CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
HANSON, MAYOR. TENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment, denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, July 25th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
757. MAY HUGHES (24) was indicted for unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Louisa Jackson a dress and other articles, value 30l. 6s. 10d., and also a dress from Emma Sibley, value 30l., with intent to defraud.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. KNOTT Defended.
LOUISA JACKSON . I am a dressmaker, carrying on business at 310. Regent Street—some time in March the prisoner called on me and said she had heard of me through a Miss Johnstone, whom I did not know—I asked the prisoner who she was, and she said she was Miss Hughes, and she wanted several dresses made at once—I told her I would make them, and she then ordered some dresses—she said her mother was a rich woman, living in Wales, and had a large establishment, keeping carriages and horses, and sent her a cheque once a month to pay her accounts, including her dressmaker's bill—she also said her father was a master of hounds—she said she wanted some things made in a hurry, and I took the order and made the dresses—the first address she gave me was at Streatham, where she was staying, and after that she gave me an address at 25, Angel Road, Brixton, where the dresses were to be sent—she called on different occasions after that and ordered different things—when the first of the following month came she explained to me she could not pay me, because she had not received her cheque, that she was going to bring her mother to give me an order—these are the three invoices (produced) of the things I supplied to her—the dress she is wearing now is the first one I supplied to her—she spoke to me two or three times about her mother coming to see me—I believed the statements that she made with regard to her mother, and it was in consequence of what she said that I let her have the things—I afterwards went to one of the addresses she
gave me, and could not find her, and I then communicated with the police.
Cross-examined. I know a lady of the name of Lynn—she did not introduce the prisoner to me—she came in once with the prisoner, after the order had been given—I don't know what Miss lynn is; I don't know her—she is not a customer of mine—I did not ask the prisoner any question as to her family; she told me without being asked—she mentioned that she was a singer, and said that one of these dresses was to sing in—she did not tell me that her father had been dead seven years—she told me her father was alive and was a master of hounds—she did not tell me what sort of hounds—I said at the police-court that she said her father was a master of buckhounds, but I was not sure—the goods were sent to Angel Road by my messenger—I did not ask him anything when he came back as to what apartments the prisoner lived in—on two or three occasions I asked the prisoner to settle her account, and she said her mother was in Clifton at the time, and would come and pay it, and on another occasion she said her mother was in Paris, and was expected in town every day—I went to Angel Road, Brixton, but the prisoner had gone from there—I saw Mrs. Pear there—she did not tell me till afterwards what address the prisoner had left, but she told me she had kept the prisoner's goods, because she had not paid her rent—I went there again, and she gave me an address in Dulwich Road, which the prisoner had left—it was nothing unusual in the length of time this account went, only the prisoner kept promising the money and did not pay, and then I suspected something was wrong—I have had bills go longer than two months, but I generally know the person—I don't arrest every customer because they don't pay a month or two afterwards—no person has offered to pay the bill—Mrs. Hughes offered me 2l. after the arrest—I was not offered 12l.
EMMA. SIBLEY . I live at 328, Brixton Road, and am a dressmaker—the prisoner came to me last September—my first hand saw her first, while I was away for my holidays, and when I saw her she said her ma was away, that her pa had been dead seven years, and that her mother allowed her 100l. a month for dresses, and if she had not the money at the time she had her own banking account—she told me she sung at Covent Garden, and more than once asked me to go and see her, and said the brougham should call for me, but I said I was too busy—she said she got from 50l. to 100l. a night—she also said they had a large place at Streatham, and asked me did I like grapes—I said "Yes," and she told me she would tell the gardener to send them if I would not mind them being sent on Sunday—I said "No," but I never got them—when she came again I said "Miss Hughes, I have not had the grapes"—she said "You have not, that awkward old gardener"—the woman who I now know is her mother was brought to my place once by the prisoner, and she said it was her dear old nurse, and she wanted a cloak to give to her, but I did not let her have it—she stood in the hall, I saw her there—the prisoner got goods from me valued at more than 20l.
Cross-examined. She once wanted a white dress, as she said she had to sing at Covent Garden, and asked me to go there and hear her sing—I did not institute this prosecution; I knew nothing of it until I was subpoenaed to appear here—it was about the end of February the last dress she had from me, but I took no steps then, because her mother came
to me and asked me not to take any proceedings, and said she would give me a piano—Miss Jackson came to me about the case, but I should certainly have prosecuted, for the good of the public, if Miss Jackson had not come to me.
SARAH PEAR . I live at 25, Angel Road, Brixton, and am a widow—on 11th March the prisoner came to live at my house with a sister—they occupied two rooms at a pound a week—she said she was a singer, and that her mother had a large estate in Wales, and kept carriages and horses—she asked me would I mind her paying once a month, as her mother sent her a cheque once a month—several dresses came for her while she was staying in my house—she remained till about 13th May, and left owing me money, but it was Afterwards paid—a woman who I now know to be her mother called several times; the prisoner said she wag her aunt—she never came with carriages and servants—I distrained on her goods for the rent, and the 4l. 10s. was afterwards paid by her mother.
Cross-examined. She was with me two months—the 4l. was for one month's rent, and 10s. for a half week, as she begged me to keep her till she got other apartments—I took out a summons first, and then I distrained on her goods—I never broke any boxes open—she left the address, 209, Upland Road, with me—Miss Jackson called afterwards, and I gave her that address.
ELIZABETH HUGHES . The prisoner is my daughter—my husband died in 1879—I heard that the prisoner represented me as her aunt, and I knew that was untrue—I never heard her represent me as the old family nurse, and I do not believe it—I have no servants in my actual employment, and I was not in the habit of sending her a cheque every month for 100l.—she had no banking account—my husband in the beginning of this year was not a Master of Buckhounds—I was not in Paris in May, I was prevented from going—I occasionally visited my daughter at Mrs. Pear's—I said before the Magistrate that I had no landed estate in the country.
Cross-examined. My husband died a lunatic in 1879—previous to that I had lived in Wales—my husband had a house there, and we lived there with him occasionally, and we had horses and carriages of our own—my husband's family had lived in that house since the time of Charles I.—I have two sons—a lawsuit was carried on in the Probate Division with reference to the Aberclachan Estate—the Morfar Estate was the one on which we lived, and on the last day of March that estate was sold for something like 10,000l.—the result of the suit was that my son was declared to be heir-at-law to that estate—I was appointed his guardian during the lawsuit, and I received an allowance on his behalf on behalf of that interest, and I was receiving it from November, 1886, up to May. 1887—if my daughter said anything of this kind to any tradesmen it would be quite correct—the father of my father had lots of horses and dogs; my ancestors had been hunting gentlemen—my daughter will have an interest in the personal estate as well as the real estate—there was a verdict given against me in the first case, and then I made an appeal, which I won, and the result was I got an interest in the estate—during this time my family had expectations in reference to the estate—unfortunately it was found recently that a person who was assumed to have
died intestate had made a will, and I was ousted—I never, said I was the prisoner's aunt or allowed myself to be passed off as an old nurse.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury .— Six Weeks' hard Labour.
MR. TORR Prosecuted.
SAGA SMITH . I am the wife of Harry Smith, and live at 80, Pennington Street—on the night of 1st July I went to bed about 10 o'clock—the windows and doors were all fastened up then—about three or four in the morning I was awoke by the dog Darking, and I listened and heard something in the sitting room, and then the prisoner opened my bedroom door, and I awoke my husband and said "There is a man, a thief," and the prisoner went out of my bedroom window into No. 79—I know the prisoner very well, and have seen him sitting on the doorstep smoking his cigarette—my room is on the ground floor—I then went out into the street and halloaed for a policeman, and then went to Leman Street and got one, and I saw the prisoner taken at No. 82, and heard him say "I was not there"—only a little piece of tobacco was taken off the chest of drawers, and he dropped that in the yard as he went out of the window—this is it (produced)—I am sure it was the prisoner I saw.
HARRY SMITH . I am the husband of the last witness and am a butcher—on this night my missus awoke me, and I saw the prisoner go out of the window and go through a little window into the next house—I had seen him two days before—he afterwards came to my house and said "You say I was the man that came to your house in the night"—I said "Yes, of course you was"—he said "I want you for five minutes outside"—he was given in custody—this is the same piece of tobacco as was stolen; it was lying on the drawers—a sailor friend had given it to me—I am sure the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. You did not come to my house and I did not say "I know nothing about it; my wife knows all about it."
JOHN DANN (Policeman H 309). About midnight on 1st July I was called to Pennington Street to the house of the last witness—I examined the window of the sitting room and found it wide open, and the sofa underneath the window had marks of mud from boots on it—there is a window in the wall in the yard which leads into the next house—from what I was told I examined the window and found a three-cornered dent on it, and I found a pair of compasses on the prisoner which would remove the catch—they are very old houses—I also examined the window in the next house—it is a window with two bars across, and there is whitewash on the outside, which had marks on it as if someone had entered by there—from information I received I went to No. 82, and saw the prisoner, and told him I should tike him in custody for burglariously breaking and entering No. 80—he said "I was in bed"—I said "In this house, 82?" he said "Yes"—I then took him past 79 and 80, and when he came there he said "I might as well have my hat"—I said "Where is it?"—he said "In here"—that was 79, and I got the prisoner's brother to bring it out—the prisoner said "It is not my hat"—I fitted it on him and it fitted him—the prisoner said he had bought the compasses from a boy the night before for 6d.—the marks on the window corresponded with them.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ROSE HURT . I am married and live at 79, Pennington Street—the prisoner lives there—that house adjoins the prosecutor's house—there is a small window between the two yards, and you can get from one house to the other—on the night of 1st July the prisoner was in my company till he went to bed at two o'clock in the morning—his bedroom is on the top floor—I was awoke about four o'clock in the morning by hearing Mrs. Smith screaming—I said "What is it, Mrs. Smith?"—she said "Esther, your husband or your brother has broken into my house"—I said "How can it be my husband when he has been lying by the side of me all night?"—I then went up to the prisoner's room—my husband had been up there before me, and told the prisoner to get up, and he went straight to next door and said "Do you accuse me of breaking into your house?" and the prosecutor said "No, not me, my wife"—the prisoner said "If I knew it was you I would punch your head."
Cross-examined. She made a mistake when she called the prisoner my brother; he is our lodger—this was at 4 o'clock in the morning, but the cries of Mrs. Smith awoke everybody in the street—I daresay it must have been three minutes from the time Mrs. Smith woke me to the time the prisoner went into the prosecutor's—somebody is always breaking into this house; I have lost 30s. worth of china since this man has been in custody.
GEORGE HUNT . I heard somebody calling out about 4 o'clock on this morning, and went upstairs and found the prisoner in bed—Mrs. Smith told me my brother had broken into her house, and I said she had made a mistake, the party was in bed, and my missus went upstairs and told the prisoner to get up and dress himself, and he did so and went to the prosecutor's door.
Cross-examined. The back window leading into our house is always left open, and I have found two different men in our back place during this last fortnight—the window leading into the street has no bolt, and the people have been coming through that—the houses in our neighbourhood have been broken into since this man has been in custody.
MRS. SERGEANT. I live at 79, Pennington Street—I heard no disturbance during the night, but I heard cries of "Police" and "Murder," and opened my window and saw Mrs. Smith in her chemise calling out.
NOT GUILTY .
761. HENRY BROWN (66), ELLEN GARVEY (47), and CATHERINE RICHARD (28) , to seven indictments for unlawfully conspiring to obtain 96l., 10l., and other sums from the Postmaster-General, by false pretences.— To enter into their own recognisances to appear for judgment next Session. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
762. CHARLES HORTON VINSON (57) to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, three packets containing moneys of the Postmaster-General.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault .— Judgment respited.
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Twelve Month' Hard Labour.
MR. LEDDON Prosecuted.
The Jury were of opinion that the wound was caused accidentally, and found the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, July 25th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
767. WILLIAM MARSHALL (27) PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, having been convicted of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin at this Court in October, 1881.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
LILY CADWELL . My father keeps the Bedford Arms, Seven Sisters Road, Holloway, and I assist in the bar—on 17th June, about 10 p.m., I served the prisoner with some soda and gin, price 4d.—he was alone—he gave me a sovereign, and I gave him a half-sovereign and 9s. 8d. in silver—I then turned to serve another customer, and about a minute afterwards the prisoner pushed a half-sovereign to me and asked me to give him silver, which I did, and took the half-sovereign into the parlour and showed it to my father, who went into the bar with me, but the prisoner was gone—I gave the coin to the prosecutor—this is it (produced)—I afterwards picked the prisoner out from about ten others at Clerkenwell Police-court.
Cross-examined. I did not make a complaint at the station next day—I did nothing till I read in the newspapers that a man was charged with a similar trick at Clerkenwell—my father then went to the station, and got a description of the man just locked up, and brought it to me, but I aid not identify him by that—the paper is destroyed; it described his complexion fair and chin shaved—his clothes were described—I picked the prisoner out on 6th July from a number of men, but not from the paper—some of them were dark—my sister Alice was not with me then; she did not give evidence before the Magistrate, but she was in Court—a policeman was in the yard—I did not know Mr. Gill or Miss Thorn before—my sister had a much better view of the prisoner than I had—I did not see her pick up a half-sovereign and put it in her pocket.
Re-examined. I picked out the prisoner by his features—the prosecutor was in the yard, but he said nothing to me about the identification.
ALICE CADWELL . I live at the Bedford Arms, Seven Sisters Road, and assist in the bar—on 17th June I was in the bar, and saw my cousin Lily serve the prisoner—he paid her with a sovereign, and she give him the change—ho picked it up and put it in his right-hand trousers pocket, and pulled out some gold from his left trousers pocket, threw it on the counter, and asked my cousin if she could give him all silver, which she did—I then saw her try it and take it into the parlour where Mr. Cadwell was, and as soon as she came round the corner the prisoner left without drinking the whole of his gin and soda—there was only the counter between us, and I noticed a mole on his right cheek—I went to the station to identify him on the same day as my cousin went and saw the prisoner there with about eight men and identified him—I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined. I was not called as a witness at the police-court—the man was a stranger to me; he was about three minutes in the house—the mole is on his right cheek—his left side was towards me—I was wiping glasses—five out of the eight men I saw at the station were dark-haired men.
MINNIE THORN . I am barmaid to Mr. Gill, who keeps the Queen's Arms, Pentonville—on 20th June, about 11.45 p.m., the prisoner came in alone, and two strangers followed him—he asked for a small soda, which came to 2d., and gave me a sovereign—I gave him a half-sovereign in change, and the rest in silver and bronze—I took the half-sovereign from the change rack; there was only one half-sovereign there—after giving the change I served a man and woman, and while I was doing so the prisoner asked me if I could give him all silver and pushed a half-sovereign along, but I noticed that it was not the same; it was a different colour to a genuine one—I called Mr. Gill—the prisoner said that he did not want any bother over it—I sent for a constable.
Cross-examined. Gold is put in the change rack in the morning—I should put the half-sovereign on the rack and take silver—I never had the bad half-sovereign in my hand—I am certain the one I gave the prisoner was good—I told the prisoner that it was not the same, and he said that it was.
Re-examined. He offered to pay for what he had with small money and he did so—I had tested the half-sovereign I gave the prisoner by the sound as I put it down.
EDWARD GILL . I am landlord of the Queen's Arms, Henry Street—on 20th June, shortly before 12 o'clock, Miss Thorn showed me a bad half-sovereign—I saw the prisoner in the bar—he said that it was the same coin as she had given to him—she said it was not—I asked him if he had any other money—he said "A few coppers," turned out 5d., and said that that was all he had—I called a policeman—the prisoner was searched, but they did not find any half-sovereign on him—I had been serving the whole evening—I had put 5l. worth of silver there not half an hour before, but no gold—I afterwards received another half-sovereign from another customer, gave silver for it, and placed it on the same tray—it was good, I sounded it—that was the only half-sovereign on the rack at the time.
Cross-examined. 11.30 is a fairly busy time at our house—every one serving in the bar would go to the rack for change; they would ring the
money first—we never take a sovereign or a half-sovereign without ring. ing it—I did not feel justified in giving the man in custody—I suggested that he should go to the station, never thinking that he would.
Re-examined. I had put the silver on the tray about a quarter of an hour before—I looked at it again about 12.30—when we closed there was then 4l. in silver and 1l. in gold, and that 1l. had been given to the prisoner, so that only two gold coins had been changed.
GEORGE ALLEN (Policeman G 229). I was called, and Mr. Gill said in the prisoner's presence that he had brought in a half-sovereign, and asked for a small lemon—I saw on the counter a counterfeit half-sovereign, 10s. 6d. in silver, and 4d. in bronze—I asked the prisoner what he had to say to it; he said "The barmaid gave it to me with the other silver and bronze"—he submitted to be searched, and I found 5 1/2 d. in bronze on him, nothing else—he said that he would go with me to the station, but he did not want any trouble about it, he did not know what he was to do; he was only a labouring man—at the station he gave his address George Johnson, 24, Offord Road, Barnsbury—I made inquiries there, in consequence of which I detained the prisoner.
Cross-examined. A statement came back to the station that he was not known at Offord Road, and the sergeant said "What address do you give now?" he said "I give the same address as before," but next day he said "I will give you my correct address," and gave me a public-house kept by his mother—a private clothes man told me the prisoner's address—I asked him if it was right—he said "Yes."
Cross-examined. There is no public-house called the Offord Arms near there.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these two half-sovereigns are counterfeit, and made from the same mould, and of the same substance as pewter pots are made: and gilt in a battery.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 26th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. WOODFALL and SLORACH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BROWN . I am an ironmonger and gas-fitter of Elizabeth Street, Eaton Square—in the autumn of last year I did certain work for Messrs. Mowsell Brothers, and in October I sent in the Michaelmas account, amounting to 1l. 18s. 10d.—at Christmas I sent in an account for 4l. 7s. 5d.; that included the 1l. 18s. 10d.—on 19th March this year I received payment of the 4l. 5s. 2d.
last I engaged the prisoner as petty cashier, to pay wages on Saturdays and to keep the books—his duties were to receive small sums and enter them in his books, and to receive accounts paid over the counter, to enter up the books, to pay out accounts, and to advance money to the men when they went on journeys—I know his handwriting—this (produced) is the cash book kept by him—this entry, under the date of September 16, "Memorandum, balance in hand 1l. 16s.," represents the balance he should have in hand when he entered our service—I first suspected something wrong on 13th January this year—he left in January after the examination of the books by an accountant—after engaging the prisoner I raised his salary to 2l. a week—I spoke to him about this—I told him to make up the books—he would not do so for some time—finally he said he had not sufficient money; he was afraid he was short—he was afraid to make up his books or we should find him out—I told him to make up his cash book and give me a memorandum of the amount that was due, so that I could get the money from his surety—he gave me this memorandum. (Read: "I acknowledge to have 66l. 8s. 4d., money belonging to Mowsell Brothers, and will repay the same, 33l. 4s. 2d. in five days, and the like amount seven days afterwards. Signed, A. CRAWFORD, 17th January, 1886.") That sum of 66l. 8s. 4d. represented the amount that I thought ho was short at that time, and that amount tallied with his cash book—I afterwards had his book examined by Mr. Niblet, the accountant, and subsequently discovered several other defalcations—amongst others 1l. 18s. 10d., paid to Brown; he takes credit for that, which he ought not to have done—we afterwards paid it—there is also 1l. 2s. 8d. paid to the Silvering Company—we paid that after the prisoner left—Mrs. Henderson had warehoused some furniture with us last autumn, upon which she owed us 14l. 10s.—if the prisoner received that he ought to have entered it in this book—we discovered that that had not been paid, on 28th March, after the prisoner had left, at the time we gave instructions to our solicitor to prosecute him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you left Mr. Niblet had checked your book with the vouchers—I allowed you to stay a week afterwards to give any explanation you could—Mr. Niblet had not quite finished—I found the case so much worse than I thought.
By the COURT. I did not mention these specific sums to the prisoner—I left it to the accountant.
AGNES HENDERSON . I reside at Bath—in autumn last I had some furniture warehoused with Messrs. Mowsell—14l. 10s. was due for storage—I wrote to them for a loan on the furniture—I received a letter in answer, and one inside from the prisoner, stating that he knew of some one who would do it—he did obtain the loan of 150l.—he forwarded me 130l., deducting the 14l. 10s. and 5l. 1s. for other charges.
Cross-examined. Your letter was in the same handwriting as the one from the firm—I appointed you my agent to receive the money—it was a matter between ourselves; you had to account to me for the way in which you disposed of the money.
GEORGE SAMUEL NIBLET . I am an accountant, of 66, Rodwell Road, East Dulwich—I have been agent to Messrs. Mowsell for about nine years—in January this year I commenced the audit—I investigated this petty cash book kept by the prisoner—I found there were many items the prisoner had not entered in this book for the week ending
December 18th—I found several amounts entered as paid for which there was no voucher—there is an item of 1l. 2s. 8d. and 3d. for post-office order from the Patent Silvering Company—I cannot say that the prisoner assisted me in going through the book—I had great difficulty in getting him to make it up—after some trouble he got the book made up, and I went, through it, and found that vouchers were wanting for several items—I called his attention to it, and asked him to produce them—he had a private drawer full of papers—I said "You had better hunt them up, and see if you cannot find them"—he found some bills, but not receipted, and this was among them—I asked him to produce the voucher for the 1l. 2s. 8d.—he produced these documents and this statement of the amounts which ought to have been receipted—it is a statement of the goods delivered to Messrs. Mowsell, and these are the invoices—I believe this memorandum is in the prisoner's writing—the voucher for the 1l. 18s. 10d. was missing—he found an invoice for it—he admitted that it was not paid—he did not say why it was entered as paid—he was very much confused—he admitted he was very wrong in his cash, and had very little to say.
Cross-examined. I requested you to make up your petty cash book, and I had very great trouble to get you to do it; at last, under pressure from Mr. Sherwood you did do it—you produced a certain number of vouchers, but none for the items I have been speaking of—you admitted that you could not have paid those accounts.
JOSEPH TANNER (Detective Sergeant). I arrested the prisoner on 27th June on the charge of embezzlement—he said "I must see the plaintiff, and come to some arrangement with him; I thought my surety, Mr. George, had paid that sum for me"—he repeated the observation at the police-station.
Cross-examined. You said something about its being a matter of account between the firm and yourself—I do not remember your saying that your surety had received money on your account, and ought to have settled with Mr. Sherwood.
JOHN THOMPSON . I am manager to the Patent Silvering Company, of 10 and 12, Lower Kenning ton Lane—Messrs. Mow sell are customers of ours—in autumn last year I rendered this account for 1l. 2s. 8d., and in December another account for 6l. 4s. 10d., including the 1l. 2s. 8d.—that sum was not paid by post-office order in December; it was paid by Messrs. Mowsell some considerable time after.
The prisoner in his defense stated that he arranged the loan to Mrs. Henderson with the knowledge and authority of the prosecutors, and with their knowledge deducted from it the 14l. 10s.; as to the two smaller sums of 1l. 18s. 10d. and 1l. 2s. 8d., in the multitude of business they must have escaped his memory.
JOHN SHERWOOD (Re-examined). I was not aware that the prisoner was trying to obtain the money for Mrs. Henderson—an advertisement came to my notice, and I distinctly forbade him to do so—we are not moneylenders—I had no idea he had got the money for Mrs. Henderson.
MR. ROBERTS (Called by the Prisoner). I am manager to the prosecutor—this transaction with Mrs. Henderson came to my knowledge; I remember her applying for the loan; I did not know how it ended—I heard the prisoner say one day that he was trying to get a loan for her, but I paid no attention to it—I remember his sending for a copy of
the inventory of Mrs. Henderson' furniture—I did not tell firm what I knew; I looked no it as a private matter.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
771. HENRY DARBYSHIRE, GEORGE DARBYSHIRE, EDWARD WHITE, GEORGE MARTIN , and JOHN DARBYSHIRE PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring,— To enter into their own recognisances in 25l. each to keep the peace and come up for judgment if called upon.
MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted; MESSRS. BURNIE and LYNCH Defended.
the alleged perjury was that in the affidavit the defendant swore that he had not given the prosecutor into custody; the prosecutor and others proved that the defendant had done so, and upon that evidence the Jury found the prisoner GUILTY , and he was fined 10l .
FRANK CAREW PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. GILL and BAGGALLAY prosecuted; GEOGHEGAN defended.
FREDDERICK WILLIAM MANN . I am a clerk in the confidential enquiry regard to losses of letters passing through the Finsbury Park Post Office I was instructed to make inquiries, and accordingly on the 3rd of July I made up two letters, and addressed one of them to Mr. A.C. Luscombe, 201, Seven Sisters Road, and put in that two 20s. postal orders, and four pawn tickets, and the second letter was addressed to Mr. T. Smith, pawnbroker, 257, Seven Sisters Road, and in it was put tow 4s. orders, six penny stamps, and a pawn ticket—I put my private mark on the orders and the stamps—I made the two 20s. orders payable at the Seven Sisters Road Office, and left the name of the payee blank, and the two 4s. orders I left quite blank with nothing on—I then fastened the letters up, and posted them at the Northern District Post Office at 5 o'clock the same day, and gave certain instructions with regard to them—on the morning of 14th July I had certain information with regard to those letters, and in consequence I saw Frank Carew, and had a conversation with him, and after that I went to 158, Marlborough Road, Upper Holloway, in company with constable Bick—I did not see the door opened, but I went upstairs afterwards and heard what took place in the room—Bick said to Winifiel "Where did you get the order as from that you cashed this morning?"—she said "I have not cashed any orders this morning"—he again asked her where she had obtained them from, and produced the two 20s. orders—she said her brother had given them to her to cash for him—Bick then said "Your name is not E. Clarke?"—she said "He told me not to put my own name upon them"—he then asked her about the pawn tickets—she said she had not seen any pawn tickets, but afterwards, I heard her say that her brother had burnt them on the fire in the next room—I then asked her where the stamps were that were with the orders, and she said "They are here," and she took them out of an album—I looked at them, and saw they were the stamps I had put in the
letter, and pointed—them out to the prisoner—she was then asked where the other orders were, and she said she did not know; she would go and see, and went into the next room—Bick followed her—she said she was very much upset, and came back again, and took the two As. orders from her dress pocket—these are the orders and the stamps (produced)—the orders were both signed "E. Foster"—these (produced) are the two 20s. orders—the signatures to the 4s. orders are all in the same writing—she said her brother had given her the stamps—she said to me "Did you send the letter, Sir; cannot I pay the money?"—she was then taken to the Hornsey Road Police-station, and confronted with her brother, and I said to him "Your sister has acknowledged receiving these orders from you; what have you to say?"—he said "I may as well take the blame; I did steal them"—I afterwards showed him these ten postal orders, and spoke to him about them, and I afterwards showed them to the prisoner and said "Your brother has admitted giving you orders to cash for him, and the writing on these resembles yours; what have you to say"—she said "I recognise the handwriting being mine, but I don't recollect the papers"—they have all got writing upon them and different names, such as M. Smith, M. Palmer, and M. Clark, and were cashed at different offices.
Cross-examined. Her brother was in custody when we went to where she was living, I heard Bick tell her he was a police constable in the service of the Post Office, so she knew some person had come from the Post Office to make inquiries about these letters—I have looked over the amounts of these orders, and find there is only one for 1l.; the others are for 10s., and 4s., and 2s., and so on—her brother has been in the service of the Post Office since August, 1886, about eleven months—when I showed her these orders she admitted the writing at once—there was no attempt on her part to disguise or conceal the handwriting—all these orders have been cashed at post offices; they can pass from hand to hand like cash—it is not necessary for a person to write her name unless it is made payable specially at that office—the brother and sister were not together when I produced the ten orders—the brother said, behind the prisoner's back, that she did not know where he got them from—a Mr. Hill went with Bick.
JEREMIAH CARMEN . I am inspector at the Northern District Office of the Post Office—acting under instructions I went to my letter-box about 5 o'clock on the 13th of July, and found two letters there addressed as have been described—I stamped them with the office date stamp, and put them into the Finsbury Park bag, and I myself saw that bag dispatched to the Finsbury Park Office half an hour afterwards.
GEORGE WILLIAM HAMMOND . I am overseer at the Finsbury Park Post Office—Frank Carew was employed there as an auxiliary postman—on the 13th of July I received a bag from the Northern District Office at 5.53; that bag left there at 5.35—I saw it opened, and in it I saw the two letters described by the first witness—I locked them up in my desk till next morning, and then put them amongst the letters of Frank Carew's walk—that was at 6.40, the prisoner having come on duty at 6.20, and would leave for his delivery at 7.15—these two letters were not on his delivery, and therefore he should have sorted them up to another man to deliver—I searched that man's letters, and failed to discover these letters.
CHARLES HILLS . I am assistant to the post-office receiver, 192, Seven Sisters Road—these postal orders were presented to me for payment on the 14th of July at 9.30 a.m. by the female prisoner—they were signed "A. Clark" at the time they were presented—I had previously received instructions with regard to two orders—I asked her to write her name and address on the back, and she wrote" A. Clark, 20, Cornwallis Road, Upper Holloway"—I gave her the money for the orders—I saw her again the same day at Marlborough Road, and identified her.
PHILIP BICK (Police Constable attached to the Post Office). On the 14th of July, about 10.30 a.m., I went with Mr. Mann and Hills to 158, Marlborough Road, where I saw the prisoner—I was in plain clothes—I asked if she was Miss Carew—she said "Yes"—I said I wished to speak to her—she went up to a first-floor room—I produced these two 20s. postal orders, and said "These two orders were presented by you at the Seven Sisters Road this morning; where did you get them from?"—she said "I have not had any"—I said "I have seen your brother; where are the other two orders?"—she said "I have not seen any orders"—I again showed her the two 20s.; orders, and said "Where did you get these from?"—she said "My brother Frank gave them to me to get cashed; can't I pay the money?"—I said "No, that can't be done; how comes it that the orders are signed Clark; your name is not Clark"—she said "No, my brother told me not to put my own name on them"—I again said "Where are the other two orders?"—she said "I don't know, but I will try to find them"—she went into another room; I followed her—she said "I really don't know where they are; I am so upset"—she went back into the front room and took them from her pocket; she also produced two sovereigns from her pocket, and said "This is the money I got for the other two"—I said "What became of the pawn tickets and the remaining portions of the letters?"—she said "I don't know; Frank only gave me the orders"—I said "Did he burn them?"—she said "Yes, he did, by the fire in the other room"—Mr. Mann spoke to her about the stamps, and I saw her produce them from an album lying on the table—she was then taken to the station in Hornsey Road.
Cross-examined, I had seen the brother before I saw her, and he had replied to questions put to him by Mr. Mann—I asked her if she kept the money herself—she said "I always gave it to my brother"—there was a fire in the other room, and there were fragments of burnt paper, but nothing that could be identified.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did change the postal orders, but I did not know they were stolen My brother told me to change them for him, but they were not for him, but for a young man. As regards the address, I did not know exactly where the young man lived, but I thought it would be about there."
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of her previous good character .— One Week's Imprisonment. FRANK CAREW— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
774. ARTHUR WIGGS (16) and ARTHUR FALLOWS (16) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Mrs. Clarke and stealing six pairs of boots and 30s.; also to another burglary in another dwelling house. Police Sergeant Agar stated that Fallows bore an excellent character, and had been led away by wiggs.
WIGGS— Six Months' Hard Labour. FALLOWS— Two Days Imprisonment. And
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July 26th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BYRON Prosecuted; MR. DE MICHELE Defended.
FLORENCE WATKINS . I am waitress at the Exeter Hall Restaurant—on 14th July, about eight p.m., the prisoner came in, called for a cup of coffee, price 2d., and gave me a half-crown—I had seen him several times before—I put it in the till and gave him the change—he only stayed about three minutes—there was no other half-crown in the till; it had been cleared at eight o'clock—it is cleared three times during the day and again at 9.30, when business is over—the young lady who cleared it at 9.30 brought me this half-crown, and I identified it, because I had not taken another half-crown during that: time—the manager spoke to me about it—next day the prisoner came again about the same time, and asked for a bottle of soda water, price 3d., and gave me a half-crown—I noticed that it was bad, and gave it to the manager, as I had been instructed to do—he came into the bar, a policeman was called, and the prisoner said "I was not aware it was bad"—he was given in custody—the first half-crown was given back to me, and I kept it in my purse till next day, and both coins were given to the policeman.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said that he did not know the second coin was bad—I said before the Magistrate: "He was on Thursday dressed as he was on Friday, cane and all; it is not possible that I could be mistaken"—no service or entertainment was going on—we do not sell stimulants, only light refreshments—the Young Men's Christian Association is held there—I saw the prisoner's pockets turned out and 32s. found; there was no bad money—he was there on the second occasion between five and 10 minutes—he had to wait till I could call a constable—he had a cane on both occasions.
ELIZABETH BERRY . I am head waitress at the Restaurant at Exeter Hall—on 14th July, at eight o'clock, I cleared the till, only leaving in it two shillings and two sixpences—there was no half-crown there—I cleared it again at 9.30, and took the money to Mr. Bond—there was only one half-crown, which he handed to me—I found it bad.
Cross-examined. The till is cleared four times a day—it was not'10 o'clock on Thursday night when I cleared it, but it was between 9.30 and 10.
Re-examined. In the summer months we close at 9.30, and I take the money out shortly afterwards—I took no part in serving after eight that evening—I saw the prisoner there on the Thursday night after eight o'clock, and had seen him there before that.
GEORGE BOND . I manage the Exeter Hall Restaurant—on 14th June, about 9.40, the last witness brought me the contents of the till, and I saw this bad half-crown there—I returned it to her, as she had to make it
good, she having taken two bad ones previously—on the next evening Miss Watkins brought me another bad half-crown, and I sent for a constable, and then went up to the prisoner, who was waiting for his change, and said "Are you aware it is a bad one?"—he said "Certainly not, you can search me if you like"—I said "You were also here last evening, Thursday"—he said "I was not anywhere near Exeter Hall last evening"—he turned his pockets out on the counter, of his own accord—I gave both the coins to the constable.
Cross-examined. He had 32s. loose in his pocket, but no bad money—he turned it out after saying that he was not anywhere near Exeter Hall the evening before—it was mentioned to the barmaid on the Thursday evening that the bad money must be made good, but that was not the ordinary practice—I noticed the bad coin first on the Thursday, and said to Miss Berry, "This looks like a bad half-crown"—I had not seen the prisoner before—I did not see him on the Thursday.
ROBERT EARNSHAW (Policeman E 387). On 15th July, shortly after eight p.m., I was called to the Restaurant, Exeter Hall, and Mr. Bond gave the prisoner into my custody—he said "This man has just tendered this half-crown"—I said "Who to?"—he said "To this young lady for a bottle of lemonade; he was in last night and tendered another, which was bad; he had a cup of coffee then"—I said to the prisoner, "You hear what is said?"—he said "I was not aware that this was a bad half-crown, and I was not in or near Exeter Hall last night"—I said "Have you any more about you?"—he said "No, you can search me," and put his hand in his pocket and took out all the money he had and laid it on the counter—Miss Watkins said "I am certain it is him," and Mr. Bond said "The description the young lady gave me was so good that I knew he was the man"—I received these two coins, one from Miss Watkins and the other from Mr. Bond—I marked them.
Cross-examined. He showed no reluctance to turn out his pockets—the money was loose; he had no purse—he put the whole of it on the counter—I felt his pockets afterwards and he had no more—I don't think he said "You may search me" before I said "I must search you," but I won't pledge my oath to that.
Cross-examined. The one that is not bent does not ring like a good one, but it might deceive some people—a good coin will not only ring but it will spring—a bad one will only spring a certain height.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am quite innocent; I can bring witnesses that I was not there on the Thursday."
Witnesses for the Defence.
MART MILLS . I live with my husband at 13, Hale Street, in the first floor back room, and the prisoner and his wife occupy the first floor front—on 14th July, at a few minutes past six p.m., I saw the prisoner in a cab—he pulled up at a public-house and had a drink, and then drove to cur door—I saw that he was under the influence of drink—I went up to any room and then heard him come up—I never went outside the house all the evening except into the yard, and he could not have gone out without my knowing it, as being very warm weather I had my door open till I went to bed—I heard him in his room, and I saw him twice, first in the yard, half an hour after he came home—he had to go down there,
being ill from drinking—I spoke to him, and he did not give me any direct answer—he was sitting in a chair—I heard him speaking to his wife as a drunken man would speak—I saw him again between eight and nine—he could not have gone out of his room between 6.30 and eight or nine o'clock and gone to Exeter Hall, because my room door was open the whole time, and nobody could go out without my seeing them.
Cross-examined. I have lived in the house 10 months, and the prisoner five or six weeks—I was not asked to give evidence; I volunteered—I did not go to the police-court; this is my first appearance—I have not made a statement to anyone—I told his wife that I would come—I know it was the 14th, because it was my washing day—I did not miss him from his lodging on the night of the 15th—I know that it was shortly after 6 o'clock that I saw him on the 14th, because I was going to get half a pint of beer at the public-house, and Mrs. Scott asked me to see what time it was, and I came back and told her it was 6.5 by the Castle clock, and hen she said "There is my husband up at the tap," and I saw him get into the Hansom's cab and drive to the door and go up to his room—I saw him up and down in the yard several times—the last time was somewhere about 9 o'clock—I am a bad walker, but I could walk from my place to Exeter Hall in half an hour—there was about half an hour between his going down to the yard and coming up.
Re-examined. I have no interest in the matter one way or other—he went to the yard many times between 6.30 and 9, and he went down after 9.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BYRON Prosecuted.
JOSEPH TALBOT . I live at 27, Endell Street, and am a caterer for cabmen's shetters—on 14th July, a little after 9 p.m., I was in a tobacconist's shop 5 New street—the prisoner came in and asked for a quarter of an ounce of S.P. snuff, and put down a half-crown—the person in the shop said "A penny farthing"—she picked the coin up, and the Person belonging to the shop said "I beg your pardon, it is a half-crown"—she looked at it, showed it to me, and said "It is a bad one, is it not Sir?"—I said "Yes," and jerked it in my fingers, and gave it back to her—she put it to her teeth, then gave it back to the prisoner, and asked if she had any more money to pay for the snuff—she made no answer, but reeled out of the shop as if she was under the influence of drink—followed her; she walked across to Smith's, the baker's No. 26, walked past the shop, turned round, came back, and walked in—I saw the shop woman looking at a coin, which she gave back to the prisoner, who lift the shop—I went in and spoke to the shopwoman, and then followed the prisoner to the corner of Now Street and St. Martin's Lane—she met scott (see next case), and they walked together—I followed them, and spoke to a policeman—we walked past them; they stopped outside Johnson's coffee-house—we doubled back on them, and the prisoner was in the coffee-room and Scott waiting outside—I went in and pointed her out to the constable—the young woman serving had this half-crown in her hand—the constable took it, and found it was bad—the constable went out and brought in Scott, and
asked him whether the prisoner was his wife—he said "No," but he had known her for some years.
ELIZA. BRUGGENMAYER . I am a tobacconist, of 5, New Street, St. Martin's Lane—on 14th July, soon after 9 p.m., Talbot was in my shop, and the prisoner came in and asked for a quarter of an ounce of Wilson's S.P., which came to a penny farthing—she put down a halt-crown—I took it for a penny, and said "It is five farthings"—she then pushed it nearer to me—I took it up and said "It is a half-crown"—I tried it with my teeth, which sank in it, and I said "It is bad," and asked Talbot to look at it—he returned it to me—I gave it to the prisoner, and she walked out with it—I had not bent it, or rung it, or felt the weight.
