when we sent to the docks we found they were already paid, and we could not find out who paid them, the dock company declined to tell us—the prisoner did not tell me he was going to sell the brandy by public auction, or I should not have let him have it, unless he had paid cash down—on 26th August I went to Southard and Co.'s sale, and saw this brandy there.
Cross-examined. I offered it to him—it was shipped from Cognac—I understand it fetched a very bad price at the sale—I have been to sales sometimes—the sale price in England would be no real test of the value—I go there to see members of the trade—I have never sold brandy there.
Re-examined. I have proved for this amount in bankruptcy—I have had no payment whatever.
JOHN STOCKDALE TYRELL . I am an accountant and managing clerk to Mr. Harper, the managing trustee in the defendant's bankruptcy—I examined all the books and papers that I found relating to his affairs—the books have never been kept at all since December 31st, 1885—I have all the papers found on the premises relating to 1886, but I do not think they are all there—I found traces of purchases to the amount of 27, 500l. between January and May, 1886, and from May to August, which was the four months before his bankruptcy, to the amount of 13, 800l.—there is a slight error in the account since May 1st, there is 3,755l. instead of 8, 675l.—I can't trace the other transactions, they show a loss of about 27 per cent.—I have found the document relating to the contract with Beque and Pelle for the purchase of 55, 000 bottles of claret—the letter is in French, I have a translation—it shows the price to be 3 francs 60 cents a bottle, total 7, 920 francs—the price realised shows a loss of 1, 694l. on that one transaction—I cannot say what the commission and charges would amount to—after the bankruptcy, finding no cash book made up I requested the prisoner to make up a cash account, and he made up this document—he does not in any way account to me, in this account, or any other, for 392l. which he received from Mr. Southard on 12th August—he has made a statement, but never accounted for it—I find also in the cash account two cheques apparently drawn on the 2nd August, making a total of 750l.—he accounted for them as paid to Mr. Jenet—I asked him about that, and ho produced this receipt dated Paris, August 8th, purporting to be signed by Mr. Jenet, for 17, 500 francs for re-payment of principal and interest of a loan for business purposes—I have two cheques drawn, one on 4th, and one on another day in August, which make up that sum, which he represents that he paid to Jenet, but there is no account of the 392l.—he afterwards at my request gave me the particulars of the amounts he had received from Jenet, on a slip of paper—there was no; a trace of the 255l. which he had received from Jenet on May 31st—the
2, 000l. was only an estimate, I cannot trace it at all—I found a letter book in the business, he showed me the letters—I found among the cheques which came back one or two negotiated at Monte Carlo, and some press copies of letters addressed to him there by his clerk—I have seen a long letter found on him since his apprehension, which contains a patent system of winning at Monte Carlo.
Cross-examined. He has a wife and family—I do not think he made both ends meet in 1885—there are creditors before 1885, not in England, there are only one or two now—his transactions in 1884 were comparatively small—there were creditors in 1885, but not to a considerable amount, some hundreds—something was said about his owing Jenet 1,100l.—Mr. Churchill is Mr. Abraham's clerk, the solicitor for the trustee—he says in his examination that he owed Mr. Jenet 700l., and the money had gone in that way—Mr. Jenet is in existence in Paris be has been over, he received the full discharge of his debt and interest up to that date—(The letter as to the system of winning at Monte Carlo was here partly read).
ROBERT OUTRAM (Detective Sergeant). On 17th January I saw the prisoner in Crutched Friars and told him I was a detective sergeant, and held a warrant for his arrest, charging him as a fraudulent bankrupt—I said, "I will read the warrant to you if you wish"—he said, "I do not wish you to read the warrant"—I then took him to Seething Lane Police station, and read it to him, cautioning him that anything that he might say might be used against him—he said, "I deny that I have concealed; I have been to Mr. Harper's office, they have the receipt for 400l. among their papers; when can I explain this? can I do so to-night?"—I said "No; upon this charge you will be detained, and have to go before a Magistrate." I searched him and found various memoranda and a small amount of money, and a third-class return ticket to Paris, dated 12th January—I also found this letter from Monte Carlo.
Cross-examined. He must, from the return ticket, have come from Paris to London recently, to apply for his discharge in bankruptcy—I arrested him before he could do so—the ticket was available for 28 days.
Re-examined. I don't know what he came over for.
ANNIE CUSHBY . I am the wife of Charles Cushby, of the City Police—we live at 7, Crutched Friars, and I am housekeeper there—I know the prisoner well, he had offices there—an execution was put in in the middle of August last—I had last seen him about a fortnight before that—he had not been to his offices at all since that time.
Mr. Abrahams read an extract from the shorthand notes of the examinantion of the prisoner in bankruptcy, as to his knowledge of his insolvency.
J. S. TAPRELL (re-examined by MR. ADDISON). The prisoner asked me for the pass book for the purpose of preparing the accounts, and I gave it and the paying-in book and various other documents to him—it was a running account between him and Beque and Pelle, and he certainly paid sums after the date of the invoice—on 26th May he paid 400l.—he paid between 900l. and 1,000l. afterwards—I think it was a running account, and payments were on account of the whole transactions—his prosecution was suggested generally after the public examination—there was a meeting of some of his principal credit is in France.
Re-examined. The running account reached me for 5,700l.—permission of the Registrar of the Court of Bankruptcy was obtained for leave
to prosecute—the goods consigned from France were purchased by the prisoner and invoiced to him.
The prisoner received a good character.—
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. WALKER Defended.
WILLIAM FREDERICK LOVEDAY . I live at 73, Navarino Road, Dalston, and am a shorthand clerk—at half-past 9 on Wednesday, 9th February, I was going along Gray's Inn Road, and just at the corner of Portpool Lane the prisoner rushed out, struck me a violent blow in the stomach, snatching my chain, and rushed round the corner of Portpool Lane—the chain broke, leaving my watch in my pocket—three or four men ran behind him to cover him; they had been standing at the corner as I passed—I spoke to a policeman standing at the corner of the Town Hall, and he took me to a common lodging-house in Portpool Lane—we went into the house, and to the door of the kitchen—the constable said "Have a good look round"—I looked in and saw between 12 and 16 people there—I was afraid to go in, I backed into the street, and the constable followed me—directly we got outside another constable came along, and I went into the kitchen then with the two constables—directly I got in I saw the prisoner standing at the back of the kitchen—I said "That is the man, pointing to him—that was all that was said—the prisoner came boldly up and said, "What time was it stolen"—the constable asked me if I would give him in charge—I said "Yes," and we went to the station.
Cross-examined. I know it was half-past 9, because I had been to Malden; I caught the 8.33 train, which reached Waterloo at 9 o'clock, took a bus over the bridge, and came by the Law Courts as it was striking a quarter-past 9—I came up Chancery Lane and through Southampton Buildings, and up Gray's Inn Road—I swear it was not a quarter to 10—I can swear it was within five minutes of 9.30; it was five minutes to 10 when we got to the police-station, and it was a quarter of an hour's walk to there—the prisoner came towards me down Gray's Inn Road, I had a good view of him by the public-house; it was a very sudden attack, and he rushed round the corner—I always look at people as they come along, and I had seen him but had not noticed him—it was dark, but this was right underneath the two lamps of a public-house—there was an old man just in front of me, perhaps two yards—I spoke to him—he had the same chance of seeing the prisoner that I had—he is not here to-day—the three men at the corner were talking among themselves, but I heard them say nothing to the man who robbed me—after he did so they gave a shout and ran down, not as if to catch him, but as if to cover him—they could have caught him if they wished—they did not—they ran abreast—I did not see if they overtook the one in front—not a minute elapsed before I found a constable, and we walked directly to the lodging-house—I only stood at the door of the kitchen the first time—the constable told me to have a good look at them, but I was afraid and bolted into the street—the constable did not touch the prisoner—nobody touched him till I gave him in charge—directly I entered the kitchen I pointed to the man, and said "That is the man"—I never said, "There
is no one in the kitchen tall enough"—it was about 25 minutes past 9 when I was at the lodging-house—when I came out of the lodging-house the first time the constable said, "If your man is inside there I will bring him out, if I bring him out with half his shirt on"—I did not lose sight of the door after I went out—and he must have been in the first time I went in, unless he came in from the back—when I went in I had my watch and the part of my chain in my hand—some conversation was going on in the kitchen—the prisoner came forward from the back room—when he spoke to me he could not mistake what I said—I felt pain from the blow in my stomach for some time afterwards.
WALTER SELBY (Policeman G 218). On Wednesday, 9th February, the prosecutor spoke to me in the Gray's Inn Road, about half-past 9, and I took him to the common lodging-house in Portpool Lane—when we got to the kitchen door I said, "Have a good look there"—he returned to the street, I followed, and told him he ought to go in and look, and I would bring him out—another constable, hearing of the robbery, came, and we all three returned into the kitchen—the prosecutor on entering it pointed to the prisoner, saying, "That is the man"—the prisoner said, "What time was it stolen?"—I took him into custody; when charged he made no reply—he does not live at or near that lodging-house.
Cross-examined. I know now he lives with his parents in Honduras Street, St. Luke's, and is a silk-spinner—I have not made inquiries as to whether he was in work at the time—the inmates of a lodging-house might know pretty well what the nature of my business there was, and that something had been missed or stolen—I found no part of a chain on the prisoner—there were 12 or 16 people in the kitchen—the prisoner gave a correct name and address.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I left off work at half-past 8, and came up Portpool Lane to see a friend. I was in he lodging-house from 20 minutes to half-an-hour when the young man came in with the policeman; he had a watch and chain in his hand, and the policeman said, 'Is he there? be sure.' The prosecutor said, 'No, he is not there,' and they went out of the passage, and the policeman said, 'Come in and have another look and be sure,' and he came and said he was sure. They went out, the policeman came back in about 10 minutes, and the policeman caught hold of my arm and said, 'This is the chap, ain't it?' and took me into custody."
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM BURNISTON . I reside at 16, Portpool Lane, a common lodging-house—I was in the Army for 21 years and 10 months, and am in receipt of a pension for life—I am now a horsekeeper—on February 9th I went in this lodging-house between 7 and 8, and the prisoner came in about half-past 8—there was no clock there, and I said at first it was between 7 and 8, but he came in between 8 and half-past 8—afterwards the constable came in with the prosecutor—the prisoner had not left the room from the time he came in till they came, which was over an hour I should say—the prisoner is not a friend of mine, he came to see a friend there, but I don't know him—I am only a stranger there—I live there—the prisoner is a stranger.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner by sight, I am not acquainted with him—I said before the Magistrate I was there till between 8 and 9
with the prisoner, and I was there till about 20 minutes to 10, when he went away—I am certain the prisoner did not go out from the time he first came till the constable came—I did not go to the station that night I did not tell the constable the prisoner had been in there since 7 or 8, I had nothing to do with it—England was a witness at the police-court; he is not here.
Re-examined. I gave evidence before the Magistrate.
By the COURT. The first time the prosecutor came with the policeman into the kitchen I swear I heard the constable ask him to have a good look round to see if he found the man there—the prosecutor said "No, he is not here," and they left the place for about 10 minutes, and then the prosecutor came back with two policemen, and the prosecutor stepped forward and said "That is the man"—I did not hear the prisoner say anything when the prosecutor pointed him out, I took no particular notice after that—I heard the policeman say "That is the man"; that is all I heard—the prosecutor did not say that; the prosecutor said nothing—I swear that—I heard the prisoner say nothing when that was said, because I went up to the end of the kitchen then, because I was a little bit excited, because I knew the man had been there the whole of the time—I did not know the robbery had taken place that night, or what time it had been committed—I swear the prisoner did not say "What time did you lose your watch?" I did not hear it.
Cross-examined. He had been there three weeks; he was very attentive to his work, and the first and second week worked nearly till 10 at night—he did his work well and kept good time.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. JONES Prosecuted, and MR. GEOHEGAN Defended.
JESSIE GARDINER . I am the wife of Frank Gardiner, of Ramsay Street, Forest Gate. I dealt with the Raleigh Dairy Company for milk, which the prisoner supplied—on 2nd December I paid him 2s. 5d.—he did not give me any receipt—that cleared up my account—he never asked me for any money after that—I did not arrange to pay him any money at the rate of 1s. a week—I did not pay him 4s. on 11th December—on 15th February I was present at a conversation between the prisoner and Mrs. Meldrum—I then asked him if I owed him 11s. for milk—he said "No, not a farthing."
the Raleigh Dairy—on 4th December I paid him 5s. 2 1/2 d.—he did not give me any receipt that was all I owed—I have had milk since, and paid him for it 2s. 2d.—I used to pay him every fortnight after the 4th December—I did not owe him 15s. 10d., or anything, on 8th January—I think I paid him 2s. 2d. on that day for the fortnight's account—I did not arrange to pay him 1s. a week off any arrears—he never brought me any bills showing that I owed 15s. 10d.—I did not pay him 4s. on account on 7th January—on 15th February I saw the prisoner when Mrs. Gardiner was there—I asked him if I owed him any money—he said "None whatever, you always paid me whatever you owed"—this was when he was out on remand.
STEPHEN WARMAN . I am a coffee-stall keeper, of 121, Wallington Road, Forest Gate—while the prisoner was out on remand he came to me and said "I want to speak to you"—I said "What about?"—he said "This affair, this trouble I have got into"—I said "I shall have nothing to do with it"—he said "If you will pay the money I will pay you back 2s. a week"—I said "I think that will make the case a great deal worse against you, and I shall leave it alone, I am very sorry for you, but it is the best thing for me to leave the case alone altogether"—I had dealt with him—I have known him about six or seven months.
HERBERT NICHOLLS . I am clerk to Richardson Carr, the proprietor of the Raleigh Dairy Company—the prisoner was in that service—it was his duty to deliver milk to customers, receive payment, and account to me each night for the milk delivered and the money received, all of which I entered in a book, and he paid over the money so entered—I produce his collecting books—he had those with him on 2nd December—I did not receive 2s. 5d. from Mrs. Gardiner or 5s. 2 1/2 d. from Mrs. Meldrum on 4th December—I received nothing from either of them on those dates—on the week ending 4th December my ledger shows 10s. 10d. due from Mrs. Gardiner—that was from information the prisoner gave me—on previous weeks I asked him particularly about these accounts, and I said "Unless these people pay for their milk they shall not have any more"—after his return from the journey, he said "They will pay for their milk weekly, and also pay something off"—I said "If they pay 1s. a week off the back accounts I shall be willing"—he said they had promised to do that—I had given him weekly bills to deliver to them—on 7th January he paid me 4s. as received from Mrs. Meldrum, and 4s. as from Mrs. Gardiner on 11th December—the prisoner left on 22nd January—he had been conducting his rounds in an unsatis-factory way—I said "You had better wait till I see how your balance stands"—he left without notice, and without taking his wages.
Cross-examined. He had 12s. a week and 2 1/2 per cent, on the money he brought in—there was 12s. due to him when he left, but no commission.
PATRICK MCGOWAN (Detective). On 8th February I saw the prisoner in Stratford—I told him I should arrest him on a warrant for embezzling—he said "I did not embezzle any money, all the moneys I received I gave receipts for, and paid it in to the clerk every night.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for falsifying his accounts, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
332. WILLIAM HENRY BROWNING (removed to this Court from the Kent Assizes by certiorari under Palmer's Act) was indicted for unlawfully making false entries in a certain account-book whilst employed in the service of the Queen.
Verdict— GUILTY . Sentence— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended Jackson.