ALICE EBERLEY . I live at Mr. Smith's a baker, 26, New street—on 14th July, a little after 9 p.m., the prisoner came in for a half quartern loaf, and gave me a half-crown—I said "This is no use," and broke it in the tester easily—I laid the pieces on the counter, and he took them up, and was going out—I saw some coppers in her hand, and said "You can pay for the loaf"—she laid down twopence, and said "That is not enough, is it?"—I said "No, I want another halfpenny"—she said "That is not my money"—she then seemed intoxicated, and did not speak clearly, but she was not so when she came in—she took up the pieces, and walked out, and made a motion with her hand—I thought she threw the pieces away—this little piece (produced) is what I broke off; I saw the policeman find it.
LUCY CLARK . I am a waitress at a coffee-house, 1, Long Acre—on 14th July, about 9.30 p.m., the prisoner came in and asked for a small cap of tea—she threw down a half-crown—I picked it up, and said "What do you call this?"—Mr. Talbot then came in with a constable who took it out of my hand, and then went out and brought Scott in, and asked him if the woman was his wife—he said "No, but I know her."
RICHARD BAKER (Policeman E 373). On 14th July, at 9.15 a.m., I was on duty in St. Martin's Lane—Talbot spoke to me, and I followed the prisoner and Scott to Long Acre—they walked together, and stopped and spoke for four or five seconds, and the prisoner went into the coffee tavern—we doubled back, and I went into the shop—Scott was standing outside with his back to the shop—I asked the woman in the shop to let me look at a coin which she had in her hand—she gave me this half-crown, and I said "This is a bad one"—Talbot kept the prisoner in the shop, and I went out and brought Scott in, and said "Is this your wife?"—he said "No, but I have known her some time"—she made no reply—I searched Scott at the station, and found on him two good sixpences and sixpence halfpenny in bronze—on the same evening I searched outside 26, New Street, and found this small piece of a half-crown—Miss Eberley identified it—at the station Scott said "I have never seen the female before," and she said that she had never seen Scott before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The piece was in the gutter, just opposite the baker's shop—I asked you at Bow Street what you had done with the other pieces, and you said that you had none.
is a fragment of another—a coin breaking easily in the tester is a sign of its being bad, and also the teeth sinking into it.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The man is perfectly innocent."
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing of this gentleman whatever (Scott). I was the worse for liquor. He says he knows nothing about me. I might have stumbled against him, having had a drop of drink.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BYRON Prosecuted; MR. TAYLOR defended Scott.
The evidence in the former case was read to the witnesses from the short hand writer's notes, to which they assented.
Scott's Statement before the Magistrate. "I can prove I am a hardworking man. I was never in prison in my life."
SCOTT— NOT GUILTY .
THOMPSON**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. WILKINSON and BYRON Prosecuted.
ELI CAUNTER (Police Sergeant). I was watching No. 168, Old Montague Street, with other officers, in consequence of information, for about a week previous to 4th July, and saw the prisoners go in and out frequently—on 4th July, about 7.15 p.m., I went to the house with Stacey and Morton—the front door was open—I went up to the first-floor back room and found it locked—I did not knock; I burst it open, and saw the two prisoners sitting on the edge of the bed; the male prisoner had a piece of hot iron in his right hand, and a sixpence in his left, which he threw on a table among 11 others—I said "I am a police officer; I shall search your room, as I suspect you of making counterfeit coin"—he said "We are not doing anything; we don't live here, we have only come to have tea"—there was a teapot in front of the fire, but no cups or saucers—he had no coat, hat, boots, or stockings on, and the female prisoner had no bonnet or shawl on—there was a very large fire—on the table by their side I found a bowl of wet sand, and on the floor, a packet of cyanide of potassium, and on a shelf a copper wire used as a battery; on the mantelpiece two pocket-knives and some white metal, and in the fire this piece of metal, and these other pieces under—the grate—I saw Stacey find 12 unfinished counterfeit sixpences on the table, on which was this cloth—I told them they would be charged with possessing and making counterfeit coin—they said nothing—I searched them, but found nothing—they were charged at the station, and made no reply—they gave their address, 9, Brick Lane, Spitalfields—that is a coffee-house—I told him I had made inquiries there, and found he did not live there—he said "I was confused at the time, and did not know what I was saying"—the door was either bolted or locked.
THOMAS STACEY (Detective H). I went with Counter and Martin to this house—the room door was fastened; we had to force it—I found 12 counterfeit sixpences on the table, and two iron spoons with marks of metal on them, and a small file, and on a shelf four pairs of scissors, and
in a cupboard this tin can of plaster-of-Paris, some glue, grease, and lamp-black, and I saw Martin find 18 sixpences between the bed and the mattress—I said to Samuel, "How do you account for the possession of these sixpences?"—he made no reply.
THOMAS MARTIN (Policeman H 271). I searched this room, and found 18 unfinished sixpences between the bed and the mattress, in tissue paper, but not done up separately—the prisoner Samuel said "We don't live here, we only came here to tea."
ROBERT JENKINS . I am deputy at 168, Old Montague Street, and let the first-floor back room to the prisoners about six months and a fortnight ago at 10d? a night—they have both come to my house with the money—they both occupied the room; they took it together, and he said that he worked in Spitalfields Market—he called her his wife, and she called him her husband, but I never heard their name as I let the rooms by numbers—they paid regularly, but sometimes there were skips, and then they paid the next day—the room has not been used by anybody else since 4th July.
Cross-examined by the prisoner Samuel. There was no lock or bolt on your door when I let it to you, but I did not visit the room afterwards because you brought me the rent.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these 12 sixpences are all bad, and unfinished by hand, and have not passed the battery—these 16 are in the same state, and many of them are from the same mould—cyanide of potassium, files, copper wire, and spoons are used in the manufacture of counterfeit coin, and plaster-of-Paris is used for making moulds—lamp-black is used to give the coins tone—this molten metal is the same as the coins are made of.
Samuel Cornish's Defence. A man brought me a bundle and said that another man would come for it in 10 minutes. I undid it and found these things. My wife threw some of the coins on the fire, and then the constables came.
Elizabeth Cornish's Defence. My husband came in and said that a man gave him the things. He undid the bundle, and I said "If I were you I would have nothing to do with them," and threw some of them on the fire. He said "Pour me out a cup of tea," and as I was going to do so the constables came upstairs.
SAMUEL CORNISH— GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
ELIZABETH CORNISH— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM DALTON . I keep an oil and colour shop at 33, Ferdinand Street, Chalk Farm Road—on 5th July, about a quarter to 8 p.m., I served the prisoner with some wash-leather, price 4 1/2 d.—he gave me a half-crown—I bent it in the detector and said "You know this is a bad one"—he said "I do not"—I went round the counter and sent for a constable—the prisoner then took out another half-crown and said
"Take it out of that"—he was given in custody with the coin, taken before a Magistrate next day, and discharged—this is the coin (produced).
CHARLES MILLARD (Policeman Y R. 30). I was called and received the prisoner and this coin—I found a good half-crown on him—he was discharged at the police-court next day—he said that he changed a half-crown at the Cattle Market, and must have taken it there.
WILLIAM JOHN EDWARD PACKER . I am a butcher, of 14, Lismore Circus—on 16th of July I served the prisoner with four-pennyworth of steak—he gave me a half-crown—I saw it was bad, and called Mr. Hassall, a neighbour, and showed it to him—he asked the prisoner if he had any more—he pulled out some more half-crowns and gave him—I gave him in charge with the coin—this is it—he offered me good money, but I declined.
ROBERT HASSALL . I am a licensed victualler, of 11, Lismore Circus—on 16th July I was called to Mr. Packer's shop, who showed me a bad half-crown—I said to the prisoner, "Have you got any more?" and he said, "No," and went outside—I went after him, and said, "This won't do, you know"—he said, "I'm not going to run away"—I said, "I did not say you were"—he went back to the shop with me, and took four or five good half-crowns from his pocket—a constable came, and he was given in charge with the coin—I asked him where he lived, he said, "King's Cross"—I said, "What do you do up here, then?"—he said "I came after some soot"—my place is over two miles from King's Cross.
JOHN FARLEY (Policeman Y 374). Mr. Packer gave the prisoner into my charge with this coin—he said that he had five good half-crowns and he could take it out of them—I asked him how he came by it, he said he did not know—I found on him at the station, five good good half-crowns and a penny.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I got the money from where I went to work."
Witness for the Defence.
WILLIAM OSELEY . I am a chimney-sweep, of 153, King's Cross Road—the prisoner worked for me occasionally—he did so a few days previous, at carpet beating, and I paid him four half-crowns—they were good.
Prisoner's Defence. I nave another master, but he is not here. I went into the Market on Friday and took a bad half-crown out of a half-sovereign, not knowing it was bad. I had four half-crowns from Mr. Oseley, and half a crown I pawned my wife's, things for, and half a crown I had besides.
GUILTY .— Six' Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, July 26th, 1887.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
WILLIAM PARRY . I live at 4, Gloucester Terrace, Tottenham—on 4th January, 1887, the prisoner took two rooms at 10, Mincing Lane, agreeing verbally to pay a rental of 80l. a year—he said he represented
Eck, Campbell, and Co.—I demanded that he should bring those gentlemen, and the next day he gave me this slip of paper with the name of Mr. Eck, and stating that he banked at the London and Westminster Bank—he pretended to go out to see them, and came back in as hour and said it was quite right, that they agreed to take the office, and that I should see them—I had said at first that if the gentlemen he spoke of made their appearance I would agree with them—I had no idea the prisoner was the man I agreed to let to—my solicitor wrote this letter to the prisoner, and received this letter from him. (This said that he took the rooms at 85l. a year, and was signed A.J. Eck, of Campbell, Eck, and Co.) The prisoner promised to produce one of the partners of the firm to me, and on that representation I allowed him to have the office—after he went in, in the last week in January, I saw him, and asked him every day almost to produce the partners—he said in a day or two, that they had gone abroad, and that it was very wrong of me to treat him like this—I said, "If you give me a quarter's or half a quarter's rent I will let it go on"—he could not pay the rent or produce the partner—he put up the name of Campbell, Eck, and Co.—at last, about the beginning of February, I saw a revolver on the table one day when I went to speak to him, and he said it was a sample, and next day a policeman came to make inquiry about the revolver, and then I turned the prisoner out.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No agreement for the occupation of the office was drawn up and signed—I saw a handful of rice in the office, and people came after you—the offices were taken by you for Campbell, Eck, and Co.—you occupied them for scarcely a week—you wrote many letters, I saw you do so—you asked me one day to let you have a place to write letters in, as you were pressed for room, as your rooms were not ready, and I let you go to the hall-porter's box and write three or four letters—you gave 10 and 11, Mincing Lane as your address; I saw it on a paper you left there—you took possession of the offices on the Monday or Tuesday.
RICHARD SMITH . I have been hall-porter at 10 and 11, Mincing Lane, for some time past—I remember the prisoner coming there in January, and the name of Campbell, Eck, and Co. being put up—I saw nobody there in connection with that business except the prisoner—he remained there some days, and was obliged to leave—he left money owing for cleaning rooms, &c.
Cross-examined. I saw no one there but you.
PERCY MEAD . I am clerk to Messrs. Debenham and Tewson, of Cheapside, who have the letting of Baltic Chambers, 108, Bishopsgate Street—on 8th February the prisoner came and asked for particulars of the offices—I gave him particulars—the rent was 175l. a year—he went away to look at them, and came back, and produced the original of this, which purports to be a power of attorney, and he left this letter with it in our office. (The prisoner in the letter offered 175l. per annum for the second floor for three years, on behalf of Mr. Adams, of Melbourne.) The prisoner gave references to the Royal Bank of Scotland, and to the firm of Campbell, Eck, and Co., of 10 and 11, Mincing Lane—I wrote to them, and received this post-card in reply. (This stated that they had done business with Mr. Adams, of Melbourne, and had trusted him with good sum, and that they understood Mr. Bundy had been appointed his agent.) After receiving
that we accepted the prisoner as tenant, as the representative of Mr. Adams—there was an agreement dated 14th February, under which he was to pay quarterly—one half quarter's rent became due on 25th March—no rent has ever been paid—a distress was put in by the landlord, and something was realised by that.
Cross-examined. Our agents are Messrs. Heap, Son, and Reeves—I understand some payments have been made to them—they are distraining agents—we applied to the Royal Bank of Scotland as to Mr. Adams and got a satisfactory reply—I do not know whether any bond fide business has been carried on by you at Baltic Chambers—I have not heard that there was not a bond fide business being conducted there, I know nothing about it nor about the nature of the business, I have heard no complaints—I did not know you had left Baltic Chambers.
Re-examined. These are letters from our firm to the prisoner pressing for payment of rent.
GEORGE BURNETT . I am a distiller, of 85, Albert Embankment—I have four partners and we trade as Sir Robert Burnett and Co.—I chiefly attend to our export department in Fenchurch Street—I was first introduced to the prisoner on the 23rd of February by a postcard (This was from Adam, Eck, and Co., of Baltic Chambers, saying that they had an inquiry for whisky and asked for terms), then a small transaction took place between us and the prisoner, amounting to 11l. 14s., which we were paid for by cheque—I received this letter of 18th March (Ordering 1,000 cases of Old Tom gin to be shipped for Salamis, signed W.G. Bundy, for Adams, Eck, and Co.)—I wrote an answer on the 19th of March (Stating they could not get 100 cases to the Salamis tomorrow, and that they should require references)—I received an answer on 19th March, giving as references with their bankers, W.F. Adams, London and Westminster Bank; F.V. Eck, Bank of England; and W.G. Bundy, London and North-Western Bank, and Moses Mevorach, of Belgrade; and stating that the firm had also a running account with the Bank of Victoria—we wrote this letter of 19th March (Asking for trade references, and requesting him to attend to shipping)—this letter came in answer (Dated March 24th, and saying it would be rather difficult to send trade references, at they had only lately approached business of a general commercial character, and their transactions with spirit trade firms had been recent, but that they could assert themselves to be the largest exporters of whisky in London, to Australia, and that he thought that from the references he had given they should be able to find his partners were men of influence and wealth)—we answered that on the 28th (Stating that failing satisfactory trade references their terms were cask against the mate's receipt, and that the 1,000 cases were now ready)—I received this of 31st March (Asking if the goods had not been sent that a pro forma invoice might be sent on Friday, and that he had no doubt he could give a cheque; though for future transactions he hoped they would allow him a good term, and stating that all the members of the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co. were wealthy men and had spent thousands in building up trade in Servia, and that Mr. Eck was reputed to possess three-quarters of a million sterling alone)—we sent this letter of 2nd April. (This enclosed pro forma invoice of 1,000 cases, and stated that they could make up 1,000 cases by Tuesday or Wednesday), and this of 4th April (Saying that the terms were cash against the mate's receipt)—I received this letter of 4th April (Requesting them to ship two lots of 500 cases each of their gin to Melbourne on terms of cash against documents)—We wrote on 6th April (Saying they would ship the first
500 cases of Old Tom gin by the Port Jackson on the 13th, unless they heard to the contrary, and that they could not allow more than two months' discount for cash. Other letters were then read from the prisoner one of 6 th April, saying he had instructions to ship 50 cases of gin to Yokohama, and asking if they could appoint agents for that place; one of 9 th April stating that he was sending to the office a cheque for 2001. and asking for mate's receipt; one from Messrs. Burnett enclosing invoice of 500 cases of gin which were to be shipped next day, and saying that they expected to have mate's receipt by Friday, against which they hoped his cheque for 204l. 10s. 8d. would be ready, and further letters relating to transactions between the parties.)—I sent the receipt on the 18th of April as soon as we received it—the two cheques I received from the prisoner I paid into my bankers the same day, one was honoured and one dishonoured—I received this letter of 21st April (Stating he found only one cheque had been honoured, as his bankers had not cleared some of his drafts, and requesting him to re-present the cheque)—we wrote on 21st April to the prisoner (Saying his cheque had been three times presented and not paid), and on 22nd April (Stating the dishonoured cheque was in their solicitor's hands, whose address was given). (Other letters were read between the parties, including one from the prisoner of 27th April, saying that he wished if possible to arrange matters with the creditors of Adams, Eck and Co., as he had found out only the previous Thursday that they were entirely without means and had swindled him out of 1,100l. or 1,200l.)—we sent no answer to that—I believed the statements in the prisoner's letters as to Adams, Eck, and do. and as to the solvency of Mr. Adams and Mr. Eck and their connection with the prisoner, and in consequence of that belief I did business with the prisoner—I believed the prisoner was a member of the firm and that they were associated in a bond fide business—I believed he was in business in a large way, from his orders—the cheque for 100l. 10s. 8d. was presented three times I believe—it was never paid.
Cross-examined. You sent two orders for whisky for Servia, one of which was refused—the first order that was completed was the first transaction I had with Adams, Eck, and Co.—I cannot recollect when that was paid—I never saw you at our office—you wrote apologising for delay in payment, and said your principals were in Belgrade at the time, that was this letter (18th March, 1887)—I allowed you credit for the first transaction because it was so small a one—I made no inquiries relative to Adams, Eck, and Co.'s standing—I trusted they were bond fide people on that transaction—we inquired at the banks you named as to the standing of Mr. Adams and Mr. Eck, we had a verbal answer.
HORACE CHARLES VINCENT . I am a clerk in the prosecutor's employment—on 18th April I received from the last witness this mate's receipt for 204l. 10s. 8d., together with certain instructions—I took it to the office in Bishopsgate Street; outside I saw the name of Adams, Eck, and Co.—I saw the prisoner there, produced the receipt, and said I would hand it to him in the event of his handing me a cheque for the amount which I was authorised to collect—I took from him two cheques for 104l. and 100l. 10s. 8d., under the belief that they were good cheques and were to discharge the debt; then I left.
Cross-examined. I recollect the transaction between Burnett and Adams and Eck, in which the goods went to Gillets, and your giving me a
cheque for the amount; you saw me then; no one else—I don't remember your seeing Mr. Burnett at Fenchurch Street on any occasion—I never remember your making the assertion that you were a partner in the firm, or anybody doing so.
WILLIAM FREDERICK ADAMS . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, of 1, Copthall Chambers—I have an account at the London and Westminster Bank—I know nothing at all of the prisoner beyond seeing him at the Guildhall in the dock—he was not an agent of mine, nor authorised in any way to represent me—I know nothing of Mr. Adams of Melbourne, nor of J.D. Adkins of Melbourne.
Cross-examined. I did not know Burnett and Co. personally previous to this case; they called on me about a fortnight before the last trial I should think—I know there is no one else of my name banking at the London and Westminster Bank.
FRANCIS VINCENT ECK . I live at 58, Cleveland Square, and am a member of the London Stock Exchange—I have kept an account at the Bank of England since 1886, I think—I have never been in partnership with a Mr. Bundy of Bishopsgate Street—I never saw the prisoner before—I have never by writing or in any way given him authority to act for Adams, Eck, and Co., or for me personally.
Cross-examined. I do not know Messrs. Robert Burnett and Co.—I know no one of my name of Belgrade—I have relatives abroad—I know no one of my name in Vienna.
JOHN SANDERS . I am the only representative in London of John Begg and Co., distillers, of Balmoral—our London office is 75, Mark Lane—on 5th March I received this post card from Adams, Eck, and Co.; in consequence I sent to Aberdeen, and then sent an assistant, Taylor, to the prisoner's office—he brought me back this order from Adams, Eck, and Co. (Ordering cases of whisky to be put on board the "Glenmore")—I believed in the statements made to me in those documents, and in consequence I agreed that the order should be fulfilled, and the order was fulfilled to the amount of 282l.; afterwards, on 11th April, I received two more documents sent from Scotland. (These ordered 100 oases of whisky for shipment to Japan)—I received on 12th April this letter from the prisoner. (Stating that he had sent an order for bulk whisky, and that he should have a cheque ready for 75l. on Friday)—I went to Bishopsgate Street on 13th April to collect what was owing—I did not see the prisoner there—later in the day he called—we had some conversation about my visit to his office—he hardly spoke about the cheque due, but then asked would the second order for 50, quarter casks and 100 cases come down on Friday the 15th—I told him they could not arrive on Friday, but they might on Monday, and that the whole amount could not be fulfilled—I said it was not to be expected he could receive the second order till the first was satisfied—he said "I can give you a cheque to-day"—I said "It would be very much more simple"—he said "I can give you a cheque to-day, but it will have to be signed by another person"—he said it would arrive to-morrow—I said "Then the second order shall be executed"—he was anxious that the second order should be executed—the cheque did not arrive, and then I was advised to take proceedings—I received from our firm at Aberdeen on the 18th, Monday, a cheque for 75l. dated 15th April, together with this letter addressed to our firm at Aberdeen—I immediately arranged for a special
presentation of that cheque at our bank, and it was returned dishonoured—about 20th April this letter was sent to our firm promising payment of the 75l. for the next day—the cheque was presented and not met—we have received nothing with regard to the order executed—the second order was not executed.
Cross-examined. I should think the whole affair of the 75l. was false pretences—you promised me a cheque and wished for goods afterwards—the only statement made previous to our supplying goods which induced us was the fact of your sending an order through Adams, Eck, and Co.—you tried to obtain goods for the second order by means of giving a cheque for the first order which was not met—you came and apologised about the cheque, and I said unless it was given and I received payment for the previous account that a further quantity of goods would not be supplied—I don't think I told one of your employees on the previous day, a short time before I went to my solicitor, that the goods would not be supplied unless a cheque were forthcoming on that day; I have no memory of it—the order was 50 quarter casks, and John Begg could supply as much as 26 out of the order at once, I think—one quarter cask would be worth about 6l. 13s.—all new John Begg's Scotch whisky is John Begg's, but their old is various whisky, partly John Begg's old whisky and partly other very good whisky—this order would have been Lochnagar whisky—it was my own action instructing a solicitor to serve Adams, Eck, and Co. with a writ—John Begg was waiting my instructions to ship the goods—I believe the order was put in hand; I cannot say that if 25l. had been paid, the goods would have been supplied—I had not seen you till you called at my office, and when I saw you I was not so satisfied as I was before, or I think I should have required further reference—references had been given I think by letter which is produced here, I think—I made inquiries at Stubbs', and got the answer from Stubbs' that they were respectable and doing a good business, and on that information I supplied the goods—28 days after supplying the goods the cheque was given and dishonoured—I did not receive the cheque; it was promised to me personally—you did not send it.
Re-examined. I heard from Stubbs' that Adams, Eck, and Co. were respectable people.
JOHN TAYLOR . I am a clerk to the last witness after 7th March, by instructions, I called at the office of Adams, Eck, and Co.—on the second occasion I saw the prisoner, and he gave me the order which has been put in, and I posted it the same day to Mr. Saunders' private residence—I saw the prisoner at the office in Mark Lane on Friday morning, the day on which he was served with a writ—he seemed very indignant at being served with the writ, and said he would write to Mr. Begg about it; he did not understand such treatment—he said "Do you know if the goods have left Aberdeen?"—I said "I don't know"—he said "Can you get them this week?"—I said I did not know, but that Mr. Saunders had said unless the first amount was paid for he would not get the second lot of goods—the prisoner said if he wanted 1,000l. worth of goods he could get them from Burnett's to-morrow—I then referred him to Mr. Saunders' solicitor and left him—he said he had had the cheque the day before, but had not been able to come with it, and he would come to Mr. Saunders—I handed over the documents that came to Mr. Saunders.
Cross-examined. I know nothing about any pretences being made; I only received the orders, which were signed "Adams, Eck, and Co."—I remember the 100 cases of whisky being sent from Aberdeen—Mr. Saunders told me you had called on the Wednesday, and had promised to send a cheque on the Thursday morning—it had not come on the afternoon of that day, and as soon as Mr. Saunders came to the office I told him the cheque had not been sent, and he then instructed his solicitor to serve you with a writ—it was quite a week after the account was due that the cheque was promised, and it was not sent then.
JOHN LIGERTWOOD . I live at 4, Devanna Terrace, Aberdeen, and am a clerk in the employ of Begg, the distiller there—on 4th March I had an order from Mr. Saunders, our London representative, for 100 cases of whisky for Adams, Eck, and Co.—I caused those cases to be shipped on 9th March by the City of Aberdeen for London, to go to Melbourne by the Kenmure—later on, on 16th April, I received a letter from Adams, Eck, and Co., containing a cheque—I sent it back with the cheque to Mr. Saunders, instructing him to collect the cheque immediately—before that, on 14th April, I had received an order for 100 cases of whisky for Yokohama, and an order for 100 quarter-casks direct from Adams, Eck, and Co.
Cross-examined. I am not prepared to say what whisky we had in stock when we had the second order.
SUTCLIFFE WEMYSS BEHREND . I was in the prisoner's employment at 108, Bishopsgate Street from 15th February to 28th May—when I first saw him at 108, Bishopsgate Street I saw the name of "Adams, Eck, and Co." on the door, and the prisoner used that name generally—I was engaged by him as clerk to the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co., I presume, at 75l. a year—I have gone through these documents—all these letters signed "Campbell, Eck, and Co.," "Adams, Eck, and Co.," "W.G. Bundy," and the letters and memoranda on the forms of J.D. Adkins, are in the prisoner's handwriting—this pencil memorandum signed at the back on 18th April is in his writing—this reference on a post-card to Messrs. Debenham and Tewson, vouching for Bundy as a respectable man in the name of Campbell, Eck, and Co., is in the prisoner's writing; I am sure about it—this endorsement on this cheque for 225l. 15s. is in the prisoner's writing—all these documents are in his hand.
Cross-examined. Since I have been with the firm I have received 12l. 10s. for salary—I do not know what amount I have received for petty cash, under 6l.—there was a petty cash book—I saw you at 12, Bishopsgate Street; none of the other clerks told me you were there—my work was correspondence, and part of the insuring—I thought Adams, Eck, and Co. was a straight concern, and that the business was genuine—you made the payments—I remember shipping goods to Belgrade, and whisky to Vienna—I believe I have seen Mr. Saunders once, I cannot remember more—I believe he called about the order for whisky—I do not remember if that was when he called and stated that unless he received 75l. payment for the transaction he would be unable to supply the further quantity.
Re-examined. In connection with Adams, Eck, and Co. I never saw anybody at Bishopsgate Street except the prisoner.
By the Prisoner. I went to Paris to see Mr. Campbell, and wrote to
him—I did not see any letter written by Mr. Epiphannoff to Mr. Campbell—I know there was some little correspondence with Belgrade.
HENRY BEECHAM PERFECT . I am shipping clerk to Messrs. Milburn and Co., owners of the ship Port Jackson—I received this mate's receipt as shipping clerk from the prisoner or his representative, and I handed him this bill of lading in exchange for it—on that the goods would be consigned to order—the prisoner, trading as Adams, Eck, and Co., also instructed us to ship five bags.
Cross-examined. I shipped five bags of ginger, and also a quantity of rum, in your name—I do not know if it was 6 guineas you paid for the freight of rum and ginger; I have not the freight note here—a cheque was handed afterwards—I handed the bills of lading to you personally—the Port Jackson left on 19th April; she closed receiving cargo on that day.
HUGH LEWIS TAYLOR . I am managing director of the Bank of Victoria, 28, Clement's Lane—Adams, Eck, and Co. has no account there, nor has the prisoner—the prisoner brought me a bill of lading, bill of exchange, and policy of insurance having reference to a consignment of spirits on board the Port Jackson going to Melbourne, and pledged them at the Bank of Victoria for 225l. 15s.—I drew a cheque for 225l. 15s. in favour of Adams, Eck, and Co., and handed it to the prisoner, retaining the bill of exchange, bill of lading, and policy of insurance—the cheque was endorsed "Adams, Eck, and Co."
Cross-examined. I do not remember seeing you at our office and asking you what authority you had to sign on behalf of the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co.—I remember once seeing you at the Bank of Victoria presenting a cheque, and I asked the cashier whether you were a proper party to receive it—you had no account of any kind with us—we negotiated your bills to the amount of 1,021l., and gave you cheques for them—I received notification from Mr. Musgrave that you had no connection with Mr. Adams of the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co.
Re-examined. That was long subsequent to this transaction.
SAMUEL LANG . I am a clerk in the employment of the Bank of Victoria, and the prisoner had this negotiation with me personally on 18th April—I acted under the direction of the manager of the bank—he brought me the bill of lading, and received from me this cheque—I have seen him write on several occasions—this cheque is endorsed in his hand "Adams, Eck, and Co."—I advanced it on the goods in the Port Jackson, taking the bill of exchange, bill of lading, and policy of insurance.
Cross-examined. These bills of lading were drawn on J.H. Adams, of Melbourne—I received these from you personally—I have seen other clerks in Adams, Eck, and Co.'s employment, only on one or two occasions—you always used to receive and bring documents to the Bank of Victoria.
CHARTES FRANCIS SPURLING . I live at 44, The Avenue, Tottenham, and am clerk to Mr. George Hugh Frank, oil and colour broker in the City—about 18th May the prisoner called on me at 12, Bishopsgate Street, with respect to an office he wanted to take there; he glanced round the room, asked the rent, and said it would suit him, and he wrote down this, the names of three references, W. G. Bundy, Spartan Villa, Evening Road, Stoke Newington; Adams, Eck, and Co., Baltic Chambers; London and North Western District Bank; and Eugene Judge, Liverpool Chambers, Broad Street, E.C.—Mr. Franks was not in at the time—when
he came in I handed the paper to him, and a letter was written to W.G. Bundy, Spartan Villa—an answer was received in the prisoner's writing—he called a day or two after that and said he had forgotten to state that his own name was not to be put on the office, but that of Mr. G.J. Adkins, as Mr. Adkins was at Melbourne, and he (Mr. Bundy) was his London representative—after that he took possession of the office on Saturday, 21st May—a quarter's rent was about due when he said "I suppose you would like a cheque in advance"—the rent was to be paid in advance—he gave me this cheque on the London and North Western Bank for 8l. 3s.; it was dishonoured—he said before he gave me the cheque, "I have not got a cheque book, I must write you out a cheque"—I received this letter from the prisoner—the cheque was not presented again; it was never paid.
Cross-examined. I don't think any one else was in the office when you represented yourself as London agent for Mr. Adkins, of Melbourne—you were in possession of the office from Saturday afternoon till the Thursday following—I don't know if during that time you did anything else than correspond on matters relative to Adams, Eck, and Co.—I do not know of any business being done—the office consisted of one room, well furnished, but not a large room—it has been used as a private room—I saw one of the clerks of Adams, Eck, and Co., who was trying to find you, and he told me there were others helping him to find you.
CHARLES SAMUEL IVES . I am manager to Thomas Burchett, jeweller, of 69, Cheapside—on Monday, 23rd May, the prisoner came in and asked to see some diamond rings—he selected one marked 12l., and said if it was sent down to the address, Upper Clapton, in the afternoon he would pay for it, that he had not the money with him—he then produced this card, William Bundy, 108, Bishopsgate Street; Spartan Villa, Evening Road, Upper Clapton; and named a Conservative Club—I gave an employee the ring to take to the prisoner—the employee returned later in the afternoon, bringing with him this, which purports to be a cheque of the London and North Western Bank for 12l. on a memorandum form of G.D. Adkins—that was passed through my banking account and was returned dishonoured—I believed it was a genuine cheque—I should not have parted with my goods if I had not believed so—I received this letter from the prisoner. (This dated that, having had a cheque dishonoured that morning, he thought his bankers might delay about paying that which he had sent to him, but that should they do so, if he would send up to Adkins the first thing in the morning, Adkins would pay him.)
Cross-examined. No one else was in the shop that I remember when, you were there—my son might have been in the shop—we have no jewellers working in the shop and no jeweller's lamp for repairing.
S.W. BEHREND (Re-examined). This letter is the prisoner's writing.
ERNEST BURCHETT . I live at 287, Goldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush, and am an assistant to my father at 69, Cheapside—on 23rd May I was there and received instructions from Mr. Ives, in consequence of which I took a diamond ring to Spartan Villa—I got there about two o'clock and saw the prisoner—he said "Where have you come from?"—I said "Mr. Burchett's"—he said "Oh, yes"—I gave him the ring—he gave me a cheque, which I brought away—I believed it to be genuine, and that was the reason I left the ring—I afterwards handed that cheque to Mr. Ives.
Cross-examined. I am sure I saw you in the room part of the time—I
think I gave the ring to you, it might have been to the servant—you opened the parcel in my presence—after handing you the ring I asked for a cheque—you told me you were going to give me a cheque when I gave you the ring—I cannot remember if you took the ring with you.
JAMES HUTCHENS . I am manager of the London and North Western Bank, New Broad Street—some time prior to the beginning of May this year the prisoner had an account at our bank in his own name—I produce a copy of his account, which I have compared with the ledger—he opened the account with a payment in cash of 96l. 11s. on 17th March—by 15th April all that and more had been drawn out, and the credit balance stood at 3s. 6d.—on the 18th there was a payment in of 225l. 15s—by the 20th all that had been exhausted, and on 21st May the credit was 8s. 9d.—on 27th May the account was closed, the 8s. 9d. being absorbed—in the course of his dealing with this account several cheques were presented, which there were no funds to meet and which were dishonoured—I first wrote him about that about the middle of May.
Cross-examined. I believe Burnett's cheques for 204l. 10s. were presented on the 19th early in the morning—it appears there was only 33l. at that time to your credit, but I could not speak of the exact time the cheques were presented—the next payment in was on 22nd April, 19l. 3s. 6d.—you had asked to represent them, as you had other cheques due—I cannot say if you might have got money to meet them—you wrote asking me to ask Burnett to re-present the cheque—we paid the 104l. cheque—I do not recollect the day Burchett's cheque—was presented, we received it before the count was closed—we received the cheque made payable to Mr. Frank on the 23rd—I know of no cheques drawn after the account was closed—the sum total paid into our bank since the account was opened on March 17th is 1,476l.
Cross-examined. I know of no banking account carried on by Adams, Eck, and Co., with Messrs. Barker and Co., of Mark Lane—I do not remember receiving any cheques on Barker through your account—I received payments in notes and gold on several occasions—I have never received any drafts on Belgrade.
Re-examined. I received this pencil memorandum from the prisoner on 18th April, directing us to pay the 104l. cheque and not the other.
NICHOLAS EPIPHANOFF . I was a clerk to Mr. Bundy at Baltic Chambers—I received my first month's salary on 21st May, it being due on 21st April—I saw all letters signed by the prisoner as Adams, Eck, and Co.—from his signature and from what he said I understood him to be a partner in the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co.—this is the cheque the prisoner gave me on 20th May for my salary—I presented that at the bank 10 or 15 times; it was always marked "Refer to drawer" or "Not sufficient"—I applied after that to the prisoner at his private house—he promised to pay us next day, and the promise was not fulfilled—on 24th and 25th May I received letters from him, and after that when he was arrested I received a letter from his solicitor, Mr. Musgrave, saying the prisoner had had no connection with the firm—that letter was found by the man in possession in the office and given to me—I have never been paid for the last month—I was paid for the first two months.
Cross-examined. I went with you to Paris—I thought you were a partner, because I saw your letters signed "Adams, Eck, and Co.," and
I never saw Adams or Eck—I was foreign correspondent, and I used to post the books—there was nothing to impress me with the fact that Adams, Eck, and Co. were doing anything in the nature of a fraud until the end of two months—at the end of the month, before you were arrested, men were in possession of your office—I do not know that you paid away considerable sums on account of Adams, Eck, and Co.—all the business was transacted in your private room.
ALFRED WINTER FLOWERS . I live at 9, Clarence Road, Hackney, and am managing clerk to Mr. Musgrave, a solicitor—I took instructions from the prisoner to write these two letters on 31st May, and wrote and sent those letters with others. (One of them stated that Mr. Musgrave was instructed to give notice that Mr. Bundy had no connection with the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co.)
Cross-examined. You told me in April, 1887, how you had been held responsible for the debts of Adams, Eck, and Co., and I defended an action for you against Wiggins on those grounds—I am not aware that the amount was paid.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective Sergeant). On 31st May I took the prisoner into custody in Bishopsgate Street—I had been keeping him under observation for some days—I told him there was a warrant for his apprehension—I went to his office, and read it to him—he said, "I deny any fraud has been committed; I am only a clerk in Adams and Eck's employ, and am under age"—I took him to the station—I found books and letters at his office, and on him some memoranda and 1 1/2 d.
Cross-examined. You had not absconded, I arrested you outside 108, Bishopsgate Street—I took away the papers from your office, among them was a lot of correspondence of various business kinds—there were bills of exchange which did not seem to have been negotiated, invoices of people who supplied goods to the firm, and a number of applications to you for money—everything I took possession of is in the Court now.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he was agent for Adams, Eck, and Co., that he believed they had money owing to them, and that he had paid much money for them personally; and he denied that he had made use of any false pretences.
JOHN MITCHELL (Re-examined). Among the papers I found a number of claims made on the firm of Adams, Eck, and Co., which have not been satisfied; there were six summonses in the Mayor's Court—these books were among those at 108, Bishopsgate Street.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
783. ALFRED EDWARDS (20) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an order for the payment of 6l. 7s. 6d. with intent to defraud; also to stealing a cash-box and 40l., the goods and money of Alfred Baker, his master.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 27th, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ANN JOYCE . I live at 49, Tower Street—the prisoner and his wife lived in the top room at No. 51—I knew the prisoner by sight, his wife I knew intimately—he was a joiner, and was employed at Chingford; he used to come home on Saturdays—my room was on the same floor as his, only 49 is a new and higher house than 51, which is an old house—I could not exactly hear what was going on in their room—on the night of 4th June I was in my girl's room, next to the bedroom—I heard Mrs. Sawyer say something through the window—the first I did not hear, but I heard her Bay, "I will shut the door"—the prisoner was in the street immediately under my window; he said, "We will see," and he walked up the stairs—I could hear the sound of his feet going up—he went into the room, and I could hear the door shutting—I then left my room and went into the front room—the next thing I heard was a loud, long, piercing scream—that would be within five minutes after hearing him go upstairs—I ran to my wash-house window and looked out—before I looked out I heard a thud and the window shut—then I looked out and saw a dark figure in the street as it lay—I then heard a step on the stairs, and the prisoner came out at the door and stooped over her—he said something to her I did not hear—he took hold of her by the arm and said, "Pull yourself together, you are mad! what made you do it?"—Mrs. Walker ran out of the house immediately, and Mrs. Regulars—I then went and put my hand on her forehead, and said, "Poor Mrs. Sawyer, how did it happen?" and she said, "I jumped through the window, Mrs. Joyce"—the prisoner was by at the time.
Cross-examined. I had never been in their room—the window was open all the evening; she spoke through the open window—I don't think the prisoner knew I was there when he said "Pull yourself together"—there was no one else there that I could see.
ALFRED HUMPHREYS . I am a confectioner, and live at 49, Tower Street about a quarter, to half-past 12 in the early morning of 5th June I was outside 47—I heard a slight rattle of glass, the shaking of the window frame, then a slight rattle of glass, the shaking of the said "Oh, don't," then a prolonged scream and a thud on the pavement—just before hearing the thud I saw something light pass before my eyes—I have a wooden leg; I did not go up to the woman—I did not see the prisoner then—I heard somebody coming down the stairs—the deceased was lying in front of the door, and the prisoner came out and stooped over her—Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Regulus, and Mrs. Joyce came up, and I went away.
Cross-examined. I could not identify the prisoner as the man that came up; it was so dark—he said "What have you done? You must have been a fool to jump out of the window."