ZELEG WALLER . I am a jeweller, at 24, Plumstead Road, Plumstead—my front parlour is my shop—on Wednesday night, 9th February, watches and jewellery to the value of about £120 were there—I was the last up—I went to bed about half-past 11, having shut and fastened all the doors and windows—there were inside shutters to the windows, I fastened them myself—about 20 minutes to 3 a.m. I was disturbed by a noise downstairs, and then I heard a man outside the house call "Jackson"—I went at once downstairs but could find nobody—the window of my back parlour was open, and the shutters on the floor, and all the jewellery, to the value of about 120l., cleared out of the shop—I went at once to the police-station—this watch and chain (produced) are mine—I know the watch by the number—they were lost with the other things that night—I have the number of the watch in my book—it is a a Geneva lever—I have had the chain six months—these (produced) are pieces of a ring that belonged to me; I can say so by the engraving and the stone—I had it more than three months, and had cleaned it once and sometimes twice a week.
Cross-examined by JONES. I gave the police the number of the watch; it is 100066—the numbers of all the watches I lost are in this and another book—I first saw this watch again in the police-station—I knew it by its face—I had seen it between the time I lost it and the time when I identified it by its face at Woolwich—I can swear to the chain.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I sleep upstairs—I had only just recovered from sleep when I heard somebody call out Jackson—Jackson was in custody before I gave my evidence at the police-court—the detective told me some days before I was at the police-court that he had got two men—he did not tell me their names—I am sure I heard "Jackson" called out, and not "Bill" or "Tom"—the value of the ring about was 7s. 6d.—I know it by the engraving on the stone—I don't think you could get it at any jeweller's shop—I can say it is mine because I have had it in my hand and cleaned it; there is no number on it.
Re-examined. The first time I saw the watch after I lost it was at Bow Street.
THOMAS CHARLES FREEMAN . I live at 32, New Road, Woolwich, about 200 or 300 yards from Mr. Waller's shop—Jones is my wife's son—on Wednesday night, 9th Feb., he came to my house with the other prisoner
about 6 or 7 o'clock—I went out with them and had something to drink, and we went to the Gun Music Hall at Woolwich—we stopped there till half-past 12 o'clock I think—the prisoners had return tickets, which were of no use to them then—I said if they came home they could stay till morning and go up then—Jackson said his wife would be anxious about him—I said "If so you can catch the quarter to 5 o'clock train at Greenwich," but they need not go home then as it was so late—we went home at 1 o'clock—we took in beer and tobacco, and they had cigars, and stayed in my house—we sat up for some considerable time after we got in, then I was tired and I got into bed, after 2 o'clock I think—the prisoners sat up in the same room (I have only one)—I did not go to sleep—they left at 4 or quarter-past 4 o'clock in the morning—the clock had stopped, as I had not pulled the chains up; I had had too much to drink—my house is about three miles from the train terminus, and they were to leave at 4 to catch the quarter to 5 o'clock train—when they left they did not shut the door and I got up and shut it, and men were not going to work then—Jackson had a watch and chain on that night, but Jones had not—Jackson was the only one who could tell us the time.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. It was quite half-past 2 o'clock when I got to bed—I could not say if it was more than a quarter to 3 o'clock, but it must have been between half-past 2 and a quarter to 3 o'clock—I never went to sleep till after they had gone—it seemed about a couple of hours after I got to bed that the prisoners left, and during that time I am certain the prisoners were in the same room as I was—the detectives came to see me a week afterwards, and asked me to come to the police-court—I told them what I have said now.
Re-examined. I went to bed about 2 o'clock—I had no clock to tell the time—I only go by the time we went indoors—it must have been after 2 o'clock when I went to bed.
HARRY TILLSLEY (Police Sergeant E R 1). On Thursday, 10th February, about a quarter to 10 p.m., Jones was given into my custody, at the Middle-sex Music Hall, Drury Lane—I took him to Bow Street, where I searched him and found this watch and chain in the tail pocket of his overcoat—I said "Does this belong to you?"—he said "It does"—I said "Where did you get it?"—he said "I bought it at Debenham's a week ago"—I showed the watch to the prosecutor, who identified it—the prisoner was remanded for a week, and then handed to Alexander to take to Woolwich.
Cross-examined by JACKSON. When you appeared on remand at Bow Street on the morning of the 18th, I said to you "You told me you bought that watch and chain at Debenham's in the week previous, you know something; a man has been committed for burglary at Woolwich and you are charged for it"—I had suspicions of you when I took you—I said "If you give me the name of any respectable person who will give you a character I will go to them now, it is not too late"—you declined to give any account of yourself.
WILLIAM CLIFFORD (Detective Sergeant Y). I received certain informtion, and I and other constables went on Wednesday morning, 16th Feb., to 11, Underwood Place, Sheperdess-walk, City Road—I found Jackson there in the top back room, where he lodged—it was 8 a.m., he was in bed—I said "Taffy, get up, I am going to charge you with being concerned with Freeman in committing a burglary at Woolwich on the
night of the 9th, or the morning of the 10th"—"last Wednesday," I said—by Freeman I meant the prisoner Jones—Jackson said "I suppose I had better get up"—I said "Yes, come along"—he got up and dressed—I noticed while he was in the room he had a ring on his little finger—going along the road I said, "Freeman is in custody, you know, on another charge, and a clock ("the nickname for a watch") was found on him"—he said "He is a b—fine screwsman to have any crooked stuff on him"—a screwsman is a housebreaker—I took him to Old Street Station—as soon as we got in, I noticed he put his finger to his mouth and tore the ring off his finger with his teeth—his finger was bleeding—I caught him by the throat—he tried to swallow the ring, throwing his head back; with the assistance of Marney and four others we forced the pieces away from him—I said before that, "Give me the ring"—he said, "I have got no ring"—I said, "I saw one on your finger"—these are the fragments I recovered from his mouth—I said, "What did you want to do that for?" he said, "Oh! nothing"—I said, "Where did you get this from?"—he said, "Oh! I bought that a long while ago, and I got a receipt for it"—I said, "Where is the receipt?"—he said, "Oh! that is my business"—I said, "If you tell me where the receipt is I will make inquiries about it, and see if it is true"—he said, "I shan't"—in Jackson's presence, on the same day, these portions of the ring were shown to Waller, who identified them—I have frequently seen the prisoners together—it was more than three years ago I first saw them, but it is only the last two months they have been working together—on Wednesday, the 9th, I saw them in the Macclesfield Arms, City Road, about 500 yards from Jackson's lodgings, about 1 o'clock in the day, drinking with a lot of others, and coming back from the City I met them going towards Cannon Street—on the following morning, Thursday, Jackson was in the Macclesfield Arms under the influence of drink, and spending his money freely—he was then wearing a cat's-head pin in his scarf; in the evening when I saw him he had a horse-shoe pin in his scarf.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Jones was in custody when I went to apprehend Jackson—I recognised Jones as a man I had seen in Jackson's company, but I did not apprehend Jackson because of that, but in consequence of information—I did not know I was going to apprehend him—I am a detective sergeant in the Y division—I have always been in that division for the last 20 years, and was never in any other—from Underwood Place to the station is about 300 yards—he had not been a minute in the station before I saw his finger in his mouth—Marney and all the officers were there—he did not tell me he had broken the ring in a boxing-match—I am certain he said about the b—fine screwsman and crooked property—one is as accurate as the other—I am quite certain he said "crooked"—I told the Magistrate so.