MARGARET WALKER . I live at 49, Tower Street—between a quarter and half-past 12 in the early morning of the 5th my attention was attracted by a loud scream and a thud on the pavement—I went down to the woman; I got within about half a dozen yards of her—her prisoner said
"Mrs. Walker, come and give me a hand here?"—I went and stooped down and said "Oh, Mrs. Sawyer, how did you come here?"—she said "Oh, Mrs. Walker, he has thrown me from the window"—I looked at him and said "Whatever have you done? you are mad"—I called Mrs. Regulus and said "She has just told me that he has thrown her from the window"—the prisoner could hear what I said—I saw Mrs. Joyce come up during the time; Mrs. Regulus first, then Mrs. Winter, and then Mrs. Joyce—I know the room that the Sawyers occupied—I looked up at the window; it was shut; there was only one window to the room.
Cross-examined. It might be about five minutes before Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Regulus came up; it might have been a minute or two—she told Mrs. Regulus, after she asked her once or twice, that she had jumped through the window—I don't know whether Mrs. Joyce was there—I can't remember seeing her there—I don't remember saying before the Magistrate "Mrs. Sawyer said to Ann Joyce and Mrs. Regulus 'I jumped through the window'"—I heard her say it to Mrs. Regulus—my husband is a constable; he is not at the same station as the sergeant—I was there when the sergeant came—I heard him ask the deceased how she came there—I had not seen the sergeant before I spoke to the deceased; he came up in about a quarter of an hour—I heard him say to the deceased, "Were you thrown out of the window?"—I did not hear her say "No, I suppose I must have jumped out"—she said "I suppose I must have walked out"—I think the prisoner and deceased had lived in the house about five years—I never heard any quarrelling.
ANN WINTER . I live at 51, Tower Street—I knew Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer; Mrs. Sawyer perfectly well—on Saturday, 4th June, I saw her the first thing in the morning—she came into my place—she appeared very much depressed in spirits, more so than I had ever known her—it was in reference to money matters—I saw her again between three and four in the afternoon—she was then very much depressed indeed—her husband had come home at that time—she told me he had only brought her 7s.—I saw her again in the evening—after eight we went over the Broadway together—I think she seemed a little more cheerful than she had been during the day—I got home before 10—I next saw her about 12, at the gate; she spoke to me—she appeared quite sober—I believe she went upstairs I went indoors—about quarter of an hour after I heard a scream—my girl went out, she told me something, and I went out—Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Regulus and the prisoner were by her right side—I did not see Mrs. Joyce—I asked Mrs. Sawyer how she came there—she said "Oh, my back, Mrs. Winter, don't leave me"—I took her right hand and her husband went away from her side a step or two—the police sergeant came up; some one fetched him—he said "Mrs. Sawyer, how came you here? were you thrown out?"—she replied "No"—"Did you jump out?"—"No"—"Then how came you here?"—she said "I suppose I must have walked out."
Cross-examined. Richard Sawyer is the prisoner's stepson—he was examined at the inquest—I know that the prisoner had been out of work all the week—she told me so—she said she was so put out about money that she did not know what the end would be—that was several hours before her husband came—she seemed more out of spirits than I ever knew her—she was a cheerful, quiet woman—I never knew her quarrel with any one.
ROSE REGULUS . I live at 51, Tower Street—I knew Mrs. Sawyer very well, but never had much conversation with her—I saw her on Saturday afternoon, 4th June, in Mrs. Winter's—she appeared very much upset—I did not see her any more that day, only as she came past my window when she had been marketing with Mrs. Winter; that was a few minutes before 10—I went out about 20 minutes past 12—shortly after I returned I heard a scream—I opened my window to see what was the matter, and I saw Mrs. Sawyer lying down flat on the ground, and Mrs. Walker standing by her side and the prisoner on the other side—Mrs. Walker said "Come down and help me"—I went down and I asked Mrs. Sawyer how she had come out of the window—she said she had jumped from the window—Mrs. Walker said "She has told me he threw her"—I saw the police sergeant come up, but he was not there then—the deceased made no other answers, but complained very much of her back—the prisoner did not go away, but he went a little way from us—the deceased told him to go away.
Cross-examined. She was then lying on the ground, and four or five people were standing round her—she was in great pain, complaining of her back—the prisoner was standing by her feet—he did not move away more than three yards—he went and fetched a cab—I never knew her to have an illness—she was a stout-built woman—I don't know about her strength—I have never been in their room—she used to suffer very much from rheumatism—I never knew them quarrel.
SAMUEL DRAKE (Police Sergeant J 31). About one o'clock in the morning of the 5th I was sent for to Tower Buildings—I saw eight or 10 persons there; Mrs. Sawyer was lying on the ground, being held up by a man and woman—I asked her how she came there—she gave me no answer—I pressed her to tell me; I said "Did you fall from the window?" making no answer, I said "Were you thrown from the window?"—she made no answer to that—her husband then came up—I asked him if he could account for his wife being in that position—he turned round and said "Ask her yourself; she knows all about it"—I then said "Have you been for a doctor?"—he said "Yes, but I can't get him to come"—a constable then came up—I sent him to Dr. Akin, of Mare Street, Hackney, who attended and advised her removal to the German Hospital—the prisoner accompanied her there—he was present when the doctor saw her—I could not say that he heard what was said; he was six or seven yards away from where the doctor and the women were—while I sent the constable for the ambulance a mattress was brought out—we took her to the hospital as comfortably as possible—when I first went up the prisoner was not there, and he did not say anything to him in my hearing.
Cross-examined. I have not told a different story before the Magistrate—I said before the Magistrate "I asked her several times how she came to be in that position"—she said "Let me alone, oh my back!" that is correct; I afterwards asked her if she fell or was thrown out, and she said "I came from the window"—she did not say she had jumped out—Joseph Tomkins called me on the scene, he lives near.
OTTO KELLER . I am a surgeon at the German Hospital—about three in the morning of the 5th of June I was called up and saw the deceased, and admitted her to the hospital—I examined her—she was suffering from an injury to the spine, she was quite conscious—she was in a
serious condition—I entertained hope at that time; I do not quite remember whether I examined her head—I next saw her a little after 10 in the morning—she then made a statement to me—I had very slight hope of her recovery at that time; she did not say anything one way or the other as to any hope of recovery, she died about seven the same evening—the cause of death was fracture of the spine and the lower part of the back, and compression of the spinal cord; I saw some contusions about the head, no doubt the cause of death was the broken back—the injuries were consistent with a fall from the window.
Cross-examined. There was only one wound on the head, that was very likely from the fall—it was at three in the afternoon that I spoke to the prisoner; he then seemed to be very sorry for his wife.
Re-examined. I told him his wife was likely to die—I asked him how it happened; that was in the morning when she was admitted—he said "Ask her, you had better ask her, she knows it"—I asked him twice or three times, he would not tell me, and then I asked the woman in his presence and she would not tell.
REV. FREDERICK CROFT COX . I am incumbent of St. Philip's, Dalston—I was sent for on Sunday morning to the German Hospital, I got there about 10 and saw the deceased—she said she had no hope whatever of recovery, she said she was half dead then, and had but three or four hours to live—she made a statement to me—I dissuaded her from thinking the case hopeless, as I thought the doctor then would have no chance; I thought that the best advice I could give her; I don't think it altered her mind in the least—I am absolutely certain that she knew she was about to die—I saw her again about half-past four in the afternoon—she was hardly able to speak then.
OTTO KELLER (Re-examined). I said before the Coroner "She was not aware she was dying when she made the statement to me, she had hope of recovery," that was the general impression I had while speaking to her, not from anything she said—she never said anything to lead me to believe that she had hopes of recovery, but my impression was that she had hopes of recovery—I had not told her that she was in a very serious state, the manner in which she spoke led me to believe that she did not know she. was dying.
REV. FREDERICK CROFT COX (Re-examined). When I saw her at 10 a.m. I asked her what brought her into that condition—I had known her very well as a regular attendant at my church for nearly four years—her reply was that she jumped out at the window to escape either the ill-treatment, or the violence, of her husband—she could not say much at a time—the next time I saw her a patient in the next bed made a Suggestion to me, and I pressed her as to whether she had told me the whole truth; I said "Have you made the same statement to me as you have to the police?" she made no answer to that, but she proceeded to speak as to her physical condition, which was very bad indeed at that time; she complained of the most intolerable thirst—then I told her that it would be unjust to herself and her husband if she went out of the world with a double statement on her lips—she said she wished to leave no trouble behind her.
Cross-examined. I would not swear whether the word, she used was "ill-treatment" or "violence," or whether it was "threatened violence"—I understood her to say that she jumped from the window to escape from violence that was coming, threats of violence—I could not speak to
the exact words—it was at a quarter to four in the afternoon when I next saw her, and it was after the patient in the next bed said something to me that I said she should not leave the world with a double statement on her lips—she heard what the patient said; she said she had not told me exactly what she told the police constable, she did not go into details—the nurse did not tell me anything—at that time the deceased was perfectly conscious—I was there till five o'clock, another clergyman went afterwards—her words were not "I wish to leave all trouble behind me;" that was not the inference I drew from her words—she did not alter her statement in the least—she was a very religious woman, not an excitable one—I never saw anything of religious excitement about her.
GEORGE EDWARDS (Police Sergeant J). I saw this woman in the hospital ward in bed about 11 a.m. on 5th June—I was in company with police inspector in uniform—I said "How did this happen?"—she said "I had complained to my husband about his wasting his money in drink and not coming home until late hours at night; he came into the room, shut the door, and said he would pay me; I was afraid he would strike me; I jumped out of the window; I freely forgive him as I hope God to forgive me"—that statement was made in the hearing of the patient in the next bed—I then went to the prisoner's house, where I saw him—I said "I have just seen your wife at the hospital; she has told me that you threatened to pay her last night; you went into the room and shut the door, and she was afraid you would strike her, and she jumped out of the window; I have to make some inquiries into this case; can you give me any particulars about it?"—I took down his answer shortly afterwards—he said "All I know, as soon as I opened the door she went out of the window; I heard her scream, and I ran down at once; the room was in darkness; I thought my son was in bed, but he had not arrived home; I never laid my hand upon her"—I said "She says herself you did not strike her"—he said "She has been very funny lately; she has been suffering from religious mania."
Cross-examined. I was not examined at the Coroner's inquest, nor was I present—Bond, the inspector, was present—I was prepared to give evidence, I was not there—Richard Sawyer has lived with the prisoner as stepson for three or four years: I do not know it from my own knowledge.
WILLIAM BOND (Police Inspector J). I went to the prisoner's room and took the measurements of the window—from the floor to the windowsill was 2 feet; from the window to the ground outside was 17 1/2 feet—I took the prisoner into custody upon the Coroner's warrant on 14th June—I told him the charge; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He had already been committed on the Coroners warrant—Richard Sawyer, the stepson, was examined before the Coroner in thy hearing—he is the only witness who has not been examined to-day.
Witness for the Defence.
RICHARD SAWYER . My name is Abraham, but I have taken the name of Sawyer—I am a son of the deceased, and the prisoner is my stepfather—I am 26 years old, and I lived with the prisoner and the deceased ever since they were married in 1872 or 1873—I did not see her fall from
the window, but I came up when she was taken to the hospital—when I came up she was being supported on Mr. Winter's knee; I relieved him, and supported her on my knee—I said "Mother, how did this happen?"—she said "Oh, my back! oh, my back! I am exhausted; my back is broke"—I said "How did you come here?"—she said "I jumped from the window"—I asked her what she done it for—she said "I don't know"—the prisoner and I took her to the hospital—my mother has threatened to commit suicide on several occasions, five or six times—about three months before she jumped out of window she went to the drawer to get a razor; she said she wished to be in heaven, she wished to be with her Maker—she got the case; I took it from her—she said she would throw herself from the window because she wished to be with her Maker; that was the kitchen window—she was very constant in her attendance at church—the prisoner has not been in constant work all this year—when he had constant work he would allow my mother money—he has had none lately—the week when this happened was a very bad one; he had not many hours' work because it was holiday week—he was paid so much per hour—my mother said she could not serve two masters.
Cross-examined. I gave evidence before the Coroner—my mother told me she had jumped out of window, but did not tell me why—I believed what she told me, that she had no reason for doing it—I went to the hospital with her because she was my mother; I did not go because I thought what she said was doubtful—I did not say before the Coroner "I thought it looked very doubtful," I can swear it; I never used those words "I thought it looked very doubtful"—when I came home that day, Saturday, 4th June, I saw my father at the public-house drinking—my father does drink sometimes; he does not have a drop too much—there have never to my knowledge been quarrels between my stepfather and mother about his drinking too much, nor about his stopping out too late; if there had been quarrels I should have known something about it—I am not aware that my mother said when dying, that it was on account of his staying out late—before I gave evidence before the Coroner I had only told Mr. Winter about my mother threatening to commit suicide; I told him about three months before my mother died—nobody else has heard it unless my father has—my mother threatened it so often I did not think anything of it, she said it so often—she has threatened to drown herself on several occasions because she wished to be in heaven—my only reason for not mentioning it was that it might have caused a disturbance.
Re-examined. My mother told me on that day she had been left 7s.; she said she could not make both ends meet—on one occasion she said, through my being out of work so long, "I don't know what to do, I must have money from somewhere, I don't know how to go on like this, I must put an end to it"—I had been out of work then for some months—I had tried to get work.
By MR. GRIFFITHS. I did not come home from the hospital till about 4.30 a.m., and I did not then look at the window.
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that this evidence did not establish a case of manslaughter; as far as the evidence went the deceased might have jumped out at the window because she was afraid the prisoner would strike her, and not because of any actual violence on his part.
MR. GRIFFITHS said he contended
that the evidence was for the Jury whether the prisoner had actually thrown the deceased out, and if not whether he had used such violence to her as to cause her to throw herself out; in either case it would amount to manslaughter.
MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN, after referring to the cases of Reg. v. Wager Reg. v. Pitts, 1 Carrington and Marshman, p. 284, and Reg. v. Evans, and Reg. v. Hickman, left the case to the Jury, if, in their opinion, by actual violence, or threats of violence on the part of the prisoner, the deceased was forced, as her only means of escape, to jump from the window; in that case it would be manslaughter; but if she did the act constrained by fear or despair operating upon her mind, that would not be sufficient, and they should acquit him.
NOT GUILTY .
There was an indictment against the prisoner on the same facts for an assault on the same person , upon which no evidence was offered. NOT GUILTY .
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
ROSE BURNSIDE . I have lived with the prisoner for the last five years—he was at work at Pinner—on the afternoon of the 3rd of July we were at the Ballot Box beerhouse, and then at the Black Horse, Greenford Green—we then went on board a boat, and then back to the Black Horse—in crossing Greenford Bridge we had some words—he asked me to go with him to Pinner—I said I should not be allowed on the farm where he was at work—he said I should, and said "Are you coming?"—I said "No"—he said a second time "Are you coming?"—I said "No"—he said "Then over the bridge you will go"—I said "You do it," and he caught me by the legs and threw me over—I have not been well since—we had both had plenty to drink, but we knew what we were doing.
JAMES HUSON . I am a pensioner, and live at Greenford Green—on the 3rd July, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I was on the bridge which goes over the Grand Junction Canal—the prisoner and prosecutrix came out of the public-house, and went to lean on the bridge; they had some quarrelsome words, and he said "I will throw you in the cut"—she said "Do it then," and he caught hold of her legs and threw her over head first, a drop of 15 feet; there was a small rowing boat on the other side of the bridge, and the man who was in it pulled up and got hold of her hand, and said "Some of you men come and give her a hand out"—by that time the prisoner had got in the water up to his waist, and I and another man went and pulled her out and put her on the bank—the prisoner used a little abusive language, I don't know why—the water is 7 or 8 feet deep under the bridge.
Prisoner. He did not touch her at all—I fetched her out myself and took her up the bank.
JOHN EARL (Policeman X 185). I was called to the bridge, and saw the prisoner and prosecutrix—I asked her if she would give the prisoner in charge—she said "Yes"—I told him he would have to go to the station—he went quietly for about half a mile; then he pulled this belt off and said he would go no farther, and struck me with the buckle end once on the hand and once on the back—another constable came, and we took him to the station.
Prisoner's Defence. He and five or six others got me down in the road
and dragged me along the road, and he wanted to give me the frog's march; the woman is a bad lot and always drunk.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for attempting to murder the same person , upon which no evidence was offered. NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 27th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. ABINGER Defended.
ALBERT FERDINAND, COMTE DE CHAZELLE . I live at 45, Bedford Gardens, W., and am managing director of the Turf A B C Company, Limited, which was duly incorporated in January last—I put 700l. into the concern, and afterwards bought 15 shares, making altogether 2,200l., and my friends and relatives put in 5,200l.—the prisoner never put in a penny—he was appointed manager of the technical part of the business—the office was at 149, Fleet Street—I gave him cheques weekly to pay the tradesmen's accounts—his salary was 50l. a month—he has received the whole of it, and he also anticipated his salary to the extent of 32l., so that there is not a penny due to him—this paper is in his writing; it is all in French except the signature—it is "Received from Mr. Gardes, manager, 5l. for purchase of tubes for lift, speaking tubes and furniture, London, 8th April, 1887. Received H. Cox."—I looked at this book (produced) every week—it was shown to me with this entry in it: "Bill—Cox, speaking tubes, 5l.," and that satisfied me that the 5l. had been paid to Cox—after the prisoner was in custody on other matters I asked the clerk to bring me all the papers, and among them I found the receipts which have been produced—I never could obtain receipts from the prisoner, he seemed to think it very strange that I should not trust him—I have not been able to find any receipt from Cox in English—this letter of the 15th May, 1887, is in the prisoner's writing; it is in French.
Cross-examined. I have an estate in Burgundy—this is the badge of the Legion d' Honour in my coat—I am a partner in a firm at Bordeaux—I came here last summer on business—the prisoner was introduced to me by the servant of one of my friends, and he told me had a scheme—this is it (A pamphlet)—he asked me to find money to carry it out; to make a company and I found it all three months afterwards, and the company was formed—the prisoner was the vendor and I was the purchaser—I gave him 50l. a month for it—this is the contract. (Between the prisoner and the Turf A B C Company, by which the prisoner engaged himself to the Company for two years at a salary of 600l. a year for two years, and one fully paid-up share in the Company for every preferred share issued by them)—52 preferred shares of 100l. each were issued, representing 5,200l.—the deferred shares only had value when the preferred shares were paid—I put in 700l. of my own money, and I bought 1,500l. from a gentleman—the Imperial Bank are the Company's bankers, and mine also—everything is in my name; there never was any account opened for the Turf
A.B.C.; there is only one account, and that is in my name—I pay in the funds I receive on behalf of the Company in my name, and the prisoner knew that—he went to Mr. Owen and said "You think the Count has 1,200 shares, but he has only 500," and I then bought fifteen 100l. shares of Mr. Owen, and paid him 1,500l. for them by giving him some bonds which he may realise to-morrow if he likes—I gave him a proxy on my income, and he was pleased with it—I did not buy the shares back in consequence of any threats—they were worth 100l. each, but they never were in the market—I get 40l. a month as managing director—the prisoner was in custody for embezzlement when the clerk found this forged receipt among his papers in his cupboard—he was acquitted—I also found 30l., his petty cash, which I confiscated—he was charged with 2l., and I found 30l. in his private cupboard—on the day that he was arrested a committee was going to be held, but it was postponed, and he came to me and said in joke "If you don't put the accounts in a more regular manner and pay the accounts of the Company into another account, I shall denounce you"—he had threatened to murder me two or three times before, but he never threatened to expose my irregular practices.
Re-examined. When I became acquainted with him he was in want—I was obliged to give him money the first three months to enable him to live—there is no pretence for saying that this is not a genuine Company to which I have subscribed a large sum—when I bought Mr. Owen's shares they were worth 115l. per share—the 30l. was the balance of the prisoner's petty cash which he had in hand, and therefore the Company's property—he was in custody for large embezzlements, of money which he had to pay the workmen—there is not a particle of truth in the suggestion that this receipt was written by me.
HENRY COX . I am an electrician, of 13, Penton Place, King's Cross—in April last I did some work at the Turf Company's offices, 149, Fleet Street, for which I charged 3l., and had 30s. on account—the prisoner wrote out a receipt in English, and I signed it and gave it back to him—I am a foreigner and understand French, but this receipt is not my writing, or the one I gave him—I know nothing about it.
Cross-examined. I am in Mr. Carver's employ, of Fitzroy Square—I did not tell them that I did the work, because the prisoner told me not—I bought my own stuff and did the work at the prisoner's request—I did not ask for it—I did the whole of the work on Good Friday—I did not receive 5l. for it—I did not enter the amount in a book—I put my own address in English on the receipt—he could not spell some of the words and he asked me how to spell them—two gentlemen came to me from the Company, and said, "You did some work for the A B C Company, speaking tubes in the lift; how much did you give a receipt for?"I said, "3l. "—this "5l." in the receipt looks as if it had been altered, but I swear the signature is not mine, it is the same writing as the other part—I do not owe the prisoner any grudge, he gave me the work as a kindness.
Re-examined. The signature is a very good imitation of mine—the date on the stamp is not my writing—I am sure my receipt was in English, because he asked me how to spell the words.
asked him if he understood the charge—he said, "Yes," and that he wished to go before the Court at once, which he did and was charged.
GUILTY ,— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. C. MATHEWS offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, July 27th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
789. WILLIAM O'BRIAN (17) PLEADED GUILTY to robbery with violence, with a man unknown, on Achille le Comte, and stealing from his person a watch and chain, after a conviction of felony in January, 1886.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
791. TIMOTHY MALONE (18) * to stealing a purse and 13s. the goods and money of Alice Barratt, after a conviction of felony in March, 1886.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. (There was another indictment against the prisoner for an assault on the police.) [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. WATTS Defended.
ROBERT RADNAL RHODES . I am a solicitor, of Wolverhampton—I inserted this advertisement in the Bazaar, Exchange, and Mart on May 4th. (This offered a diamond ring for sale for 20l.) I received this letter, with this card enclosed. (Requesting him to forward the ring on approval to the private address; and saying it would he returned if not suitable, and asking whether 20l. was the lowest price that would he taken. The card was printed "Holcombe and Banks, Solicitors, 15, Great James Street, Bedford Row, W.C.," lithographed over that, "John Lewis Banks," and in blue pencil, "Private address 33, Berwick Street, S.W.") On receipt of that letter I put the diamond ring in wool and paper in a box, addressed it to John Lewis Banks, 33, Berwick Street, registered and sent it by post, and received this receipt for the registration—I sent a letter of which this is a press copy. (This stated that the ring was sent therewith; that the price was 20l., and that he should be glad of a reply by return.) Having no reply I sent another letter; that was returned through the Dead Letter Office—I telegraphed and wrote on the 10th May, and both telegram and letter were returned—I came to London, and a warrant was issued—I did not know the prisoner—I believed it was Mr. Banks, a solicitor, of that address, who was writing to me—I have not seen the ring since.
Cross-examined. I have received a letter purporting to come from Herbert Taylor since he has been in Holloway Gaol—I have not compared it with the writing from Mr. Banks.
JOHN WESLEY HENN . I am a jeweller, of 62, High Street, Cradleigh Heath, Staffordshire—I advertised in the Bazaar, Exchange and Mart, a "lady's silver Geneva watch, English hall-marked, lovely engraved case, 35s., part exchange poultry"—I received this letter, purporting to
come from John L. Banks (Asking him to send the watch on approval, and if not suitable it would be returned at once)—a card was enclosed in the letter, and believing the statement was true I at once sent off the watch by registered post, I got a receipt from the post-office—I received this post-card from 33, Berwick Street, S.W., acknowledging the receipt of the watch and saying he would keep it for a few days and then write—I received no money and no poultry—I saw a report in a newspaper of other cases, and having heard nothing further I came up and communicated with the police—the watch was wrapped up merely in brown paper when I sent it—I know nothing of the prisoner—I believed the story sent to me that there was a Mr. Banks of that address a member of the firm—I was aware of a notice in the Bazaar intimating that all transactions should be through the office, but I showed the letter to a friend who had lived in the City, who told me it was all right, and I did not happen to purchase a copy of the Bazaar containing that notice.
JOHN HENRY WHITWORTH . I am a designer, of 74, Devonshire Street, Windsor Green, Birmingham—I inserted this advertisement in the Bazaar on the 4th May (This referred to a diamond pin which cost 6l. 10s. and would be sold for 70s.)—I received this answer (Requesting him to send the pin on approval, and undertaking to return it if not approved), a card similar to these others was enclosed—I packed up the diamond pin in a small wooden box with wool and tissue paper, registered it and received this receipt—I heard nothing more of the pin or money—I wrote three or four days afterwards and the letter was returned through the dead letter office—I then communicated with Mr. Banks, and the result was that I attended the police-court and gave evidence.
JOHN LEWIS BANES . I am one of the firm, of Holcombe and Banks, of 15, Great James Street, Bedford Bow, solicitors—my private address at this time was not 33, Berwick Street, but 32, Brunswick Square—I have lately removed—I have seen these letters purporting to be written by me from 33, Berwick Street; I know nothing of them, they were not written by me nor by my authority; I never saw them before I saw them at the police-court—this card with my name only, and no address is mine—these others with the name of the firm and private name and address written on I know nothing about—nobody sent me a diamond ring or pin or watch—I know nothing of the prisoner, I do not know why he should use my name.
SARAH ANN MARGERUM . I keep the house 33, Berwick Street, and let lodgings—the prisoner came to me on 29th April; he gave the name of John Lewis Banks and said he worked for an auctioneer; he wrote a letter to say he would take my room at 6s. a week—he gave as a reference the name of Mr. Seymour—I made no inquiries; he came again and said Mr. Seymour was out of town; he paid 3s. deposit towards the rent—after he had taken up his abode these registered packages and letters came—I signed all these receipts for them and gave them to the prisoner or put them outside his room if he was not up—on the day he left I found in his room a small wooden box containing wadding and tissue paper, and near the box was a wrapper with the address of Banks and the number of my house, that was one of the packages for which I had signed and which had come by post—he left on 11th May—he had given no notice, he said he was going to the laundress for his washing; he did not come back—he owed 6s. for rent and 1s. for breakfast—he had no visitors,
except one night someone came, I did not see him, I heard him speak to him, I do not know who it was.
Cross-examined. I could not say the small wooden box I found in the room was the one that came by post, but there was the address on the wrapper by the side of the box—I signed for all the letters.
Re-examined. I have never seen the prisoner write, but he used to write on pieces of paper and put them outside his door if he wished me to call him—I cannot swear to his writing.
WILLIAM COUSINS (Police Sergeant). On 8th June I saw the prisoner at Gerald Road Police-station, Pimlico—I read this warrant to him in the case of Mr. Rhodes, it was for forging Mr. Banks's name fraudulently to obtain a diamond ring—the prisoner said "Yes"—he was charged and taken to a cell, and in a few minutes he sent for me—I went to him and took down in writing what he said; it was: "I will tell you all about it now About four days before I came to Berwick Street I met two men in a public-house near Hungerford Bridge; they asked me if I was doing anything? I said 'No.' They asked me to meet them at the King Lud public-house, Ludgate Hill, that night at 9 o'clock; I met them; they asked me if I was willing to earn something; I said Yes; they asked me to meet them next night, which I did at the same place; they told me they were auctioneers, and all I should have to do was to take a room and they would give me a reference, which I did. They said several letters and parcels would come for them, and all I should have to do would be to take everything that arrived to them. I was to have 2l. at the end of each week. I then went to 33, Berwick Street and took a furnished room in the name of John Lewis Banks. I was to be sure and not open anything. When I was at Berwick street some letters did come I think six or seven parcels also. I never opened them, but I took them to the two men each day at Ludgate Hill Station. I never received a farthing from them. The last time I saw them they said it was getting very hot for me, and they said I had better get out of London altogether"—that was all he said, he did not give the names nor any description of the two men—he said "I should know them again if I saw them"—I searched him and found 1s. 11d. and some keys—he gave his name Herbert Taylor, and said he was a clerk.
Cross-examined. He was dressed as he is now—I cannot say he seemed in great poverty—he gave his address as at a common lodging-house, Belvidere Lambeth—the second time I inquired there they said he came there about the same time that he left Berwick Street—it was a lodging-house at 6d. a night—he did not give me the name of one of the men as Banks—he has never given me a written description of either of the men—he was detained at the station on this charge, and I was sent for—he gave me a description of where the lodging-house was—I received some money from him, which I have given up—I threw away the paper he gave me—I think it was simply the address of the lodging-house, and I did not want it.
Re-examined. I saw him write the receipt for some things at the station.
Witness for the Defence.
DANIEL O'LEARY . I am a lodging-house keeper, of 55, Belvidere Road, Lambeth—to the best of my belief the prisoner lodged at my house about two months ago for two or three weeks, or perhaps a month—he
seemed pretty well off; he paid me 6d. a night regularly—I think he stayed at my house for a short time previously—he was away two or three weeks—casuals generally frequent my house—he did not seem at all better off when he came back—he paid his rent regularly—it was the latter part of May.
Cross-examined. I do not enter names in a book—it is a registered lodging-house—I let rooms by the night—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man—I did not know his name; we never take names—I only saw the prisoner at night when he came to bed—one letter came for him, to the best of my belief, in the name of Taylor—he used to go out in the day; I did not know what he was doing—he went out between 10 and 11 in the morning, came back at night, paid 6d., and went to bed.
Re-examined. He left behind him a stick and pin for his last night's lodging, which was not paid—I do not think I lent him 1d. for a stamp.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
ELIZABETH WENTWORTH . I am servant to Mr. Harry Talbot, of 106, Grosvenor Road—on 8th June, about 3 p.m., I was the only servant at home, and my mistress had gone out about 5 minutes to 3—soon after she left, a ring came at the bell, and I answered the door, and found the prisoner there with some flowers in pots—he said "I have brought some flowers, they were ordered this morning in Warwick Street"—he said that I was to pay for them, as my mistress had not got any change—I went upstairs and got 3s. of my own, and gave it to him—he then asked me if I would have a receipt—I said "Is it necessary?" and he said he always gave one—I then went downstairs for a pen and ink, leaving him in the hall—I brought him a pen and ink, and he signed this paper," Paid 3s. for three plants"—I expect he calls that a receipt, but I did not look at it till he was gone—my mistress came home about 8.30—I am certain the prisoner is the same man—about 28th June I went with a detective to Covent Garden a little after 6 a.m., and was looking about till 8.30, when I saw the prisoner among 20 other men bidding for plants, and pointed him out to the detective—he had a black coat and white hat on when he came to the house, and when I picked him out he was dressed as he is now.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You came to the house about 5 or 10 minutes past 3, and I know it was 8th June because my mistress was going to Hastings on the 9th.
CATHERINE TALBOT . I am the wife of Harry Talbot, of 106, Grosvenor Road—on Wednesday, 8th June, I went out about two or three minutes to 3, and came back about 8.30 and found three plants had been left—it is not true that I met the prisoner and told him to leave them at my house, nor is it true that I had no change and told him to get 3s. from the servant; in fact I did not meet the prisoner at all that I know of—I afterwards missed a silver tankard from the dining-room.
JOHANNA CAMPBELL . I am servant to Mrs. Stubbs, of 90, St. George's Road—on 8th June my mistress had gone out, and the prisoner came about 2 p.m. with some plants, and said my mistress had ordered them
and had no change, and that I was to pay 2s. 6d. for them—I told him to describe my mistress, and he gave so accurate a description that it satisfied me, and I gave him the half-crown—I should not have done so if I had not believed him—it was my own half-crown—he signed a receipt, which is lost; it was "2s. 6d. for two plants. C.E. DICKSON"—if anything it was better writing than this receipt which is before me—I suggested a receipt—I next saw him at the police-station standing among 12 to 15 others, and picked him out without any assistance—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man—when he came to me he had nothing on his neck and a black hat—he was carrying the plants—I did not see any others besides those he left.
MORTON STUBBS . I am a widow, living at 40, St. George's Road—I left my house on this day about one o'clock—I did not meet the prisoner; I never saw him—I did not order him to leave plants at my house.
RHODA LANGDON . I am servant to Mrs. Hopkins, at 152, Ebury Street—on 14th June Mrs. Hopkins had gone out about 12, and about one the bell was rung—I answered it and saw the prisoner, who said he had brought two plants which the lady had just ordered—I thought he meant my mistress—he said he was to be paid on delivery—I told him to call again—he said it would be rather awkward, as he had to be at Kensington at two—I paid him 3s., which I got from my fellow-servant—I believed what he said or I should not have taken the plants and paid him—my mistress afterwards came home and spoke to me about the plants—I next saw the prisoner at the police-court on 8th July, I think—he was standing in the yard with about six other men—I picked him out without assistance and without being prompted—I have no doubt he is the man—he had a black coat and hat on on the 14th.
ADA BLANCHE HOPKINS . I am the wife of Arthur Hopkins, of 152, Ebury Street—on this day I went out about 12, leaving the servants in the house—I did not see the prisoner when I was out; I did not order any plants from him nor tell him he was to get the money from my servants.
THOMAS DYSON (Detective Sergeant B). On 9th June I had information from Mrs. Talbot, and a description of the man that had called—I kept a look-out for some days in that neighbourhood, and eventually went with Wentworth to Covent Garden on 25th June, at 5.30; I looked out till 20 minutes to nine and saw 20 or 30 men, among whom was the prisoner—I spoke to Wentworth—she pointed out a man, and in consequence of what she said I went to the prisoner—he walked away into the next court about 30 yards off—I told him for what I should take him into custody—he said "I know nothing about it, governor"—on the way to the station he said "It is quite a mistake"—he made no answer to the charge—I know him as a hawker of plants in Pimlico.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were standing looking at plants when I apprehended you.
The Prisoner called
ELLEN CORNOR . I am the wife of Patrick Connor, of 10, St. Matthew Street, Westminster—I am your mother-in-law—you have never had any other clothes on since last December, since I have known you—you came to my house on 8th June with race cards and said you were going to Ascot to sell them—your wife slept with me during the time you were at the races—John Connor; who was with you on the racecourse, has been taken ill.
By the COURT. My husband is a porter out of employment—I was not at the racecourse, but I believe the prisoner was there—my son saw him there—I know the prisoner is an honest chap; he told me he was going there.
Cross-examined. He does not live at my house—he has never been charged before—before he was charged he lived at Church Street, Smith Square, with my daughter, his wife—I saw the race cards in his hand—he left his wife at my place and she had the key of his place—they have been married since 14th March—she is between 17 and 18—until this I have seen the prisoner every day—he lives in the neighbourhood of Westminster—he always had his flower basket with him—I have seen him hawking flowers—he has nothing else to put on.
Re-examined. I believe you cannot read or write—my son or daughter wrote your letters—you have never been in prison before—if it were not for the loss of time plenty of shopkeepers would come and speak for you.
There was another indictment against the prisoner.
GUILTY .— One Month's Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted.
(The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.)
ALEXANDER GRANT . I am chief engineer of the s.s. Britannia—I left Cardiff on 7th May in that ship—the prisoner was a fireman and was shipped at Finn, discharged at Cardiff, and shipped at Cardiff again—we went to Constantinople, and then left there on the return voyage for Hamburg, the prisoner being fireman as before—on 18th June, at 9.30, when we were on the high seas (I cannot tell the position of the ship) I ordered the prisoner to draw the ash pit—at 10.30 I went down in the stoke hole and found he had not done it—I went on deck and found him sitting on the fidley, which is a casing round the funnel and over the grating, a way down to the stoke hole—I said "Why have you not done what I told you?"—I spoke in English, which he understood sufficiently—he began grumbling and growling in his own language; he got excited and told me in English, "I won't trim any more and I won't work till four o'clock in the morning"—the trimmers are men told off to help the firemen—the prisoner was trimming at the time and wanted to go firing—I said he would have to go down below to do his work—I followed him across the fidley to the stoke hole grating and gave him a shove with my hand towards the grating; he did not fall—he brought his arm round and struck me just below the ribs—I could not see what with, as it was dark—I felt his hand—I then gave him two or three blows and knocked him down—no one else was near enough to strike me but the prisoner—I stepped down from the fidley to the deck and put my hand to my side and found it was wet—I called the second and third engineers up and went and told the master what had occurred—I took off my shirt and found I had a wound, clean cut, about three inches long—it had cut through my flannel and shirt; it bled profusely—the captain sewed it up and plastered it—I took to my bed and stayed there for five days; I could not move—seven days after we arrived at Hamburg, where I saw a doctor—I was nearly well then—I had seen the prisoner with a black clasp knife when working in the engine room before this—the wound has not healed up altogether yet—at Hamburg we were all taken before the Consul and
I gave evidence, which was interpreted to the prisoner, and the Consul then sent the prisoner home by the Rainbow to take his trial—I came home by the Britannia—the captain has gone away in the Britannia.
WILLIAM BROWN . I am an able seaman, and I was on board the Britannia on her voyage home on the 18th June—at 10.30 p.m. I was keeping watch—the night was very dark—I saw the prisoner knocking about by the fidley—I heard Grant give him orders to go down and clear out the ash pit—he went across the fidley growling—Grant went over and shoved him with the flat of his hand on the top of the way down to the stoke hole—I saw the prisoner with his left hand, give two back-handed digs with his hand, a high dig and a low dig; they came with a swish—I could not see anything in his hand; it was too dark—I only saw his arm go back—he was near enough to strike Grant—Grant went aft, and the prisoner passed me and then went forward on the forecastle head—he jumped down off the fidley and hove down a coat or something on the bunker hatch—the fidley is about two feet from the deck—I was told Grant was wounded, and I afterwards assisted in securing the prisoner, who was on the forecastle head—we found no knife on him—his things were afterwards searched, and no knife found—I had never seen him with a knife.
GEORGE MATHEWMAN . I was second mate on board the Britannia—on 18th June I was on duty on the bridge about 10.30; the prisoner was six or eight feet from me just immediately behind the bridge on the fidley—I heard Grant ask him why he had not done his work—the prisoner answered him in a very loud tone as if greatly excited—I don't know what he said—Grant then walked up on the fidley and pushed the prisoner towards the stoke hole—the prisoner shouted something in his own language, and threw his arms up—I turned my head for a moment to see there was nothing ahead—I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand; it was too dark—I saw him go forward—I afterwards searched his effects; I found no knife—at the time I saw Grant speak to the prisoner there was no one else near enough to have inflicted the wound—Brown was the only other witness, and he was not near enough—I have seen the prisoner using a clasp knife before this—Grant was laid up for five days.
LUCAS NEAGEL . I live at 5, Burr Street, Lower East Smithfield, and am an interpreter—on 1st July I went with Sergeant Stroud to the prisoner, who was in custody, and explained to him in Italian that the charge against him was for stabbing Alexander Grant, the chief engineer of the s.s. Britannia, on the high seas—I translated his answer and it was written down by Stroud, and then I translated it again to the prisoner—this is it "I never had a knife or dagger; the chief engineer, second engineer, and chief mate were continually striking me, and they wanted to say that I tried to stab the chief engineer, but it is not true. I tried to explain my case to the captain of the port at Hamburg, but as he could not speak Italian he could not understand what was said."
WILLIAM STROUD (Detective Sergeant). On 1st July I went on board the Rainbow, lying off Wapping—she had just arrived from Hamburg—the prisoner was on board—I got the interpreter to interpret the charge to him, and I took down his reply and have produced it—before the Magistrate the prisoner said "I have nothing to say now; I have witnesses on board the Britannia, the cook, the boatswain, and an able seaman from Newfoundland; they saw I was thrashed by the chief engineer and others"
I was sent down to Cardiff by the Magistrate to try and find those witnesses in consequence of that statement—I have got them here.
MATHIAS BOWMAN . I am a Swede—I was boatswain on board the Britannia on this homeward voyage—on the night of 18th June I was in my bunk when Grant was stabbed—I knew nothing of it till afterwards when they called me—we had to lash the prisoner's hands, and they were lashed too tight—Brown lashed his hands together after the captain had showed him, at half-past 10, after he had assaulted Grant—Grant did not knock the prisoner about, nor did the chief mate that I saw—I did not see the chief engineer and chief mate continually striking him—the lashings were taken off at 4 o'clock; his hands were swollen up then.
LUCAS GIORGOLAS . I live at Cardiff, and am a Greek and a ship's cook—I was on board when this occurrence took place—I was sleeping in the galley when I heard the prisoner sing out "Capitano"—I got up and opened the door and saw the prisoner going down the ladder to the forecastle—the steward then called for warm water to wash the blood off the chief engineer—I saw the prisoner's hands lashed tightly—they were afterwards loosened by the second mate's orders about 4 a.m.—I did not see the first or second engineer or the chief mate illuse the prisoner.
JOHN FALK . I live in Cardiff, and am a Canadian—on 18th June I was on board this vessel and on the look-out on the fore part of the ship—about 10.30 I heard the chief engineer calling the prisoner, and all at once I heard the fireman shouting out that he was hurt—then the prisoner came forward on the forecastle head and said to me "John, I shan't work any more till I get to Hamburg, and I don't want any money for it"—he left me shortly then and went to the main deck—afterwards he came back to the forecastle and sat down about five yards from me—I next saw the captain and two or three men come out looking for the prisoner, and they ordered him to go to the chart house, where he was secured—he was not lashed at that time—I did not see the first or second engineer or chief mate illuse him by striking him.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been ill-treated, and that he was ill on the voyage and wanted to see a doctor and that he did not see one.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, July 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
JAMES O'BRIEN . I live with my wife and daughter at 41, Great Wild Street, Drury Lane—we live in the front room, second floor—the prisoner and his mother live in the first-floor front—Mr. and Mrs. Suckling live in the third-floor back—on Saturday, 2nd July, I was out with my wife and daughter selling programmes—we went to public-houses—about 5 minutes to 12 that night we went home—I had had a share of five or six pots of shandy gaff—I was not the worse for liquor, I knew what I was doing—we went upstairs with Mr. Driscoll—as we passed McEllicott's door Mrs. McEllicott was waiting for my wife, and they glarmed her
down the face—the prisoner was not there then—Driscoll went into the second-floor back to his mother-in-law and an old lady, and we went into our room and shut the door—about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes afterwards the prisoner came and knocked at our door and halloaed out "Now then, Jimmy Brien, come down, I have been waiting a long time for you, I have got a lump of steel for you"—my wife went out and said "Go down, Billy, like a good boy and my husband will see you to-morrow"—she took him downstairs, and my daughter followed—I remained indoors, I never moved out of the room—I heard my daughter, as she was coming back, say "Oh, father, Billy Mac has stabbed me"—I then went down, and saw her bleeding at the back—I took her upstairs, and then went down and saw the prisoner outside talking to a constable—he said he wanted to give me into custody for cutting his hand—I caught him by the collar and said "I will give this man in custody for stabbing my child in the back," and the constable took him to the station—my child was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I am a general dealer, and go about the streets with a barrow—I sell oysters in the season—I have three oyster knives—I lend them to my brother when I don't use them; he has them now; he sells oysters—I had no knife on this occasion—I did not come out of my room that night with a pair of tongs and say "I want to see whether the b—can fight"—I swear that—I never touched a pair of tongs—my wife took the prisoner by the hand and took him downstairs; he seemed very quiet with her—my daughter followed them down, I suppose to see that her mother should not be hurt—he has threatened us several times—I have not drunk any spirits since I was born.
MARY ANN O'BRIEN . I am the wife of the last witness—when we went home on this night the prisoner's mother and aunt were on the stairs—the aunt dragged me in the face—my little girl thought there were too many, and took me upstairs—Driscoll went into the back room, and we went into our own—the prisoner came to our door and threatened my husband, and asked him out to fight, and said "I have a piece of steel waiting for you a long time"—my husband wanted to go out to him, but I opened the door and asked him to go down to his own place, and I went down with him—my little girl came down and said "Mother, come upstairs," and he deliberately struck her in the right shoulder—I had turned to go upstairs, and had my back to him—I did not see what he struck her with; he had something in his hand, I thought it might have been a tobacco-pipe—my daughter screamed out "Mother, he has stabbed me," and she screamed upstairs "Father, Billy Mac has stabbed me"—he stood about a second, and then went down the first flight of stairs, and I saw no more of him—I pulled off my daughter's jacket and saw the blood, and that frightened me—there was no noise or confusion at the time.
Cross-examined. We were not on good terms with the prisoner's mother and aunt—my husband did not come out of the room when the prisoner came up—they have had two or three rows—my daughter was between me and the prisoner when she was stabbed—there was no lamp on the staircase—I saw him go into his own room about two minutes before he stabbed her—I did not see any knife in his hand—I did not see my husband with a pair of tongs in his hand or anything sharp that glittered—I
saw a little scratch on the prisoner's hand; I did not take much notice of it—I did not hear him say that my husband had stabbed him.
MARGARET O'BRIEN . I am 13 years old—after we were in our room on this night the prisoner came to the door and wanted father to come out and fight; he would not, and mother took the prisoner downstairs; I went down to her, and as I turned to come indoors he stabbed me.
Cross-examined. Before he stabbed me he went into his own room, and came out and put something into his pocket, I don't know what—as I was going upstairs I was between him and mother—I did not say before the Magistrate that he was between us—I did not see father with a pair of tongs that night; he picked them up in the room, and said he would have to use them if the prisoner did not go down—he did not come out of the room with them—I did not see anything in his hand that glittered—he had oyster-knives in the season, when the season was over he threw them away or gave them to anybody who asked for them—he does not carry a pocket knife, it is six or seven months since I saw him with one—I did not see anything in the prisoner's hand when he struck me, I had my back turned to him, all I felt was a blow on my back—it was light enough to see anybody you knew—there were no other people standing in the lobby but mother and him—his mother and aunt were standing at their room door—there was not a regular scuffle there, there was a scuffle on the first floor, shoving and pushing about, there was a regular row going on for 20 minutes on their own landing.
JOHN SUCKLING . Between 1 and 2 o'clock on this Sunday morning I heard a disturbance in the house, and went out of my door with my wife, and on the landing below I saw Mr. O'Brien with a pair of tongs in his hand and something else glittering, and he said, "I will see whether the b—can fight or not"—he went down to the first floor, there were seven or eight people there making quite a disturbance—I heard the girl say to her father, "Father, don't go down;" and then my wife pulled me indoors.
Cross-examined. O'Brien was very angry—it was after he rushed downstairs with the tongs and the thing that glittered that the girl cried out, "Father, I am stabbed!"—she tried to prevent him going down—there was generally a row in the house every week with O'Brien—I have lived there 13 years—I never had any row.
FREDERICK TRUDGETT (Policeman E 432). I was on duty about a quarter to 1 o'clock, opposite No. 41, and heard cries of "Murder!" and "Police!" proceeding from that house, and a shuffling of feet as of persons rushing down the stairs—the prisoner came out, and said, "I have been stabbed in the hand with a sword by O'Brien"—he showed me his hand—there was a cut on the knuckle of the little finger of the right hand, it was bleeding a good deal—while I was binding it up, Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien and the daughter came out of the same house—O'Brien said, "This man has stabbed my daughter in the back"—I saw she was bleeding—the prisoner said, "I did not do it"—I took them to the station—the O'Briens were sober—the divisional surgeon attended to the wounds of the girl and the prisoner—I went back to the house, and on the fifth stair leading from the first to the second floors I found this blade of a pocket knife—I had to use my light to see it, there was not light enough to discern faces from the street.
Cross-examined. Before O'Brien came down with his daughter the
prisoner asked me to go into the house and arrest O'Brien—while he was speaking to me there was a disturbance in the house as of men and women rushing downstairs.
GEORGE ALBERT HAMMERTON . I am a surgeon, and am partner of the divisional surgeon—I was called to the Bow Street Police-station about half-past 1 on the Sunday morning—I saw Margaret O'Brien—she had a wound, vertical in direction, about half an inch long, nearer the middle line than the shoulder blade, and rather below—it penetrated the skin—I could not say how deep it was—I did not examine further than was justifiable with the finger—there was not a great deal of blood—it was not bleeding then—it had cut through her chemise—this blade would cause such a wound—the prisoner had a transverse wound on the knuckle of the little finger of his right hand—this blade may have caused it—neither wounds were serious.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, July 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
He received a good character.— One Month's Imprisonment.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY on the first count.
GUILTY on the others .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
ROBERT AIKEN . I am an undertaker, of 5, Whitechapel Road—on 6th June the prisoner owed me 7l., and offered me this cheque (Signed "R. Snow," for 15l. 10s.), and said that if I would change it for him he would settle my account—I gave him the change, and paid the cheque to my account, and it was returned—I saw the prisoner several times afterwards; he could not give me Snow's address—I made inquiries, and then accused him of having forged the cheque—he said "You seem to know all about it"—I said "Yes, I have found out all about it; it is not the first one you have done, and if I do not have my money to-morrow I shall apply for a warrant for your arrest"—he then said that he had forged it, and if I would only let it stand over he would pay me the money.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was returned marked "No account."
THOMAS WILLIAM COLE . I am cashier at the Bow branch of the London and South-Western Bank—the prisoner once had an account there, which was closed in September, 1885, and this cheque was in a book which was then issued to him, but the branch has been altered since—we have no customer named R. Snow.
STEPHEN WHITE (Police Sergeant H). On 1st July I took the prisoner at 26, Addington Road, Bow—I read the warrant to him—he said "This will be my ruin; can anything be done to arrange the matter?"—I found on him two other cheques of the same bank signed in his own name, Alfred Brooks, and both dated June 27th, 1887.
Cross-examined, You did not say that they were two cheques which you had tendered for rates and taxes, but they would not take them.
Prisoner's Defence. I submit that the charge of forgery has not been proved, as no such name appears in the books. I admit obtaining the money by false pretences. Snow was the first name which came into my head, but it was not forging anybody's signature.
GUILTY .— Six Months Hard Labour.
MR. COLE Prosecuted.
GEORGE TAYLOR . I am a newsagent, of 93, Elstead Street, Old Kent Road—on 22nd June, about 6 a.m., I left my cart and hone in Fetter Lane, and went into Mr. Farrington's to fetch some papers—I remained there about a quarter of an hour, and when I came out they were gone—they were worth 18l. or 20l.—I saw them at Hounslow next day—this tin plate was fastened to the shaft with my name on it; when I found the cart the tin remained, but my name was erased.
GEORGE THOMAS ROGERS . I am a general dealer, of Hounslow—on 22nd June, about 7.30 a.m., the prisoner came upstairs into my bedroom and told me he had a pony, cart, and harness to sell—I said I did not require them just then—he bothered me to have a drink—I went with him to a public-house, and saw a pony and cart outside my house—he wanted me to ride to the public-house—I said "No, you go on by yourself, I will walk"—when we got to the public-house I said "What will you take for the pony?"—he said "9l. "—I said "No, I will give you 3l. for it"—he said "Very well, you shall have it, but give us your money"—he then asked me 5l. for the cart and 30s. for the harness—I looked at the cart, and saw that the name had been rubbed out—he said "Shoot the pony out at once," meaning take it out of the cart—I said "No, if you will come up to the police-station I will pay you"—he did not do so, but drove away—I informed Sergeant Palmer, and afterwards saw the prisoner in custody—he had been drinking, but he knew what he was about.
DANIEL PALMER (Police Inspector T). I am stationed at Hounslow—on 22nd June, about 10.30 a.m., Rogers gave me information, in consequence of which I took the prisoner opposite the Rifle beerhouse in Hounslow about 1 o'clock—he had a pony and cart with him—I said "You have been offering this pony and cart for sale; who does it belong to?"—he said "It belongs to me"—I asked him if he was quite sure; he said "Yes"—I asked him why the name had been erased from the plate; he made no reply—I asked his name; he said "Henry White"—I
said "Your name is not White, it is Eggar; I shall make inquiries about it"—he got into the cart, and I got in with him—he jumped out and ran away; I caught him—he gave his address London Road, London—I charged him with the unlawful possession of the horse and cart—I made inquiries, and found that they were stolen from Fetter Lane, and Mr. Taylor came down and identified the cart—the prisoner was charged at Brentford with the unlawful possession, and discharged—he was then handed over to the City police for the felony.
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective) On 25th June I arrested the prisoner at Brentford—I said "I am an officer of the City Police; you must consider yourself in my custody on a charge of stealing this horse, cart, and harness which you have been charged with the unlawful possession of"—he said "I did not steal it," and while riding in the cart with him from Brentford to London he said "I met a man I knew by sight near the Strand; he asked me to go for a ride with him; I got into the cart, and we drove to see the decorations; when we got to Hyde Park Corner he said 'I have got to go back to Billingsgate; you drive on to Brentford or Hounslow, and I will meet you there;' I drove to Hounslow Railwaystation; it was not open; I then drove to a public-house; I could not find the man; Rogers spoke to me, and offered me money for the cart and horse; I told him I could not sell it as it did not belong to me; I do not know where the man lives"—he gave his name Henry White, but I have ascertained that his name is Henry Eggar.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in a written defence stated that he had had too much drink, and met a man who told him to drive the horse and cart to Hounslow, which he did, but he had no intention of stealing them, and that he gave the name of White not to bring grief upon his family.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
ABRAHAM GOULD . I am an advertising agent, of 52, New Oxford Street—in August, 1886, I advertised in the Willesden Herald, but discontinued doing so at the rate I was then paying—on June 9th the prisoner called on me and said he called from the Willeaden Herald, and he was Mr. Pickworth, and had purchased or become the owner of the paper, and would like to have my advertisements inserted again—I had formerly paid four guineas per annum, but he said if I gave the order for 12 months he would take it at 3l. 17s. 6d.—I agreed and gave him this cheque for 3l. 17s. 6d. payable to the order of F.H. Pickworth; it was not crossed—he endorsed it Felix H. Pickworth, and gave me a receipt in the same name—I expected to get a copy of the paper with my advertisement on the following Saturday, but I did not, and on the Monday the prisoner called again and said he was sorry that there had been a mistake of a compositor who had omitted my advertisement, but it would certainly appear on the following Saturday—he said that he spent the previous Sunday afternoon with Mr. Smith, the proprietor of the Kilburn Times and of the Willesden Chronicle, and had spoken to him about the insertion of my advertisements in his paper, and Mr. Smith would be willing to insert my advertisements in both papers for six
months for 2l. 15s.—I agreed and he left saying that he was going to see Mr. Smith in Fleet Street, and would come back later on, which he did and said Mr. Smith was unable to call and see me as he was obliged to go down to Essex—I then arranged with the prisoner for the insertion of my advertisement in those two papers, and gave him this cheque for 2l. 15s. payable to Thomas Smith or order—it was not crossed—it is now endorsed, and I should say it is in the same writing as the other—he gave me this receipt—I should have sent the receipt to Mr. Smith, but the prisoner took out this receipt with a printed heading of the Kilburn Times, signed "F.H. Pickworth, for Mr. Thomas Smith"—both those cheques have been paid by my bank—my advertisements have not appeared in either of the three papers—I applied for a warrant, and the prisoner was apprehended.
Cross-examined. I know this paper to be a company—the first time I had a communication with the prisoner was August, 1885, and it ran on to February, 1886—when he represented that the business had come into his hands I made no inquiries—I am a little deaf, but my account is accurate—he did not say that he was authorised to collect advertisements—I took no notes of the conversation; no one was present—he did not say that he was authorised by Mr. Pickworth.
Re-examined. I believed he was Mr. Pickworth when I paid him the cheque.
FELIX HENRY PICKWORTH. I am manager of the Willesden Herald Newspaper Company, Limited—the prisoner was not in their service; he was my foreman—he left on May 5th, after which he had no connection with the Willesden Herald, and no right to do business on its behalf—on or about 20th May I inserted this advertisement (produced) in the Willesden Herald, stating that he had left my service—I did not authorise the prisoner to make any terms about these advertisements, nor did he account to me for 3l. 11s. 6d. received from Mr. Gould, or inform me of it—I gave him no authority to endorse the cheque in my name, or to give a receipt in my name, or to receive the money from Mr. Gould in respect of the Kilburn Times and Chronicle, or to sign a receipt in my name for it—I knew nothing of it until inquiries were made—he never accounted to me for this 2l. 15s.—I gave him no authority to go to Mr. Whitman and get cards printed in my name; I did not know of it till after Mr. Gould communicated with me—this is not one of the memorandum forms of the Willesden Herald.
Cross-examined. Mr. Gould communicated with me about June 23rd—I have been manager from the commencement, except about three weeks, which was in November, 1884—I had power to employ people—the prisoner was foreman in the printing office, and he has collected accounts on my behalf and through me on behalf of the company, and he also canvassed for advertisements—he was solely answerable to me, and I am solely answerable to the company—he collected as my agent, and it was his duty to hand the money to the company immediately on receipt—I have received a salary for the last six months, but previous to that I did it for nothing—I do not always hand over the money I receive; I retain some of it—the prisoner had no authority to endorse cheques which he received—I did not dismiss him for doing so, but I reprimanded him for it, and allowed him to continue in my employment—I
am not indebted to him—I have borrowed money from him and repaid it—I am still there.
Re-examined. I was away on the day he received the cheque which he endorsed—I said that he ought not to have done so, and pointed out to him that he might have obtained money without doing so—I never authorised him to sign my name—I have held five shares in the company from its commencement—any money retained in my hands for a time has been handed over to the company, and any money borrowed from the prisoner has been repaid—he has never suggested that I owed him any money since he left—he has made no claim on me—I have found out since he left that a number of accounts have not been handed over to me.
By MR. HUTTON. He left on May the 5th, and I saw him on the Saturday following—I did not then authorise him to collect advertisements or money for me—he had no authority after May 5th.
THOMAS SMITH . I am manager of the Willesden Press Association—they are the proprietors of the Willesden Times and the Willesden Chronicle—I have seen the prisoner three times—it it quite untrue that he spent Sunday afternoon, June 12th, with me—I never authorised him to collect money or advertisements—I did not see him on the Monday—he never accounted to me for 2l. 15s. paid in by Mr. Gould, nor did I authorise him to sign my name on the back of this cheque, or to give a receipt for Thomas Smith—I never authorised the prisoner to use this paper headed Kilburn Times Office—it is not one of our forms.
Cross-examined. I have spoken to him three times—the last time was the 21st June—I had never had any business transactions with him.
JOHN LEE . I am a coffee-house keeper, of Chigwell Road—on 9th June the prisoner showed me this cheque for 3l. 17s. 6d. and asked me to cash it—it was endorsed "Felix Pick worth "; I knew him as Jennings—he had been living at my place—I got the cash from a friend and gave it to him, and endorsed the cheque with my name.
GEORGE HENRY WHITMAN . I am a printer, of 187, Edgware Road—I have seen the prisoner twice—about 30th June he gave me an order for some small address cards in the name of "Mr. Felix Pickworth, Willesden Herald, Willesden Junction," and next day he ordered some memorandum form of the Willesden Herald—I printed 1,000 of them and 100 of the cards—he paid me next day 1l. 2s. 6d. by giving me a cheque on the South-Western Bank, Hampstead Branch, "Pay Mr. Pickworth or order 4l. 10s. 6d., Frederick Hodges"—he endorsed it Felix H. Pickworth in my presence—I gave him the change, paid the cheque, into my bank, and it was returned marked "No account at this bank."
GUILTY .—Twelve Months Hard labour.
HENRY PORTER . I am an optician, of 181, Strand—on 21st June the prisoner came in and bought a pair of opera glasses—he then asked me if I would take a cheque—I said that it was not my custom to take cheques from strangers—he said that ho was a customer, as he had bought
something some months before, and from his appearance I gave him the change—I took his address, Mr. J. Bernard, 2, New Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields—he said that his office was at Bonham Road, Brixton—I paid the cheque to my bank and it was returned.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say that you were in Mr. Bernard's employment—you gave that name; you did not give your name as Nottingham—I have entered "Bernard" in my book.
WILLIAM LEIGH BERNARD . I am a barrister, of 1, New Court, Lincoln's Inn—the prisoner was in my employment from 9th May till June 15th, when I gave him notice to leave, in consequence of irregularities—this is not my cheque; it is in the prisoner's writing—Mr. Davies, the drawer, is a friend of mine—I never gave the prisoner authority to go to this optician or to sign my name.
Prisoner's Defence. Some time ago I made the acquaintance of a young man at a music-hall, and when I took the letter I gave him the cheque he could not cash it and gave it back to me, and I took it to Mr. Porter. I own I stole it, but I did not forge the endorsement. I gave information to the police.
There were two other indictment against the prisoner.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN appeared for Summers.
WILLIAM KNOWLES WILD . I am a cap maker, of 14, Great Sutton Street, Goswell Road—on 2nd June, about nine p.m., I was in Cheapside—I had a watch on, two people pushed me; one was a small man very similar to McGeorge—he then got before me, and when I got to the Bank I noticed my chain hanging down and my watch was gone—I had seen it safe at Aldersgate Street Station a quarter of an hour before; it was worth 5l.—I saw it a few days afterwards at Bethnal Green Station, but the ring was gone—I saw the prisoners there—I said that McGeorge was very much like the little man; his features are similar to the man who pushed me.
EDWARD JOSEPH PANTHER . I am a greengrocer, of 33, Foster Street, Bethnal Green—on 2nd June I was in Mile End Road and two men came up to me—one of them was McGeorge, who I knew, as me and him came out of penal servitude together—he told me that he had three white ones and a red one if I would buy them, meaning three silver watches and a gold one—I said "I am going to Romford with a load, and you might earn 2s. if you come with me"—he said "I will meet you on Globe Bridge and show them to you"—I afterwards met the two prisoners at Globe Bridge and they asked me 26s. for the three watches—I cannot swear that this is one of them; I only had a bird's-eye view of it—the bows of all the watches were gone—I went into a public-house with the
prisoners and came out and spoke to Maguire, a policeman, and showed him the watches—he took the prisoners—I had then got two of the watches and the big man had got one—he shoved it back again and I went to my pony cart, which was outside.
Cross-examined. I am a returned convict, and am now on license and subject to police supervision—it was 10 a.m. when I went to the Globe Bridge; it was about nine when I was first spoken to about the watches—I had seen Sergeant Enright in the interval; that was not the first time I had seen him—I was the means of finding a load of barley—I gave information in this case—I see Enright about once a month and oftener if persons bring me things to sell; he never calls on me—when I go to him it is to give him information—I had not mentioned to Enright and Maguire that there was something on the cross—my license will be up in about four months.
Re-examined. I am obliged to see the police once a month—I have had no complaints against me or my license would be cancelled—I bought a shop six weeks after I came home, and I have been in it ever since.
Cross-examined by Mc George. When I met you at nine o'clock I asked you to come and have a drink and told you you might earn a few shillings with me very often—I said that it would take me half an hour to load up and that I was going to Romford, and would meet you on the Globe Bridge, but I did not say that I would show you something which I wanted your opinion on—I loaded my goods—you went away to get the watches and I went and told Enright—Summers never got out of the cart—you gave me the watches in the public-house and put them in my hat, and I laid my handkerchief on them—I then said to the man at the bar "Where is your w.c.?" and I went out and gave information—I was only gone three or four minutes.
PATRICK ENRIGHT (Police Sergeant J) On 29th June, about 9.30 a.m., Panther gave me information, and I gave instructions for Maguire to come to me, and when I gut to Mile End Road I saw Summers parting from Panther—Summers spoke to McGeorge and said "He has got them"—Mc George said "What has he given you for them?"—Summers said "I don't know yet"—this was close by the Globe public-house—I took McGeorge, and Panther came up and handed three watches to Maguire with the bows off—Maguire said to Summers "How do you account for these watches?"—he said "They are my property, find out"—one watch was found on each of them—they were charged with the possession of five watches and denied all knowledge of them—I found on McGeorge 2l. 0s. 9d.
Cross-examined. Summers told me where he lived, that is not the district in which I am a sergeant, but it is quite convenient—I see Panther mostly every day, he sometimes speaks to me, and sometimes passes by—he came to me at the police-station—I don't think I had seen him that day before—he is a greengrocer and a dealer in second hand hats—he gave information to the police once before—he is bound to report himself, but he does not do so to me—I never saw the watches in the possession of either of the prisoners—Summers said, "They are my property;" but at the station he said he had never seen them—they spoke quite openly outside the public-house, but they did not know who I was.
Re-examined. Panther does not come to me every day, but he lives
near the station, and I am bound to meet him—the case in which he gave information before was in reference to a pair of horses which had been stolen, and without his information it would not have been discovered.
HUGH MAGUIRE (Policeman J 113). On 29th June about 9.30 I was in the Mile End Road and saw Panther and the two prisoners, they had a conversation, and went into the Globe public-house and stopped there a considerable time; they then came out, and Panther walked down the road—I followed him, and he showed me these three watches with the bows off—I went back and took Summers, and Enright took McGeorge—Panther came up and gave me the watches—I asked Summers how he accounted for the watches, he said, "They are my property, find out," but when he was charged he said that he knew nothing of them—the prosecutor afterwards identified his watch.
Summer's statement before the Magistrate teas that Panther invited them to drink, and went outside for 10 minutes, and then came back, and the detective got the three watches from Panther, but that he knew nothing of them.
Mc George's Defence. The watches were never in my possession. I never saw them.
MCGEORGE— GUILTY of receiving.
SUMMERS— GUILTY . They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, McGEORGE at Clerkenwell in December, 1880, and SUMMERS at Clerkenwell in March, 1879.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. HADDON Prosecuted.
ISABELLA MARGARET SMITH . I am a widow, and keep a grocer's shop, at 35, Kirby Street, Poplar—on 29th January, about 1.15 a.m., I went to bed, having fastened all the doors and windows—I came down at 4.45 a.m., and found the shop parlour-window open, and a piece of the window cut out, close to the latch—I found some dishes of pastry and a cigar in the yard—I missed a cash-box containing over 20l., six rings, and other articles value nearly 100l., and two bank books—one of the rings was worth 20l.—these spoons, forks, brooch, and three rings are mine, a detective brought them to me the same day—I have known the prisoner by sight for years, and more particularly for the past seven or eight months.
WALTER BREED (Police Sergeant K). On the morning of 29th November I received information of this burglary—I went to the prisoner's house that evening—he was not there—I searched his bedroom, and behind on old clock, which I lifted down, I found these three gold rings and brooch, and in a box in a cupboard in the back bedroom five skeletonkeys, fresh filed, and a vice—I watched the house, but the prisoner did not come back, and I was unable to take him till the 30th; I then told him the charge—he made no reply then or when the charge was read.
8.30 p.m. till 12.25—when I left I saw the prisoner standing by a lamp post near the house—I had seen him before and knew him.
ELIZABETH AYRES . I am married, and live at 1, Huntingdon Street, Camden Town—in January last I lived at 68, Iron Street, Poplar, and the prisoner and his wife lived with me—they had two back rooms—on the night of 28th January the prisoner came home between 12 and 1 o'clock, with his wife and a man, who remained half an hour, and then left, and the wife and children went to bed—I had an abscess on my face and was awake all night, and heard the men come in again, but I did not look at the clock—the lust time they came in was just after 6 o'clock, but they had been in before that.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I came out of doors at 7.30 a.m. I went to the urinal, and found two or three boxes in the paper. I found the rings, brooch, fork, and spoons, and took them home."
GUILTY †.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
GUILTY on the Second Count .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, July 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended Williams.
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective). About 8.10 on the evening of 28th June I was in Queen Victoria Street with Holmes, both in plain clothes—we saw the two prisoners coming along, Allen carrying this parcel (produced) on his head—we followed them to New Bridge Street and then I stopped them and said to Williams "We are police-officers; what have you got in that parcel, and is it your property?"—he said "It is shawls, a man named Abrahams asked me to get someone to carry it for him"—I said "Where have you brought it from?"—he said "Queen Victoria Street"—I said "Where were you going to take it?"—he said "Ludgate Hill Railway Station"—this was 100 yards from the station—I said "Do you know the man?"—Williams said "No"—I said "How do you know his name is Abrahams?"—he said "He told me so"—I said "I don't believe jour statement, you will have to come to the station"—Allen could hear this conversation; I said to him "Do you know this man?"(Abrahams)—he said "No"—I took the prisoners to the Bridewell Place Police-station—I left Allen there and took Williams with Holmes in and outside Ludgate Hill Railway Station and round Ludgate Circus to look for Abrahams—Williams said he could not see him—I then took Williams back to Bridewell—I opened the parcel and found it
contained 10 shawls and a piece of sampling of shawls, and I charged both prisoners with being in unlawful possession of this property—I found on Allen two skeleton keys, and I saw this other skeleton key found on Williams, who gave his address 102, Walworth Road—Allen said he had no fixed address—I went next morning with Holmes to Norton and Co.'s warehouse, 99, Queen Victoria Street and tried this key. which was found on Williams—it unlocked and locked the warehouse door—the prisoners were subsequently charged with breaking into the warehouse and stealing the shawls—I read the charge to them; Allen made no reply, Williams said "I did not do it"—at the station on the 28th, when first charged, Williams said, referring to Allen, "He knows nothing about it, I asked him to carry it"—Allen said "He said he would give me 4d. for my lodging money if I carried it."
Cross-examined by. MR. PURCELL. I have been over 10 years in the police and am about in the streets a good deal in the City, and have frequently given evidence at the Mansion House—my appearance is pretty well known in the City, I don't know that either of the prisoners know me—Holmes has been a long time in the force and is an experienced officer—the key was not tried at Bridewell, it was never out of my possession—the wards have been filed away and it would open a great many doors—Williams did not tell me he had bought this key at a stall in Walworth Road, because he had lost the key of the padlock of his stables—he said he found it—there are plenty of stalls in Walworth Road where keys are sold—I found the two prisoners about 300 or 400 yards from the prosecutors' premises.
GEORGE CLAXTON . I am a warehouseman in the employ of Messrs. Norton Bros, and Co., of 99, Queen Victoria Street—I have examined this parcel of shawle, they are my masters' property—on 28th June, about 20 minutes to 7 p.m., I closed and locked the door of the premises as usual—I was the last to leave and I left no one there; I came next morning about 20 minutes to 9 and unlocked the door—I examined nothing till the constable came and then I went through the stock with my list and found 10 shawls and one range of patterns missing—the 10 shawls were not wrapped up in this parcel, but were ranged round the room in about 10 piles of particular classes, and two shawls were taken out of one parcel and two out of another—I saw the constable come and try the door with this key and lock and unlock it—I know neither of the prisoners—the value of the shawls is about 9l. 2s. I think.
Allen, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he was innocent, and that he only carried the parcel for a man to Ludgate Hill Station.
WILLIAMS— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in October, 1885.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ALLEN— NOT GUILTY .
solicitor—a little before 1 o'clock on the early morning of 15th July I was passing along Shaftesbury Avenue—I was knocked down, and while on the ground I saw Moloney attempting to get at my left waistcoat pocket, where I had a cheque and some gold—he did not succeed in reaching it—two constables came up immediately—I did not notice anybody before I was knocked down.
EDWARD KITCHING (Detective C). On the morning of 15th July I was on duty in Shaftesbury Avenue with Detective Crackitt—I saw the prosecutor walking at about a quarter to 1—he turned up Earl Street—the two prisoners followed him to the top of the street where it joins the Dials—the prosecutor walked towards a coffee stall there, and then went down St. Martin's Lane—they followed him down St. Martin's Lane together, and Crackitt and I linked arms together and rolled about the pavement as though intoxicated, to evade suspicion—just by West Street the prisoners came and looked at us, and said "Oh, they are all right"—they walked straight across to the opposite side of the road, where the prosecutor was trying to light a cigarette against a lamp post—Turner struck him a blow from behind, and knocked him down with his fist in the lower part of his body—I believe he fell immediately they struck him—Crackitt and I rushed across the road—the prisoners were on top of the prosecutor then—they were all on the ground—I caught hold of Moloney—Turner got up and ran away pursued by Crackitt—I told Moloney he would be charged with attempting to rob a gentleman, and that I was a police officer—he said "God blind me, if I get your monnoch," a slang term for name, "I will tell the lads, and they will put you out"—that meant kill me, I suppose—I took him to the station, where he was charged—he said "I am innocent, it has all been put into his ear," meaning the prosecutor.
By the COURT. The prosecutor had been drinking; he rolled about; his legs were unsteady.
Cross-examined by Turner. You distinctly hit the prosecutor—I never had my eye off you for an instant—it was done in a very light place, just opposite Aldridge's.
DAVID CRACKITT (Detective C). I was with Kitching in plain clothes—I have heard, and corroborate his evidence—I followed Turner when he ran away, and blew my whistle—he ran about 200 yards, and was stopped by a uniform constable—I came up—Turner said "What is this for?"—I said "You will be charged with assaulting and attempting to rob a gentleman"—he said "You have made a mistake"—I did not lose sight of him at all.
Cross-examined by Turner. You ran up St. Martin's Lane, through Earl Street, and were stopped at the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue.
By the COURT. He ran in the direction from which he came.
WILLIAM DINMER (Policeman C 226). I was on duty at the corner of Maria Street and Shaftesbury Avenue—I saw Turner running down Earl Street—I heard Crackitt's whistle, and ran after and caught the prisoner—he said "God blind me, governor, you have made a mistake; I have done nothing"—Crackitt came up and told him he would be charged with assaulting a gentleman with intent to rob him, in St. Martin's Lane—he said "You have made a mistake"—Crackitt was 12 or 13 yards behind him.
Turner in his defence said that he heard a row and ran away, and Moloney said
that he saw the prosecutor intoxicated, holding on to a lamp post, and told him to keep up, and he turned and hit him in the eye; that he (Moloney) then shoved him, and they fell together, but he denied attempting to rob him.
GUILTY . TURNER then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in April, 1886.**†— Five Years' Penal Servitude. MOLONEY. †— Judgment respited.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted.
The JURY upon seeing the prosecutrix, considered that the prisoner might reasonably have believed her to be over 16 years of age, and they accordingly returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES SAVORY . I live at 104, Sandcross Street, Lambeth, and am a costermonger—I had a barrow and donkey value 5l. which on the morning of 12th July, about 7 a.m., I left in Wellington Street, outside the Lyceum Theatre, while I went to Covent Garden—I came out about 9 o'clock and found the barrow and donkey gone—I have since received them back from the policeman at Bow Street.
SAMUEL SAVORY . I am a costermonger, of 4, Salamanca Court, Lambeth—I am the brother of the last witness—on 12th July, about 7 a.m., I was with him—I had my own donkey and barrow, which I left in Wellington Street—I went into Covent Garden with my brother—after buying flowers for my barrow we came out together about 9 o'clock—his donkey and barrow were not there; mine were—we went together to try and find his—I went to Nine Elms while he went to Bow Street—about 10.30 at Nine Elms I saw the three prisoners on my brother's donkey barrow—Cornelius Sullivan was driving, and the other two lying down—I followed them a little way—when they saw me the two jumped off and ran away—I called a constable and gave Cornelius in custody.
Cross-examined by. MR. FRITH. After I called police the two boys ran away.
Re-examined. When the constable was coming up they ran away.
THOMAS KILLO (Policeman W 85). About a quarter to 11 a.m. on 12th July I was called by Samuel Savory to take Cornelius Sullivan, who was driving the donkey, into custody at the corner of Nine Elms Lane—the other two prisoners were walking by the cart, and they ran away when I came up—I was in uniform—I told Cornelius that Savory charged him with stealing his donkey—he said "I am going to take it home to my father"—I took him towards Clapham station—on the road I met Heagren, whom I recognised as being one of the boys; I took him to the station also—I took the two prisoners from Clapham to Bow Street, and going over Waterloo Bridge I saw Jeremiah Sullivan sitting on the parapet—I said "You are the one"—he said "No Sir, it was not me, it was the other two"—I took him to Bow Street Police-station—when all three were together Cornelius said "We were going to take it down in Kent and try to sell it"—that was not in answer to a question,
I asked no questions—they were all sitting in the waiting room—Jeremiah then said "No, it was not me, it was you that proposed it this morning"—I gave the donkey and cart back to the first witness.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have made inquiries about the case—I have no witness who saw Heagren at the time the cart was stolen—he said nothing when I took him—he is only fourteen—his character is good from what I hear from his parents—I did not hear him say at the police-station that the other boys asked him to have a ride.
Jeremiah Sullivan, in his defence, said that the other two boys were turning the donkey round in Covent Garden at the Gaiety stage door, and Cornelius Sullivan said "Will you come and nick this donkey?" and Heagren said "Turn it round along here, and I will turn it round with you;" that Cornelius Sullivan turned it round, and he jumped on, and the other jumped on as well; that he said to a boy selling newspapers outside the stage door "These two boys have nicked a donkey, can't you see them going up?" and he said "Don't you have no trouble, you are sure to be locked up if you go with them," and that he ran after them, and had a ride as far as Waterloo Bridge.
Cornelius Sullivan's Defence. Me and Heagren were going over Waterloo Bridge, we saw Jeremiah going across with the donkey, and He said to me and Heagren, "Will you come for a ride?"I said, "Where did you get the donkey from?"He said "Never mind about where I got it from, are you coming for a ride?"I said "Yes," so I and Heagren got on, and he took the first turning on the right over Waterloo Bridge, and from there he went up to Vauxhall, and as soon as we got up there I said, "Jerry, where did you get the donkey from?" he said, "I stole it up Wellington Street." We said we had better get off. He said "No, never mind, we had better stop on; we won't get caught, we will take it down hopping; we will sell it, and we will ride home with the money." I and Jeremiah had drive for drive. There was no boy selling newspapers outside the stage door.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, July 29th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM LOWDON . I am a cheesemonger, of 86, Kingsdown Road, Upper Holloway—in the beginning of last year my wife had a business to sell, of which I was the manager—on 3rd February the prisoner came in and said that my wife had asked him to sell the business, and he had advertised it in the Telegraph, the Daily Chronicle, the Hackney and Kingsland Gazette, and the Islington Gazette, and produced these receipts for the advertisements—the one for the Daily Chronicle was 15s. 6d., and that for the Daily Telegraph 16s.—he said that he had just come from the offices—I wrote down the amounts, and he gave me this receipt for the money.
Cross-examined. I will not say whether I told the Magistrate that the prisoner said that he had just come from the offices—I have never asked the prisoner to give me 10l. to settle the matter—I did not say to him on the first day of the Session "Give me half of a 5l. note, and keep the other half, and I will get the Grand Jury to throw out the bill"—that
was his suggestion—he also suggested that I should meet his son at a railway-station, and that 6l. or 10l. should settle it—I have been convicted of conspiring to defraud, and was sentenced to 10 months, but my case is before the Home Secretary now, and I was released on bail—I absconded from my bail, and he was dragged off to Holloway Gaol, but directly I was aware of it I paid him the money.
Re-examined. The prisoner came to me about settling the case—I proved the evidence his son gave at the police-court—when the prisoner Drought the receipts he asked me to let him have the money, as it was usual.
DUDLEY SMITH . I live at 179, Barker Street, Commercial Road—I produce the receipt-book—5s. 6d. was paid for the insertion of this advertisement; this is the counterfoil—the receipt has been altered in two places, one insertion has been altered to two, and 5s. 6d. has been altered to 15s. 6d.—I do not remember who brought the advertisement.
WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT . I am in the employ of the Daily Chronicle— I produce a paper containing the advertisement for which this receipt was given—it was for 6s., but a "1" has been added making it 16s.—there are six lines, and two insertions at 3s. an insertion.
Cross-examined. I do not remember from whom I received the money—I do not know a clerk named Howard in the prosecutor's service.
Cross-examined. He has since told me that Howard had been a clerk in the office, and it was his business to take the advertisements round—it came out in his son's evidence that Howard left the service 12 months ago.
Re-examined. He did not say that Howard was a boy; he told me outside the Court that he had found Howard and should produce him.
Witnesses for the Defence.
EDWIN BROADHURST . The prisoner is my father, he is an auctioneer and public-house broker—there was a clerk in his employment named Howard, one of whose duties it was to take advertisements round to various papers and order the insertions—I think he was in my father's employ in February, 1886, but I have been in a situation these 10 years—I know that my father has been making inquiries to find Howard.
Cross-examined. I was not examined at the police-court, it was my brother—I believe he is coming—I have never been a steward on board ship, nor have I been in the employ of Mr. Gaslop, the manager of a public-house.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FRITH Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
JOSEPH GOODRING DUNVILLE . I am a boot maker, of 65, Percy Road, Hackney—on 9th July about 11 o'clock p.m. I met the prisoner in Aldersgate Street; she said something, I cannot say what, and turned round and said "I beg your pardon, I have made a mistake"—I said "I think so"—she said "I think I have seen your face before"—I said "I think not"—she asked me to treat her to a glass of ale—I said "I am a teetotaler"—she said that she did not object to a cup of coffee or a small lemon—we went into a public-house and I called for two lemons and paid with a florin, which I took not from my purse but from my trousers pocket, and I noticed my purse at that time—we came out, and she said that she was sorry to impose on good nature, but she was a widow with two children, and lived at Deptford, and would I give her 2d. for her tram—I gave her 6d. and said "There is a short cut to Liverpool Street somewhere here, can you kindly direct me the way?"—she said that she had an hour to wait for the tram and she would show me—we walked to what I now know as Jewin Street—she said "Down here"—we went about 50 yards down and she stopped abruptly—I stopped too, and she put one hand in an indecent position, and I felt the other in my pocket, and felt my purse coming out—I had a parcel in one hand and a stick in the other—I accused her of robbery, she denied it, and I gave her in custody—we went to the station, where the inspector asked me to feel in my pockets, I did so, and found my purse in my right side coat pocket on top of my gloves and handkerchief—I examined it; the florin was there but the sovereign was gone, which I saw there a quarter of an hour before I met her—I never carry my purse in that pocket—she walked on that side of me, between me and the policeman—I used my handkerchief recently, before I met her, and had used my gloves during the evening.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not take you down there for an immoral purpose—I cannot say which pocket my purse was in, but it was in my trousers pocket when I changed the florin—I was wearing this coat.
HENRY STRINGER (City Policeman 101). On the night of July 19th I was in Jewin Crescent, and saw the prosecutor and prisoner standing in the middle of the pavement—he said "You have got my purse"—she said "No, I have not"—he said "Yes, you have"—he called me, and said "Constable, this woman has taken my purse out of my pocket"—she said "I have not got it"—I said "You had better turn your pockets out"—he did so, and had not got it—I saw his handkerchief and gloves come out, and he put them back—I took her to the station, where a sixpence and a key only were found on her—the prosecutor was sober—the inspector asked him to feel in his pockets, and in the first pocket he put his hand in was his purse—the prisoner was next to that pocket going to the station.
Prisoner's Defence. He never turned his pockets out till he got to the station. He never mentioned anything about turning them out in the street till just now. I never saw the purse.
GUILTY . She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
814. JOHN POLLARD (45) and WILLIAM WHITE (21) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Samuel Duffett Martin, and stealing a metal plate, three spoons, fourteen knives, and other articles, his property.
MR. ROGERS Prosecuted.
SARAH DURHAM . I am a servant to the prosecutor at 124, Amherst Road, Hackney—on June 27th I heard the gate bang at a little after 6 o'clock—I ran to the window, and saw the prisoner Pollard with the gate in his hand, and a bundle tied up in a red handkerchief—the table had been laid for dinner about 3 o'clock, and there were a number of articles on it, from which I missed a metal plate, a mug, three spoons, four pairs of nutcrackers, 14 knives, 10 forks, two napkin-rings, a saw, and a pair of scissors—I have not seen them since—the window was wide open from the top, and a person could get over easily—there was a music stand inside on which he could step, which had a mark on it as if of a foot.
Cross-examined by Pollard. You were dressed as a bricklayer, and had a round hat—I am certain you are the man.
Re-examined. I have not the slightest doubt Pollard is the man I saw going out at the gate.
EMILE DE WAEL . I am 13 years and 7 months old, and live at 126, Amherst Road—on 27th June, a little before 6 o'clock, I was coming home from school, and saw Pollard standing against the railings of 124, Amherst Road leaning against them—I live at the next house—he was looking between the trees, and when I passed he got up and walked up and down as if he was waiting.
Cross-examined by Pollard. You had not those clothes on.
SAMUEL DUFFIT MARTIN . I have no occupation—I live at 124, Amherst Road—on 27th June, about 6.15, I went home, went down to the breakfast-room in the basement and found it in disorder, the table which should have been laid for our meal was stripped of most things, the cruets most of them out of the frame, which was unscrewed and lying on the table—I missed a silver waiter, a mug, 3 spoons, 4 pairs of nutcrackers, 14 knives, 10 forks, 2 napkin rings, a saw, and a pair of scissors—I had seen the waiter and the silver mug at 2.30 at our luncheon—the value of the whole was 25l.—a fortnight after the robbery I saw the prisoner White sneaking inside my front gate, with his eyes fixed on the breakfast-room window—he had on tennis shoes, which are noiseless—it was about a quarter to 2 p.m. and the table was again laid for luncheon—I ordered him off the premises and he left without a word—there was another figure outside which I cannot recognise.
ALFRED BIRD (Policeman N 322). On 12th July, about 5 a.m., I was with Hales, in plain clothes, and watched the prisoners—they were 20 or 30 yards in front of us in Lordship Road, Stoke Newington—they stopped as if they were looking down an area, and then stopped again as if looking for some window which was left open—we took out the description of two men who were wanted for housebreaking, looked at it, and then walked after the prisoners—I took Pollard; he said "You have made a mistake this morning, governor"—I said "If I have I shall have to put up with it"—he said "What have you got me for?"—I
said "On a description of two men wanted for burglary"—I took him to the station and found this skeleton key on him.
FREDERICK HALES (Policeman N 113). I was with Bird and took White; he said "I do not know anything of the other man, I am not with him"—I had seen them walking together for about 20 minutes—I found this knife and pocket-book on White.
ROBERT DAY (Police Sergeant N). I took White to the police-court; he volunteered a statement and asked me to give it in evidence—he said to Pollard "You picked me up in Gray's Inn Lane about 10 days back; you took me out for a walk, I did not know what you were going to do. I only done three jobs with you, one which I am charged with at Amherst Road; the other two, one was at Hackney and the other at Clapton; I never went inside any of the houses, you went into them all by the windows; I was outside looking for the policeman. I was never in prison before"—Pollard then said "You b—y rounder I will settle you for this"—we therefore kept them apart at the police-court—when I gave that in evidence at the police-court, Pollard asked White if he made that statement; White said he did—White said at the police-court "I am charged with being in his company with a horse and cart, which I never was, Pollard would never allow mo to go with him to see where he sold the property; I went to the Angel, and he brought me back some money, but did not bring back the bundle."
Cross-examined by Pollard. White made that statement, you heard it, and I asked you if it was correct—you said "Yes, it is."
Pollard's Defence. I do not deny being up and down Amherst Road, and I may have looked through the palings, but I did not commit the robbery. No doubt this lad saw me, as I am about there every day in the week. The table was laid at 3 o'clock and they found out the robbery after 6, and because I was there at that time they say that I did it.
White's Defence. What Sergeant Day has said is false; he said "If you have anything to say about Pollard you had better say it." I said "I do not know Pollard, I am going to my father at Seven Sisters Road." He said "If you don't know him you had better say you do."
GUILTY . POLLARD then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in March, 1879, of uttering counterfeit coin.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. WHITE.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
(The Grand Jury having expressed their approval of the conduct of the two officers, the Court and Jury concurred. There were two other indictments against both prisoners.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted; MR. BURNEY Defended.
MARTHA LAPPAGE . I am married—on 1st July I was given in custody for stealing a cruet-stand and tea-pot from 5, Devonshire Street, St. George's-in-the-East—the case was heard by Mr. Lushington and dismissed—on a Monday morning last November the defendant came to my place and asked me if I would buy a cruet-stand and tea-pot—I asked her
where she got them—she said her sister made her a present of them—she asked me 3s. 6d. for them—I said I had not got enough money or I would buy them, but I knew some one who would—I saw Squiers and Ellen Brierly passing and called them up into my room and said "Where are you off to?"—Squiers said that she was going down Charles Street to buy a cruet for the christening—I said "Here is one for sale and a tea-pot, it does not belong to me, it belongs to this young woman," pointing to the defendant—Mrs. Squiers said she was not going round at that time, but if they fetched them round in the evening she would buy them—I said I would bring them round in the evening—in the evening Johnson came down to me and said "Lappage, are you ready to come over there?"—Johnson put the things in her apron and we went to Squiers' house in Lady Lake Grove, Mile End—Johnson gave them to me; I took them into Squiers' place and she remained at the door—I gave the things to Squiers and said "4s. 6d. "—I gave the money to the prisoner and came away—I saw the defendant sworn at the police-court and heard her swear that she had Been the things in my hands, and that I had stolen them; and then that she had no knowledge of them, and that she was not present in the room when they were shown to Squiers on the Monday in November.
Cross-examined. I know Elizabeth Smith, I see her every day—I did not meet her in November as I was coming out of 5, Devonshire Street—I lived there at one time—I did not meet her with this cruet and teapot in my apron, nor did I tell her I had a new silver set which I got from No. 5 out of the front room—I know Dolly Wade—I did not show her the teapot or pull it from under my bed—I showed them to nobody—I know a youth named Clark, he gave me information—how could I meet him with that teapot if I did not have it?—I did not say to him in his landlady's, Mrs. Taylor's, presence in the street that I had come to him to ask him if he was going to prosecute me, nor did I say "You know I took the things, but I only took them in a lark, and I put them back again;" nothing of the kind—after I was taken to the station I saw the man and woman to whom the things were said to belong—I did not say to the woman "You cannot press the charge, you were not at home when I took them"—the 3s. 6d. went to Phoebe Johnson—I got nothing for my trouble—my husband works for Mr. Thomas at the ginger beer place, but not for the last month—I go out washing—I have six little children to keep, and my husband is not a strong man—my landlord at 39, Devonshire Street, where I used to live, did not give me notice because I was complained of by my neighbours as keeping a brothel—I got out of the place when they wished me to—years ago I did keep a brothel.
CHARLOTTE SQUIERS . I live at 34, Lady Lake Grove, Mile End—on a Monday last November I was in Devonshire Street with Ellen Brierly shopping, and Mrs. Lappage, who was looking out at her window as we passed, called us into her room—the prisoner was there with her—Mrs. Lappage asked me what I was doing—I said that I was going to buy a cruet stand; she said "That is just the thing I have got to sell, with a teapot, the two together; they are not mine, they are this young woman's," pointing to the prisoner—they were on the floor—I looked at them and said that I could not take them away then, but if she liked
to fetch them down at night I would buy them—nothing was said about the price—Lappage brought them to me that night and the prisoner stopped outside—I paid Lappage 3s. 6d. for the teapot and cruet stand and they went away together.
Cross-examined. I have known Mrs. Lappage five years—I let furnished rooms to ladies—they do not fetch any men there—I don't know what they do out of doors.
ELLEN BRIERLY . I live at 24, Devonshire Street—one day last November I was out with Squiers, and as we passed a house in Devonshire Street the prisoner asked Squiers to go upstairs—I went up with her, and the prisoner asked where we were going—Squiers said "I am going to buy a cruet stand for the christening for the godfather"—a cruet stand and teapot were there, and Mrs. Lappage said "They don't belong to me, they belong to that party there," that was the defendant—she made no answer—I don't know whether she heard it—Squiers told her to fetch them down at night as she was not going home, she was going shopping.
Cross-examined. I was not living at Mrs. Squiers'; I know her well; I once had a furnished room of her—I was an unfortunate girl.
JOSEPH MARRIOTT (Police Sergeant H). On 2nd July I saw the prisoner sworn, and heard her give evidence against Martha Lappage—I am not quite certain of her exact words, but I understood her to say she had never seen the cruet-stand before it was taken to Charlotte Square—the Magistrate said that I was to take her in custody at once, which I did, and charged her with wilful and corrupt perjury—she said nothing.
Cross-examined. I have known Mrs. Lappage five or six years personally—I took her in custody myself, and she said "Oh, good God, Mr. Marriott, this is a got-up case against me."
JAMES BLAKE (Police Inspector N). On 1st July, at 10.15 p.m., I took the charge against Mrs. Lappage—the prisoner and Mr. and Mrs. Hall, Martha Squiers, James Clark, and Charlotte Squiers were there—Lappadge said "I can prove that I am not a thief"—Charlotte Squiers said "I bought them from Martha Lappage," and upon her evidence the charge was taken.
Cross-examined. James Clark gave information first of all—he lives with the prisoner.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES CLARK . I am a costermonger, of 5, Devonshire Street—I have been living with the prisoner as man and wife—more than four months before I was examined before the Magistrate I went indoors and saw Mrs. Lappage with some things in her apron; I pulled it open, and saw a teapot and cruet-stand—she was half drunk—I said "You have taken these things out of the woman's front room," meaning Mrs. Hall's room—she said "Yes, and a black man was in bed"—that was all that passed that night, and next morning, Sunday, she came and begged and prayed me not to say a word about it, because she wanted to go and get some more things out of the room, but I stopped her—in consequence of something which came to my knowledge about five months back I gave information to the police, but did not tell Mrs. Lappage—I afterwards met her in the street with Mrs. Taylor, my landlady, and she said "Jim, are you going to prosecute me for the teapot and cruet-stand?"—I said
"Quite right, Mrs. Lappage, I am"—she said "You know I only took the things in a lark, and put them back again."
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that it was three or four months ago that I met Mrs. Lappage on the stairs, but when I came to think about it I knew that it was longer—I have not spoken to a soul about it—I never told the owner, because I did not see why I should get into trouble, until I found she was putting other people away for insulting her about stealing a watch in Devonshire Street—these people were not friends of mine.
ELIZABETH SMITH . I am the wife of James Smith, of 7, Devonshire Street—on 15th November I saw Mrs. Lappage in Devonshire Street coming out of No. 5—she said "I have got a nice silver set," and showed me a cruet stand and a teapot which she said she got out of the front room upstairs at No. 5.
Cross-examined. No one else was there—I did not see Mrs. Clark—I saw her at the door as I was standing at my door—I think she had had a little drop of drink—it would be correct to describe her as half drunk—she did not tell me anything about a black man—I am a housekeeper—I have been in prison two or three times.
DOLLY WADE . I am a cleaner, and live at 2, Devonshire Street—one day last November Mrs. Lappage sent for me—I went to her and she took a bundle from under one of her lodger's beds, opened it, and I saw a cruet stand and teapot—she asked me whether they were silver or metal—I said that they looked like metal—she said "Do you think that Mr. Muddle would buy them?"—he is the landlord of the Adelaide, and I have heard that he has since been convicted—she asked me to go with her to Mr. Muddle—I refused, and she said she knew who would go with her and mentioned Maggie, meaning the prisoner—she said "Don't mention a word in the house to any of the girls, but they were got over the way"—that was the girls in the house where I live.
MRS. MARSH. I have been living with a man for nine years and have taken his name—I live in Devonshire Street—I lived at Mrs. Lappage's house four months before Christmas and after—she called upon us to clean the passage, and it was my turn to do it one Sunday, and I went to the cupboard, and the teapot and cruet stand were hidden in the cloak room—that was before Christmas—she said nothing to me about them.
MARTHA TAYLOR . I am married, and am landlady of the house where the prisoner lives—about a month ago me and the prisoner were coming along together and met Mrs. Lappage, who said "I hear you are going to prosecute me for the teapot and cruet stand"—the prisoner said "I know nothing about the cruet stand or the teapot or about you having it"—she said "If you have not your b—man has"—she said "What you have got to say you had better say to him," and coming out we met Clark, and the prisoner began telling him what Mrs. Lappage had said—I was there when Mrs. Lappage came up to Clark—she said to him "Jim, you know I only took them for a lark, and I put them back again"—he said "I know you took them; I don't know whether you put them back."
Cross-examined. I did not know that the defendant was charged with having committed wilful and corrupt perjury at the police-court—nobody
came to me—I did not go to Arbour Square—I heard outside that Mrs. Johnson was charged with perjury, but nobody called on me.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
JOSEPH SMITH . I am porter at a pianoforte warehouse, 1, Bruce Cottages, Tottenham—on 26th June, about 9.40, I went out with my wife—I shut the front door and left it in charge of my next door neighbour—the skylight over the wash house was fixed up with this piece of wood, which gave an opening of 13 inches—I returned at 10.30—Mrs. Hinson, next door, made a communication to me, and I went round to the back and found the skylight down—the lean-to is only on one side—I went into the house and saw the prisoner in charge of my lodger, who had returned with me—I gave him in custody—he said that he got in because he was hungry and wanted something to eat, and he broke through the roof—I missed nothing; he could not have been there five minutes.
DAVID BROOKER (Policeman). On 26th June, about 11 p.m., I was sent for to 1, Bruce Cottages, where Mr. Smith charged the prisoner with breaking and entering the house—I asked him how he came there—he said "I was hungry and I got in to get something to eat"—I searched him at the station, but only found a box of matches.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was destitute that night and I had only been in the place five minutes. I thought it was an uninhabited back shed, and safer than sleeping in the street that night. I had no intention of committing a robbery."
Prisoner's Defence. I took it for an uninhabited shed, and I clambered up and got in and dropped the piece of wood. I did not think I was in a house at all.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, July 29th, and Saturday, 30th, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted; MR. MOINTYRE, Q.C., with MR. GEOHEGAN Defended.
GEORGE BITTEN (Police Serjeant H 23). I have had experience in making plans—I have made these three plans connected with the house the subject of this inquiry; the first shows the outside, it is a three-storied house, consisting of a ground-floor, first-floor, and second-floor; the ground-floor consists of two rooms, a bedroom and kitchen—there is a passage running through, so that you can get into the back yard without going into one or other of the rooms—a short staircase of nine or ten stairs leads to the first-floor, which consists of two rooms, one back and one front, and another short staircase leads to the top floor, which consists of only one room—the first-floor window is 12 feet from the sill to
the pavement—I did not discover any marks on that window-sill—the second plan is a plan of the first-floor front bedroom, which was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Angel; it correctly shows the door by which you enter, and the position of the bed—it is 1 foot 2 inches from the floor to the bedstead—beneath the bed I saw an egg-box 9 inches high—there would be 5 1/2 inches between the top of that box and the bedstead—I went up the stairs from the first to the second-floor—there is a small window through which you can look from the staircase on to the bedstead, it commands a full view of the bed; there was a thin muslin blind inside at the time, it has since been taken down—you could see through the muslin and have a full view of the bed and of anyone lying on it—there were some nails on the wall on which some clothing was hanging at the foot of the bed—this third plan is a copy of the Ordnance sheet, made to a scale of 5 feet to the mile, showing Batty Street and the surrounding streets—No. 19, Batty Street is nearly opposite No. 16, you would be perfectly able to see from 19 to 16—the street is 26 feet 9 inches wide from wall to wall—one end of it runs to Commercial Road and the other to Fairclough Street; going down Fairclough Street you come to Back-church Lane, and at the corner is Mr. Lee's oil-shop, which is 229 yards from 16, Batty Street—Mr. Schmidt's shop is next to Lee's—Dr. Kay's surgery is at the corner of Batty Street.
Cross-examined. This original plan was made at different times, it was completed by the first hearing at the police-court—it was not at the inquest—the last plan was completed on the second hearing before the Magistrate—the partition in the bedroom is wood panelling about a quarter of an inch thick.
ISAAC ANGEL (Interpreted). I am a boot rivetter—I am a native of Poland—I had been ten months in England at the time of the occurrence—my wife, Miriam Angel, accompanied me to England; she was 22 years of age—towards the end of May this year we went to live at 16, Batty Street, we occupied the first-floor front, which we furnished—I was then working at George Street, Spitalfields—I left home in the morning sometimes at 6, sometimes at half-past 6, and sometimes 7—up to 28th June I did not know the prisoner, nor did my wife—on Monday night the 27th I returned home about 9 o'clock, my wife was waiting for me at the door—she wrote a letter that night and took it out to have it addressed about half-past 11, I went to bed at half-past 11—my wife brought in half-a-pint of 4d. ale, I drank it, the glass was left on the table—when we went to bed my wife was well—I got up at 6 o'clock next morning—I spoke to my wife while I was getting up—we had some conversation and I left at a quarter-past 6—my wife was awake when I left, she was in bed with her chemise or night-dress on—she was well—the table was at the window as usual, I said my prayers there; her face was as splendid and red as scarlet when I left her—there was a curtain and blind to the window, the blind was a little way down, the window was closed, the whole window was quite closed—the egg-box was always under the bed; I did not observe it that morning, but it always did stand there; it was open, we used it to keep old clothes and dirty linen in; all the coats hung on the wall, and her clothes were on the chair; there was no coat lying on the floor; my clothes and her clothes hung on the wall, and something covered the whole of them to keep them clean—the bedstead was parted from the wall about 12 inches—among the
things hanging there was a coat and a pair of trousers—these are them (produced), they are almost new—the vest I have on matches the trousers—there were no stains on them when I left them that morning—I have since examined the coat and vest and found stains on them, there is a stain or a burn on the vest, in the back lining—on the coat there are two stains—I had no bottle, except a little one in which I used to fetch brandy on the Sabbath—I had no such bottle as this (produced)—I shut the room door when I left that morning, the same as usual—the key was stuck in the lock inside—I had locked the door that night when I went to bed, I had to unlock it in order to get out—I had lived there six weeks and eight days, after that they put the lock on, a new lock—it was a good lock, it locked well—it was my custom to come home to dinner at 2 o'clock—about a quarter to 12 that day Mrs. Levy, one of the lodgers, came to me where I work—in consequence of what she said I went home; I ran there as quick as I could, I cannot tell the time—when I got home I found my wife was dead—they would not let me into my room; I did not go in that day—my wife was six months gone in pregnancy.
Cross-examined. The lock was not put on by a locksmith, but by the landlord of the house—I don't know that he is a tailor—my clothes that were hanging up were all covered over—I first discovered the mark on my waistcoat to-day, before I came here—the mark on the coat I discovered the same day this matter happened—the clothes have since been at my father's where I am living now; my sister and brother took the things.
PHILIP LIPSKI . I am a tailor—I live at 16, Batty Street, Whitechapel—I occupy the ground floor, a parlour in front and a kitchen behind—my wife and seven children live with me—the eldest child is 15—Mr. and Mrs. Angel lived in the first floor front, in the back room first floor Mrs. Levy and my mother Mrs. Rubenstein—the prisoner lived in the top room—he had lived with me for 18 months in Batty's Gardens before we came to Batty Street, and he came with us when we moved some time in May—he first of all paid 2s. for his room, it was furnished—when he wanted to use it as a workshop he paid 5s. a week—he is a stick maker by trade—he formerly went out to work, at this time he was establishing a workshop in the room upstairs—on the Monday night before this happened I went to bed as usual—I got up in the morning about half-past 6, and went to the yard—I saw the prisoner come down from upstairs to the yard—the closet was in the yard—he was in his trousers and shirt, no shoes or stockings—he did not speak to me, only I saw him looking on the table for a small piece of gaspipe—I asked him, "What are you looking for?"—he said, "For a piece of pipe"—I asked what he wanted it for—he said he wanted to use it for his sticks—he then went upstairs—about 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards I said my prayers and then went to work—my wife and children were then in bed—about half past 12 I heard what had happened, and came home—the prisoner had not said anything to me about any persons coming on Tuesday morning, and I did not know it.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had fatted up his room as a workshop, he put benches there, so that more than one person could work there—he had lodged with me altogether about two years—he was a well-behaved young man, steady and honest, so long as he was in my place—he is no relation of mine—I know that he was engaged to be married to a young
woman, and had been for some time, I can't tell how long—the lock on the prisoner's door was put on by Mr. Peters, my landlord—he told me he was a tailor.
SIMON ROSENBLOOM (Interpreted). I live at 37, Philpot Street, Commercial Road—I am a native of Poland—I have not been in England 12 months—I am a stick maker, and at one time I worked for a Mr. Macartz, of Watney Passage, Commercial Road—during the time I worked there the prisoner was working in the same employment, and continued to be there up to 20th June or thereabouts, till the Jubilee week—the boy Pitman was also employed at Mr. Macartz's—on the Saturday of Jubilee week, 25th June, I met the prisoner, and he said that he had made for himself a workshop, and said, "You come to me to work," that he didn't earn much at Mr. Macartz's, and he said he would give me regular wages, and I went to work at his place on Tuesday morning at 7 o'clock—I went there on the Sunday before the Tuesday, and they were making samples, and it was then arranged I should come on the following Tuesday to begin work at 7 o'clock—on Tuesday morning, the 28th, at 7 o'clock, I went to the front door of 16, Batty Street and knocked, and the prisoner came down and opened the door—he was dressed in trousers and shirt, and was barefooted as we go to work—I went into the house, and went with him up on to the top floor—there was only the prisoner and myself there then—he then gave me some points to bend, which were to be put on the tops of sticks; they had to be filed, and I filed them—the prisoner also commenced to do some work, but only worked for a few minutes—at that time there was only one vice in the room, and he said, "There will come another man, a filer, and he will require another vice, and I will go and buy another one and a sponge for the boy to varnish with"—he did not say anything else as to the filer, as to who had recommended him, he only said that he would come to work—before the prisoner went out he put on his boots, and a short coat, and a hat—it was such a coat and hat as these (produced), only there were no stains on the coat then—I did not hear him shut the street door as he went out—after a short time he came back, and said, "The shop is still closed"—he meant by that Macartz's shop where he went to buy the vice—I cannot tell how long he was out, because there was no clock—he did no work after he came back, but went up and down the stairs till the boy came to work about 8 o'clock—he came up directly after the boy came in the room, and said, "I am going to buy a sponge for the boy to varnish"—I don't know the boy's name. (The witness Pitman was here called in.) That is the boy—the prisoner then went out to buy a sponge—he was then dressed in the same way as he was when he went out on the last occasion—after he had gone out a man came up into the room. (The witness Schmuss here came in.) That is the man—he did not speak much, as he did not stay long, he spoke in his own language, Yueddish—he remained there a little time, I cannot say about how long, 15 minutes or it might have been longer—the prisoner did not return again, and Schmuss left and went away—the boy was then with me in the room—I cannot say whether it was an hour or an hour and a half after the man left that the boy left; I cannot say how long it was—he went away for his breakfast—I did not leave that upstairs room from 7 o'clock till I heard the disturbance—I did not see the prisoner any more after he went out a second time—it was about 11 o'clock I heard the disturbance,
and the mother-in-law said, "Come downstairs"—I heard clapping, and knocking, and screaming, and the boy ran downstairs—I cannot say when the boy returned, but he did come back into the room at the top of the house, and stayed with me until I heard the disturbance downstairs, and then he and I went downstairs into the front room on the first floor, and saw Mrs. Angel lying dead on the bed, and the women inside the room.
Cross-examined. I was not half an hour in Lipski's room on the Sunday—I cannot tell how long I was there on the Tuesday before the boy came; there was no clock—these (produced) were the sort of things I was working upon; they would require fine filing with fine files—when you are doing that you can hear a little, but not much—the boy did nothing at all while he was there—I don't know whether on this morning I did a dozen or a whole two dozen or not—I cannot say how long it takes to file one of these things, because I am not a filer; I can only file a little—I spoke to the man (Schmuss) in my own language, Yueddish, not in English—I cannot speak English—I did not know him before; it was the first time I had seem him when he came up—I never told the boy that I had known him before, because I cannot speak English—I can swear that I did not speak a word to the boy in English—I never told the boy that Lipski had gone for a vice, nor did I tell him that I had been in this man's company before—I did not hear any knock when this strange man came, and I did not hear any knock when the boy came—the window of the room in which I was was a little open, and the door was also a little open—I had breakfast in Lipski's room, bread and butter; the boy saw me—shellac and varnish is used in the business of a stick maker; the shellac is put into the varnish—they call it varnish when the shellac is dissolved in spirits—I don't know how they make the varnish—I have been engaged in the stickmaking business since I have been here, about eight months—Lipski did not ask me to get him some brandy—I don't know whether he used the brandy with his coffee in the morning—he did not give me a farthing to get any brandy with for him; I can swear it—he never said anything to me about wanting change—he never sent me for brandy—I went upstairs and went to work—I did not know that Lipski had a watch and chain; he had a sort of pin in his necktie—I was not standing with the strange man outside the door of Mrs. Angel's room when Lipski came back—I did not know who lived down there; the door of Mrs. Angel's room was not partly open at that time—I will swear in the Temple I was not there when the door was partly open—I did not at any time before the alarm took place on that morning stand before Mrs. Angel's door—I was not standing just outside the door and the strange man just inside the door of Mrs. Angel's room—I did not have any parcel in my hand when Lipski came up the stairs the last time; I can swear that, and I did not throw the parcel down and say to the strange man "He is here, come on"; that is all lies; I did not say it—the strange man did not catch hold of Lipski, nor did I catch hold of him; it is all lies—I did not force open Lipski's mouth; I am not such a strong man as that—I did not force open his mouth while the other man held him; the other one was not there; it is all lies—I come from Plotz, 17 or 18 Polish miles from Warsaw.
prisoner about a month before 21st June—I was with him, working at Mr. Macartz's, where he was employed—I saw him on Wednesday night, 22nd June—he spoke to me in English—he said "Dick, come along with me, I have got some work for you"—I said "What, to work for Mr. Macartz?"—he said "No, for myself, because I am going into business for myself"—I agreed to go and work for him, and went with him that night to 16, Batty Street, and he showed me where to work when I came—I went there on the next Thursday, the 23rd—I went home to my mother that night, and came again on the Friday—Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath, and on Monday I came again—before Tuesday, the 28th, I went to Mr. Lee's shop to make purchases for the prisoner, things for the workshop—I went about nine times to both places—the prisoner told me to go there, and I went along with him—I always went with him, and he would make the purchases in my presence—on the morning of the 28th I went to 16, Batty Street at 8 o'clock; that was my regular hour for coming—I went upstairs to the room on the top floor—the prisoner was not there when I got there, only Simon Rosenbloom—I had not seen him before—I stayed there about an hour, till about 9—during that time the prisoner came into the room—he said "I have been to buy a vice, and the shop is shut up"—a little while after he went out and said "I am going to have another try and see if I can buy the vice"—he then went out—he had on an old hat and an old coat—this is the coat (the one produced); it looks something like it; it had a little white on it when he went out, and this is such a hat as that he wore—it was about five minutes past 9 when he went out—after he had gone a strange man came into the room. (The witness Schmuss was called in.) That is the man—he spoke to Rosenbloom—they had some conversation together, not in a language that I understood—Schmuss remained about five minutes, no longer—he then went out—I went out before him—I was not there when he left; I left him behind—I went downstairs, leaving Rosenbloom and Schmuss upstairs—I went home to breakfast—White's Gardens is about a quarter of a mile from 16, Batty Street—I walked home—I can't tell at what time I got home—I saw my mother when I got home—I had breakfast, and came back to Batty Street—I did not come straight back—I had a little game in the street for about a quarter of an hour, and then went back—I went up to the workshop—Rosenbloom was there, no one else—I stayed there with him about an hour—about half an hour after I got there the prisoner came in—Rosenbloom was still there—the prisoner did not say anything; he did nothing; he stood still in the room for about five minutes, and then went out again, as though to go downstairs—he was dressed the same as I had seen him before—I did not notice anything peculiar about him—I did not see him again up to hearing the disturbance—I remained in the room with Rosenbloom—I first heard the disturbance about 11 o'clock, and I wentdown with Rosenbloom—the people were saying that there was a woman dead—I did not hear any knocking—Rosenbloom went into the room on the first floor—I went downstairs—I did not go into the room.
Cross-examined. Rosenbloom and I were in the prisoner's room for some time; we spoke together—he did not speak to me in English; he kept on saying "Get on with your work; don't be knocking about like this"—he said that in English—I was knocking with a hammer at the place where the tools were, playing with it—Rosenbloom was talking
to the strange man, who came in while he was there—I did not ask him whether he knew the man—he said he knew him—I could not understand if he knew him—the reason why I thought he knew him was speaking in his own language—he did not tell me that he knew him—he said "I know that man; I have been in his company before"—he did say that.
The COURT: Just now you said he did not tell you; now you say he did tell you. Witness: I forgot my words; I now remember that Rosenbloom did say so.
By MR. MCINTYRE. He said it in English—he also told me a second time that he knew the man a little time; he told me that twice—Rosenbloom told me that the prisoner had gone for a vice—he said those words in English, "Lipski has gone for a vice"—it was about 9 when I went to breakfast—I left the room door open when I left—there was a bed there, a sofa that kept the door open—the filing made much noise—I could sometimes hear the people in the street speaking—fine-filing does not make much noise—Rosenbloom was doing fine-filing that morning, that did not make much noise—the hammering I did made more noise than the filing.
Re-examined. The prisoner told me he was going to buy the vice—Rosenbloom also told me afterwards, when I first came in at 8 to work—he told me that he had gone to buy a vice and a sponge—he spoke to me in English, half his own language and half our language—I just understood him—I could not always understand him—I have said that I thought Rosenbloom knew the man that came in, because they spoke the same language; that is right—he afterwards said "I know that man, because I have been in his company before, where he used to work"—he said that half in English and half in his own language—he said as much English as his own language—he said in English that he had been in his company before; he said it in half English—he did not know much English; he just told me what I could understand—I could make out what he meant—I could make out all that he meant—the part that was in English I could understand; the part in the foreign language I could not understand—I am quite clear that they did speak together in a foreign language, and I thought they knew each other before I was told anything—the prisoner spoke English—when he came in he stood thinking to himself about something—I did not speak to him, nor did Rosenbloom, not a word; none of the three said a word—the first disturbance I heard was people screaming downstairs—before the Magistrate that gentleman (Mr. Geohegan) asked me a number of questions—it was about 10 o'clock when the prisoner came in, said nothing, and went out again—I don't know the time exactly; I thought it was about 10 o'clock—I can't say to a little one way or the other.
By MR. MCINTYRE. When I came at 8 o'clock the house door was ajar—it was not bolted; I just pushed it and it came open.
ANNIE PITMAN . I am the wife of Richard Pitman, of 2, White's Gardens, Star Street—the last witness is my son; he is 14 years old—I knew that he was working for the prisoner—he used to come home to breakfast—on Tuesday morning, 28th June, he came home to breakfast about a quarter past 9—he did not remain another quarter of an hour, or 20 minutes at the outside; he then left to return to his work—I have no means of fixing the exact time.
MARK SCHMIDT . I keep a general shop at 94, Backchurch Lane—I am Russian Pole—I have kept that shop eight years—I know some foreign Jews who have come to this country for work; I can't say I know a great many—they come to my shop sometimes, not very much—on Monday, 27th June I was at my shop—I saw the prisoner that afternoon—I had known him for about a year—there were a couple of workmen in the shop when he came in—one of them was a man named Schmuss—the prisoner asked me if I could send him a man to work at filing—I knew that he was a stickmaker—I said "There are four men here; you can have which you like"—Schmuss was one; I can't tell you the names of the other three—I have seen them outside. (Schmuss, Rosenbloom, and Barsuch were called in.) Those are the three men—the prisoner went outside with the four men and talked with them—I did not hear what they talked—the prisoner came into the shop again, and I saw no more of him—the four men came next day and they were there all Monday afternoon—next morning, Tuesday, the prisoner came about 8 o'clock and asked for a vice—I showed him a few; the last was 3s. 6d. he offered 3s. 3d.—I did not want to take it—I left him outside the shop—my shop is next door to Mr. Lee's, the oil shop—before the prisoner left me he asked me when did the oil shop open—I told him half past 8, and left him outside—about 12 o'clock that day Schmuss came—at that time I had heard the report that Mrs. Angel was killed—I had some talk with Schmuss about it—I saw him every day afterwards for five or six days—he came every day to ask for a job—he told me he should go to Birmingham, and said goodbye to me—I have been a stickmaker 17 years—some use aqua-fortis, or vitriol, for sticks.
Cross-examined. It is used for staining or burning out sometimes—I was examined before the Coroner, and before the Magistrate—I did not on those occasions tell what I have been asked about Schmuss—nothing was said about sponge when I saw the prisoner on the morning of the 28th; only about the vice-these four men are lockmakers; they make locks and do general jobs—all of them are locksmiths; they told me that—I don't know.
Re-examined. I did not know Schmuss by name.
ISAAC SCHMUSS (interpreted). I come from Elizabethan Graff, near Odessa, in Russia—up to recently I was lodging at 42, Gough Street, Birmingham, and worked in Ince Street, Birmingham—I am a locksmith by trade—I have been recently employed as a slipper maker—I came to England about seven or eight months ago—among other places I went to Mr. Schmidt's in Backchurch Lane in the hope of finding employment, and also to work at jobs—I there met with other Russian Jews, Tottakoski, Barsuch, and Robenski—I was at Mr. Schmidt's shop on a Monday afternoon with Tottakoski and others-whilst there the prisoner came in—he spoke to us—he asked where they came from, and what trade they were, and whether we wanted work—I said I was a locksmith—the prisoner said "Do you think you can file sticks?—I said "I will see; I never filed them; I will try"—he said "Come with me and I will show you the door, and to-morrow you will come to me, and I will engage you"—upon that I went with him to the door of No. 16, and he told me to come next morning about 8 o'clock—I can't say for certain whether I went back to Schmidt's after I left the prisoner; it appears to me I did go back—I went there next morning, Tuesday the 28th, about 8
o'clock—Tottakoski was not there; he had not come—I waited there 15 minutes, and then went to No. 16—it must have been about a quarter past 8 o'clock when I got there—the door was open—as I came to the door the prisoner came to me—he said "You shall go upstairs; wait a minute and I will come upstairs, and then I will give you something to do"—I do not know where he went or how he was dressed—I went upstairs to the top of the house, and in the room there I found a man and a boy, those are the two (Rosenbloom and Pitman)—I did not speak much to Rosenbloom—I spoke to him in Yueddish—I remained there 10 or 15 minutes—the prisoner did not come into the room while I was there; the boy left the room first—I stayed about a minute's time after he left; not more, and I went to eat my breakfast—I returned to Mr. Schmidt's that same day, about 12 o'clock mid-day—while I was there Tottakoski came in—I did not return to No. 16—Mr. Schmidt first told me that the woman was dead, when I went there about 12 o'clock—at that time I was lodging at 60, Oxford Street, Stepney; I remained at that address for the next eight or ten days—during that time I went every day to Mr. Schmidt's; at the end of that time I went to Birmingham in order to get some work there—Robenski came to see me off by the train to Birmingham—at Birmingham I went to lodge at 42, Gough Street, and worked at Ince Street as a slipper maker—from there I wrote this letter to Mr. Rabonovitz, of 60, Oxford Street, my landlord and my countryman—an inspector of police, afterwards came to Birmingham and brought me to London.