FREDERICK ALEXANDER (Detective Officer). I am stationed at Woolwich—on Thursday morning, 10th Feb., shortly after 6; I went to Waller's shop, and found entry had been effected by some persons passing through a builder's yard from Burrage Yard, over the back wall, into Waller's garden; I could trace footsteps from the wall to the back parlour window—on the window-frame and sill I found two marks of a jemmy, the catch of the window had been broken off, a shutter, fastened inside the window, forced away, and so they could get into the back parlour and from that into the shop—the jewel cases in the shop were empty, strewn about, and
the window cleared and the shop in great disorder—on Wednesday, 16th, I saw Clifford in the City Road with Jackson in his custody, and went with them to Old Street Police Station—as soon as we arrived there Jackson was allowed to sit down—I, Clifford, and the other officers, turned from him to speak to each other, when Clifford and I noticed he had his finger in his mouth—we went to him and asked him for the ring on his finger—he said he had no ring—I noticed then his finger was bleeding, and that he appeared to have something in his mouth which he made an endeavour to swallow—we seized him, and ultimately forced the portions of the ring to drop from his mouth—these are the portions of the ring—Jones was handed over to me at Bow Street Station—I did not know him before—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with another man in breaking into Mr. Waller's shop, 24, Plumstead Road, on the night of 9th or morning of 10th February, and stealing a quantity of watches, rings, pins, and other articles, and that the watch and chain found on him were identified as a portion of the stolen property—he said—"I know nothing about it"—he was taken to Woolwich and charged.
Jones in his defence said that a man sold Mm the watch for 14s., and the chain for 6s.
MR. BLACK Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM GEORGE HOULTON . I am landlord of the Lord Palmerston, Deptford—my son is generally in attendance there—I received this cheque from him—I passed it into my bank and it was returned marked N.S.—I have never received any money for it—a friend of the prisoner's proposed to pay the money back, on condition that I withdrew from the prosecution—the prisoner was not present.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner as a customer for about ten years.
FRANK HOULTON . I am the prosecutor's son—on 31st December he called at our house and said to me, "Will you cash a small cheque for me?" handing this cheque to me—I looked at it and said, "Who is White?—do you know him to be all right?"—he said, "Oh yes, he is all right; he is a salesman in the market"—on the faith of that I cashed the cheque and he went away—I should not have cashed the cheque if he had not stated he was a salesman in the market, and that it was all right—being a customer I took his word for it—I gave it to my father—a week after I sent for the prisoner and he came—I told him the cheque had been dishonoured, and said, "Are you going to pay the money?"—he said "No, I cannot do that, but I am sure to be seeing White between now and Monday"—I said, "I must have White's address"—he said, "Oh, you don't want to know anything about that; he is a cattle jobber at Islington"—I said, "I must have his address"—he said, "Oh, never mind about that," and went away—eight days after, on a Saturday, he came in and said, "What does all this mean about fake pretences? I
am going to see him to-night" and he went away—on the following Monday he came and said, "I don't want you to make such a bother about this, I have got 5l. and I will get the rest"—I said, "All I want from you is White's address"—he said "I shall see you to-night"—I have not seen him since, he did not come—I have never got White's address nor the 5l.—I made inquiries at the bank, and I have inquired at the market, there is no White a salesman there—at the bank they said they did not know the name—the drawer of the cheque is White.
GEORGE WELLS . I am in the employment of Fuller, Banbury, and Nixon, bankers, Lombard Street—I find John Marwood White opened a deposit account with us on 28th July, 1884, with 300l., which was transferred to a current account on 25th August—in December the account was 1l. 10s. 2d., and it stood at that till 26th January—it now stands at 3s. 2d., and that was why the cheque was marked "N.S."
Mr. Purcell submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury.—THE RECORDER concurred in this and directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
335. JOHN NEVILLE (17), JOSEPH KILMAN (17), JOSEPH CHAMP (14), and CHARLES ROBINSON (21) , Stealing 30 pounds of lead fixed to a building. Other Counts, charging Neville, Kilman, and Champ with stealing 44 brass rings and six pounds of lead pipe, the property of James Farrar, fixed to a building. Other Counts, for receiving the same.
NEVILLE and KILMAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD for the prosecution offered no evidence against CHAMP.— NOT GUILTY. MR. WILLIS, Q.C., defended Robinson.
JAMES KNOTT . I am a builder, of Lee, and am agent for 7, Eastcombe Villas—on 13th January the house was empty, and in my charge; it belongs to James Farrar—I was there in October, 1886, and the premises were then secure—I did not go there again till January 20th, when the police communicated with me, and I missed two lead tanks, worth about 1l. each, which had been fixed to the freehold; they have since been shown to me by the police—I also missed about 40 lbs. of lead pipe, worth about 10s., and some brass fittings and cornice poles, which were fixed to the building, and which I have since identified—the building was considerably damaged by their being torn away.
LEONARD GOODLIFFE (Policeman R 106). On 14th January, about 5.30 p.m., I was in Humber Road, Westcombe Park, in uniform, and met Neville, Kilman, and Champ—one of them had a bag, and some bundles—when they saw me they threw down the things and ran away—I took Kilman the same night, a little after 12 o'clock—I took him to the station and he gave me some information, in consequence of which I made inquiries at Westcombe Park—what they were carrying had come from Mr. Farrar's, 7, Eastcombe Villas—it was this lead tank, weighing about 44 lbs., and these pieces of lead.
GEORGE CLAMFIELD (Police Sergeant R 10.) I took Champ on 15th January, in Trinity Street, Greenwich—he made a statement to me—I took him to the station and saw the inspector—I then went to the prisoner Robinson's father's premises, Archer Street, East Greenwich—he is a metal dealer—Robinson and Son is on the gates, and this (produced) is one of their bill heads—the son is the prisoner Robinson—I took Champ with me and constables Goodliffe and Dunbar—Robinson's father sent
for him, and said to him, "Did you buy any lead on Thursday from any lads?"—he said, "No"—I then had Champ fetched, and said to him, "Did you bring any lead here on Thursday?"—he said "Yes," pointing to the prisoner Robinson, "he took it, and put it on the scales, and gave us 2s. 10d. for the tank, and 1s. for some piping"—Robinson looked at him, and said, "I don't remember seeing this boy before; if I had bought any it would be in the books and would weigh over 1 cwt."—I asked Robinson to come to the station, and see the inspector—he and Champ returned to the station—Inspector Robinson said to the prisoner Robinson, "Did you buy the lead?"—he said, "No"—Neville, Kilman, and Champ were called in and confronted with him, and the inspector said, "Is this the Mr. Robinson you sold the lead to?"—Robinson said "I bought no lead"—the three others all said, "Yes, you did buy it, and gave us 2s. 10d. for the tank and 1s. for the piping, and you asked us if any one saw us come in, we said we did not know, and you said 'A policeman has been here to caution us about buying old lead'"—Robinson looked at Champ, and said, "I don't remember seeing you before," then at Kilman, and said, "I think I have seen you before, you are the one I have bought lead from, it weighed over 1 cwt.; I gave 5s. 10d. for it; I don't know the others"—I then returned with Robinson to his warehouse, and saw a tank lying on a heap inside the door—I said, "Is this the tank?"—Robinson said, "I think it is; open it"—it was then battered up—I found this other piece of lead, and Robinson said, "I thought it came from a builder, and I gave 5s. 10d. for it"—he went behind me, and I turned round and saw him at a desk in the office—a book was lying on the desk, I cannot say whether this was it—I asked him to come to the station with me, but did not take him in custody—I then told him he would be charged with receiving the lead knowing it to be stolen—he made no, reply—the tank was 34 pounds—Mr. Knott has identified it.