Cross-examined. I only worked at slipper making since I went to Birmingham—I do not speak English at all; I can't say not a word—I did not see the prisoner at all after I left the shop on the morning of the 28th—I did not go into the room belonging to Mrs. Angel; I went in nowhere—I was not standing in the doorway of her room when the prisoner came up the stairs I was not there—I was not there with Rosenbloom—I saw Rosenbloom once; I saw him for the first time in the prisoner's room—I have been brought up as a locksmith; I learnt it at home—before I went to Birmingham I heard that the prisoner was taken up by the police—I heard it the very day I went to the prisoner's place—I heard by the newspapers of the inquiry before the Magistrate—I cannot read—Mr. Schmidt told me that they had locked him up—I went to Birmingham on Sunday night eight or ten days after I had been to the prisoner's—up to that time I was seeing Mr. Schmidt every day—I did not go back to the prisoner's after I had had my breakfast—I saw that I should not have a great chance of work there, so I did not go back.
STEVA TOTTAKOSKI (Interpreted). I come from Odessa—I came to England in search of work—among other places I went to Mr. Schmidt's in Backchurch Lane; I there met Isaac Schmuss—I was at Mr. Schmidt's on a Monday evening when the prisoner came in—he said he could give work for two people—I heard him say to Schmuss he would show him where he lived—I had an appointment with Schmuss that night to meet him at Schmidt's next morning, and I went thereat 9 or 10 o'clock next morning—Schmuss was not there—I waited about an hour or more—he afterwards came, and we stayed there till 5 o'clock in the evening—after that I saw Schmuss about four times during the time he was in London.
Batty Street—we live at the bottom; I let out the first and second floors—the prisoner lived on the top floor—Mr. and Mrs. Angel lived in the first-floor front—the prisoner did not know Mrs. Angel—on the Tuesday morning my husband went out to work about half-past 6 o'clock—I got up about half-past 8 o'clock—I went into the kitchen; there was no one there—directly after I got there the prisoner came in; he was fully dressed—he had his coat and hat on—he asked me to go and get his coffee for him—I had been in the habit of doing that every day—I went and got some hot water taking the coffee pot with me and buying the hot water and bringing the coffee back ready to drink—he said nothing more to me at that time—he asked me for 5s.—I said "I have not got it; go to your young girl's mother; she lends you so much; she will lend you 5s. too"—he said "I am ashamed to go to her; she only gave me last night 25s. "—Mrs. Lyons is the mother of Kate Lyons the young woman I spoke of—the prisoner spoke to me in Hebrew—it was after that that I went to get the hot water for the coffee—he said "Go for the coffee; I shall be here when you come back with it"—I went out to Backchurch Lane and there got the hot water—I left the house just about half-past 8 o'clock—the door was open when I went out—I paid for the water—I got back in about 20 minutes—that would be somewhere about 10 minutes to 9 o'clock—the door was still open—I went into the kitchen; there was no one there; the prisoner was not there—Mrs. Levy met me in the passage—I put the coffee pot on the table, and went and called out to the prisoner "Come down and have your coffee;" there was no answer—I called a second time, and the boy answered "He aint here"—I then had my breakfast and sent the children to school—about half-past 9 o'clock my mother, Mrs. Ruben—stein, came down—she lodged in the same room with Mrs. Levy—the coffee was still on the table—about 10 o'clock I went out with Mrs. Levy to shop in Petticoat Lane—I had not seen the prisoner again up to that time—the coffee was in the same place—I could not say whether anybody came in and left the house during that time, I was busy with my children for school; I did not see anybody—when I left I left my mother in charge of the house, and gave her certain directions about the coffee—I was away just an hour in Petticoat Lane—I came back with Mrs. Levy somewhere about 11 o'clock—when I came back I saw my mother sitting on a chair in the passage outside in the street, and Mrs. Dinah Angel, the deceased's mother-in-law, met me in the passage; she spoke to me and then went into the house and went upstairs—I did not hear her try the door—she called down to me; upon that I told Mrs. Levy to go upstairs—she went up and then called out something to me, in consequence of which I threw everything down and ran upstairs—I did not try the door of Mrs. Angel's room, T went up beyond the first floor and looked through the little window; I could see through from the staircase—there was a muslin curtain over it—I saw Mrs. Angel on the bed; she looked to me a little like fainting—I then came down to the first-floor landing and burst open the door—I did not try the door much, because Mrs. Levy and Mrs. Dinah Angel said it was locked—the three of us together burst the door open—I pushed with my leg and knee—I cannot tell whether all the three pushed with the knees—I did not fix myself against anything so as to be able to push harder, I just pushed my knee against the door—my back was not against anything—we were only a second before we got it open;
we had no difficulty in getting it open, I pushed with my knee, and it opened—we all three went into the room together—I went round to the bed on which the woman was lying—I was the first to get round there—I took her by one arm arm and shook her, and called to her; she did not answer me—her face was sideways, I could not tell you in what direction; see if any portion of her body was exposed; she was half covered, the other half was uncovered—she was wearing a chemise, no night-dress—I noticed like burnt in front of the chemise—I did not notice how her hair was—there was some furniture in the room—I did not notice any sign of disturbance of the furniture—when I found this I began to run down and scream in the street, leaving the door open—I went for Dr. Kaye, he was out—I returned to the room, and then went a second time for Dr. Kaye—I saw an assistant, and then returned to the house, and as I was returning I saw the doctor in his carriage—he came to the house directly and went up to the room where the deceased was.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been lodging with us for nearly two years; he was a steady, respectable young man, and always bore a good character with every one—he wanted the 5s. for his work—he told me he had borrowed 25s. from his intended mother-in-law the last night; that was true—he was then fitting up his room for the purpose of making it a workshop, and he was purchasing materials to some considerable amount, some pounds; his rent was increased from 2s. to 5s. a week—Mrs. Angel had borrowed 5s. from Mrs. Levy the day before, to pay her rent—the lock of Mrs. Angel's door fitted properly; one portion was not too high, it just fitted—after the 28th, Mr. Angel left the house, and we let the room to other people—the lock remained on the door while the other people were using the room—it remained on the door three weeks before the policeman came and had it cut off—the box of the lock was not higher than the lock itself, it would just fit—Q. Is this correct?"Where the old lock had been a hole was left large enough for three fingers, and the box of the lock was higher than the lock itself"—A. Yes; this is also correct, "With the key inside I could catch the key from the outside, through the hole left from the old lock;" you could just touch it, you could not lock it from the outside.
By the COURT. All I mean is that when you were outside the door you could put your hand through and touch the key, but not enough to lock it by the fingers.
By MR. MCINTYRE. The lock was taken off just exactly two weeks after; it was sawn off—Mrs. Levy went out shopping with me on the 28th—my mother was the only person left in charge of the house—she can see a little, but very little; she is obliged to feel as she goes about—the street door is sometimes left, so that any one pushing against it can come in; that is the ordinary way—I had a pawn-ticket belonging to the prisoner for a gold chain—he had a silver watch until just at this time.
Re-examined. I do not know whether he had it on this Tuesday morning—I know he had a watch; I saw him with it one Saturday, I cannot recollect when—I do not know that he pawned it, he did not tell me—I did not see him with it for some time, I cannot think when—nothing had been done to the lock of the door before it was sawn off;
I had not had a locksmith to do anything to it—it was used to lock the room up—the police came with a man and cut off the piece.
By MR. MCINTYRE. Before it was cut off I had been shown the lock, which was partly burst off.
By the COURT. The lock was good on this Tuesday—nothing happened to it till a man belonging to the police broke open the door—I was out at the time; when I came back I saw the door open—I saw the lock; it was then broken, hanging down—that was a fortnight after the woman's death—I saw the man who did it, it was a detective, it was Bitten—I said "What have you done this for?" and he said he would send a carpenter to put it on again—the carpenter did not come—a week after the detective came with two men to saw off the lock altogether—daring the fortnight before Bitten came the lock was as it used to be; the woman used to lock it.
GEORGE BITTEN (Re-examined). When I went into the room for this purpose I merely opened the door, just turned the handle—I never found the door locked so that I could not get in; I did not force it in any way or damage the lock—Mr. Angel had left the room then; somebody was occupying it; I do not know the name, they were foreigners—I went there on 13 or 14 occasions—I never forced the lock—the lock produced is exactly in the same condition as it was on the night of the occurrence—there might be some little difficulty to explain about the locking of this particular lock (Taking up the lock)—this is the inside of the door, and this is the hole that has been spoken of—the landlord is here who put it on, and he can explain it—on the day of the occurrence these screws had been forced out so as to get the door open—this is an actual piece of the door and doorpost.
Cross-examined. Sometimes when I went there there were no persons in the room; sometimes Mrs. Lipski would come up with me; the occupier of the room opened the door to me on one or two occasions, but it takes a time to make it plain—a week before she went there, when the room was unoccupied I used to open the door in the usual way—if you locked the door it would not answer, only just to keep the wind off; if you just touched the door it came open.
DINAH ANGEL . My son lived with his wife at 16, Batty Street—I saw her on the Monday evening before this happened—she used to come to me to breakfast; her time would be sometimes half-past 8, sometimes 9 o'clock—on this Tuesday she did not come to breakfast, and about 11 o'clock I went round to her house—there was no one at the door when I got there, I saw no one—I afterwards saw Mrs. Rubenstein—I then went up to my son's room—I had seen Mrs. Levy but not Mrs. Lipski before that—I went to the door of my son's room and tried it, and it was closed—I saw Mrs. Levy try the handle, and she said "The key is inside," and then she went up the stairs and looked through this place in the partition—I knocked at the door, but could get no answer—Mrs. Levy was there when the door was forced open; we got it open by forcing it with the hand; Mrs. Lipski was not there then—I and Mrs. Levy both went into the room together, ran to the bed, and I thought my daughter-in-law was fainting; she laid with her hands so, and her head aside, and Mrs. Levy put her hands aside and moved her head, thinking she was fainting—she then saw she was dead, and went out and created an alarm—she was lying on the bed with her head aside
and her hands behind, and the whole of her was uncovered, and her night-dress or chemise was up—I did not see where the covering to the bed was; I rushed out of the room at once—I did not look at the furniture in the room, but the window-blind was pulled down and the window was closed—I did not see the doctor come; I was in a fainting condition, and they took me out, and they would not let me in again.
Cross-examined. I did not try to see if the window had any fastening.
LEAH LEVY . I am the wife of Abraham Levy, but I am living apart from him and have been lodging at 16, Batty Street—on the morning of 28th June I came down about a quarter to nine, and shortly after I looked out into the street and saw Mrs. Lipski in the street coming to the house with a coffee pot in her hand—I called up to the prisoner, telling him that his coffee was ready, and the boy answered from upstairs—I went out with Mrs. Lipski at 10 o'clock that morning and returned at 11—Mrs. Angel, senior, was coming in at the time—she went upstairs and knocked at the door of her daughter's bedroom—I then went up and looked into the bedroom through the little window and saw young Mrs. Angel lying on the bed—she looked very bad—Mrs. Lipski also came up and looked into the window—I said "She looks bad"—the mother-in-law then said "Perhaps she is fainting"—the three of us then came down from the landing to the bedroom door and the mistress said would she open the door—then the whole three of us pushed the door open—before that was done I looked through the keyhole and saw the key inside in the lock—when we pushed open the door we went into the room and saw the woman as she lay in bed.
Cross-examined. I lent Mrs. Angel 5s. the day before this to pay her rent—about a fortnight afterwards I recollect police-sergeant Bitten coming to the house—he was alone then—he wanted to go upstairs—I said it was locked—he said "I must go in very particularly"—I said "It is locked"—he said he would open it—he then pushed in the door and went in—at that time Mrs. Jacobs was the tenant of the room—she was not at home at the time.
RACHEL RUBENSTEIN . I live at J 6, Batty Street—I occupy the back room first floor with Mrs. Levy—I slept there with her on that Monday night—on the Tuesday morning I went downstairs either at half-past nine or 10—Mrs. Lipski and Mrs. Levy afterwards went out shopping—I saw that the prisoner's coffee had been prepared for him and heard him called—while they were out I was downstairs in charge of the premises, and also took care of the children—I was in the back room—I was at the street door at one time—I took a chair out from the room and sat myself there, because I cannot see well—during the time they were out no one entered the house direct—I first went into the yard—I was minding the children in the yard and came back and took a chair there, so that the children should not go to the water—somebody came while I was sitting there and wanted to go upstairs—I said "Where are you going?"—he said he was going upstairs—I said "Why?" and I would not let him go there—I don't know that man—he wanted to go up to Angel's room and I would not let him—he asked if the boots were done.
Cross-examined. One of the children ran away to the back and went into the yard—I had some trouble in catching the child, I was afraid he had run away—I was in the back yard some time trying to catch it, only a few minutes—I did not take particular notice of the time—I don't know how
long it was—when I came from the back yard to the front I sat out in the street on the pavement on a chair; that is a little to the left hand of the door—I put the chair there for myself.
SAMUEL SPIERS . I am also called Lamed the teacher—I live at 24, Brunswick Street, St. George's-in-the-East—I am a Hebrew teacher—the deceased woman, Mrs. Angel came to my house on Sunday, the 26th June, and took away with her two pairs of boots to be repaired—on Tuesday morning, the 28th, I went to Batty Street, getting there at half-post 9 or 10 o'clock—Mrs. Rubenstein was seated outside the door—I said to her that I wanted to go in—I stood outside the house for a quarter of an hour with a man and spoke about my own affairs—I went there to get my boots—during the time I was outside the blind to the window of the first-floor was down.
HARRIS DYWEEN . I am a general dealer, living at 52, Fairclough Street, Commercial Road—I know Mr. Angel and I knew his wife; I last saw her alive on Monday night, 27th June, past 12 o'clock—she came to ask me the address of a post-card—when she left she seemed cheerful in spirits and well in health—I did not know the prisoner at all up to 28th June—on the morning of 28th June I was outside my shop—about 11 or a quarter-past I heard a noise and ran into Batty Street to see what was the matter—I went into No. 16 and up to the first-floor front room—I met Dinah Angel on the stairs, she spoke to me—on going into the room I saw the deceased lying on the bed on her back, her face was towards the wall, one hand was just on her chest and one hand behind her back—her hair was disarranged, all over the bed—there were several marks on the right side of her face, I could not tell whether scratches or what—her chemise or night-dress was right up to the breast—her person was exposed—I did not notice if a pillow was on the ground—I could not see any signs of a struggle in the room—I covered her up in some way—after I had done that Mr. Piper, Dr. Kay's assistant, came—he said something to all who were there, in consequence of which they all went out of the room—I could not say who was there at the time—there were several people in the room, I never counted them—before I left the room Mr. Piper wanted the door-key; he said we had all got to clear out of the room and he would lock the door, so Mr. Piper took the key out from inside the door and he could not lock the door until he had unlocked the lock, and he could not take the key out and could not lock the door from the outside because the join was out—I saw him turn the bolt back and take the key out—then I left the room and Mr. Piper left the room, locking the door and taking the key with him—about 10 minutes after that Dr. Kay came and he and Mr. Piper and some others went back into the room, Mr. Piper unlocking the door—when we got back Dr. Kay said something about a bottle, in consequence of which we looked for a bottle, and Mr. Piper and Dr. Kay said we should take everything from underneath the bed—I took from underneath the bed an old coat and then pulled away an old egg-box, several old clothes were in that; Mr. Piper and Dr. Kay said "Is there anything else underneath the bed?"—I looked underneath the bed and said "There is something underneath the bedstead"—Mr. Piper and Dr. Kay said "Go and see what it is"—I laid down and felt like a hand—while I was coming back Dr. Kay jumped on the bed and took away the pillow, which was towards the wall, and said "Why, it is a man," so he told me I should call for the
police—the bedstead was pulled away—the doctor felt the man's pulse and then slapped his face—two constables lifted the man from under the bed; he was still on the ground when the doctor felt his pulse and slapped his face—I felt a man's hand, Dr. Kay jumped on the bed, threw off some bed clothes, and said "Why, it is a man"—the man was lying on his back and his shirt-sleeves were tucked up, his Guernsey-sleeves were down, his waistcoat unbuttoned; he had no coat on, he had boots on; he was like unconscious—I saw an egg-box under the bed, I had pulled that out, the man was behind it—Dr. Kay told me to call down for police—he had felt the man's pulse before that—I jumped on the table, I wanted to open the bottom window, but it was impossible, it was too tight—I opened the top window and called for constables, and two constables came up; the man was not got out before they came, he remained between the bedstead and the wall—I cannot remember now if we pulled the bedstead away from the wall when the two constables came into the room—they lifted the prisoner up from behind the bed and lifted him into a corner and held him against the wall—Dr. Kay told him "Look what you have been doing to the poor body"—I could not tell whether the prisoner could stand when they put him in the corner, because the two constables were still holding his hands—then Dr. Kay told the constables to take him to the station—Dr. Kay had felt his pulse and slapped his face when he was lying on the ground—the prisoner opened his eyes after his face was slapped, he never spoke—I cannot tell the distance the bedstead was from the wall because they have a German feather bed, the bed-covers were half on the wall and half on the bed—I looked for the bottle under the bed, but did not find it there—I was present when it was found—it was seen by a constable—I pulled the bed off, and prevented the bed falling down from the bedstead, I put the feather bed on the bedstead, so I found the bottle as it was lying and showed it to the constable—I saw it before the constable—when I first saw it it was on just the middle part of the bed on the wall side—when we pulled the bedstead away for Dr. Kay to come in there to see the man the feather bed fell away and then I saw the bottle—I lifted up the feather bed and then I saw the bottle under the feather bed—it was a bottle like that, there was no cork—the constable took it up, I cannot exactly tell whether it was the constable or Dr. Kay—I had nothing to do with the bottle.
Cross-examined. Before I went into the room other people were in it—I could not tell how many, or what people—I could not tell if Rosenbloom was there—I did not see him in the room—it was not necessary for me to look over the people; I cannot tell—there were, no women there when I first went in—I met the deceased's mother-in-law on the stairs; she had been there before me, but she was fainting in the back room—I did not see Mrs. Lipski there—the women were in the back room, because Mrs. Dinah Angel was so bad—Dr. Kay and Mr. Piper did not tell me to look under the bed for the bottle, but to take the things out from underneath the bed—Dr. Kay said there must be a bottle somewhere, and then he and Mr. Piper told me to look under the bed, and then I and Simon did look under the bed—Simon was there afterwards, and he was there before the bottle was found—I did not see him the first time I entered the room—Simon did not hand the bottle to the doctor—I did not see Simon with the bottle at all—the bedclothes were lying against the wall, half on the wall and half on the bed—the bedstead itself must have been about 8 to
10 inches from the wall before it was moved—we moved it out so far that the doctor could go down to see to the man—I could not say whether the doctor could not get down to see to the man before we moved the bed—he did not go down until the bed was pulled over—I could not tell whether we pulled it over 2 or 3 feet—when I saw the man he was lying on his back, and his eyes were shut—he was still on his back when the doctor slapped his face, between the bedstead and the wall—I could not tell whether the prisoner fell down when the policemen placed him against the wall—I was there—I never took particular notice whether he could stand or not, or whether he fell down—I took particular notice the two constables were holding his hands—we got out the bed from the wall before we found the bottle, and after the doctor had gone down to the man—it was after the bed was moved that we found the bottle.
WILLIAM PIPER . I am assistant to Dr. Kay, surgeon, in Commercial Road—on the Tuesday morning I was stopped in the street, and went to No. 16, about half past 11—I went at once upstairs and into the front bedroom on the first floor—at that time Dywein and Rosenbloom and two or three women and perhaps another man were in the room—I saw the deceased on the bed lying on her back, with her head inclined to the right towards the wall, with her right arm more or less over her breast, her parts exposed, the chemise rolled up to just underneath the breast, so that I could see the lower parts exposed, the right leg was drawn up—I at once went to her and moved her head towards me—I moved her arm; I found she was dead—I put her back in the same position as I found her—I then looked round and cleared the room; I told the people to go out—I noticed the window; there was a top blind down, and an ordinary curtain across the lower panes—the sash of the window was shut, and the upper sash was slightly open, 1 1/2 or 2 inches—I saw a female's clothes on a chair, as if undressed from the night before, and a pair of trousers lying on the floor—there was a square pillow on the floor—the woman was lying on the bare sacking of the bed; the ordinary covering was pushed down towards the foot of the bedstead—I did not notice at that time how far the bedstead was from the wall—I saw a table in front of the window—there was a glass on the table which I looked at and smelt; it appeared to be beer or stout—that is all I noticed at that time, except that I saw yellow marks of acid on the floor and on the woman's chemise and face, her mouth and lips and chin—I did not notice whether her face was injured at that time—that was all I noticed before I proceeded to leave the room—when I went to the door to leave the room I saw the key was on the inside of the door in the lock—I took it out and went to shut the door, and I then found the lock had been locked, so that the bolt was shot, and that prevented me from shutting the door completely to—it had a queer look, so I went back and unlocked it from inside—it was shot, and would not come to—the bolt came on the box; I had to unlock it—the box was slightly loosed, and when the bolt came on thereat got more forward, so that it would not shut—I am quite sure this part into which the bolt shoots was loose—it is a spring lock; only one part is spring—it appeared to me by pushing against it it forced it away, and would loose the box into which the lock shoots—I found it was locked—I then locked it from outside, putting the key in on the outside—this is exactly as it was—it has been tightened since—I did not touch the box
of the lock at all; I did nothing to it—afterwards I went outside, pulled the door to, and locked the door from the outside—the room at that time had been cleared, and nobody went in—I took the key out, and kept it my possession—I went and fetched Dr. Kay, my principal; he returned with me a very few, perhaps 10, minutes afterwards—there was one constable on the outside of the door, keeping the crowd back—I unlocked the door, and Dr. Kay and I entered the room—several others came in, I cannot tell who; Dywein and Rosenbloom, people who were there—the police came in shortly afterwards—Dr. Kay examined the woman—I saw this bottle, not then, but subsequently, in the room—it was not exactly found, it was pointed out by Rosenbloom to the constable; it was then lying in one of the folds of the feather bed—there was no cork in it; I put one in—Dr. Kay took it—we both looked at and smelt it—there was just a little stuff in it; I formed the opinion that it was nitric acid, commonly called aqua fortis—I saw the prisoner there—in searching for the bottle Dr. Kay got on the bed to remove the pillow, and discovered this man lying between the bed and the wall—I think I assisted someone in pulling the bed out—it was pulled out, and then we both got down on that side and Dr. Kay examined the man and found he was not dead, so we woke him up—he was in his shirt-sleeves, which were rolled up—I did not see his coat or hat found there—the police and Dr. Kay were there—then the police took charge of the prisoner, and he was taken to Dr. Kay's surgery first, then to the station-house, and afterwards to the hospital.
Cross-examined. When I first went into the room three or four women were there—they were in a very excited state; they usually are—they were not very near the bed when I went in—I asked them to come out when I was coming away to leave the room; probably I might have put my hand on the shoulder of one or two of them and said "Go out; we want to clear the room"—one wanted to catch a glimpse of the woman and I said "No, no," and stood in front of her—when I went in the door was left open and several people were behind me, both men and women—I should not say I was there 10 minutes before I desired the people to go and turned them out—Rosenbloom pointed out where the bottle was—the bottle was then in one of the folds of the covering of the bed as it was being moved; we were searching for the bottle.
ARTHUR SACK (Policeman H 389). On Tuesday, 28th June, about 12 o'clock, I was on duty in Commercial Road and was called to 16, Batty Street—I went up to the room on the first floor and found Dr. Kay, Mr. Piper, and Harris Dywein—at that time the body of the woman lay dead on the bed—Dr. Kay spoke to me about the body of a man underneath the bed, and I helped to pull the bed away out of the recess—the bed was some little distance from the wall when we began to pull it; we pulled it a little further away, quite a yard I should think—then the prisoner was seen lying on the other side of the bed on the ground—he was on his back in his shirt sleeves which were rolled up—instructed by the doctor I assisted to lift the man up from the ground—he seemed to know a little—his eyes were opened when we lifted him up—I noticed yellow stains on his shirt and hands—when we had assisted him up he could see the deceased as she lay; he fell down backwards again—in consequence of what the doctor said I got a cab and took him first to Dr. Kay's and then to the police-station and afterwards to the London Hospital, where I left him
in charge of a constable—he did not speak during the whole of this time; he did not seem to be in pain—he was asked his name at the hospital about three quarters of an hour after he left 16, Batty Street, and he wrote down the name of Lipski—I was present when the bottle was found—Dr. Kay actually picked it up from the bed.
Cross-examined. I saw Dr. Kay pick it up—I could not say if he was the first who touched it—Dywein pointed it out—I said the prisoner seemed to be unconscious when on his back—I did not notice that the bedstead had been pulled out before I got there—Dr. Kay pointed the man out to me.
ALFRED INWOOD (Policeman H 431). On the Tuesday I was passing through Batty Street, and in consequence of what I heard I went to the first floor front room, where I found Dr. Kay, Mr. Piper, and Sack—after Sack took the prisoner away I searched the room—I found this hat of the prisoner at the foot of the bed on the near side as you approach the bed, covered over by a pillow—this old coat, which has been identified as the prisoner's, I found at the foot of the bed near the wall under the bed on the floor—there was this other newer coat over it—over them was a row of nails or pegs with clothes hanging on them—I did not notice anything particularly the matter with the good coat at the time—I noticed it was lying down as if it had been laid down, as if it had not fallen—on the old underneath coat I noticed stains and also smelt a very strong smell coming from it; it burnt the skin off my fingers when I picked it up—it was very wet—I saw an old pair of trousers lying on the floor against an old egg box under the bedstead—there were some old clothes in the egg box—I did not see where the waistcoat was found—the things hanging on the walls were female clothing, such as dresses and petticoats, and another coat I believe there was—I took charge of the prisoner's coat on the floor and the hat—I left the other, the better, coat there—afterwards I took the coat wet with the stuff on it to the station and handed it to Inspector Final.
Cross-examined. When I searched the room the prisoner had been taken away in custody by the police—there was no crowd on the stairs or coming into the room then—I had removed them—there was a crowd coming in—on the near side of the bed I found the hat, that was nearest to the door—the prisoner was in the room when I reached there—when I began my search the prisoner had been taken away a few minutes.
CHARLES PETERS . I live at 222, Romford Road, Stratford, and am the leaseholder of 16, Batty Street—for about 20 years I have been accustemed to fixing locks and doing repairs of that description myself—I remember fixing a lock on the door of the first floor room of 16, Batty Street; it was about a fortnight or three weeks before this sad affair—it was a brand new lock and a very good lock, I believe—after I had fixed it I tried it to satisfy myself; it would unlock and lock, and then I saw the deceased sitting by the window and tried to make her understand to come and try the lock herself, but I found I could make no effect on her—then I went to the door and tried it backwards and forwards and beckoned her, and she tried it and bowed and went away—it was then in perfectly good and working order to my satisfaction—this is the lock and the box, but the wedge that I cut was not split in this way—I imagine it has got split in wrenching the door open—I put the wedge to complete it, that the box might be placed on it, and so that it would be steady—the lock was in my opinion perfectly available to lock the door.
Cross-examined. I was not brought up as a locksmith—I consider myself a practical man—I served seven years' apprenticeship to a tailor and worked at that for ten years after—the box was in the centre of the lock a little below the top, and a little higher than the bottom of the lock.
By the COURT. I have a set of carpenter's tools for my own use and amuse myself with them; I brought a parcel with a hammer in it to-day as I thought the case would not come on.
WILLIAM PIPER (Re-examined by MCINTYRE). The partition enclosing the room was wooden and gave, and when the door was forced open it did not injure the lock but shifted the box slightly from one of these pegs underneath—it interfered with the box.
THOMAS WARWICK . I live at 19, Batty Street, as nearly as possible opposite 16—I work in the front parlour on ground floor of No. 19—on Tuesday morning, 28th June, I was at work there from 6 o'clock till I heard of the sad affair—from where I sit I can see quite clearly without effort across the street—up to my hearing of the sad affair I heard no noise or disturbance from over the way—if any person had got out of the first floor window opposite on that morning I must have seen him—I saw no one get out of a window in that house that morning—I knew the prisoner by sight before this day—I saw him on that morning about a quarter to 9 go in that house; he had his coat and hat on and carried a very small parcel in his hand, and I never saw him after that—I noticed the window of the first floor, there was a long blind down and a short blind covered the lower part of the window—the window itself was a little bit open at the top—the first I saw was Dywein and Dr. Kay putting their heads out of window—I first saw Dywein that morning when the top part of the window was pulled down—he had to pull it down five or six inches or more in order to call out.
Cross-examined. I was not examined before the coroner nor before the magistrate—I was at the police court—I first gave my evidence about three weeks ago—the time I saw Lipski go in was the only occasion on which I saw him that morning—I never saw him come out at all that morning—it was about a quarter to 9 he went in—I work at boot and shoe making—between six o'clock and the time this happened I went to breakfast—I was not looking out of window all the time, I was down stairs getting my breakfast about 7 or 8 o'clock—I must have been blind if I did not see the man come out of the window opposite while I was at work.
Re-examined. I got back from breakfast a little after 9 o'clock—I breakfast in the same house.
Saturday, July 30th, 1887.
DAVID FINAL (Inspector H). On 28th June about a quarter to I the prisoner was brought to Leman Street Police-station; he appeared to be partially insensible—he was seen by Mr. Phillips the divisional surgeon—I gave him some mustard and warm water and Dr. Phillips ordered him some afterwards—that had not the effect of making him sick—after that I searched him and found on him 2s. or 3s. silver and some coppers and a pawn ticket—I put back the ticket and the money in his pocket and he was sent to the London Hospital—I then went to 16, Batty Street, arriving there about half-past 1 I think—I went up to the first floor front room, of which a constable was in charge at the time—the
door was locked, the constable opened it and I went into the room and examined the lock—the screws of the box were about a quarter of an inch drawn from the wood as if the door had been forced and the wood was split as it now is—the lock was in perfect order except that the bolt was shot—after this I went upstairs and I could see through the little window in the partition—the deceased woman was still lying on the bed, I could see her as she lay there—later on Inwood brought me this coat and hat—I searched the coat pockets and in one of them found this, "J. Lipski, United Stick and Cane Dressers' Protection Society," and a pawn ticket for a silver Geneva watch pawned in the name of John Lipski on 23rd June for 6s., Merdle Street—that was all the search I made at that time—after that I received this bottle from Dr. Kay, it had a cork in it when given to me—on the evening of the same day about half-past 7 I went with Sergeant Thick and an interpreter, Mr. Smedge, to the London Hospital and into a ward where I saw the prisoner in bed—he was then sensible—I spoke to the interpreter and the interpreter spoke to the prisoner in a language I did not understand the prisoner replied to the interpreter, who translated the replies as they were given—I wrote down the replies as they were translated—first of all the prisoner made a statement voluntarily without questions being put; at the conclusion of the statement I put some questions to the prisoner through the interpreter, who translated the answers to them, and I wrote them down in the form of question and answer—this is the book in which I wrote down the statement and the questions and answers—after writing it I read it to the interpreter, he interpreted it to the prisoner, and after that the prisoner said through the interpreter, "I have nothing more to say"—I was in uniform at the time—on 2nd July I charged the prisoner at the London Hospital with this crime—the same interpreter was present; he interpreted the charge to the prisoner, the prisoner made no reply—on the same day the prisoner was brought to Arbour Square Police-station; the interpreter was present—the prisoner was once more charged and he made a reply which the interpreter translated—I made this note of that reply at the time—on 20th July I was present at 16, Batty Street when the lock and the box of the lock were sawn from the first floor room door—the condition of the lock at that time was exactly as it was on 28th June, when I first saw it.
Cross-examined. The police were watching the prisoner in the ward during the time he was at the hospital—a detective officer was there in plain clothes sitting by his bedside—the prisoner had not been charged, but I had him in charge on suspicion of having committed the murder—when I first saw the prisoner on 28th June he was partially insensible—when brought to the station he appeared to be partially insensible—I slapped his face, and he acknowledged it, and then I gave him mustard and water, and he was not sick, and I opened his eye and touched the pupil, and he acknowledged it—that was all done before I was examined before the Magistrate—I said before the Magistrate he appeared partially insensible; the word partially was not put in—I say now he appeared insensible, I qualify it with partially—when I took the interpreter I did not tell the prisoner I intended to charge him with being a murderer—I took the interpreter there for the purpose of getting a statement from the prisoner whom I was there watching from what I had been told—I was doing this on my own responsibility—lam getting up this prosecution—I
had been told the prisoner wished to make a statement—Miss Lyons, the prisoner's young lady, told me that; she came to the police-station—I did not understand what the interpreter said to the prisoner—before the prisoner made a statement I directed the interpreter to caution the prisoner that if he wished to make any statement to me I should take it down in writing, and it might be produced afterwards—the interpreter is here—I directed the interpreter to put five questions to the prisoner—I was before the Coroner at the inquest—the prisoner was not in custody then, but being watched—he had not been charged—he would not have been set at liberty from the hospital—I was before the Coroner on 1st July, and I charged the prisoner on the 2nd.
HENRY DAVID SMEDGE . I live at Leman Street, Whitechapel, and am an interpreter—I have acted as interpreter at the Thames Police-court for many years—on Tuesday, 28th June, I was sent for to the London Hospital—I saw the inspector there in uniform—I sat on the prisoner's bed—the inspector spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said I said to the prisoner "You are not bound to say anything, but what you do say will be taken down in writing by the inspector, and will be used as evidence against you at your trial"—the prisoner then commenced to make a statement, and as he did so I interpreted it to the inspector, who wrote it down in his pocket-book—when the prisoner had made the statement the inspector asked me to put some questions to the prisoner—I translated them to him and the answers to the inspector who wrote down questions and answers—when this had been done the inspector read out from the pocket-book what he had taken down—I translated it to the prisoner as he did so, and when it was finished the prisoner said "I have nothing more to say"—then I left the bedside—on 2nd July at the station I translated the charge to the prisoner when he was formally charged with the murder of Miriam Angel—he made a reply, which I translated to the inspector, and he wrote it down—I had cautioned the prisoner first.
Cross-examined. I said something about a trial to the prisoner at the hospital—it possibly arose from my custom of being used to it—possibly what I said at the police-court to him was "You are not bound to say anything; what you say will be put down"—I told the truth there—he was not charged for some days after 28th June—I don't admit that I am confusing what I said at the hospital with what I said at the police-office—the word trial is so used to me that possibly I might have used it—my impression is that I did use the word trial in Hebrew—I was only at the hospital once—at the police-station the prisoner was formally charged in my presence, and he made a reply—so far as the police are concerned those were the only two occasions on which I saw him and made a charge to him.
DAVID FINAL (Re-examined). This is a copy of what was taken at the bedside in the hospital: "At 7 a.m. a man working for me came; he asked me for work; I told him to wait; I would buy a vice for him, so as he could work. I went to purchase a vice. I went to the shop, but it was too soon. As I was going along I met another workman whom I knew at the corner of Bagchurch Lane. I went back. The shopkeeper wanted four shillings; I offered him three shillings. He would not take it. I returned and came into the passage, and I saw the man that I met in Bagchurch lane. He asked me 'Will you give me work
or not?' I said 'Go to the workshop; I am going to get my breakfast, then I will give you work.' I then told my landlady to make some coffee. I then told a man (meaning the first man that called at 7 a.m.) to fetch some brandy. Then I went to the yard. I went upstairs to the first floor. I then saw both these men. I saw them open a box; they took hold of me by the throat, and threw me to the ground; there on the ground opened my mouth and put in some poison, and said 'That is the brandy.' They got my hands behind me, and asked me if I had any money. 'I have got no more than the sovereign that I gave you to get the brandy with.' He then asked 'Where is your gold chain?' I said 'It is in pawn.' They said 'If you don't give it to us you will be as dead as the woman.' They put a piece of wood in my mouth. I struggled; they put their knees against my throat. One said to the other 'Don't you think he is quite dead?' The reply was 'He don't want any more.' They then threw me under the bed, and there I lay for dead." Q. Do you know who these two men are? A. I know one who formerly worked with me. Q. Do you know his name and where he lives? A. His name is Simon; I don't know where he lives. Q. Do you know anything of the other man? A. I don't know him; he is a stranger to me. Q. Is his name Simon Rosenbloom? A. I can't say. Q. Do you know if Simon lives in Philpot Street? A. I can't say. I have nothing further to say." On 2nd July I read the charge to the prisoner at the police-station, and cautioned him, and the prisoner replied in German "I have not murdered her; I have not done it."
JOHN KAY . I am a Doctor of Medicine and Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and I practice at 100, Commercial Road, the corner of Batty Street—on Tuesday, the 28th June, I was called to 16, Batty Street, and went up into the first floor room at a quarter to 12—my assistant went with me from the surgery, and he and others followed me into the room—on the bed I saw the woman lying on her back dead, with her hair dishevelled; her mouth had a stream of yellow coming from the corner on the left-hand side—her neck had two or three splashes; her breast had a splash—her hands were covered with the stains of nitric acid—the yellow stains were nitric acid, commonly called aqua fortis—she was covered up to her breast with one of the German feather beds—I turned it down to see if any violence had been offered to her—her chemise was pulled up to the breast, and the body was exposed—I noticed blood on the feather bed; splashes of blood and acid mixed—the effect of administering this stuff would cause a person to cough very violently—there were no marks of violence on the lower parts of the body—I formed an opinion she had been dead about three hours—the body was not quite cold—rigor mortis was absent—three hours must be pretty near the time—she was a stout woman—I have taken into consideration the state of the room and the weather and her condition of body in forming my opinion as to the three hours—I did not notice any marks on her face at all then, except those of the acid—I looked about the room to see what she had drunk it out of, and saw a glass containing beer—I looked about for a bottle—Dywein was there—I pulled the bed away from the wall, and stooped over the corpse and looked down between the bed and the wall—the bed was near to the wall or I should not have pulled it out—I looked down to see if there was any bottle there, and I saw the prisoner lying on his back—I could see him without moving anything—he
was in his shirt sleeves; he looked pale; his eyes were partially open—I could see the white of the eye and part of the pupil—I felt his pulse and said "He is alive"—I put my finger on the cornea to see if he was unconscious, and he was—then I slapped him on the face, and he opened his eyes wide—he said nothing to me—I called for police to help me out with him from the corner—one on each side of him took hold of his arms and pulled him out—the bed was pulled round and the prisoner taken round the end; pulled round on the bare floor boards near to the window—I next looked in his mouth and saw he had taken some of the nitric acid; not so much as the woman—after getting him round the bed the police held him up standing—he did not fall down again; they had hold of him—I asked him some questions in English and German, and shook him, but he did not answer—I don't think he could understand what I said to him then—then the police took him away—I had examined his arms and hands to see if there were any scratches; his forearms were bare—I saw there was a little stain of acid on his hands; not much—when I was examining the man on the floor and my back was turned to the bed, Mr. Piper called to me "Here is the bottle"—Mr. Piper then had it in his hand; there was no cork in it—it is a 2-oz. phial—a few drops of the stuff were left, and from those I could tell it was the ordinary nitric acid of commerce; it smelt of that, and I tested it on copper—I made a post-mortem examination next day, the 29th—she was a well-developed woman; six months gone in the family way—I saw no signs of violence on the lower part of the body, and no signs of recent connection—her right eye was discoloured, black and swelled—I noticed a yellow stain at the corner of her mouth—there were no other external injuries—I then cut the scalp and turned it back—I saw over the right temple extravasated blood—the muscle was lacerated and bloody, and in a pulp from violent blows; there must have been more than one blow—I should think at least four blows, and very violent blows, and they were such that they might have been given with a man's fist—the brain was not congested—that does not come on immediately from violent blows; it must have time—she would be rendered unconscious by such blows; she would be stunned—her mouth was injured by the poison; the back of her throat was all charred with the acid—a portion of this stuff had gone into the stomach, and a portion had gone down the larynx and trachea and bronchial tubes, the wind pipe—that would indicate that it had been poured down her throat while she was insensible—the glottis, the covering to the windpipe, was open; in the ordinary course of swallowing that closes, to protect the liquid or food from going the wrong way—the greater portion of the acid appeared to have gone down the windpipe; the approximate amount of stuff used was about half an ounce—her hands were stained with the acid all over the back and front; all over—the cause of death was suffocation produced by the acid acting on the windpipe and closing the passage for the air—it would produce great convulsion of the parts; it would close the windpipe about three minutes after administration—every part of this coat of the prisoner's is marked with the acid—it has the effect of burning away woollen goods—I see one slight stain on Mr. Angel's coat; that might come from resting on the other coat; I could not swear to another stain—the waistcoat is stained with nitric acid, that might come from resting on the other coat—I found no trace of blood on the coat, but on the bed.
Cross-examined. I attributed at the time the blood on the bed to the woman coughing to get rid of the poison—the post-mortem examination and putting the discharge under the microscope completely convinced me there had been no recent connection; there was no evidence of it—the man was not unconscious from the effect of poison; I attributed it to mental perturbation—he was not very unconscious; a slap roused him—I have seen a woman thrown into such a state from mental causes that I could put my finger on to her cornea without her flinching; I don't remember a man—if a man were in a state of mental perturbation, and had drunk a certain quantity of nitric acid, one would help the other to make him unconscious, but the nitric acid was not sufficient in my opinion to cause unconsciousness—I saw the prisoner about a quarter to 12—I frequently have known a woman remain unconscious from mental causes for two hours in spite of all restoratives, mustard plasters, and ammonia—I have not seen a man unconscious from mental causes—violence would tend to produce unconsciousness.
WILLIAM DUBREE CALVERT . I am house physician at the London Hospital, and was there when the prisoner was brought there on 28th June—I made some remarks to him in English, which he seemed to understand—I saw on the fingers and finger-nails of his left hand some yellow stains, and on the second joint of the third finger of the right hand a slight stain—they were such stains as would be produced by nitric acid—I noticed some trivial scratches on the backs of both his hands—on the back of the right wrist was a scratch longer than the rest—there were some slight scratches on the forearms—the skin was partially rubbed off both elbows, abraided—there were one or two slight scratches on the forehead, and noteably one on the right temple—I do not think the appearances I saw were indicative of any serious violence of any kind—I examined the mouth and thought the injuries were produced by the application of some corrosive fluid; there were some white patches at the back of the tongue and on the left tonsil, and little white patches on the pharynx—I noticed nothing more about the mouth—I thought those appearances were caused by the action of a corrosive fluid, such as nitric acid—those injuries were not serious in their character—I examined the throat on the outside—I found no marks of violence upon it—there were no marks of violence or of injury on the body beyond those I have given—the injuries on his person were not, in my opinion, such as would prevent a man from crying out.
Cross-examined. There was an abrasion on the inside of his mouth—that would indicate to my mind that some foreign substance had been thrust into the mouth—I examined the prisoner when he came in, about half-past 2, I imagine, and every day.
Re-examined. I saw nothing done to the prisoner—the abrasion I saw was recent—it was at the back of the palate, the back part of the mouth—I should think in the condition of the throat and mouth that a stomach-pump would have produced this injury, because it was in the locality of one of the white patches, the mucous membrane was there softened.
Cross-examined. I was not examined before the Coroner, or before the Magistrate; this is the first time I have had anything to do with it—I
got a notice yesterday I should be wanted, and a policeman came this morning—I used the stomach-pump to the best of my ability—I got something into him.
By the COURT. I could very probably have produced such an abrasion as the last witness spoke of—we had to use a gag to get the prisoner's mouth open, and he broke that.
CHARLES MOORE . I am manager to Mr. Lee, of 196, Bagchurch Lane, oil and colourman—it is an ordinary shop—I know the boy Pitman as coming to the shop on Monday the 27th, the day before 28th June, to buy a quart of methylated spirit, 2 lbs. of shellac, and 1/2 lb. of drop black, which is used for staining wood previous to varnishing—those things are used by stick makers—I did not then know where he was employed—on 28th June a man came to my shop with a two-ounce phial, similar to this—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man—it was about 9 o'clock a.m.—he asked for a pennyworth of aqua fortis, in English, produced the bottle, and I supplied him with the pennyworth of aqua fortis—that would be about one ounce—I asked him for what purpose he wanted it—he said he was a stick maker, and wanted it for staining sticks—I cautioned him that it was poisonous—I did not wrap it up, I corked it—he took it away—my shop is next door to Mr. Smith's—I heard what had happened at No. 16 on the same day—the day after, the 29th, the policemen came to me, and I gave them information on the subject—I was taken to the hospital on the Friday morning, and into the wards where there were a number of patients in the beds there—I went from bed to bed, and came to the bed where the prisoner was—I pointed him out to the inspector—I had previous to that given a description of the person who had made the purchase at my shop.
Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner previous to the purchase—the hair on his face did not attract my attention particularly—when I went into the ward of the hospital there was a man in plain clothes sitting by the side of the bed, I could not say whether he was a constable or not—I believe that was the only bed in the room where a man was sitting by the bedside—I was in the ward about 10 minutes—I walked down once and back again; I walked as far as the prisoner's bed and back again—his was not the end bed, I think it was near the fireplace—I did not walk to the end of the ward—the inspector went with me in uniform—I did not notice if the man sitting at the head of the bed got up when the inspector came up to the bed—I was taken there to identify the man who had bought the aqua fortis—I was told by the inspector or detective I should most likely see the man who had bought the aqua fortis there—I expected to find the man there when I went—at the time I sold the aqua fortis there were about six people, I should say, in the shop—I was very busy at the time serving these people with different things—I sell everything requisite for stick-makers.
ANNA LYONS . I live at 2, Watney Street, and am the wife of Moses Lyons—I have a daughter Kate, who for six months has been engaged to be married to the prisoner—I remember the prisoner coming to my house on Monday, 27th June, about I o'clock, to cat his dinner—he said I shall be so kind enough as to lend him money; how much he did not say—I gain I got no money to lend him, I take borrow money—I took a brush and ring to Church Street and pawned them for 25s.—I took the money to the prisoner's house and gave it to him—he said "Saturday,
please God, I will take in the work and finish the work, I shall pay you all I owe you"—I had lent him 1l. the week before—this is the ticket—he has never paid me any portion of that 2l. 5s. back.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner when he was working at my son's; I have known him two years—I cannot give him a bad character, he always behaved himself—I think he was fitting up his room for the purpose of turning it into a workshop; I knew he was having money for that purpose—I knew he was working at home and employing Pitman—I did not know that he was going to employ other men as well, nor that he was doing work for people in the City, and had to take it home and get his money for it—he was doing stick and horn work—I do not know whether he was working for Mr. Lewis of Aldermanbury.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, July 29th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
ALBERT WALTER GAMAGE . I am a jeweller, of 121, Holborn Hill—on Saturday night, 18th June, I left my premises safe about 11 o'clock—a young man, a caretaker, lives on the premises—there are wooden revolving shutters outside my shop, and in one of those is a small opening cut about five inches deep and two inches long, for the police to see down the shop—a hand if it were fiat would go through the opening—I examined the shop on Monday morning—the hole had been cut a trifle larger—there is a very thick plate-glass window, and watches were hanging in the shop just in front of the hole—if a hole were made in the glass just behind the hole in the shutter, and a hand inserted, it could reach a great number of the watches and other articles of value—the hole was 5 feet 5 inches or 5 feet 6 inches above the path outside—we missed nothing—there was blood on the glass, as if fingers had been inside the glass and got cut—I could not see finger marks, but a splash of blood—that was on Monday, about 9 a.m.
Cross-examined by Gordon. The aperture now is about 2 1/2 inches deep by 5 inches long—your fist could not go into it, an instrument could.
Re-examined. When I examined the aperture on Monday it had been shaved away; it was not large enough then for a fist to go in, but if a man had a piece of wood he could strike it and smash the glass; he could break it with a skittle—he could put his hand flat through the hole, not his fist.
By Gordon. The glass was 8/3 inch thick—you could break it by striking it in that way.
JAMES PAYNE . I am caretaker to the last witness—on Saturday night, 18th June, about 11 o'clock, I locked up the premises—the shutters were secure and the window safe—there was a small gas jet burning inside—the
hole in the shutters was as usual, and had not been cut away—the last time I saw it was 11.30.
Cross-examined by Bryan. The shutter and glass were only an inch apart—you could get the flat part of your hand through the hole—a person could not grasp one of the watches or any of the property as the hole was left.
Re-examined. It could be reached very easily after the cutting away and if a hole had been made in the glass—I could get my hand in the shutter very easily when I tried it.
WILLIAM NICHOLSON (Plain clothes City Policeman). About 3.30 on Sunday morning, 18th July, I was on duty in Charterhouse Street—about 10 minutes past 3 Sergeant Shillocker made a communication to me, in consequence of which I watched the two prisoners—I saw them go round on to the Viaduct by St. Andrews Churchyard and look over the bridge into Shoe Lane—they then went up Holborn by Wallis's. and came down Holborn by Mr. Gamage's shop, back down Charterhouse Street, up the back of the Meat Market—they went back again up Holborn several times backwards and forwards, then they came back to Mr. Gamage's shop about 4.10—I got behind the statue in Holborn Circus, and saw Bryan stand on the edge of the footway opposite Mr. Gamage's shop, 121, Holborn Hill, opposite Mr. Wallis's—Bryan stood on the footway looking up and down, and Gordon looked through the peep-hole in the shutters—I then saw him striking his right hand against his left three times—they then went up Holborn to the urinal in the centre of the street, and came back by Mr. Gamage's shop again—I got the assistance of Mr. Smallman, watchman to Messrs. Wallis—I followed the prisoners down Charterhouse Street and Shoe Lane, up St. Andrew's Street to Holborn Circus—at the corner of Holborn Circus Gordon looked over towards Mr. Gamage's shop window and said something to Bryan which I could not hear, and they walked hurriedly down St. Andrew's Street and St. Bride's Street—I arranged with Smallman to come up and I walked in front of him behind the prisoners in St. Bride Street—I turned and took hold of them and said "I am a police officer, I want you two"—they said "What for?"—I said "For breaking a plate-glass window on Holborn Hill"—Gordon made a desperate kick at my privates, I turned aside and caught it on my knee-cap"—they struggled; Bryan broke away, Smallman chased and caught him in Shoe Lane—the prisoners were conveyed to Snow Hill Police-station—I went back with Shillocker to Mr. Gamage's premises, and in the gutter opposite the shop I found this piece of a small skittle, with fresh stains of blood on the shoulder—I noticed at the station that Gordon's left hand was bleeding profusely and had a handkerchief round it—we rang the caretaker Payne down and measured the broken hole—it was 3.10 when I first saw the prisoners—they broke the window at about 4.10—I watched them loitering about for a whole hour.
Cross-examined by Gordon. I never saw this skittle in your possession—I saw you break the window with your fist by hitting this piece of wood—I did not find you on the premises—I found no implement by which you could get in the premises—I found no doors broken.
Cross-examined by Bryan. I apprehended you 250 yards from the shop in Bride Street—all I found on you at the station was a knife—this skittle I found right opposite the shop, down in the footway, about a quarter of an hour after I apprehended you.
ROBERT SMALLMAN . I am watchman at Messrs. Wallis's, of Holborn Circus—on Monday morning, 18th July, Nicholson made a communication to me, and I walked with him to Charterhouse Street, following the prisoners; he arrested them—Bryan broke away, and I pursued him up Farringdon Street to Stonecutter Street, up into St. Andrew's Street and Shoe Lane, where I apprehended him—I took him to the station—when Nicholson laid hold of the prisoners I saw Gordon make a desperate kick at his privates.
Cross-examined by Gordon. I did not see Nicholson hit you two or three times in the face; he could not have punched you when he had Bryan in one hand and you in the other—there was no other constable at the time; afterwards there was.
JAMES SHILLOCKER (City Police Sergeant 31). A little past 3 a.m., on 18th July I was on duty in the neighbourhood of Charterhouse Street—I saw the prisoners together, and in consequence of their suspicious movements I spoke to Nicholson—I went away leaving Nicholson watching them—I next met him on his way to the station, and went there with him—the prisoners were charged with shop-breaking and wilful damage—on the way to the station I noticed Gordon's left hand was bleeding very much—next morning I examined Mr. Gammage's premises with Nicholson—I saw the caretaker there—the peephole in the shutter had been shaved away at the bottom, and the plate glass window directly opposite the aperture was broken, there being a hole of about three inches—I found on each bide of the hole fresh blood outside the window; there was none inside; it was round the edge of the glass, as though a hand had been pressed against it—I saw Nicholson pick up this piece of wood in the gutter just opposite the shop; this blood-stain on it was wet—I returned to the station, and they were charged.
Gordon in his defence said that he only resisted after he had been struck in the face; that he was arrested 200 yards from the place and that his fist would not go through the hole in the shutter.
Bryant asserted his innocence.
MR. HUTTON submitted that it was a sufficient breaking and entering if an instrument used for the purpose penetrated into the premises. The COMMON SERGEANT ruled that such entry must be by an instrument that was intended to remove goods (Q. v. Hughes, 1 Leach, 152), and that there was no entry in this case, but left the case to the Jury as to the attempted burglary.
The Court and Jury commended the conduct of Nicholson and Smallman, and the Court awarded 3l. to Nicholson and 1l. to Smallman.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
JOHN CLEMENT LOWMAN . I am an engine driver of 11, Dyot Street, St. Giles—on 3rd July I came out of Lincoln's Inn Fields into Great Queen Street about 12.20 p.m.—the prisoner came up to me and knocked me down by getting me by the collar and putting his hand against my chest—he said nothing—it was hardly a blow, but a swing—he rifled my pockets of 15s. in silver, which was in my right waistcoat pocket—he felt
in all my pockets—I could not resist—I was more stunned from fright than anything—I was on the pavement—I called for the police, and as soon as any one was heard coming, the prisoner went away at a slow run—a constable came up, went after him and brought him part of the way back; I went and met him—we all went to Bow Street—I am sure the prisoner is the man.
By the COURT. It happened as I left Lincoln's Inn Fields to go into Great Queen Street, just past the arches, but on the other side of the street—I don't remember what coins I had; it was all silver; I had changed a sovereign, and paid some money away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was at this lower end of Queen Street, next Little Queen Street, when the constable brought you up—I was at the opposite end to the Drury Lane end.
WILLIAM AYRES (Policeman E R 16). On the Saturday night or Sunday morning I was in Great Queen Street about 12.30—I saw the prisoner struggling with the prosecutor on the ground—the prisoner was on top of the prosecutor feeling in his two waistcoat pockets and one of his trousers pockets was inside out—I ran across; I was only about 50 yards away—I ran from the corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields, hearing the prosecutor shout "Police!"—as I was going up the prisoner ran away, not very fast—I received a communication from the prosecutor, in consequence of which I apprehended the prisoner just round the corner of Little Queen Street—he had just pulled up from running—he ran till he just got round the corner—I said "I shall take you back"—I could not find the prosecutor there; I took the prisoner to the station—the prosecutor came to the station and the prisoner was charged with assaulting and robbing him; he made no answer then—when I was searching the prisoner he said "I have my wages in ray pocket, 21s.; it is for my wife"—there was 21s. in one pocket and 1s. 5 1/2 d. in another—it was all in silver except the 5 1/2 d.—the coins were four florins, five shillings and two sixpences—at the police-court the Magistrate ordered 15s. 5 1/2 d. to be retained and the rest handed over to the prisoner's wife.
Cross-examined. I said at the police-court I saw you on top of the prisoner, not that I caught you on top—I caught you just round Little Queen Street on the left hand side, this side of Parker Street—I am quite sure you did not say I had made a mistake when I caught you—I took you back up Queen Street on the left—I don't know where the prosecutor was, I could not find him; I did not take you back to him—the first time the prosecutor saw you was at the police-station—you said before I searched you "You will find 21s. in that paper"—I found 21s.;—since then I have been to your employer; your standing wages are 21s.—you had been paid—you left between six and seven—the 21s. were not wrapped up—I found 1s. 5 1/2 d. in your right hand waistcoat pocket, I believe—I did not find 1s. 6d. in silver.
By the JURY. The prosecutor was not sober—I had not seen him previously to seeing the prisoner upon him—the prisoner had been drinking, but was not very drunk.
Re-examined. The prosecutor was not very drunk; he had been drinking—there was no scuffle between the two till the prisoner was on top—I am quite sure I saw the prisoner's hands in the prosecutor's pocket—the prosecutor was lying on his back—I have made inquiries at the prisoner's employer's about his wages.
CHARLES SPELLER (Police Inspector). I was present when the prisoner was searched—I think something like 21s. in silver, 1s., and some coppers were found on him—it was loose—the bulk of the money was in his right hand trousers pocket.
Cross-examined. A piece of paper was extracted from your pocket at the same time as the money, but it was a very small piece and looked like a newspaper cutting—it was old and looked as if it had been in your pocket for a long while.
J.C. LOWMAN (Re-examined by the COURT). I examined my pockets on the road to Bow Street—I followed the policeman when he pursued the prisoner and afterwards went on to the station.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had had a little drink, but that he could not have thrown the prosecutor down, who was a bigger man, if he had tried, and that the money in his pocket was his own.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
WALTER WILLIAM WHEELER . I am a builder, of 55, Ladbroke Road, Notting Hill—on the night of 8th July I was the last person up; I went to bed about 12.30—I had passed through the house earlier in the evening and found it all closed; it is the servant's place to do that—at 3.30 a.m. I heard a loud thumping noise—I got out of bed, looked out at the staircase window, and went out on to the lead flat on the top of the bath room—I saw the prisoner in the yard with a pickaxe in his hand—I said "Who is that, who are you?—he merely looked up, put down the pickaxe, and ran out at the back—I could not see the door—I saw him then in Victoria Gardens, the side street—I ran out at the front door and saw him in Ladbroke Road—I was in my night dress—I ran after and overtook him—I struck him; I did not say anything to him—I saw a constable coming down Albany Crescent and gave the prisoner in custody—he spoke to the constable; I could not say what he said—I waited for the constable to come and take him and then I went back and dressed—the safe in my office on the ground floor was nearly broken open with the pickaxe—there is a door into the office from the street and one into the buck yard—the one into the back yard had been closed; when I went back it was wide open—when I went to bed this clock was on the mantel piece in the dining room; I found it had been moved into the kitchen—the children's money boxes were in the tool outhouse and scullery and had been broken open and the contents taken—there was about 7s. in coppers and about 2s. or 3s. in silver; that was gone—it was broad daylight when I saw him—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man I saw in. the yard.
Cross-examined. I heard you before 3.30, some time before I went out—it was such a loud noise; I could not think any one committing a burglary would make it—I was sober when I went to bed that night—I know the house was fastened because I had been in the yard and office—I usually go the last thing—I will not swear I saw the kitchen door closed—I was the last to go to bed—my wife went to bed a few minutes before I did—I cannot say what time the servant went to bed—you were about 10 or 15 feet from me when I saw you in the yard—I did not see you going through the door because I cannot see the door—I recognised you
by your looking up in the yard—from my house to Victoria Gardens is about 30 yards and about 30 yards to Ladbroke Road—I watched you down Victoria Gardens before I came downstairs—I had to come down three flights of stairs; I lost sight of you for 30 or 40 yards—I don't suppose it was 15 or 20 seconds before I saw you again—there was nobody about in Ladbroke Road—after I struck you I saw the constable—the policeman was about 45 feet away—you were against the railings on the footpath when I came up to you—I struck you once; I did not want to speak to you and I did not—I did not get hold of you; you did not hear me coming—I struck you on the head; you said lots of things; I took no notice of what you said—you did not turn and confront me till the policeman came—you staggered on to the railings and clenched them—I did not think it worth while getting hold of you—I dare say you asked me what was the matter and what I did it for; you raved about many things—I took no notice—I did not say "I think I have made a mistake; I thought it was you I saw in my back yard"—I did not speak to you at all; I knew I could catch you if I wanted to—when I saw you in Ladbroke Road I ran after you; you were the only person in the road—I did not look down Victoria Road—I saw no one but you and the constable.
By the JURY. It was broad daylight when I saw him in the yard; he was directly under me—he was running when I saw him, in both roads—he stopped when he saw the policeman coming along Albany Road.
ELIZABETH FINCH . I am servant to Mr. Wheeler, and live at his house—on 8th July I went upstairs about half-past 10 or a quarter to 11—the back door leading into the kitchen was then closed and fastened with a latch; it could be opened from outside by lifting the latch—I am quite sure I closed it—the door leading out of the yard was closed and bolted on the inside—about a quarter to 4 Mr. Wheeler called me up.
Cross-examined. I went upstairs before my master.
JOHN POWELL (Policeman F 177). On the morning of 9th July, about a quarter to 4, I was on duty in Ladbroke Road—I saw the prisoner run out of Victoria Gardens into the Ladbroke Road, and the prosecutor rush out of his front door, run after, and strike the prisoner behind the ear as he was running; in doing so the prosecutor nearly fell—the prisoner ran for a few yards, and then seeing me he stopped—he did not knock against anything—the prosecutor charged him with burglary—when I arrested the prisoner all ho said was "I was doing nothing down there, only lying down"—the prosecutor's house is at the corner of Victoria Gardens and Ladbroke Road.
Cross-examined. I am making the same statement as I made before the Magistrate—when I came up the prosecutor had left you and gone back five or six yards; I cannot say whether he was opposite his gate—I said "You will have to come back with me and see what is the matter"—you said of the prosecutor, "I should think he is mad"—I took you back to the back door—the prosecutor went in by the front door, and came to the back door—I did not say the prosecutor said he would charge you when I first came up; he charged you at the back door—I said something about a ladder being found in the prosecutor's yard; I believe that came from the omnibus yard, about 45 yards off; I have not ascertained how it got there.
By the JURY. There is a wall about 9 feet high at the back of the
prosecutor's house, that can be easily and rapidly climbed with a ladder; it could not be very well climbed without a ladder—there is no glass on the top.
Re-examined. The prisoner was running round the corner, I think, when I first saw the prosecutor—this money was found in the prisoner's right trousers pocket; there is 7s. 1 1/2 d., all in coppers and all loose.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted; MR. OVEREND Defended.
EDWARD CURTICE . I am a printer and publisher, of 12 and 14, Catherine Street, Strand—up to 4th June last the prisoner was in my employ as canvasser and collector—he was paid 25s. a week salary, and commission for orders he received—his duty was to pay in every day amounts he collected, to myself or my cashier—on 28th February 1 guinea was owing to me by Mr. Tann; that has never been paid me, and has never been accounted for by the prisoner—on 29th April Mr. Fletcher owed me 1 guinea; that has never been paid nor accounted for—on 1st June Miss Hewitt owed me 3 guineas; that has never been accounted for—these are the receipts signed in the prisoner's writing; I got one from Mr. Fletcher and the other from Miss Hewitt—my name is written on the back of this cheque in the prisoner's writing; I never authorised him to write that—it has never been paid to me—I gave him notice, and he left my service on 4th June—I saw. him again on 24th June at the station—I charged him with having embezzled 3 guineas from Miss Hewitt—he said he thought he had paid it to my son.
Cross-examined. After the prisoner left I told him he would be entitled to full discount for all canvassers who don't receive salary; that was 50 per cent, on all orders—canvassers pay money in directly they get it—I have never known them keep it till next morning unless they kept it altogether—on the Saturday they have a weekly sheet of payments—an account is made up on Saturday of amounts received and paid over—I cannot produce the week sheet for the time that Tann's account ought to have been paid over—I don't profess to keep them, but I have kept some—they are only memoranda—I make up the accounts with my books—I and my cashier balance my books every day where cash is paid—I see to the balance next day; I look after it myself—I look at everything in the business myself—the cashier enters money received in the cash-book; if he did not and I was on duty I should do so—the prisoner was entitled to deduct his 7 1/2 per cent, commission, 1s. 6d. for a guinea at the end of the week—he does not deduct it; he gets it—he was entitled to 35 per cent on new orders—he drew money each Saturday—if he told me he wanted 5s. I should let him have it, and deduct it at the end of the week—I never allowed him to sign my name to letters sent out of the office—I have stopped many of them from doing it—I never allow letters to go out without my signature or that of someone authorised to sign for me—it is the custom of the canvasser to write for orders expecting to get money, and I have to sign my name after their own—every letter was brought to me for inspection before I gave postage for it—the prisoner never signed my name to letters with my knowledge—I
know nothing about Miss Hewitt's account beyond that it has never been paid—my son, Edward Curtice, junior, is employed in my business—I was not aware that ho was more intimate with the prisoner than with the other men—I have seen the prisoner at the American Exhibition, and was annoyed at his being there, and I told him not to go—I have not seen him there with my son—I have stalls there with young ladies at them—the prisoner had no business there—my son used to collect the money from the stallkeepers—after a manager was appointed I stopped my son doing that—I appointed a manager because my son was not able to give the whole of his time—the moneys my son received he handed over every day—that was not the reason I appointed a manager—I know Miss Ives and Miss Hare, stallkeepers—I do not know that my son used to ask them for money which ho never accounted for to me—when I asked him about Miss Hewitt's money he said "I paid your son the money at the American Exhibition."
Re-examined. always overlooked the books kept by the cashier—those are the kind of accounts given me by the prisoner—this is one for the week ending April 30th; Mr. Fletcher is not mentioned in that on 29th April—this is the one of 4th June; Miss Hewitt is not mentioned in that—I would advance the prisoner five shillings if he wanted it—he had no right to deduct anything out of any money he might receive from people owing me money—it was against my orders that anybody should sign my name to outgoing letters.
ANN MITCHELL . I am in the employ of Mr. Curtice in the Strand, and have charge of the advertisement department—I keep a book in which I entered all moneys paid to me by the prisoner—Mr. Tann had an account with me in that department; one guinea was owing on 28th February; that has never been paid by the prisoner—Mr. Fletcher has an account, and 1l. 1s. was owing on 29th April; that has never been paid—I used frequently to tell the prisoner those accounts that were due on my book, up to the latter end of May—he said Mr. Tann was away in the country, and would pay the money on his return—he said that several times—I spoke to the prisoner about Fletcher's account—he told me to go on sanding the cuttings, it would be all right—Mr. Fletcher is an architect, and takes all notices of parks, cemeteries, and recreation gardens—the prisoner told me that till he left; he never told me he had been paid.
Cross-examined. The money was not paid to me; it was entered in my book—I entered it as paid in the book when the form was brought me—I have not got the ledger here that I entered in—the book showing the amount he paid in and the amount of the commission he deducted is kept by Mr. Curtice.
EDWARD RICHARD CURTICE . I am the prosecutor's son, and assist him—I know the prisoner; I saw him on 24th June, the day he was arrested, in Holborn—when he saw me ho turned deliberately round and disappeared in a court by the Royal Music Hall—I followed him, but could not see him—I walked into the Royal Music Hall public-house and saw him drinking at the bar—I said "You have taken three guineas belonging to my father of Miss Agnes Hewitt"—he said "Yes, Sir; I am very sorry about it; I will pay it on Monday if you will allow me"—I said "I cannot entertain such a thing as that, but if you like to accompany me to Catherine Street an speak to my father about it I will endeavour
to put it right"—he said "No, I will not do that; I will not face your father"—I said "If you will not do that I shall be compelled to call a constable and give you in charge"—he never gave me the three guineas—I did not owe him and he did not owe me any money—he never paid me any money at all—I never went with him to cash a cheque.
Cross-examined. I was not particularly friendly with the prisoner, no more than I should be with an assistant to my father who I considered socially my equal—I considered the prisoner socially my equal—I was very little in his society—he has never lent me money—I never went to the American Exhibition with him—I met him there once or twice, but for a minute only; I had too much business to do there—my father had some stalls there—at one time I occasionally collected money from the stall-keepers when it was convenient for me to be at the Exhibition at the time the moneys were collected—I paid those moneys to my father—I did not go to the Exhibition in the evening after a time, and my father appointed a young man to collect the money to relieve me from going—I positively swear I did not see the prisoner at the Exhibition on the day Miss Hewitt paid the three guineas to him—it is quite untrue that he paid me 45s., keeping 15s. as his commission—it is not a fact that we are not so intimate as formerly, because he would not supply me with more money—he never gave or lent me any money; I never had any money from him.
EDMUND BOLTON . I live at 18, Earlsdale Street, and am manager to Mr. Tann, safe manufacturer, at Newgate Street—on the 28th February I was present when Mr. Tann paid the prisoner 1l. 1s. to pay to Mr. Curtice—I saw the receipt signed and handed.
WESTLY HENRY FLETCHER . I am an architect of 7, Prince's Street, Cavendish Square—I paid the prisoner 1l. 1s.; I don't remember the date, and he handed me this receipt—this is my cheque; it hat been paid.
Cross-examined. I don't know if he had called when I was not there—I think the prisoner signed the receipt then and there.
Cross-examined. I paid it a fortnight or three weeks after the order was given—the prisoner had called four or five times—I was there.
THOMAS ROXBURGH (Policeman E 131). At a quarter to 6 on 24th June I was called by the prosecutor's son to take the prisoner into custody at a public-house in Holborn—in answer to the charge he said he would come to the station—the prosecutor charged him there with embezzlement.
Cross-examined. The son called me to give the prisoner into custody for embezzling three guineas; he said it was his father's property—nothing was said in my hearing about going to Mr. Curtice to explain.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his good character .— Four Months' Hard Labour.
There were two other indictments against the prisoner.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JAMES BARNES . I lived at 8, Edward Street, Barking Road—on Sunday morning, 21st June, I turned a black pony out to grass on some waste ground at Plaistow—I missed it at 2 o'clock on the 22nd; I searched but could not find it, and on the 23rd I gave information at the police-station—Mr. Freeman, a horse slaughterer of Barking, sent me to Mr. Smith, who made a communication to me—the prisoner lodged in the same house with me, and I once paid three months' rent for him—he never borrowed the pony of me, nor did I ever give him authority to dispose of it—it had a quitter on its hind leg—Smith showed me a pony's hoof at the slaughter-house, and I knew it by the shape.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I turned the pony out, but let it on hire afterwards to a man named Dallas—he did not bring it back to me personally, but he told me that he had turned it out again.
By the COURT. Dallas is not here; I know him also as Happy.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am a horse slaughterer, of 35, Phillip Street, Custom House—on June 22nd the prisoner brought me a black pony, with a quitter on the off hind hoof, and said that he wanted it killed—I asked him whose it was—he said "It is mine"—I asked him how much he wanted for it—he said "Give me what you say is fair"—I asked him the price—he asked 1l. 1s.—I gave him 15s.—he remained and saw it killed, and took the hoof away—he said his name was Webster.
Cross-examined. I swear you brought the pony—the skin went away the same day—I saw the pony nine or ten days before, but did not know it again—I always take the seller's name and address—the pony was not fit to be worked—I swear to this foot (produced).
Re-examined. This is the hoof the prisoner took away—I saw him at the station, among eight others, and identified him at once.
FREDRRICK DICKER (Detective Sergeant K). On 26th June, at 4.30, I went to a cottage at Dagenham and saw the prisoner—I said "I am a police officer and am going to take you in custody for stealing a pony from Grange Road on the 22nd"—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said "I was drunk, and do not remember anything about it; I am sorry it happened"—I placed him with eight other men at the station, and Smith identified him immediately, and valued the pony at 7l.
MR. HOLLAND. On 27th June I was passing the Prince Regent and saw some boys playing with this hoof; I took it from them and took it to Mr. Smith at the slaughter-house—this is it, but it was more fresh then and had some meat on it.
Prisoner's Defence. When the prosecutor bought the pony he had not
enough money, and asked me to get him £6, which I did from a loan society and handed it over to him; therefore I think the pony is as much mine as his.
JAMES BARNES (Re-examined). The prisoner was the borrower from the loan society and I was the security—I borrowed £6 of my father and paid him £3 10s. for the pony and had to pay £4 10s. more—I paid that out of the money the prisoner borrowed for me, he was not to have the pony as security—I am the security.
By the Prisoner. You borrowed £6 for me to pay for the pony, as I had not enough money—here is a receipt for the chesnut pony—Mr. Bedding came to the house and asked for a receipt, that was for a chesnut pony which I swopped away for the black pony in question—here is a paper to show that I did change—I paid £7 10s. for the pony and harness.
NOT GUILTY .
RICHARD TAYLOR . I am a machine dealer, of Land Valley, Leyton-stone—on 24th June I went out between 11 and 12 o'clock—I returned about 4.30, entered the house at the back with a key, and heard a noise and saw the prisoner come out of the front parlour, he opened the front door inside, with some difficulty and went out and I after him—it can only be opened outside with a latch key—he ran down the road some distance and got on a tram; I followed him, the tram stopped at the Plough and Harrow, and I beckoned to him and said "You come down" he came down, and I said "What have you been doing in my house?"He said "What do you mean?" and pulled out a bit of paper—I could not understand his conversation, but after some minutes he pulled this book out from under his coat and said "I was going to bring you them back, don't make a fuss about it, it is only a lark"—it is a volume of the Leisure Hour, I had not lent it to him—as we went back I said "You had better walk into the police-station, it is so handy," and we walked in together—I had seen him twice before, but he is no friend of mine—I gave him in custody, went back to my house and found my ground floor back window open, but not wide enough for a person to get in, it seemed to have been opened and shut down—I went upstairs and found the place topsy-turvey—this Indian shawl (produced) was packed up ready to be taken away, it had been in a drawer when I left the house—it cost £100 when it was whole, but I only bought half of it.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner three or four days—I saw him at the bar of a public-house where I was drinking with a solicitor—he said "I am wanting you to give the *" something—I said "What do you mean?"—he said "For that fraudulent cheque you gave me for those bricks"—I said "I have never seen you before, I never had any bricks, and never gave you a cheque in my life; if you do not be off I will ring your neck, you scoundrel," and I gave him a twist and he went out and brought a policeman in and gave me in custody, and he said "A fiver will square it"—I said "I will go to the station, but mind I give him in custody as well"—Mr. Barron, my solicitor, was with me—the prisoner said "He has ill-used me as well, where is that fraudulent cheque?"—he said to the inspector "I have known this gentleman well, and should like to have his cheque; where is it? I have not got it with
me"—they wanted me to give him in custody, but I had an arbitration case on at Manchester and could not do so, and when I came back I went to the prisoner's house and he was gone, and I never saw him again till the day before the robbery, when he brought a Mr. Rutty to my house to purchase a steam roller of me, but we did not agree for the price, and they left and I came home next day and found the prisoner in my house—this book is worth 1s., but it cost me more—a great many valuable articles were moved besides the shawl, there were lots of small things which he might have carried away—when I called him down off the tram he offered me some papers and said "Look here, I have got a ticket for you, I have two gentlemen who know me quite well"—he had no business at my house that day, the business about the steam roller was done—I am absolutely certain that the front and back door was shut when I went out, the latch and the lock were both locked and the keys were hidden—the front door shuts without a key, and I had one in my pocket to open it—the difficulty he had in getting out was that he rushed at the front door and it was broken and he could not get hold of it—my children do not go in and out with the key, they always go out by the back door, they knew where the key was hidden.
By the COURT. I left some children in the house, and they were away when I went back.
HENRY BRYANT (Police Inspector J). On 24th June the prosecutor and the prisoner came to the station, and the prosecutor charged the prisoner with being in his house for an unlawful purpose—he said that he had been to see Mrs. Taylor about a boiler he had for sale, and to arrange about some old bricks, and seeing the door open he walked in, took a book from the passage, and brought it out, just to show Mr. Taylor how easily he might be robbed—I detained him, and made inquiries, after which he was charged—he took the book from under his coat and placed it on a desk.
GEORGE BLANK . On 24th June, about 5.30, I went to the prosecutor's house with him, we went up to the front room, and saw that a small drawer had been taken out of the chest—I found on a bed this paper with this shawl in it, and Mr. Taylor said, "That shawl was in that drawer" the bed in the middle bedroom had been turned up—I found in the kitchen a small drawer containing some brass—several things had been turned out of their places—when I got there the windows were closed—I took the shawl to the station, and charged the prisoner with stealing it and the Leisure How—he said, "I know nothing about the shawl."
Cross-examined. I found the shawl upstairs in the front bedroom—the windows were all closed—one window on the ground floor was a little open—the place had been turned up and things thrown about anyhow.
ADA TAYLOR . I am the prosecutor's daughter—on 24th June, about 4.30 p.m., I went out with my brother, by the front door, leaving the house all right—this paper containing this shawl was not on the bed then—I pulled the door to after me; nobody could get in—I am quite sure that I shut it tight, and all the windows were shut.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. LAWLESS Defended.
WILLIAM SCONES . I am a meat salesman, of Brixton—on Wednesday, 29th June, I went to Romford Market, and bought 20 beasts, among which were five Highland Scots and two cows—I handed the whole over to Jones, my marsh man, who took charge of them, and I saw them on the Marsh on Saturday about 3 p.m.—I afterwards saw four Highland steers and two cows in the London Cattle Market, which were part of the 20 I bought at Romford—I got possession of them.
JAMES BONE . I live at Barking, and am a marshman and drover—I took these animals from Romford on a Wednesday by Mr. Scones' directions, and put them in a field opposite my house—I saw them safe there on the Saturday at 4 o'clock, and on Sunday morning at 11 o'clock I missed six of them, and found the lock of the gate broken—I saw them at Mr. Flummer's at 10 o'clock that night, that is about five miles off—they were worth about 50l.
THOMAS BONE . I am the son of James Bone—on Saturday, 2nd July, I saw four Highland steers and two cows in the Marsh at Beckton—they were safe up to 8.15 p.m. on Sunday—on Monday morning, about 11 o'clock, I found the lock broken, and four Scotch cattle and two cows were gone—I found them at Mr. Plummer's.
GEORGE PLUMMER . I am a master drover, of Globe Cottage, Mile End, and have a slaughter-house—I do not know the prisoners—on Saturday, 2nd July, between 8 and 9 p.m., Fletcher came and arranged for me to kill four beasts, which were to come on Monday at 3 a.m., and at 3.30 on the Monday Fletcher, and a man named Prest, and another man, came with four Highland Scots and two cows—I unlocked the gate and let the cattle in, and Prest and the stranger left—I asked Fletcher what he was going to do with the meat—he said, "Send it to the Meat Market"—I said, "Who to?"—he said, "I will see you by-and-bye, and let you know"—I did not kill the animals—I got my book, and asked Fletcher who they belonged to—I referred to my books after this conversation, and communicated with the police about 4 a.m.—I saw Prest afterward?, dressed respectably—on the Sunday afternoon the two prisoners, and a man named Allen, came about 3 o'clock, and I said, "Who is the owner of the beasts"—Rawlings said, "I am the owner; I have close upon 100 coming. I have got two butcher's shops. My meat was worth 1s. a pound yesterday, and it is not worth 2d. now"—I said, "Oh!"—he said, "I have got in my pocket now 200l. in notes and cheques; come, get your shoes on, and let us kill three of them"—I had no shoes on, as I had been lying on the bed—the detective then came and asked me if I had got any beasts there—I said, "Yes, six"—he said, "Who is the owner?"—I said, "This gentleman sitting alongside me"—that was Rawlings, and he said, "No, no; I came to buy them of Fletcher"—I said, "You are a b—y liar, I will knock your head off; just this minute you told me you had two butcher's shops and 200l. in notes and cheques in your pocket, you liar, what do you mean?"—Sergeant Waller took him away.