Cross-examined. I said nothing to the Magistrate about Robinson going into the office while I was looking at the lead—I made this memorandum on Monday morning, 17th, of this conversation on the Saturday—I believe Inspector Robinson got the book—this is a large business—I did not know the prisoner Robinson before, it is only because I saw the name up that I believe he is a partner with his father—as you enter the yard there is a weighing-room with fixed scales, and a counting-house behind it, you pass from one into the other—I got there about 7.30 a.m., and the father was there—I told him what business I came on, and he at once said, "I will send for my son," and the son came—I did not ask him if he had bought any lead yesterday, I said, "On Thursday"—he may have said, "I don't remember"—I had Goodliffe with me, and he fetched the boy, who was at the gate with Dunbar—Champ has pleaded not guilty to stealing the lead—Robinson afterwards admitted that he had bought lead of Kilman—he did not say before I returned to search the place, "You will find an entry in the book of my having purchased of Kilman"—the book was not mentioned—when I went there in the morning I told the father the circumstances, and asked him if he would allow me to look over his book, he said, "Have you a Magistrate's warrant, or authority? for I allow no one to search my premises"—I did not ask for his book when I returned—Inspector Robinson did not mention the book—I was taken on my return into the room where the
metal was, and shown the heap, there was no concealment, the tank was almost on the top, and two or three pieces of pipe—I did not return again till between two and three in the afternoon, and did not visit the place again.
Re-examined. This is the only son I know in the business—I have never seen him before.
By MR. WILLIS. After I saw Robinson I left him and stepped into the weighing-room, leaving him, and he went back and spoke to his father, and I asked him to come with me—I kept my eye on him—he made no entry in any book in my presence, but I saw him with a pen in his mouth—I have not said that before—I was never asked the question—I did not write that down—Champ said something about Robinson asking him to bring a copper, but I cannot say what—I wrote down on the 17th all that I remembered—there is nothing about a copper in my notes.
DAVID DUNBAR (Policeman R 432). On 15th January at 7.15 a.m. I went with Clamfield to Robinson's place and saw the tank in the warehouse, folded up—I took Champ into the office and the sergeant said "Did you buy any lead of this lad?"—the prisoner Robinson said "No, I don't remember the boy at all"—Champ said, "Did not we bring some lead down to you and you gave us 2s. 10d.?"—Robinson went to a book, I believe it was this book, looked at it and said "No one has been here but Eagleton, of 10, Queen Street"—the boy said "Did you not say we were to bring the copper down?"—Robinson said "I think I remember his face"—the sergeant said "Will you please come to the station?"—he said "Yes"—Robinson had an invoice or a piece of paper in his hand, and made an entry somewhere before he went to the station—the book was left there and the sergeant went into the office and then into the store-room, picked up the tank and said "Is this the tank?"—he said "I think it is" one office leads into the other, and in that office Robinson made another entry in the same book—the sergeant said "May we take this lead?"—the father said "Yes, and I will lend you a sack to take it in, call one of the men out of the yard"—I called the metal boy, and I took the tank and went to the station, and we went back to watch the premises—about a quarter to 9 o'clock Inspectors Robinson and Phillips came, and about 10.15 I saw a loaded van coming from Robinson's premises—I stopped it, spoke to the carman, and it was taken to the station—I assisted the inspector in taking a copper from it—there was metal of various kinds in it—I got this memorandum from the carman.
Cross-examined. This is the first time I have given evidence—Sergeant Clamfield could hear Champ say "You also bought a copper of me"—I don't think I told the Solicitor to the Treasury anything about Champ being asked to bring a copper—I believe I mentioned it to one of the four inspectors—I identify this book, it was taken away in my presence—I told Inspector Robinson on Saturday, the 15th, that I saw Robinson write in it, and I believe I told the Treasury Solicitor so, but I did not mention the number of entries he made—Champ was there and Sergeant Clamfield was looking out of the door of the same room two or three yards from him, where he was writing.
Re-examined. The inspector seized the book the same morning—I went through my statement last Session with the clerk to the Treasury Solicitor and the case was remanded.
Robinson's father, at the same premises, up to September, 1884—the prisoner Robinson is the son who is now the partner—the other sons were children when I last saw them, which was five years ago—these entries "Gilham, 5, East Street, Greenwich, I cwt. lead 5s. 10d. "on the 14th, is in the prisoner Robinson's writing; and this, "Kilman, Caradoc, lqr. 6lbs. lead 2s. 10d. "is in the father's writing.
Cross-examined. I was in partnership with the father about 10 years up to September, 1884—the prisoner Robinson was our clerk at about 1l. a week up to the time I left—he was about 21 last August—the firm was Robinson and Farmer—"Robinson and Son" was put up the day after I left.
WILLIAM DRAIN (Policeman R R 43) On Thursday, 13th January, about 8.15 a.m., I went to Anchor Wharf, and saw the prisoner Robinson—I said "There has been some lead stolen, if any one brings it here will you be so kind as to let us know at the station?"—he said "What sort of lead is it?"—I said "About four inches wide"—he said "If any lead is brought here I will let you know."
JOHN NEVILLE (The Prisoner). I shall be 17 on 26th April—I live with my parents at 9, Queen Street, East Greenwich—I am a crossing-sweeper—on Friday, 14th January, I was with Kilman and Champ carrying some lead—I saw a constable and dropped the lead, and we all ran away—I had got it from an empty house, 7, Eastbourne Villas—before that Friday I had stolen a tank and some pipe from the same place, with Champ and Kilman, and I waited outside while they went in and sold it to the prisoner Robinson—I could see inside, and I saw him—I could see it weighed—it weighed a half-cwt. all but 7lb.—he gave 2s. 10d. for the tank and 1s. for the pipe. Champ brought out the 2s. 10d. and Kilman the 1s., and we changed the 1s. and we shared the money between us, 1s. 3d. each and one pennyworth of baccy.
Cross-examined. Champ and Kilman came to me on my crossing, on Thursday at 12 o'clock, and we all three went together into the house, and came away together—I did not speak to Mr. Robinson—the weighing machine is on the right going in at the gate—I was outside the gate in the street watching to see the weight—I could actually see the weights on the scale.
JOSEPH KILMAN (The Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—on Friday, 14th January, I was with Champ and Neville when we ran away from the police—I was carrying something—we had been to No. 7, Eastbourne Villas, and on the day before that, Thursday, we also went there about 12 o'clock and took away a tank and some lead piping and brass fittings, and took them to Robinson's—me and Joe Champ went in, saw the prisoner Robinson, and asked him to weigh the lead—I don't know whether he knew me—he sometimes saw me go by—it weighed 49lb.—he also weighed the other lead—I don't know how much it weighed as I was not looking, but Champ gave me 1s. for it—Robinson gave us 2s. 10d. for the tank, and asked if anyone saw us come down with the lead—we said "No"—he said "The inspector had been round, and said, we were to take the name of anyone who came with lead"—I did not see his father—I do not know whether any entry was made of the sale—the tank was not smashed up as it is now when we took it, but there was a wrinkle in the middle—Robinson did not ask us where we got it.
Cross-examined. He said that a constable had been to warn them
that some lead had been stolen, but he did not ask how we came by it or how we got it—we made no excuse to him for selling it—he took it and weighed it, and said "Mind, there has been a constable round here about some lead being stolen"—I did not notice whether a servant of Robinson's removed the lead from the scale—I cannot remember seeing that man (Mercer) remove the lead before I left.
Re-examined. He gave his name Joseph Kilman, 1, Highbridge Dock, Greenwich, and I was living there—I did not live at Carradoc Street, and do not know it—there is an East Street, Greenwich—I did not live at No. 5, I did not give either of them that address.
By MR. WILLIS. He did not ask me my name—I had given my name before that, but I do not remember whether I had done so on that day—I never heard the name of Carradoc Street—I have lived at Highbridge Dock five months, and my parents have always lived at Greenwich—I have been at home about a year—I was at Dartford school for six years—I was sent there by the Magistrate for not going to school—it was not for stealing some fish; a boy gave me some fish and I ran away—I have worked at Maxfield's farm, Kidbroke, but I left my work and went hopping.
JOSEPH CHAMP (The Prisoner). I am just turned 14—in the middle of June I lived at 6, Trinity Street, Blackheath Hill—I was looking for work, and met a boy named Evans and we went to 15, Park Place, Greenwich, an empty house, belonging to the South-Eastern Railway, and took a copper from there, and some lead from the lavatory—we took them to the prisoner Robinson on the Friday before I was taken on Saturday—he gave us 3s. for the copper and 6d. for the lead—he asked us if anyone saw us bring it in—we said "No"—we shared the money—I was not with the other boys on Thursday, when the lead was taken to Robinson's.
Cross-examined. I did not take the lead from the house in Eastcombe Terrace—I was not with them on the Thursday, it was Friday that I went to Robinson's with the copper, and on Saturday I was taken—I had not been to Robinson's on the Thursday.
HENRY DAVID SMART . I am station-master at Maze Hill Railway Station—on 12th January I was called to 15, Park Place, and found that a copper and some lead had been taken away—the copper was fitted to the place.
Cross-examined. I have known Robinson a number of years, and as far as I know he is a respectable man, but he has not come in contact with me.
ROBINSON received a good character.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour. NEVILLE, KILMAN, and CHAMP.— Four Months' Hard Labour each.
436. EDWARD PESKETT* (32) PLEADED GUILTY to indecently assaulting Alice Hills, aged eight years, and to unlawfully detaining the said Alice Hills; also to a previous conviction at this Court in November, 1877.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
ELLEN GRAY . I live at Cherry Garden Street, Bermondsey—I am the widow of George Angus Gray, a lighterman, and am the mother of Emma Kate and also of the prisoner—he is 19 years of age, the deceased was 13—on Sunday, 23rd January, about half-past 2 o'clock I was carving the dinner—the prisoner was by the fire lacing up his boots, the poker was in the fire—the deceased called him "a thing," and as she did so she ran out of the room—she did not call him anything more—he said I will frighten her—I was near him—she ran out of the room and must have returned instantly, because he threw the poker and it struck her in the forehead—he did not throw it at her, he threw it at the door—he did not intend at all to strike his sister—she was just coming into the room again when the poker caught her—I sent for a doctor, who came immediately, and Dr. Shepherd came afterwards—she died on the following Sunday.
ROBERT JOHN SHEPHERD . I am medical officer to the Rotherhithe Infirmary—I saw the deceased on the 27th and attended her afterwards—she died of a punctured fracture of the skull with injury to the brain.
VICTOR ALEXANDER JAMES . I am divisional surgeon of police, and live at 157, Jamaica Road. On Sunday, 23rd January, I was called in by the police—I found the child suffering from a punctured wound above the right eye penetrating to the brain—she remained under my care till Thursday, the 27th, when after consultation with Dr. Shepherd I had her removed to the infirmary—I have no doubt that the cause of death was injury to the brain—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted by a poker if used as a poker—this was not a regular poker, but a short piece of iron—it must have been thrown with great force, it went about three inches into the brain—it would not require very great violence.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I can only say mother said how it was done."
GUILTY .— To enter into his own recognisances in 251. to come up for judgment if called upon.
MESSRS. POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted.
THOMAS PEARCE .—I am a police inspector stationed at Rotherhithe—at 20 minutes to 10 o'clock on the morning of 1st February the prisoner came to the station, and made a statement which I took down in writing—I read it over to her, and she put her cross to it in my presence—this is it (read)—"I want to give myself up for murdering two of my children, namely, George, aged seven, and Elizabeth Florence, aged two and a-half—you will find them at the address, Princess Road, Bermondsey, one behind the door, the other in the water—I did it with a chopper—you can see blood and brains on me—the other had gone to school or she would
have shared the same fate"—I noticed her hands, there was blood upon them.
By the COURT. She appeared quite to understand what she was talking about—she appeared in a very nervous state—I made a communication to Sergeant Springett, in consequence of which Dr. Yates came to the station and received instructions from me.
ROBERT SPRINGETT (Police Sergeant M 23.) On 1st February, about 20 minutes to 10 o'clock I went to 70, Princes Road—Mrs. Owen let me in—I went into the kitchen where the prisoner had been living with her husband—I saw the little girl Elizabeth Florence there; she was dead—I saw that she had been terribly injured, the skull was fractured—I found this chopper by her side with wet blood and hair on it—in a corner of the same room behind the door leading to the scullery—I saw the body of the little boy George with his head in a pail of water—the body had been terribly injured—the head was smashed in a mass on the ground.
VICTOR ALEXANDER JAMES . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 157, Jamaica Road, Bermondsey, and am divisional surgeon of police—on the morning of 1st February, before ten, I was called to 70, Princes Road—I there saw the dead bodies of the two children—the first I saw and examined was that of a girl about 2 1/2 years of age—I found two skin wounds from the mouth to the left ear, below that I found a wound extending from a little below the mouth on the left side to below the ear, cutting through the soft parts and the lower jaw, and fracturing the lower jaw—they were not fatal wounds—the fatal one was a wound extending from the left nostril to the back of the head, and cutting through the nose, scalp, and bone, and cutting into the brain—in this wound I traced six different chops that might have been occasioned by a chopper—the fatal wound on the boy extended from above the right eye to the back of the head, extending through the scalp and bone and penetrating the brain—it was about two inches in width, and was caused by four distinct cuts; they might have been occasioned by a chopper—I saw the prisoner afterwards at the station; she was very distressed in manner, and did not appear to realise the crime she had committed—she was very quiet and depressed.
SARAH OWEN . I live at 70, Princes Road, Bermondsey—I occupy the two parlours on the ground floor—one of those rooms is next the kitchen occupied by the prisoner—on Tuesday morning, 1st February, I saw the prisoner after nine o'clock—her husband had gone to his work—she did not speak to me or I to her—I saw her go out at the back gate a little time after—I went into the yard, and as I returned I saw the prisoner, I said, "Good morning, Mrs. Witting"—she made no answer—I lifted the curtain and saw the little girl lying on the floor dead—the doctor and police came—I afterwards saw the little boy George dead; he was dressed—the eldest child had gone to school—I have lived in the house six months—the prisoner has been rather strange, but nothing that I thought anything out of the way—she was always very kind and fond to the child—on the Sunday before this occurred she spoke to me about her state; she said, "Don't you think I am very sadly?"—I said, "What is the matter?"—she said, "I have such pains in my head, and I have such bumps come into my head every now and then"—I said, "Nonsense; pull yourself together"—she said, "Don't
you think I ought to go away?"—I said, "Think of your children, and pull yourself together"—I tried to comfort her—on the Monday morning she said she was better.
Dr. HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN. I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, and one of the Physicians of University College Hospital, and Physician to the Hospital for the Paralysed and Epileptic—I have seen the prisoner since she has been in the prison on this charge—I examined her on the 17th February—she is about 42 years of age; I have no doubt that she is of unsound mind, suffering from what is termed melancholia—I believe she was of unsound mind on 1st February—from the account she gave me I have no doubt that she has been suffering from that for some time before this act was committed so as not to know the nature and quality of the act she was doing—she has improved considerably since she has been in prison.
GUILTY of the act charged, but insane at the time she committed it.— To be Detained During Her Majesty's Pleasure.
MR. ROGERS Prosecuted; MR. WALKER Defended.
FRANK CARR . I am a potman, and live at 19, Richmond Street, Kennington Road—early on Sunday morning, 27th, about 10 minutes past 12, I was on Waterloo Bridge and saw the prisoner standing on a seat on the Surrey side, and two children with her—they were babies, one a boy, the other a girl—the prisoner had a scarf in her hands, which I saw her tie round their necks—I watched her, thinking there was something wrong; they were standing side by side—she tied the scarf in a single knot—there was no knot between the two heads, the two heads were together, and the scarf was crossed first round the girl's neck and then round the boy's, and then tied in a knot—she raised the children in her arms as if to throw them over the parapet—I pulled them back, and said, "What are you going to do?"—she said she was going to drown her two children—I laid hold of her—she tried to get away from me—a crowd collected, some held her, and I fetched a constable—she was sober.