Cross-examined. My wife saw Tretcher first and called me down—Bawlings did not say to me "Halloa! have not you got those six beasts dead
yet?"—Rawlings was as sober as I am now—I did not hear the prisoners put the ownership of the beasts upon each other when the detective came—Rawlings never told me who or what he was—he made that long statement without any question on my part.
WILLIAM WALLER (Police Sergeant J). I do not know Priest; I have not been able to find him—he is not a person who could honestly be the owner of 90l. worth of cattle—I saw Mr. Plummer at 9 o'clock on the Sunday morning, and waited till about 3.30 p.m.—the prisoner came with Allen and went into the yard; I followed in about three minutes, and saw them and Mr. Plummer close together—I was in plain clothes—I said "I am a police officer"—Tretcher said "I know you are, Mr. Waller"—I said "You have got some beasts, Mr. Plummer"—he said "Yes"—I said "Who do they belong to?"—he said "That man," pointing to Rawlings, "says they are his"—I said to Rawlings "Are they yours?" he said "No, I have only come here to buy three"—Mr. Plummer said "You old liar, you just told me they were yours, and that you had two shops full of meat, and 200l. in your pocket"—he said "No, I only came here to buy three, this man brought me," pointing to Tretcher—I said to Tretcher "What do you say about them?"—he said "I was told to bring them here?"—I said "Who told you?"—he said "Some man I do not know met me on Barking Bridge at 2 o'clock this morning"—I knew that was not true, and I said "That is not satisfactory, you will have to go to the station"—they were detained at the station and charged next day—Rawlings said "I know nothing about the beasts"—a metal watch and chain and a halfpenny were found on him, but no cheques or notes—I do not know of any butcher's shop which he has—I found on Tretcher four pawn-tickets and live keys.
Cross-examined. I was outside and did not hear the conversation between Rawlings and Plummer—I think Rawlings was sober, but I daresay he had had some beer, as he drank a great deal of cold water and went to sleep, and he was sleeping all the afternoon.
Re-examined. I don't know whether he was up all the night before—all the words he uttered were uttered so that I understood them perfectly—he could walk.
RAWLINGUS.— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in April, 1870.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. TRETCHER.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PARKES Prosecuted.
AMY BROWN . I live at the Grove, Stratford, and am assistant in the shop of Mr. Woollerton, a draper—on 18th June the prisoner came in in the evening for two yards of braid at a halfpenny per yard, I served her—she asked to see some black silk lace—I showed it to her—she bought a yard—she asked me if we could charge her any cheaper by the dozen—I said I would ask, and left the counter to ask the prosecutor, leaving a box full of lace on the counter—I communicated with the prosecutor and came back to the prisoner—she said she would have one yard—she seemed rather strange in her manner and I watched her—she appeared rather Hurried and seemed hardly to know what she was doing; I saw
an edge of white under her shawl, and when I looked more closely at her she bad covered her shawl over and put her leather bag in front of her, and seemed more strange than ever—another woman from outside came in to see why she was so long, and said the prisoner did not see in very well, and then I explained to the prosecutor and he made excuses to reach across the counter, and in so doing pulled the prisoner's shawl on one side and produced the lace from under her arm—the prosecutor asked her what she meant by it—she said "I hope you will let me off"—it was about 60 yards, value 14s.—the prosecutor sent for a constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said you hoped the prosecutor would let you off, and you were sorry you had taken it—I did not see you take it—I know nothing about whether you had been drinking.
HARRY HAVELOCK WOOLLERTON . I am a draper, of The Grove, Stratford—on 18th June I saw the prisoner in my shop—Miss Brown made a communication to me, and I went and made an excuse to speak to the prisoner, and pretended to reach something from the counter, and in doing so I purposely caught my hand in her shawl and drew it on one side, and then saw this lace under her right arm—I could not have seen it if I had not drawn the shawl on one side; it was concealed—I said "What is this?"—she was so astonished for the moment she could not actually speak, and when she could she said "Oh, do let me off, I am very sorry, do let me off"—I said "No, I am very sorry I cannot let you off; I have lost about 50l. worth of goods, and I must make an example of you: sit down here a minute, and I shall send for a constable"—I did so, and gave her in charge—she said nothing further than "Oh, do let me off, do let me off"—I do not think she said "I am sorry I have taken it."
Cross-examined. The shop was practically full of customers—I did not say before the Magistrate I should not have noticed you if it had not been for some one near you—I cannot say whether you had been drinking.
By the COURT. Another woman and a man were with her—the man was outside, and in consequence of his suspicious-looking character I asked him what he wanted.
EDWARD ASHDOWN (Policeman K 505). I was called, and the prisoner was given into my custody for stealing lace, inside the shop—I told her the charge—she said "I hope you will forgive me, I won't do it again"—I took her to the station; she was charged—she might have had a glass or two of drink; I noticed nothing particular about her, nothing strange in her manner.
The prisoner in her defence stated that she met two men and a woman in a public-house, and drank with them; that she left them, and went to buy some lace and braid, and that the woman she had been drinking with came into the shop and thrust the lace under her (the prisoner's) shawl, and that from her confusion she did not know what to do.
GUILTY . She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1885.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Terrace, Vicarage Lane, West Ham, when. I gave evidence before the Magistrate; I have since moved—on the afternoon of 2nd July, between 3 and 4 o'clock, I was in Angel Lane, Stratford, and saw the two prisoners standing outside a draper's shop in conversation, and as I came along they separated, and one went to the entrance of the draper's shop and looked inside, and the other went up to a counterpane hanging outside the shop and gave it a tug, but it would not come down—Wilson then left the entrance of the shop and came back to Usher, and they stood a moment talking—a young girl then came out of the shop and looked round at both prisoners—I walked on a little way and waited a few minutes—both prisoners then turned round and looked at me and said something again—when their backs were turned I ran across the road sharp, and stood on the other side, and while standing there both prisoners looked at the place where I had been standing, and could not see me there because I was opposite—they held a little conversation together again, and then separated, and Wilson crossed the road to the other side and left Usher standing there, and he walked before the draper's shop once or twice, and went towards Mr. Budd's, who is a butcher and tripe-dresser—Wilson walked by on the other side of the road several times, and made motions to Usher, and Usher then walked right by Mr. Budd's shop—he then came back sidling very close to the shop next to the tripe-dresser's—Wilson made an inclination of his head, and Usher looked round the end of the shop and drew back again, put his right foot forward, and took an ox heart down from off the gas-pipe or rail, and put it under his coat—he looked again to Wilson, who laughed—Usher made off down the side of the Lion public-house down Angel Lane—I ran across to tell the butcher, who came across the road with me, and I pointed out Wilson to him—I said "This is the associate that has been making the motions to the one that stole the heart; keep your eye on that man, and perhaps by that means you will find out the other, and don't let him go"—Wilson said "You think you know, you know nothing at all about this matter; who are you? you think you can do anything; I will have a go at you now," and he challenged me to fight—he said to Budd "He thinks he knows a lot about it, take his name and address"—I gave my name and address, and went away—I was going fishing with my two boys—after I got home I was brought to the police-station, and identified Usher and Wilson.
GEORGE GREEN (Policeman K 321). On 2nd July, about 3.30 p.m., I was on duty at West Ham, and received information and went to the Lion public-house, Angel Lane, and saw the prisoners inside; Usher had a quart pot in his hand, he asked Wilson to drink—I called them, they did not come out—I went inside with Budd, who touched them and said he should charge them with stealing a bullock's heart—I asked him how he knew them; he said "A gentleman has pointed them out to me"—the prisoners heard that; Usher said "Let us have a drink"—I asked the prosecutor if he had the gentleman's name and address, he said "Yes," and gave it to me—I took the prisoners and told them they would be charged together, with stealing a heart—Wilson said "I don't know that man," meaning Usher, "I have only been with him half an hour"—on the way to the station Usher said "He has been with me all the afternoon"—Wilson did not contradict that—they were taken to the station.
SAMUEL BUDD . I am a butcher, of 45, Angel Lane, Stratford—on this afternoon I received certain information from Auvache—I missed a bullock's heart which had been hanging at the corner of the rail or gaspipe, about three inches inside the shop—there were plenty more hearts beside it—I had examined my stock about half an hour before—I came outside and saw Wilson in the street opposite, strolling along, I had seen him standing there a few minutes before Auvache spoke to me—I went across to him and said "I shall have you and your mate as well;" he said "I don't know the man"—he made his way towards the Lion—he challenged Auvache to fight—I went for a constable—as I was going down the lane one of Mr. Metcalf's men pointed Usher out—Usher came up Angel Lane and went into the Solway Arms; from there he came to the Lion, where Green arrested him—the two men were drinking there—Usher came through a bye way into the Broadway, Stratford, then through Angel Lane again—I heard no words pass in the public-house—the heart was worth 2s.—I have not recovered it or seen anything of it.
Wilson in his defence said that it was the first time he had been in Usher's company, and he asserted his innocence.
GUILTY . USHER then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony in Feb., 1880.— Eight Months' Hard Labour. WILSON— Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
FREDERICK RICHBELL . The prisoner had furnished lodgings in my house for five weeks—I have since seen some table-covers and a valance which were in his room, these are them—I have not sold them, they were stolen.
EMMA RICHBELL . I am the prosecutor's wife—these table-covers and valance of the bed, and this dressing-table cover are mine; they were in the room which the prisoner and his wife occupied—I missed them on 20th June, when I asked to be allowed to make her bedroom up, as she was unexpectedly confined—on the Saturday morning following, the prisoner brought in a parcel under his arm—these (produced) are the remnants of my curtains—I found that a yard and a half had been cut off them.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The rooms were only partly furnished, there was no bedding or towelling—I saw you bring a parcel in on June 25th, and I saw the contents when you dropped them on the landing—I first missed articles on 20th June, the morning of your wife's confinement—I did not ask her to produce them—I thoroughly searched the front room, and looked in every drawer, and could not find them—one drawer was locked, the key was mine—I had been inside your front room several times before that, during your absence, but your wife was there—I did not search the front room in your wife's presence—I had never been into
the front room to search it before 26th June—I missed my purse on the Wednesday morning, and after going to the police-station I returned and looked for these things, and they were not there—since these things fell on the landing neither I or my husband have asked you to produce any of the articles which I suppose were stolen—I heard my husband ask you for rent, you said you would not give him a farthing.
Re-examined. The prisoner and his wife lived there between six and seven weeks—I did not miss anything till the 22nd, and four days afterwards I asked him to search his rooms; in the mean time I had done so myself, and found these pieces of the curtain, which I took to the station.
FREDERICK RICHBELL (Re-examined.) I saw the prisoner getting out of a tram car opposite our house on the 25th, carrying a bundle in brown paper under his arm—he came into the house; I followed him upstairs and asked him for some rent—he said "I have not got a farthing"—I said I wanted my things—he said "If you come in five minutes you shall see them"—I said "No," and I pushed inside the threshold and saw the curtains—I asked him if he could account for their being shorter than when he first had them—he said that they had not been cut—I said that I must look in his bed-room—he said "You shall not"—I was making for the door and he went out into the passage with the bundle under his arm; it fell in the scuffle and opened, and I saw these articles and the bed-valance fall out—they were in the bedroom when the place was let—I had been to the station previously in consequence of missing articles—my wife went also, independent of me.
Cross-examined. I did not wait five minutes when you asked me—when I saw the things fall from under your arm I sent for a carpenter—the articles were in the room when I gave you in custody but you brought them in; you had them off the premises—you had not occasion to speak to my wife about her conduct to your wife when she had only been three days confined—you were drunk, and created a disturbance after I was in bed, and I said I would settle with you in the morning.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor charged you with stealing the window curtains, and, when you were at the station, with other things—I went back to the house and found these things in a heap, just inside the door.
The Prisoner in his Defence contended that the evidence was very contradictory, and impregnated with falsehood, the prosecutor having stated that he missed the articles on the 22 nd, and yet that he never went into the room till the 25th. He stated that he was in a good Government situation at Woolwich Arsenal, which he should lose if he was convicted, and he produced letters giving him a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
what apartments I had—I showed her some rooms in No. 2—she agreed to pay 5s. a week, and wanted to come the same night, as she had to enter St. Thomas's Hospital next day at 10 o'clock—she gave her name as Miss Gordon, and said that she was to take the name of Sister Agnes at the hospital—she asked me if I would lend her some money to obtain her boxes from where they were, and I let her have 5s.—I asked her why she could not have them uncorded and get her money out—she said they would charge her half-a-crown for uncording and half-a-crown for cording them—she said she would fetch her luggage and return with it—she came again; my husband was out—I asked her where her luggage was; she said it was at the station, as she had not sufficient money, and I lent her money for the cab, and 2s., because she did not wish to be without money—she asked me to go, with her to the Temple where her mother's money was, and said that she was going to draw some money there on the Monday—I trusted her because I believed her statements.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The detective never told me anything about you, nor did Mrs. Johnson—they did not tell me that you had been convicted.
GEORGE WILLIAM HERBERT . I am clerk at the New Gross Station of the London Brighton and South Coast Railway, in the parcels department—I have examed the books belonging to that department; no luggage was left there in the name of Miss Gordon or of Sister Agnes.
ANNIE HUTCHINS . I am the wife of John Hutchins, of 5, North Place, West Square, Southwark—on 26th June the prisoner came to me and said that she had been a nurse in Netley Hospital—she took my rooms and stayed with me on Saturday and Sunday—she said that she was engaged at Chelsea Hospital and wanted to get her luggage from Waterloo station, and asked me to let her have 9s. to get it, and she would be back as soon as she could, but she never returned.
Cross-examined. I gave you 10s. and you gave me 1s. out—you said that you had to pay 27s.
SARAH PEACE . I am the wife of James Pearce, of 39, Justin Street, Old Rent Road—on February 19th the prisoner came to me for a lodging—she said that she was a nurse and had come from Netley Hospital—she had a cup of tea with me and came a day or two afterwards and had meals again, but did not sleep there—she asked me to lend her some money to get her boxes from Waterloo Station, and I let her have 5s.—she said she would return it me and give me a profit for it as she had some money coming to her—she afterwards came again and I told her I believed she was a bad woman, but if she would give me back the 5s. I would forgive her what she had had to eat, but she refused.
Cross-examined. I did not give you 4s. nor did you give it book to me—the
woman who lent you the 4s. has got my half-guinea cloak, and I was going to send it back, but she told me you were a very bad woman—you gave your name Mrs. Nicholas.
FRANCIS SHAW (Detective R). On 28th June I took the prisoner on Mrs. Whittaker's charge, at 5, Stockport Street, Old Kent Road—she said she knew nothing about the charge—we had to drag her out of the room.
Prisoner's Defence. I think I have not been dealt fairly with. She got the 4s. from the woman who lent it to her. I said that if the case was settled I would pay whatever I owed.
GUILTY .—She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court of a like offence in June, 1885. —Five Years' Penal Servitude.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. BAKER Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BAKER offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
EMMA MARTIN . I live at 50, Thames Street, Greenwich—on 6th August, 1886, I pawned at the prisoner's shop, 33, Church Street, Greenwich, a gold guard—I received this card from him—on 2nd July this year I went to the shop with the interest, ticket, money, and the 1l. 5s., and tendered the ticket and money to the assistant, Mr. Conway—he gave them back to me; I did not get my gold guard; I have never seen it since.
RICHARD CONWAY . I live at 26, Guildford Street, Greenwich, and am a pawnbroker's manager—I was appointed receiver under this document, signed by the prisoner. (This was an indenture of 31st March, 1887, between Charles Burnie, superintendent of Greenwich Royal Hospital School, and Charles John Harris and Richard Conway.) I was appointed by the prisoner as his manager on 1st April, the business was carried on in his name, and I was also receiver to take charge of the property for Captain Burnie—the prisoner owed Captain Burnie 7,864l.—this pawn ticket of Mrs. Martin is in the prisoner's writing; this is the other one for the shop—I have searched the premises for the article referred to in that ticket; it is
not there—I made a thorough search in the iron chest—I have sent for some of the pledges from Mr. Hamblin; I got some of them from him at the prisoner's request—I found that some of the pledges of which I had the tickets at the shop, and entries in the book were at Mr. Hamblin's; they had been received from the prisoner and I got them from Hamblin—the things so obtained were delivered to the people who applied for them—although I went there as manager and receiver, the prisoner remained on the premises until he was taken in custody on 29th June, I think—he was appointed sub-manager and acted under my instructions—he remained on the premises till 28th June—I cannot tell what has become of these articles.
Cross-examined. I have another order besides this appointing me—I was put in as receiver in the interests of Captain Burnie—I had to render an account to him—I have been there for the last three months to watch the business on behalf of Captain Burnie or his executors—half the profits in the business went to Captain Burnie's estate; that was the arrangement come to between the prisoner and Hamblin; the other half went to Mr. Hamblin—after the prisoner was in custody Mr. Hamblin offered to bring the iron safe, containing a quantity of pledges, to the pawnbroker's house—the articles were deposited with him as security; I objected to that arrangement—from time to time I have advanced money to the prisoner to redeem 40 or 50. pledges from Hamblin—when a person has produced a ticket and I have not got the article I have advanced the prisoner the money, together with half the interest, and he has gone to Hamblin and got it, and then he has returned the pledge to me, and I have kept it until the party has come for it.
Re-examined. The 40 pledges I spoke of were cases where people came to the shop with their tickets and money and wanted their articles—some of those people came half a dozen times, and then I not having the things they could not have them—ultimately I have advanced the money to the prisoner out of the till that he might get from Mr. Hamblin the property back—at times the prisoner has got them himself out of his own pocket; there has been no transaction with me then as regards half interest—Mr. Hamblin was to have half interest—when he gave up property which had been given him as security for his debt he shared the interest with the prisoner and with Burnie's estate—the prisoner had a weekly salary; only a nominal sum—this extended from 1st April up to the time he was taken into custody—the safe removed from the premises was Mr. Hamblin's.
SAMUEL HAMBLIN . I am an upholsterer, of 4, Shooter's Hill—I supplied the prisoner with goods, and in April, 1886, he owed me 951l. for goods and money lent without security at that time—he was asked to settle up in April, 1886—afterwards I applied for payment, and had promissory notes for 650l.—he has paid off 150l. and 35l. on one of those—there were seven of 50l., dated 19th April, 1886—there is one of September 15th, 1886, for 100l., and then one off which he has paid by instalments of 5l. each, and generally by goods—at that time I thought the things were in his own possession—then for security of this debt of 650l. the prisoner deposited with me 150 to 200 articles of jewellery—this is a list—some of them were at 6, Church Street, and some at his private house, Eltham—from time to time I had other articles of jewellery deposited as security—I did not know these things were pledges belonging
to other people till I got them; afterwards, about 26th April, 1886, the prisoner told me they were, when he wanted to take something away—it was two or three weeks after I had them I knew they were pledges—since then from time to time I have given up property to the prisoner or to the receiver when the money has been brought to me—I did not recognise any interest or half interest—I gave the article up for what I thought was its value—I know nothing about this ticket relating to Mrs. Martin's chain, nor where the guard referred to in it is.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner told me they were pledges, he told me he had numbered them, as they were to be redeemed, and from time to time he redeemed them—I said before the Magistrate I had a guard pawned by Martin; I could not be positive about it.
HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector). I took the prisoner on a warrant for one of these other pledges—I read the warrant to him—he said "I have not got the chain"—the warrant was read to him again at the station, and he said "I did not steal the chain; stealing and a bailee are two different things."
NOT GUILTY .
There were other indictments against the prisoner.
ALFRED CHARLES HUTTON . I live at 2, Miles Terrace, East Greenwich, and am agent to Messrs. John Murdoch and others, watchmakers, who sell watches to persons on the hire system—in April this year the prisoner came and asked me to appoint him one of our agents for the sale of these watches—I did so, giving him 10 per cent, commission on sales he effected—the watches were to be paid for by a certain amount, down, when delivered, and there is an agreement which states that until the whole amount is paid off the bearer shall have no property in the goods otherwise than as hirer, and that if the hirer does not duly observe the agreement the owners may take possession of the goods—commission would be due as soon as the article was delivered—on 2nd May the prisoner asked me if I would let him have a 4l. silver lever watch for Mr. Evans, of 11, Alexander Street, Amersham Vale, Now Cross—he told me he was a moulder—I believed his statement, and next day handed him a silver lever watch valued at 4l., and this hiring agreement which was blank, for him to take to Mr. Evans to have signed—later on the same day he brought this form back, filled up as it is now. (This was signed Thomas Evans, moulder, 11, Alexander Street, Amersham Park; business address, Mr. Rennier, engineer, London, W.)—he said he had received 8s. or 10s. deposit from Mr. Evans; 8s. was his commission on 4l., and I told him to keep the deposit for his commission—Arnold was my sub-agent to deliver the watch—I am responsible for the goods; he is responsible to me and my masters—all these transactions were with me—on 11th May he came and asked me if I would let him have a 3l. 10s. watch for G. Whitwood, 7, Coleman Street, Rotherhithe, foreman at the Surrey Commercial Docks—I gave him one, and this agreement in blank, which he afterwards brought back filled in as it now is, and dated 11th May—the commission on that would be 7s.—he said he had a deposit of 10s.; I took 3s. and allowed him to have 7s.—on
12th May he came and gave me the name of John Low, of 11, Turner's Road, Plumstead Road, fitter—I gave him another watch and this agreement in blank, which he afterwards brought back filled in—he told me 10s. had been paid, and I allowed him to retain 8s. for his commission—he gave me 2s.—I believed in those statements, and in the existence of these people; I believed he was giving me genuine addresses, and on that belief I permitted him to have the watches for the purpose of taking to those three people—his duty was to deliver them to them, and when he brought back the agreement signed I believed he had done so.
MARY ANN LUKE . I am a widow, of 11, Alexander Street, Amersham Vale, New Cross—I have lived there two years; I never knew any one named Thomas Evans living there—I never heard of any watch being left for him at that address—I never saw the prisoner before.
ALFRED CARTER . I am book-keeper to Mr. Rennie, engineer, of London and Greenwich; he carries on business at Holland Street, Blackfriars Road—I have not known for the last six months of any man named Thomas Evans working for him as a moulder—no such person was working there in that position on 2nd May.
HENRY WILSON . I am clerk at the Surrey Commercial Dock—we have searched the books, and cannot find any such name as George Whitwood working there—the name would be in the books if he had been working there.
RICHARD HOWELL (Police Sergeant 22). On 15th June I arrested the prisoner at Charlton, on a warrant—I took him to the station, where he was charged—I know the district of Charlton and Woolwich and the neighbourhood very well, and I have made special search with reference to this case—there is no such road as Turner's Road, Plumstead—I have made inquiries at Woolwich Arsenal, there is no person called Low there—there are 1,200 men there—there is no such street as Coleman Street, Rotherhithe.
The prisoner in his defence said that he had let three men whom he had worked with have the watches, that they had filled up the forms and had deceived him.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in January, 1876.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
833. HENRY WARD (23), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, a brooch from Frederick Charles Burton, and other goods from other persons, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a clock, the goods of John Richard Triggs, after a conviction of felony in January, 1883**.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
CHARLES WRIGHT . I am a tin plate worker, of 46, Adam Street, New Kent Road—on 21st June I was in the Crown and Anchor public-house, New Kent Road, with the prisoner—he and I had been out during the day—after we had been in the house about 10 minutes the deceased man William Sault came in—we had a van with us, and he and his friends took some boughs off the van and slashed them about—there was then a sort of disturbance, and the prisoner and Sault had some angry words, and Sault stripped off his coat and vest and challenged the prisoner to fight—they went outside and fought, and I saw the prisoner strike Sault on his face, and he fell on the back of his head—I only saw him fall once—he remained on the ground after he fell—while he laid on the ground the prisoner kicked him in the upper part round his chest; I am quite sure of that—I got assistance, and carried Sault to Dr. Payne, but he was not in, and when he was conveyed home about 9.30 he was unconscious—I saw him again on the Wednesday morning, and he was still unconscious.
Cross-examined. This was Jubilee Day, and we had gone out about 2 p.m. for a drive, and we were visiting public-houses and having drink—I was not the worse for drink—I have known the prisoner being in the Crown and Anchor, but I have never been out with him before—he did not want to fight, he repeatedly said that he would not fight—I did not see the deceased strike him twice before the prisoner struck him; I did not see who struck first—when I went out I saw the prisoner strike him in the face, and he fell—I did not see the deceased strike him—I did not see the beginning; when I went out they were fighting—I only saw one blow outside, and that knocked the deceased down—I heard the deceased challenge the prisoner to fight, but not any one else—the prisoner was not to say the worse for drink; he was very steady on his legs, and I was steady on my legs.
Re-examined. I had been drinking malt liquor during the day, but I was not drunk—the prisoner knew what he was about.
JOHN JAMES . I am a labourer, of 17, Weston Road, Camberwell—on 21st June, about 9.30 p.m., I was in the Crown and Anchor public-house—the deceased was there, and the prisoner and he had some angry words, and then they went outside, but I did not go out—I saw Sault take his coat off, and advised him to put it on again—when I went outside I found Sault lying on the ground senseless, and the prisoner was gone—I took Sault to Dr. Payne, and afterwards took him home—Sault was not drunk, nor the prisoner either.
Cross-examined. I took one branch off the van, and Sault took the other, and we came in and slashed them about—I was was quite sober, I did not slash them about at all; I took them off for a game—I heard
Sault say "I will fight anybody in the house"—the prisoner was standing near the bar; I did not see Sault take hold of him by his vest and hit him in the face.
JOHN WEDDERN . I am a shoe-black, of 46, North Street, Walworth—On 21st June I was in the Crown and Anchor, and saw Sault and others coming home with their van about 7.30; the wagonette had not come up at that time—a man named Fox came out first and challenged the men, and then Sault came out and took Fox round the waist and carried him up as far as the urinal; then he came back and took off his things and challenged the best man in the company, who had come up in the wagonette, to fight—the prisoner was there, and Sault took hold of his vest and pulled him right outside and struck him in his face the moment he got out—they then had two rounds, a fair stand-up fight in the road, and in the first round the deceased fell with his back on the shafts of a small trap standing there—another round was then fought and Knight hit him somewhere about the face and he fell, and never moved till he was lifted up by the van boy.
Cross-examined. The deceased was taller than the prisoner but not quite so stout; I daresay if he had hit the prisoner he would have given strong blows—except in self-defence I did not see the prisoner strike any blow—I am quite sure that the prisoner never kicked him.
Re-examined. I was standing by the deceased's feet, and if there had been any kicks I should have been able to have seen them, I think.
FREDERICK BURGAN . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital when this happened—the deceased was brought there on the 24th, about the middle of the day; he had then been dead a few minutes—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination; there was a bruise at the back of the head and a fracture on the left side of the skull which had laid open one of the arteries, and there was a clot on the left side of the brain, and also bruising of the brain on both sides—there was the mark of an old bruise on the left side of the chest, but no recent bruising—the cause of death was pressure of the clot of blood on the brain, which was caused from the wound of the artery, which was caused by the fracture of the skull—the other membranes were healthy—I did not see Dr. Payne.
CHARLES VINEY (Detective P). On Sunday evening, the 26th, I arrested the prisoner in Harper Street, New Kent Road—I told him I was a police-officer and should take him in custody for assaulting a man named Sault on the 21st, of which he died on the 24th—he said "I did not know the man; I heard he was dead; I heard somebody was looking after me; I suppose I must put up with it"—at the station I read the statement to him that I had taken from the witness Wright, which mentioned kicking—he said "There were others struck him and kicked him as well as me."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS for the prosecution offered no evidence. NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
GEORGE COOK . I am barman at the Oakley Arms, Oakley Street, Lambeth—on 24th May, about 12 p.m., I served the prisoner with half a quartern of gin in a bottle; she gave me a half crown; I gave her the change and she left—I put the half crown under the till—Edward Rose, the manager, took it up shortly afterwards and showed it to me, and I found it was bad—he took it—next morning about 10 o'clock I saw the prisoner in the bar and knew her again—I am quite sure about her; I pointed her out to the landlord—he said "Is this the young lady who was in here last night?"—I said "Yes"—he said "You were here last night and gave the barman this bad half crown"—she said "I was not aware it was bad"—she was given in custody—I had seen her there twice before, once on the 24th about 9 p.m.—she had been served when I came in, by a man who is not here, but I do not know what she was served with then.
EDWARD RICE . I am manager at the Oakley Arms—on 24th May, about 12 p.m., I saw a bad half crown lying on the till—I took it up; this is it; I put it on one side—next morning the prisoner came in for a pint of ale and paid me in bronze—Cook spoke to me about her and I then said "You were here last night and tendered a half-crown in payment for some gin in a bottle"—she said "Yes"—I said "Did you know it was bad?"—she said "No, I did not"—I asked her to go to the station and give her name and address—she went with me, and going along she said "A gentleman gave me three half-crowns last night and one I changed at your house and another is lying on the mantelshelf at my lodgings, and at the station she said that she lodged at 113, Oakley Street—on the Tuesday night when I examined the till I found these two other bad half-crowns bearing the same date—I had cleared the till about six o'clock, so that they must have been put there between six and twelve.
CORNELIUS MCAULIFFE (Policeman L 108). On 25th May, about 10.15, Mr. Rice brought the prisoner to the station and gave her in custody—she said "I had two half-crowns given to me last night by a gentleman about 10 o'clock—one of them is the one I passed at the Oakley public-house, the other is lying at home on the mantelpiece"—she said that she lived at 113, Oakley Street in the back room first floor—I went there and found a good half-crown on the mantelpiece; a young man was in bed there; he claimed it—2s. 4 3/4 d. was found on the prisoner, which the female searcher gave me.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND Prosecuted.
14th July, about five minutes to 11, p.m.—I served the prisoner with a glass of mild and bitter ale—he gave me a shilling, I gave him the change, and he left, having drunk the beer quickly—I had put the shilling in the till, but I looked at it, and found it was bad—I am sure I looked at the same shilling, because I had only three shillings in the till, and this was at the very top—I looked at it directly; I had not even closed the till—I went to the door, and the prisoner was about four doors off—I saw him join another man, and turn the corner—I then returned to the house, and in about 10 minutes the prisoner came in again, called for another glass of ale, and gave me another shilling—I recognised him, bent the shilling in the detector, found it was bad, and said "What do you call this?"—he said "A shilling"—I said "It is a bad one, and you came in just now and tendered me a bad one"—he said "You have made a mistake; I have not been in here before"—I said "This is the glass you drank out of; I have not even removed it from the counter"—he then gave me a good half-crown, and I gave him 1s. 7 1/2 d. change—I omitted to take for the first glass; I ought to have taken 1s. more—the drink was only 1 1/2 d.—he agreed to that, and walked away quickly—Mr. Woods went out and brought him back, and I gave him in custody, and gave the two shillings to Mr. Woods.
Cross-examined. When you came back you said that you were not aware that you had such money on you—the till has a drawer; I did not move it, or mix the money at all.
ROBERT WOODS . I am a shoemaker—I was in the Roebuck on 14th July, and saw Mrs. Moore serve the prisoner—he put a shilling on the counter—she gave him the change, and he left—I saw her put the shilling on a little bar, and afterwards saw her take it from the bar and examine it—I was on the customer's side, and she was on the other side—I did not see her take it from the till—she went to the door not a minute after the prisoner left, and then came back into the bar—in about three minutes the prisoner came back and called for a glass of ale, and gave another shilling—I saw Mrs. Moore bend it—she said "What do you call this?"—he said "A shilling"—she said "I call it a counterfeit"—I said "Detain him; Mrs. Wood has gone for a policeman"—Mrs. Wood said "It looks very strange that you should call for a second glass and pay for it with a second shilling"—he said "I have never been in the house before," but she called her sister-in-law to prove it—I am sure the prisoner is the same man—I sent my wife for a constable—I followed the prisoner up Doone Street, and gave him in custody with the two shillings.
WILLIAM STEVEN (Policeman). On 14th July Mr. Woods gave the prisoner into my custody in the Commercial Road, and said "This man has passed two bad shillings at the Roebuck beer-house"—he made no reply—I searched him in the street and found on him a shilling, a 6d. and 2 1/2 d., the change which had been given to him—I took him to the station; he was charged, and gave his name William Lawrence, 65, Borough Road—he said that he was a cellarman, but did not say where.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had been drinking very heavily, and the Medical Officer of Holloway Gaol can prove it, and I have been treated for it."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he received the money in the course of business, and did not know it was bad.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
JULIA MCCARTHY . I am single, and am a fur-puller—I live at 9, Wilmot Buildings, White Street, Long Lane—I have known both prisoners some time; Golding is a neighbour—on 19th July, between 12.30 and 1 o'clock, I was going home through Snows Fields, Bermondsey—I was quite sober—I had no gallon can, and nothing in my hand—I came across Ann Harrington and Neal having a quarrel—I said "Why don't you have sense, and don't be quarrelling, it is no good, and not be rowing"—Harrington then struck me on my face, and Golding said "Pay her"—he struck me on my forehead and stunned me; I fell down, and remembered no more; I lost my senses—when I came to I looked for my money; I had had 9s. in my hand—the prisoners had gone—Regan picked me up, and I went with her to Guy's Hospital, where the doctor attended me and dressed my nose, which was cut; I lost a great deal of blood from Golding's blow—I was bruised all over, I was in a dreadful state—I cannot say how long I stayed in the hospital; I came out after a short time and went towards the police-station—on the way I saw the prisoners in Swan Court, Borough—I had before been to Golding's house and seen his sister—I said to the prisoners "Give me my money what you have taken from me, and I will forgive you for what you have done for me"—Harrington put her hand in her pocket and took out 2s. 3d. and said "That is all I have got"—I went to the police-station and made a complaint there, and the inspector sent two constables with me to Swan Court, where I gave the prisoners in charge.
Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "Harrington pulled out her purse and said "I found this belonging to you, here it is, 2s. 3d. "—I was perfectly sober—I was not having a row with Mrs. Julia Regan and another at this time—we did not mix Harrington up in the scuffle, nor did Golding come to part us simply—I did not afterwards make a violent attack on Harrington; I did not bite her finger nor tear her hair out—I did not when with Regan take this cap from Golding's head—I did not attack him afterwards.
JULIA REGAN . I am a furrier, of 21, Sands Rents, Horsleydown—on 19th July, between 12.30 and 1 a.m., I saw McCarthy, Harrington, and Golding wrangling—I was perfectly sober—I saw Golding hit McCarthy in the face and knock her down—he fell with her, and when he got up he ran down Nelson Street, leaving his cap behind—Harrington walked away—McCarthy became insensible, but came to herself a short time afterwards, and I took her to Guy's Hospital—she was bleeding most terribly—the doctor attended her there—when she came out she had a large piece of strapping and wadding on her nose; she had not that when she went in—I do not know about any other injuries—after the man
struck her down I did not see him do anything more to her; I saw no more of the bother—the prosecutrix was quite sober; she had been working at our factory with me—she was not making a noise or fighting or anything before she was attacked; she did not seem to make any row at all—I was not fighting.
Cross-examined. I had not been in the prosecutrix's company all that evening—it is not true that I was drunk and then fought; I cannot fight, and I was not drunk—Golding ran away as soon as I saw the prosecutrix on the ground—he did nothing else—I saw him striking her and knocking her down, nothing else—I had him under my observation the whole time, and I saw nothing else—I did not see McCarthy before she was down tear the jersey off his back or try to—I did not assist to do so.
Re-examined. If she had torn it off I should have seen it—I saw nothing of that sort.
JOHN BASSETT (Policeman M 103). On 19th July, about 4.30 a.m., I and another constable went with the prosecutrix to Swan Court, we saw the two prisoners standing there—I told them I should take them in custody for assault in Julia McCarthy, and robbing her of 9s.—Harrington said, "The 2s. 3d. picked off the ground I gave to her"—Golding said, "I know nothing about it"—I took them to the station and searched them—Harrington said, "I have 1s. 1 1/4 d. "—she handed her purse to the female searcher, who found in it 2s. 2 3/4 d.—on Golding was found a knife and 6 1/2 d.
Cross-examined. I know Golding well—I never knew him charged with any dishonesty before—I have never known Harrington charged with any dishonesty—I don't know that they were going to get married to-morrow—Harrington showed me her finger, it was not bleeding; she had made no complaint to me—I am frequently in that quarter—where the robbery was done is rather a hot quarter—there are very respectable people in Swan Court—there are often rows about there, not such rows as this—I have known Golding six months—I never knew him do any work, he is always hanging about corners.
Re-examined. The prosecutrix was quite sober—her face was all covered with blood, and there was plaster across her nose.
Golding in his statement before the Magistrate said that McCarthy had called Harrington names, that they fought, that he walked across to separate them, and that the money fell out of McCarthy's pocket. Harrington said that McCarthy hit her with a gallon can, and that she and Regan and another had scratched her face with hairpins.
The COMMON SERJEANT considered that there was no evidence to go to the Jury of highway robbery.
NOT GUILTY .
Another indictment against the prisoners for assault was adjourned till next Sessions.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
JOSEPH GOTH (Policeman V 123). On the morning of 8th July I was on duty in Birdhurst Road, Wandsworth—I saw the prisoner coming with a bundle under his arm at a quarter to 3 a.m.—I said "What have you got there?"—he said "A bundle of curtains"—I said "Where did you get them?"—he said "From my sister's in the Euston Road"—I
said "You will have to come to the station with me, as I do not feel satisfied with your statement"—he came along for about 10 minutes and then he pushed me and said "I would rather die than come to the station;" he got away, I chased him for about 10 minutes; we had a severe struggle—I managed to get him to the station, where I found on him this knife and two skeleton keys, the wards of which were cut—he said to the inspector at the station" I picked them up on East Hill, Wandsworth"—he was 400 or 500 yards from Mr. Bond's house when I saw him, and coming from that direction—I examined Mr. Bond's house next morning, about 11.30—I found no marks on the window; I could see where a knife had been jagged and the screw had been worked back that fixed the window—there were no marks on the brass catch of the window—there is a screw through the window to prevent the two sashes from sliding.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said first you got the curtains from your sister's—you said you were willing to go to the station—I caught hold of your wrist—you pushed me and threw the curtains down and said "I would rather die than go to the station."
MARY BOND . I am wife of Thomas Bond, of 18, Elmsley Road, Wandsworth—on 8th July I and my husband were awoke about 20 minutes to 3 a.m., I think, by a great noise downstairs in the dining-room on the ground-floor—I got up and went down about an hour after—some time before the dining-room ceiling had fallen, and we thought it had done so again—when I got down I found these dark curtains were taken away and the white ones hanging down, and a flower-stand in the window was knocked over and one chair—the dining-room window was open; that is in the front of the house and can be reached from the ground—it opens on a small piece of garden with a railing round it—we generally both go round and see that the windows are fastened—I value the curtains at about 2l.—I missed nothing else—we were both up together that night—we had been sitting together in the dining-room—when we went to bed the window was shut I can swear—no one would be in the room after us—we went to bed about 12 o'clock I think—the window was fastened with a nail—I don't know whether that had been put in, but the window was shut.
The prisoner in his defence said that he found the curtains under the wall of a house and was looking at them when the police came up.— GUILTY .
The prisoner then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1885.— Twelve Months' without Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1887.