Cross-examined. My attention was first called to the babies' cries, and I ran forward—I was about three yards from them—I could see what she was doing—her back was towards me, and her face towards the children—she was standing on the floor of the recess, and the children were standing on the seat when I first came up—she had completed tying the scarf round their necks—it was not tied tight, it was loose; it had to be untied—it did not appear to be put on to cover the children from the cold—it was a cold night—I could see what she was doing—I did not notice whether there was a moon—she got the children in both arms, and had one foot on the seat, the children were very nigh over the parapet—they are here (The witness placed the children in the position he described)—the prisoner had one foot on the seat—she never got completely on the seat—her face was towards the parapet, the children's heads touched the parapet; the top of the parapet is about three or four feet from the ground—she could not have thrown them into the river without getting on to the seat—the seat is about two feet from the ground—she had been ✗nking—I heard her say before the Magistrate that the children were ✗king a noise, and she also said, "All I said was, that if they were not
quiet they would have a cold bath"—she was very much excited when I laid hold of her.
SAMUEL HAMPSHIRE (Policeman L 229). About a quarter past 12 on this Sunday morning I was called by the last witness to the second recess on Waterloo Bridge coming from the Surrey side—I then saw the prisoner and the two children—they were tied by the necks together by this scarf, not tightly so as to injure them in any way, no tighter than you would to carry them—it was tied across one of their necks, crossed over and tied round the other—it was fully tied, but not tightly so as to strangle them—I said to the prisoner, "What was your intention by tying the children together like this?"—she said, "Find out," but afterwards said, "If it had not been for this man (meaning the last witness), I should have been over, children and all"—I said I should take her into custody—she said, "That was what I wanted"—on the way to the station she remarked that she could only get to Heaven once, and in another few minutes she would have been there, and the children with her—at the station, when the charge was read to her, she made as much noise as possible, and said it was a made up pack of lies—she was under the influence of drink.
Cross-examined. I did not take the scarf off, if her intention had been to warm the children and not to drown them, the scarf was so great that it would have been an effectual way of doing it—when she said it was a pack of lies, she was referring to a previous statement—that was about half-an-hour after she had made the other statement on the way to the station—at the Police Court she kissed both her children—in the dock she seemed to have an affection for them—I have made inquiry about her—her husband is here, and her sister, and her sister-in-law.
ANN ADAMS . I am sister-in-law to the prisoner—these two little children are hers—one is four, and the other two-and-a-half—they are living with her in Bellerton Street, Drury Lane—her husband is my husband's brother—the children are his—I can't say much about the woman, I don't know much of her—there is another sister-in-law here, but she doesn't know much more than I—I have not seen her with her children of late—I never knew her to do an act of cruelty to them—she doesn't go to work, only at times—her husband is a brewer's drayman, he is in work, she keeps the house—I am told she is not a sober woman, but I can't say, because I don't know anything of her—I can't say whether she and her husband have lived comfortably together—I should not like to say anything without knowing.
SARAH ANN ADAMS . I am a sister-in-law to the prisoner—I know know nothing at all about the case—I came here with the children and my other sister-in-law—I live about five minutes' walk from the prisoner—I scarcely ever see anything of them—we don't visit one another—I know nothing at all about her home.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.—Judgment respited.
MR. CARTER Prosecuted.
public-house, Battersea Park Road, and saw two men on the pavement—I walked up to them, and one of them stepped back a pace or two and batted me in my stomach with his head and nearly knocked me down—that was the prisoner—the other man came behind me and put his hands across my shoulders—I wrestled with them, but they got me down—I fell on my back, and as I fell the prisoner said "Go down him," and the other man knelt on me, put his hand in my pocket, and took my money out, between 47s. and 50s., and ran away—the prisoner assisted me on to my feet and stopped talking to me for some seconds, and then ran away—a policeman came up and I complained to him—I identified the prisoner next morning at the police-station—I had given his description to the police—he was placed with four other men, and I picked him out directly—he is the man who did it.
WILLIAM CADWALLADER (Policeman 155 W). Early on the morning of 13th February I was on duty, and Chittell gave me a description, from which I took the prisoner in Battersea Park Road later in the day—he was placed with other men at the station next morning, and while he was waiting for Chittell to come, he asked me what I thought he should get for it—I said "I do not know"—he said that he would not mind taking 18 months and a bash for his chance—Chittell picked him out.
Prisoner's Defence. I was at home on the night in question.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Wandsworth Police Court on 29th August, 1885, of stealing bacon.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended Johnson and Bates.
HENRY FISHPOOL . I am a carpenter, living at 24, Trinity Street, Newington—about quarter to 7 p.m. on the 27th December I was at the corner of Warner Street, coming from a urinal, and saw Bates pass me, and then Johnson—I knew them by sight before—Bates clipped me round the waist—when Johnson was within three yards I shouted "Police," and Garter hit me on the head and knocked my hat off, and Johnson put one hand over my mouth and the other one over my nose and held my head back, and then they rifled my pockets of a purse and 5s., and four pawntickets and a pocket-knife—Bates did not rifle my pockets, it was Carter and the other man not in custody—after my pockets were rifled Johnson let go of my mouth, and came round to the front of me and struck me a blow on the jaw bone, knocking me into the road, and while I was lying there Bates and Johnson kicked me on the back and shoulders, and I have not got rid of the pain yet—they then ran away, and I tried to follow them, but I could not, I was too much hurt, and I lost sight of them—on the 30th January I saw all the three prisoners in the City Arms, Borough Road, and called a policeman and gave them in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I have not been attended by a doctor for these injuries—there was not a single person in Warner Street at that time—I did not see the prisoners together from the 27th December until I gave them in custody—I have seen them singly and spoken to them—I have never had bets with them.
Cross-examined by CARTER. I did not give you into custody before the
30th January because I felt certain that if I touched one the others would disappear, and I was quite confident that I should have you all together—I have never drank with you—Johnson did not ask me before the Magistrate whether I meant them to apologise to me.
THOMAS RICKLES (Police Sergeant M). On Sunday evening, 30th January, about 9 o'clock, I was called to the City Arms, Borough Road, and the three prisoners were given into my custody by the prosecutor, as the men who had committed this robbery—I handed Carter and Bates over to a man in uniform—they made no remarks at that time—Johnson said, "What is the meaning of this, carpenter?" that was to Fishpool—I said, "I think you had better go down to the station, we have an entry in the book, you can hear it read"—they were taken to the station, and the charge made against them formally—Carter said, "I was drinking with him on Thursday week, when the French races were on; he then made a bet, and again to-day when he came to draw his money; he had a few words with us that night in the public-house where he made the bet; he said he had 6d. more to draw; to-morrow morning when the Sportsman comes out, I should like the landlord of the public-house to be at the Court to prove that"—Johnson said, "It is true what Carter says; I have seen him daily, and have had a dispute with him to-night"—Bates said, "I have not seen the man above three times in my life"—Sergeant Martin received information of the robbery on the same night, and a description was given and circulated.
Cross-examined. They offered no resistance; they went willingly.
Witnesses for the Defence.
GEORGE WRAY . I keep the City Arms, 88, Borough Road—on 27th December I remember two of the prisoners being in and out—Bates I don't know—I can't say what time it was, because it was holiday time, and there were a good many persons in and out both morning and afternoon—this is a quarter-of-an-hour's walk from Warner Street.
Cross-examined. I remember their being taken into custody—I don't remember hearing either of them say they would smash Johnson's skull in; the only remark I heard was, Carter said, "if he said anything wrong, he Had a good mind to hit him on the head for saying that"—Johnson said, "If you have anything to do, do it in the proper manner."
FREDERICK ELLIS . I am a plumber, and live at 14, Weymouth Buildings, New Kent Road—I was not in the City Arms on 27th December,—I was ill in bed from Christmas Eve till the Tuesday morning following—I am subpoenaed here without my authority, and have lost 2l. 2s. 6d. for wages, and yet I am obliged to attend on account of the sub-poena—I had been out of work six months, and had just begun work—I have only known the prisoners by sight.
Cross-examined. I have seen Johnson and Carter together, but not in the company of the prosecutor.
Carter's Defence. I am entirely innocent of the charge—I was in Mr. Ray's beerhouse the whole day, till I had sufficient drink and I went home. I have been in prosecutor's company upwards of a dozen times since Christmas and he never spoke of the robbery or blamed me for it. He came on the Sunday night. I said "Good evening" to him.
He drawed his money and went out and fetched in two constable, but never told as what it was for.
GUILTY . Johnson then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at the Survey Sessions on 6th January, 1874, in the name of Charles Coe , and Carter** to a conviction on 8th April, 1879. JOHNSON and CARTER Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. BATES Four Months' Hard Labour.
443. WILLIAM HENRY MCEWEN (19), WILLIAM KENWOOD (16), CHARLES RICHARD HEATH (16), and JOHN HENRY MILLER (15) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to breaking and entering the Church of the Holy Trinity at Penge, and stealing four boxes and 10s. 2d. in money.
KENWOOD, HEATH, and MILLER, Six Months' Hard Labour each. McEWEN*.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. H. AVORY Defended.
EDWARD WEBSTER . I live at 33, Colliston Road, East Greenwich, and am conductor of tramcar 81, in the service of the London Tramways Company—on 20th January, at 11 p.m., the prisoner travelled in my ear from Westminster Bridge to the Elephant and Castle—he there gave me a two-shilling piece—I gave him 1s. 6d., silver and 5d. coppers, and he left—I went on my journey to Greenwich, and I then found this florin and no other in my bag; I had not taken or parted with one in the mean time—I found it was bad, kept it apart, and afterwards gave it to the constable—I am certain the prisoner is the man that gave it to me—on Saturday, 12th February, at 10 minutes past 10 p.m., the prison was again inside my car going along the Westminster Bridge Road, and he gave me another florin—I said "Have you anything smaller?"—he said "No; I will get out"—I said "You know this two-shilling piece is a bad one"—he said "My wife gate it to me; she took it in change of half a sovereign"—I said "I will call a constable and give you into custody"—I did so, and charged him—he was taken to Kennington Road Police-station, and there charged—when I went into the car to collect the fares, suspicion came into my mind immediately that the prisoner was the man who had been in on the 20th—I knew him again—I see a great many people in and out.
Cross-examined. I have no idea how many passengers I see in a day; perhaps 100—these are not the only two occasions on which I received bad money from passengers—I am not certain the first day was Thursday, but I am that it was the prisoner—I did not swear at the police-court it was the 28th—I did not find the first florin was bad till I reached the end of my journey—on 12th February the prisoner said he knew it was bad—I have nobody here who heard that—there were several people in the tramcar—he said it so that they could all hear—I knew it was bad the moment I took it in my hand—I asked him if he had anything smaller, because I thought he would tender me a bad shilling—thought
he had more on him, and that possibly I might have caught a regular smasher—I did not hear him say "My wife got change for a half-sovereign this evening, and gave me this out of it"—I did not hear him say that at the station.
CHARLES UNWIN (Policeman L 245). About 10.15 on Saturday night, 12th February, the prisoner was given into my custody by the last witness—I said to him "You have given a bad florin; have you got any more?"—he said "No"—I searched him in the tram, and found a shilling and two sixpences good money on him—I said to him "You have passed a bad two-shilling piece"—he said "I shall know where I have got it from"—I told him I should take him to the station, and charge him with uttering—he said when the charge was entered "My wife got change for half a sovereign and gave me this"—he gave his address 40, Delaford Road, North Camberwell, and afterwards, Rotherhithe; that is correct, he mistook the parish—the last witness gave me these two florins.
Cross-examined. Rotherhithe and North Camberwell join, there is not a few yards difference between them—I have no doubt the prisoner is a man of respectable character; he was in the employ of Oastler and Palmer, leather merchants, of Bermondsey, a well-known firm at the time—he was living at the address he gave, with his young wife; they had only just been married.
HENRY CHARLES MAY . I live at 150, Southwark Park Road, and am a draper's assistant—I know the prisoner's wife by sight—on Saturday, 12th February, about a quarter to 12 a.m., she gave me a half-sovereign to pay for something she had purchased, and I gave her three half-crowns and a florin, change—all the money we gave her was good; we always examine it.
Cross-examined. I am not certain we never had a bit of bad money in our shop, because I caught a half-crown once last summer—we take a good deal of money on Saturday in the day—the cashier at the desk gave me the change to give to her, I counted it.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
THOMAS PATTERSON (Policeman 299 P). On 28th January I was on duty in the New Kent Road about 2.30 a.m., and heard a noise on passing Mr. Calverly's shop, No. 56—I waited a minute or two, and saw the prisoner leave the door—I said "Halloa, what is the matter?"—he made a blow at me which missed me, and ran about 70 yards up Lyall Street, and turned round and said "Take that, you s—,"throwing a table-knife in my face—he then ran four or five yards further, put his hand in his pocket, and took out this piece of iron, which he threw in my face—his throwing the knife had rather stopped me, and I was nine yards behind—I bobbed my head down each time, and neither of them hit me—I ran
about 30 yards further, caught him, pushed him against the door—he said "Don't hit me, I will go quietly"—I was in uniform—I took him back to the shop, and found Sergeant Golden outside—I told him what had occurred, and we took the prisoner to the station—I then made further inquiries, and when I went back I was telling the inspector that the entry had been effected by cutting away some glass at the back of the premises, and getting over some walls, and the prisoner turned to the sergeant and said "That is quite correct"—I searched him, and found a tin opener sharpened at the point, a box of matches, and a piece of cord.
WILLIAM GOLDEN (Police Sergeant.) On the morning of 29th January I saw the prisoner in Patterson's custody—I went with him to the station, and returned and found the prosecutor standing outside his shop—I found at the rear of the premises marks over three walls 10 feet high, as if some person had been over the wall leading to the yard—three panes of glass had been broken in the kitchen window, and the catch tampered with—I went through the side door into the passage, and found the lock of the passage door had been tampered with, but the door had not been opened—I went up to the first floor and saw a pane of glass broken—the window-catch had been tampered with over the w.c, and the window was open—I also found an inner door leading into the shop open—the entry had been effected by the w.c—I explained that to the inspector at the station, and the prisoner said, "That is quite right"—I examined the marks with this instrument, and saw a dent where the catch had been forced back—all the glass had been out out of the window as clean as if it had been done with a razor.
The Prisoner. Only two windows and the catch were broken.
CHARLES WILLIAM CALVERLY . I am a draper, of 56, New Kent Road—on the 28th January I went to bed at 10.30, and left everything secure—there were no broken windows and no fittings moved—about 2.30 a.m. I heard a noise, went downstairs, and found the police in the shop and the prisoner in custody—I was the last to go to bed—the front door was fastened with four bolts—I found it in the state the sergeant described—I did not miss anything.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I did not strike the police, nor throw the knife at him."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not strike the policeman. A lad was sent twice before he could find the knife. He said, "What was it that you dropped?" and turned on his lantern, and when he found the knife he said, "This is what you threw," and he struck me in the eye.
446. FREDERICK RICHARDSON (34) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking out of H.M. Prison, Wandsworth, he being in lawful custody, also to receiving a watch and chain, the goods of Louis Serth, knowing them to have been stolen, and to a conviction of felony at St. Mary, Newington, in April, 1879, in the name of George Comber , having then been previously convicted.— Five Years' Penal Servitude—Having still to work out Eleven Months of hit former sentence ).
447. EDWARD HOLE (28) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to obtaining by false pretences from Augustus Wild and another, certain laces and leather belting and other goods, and from Lawrie Smellie 3l. and 4l. 10s., with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MARCH 28TH 1887.